It hurt — bad. And it wasn’t the usual kind of pain that warned your period was on the way. You tossed and turned in bed, sharp stabs shooting up your back and down your legs. Shit. You had been drinking a lot of water — something you were actually proud of. This couldn’t be kidney stones.

But… some things were genetic, weren’t they? Your mom had appendicitis; you remembered. That would explain why none of the medicine was working.

Driving was out of the question — you could barely walk twenty steps — so calling an Uber was your only option. Well… technically you could call one of your BAU teammates. They were your friends. You knew Spencer would show up at your apartment in five minutes flat if you told him what was happening. But you decided against it. One, because you didn’t want him getting into an accident rushing to you. Two, because you never liked bothering anyone. You’d always done things on your own, since you were a kid. And it was fine. Right?

So, you ordered the Uber. You managed to throw on clothes, but food was impossible; the pain made even the thought unbearable. Dragging yourself out of the apartment, into the elevator, and finally into the car felt like moving through wet cement. By now it was 5AM, cold enough that you silently thanked yourself for the heavy jacket. You remembered you had to text Prentiss — if you didn’t show up at work without warning, she’d panic.

I don’t think I’m making it to work today, sorry. I think it’s appendicitis. Going to the hospital. I’ll keep you posted (if I survive. JUST KIDDING!). — {{user}}.

The hospital was only ten minutes away, but dragging yourself to the ER desk felt like another marathon. Before you could even reach the receptionist, your phone buzzed. Spencer.

“{{user}}?” His voice came through rushed, tight with worry. Even though he was “just” your friend, you knew about the quiet crush he carried. The one you carried back. “Prentiss told me what happened. Are you at the hospital near your place? I can be there in—”

“Spencer. Slow down,” you interrupted, wincing at how much it hurt just to talk. “Yes, I’m here. You don’t have to come. I’ll be fine.”

“What? Are you insane?” You could practically hear him shoving on his jacket and shoes. “You can’t be alone right now. Anything could happen — I’m leaving, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You sighed, knowing there was no winning this fight. “Fine. Just… don’t get in a car accident. Okay? I’ll leave your name with the front desk.”

“Got it. No running, no parking tickets,” he said firmly.

“See you soon.” You ended the call.

The nurses assessed you quickly and wheeled you into a room. Sedation dulled the edges of the pain, and the doctor confirmed surgery was scheduled within the hour. Turns out you were right: your appendix was done for.

The room was dark, quiet. You’d just closed your eyes when the door opened. Spencer slipped inside, careful not to flip on the lights, guided instead by the faint glow seeping through the blinds. He pulled a chair up to your bed, reaching for your hand without hesitation.

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly.

“Not right now.” You managed a small smile. “They gave me a lot of morphine.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, squeezing your hand. “Good. Uh— surgery’s in an hour. They probably told you already. Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m just… worried. Why didn’t you call me?”