#second of all I��m glad we’re gonna get more info on the mimic in game

[sierraraeck]

Why Dads Suck

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: Partially inspired by 4x7 Memoriam. When Aundreya goes with Spencer to talk to his father, she snaps. Story six.

Category: Some angst, some fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. Talk of past abuse.

Word Count: 6.2k

“Listen to me, you worthless piece of shit.”

That was a sentence that I weighted very seriously. I cussed casually in conversation and way too much in my internal dialogue, sometimes I said it just to get people’s attention or stress the situation, but I rarely said it in a meaningful, hurtful, way. But in that situation, I was aiming to be way more than just hurtful.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Over the past 14 months, I allowed myself to care. I don’t know what got into me, but it happened. I actually started to care for the people that I worked with. I always faked that to their faces because I wasn’t a complete cold-hearted bitch, and I’m not saying that I never cared about them, I’m just saying that now I care-cared about them. Like, it was no longer ‘hey I’m glad you’re not dead’, but instead was like ‘hey I’m genuinely concerned for your mental and emotional well-being’.

And it terrified me.

When I first hit the streets, I was determined to keep a hold on my humanity. Soon that proved too difficult and my new mission was to look at everyone like a chess piece; some more useful than others but all disposable in the end if they could benefit the long-term survival of the king. That mission continued in prison and became my new everyday mindset, one that followed me into the FBI. So when I realized that that mindset, the entire foundation of my existence and survival for the past 11 years, was dissolving, and there was nothing I could do about it (I’d tried but it was a futile effort and I knew it), I was terrified. And I felt like I was falling apart.

In BAU profiler terms, that would be considered my stressor. What followed would be considered my trigger.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Spencer was going to visit his dad.

He and I had grown very close over the course of those 14 months, and I would’ve considered him the closest person to me (with the exception of my mom and sister) ever. He even overpowered Deen and Sydney in my mind. But I guess those two were more of a ‘loyalty-to-the-end-as-a-means-of-survival’ type thing, instead of just simply ‘friends’.

I told him the most out of anyone on the team, and overall just felt like he wouldn’t judge me, which was a complete 180 considering how we started. I just felt like he understood me in a way that I hadn’t experienced, like he understood the roots of who I was, not just who I was in relation to what I’d done.

We even had a couple agreements.

The first was that I was going to make him more ‘culturally-adequate’ while he was going to make me more ‘educationally-adequate’. That took form in a book swap. I would provide him with all of my favorite and popular books (seriously, who doesn’t know the Cullens), and he would provide me with all of the profiling, math, history, engineering, psychology, sociology, chemistry, and philosophy books he’d read, along with any other fascinating topics he’d found in paperback form. We would either swap on the jet, or he’d come over to my apartment to read. We’d tried doing it at his apartment once, but I didn’t bring enough books, so it was just easier for him to be near my library. It also occasionally took form in a tv/movie swap. I would force him to watch some of my favorite shows or movies from my childhood like ‘Supernatural’ and ‘The Hunger Games’ among others, and he forced me to watch ‘Doctor Who’ and ‘Star Trek’. This we always did at his place, as to not get bored of my place. It also worked out well because I wasn’t really allowed to go out much, and he just didn’t want to go out much.

The second was ‘jet talk’. Whenever Reid got going on one of his rants, and the information wasn’t dire to the situation or necessary for understanding, I would just interrupt him and say ‘jet talk’. It was my way of letting him know that he was rambling and needed to get to the point, but that he could tell me all of that extra information on the jet. I’d become his new info outlet that he got to share all of those mind-boggling stats with, without being judged or feeling like he was on a time crunch. I had to smile the other day when he started going down that path and he stopped himself saying, “... it was an ancient ritual started by the Mayans in 500 AD, I’ll skip over all the jet talk, but the main purpose was …” It left me feeling gooey for the rest of the day.

So yeah, we’d grown pretty close, and I would say that I was becoming very protective of him, especially when it came to personal threats he’d already overcome and shouldn’t have to deal with again.

Like his father.

Which was why I was completely against the idea when Spencer suggested it.

“I have to talk to him, I have to know what happened,” he pleaded.

“I understand that, but why does it have to be like this? Why does it have to be you?” I countered. I’d suggested that he stay with either myself, Rossi, or Morgan, while the other two went to talk to that asshat for him.

“I know this case better than any of you. I have to be there.” I looked over to Morgan and Rossi for help, but they were staying completely indifferent, not willing to challenge or support either side. Spencer’s eyes were begging me to agree with him.

I sighed. I hadn’t realized our volume had risen until I brought my voice back down, trying to return to a calming tone. “I know. I just really don’t like the idea of you having to be around him. That’s all.”

He nodded. “I know. I don’t like it either, but it’s the best shot we have.”

I looked back over at Morgan and Rossi, and they both gave me a knowing look. I nodded.

“Okay. Let’s go,” I said.

“Wait, all of us?” Derek paused, his attention on Reid. He hesitated.

“If you don’t want all of us there, we understand that,” Rossi offered.

“No, I want you there,” Spencer said, still a bit hesitant.

“Are you sure? Because if you don’t want any of us there,” he looked over at me, “or you don’t think it’d be a good idea to have one or more of us there, that’s fine.”

What the hell was he looking at me for? I was offended, “Rossi, is there something you’re not telling me that I should know about?”

“It’s just that you being there could be …” he trailed off. I wasn’t sure how to fill in that blank, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. What was I doing wrong this time?

“No,” Reid said more confidently. “I want you all there.”

“Okay, kid. Lead the way,” Derek said. My mouth was still open, reeling from the shock followed by the suspense.

Rossi and I shared the back seat of the car on our way over to William Reid’s office, leaving an awkward silence looming over the vehicle.

“Look, I’m sorry. I only meant that-”

“It’s okay, Rossi, seriously. I don’t think I want to know anyway,” I said, which was a lie. I did want to know, I just didn’t want to have that conversation in the back of a car on our way to meet Spencer’s dad, stressing him, and selfishly myself, out even more.

Reid had been confident about his decision to talk to his father all the way up until we entered the building. His whole demeanor changed and he seemed frozen in time.

“Can I help you?” the lady sitting behind the front desk offered.

“Yeah …” Reid said. We all looked at him expectantly, but it was like the words were caught in his throat, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen to continue.

“We’d like to speak with William Reid,” Rossi helped.

“Is he expecting you?”

“I don’t think so.” Rossi held out his badge.

“He’s in a meeting right now, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here,” she said, turning back to her desk.

“You okay?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah,” Reid answered, his breathing labored. “No, um, yeah. I’m, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He took off, speed walking away from us.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Derek commented. Neither had I. He’d told me bits and pieces about his family life, but that was a topic we both decided to veer away from. In all other stressful or emotionally taxing situations, he was able to keep his composure. Do the job, be objective. He even kept it together when his mom had to get involved with a case of ours. The only time I’d seen him get even a little rattled was when a case had quite a bit in common with his childhood surrounding schizophrenia right after he got some troubling news about his mother’s health, but all the other ones having to do with absent fathers creating killers didn’t get to him. Granted, those were a dime a dozen.

This, however, was a whole new beast.

“... more of a personal matter,” Rossi was saying to a man near the front desk. I must have zoned out.

“It concerns your son,” Morgan said.

“M-my son? Did something happen,” the man said. So that ugly bastard is his father?

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Reid said, entering the lobby again. His stood more straight, trying to make himself look as tall as possible, and I could tell it was taking all of his effort to appear professional. I saw his back muscles start twitching.

They stared at each other for a few moments, sizing each other up, before Spencer said, “Hello, dad.”

William cleared his throat, “Follow me.” He led us back to his office, Rossi and Morgan sandwiching Reid between them, while I straggled behind, shutting his office door.

“You don’t look like me anymore. You used to, everybody said so,” William started. It was a lame excuse for a connecting point.

“They say some people look like their dogs, too,” Spencer quipped with an eyebrow raise. “It’s attributed to prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples also, they unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they’ve been around their whole life, so it kinda … kinda makes sense that I wouldn’t really look like you, I haven’t seen you in 20 years.” Whenever he got anxious, all of his sentences ran together in one long stream of consciousness.

“Are you here on business?” William changed the subject.

“Just wrapping up a case,” Rossi dryly answered.

“A five year old boy was abducted and murdered,” Morgan chimed in.

“Oh, yeah I read about that, Ethan Hayes, right? That’s terrible,” William responded.

“That case got me thinking about Riley Jenkins,” Reid said, and William turned away. “You remember Riley Jenkins?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been having dreams about him for a really long time, but when we came back here for this case it jogged something and the dream changed. I saw his killer. It was you.”

“Interesting dream.”

“You don’t seem all that surprised,” Morgan questioned.

“I stopped being surprised by Spencer’s mind a long time ago,” William responded.

“There are certain criteria we consider when looking at this type of suspect. You fit parts of that profile,” Rossi said. He was looking at William like he wanted to choke him out right there. I could empathize.

“Me?”

“We just want your cooperation,” Rossi continued.

“My coop-” William started. He looked around at our faces and realized that we were all dead serious. “You’re not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins.”

Reid gave a slight shake of his head. “We didn’t say that.”

“Good, ‘cause that’s absurd,” William stated. That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t just stand there, staring at his face knowing what he did to Spencer and not say anything.

“Is it?” I asked. William looked over at me like he was acknowledging my presence for the first time. “You were able to do something as absurd as abandon your own son, who knows what else you’re capable of.”

Rossi gave me a warning look, but Spencer didn’t even falter, his burning gaze set on William.

“Excuse me?” William asked.

“You heard me,” I simply stated.

“You know, I don’t think I caught your name when I first let you all into my office,” he said, a slight threat resting on his undertone.

“Chambers.”

“And how do you know my son, Chambers,” William asked.

“Your son? You’re getting quite possessive considering you’ve only just now met him for the first time as an adult,” I said. I kept my voice a low growl, trying to keep my head on my shoulders.

“What can I say? I’m concerned about his selection of company.” I scoffed. I was starting to realize why Rossi didn’t think it was a good idea having me around. I quickly scanned myself and remembered that I wasn’t exactly dressed like ‘FBI’ today. I’d already worn all of my official-looking outfits and was left with a more casual one, which I figured was fine because we weren’t ‘officially’ on the job. I was wearing a simple, low cut, white t-shirt under a leather jacket, with black pants and combat boots. My hair was in a ponytail, so from where he was sitting, he could probably spot my four visible tattoos.

“You don’t have a say in my selection of company. You gave that up a long time ago,” Spencer jumped in.

“Well, whatever your friend Chambers is implying-”

“Agent. She’s Agent Chambers,” Reid said. I refrained from smirking.

“Regardless of what Agent Chambers is implying I did, I did not kill Riley Jenkins.”

“We’d just like permission to look through your computer, access your records,” Morgan said, trying to regain control and focus over the situation.

“Yeah and, what would you be looking for exactly?” William challenged. He turned and looked pointedly at Spencer. “You want access to my files? Get a warrant.”

Spencer stared him down, but turned to leave. We headed toward his office door when he decided to add one last thing. “I’m proud of you, you know that? You’ve done a lot of good, choosing to help people. I mean, other people with your talents might have sought out different opportunities, a private sector. My god, you could have made a fortune.” He sighed and the message seemed forced. He sounded condescending, disappointed even, that his son wasn’t making millions.

That’s when I snapped.

“No. You know what, actually, no,” I mumbled to myself, shaking my head and turning around to walk back towards William. I couldn’t even stop myself before I punched him square in the jaw. It caught him so much by surprise that he toppled out of his chair and onto the ground. I placed a foot on his throat, careful not to put too much pressure on it, and squatted down so that I could see the fear in his eyes. “You listen to me, you worthless piece of shit.” I knew that one of the three behind me was calling my name, probably to stop, but I was too hyped up on adrenaline to pay attention. I was committed now. I removed my foot and grabbed a wad of cloth at the base of his neck and yanked him up to standing.

“You’re proud of him? You don’t get to be proud of him. You did nothing to help him get to where he is now. The only thing you did was provide him with the feeling of abandonment and anger, which luckily he was strong enough to use as fuel to become the amazing man standing in front of you, instead of letting it rip him apart. He’s way more than your small mind could ever comprehend, and he is worth way more than the bullshit fortune you wish he was making.”

“He’s also worth more than spending time with a slut like you,” he spat at me. I switched my grip to wrap around his throat, and swiftly shoved him up against the wall.

“You’re right. I have been a shitty person for pretty much my entire life. The only redeeming quality I have, is that I know Doctor Spencer Reid, and for whatever reason, he has allowed me to continually be a part of his life. To be there for him. Which is more than I can say for you. A child, especially a son, needs a good male role model, otherwise they grow up with the feeling that they can’t trust anyone, especially men. They have problems keeping healthy relationships because they can’t trust their partner, or worse, they can’t trust themselves not to end up just like their mom or dad. You were mentally healthy enough to raise him, a luxury that some people don’t have, but instead you were too weak. You left him with a mentally handicapped parent that couldn’t take care of herself, let alone a child. You didn’t even bother checking in on them. What if she’d died? What if their house burnt down? What if something happened and he was left all alone? He would have ended up in foster care or on the streets, and could have easily turned out like one of the monster’s he now hunts.” My face was hot, and I quickly swiped at the dampness on my cheeks. Get it together. My voice lowered to a murmur as the next words rolled off my tongue. It felt like it was the first time I had fully comprehended them myself, “He could have easily turned out like me.”

I swallowed, coming up for air, but I wasn’t done yet. “Is that what you would have wanted? Would you have wanted him coming in here, not to respectfully ask you for your side of the story, not even to just arrest you like he definitely could have, but to come in here looking to kill you? Is that what you wanted! Did you even think about that?”

“No,” was all he could manage to get out. He was choking on his words, so I loosened my grip. But only a little.

“No to what? No you didn’t want that or no you didn’t think about that?”

“Both! I wouldn’t have wanted that for him. And I didn’t think about it that way,” he struggled.

“Exactly. But that’s what you should have been thinking about. You should have been thinking about your child, not yourself.” I released his neck with force, shoving him away from me and further into the wall. I stepped back, giving him room to slouch in on himself. “The least you could do is answer a few simple questions for him. You owe him at least that much.”

With that, I turned around, my brain not even fully capable of processing my co-worker’s reactions, and walked out the door. I kept walking at a feverish pace until I reached the bathroom. The moment I closed the door behind me, I broke down into a sobbing mess.

What is wrong with you? You need to get your shit together! This isn’t even about you, but as always, you had to go and make it about yourself. You are supposed to be there for Spencer, not the other way around. He’s the one having to face his absent father and relive his traumatic childhood, not you. Pull yourself together!

I forced myself to deep breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In, out. In, out.

I walked over to the sink, careful to avoid the mirror, and splashed my face with water. Once I felt I was sufficiently washed clean of my meltdown, I looked up into my own eyes.

What is happening to you?

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts and refocus on the situation at hand. I grabbed a paper towel and blotted at my face. I took one more quick glance at the mirror, making sure I didn’t look like a complete wreck, and exited the bathroom.

This is about Spencer. Get over yourself. Be there for Spencer.

I walked back out into the main lobby to see that Derek and Rossi were waiting for me.

“Where’s Spencer?” I asked, trying to ignore their worried faces and the urge to just curl up and evaporate into thin air.

“He’s still in there talking to William. They asked us to wait out here,” Morgan answered.

I nodded. “Talking about Riley Jenkins?”

“I’d assume so. You were pretty … convincing,” Rossi commented. I nodded again, not knowing what to say. I stood there with my arms crossed in a self hug, digging into my sides harder than usual trying to control myself and my breathing. I looked down at my feet.

Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t … wait no. It doesn't matter if they ask because this isn’t about you. This is about Spencer and you all need to be clear headed and focused on him and what he needs.

About 20 minutes later, Spencer emerged looking as pissed as he was before, but now he also looked confused.

“What did he say?” I was quick to ask before the focus could be shifted. Not like I was expecting it to be.

“Not much, just that the three of us should talk about it together,” he answered, voice strained.

“The three of you? Who’s number three?” Morgan asked.

“My mother.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

So I was in an awkward spot. I just blew up the meeting between Spencer and his dad, but I also kind of helped get him talking? I couldn’t tell what he was thinking about it. He seemed irritated and up-tight but those were also feelings he had because of his father and the whole situation, so I didn’t know what to do regarding him going to talk to his mother.

Do I come with, to continue to support him? Do I hang back because I don’t want to cause any more problems? If I hang back and he actually does want me there, then I’m being unsupportive. If I go and he doesn’t want me there, then I’m being pushy.

I tried so hard to look for a hint as to what I should do and it never came. I was forced to breach the topic and ask, “Spencer, what would you like me to do?”

He stopped next to the car and faced me. “What do you mean?”

“I just don’t know … I don’t know if you want me to come with or ..?” I trailed off.

“Oh. Um,” he seemed caught off guard by my question. “My mother is a very difficult person to talk to, and this is a sensitive subject so …”

“You’d rather have me stay here?” I completed. There was no malice in my voice, just concern for him. He wasn’t responding, so I assured him, “Don’t worry if that’s the case. I understand.”

He nodded.

“Why don’t I stay here with Aundreya, which will help lessen the stress on your mother, and you can take Morgan with you to go talk to her?” Rossi offered. Oh no. I knew what that meant. Derek and Spencer nodded at his words, and got into the car together. Rossi gestured for me to join him as he started walking back toward the hotel that was only a few blocks from the office.

I quickly caught up to him and he put his arm out, side-eyeing me and giving me that signature Rossi smirk. For real? I sarcastically let out a sigh and rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help returning the small, closed-lip smile. I looped my arm in his, and we continued to walk. In an alternate universe, he was walking me down the aisle.

We walked in silence for a block before he finally came out with it. “So, would you care to inform me what that little episode was about?”

“I don’t like disrespectful people.”

“Neither do I. That doesn’t mean I’m going to hit every one of them in the face.”

“Well, you tend to have more manners then I do.”

“True. But I also didn’t feel personally connected to that situation.”

“What are you talking about, we are both protective of Reid.”

“We are, but we both know that’s not what I’m referencing,” he said. He stopped walking and turned to face me, taking my hands in his. “Talk to me, Aundreya.”

His eyes were soft but piercing, and his wise-guy aura was getting to my head.

I nodded, squeezed his hands, then dropped them so I could loop my arm back in his. We continued walking as I spoke. “Do you remember what I told you about my family situation about a year ago?”

“You mean when we went to dinner? Yes. You told me that your parents got divorced when you were six, you started living with your mother full time when you were nine, and haven’t had contact with your father since you were ten.” I was surprised that he cared enough to remember all of that.

“Yeah. During those three years that I was splitting time between my parents, my sister and I had to deal with my abusive father. It was mostly verbal abuse and mental and emotional manipulation. Honestly, I’ve dumped most of the memories from that time period,” I said. He glanced over at me, silently inviting me to continue, so I did. “Just the feeling I got every time he showed up to a game of mine when I didn’t want him there, or I ran into him for any other purpose, was the worst mix of feelings I’ve ever experienced. It was terror and discomfort and panic and hatred. I felt physically sick every time and it was like my brain stopped working. Even though I don’t really remember everything that happened to me, that he did to me, I just have this overwhelming feeling of disgust. I guess that Spencer’s dad demeaning him like that, and his situation being kind of similar to mine, just set me off.”

Rossi nodded and his features told me he was deep in thought. He was probably still trying to process everything I’d told him. “You felt the need to fight back.”

“Yes.”

“Can I make an assumption here?” He looked concerned. I just shrugged and nodded. “I think that while you were going through that, your big sister protected you, and you were her support system to fall back on, to keep her grounded. You’ve since become quite the fighter, and somewhere in there,” he gestured to my head, “you regret not fighting back harder when you had the chance. You regret not helping your sister out, and you now feel the need to help Spencer out and fight back like you think you should have with your own father.”

It was stunning to me that he could dissect my thoughts better than I could. Everything he said struck a nerve and made complete sense. I’d been trying to figure myself out for over ten years, and he’d figured me out in under ten seconds. It’s astonishing how that works.

“Damn Rossi. You’re so good at this stuff,” I said, and he offered a gentle laugh. “Seriously. You just described a thought process that I’ve had for ages that I didn’t even know I’ve had for ages until you just now told me about it.”

“Hey, it’s much much easier examining what’s going on with someone else than it is to have to self diagnose. There’s a reason they say that doctors are the worst patients,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Am I your patient now?” I asked, returning the eyebrow raise.

“Would you like to be?”

“If you’re going to enlighten me like that all the time, hell yeah.”

He smiled. “Alright then. That’ll cost you $17.99 up front and an additional $5.99 each month after.”

“Oh, well in that case, just kidding. It isn’t that important to me,” I laughed.

“Well, if you can convince Reid to drink half as much coffee, it’ll be included in the budget.” I laughed again. It felt good after a weird and taxing day.

“Well then I’m definitely screwed!” Oh right. Speaking of, “How do you think it’s going?”

“I’m not sure. I hope for the kid’s sake that it’s going well.”

“Me too.” We entered the hotel, and decided we’d wait in the lobby playing cards until they came back.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

They didn’t get back until 11 that night, during which time they’d talked to Diana, arrested William, released him, found out that Gary Michaels was dead but was the killer, arrested Lou Jenkins for the murder of Gary Michaels, and finally got the whole story out of Diana and William.

“And you didn’t call us?” I accused, grogginess in my voice. Rossi and I had since fallen asleep in the lobby chairs, but only for less than an hour. That was a lot to go through for just the two of them in the back half of the day.

“We had it covered,” Derek answered. I couldn’t help feeling guilty, like it was my fault they didn’t call because they thought I was too unstable.

“So what now?” I asked, trying to brush the feeling off.

“Nothing. We let the local police handle it and we head back tomorrow,” Derek replied. Rossi and I nodded.

“We should all get some sleep,” Rossi commented, surveying our faces.

He had a point, so we headed up to our respective rooms and I just about crashed the moment I entered mine. My stomach growled and I remembered that I’d skipped lunch and Rossi and I forgot to get dinner. Our nerves must have been too amplified to be overpowered by hunger. It didn’t matter now because Reid got his answers, triggering relief to course through my veins and I was much too tired to care about food. I was on the brink of sleep when I heard a gentle knock on the door.

I grudgingly got up and looked out the peep-hole. It was Spencer.

“Hey,” I said with a bit more energy, opening the door.

“Hey,” he said. He stood there in silence giving me an expectant look.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Come in.” The lack of sleep and sustenance was starting to show. I moved to the side so that he could slip by me. He sauntered toward the bed in the middle of the room and sat down. I followed suit. I waited patiently for him to speak, because I knew whatever caused him to come to my room at 11:30 after a stressful day was important, and he had to say it in his own time.

“Thank you.” His voice was a small whisper and I felt like I hadn’t heard him right. What does he possibly have to thank me for?

“For what?” I murmured.

“For staying with me through this. For trying to protect me and standing up for me. For respecting my space. And for letting me come into your room late at night to tell you this.”

“Of course. I’d do anything for you,” I said. It had come out so casually that I almost missed it. Spencer looked up at me with utter shock, which zapped me right back into reality. Oh shit. Had that really just tumbled out of my mouth?

I panicked and tried to quickly cover it up. “Like I’m happy to be here for you and you are welcome to come bug me at any time, day or night. I’m probably not doing anything interesting and I’m probably not getting much sleep either.” Although I could really use some right now if it would help me shut the hell up and stop spouting stupid shit.

Spencer’s mouth was still hanging slightly ajar from the shock of my initial comment. When he realized that I was just going to sit there staring at him until he did something, he shut his mouth and looked away from me again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“You weren’t just talking to my dad in that office, were you?”

I sighed and met his warm brown eyes. I swear those things change color on the daily. Sometimes they’re a perfect hazel, sometimes they’re a light caramel brown, sometimes they’re a dark chocolatey brown, and sometimes, when the light hits right, they look as gold as the soul behind them.

“No,” I admitted, “I was talking to both of them.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Do you wanna hear about it?” I countered. He nodded shyly. “You know how I told you that my parents got divorced and I lived with both of my parents equally for three years and then my mom got full custody?”

“Yes.”

“Well, those three year were hell. I can’t remember everything that happened to me because I must’ve dumped most of it. I told Rossi that I didn’t remember anything at all, but that was a lie. The really big incidents, I remember. Like I remember him shoving me up against a brick wall giving me whiplash for the next two weeks. I remember him cussing out my mother in the rec center, him screaming at us in the car, especially after going to see the therapist, and leaving my sister on the side of the road because she pushed too many of his buttons. I remember him pushing me down on the bed and forcing my legs open so he could look at the rash between them, even though I begged him to just let my sister help me with it,” I choked. I hadn’t told anyone this. I hadn’t really talked about it with my mom and sister much when they were alive. “I remember having panic attacks and being constantly terrified that he was going to kill my mom or sister. And I just remember this intense feeling of complete hopelessness and dread whenever I was around him or his family. They were suffocating.”

He looked at me, eyes glistening, and he let a heavy teardrop fall. I slowly brought my hand to his face, asking silent permission, and when I got no resistance, placed it softly on his cheek. My fingers barely brushed his jaw as my thumb lightly wiped away the tear. I breathed, “Don’t cry. Don’t cry for me. It was a long time ago, and I am who I am today because of it.”

He put his own hand atop mine, engulfing it, subconsciously applying a bit more pressure which I was happy to comply with.

“It’s just … It’s just that no one should have to go through that. Even if it was a long time ago.” He closed his eyes, leaning into my hand.

“I know. Neither one of us deserved what we got, but we survived and came out the other side. That’s what matters now.” I placed my other hand on his cheek, and tilted his head slightly up towards mine. “How are you doing?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No. I just want you to know that without you, I couldn’t have solved this or gotten the answers I needed. I appreciate your strength to face my father like that.”

“And I admire yours to do the same.” He leaned out of my touch, leaving me feeling cold and got up to leave. I didn’t even know what I was saying before I blurted, “Wait.”

He turned.

“Do you want to stay?” I was too tired to fight the words, too tired to even be surprised by them.

“I’d like that,” he responded. I smiled and he returned it. I didn’t want him to be alone with his thoughts and nightmares, and I selfishly didn’t want to be alone with mine either. He slipped off his shoes and I kicked off mine and he came to lay down next to me. Neither of us cared about the clothes we were still wearing and definitely wrinkling from the long day. I took big spoon, knowing he needed me more than I needed him at the moment, even if he wasn't ready to talk about what he’d just experienced over the last 24 hours yet.

I was just about to pass out, arms hooked on my own elbows around him when he whispered, “I never explained this to you, but I think deep down the reason I was so resistant to you at the beginning was because I knew you and I were only a choice or two away from living the other person’s life.”

“Spencer,” I murmured, “you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I want you to have one, though.”

“Thanks. I’m just glad that the one or two choices after that led to our paths crossing.”

“Yeah. Me too.” That was all he could get out before both of us slipped under, able to finally relax in each other’s arms, finding reprieve from the relentless struggles of the waking world.