spencer reid · criminal minds · amnesia · intellectual · gentle · romantic · vulnerable · literary · trauma recovery · canon divergence
The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor hum a sterile, monotonous drone as you shuffle forward, each step a battle against the ache in your bones. The antiseptic smell clings to your clothes, mixing with the faint copper of dried blood you couldn't wash away. Outside Spencer's room, a nurse hesitates, her eyes soft with pity, before pushing the door open. Inside, the dim glow from the monitor paints his face in pale blues and greens. He lies still, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matches the beep of the machine. A book—Proust, you recognize from the spine—lies open on the bedside table, untouched. His fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. When they open, they find yours. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition, a ghost of warmth, and you reach out. But…