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Luke wakes up 12 hours after the rescue team finds them, the older agent’s unconscious, exhausted body shielding his partner from the outside world, the sun beating down on the two of them storm, drying the bloodied dirt beneath them.
He’s floated in and out in that time, color returning to pale, blue-tinged, weather-torn skin, only waking long enough to ask about Spencer, drifting out before anyone can give him an answer, the nurses telling the team to be patient, that his body needs time to recover from the trauma.
Emily is there when he opens his eyes again, unfocused eyes drifting around the room before landing on his boss and friend, coughing when he tries to push words past his dry throat.
“Spencer–” Luke manages to sputter as the older agent holds a straw to his lips, taking a short sip before pulling away. “Spencer, is he–”
“He’s alive. He’s okay,” His shoulders sag with relief, body melting back into the mattress, accepting the straw again. “You have a grade two concussion, three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and some burns,” She nods to the wound dressings around his hands and forearms. “Your doctors want to test for possible nerve damage and talk to you about grafts to reduce scaring, but that can wait.”
“The car was on fire,” Luke explains slowly, processing the list of injuries as he pushes himself to remember what happened through the thick haze settled over his thoughts. “He wasn’t responsive; I had to pull him out.”
Emily nods again, remembering the pictures they had shown her of the metal frame that remained of the upside-down, exploded car, explaining that her agents were just outside the blast radius.
It didn’t hurt—reaching into the flames to free his partner—adrenaline coursing through his veins, protecting him from the pain; it doesn’t hurt now, either.
“Am I on narcotics?”
“A low dose–”
“I don’t want them.”
He’s seen Spencer’s cravings and withdrawal, the high and the fall, and now, seen– he’s held Spencer’s body, and it’s his fault.
"Luke–"
He doesn’t deserve to forget it.
“I don’t want them.” He repeats with more conviction, her arguments falling on deaf ears as he pushes himself back in time, replaying and reliving that fateful second Spencer stopped squeezing his hand. “How is he?”
He stares at Spencer’s body, imagining what it would feel like in his arms without a pulse—if he’d know or if it would look like his partner was simply asleep—wonders if he’d beg Spencer to stay, performing CPR until he passed out, even after he let him leave, the last words he said to him a lie.
“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Emily’s voice echoes through his imagination, the older agent standing over him as he desperately tries to pull his partner back from the edge. “His injuries are more severe—a grade three concussion with possible brain damage, incomplete spinal fracture, and some burns on his legs and torso—but his doctors are hopeful; it’s only been twelve hours.”
She watches Luke, seeing the second his thoughts start shutting down, like a lightbulb burning out, consciousness retreating, running from reality.
“Can I see him?” His voice is hollow and haunting, guilt hanging off the edges like a weight on his chest as Luke stares at his hands.
“I’ll ask, but your doctors want you to stay in bed and rest for at least a day.”
He doesn’t argue, simply nodding silently, making Emily shudder internally, seeing Luke as a mere shell of the man he usually is.
“I think they’re right. I should rest for a bit,” Luke grabs the thin hospital sheet with his less injured hand, pulling it over him like a protective shield. “I’d like to be alone now. Thanks.”
Emily nods, knowing there’s no point protesting, frowning as she stands, pausing halfway to the door.
“It’s not your fault, Luke,” She says over her shoulder, watching the empty agent stare at his lap, not reacting. “Spencer won’t blame you; no one does.”
“I’ll fight it if you tell me to.”
Spencer wakes up 36 hours after Luke.
“It’s okay… I’ll be okay…”
His head pounds, beeping and buzzing monitors, bright, fluorescent lights, and the assaulting smell of anti-septics flood his senses.
“We’ll be okay.”
Tears prick in the corners of his eyes, pain radiating, burning through every inch of his body.
“Spencer, look at me.”
The memories start as a trickle, drops dripping through a damn before bursting open, overflowing from every crack and crevice in his head until he can’t breathe.
“Show me those beautiful eyes, cariño.”
He pries his eyes open, chest heaving, expecting to see Luke–
“It’s okay. You’re okay, Spence.”
JJ is standing there instead, holding his hand, thumb stroking his knuckles.
“You’re safe. Deep breaths.”
“Lu–” His boyfriend’s name dies before it leaves his lips, coughing fit crawling, clawing up his throat, fueling the flaming inferno in his chest, darkness dancing around the edges of his vision as he struggles to draw in a breath.
“Luke’s okay, Spence. You’re both okay; breathe,” The blonde assures him, one hand rubbing his back soothingly, the other pressing an oxygen mask against his face, coaxing deep breaths out of him. “Luke is okay. You’re both safe. Okay? Just breathe.”
Spencer nods, letting JJ help him lay back, wincing with every movement.
“Luke is okay. He’s resting right now, but I’ll make sure someone tells him you’re awake.” The blonde assures him.
“I think I fell in love with you right there.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, tears tumbling down his cheeks, the pain burning through his chest until he can’t breathe.
“Still with me, Spence?”
“Hurts.” He spits through grit teeth, forcing his eyes open to see his friend frowning. “‘T hurts.”
“I know, Spence. I’ll talk to the doctors about giving you something stronger,” She says, pushing his hair away from his sweating forehead. “But no narcotics, I know.”
He hums approvingly, letting his eyes fall closed, sleep pulling on his consciousness, trying to drag him under the sea of sleep.
“It’s okay; rest, Spence. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
“We’ll be okay, baby. I love you.”
Luke gets discharged three days later, despite his doctor’s protests, after Emily argues that he isn’t getting better in that hospital room, staring at the wall, the ceiling, and the scars on his arms, only breaking out of his trance when someone brought news about his partner, but still refusing to see him.
“You are the most stubborn patient I have ever met, and I just came from Spence’s room,” She scolded him the day before, making Luke look away, eyes glazing over again. “He needs you, Luke, and you need him.”
He keeps his head down, staring at the tiled floor as the older brunette pushes him toward the exit, skin seeing the sun for the first time since the accident, sending sparks of panic spilling through his veins, heart racing, panic rising from his throat, as he rises robotically from the wheelchair the doctors made him leave in.
“Luke,” She speaks softly—in stark contrast to her stern, “boss voice”—a tone usually reserved for the team members that have been with her since the beginning. “The doctors can give you something for your anxiety, even if it’s just for this ride–”
He shakes his head, staying silent, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants to stop them from shaking.
“Luke, don’t make this harder for yourself; you don’t deserve to–”
“Drop it, Emily.” He spits, pain disguised as poison dripping from his lips, venom widening the vast distance he’s put between them, still refusing to meet her eyes.
Emily frowns but doesn’t argue, grabbing his go-bag and leading him through the parking, watching the younger agent freeze when they reach the car.
“Luke–”
“I just… need a second.” He swallows the lump growing in his throat, staring at the vehicle, hand hovering over the doorhandle, jaw clenched.
“Okay.” Emily nods, watching him take a shuddering breath, glancing between her and the car, stepping back, shaking his head again before turning around and sprinting back to the hospital.
“Luke!”
He’s surprisingly fast, considering he’s spent the last few days in bed after getting into a major car accident, disappearing around a corner before Emily can catch him.
“Shit.” She sighs, grabbing her phone as she heads down the hall to Spencer’s room.
“Spencer!”
He’s shaking—shivering—rain soaking through his shirt, holding Spencer’s bloody body–
“Come on, cariño, open your eyes. Look at me.”
–And he can’t breathe, can’t survive without his partner, throat tightening, threatening to suffocate him, an impossible weight sitting on his chest–
“Spencer? Baby, can you hear me? Spencer, please open your eyes. Look at–”
“–me. Look at me, Luke.”
He blinks, everything suddenly so bright, warm, brown eyes staring at him, soft skin holding his scarred hands.
“There you are. It’s okay; I’m here. I’m right here, Luke.”
Luke stares at him for another second, waiting for himself to wake up, for reality to hit, hearing his partner didn’t survive—that he died in his arms–
“It’s real. I’m real, Luke,” Spencer assures him, cupping his boyfriend’s face and wiping tears away from his eyes, smiling softly as he holds him. “I’m here; this is real.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke chokes as he lets his partner pull him against his chest, warm arms embracing him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault–”
“I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry.”
“Shh… it’s okay, Luke. I promise. I promise it’s okay.”
“I thought I lost you, Spence, and the car–”
“I know, and I get it; your brain and body are reacting to a traumatic event—what you’re experiencing is normal. Okay? Healing takes time, Luke, but you– we will be okay. I promise.” Luke nods, the two of them sitting there for another second, intertwined as he catches his breath.
He stays by Spencer’s side after that, drifting in and out as doctors speak over his head, explaining different tests and procedures, eyeing the ghost haunting their patient’s hospital room with growing worry.
The nightmares become their new normal, at least one of them waking up screaming until Spencer starts accepting the light sedative the doctors offer, and Luke stops sleeping, staring at his partner while he rests, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“Luke,” Spencer breaks their solemn silence as he squeezes his boyfriend’s hand, staring at the dark circles around his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this–”
“‘S fine, Spence–”
“Really? Because you look awful.”
Luke blinks blearily, glazed eyes glancing at his partner.
“Better than you,” He says in a forced, light tone, trying to make a joke, but Spencer isn’t sure if it’s even true. “I’m fine, Spence–”
“You’re not, and that’s normal, Luke. 25-33% of people who survive car crashes develop PTSD after the accident–”
“Spencer–”
“You said I can tell you as many statistics as I want,” Spencer interrupts quickly. “Sleep deprivation increases levels of anxiety and depression, and depriving yourself of sleep when there are other options is self-harm, Luke, along with skipping meals and purposefully triggering yourself.”
“Spencer–”
“You wanna blame yourself for what happened? Fine. I can’t stop you, but destroying yourself because you believe you deserve it will hurt me more than any injury because I can deal with walking with a cane for the rest of my life or even not walking at all, but I will not survive losing you. Okay?” Luke doesn’t respond immediately, staring at the floor for a second before lifting his head, finally making eye contact with his partner, and nodding. “I understand you have been through something I can’t even begin to imagine–”
Luke was out there, in the cold, under the stars, awake for hours after he passed out, holding his partner’s hand– his body, alone for hours.
“–and I am here for you—whatever you need—but I’m also scared, Luke, and I need my boyfriend. I’m sorry for leaving you alone out there, but I need you; we need each other, so please don’t leave me.”
The older brunette nods again, taking his partner’s hand and kissing his knuckles.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby; I promise.”
“Hey, Spence–” JJ returns from the hotel a few hours later, rested and refreshed, a container of takeout in hand.
“Shhh…” The brunette shakes his head, pressing a finger to his lips as he glances at his boyfriend resting on the couch, arm outstretched to hold Spencer’s hand. “He finally fell asleep.”
“Sorry,” The blonde whispers, setting the food on the table as she sits on the other side of her friend. “How long has he been out?”
“Almost two hours; it takes 90 minutes to start dreaming.”
“He’s still refusing medication?” Spencer nods, still staring at Luke’s sleeping form. “What about you? How’re you doing?”
He bites his lip, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand slightly, gauging for a reaction before turning to the blonde when he doesn’t move.
“It hurts. God, it hurts, Jen,” He admits softly, shame burning in his face. “And I want it to stop so badly —I want to get high—and I can’t tell him, or he’ll just blame himself more, but it fucking hurts, and it’s so close. All I’d need to do is ask for it, and nobody would bat an eye.”
“I’m sorry, Spence,” JJ frowns with a sigh. “I won’t say I know what you’re going through; I know it sucks, and I’m sorry, but I think you should tell him. He cares about you, and he’d want to know; he’d want to help you.”
Spencer hums softly, glancing at his boyfriend.
“But if you decide not to, for any reason, you can always talk to me, and I’ll do anything I can to help—I’ll watch every Star Wars movie or all of Doctor Who, bring Henry and Michael, drive you to meetings, whatever you need; you aren’t alone.”
Not this time.
“Thank you, Jen,” Spencer smiles softly for a second before hesitating, pausing with his lips parted, moving silently, the blonde’s sign that her friend is overthinking. “Can you– I– Can I have a hug? I think Luke’s afraid of hurting me, but a nurse said it’d be fine, and I really, really just need a hug right now.”
“Of course, Spence,” JJ stands, embracing Spencer, resting his head on her shoulder, sniffling, the start of soft, slow tears. “How’s this?”
“A little tighter?” His voice wavers, watery and threatening to overflow, letting out a sigh of comfortable contentment as she squeezes harder. “A nurse will be around soon for nightly meds; will you stay until then? I haven’t fallen asleep alone since…”
“Of course, Spence. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” She nods against his neck. “Emily was planning on coming in later to spend the night—she just had some paperwork to finish—she’s been worried about Luke.”
“Yeah, we’ve talked about it– him, everything; she’s been amazing, talking to him when he leaves the room and I can’t. I’m glad he has her.”
“I am too,” The blonde agrees, pulling back, sitting on the edge of Spencer’s bed, hand resting on his leg as a nurse walks in, asking him a few questions as they work. “Do you want me to stay?”
“At least until I’m asleep?”
“Of course, Spence,” JJ nods, the brunette leaning back against the pile of pillows and plushies Penelope brought him, knowing the genius never sleeps without at least two of each. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
It’s after midnight when Emily wakes up on the cot in the corner of the room that the nurses got for them—mostly Luke, who fell asleep on the couch—rubbing the lingering sleep from her eyes when she sees his spot empty, scanning the room and pausing as she sees a strip of light streaming under the bathroom door.
“Luke?”
She gets up and knocks on the door, testing the handle after she doesn’t get a response and frowning when she finds it unlocked.
“Luke? Are you okay?”
The brunette waits a few seconds, opening the door slowly, pushing it further when she doesn’t hear any protests.
“Luke–?”
She pauses when she finds Luke on the floor in the corner, his torso bare, showing off the countless, shallow cuts from shattered glass across his shoulders, head between his knees.
“Luke, can you hear me?”
Emily steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind her as she scans the scene, her breath hitching when she spots a pocket knife on the floor next to Luke, blood on the blade, and his shirt pressed against his side, stained scarlet where it meets his skin.
“Shit….”
She frowns, kneeling in front of the younger agent.
“Luke?”
He lifts his head slowly, red-rimmed eyes and glossy glaze glancing between Emily and the door.
“He wouldn’t wake up– I couldn’t wake him up,” Luke whispers, his voice hoarse and heavy. “I know it’s the meds, but he wouldn’t wake up, and I panicked– I didn’t know what to do. I can’t– I couldn’t– couldn’t breathe–”
“I know. It’s okay,” Emily nods, glancing between the knife and the brunette. “Can I take this?”
He nods silently.
“I stopped.” He speaks when she slides the knife into her pocket. “I stopped for so long, but I–” Luke stops, taking a shuddering breath. “He said he’d try to stay awake if I asked him to, but I… I let him go and said I’d be okay, but I don’t– I don’t know what I’d do without him. I care about him so much it hurts, and I almost lost him because I let him go.”
“That’s not your fault, Luke–”
“And I keep imagining what would’ve happened if he did– if he… asking myself what I would’ve done if that happened, and the only thing I can think of is following him, and it doesn’t scare me,” Luke speaks softly, whispers walking the fine line of okayness he’s drawn. “If Spencer died out there, I would’ve killed myself, and… I’m not afraid of that; it’s the only thing I’m sure of.”
“Luke, I think you should talk to someone–”
“No.”
“Listen to me, Luke. I want to help you; I’m trying, but you– you just told me that you are, or at least have seriously considered killing yourself, which I– I can’t give you the help you need–”
“It’s fine, Emily–”
“You’re not, and I know it might feel like you are because you’ve been dealing with this for so long, but you’re not fine, Luke.” Emily takes a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest, pausing to unclench her jaw before continuing. “Nobody has to know, not even Spencer if you don’t want that; I can find someone to talk to right now, and then I’ll stay with you the whole time, but you can’t keep carrying this by yourself.”
Luke doesn’t respond, silent as he stares at the floor.
“Please, Luke. Let someone help you.”
“Okay,” He whispers after a minute, nodding minutely, letting Emily help him to his feet. “Okay. I’ll try.”
Spencer wakes up in pain.
His head spins and pounds, vision blurring and swimming in pain, sparks of agony shooting up his spine, electricity buzzing through his body, burning through his bones until he can’t breathe, shaking against his sheets, simultaneously too hot and cold.
“Hey, kid.” A soft voice that makes Spencer pry his eyes open speaks.
“Der…?”
“Sorry that it took so long for me to get out here,” The older man apologizes, resting his hand on his friend’s shoulder and gently rubbing a particularly sore spot, making Spencer sigh with relief. “How’s that? Better?”
“‘T hurts. I hurt, Der,” The agent grumbles, closing his eyes again. “‘M maxed out on the non-narcotic stuff, ‘nd there’s nothing wrong, ‘s just a fuckin’ flare-up, ‘nd it hurts .”
“I’m sorry, Pretty Boy.” Derek sighs, briefly taken aback by the swear that slips out but not too surprised. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Mmm… your hands are cold… feels nice…” Spencer speaks, words slurring together, letting out a cry of pure relief as Derek’s hand moves to the exposed skin at the base of his neck. “‘S good…”
“You’re burning up, Spence; are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Doctor’ll be here soon… they’ll check…” The older man frowns at his friend’s uncharacteristic lack of worry, staying quiet as he rests his other hand on Spencer’s forehead, eliciting an appreciative hum from the trembling agent. “‘S there water? ‘M thirsty… need water…”
“Right here, kid. Can you lift your head a little?” He holds a hand under Spencer’s head when he lifts it from the pillow with a quiet whimper, guiding the straw between the brunette’s lips. “How’s that?”
“‘S good… Where’s Luke?”
“I’m not sure; do you want me to find him for you?”
“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head, hissing at the slight movement. “Stay?”
“Of course, kid,” Derek nods, setting the cup down before setting his hand on the base of his friend’s neck again. “I’ll be here the whole time.”
“Agent Alvez.”
One of the doctors approaches Luke outside Spencer’s room two days after the start of the particularly painful flare-up that the younger brunette has been fighting, battling bouts of nausea, barely keeping anything he eats or drinks down, sweating through the days, and shivering through nights.
“Hey, Doctor Wilson. Is everything okay?”
He catches her hesitance, face falling.
“You want to recommend narcotic painkillers,” Exhausted or not, he’s still a profiler; he’s heard the subtle suggestions—nurses asking the team but never his partner if he wants more. “That’s not my decision.”
“I know, and I understand Spencer’s adamancy against them, but his body is already under a lot of stress, and if he continues like this, it will reach its limit, which could mean more damage, seizures–”
“Have you explained this to him?”
“Agent, you study human behavior; you understand how this amount of pain can affect someone. I’m just asking you to talk to him about it.”
Luke nods tersely, shoulders tense, his skin itching with anxiety bubbling in his blood as he pauses, processing.
“I’ll talk to him,” He says after a second, unclenching his jaw. “But it’s Spencer’s decision; I can’t guarantee he’ll consider it.”
“That’s all I’m asking for. Thank you.”
He mentions it on the fourth day, running his hand through Spencer’s hair as he trembles in Luke’s arms, too tired to sob, silent tears staining his cheeks.
“Spence, baby, I think you need to let the doctors give you something stronger–” The younger brunette shakes his head vehemently, entire body tensing under his boyfriend’s touch. “You’re in pain, cariño, and you don’t have to be. It’s not a relapse; you didn’t choose this—it isn’t recreational—and you’ll never be alone. You won’t slip, Spence; we won’t let you.”
Spencer lets out a soft sob, tucking his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.
“And if you say no, I’ll drop it, but–”
“I want it,” He whispers, tears tacky against Luke’s skin. “I want it so bad, but I can’t –”
“Spence–”
“Not here; I– We both need our support systems, and you need to sleep in a real bed, or at least a comfortable couch, and Roxy. And I need doctors who know me and my meetings; we need stability, then I’ll consider it.”
Luke nods, kissing his partner’s forehead.
“Thank you for telling me what you need; I’ll talk to your doctors about getting you home.”
Spencer smiles, lifting his head to peck his chin.
“Thank you. I love you.”
She slides Luke an orange bottle in the cafeteria on the morning they’re supposed to leave.
Anxiety buzzes between them, the younger agent staring at his cup of coffee, tapping his fingers against his mug while Emily picks at her plate, both brunettes pausing to stare at the bottle between them.
“It’s a low dose—just enough to get you through today,” She tells him, watching Luke eye the bottle apprehensively. “After that, I’ll take it and throw it out; you won’t get more unless your doctor prescribes more.”
He nods, stagnant, still staring.
“She– The psychologist recommended this?”
Nicole, Luke remembers distantly, through the haze of dissociation settled over his memories from that night.
“Your friend said you’ve been thinking about killing yourself recently. Does that sound accurate?” He could only nod, brown eyes studying him in the private room, hand still sitting on his freshly bandaged side. “Thank you for your honesty. Can I ask you a few follow-up questions?”
“Yes, she recommended the dose and drug–” He frowns, reading the small text on the label—Alprazolam, Xanax —about to argue when Emily stops him. “She understands your hesitance based on your history–”
“I… Um, when I was younger, I had a thing with alcohol. It came back after I got out of the army. I’ve been sober for ten years, but…”
“And still recommends this, given the circumstances,” The older agent assures Luke. “I’ll be with you the whole time; Derek and Pen are going with Spence, and the rest of the team will understand if you’re acting a bit… out of it, even if you don’t want to tell them.”
Luke nods, his hand hovering over the bottle.
“Thanks, Em, really. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Luke is visibly more relaxed as he helps his partner pack the abundance of gifts Penelope got him into their go-bags, smiling and making jokes, peppering kissing across Spencer’s skin softly.
“I love you, cariño,” He says at the door when it’s time for them to split up for the trip, leaning down to wrap himself around the younger brunette. “Try not to get into trouble on the way, yeah?”
“No promises,” Spencer smiles, reaching up to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, pressing their foreheads together in what he once called “a disgusting display of PDA,” Luke’s arms supporting—practically holding—him as he stands on shaky feet, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “It’s going to be okay; we are okay.”
“We’re okay,” Luke repeats with a nod, taking a deep breath and inhaling the subtle scent of his partner’s shampoo. “We’re okay, baby. I love you.”