✓ | sick of losing soulmates [SPENCER REID]

4.4

4.4
( bomb disposal. )

☆ ★ ☆

spencer

It is approximately ten minutes after Garcia calls Spencer claiming that Iris is alive and safe after speaking with her on the phone, that Spencer is able to confirm it for himself.

The first five were spent hurriedly talking, no longer worrying about their teammates now that they knew they were all alive, and now pondering theories and trying to locate the other six unsubs. The last five were spent in relative silence, the only person speaking being JJ as she conversed with the head of Homeland Security on the phone, so that Rossi and Spencer could think. But nobody speaks to each other, almost like it's a time for silence and mourning.

Until.

"Spence," JJ whispers, and, from where he stands side by side with Rossi at their board of evidence, he turns around to look at where she sits at the long table. She has her back to him, eyes directed out through the window of the room that looks into the main office, and he follows her stare.

Speaking frantically to Emily, gesticulating with her hands quite wildly, Iris is limping through the maze of desks. She looks like death: her once immaculate clothes are singed; her face is cut jaggedly across her left eyebrow, and her skin, pale with shock and fear, is dirtied with soot and ash. Spencer, followed by Rossi, JJ, and Preston, are out of the room in a split second.

Spencer, his eyes watering as soon as they make eye-contact, hardly notices Iris' lips forming his name, too busy racing forward, crashing against her, wrapping his arms around her neck and feeling her warm body burying into his chest, searching for comfort. He's overcome with a sudden feels of calm.

"Spencer —" Iris says, and a few murmurs of his name echo through the ground, too. Spencer Reid? Hugging someone?

"I thought you were dead," he whispers as an explanation, and as she understands Iris' hold tightens around his ribs.His nerves crackle with anxiety at her touch; he can feel each of her individual fingers spreading out across the expanse of his back, and then fisting in his shirt. "Are you okay?" he sniffs, pulling back and looking her up and down.

He can see no injuries aside from the wicked cut on her eyebrow and a few scrapes along her hands and legs, where her pants are ripped in places, and Iris seems to have come to the same conclusion that she's relatively unharmed, because she's nodding. She just looks exhausted, pale and limping and a little hazy, like she's just coming out of a state of shock. Considering she's been in a bomb blast, he's not surprised.

Still, the fear that has been squeezing his heart for the past half-an-hour finally releases at the sight of her. He feels a little more at ease as he asks, "Are you sure? I've not seen the footage which would help with deducing possible injuries, but you could have a concussion, or even a broken rib."