unseededtoast

[unseededtoast]

Glimpse Of Us | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: After a painful breakup, you and Spencer try and move on, but find yourselves seeking out each other in different people. Inspired by "Glimpse Of Us" by Joji.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 7.1k

content warnings: soul-crushing angst, emotional turmoil

His fingers find the velvet box in his pocket and he opens it. The ring inside is divine, he had it created just for you. The gemstone in the center reflects the warm light of his apartment beautifully as he admires it. He can't help but to imagine what it would look like on your finger, where it belongs.

As she exits the bedroom, he's quick to hide the box from her view. For the rest of the night he feels as if he's putting on a performance, one in which he half heartedly kisses her while he thinks of your lips, and he holds her with your body in mind.

Closing the door behind him, Spencer is welcomed home after a long day with soft lighting and the smell of dinner. He shrugs his coat off and places it on the rack beside the door, thankful for the warm air after being in the cold most of the day.

As he takes his shoes off, he feels her arms wrap around him, her forehead resting on his back as she embraces him from behind. Spencer's eyes close in comfort, thankful for her loving ways. He turns around and hugs her back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I ran you a warm bath and I'll have dinner waiting for you when you get out." Her voice is soft and warm, full of nothing but the most tender love. Spencer pushes a strand of hair behind her ear with a small smile on his face,

"Thank you." He presses a second kiss to her forehead before retreating to the bedroom so he can indulge in a warm bath.

The water relaxes his tense muscles and offers a much needed reprieve. The case the team had closed today was nothing short of miserable. The air was unforgivably cold, the wind was harsh, and of course they were searching for a body for most of the day. He had wanted nothing more than to come home since the first moment he stepped foot outside this morning.

After putting on the sweats she had laid out for him on the counter, he joins her at the dinner table where a plate and a glass of wine waits for him. They eat in silence, comfortable with just the presence of each other. There's never any pressure to make conversation, they both have a mutual understanding that sometimes silence is more appreciated, especially after particularly difficult days. But what she doesn't know is that when silence settles, his mind drifts to you.

Spencer is beyond thankful for her devotion despite the chaotic life he leads. If there's one thing he can count on, it's for her to brighten his days and take the weight of the world off his shoulders when it becomes too much for him to bear. She is nothing short of perfection, a genuine blessing that Spencer is glad to have.

And because she's so perfect, it makes Spencer feel all the more guilty when he finds himself wishing it was you waiting at home for him instead of her.

The guilt has been eating at Spencer for a while now. He knows it's unfair to her, to constantly be comparing her to you but he can't quite bring himself to break up with her. It wouldn't be such a big deal if he didn't see bits and pieces of you within her. With her, he's reminded of how you laughed, the way you hugged him, and so many more small details that he just can't let her go; for if he lets her go then he would lose all of those small reminders and memories. It's selfish, he knows, but the appeal of seeing flashes of you through her is more compelling than doing what is fair for her sake.

Once dinner has been finished and cleaned up, the two of them find themselves on the couch, cuddled under green and umber colored faux fur blankets while a movie plays. But Spencer isn't really paying attention to the movie, no, his focus is on how she holds him and how it isn't quite right. Her grasp is always too loose and her hands never find the right spots. While her embrace is comforting, it's nothing compared to how you used to hold him so tight, and it all felt so right.

During a particularly quiet scene, she looks up to Spencer with doe eyes, and he can tell she's studying him, like she has him figured out down to a science.

"What's wrong honey?" She asks him, running a comforting hand up his arm. Shaking the thoughts of you from his mind, he smiles down to her with guilt creeping up within him.

"Just had a bad day." Is all he tells her. For he can never tell her the truth, that he'll never love her the way he loved you. It wouldn't be right, and none of it is her fault. He doesn't see the need to tell her he's only passing time in her arms, the ones that will never hold him the way he needs.

With big, beautiful eyes she continues to look at him, appreciating the tiny details that makes Spencer so beautiful. And while he should be appreciating her with the same loving gaze, all he can bring himself to do is think about how you used to look at him the same way.

As he looks into her eyes that look eerily similar to yours, he's catapulted into a memory, a time where things were perfect.

- - - - -

"Well why not both?" You ask Spencer, who's holding up two blankets to choose from. It's the first winter that you two are sharing together in Spencer's apartment and you both found out the hard way that even Virginia can get quite cold.

"You want them both?" He asks you, eyes glancing between the dark green and the rich brown colored blankets in his hands, both made of warm, plush material. You nod your head and motion for him to put them both in the cart.

"Yes, both of them. The colors compliment each other and they'll look right at home on the couch." A smile finds its way to your face as he places both of the blankets into the cart.

Spencer didn't need much convincing and you both knew it. All you had to do was give him the puppy eyes and he would bend to your every will. He would do anything to keep a smile on your face, and if that meant getting two blankets instead of one, then it was a small compromise he was happy to make.

Later that night the two of you sit entangled on the couch, under one of the new blankets. Spencer sat with his back against the arm rest and he had pulled you between his legs, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. Your head rested back on his chest and your eyes closed as soft music played from the vintage record player Spencer had recently bought.

Spencer savors the way you warm him, the way your body feels soft under his touch, and he appreciates the smell of vanilla that you always seem to have. He watches with adoring eyes as your chest rises and falls evenly, letting him know that you've fallen asleep. The apartment is dimly lit from a lamp, and its warm glow illuminates your features perfectly. Spencer can never get enough of just looking at you, each time he finds something new to love.

His eyes trail from the slope of your nose to the curve of your lips before noticing the way your eyelashes softly lay against the top of your cheekbones, gentle like a feather floating through the breeze. He had never seen such effortless beauty, both inside and out, and his heart feels like it could explode from trying to fit all the love he has for you within.

Kissing the crown of your head, he gently wakes you up and leads you to bed, and he can't help but smile as you hold his hand the entire way there. Your small hand fit into his like they were made for each other.

Once the two of you had settled in bed, you reach your arms around Spencer and hold him close to you. While you enjoy being held by him, you like to return the favor. You want him to come to you for comfort and security, you want to provide a loving warmth to him, to show him how much you love him when your words fall short of expressing the truth depths of your adoration.

His skin is warm under your touch and you press a soft kiss in between his shoulder blades. You're not sure if he'll be here in the morning due to work, so you hold him tight and soak in every second you get with him.

As the two of you drift off, Spencer rests his hand atop yours that rests just below his chest, not able to get enough of you tonight. There was something in the air this evening that made Spencer realize that you are the love of his life, and he wants to spend every night with your arms around him.

- - - - -

Snapping out of his daydream, Spencer realizes that the movie had come to an end. His hand lingers on the blanket for just a moment longer than necessary before he heads to bed, where she is sure to join him soon. He gets underneath the covers, his hand resting on the empty space beside him. His chest aches and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from getting emotional as she walks in, a sleepy smile on her face.

Spencer goes through the motions of bidding her a goodnight before he turns away from her. He doesn't know if he's disgusted with himself for thinking of you while she lays next to him, or if he's sad he let another woman take your spot. As her hand makes its way around his waist, he's unable to stop the single tear that drips down his cheek.

He waits for her to fall asleep before he slinks out of bed. He puts his shoes on and shrugs on his coat before leaving. The walls of his apartment seem to be closing in on him tonight, and perhaps he needs some fresh air. Snow flurries fall as he walks the empty streets, illuminated by street lamps and starlight.

Spencer wipes his eyes of the tears that form in his lash line and sniffles every few seconds. He has no destination in mind, but he know where his body will take him. It's the same place he goes every time, the spot where he met you.

The bench is covered in a light layer of snow along with everything else in the park. He's unable to tear his eyes away from the spot he first saw you at, as if you would suddenly appear out of thin air. Spencer remembers very vividly the day he met you. He was at the park playing chess, trying to get better so he could finally beat Gideon, when he saw you.

You had your nose buried in a mystery novel, your hair was partially pinned back so it wouldn't get in your way, and you had the prettiest sundress on that complimented your skin tone wonderfully. Spencer had never been one to believe in love at first sight until he saw you. He swears that day the sunlight was focused on you alone, as everything else became utterly dull.

And Spencer had never been one to go out of his way to talk to a woman, but something within him told him that if he didn't seize this opportunity then he would regret it. So he pushed himself out of his comfort zone and talked to you. You were the sweetest woman ever, and he's still surprised to this day that you had given him your number after he babbled and rambled trying to get to the point.

What he wouldn't give to be able to go back and do it all over again.

- - - - -

Three months after you had left Spencer he found himself once again being interrogated about his love life by his coworkers. They mean well, and he knows it, but he wishes they would stop bringing the topic up, because every time they do it's like reopening the wound. But he doesn't want to concern anyone with how poorly he's actually handling the separation, they all have their own issues just as he does.

"You sure you're ready for that date?" Derek asked him one Friday afternoon, asking about the blind date he had set up for Spencer.

"Of course I am, I think I'm finally moving on, and I'm sure she's lovely." Spencer smiles to Derek, but there's a bitter taste on his tongue.

There's no chance that this mystery woman could ever compare to you. But he tells everyone he's moved on from you so that they might stop bringing you up in conversation. Though he knows that you had made friends with his coworkers as well and he knows they probably miss you too. But for his own sanity, Spencer had to find a way to keep them from speaking about you; and what better way to do that than date someone new?

But while Spencer was busy acting like he had moved on, it seems that you actually had.

A year after you had left, against his better judgment, Spencer looked you up to see how you were doing. He had refrained from doing so up to this point, but he couldn't help himself. He had to know, he had to see you.

What he found devastated him. On your Instagram was a photo of you and a man, cheeks pressed against each other's with wide smiles. The first thing Spencer noticed was how your smile finally reached your eyes again, how you looked genuinely happy. A look he hadn't seen in a long time.

But he couldn't stop there, he had to know more. He had to make sure that this man wasn't some psychopath. And it turns out he seems to be the embodiment of the American dream. Spencer found that your new man works in wealth management, owns his own property with a fenced in yard, and appears to be head over heels in love with you.

The man's social media is cluttered with photos of you. You smile in each one as if you were seeing color for the first time. Spencer goes through his photos, looking at vacations you took to Europe, evenings spent on a boat, and every small detail in between that the man had posted about. Spencer had to put his phone away after he saw a picture of you in the man's lap, his hands on your waist as he kissed your cheek while you smiled at the camera.

Spencer thinks often about how the man treats you. He wonders if the new man appreciates your tender touch, your kind heart, if he cherishes you like he used to. Spencer can't help but to ponder if your new man gives you everything he couldn't; if he comes back home to you every night and if the two of you plan to have a family one day.

And when those thoughts get to be too painful, Spencer wonders if you ever think of him. He hopes that you search for pieces of him in your new man, even in just the most minuscule details. Sometimes with this hope comes along the thought of if you will ever come back to Spencer.

But that hope is usually crushed with the realization that you're living in a new chapter, one in which he will never have the privilege to read.

- - - - -

The sweet smell of blueberry pancakes wafts through the house and wakes you. You take a deep breath of the fruity scent and stretch, enjoying the way that today has started. There are definitely worse ways to wake up. Instead of getting up right away, you opt to stay snuggled under the warm covers, your eyes closed as you breathe in the sugary sweetness.

"Good morning honey." You hear your boyfriend open the door, his voice deep and raspy from the night. At the sound of his voice, you can't help but to open your eyes and smile at him.

"What's the occasion?" You stretch once more as he walks over to you, looking down at you with doting eyes.

"Oh I don't know, I think it might be someone's birthday. Yeah, I think I remember someone telling me that the most beautiful girl in the world has a birthday today." He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, the taste of blueberries lingering between you.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast." You sit up, pushing the covers away so you can go enjoy the pancakes that were so lovingly made. Your boyfriend only smiles wider,

"Don't worry this is just the beginning. I've got a whole day planned for you, baby." You try to fight the smile, not wanting him to know just how excited you are.

The two of you eat pancakes together at the table, your heart swelling with love from his gesture. Both of you know he's not the best cook in the world, but to you these are the best pancakes you've ever had. In fact, they could be burnt to a crisp and you would love every bite because he took the time to try and do something nice for you, and it's the effort you appreciate above all.

Licking syrup off your lip, your eyes find themselves fixated on your boyfriend's face and you can't help but be mesmerized. His eyes are kind and gentle, his smile is wide and welcoming, and you just don't know if you will ever get enough of him.

Though a tiny voice makes itself known in the back of your mind and it reminds you of just why you find your boyfriend to be so beautiful.

But you try your best to ignore the voice that whispers to you from within your own mind. You don't want to hear how your boyfriend's hair is the same shade of brown or how his eyes hold the same hue of green that Spencer's did. The voice works diligently to remind you that your boyfriend's hands don't feel the same and that his lips aren't as soft, and you wish that it would just stop. Everything would be so much easier if you could just forget Spencer Reid even exists, but no matter how hard you try you can never silence the whispers.

You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't still think of Spencer sometimes. Especially during the early days of your new relationship. When you first got together with your new boyfriend you were constantly reminded of Spencer. Your new boyfriend shared many features with Spencer such as his height, build, and hair color and you know it's no coincidence. You know full well that you gravitated to your new boyfriend because of these similarities, you were desperate to hold onto any part of Spencer that you could.

But your new boyfriend is different from Spencer in a lot of ways as well. He's more headstrong, he doesn't think things through as well, and he can't read you quite like Spencer could. But despite these differences you found yourself loving him for who he is.

Your new boyfriend practically worships the ground you walk on. He's entirely devoted to you and he reminds you every day of how much he loves you. He comes home at the same time every night, he's here when you need him to be, and just recently has opened up to you about one day possibly starting a family. He's everything you've ever wanted.

It had taken some time to adjust to something new and unfamiliar but it was worth it. You had been hesitant to get into another relationship, worried that you wouldn't be able to love anyone as much as you loved Spencer. It would be entirely unfair to the other person, and so you had asked your current boyfriend for patience; and this man had no problems waiting. In fact, you were convinced he would wait until the end of times if you had asked him to.

He was never overbearing, never pressured you for an answer or to go on a date before you were ready. Instead, the two of you built a friendship first. You would go for coffee on Saturday mornings, walks in the park after work, and even played a few rounds of mini golf. It was in those small moments that you found yourself falling head over heels for the man and eventually you felt that you were ready.

After a few months of being together, he had insisted you join him on a business trip to Europe. At first you didn't really know, you were nervous about being somewhere unfamiliar, but you trusted him to take care of you. And you're glad you went, it was the best trip you had ever been on. Your boyfriend treated you to candlelit dinners, a gondola ride, and the most tender, pure love possible. For the first time in a long time, you felt happy and it was all because of him.

Your mind drifts from memories of Europe to the conversation about starting a family. You remember the conversation almost word for word and you find yourself reflecting on it more than what is probably normal. But you can't help yourself, that conversation had opened your eyes about your true desires and left you feeling conflicted about a lot of things you still don't have the answers to.

- - - - -

It was a bright Sunday afternoon and you strolled down the street with your boyfriend hand in hand, enjoying the warm weather and freshness of spring. The grass was finally coming back to life, the trees were blooming, and flowers were beginning to pop up again.

"I want to ask you something, but you don't have to answer if you don't want to." Your boyfriend uncharacteristically stumbles over his words as the two of you veer off to a less busy path.

"You can ask me anything." You truthfully tell him, wanting him to know that he can come to you about anything. After all, there's nothing he can throw at you that would catch you off guard after your years with Spencer and the stories he would come home with.

"Have you ever thought about having kids someday?" Your pace slows down as his words sink in. You weren't quite sure what you were expecting him to ask, but it certainly wasn't that.

Instead of answering right away, you stop walking completely and look at your boyfriend, seeing nothing but complete seriousness and curiosity written all over his face. Your eye catches his, and your heart sinks when you see a flash of Spencer's eyes in your mind. Blinking away the fleeting image, you sigh and think about how to answer his question.

"I think some day, with the right person, I would most definitely want kids." Your answer is the complete truth, and yet you find yourself feeling guilty for not immediately imagining yourself having kids with your boyfriend, but instead with Spencer.

"Some day." A smile finds its way onto your boyfriend's face and he squeezes your hand lovingly.

Pushing the guilt and all thoughts of Spencer aside, you focus on what you have right in front of you. You have a boyfriend who loves you unconditionally, who wants nothing but the best for you, who you can see yourself spending forever with.

Yet despite loving him back and wanting a future with him, there's still a piece of your soul that yearns for Spencer.

- - - - -

After a long day of birthday celebration, you find yourself laying in bed waiting for your boyfriend to join you. The day had been filled with family and friends and it was probably one of the best birthdays you've had in a long time. But ever since this morning, the voice in the back of your mind hasn't let up.

While you were opening gifts you couldn't help but wonder what Spencer would've picked out. When your boyfriend asked you what top he should wear to best match the rest of the outfit you found yourself wondering what Spencer would've picked. During the drive to your friend's house you considered which songs Spencer would've played on the trip over. You hadn't really thought of Spencer much over the past year, seeing as how happy you were with your boyfriend, but lately you find Spencer infiltrating your thoughts more and more.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you give into temptation and grab your phone. Quickly, you look Spencer up on what limited social media presence he has. Your heart races as his profile loads, unsure of what you're going to see and what you want to see. The photos load and you realize he still hasn't posted anything since the photo you posted for him years ago.

You tap on the tagged photos tab and can't help the heaviness in your chest as you see a photo he was tagged in three months ago. He's got his arms wrapped around a gorgeous woman, her lips pressed to the side of his cheek. Within an instant, your mind replaces the woman's face with your own and you feel your throat begin to close up with emotion. The caption is something cliche about love, and with the same quickness as you had clicked on the photo, you exit out of the app.

It seems Spencer has moved on from you, and you're happy for him. You hope she can handle his lifestyle better than you could, but you can't help but feel sad that he was able to replace you. A tinge of regret takes residence in you for giving him the opportunity to replace you.

- - - - -

Spencer looks in the mirror as he straightens his tie and runs his hand through his hair once more. The velvet box in his pocket makes his heart hammer but the sound of her voice knocks him out of an anxiety-ridden spiral.

"We're going to be late, come on." She says with a smile on her face. Spencer knows he should be just as excited but the nerves take precedence.

The two of them enter the dimly lit restaurant and take their seat. The tablecloth is white, there's a candle in the middle of the table. Spencer knows it's the perfect time to propose. After all, today is their second anniversary.

She talks openly about what she's going to order and how she knows the food is going to be delightful. Spencer does his best to smile and nod, trying to calm his trembling fingers. He had considered proposing for a few months now and decided tonight would be perfect.

After the waiter comes and takes their orders, Spencer reaches across the table and takes her hands within his. Her skin is soft and smooth, but as he rubs his thumb across the back of her hand he remembers how delicate your skin used to feel under his touch.

Guilt intermingles with the nerves, and he feels disgusted with himself that even as he's about to propose he thinks of you. And the guilt is reinforced when he remember who he bought the ring for in the first place, it most certainly wasn't her.

Delaying the question, Spencer keeps making small talk until the food arrives. He takes glances over to her, and she always smiles back. And Spencer tries his best to act normal, but he knows he's failing.

For every time he looks at her all he can see is you. Every time he looks into her eyes he sees yours, he remembers how you used to gaze at him for what seemed like hours. Each time she pushes her hair behind her shoulder he remembers how yours used to always look effortlessly perfect. Even the shade of her lipstick brings him back to a memory when you wore a similar shade.

She laughs at a poor joke he made, and the sound of her laughter is replaced with yours in Spencer's mind. He realizes then that he can't possibly ask her to marry him.

When the two of them arrive back at the apartment, she rushes off to change into something more comfortable and Spencer hangs back in the kitchen, taking a seat at the dining table.

His fingers find the velvet box in his pocket and he opens it. The ring inside is divine, he had it created just for you. The gemstone in the center reflects the warm light of his apartment beautifully as he admires it. He can't help but to imagine what it would look like on your finger, where it belongs.

As she exits the bedroom, he's quick to hide the box from her view. For the rest of the night he feels as if he's putting on a performance, one in which he half heartedly kisses her while he thinks of your lips, and he holds her with your body in mind.

- - - - -

"Where are you going?" Spencer steps in front of her, blocking her path. He had returned home only an hour earlier to find that she had packed all of her things and called her friend to pick her up. She looks back up at him, and he clearly sees the disdain in her eyes.

"I can't do this anymore Spencer. I don't know what happened or what I did wrong, but I can tell you don't love me, and you haven't for a while." Her words shock him, but he can't find it within himself to contradict what she's saying; she's right after all. 

"You didn't do anything, I'm sorry." Is all he's able to offer her as he steps aside and lets her go. She shakes her head, tears gleaming in her eyes as she grabs the handle of her last bag and leaves without looking back. 

Spencer is left alone in his apartment and he bites his cheek as he looks around. She had taken everything she owned, not a trace remains. While he should feel devastated that she left him, he only feels relieved. The guilt that's been eating him alive for years is finally gone and he knows that this was the best possible outcome for her; he hopes she can find someone who cherishes her the way she deserves.

His eyes fall on the blanket draped over the back of the couch and suddenly this situation feels all too familiar. Spencer is unable to tear his eyes away from the blanket as his mind reminds him in perfect detail the most painful day of his life.

- - - - -

"Spencer, move. Let me go." Your voice is firm but it wavers as you finish the sentence. You had your last bag in your hand and you had hoped to be out of here before Spencer got back home. 

"No, please don't do this. Please don't go." Spencer begs you as tears fall down his cheeks. Pained by his sadness, a tear falls down your own. You so desperately wish you could stay, that things could work between the two of you. 

"Maybe if things were different I could stay." You say, using your free hand to wipe you eyes. 

Before you can be convinced to stay, you step around Spencer and head out the door, leaving behind the best and worst days. When you hear the door shut behind you, you're unable to stop the onslaught of tears that flow down your face as you go to your car parked alongside the curb. The last bag gets carelessly tossed in your car before you drive off. 

Spencer watches from his window as you leave, your car disappearing into the night. He collapses against the wall and sobs. It doesn't feel real, he can't wrap his mind around the fact that you had actually left. 

Hours later he finds the will the stand up and he sniffles the entire way to the bedroom where there's a crisp white paper laid on his pillow. Spencer turns on a light before he grabs the paper and before he reads a single word he notices how some of the ink is smudged, like tear drops had fallen before it had time to dry. 

Soon enough, his tear drops fall onto the paper as well. Each word is like a dagger to his heart and yet he reads it over and over and over again. 

Spencer, 

By the time you read this, I won't be here. Please don't come looking for me. We both knew things weren't going well for a long time, and I didn't see any way we could compromise. It's not fair to you and it wasn't fair to me to stay, we would drive each other to endless misery at some point if something didn't give.

I wish things could have been different for us, but I just couldn't handle it anymore. We both want different things and that's okay. You love your job and it was unfair of me to try and persuade you to pursue something else for my sake, and for that I am sorry. It would've been nice to have you home every night, to know that you could be here for the big and small moments of life. But I understand that that way of life isn't something you're made for, and that's okay too. I'm sorry I'm not built for the life you lead, I tried my best for as long as I could.

You will always have a piece of my heart for as long as I shall live. I wish you nothing but the best. You've got a lot to offer the world, my beautiful Spencer Reid. 

I love you, always.

His heart may as well have been ripped from his chest and shattered into a million irreparable pieces. As he reads and rereads your words he can't believe that you blamed yourself, that you felt the need to apologize for wanting a normal life. 

He recalls the first time you had asked him about a career change. To him it came out of nowhere, but when he really starts to think about it, he should've seen it coming. There were times he would come home and your eyes would be just a little bloodshot and your cheeks would be unusually red. Of course you told him it was just allergies, but the pictures of you two scattered over the coffee table should've told him it was something else entirely. 

The texts asking him if he would be home for your birthday were answered with a negative, along with the questions about Christmas, Valentines Day, and just about every other occasion. He wanted to be there with you, there's no place he would have rather been, but the job required him to be across the country more times than not. He should've realized that you had stopped asking those questions a year ago. 

His memory allows him to see into the past, and as it's said, hindsight is 20/20. The last year of the relationship he often found himself coming home to you already in bed, when you used to stay up and wait for him. Perhaps you had been so accustomed to disappointment that you had assumed something would come up and that he wouldn't be home when he told you he would. 

Within those memories he also notices how sad you seemed. Though he didn't see it at the time, he sees now how your smile stopped reaching your eyes and you stopped trying to plan things for the two of you to do on his days off. Instead of going out, you told him that you just wanted to spend time with him.

There's a particular memory that comes to the forefront of his mind, about a month before you left he remembers the two of you on the couch. You had snuggled into his side, head resting on his shoulder as the two of you watched a movie. He really hadn't been paying attention, he was focused on how warm you were, how he was happy he could finally be here with you. But if he had been following the movie, he would've seen that you turned it off just before the happy ending where the two characters lived out the rest of their days together. He should've noticed then how the tip of your nose turned red and how you wiped your eyes, claiming it was just from being tired. 

His chest aches deeply as he understands the pain he's put you through. All you wanted was him, and he had let you slip right through his fingers without even realizing. 

For days, weeks, and months after you left Spencer finds himself sleeping with the blanket you had picked out, for it's the last piece of yourself that you left him with. And after a while, your scent faded, but the memories remain. 

And ever since, he found himself chasing anything that could give him even just the smallest reminder of you. He only hopes that one day your paths will cross again and that you will find your way back where you belong; back to him.

- - - - -

The room feels colder and darker than usual. There's no sweet smell of pancakes floating in the air, there's nobody next to you to keep you warm. No, all of those comforts had left a week ago. The moment in which everything crumbled replays constantly in your mind. 

In front of you, your boyfriend dropped to one knee and held out a glistening ring. With tears in his eyes, he poured his heart out to you, speaking about how he's beyond in love with you and that he wants to grow old with you. That there's nobody else on this Earth he can imagine coming home to, holding close, and cherishing dearly. 

You could almost hear his heart break as you told him that you couldn't marry him. And not two days later, he had moved out without speaking a single word to you. Everything you spent years building, gone in an instant. But what haunts you the most is the look in his eye, it's the same despair you saw in Spencer's when you had left him. 

But you knew you had made the right decision not to marry your boyfriend. You loved him deeply, but after the conversation about starting a family you realized that you didn't want that future with anyone but Spencer. But that future isn't a possibility, you're keenly aware of that. So it seems you're destined to live out your days reminiscing about Spencer Reid. 

With time you know you had forgotten some of the memories and it's when you try to remember them that you find yourself wishing you had Spencer's memory. By now you figure he's done his best to bury the memory of you while you try to dig yours back up. 

There's one memory you cling to the most, and when sorrow begins swallowing you whole, you relive that memory, wanting to go back in time and live in that moment forever. 

It was a chilly fall day, the leaves had just started to turn colors. Spencer and you had been together just shy of a week but it seemed like neither of you could get enough of one another. In every second of free time you two had, you were together. He explained that his job required him to travel a lot, but you didn't really mind, he was worth waiting for.

 The two of you walked with intertwined hands through the park where you met, and take a seat on the bench. Spencer wanted to come by after the date he planned, a cozy coffee cafe with your favorite pastries. You had never experienced someone taking an interest in you, and your heart felt full knowing he went out of his way to learn what you liked. 

With lovestruck eyes, you look over at him and brush his cheekbone with your free hand, wanting to memorize every detail of him. His skin is smooth, eyes the most brilliant shades of earthy tones, and of course his chocolate curls had you swooning. 

You see his eyes dance between yours and your lips, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he pulled you close and kissed you. Your hands had found their way to his face, cradling his jaw as he held your waist. 

And as you pulled away you couldn't help the smile that found its way to your face. You had never been one to believe in falling in love so soon after meeting someone, but something about Spencer felt different. It was like your souls were meant for each other, there was an undeniable chemistry from the start. And though you wouldn't say it for another few months, you knew in this moment that you were helplessly in love with Spencer Reid.

But instead of leading a fulfilling life with him by your side, you find yourself utterly alone.

Eventually you make your way into the living room, which now has half of the furniture it did a few days ago. But you don't care, you convinced yourself that it was for the best, and that your now-ex deserves someone better than yourself, someone who wasn't still in love with the person who came before. 

You decide to get out of the house and take a walk with no particular destination. The fresh air will hopefully make you feel better. Your mind is anywhere but the present and you hadn't realized that you had made your way to the park. The same one that holds too many bittersweet memories. 

But instead of walking somewhere else, you continue on. You hadn't come back here since you left Spencer but it feels right. Lately you've found yourself considering trying to find him again, but ultimately you decide against it, recalling the words you left for him and the fact that it looks like he's found someone new. You love him too much to disrupt what love and peace he may have found.

Taking the familiar path you find yourself walking to the bench where Spencer first introduced himself to you, the bench that had started everything.

As you round the bend you see an older couple sitting there in the very spot you had all those years ago. The woman has her arm linked with the man's and the two of them laugh about something. The sunlight glints off of their wedding bands and you look away as they lean in to kiss each other. Walking by them, you offer a polite smile despite the turmoil you feel inside. They meet your eye as you pass and return your smile with warmth and happiness.

This trip down memory lane leaves you feeling like you had just seen a bit of what your future with Spencer could have looked like, the two of you grey-haired but still head over heels for each other. 

But you know that can never be a reality, and so you'll have to find a way to settle for the fleeting glimpse you caught.

-----

Part Two

[unseededtoast]

Hey guys. Sorry to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Going through it currently. In the trenches. Hoping to come back soon though!

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Epilogue

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

I hear the cooing of turtle doves in the trees above us.

Rustling bedsheets bring me out of a deep sleep, and the sunlight shining through the window is enough to let me know I've probably slept in just a little too long.

Beside me, I feel Joel move around until his arm finally wraps around my waist and he pulls me close. No matter how many mornings begin this same way, I'll never get tired of it.

I get cozy in his arms and the two of us lay there in a peaceful silence, both of us waking up at a slow pace. Joel just got back from a security patrol yesterday after a week, so it's all the more reason to prolong starting the day.

He presses a kiss to the back of my head and his hand traces the curve of my waist.

"Missed you." He whispers, voice thick with sleep.

"I missed you more." I answer with a small smile on my face.

"Now we've been over this before, that's just not possible." I can practically hear the smile in his voice and turn around to face him.

Joel's big brown eyes look back into mine, the sunlight reflecting the small flecks of gold around his pupils. As he smiles, thin lines beside his eyes become more pronounced. I reach a hand up and brush my thumb against his cheekbone, and he leans into my touch.

"How'd it go?" I ask, curious as to how his patrol went with Tommy.

"It was uneventful if that's what you're worried about." He sees through my question and answers the one I hadn't exactly asked.

"That's what I like to hear." I answer, happy to hear that they hadn't run into any unanticipated obstacles or observed any raiders.

"How were things here?" He asks, his hand trailing down to my hip. No matter how many times his hands have mapped out the curves of my body, it never fails to make me feel loved and desired.

"They were good. I've got something for you downstairs whenever we get around to it." I answer, in no particular hurry to get out of bed just yet.

"Well whatever it is, it can wait just a little longer. How was Ellie?" He asks, a thin line between his eyebrows becoming visible.

"She was good. Spent most of her time with Dina and Jesse. I'm not cool enough anymore apparently." I tell him, remembering how much fun she looked like she was having the other night with her friends.

I had gone to the Tipsy Bison with Maria while our men were away to pass some time and we had spotted Ellie, Dina, and Jesse together. They were laughing and joking, having a good time overall. And as I watched them, I could've sworn I saw a certain look in Ellie's eye as she watched Dina. It's the same one Joel has when he looks at me, and me at him. But I'll never say anything to Joel, I just hope by now she trusts me enough to talk about it, whenever she may be ready. Though she's not my child, she's come to grow on me, and I love her like she's my very own.

"Good. It's about time she gets some solid friends. I was worried about her for a while, thought she was making it her mission to have the world as her enemy." He says with a sigh. I place my hand atop his on my hip and give him a pointed look.

"Sure sounds like someone I met once." A small smirk tilts the corner of my lip.

"I don't know what you mean." He feigns ignorance and deflects by kissing my forehead.

We spend some more time in bed, relishing in the peace we have before we eventually make our way down to the kitchen. Before Joel gets down I get to the table first and grab the fresh fruit and hide it behind my back.

And once he finally comes down the stairs he sees the smile on my face, his eyes going to my hands behind my back.

"Whatcha got there?" He asks, eyes flicking back up to mine.

"This." I say and bring the fruit around from behind my back.

A small peach sits in the palm of my hand and Joel's eyes grow wide. He takes a few steps towards me, his eyes never leaving the fruit.

"Is that..?" He asks, not believing what he's seeing.

"It is. And I haven't forgotten about the promise I made." I nod my head with a smile and hold the fruit out to him.

Three years ago when Joel first planted the trees, I ended up promising him the first peach the trees produced. And all of our patience and care has finally paid off. The droughts and severe winters weren't enough to keep our trees from prospering.

He takes the fruit from my hand and wastes no time biting into it. I hear how juicy it is and can't wait to try one myself. I'll be even happier when the apple trees start producing, but unfortunately that'll likely take another year or two. But if I've learned anything, it's that I can be patient for good things.

"Good?" I ask, seeing Joel's eyes closed as he savors the fruit.

"So good." He opens his eyes again and closes the space between us.

Joel leans in for a kiss, and I can taste the sweet peach juice on his lips. Maybe when we get more I can find a way to make a peach cobbler, there's nothing better than a sweet dessert on a summer's evening.

"Mmm that is good." I say and lick the juice off of my own lips.

"I think you missed some, right there." Joel says and leans in for another kiss. And then another.

One of his arms wraps around my waist as he deepens our kiss. He must've really missed me out there this past week. My hands come up to cup his face and bring him impossibly closer to me. And just as I begin to feel the heat ignite in my tummy, the front door opens.

"Gross." Ellie says, slinging her bag on the couch as she walks into the kitchen.

Joel steps away from me and scowls at Ellie. This isn't the first time she had walked in on Joel and I being intimate together. But thankfully this time we still had our clothes on.

"Have you never heard of knocking?" Joel asks her, taking another bite of the peach still in his hand.

"It's practically noon I didn't think you'd be here." She answers as she starts rummaging through the cabinets. From the looks of her, she didn't spend the night out in the detached garage Joel had converted into an apartment for her.

"I just got back yesterday. Had no plans of leaving this house." He says before finishing off the peach.

Ellie looks over at him, pausing her food scavenging for just a moment.

"I'm going to assume it's because you're tired and not for nasty plans." She says before going back through what's in the cabinets.

At first, I had been taken aback by Ellie's blunt demeanor. But Joel had assured me that it's just her way of communicating. And he had been right, the girl is a spitfire.

"And what if it was?" He shot back at her and I knew that they'd keep going back and forth if I didn't step in.

"Stop it, children. Ellie, we have some bread Maria gave us in the next cabinet over." I tell her and she nods, finding it and tearing a piece off.

"So what'd you come in here for if not to interrupt and take our food?" Joel asks, watching as she takes another mouthful of bread.

"First of all, I didn't interrupt anything. Second, I was coming to tell you that the guy from the radio tower gave me a message. For you." Ellie looks right at me and my eyebrows raise.

"What was it?" I ask, confused as to who could have possibly wanted to reach out.

"Said it was some guy from Boston, James. And that he said he was happy to hear that you're still alive. Oh, and he's pissed he didn't get his knife back." Ellie relays the message. I can't help but feel a little shocked. I hadn't seen or talked to James since I left Boston.

"But I never sent a transmission out to him." I say, sliding my hands into the pockets of my pants.

"I did. A few weeks ago. Felt bad for just leaving him in the dark all that time. Thought he might want to know you were okay." Joel says, almost sheepishly.

A part of me feels bad for never reaching out to James. After everything we went through for years and years, I had just left him and disappeared. I had wanted to reach out but I didn't know what to say, after all, we didn't leave on the best of terms. But James and I always come around. Always.

"Thanks Ellie, and thank you, Joel. I'll have to send him something back." I say, promising to myself that I'll follow through this time.

I wonder how he's doing, how his wife is doing. Maybe he's out of the smuggling business. But if I know James as well as I think I do, there's no way he got out of it. And because of that, I'm even more confident in my choice to leave. Otherwise I'd still be stuck there doing the same damn thing every single day.

And here I get to wake up in peace next to the man I love, never having to worry about FEDRA soldiers or Firefly terrorists. It's quiet and serene out here, and I wouldn't trade this for anything.

"Maybe he'll come out here." Joel says, finishing the peach off and licking the excess juice from his fingers. I scoff and stave off laughter.

"James won't ever leave Boston unless he's forced to. He's complacent there and he's got the economy under his thumb. But it would be nice to see him again." I say, remembering all those years we spent surviving together. What once seemed like days that blurred together, are now nothing more than a distant memory.

"Well, anyways, I'm going back out. See you guys later, maybe." Ellie says, shoving just a little bit more bread into her mouth before she's grabbing her bag and darting out the door.

"I'm gonna have to change the locks or something." Joel says with a shake of his head. But I know he only puts up a rough exterior, deep down I know he loves when she drops in.

"You really think that'll stop her?" I ask, and Joel shakes his head.

"It sure wouldn't." He confirms and looks from the door back to me.

He steps towards me and can't keep his hands to himself. His lips are on mine again, his hands kneading into my hips. I'd love to just melt right into his touch and spend the day wrapped up in him, but, as another unfortunate fact of life, there's work to be done. Maybe tonight we'll be able to make up for lost time.

"Joel, come on I have to get out the greenhouses. First harvest is coming up." I say, stepping out of his embrace before I get persuaded to stay.

"Let me come with you then." He says and puts his boots on before I can insist he stays here and rests up. The man is still stubborn as an ox, not much has changed on that front.

"Fine. But I won't let you do any physical labor. Today is supposed to be for your rest and recovery." I remind him, lacing up my own shoes. He dismisses my statement while I grab some wicker baskets.

The two of us step out into the golden sunlight, the summer air feeling warm already. It's best to get gardening work done in the morning, and I'm really pushing it today. I just hope the others don't mind much. But even if they do, with Joel around, I doubt I'll hear anything about it.

The greenhouses are full and are shaping up to have a very fruitful season. When we get there, there's already a few of the others working to water and harvest the newly-ripened vegetables.

I hand a basket to Joel and the two of us start making our way down the aisles, grabbing the red tomatoes and peppers while making sure the others are growing nicely and without pests or diseases.

It's not often Joel gets to work here, but I can tell he likes it when he can find the time. After all, I'm sure it's extremely rewarding to see so much prosperity come from something he helped to build with his own hands.

I watch as he gently plucks a cherry tomato from the vine, his large hands acting with such tenderness. A tenderness I never would've guessed lived in him when I first met him a few years ago.

He must feel me watching because he turns his head and meets my gaze. A soft smile forms on his lips before he focuses back on the plant. And after admiring him for just a moment longer, I get back to work as well, my soul content and happy.

Later, after the greenhouse work is complete and the sun begins descending on the horizon, Joel offers to walk me to the flower field. The flower field and orchard is probably my favorite place on Earth. And every time I go to visit, I'm reminded of Joel's kindness and thoughtfulness.

The two of us find a nice spot amongst the blooming colors. Every year since Joel planted them all, more and more keep popping up, filling the space with incredible vividness. I lean against his shoulder as we listen to the birds coo and chirp and watch the butterflies and honey bees fly around to all the flowers.

"Reminds me that I need to find that hive, might be able to get us some honey." Joel breaks the silence as a pollen-covered bee lands on his boot.

"Honey would be so nice." I agree, watching as it takes flight again.

The two of us fall back into a comfortable silence for a while longer, the setting sun finally painting the sky a vibrant orange and pink.

"Listen, while Tommy and I were out there, I found something." Joel speaks up again and I shift around to look up at him. His hand comes down to rest on my thigh.

"What did you find?" I ask, curious as to why he's only bringing this up now. Usually if they find anything good it's the first thing Joel says.

"I'll get to that in a second. But first, I just, um, I just wanted to tell you that you mean the world to me. And that I love you, very much." He says and I smile sweetly. Joel tells me he loves me all the time, but this feels different. And while he's searching for his next words, I place my hand atop his on my thigh.

"And I love you too." My voice is light, as to not disturb the ambience surrounding us.

"I mean, I love you more than I ever thought was possible. From that first night in Boston, I knew there was just somethin' about you. And then we spent the night on that farm, and I got to see the real you. I knew I could never just say goodbye after Omaha, there's just no way I could come back here and never see you again. And building this life together, it's more than I deserve and certainly more than I ever could've hoped for." He says, and I faintly see tears welling up in his eyes. His big brown eyes look into mine, and my heart feels like it's overflowing with love.

"And while we were out there. I saw this and just thought it would be the prettiest thing in the world on your finger." He says, pulling a box from his pocket and opening it.

Inside, a pristine looking ring sits in the plush velvet. The stones are bright and reflect the sunlight in a magical way. Tears fall from my eyes before I can even find the words to say.

"Joel Miller, I love you more than you could ever know. And I'll cherish you for the rest of my days." I say, as he pulls the ring from the box and slides it into my ring finger.

The metal and stones glisten wonderfully and I can barely take my eyes off of it. Never in a million years did I think I'd be wearing another ring on my finger. And we both know that this can never replace what was lost decades ago, we know that this is a symbol of what we've found and built together.

Joel wipes the tears from my eyes and a few fall from his and roll down his cheek. His lips meet mine in a tender, loving way, and I wish that I could stay in this moment forever.

And as we break away and lean our foreheads against one another's, I hear the cooing of turtle doves in the trees above us.

[unseededtoast]

All I Know | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: Five years after leaving Spencer Reid, it seems that fate might have given you a second chance. Inspired by "Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran

Part two of Glimpse of Us, but can be read standalone!

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.5k

a/n: Hi everyone! It's good to be back and I hope this lives up to your expectations. This one felt different from my usual style but I think it's different in a good way. And thank you once again for being patient, I appreciate each and every one of you

You're not sure what you did to deserve this opportunity, to be reunited with the love of your life, but you choose not to question it. All you know is that you're his, and he is yours, until the end of your days. 

And that is more than you could have ever wished for.

Nerves wake Spencer up far before his alarm even sounds. Anxiety over the "what ifs" of the day eat away at his mind, he hopes the day goes well. He hasn't had a first day at work in a long time, he had become accustomed to his life at the BAU. But his FBI days are in the rear view mirror now, a career-ending injury forced him to forge a new path in life.

And this new path he chose was becoming a professor. Sure, he had guest lectured before but he had never been a full blown professor. In preparation he reviewed his curriculum at least a hundred times to make sure it was perfect and rehearsed his first lecture.

While he should be happy and excited for a new start, he can't help but feel that it's all too bittersweet for his taste.

It had been five years since you left him. You walked out because you became unable to deal with his bustling lifestyle, and he understood. But now, here he is, forced to slow down and without you by his side. Spencer had effectively lost the two most important things in his life.

His alarm finally sounds and knocks Spencer out of his thoughts, and quickly gets ready for his first day of teaching.

- - - - -

Your pen glides across the paper in front of you quickly as you glance at the clock to see how much time you have left. Five minutes. You can do this.

After you quickly scribble your name on the card, you slide it in the envelope and rush out of your office with the card and laptop in hand. Students and faculty alike scatter through the halls, eager for the first day of classes.

You find the office you're looking for and slide the envelope under the closed door. Hopefully the new professor hadn't been in yet, you hope the card will be a nice surprise for them.

Two weeks ago at the faculty meeting it was announced a new professor was hired in your department. They wouldn't divulge a name, but you didn't think it mattered much, everyone likes a greeting card. And you hope it'll make the new professor feel right at home.

After dropping the card off you make your way to the lecture hall, excited to meet the new faces of students for the semester. Though this is only your third semester of teaching, it feels like you've been doing this a lifetime and it doesn't even feel like a job most times. You think you finally found your calling in life, and it's the first time you felt real happiness in years.

Once your lecture is over, you make your way to the break room for a much needed cup of coffee. As you sit down at one of the tables your coworker-turned-friend Jamie walks in with a smile on her face. Her first day must be going well.

"It's good to see you." You stand to hug her.

"I have a feeling this is going to be the best semester yet." Her smile is wide and bright, her enthusiasm starts rubbing off on you.

"Why's that?" You ask, sipping on your coffee as you sit back down. Jamie takes the seat across from you and leans close.

"You know the new professor they hired?" Her voice lowers so that people can't eavesdrop.

"I know they hired one but I have no idea who." You tell her the truth.

"Well whoever does the hiring around here deserves a raise. He's hot. And I mean like, hot hot." Her words pique your interest, and suddenly you wish you had stuck around to meet the man in person.

"Hmm maybe we'll have to make a habit of walking by his office." Your own smile breaks out across your face.

"Perhaps we will." The two of you laugh together and you think Jamie might just be right, this might be the best semester yet.

- - - - -

The second day of the semester went well, as did the next, and the one after that. Your students all seem to be excited for the course content, except a few, and you're excited to see the projects they come up with. 

With a smile on your face from a successful lecture full of intellectual conversation, you retire to the break room for a little bit, before your next lecture. The air outside is getting quite cold and so you settle for a warm tea today.

However, your peace doesn't last long as Jamie walks in minutes later. She takes a seat across from you and sets her laptop down on the table.

"What do you have there?" She asks, gesturing to your cup. You look down at the tea that still has steam rising from it.

"Oh, just some tea." You answer and venture to take a sip that burns your tongue.

"It's a good day for it too." She says as she rises from her seat to grab a cup as well.

When she returns the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. Jamie works on her notes while you enjoy the peace. You don't even look to see who entered the room when the door opens.

But, Jamie's not-so-subtle kick under the table gives you a clue as to who it might be. She's been pestering you all week about finding the new professor, and you're willing to bet he just walked in.

Casually, you look over and see a tall, slim man pouring a cup of coffee. His hair is long, down to his shoulders, and you watch as he pours sugar into the cup; an ungodly amount of sugar. Your stomach twists nervously as the man's silhouette and coffee order seems all too familiar. 

Unable to tear your gaze away, you watch as the man finally turns around and meets your eyes. And it's like the world has stopped spinning, your heart has stopped pumping, and you can no longer remember how to breathe.

Spencer Reid is standing ten feet away from you.

His forest-colored eyes are just as beautiful as you remember. Gold tones still as soft as honey, green hues reminiscent of fresh spring grass. And it catapults you to the first moment you met him.

It was a nice, sunny day and you had decided to go to the park to finish your book. You had been inside for far too long and it would have been a waste to not enjoy such a lovely day. And to take full advantage of it you wore your favorite sundress.

You had picked a spot on a bench that was partially shaded from the sun and you enjoyed the sounds of nature as you turned each page. That was until someone stood in front of you and blocked your light. You closed the cover of your book and looked up to the handsome man in front of you.

"Hi, I'm Spencer and I um, I just thought I'd come and introduce myself." You hear the nerves in his voice and see them in the way he scratches as the back of his neck.

"Hi Spencer, it's nice to meet you." You smiled up at him.

You had always thought it was endearing how nervous he was to make a good impression and you've never been able to forget the fullness your heart felt that day. But then your mind plays a cruel joke, and suddenly your head is filled with the moment you left him.

No matter how hard you try to forget, you will always remember the tears running down his cheeks and the way his voice cracked as he begged you to stay. It took every ounce of strength you had to follow through with your plan.

Every now and then you think long and hard about if you had made the right decision. You still hold a deep love for Spencer, but with the lifestyle he was living and the future you wanted, eventually the two of you would have drove each other to madness one way or another. It was in the best interest of both of you to separate, or at least that's what you had convinced yourself of.

Jamie clears her throat and you're swiftly brought back to reality. She looks between them two of you, both frozen in place like statues. Now that you look at him, really look, you see how much he's changed and how much he's stayed the same.

His hair is longer, he's filled out just slightly more, his fashion sense is relatively the same and he still has kind eyes. He's still your Spencer, the one you left all those years ago.

"I can't, I have to, I have to go." You clumsily stand from your spot and rush out of the door.

Your chest begins feeling heavy and tight, your palms sweat and your heart races. Getting to your office is your only priority. Shaking fingertips grasp the edge of the solid wood desk, your eyes squeeze shut and all you can hear is your thumping heartbeat. 

"Hey, are you okay?" Jamie's voice sounds muffled to you, and you pay her no mind. Your only focus right now is to breathe again. 

Minutes could've passed by, or even hours, before you finally feel your senses coming back to you. Your muscles ache from the tension, and you open your eyes to find Jamie standing right next to you, her hand resting on your shoulder. Blinking a few times, you try to remain calm as the nerves tangle your inside. 

"Hey." Jamie speaks softly. Glancing at the clock on the wall behind her, only five minutes passed. 

"Sorry about that." You stand up straight and try to regain your normal composure. 

"What happened?" There isn't a trace of judgment to be found in her voice, just concern and curiosity. With a sigh, you sit on the edge of your desk and cross your arms, unable to meet her gaze. 

"That was Spencer." You plainly tell her, knowing she will understand. 

Over the course of the past year, you and Jamie had grown quite close. The two of you swapped stories of your pasts; you know about her exes and she knows of yours. At first, you had worried she might judge you for breaking off an engagement over a man you willingly left, but instead of judgment, she met you with understanding. And you were ever so grateful for that. 

"Oh." Her tone is heavy, and all you can do is nod your head.

How are you supposed to continue working here when he shares the same halls? And had he known that you were here? Surely he recognized your name on the card. He had to have known. And yet he never sought you out once. Your mind wrestles with why that may be. Perhaps he didn't want to see you after you broke his heart, maybe he had looked for you but you were out of office. A million different scenarios fill your mind at once.

- - - - -

A week passes without seeing Spencer again. Physically, of course, but you saw him plenty in your dreams. You had been free from dreaming of Spencer Reid for about seven months now, until a week ago and now he's all you can dream about. 

While you sleep you're met with different scenes, each of them about how your life might've looked like if you had stayed. Some scenes are sweet and tranquil, while others are full of fighting and misery. And you aren't sure which ones are worse. 

One night you had felt particularly curious and you found yourself looking at his Instagram again. You navigated to the pictures he's been tagged in and noticed all the ones you had seen previously are no longer posted. A quick trip to the woman's profile shows that she is with a new man now, and there's no trace of Spencer left on her account. From the looks of it, Spencer never got into another relationship after her. 

A part of you is relieved he hasn't moved on. For if he moved on a second time, it would have solidified to you that he truly has moved on. After all, you were never able to move on after you broke off the engagement with your last boyfriend. 

Getting back together with Spencer never seemed like a viable option until now. Now he no longer lives on the fly, there's no risk of him getting called away for weeks on end. No, his schedule is normal now, a solid, unchanging schedule, one that allows for personal time. This idea had been blossoming in your mind for a few days now, after you had been able to process that he works at the same university. 

Now, even while you're awake you daydream about being back together with him. In your mind, he's able to be home every evening now, he's able to be there for holidays and birthdays. There would be no more occasions spent alone. The thought of that warms your heart, but it's always quickly refuted by a tiny voice in the back of your mind. Why would he want you back after all? You had walked out on him and broke his heart, there's no reason why he would desire to have you back.

And so you live partially in sadness and partially in happiness, feelings changing on a whim depending on which thought intrudes into the forefront of your mind. You can tell others are noticing how you've withdrawn, but thankfully they haven't said anything yet. Even Jamie has been giving you more space than normal. You feel bad for distancing yourself, and promise yourself that you will try harder to get back to normal. 

Normalcy is what you're hoping for tonight. It's the university's annual holiday dinner, hosted at a local five star hotel and catered by a Michelin star restaurant, you wouldn't miss it for anything. Jamie had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to carpool and when you check your phone you see that you only have fifteen minutes left before she's going to be here. 

The dress code is black tie formal, and you enjoy getting dressed up, you don't get to do it often. For tonight you had decided on something simple, yet elegant. The floor length dress hugs your body just right, and the heels sparkle tastefully with every step you take. Finalizing your look, you put on a pair of earrings that catches the light beautifully. Before you go to wait for Jamie, you take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror. And for the first time in a long time, you feel content with how you look, excited for the night to come. 

"There are more people here than there were last year." You say to Jamie as you two wait to be seated. There's easily double the amount of people here, word must have got out about how good the food is. 

"Tell me about it." She looks around at the other faculty members who are also dressed to the nines. 

"Ladies, if you are willing, we have a group table that is ready to be sat." A posh waiter interrupts your conversation politely. Jamie and you look to each other and shrug. 

"That's fine with me." You confirm, and Jamie nods her head. The waiter smiles, 

"Right this way." He leads you through the hotel's reception room, lights dim with a string quartet playing in the background. As you pass by the musicians, you can't help but wonder how much money the university allocates to this night, and if it could perhaps be better spent. But that thought doesn't last long once the fresh bread basket is placed in front of you. 

"So good." Jamie says through mouthfuls of warm, toasted bread. All you can do is nod in agreement, enjoying how the butter and bread compliment each other well. 

Other faculty members begin being sat at the table with you, and you greet them all though you haven't a clue who they are. Everyone at the table gets swept away in their own conversations, so much so that you don't even realize who they had sat right next to Jamie, and you probably wouldn't have noticed for a while if Jamie's body language didn't give away that something was wrong. 

Your eyebrows crease at the sudden tension in her shoulders, the tightening of her jaw. Her eyes grow wider just slightly, as if she's trying to communicate something telepathically. Your eyes sweep to the right and find nothing out of the ordinary, but once they move to the left you realize that what was supposed to be a good night, might end up being a terrible one after all. Of course the universe would have fated that Spencer get sat at this table as well. 

You avert your gaze from him quickly, feeling your face flush red. If it wouldn't be considered rude, you would get up from this table right now and go back home. But you know Jamie has been looking forward to this dinner all year and you don't want to let her down because of your personal problems. If you just keep your focus on Jamie, maybe tonight will be more bearable. 

Keeping your eyes off of Spencer is easier said than done you come to find. As if it's a habit, you find yourself stealing glances at him. He's decided on a nicely tailored suit for tonight, and the warm lighting compliments the golden hues in his eyes. And it's because he looks so good that you can only half pay attention to the words coming out of Jamie's mouth for the rest of the night. 

The table's food arrives and your one glass of wine turns to two, which turns into three. Jamie has had more than you, and has used her newfound confidence to go mingle with the other faculty in the open part of the room. Typically, after the dinner, the floor opens for dancing and socialization, neither of which you feel like doing now. Slowly, but surely, the others at the table leave to go mingle as well, leaving only you and Spencer at the table together. With this realization, you finish off your third glass of the night and wonder where to get your fourth. 

Just as you're about to get up and track a waiter down, you hear Spencer clear his throat. Like a deer caught in headlights, you look at him with wide eyes. He's already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Something makes you sit back down though you know you should be running the other way. Seconds tick by like hours, you watch with intent eyes how he licks his lips, a nervous habit he's always had. And finally, he breaks the silence. 

"Hello."

- - - - - 

Spencer had never been one for fancy outings, especially outside of work hours, but tonight he is happy to make an exception. Ever since he saw you in the break room you're all that he can think about; more so than usual. 

Over the years he had kept light tabs on you, asking Penelope every few months how you were doing and if you were still in the area. All she ever said was that you're doing well and you're still around. And that was enough for Spencer, he could live with that vagueness. Until he set eyes on you again. Now, you consume his thoughts every second of every day. 

He had never stopped missing you, loving you. No, he still searched for things that reminded him of you. The blankets you had picked out all those years ago are still draped over his couch. And now there's a shred of hope blossoming within him that his apartment may be your shared space once more. 

The only issue is that he's not even sure you want him back. He doesn't know if you're seeing somebody else, or if you even want a relationship at all; especially with him. After all, you had left for good reason so why would you want to come back?

The pessimism and optimism wrestle in his mind as he finishes tying his tie in the mirror. Spencer hadn't been working at the university long enough to have any real acquaintances or friends, and usually that would stress him out. But tonight, all he's focused on is you. 

He wants to see who you show up with and get a gauge of your feelings towards him. Spencer is still fairly confident he can read your body language. And he promises to himself that if you show up with a man, or act disinterested, that he will leave you alone and look for another job. After all, you were there first and he doesn't want you to feel suffocated in your place of work. Plus, he knows he wouldn't be able to share the halls with you without speaking to you. The wound would never heal, but then again, he's had five years to heal it yet it remains open.

Spencer hands the valet his car keys as he walks inside the high-end dinner. The lights are moody and it feels like something straight out of a movie. He joins the line to be seated, and there he spots you for the first time, looking around and talking to Jamie. 

On his first day Jamie had found her way to his office to introduce herself. She taught in the humanities department and was friendly enough, Spencer liked her, he thought she may prove to be a helpful friend to have around. His nerves were still at an all time high as she explained who had offices in this hall as well, and his interest piqued when she mentioned your name. He contained his surprise and thanked Jamie for coming by. Once he opened the card that was left on the floor of his office, it was glaringly obvious you had no idea he was the new guy, for you had signed the card,

"We're so glad to have you here, can't wait to meet you! Welcome to the team!" Followed by your signature. He would recognize that signature anywhere. He remembers seeing it scrawled across sticky notes you used to leave in his bag, ones he would find while he was out working a case. He always looked forward to finding those notes, it was like having a piece of you there with him. And if he's honest, they still reside in an interior pocket of his bag, he could never find the resolve to get rid of them. 

He watches as you and Jamie get seated, and he feels nerves creep up his spine. What if this all ends badly? He doesn't want you to run out of the even like you did the break room, no, that was the last thing he wanted to happen. All he wants is to gauge your reaction when you notice him, that's all. That will be enough for him to make his decision.

After a few long minutes had passed, he was finally being seated. While he followed the host he scanned the room for you but failed to see you amongst the sea of people. Surely you were here somewhere. Thanking the host as he took his seat, he took a deep breath and became acquainted with his surroundings. This was a large group table, there are likely others to be seated around him, so maybe he will make some new friends after all. 

He's just about to open the menu when he catches the glimmer of jewelry out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he sees that it's you sitting just across from him. He's been sat beside Jamie, and he can tell from their stiff posture that they've both noticed him. 

Averting his gaze quickly, he tries to think of how to handle the situation but comes up with no good answers. So he settles on just trying to make it through the dinner and to get a decent read of your body language without you noticing him looking at you. 

All of which is easier said than done. Every time he goes to sneak a glance at you, it seems that your eyes are already on him. He doesn't miss the way your drinking increases or how you fidget with the necklace resting on your chest. 

The night passes unbearably slowly until it seems like it's coming to an abrupt end. Jamie leaves the table to talk to other friends, leaving just you and Spencer alone at the table. Unable to keep his eyes off of you any longer, he glances over and sees you finish off your third glass of wine for the night. And judging by the way your eyes dance across the people in the room, you're on the hunt for another, likely because his presence has unnerved you. 

You go to stand from your seat when something inexplicable happens. Before Spencer can comprehend why he's doing this, the word just tumbles out of his mouth, just a simple, 

"Hello."

The word seems to have made you sit back down, and he quickly assess that as being receptive to what he has to say. You clear your throat, buying yourself some time before answering. 

"Hi." Your voice is airy and like music to Spencer's ears. How he's missed hearing your voice. 

The shred of hope within him grows, and he only hopes this conversation goes well.

- - - - - 

The two of you are unable to break each other's gaze. Your eyes stare into his with intensity and your heart pounds in your chest. For a second you're worried you might have a heart attack because of the quick pace.

"You look lovely tonight." Spencer tells you, a ghost of a smile teasing the edge of his lips. You glance down at your dress.

"Thank you, you clean up pretty well too." You tell him the truth.

You're not sure where this is going to go, you feel as if you're treading in dangerous waters and you're not sure if you're going to be rescued or swallowed up. Spencer glances down at the tablecloth and smiles softly. 

"Thank you." He says, looking back up into your eyes. 

The two of you fall into a silence and you're not quite sure what to do from here. There's so much that's left unsaid but you don't know if you have the nerve to say any of it. But after a few minutes pass without anything, you rise from the table, unable to be so close yet so far from him. 

"Goodnight, I hope you enjoy the rest of the dinner." You keep your exit friendly and turn to go stand on the curb and wait for an Uber. You don't want to end Jamie's fun, you'll just send her a text that you caught a ride home. 

The night air is chilly and it sends a shiver up your spine so you wrap your arms around yourself. You unlock your phone and are just about to request a ride when you hear footsteps coming from behind. Looking to your right you see Spencer, lips parted and eyes scanning your face. 

"I can take you home, if you want of course. I drove here and it wouldn't be a problem at all. I was probably going to head out soon anyways." His words are rushed and slightly jumbled, but send butterflies straight to your stomach. 

"That would be nice." You accept his offer, feeling the familiar tingle of nerves engulfing your body. He nods and smiles before offering you his arm to take. 

Hesitantly, you reach out and loop your arm with his. He's warm and oh so familiar. The two of you walk in stride together, and you take a shaky breath to keep your emotions in check. A gentle breeze carries the scent of his cologne into your nose and it transports you back to a time you reminisce about frequently. 

You look up at Spencer as you walk, noticing how much more grown up he looks now. Stubble lines his jaw more noticeably, his arms feel sturdier, the smile lines by his eyes more prominent, but still the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes on. 

Feeling your gaze on him, he looks down at you and smiles kindly. Your eyes burn and you look forward, seeing his car only a few rows back. It almost doesn't feel real. 

Spencer opens the door for you and you sit in the passenger seat. Before he gets in, you pinch your leg harshly, reminding yourself that this is very much real and is actually happening. Suddenly your palms feel sweaty and your throat feels tighter. The sound of Spencer closing his door snaps you out of it. 

Without asking for directions, Spencer drives off into the night. The streetlights offer a warm glow as he passes street after street. You pick at the edges of your nails as he drives, not feeling confident enough to say anything, you honestly don't even know what to say. And you're so distracted you don't even realize where he's taken you until he turns the car off. Looking out the window, you see his apartment building.

"If you want, I'd like for you to come inside for a little bit. If not, just tell me where you want me to take you." His voice wavers with nerves. The car is dark, but you're close enough to see him. Nodding your head, you reach for the doorhandle. 

"I can come in." Your voice is like a whisper.

You follow Spencer up the stairs to his apartment, and you take it all in. You never thought you'd see this place again. Stepping inside, you see that not a lot has changed. There are some new pictures on the walls and there's an entirely new bookcase in the living room, but it's almost just as you left it. A moment frozen in time. 

Spencer drops his keys on the counter and hangs his coat on the rack beside the door. You take a deep breath as you realize the last time you two were here together, he was pleading with you not to leave. 

"Would you like any water?" He asks and you shake your head, 

"No, I'm okay, thank you though." You decline and watch as he loosens the tie around his neck. 

"I didn't know you pursued teaching." He ignites the conversation again and tries to make it all seem more casual by rearranging things that clutter the dining table. 

"Yeah, I started about a year ago." 

"Do you like it?" He asks, pausing his rearranging to give you his undivided attention. 

"I do. Well, so far at least. Each semester its like the courses become richer with content and I just love seeing the passion some of them have. It's inspiring. Why'd you start teaching?" You open up a little in an attempt to shake the tension that hangs in the air between you. Spencer chews on his lip before answering.

"We were working a case and I got shot in the knee, and it ruptured some tendons. And my choices were to either work strictly behind a desk or pursue something else." At the mention of him being shot, you eyes widen and your jaw falls slack. 

"You got shot?" An all too familiar feeling of anxiety shoots through you and you remember how many nights you stayed awake contemplating that very thing happening.

"I did, but as you can see it wasn't fatal." He cracks a small smile, but all you can think of is how easily he could've been taken from this world. 

"Well I'm glad it wasn't." You truthfully tell him. A life without Spencer in it is quite miserable, but living in a world without Spencer would be like swimming in a lake of fire; torturous and inconceivable. 

"Me too. But it forced me to put things into perspective, to slow down and enjoy what life has to offer." You're not sure if his choice of words is intentional, or what exactly he means by telling you this. But there's a small, optimistic part of you that can only imagine why he's saying these things. 

"I'm sure it's not an easy adjustment." You elect to skirt around the question you want to ask, not knowing if you're just being foolishly hopeful or not. Spencer nods and motions to the living room, 

"Would you like to sit down?" He asks, looking down at the heels you're wearing. 

"That would be nice." You say and sit down on the leather couch, where you always used to sit. It almost feels like the couch remembers you. And your eyes catch the blanket draped over the back, you remember it well as you have the other one still. 

Spencer sits next to you, the two of you close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. It takes everything within you to not just lean into him and act like nothing ever happened. You miss him so much, you miss his touch, you miss his kisses, you miss his love. 

"How have you been?" The question feels out of place, but you're not exactly sure of what would feel right. Meeting his eyes again, you tell him the truth. 

"There have been a lot of ups and downs. Long story short I pursued a new career, as you've found out, moved two different times, visited Europe, and then I was engaged but broke it off." Your voice dies at the end, still feeling guilty over breaking yet another heart with the failed engagement. 

"Engaged?" Spencer's voice is tight and filled with worry. 

"I was, but I couldn't follow through with it." You tell him. Though you're not sure why you're spilling everything, but it just feels like the right thing to do. 

"Why not?" He asks, his eyes dancing between your eyes, your hands, and your lips. You shrug, 

"He just wasn't the right one. But how have you been?" You ask, already knowing about one girlfriend he had. Spencer's eyebrows raise,

"Well, I stayed with the FBI up until just recently, I made some friends and lost some, and I had a girlfriend, but that didn't end well either." He says though you're sure he's summarizing dramatically, as you had also done.

"Oh. Well I'm sorry about the FBI and about your, your girlfriend." The word is almost impossible for you to say, but you force yourself to. 

"Don't be sorry. I guess she just wasn't the right one." He whispers as his eyes finally land on your again. 

Your lips fall slack and you can't help but look between his eyes and lips, remembering what they felt like over every square inch of your body. And it's as if Spencer has his own gravitational pull, but you find yourself leaning further and further towards him until his hand lands on top of yours. 

His larger hand completely engulfs yours, and you look down to see him holding your hand with such gentleness. The feeling of his skin on yours is almost enough to bring you to tears. Five years you had spent trying to remember what he felt like, yearning to have him in front of you, to be able to see him, hear him, smell him, have him again. 

By the time you look back up from your hands, his other had already come up to your face to cradle your jaw. Your lips meet his tenderly, softly, as if you were both afraid the other would jump away. 

But instead, it's like you melt into each other. With your free hand, you grip the front of his shirt and pull him closer. Your lips fall into a long forgotten rhythm as if no time had passed. His lips as soft against yours and you feel his hand let go of your own and wrap around your waist. Pressed against one another, you wish this moment would never end. 

Your lungs burn for oxygen, so you pull away from Spencer's kiss and rest your forehead against his. You keep hold of him, afraid that if you let go that you'll wake up from some kind of cruel dream. With closed eyes, you take it all in, it's so much more than you could've ever dreamed of. 

"I've missed you every day for the last five years. And I am so sorry that I drove you away." Spencer's voice wavers. Leaning away from him, you hold his head in your hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. There are tears in his waterline, and the tremble in his lower lip makes your own eyes water. 

"Spencer, oh Spencer." You say as tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. You rest your head against his shoulder and the two of you cling to each other as you cry. 

"I have spent every single day missing you and loving you. And I'm sorry I walked away." You say as another round of tears fall down your face, landing on his shirt. Instead of answering, he just holds you tighter, and whatever you don't express in words is made clear in the way you two meld together. 

"I love you so much." He eventually says, letting you adjust in his grasp. 

"I love you, Spencer Reid." You tell him, knowing that it's the full and honest truth. 

You're not sure what you did to deserve this opportunity, to be reunited with the love of your life, but you choose not to question it. Instead, you kiss him again and know that this time you're not going to let him go. All you know is that you're his, and he is yours, until the end of your days. 

And that is more than you could have ever wished for.

- - - - - 

Three months after being reunited, you and Spencer had fallen into a comfortable routine. You had moved back in after the two of you had a long discussion about what the future of your relationship means to the two of you. Both of you agreed that nothing on this planet was worth jeopardizing the relationship, not after the most agonizing five years without each other. 

You're beyond happy that you finally get to come home with him every day, that he's able to be here for holidays and everything in between. The two of you do your best to make up for lost time, you relish every moment you get with him, no matter how small or insignificant that time may be. 

Everything had changed in the five years that you spent apart, and you both had grown up in several ways. Not drastically, but enough that you needed to get to know one another again. Date nights are spent talking about newfound interests and what has remained the same. Nothing feels strained or forced anymore, it's all tranquil and full of love. 

One night, after you had gone to bed early, Spencer finds himself sitting at the dining table with a velvet box in his hands. He opens it and looks over the ring he had bought over five years ago. And now he knows that it will finally reside on the hand it was meant for. With a smile on his lips, he slides the box into his suit pocket for the date he planned for tomorrow. 

[unseededtoast]

Thin Air | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: In which you realize how much you lost when you accepted a new job, and that you may be destined to only share fleeting moments with the one who has your heart.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.6k

"Spencer, please." You beg through your moans.

"Be patient, baby."

Five years ago

The door slams shut behind you as your coat gets taken off and discarded somewhere in the apartment. Your senses are a blur, the only thing you can bother to concentrate on is exploring every inch of Spencer.

His lips connect with yours sloppily, a heated exchange that you've waited for since the day you started working at the BAU.

His lithe fingers unbutton your shirt with ease as you tangle your fingers in his hair. You gently tug, eliciting a breathy moan from him; it's music to your ears and you can't get enough.

The two of you stumble through his apartment clumsily, neither of you able to stay apart from the other long enough to normally walk to the bedroom. You follow his lead blindly until the back of your legs hit the edge of his bed. Without thinking twice, you lay back, quickly followed by Spencer who is determined to kiss every square inch of your body.

The room is filled with the sounds of breathy moans from the both of you, Spencer's lips on your neck finding your sweet spot. Your eyes flutter shut as your fingers begin undoing his shirt, the two of you are still fully clothed and you're doing your best to rectify that immediately.

You feel Spencer smirk as you unbutton his shirt with trembling fingers and he shrugs it off quickly and makes quick work of your own. Your heated skin melds with his and the closer contact makes your jaw fall slack. You're convinced that if you can't feel all of him soon that you might combust.

"Spencer, please." You beg through your moans as he takes his time working his way down your body. His fingers trace every curve of you, as if he's making a detailed mental map of your body. He grabs the soft skin of your hips and tugs your pants off as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"Shh be patient, baby." He answers, licking his lips before placing sloppy kisses on your thighs. Your fingers find their way back into his wavy hair, and his find the plumpness of your hips and pulls you closer to him.

All coherent thoughts leave your mind as you sink further and further into a bliss-filled oblivion, and all you care about is the man kneeling in front of you.

Your only regret is not acting on your feelings sooner, leaving you with only this one night with him.

-----

Spencer walks into work the next day feeling conflicted and anxious. You hadn't been beside him when he woke up this morning like he expected. Of course, he's trying to tell himself you probably just went home to get ready for work, surely you didn't want to come in wearing yesterday's clothes.

But as the hours tick by without any sign of you, his stomach starts twisting itself in knots. He checks his phone for any message from you just to find an empty lock screen. Trying to ease his nerves he sends you a quick message, asking if you're okay. And he checks his phone compulsively for any notification for the next hour.

After he sends the message he tries his best to casually ask around about if anyone has heard from you today. The others all say no, and they don't seem too concerned, they chalk it up to a hangover from last night. But you didn't have that much to drink. Spencer's mind races with worst-case scenarios but tries to stay calm. Maybe you had ditched work because you didn't want to see him, or maybe something bad happened to you.

His foot taps against the floor at lightning speed as he checks his phone one more time. No response. Something within him is telling him something is wrong. And so he moves without thinking and heads to Hotch's office. The worry must've been obvious on his face as Hotch motions for him to take a seat.

"I assume you're here because she didn't show up today." Hotch guesses correctly, and Spencer nods in confirmation. Hotch grabs a piece of paper off his desk and reads over the words once before handing the letter to Spencer. His eyes quickly read the words in seconds and by the time he's read it four times over his stomach drops.

You weren't coming back to the BAU. And you don't say why.

Spencer hurriedly pushes the paper back into Hotch's hands before excusing himself. He tugs at the collar of his shirt as he rushes to get some fresh air. His mind is spinning for answers, and for the first time in a long time, he cannot find one.

-----

Present Day

You squint your eyes against the sun as you watch the front door of the house you had been tasked to stake out with your partner. Today is the deadline your supervisor had given you, and so far you had no results to show for your month-long surveillance mission. You had a sneaking suspicion the target had figured out he was being tailed and moved locations, but of course, you had nothing to back that up.

"I don't think we're going to see him in the next five minutes." Your partner sighs beside you, checking his watch. Angrily, you chew on the inside of your cheek, frustrated to have no results.

"I know he's gone somewhere else." You eventually say, turning the key to start the car so the two of you can go back and report to your supervisor.

"Yeah I know, I think so too. But we have no way of knowing where. I can't believe how slippery this guy is!" Your partner exclaims in disbelief as you begin driving back to headquarters. You huff,

"There's gotta be something there in his behavior that we just aren't seeing." You say, gripping the steering wheel tight. After all your years at the BAU you're unable to correctly profile the target. It's embarrassing and you've become all too frustrated with yourself.

The rest of the drive goes by in silence, the two of you are too wrapped up in the failure to say anything. And once you reach headquarters, the both of you take your time getting to the office, knowing that your supervisor is waiting for answers that you simply don't have.

But eventually you make your way up there. Your supervisor is waiting with crossed arms and a stern expression on her face. Your partner speaks first, admitting your shortcomings as a team. Your supervisor looks thoroughly annoyed with the results, and you know exactly what you have to do next. You just hope it doesn't come back to bite you.

"We should call in my old team. They're the best of the best, world-class profilers. I guarantee they'll be able to help us out." Your voice is confident, masking the nerves that twist your stomach.

"And you're sure of this?" Your supervisor asks with a cocked eyebrow. Nodding your head, you confirm

"I know they will." You say with finality. With a sigh, your supervisor agrees to contact them.

As you turn and walk away from your supervisor's office, you hope that you didn't just make a mistake. You had up and left your team out of nowhere, for all you know they could resent you for what you did. But, you know there's no better team on this planet than them, and this target needs to be caught before more people are killed.

-----

"Pack your bags everyone, we've been called in by the CIA to assist in one of their cases. We will be briefed on the plane, it'll be a short trip." Hotch announces as everyone gathered around the table. There's a stoic look on his face that tells Spencer the case they've been called to help on is of a serious nature.

Given thirty minutes to prepare, Spencer takes his time and makes a cup of coffee for the trip before collecting his go-bag. He always keep a bag for short trips and a bag for long trips in case something like this springs up. He learned the hard way that being underprepared is a recipe for disaster in the field.

Once the team settles in their usual spots on the plane, Hotch begins briefing everyone on the case.

"We've been called to assist in locating James Barnes, wanted for several counts of murder in five different countries. It seems he's evaded CIA efforts to tail him, they need our help in decoding his behaviors to determine where he's likely to go next. This is a top secret mission, nobody outside of this team and the CIA will know what's going on." Hotch's explanation is short and sweet. The gravity of the mission weighs heavily on Spencer as he usually works on geographic profiles. But he knows that as a team they're likely to succeed.

The trip to the CIA headquarters doesn't take long at all, and before Spencer's finished his cup of coffee, they're unloading from the plane. Somebody will take their belongings to the hotel while they immediately start on the case. Spencer's glad he made this cup of coffee, as he thinks this is bound to be an exhausting case.

He follows Derek into the briefing room they've been ushered into and takes a seat at the table, setting his cup on the sleek glass before taking a seat. And as he settles in he looks to the CIA team in charge of the mission, his eyes landing right on you.

Spencer feels like the world has stopped spinning and the blood in his veins has turned to ice. After years of not knowing where you were, here you stand in front of him alongside some of the most renowned CIA agents.

-----

You've got about fifteen minutes before the team's plane lands but you're not sure your heart will survive that long with the way it's pounding in your chest. You pace around your office to try and work off some anxiety but it doesn't seem to be working.

Nausea creeps in behind the anxiety and your stomach feels like it's been tied into a knot. A part of you thinks you might be having some sort of medical emergency. But you know it's just because you're scared.

You're scared of seeing your old team again, possibly with your replacement. You don't know if they hate you, if they think you're dead, or anything else they may have presumed from your absence. It's the not knowing that's driving you up the wall. But fifteen minutes comes and goes and before you're prepared, you're walking to the conference room.

Your partner and supervisor are already there, waiting for the team when you walk in. You take a seat next to your partner and straighten your clothes, wanting to look your best and not as disheveled as you feel.

"So you really have that much faith in these guys?" Your partner asks, snapping you out of your trance. You blink a few times, processing what he's said until you find an answer.

"I do." Short, simple, and not at all good at masking your nerves. You hear several footsteps coming down the hall and know the time has come.

Hotch is the first to walk in, followed closely by Emily, JJ, Penelope, Derek, and then Spencer. The sight of him alone is enough to send you spiraling. Your lungs burn for oxygen and your eyes beg you to blink but all you can focus on is the tall man who you've never fallen out of love with. 

You watch as he takes a seat and situates himself next to Derek. And then, after he sets his coffee down, his eyes scan the room. And then they land on you.

It's as if the air has been forcefully sucked from your body, like you had just been kicked in the chest. For a brief moment it sounds like you're underwater and the edges of your vision make it seem like you're in a tunnel.

But thankfully the sound of your supervisor speaking breaks his gaze from you. You bite down hard on the skin inside your cheek, begging yourself to stay seated and composed. You're keenly aware by now that every single one of your old teammates is staring you down like they've just seen a ghost. And in a way they have, you were supposed to disappear without a trace, yet here you sit.

Your supervisor introduces the team to you and you to the team, as if you were all complete strangers. A pit in your stomach tells you that this is going to be the most complicated case you've ever worked, and a voice in the back of your mind wonders if calling the BAU was a mistake after all.

But deep down you know that it doesn't matter in the end. After all, you're going to vanish from them once again when they return home. It's the design of the job. A heartbreaking, but effective, design. One that you almost regret signing up for.

-----

After your supervisor has introduced the BAU to the case, Hotch is given permission to split up the team into their most effective specialties. Emily and JJ are tasked to stay with your partner and assist him with his leads, Penelope is assigned to work her magic with the computer, which leaves you to be assigned with Derek and Spencer. 

Hotch had to have done this on purpose. But he doesn't stick around long to watch the fallout of his decision. Instead, he follows your supervisor out of the room, leaving you alone with Derek and Spencer. 

The room is full of tension, one that weighs heavily on you. It's difficult for you to even look at them, much less assist them in the investigation. Why wouldn't Hotch have assigned Emily and JJ to stay with you? That surely would've worked out a lot better for everyone. But perhaps this is your bad karma catching up to you for what you did to them. 

Swallowing your pride, you decide you can no longer ignore their presence. You lift your eyes from the floor and look at Derek first, not having it within you to look at Spencer. Derek looks back with an intense gaze, one that you're not sure is welcoming. 

"So this is where you've been?" He questions, looking around the briefing room. You nod your head, 

"Yeah, I've been here, working this mission." You tell him the truth. He hums in response, leaving the room to fall back into an uncomfortable silence. 

But you can only take it for so long. Eventually, you break the silence and decide to just give them work to do and hopefully that takes up everyone's time and attention. You put a map up on a board, one that you had already been working on and you explain the markings. The suspect's theorized hiding spots, where his associates live, and where he was most recently spotted until he was lost. 

Both Spencer and Derek study the map while you step to the back of the room. A part of you hopes their fresh perspective is enough to crack the case in a day. At least that way you could disappear once more and never have to face their judgmental looks again. 

However, as you stand behind them, you can't help but to miss your BAU days. There were several cases where the three of you worked alongside one another just like this. Back when you were head over heels for Spencer, but kept it a secret. You miss those days, the ones you thought were inconsequential and boring, and you realize that you took it all for granted. 

At the BAU you had friends who cared about you, and you for them. You had a team of the most supportive people on this Earth. And you threw it all to the side when the CIA offered you a position. You had been starstruck by being recruited that you failed to see what you truly had to give up before it was too late. Sure, you got paid more and got to work on higher profile cases, but these people here don't care about you like the BAU does. No, the people here chase their own accolades and couldn't care less about anyone else but themselves. 

And perhaps, in a way, you had become that selfish as well. After all, you had only acted on your feelings for Spencer once you knew you had secured the job. You wanted to experience him before you left, and you didn't once regard his feelings about the situation. It was entirely selfish, and something you had come to deeply regret. If you could turn back time, you know you either would have acted on your feelings sooner, or not have said anything at all. Either of those outcomes would have been better than what you did to him. 

-----

Hours later you find yourself in the break room for a snack. Having the BAU here meant that your regular hours had been thrown out the window, and while they're here working, you're here working as well. They have not been given permission to work this case unsupervised. And one thing you know for certain about your old team is that they work tirelessly until they find an answer. 

The harsh light from the fridge burns your dry eyes, but the sound of approaching footsteps forces you to choose something. You land on an apple that had been in there for a few days, you figure it's good enough. The footsteps enter the room and you see Penelope walking in, looking like she's ready to sleep for the next three weeks straight. 

She sees you and gives a polite smile, which makes your heart sink. Usually you and Penelope went on and on about anything and everything under the sun. She must have felt burned by your abrupt exit from the team as well. And you can't blame her, if the roles were reversed you know you'd feel at least a little bitter. But you can't stand the coldness from her, it makes you want to repair the relationships that were damaged. And so before you can even think things through, you speak up. 

"I am sorry, I hope you know that. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone where I was going." Your voice is hoarse from working long hours. Penelope stops in her tracks and looks over to you, a softness in her eyes. 

"I looked for you everywhere and I couldn't find you. I thought something had happened. I never stopped looking." She says, her voice breaking which causes your heart to feel like it's been shredded into a million little pieces. 

"I can't tell you how sorry I am to have done this to you and the team. Trust me, if I could go back and do things differently, I would. But I'm glad you all are here now." You say, telling her the truth. You are glad they're here, and you figure this might be your last chance to patch things up with your old team. 

"I'm glad we came too. At least we know now that you're okay." She says and picks up a granola bar. You can tell from the way she moves to the door that she doesn't want to talk much, and so you let her go. 

It must be a lot for them to process, and you try to give them some space to process their feelings about everything. And before you leave for the night, you promise yourself that you're going to apologize to every single person. Whether they accept it or not isn't in your control, but you know you have to extend your sorrows, so that they know you regret how you left them.

-----

The next few days go by uneventfully. You met the team here and Derek and Spencer worked together, leaving you out of most of their conversations. Of course, you still listened in, you just weren't treated as an active participant, even though this is technically your mission. However, you can't find it within yourself to protest much. 

The BAU had come up with some interesting developments, and you know you likely only have two more days at most with them. You're not sure whether you want time to speed up or slow down. As they talk about another theory, you find yourself looking at Spencer and remembering how good things between the two of you had been. 

You and Spencer had bonded relatively quickly when you first started at the BAU. The two of you were the newest on the team, and everything felt seamless with him. Both of you shared an affinity for learning, and there were many times you'd drive the rest of the team crazy by talking nonstop on the flight. And of course, over the years you had formed quite the crush on Spencer. For years you kept it to yourself, up until the night before you were scheduled to leave. 

But here he is now, right in front of you after all these years. He's just as tall as you remember, but he's filled out some, and his hair is longer now too. You admire the way it curls around the nape of his neck and appreciate the veins in his hands as he points to a spot on the map. His shirt sleeves have been pushed to his elbows, and you cannot deny how good he looks. 

Derek breaks you out of your trance of admiration as he tells Spencer his coffee order. Neither of them ask for yours, and so you let Spencer leave without saying a word, leaving just you and Derek alone. 

Derek had also been a close friend, and you know he always took things to heart. You can't imagine how badly you had hurt him by vanishing. He sits at the table, and leans back in his seat to stretch. Running a hand over your face, you know your time has come to finally talk to him. And so like Penelope, you start off with an apology. 

"I hope you know I never meant to hurt you all by leaving. They wouldn't let me tell anyone." You offer, trying to minimize the damage, though you know there's nothing you can say that will truly make it all better. Derek looks over to you with an unreadable expression. 

"We didn't know what happened. You just left a letter and disappeared." You hear a tinge of anger in his voice. 

"I know. And I am sorry, I really am. I love all of you, and I'm sorry that I've caused so much pain." You tell him from the bottom of your heart. Derek looks away and sighs, opening and closing his mouth a few times before deciding what he wants to say.

"We're glad that you're okay, all of us were worried about you, and we couldn't find you. You should've seen Spencer, I've never seen him so upset before. But, I understand why you did it." He says, finally looking back over to you, meeting your eyes. 

"Thank you for understanding." You say, thankful that at least one of them has at least a hint of forgiveness for you. 

"And you know, if you ever get tired of this CIA thing, we're always here for you. Might have to convince Hotch you're not a flight risk though." He cracks a smile.

"Yeah, I wish I could come back. I was young and dumb and naive when I took this offer. Got caught up in the name and the secrecy of it all, I didn't know what I had right in front of me." You tell him, wanting to get some of your regrets off your chest. He shrugs, 

"It's not a bad gig, they chose one of the best to recruit, I'll give them that." He says as the door opens and Spencer returns with the coffees. 

Spencer ignores you, and the two of them pick up where they left off. And they work and work until they finally come to a consensus. They believe they know where the suspect is. 

The entire team is reconvened back into the briefing room, and you're sat next to your partner, trying to avoid looking directly at anyone. You still have a lot of apologies to make, and so little time to do it. They had solved this quicker than you thought, and your heart races as you realize you may not be able to extend amends to the rest of the team in time. 

Hotch delivers the profile and findings, and soon, a tactical team is sent out to retrieve the suspect. You and the rest of the BAU stay behind and watch the situation from the control room. Your heart thumps in your chest as you watch the agents break down the front door. Gunfire is exchanged and you grip the edge of the desk as you watch with wide eyes, worried about those on the front line. 

But soon enough, they've got the suspect in cuffs and walk him out of the home. A sound of celebration fills the room, and you stare at the screen with a slack jaw, watching the subject you tried to track tirelessly being shoved into an armored car. Someone claps you on the back and makes you look away from the screen. Your partner smiles widely and holds his arms out for a celebratory hug. 

He picks you up and spins you around before he puts you back on the ground. You smile at him as the two of you celebrate this win. After all, you two had been partnered together for a while now, and you don't know if you'll continue working with him as this mission moves into its next phase. As you turn back to watch the screen, you see Spencer leaving the room. Your smile falters and you debate whether or not you should follow him. But before you can even make a decision, Derek steps into your line of vision. 

"Come out with us tonight, one last time." He smirks, and you're taken aback by the invitation. You figured the others would still be too angry with you to even want you there, but by the subtle hint of a smirk on Hotch's face, you begin to think that maybe they're not as angry as you think.

"Yeah, I'll be there." You smile, excited to spend one last night with your team.

-----

Hours later you find yourself in a crowded bar with your old team. You've elected to take a seat beside Derek, seeing as he's been the most forgiving. Penelope sits across from you, leaving one empty seat beside you. You can still feel some tension from them, but they seem to have loosened up a little. 

The first round of drinks come and you start jumping into conversations here and there, and thankfully, nobody seems to mind. It almost feels like you never left, and this is just another night out after a win. However, there's one person missing that would make this night complete. But, he probably didn't want to come after finding out you were going to be here, and you don't blame him. It does make your heart sink a little though. 

Round one turns to round two and three quickly, and you start feeling the effects of just a little too much tequila. While some of the others wander away for a bit, you scoot closer to JJ and Emily, taking this as your time to offer them amends. You get their attention and clear your throat, trying to put your words together in a coherent sentence. 

"Before you all go, I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what I did. I miss you all more than you know, but I'm glad I got to see you again." The liquor makes your emotions feel like they're amplified, and you feel the burning of tears in your lower lash line. Emily and JJ both give you a sympathetic smile.

"We know, better than anyone here, how the CIA operates. We understand." Emily speaks for the both of them, and JJ agrees with her. Unable to keep yourself together, you envelope the two of them in a hug, knowing you're going to grieve the loss of them all over again in the morning. 

After you let them go, you take a few steps backward, but run into someone. 

"I am so sor-" Your words get caught in your throat as you look up and meet familiar hazel eyes. Spencer towers over you, his hand on your elbow to keep you from falling. 

You don't know if it's your imagination, the liquor, or if it's real, the way he looks into your eyes. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he misses you too. But you know that surely can't be the case considering how you left him. He releases the grip he's got on your elbow and clears his throat. 

"It's okay." He says, offering a flat-lined smile that seems to adorn his face quite often. And in that moment, it's almost like the rest of the bar disappears, that it's only the two of you in this room. You've got tunnel vision, only being able to focus on Spencer. 

Taking in his appearance, he looks a lot better up close than he did across the room. You can see all the shades of green in his eyes, the different honey tones in his hair. You can even see the shadow of stubble that decorates his jawline. He looks just like your Spencer, just a little more grown up. Your heartrate increases and you know that if you don't take this opportunity, that you might never get it again. And so, without putting much thought into your words, you go for it. 

"Spencer, can we um, can we go talk somewhere?" You ask, worried that he's going to turn you down. He licks his lips and looks around the bar and for a moment you truly think he's going to reject your offer. 

"Sure." He answers instead and you nod your head in surprise. 

You lead him outside of the bar, where the crisp wind cuts into you, leaving you feeling more breathless. You and Spencer walk a few feet away from the entrance and stop underneath a flickering street lamp. His features are illuminated beautifully in the soft amber glow. Unable to look at him directly as you speak, you stare at the sidewalk underneath your feet as you offer him the apology he deserves. 

"Spencer, I can't even begin to tell you how much I regret what I did to you. It wasn't right, and you didn't deserve to be treated that way." Your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence. When he doesn't answer right away, you lift your gaze from the concrete to look at him, seeing him staring intensely at you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrow. 

"I was worried sick about you. I thought you left because of me up until a few days ago." He said and you can hear the anger that lies just beneath his words. 

"I'm sorry." Is all you can say. Though you know it's insufficient, it's the only thing you can think of to say. 

"And I tried to contact you so many times. You have no idea how much I've missed you." His anger turns to sadness, and you see the tip of his nose turn rosy pink, which causes your throat to constrict. 

"They wouldn't let me tell anyone where I was going or when. I didn't know how restrictive this mission would be when I signed up. If I knew, I don't think I could've taken it." You admit to him.

Silence lingers between the two of you for a beat, both of you looking into the other's eyes, searching for the person they knew all those years ago. Searching for the familiarity and the comfort you had become so accustomed to, something that feels so distant and foreign now. 

"But you did, and now you're gone." His voice is barely above a whisper, and you can't deny anything he's said. 

"I know, and I'm sorry." You wipe your nose as you apologize again and shiver from the cold wind. Spencer's eyes look you over from head to toe before he sighs, 

"Come with me." He offers his arm for you to take, which you happily do. You intertwine your arm with his, and walk down the street to wherever he's taking you. 

The walk is silent and short. It's not long before the two of you walk into the hotel lobby, the one where they're staying you assume. It's a nice hotel, just a few blocks away from the bar. Spencer leads you to his room on the fifth floor and lets you into his room. 

His suitcase sits on the foot of the bed, an extra pair of shoes by the door. The door clicks shut behind him and your stomach twists with nerves. Luckily the tequila helps a little with your anxiety, and you watch as Spencer takes off his shoes and moves his suitcase. 

"Come over here." He invites you to sit next to him on the bed. You leave a respectful amount of space between the two of you. You're not sure why he brought you here, but you're happy he did. You've missed him so much, and you clench a hand into a fist to keep from reaching out to him. 

He pushes a strand of hair behind his ear and sighs as he looks you over. Once again it makes your heart pound and your skin grow warm. 

"I just need to know you didn't actually leave because of what we did. If you regret it, that's fine. I just, I need to know." He says with some desperation and you can tell he still blames himself for you leaving the team. You shake your head, 

"No, Spencer. God, no. I've missed you every single day that I've been gone." You tell him, no longer able to keep yourself from reaching out. Your hand lands on his thigh, and he places his over yours and squeezes. 

"Will you ever come back?" He asks, eyes wide and round, pleading. Your chest tightens, your heartstrings feel as if they're snapping. What you wouldn't give to just go back with him. 

"The mission isn't over yet. I don't know when it will be, catching Barnes was only one step." You tell him, violating the terms of your clearance level. He nods, disappointed with your answer. 

"It is the CIA after all, I don't know what I expected." He laughs bitterly, and in that moment you regret taking the job wholeheartedly. 

"Please trust me when I say that when I can return to you, I will. I promise you, Spencer, I will find you again." You fight the tears that threaten to spill, and he raises his hand to wipe one away from the corner of your eye. 

"I believe you." He whispers, and you nod, happy to know that he understands you don't want to go again.

You move your hand from his thigh up to his face, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. He leans into your touch, as if he'd been craving it since the day you left. His eyes flutter shut as he enjoys the feeling of your skin on his. 

His hand moves across the covers of the bed and lands on your thigh, where his thumb strokes small circles. Spencer's touch is warm and comforting. You move closer to him, so that your legs are touching and there's not but a few inches of space between the two of you. He opens his eyes lazily and blinks a few times, his long, dark lashes complimenting his features well. 

Your heart rate speeds up as his touch on you becomes firmer. You lick your lips and before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull him to you by the collar of his shirt. Your lips meet one another with a soft intensity. He cups your face and holds you close as you hang onto his shirt. 

It's only when your lungs start burning do you pull away from each other. Lips glistening and swollen, everything seems to happen at once. Spencer pulls you into his lap, where his lips connect with your jaw, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his travels lower, planting kisses on your neck. 

With a gentle touch, he lays you back on the bed where he runs his hands alongside your body, feeling every curve. You feel your face flush and mouth fall open as he tightly grips the soft skin of your hips. It's like he's a starved man and you're the oasis in the middle of a desert. 

You pull him back to your face and connect your lips with his once more, not wanting to rush things, not this time. You savor the way he tastes and the way he caresses your body. 

Your hands eventually run down his chest where they undo the buttons of his shirt, and he's quick to return the favor. His fingers undo the buttons of yours, but he seems to slow down and take his time. And once there's nothing between the two of you, he stares in awe, like you're a statue carved of marble.

"Spencer, please." You say, not being able to handle not having his hands on your body. He smiles, showing off his perfect teeth.

"Shh, be patient baby. You look so beautiful." He says before kneeling on the floor. 

He kisses your ankle up to your knee, from your knee to your thigh, thigh to collarbone, before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. His hands travel to where you need him the most, and he works slowly but with care. 

You're breathless under his touch and you try to commit to memory the way he feels, for you don't know if you'll ever be afforded this luxury again. 

The two of you treat each other as if you're made of porcelain; gentle with your touches and kisses. You both savor each other's tender touches as you become one, looking into each other's eyes and communicating what you cannot with words. 

You move in tandem with one another, as if you were made for each other. You swallow every moan that escapes his lips, wrapping your legs around him to bring him impossibly closer. In the soft light Spencer looks ethereal and you appreciate his beauty. Your hands cup his face and you know that you will never be able to find a beauty such as him. Everything about Spencer Reid is other-worldly, nothing of this Earth could even begin to compare. No light will ever shine as bright as the ones in his eyes, and no song could ever sound as good as the breathy moans he lets out in your ear. Nothing could ever feel as good as his hands on you, or the way he moves within you. 

Nobody can ever compare to Spencer. 

And as you spend the night with him, limbs tangled with one another's, you know nobody could possibly have your heart like he does. 

But as the sun rises on the horizon, you know your time with him has come to a bitter end. With tears running down your cheeks, you kiss him on the forehead and push a piece of hair away from his face, wanting to see him just one more time. 

As the first bird of the morning begins singing its song, you turn the handle of the door, sparing one last glance to Spencer, who looks ever so peaceful in bed. And only after you've committed the image to memory do you turn away and walk out of the room, vanishing into thin air once more.

[unseededtoast]

I Stayed There | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: After an eye-opening case, Spencer realizes that his job puts you in too much danger. Loving you too much to put you in harm's way, he does the only thing he can think of that would ensure your safety. Years pass by slowly, and neither you nor Spencer are able to move on. Inspired by "Right Where You Left Me" by Taylor Swift.

Part Two: Take My Hand

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

WC:6.8k

Warnings: Angst. So much angst, and pining, and emotional turmoil. Perpetual heartbreak

a/n: So I finally managed to write about Spencer and it not be inspired by a Hozier song, and yes it's a little shorter than my norm but I think it works well. Anyways, this is the first oneshot I've written that has actually made me cry. And once again thank you for reading, you all deserve the world

"Spencer please, don't leave. Please." Your voice sounds foreign in your own ears, and he rests his hands on the handle, looking back to you one last time, an unrecognizable look on his face.

"I'm sorry." Is all he says before leaving for the last time.

You're left on your knees in the middle of the apartment, feet bleeding from the broken glass you stepped over, and heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces.

You anxiously look to the clock every two minutes, leg bouncing up and down as you anticipate your boyfriend, Spencer, walking back into your shared apartment after his assignment. He had texted you earlier in the day to let you know he would be home tonight, and so you took it upon yourself to deep clean the apartment and prepare his favorite meal. Spencer is always mentally and physically exhausted when he returns from a case, and so you want to make him as comfortable as you possibly can. He deserves it and it's the least you can do.

After five extremely long minutes, you hear the door open and stand from the couch with a smile on your face. Spencer looks less happy to be here, and your heart plummets; it must have been one hell of a case. Changing your approach, you calm your nerves and approach him, taking his coat and hanging it on the rack beside the door without a word. He drops his bag down beside the door and turns to you, engulfing you in a warm, tight hug.

"I missed you." You speak into his chest, feeling his lips press a kiss to the crown of your head.

"I missed you more." He says, and you hear the exhaustion and tension in his voice. You pull away from the hug and kiss his cheek, letting your thumb caress his cheekbone.

"I've got dinner ready for you, go get something comfortable on, baby." You rub his back and he nods, walking off to your room. In the meantime, you turn off the overhead light and opt for soft lighting tonight, turning on the tableside lamps and lighting his favorite scented candle on the coffee table. You make sure his dinner is warm, and pour him a glass of wine, so it's one less thing he has to think about tonight.

Moments later, he returns from the room, hair a little disheveled and eyes tired. Without a word, you pull out the seat for him, and he thanks you. You go to pour your own glass of wine and join him at the table, content with just being in his presence for the night. If he needs silence, that's exactly what you'll give him. His job is entirely stressful, and you don't want to add to that stress by asking a million different questions.

He eats dinner quietly, and you think he's almost avoiding your eye. But surely that's not the case, he's probably just tired. And when he's done you clear his plate for him and ask if he wants another glass, instead of looking at you, he just stares down at the tablecloth and shakes his head. Your heart sinks, but you remind yourself that you don't know what he just experienced on the job and deserves some grace.

By the time you two are ready for bed, you blow out the candle and turn off the lights, eager to be held by Spencer tonight after not having him home all week. You quietly enter the room, careful not to disturb his peace and get in next to him. You turn to face him, expecting to see his beautiful gem-colored eyes, but instead are met with the back of his head. Once again, your heart aches, thinking he had to have had one of the worst cases. In an attempt to comfort him, you reach an arm over him and hold him close. You can always be held another night, but tonight he needs this more than you.

While he doesn't wish you a goodnight, or give you a kiss, or even look at you, you drift off to sleep, just happy to have him back even if it's just for a few days.

-----

The next morning, you wake to find Spencer is already gone from the bed. Where he should be is an empty, cold space. You listen for him, but hear nothing, which is odd. Worried about him, you get up and rub your eyes before leaving bed to see where he is. As you go to walk out of the room, you notice that there are two packed bags by the bedroom door that most definitely were not there last night. Usually you two spend some time together in bed, catching up and kissing on each other. Something in the pit of your stomach tells you something is off, but you do your best to ignore it.

You walk out of the bedroom and see Spencer sitting alone at the dining table. He's already dressed for the day. Maybe he got put on another case already? Your mind fights to rationalize what's going on. Spencer looks up when he hears you walking towards him, and you see him swallow before looking back to the table. You feel nauseous, but take a seat next to him, mirroring your positions last night.

You reach out for his hands that are interlaced atop the table, but he pulls his hands away before you can make contact.

"What's going on honey?" Your voice shows your nerves plainly, and you're convinced he can hear your heart thumping out of your chest. He takes a breath and stands from the table. You follow suit and try to busy your mind with something, so you pick up the empty wine glasses to take to the sink, but his voice interrupts you.

"I don't want to be with you anymore." His words hang heavy in the air, and you can't believe what you heard. Surely, you had heard wrong, right?

"What?" You ask, palms getting clammy and eyes growing wide, searching his face for any indication that this is just some weird, twisted joke.

"I don't want to be with you anymore." He repeats, your mouth falls slack.

"I don't-what? Why?" Your mind is working overtime to make sense of all this, and you feel your eyes involuntarily water.

"I-I met someone else." He says and the glasses fall from your shaking hands, shattering all over the white tablecloth, remnants of wine staining the cloth. Your ears are ringing, throat constricting with emotion, chest burning as you start hyperventilating.

"Spencer what? I don't understand." Tears flow down your face and you ignore the glass, stepping towards him, but he backs away. You swear you see tears in his eyes but you can't be for sure, as tears blur your own vision. A pain on the bottom of your foot sends shivers up your spine but you can't be bothered to look at what happened.

"I met someone else, and I don't want to be with you anymore." He says again, hammering the sentiment into your brain. Spencer turns from you and goes to your bedroom, picking up the suitcases you saw.

You practically choke on your sobs, unable to grasp that this is reality. Never in a hundred years would you have imagined your Spencer would find someone else. There had been no signs, nothing even slightly out of the ordinary. How could this have happened? How could it have happened and you noticed nothing?

With red eyes and a steady stream of tears running down your face, you try one last time.

"Spencer please, don't leave. Please." Your voice sounds foreign in your own ears, and he rests his hand on the handle, looking back to you one last time, an unrecognizable look on his face.

"I'm sorry." Is all he says before leaving for the last time.

You're left on your knees in the middle of the apartment, feet bleeding from the broken glass you stepped over, and heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces.

-----

Two weeks later you find yourself sitting alone at a dimly lit table. Today would have been your third anniversary with Spencer, and you had made these reservations months in advance. But instead of the two of you sharing a romantic evening full of love, you sit alone.

You're thankful for the low lighting in the restaurant, so that people aren't openly able to see the rogue tears that fall down your face in uneven intervals; emotions come and go like tidal waves. The waitress comes and refills your glass, giving you a sympathetic smile as she leaves.

She probably thinks you're pathetic for sitting here alone, spending hours in this one spot. The same spot where you and Spencer had come together in the first place. Your first date had been here and the two of you had been seated at this very table. The memory is still vivid in your mind, you can see the light reflecting in Spencer's eyes as he reached for your hand across the table, can still remember the cologne he wore. In fact, you're convinced that if you close your eyes you'd be able to reach out and feel him.

Throughout the evening all you can do is sip your wine and stare at the empty seat across from you, oblivious to the world around you. All you can think about is how tonight should be. Spencer should be here with you, sharing an appetizer and picking something from the menu you both like, so that you can share. You should be confessing your undying love to him, thanking him for another amazing year together and reminiscing on how far you two have come.

But instead your mascara is smudged and you're on your fourth glass of wine, alone, in the middle of a busy restaurant that's teeming with life.

You see a couple walk into the restaurant and your throat constructs with emotion. The smiles on their faces makes your heart drop, and you can't help but feel sorrow and jealously in some intricate tangle together. The woman laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

Unable to handle the sight, you down the rest of your wine and leave a sizable amount of cash on the table before leaving, running a finger below your eyes so people can't see your tears. You don't want their sympathy, don't want to hear how they take pity on you.

Your feet carry you through the streets, taking the familiar path to the local park where you sit on a wooden bench. The crisp breeze sends chills up your spine, but you wrap your hands close to your body and stare at the leaves in various stages of color change.

To your right is an empty field, and it's where you and Spencer used to come for spring and summertime picnics. Usually on a weekend after he had a case, the two of you would pack up some snacks and lounge at the park for the afternoon, enjoying the beautiful weather and soaking in the comforts of each other. You never realized just how much those moments meant until they ceased altogether.

Eventually, you make your way back to the apartment. It hasn't changed a bit in two weeks, you've left everything as it was. Spencer's books are still adorning the shelves, his products still lay on the bathroom counter, and his coat still hangs from the rack beside the door. You suspect they'll be gone one day, you know him well enough to understand how he values his books. And when that day comes, you know you'll leave the apartment and give him ample time to pack up, leaving you with a nearly empty apartment. Truthfully, you never want that day to come but you know it's looming over you like an angry storm cloud.

You strip from the dress you had forced yourself to wear to the restaurant and slip one of Spencer's shirts over your head, taking in the scent and committing it to memory, as if you could ever forget it. The dark bedroom invites you to bed and you crawl in, hand lingering on the spot where Spencer should be, kissing you goodnight. But instead, you lay there alone, just like every night since he left and like every night that's to come.

-----

"What's up with you kid?" Derek asks Spencer, who's been staring out of the jet's window, uncharacteristically quiet. Spencer sighs and looks at Derek, who has a quizzical look on his face.

"I'm fine, just thinking about the unsub." Spencer lies right through his teeth, but Derek isn't buying it. Spencer's actions for the past two weeks has been peculiar, and everyone has noticed but nobody's asked. Until now.

"Now don't give me that. I know something is wrong." Derek's voice is quiet, as to not put Spencer on the spot in front of the whole team. A silence passes between them before Spencer leans forward in his seat. His eyes are tired, dark circles adorn his under eyes.

"We broke up." Is all Spencer says. Truthfully, he'd rather not get into everything, the wound is still fresh and Spencer's still trying to come to terms with the decision he made.

"What do you mean you broke up?" Derek is surprised, his voice raising ever so slightly. Spencer rubs his hands together.

"After the last case I realized that my job puts her in more danger than I thought. When the unsub had pictures of her hanging in his room alongside us, I couldn't let her be a target anymore." Spencer's voice breaks and a tear runs down his cheek. This is the first time he's admitted to someone what had happened, and it brings all of the emotions to the forefront of his mind again. Derek rests a hand on Spencer's knee and gives him a heartfelt look, eyes soft and full of understanding.

"And when I left I had told her I met someone else. I knew if I told her the truth that she'd be able to talk me out of leaving. But if she thought I had found someone else I knew she'd be too kind and wouldn't interfere. She loves me so much that she would sacrifice her own happiness for mine. And the worst part is that she bought it all so easily, she really thinks I could ever replace her." Tears fall down Spencer's face and he chokes on his own breath as he spills it all to Derek, whose own heart breaks at the confession.

Without another word, Derek brings Spencer in for a hug, and for once Spencer doesn't mind the contact. In fact, he's grateful for it.

-----

The ground is now covered in a thick blanket of snow. Frost decorates the corners of the windows, and the apartment that should be full of comforting warmth is only full of coldness and despair.

Christmas is two days away and you hadn't even bothered to put up the tree this year. There's no reason to celebrate or get excited. Everything you had loved and cherished about the season is gone, vanished into thin air. The past two years you and Spencer had hosted a dinner party for all of your friends. It was always a good time, a time where everyone came together with hearts full of love and generous spirits.

But this year you're sat at the dining room table, staring at a limited edition copy of The Hobbit you had found from an antiques dealer six months ago. It's one of the early prints and is in great condition for its age. You knew Spencer would love it and so you bought it without regard of the price. Seeing the happiness on his face would've been worth every penny and more.

After staring at it for hours, you grab the fragile book and slide it in one of the bookshelves. Your heart constricts but you're unable to produce tears anymore. It's like your insides have frozen over, and while you still feel, you never react to it anymore. The dull ache in your chest is a permanent fixture in your life now. One day you woke up and couldn't even cry anymore. It's like you've become a shell of your former self, a statue sentenced to life.

The lights are off in the apartment, the overcast light seeping in through the curtains, giving you all the light you need. You end up on the couch, curling up in Spencer's favorite blanket and stare outside at the people passing by. They're all holding gifts and dishes of food with smiles on their faces, likely heading to visit family.

Your phone rings in the bedroom, but you can't be bothered to go get it. There's nobody you're in a particular mood to talk to anyways, except for one man, but you know he'll never call you again. After a few minutes, the ringing ceases, but begins again only seconds after it stops. Like last time, you let it continue ringing. You've no family left, and the friends you do have all gradually began distancing themselves after Spencer left. They told you that they were there to support you, but eventually they were unable to handle your solemn mood and just quit trying.

As the limited sunlight begins disappearing for the night, you drag yourself off the couch and begin getting ready for bed. You brush your teeth and stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes are dull and sunken, dark circles painting your undereyes. Your cheekbones have become more pronounced, your overall expression sullen. At this point you can't even recognize yourself.

Before you can pull the covers over top of you, there's a knock at the door. Your heart hammers in your chest and you begin running through every possible scenario, a mix of emotions flurrying through your system. Curious, you get out of bed and answer the front door, seeing Derek Morgan on the other side with a box in his hands. His signature smile is on his face, and you lean against the doorframe, confused about why he's here. You haven't talked to Derek since before Spencer left, and surely Spencer made it known that he's with someone else now.

"Derek?" You ask, studying his appearance. Nothing about him has changed, really.

"Can I come in?" He asks, and you glance over your shoulder, suddenly self conscious about the state of the apartment. It's not that it's unclean, it's just that Spencer's things are still everywhere. But maybe that's why he's here, maybe Spencer wants his things back and Derek is just here to tell you.

"Of course." Your voice is quiet and you open the door for him to step through. He looks around, and you move to turn on a lamp so he can see without tripping over a rug. Derek places the box on the counter and turns to face you.

"No Christmas tree?" He asks. You should've expected nothing less from a profiler. Cracking the faintest of smiles, you shake your head.

"Not this year. And um, not sure if you heard but there's no party this year." You hate how defeated you sound, but it's a true reflection of your physical and mental state. Just dejected and numb. Nervously, you start playing with the skin around your fingers.

"I know. I just wanted to come by and see you." Derek says, nothing but kindness in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sentiment. Derek and you had always gotten along together quite well, and you considered him the BAU member, besides Spencer, that you connected with the best.

"That's very kind of you Derek." Your voice cracks from emotion, but you try to play it off as you clearing your throat. "Can I get you some water?" You follow up, feeling rude for not having offered him anything.

"Water would be great, thank you." He takes you up on your offer and moves to sit at the kitchen island. You set the glass in front of him and lean on the other side of the island, waiting for him to tell you that Spencer wants his belongings back. You knew this day would come, but you never wanted it to.

"Why did you really come here?" You find the nerve to just ask him, growing tired of beating around the bush. Derek takes a sip of water before sighing,

"I hadn't heard from you in a long time, and it's Christmas. I missed you. Oh, and I got you this." He says and slides the small box across the counter to you. Feeling blood rush to your face, you fiddle with the ribbon on top.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, I really wasn't expecting anyone." You're embarrassed that you have nothing to give back, but he shakes his head, dismissing your sentiment and urging you to open the box.

Untying the ribbon and lifting the top of the box, you see a beautifully crafted bookmark inside. It's a clear bookmark with colorful pressed flowers preserved within the thin layers of resin. You turn the bookmark around in your fingers and smile up at Derek.

"Thank you, this is beautiful." You place the bookmark back in the box and walk around the island to give Derek a hug. The words on the tip of his tongue die; there's no good reason to tell you that the gift was from Spencer, and that he asked Derek to give it to you as if it were from him.

His arms wrap around you, and it's the first physical contact you've felt since Spencer. While it's just a friendly gesture, it evokes something within you, and you can't help but start crying in Derek's arms.

"Hey hey hey, what's going on?" Derek holds you at arms length and looks worriedly at you. You feel pathetic to have to admit to him what's going on, but you trust Derek enough to know that he won't patronize you for this.

"I miss him so much. He should be here with me." Is all you can say before sobs wrack your body once more. It seems you can still cry after all.

Derek is patient with you, and he stays for hours, giving you some much needed company. You tell him about the day Spencer left through broken cries, and you tell him that you're not able to move out of this apartment; this is the only thing you have left to hold onto. If you lose this apartment, and everything in it, you fear that eventually the memories of Spencer will fade from your mind, and the thought of that is enough to send you spiraling. You don't want to forget Spencer. No matter how badly he hurt you, he's the one true love of your life. And you're not interested in finding someone else or moving on, because you know you could never love that deeply again.

-----

"You coming with us?" Emily asks Spencer, packing up her belongings for the end of the day. The rest of the team is going out for celebratory drinks, but Spencer doesn't want to join, knowing he will likely bring down the mood. And besides, he would rather get back to his place and read a book or something to distract himself from reality.

"No thanks, I'll uh, I'll come next time." He declines, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair.

"Oh no you don't, you said that last time." Penelope says, coming out from her office to join in on the Friday night activities. The air is still cold outside, but the snow is basically gone for the season, or so everyone hopes.

Knowing he's already lost this argument, Spencer gives in and joins the group at the bar for drinks to celebrate another case closed. He sits at the end of the table, swirling his straw around in the glass, watching as the ice cubes slowly melt away. The rest of the team goes on and on about their weekend plans, but he tunes them all out.

"Hey you with us?" Someone waves a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance. Spencer blinks a few times before giving JJ an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, just kinda lost in my own head." He says and she claps a hand on his shoulder and forces Spencer to look at the bar.

"See those girls over there? Pick one and go talk to them. It'll be good for you." She says, and while Spencer knows she's only trying to help, the thought of talking to any woman in a remotely romantic sense makes him feel nauseous. Spencer shakes his head,

"I'm good." He says, but JJ won't give it up. Derek tries to tell her to knock it off, but she's determined for some reason to get Spencer back out into the dating scene. After a few more attempts from JJ, Spencer finally stands from his chair.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this. I don't want any of them. I'll see you all on Monday." His words are rushed and he's already moving towards the door before anyone can stop him. The fresh air on his face is refreshing, and he starts walking aimlessly, trying to distract himself from anything but thoughts of you.

Since he had left you, Spencer had rented out a small apartment, only a few streets away. He was unable to move any farther than that, still feeling the need to keep some sort of tabs on you, just to be sure that you're safe. Sometimes he'd purposely walk past and try to see up into the window, hoping to get just a glimpse of you, but you always had the curtains closed. And he had been vigilant in making sure you hadn't moved out. He asked Penelope to monitor the rental status. While he misses his belongings, he knows that everything is well taken care of with you, and if you ever decided to sell or get rid of his things, he's already made arrangements to anonymously get them.

Spencer glances down at his watch as he walks in the brisk early spring air and decides to take a detour before returning to his new apartment. He finds himself at the park where he remembers the shared picnics, simpler and happier times. He makes his way to the bench the two of you always sat at, and he feels like the air has been kicked out of his lungs. There on the bench, you sit, oblivious to his presence behind you.

He should've known that you might be here. After all, it is your birthday, and the two of you always came here on your birthday. You always insisted that you make the first trip of the year to the park on your birthday. He watches as your hair blows in the breeze and he wants nothing more than to go to you, to feel your soft hair in his hands once again, to have your arms embrace him, to have your sweet kisses lingering on his lips.

But he knows that things are better this way, with him out of your life. You're safer this way, he reminds himself. If you're alive and safe, that is good enough for him. He figures that eventually you'll find someone else and live a happy and fulfilling life with them, and he wants that for you. While he wishes he could share that life with you, he understands that his lifestyle is not conducive with that happening.

Spencer turns and walks away, leaving you at the bench by yourself.

-----

Another year has passed, and you find yourself in a familiar seat, drinking a familiar wine, wearing a familiar dress. Today would have been your fourth anniversary with Spencer. You had made the reservation, needing to cling to something. You understand that this is pathetic and sad, but you can't help it.

Just like last year, you can remember Spencer's hand reaching for yours, but this time you have a hard time remembering how soft his hand was in yours. You can't quite recall the multitude of colors in his eyes. The realization that you own memory is betraying you sends chills throughout your body. First it was his scent fading from the bedsheets, then it was not being able to recall how raspy his voice sounded in the mornings, and now you can barely remember the feel of him.

You feel hollow inside with the new development, and down the rest of the wine in your glass. The seat across from you is empty, but you force your mind to remember what he was wearing the first time you two had a date here. His shirt was white and he was wearing a purple tie, the sleeves were pushed to his elbows and his hair was just every so slightly messy, but in an endearing way.

Content with the memory, you drink one more glass of wine before leaving a generous amount of cash on the table and going back to the apartment. When you step outside, the rain is coming down at a steady pace, but you can't seem to care that you'll be soaking wet by the time you get back to the apartment. In fact, the cold water droplets remind you that you can still feel something. For so long you've forgotten what it feels like to have emotion other than numbness.

When you get back to the apartment, you lock the door behind you and go through the motions. The wet dress takes residence on the bathroom floor and you figure you'll get around to picking it up later. Your mind is occupied on recalling as much as you can, the realization that things are fading sends you into a mild panic.

You move from room to room, making yourself remember at least one thing about each room. In the bathroom you remember watching Spencer get ready for work in the mornings through sleepy eyes and admiring how handsome he looked in his work attire. You always told him that he was the most beautiful man on Earth, and he was quick to tell you that you were the most gorgeous woman on Earth, kissing the tip of your nose before he left for the day.

The bedroom reminds you of the times Spencer's hands caressed every curve of your body. How he would kiss every square inch of you, how it felt like you two were made for each other. His fingers would always entwine themselves with yours as he kissed on your neck, the two of you moving your bodies in heated tandem.

In the living room you remember curling up together, cuddling underneath the blankets in the soft light, each reading and quietly enjoying the presence of the other. Of course, Spencer would always finish his book before you got to chapter three of yours, but once he was done, he would always lay his head in your lap and you would play with his curls as you took your time. His eyes would always flutter shut and eventually he'd fall asleep. You never had the heart to wake him up, so you would end up spending an uncomfortable night on the couch, but beyond happy to be tangled up with him.

The kitchen reminds you of the time he accidentally burnt toast. You were never quite sure how he managed to do it, but you thought it was sweet he was trying to make you breakfast in bed for Valentine's Day. Spencer had planned an elaborate day full of romance and he was determined to let you be taken care of for once. He had given you a full body massage, created a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and taken you to your favorite ice cream shop.

The front entryway of the apartment reminds you of all the mornings you saw Spencer off to work, fixing his perpetually crooked ties before giving him a kiss on the cheek and telling him to save the day. His face would always blush when you kissed him goodbye, and he would always tell you that he'd be back soon and not to miss him too much.

When the memories fade, you find yourself standing alone in the middle of the apartment, just like it's been for over a year now. Your eyes are trained on the dining room table, specifically at the pink stain that soaked into the white cloth, reminding you when time stopped.

You wonder about the other woman he found, if they're happy, if he's happy. You wonder what she's like, how she's similar and different from you. You hope she's making him the happiest man alive, it's what he deserves. You know he's taking the best care of her, giving her his undivided attention and sweet gestures. Does she know his favorite dessert? His favorite sock combination? You wonder if she's found the sensitive spot on his neck, just below his ear.

-----

Spencer sits at his desk, staring at the incident report that lays in front of him. Usually he would have this complete in less than twenty minutes, but this particular report is causing him some issues. It was no secret to anyone on the team that this case had struck a nerve with Spencer, it was obvious from his treatment of the unsub and in the way he tirelessly worked this case.

Sure, since the break up Spencer had thrown himself into his work, but not like this. Hotch, Morgan, and Emily all noticed a spark of light come back into his eye, like he had real purpose again. He was always attentive to each case, but this one hit particularly close to home. The victims looked eerily similar to you. In a way, Spencer felt like he was protecting you from the unsub.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Morgan sits on the edge of his desk and closes the file so Spencer has no choice but to give him undivided attention. Derek had been keeping in contact with you all this time, unbeknownst to Spencer, and he knows just how much each of you are suffering without each other. At first he had hope that they would both take their time to mourn and then move on, but neither of you have.

"I met this girl the other day, she invited me on a double date with her friend. The only catch is that I have to bring a friend as well. What do you say?" Derek proposes, hoping that by some miracle, Spencer will agree. If you and Spencer aren't going to reconcile, then he's going to take matters into his own hands and help each of you move on with life. Spencer shakes his head.

"I'm good, thank you though." Derek bites the inside of his cheek, feeling frustration bubble within him. If only he could open Spencer's eyes to see the situation the way he does.

"Come on man, it's been almost two years now and you haven't even looked at someone with even a tiny bit of interest." Derek recalls that this conversation with you went the same way. You had shot him down immediately, pulling out every possible excuse as to why you couldn't go with him.

"I'm just not interested, sorry." Spencer says, trying to open the file once again, but Derek stops him from doing so.

"I'm saying this as your friend. You either need to move on or go get her back. If you don't you're going to be stuck like this forever." Spencer's eyebrows furrow and his jaw sets tensely, his eyes move slowly to meet Derek's.

"She can never be replaced. And like I've told you before, she's safer without me in the picture." Spencer feels his throat tighten as he imagines what it would be like to have you back in his arms. Derek shakes his head, and tries to keep his cool.

"And who's to say she's not suffering just as bad as you are?" With that, Derek gets off of Spencer's desk and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

Spencer always thought that you would eventually move on. In fact, he assumed that you had because it's been close to a year since Penelope or Morgan brought you up. He had taken their silence as an indicator that you've been doing better. Spencer knows you're still in the apartment, he knows Penelope would've told him that much.

The thought of you sharing intimate moments with another man in the same apartment the two of you shared makes Spencer sick to his stomach. Imagining another man's hands on your body, his lips on yours, your love showering him, makes Spencer's heart contort in pain. But Derek's words contradict everything Spencer had assumed. Is it true, could you possibly be living in as much pain as he is?

After work, Spencer takes the long way back to his apartment, detouring to go past your apartment. He stands where he can see the window, and this time you have the curtains pulled open to let in some natural light. He stands there for hours, hoping to see you walk past. And eventually, his patience pays off. As the sun begins to set he sees you walk to the window to close the curtains.

Spencer can see even from this distance that you're not yourself. Your hair looks like it's gone without its usual care, your clothes look like they've been picked out with no care. And you always took pride in your appearance, you always wanted to look good and you loved expressing yourself through fashion.

You close the curtains without spotting him across the street, and his heart sinks when he can no longer see you. That tiny glimpse was enough to show him that Derek wasn't lying. There isn't anyone new in your life, if there were, he would be able to tell from the way you carried yourself.

Emotions wage a battle inside of Spencer, feeling confliction he hasn't felt since the day he left you. On one hand, he misses you dearly. In fact, there's nothing more he wants from life than to be able to feel your touch one more time. But on the other hand, he remembers the twisted unsub that had targeted you alongside the rest of the team. And he knows that it's possible for something like that to happen again.

Spencer reminds himself that he would never be able to live if something had happened to you. That if some sick individual targeted you again, and was successful in carrying out their plan, that he would not be able to go on. He knows that if he stays out of your life, then you have the best odds of living a happy life. He knows that his job put a strain on you, though you would hide it well. He knows you missed him terribly, worried about him constantly; and you endured all of it because you loved him more than anything. And he loves you too much to make you continue that lifestyle.

He convinces himself that one day you will move on and that you will be happy. With one last fleeting look towards the window, he turns and goes back to his apartment, where he's sure he will dream of nothing but memories of you.

-----

Your eyes are glued to the television in front of you, not believing what you're seeing. A press conference is being replayed on the news about some case the FBI is working. They're calling out to the public for any helpful information. And you feel bad for the victim, but you can't focus as you stare at a familiar face to the side.

Spencer stands straight, face serious as the blonde on the screen goes over important facts. You notice he's grown his hair out, that he's filled out a little more, but his tie is still crooked. Your teeth bite the skin of your lip to keep it from trembling. This is the first you've seen him since he left four years ago.

You know it's pathetic, that you've devolved into something you don't recognize, but you don't seem to care. After the night Spencer left, your life had lost its light and you never were able to find a reason to try moving on. Derek tried to help in the beginning, but after a while he stopped trying; he still comes around every once in a while to keep you company but you see the pity in his eyes.

Your fingertips graze the screen, as if you'd be able to feel Spencer through the television. His eyes flicker towards the camera as your fingers ghost over his face and it's enough to send a tear down your cheek. The television switches to another story and you get yourself off the couch and you pour yourself a healthy glass of wine.

Sitting at the dining room table, your mind replays that fateful morning again and again. After all this time you still hold nothing but absolute love for him and you wish that any day he would knock on the door.

But until that day comes, if it ever does, you'll stay here, right where it all happened, right where he left you.

Part Two: Take My Hand

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Finale

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

God forbid something happens to him, for I fear I may die of a broken heart.

My shaky fingers button up my shirt and I look into the mirror to make sure I'm presentable. I want, no, I need, to make good first impressions today. Joel told me that he wants to introduce me to his brother, his brother's wife, and of course, Ellie. He's given me space for the last two weeks, giving me the time I need to adjust to this new lifestyle. And we decided today was the time I start stepping out of my comfort zone.

The first night we arrived, I experienced a severe panic attack, and it took Joel almost an hour to bring me back down to Earth. I had never quite experienced fear like that before, and looking back, it was all over nothing. Jackson, and the people who live here, are nothing like the groups we encountered out there on the road. These people are nice, caring, and patient. Everyone seems to take care of each other without second thought.

And it's finally starting to feel like home.

Of course, that feeling could have a lot to do with the fact that Joel moved me into his house without second thought. Joel's brother, Tommy, had offered a house down the street for me to take. He said it was newly renovated to the best of their abilities and was move-in ready. But Joel said it just wouldn't feel right to not have me around, and so he told Tommy I would be staying with him. And I'm thankful he did so, living in a two-story house all by myself isn't exactly what I would call ideal. And I didn't want Joel to be lonely here either.

Sure, he has Ellie, but she's living in the shed in his back yard and apparently has an ever-growing social life, according to Joel. He says that she's growing up and moving on, and that she doesn't need him as much as she used to. I told him that she's always going to need him, and that these are just the growing pains of having a teenager.

"You ready?" Joel asks, stepping into the room as he shrugs his coat on. It had snowed in Jackson recently, blanketing the town with fine white powder.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I say, taking one last glance at myself in the mirror before turning to face Joel.

"You look great and they're going to love you." He says, closing the gap between us. His hands rest gently on my hips and he presses his lips to my forehead.

"I sure hope so." I say.

"I know so." Joel says and hands me a coat of my own.

We walk out of the house together and go towards the town's bar, which also doubles as a makeshift restaurant of sorts. People come and go all hours of the day. Over the last two weeks I've watched the people here and their routines. This place is always busy. I just hope people don't stare, I don't want to attract any unnecessary attention.

I follow Joel inside and am met with loud noise. People occupy tables and booths, laughing and talking as they eat and drink. It feels like I've stepped into the past, a past where people went to restaurants with their friends and had good times. I never thought I'd see anything like this ever again.

I feel Joel's hand on my lower back as he guides me through the crowd to a table where three people sit. My heartrate increases and I feel just a little nauseous.

"Just be yourself." Joel whispers in my ear just before we reach the table.

"Well there he is." The man sitting in the booth slides out of his seat and embraces Joel. I stand just behind him awkwardly as the two men greet each other. I can easily tell from their resemblance that they're brothers.

The two step away from each other and I feel like I've been placed under a microscope and all eyes are on me. I offer a small smile and look around the table. There's Tommy and a woman I'm assuming is his wife, and across from them is a young girl, she must be Ellie.

"And you must be Noelle." Tommy says, breaking the silence. My gaze flashes from Ellie back to Tommy.

"I am, it's nice to meet you." I say and Tommy takes two large steps forward before he wraps me in a hug. I'm stunned momentarily before returning his embrace. He holds me tight and whispers something in my ear.

"Thank you for bringing my brother back to us." He then steps away and I nod, meeting his eyes. I see the gratitude on his face.

"Nice to meet you Noelle, I'm Maria." The woman in the booth gives me a warm smile, to which I return.

Then, things fall silent and I feel the tension growing with each passing second. Tommy takes his seat at the table next to Maria and watches Joel, Ellie, and me. I wipe my palms on my coat sleeves, feeling the nerves creeping up my spine.

Joel steps forward, towards the table and he clears his throat.

"Ellie, I want you to meet Noelle. We met back in Boston and found our way here, if that sounds familiar." Joel cracks a small smile. Ellie's eyes flick over to me and I see her eyebrows scrunch together, like she's sizing me up.

"Cool." Is all she says before taking a sip of her drink.

She sets her glass back down on the table and I see her keep glancing at me from the corner of her eye. And thankfully the tension doesn't hang in the air long, Tommy speaks up and invites Joel and I to sit with them.

I take a seat next to Joel and across from Tommy. The two start talking to each other and I sit silently, wanting to blend in with the background. I knew I'd eventually have to enter Jackson's society, but I was just hoping my introductions to the most important people in Joel's life would've gone just a little smoother.

-----

I cross the threshold of my new home before Joel does, thankful to finally be out of that bar. With a huff, I toss my coat on the back of couch and unlace my boots. Hot tears sting the corners of my eyes but I fight them off. I feel stupid, I feel like I don't fit in well.

The door closes behind Joel as he steps inside and I hear him kicking his boots off by the door. Quickly, I wipe the tears from my eyes and kick my other boot off before rushing to go upstairs. It doesn't take long until Joel joins me in the room we share together.

"What's wrong?" His voice is low and calm. He leans against the doorframe, watching me pull the covers back to take a seat on the mattress. I look into his big brown eyes and sigh.

"That was a train wreck! I just, I wish I made a better impression is all. It's stupid." I look away from him and out of the window where fresh snowflakes fall at a slow speed. I hear Joel walk towards the bed and I feel the mattress dip with his weight.

"That wasn't a train wreck at all, they loved you." He says and I feel his hand wrap around my shoulder. Joel pulls me back into him so that my back rests against his broad chest. Leaning my head back against his shoulder, I keep my eyes trained outside.

"Ellie said one word to me. I just want them to like me is all. They mean so much to you." I explain.

"She likes you. Ellie is-she's been through a lot. Just takes her time to warm up to people. Trust me, she's going to love you. and before long you'll be havin' to beg her to shut up." Joel presses a kiss to the top of my head before he moves to settle us in for the night.

He pulls the covers over top of me and I wiggle my way into his arms. I turn around and meet his eyes, seeing a shine within them that's new. I bring my hand up and trace the stubble on his jaw. His large, warm hands trail along my back.

"Trust me, honey." Joel whispers and kisses my forehead again. A warm feeling erupts in my chest and flows through my body.

I'm not quite sure what exactly Joel and I are. We know that we both feel strongly for one another, that we would do anything for each other. I know that I love him. And for the last two weeks our relationship has been steadily evolving, little by little each day. But I'm too afraid to ask for a label and truthfully, I don't need one. As long as I have Joel, I have everything I could ever possibly need.

Six Months Later

Birds chirp outside of the open kitchen window as the breeze gently billows the curtains. The sounds and smells of spring are in the air, finally. Signs of new life are popping up everywhere I look. Trees are budding, wild flowers are popping up, and baby birds chirp in the branches.

I close my eyes and take it all in for a moment. It's been far too many years since I've been able to enjoy the spring. It used to be my favorite season as all the flowers thrived, and I knew that business would begin picking up again.

There's a dull ache in my chest at the thought. I'd love nothing more than to be able to make an arrangement for a newly wedded couple, or help a man make a good first date impression. Or even just picking what colors my flower beds were going to be. Spring always meant new beginnings.

And in a way, it still does. A year ago I was trapped being a pill runner in Boston. Now here I stand across the country in a new home where I don't have to resort to drug trafficking just for a meal ticket.

"Hey, just me." I hear Ellie's voice fill the space as the back door opens. I smile at her as she sets her bag down on the floor and takes a seat at the table.

"What're you up to today?" I ask, curious about her social life. Joel was right, Ellie is quite the social butterfly when she wants to be. She's found a small group of people she likes, and it's obvious that they make her happy.

"Um probably just going to see Jesse and Dina." She answers and I see the redness creep into her cheeks. I've got a hunch she likes one of them, but I have yet to figure that out. Baby steps I suppose.

"Well, have fun and stay out of trouble." I tease her as I hand over a sandwich. She takes a big bite and nods her head.

"I always stay out of trouble." She remarks and I scoff.

"Right. Now remind me again why the teacher kept you after class last week?" I hold back a laugh, remembering how Ellie shuffled into the house last week after being told to stay and do extra cleaning. Apparently she thought it was going to be hilarious if she threw an egg at some boy's head.

"Hey that fucker deserved it." She defends before taking another bite.

"He probably did. But if you're going to do that, just make sure you aren't seen next time." I smirk and she gives me a thumbs up. The front door opens and I hear Joel's heavy boots come towards the kitchen.

"You two look like you're up to something." He says, standing still in the doorway. Ellie and I meet each other's eyes before we shrug.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I say, playing it cool. Joel's eyes narrow and he looks to Ellie, who deflects by taking another bite of the sandwich.

"Anyways. Come with me, I've got something to show you." Joel looks at me. I nod and follow him, quickly putting a jacket on followed by my boots.

"What is it?" I ask and Joel shrugs.

"Just come with me and you'll find out." He smiles and I know he's got something up his sleeve.

He's been extra busy these last few weeks and he won't tell me what's been going on. A part of me worried that something bad was going on, maybe a rival group or something. But I haven't heard any whisperings of anything like that. And I know Joel well enough to know he's not running off with some other woman; he can barely tolerate Ellie and I together sometimes.

Though I will give him some credit, he was right about Ellie warming up to me. It took her about a month but once she started opening up we've been two peas in a pod ever since. And in a way, her presence has been healing for me.

Joel grabs my hand as he leads me through the town and I greet the people I recognize as we pass them by. I've been helping in the school when I can, and helping out in the nursery other times. And at first it was scary, but everyone has been wonderfully inviting. Their warmth has been slowly thawing a part of me that's been kept frozen in time, and I'll never be able to thank them enough for giving me my humanity back.

We walk over a small hill and I see several new structures that weren't here a few months ago. I squint in the sun and see that they're greenhouses. My pace quickens with excitement and a smile plasters itself on my face.

Tommy stands beside one of them, leaning on the wall and he waves to us as we get closer.

"Good mornin'." He greets us.

"Mornin." Joel replies.

"Well I can see from the look on your face you're excited about these. I'll let Joel show you around and then we'll meet back up." Tommy says with a nod before he walks away.

I look up to Joel, still beaming and he walks us inside the first one. The air is warm and humid. Perfect conditions for starting seeds. I look around and see multitudes of sprouts popping up from trays and built in planter boxes.

Walking around I read some of the labels and find that they've got a good variety of different vegetables started. And if the other greenhouses look just like this, there will be enough food to feed everyone and start a stock.

"This is incredible." I say, slightly shocked at how sophisticated their system is. They've even got an irrigation system hooked up.

"Knew you'd like it. If you want, you can start spending your time here." Joel says, putting his hands into his pockets while I continue to look around.

"But I'm already assigned to the school and nursery." I say, wishing I could be here all the time instead.

"I've already talked to them about it, and if you want, Tommy said you've got a place here. There are two others already assigned, they're the ones who built this, with help from Tommy and I. One's a, um, tree scientist or whatever and the other's a regular farmer." Joel explains and my jaw falls slack.

"Yes. Yes of course I want this." I smile widely, looking around at all the new life growing in this greenhouse.

"Thought you might." Joel smiles and looks around.

"Is this what you've been busy with the last few weeks?" I ask, remembering that he mentioned he helped put this together. He wipes a hand across his face and I see just the slightest tinge of red on his cheeks.

"Yes and no. This is only part of it." He says and my eyebrows raise in surprise.

"What's else is there?" I ask, eager to see what else is in store. Joel motions for me to follow him.

"Now, don't go tellin' everyone about this okay? I want this to be all yours." He says and leads me down another path, away from the main part of town.

"Yeah, of course." I say, more eager to see where he's taking me.

The two of us walk side by side further away from the town, and Joel takes my hand in his once we're far enough out. It doesn't offend me that he doesn't like to show affection around other people. I understand it quite well. Love is a sign of perceived weakness in this world, and some people use it against you. This is just something ingrained into Joel's mind, and I know it'll take a while to undo. But we both have walls up, and it'll take time for us to deconstruct those walls brick by brick.

But when it's just the two of us, Joel is the softest, most romantic man in the world, I'm convinced of it. His tough exterior doesn't intimidate me anymore. Because I know the kind of man he is at heart. He's fiercely loyal, soft-hearted, caring, and everything else he'd hate to hear me say out loud.

"Now just trust me here." Joel says as he stops walking. He puts his hands over my eyes and I fight back a smile. He's got a proper surprise planned, I would've never pegged him as the type.

"Sure." I say, and Joel begins leading me further down a worn path in the grass. I hear a gate open and close and we take a few more steps before we stop.

"Are we here?" I ask, anticipating becoming almost too much to handle.

"We're here." His voice is soft and he takes a step back, taking his hand away from my eyes.

I blink a few times in the bright sun. My jaw falls slack when I see where he's taken me.

"Joel, you did this?" I ask breathlessly. He looks down at the grass and nods his head sheepishly.

"This is- wow. This is the kindest and most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me." I say, looking from his face back to the open field.

The field is bursting with bright, vibrant color. Everywhere I look there are new colors to be seen. The field is filled with different wildflowers and tulips. All freshly bloomed in the spring air. There are pinks, purples, blues, and yellows.

"And you see those trees?" Joel points to the trees that make a pseudo perimeter around the field. I nod my head.

"Those are fruit trees. It might take a while for them to bear fruit, but when they do I think it'll be worth it. We've got apples and peaches." Joel says, pointing to different trees as he speaks.

I take in the sight of beauty before me, in awe that someone could think to do something this meaningful in a world so desolate. And eventually my gaze travels from the flowers to Joel.

His brown eyes shine in the sunlight as they also take in the view. But no matter how pretty the flowers are, I know there's nothing more beautiful  on this Earth than Joel. I take his hand in mind and intertwine our fingers.

Leaning against his arm I rest my head against his shoulder as we look at the field and how the flowers blow in the breeze.

"Thank you Joel." My voice is soft. He moves around so that his arm is now securely around my waist, our bodies flush together.

"You don't have to thank me for anything." He says, but I disagree wholeheartedly.

"I've got a long list of things, actually." I say, a smile lifting the corners of my mouth. Joel spins me so that I'm facing him, and he looks into my eyes with adoration.

"No matter what happened out there, you'll always be the one who saved me." He says, his thumb coming up to brush the hair out of my eyes.

"I think it's safe to say that maybe we saved each other." I say, finally compromising with him on this point. No matter how many times I bring it up, he's always adamant that I never have to thank him for anything.

"I think I can live with that." He smiles and leans in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to my lips.

I kiss him back with all the love in the world. Never did I ever think that I'd get a second chance at life, or love. But then came Joel. He's given me new purpose to live, and he's reignited the fire in my heart. He's shown me how to love someone in this bleak world, and he's shown me that I too, am worthy of the same love.

———

Later that evening, Joel and I walk down the streets of Jackson with Tommy, who wanted to show us the new solar powered lights they recently installed.

The lights are beautiful and illuminate the town in a soft amber glow. And the town is relatively quiet tonight, except for the soft coo of birds who landed on one of the wires.

"See those birds up there? We call 'em turtle doves around here." My eyes glance up to where the birds rest next to one another, their song carrying in a soft melody.

"Those are just pigeons." Joel dismisses, clearly not interested in the birds in any capacity. Ignoring his bluntness, Tommy looks at me and continues, his breath just barely visible in the crisp air.

"Do you know what they represent?" His question isn't what I was expecting, and I shake my head. Sure, I've heard the birds sing every morning and evening, but I never knew they had any real significance.

"No, I don't." I answer Tommy while my eyes are still on the birds. Tommy cracks a small smile and stops walking.

"Turtle doves are the symbol of a perfect union. If one of them dies, the other might just die of a broken heart. See, they find a mate and they never take another one. They stay completely devoted to each other as long as they live." Tommy glances between Joel and I as he speaks. My cheeks tinge with pink as I understand his nuance and my fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to grab Joel's hand.

Tommy pauses for another moment before continuing down the street. The birds coo again as we walk by, and I take another glance back at them.

It's kind of poetic, the way those birds love one another. They love so deeply that they're incapable of taking another mate, so devoted that should one pass, the other may die of a broken heart.

As we walk through Jackson, I can't help but to glance at Joel from the corner of my eye. And as I appreciate everything about him, I find that maybe it's not that crazy of a sentiment after all.

And after everything we went through and endured together, I know that I shall remain completely and utterly devoted to Joel Miller. And God forbid something happens to him, for I fear I may die of a broken heart.

Epilogue

[unseededtoast]

Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part One

Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

a/n: trying out something new! I've wanted to make a series for a long time and finally decided to just do it. I hope you all enjoy and buckle up for the ride:)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Finale

He can try all he wants to keep me from her, but I'm the only one who will have her in the end.

Unknown POV

Rain drizzles down from the evening sky and the streetlights illuminate the puddles forming on the sidewalk. My shoes are soaked from the walk here; I had hoped to arrive sooner, so that I could get a better seat, but once again work kept me too late.

Trying to brush off the inconvenience I walk into the bar and immediately find who I'm looking for. My heart starts racing and I feel blood rush to my face. The bar is busy, crowded, warm, and loud. Taking a seat at one of the only open spots I order a drink and glance over at the woman I came here for. I knew she'd be here.

Her smile is bright and inviting, her eyes sparkle with the shine of a thousand stars. Her hair looks incredibly soft and sleek under the dim lights. The way she laughs is music to my ears, and the way her clothes cling to her curves is like a work of sacred art.

I take a sip of the cold beer and let my eyes wander over her body. My hand starts to tremble; the sight of her is other-worldly but I can't help but to imagine what her skin would feel like under my fingertips.

Before I know it, my glass is empty and I feel the slight buzz coursing through my veins. But I think I need just one more before I can approach her. I order another quickly, my eyes not wanting to stray from her captivating form for even a second. She's laughing with her friends, and oh, how I long to be one of them. And soon I will be, if things go according to plan.

The song playing changes and some of her coworkers, who double as friends, drag her to the floor to dance, though there's not much room to do so. She moves her body to the rhythm effortlessly, and I can't believe how she makes everything look so natural and easy. The light shines and illuminates the sheer layer of sweat on her chest, it almost makes me choke on my drink.

She starts dancing on one of her friends who cheers her on and it brings a smile to my face. She deserves to let loose and be happy. After all, she works too hard and isn't appreciated enough. Not by her team at least, but I do. I appreciate her more than they ever could. And soon she'll know that as well.

Unfortunately I'm not the only one who seems to notice her beauty. I see several eyes on her body as she moves, and it makes my blood boil. They have no right to look at her in such a lustful way. They couldn't appreciate and savor all she has to offer like I could. No, they couldn't. It would be impossible.

Feeling the courage from the alcohol and the adrenaline from my rage, I set my glass down on the table and wipe my mouth. She's still dancing and I know this is my chance. I straighten out my clothes and fix my hair before I start walking over to her.

She hasn't spotted me moving through the crowd, and with each step closer my heart pounds heavier and heavier with excitement. I've waited for this moment for so long.

Pushing past other patrons my steps become quicker and more urgent. I just can't wait any longer. She's right in front of me, not even twenty feet away.

But just before I break into her line of sight my steps cease in an instant. As the song comes to an end I watch as she laughs and throws her arms around a tall, slender man, who looks down at her with a wide smile.

I grit my teeth as I watch his hands settle on her waist. I notice the way his fingers linger, the way he looks at her with infatuation. He gets to work with her all day long, and yet he steals my chance? He's had years to make a move and hasn't, but just as I'm about to talk to her he decides to put his arms around her body?

He leans down and says something in her ear which makes her nod. They go back to their table and he grabs his belongings as well as hers, and then they say goodbye to their friends, who wish them a good night.

From the shadows of the crowd I watch as he leaves with her tucked under his arm, and her leaning into him. I watch as he takes keys from her bag and leads her to a car parked in the lot. He opens the passenger door for her to get in, and shuts it for her before he takes up the driver's seat.

Now outside on the sidewalk, I see them drive off into the rainy night. My fists seem to have clenched themselves into tight fists, my nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in my palms.

As I walk home the scene keeps replaying itself in my head. The way his hands touched her, the way he leaned down and talked to her. How she accepted his invitation and left with him. How happy she looked to be leaving the bar with him, and how she allowed him to touch her. The image of his fingers on her waist seems to burn itself into the backs of my eyelids.

And I know this night will continue to haunt me for a long time. But I won't give up on her, I can't and I won't. Once she sees how devoted I am to her, she will have to choice but to choose me.

Even if I have to get some people out of my way, I know that she will be mine soon.

- - - - -

The sun breaks through the window curtains and the morning birds chirp their songs that flow through the crisp air. It's a warm morning, and you're thankful your boss gave you permission to come in later today.

Stretching your limbs, you take a deep breath and savor the moment of peace. You don't get many quiet moments these days and so you take extra care to enjoy them while they last.

After looking out of the window from your bed for a few minutes, you roll over and grab your phone, wanting to thank Spencer for bringing you home last night. Quite honestly you had a few too many drinks, more than you were planning. But you knew you could count on Spencer to get you home safely, he always does.

Spencer has been one of your closest friends for years. Having started at the BAU around the same time, it was only natural that you two stuck together. And thankfully you two clicked, like two pieces of a puzzle.

You send him a quick good morning message before getting out of bed. On a lazy morning like this, you decide to make yourself breakfast instead of hastily grabbing whatever is in the pantry like you usually do.

After you make yourself some waffles and sit down you notice a sticky note on the table next to your car keys. Taking it in your hand, you read Spencer's scrawled message,

"Made sure to lock your door on my way out. Oh and I took a cookie from the counter as a thank you"

You smile at his silliness and let the note rest beside your plate. Spencer's been over to your apartment more times than you can count, sometimes it feels like he's a part-time resident here. You've joked around and told him you're going to start charging him rent, to which he just smiled about.

Eventually the clock turns to the next hour and you know that your peaceful morning has come to an end. Lazily, you put your plate in the sink and go get ready for the day. You don't put a lot of effort into your outfit as you know today will be a paperwork day.

Walking into the bullpen you realize that you're the last one in. Everyone else is already getting to work on their reports but you decide to stall for just a little bit longer and take a detour to the break room for a cup of coffee. Not that you need it, but you really don't want to fill out paperwork, it's your least favorite part of the job.

You pour the hot coffee into your favorite mug and spoon some sugar in when Derek walks in with a smirk on his face. And not his usual good morning smile, no, this one is a devious smirk.

"What?" You question him, curious as to what he's up to. He crosses his arms as you sip on the too-hot coffee.

"Someone left you some pretty flowers on your desk, who's your loverboy?" He asks and you about choke on your coffee.

"Someone left flowers on my desk?" You ask, surprised. Nobody has ever brought you flowers before. Derek nods and looks back towards your desk.

"Looks like it." He says and the two of you walk out to your desk together, curious to know who left these for you.

Sure enough, there's a bouquet of pink roses sitting on your desk in a beautiful glass vase. And judging from the size of arrangement, these flowers cost a pretty penny. Your eyebrows raise in surprise and you look for a card within the arrangement.

Hidden in the greenery is a small card and you pull it out carefully. Inside, your eyes read over the words a few times to try and make sense of who these could be from.

"Well, what does it say? Who is it from?" Derek impatiently asks. You show him the card and shrug,

"I have no idea." You answer as he reads the note aloud.

"Your brilliant mind deserves to be celebrated, there will be more of these to come." His smirk turns downward and his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

As you and Derek think about who these could be from, Spencer walks back to his desk which is situated just across from yours. He notices the two of you before his eyes settle on the flowers.

"Who are those from?" He asks, looking between you and Derek. With a sigh, you show him the card as well.

"No idea." You tell him, and he reads the note a few times over as well before studying the flowers. He bites on his lower lip as he thinks, and you hope his infinite knowledge will come in handy.

"Pink roses historically symbolize adoration and appreciation." He says confidently. His clue offers little to no insight about who could've done this.

Had the flowers been delivered without a note, you could've brushed it off as a simple, yet unexpected, gift. But the vague note seems odd. Something about it just doesn't feel right, the wording reminds you of not only a promise, but perhaps a veiled threat.

But maybe you're just overreacting. After all, it's in your nature to jump to the worst conclusion. Considering what you deal with on a daily basis, it's like a reflex to assume the worst.

Trying to ease your mind, you place the flowers to the side of your desk. You still want to admire them, but you just want to forget the odd note that accompanied them. Derek walks back off to his desk and you know you've procrastinated long enough. The file is already on your desk, it's just waiting for you to fill it out.

Recalling the last mission easily, you fill out the paperwork quickly, hoping to be done with it soon. You hate paperwork and you wish Hotch would've accepted your bribe; he would do your paperwork and you would pick up his dry cleaning. He turned you down and told you to quit being so dramatic about a little bit of paperwork and advised you to not try to bribe another team member. You knew he meant Spencer, and you knew it would be obvious if Spencer started filling out your reports. His are always detailed, while yours are not. 

The day drags on slowly and you take several breaks throughout the day. You like having downtime, but at the same time you hate it. You want to be using your mind for something useful, and in between cases there's a lull that drives you just a little bit mad. 

For lunch, you and Spencer decide to try the new deli down the road. It's a nice enough day, so the two of you decide to walk there and enjoy the fresh air. And as you wait for the elevator, a maintenance crew begins unloading. You knew they had been replacing cameras in the lower levels, but didn't know they were going to be moving up here. There are several men with ladders, tool boxes, and cameras that cause a flurry of momentary chaos. 

One of the men bumps into you and you apologize, feeling like you're in the way when in reality they're the ones disrupting the status quo. Eventually, they all disperse into the office space and begin working, allowing you and Spencer to leave. 

-----

"What are you plans for the weekend?" You ask Spencer as you take a bite of your sandwich. With no case, you decide you might as well try to plan something. Something noncommittal enough that if a case does come in it's no big deal to cancel, but something to look forward to if you stay in the area all weekend. He swallows and shrugs his shoulders, 

"I didn't really have any plans. I guess I might rearrange my bookshelves or something." He takes another bite, looking absolutely in love with his sandwich. 

"As fun as that sounds, how about you come over and help me put up some curtains. I don't feel like getting the stepladder out. I'll pay you by making dinner." You say, knowing that he will more than likely accept. The two of you always end up spending some time together if you have a free weekend. Spencer takes a drink and looks as if he's deep in thought before sighing, 

"You drive a hard bargain, I'll do it. Oh, and can you please make those brownies? The ones with the chocolate chips?" He asks, eyes lighting up at the thought of your brownies. The man has a sugar addiction and it's one that you always end up feeding into. 

"But I just made you cookies." You say, remembering the one he took from the counter last night. 

"Okay?" He asks as if you just made the most ridiculous statement he's ever heard. You wipe your hands on your napkin and shake your head, 

"You know it wouldn't be the end of the world if you tried a vegetable once." You tease him. He feigns insult before throwing the argument right back at you,

"And it wouldn't be the end of the world if you made some brownies." He's got a humorous glint in his eye that you know you won't be able to resist. With a resigned sigh you finish your drink.

"I guess I could make some brownies." You give in, just like you always do. It's rare that you ever deny Spencer something, you've got a soft spot for him. If it were any of your other teammates you don't think you'd have an issue telling them no, but for Spencer, you always seem to crumble. 

The two of you finish lunch quickly and get back to the office, hoping the others don't notice how you went over your allotted lunch hour. You and Spencer walk side by side, bumping into each other every few steps. His hair blows in the wind and it reminds you to ask him if he wants a haircut sometime this weekend. 

When you get back to the office the camera installers are still there, some working right near your desk. And you take it as a sign to turn your report in to Hotch, who's hunched over his desk reading over someone else's report. He looks up as you walk in and thanks you for your report. 

"Did you do it yourself?" He asks, but you can sense the humorous undertone, one that you don't usually get from Hotch. Rolling your eyes with a smile, you ensure to him that you're the only one who wrote the report. And right as you go to walk out, an idea comes to your mind. 

"So, is there a way to see who sent those flowers? It's just, I don't know it just seems really weird to me." You tell him, knowing that your worries are safe with Hotch. His eyebrows furrow before he speaks. 

"Well, I would say check the cameras but I don't know if the footage would be there, considering they're replacing them. Go check with Garcia." He says and you nod, thanking him as you leave. 

You head to Garcia's office to find that she's looking at shoes online. It seems the downtime gets to her as well. But when she sees you walk in, her face lights up.

"To what do I owe the honor?" She overplays, causing you to smile. 

"I'm hoping you could help me out." You say and go to take a seat beside her in front of her numerous monitors. 

"Your wish is my command." She says with a smirk. 

"So these flowers showed up at my desk this morning and I just want to see who dropped them off is all." You tell her, concealing your concerns. If you know Penelope, you know that if you show your worries then she will not stop until she finds an answer, and you don't want to inconvenience her like that. 

She spins in her chair and starts typing, bringing up some camera footage. You intently watch as she starts scrubbing through the footage, looking for anything helpful. Her eye is better trained than yours though, and she's able to fly through the footage of each camera in record time. And then she goes back through again. 

"Sorry, it looks like they were replacing the cameras in the lobby from six this morning to just before noon." She turns to look at you, and you do your best to hide your disappointment. 

"That's okay, thank you." You say, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. You were hoping she would have a workaround for this, but if there were no cameras in place, there's nothing she can work with.

"Of course. Sorry I couldn't find anything." She says, but you can tell she's holding back from saying what she really wants to. 

"What is it? I know that look." You ask, curious as to what is going on inside her mind. 

"It's just odd. You receive flowers on the day the camera footage is unavailable. But, I'm sure it's just a really weird coincidence." She offers a strained smile and your insides feel like they're being twisted around. 

"Yeah, probably just one of those things." You try to brush it off, but as you walk back to the bullpen the situation begins to bother you even more. 

-----

The smell of brownies drifts around your apartment as you wait for Spencer to arrive. You had made sure to make the brownies for him, just as he requested. And though you're tired from work, you felt it was necessary to make sure you do this for him seeing as how he's going to be hanging your curtains for you. 

A knock at the door startles you out of your trance and you move to let Spencer in. He's changed from his work clothes and has a grin on his face as he walks through the door.

"I thought I smelled brownies." He says as he takes his shoes off. Spencer wastes no time in making himself comfortable in your home seeing as how your apartment is basically his second home. 

"I knew I'd never get my curtains up if I didn't make them." You call over to him as he sits on your couch. He smiles and watches you pull the pan out of the oven. The edges look crispy, the middle gooey, and you know it's likely he'll eat all of them before the night is over. 

Seeing them on the counter, Spencer gets up and rushes into the kitchen, where you have to smack his hand away from the hot pan. 

"Spencer you're supposed to be a genius, why are you reaching for a pan that just came out of the oven?" You block his view of the brownies, knowing that he's likely to try again just out of pure childlike stubbornness. 

"They smell so good." He peeks around you, getting a glimpse of the brownies behind your back. 

"They do, but let them cool a little." You press against his chest, making him walk back a few steps. He gives up and sighs, 

"Fine. Where are the curtains? I'll just get those out of the way." He says and looks around. You go and retrieve the curtain rod and the curtains and set them on your couch. 

From the couch you watch as he works, appreciating his willingness to help you out. You had wanted these to go up for a while now, but never got around to it. And after receiving the mystery flowers, you wanted to put them up so you feel more secure at home. The window is facing the street and you know it's relatively easy to see inside. It would make you feel better if you could put something between you and the outside. 

Spencer's lithe form works effortlessly and you find your eyes wandering across the broadness of his shoulders. In the years you've worked together, you can tell how he's filled out more, and you'd be a liar if you said it didn't suit him. You had first noticed how his button-ups starting becoming tighter around his biceps, and then it was how his pants seemed to hug his thighs. 

As he turns around to grab another part, you're quick to avert your eyes. You feel your cheeks start to burn and you realize he may have very well saw you checking him out. Which you shouldn't be, he's your best friend after all. 

"There, that should do it." He says after a few more minutes of working. 

You stand from the couch and walk to stand beside him, appreciating the way that the curtains look. Not only are they practical, but they make the apartment feel more like home. 

"They look great, thank you." You smile up at him, meeting his eyes. He licks his lips and holds your gaze for just a moment longer before he looks back to the kitchen. You know exactly what's on his mind and you sigh, finally giving in to him, just like you always do. 

Later, you and Spencer are on the couch, watching tv. You've got your back against the armrest, feet resting in Spencer's lap. He's intensely watching whatever movie he put on while your mind wanders elsewhere. 

For some reason, you're just not able to shake off the flowers. Spencer's words echo in your mind, the ones telling you that the flowers stand for adoration. Then you think about how they showed up on the very day the cameras are being replaced. It all seems just a little too convenient for you. And in your line of work, you know better than to believe in coincidences. 

"What's up?" Spencer pauses the movie and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyebrows raise and you feign ignorance. 

"What do you mean?" You ask him. But you should know better. Spencer knows you like the back of his hand. He frowns and rests a hand on your leg. 

"I can tell something's been bothering you tonight." He says and you keep your eyes trained on his hand. Biting the inside of your lip, you know he's got you pinned. 

"It's nothing, I'm just being paranoid." You sigh and try to reach for the remote, but Spencer holds it out of your reach. He gives you a pointed look. 

"I know it's not nothing, and you're not the paranoid type." He points out and for the moment you despise his eidetic memory. 

"It's so stupid. It's just the thing with the flowers. You know Penelope couldn't find footage of who dropped them off because the cameras were being replaced?" You tell him, arching an eyebrow. He takes a moment to think, and then offers a solution, like he usually does.

"You can probably ask the front desk receptionist what she remembers." He says and you nod, knowing it's the only lead you have to work with. 

"I'll do that Monday." You say and stand from the couch to close your new curtains, suddenly feeling too exposed. 

As you go to close them, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you. You gasp and blink, but whatever you saw is gone. Spencer comes to stand beside you, looking out of the window.

"What is it?" You hear the concern in his voice. He must think you're going crazy. In fact, you think that you're going crazy. His arm finds its way over your shoulders and he tugs the curtains closed. 

"I just thought I saw someone out there on the street. But there's nothing there." You say, voice sounding just slightly breathless. Spencer guides you away from the window and sits you back down on the couch. You can see his jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are drawn tightly together. 

"Would it make you feel better if I stayed here tonight?" He asks, and you look over at him, breaking your gaze from the window. 

"Spence, you don't have to stay here for my sake." You start to feel bad, you don't want him to pity you. He shakes his head. 

"I don't mind at all." The sides of his mouth curl up into a smile, the same one that makes you melt. 

"Only if you want to." You say, internally grateful he's willing to stay with you tonight. 

-----

Unknown POV

I watch from the shadows as she pulls a pan out of the oven. Her apartment is lit up enough for me to be able to catch a glimpse of her beauty, and I watch with wide eyes every moment that's gifted to me. However, my excitement is dampened as I can't find the flowers anywhere. I was hoping she'd bring them home, so that a tiny piece of me could be there with her. 

The moment is further tainted as soon as I see him step inside of her home. The same one from the bar. Anger courses through me as I watch them in the kitchen, as I see her move him with a hand on his chest. He shouldn't be able to feel her touch, he doesn't appreciate her the way I do. 

Unable to move away I watch as he puts up some curtains for her. Thankfully they look sheer enough that it won't block all of my view. But still, they're more than I want. I've been able to keep an eye on her every night without them, and I hope they don't obscure my view too much. 

My hands ball into tight fists as they sit on the couch with each other. He keeps looking over at her every few minutes, but it doesn't look like she notices. She looks distressed, there's a crease between her eyebrows. I should be there to put her worries at ease. 

I readjust the binoculars to try and get an even closer look. But when I do, I see that they've moved. They're at the window and I see her look right at me. Quickly, I sidestep into the alleyway, where the darkness should hide me away. Hopefully she didn't see the glint of light off the binocular lenses. 

Just before I leave, I see his hand on her shoulder, leading her away from the window. It's like he's purposefully keeping her from me. A smirk finds its way to my face and I'm bolstered with new resolve. 

He can try all he wants to keep me from her, but I'm the only one who will have her in the end. 

Part Two

[unseededtoast]

I’ve Got My Eye On You | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: A piece of Spencer Reid died the day Tobias Hankle kidnapped and tortured him. Seeing your friend in desperate need of help, you take it upon yourself to keep an eye on him and help him every step of the way, no matter how hard those steps may be. Inspired by “Say Yes To Heaven” by Lana Del Rey.

Content warnings: mention/discussion of addictions, narcotics references, withdrawal description.

wc: 9.3k

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

a/n: thank you to all who take time to read my stories. I appreciate each and everyone of you, and you all deserve the softest forehead kisses.

- - - - -

"Spencer I know what Tobias did to you, and I want you to know that I'm here for you. You're one of my closest friends and I don't want you to feel like you have to handle this on your own. It's not your fault, and what he did to you was wrong, please don't blame yourself. And please let me help you, I know you'd do the same for me. I can't lose you to this, you mean too much to me and you deserve to be free of this torment." Your throat constricts with emotion and you can't help the single tear that rolls down your cheek.

"I've tried to stop but I can't." Spencer's voice cracks through his tears, beckoning you to lift your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are tear-filled and his grip on your hands tightens. Sniffling, you nod your head, prepared to take on this challenge with him.

A part of Spencer Reid died the day he was kidnapped by Tobias Hankle. You noticed it like day turned to night. After he had been rescued, there was a hollowness in his eyes you had never seen before. The rest of the team seemed quick to move on and it's like they almost disregarded the horrors and trauma Spencer endured.

But you were not as quick to forget, nor did you brush it under the rug. You had taken note of the needle tracks left in his arms when he was rescued, and you were keenly aware that narcotics addiction is one hell of a beast to slay. And so you took it upon yourself to keep an eye on him; you were not about to lose one of your closest friends, and it became obvious that nobody else was going to be there to support him.

As you look across the bullpen to the man who occupies your thoughts you reminisce about the Spencer you knew before the tragedy. He was bright-eyed and innocent, socially awkward but charming in his own way. And while many of those things are still true, he's changed.

You've noticed how he's taken on a much more serious tone on cases, how he's becoming more skeptical of people. And you don't miss how his fingers find their way into his pockets during stressful conversations or how he's developing a short temper. Alarm bells sound off in your head and you wonder how the others could be missing this. But you know if nobody else is going to intervene and help him, then you will.

Spencer turns around with papers in his hands and you avert your gaze quickly, not wanting to be caught staring at him. The clock lets you know it's time to go home and the other team members head out the door with farewells. You politely say your goodbyes to them but hang back intentionally.

The bullpen is occupied only by you and Spencer now. It's not unusual for either of you to work over, but this time you're not staying for the paperwork. While Spencer wraps up his work you feign busyness, you don't want him to become skeptical of you. This plan had been mulling over in your mind for a week now, and you've just now been able to find the courage to act on it.

Twenty minutes pass before you see Spencer start wrapping up his final report, and so you casually begin packing up as well. What a coincidence that you two finished at the same time. You stand from your chair and shrug your coat on, preparing for the crisp air that awaits you outside.

"Hey, if you want I can give you a ride home. The buses stopped an hour ago and it's pretty cold out." You softly break the silence between the two of you. Spencer stops in his tracks and you see the conflict on his face. You hope he takes you up on your offer, your entire plan kind of hinges on it. After a few fleeting moments of contemplation, he nods his head.

"Sure, that would be nice. Thank you." He gives you a small smile and you let out a breath you were unaware of holding. The two of you walk side by side out of the building and into the cold air, where your breath turns to white clouds.

"How'd your reports go?" You ask, trying to keep a conversation flowing. Your stomach turns in nervousness and you remind yourself of what's at stake so as to not back out of your plan for fear of rejection or failure.

"They went okay." His answer is too short for your liking. As you buckle your seatbelt you notice how his hand finds it way into his coat pocket. Your heart drops, but you remain casual as you start driving towards his apartment.

"So do you actually think we're going to get a full weekend off?" So far your plan is going almost as well as you had hoped, and you count down the minutes before you'll arrive at Spencer's building. He sighs in the seat next to you,

"Maybe. I think I heard JJ and Hotch talk about a no-contact weekend unless it's an absolute emergency." He turns his head to look out of the window and you swallow your nerves. You only hope that he's not trying to read your body language.

"So any fun plans this weekend then?" You come to a stop at a light and look over to Spencer. From the soft glow of the street lamp you see how tired he looks, and your heart aches for your friend.

"No. You?" His answer is simpler than the ones he usually gives you; conciseness is also a new development it seems.

"Nothing particularly fun." You honestly answer before pulling up to the curb next to his apartment. Pushing back all doubts that float in your mind, you know the time has come and only hope that things turn out well.

Spencer goes to reach for the door handle, uttering a thank you, but you reach out and grab his bicep to keep him in the car for just a few more moments. Your heart thumps in your chest as he settles back into the seat and looks at you with curiosity. Taking a deep breath, you decide to just rip the bandaid off and be straightforward with him.

"Spencer. There's something I want to talk to you about." Your eyes meet his, faces only illuminated faintly from the street.

"What is it?" There's no trace of skepticism in his voice and it gives you a boost of hopefulness. So far his short temper hasn't effected your relationship with him, but you know full well that this conversation could change that.

You and Spencer had developed a good friendship over the years. The two of you were hired around the same time and so it was easy to bond over being the newbies on the team. And after a few years the two of you had been able to build a strong bond based on trust and respect; he was one of the few people you know you can count on. You trust him with your life and now you hope he trusts you with his.

Keeping a gentle hand on his arm, you want him to know that what you're about to say is coming from a place of love.

"You know I care about you, right?" You start off your rehearsed lines, careful to pick your wording just right so that he doesn't feel attacked or judged. His head nods almost instantly.

"Of course." He says, and you see the authenticity clearly in his eyes. But they're not the eyes you've come to know, you see within them the anguish he's going through.

"Spencer I know what Tobias did to you, and I want you to know that I'm here for you. You're one of my closest friends and I don't want you to feel like you have to handle this on your own. It's not your fault, and what he did to you was wrong, please don't blame yourself. And please let me help you, I know you'd do the same for me. I can't lose you to this, you mean too much to me and you deserve to be free of this torment." Your throat constricts with emotion and you can't help the single tear that rolls down your cheek.

Though you had practiced these words several times over the week, saying them out loud makes this situation all too real for you. The reality hits you like a brick wall that if Spencer doesn't get some help, his life may be on the line.

Spencer's jaw sets tightly and you see his eyes follow the tear down your cheek. Your lower lip quivers as you try to keep your composure, but once you see his jaw waver, your façade cracks. Soon enough, you and Spencer are crying together, both of you gripping onto each other's hands like a lifeline.

His hands shake as they grab onto yours, enveloping them completely. You know the tremors aren't from nerves, and it causes you to cry harder. All you want is for him to be free of this addiction.

"I've tried to stop but I can't." Spencer's voice cracks through his tears, beckoning you to lift your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are tear-filled and his grip on your hands tightens. Sniffling, you nod your head, prepared to take on this challenge with him.

"You don't have to do it alone. I'm right here with you, every step of the way." You rest your hand on his cheek, letting him know that your words are true. And though you have a long road ahead of you, you know you'd walk across fiery coals every second of your life for him.

- - - - -

The road to recovery is one full of bumps, twists, and turns. You knew that this would be difficult, but you had severely underestimated just how challenging it was going to get.

As soon as Spencer had accepted your offer of help, you had done everything you could to educate yourself about narcotics addiction and how to support someone who is seeking recovery. An interesting fact you had come across was that the withdrawal symptoms for Dilaudid addiction typically cease quicker than other drug withdrawals, but they're more intense. And this had never been clearer than it is right now.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" Your hand brushes hair out of Spencer's eyes as he lays on the couch, drenched in sweat with shaking hands.

He had been running a fever for a few hours now, and developed nausea and anxiety recently; all normal and expected symptoms but that didn't mean they were easy to handle.

"Some space." He snaps back quickly, and you try hard not to take it personally. Irritability is also an unfortunate side effect of withdrawal.

With a sigh, you back away from him and walk over to the window, which has frosted over with fresh snow. Due to the holiday season, Hotch gave everyone two weeks off to celebrate Christmas and also New Year. Spencer had asked you to stay with him during these two weeks so that he could quit, and of course you said yes.

It's not like you had family plans anyway, the team is more of your family than blood relatives at this point. And before you arrived at Spencer's you had delivered gifts to the rest of the team, peddling a story of how you're going on a vacation during the break, so that they don't contact you. And how you wished you were on a tropical island sipping a fruity drink somewhere instead of watching your best friend writhe in pain.

Turning your head slightly to look over at him, you see his trembling hands ball themselves into fists over and over again, a likely coping mechanism for the torment he's experiencing. From the research you've done, you know the worst is yet to come.

- - - - -

Hours later, in the middle of the night, you hear Spencer make his way to the bathroom. Seconds later you hear him get sick and you check the watch on your wrist. According to your estimates, he's likely hitting the peak of withdrawal symptoms.

Sighing and rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you cautiously enter his room and see the bathroom light on. Spencer's hunched over the toilet, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat that's dripping down his temple. Upon hearing your arrival, he looks over to you in the doorway and you've never seen a more pleading look.

Instead of just standing and staring, you move to run cold water over a cloth and place it on the back of his neck. Another wave of sickness comes over him, and you kneel beside him, rubbing circles on his back to try and bring some sort of comfort to him.

After the nausea has ceased, he collapses back against the wall. You take the cloth from around his neck and gingerly wipe away the sweat and clean up around his mouth.

"It's okay Spence, you're doing great. I'm proud of you." You whisper and place a kiss to his forehead, and you mean every single word.

You sit beside him and his clammy hand finds yours, and he holds it tight. Your eyes travel up his arm, seeing the faint marks from previous needle injection and you hope that they fade quickly, he doesn't need a constant reminder.

"Did you get rid of it?" He asks suddenly, startling you out of you focus. His head is tipped back against the wall and his eyes are closed.

"I got rid of it all. Nothing is left here." You confirm to him with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

Earlier when you arrived the first step was for you to destroy the vial of Dilaudid and all the needles he had so that when this stage of withdrawal came around he wouldn't be able to give into the intense cravings.

"I need it." He says, eyes opening and staring into yours. Spencer's eyes are glazed over and watery. You shake your head, encouraging him to keep going.

"No, you don't need it. This is the peak of the withdrawal Spence. A few more hours and things will get easier." You recite the information you remember from your research.

As if he's suddenly disgusted with you, he drops your hand and looks away, pushing his own hair out of his face. His jaw tenses and his foot starts tapping against the floor.

"Get out of here." His tone is harsh, and your heart drops, but you listen to him.

Without a word, you leave his bedroom and close the door behind you. You know that the withdrawal is wreaking havoc on his mind and body, but it's hard to watch and hear your best friend behave so differently.

You go to take a seat in his couch, and reminisce on the good times the two of you shared here. There were weekend nights spent completing puzzles and making cookies together, and other times you just lounged around while he read. The connection you two shared was an easy going one, there were never any expectations and you two were just content with each other's company.

You can't wait to have those nights back, and you know they may not happen for a while. And that's okay, as long as Spencer was getting better that's more than you can ask for.

- - - - -

One week had passed and thankfully Spencer's condition improved greatly. His hands no longer tremble, he doesn't break out into cold sweats anymore, and his personality is beginning to shine through again. Sure, there are still some bouts of anxiety and irritability, but overall you couldn't be happier with his progress.

While you wait for him to get up for the day, you make him some pancakes and bacon. His appetite had also made a reappearance. The maple smell wafts throughout his apartment and makes your tummy grumble.

The sound of Spencer's bedroom door opening cues you to turn on the coffee pot, so that he can have some fresh coffee with his breakfast. You place his favorite mug beside the pot and flip the bacon, estimating another two minutes before everything is ready.

"Good morning." Spencer's raspy morning voice says from behind you. He walks around you, mindlessly placing a hand on your waist as he squeezes past you to get to the coffee pot.

The warmth of his fingers on your waist in the cool air of the apartment sends a wave of heat through you before taking residence in your cheeks. Spencer had touched you a hundred times before, but his touch had never elicited a response from your body like this before.

"Good morning, how'd you sleep?" You ask, trying to distract yourself from whatever it was your body was doing.

After pouring steaming hot coffee into his mug and dumping a small ton of sugar into it, he leans back against the counter. Unable to help yourself, you glance over at him and see his unruly hair and take note that he's decided to wear his glasses today. Another wave of warmth radiates through you.

"Good, I didn't wake up once throughout the night." He says with a small smile, sipping his coffee. You match his smile, happy to hear that he's made another improvement.

You turn the burners off on the stove and motion for him to help himself. He sets his mug down on the counter and you turn to get yourself ready for the day. Not that you're going anywhere, you just prefer to feel a little put together. Plus, this gives you a reason to get away from Spencer's observant eyes. What if he noticed something was weird with you this morning?

Mind occupied with dissecting your own feelings, you manage to toss on a sweater and some comfortable sweats, not even bothering to see if they match or not. No, your brain is too wrapped up in decoding why your body had reacted the way it did to Spencer's touch.

In all the years you two had been friends, he had touched you like that before to get past you, he had held your hand after particularly hard cases so you could fall asleep on the jet, and yet none of those times made you feel like he just had in the kitchen. So what exactly had changed?

The question plays itself over and over in your mind as you rejoin him at the dining table for breakfast. Only the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional scrape of a fork across a plate can be heard. It's typical for the two of you to share your mornings relatively peacefully, letting each other wake up for the day. It's a calm routine, one you know you'll miss after this is all over.

"Are you ready to get back to work next week?" Spencer breaks the silence, finishing off his bacon.

"Yes and no. I'll miss the free time, but it'll feel good to get back out there. What about you?" You admit that you're not completely ready to get back into the swing of things, you've found that you quite enjoy spending your days with Spencer.

"I'm just ready to be back to myself." He says, a soft smile on his face. You nod knowingly,

"You will be, Spence." You fight the urge to reach across the table for his hand, afraid of how your body may betray you again, so instead, you offer him your most genuine gaze. But it hardly conveys the sincerity you want it to.

"I still crave it, and I know that once I'm back out there I'll want it even more." He tells you with a sigh. Unfortunately, craving the drug of choice is a lasting side effect, especially for those experiencing stress.

"That may be true but you've worked so hard to get here. And I'll be there for you, never forget that. If it ever feels like it's too much, come to me and we'll work through it. I promise." Spencer's eyes look slightly enlarged from his glasses, and it only allows you to see their beauty enhanced; it's like you could spend hours swimming in them.

"I know, thank you." His voice drops to a whisper, and you know he means it. Spencer has never been very good at expressing his feelings or emotions, but you know him well enough to understand the depth of his sentiment.

The two of you spend the rest of the day together tangled in blankets to keep warm. Spencer chooses to read while you only pretend to read, your focus is stuck on Spencer for some odd reason. Your back is up against the couch's armrest which gives you a clear view of Spencer overtop the book you're "reading".

You can't help but to admire the delicate crease in between his eyes as he scans the words on the page, or appreciate the soft curl of his hair that falls to his shoulders. Of course these are all things you had noticed before, but it's like you're seeing them in a new light, like it's all new. An unfamiliar feeling blooms within you but you're unable to put a finger on it.

You're sure it's nothing more than caring for you friend. Right?

- - - - -

The first day back to the office comes sooner than you would've liked. Last night you spent the night alone in your own apartment, just like any other night, except it felt oddly empty and cold. And this morning when you woke, you had almost expected to see Spencer sitting at your dining room table with a cup of hot coffee in his hands. But instead you were met with a barren table, the sweet smell of coffee nowhere to be found.

When you reach the office building you're thankful for the distraction it offers. Everyone is in good spirits from the extended break, and even you find yourself excited to get on another case. The team congregates in the briefing room, and Spencer strolls in at the last second and takes a seat next to you like always.

You turn to greet him and notice the dark circles underneath his eyes and your heart drops to your stomach. It's only been one night alone, surely he didn't give into temptation. But to your relief, he gives you a sly head shake and a thumbs up, as if he could read your mind. Perhaps he also didn't sleep well last night.

JJ presents the case as usual, and Hotch tells the team to be wheels up in thirty. You know you'll have to review the case file on the jet, your mind was anywhere except the case and you hope that you're able to get your head in the game before the team lands and starts working the case.

- - - - -

It seems your wishes for a clear head go unanswered. The team had successfully caught the unsub, but you felt guilty because you know you were distracted the entire time. Sure, you helped out where you could and still did your job, but you know that your analyses were not as thorough as usual.

Instead of being fully dedicated to the case, you kept glancing over to Spencer every few minutes and found your thoughts seemingly to revolve around him. Sometimes he would see you looking and other times not. But when he did catch your eye, a bundle of nerves within your stomach would ignite themselves, leading you further into your mystery.

There's just no good reason for you to be reacting like that to something as simple as his gaze. It's perplexing you, a puzzle you can't quite seem to put together. Nothing had changed between you two, there's no clear reason why you would begin having these feelings.

"Meeting for drinks tonight?" Garcia walks into the bullpen as the team arrives back, in a chipper mood as always.

You wait to see how others answer, not particularly in the mood to go. You would much rather go back home in silent contemplation or maybe see if Spencer wanted company. Seeing as how bars weren't really your scene, it was common for you and Spencer to find something else to do together. Usually you two would end up agreeing to a movie or going for dinner somewhere.

"Sure." Morgan answers first, slinging his jacket over his shoulders. Emily and JJ agree as well and you watch as Penelope waltzes over to Spencer.

"How about you my favorite resident genius?" She nudges him with her shoulder. As if on instinct, he looks over to you. You know his mind is going down the same path yours is, deciding whether or not to go. To answer his silent request, you simply shrug your shoulders.

"Uh, yeah sure." He eventually answers, loosening the tie around his neck. A part of you is grateful he said yes, you know this will give you plenty of opportunities to distract your mind.

The team enters a familiar bar, providing some comfort though the environment is anything but tranquil. Everyone takes a seat around a table, chattering about the case and everything else that comes to mind.

"What's up with you tonight?" Morgan asks, nudging your arm. With a sigh, you shake your head and look at the drink swirling in your glass.

"I don't know. I guess I just feel a little off." You admit, but fall short of the whole truth. You should've known, working with profilers, that one of them was bound to pick up on your unusual behavior. Giving you a knowing nod, Morgan brings you in for a side hug,

"Happens to the best of us sometimes." He says, and you nod, knowing he's right. During your time on the team you've seen everyone experience a lull of some sort. Maybe that's what this all is, just some weird mental lull.

The rest of the night goes off without much excitement. That is, until everyone is about ready to leave. As you grab your jacket off the back of the chair you notice Morgan lean in to whisper something in Spencer's ear. You watch as their eyes flit across the bar to a woman who's staring right back at Spencer.

A nauseous feeling rises within you, but you force yourself to be quiet and watch as Spencer smiles to Morgan before crossing the bar to talk to her. In all your years of knowing Spencer, this was out of pattern behavior if you've ever seen it.

"Come on pretty girl, I think our boy is finally catching on." Morgan wraps his arms around your shoulder and guides you out of the bar. The last thing you see is the woman wrap her arms around Spencer's neck.

The walk home is so much colder and lonelier than it usually is.

- - - - -

Months later, you realize that the feelings Spencer gives you aren't going away. In fact, you think they've only become more prevalent with each brush of his fingertips and each smile he gives you. But, you've done a good job suppressing them so far for the sake of the friendship. After all, you and Spencer work closely together during cases and still keep up your routine friendship activities.

Or at least, you did up until three weeks ago.

Something happened around three weeks ago that you haven't been able to put your finger on. Spencer's been distancing himself from you little by little, but it's glaringly obvious to you. At first it was skipping a planned movie night and then it was taking a rain check for dinner at his favorite Thai place. And then during cases you'd noticed how he doesn't joke with you as much and that he almost avoids your gaze.

Sitting at your desk, you look across the bullpen and try to zone in on the conversation Spencer is having with Morgan. It seems Morgan has become Spencer's confidante of choice these days. And while you want to respect Spencer's choice, you can't help but wonder why he doesn't come to you anymore. A piece of you feels hollow without Spencer around as much as he used to be.

You considered that maybe you had simply become too attached to his presence during his detox, and that you're overthinking everything. Maybe this is all just in your head. You try to convince yourself of any other explanation, but a nagging voice in the back of your head tells you that it's something wrong with you, that he just doesn't want to share a close relationship anymore.

Later in the day, you find Morgan in the break room and decide to get some answers. As casually as you can, you join Derek in finding a snack.

"Can I ask you something?" You keep your voice quiet, and give Derek a look to let him know that this isn't one of your jokes. Standing straighter, he nods.

"Of course pretty girl." You pick at the skin around your nails before you can force yourself to say the words.

"Is Spencer okay?" You tread lightly, unsure of how much Derek is willing to give you.

"Yeah, he's fine. Why?" Derek's eyebrow quirks and you sigh, knowing you have to come clean to him or he won't let it go.

"It's just that he doesn't hang out with me much anymore and he hasn't been talking to me. We used to go out at least once a week and we always talked. I don't know if I did, or said, something." You meet Derek's eyes reluctantly but see no traces of judgment in his expression. He reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"I don't know if I'm supposed to keep this under wraps or not, but I think you deserve to know. He's been, um, putting himself out there lately." Your eyebrows scrunch together, not following what Derek is trying to say.

"Putting himself out there?" You ask for clarification but a pit of dread begins forming in your stomach. Derek licks his lips and offers you a sad smile, the pit of despair grows.

"It seems that he's becoming quite popular with the ladies." Is all Derek has to say before it sinks in. Your mouth goes dry and you suddenly lost your appetite for your snack. Pushing yourself off the countertop, you give Derek a rushed thank you before retreating back to your desk.

Spencer's sitting at his own, filling out paperwork and you can't help but to look at him in a different light. If you concentrate hard enough, you think you can see traces of bruises on his neck. They're faint enough that you wouldn't really be able to tell they're there unless you were looking for them.

Your heart hurts with the realization, you miss your friend dearly. After helping him detox you were sure that there was nothing getting between your friendship, but you guess other women seem to have won his favor.

Images of Spencer's lips on other women makes your skin crawl. This behavior just isn't like him. It's almost as if he's traded one addiction for another.

Your blood runs cold as the thought crosses your mind. In your studies of addiction during detox, you had read about addiction transference and how people who are prone to addictions can sometimes trade off. In Spencer's case it seems like he's traded the needle for sexual gratification.

While his dependence on Dilaudid was easy to pinpoint and treat, sex addiction is another beast entirely. This kind of addiction gets brushed under the rug by a lot of people, and commonly isn't seen as an issue. And truthfully, if it was anyone but Spencer, you may not have even noticed or cared. But as images of his hands on other women's bodies, his lips attached to their neck, their hands traveling his body flood your mind, you realize that you care a lot.

The realization dawns on you that you're actually feeling jealous of these faceless and nameless women.

- - - - -

Your patience is tested two weeks later, when the team is out celebrating another victory. And instead of Spencer sitting beside you or Morgan like usual, he's across the bar talking to a beautiful woman.

Through your jealousy you try to figure out when Spencer became such a social person, it's unlike the man you became friends with. Never would you have ever imagined that Spencer regularly seeks out women to spend his nights with. But here you sit, watching as he leans in and whispers something in her ear.

Your face runs hot and you tip back your glass, desperate to go numb. You had known Spencer was partaking in this lifestyle, but it's something entirely different when you're face to face with it and be forced to actually acknowledge what's happening.

"Woah that's your fourth already. You good?" Garcia asks from beside you, nursing her second drink. Ripping your gaze away from Spencer, you give Garcia a wide smile.

"Never been better." The sarcasm drips from your voice. You slip from your seat and go to the bar, your steps only slightly wobbly.

Purposely, you take a spot beside the woman Spencer's talking to, partially to eavesdrop and partially to get the bartender's attention. The woman beside you giggles insufferably at something Spencer said, causing you to tap your fingers against the bar top impatiently waiting for the bartender.

After you finally get another drink in your hand and turn to go back to the team, your eye catches Spencer's. His gemstone eyes meeting yours is enough to cause your heart to stop beating. Your lips fall apart, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. You miss Spencer so much.

But unfortunately he doesn't keep your gaze for long, as the woman beside him runs her hands up his chest. Fighting the urge to get violent, or get sick, you give him a half-hearted smile before returning to your spot.

Perhaps you should've cherished your time with him more. Maybe you shouldn't have taken for granted your movie nights, shared dinners, or days spent underneath the same blankets. You certainly should've been more appreciative for his friendship. And now that all of that is gone you feel lost.

Drowning your sorrows with tequila, you understand that it's not just jealousy that fills you. You had actually fallen in love with your best friend. And now you're destined to watch him love other women.

You only wish it could be you.

- - - - -

"Rough night pretty boy?" Derek teases Spencer across his desk. Your eyes look over just in time to watch Spencer adjust his sweater and rub his eyes.

"Something like that." He answers, a faint blush creeping up to his cheeks. The wave of emotion that washes over you is the perfect storm of sadness, grief, and anger.

Unable to handle hearing their conversation, you abruptly get up from your desk and carry your paperwork back to Garcia's office. You know her office is like a safe haven, and truthfully, you're hoping she can brighten your dreary mood.

Knocking on her door lightly, you hear her invite you in. Like a child coming to their parents' room, you peek in before entering all the way. Screens are lit up across her desks and it looks like she's completing ten tasks at once.

"Are you busy? If this is a bad time I don't have to-"

"Nonsense, come here." She interrupts you and clears off a space for you to put your things. At least you can still count on Garcia.

You sit next to her and open the folder, half of your report already written. As you go to put pen to paper again, Penelope speaks up.

"Are you gonna tell me why you're here?" She has a knowing tone. Your pen taps against the desk a few times as you decide on what to tell her.

"I just needed a change of scenery" Your voice isn't very convincing, and you know she doesn't buy it from the look on her face.

"Okay and now the truth?" She asks, voice light yet firm. Relenting, you decide that it's not fair to yourself to keep your emotions bottled up, where they'll inevitably erupt.

"I guess it's just that, it's silly really, but I think I just miss Spencer." You attempt to downplay the severity of your feelings. But Penelope, in her typical fashion, presses you for more because she knows there's more to the story than you care to let on.

"He's right out there." She points out and you shake your head.

"Yeah but he's not him, if that makes any sense. We never hang out anymore and we rarely even talk to each other. And we used to be so close. But maybe he just outgrew me." You think out loud, fingers playing with the pen in your hand to try and distract your mind from all the racing thoughts.

"Outgrew you? Not a chance, he adores you." She says like it's a fact, but you have trouble believing it.

"Maybe he did some time ago, but he's adoring other women now. Lots of them." You can't hide the disdain in your voice. Every time you think about someone else with Spencer, it makes your blood boil. The selfish part of you wants him all to yourself, you want more shared mornings together and you crave more afternoons spent next to one another.

"Well, that may be true, but, I know him well enough to know that he still cares about you. I see the way he looks at you from across the room. Have you tried talking to him about it?" Of course Garcia would offer a logical and mature way to handle the situation. And you're thankful for her level head, because the way you want to deal with the situation involves dragging a woman by her hair out of his apartment.

"I don't even know what I would say that wouldn't make me sound like a kid who saw their friend playing with someone else at recess." You drop your pen on the desk, frustrated with your feelings. Penelope puts a hand on your shoulder, and you look up to meet her eyes.

"You've been friends for years now, I think he probably misses you too." She tells you, a soft look in her eye that lets you know she's being genuine.

"Maybe." You shrug.

"Finish your report and before you leave for the weekend talk to him." She spins around in her chair and gets back to work, allowing you to finish your report in peace.

Her words play over and over in your mind, and you realize that she has a good point. There's no way that after being friends for so long, and going through a detox together, that he just doesn't miss you either. You know Spencer well enough to know that he's a creature of habit, he likes routine; and lately he hasn't had much of one.

Feeling more like a bad friend for not checking in on him, you talk yourself into seeking him out at the end of the day. He's not responsible for your feelings, and you shouldn't have taken his actions so personally. Spencer is your friend first, and you've been neglecting your end of the friendship. Though, a voice in the back of your mind reminds you that he has as well.

Soon enough, the end of the day rolls around and you turn your report into Hotch. Thankfully Spencer is still here, collecting his things before heading out. It seems everyone else has left for the most part. With a deep breath, you swallow your pride and walk over to him.

"Hey." Your voice is meek and much weaker than you had hoped for. Startled by your presence, Spencer turns around. Your eyes meet his but trail down his neck, where there are sure signs of bruises. But this isn't about you, you try to remind yourself. This is about making sure your friend is okay.

"Hey." He greets you back, shrugging his coat over his sweater. There's an obvious tension between you two, and so you just decide to rip the bandaid off.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, making yourself keep your eyes on his face. Spencer's eyebrows crease together,

"Everything is fine, why?" He acts as if your question is coming out of left field. Finding it difficult to come out and say what you really mean, you shift your weight from foot to foot.

"It's just that we haven't really talked much lately and I just want to make sure that you're okay." You tell him truthfully.

"I'm fine." He tells you and glances down at his watch.

"Any fun weekend plans?" You ask, knowing full well that his answer could ruin your mood for the rest of the night.

"Um, yeah. I'm supposed to meet a friend tonight. But, you could come over tomorrow if you wanted to? Or we could go somewhere?" He offers, and a smile finds its way to your face.

"I'll be there tomorrow, I'll send you a text when I'm on my way." You tell him, satisfied with your plans. He gives you a quick nod before leaving the office to go meet whoever it is that he has plans with. You doubt that he even knows her name.

But you take some comfort in knowing that you'll be able to spend time with him tomorrow. And maybe, just maybe, it'll be exactly what the two of you need to smooth things out and go back to how things used to be.

- - - - -

You awake with an unusual happiness, excited to see Spencer. It's been months since the two of you actually spent any time together and you're eager to get over to his apartment to see him. Last night you had told yourself that no matter what he may be doing, that he's still one of your closest friends and that you still need to be there for him.

After picking out a nice outfit and ensuring your hair looks nice, you send him a quick text that you'll be there shortly. And of course, you never go empty handed, and so you pick up the plate of cookies you had made last night for him.

The trip over to his apartment seems to take less time than you remember, and you make your way up the stairs until you find yourself outside of his door. You knock on his door and wait for him to answer, but a minute passes and you hear no movement on the other side. Thinking that maybe he was in the bathroom or something, you wait another minute and then knock again. This time you hear movement.

The door swings open and you smile, but it quickly drops once you see who has answered the door. Her makeup is smudged on her face and she's still in the dress she probably wore last night. Feeling sickness rise in your throat, you wordlessly turn to leave.

"Hey what are you doing? Who is it?" You hear Spencer come to the door, but you don't bother to look back. You don't want him to see the tears in your eyes. You blink the blurry tears from your vision so you don't trip and make an even bigger fool of yourself, and you get halfway down the hall before Spencer is calling your name. But you act like you don't hear him.

Just before you reach the stairwell, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You stop in your tracks and a breath catches in your throat. Looking back, you see Spencer with disheveled hair and beyond him, his friend he met with last night. The sight of her in his doorway makes you shrug his hand off of you, disgusted to think about where those hands may have been just moments before you knocked on the door.

"Where are you going?" Spencer's voice is quiet, but you can hear the hurt and curiosity in his words. With a sniffle, you look from the woman back to him.

"I'm going back home, I didn't mean to interrupt your plans or whatever." You say, words cold and curt. Turning back around, you're determined to go back home, but Spencer stops you again.

"Please don't go. Come in, please." He practically begs. And as if she just got the hint, the woman leaves down the opposite end of the hall, heels in hand. You glare at her retreating figure before turning your attention back to Spencer.

"Fine." You agree and follow him back inside his apartment.

His floor is littered with the outfit he wore to work yesterday. Tie slung across the back of the couch and shirt tossed in front of the bedroom door. Nausea washes over you and you try your best to keep your facial expression neutral. The plate of cookies finds its place on his countertop and you stand with your hands in your pockets, feeling oddly out of place in an apartment that used to feel like your second home.

"I'm sorry about that, I um, I didn't see your text." Spencer closes the door behind him and walks over to you. Trying your best to appear calm and collected, you shrug.

"It's okay." You say, feeling like it's anything but.

A silence settles between the two of you and you almost regret your decision to come over. You watch as Spencer tries to quickly tidy up the place, throwing dirty clothes into his bedroom and tossing trash away. As he makes his way through his apartment you realize that you two hadn't made any real plans, just that you would come over. And while that used to mean movies and relaxing, you know that it just wouldn't feel right tonight.

"Listen, if now is a bad time we can always reschedule." You offer and go to move towards the door.

"No! No it's okay, I want you to stay." He says, throwing the last piece of garbage away. You sigh, realizing that you're probably not leaving here without some sort of confrontation.

"So how have you been? We haven't really talked in a while." You ease into conversation, hoping to coax Spencer into opening up. He rubs the back of his neck and his eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at you.

"I've been okay. And you?" The conversation feels like one between two acquaintances, not friends.

"Yeah I've been okay. Just worried about you." You somehow find the courage to tell him your true thoughts. After all, you figure you can either tell him or simmer in your own feelings.

"Worried about me? Why?" His eyebrows scrunch together. Feeling like his gaze is too intense, you look over at the counter and let your fingers trace the lines of granite.

"I know what you've been doing Spence. And it's none of my business but, don't you kind of think it might just be a trade off?" Sure, this might be out of line and too bold, but your concerns are real.

"A trade off?" He asks, taking a step closer to you. Standing firm, you nod your head.

"Spence you put down the needle and started picking up women. Just take a second and think about it Spencer." Your eyes find their way back to his. The image of the woman opening his door gives you newfound confidence.

You watch as he closes his mouth and thinks, instead of retorting right away. It's almost as if you can see the gears of his mind turning and churning the information and analyzing his actions over the past few months. After about five minutes, he looks back up at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"It's just addiction transference." He confirms what your suspicions had been for weeks now. And Spencer isn't stupid, he knows he needs to hold himself accountable, and you're thankful he is, or this conversation could've take a far more drastic turn.

You watch as his face falls and he buries his head in his hands. Your angry resolve begins to crumble, and the love you have for him reblossoms within you, washing away any other feeling. Walking over to him, you place an unsure hand on his back to try and bring him some comfort.

"It's okay." You whisper, rubbing circles on his back. With a sigh, he looks back up to you. His soft, caring eyes look into yours and you finally recognize him. This is your Spencer.

"How could I not have seen this? It's plain as day and I let myself fall into another addiction. I was doing so good while you were here and then-" He cuts himself off abruptly, as if he said something he hadn't wanted to.

"And then what Spencer?" You push him for an answer, desperately needing to know what he was going to say.

"And then you left and I felt so alone." He admits and you can almost feel your heart stop beating in your chest.

He stands back to his full height, towering over you. Your blood runs hot in your veins as you stare into Spencer's eyes, searching for an answer.

"I know I've been a really bad friend lately but, do you think we could go back to how we were?" His voice is tender and vulnerable. Your mind was already made up the second the question left his lips.

"Of course, that's what friends are for." You say, despising having to describe yourselves as friends.

But at least you have your Spencer back.

- - - - -

"Come in!" Spencer's voice carries through the door and you let yourself into his apartment.

The past two weeks have been good, albeit a little rocky between the two of you. Spencer had stopped picking up women after a few failed attempts at stopping, but you can tell that his mind is itching for another fixation.

You step into his apartment and close the door behind you, seeing Spencer already on the couch, movie ready to play. He had let you pick out the movie this time, which is a rare occurrence but you didn't question it.

Sitting beside him, you relish in the familiar smell of the blankets. One of your demands is that he wash all of them before tonight, and he happily agreed. With a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you, you snuggle underneath your blanket and watch the movie, but you can almost guarantee that you'll fall asleep before the end.

The movie is about halfway over when Spencer spills his drink on his blanket. He balled it up and threw it in the washer to deal with later, and as he resumed his spot on the couch, you offered half of your blanket.

Scooting closer, you gave him a generous share of your blanket, and you don't miss the way his hand rests on your knee. Suddenly your attention is no longer on the movie.

He keeps his hand on your knee, until he slides it up your thigh. Breath catches in your throat and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. He's still watching the movie, he probably doesn't even realize what he's done.

Spencer's thumb lazily draws shapes on your skin, causing you to shiver. He must've noticed, because you can swear a grin spreads across his face. His hand dares to go a little higher, and this time you're able to find your voice.

"What are you doing?" You keep your voice soft. Spencer doesn't miss a beat, and he licks his lips before answering.

"I'm just watching the movie." He answers with faux innocence. Not buying his explanation, you cock an eyebrow.

"Spencer." You say, urging him to tell the truth. A part of you is worried that he's unable to help himself and is just trying to satiate his need for satisfaction.

"I'm not allowed to love on my friend?" His voice is raspy, eyes dark in the dim light.

"You can, I just, you never do this to me." You stumble over your words, the feeling of his warm hand on your skin making your brain short circuit.

Without another word, he pulls you closer to him. Your shoulders are touching, faces inches apart. With this proximity, you're sure he can hear your heartbeat.

"It's nice having you here. It doesn't feel right when you leave, it feels empty." He whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips graze your neck and you shudder.

"I miss being here all the time with you." You admit, feeling particularly vulnerable. The way he looks at you is almost enough to make you melt.

"Then stay." He says, hand coming up your arm and resting on your cheek.

"What are you doing?" You ask again, brain foggy from his touch.

"You want to know something?" He keeps his voice deep, and you nod silently.

"All of those women had one thing in common." He says and almost causes you to retract from his hold. But he follows up quickly, sensing your aversion to the topic.

"They all looked like you. But, none of them could ever begin to compare. I was searching for you in each one of them but came up short each time." You're breathless with his confession, and you allow your hands to reach up and rest on his shoulders, begging him to stay close.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You ask, keenly aware that your noses are almost touching. Spencer's eyes flick from your eyes to your lips,

"Because I didn't want to lose you. I couldn't live without you in my life, and if you didn't feel the same way then our friendship would've been in disrepair." He says and it's ridiculous to you, the thought that you didn't feel the same.

"I watched you with those other women and wished it was me. I wished you would've said yes to me, not them." You come clean, one hand trailing up to the side of Spencer's neck. This time it's his turn to shiver.

"Having you would be like having a piece of heaven." He says, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

The two of you are warm from the blanket and from burning desire. His hand keeps you close and you grab onto the front of his shirt. Spencer kisses you with a hot need, his lips desperate to know yours intimately.

One of your hands releases his shirt and tangles in his curly hair. The brown curls still as soft as you remember.

Spencer's lips leave yours and start placing wet kisses on your cheek, to your jaw, before landing on your neck. You gasp with pleasure, eyes fluttering shut.

"Just like heaven." He mutters against your skin before finding your lips again.

When he pulls away, you can feel your swollen, wet lips and your warm cheeks. Spencer looks equally as flustered, but it's the most alluring thing you've ever seen.

Resting his forehead against yours, he takes your hands into his own. This time they're free of tremors, they're warm and inviting.

"This is me saying yes to you, if you'll have me. I've realized that nothing, and nobody, will ever be able to satisfy my heart the way you do." He states, pulling back to watch your reaction.

Squeezing his hands, you nod,

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for you. I've had my eye on you since day one." You admit, leaning in for another kiss.

Spencer wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you pressed flush against him. Your fingers find their way into his curly, and now disheveled hair, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

The feeling of his lips on your skin is indescribable, each kiss lights your love on fire.

- - - - -

Morning rolls around, sunshine breaking through the curtain in Spencer's bedroom. You roll over to face him, eyes heavy with sleep and love.

Your eyes are met with his, and as you take in his beauty you think you can see the hollowness in his eyes begin to fade. A small smile finds its way to your face as you reach out and run your thumb over his cheekbone.

"What are you smiling about?" He asks with a grin on his own face.

"Nothing, I'm just proud of how far you've come." You say, gingerly caressing his face. He hums with contentment, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"I'd be nowhere without you." You can feel the authenticity in his words, and you know he never had to thank you for anything. You bury you head into Spencer's chest and take in his warmth, appreciating the moment with him.

Being held in his arms, you know that you would do everything over again and again if it meant that Spencer found a piece of himself again, that he's been able to heal from the damage Tobias inflicted upon him. You told him you'd be there for him every step of the way, and those words have never been more true.

You're glad you kept your eye on Spencer Reid.

[unseededtoast]

Glimpse Of Us | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: After a painful breakup, you and Spencer try and move on, but find yourselves seeking out each other in different people. Inspired by "Glimpse Of Us" by Joji.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 7.1k

content warnings: soul-crushing angst, emotional turmoil

His fingers find the velvet box in his pocket and he opens it. The ring inside is divine, he had it created just for you. The gemstone in the center reflects the warm light of his apartment beautifully as he admires it. He can't help but to imagine what it would look like on your finger, where it belongs.

As she exits the bedroom, he's quick to hide the box from her view. For the rest of the night he feels as if he's putting on a performance, one in which he half heartedly kisses her while he thinks of your lips, and he holds her with your body in mind.

Closing the door behind him, Spencer is welcomed home after a long day with soft lighting and the smell of dinner. He shrugs his coat off and places it on the rack beside the door, thankful for the warm air after being in the cold most of the day.

As he takes his shoes off, he feels her arms wrap around him, her forehead resting on his back as she embraces him from behind. Spencer's eyes close in comfort, thankful for her loving ways. He turns around and hugs her back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I ran you a warm bath and I'll have dinner waiting for you when you get out." Her voice is soft and warm, full of nothing but the most tender love. Spencer pushes a strand of hair behind her ear with a small smile on his face,

"Thank you." He presses a second kiss to her forehead before retreating to the bedroom so he can indulge in a warm bath.

The water relaxes his tense muscles and offers a much needed reprieve. The case the team had closed today was nothing short of miserable. The air was unforgivably cold, the wind was harsh, and of course they were searching for a body for most of the day. He had wanted nothing more than to come home since the first moment he stepped foot outside this morning.

After putting on the sweats she had laid out for him on the counter, he joins her at the dinner table where a plate and a glass of wine waits for him. They eat in silence, comfortable with just the presence of each other. There's never any pressure to make conversation, they both have a mutual understanding that sometimes silence is more appreciated, especially after particularly difficult days. But what she doesn't know is that when silence settles, his mind drifts to you.

Spencer is beyond thankful for her devotion despite the chaotic life he leads. If there's one thing he can count on, it's for her to brighten his days and take the weight of the world off his shoulders when it becomes too much for him to bear. She is nothing short of perfection, a genuine blessing that Spencer is glad to have.

And because she's so perfect, it makes Spencer feel all the more guilty when he finds himself wishing it was you waiting at home for him instead of her.

The guilt has been eating at Spencer for a while now. He knows it's unfair to her, to constantly be comparing her to you but he can't quite bring himself to break up with her. It wouldn't be such a big deal if he didn't see bits and pieces of you within her. With her, he's reminded of how you laughed, the way you hugged him, and so many more small details that he just can't let her go; for if he lets her go then he would lose all of those small reminders and memories. It's selfish, he knows, but the appeal of seeing flashes of you through her is more compelling than doing what is fair for her sake.

Once dinner has been finished and cleaned up, the two of them find themselves on the couch, cuddled under green and umber colored faux fur blankets while a movie plays. But Spencer isn't really paying attention to the movie, no, his focus is on how she holds him and how it isn't quite right. Her grasp is always too loose and her hands never find the right spots. While her embrace is comforting, it's nothing compared to how you used to hold him so tight, and it all felt so right.

During a particularly quiet scene, she looks up to Spencer with doe eyes, and he can tell she's studying him, like she has him figured out down to a science.

"What's wrong honey?" She asks him, running a comforting hand up his arm. Shaking the thoughts of you from his mind, he smiles down to her with guilt creeping up within him.

"Just had a bad day." Is all he tells her. For he can never tell her the truth, that he'll never love her the way he loved you. It wouldn't be right, and none of it is her fault. He doesn't see the need to tell her he's only passing time in her arms, the ones that will never hold him the way he needs.

With big, beautiful eyes she continues to look at him, appreciating the tiny details that makes Spencer so beautiful. And while he should be appreciating her with the same loving gaze, all he can bring himself to do is think about how you used to look at him the same way.

As he looks into her eyes that look eerily similar to yours, he's catapulted into a memory, a time where things were perfect.

- - - - -

"Well why not both?" You ask Spencer, who's holding up two blankets to choose from. It's the first winter that you two are sharing together in Spencer's apartment and you both found out the hard way that even Virginia can get quite cold.

"You want them both?" He asks you, eyes glancing between the dark green and the rich brown colored blankets in his hands, both made of warm, plush material. You nod your head and motion for him to put them both in the cart.

"Yes, both of them. The colors compliment each other and they'll look right at home on the couch." A smile finds its way to your face as he places both of the blankets into the cart.

Spencer didn't need much convincing and you both knew it. All you had to do was give him the puppy eyes and he would bend to your every will. He would do anything to keep a smile on your face, and if that meant getting two blankets instead of one, then it was a small compromise he was happy to make.

Later that night the two of you sit entangled on the couch, under one of the new blankets. Spencer sat with his back against the arm rest and he had pulled you between his legs, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. Your head rested back on his chest and your eyes closed as soft music played from the vintage record player Spencer had recently bought.

Spencer savors the way you warm him, the way your body feels soft under his touch, and he appreciates the smell of vanilla that you always seem to have. He watches with adoring eyes as your chest rises and falls evenly, letting him know that you've fallen asleep. The apartment is dimly lit from a lamp, and its warm glow illuminates your features perfectly. Spencer can never get enough of just looking at you, each time he finds something new to love.

His eyes trail from the slope of your nose to the curve of your lips before noticing the way your eyelashes softly lay against the top of your cheekbones, gentle like a feather floating through the breeze. He had never seen such effortless beauty, both inside and out, and his heart feels like it could explode from trying to fit all the love he has for you within.

Kissing the crown of your head, he gently wakes you up and leads you to bed, and he can't help but smile as you hold his hand the entire way there. Your small hand fit into his like they were made for each other.

Once the two of you had settled in bed, you reach your arms around Spencer and hold him close to you. While you enjoy being held by him, you like to return the favor. You want him to come to you for comfort and security, you want to provide a loving warmth to him, to show him how much you love him when your words fall short of expressing the truth depths of your adoration.

His skin is warm under your touch and you press a soft kiss in between his shoulder blades. You're not sure if he'll be here in the morning due to work, so you hold him tight and soak in every second you get with him.

As the two of you drift off, Spencer rests his hand atop yours that rests just below his chest, not able to get enough of you tonight. There was something in the air this evening that made Spencer realize that you are the love of his life, and he wants to spend every night with your arms around him.

- - - - -

Snapping out of his daydream, Spencer realizes that the movie had come to an end. His hand lingers on the blanket for just a moment longer than necessary before he heads to bed, where she is sure to join him soon. He gets underneath the covers, his hand resting on the empty space beside him. His chest aches and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from getting emotional as she walks in, a sleepy smile on her face.

Spencer goes through the motions of bidding her a goodnight before he turns away from her. He doesn't know if he's disgusted with himself for thinking of you while she lays next to him, or if he's sad he let another woman take your spot. As her hand makes its way around his waist, he's unable to stop the single tear that drips down his cheek.

He waits for her to fall asleep before he slinks out of bed. He puts his shoes on and shrugs on his coat before leaving. The walls of his apartment seem to be closing in on him tonight, and perhaps he needs some fresh air. Snow flurries fall as he walks the empty streets, illuminated by street lamps and starlight.

Spencer wipes his eyes of the tears that form in his lash line and sniffles every few seconds. He has no destination in mind, but he know where his body will take him. It's the same place he goes every time, the spot where he met you.

The bench is covered in a light layer of snow along with everything else in the park. He's unable to tear his eyes away from the spot he first saw you at, as if you would suddenly appear out of thin air. Spencer remembers very vividly the day he met you. He was at the park playing chess, trying to get better so he could finally beat Gideon, when he saw you.

You had your nose buried in a mystery novel, your hair was partially pinned back so it wouldn't get in your way, and you had the prettiest sundress on that complimented your skin tone wonderfully. Spencer had never been one to believe in love at first sight until he saw you. He swears that day the sunlight was focused on you alone, as everything else became utterly dull.

And Spencer had never been one to go out of his way to talk to a woman, but something within him told him that if he didn't seize this opportunity then he would regret it. So he pushed himself out of his comfort zone and talked to you. You were the sweetest woman ever, and he's still surprised to this day that you had given him your number after he babbled and rambled trying to get to the point.

What he wouldn't give to be able to go back and do it all over again.

- - - - -

Three months after you had left Spencer he found himself once again being interrogated about his love life by his coworkers. They mean well, and he knows it, but he wishes they would stop bringing the topic up, because every time they do it's like reopening the wound. But he doesn't want to concern anyone with how poorly he's actually handling the separation, they all have their own issues just as he does.

"You sure you're ready for that date?" Derek asked him one Friday afternoon, asking about the blind date he had set up for Spencer.

"Of course I am, I think I'm finally moving on, and I'm sure she's lovely." Spencer smiles to Derek, but there's a bitter taste on his tongue.

There's no chance that this mystery woman could ever compare to you. But he tells everyone he's moved on from you so that they might stop bringing you up in conversation. Though he knows that you had made friends with his coworkers as well and he knows they probably miss you too. But for his own sanity, Spencer had to find a way to keep them from speaking about you; and what better way to do that than date someone new?

But while Spencer was busy acting like he had moved on, it seems that you actually had.

A year after you had left, against his better judgment, Spencer looked you up to see how you were doing. He had refrained from doing so up to this point, but he couldn't help himself. He had to know, he had to see you.

What he found devastated him. On your Instagram was a photo of you and a man, cheeks pressed against each other's with wide smiles. The first thing Spencer noticed was how your smile finally reached your eyes again, how you looked genuinely happy. A look he hadn't seen in a long time.

But he couldn't stop there, he had to know more. He had to make sure that this man wasn't some psychopath. And it turns out he seems to be the embodiment of the American dream. Spencer found that your new man works in wealth management, owns his own property with a fenced in yard, and appears to be head over heels in love with you.

The man's social media is cluttered with photos of you. You smile in each one as if you were seeing color for the first time. Spencer goes through his photos, looking at vacations you took to Europe, evenings spent on a boat, and every small detail in between that the man had posted about. Spencer had to put his phone away after he saw a picture of you in the man's lap, his hands on your waist as he kissed your cheek while you smiled at the camera.

Spencer thinks often about how the man treats you. He wonders if the new man appreciates your tender touch, your kind heart, if he cherishes you like he used to. Spencer can't help but to ponder if your new man gives you everything he couldn't; if he comes back home to you every night and if the two of you plan to have a family one day.

And when those thoughts get to be too painful, Spencer wonders if you ever think of him. He hopes that you search for pieces of him in your new man, even in just the most minuscule details. Sometimes with this hope comes along the thought of if you will ever come back to Spencer.

But that hope is usually crushed with the realization that you're living in a new chapter, one in which he will never have the privilege to read.

- - - - -

The sweet smell of blueberry pancakes wafts through the house and wakes you. You take a deep breath of the fruity scent and stretch, enjoying the way that today has started. There are definitely worse ways to wake up. Instead of getting up right away, you opt to stay snuggled under the warm covers, your eyes closed as you breathe in the sugary sweetness.

"Good morning honey." You hear your boyfriend open the door, his voice deep and raspy from the night. At the sound of his voice, you can't help but to open your eyes and smile at him.

"What's the occasion?" You stretch once more as he walks over to you, looking down at you with doting eyes.

"Oh I don't know, I think it might be someone's birthday. Yeah, I think I remember someone telling me that the most beautiful girl in the world has a birthday today." He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, the taste of blueberries lingering between you.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast." You sit up, pushing the covers away so you can go enjoy the pancakes that were so lovingly made. Your boyfriend only smiles wider,

"Don't worry this is just the beginning. I've got a whole day planned for you, baby." You try to fight the smile, not wanting him to know just how excited you are.

The two of you eat pancakes together at the table, your heart swelling with love from his gesture. Both of you know he's not the best cook in the world, but to you these are the best pancakes you've ever had. In fact, they could be burnt to a crisp and you would love every bite because he took the time to try and do something nice for you, and it's the effort you appreciate above all.

Licking syrup off your lip, your eyes find themselves fixated on your boyfriend's face and you can't help but be mesmerized. His eyes are kind and gentle, his smile is wide and welcoming, and you just don't know if you will ever get enough of him.

Though a tiny voice makes itself known in the back of your mind and it reminds you of just why you find your boyfriend to be so beautiful.

But you try your best to ignore the voice that whispers to you from within your own mind. You don't want to hear how your boyfriend's hair is the same shade of brown or how his eyes hold the same hue of green that Spencer's did. The voice works diligently to remind you that your boyfriend's hands don't feel the same and that his lips aren't as soft, and you wish that it would just stop. Everything would be so much easier if you could just forget Spencer Reid even exists, but no matter how hard you try you can never silence the whispers.

You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't still think of Spencer sometimes. Especially during the early days of your new relationship. When you first got together with your new boyfriend you were constantly reminded of Spencer. Your new boyfriend shared many features with Spencer such as his height, build, and hair color and you know it's no coincidence. You know full well that you gravitated to your new boyfriend because of these similarities, you were desperate to hold onto any part of Spencer that you could.

But your new boyfriend is different from Spencer in a lot of ways as well. He's more headstrong, he doesn't think things through as well, and he can't read you quite like Spencer could. But despite these differences you found yourself loving him for who he is.

Your new boyfriend practically worships the ground you walk on. He's entirely devoted to you and he reminds you every day of how much he loves you. He comes home at the same time every night, he's here when you need him to be, and just recently has opened up to you about one day possibly starting a family. He's everything you've ever wanted.

It had taken some time to adjust to something new and unfamiliar but it was worth it. You had been hesitant to get into another relationship, worried that you wouldn't be able to love anyone as much as you loved Spencer. It would be entirely unfair to the other person, and so you had asked your current boyfriend for patience; and this man had no problems waiting. In fact, you were convinced he would wait until the end of times if you had asked him to.

He was never overbearing, never pressured you for an answer or to go on a date before you were ready. Instead, the two of you built a friendship first. You would go for coffee on Saturday mornings, walks in the park after work, and even played a few rounds of mini golf. It was in those small moments that you found yourself falling head over heels for the man and eventually you felt that you were ready.

After a few months of being together, he had insisted you join him on a business trip to Europe. At first you didn't really know, you were nervous about being somewhere unfamiliar, but you trusted him to take care of you. And you're glad you went, it was the best trip you had ever been on. Your boyfriend treated you to candlelit dinners, a gondola ride, and the most tender, pure love possible. For the first time in a long time, you felt happy and it was all because of him.

Your mind drifts from memories of Europe to the conversation about starting a family. You remember the conversation almost word for word and you find yourself reflecting on it more than what is probably normal. But you can't help yourself, that conversation had opened your eyes about your true desires and left you feeling conflicted about a lot of things you still don't have the answers to.

- - - - -

It was a bright Sunday afternoon and you strolled down the street with your boyfriend hand in hand, enjoying the warm weather and freshness of spring. The grass was finally coming back to life, the trees were blooming, and flowers were beginning to pop up again.

"I want to ask you something, but you don't have to answer if you don't want to." Your boyfriend uncharacteristically stumbles over his words as the two of you veer off to a less busy path.

"You can ask me anything." You truthfully tell him, wanting him to know that he can come to you about anything. After all, there's nothing he can throw at you that would catch you off guard after your years with Spencer and the stories he would come home with.

"Have you ever thought about having kids someday?" Your pace slows down as his words sink in. You weren't quite sure what you were expecting him to ask, but it certainly wasn't that.

Instead of answering right away, you stop walking completely and look at your boyfriend, seeing nothing but complete seriousness and curiosity written all over his face. Your eye catches his, and your heart sinks when you see a flash of Spencer's eyes in your mind. Blinking away the fleeting image, you sigh and think about how to answer his question.

"I think some day, with the right person, I would most definitely want kids." Your answer is the complete truth, and yet you find yourself feeling guilty for not immediately imagining yourself having kids with your boyfriend, but instead with Spencer.

"Some day." A smile finds its way onto your boyfriend's face and he squeezes your hand lovingly.

Pushing the guilt and all thoughts of Spencer aside, you focus on what you have right in front of you. You have a boyfriend who loves you unconditionally, who wants nothing but the best for you, who you can see yourself spending forever with.

Yet despite loving him back and wanting a future with him, there's still a piece of your soul that yearns for Spencer.

- - - - -

After a long day of birthday celebration, you find yourself laying in bed waiting for your boyfriend to join you. The day had been filled with family and friends and it was probably one of the best birthdays you've had in a long time. But ever since this morning, the voice in the back of your mind hasn't let up.

While you were opening gifts you couldn't help but wonder what Spencer would've picked out. When your boyfriend asked you what top he should wear to best match the rest of the outfit you found yourself wondering what Spencer would've picked. During the drive to your friend's house you considered which songs Spencer would've played on the trip over. You hadn't really thought of Spencer much over the past year, seeing as how happy you were with your boyfriend, but lately you find Spencer infiltrating your thoughts more and more.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you give into temptation and grab your phone. Quickly, you look Spencer up on what limited social media presence he has. Your heart races as his profile loads, unsure of what you're going to see and what you want to see. The photos load and you realize he still hasn't posted anything since the photo you posted for him years ago.

You tap on the tagged photos tab and can't help the heaviness in your chest as you see a photo he was tagged in three months ago. He's got his arms wrapped around a gorgeous woman, her lips pressed to the side of his cheek. Within an instant, your mind replaces the woman's face with your own and you feel your throat begin to close up with emotion. The caption is something cliche about love, and with the same quickness as you had clicked on the photo, you exit out of the app.

It seems Spencer has moved on from you, and you're happy for him. You hope she can handle his lifestyle better than you could, but you can't help but feel sad that he was able to replace you. A tinge of regret takes residence in you for giving him the opportunity to replace you.

- - - - -

Spencer looks in the mirror as he straightens his tie and runs his hand through his hair once more. The velvet box in his pocket makes his heart hammer but the sound of her voice knocks him out of an anxiety-ridden spiral.

"We're going to be late, come on." She says with a smile on her face. Spencer knows he should be just as excited but the nerves take precedence.

The two of them enter the dimly lit restaurant and take their seat. The tablecloth is white, there's a candle in the middle of the table. Spencer knows it's the perfect time to propose. After all, today is their second anniversary.

She talks openly about what she's going to order and how she knows the food is going to be delightful. Spencer does his best to smile and nod, trying to calm his trembling fingers. He had considered proposing for a few months now and decided tonight would be perfect.

After the waiter comes and takes their orders, Spencer reaches across the table and takes her hands within his. Her skin is soft and smooth, but as he rubs his thumb across the back of her hand he remembers how delicate your skin used to feel under his touch.

Guilt intermingles with the nerves, and he feels disgusted with himself that even as he's about to propose he thinks of you. And the guilt is reinforced when he remember who he bought the ring for in the first place, it most certainly wasn't her.

Delaying the question, Spencer keeps making small talk until the food arrives. He takes glances over to her, and she always smiles back. And Spencer tries his best to act normal, but he knows he's failing.

For every time he looks at her all he can see is you. Every time he looks into her eyes he sees yours, he remembers how you used to gaze at him for what seemed like hours. Each time she pushes her hair behind her shoulder he remembers how yours used to always look effortlessly perfect. Even the shade of her lipstick brings him back to a memory when you wore a similar shade.

She laughs at a poor joke he made, and the sound of her laughter is replaced with yours in Spencer's mind. He realizes then that he can't possibly ask her to marry him.

When the two of them arrive back at the apartment, she rushes off to change into something more comfortable and Spencer hangs back in the kitchen, taking a seat at the dining table.

His fingers find the velvet box in his pocket and he opens it. The ring inside is divine, he had it created just for you. The gemstone in the center reflects the warm light of his apartment beautifully as he admires it. He can't help but to imagine what it would look like on your finger, where it belongs.

As she exits the bedroom, he's quick to hide the box from her view. For the rest of the night he feels as if he's putting on a performance, one in which he half heartedly kisses her while he thinks of your lips, and he holds her with your body in mind.

- - - - -

"Where are you going?" Spencer steps in front of her, blocking her path. He had returned home only an hour earlier to find that she had packed all of her things and called her friend to pick her up. She looks back up at him, and he clearly sees the disdain in her eyes.

"I can't do this anymore Spencer. I don't know what happened or what I did wrong, but I can tell you don't love me, and you haven't for a while." Her words shock him, but he can't find it within himself to contradict what she's saying; she's right after all. 

"You didn't do anything, I'm sorry." Is all he's able to offer her as he steps aside and lets her go. She shakes her head, tears gleaming in her eyes as she grabs the handle of her last bag and leaves without looking back. 

Spencer is left alone in his apartment and he bites his cheek as he looks around. She had taken everything she owned, not a trace remains. While he should feel devastated that she left him, he only feels relieved. The guilt that's been eating him alive for years is finally gone and he knows that this was the best possible outcome for her; he hopes she can find someone who cherishes her the way she deserves.

His eyes fall on the blanket draped over the back of the couch and suddenly this situation feels all too familiar. Spencer is unable to tear his eyes away from the blanket as his mind reminds him in perfect detail the most painful day of his life.

- - - - -

"Spencer, move. Let me go." Your voice is firm but it wavers as you finish the sentence. You had your last bag in your hand and you had hoped to be out of here before Spencer got back home. 

"No, please don't do this. Please don't go." Spencer begs you as tears fall down his cheeks. Pained by his sadness, a tear falls down your own. You so desperately wish you could stay, that things could work between the two of you. 

"Maybe if things were different I could stay." You say, using your free hand to wipe you eyes. 

Before you can be convinced to stay, you step around Spencer and head out the door, leaving behind the best and worst days. When you hear the door shut behind you, you're unable to stop the onslaught of tears that flow down your face as you go to your car parked alongside the curb. The last bag gets carelessly tossed in your car before you drive off. 

Spencer watches from his window as you leave, your car disappearing into the night. He collapses against the wall and sobs. It doesn't feel real, he can't wrap his mind around the fact that you had actually left. 

Hours later he finds the will the stand up and he sniffles the entire way to the bedroom where there's a crisp white paper laid on his pillow. Spencer turns on a light before he grabs the paper and before he reads a single word he notices how some of the ink is smudged, like tear drops had fallen before it had time to dry. 

Soon enough, his tear drops fall onto the paper as well. Each word is like a dagger to his heart and yet he reads it over and over and over again. 

Spencer, 

By the time you read this, I won't be here. Please don't come looking for me. We both knew things weren't going well for a long time, and I didn't see any way we could compromise. It's not fair to you and it wasn't fair to me to stay, we would drive each other to endless misery at some point if something didn't give.

I wish things could have been different for us, but I just couldn't handle it anymore. We both want different things and that's okay. You love your job and it was unfair of me to try and persuade you to pursue something else for my sake, and for that I am sorry. It would've been nice to have you home every night, to know that you could be here for the big and small moments of life. But I understand that that way of life isn't something you're made for, and that's okay too. I'm sorry I'm not built for the life you lead, I tried my best for as long as I could.

You will always have a piece of my heart for as long as I shall live. I wish you nothing but the best. You've got a lot to offer the world, my beautiful Spencer Reid. 

I love you, always.

His heart may as well have been ripped from his chest and shattered into a million irreparable pieces. As he reads and rereads your words he can't believe that you blamed yourself, that you felt the need to apologize for wanting a normal life. 

He recalls the first time you had asked him about a career change. To him it came out of nowhere, but when he really starts to think about it, he should've seen it coming. There were times he would come home and your eyes would be just a little bloodshot and your cheeks would be unusually red. Of course you told him it was just allergies, but the pictures of you two scattered over the coffee table should've told him it was something else entirely. 

The texts asking him if he would be home for your birthday were answered with a negative, along with the questions about Christmas, Valentines Day, and just about every other occasion. He wanted to be there with you, there's no place he would have rather been, but the job required him to be across the country more times than not. He should've realized that you had stopped asking those questions a year ago. 

His memory allows him to see into the past, and as it's said, hindsight is 20/20. The last year of the relationship he often found himself coming home to you already in bed, when you used to stay up and wait for him. Perhaps you had been so accustomed to disappointment that you had assumed something would come up and that he wouldn't be home when he told you he would. 

Within those memories he also notices how sad you seemed. Though he didn't see it at the time, he sees now how your smile stopped reaching your eyes and you stopped trying to plan things for the two of you to do on his days off. Instead of going out, you told him that you just wanted to spend time with him.

There's a particular memory that comes to the forefront of his mind, about a month before you left he remembers the two of you on the couch. You had snuggled into his side, head resting on his shoulder as the two of you watched a movie. He really hadn't been paying attention, he was focused on how warm you were, how he was happy he could finally be here with you. But if he had been following the movie, he would've seen that you turned it off just before the happy ending where the two characters lived out the rest of their days together. He should've noticed then how the tip of your nose turned red and how you wiped your eyes, claiming it was just from being tired. 

His chest aches deeply as he understands the pain he's put you through. All you wanted was him, and he had let you slip right through his fingers without even realizing. 

For days, weeks, and months after you left Spencer finds himself sleeping with the blanket you had picked out, for it's the last piece of yourself that you left him with. And after a while, your scent faded, but the memories remain. 

And ever since, he found himself chasing anything that could give him even just the smallest reminder of you. He only hopes that one day your paths will cross again and that you will find your way back where you belong; back to him.

- - - - -

The room feels colder and darker than usual. There's no sweet smell of pancakes floating in the air, there's nobody next to you to keep you warm. No, all of those comforts had left a week ago. The moment in which everything crumbled replays constantly in your mind. 

In front of you, your boyfriend dropped to one knee and held out a glistening ring. With tears in his eyes, he poured his heart out to you, speaking about how he's beyond in love with you and that he wants to grow old with you. That there's nobody else on this Earth he can imagine coming home to, holding close, and cherishing dearly. 

You could almost hear his heart break as you told him that you couldn't marry him. And not two days later, he had moved out without speaking a single word to you. Everything you spent years building, gone in an instant. But what haunts you the most is the look in his eye, it's the same despair you saw in Spencer's when you had left him. 

But you knew you had made the right decision not to marry your boyfriend. You loved him deeply, but after the conversation about starting a family you realized that you didn't want that future with anyone but Spencer. But that future isn't a possibility, you're keenly aware of that. So it seems you're destined to live out your days reminiscing about Spencer Reid. 

With time you know you had forgotten some of the memories and it's when you try to remember them that you find yourself wishing you had Spencer's memory. By now you figure he's done his best to bury the memory of you while you try to dig yours back up. 

There's one memory you cling to the most, and when sorrow begins swallowing you whole, you relive that memory, wanting to go back in time and live in that moment forever. 

It was a chilly fall day, the leaves had just started to turn colors. Spencer and you had been together just shy of a week but it seemed like neither of you could get enough of one another. In every second of free time you two had, you were together. He explained that his job required him to travel a lot, but you didn't really mind, he was worth waiting for.

 The two of you walked with intertwined hands through the park where you met, and take a seat on the bench. Spencer wanted to come by after the date he planned, a cozy coffee cafe with your favorite pastries. You had never experienced someone taking an interest in you, and your heart felt full knowing he went out of his way to learn what you liked. 

With lovestruck eyes, you look over at him and brush his cheekbone with your free hand, wanting to memorize every detail of him. His skin is smooth, eyes the most brilliant shades of earthy tones, and of course his chocolate curls had you swooning. 

You see his eyes dance between yours and your lips, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he pulled you close and kissed you. Your hands had found their way to his face, cradling his jaw as he held your waist. 

And as you pulled away you couldn't help the smile that found its way to your face. You had never been one to believe in falling in love so soon after meeting someone, but something about Spencer felt different. It was like your souls were meant for each other, there was an undeniable chemistry from the start. And though you wouldn't say it for another few months, you knew in this moment that you were helplessly in love with Spencer Reid.

But instead of leading a fulfilling life with him by your side, you find yourself utterly alone.

Eventually you make your way into the living room, which now has half of the furniture it did a few days ago. But you don't care, you convinced yourself that it was for the best, and that your now-ex deserves someone better than yourself, someone who wasn't still in love with the person who came before. 

You decide to get out of the house and take a walk with no particular destination. The fresh air will hopefully make you feel better. Your mind is anywhere but the present and you hadn't realized that you had made your way to the park. The same one that holds too many bittersweet memories. 

But instead of walking somewhere else, you continue on. You hadn't come back here since you left Spencer but it feels right. Lately you've found yourself considering trying to find him again, but ultimately you decide against it, recalling the words you left for him and the fact that it looks like he's found someone new. You love him too much to disrupt what love and peace he may have found.

Taking the familiar path you find yourself walking to the bench where Spencer first introduced himself to you, the bench that had started everything.

As you round the bend you see an older couple sitting there in the very spot you had all those years ago. The woman has her arm linked with the man's and the two of them laugh about something. The sunlight glints off of their wedding bands and you look away as they lean in to kiss each other. Walking by them, you offer a polite smile despite the turmoil you feel inside. They meet your eye as you pass and return your smile with warmth and happiness.

This trip down memory lane leaves you feeling like you had just seen a bit of what your future with Spencer could have looked like, the two of you grey-haired but still head over heels for each other. 

But you know that can never be a reality, and so you'll have to find a way to settle for the fleeting glimpse you caught.

-----

Part Two

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twenty Seven

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

The amber glow from the fire gives his dark brown eyes a bit of life, like they've been touched with fresh honey. He licks his lips and I find myself unable to focus on anything else except for the man in front of me. My eyes look over the broad expanse of his shoulders, how his shirt bunches up around his biceps, and how he looks at me as if I am the last person on Earth.

Sunlight filters through the boards on the windows, warming the skin of my face. If it weren't for the uncomfortable ground I'm sleeping on, it would be quite peaceful. Keeping my eyes closed I soak in the warmth and relish in the peace while it lasts, for I know shortly things could change drastically.

I shift around on the sleeping bags and feel Joel behind me, pressed up against my back. With the realization of how close we are, my eyes shoot open and my body freezes. Breath catches in my throat as I focus on just how warm and inviting he feels. His broad chest is up against my shoulder blades, and it would be easy for me to lean back into him.

But I don't melt into his touch like I so desperately want to. Instead, I scoot further away from him, knowing he'd likely feel uncomfortable if he woke up and we were that close. Plus, if I did give into my temptation, it would make parting ways that much more difficult.

Sitting up, I go to look out of the window covered with boards to see if anyone is lingering around, alive or infected. My eyes dart back and forth for any sign of movement but there's nothing to be seen out there. Everything is utterly silent.

The silence is welcome after the last few days. My body still feels tired and worn, and I find myself missing my excuse of a mattress back in Boston. But soon I may be back on it once more. I wonder what all has changed in Boston since I left. I wonder if James was able to pick up where I left off and is still running pills, or if he passed it all on to someone else. I know his wife would be more than happy to see him put the pills down.

"Good mornin'" Joel's voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn to face him. He's sat up and looking at me, an unfamiliar light in his eyes. 

"Good morning." I answer, a small smile on my face. Leaving the window, I sit across from him and wait to see what he says.

Nerves tingle all over as I brace myself for the inevitable "it's time we go our separate ways" speech. Knowing Joel, that speech will likely only be a sentence or two. But in the back of my mind, I can still hear the way he told me I was family. And for a split second I wonder if our paths are not going to diverge after all.

"You ready to get out of here today?" He asks, rubbing his hands together. I nod my head in response.

"More than ready." I say, glancing back at the window knowing that anyone could be lingering out there right now.

"Good. How about we crack open some of these cans and then hit the road? We've still got a ways to go." He says, getting up and moving towards his small food stockpile.

"Where are we going?" I ask, watching as he grabs two cans.

"Jackson, Wyoming." He answers and hands a can to me. I see that he's kept the beans for himself and handed me some tomato soup.

"Wyoming?" I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly. He nods his head.

"Yeah. Unless you don't want to come?" His eyes glance from the can up to my face, where I can tell he's searching for my answer. I take a moment to digest what this means, my heart feels so full like it could just fall out of my body at any given second.

"I would love to." I finally answer. A ghost of a smile finds its way onto Joel's face and he pulls out his knife to open our cans.

"I think you'll like it there." He says and curiosity gets the best of me.

"What's it like?" I ask, having only heard bare minimum of what his family's living conditions are in Wyoming. Throughout this entire journey he's taken specific care to remain vague about his family and now it seems like he's ready to lay it all out in the open.

"The summers are nice, the winters cold. We've got ourselves a compound of sorts. When we get there you'll see what I mean." He answers, still too vague for my liking, but I accept it nonetheless.

It looks like Boston is forever in my rearview mirror. And that is fine by me.

We eat our breakfasts in silence and I prepare myself for the road we still have ahead. Hopefully the worst is behind us and we won't run into any more Tribunals on the way there, or ever again. And as I finish up the soup, I look over at Joel and remind myself that we will be okay as long as we have each other. Wherever he is, is home to me.

-----

"We've got about one day left." Joel breaks the silence.

It's taken us a little over a week to get close to Jackson from Omaha. The road has been surprisingly desolate. Sure, we ran into a few infected here and there and even saw some other people, but we steered clear of them and had no issue.

The only real issue we face is exhaustion. It's become quite clear to us that our bodies are not as forgiving as they once were. Both Joel and I ache all over from the extensive travel. Really, we haven't stopped since we left Boston, not for very long at least.

"This is our last night out here?" I ask, my throat dry from lack of water. He nods,

"Yeah, this is our last night." He says and the evening critters begin singing their songs.

It's bittersweet, to think that this is our last night out here all alone. It really doesn't seem like too long ago we were in Boston. I still remember seeing him for the first time in James' apartment and I still remember our first night together on this journey in the high rise.

From the very beginning Joel has shown me that he will take care of me. It's now clear as day to me that since that first night he's always shown that he cares enough to make sure I was safe. And knowing him like I do now, I realize just how much that meant. I was blind to it, but now my eyes have been opened.

My eyes stay glued to the back of his jacket as we walk towards our nightly destination. His hair has grown out since we started as well, and it's starting to curl towards the nape of his neck. And because it's growing out, I spy the little strands of grey that pepper his otherwise dark brown locks.

The necklace around my neck bounces with each step, but this time, it doesn't carry the weight of guilt around with it. No, instead it offers clarity, assurance, and love. I look down at the locket and for the first time I realize that I no longer feel guilty about my feelings towards Joel. Instead it almost feels like Ryan and Lucas are looking down at me, giving me their approval.

I know that they never would want me to isolate myself like I have for so many years. They would want me to be happy, to thrive and live life to the fullest. And my only regret is that it took me this long to realize that.

As we approach the steps of an abandoned house, I look up at the stars in the sky and say a silent thank you to Ryan and Lucas, who are no doubt with me always.

"Come on, it's gettin' cold out here." Joel urges me inside after opening the door. My eyes break away from the sky and enter the house.

The inside is dust-covered, I don't see any footprints on the floor which means that this is likely completely abandoned. After listening for a few moments and hearing nothing, I'm confident that there are no infected here either.

Joel sets his things down by the old couch and immediately begins clearing out the fireplace. While he does that, I go around and check for anything useful. The kitchen cabinets hold nothing of use much to my dismay. I look around and see the photos hanging from the wall, seeing another once-happy family. My heart aches for them, like it has ached for all the others.

"Fire's going." Joel calls out after a few moments. I rejoin him in the living room and see the fire he started going strong.

"Nothing useful in the kitchen." I say and sit on the worn-down couch. Joel stands from in front of the fire and wipes his hands on his jeans before he sits next to me.

"It's probably already been searched." He states and I nod my head, staring into the flames.

While I'm excited to see Jackson, I can't help but be nervous. What if the people there don't like me? What if his family doesn't like me? Will we get there and Joel leaves me to my own devices? And if he does, what will I do?

"Hey, what's wrong?" Joel asks. With a sigh, I look into his chocolate brown eyes and see nothing but concern within them.

"It's stupid, really." I say with a shrug, hoping he finds this as an acceptable answer. But unfortunately, he does not.

"I doubt it's stupid." He presses further. I bite on the inside of my cheek before I answer, trying to find the right words.

"I'm just worried is all." I say, unsure of how far he's going to push me for answers.

"Worried about what?" He further asks and it's at this time that I almost miss his nonchalant, don't care attitude towards me like he had on our first night. But on the other hand, it's nice to know he actually cares. I know it takes a lot for him to open up to people, and it's for that reason I decide to stop beating around the bush.

"What if they don't accept me there? I mean, if they find out what I've done, I wouldn't blame them for not wanting me there. I did bad things, and I mean seriously bad things, to those people." I try to keep my voice from wavering. I see Joel's shoulders relax, and he reaches a timid hand out to rest it on my thigh.

It feels like electricity courses through my veins where his hand is, and I hold his gaze, never wanting to look away.

"Hon- They will love you. I promise you. If they kicked out everyone who has done something in self-defense, there would be nobody there." He answers, cutting himself off once. His hand on my thigh squeezes slightly, sending butterflies soaring through me.

"What if your family doesn't like me?" I ask, knowing it's a little redundant, but needing the reassurance. I look down to where his hand rests on my lap and he uses a finger to lift my chin up so that I'm looking right at him.

"My family will love you as one of their own." He says with the utmost confidence.

His finger hasn't left my chin and between that and his hand on my thigh, I feel something within me awaken that's been dormant for too long. And I wonder if he feels it too. I place my hand atop of his on my leg, and grab onto his wrist with my other, not wanting him to let go. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest, but I know that this is our last night where it's just the two of us, and I intend to make the most of it.

"Thank you Joel, for everything." My words carry a weight to them that I'm sure he picks up on. I see his eyes dance from my eyes to my lips.

The amber glow from the fire gives his dark brown eyes a bit of life, like they've been touched with fresh honey. He licks his lips and I find myself unable to focus on anything else except for the man in front of me. My eyes look over the broad expanse of his shoulders, how his shirt bunches up around his biceps, and how he looks at me as if I am the last person on Earth.

"You don't have to thank me for anything. I would do it all over again for you, in a heartbeat." He says, his eyes searching mine. My breathing picks up and my adrenaline spikes.

Without giving it a second thought, my hands move from his to cup the sides of his face. His beard is scratchy under my fingertips, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Our lips connect and his hands find their way around my waist, bringing me impossibly closer to him.

Our first kiss is tender, yet holds so much pent up emotion. His fingertips dig into my sides, like he's reminding himself that this isn't just a figment of his imagination. One of my hands moves from the side of his face to his hair, where I grab a handful and tug on it just ever so slightly.

Joel is gentle with me, and he trails one of his hands up my body until it rests on my cheek. He cradles my head like I'm made of porcelain; afraid that one wrong move may break me. His other hand pulls me on top of him, so that I'm straddling his lap.

His hand on my hip holds me in place and a fire within me ignites, not one of anger, but one of love. My lungs begin to burn and I pull away from Joel, leaning my forehead against his. We're both out of breath and as we look into each other's eyes in a way we never have, I admit to myself for the first time,

I am in love with Joel.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before letting both of his hands rest on my hips. I let my own arms rest on his shoulders and I lean forward, tucking my face into his neck. His familiar smell makes me feel right at home, like this is where I belong.

Joel's hand rubs up and down my back, comforting me in a way I haven't felt in over two decades. It feels so right, to be held by him, to be loved on by him. And though I've seen him kill people with his bare hands on this journey, I've never felt safer than right here in his arms.

He presses a tender kiss to my forehead, and I practically melt into him. I lift my head from the bend of his neck and sit up straight to really look at him. I notice all the small details like the smile lines by his eyes and the faint wrinkles on his forehead. And while others may not find them to be attractive features, they're the most beautiful things I've ever laid eyes on.

I lean forward and press our lips together once more, needing to know that he wants this, and that I didn't just catch him off guard. The way his lips chase mine tells me everything I need to know.

After a while, we move the couch in front of the fireplace and position ourselves comfortably. I lay between Joel's legs, my head resting on his stomach and his head resting on the arm. I'm sure our bodies will protest this positioning in the morning, but for now, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. The pain will be worth it.

-----

"You ready?" Joel asks, turning around to face me.

We had gotten somewhat of a late start this morning. I think both of us were dragging out the limited time we still have together. The two of us had woken up around the same time, the smell of smoke in the air from the fireplace. Joel was keeping me warm, and I could've stayed in his arms for an eternity.

But, after we had procrastinated long enough, I could tell he's ready to be back home with his family. And I couldn't be selfish and try to keep him all by myself any longer. It's time we both go home.

"Ready as I'll ever be." I say, eyeing the tall wooden gates in front of us. One corner of Joel's mouth turns up in a smile, and he steps back to me, putting his arms around my shoulders.

"They're going to love you." He says, kissing the top of my head. I smile up at him and finally move forward.

Joel and I take our final steps of our journey together and we stand side by side in front of the tall, strong, wooden walls of Jackson.

"Joel, is that you?" Someone at the top of the fence yells.

"It's me." Joel calls back and the man hurriedly jumps down from his post. Moments later, the gate opens up.

The man rushes to meet Joel, a wide smile on his face. And while they greet each other I look beyond, into the town. There are lots and lots of people. My chest tightens with anxiety, remembering how big the Tribunals group was.

"And you are?" The man's voice brings me back from my lapse in attention. I clear my throat and smile at the man.

"I'm Noelle, it's nice to meet you." I can only hope my smile is convincing and doesn't show just how nervous I am.

"Beautiful name. I'm sure you'll fit right in here. Tommy's gonna be ecstatic to hear you're back." The man beams at Joel.

"Yeah, I'll find him soon enough. Gonna try to get cleaned up first." Joel says. The man nods.

"By all means." He motions for the two of us to enter the town entirely, and shuts the gate behind us.

I turn and see that we're closed in here, totally surrounded by the walls. And while I know I should feel safe and secure, I feel almost claustrophobic. My palms feel clammy and I remember what it was like being trapped by the Tribunals.

"Hey, hey it's okay." Joel says quietly, stepping in front of me. He tilts my head so that I have no choice but to look at him.

"Come on, follow me." He says, guiding me by the small of my back.

As we walk through town I take in the enormity of the place. There's a child care center, a bar, a school. It's like another world in here, one that I thought was long gone. Here there's order and civility.

Kids run around playing and others walk around talking and joking. My eyes scan over everyone looking for something out of place. And I'm acutely aware of people's eyes on us as we move through the town.

Eventually Joel leads us to a two story brown house. We go up the stairs and enter, and it's a lot cozier inside than it looks from the outside.

"This is my house, I've got some spare clothes you can have until we get you settled, if that's okay?" Joel asks, slinging his bag on the floor without a care in the world. My aching shoulders rejoice as I place my own bag on the ground.

"Yeah, yeah that would be nice. Thank you." I say, appreciative of him taking care of me.

All this time I've been hoping for somewhere safe and I've finally found it. I just didn't think it would feel this weird, this foreign. Instead of being able to relax and assimilate, all my mind can ponder is when shit is going to hit the fan. Places like this just don't exist anymore. Places like this are usually homing groups like the Tribunals or other groups that do vile things to newcomers. What if I just walked into one big trap?

As Joel moves around to find what he's looking for, my heart hammers in my chest and my palms still feel slick with sweat. My chest feels heavy and I wonder if I'll be able to do this. I wonder if I've come all this way just to realize that I don't fit in anywhere anymore. The thought constricts my airways and I feel myself beginning to spiral. 

"Hey, hey it's okay. I'm here. I've got you, you're okay." I hear Joel say but his voice sounds muffled. I feel his hands on my shoulders and I feel my feet moving, but it doesn't feel real. It's like I'm trapped within a twilight zone inside of my own mind. 

Joel puts me down on something soft and the edges of my vision blur. My chest hurts and I can't get enough air. I can't breathe and I can't focus. The thoughts in my mind don't make sense. And I can't even ask for help, it's like my tongue tied itself in a knot. 

What did I just walk into?

Finale

[unseededtoast]

carissa girl i thought i was blocked by you because i couldnt find mike wazovski in my following list 😩

Oh nooo!! I’m so sorry! Just changing the aesthetic up for fall time:) I rarely ever block people, but pinky promise to not change my username so you can always find me that way:)

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twenty Six

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

Perhaps Joel's broken watch represents more than it just being a broken watch. Maybe it stands for when the seconds became meaningless, when lives as we knew them ceased; destined to forever be frozen in time. Maybe it's a reminder that some part of us will always be stuck in that day, at that very moment where it all went wrong.

Or maybe it's just a broken watch.

"Joel, Joel." My words sound forced as they work their way from my dry throat. I stumble forward towards him and am surprised when he doesn't flinch away in terror, or disappear as a figment of my imagination.

"Oh Noelle, oh baby what did they do to you?" He pulls me flush against him and hugs me as if I'd float away if he were to let go.

His arms are strong around me, holding me tight and I feel the tension leave my chest when it hits me that Joel came back. He came back for me. I grip the material of his shirt firmly in my fists and bury my face in his chest, inhaling the smell that makes me feel at home. My heart pounds in my chest as the adrenaline begins wearing off.

A loud noise from behind me jolts the two of us apart and Joel pushes me forward, not letting me look at the noise. Yells and commotion carry on and I go to look back against Joel's efforts, but he steps between me and the scene unfolding.

"We gotta get out of here, c'mon." He pushes me forward again and I trip over my feet before gaining my footing.

The two of us run side by side through the streets of Omaha, my lungs burning with each step forward. My body aches and my mind is clouded with thoughts of the men I've just murdered and that Joel actually came back for me.

Once we reach the outskirts of the city, we both stop and catch our breaths. My hands rest atop of my knees as I double over and breathe deeply. The commotion we were running from can no longer be heard and I realize that I have no idea how far we just ran. It felt like we were going for only a few seconds, but my body tells me we just ran a marathon.

"Come on, follow me." Joel says once he's recovered from the run.

He walks in front of me and I notice he's got a limp, but I'm not sure if it's from our run or if he got injured from the Tribunals. His broad shoulders slump with exhaustion as he leads the two of us through some streets and I can't help but keep my eyes glued to his figure. I never thought I'd see him again, and yet here he stands, welcoming me back with open arms after I just horribly murdered people.

"Watch your step." Joel tells me as we come the front of a building. My eyes catch the glimmer of thin wire in the sunlight, a tripwire of some sort.

Taking care to step over it and into the building, I see that it's been secured from inside as well. There are guns leaning against the walls, empty cans piled in one corner, and fresh boards nailed to the frame. Joel steps in behind me and closes the door, securing a rope to the handle to keep it closed.

"You were staying here?" I ask, my eyes lingering on the guns before looking to him. He looks tired, worn down.

"Yeah, I've been staying here." He confirms and slings the bag off of his shoulders.

"I thought we agreed that if something happened that you wouldn't come back." I realize that my words are harsh, considering he just helped me escape the Tribunals, but I can't help but worry about what would've happened if he also got caught. I see his fist clench and unclench at his side before he sighs,

"I couldn't- I couldn't just leave you there to 'em." He admits, eyes turning down to the floor.

"But what about your family? Joel if something happened to you-"

"You are my family now." He cuts me off, leaving me speechless. My jaw hangs slack as his words register in my mind. I search his eyes for any hint of a lie as his brown ones look into mine, but all I see is the pure truth.

"And you don't have to feel the same way, but I couldn't just leave you to 'em. We both know what they would've done. I couldn't, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just gave up." He shakes his head with the last few words and I take a few steps towards him.

My mind is screaming at me that I am unworthy of Joel's loyalty, that I am just as bad as the people he saved me from. If he saw me push that hot iron through that man's mouth, and if he had seen me bash in the man's head on the ground, would he think differently?

But his words also bring forth a blooming feeling of hope deep within me. It's been over a decade since I last had someone to call family, and here Joel is offering just that. And when I recount everything that we went through on our journey here, I realize that I feel the same way about him. Joel has meant much more to me than just a travel partner for a long time now.

I step forward again and close the gap between us, once again burying my head in his chest and inhaling his signature scent. My eyes flutter shut as he embraces me with strong hands around my waist. I wonder what I possibly could've done to deserve Joel Miller. Within our embrace, we communicate everything that we cannot put words to.

His strong hands tell me that he's right here for me, his head atop of mine tells me that he's happy I'm here. And the way I hold him close, I hope that tells him how much I need him, how thankful I am to have him here with me.

When we step away from each other I notice the way he looks me over with caring eyes. His gaze lingers on my blood-soaked hands and I realize just how dirty I am. I've got blood from several people staining me from head to toe, and I know I've got bruises forming from the time I spent as a captive.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Joel's words are soft, a tone he doesn't often use but one I could get used to hearing. I nod and watch as he opens his bag and grabs two articles of clothing from it. He sets them aside and wets a rag with water from his bottle.

"Where'd you get that?" I ask about the water and clothes, I know we had close to no water upon arrival to Omaha, and I don't think he regularly carries women's clothing in his bag.

"Took the water from that group's supply and found the clothes in an old store somewhere around here." He says as he comes to me, holding the rag out.

My hand reaches out to take the rag from him, but Joel pushes my hand away and steps closer. He brushes some of my hair behind my ear before gently running the cloth over my face. The water is a welcome feeling and the care he takes to make sure my skin gets clean makes my heart swell.

He moves from my face down my arms, taking extra care to clean around my fingernails. His own hands look like they also saw a fair share of cuts and bruises. The rag has turned from white to a rusty brown color, and by the time most of the blood is off of my skin, you'd never know it was white to begin with.

Joel tosses the rag on top of the cans he has piled up in the corner and goes to grab the clothes from his bag. He's picked out a light wash pair of jeans and a simple dark green sweater, reminiscent of the green flannel he was wearing when we first met. He turns around and walks back to his bag as I change and doesn't turn around until I call his name.

He turns around and looks at me, lips twitching upwards into a small smile.

"Feel better?" He asks and I nod, going to sit down on the ground as my feet ache terribly. I rub my eyes and yawn, feeling like I could sleep for days.

"Yeah, I feel better." I answer and lay back on the floor to stretch my back out.

From between the boards he's put up on the windows, I can tell that the sun is going down. I can only hope that we're far enough away from the Tribunals that they won't be making a surprise appearance tonight. But I know that if they do, I'm prepared to go to any lengths necessary to keep Joel safe.

"Here why don't we try this?" He says and stands, going to the back corner of the building for something. He walks back and I lean on my elbows to see what he's grabbed, and see three sleeping bags in his hand.

"Where'd you get those?" I ask, eyeing the material.

"Same place I got the water. At one of their outposts." He answers and lays them down on the ground. With a wince, I move over onto one of them and relish the little relief they provide. Joel sits next to me, his hand a few inches from my face.

We sit in silence for a while, digesting everything that's happened in such a short period of time. My mind wanders back to my initial mission, to bring justice to the three murdered children in Boston. And I can't help but wonder if I've actually fulfilled the mission, or if it got lost among my rage. The men I killed, was it enough to be true justice? Or was it too many? Were their deaths too violent? Or were they not violent enough?

I can't seem to land on one solid answer.

My eyes open and land on Joel's face that's being illuminated by the golden rays of light peeking between the boards. While I can't find an answer about my initial goal, I know for a fact that one thing is going to be accomplished; Joel is going to get back to his family. If everything else about this journey has been a failure, at least I know he's going to be reunited with his people.

"Thank you, Joel." I say as I study his features in the sunlight, and he looks down at me with a crinkle between his brows.

"Thank me for what?" He shakes his head.

"Thank you for not giving up on me." I say, and not just about him coming to rescue me from the Tribunals.

"You don't have to thank me for a thing." His voice is deep, yet soft. I sit up and shake my head, knowing he's wrong.

"I do though. If it weren't for you, I would've died long ago on this journey." I recall the first few days into our travels, where we came across the group of savage men.

I remember how their fingers felt on my body, and I remember how Joel saved me from them. And even before that, how he helped me over the wall in Boston, narrowly escaping death by infected.

"We helped each other, it's what we do." He says as if it's plain as day, like his loyalty is given blindly, though I know that the exact opposite is true.

"Well, thank you anyways." I say, wanting him to know that I'm not jus staying these words to say them, that I genuinely mean it.

A few moments of silence pass before I feel Joel shifting around beside me. He adjusts the way he's sitting so that he can see me more clearly, and I watch as he runs a hand over his beard. He almost looks nervous.

"Um, those men back there, did they hurt you?" His question is loaded with double meaning, and I can see the fear and hurt in his eyes, as if he's already convinced himself of the answer. I sit up so that I can look at him at eye-level, so he can see how sincere I'm being.

"They weren't nice, but no, they didn't assault me if that's what you're wondering. Nothing I couldn't handle." I tell him and watch as his shoulders relax.

"Wish I coulda killed all those bastards." He grumbles and picks at the material of the sleeping bags. His words do spark a certain curiosity in me though.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask, knowing I can just come out and ask him, but stalling because I'm afraid of the answer. He nods his head,

"Of course." This time it's my turn to look away,

"Did you see those men in the building when you found me?" My voice is uncharacteristically quiet, but I know he heard every word. Being too afraid of what I might see if I look up, I keep my focus trained on my hands.

"I did." He says bluntly, not giving me exactly the answer I was hoping for. Knowing Joel though, I'm going to have to come out and ask exactly what I mean.

"You saw them, and you still want to be around me?" I ask, curious as to how he could've seen them and not be wary of me.

He reaches out and puts a finger under my chin and forces me to look at him. There's no trace of disgust, apprehension, or doubt on his face. All I see, once again, is nothing but authenticity.

"I don't think any less of you because of what you had to do back there. We've all had to do the same thing at some point. And the way I see it, they got exactly what they deserved." He says, taking his hand away from my face and taking the warmth along with him.

"I just, I don't know if it was really justice served." I say, understanding how ironic my words are considering what the Tribunals allegedly stand for.

"Those people, they'll get what's comin' to them sooner than later. And we put a pretty good hurting on them back there." Joel says, a small smirk on his face, like he's proud to have laid waste to their camp.

I remember the smoke and the commotion, and realize it must've been from Joel's orchestration of some type of trap. A clever one at that. I nod, agreeing with him and lay back down. My body and mind are exhausted, and all I'd like to do is sleep for the next week straight.

The sun sets until we're left in the moonlight. Judging by the amount of light filtering through the boards it must be a full moon. Joel and I lay side by side on the sleeping bags, being mindful to give each other a respectable amount of space. But really, all I want to do is curl up next to him.

He shifts around beside me and I can tell he's restless and on alert. Like me, he's probably worried those men will find us here. I turn around to face him, admiring the way the silver light highlights his features.

"You rigged those traps earlier? The ones that went off at the courthouse?" I ask, wanting to know how he managed to pull it off.

"I did." He runs a hand over his beard and glances down at me. Something in the way he looks at me in the dim light sends butterflies to my stomach.

"How'd you do it?" I keep my voice low, so if people are outside they can't hear us. Joel sighs beside me,

"When they took you away I ran. I figured if I could get out then I would have a better chance of getting you back. And so I watched them and their patterns for two days. In between patrol shifts I would break in to their armory and take a few ingredients here and there. And then last night while I was putting the wires in place, I heard them talk about you. So I set up the trip wires and made dirty bombs." He explains and I hang onto his every word.

Joel went through a lot of trouble just for me. He should've been on the road back to his family right now, but instead he chose to stay and help me. Without thinking, I reach out and rest a hand on his thigh, feeling him tense under my touch.

"Thank you. Not a lot of people would go through the trouble. And just so you know, if it were the other way around, I would've done the same thing." I tell him. He lets the silence linger between us for a moment before he speaks up.

"You remember back at the farm, when I told you about my daughter?" He asks, and I recount our time at the farm, where we holed up for a day or so.

"Yeah, I remember." I recall that he didn't say much about his daughter, but I understand she didn't make it.

"The first night all of this started going down, we got into a car accident. She twisted her ankle. We ended up at the other end of gun, military man just following orders. And they shot her right in my arms. I couldn't save her." I hear his voice crack as he tells his story, and my heart aches for him. I know all too well the trauma that accompanies watching the death of your child. Moving my hand from his thigh, I find his larger hand and place mine atop of his.

"I'm so sorry, Joel." I whisper and squeeze his hand, letting him know I'm here for him. Joel is reserved by nature, and I know that by him telling me this it means he trusts me.

"I was late comin' home that night, I should've been there with her. And this watch, she fixed it for me, it's the last thing she ever gave me. " His voice is thick and clouded with emotion and I look at the broken watch on his wrist. My eyes wander from his wrist to his face and see tears in the corners of his eyes.

"You couldn't have possibly known, it's not your fault." I tell him, knowing I have a hard time not blaming myself for Lucas' death. Joel takes a shaky breath in, and I squeeze his hand once more.

"When the infection made its way to my town, we were looking for a way around the highway. Ryan had Lucas in his arms and they turned the corner before I did. An infected got them, and they bled out there on the street while the soldiers dragged me away." My free hand rests on top of my necklace, a constant reminder of my lost loves.

"I'm sorry, Noelle." Joel says and I shake my head.

"If only we hadn't turned that corner." I say, knowing how I've dwelled on that moment endlessly since it happened, but knowing that there's no way to turn back time. As the thought crosses my mind, my eyes lock onto Joel's wrist once more.

Perhaps Joel's broken watch represents more than it just being a broken watch. Maybe it stands for when the seconds became meaningless, when lives as we knew them ceased; destined to forever be frozen in time. Maybe it's a reminder that some part of us will always be stuck in that day, at that very moment where it all went wrong.

Or maybe it's just a broken watch.

Silence takes over once more, our hands almost intertwined with as we lay side by side. I feel the exhaustion finally begin to win the battle, my eyelids grow heavy. But before I can close my eyes for the night, I can't help but wonder where we go from here.

Joel saved me, told me I was family, but I'm not sure our paths will run together for much longer. After all, he's on his way back to his real family, and after he saw the men I had killed, I'm not sure he'd want me around his real family.

And I don't blame him if he wants to part ways in the morning, to keep his family and his newfound daughter safe from what I'm capable of. Not that I could ever dream of hurting them, but it may bring them peace of mind to not have me there. Besides, I know the lengths he will go to protect his newfound daughter.

I just hope that I can live with a fractured heart, that I may be able to go on after knowing Joel Miller.

Part Twenty Seven

[unseededtoast]

When Was It Over? | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: You had suspicions that another woman was receiving Spencer’s affections, and one night your worst fears are confirmed. Heartbroken, you try to move on but find yourself contemplating when things went wrong, and when it was all over. Inspired by “Is It Over Now?” By Taylor Swift

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.7k

content warnings: infidelity, angst, mention of blood

a/n: thank all of you lovelies for taking the time and reading, I appreciate each and every one of you. But especially to @mirdnightmass who suggested this, thank you🫶🏼 and if you have any suggestions please send them my way!

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

Reading the words on your phone screen cause you stomach to turn with anxiety. Spencer had texted you that he will be home from a case tonight, and that he'd like to come over. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue and you'd be overjoyed to see him. But lately you suspect that there might be someone else entering the picture.

Your suspicions started small. He'd take phone calls that weren't from his boss, he would purposely order an extra coffee in the mornings to take to work, and he started working later than usual. Though you had no concrete proof of anything, it was a gut feeling that you just can't seem to shake.

But you push your anxiety aside and text Spencer back, letting him know that he's more than welcome to come over tonight. And as soon as you send the message, you put your phone away and clean your home to occupy your thoughts.

All too soon, Spencer's knocking on your door and you let him in with a smile on your face. He kisses you as he comes through, smelling oddly sweet. Fighting the urge to throw up, you convince yourself not to overreact until you're certain there's someone else in his life.

Throughout the evening, while the two of you are tangled together on the couch, you peek at him out of the corner of your eye and wonder where things started going wrong. There's a tension between the two of you, and though unspoken, its presence is well known.

You remember how only a few short months ago you would have been beyond excited to spend an evening with Spencer, and now you find yourself counting down the minutes until he leaves. He used to shower you in love and affection, but now his hand barely grazes your thigh.

When Spencer leaves for the night, he kisses your cheek and wishes you a goodnight. You realize as you shut the door that he hadn't told you that he loved you once.

- - - - -

Two weeks pass and Spencer has once again come back home from a case. This time his message asks you if you'd like to come over to his apartment. And you tell him you'll be there, but there's an odd sinking feeling residing in your chest.

Later in the evening you go to Spencer's apartment with distant memories dancing in your head. It seems like just yesterday you came here for the first time, bright eyed and head over heels in love with your boyfriend, who couldn't have been more perfect.

You walk in and place your coat on the rack beside the door, smiling at Spencer who stands with his hands in his pockets. Biting the insides of your cheeks, you wonder if he's even going to lay a finger on you tonight.

"How was your day?" He finally breaks the silence and you nod your head,

"It was okay. Just went to work and now I'm here." The conversation feels like one between new coworkers, not significant others of three years.

"Come on in, I rented your favorite movie and dinner should be here any minute." He finally takes a step towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head atop yours.

Feeling his arms hold you for the first time in almost a month is almost enough to drive you to tears. You take in his scent as it comforts you, and you nuzzle your head into his chest, wishing that whatever was happening between the two of you would pass and things would go back to normal. You miss Spencer's affections, your heart yearns to hear him declare his love for you.

After dinner, the two of you retire in the living room where you take your usual spot on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped over the back, and you pull it over top of you, but your heart stops once it lands in your lap.

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

Spencer walks into the room after getting a glass of water, but he falls short of sitting beside you. He must've noticed something was wrong in the way you're sat on the couch.

While Spencer watches, you grab the hair between your thumb and pointer finger, pulling it through the fabric and hold it in front of you, eyes meeting Spencer's. Your hand shakes as adrenaline pumps through you, Spencer's jaw falls slack.

"What is this?" Your voice is oddly even and calm given the situation. Spencer's mouth opens and closes a few times before he clears his throat and answers you.

"A friend had to crash here for a few nights." He admits, and you wonder why you're just now hearing of this.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

"JJ, I work with her." He says, eyes casting down to the hair still in your grasp. Your heart wildly pumps in your chest.

"So you weren't going to tell me that a woman was staying the night with you?" Finally releasing the hair from your grasp, the realization dawns on you and it's like the puzzle pieces you'd collected over the last few weeks have suddenly put themselves together.

"No, she just needed a place to sleep for a few nights." He says, like he's also trying to convince himself of the same thing.

"Spencer don't lie to me. I know you've been taking coffee to her in the mornings, you've been staying later, and the last time you came over you smelled like her." Your voice starts to shake and you step away from Spencer. Tears well in your eyes and you beg your body not to betray you right now.

"She's just a friend." Is all Spencer refutes your argument with. Your head shakes back and forth, the reality setting in.

"Spencer you've taken better care of her than you have me. Hell, last time we saw each other you barely touched me and you didn't even tell me you love me. And tonight you're doing the same thing." Your throat feels like it's closing up from battling your emotions.

As you wait for him to say something, anything, your bottom lip trembles. Where did this all go wrong? Was there anything you could've done? Could you have held him tighter or kissed him more? The questions race through your mind but are cut short by Spencer.

"I'm sorry. We were on a case and she told me she loves me. But, I promise you that she is just a friend." The words that leave his lips are like knives being dug into your eardrums. And with his words, the tears resting in your lash line fall over and cascade down your cheeks, one right after another.

"How could you? Spencer, how could you? We had everything going for us. I love you with every fiber of my being. I thought you were the love of my life. But now you're just, you're just a lying traitor." You force the words out before you completely break down. Turning away from him, you rush to collect your things.

You're not even sure you put your shoes on the right feet but you don't care. The door of Spencer's apartment swings open and you take one last look at him. His mouth is open, eyes wet, but he says nothing.

He doesn't try to stop you as you leave his apartment, and that makes you sob even harder on your way home.

Is this really how things are ending between you?

- - - - -

"Come on have some fun!" Your friend, Sarah, nudges your shoulder, interrupting your daydream. It's a Friday night and the weather is nice, so she's begging to go out.

"I don't know Sarah, I'm not really in the mood." Your tone is melancholy, and all you want to do is crawl into bed. With a huff, Sarah steps in front of you and grabs your shoulders so that you're forced to look at her.

"You need this. I haven't seen you smile in weeks. Come on, go get ready. It'll be good for you." Her voice is kind, and soft, and you know she's only trying to help. As your lifelong best friend, she's always been in your corner with support and love.

"Fine." You relent, and go find something to wear. You're in no mood for anything uncomfortable or flashy, so you settle on a loose button up and a pair of ripped jeans.

"You look so good!" Sarah tries to hype you up as she grabs her keys, but it doesn't really work. You can't feel good while you're suffering on the inside. With her arm slung around your shoulder, you accompany her to whatever she has planned for tonight.

"Really?" You deadpan ask her as you stare at the neon light adorning the front of the building. This is quite literally the last place you wanted to be tonight, but here you are.

"Yes, it'll be fun, come on." Sarah grabs your hand and drags you alongside into the bar where the music is too loud and the people are even more annoying.

Against your wishes, you line up at the bar and wait to gain the bartender's attention. You figure if you're going to be here you'll need something to numb the experience. Sarah knows you've never been a fan of crowded places so you're confused as to why she even brought you here in the first place.

Once the two of you have your drinks in hand, you find an empty table and take a seat. As you sip, you look around at the patrons; people watching has always been quite enjoyable for you. Your eyes scan the bar and land on a tall man across the way. His smile is wide, hair dark and curly, eyes bright and soft.

Blinking rapidly, you pull your eyes away from the man and order another drink. Guilt eats you from inside as you realize you had been checking out another man; albeit one that looks oddly familiar. And surely another drink will help numb the guilt as well.

Hours later and two drinks turned into four. You feel your cheeks warm from the alcohol, and you're keenly aware that your eyes are back on the tall, handsome man from earlier.

"You should go say something." Sarah says, leaning on the table as she nurses her drink. Shaking your head, you disagree.

"No, I can't." You say, almost as if convincing yourself of your own answer. You're not even sure if you and Spencer are over, you can't possibly go introduce yourself to another man.

"Come on. He's been looking at you all night." She nudges you out of your seat and through the power of liquid courage, you relent.

Turning away from Sarah, you find the man easily and take a quick deep breath. It doesn't take you long to cross the bar and in seconds, you find yourself staring up at the man's green eyes. He's got a small smile on his face, his eyes gleam with curiosity.

"Hi." You smile up at the man, who smiles back.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing talking to a man like me?" He smiles wider, showing off his perfectly white teeth. Your eyes dance from the man's smile to his eyes, relishing in their familiarity.

"My friend said I should come say something." You tell him, having nothing actually prepared to say to him beyond an introduction. The man finishes off his drink and looks over to where Sarah is. He nods,

"Well I'm glad she did. Can I get you another?" He raises the empty glass in his hand. While you feel a little tipsy, you know one more wouldn't hurt.

"Sure." You smile up at him and watch as he goes to order the two of you another drink.

While he's away, you glance over to Sarah, who's smiling at you and giving you a thumbs up across the bar. You suppress your smile, but you're thankful she's still here; she wouldn't leave you alone with a stranger and you know she'll be here to make sure you're okay. Her reassuring presence is probably why you agreed to approach the man in the first place.

The man comes back with two glasses in his hands, and he gives you one of them. He invites you back to his table, which is only a few feet away from where you are standing, and the two of you get to know each other. You learn that he's from the area, he works in finance for a fortune 500 company, and he recently got out of a long-term relationship.

You share how your relationship status is hugely unknown at this point, but spare him the details for your own pride's sake. Thankfully, he doesn't inquire and the conversation flows easily. He even makes you laugh a time or two, which hasn't happened in weeks.

As the night goes on, you find yourself sitting closer and closer to the man, drawn in by how he reminds you of someone you dearly miss. It's entirely clear to you why you're attracted to the man, but you push all of those thoughts away, the alcohol working diligently to cloud your logic and judgment and all you can focus on is the man's lips.

Not even twenty minutes later, you're pulling him in by the front of his shirt, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands hold your waist securely, and his lips move in tandem with your own. The taste of sweetness lingers between the two of you. Your body moves on its own volition, and in the heat of the moment you find yourself practically sitting in the man's lap. Thankfully, the table you two are at is tucked away in the corner, but you're still entirely visible to everyone else. However, that doesn't seem to matter as you place kisses on the man's jaw and down to his neck.

His hands move from your waist up to the first button of your shirt where he expertly undoes it. Your wet lips place another kiss on the man's neck, just underneath his ear like you're used to doing with someone else, and the feeling of another button being undone makes you realize what's happening.

Backing away from the kiss abruptly, your heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers work quickly to clasp the buttons on your shirt and you get off of the man, who looks confused and hurt.

"I'm sorry, I can't- I shouldn't have..." You trail off, giving him no specific answer as you turn around and find Sarah.

She must have been able to tell from the look on your face that you're ready to leave. And thankfully she doesn't ask you a single question on the way back to your house. The entire trip back, you stare out the window and wonder why you let that happen, and how you could've let yourself kiss another man. But mostly you just think about how it should've been Spencer.

Sarah drops you off and wishes you a goodnight, and you half-heartedly tell her goodbye.

Your mind is too preoccupied as you go through your nightly routine and by the time your head hits the pillow, your thoughts have shifted from the unknown man's lips to Spencer's.

You remember how his hands would map out every curve of your body and how his lips would kiss your tender skin, as if you'd break if he wasn't careful. Spencer would always hold you close to him as he showered you in love and affection, his hands unable to get enough of you. Even if the two of you were relaxing on the couch, he would always find a way to touch you, whether that meant you were cuddled in his arms or barely touching his shoulder.

A lone tear drips down your face as you try to sleep, missing having Spencer beside you, missing the feeling of his arms around you, and you know you'll miss seeing his gemstone eyes first thing when you wake up. You mourn the relationship, and can't help but wonder if your actions tonight were the final nail in the coffin.

That night, all you can dream about is Spencer, and how in love you used to be.

- - - - -

Awaking earlier than wanted, Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes the best he can. It's still dark outside, but he knows that he's not going to be able to fall back asleep. And even if he did, he knows that the only thing he will dream about is you.

The past few weeks all of his dreams have centered around you. At first, they were about how you two met and your first few dates. They were vivid, almost as if they were happening all over again. He could clearly see the tulips he picked for your first date, and he remembers the shade of lipstick you wore that brought out your eyes in the best way possible.

As he makes his way through his morning routine, he's distracted by the traces of you that remain in his apartment. You still have clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush still sits on his bathroom counter. And most noticeably, your scent still lingers on his sheets.

But, his apartment now has traces of JJ too. Her blonde hair sticks to the blankets draped over the couch, her perfume embedded in the material. She had left a hair tie on his coffee table and the mug she used for coffee sits untouched in the sink.

Spencer knows that her confession of love was mainly spurred on by a life or death situation, but he would be lying if he said it didn't reawaken repressed feelings. Back in his early days at the BAU, he had been head over heels for her, but he moved on when she got together with Will. And truthfully, when he met you it was the happiest he had ever been, and he was convinced that you were his soul mate.

That was until JJ told him that she loved him.

A heavy feeling of guilt has taken residence in Spencer's chest since you walked out of his apartment. He knew that you had every right to be upset, and truthfully he doesn't know if the two of you will ever reconcile. As you walked out of the door he wanted to stop you, to beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't. He had to let you go.

Staring at the couch, he can't help but wonder if your relationship had died the moment he let JJ stay over, the moment she laid on his couch could've been the exact moment your relationship took its last breath. Had that one decision been the beginning of the end?

And he can't help but wonder why he agreed to let her stay in the first place, after a confession of that magnitude, and why he hadn't told you. Was it his subconscious way of admitting he also has feelings for JJ, and that by allowing her to stay in his home it was an acknowledgment of that fact? Had he not told you because of the feelings he harbors for her? Would telling you force him to confront those emotions?

No matter what it may have meant, he can't help but to regret it. The look on your face as you called him a lying traitor will forever be ingrained in his mind. Spencer had never meant to hurt you, no, he loved you dearly.

As each day passes by without hearing from you, Spencer wonders if things are truly over for the two of you. His heart aches from your absence and he yearns to have you back in his arms. But he can't help but feel guilty as he realizes that he may have some of those same feelings for JJ.

- - - - -

Months had gone by since you last saw Spencer, and you finally feel like you can begin to heal. It took some time for you to process what had happened, and now you've come to be at peace with his decision. If he wanted to search for something greater, and found it in her, then there's nothing you could've done.

On a regular routine again, you enter your favorite coffee shop on your way to your new job, needing the extra caffeine. The warm air inside greets you and the rich scent of coffee fills the air.

After you order your usual, you stand off to the side to wait, pushing yourself up against a wall so that other people have room to move around. The lightly falling snow outside catches your attention and from the warmth of inside you can appreciate the beauty.

The barista calls your name out as the front door bell jingles. Grabbing your drink, you relish in how the warmth gives life back to your fingertips before turning to leave, preparing yourself to brace the bitter cold that awaits you outside.

But as your eyes land on the people who had just walked in, it seems as if the wintry cold followed you in after all. Spencer stands at the counter with a blonde haired, blue-eyed, woman next to him who looks like she just walked out of a magazine. Their cheeks are rosy from the cold, but you feel yours drain of all color. And if that wasn't enough, it's like your feet have been superglued to the floor, forcing you to watch as he orders for her with a smile on his face.

It seems he found something greater after all.

After the initial wave of sadness washes over you, you feel a familiar fire within you. Jealousy is an ugly beast, but you can't help the way your eyebrows knit together as you watch them, your thoughts consumed with how that should be you next to him, how it used to be you.

In fact, your jealously goes so far as to create hundreds of impulsive plans to earn his attention away from her. If you spilled your coffee, surely that would do the trick. Or if you tripped on your way out, that would be sure to make him look. Even the fleeting thought of jumping from the roof makes an appearance; the only consequence you can think of is how he'd surely come running straight to you.

But your imaginative plans are all for naught, as they grab their drinks and leave together. She laughs at something he said as the door shuts behind them. And you're still stuck in the middle of the coffee shop with one question floating around in your mind.

Did he really choose her over you?

- - - - -

Staring out of your window that's been frosted over with fresh snow, you can't help but to ponder how exactly you got to be where you are right now. In three days it'll be Christmas, and you've never dreaded the holiday more than you do in this moment.

A few evenings ago you had been rummaging through your closet and found the gift you planned on giving Spencer this Christmas. It was simple, but you knew he'd love it. He had always worn a purple scarf during the colder months, and when you saw this one you just knew he needed it. It was another scarf, but the seamstress who was selling it offered to stitch something on the back of it, and so you had asked her to stitch your initials on the back, so that even while he was away on cases he still had a piece of you with him.

Now the gift lays wrapped on your coffee table, where it silently taunts you with thoughts of what could've been. You stare at it, wondering if you should give it away, throw it away, send it through the mail, or do nothing with it at all.

Unable to look at the box any longer, you take it and put it with the rest of Spencer's things you intend to give back to him soon. Having his belongings in your home is slowly starting to drive you mad, and you know that in order to have any shot of getting over him, it all has to be gone.

In a momentary burst of determination, you grab the box of his belongings that sits in the back of your closet and you take it out to your car, despite the fact that the air is so cold it burns your face and that the snow is coming down at a considerable rate. You figure he's had you in his grasp for too long now and it's time to start reclaiming your home, your life, and begin piecing together who you're going to be after Spencer Reid.

The box is haphazardly shoved into your back seat and your hand quickly grazes the side of a book he had left on your nightstand, and as your luck would have it, you managed to give yourself a papercut. You hold your hand out of the car so you don't get blood on any of his things before closing the door with haste.

Your eyes cast down at the bright, crimson red blood that dots the pristine snow below your feet. Drops of blood roll down your finger and drip from the tip, each drip creating its own prominent mark in the snow. And you can't help but feel like it's more than just blood on the snow, that somehow it symbolizes how you may have very well killed what remained of your relationship with Spencer.

But he gave you no other choice.

- - - - -

Your insides twist and turn with anxiousness as you park your car along the street of a familiar curb. Looking back down at your phone screen, you confirm that this is the time you're supposed to be here before getting out of your car and picking up the box from the back seat.

After Christmas you had sent Spencer a text asking if you could come by and get your things that you had left in his apartment, and thankfully he agreed. You hadn't told him that you were bringing his things, and he hadn't asked for them, but you figured it was just common courtesy to bring them anyways. Plus you can't stand looking at the box any longer, all it does it resurface memories of a better time, one where you were happy and in love. Neither of those things are true anymore.

Walking up the stairs, you remember how excited you were the first time to come over and how you were awestruck by how well he decorated for a man. Of course you added a few things here and there over the years, but soon there will be no trace of you left. Your heart sinks with the realization that Spencer's apartment will no longer be your second home, his arms will no longer be your safe haven.

Once you reach his door, you knock lightly. You had partially hoped that he would just leave your things in the hall, and that the exchange would be easy, but of course he wouldn't do that. And within seconds of knocking on the door, he answers. His hair is messy and he's opted for his glasses today, your favorite look on him. Swallowing hard, you hold the box out in front of you.

"I think this is everything." Your voice is nothing more than a whisper. He steps further inside his apartment,

"Come on in." He invites you, and you wonder if you should accept. You know that if you walk in that a plethora of memories will invade your mind, and you know that if you don't that you may never receive the closure you need. After a few moments of contemplation, you step inside.

You place the box on the ground and put your hands in your pockets as you look around. The decorations you had placed around various locations are no longer there adorning the shelves or the walls, your spare coat no longer hangs from the rack beside the front door, and your handwritten notes are no longer on the front of the fridge. You swallow again and avert your eyes, pleading with yourself to not cry in front of him. But as your eyes move elsewhere, you spot a photograph that still hangs on the wall in his living room.

It was a sunny day in the early spring, and the two of you had just celebrated your one year anniversary. The two of you agreed that a nice picnic would be more than enough of a celebration, and honestly you were just happy that he wasn't being dragged away on a case that day. The two of you laid side by side on the blanket in the plush grass, content with one another's presence, fingers interlaced as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. Before the sun went down you had asked him to take the picture, and you always loved how bright his smile was that day.

"This should be everything." He comes back into the entryway with a box in his arms. You spot every little decoration you had ever brought over, along with your clothes that you had almost forgotten about. Spencer places the box on the ground as well, and you nod, clearing the emotion from your throat.

"Thank you." You say and go to pick up your box and get out of his apartment. Truthfully, there's a part within you that wants him to beg you to stay, you hope that he will profess his undying love for you and that you won't have to leave.

No matter how heartbroken you are over his decision, you know that you would take him back in a heartbeat. Your soul still aches for his touch and you're not sure that feeling will ever fade. The intensity with which you love him is passionate and all encompassing. For just another moment in his arms, you can't even begin to list everything you would give and sacrifice. His hugs were always the most comforting, his words always sweet and honeyed, his lips always soft.

Until they were for the blonde-haired woman who came in and took everything from you.

Once the box is in your hands, you give him a weak smile and are almost brought to tears just by looking at his face. Your sweet, sweet Spencer is so close yet has never been farther away. Feeling tears well in your lash line, you commit to memory just how beautiful he is for what is very well the final time you'll ever see him.

In an instant, flashes of what your future could've been runs through your mind. You see the two of you hand in hand at the end of an aisle, long nights of waiting for him to come back home only to be greeted with the most loving kisses, and countless mornings waking up in his arms. You were prepared to give him everything, but now you're left with nothing except the memories of when he still loved you.

Giving him one last chance to say something, your hope begins fizzling out. There's only one thing you want to hear him say, and you're coming to understand that you'll likely never hear those words come from his mouth.

When it's clear that there's nothing left to say, you turn and open the front door. Before the door gets closed on you, you turn to look at him just one last time. You think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but you can almost swear you see a tear fall from his eye.

"Goodbye, Spencer." You say as a lone tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, unable to keep them at bay any longer. Feeling your bottom lip beginning to tremble, you make yourself walk away before you have a full breakdown in the hallway right in front of him.

The ride back home is silent, except for the occasional sound of your sniffles. Before the exchange of belongings, you had held out hope that it meant that there might still be hope. But now there's nothing left to give you hope.

It seems things are really over now.

- - - - -

Spencer's phone lights up on his counter, catching his eye as he was walking by. Glancing at it quickly, he sees your name attached to the message. He picks the phone up and reads the message that reads less like a text and more like a cordial email.

"Hi, hope all is well. I was wondering if there is a time that I could come by and collect the rest of my things?"

The words make his heart sink, but he replies and lets you know when he'll be home. He knew that this day would eventually come, but he wasn't prepared for it to be so soon. Placing his phone back down on the counter, he looks around and notices just how many traces there are of you everywhere he looks.

In every part of his apartment he can easily recall a memory the two of you made there. The kitchen is where he remembers making cookies together on a friday night, the living room reminds him of the times you fell asleep in his lap, and the bedroom reminds him of all the mornings he was lucky enough to be awoken by your gentle kisses.

But he respects your wishes and begins collecting your things, committing each one to memory. With each and every little item he packs away, he finds himself becoming more and more angry with himself. He can't understand why he jeopardized the love of his life for JJ. Sure, he thought he loved her, and the two of them had spent extra time together after her confession, but after you left Spencer realized that he could never love JJ the way he loves you. And so he came to the painful conclusion that he could only ever love JJ as a close friend, but only after breaking your heart and shattering your relationship he cherished so dearly.

Spencer knows that he has forfeited every right to be with you by making those series of poor decisions but it doesn't make it any easier for him to accept.

As he packs away the rest of your things, he finally finds himself at his dresser, where some of your clothes remain. He remembers the day you brought some of your wardrobe over and he was happy to make room for you. You had told him that by keeping some of your things here that you two could spend more time together as you wouldn't have to go back and forth between homes when staying over or going out. But he never needed convincing, he would've let you do whatever you wanted as long as it kept that smile on your face.

And all too soon, you show up at his apartment with a box in your arms, filled to the brim with his belongings. As soon as he sees your face behind the door, he feels like he wants to collapse to his knees and beg for you to forgive him.

But instead, he gathers your things and returns them to you when you should be staying here. You should be wrapped up in his arms for the rest of the night. He watches as the photo on the wall catches your eye, and even he can't help but to look at it as well.

Seeing the two of you so happy together in a moment frozen in time makes his throat constrict with emotion, and he feels the tears well in his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to see you smile like that again, to hold and love and cherish you until the end of time.

Instead, he watches as you turn and leave his apartment. The realization hits him like a brick wall that this could very well be the last time he ever sees you, and he can't keep his composure.  A tear escapes his eye and falls as you turn around and wish him farewell.

Once the door closes behind you, Spencer finally collapses to his knees, sobs wracking through his body while he mentally curses himself for not saying more, for not fighting harder for you.

His chest hurts from crying, but he can't find it within himself to care about anything other than you. He wishes he could forget, things would be easier that way. But instead he's sentenced to a life where he has no choice but to remember everything.

That night while he lays in bed, throat raw and eyes sore, all he can think about is you. The way you fit in his arms like you were made just for him, how you would rake your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and how sometimes, after particularly hard cases, you would hold him close.

As the hours pass and he gives into sleep, he can almost swear he feels your arms wrapping around him while you whisper for him to "come here", like you always did. Your voice was always soft and understanding as you took him into your warm embrace.

But now the room feels colder than it ever has before, and there's nobody to blame but himself.

- - - - -

A warm spring breeze blows your hair and with it comes the sweet smell of budding flowers. The sun is shining brightly through the puffy, white clouds and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace.

Once the snow had melted and signs of life began springing back up, it seems your spirits rose as well. Sure, some days are harder than others and you still miss Spencer, but you're able to live without the constant ache in your chest.

You've taken the time to reflect on what happened, and you have come to accept that there was nothing more you could've done. You had given him your entire heart, but that just wasn't enough for him. He searched for something better, something greater, and it seems like he found it. You only hope she makes him happier than you could have, and that she loves him well.

But no matter how hard you work on healing yourself, you can't silence the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of just how badly you want to see him again. You yearn to even just see him from a distance, and you desperately crave to hear him tell you that he still loves you.

You wish that he could be here sharing this wonderful afternoon by your side, hand in hand and you wish that things had played out differently. Maybe you two would've been engaged, or even married, by now. After all, tomorrow would've been your five year anniversary.

No matter how much time passes you still don't think you're ready to try to get back out there, much to Sarah's disproval. It just wouldn't be fair to the other man, the way you would still see parts of Spencer in him.

With a sigh, you can't help but think of what could've been, how your future with Spencer could've been filled with happiness, laughter, love, and so much more. But no, instead you sit alone on a bench in the middle of a busy park.

After hours of soaking in the warm sun, you decide it's time to go back home. As you walk down the street you recount memories you've thought of a hundred times before and wonder if maybe your path will cross with Spencer's again someday.

Before you open your front door you stop and take a deep breath. The looming anniversary date has made you a touch more melancholy and sentimental than usual and after a long day of reflection, you're finally ready to admit something to yourself that you've been pushing away for far too long.

It's over now.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twenty Five

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

I look down at my shaking hands and wonder if he thinks I'm just as much of a monster as the men I've just killed. 

It could've been two days or two weeks that I've been kept here but I would have no way to tell. The Tribunals have kept me locked in a dark room the entire time, effectively disorienting me. My limbs still strapped down to the table, my body aches and my mind has become fuzzy. While the room is dark, I am not afforded the luxury of sleep. 

A glimpse of sunlight enters the room as a man steps through. His footsteps echo in the quiet room and I hear him stop walking as he reaches the table end by my feet. His fingers trail up the front of my leg and I hear him take in a sharp breath. 

"I'm here to bring you to trial." His voice is gruff. I am unable to answer due to being dehydrated, and make no move to acknowledge the man's words. 

I don't know what this trial will entail, but I've seen what these people do. I'm already guilty in their eyes. This much has been proven by the way they've treated me while being tied down to the table. 

Countless men have entered and ran their hands over my body, some have gone as far as to hit me. They've all told me that I'll swing for killing their men. And I believe them. 

"Come on." The man speaks as he cuts my restraints. Even though I'm now free of being tied down, I don't make any move. I know I'm far too weak to take on even one of these men by myself, and if I attempt to escape that I'll just be re-captured and tortured even further. 

I've run through every scenario I could think of, and all ended up with me being dead. There simply isn't a way out of this one. The man yanks me from the table and forces me on my feet. He grabs the back of my shirt and leads me out of the dark room. 

The sunlight is blinding as soon as he opens the door. My eyes squint and I stumble over my own feet as he continues to push me forward. I hear men yelling at me and I smell smoke in the air. 

"Let that bitch swing!" One man calls out enthusiastically. As my eyes adjust to the light, I begin seeing where I'm going. 

I'm being paraded down a street that's lined with men on each side. My gaze falls across several men and see the 'T' branding on every single one. This group was much larger than I ever could have conceived.  

I trip over my feet again and lift my head to see a large brick building in front of me. It has a grand staircase with torches lining the sides. There are men guarding the door with several guns in hand. 

"Let's see her head roll!" Another man calls out. While their words are frightening, my mind doesn't fully register that they're talking about me. It's almost as if I'm viewing the whole situation in third person, like an out of body experience. 

We reach the staircase and I'm forced up them. As I ascend the stairs I hear the crowd behind cheer in unison. The doors slam loudly behind us once inside, leaving us in silence. Two additional men escort me down a hallway where there's one room at the very end. 

The room at the end of the hall is a courtroom. A dusty, downtrodden courtroom that smells faintly of blood and gunpowder. I'm forced to stand in front of the wooden pedestal at the front of the room, in which one man sits behind the desk. He stares down at me with disdain in his eyes and looks me over before he speaks, as if he's trying to come up with just the right insult. 

"Today you will face trial for the murders of our men with the maximum penalty of death. Do you understand?" His voice is loud and commandeering. The word death seems to reignite my mind and the full gravity of the situation begins to sink in. 

My eyes dart all around the room and I see a jury of men to my left. They're all staring me down like they would take great joy in killing me themselves. And they probably would. I look back to the man in front of me and nod my head, hoping that my death may be swift.

"Yes." I answer and he nods, satisfied with my answer. With that, I'm tugged over to a table on the right side of the room and forced into a chair. Another man who sits at a table to the left stands from his spot and approaches the man that I just spoke with. 

I realize quickly that this is being conducted like an actual pre-outbreak court. I'm the defendant, and the man I just spoke to is the judge. The men to the left is the jury that will decide my fate. Though it's hardly fair, it makes sense, considering they've named themselves Tribunals. It seems this entire group has taken it upon themselves to become the world's judges. 

While tribunals are supposed to act to keep peace, order, and justice, these people have corrupted the role to conform to their own twisted will. There is no justice in slaughtering innocent people. The judge at the front of the room slams an old gavel to begin the trial. 

The man who sits at the table to my left stands and turns to the jury. This man is dressed nicer than the others and looks to be a little more well-nourished, he must have found favor with his position. Either that, or he's being paid off by those who can afford his price. 

"Today you will receive the facts about this woman who sits across from you. She is responsible for several of our men's deaths. But you don't have to take my word for it, no we have solid physical evidence that she has been tracking us and hunting our members." The man points an accusatory finger at me, and all I can do is stare back at him. This entire situation feels utterly dystopian and foreign to the world in which we now live. 

"The court will now hear from the prosecutor." The judge states and allows the man to continue talking. I glance over and see that my bag has been sat on the prosecutor's table. My heart slams in my chest when I realize all that's been kept in there. 

"My fellow Tribunals. Let me show you exactly who she is. She has written correspondence from our men." He holds up several notes that I've held onto from Boston. I swallow harshly, wishing for a cup of water. 

"She has a detailed map." He displays my map to the jury, who all look at it with squinted eyes. 

"And she even has our pictures." He shows the jury the polaroid pictures I took of other victims. I see some people on the jury look from the pictures to me, a deep seeded hatred in their eyes. 

"Now, I'm not going to waste your time here today. It is glaringly obvious that this woman was operating solely to kill as many of us as she could. In fact, she travelled all the way from Boston." He waves papers in the air that I assume are the notes I found in the QZ warehouse. 

The evidence gets passed around the jury members, who take their time examining every single paper and photo that gets passed to them. It's obvious that nobody is going to find me innocent. After all, they weren't wrong, I was operating solely to exterminate them. They may judge me for the acts I've committed against them, but I've judged them on their acts they've committed against innocent people. It seems we find each other guilty of the most heinous. 

After what feels like an hour, the jury has passed back the evidence and the prosecutor clears his throat and looks me dead in the eye as he says his next words. 

"I do trust that the jury will reach a reasonable conclusion." His words are an obvious threat. My eyes track him as he takes his seat at the table once more. I know I am destined to die soon, but I would like very much to kill that man before I do. 

"And now the defendant. Please state your name for the record and recount your version of events." The judge orders and it takes me a moment to understand what he's asking of me. Knowing I have no choice but to comply, I stand from my seat with wobbly balance. They definitely must have kept me here for a few days at least.

"My name is Noelle Allen and I am from the Boston QZ. There's no denying the evidence you saw, but let me tell you what the prosecutor won't. Members of this group made a deal with the Fireflies to find and kill a teenage girl for a deal gone bad. But they weren't just looking for this one girl. No, I found three murdered teenagers in the QZ, all tortured and killed brutally." I take a breath and try to swallow, but my throat is entirely too dry. My eyes sweep across the jury and I can tell that whatever I say won't sway them, but I know what I must say for me to die at peace.

"All across the country members of this group have left people mutilated. And not only that, but they took joy in it. It's killing for sport, not justice. How can it be just if photos are taken of the victims and displayed like trophies? Tell me, where is the justice in sexually assaulting children and leaving their bodies in alleys?" My voice raises and cracks with my words, and I force myself to keep going before they tell me that my time is up. 

"This here is not justice, this is a corrupted system. You can tell yourselves that this is fair and just, and that you're enforcing some kind of moral code. But all you're doing is using this as an excuse to kill whoever you want for whatever reason. And I know that my body will swing from the gallows after this, but at least I know I died by trying to avenge the innocent." My words may not have been the most eloquent, but it's everything I needed to say. I sit back down at the table and wait for someone to say something. But the room remains silent. 

Jury members begin conversing amongst themselves but I don't waste the energy in trying to listen. I already know my sentence. Instead, I focus on the wood grain of the table and find myself once again thinking of Joel. 

I never intended to develop the feelings I did. No, I was just grateful I had someone willing to travel with me across the country. Never did I think that Joel Miller would end up with my heart. His rough exterior hides a man who loves deeply and passionately for those he cares about, a man who has endured too much pain and suffering in this life. I knew that our time together was limited, but I never thought it was going to end like this. 

No, I had always imagined that we would be able to exterminate this group and then we would part ways. He would go to Wyoming to be with his family, and I would decide what I wanted to do. And while I hope he's on his way to Wyoming right now, I realize that I don't have to burden myself with making that choice anymore. There are no more future days for me. 

But, I hope that all future days for Joel are as peaceful as they can be. I hope he's able to spend time with his newfound daughter, and that she is kept from harm's way. I hope these people never find them and I hope nobody else ever finds out that she is immune. There's no doubt in my mind that Joel would allow anything happen to her, she's in good hands. I only wish I could've met her. Maybe in a different life things ended differently. 

"A decision has been reached, all rise." The judge says as a jury member hands him a piece of paper. My heartbeat thumps in my ears as I watch the judge licks his lips and clear his throat. 

"By decree of the Tribunals, defendant Noelle Allen has been found guilty of all charges and the jury recommends the maximum sentence for her crimes." His words are no surprise to me. Immediately, my arms are tugged behind my back and I'm forced to begin taking my final walk. 

I know that I will be hanged outside this very courthouse. 

Life seems to move in slow motion as I'm forced out of the courtroom. My chest feels like it's tight, like I can't get enough air and the people around me blur into shapeless figures. It's as if concrete has been poured around my feet, weighing me down with every step forward. The front doors of the courthouse open and I can hear the roar of cheers from the people outside, but they sound muffled. My ears are ringing, my heartbeat feels like it's going to jump from my chest. 

Before we make it to the front doors, my vision goes gray. The hands that were holding me tightly disappear and I hear gunshots in front of me, where the crowd is. Still operating in a fog of confusion, my feet take steps backwards automatically, and suddenly I find myself running back through the courthouse. Men with guns rush past me, paying me no mind as I look for a way out. 

I'm not even sure what's happening, but it feels like some sort of divine intervention. 

I look into each room I pass until I find one with a window. Without giving it any thought, I pick up a chair to break the glass out and then jump out of it. My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, the jump had been higher than anticipated, but I made it out. Near the front of the courthouse I hear gunfire and screams, so I turn and run in the other direction. 

My palms burn from being cut by the broken glass but I just hope that nobody thinks to follow the blood trail. With each gasp for air my lungs burn more and more and I start to trip over my own feet. Finding a secluded corner, I collapse against the wall and try to catch my breath. 

The smell of smoke lingers heavily in the air and burns my throat, but I pay no mind to it. All I need to focus on is getting out of here alive. I know if they catch me, I'll suffer a fate far worse than death. 

Once I feel like I can get my body to operate properly, I stand and look around the corner to make sure nobody is coming after me. Unfortunately for me, there is a lone man running my way as I peek around and his gaze locks onto me instantly. 

Knowing if he alerts the others that my fate is sealed, I force myself forward and meet him in the middle. The man is carrying a large machete and he swings it towards me, and I am just barely able to dodge it. While he follows through with his swing, I land a kick to his ribs and knock him off balance, but not for long. 

The man swings again with a grunt and the blade grazes my arm, adding to the blood spilling from my body. I yell out in pain and back up before he can swing the blade again. 

"I'll get a reward for you dead or alive, it's all up to you. But I'm gonna have fun either way." The man exclaims as he lunges forward with the machete in front of him. It narrowly misses my stomach by inches. 

His words ignite a fire within myself, something deep-seeded and hot burns in my chest. While he gains his balance to swing at me again, I duck my head and tackle him, taking us both to the ground. 

The man struggles to grab hold of the machete's handle and I land my knee on top of his wrist, pinning it to the ground. He yells out in pain and his other hand moves to pull me off of him, so I grind my knee into his wrist even harder. His eyes shut in pain and he tries one last time to get me off of him. His free hand grabs my hair and he pulls, hard. My weight is shifted off of his wrist and he flips us over so that my back is pinned against the asphalt road. 

I move too quickly for him to hold my hands down and as he struggles to keep me pinned, my thumbs find their way to his eyes. With determination to live, I dig my thumbs into the man's eye sockets and listen as he screams. He jolts away from my hands and I waste no time in grabbing his machete. As he covers his eyes I raise the machete over my head before I bring it down and bury it in his throat. The man gurgles and chokes on his own blood as I stand.

But it seems like a clean getaway is not in my future, as the man's screams seems to have attracted more men. I yank the machete out of the man's throat and readjust my grip on it, my mind going blank to everything except fulfilling my bloodlust. 

One man raises his gun at me, but he's run out of bullets, probably spent dealing with the situation at the courthouse. He throws his empty gun at me and I dodge the metal, running towards him. I see his eyes grow wide as his gaze lands on the blade in my hand and then I feel him take his last breath as I pull the blade from his abdomen. 

A bullet whizzes by my head and I'm quick to spot the man shooting at me from behind a building. While he's ducked away for cover, I run between two buildings, hoping to disappear and get the jump on him. Thankfully city streets are organized as a grid, so it's not hard for me to locate where the shooter is. 

With controlled breaths, I peek around the corner and see the man who was shooting at me. His head is turned around the corner as he tries to see where I've gone. My footsteps are quiet and he doesn't hear me behind him until it's too late. The blade cuts clean across his jugular and he crumples to the ground gagging on blood. I grab his gun and check how many bullets are left. There are just three, so I have to make them count. 

I turn and start heading away from the center of the city, where the majority of the group is. If I can get far enough away before they realize I'm gone, I'll have a pretty good chance at disappearing from them forever. My head is on a swivel as I move away from the city, constantly checking for any lone wolf members or infected that may have been drawn to the commotion. 

I'm almost out of the main city area when a door opens to my right. The man behind the door moves too fast for me to be able to do anything, and he forces me inside the building. There are two other men inside, sitting by a fire. Of course I would run right past one of their outposts.

"I reckon we can fetch a fair price for this one, what do you think boys?" The man has a death grip on my wrists and I feel him lean down and sniff my hair. 

Where fear once would have set in, all I feel now is anger. My vision seems to go red and while the man satisfies himself by smelling me, I bring my heel up quickly and land a solid hit. His hands are off of me in an instant, grabbing at himself. 

I hear the others behind me scramble to grab their weapons while I lock my arms around the man's throat. I squeeze tightly and fend him off as he reaches behind himself in an attempt to grab me. 

"Drop your guns or I'll make you all suffer." My voice does not sound like my own as the words leave my mouth. However, the men don't take my threat seriously, and one of them laughs. 

The blood in my veins feels like it has turned into burning hot lava and I squeeze the man's airway so tightly that I feel his knees about to give out. He's choking for air, struggling to get even the smallest breath. His body is growing heavier and heavier and just before he hits the ground, I grab the gun off of his thigh and aim it at the two others.

I don't give the others a chance to speak as I fire rounds into their kneecaps; my finger pulls the trigger so quickly it almost sounds like I'm firing an automatic weapon. Both men collapse to the ground, writhing in pain as blood drains out of their knees. 

"You fucking bitch." One of them spits at my feet as I saunter over to them. I kick their own guns away from them and then assess how I want to handle the situation. My eyes linger on the fire burning in front of me and an idea blossoms in my mind. 

Perhaps this is the precise moment that I become just as bad as them. 

I grab the fire poker leaning against one of the chairs and hold the end of it in the fire until it becomes red-hot. Once I'm satisfied with how hot the iron is, I walk over the man closest to me and lean down so that I can see his face clearly. Tears stream out of his eyes and he whines about his knees. 

"I wish I could do this to every single member of this group. But since I can't, you're going to be the ones to send my message to them all." My words are laced with venom as I stand to my full height. 

The man in front of me pleads and begs for his life. And once upon a time I might have had pity on him and not have followed through. But after everything I've seen these men do to others and what they've done to me, I have no problem following through with my actions. 

I plunge the hot metal through the man's mouth until I feel the end of the iron hit the floor beneath him. The man screams out in pain and grabs the iron. He ends up melting the skin off the palms of his hands as he tries to save himself. While he dies a slow, agonizing death, I turn my attention to the other man. 

"Please don't, please." The man sobs when he sees me walk towards him. Instead of answering him, I look around for my next weapon. 

However, there seems to be little to nothing here, except sleeping bags and old wrappers. My eyes turn down to my trembling hands that are covered in blood. The man's cries fade into the background as my ears begin ringing.

Behind my eyelids with every blink I see images of dead people. The children in the QZ, the people in the polaroids, every single one of them. My knees hit the ground with a hard thud and my hands reach out and wrap around the man's throat. 

He scratches and claws at my hands and manages to knock me off balance. With my ears still ringing and my vision becoming veiled in red, I watch as my fingers lace themselves in the man's hair. I bring his head up off the ground before slamming it back to the floor, where I hear his skull crack. 

But that's not enough to keep him from fighting back, so I raise his head off the floor once more and repeat the action. As his head hits the ground for the second time, blood begins spilling out onto the floor. The man stops fighting back as hard, his arms and legs twitch next to his body. I stand to my full height and use the back of my hand to wipe the sweat from my face as I see blood begin spilling out of the man's eyes. 

Stumbling backwards, I find my way out of the building as it suddenly feels like the walls are caving in on me. And as I open the door the light blinds me, and from the light emerges a figure that I can only describe as being angelic. 

My shoulders slump as I see Joel standing right in front of me, his eyes trained on the carnage behind me. 

"Noelle." He says breathlessly. His wide eyes scan over my face and it's only then that I realize what I've just done. 

I look down at my shaking hands and wonder if he thinks I'm just as much of a monster as the men I've just killed. 

Part Twenty Six

[unseededtoast]

One Bright Morning | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: After experiencing the most traumatic moment of your life, Spencer helps guide you through the darkness into one bright morning that changes the both of you. (Based off of "First Light" by Hozier)

Cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings: Violence, angst, light smut. Poorly edited

a/n: Howdy y'all, this is my second Spencer oneshot based off a Hozier song and honestly at this point i think i might just create a Spencer fic for every song on Unreal Unearth. Anyways, here's my masterlist if you wanna check out my other stuff:)

"Hello?" You hear his voice as the door swings open, and the soft lighting from inside his apartment illuminates his figure as if he's an angel. 

"Please." Is all you can say through your cries and he wastes no time before he's helping you inside of his apartment. 

Your forehead is slick with sweat, your stomach tied into knots as you pace back and forth. Shaking hands push away the hair falling into your face and you know you have to do something soon, or the little girl is going to die. Your mind swims in all the information the team has collected about the unsub so far, trying to identify any leverage you can use in a last ditch effort to save the hostage's life.

"Does anybody have anything?" Your voice is thick with stress and tension, a bead of sweat rolls down your back. The quick pitter patter of your heart echoes in your ears and it's almost like a ticking time bomb.

"We've tried every angle we can think of." Morgan answers, equally as stressed out. But you can't accept that answer, there has to be something.

"What if I go in? Offer myself for her? He might think he can use me to get out of this situation." You're already taking off your bulletproof vest to carry out the mission, but Hotch puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you from taking it all the way off.

"No, it's too risky. We know he's suffering from hallucinations and if you walk in there he might just kill you." He explains, but you fight his hand off your shoulder. Maybe it's just the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you can't understand why the team isn't doing more to save the girl.

"And if we don't do anything she's for sure going to die." Before he can protest, you shove your vest into his hands and make your way to the house across the street.

The team had tried to negotiate with the unsub, feeding him false promises of a safe getaway and immunity, but he hadn't taken them. He explained that in order for the victims soul's to be saved, they had to die before they could "commit an unforgivable sin". He's convinced he's saving their souls, but what he's actually doing is mutilating young girls in their own homes and leaving their bodies for their families to find. Unfortunately for him, you and the rest of the team had interrupted his salvation of this girl and unfortunately for the team, he had taken the girl hostage and is unwilling to let her go.

The house he's blockaded himself in is a typical, unassuming suburban home. The landscaping is manicured to perfection, the lawn is trimmed neatly, but behind the white door is a deranged murderer with a knife to an eight year old's throat. Your feet quickly carry you to the door and with heavy, shaky breaths, you knock on the door and speak to the unsub.

"I want to be saved." You tell him, hoping to appeal to his delusion. There's a loud crash in the house and you hear the girl cry out.

"Please, I want to be saved." You say with more urgency. Twisting the handle of the door, you slowly make your way in, not seeing the unsub or the little girl anywhere in immediate view. After a few seconds of silence, you hear the girl's muffled cries.

"I know you can save me. Please, help me." You beg, making your way towards the sound. As you round the corner into the kitchen, you see the unsub holding the knife directly over the girl's carotid artery. Your eyes dance from the blade to the psychopath holding it and see nothing but pure evil within him.

"Don't move another step. I know you're one of them." He yanks the girl back, further into his hold and you put your hands out in front of you to show him you're unarmed. Your head shakes, denying his claim.

"They're wrong. They don't understand the mission." Another small step is taken towards the man, and for a second you see his resolve starting to falter.

"No, they don't. I'm just trying to save them!" He cries out, seeming to be in agony. Another step is taken towards him. You're only ten feet away from him, if things keep going well you might just be able to get the girl from his grasp.

"Save me. Please, I want to be saved." You boldly take two more steps forward but freeze on the spot when he jerks back with the girl, pressing the blade more tightly to her neck.

"You can't be saved. No, not you. You've already committed an unforgivable sin. But she can still be saved. Yes, she can still be saved." His gaze moves from you to the crying girl, his voice becoming more stable.

You see a sick smirk crawl its way onto the man's face, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye before he readjusts his grip on the blade. As if time suddenly begins moving in slow motion, you see him tilt his head back like he's experiencing euphoria and his arm makes one clean swiping motion. Reaching out in a last ditch effort, you try to still his motion, but it's too late. You were too late.

Your body knocks into the man's and sends him tumbling to the ground. The fountain of blood released from the girl's neck splatters your face, she chokes and gurgles as she falls to the floor. Ignoring the man, you collapse beside the girl, holding your hands to her neck in a frenzied attempt of saving her life. You get tunnel vision, the only thing you can see is the girl and how the light slowly dims in her eyes.

At some point, you must have screamed out and alerted the others, because several pairs of hands are dragging you away from the girl. You fight them with all the strength you have left, reaching out for her small body, desperately trying to help her as her crimson blood drips through your fingers.

A team of EMTs rushes into the house past you and you see them leaning over the girl before you're taken away from the scene. You feel your chest tighten, your heartbeat race, and you're not able to form a coherent thought. All that consumes your mind is the little girl and how you were right there. You were right there and you still weren't able to save her.

-----

Days later you walk back into the office, running on maybe five hours of sleep since the incident. You had been given instructions to take three days off before coming back in and you know the team had to deal with the fallout of your shortcoming. In fact, you walked in with your badge and gun in hand, fully prepared to be suspended.

The atmosphere in the office is noticeably tense. Everyone is quiet with their heads down doing their jobs. Without greeting your team like normal, you duck your head and make a straight route towards your desk, trying to make as little sound as possible when you take your seat. Placing your gun and badge beside your computer, you see a single file laying on your desk. There are usually about ten.

Trying your best to keep your composure, you open the file and are met with a blank incident report. Unable to think about filling it out, all you can do is blink back at the white paper. What do they expect you to say? Thankfully, you're ripped from going down that rabbit hole by a hand touching your shoulder. Looking over, you see Hotch with a somber look on his face.

"Why don't you follow me?" His voice is quiet, and you agree wordlessly, following him into his office. As you walk through the office, you try to commit it to memory just in case this is your last day here.

Once you reach Hotch's office, you take a seat in front of his desk and wait for him to say something. You're keenly aware that you deserve to be suspended and reprimanded for you actions, or lack thereof, seeing as how you blatantly ignored orders.

"None of us blame you." His words shock your system, eyebrows drawing tightly together and lips falling apart in confusion.

"But-" You try to condemn yourself, but he holds up a finger to stop your words.

"All of us here have lost someone. Some more than others. It comes with the territory of the job, this is only your second year and you have a lot to learn. But with that said, you did ignore orders to not engage. For that, we cannot let you back in the field until you're deemed fit again. You're to stay here and help from the office while we go to case sites." Your mouth feels dry as he speaks, and you can't understand why your punishment isn't more harsh. An eight year old girl died because of you and all you're getting is a slap on the wrist?

"But-" You try to convince him again that you deserve worse, but he cuts you off again.

"Don't say anything. Go back to your desk and do your job." He orders you away, and this time you listen to him. Your walk back to your desk is a blur, mind fuzzy with questions you don't have the answer to. You feel several pairs of eyes on you, but you ignore them and go back to staring at the blank white paper that waits for you.

-----

Hours pass by, and you've made no progress on the report. You thought that maybe a change of scenery would help, and so you relocated to the break room with only the paper and a single pen. The team is already preparing to leave on their next assignment, and all except you and Spencer are going. Spencer had volunteered to stay behind and help Garcia, which he did on occasion.

You hear the team approaching the break room, preparing to leave, and so you quickly grab the pen and act like you're writing something useful. They come in and grab last minute snacks, telling you that they'll be back in a few days and you give them the best smile you can muster and watch with a tired soul as they walk out to catch the next monster.

"You know that's not true, right?" A voice behind you startles you, causing you to jump and drag a line of black ink across the paper. Spencer is standing behind you, coffee cup in hand.

"What?" You ask, not having the slightest idea of what he means. He takes a seat beside you at the table, his eyes locked onto the paper you had been scribbling your thoughts on.

"What you're writing. It's not true." You look from his face down to the paper to see what exactly you wrote. You're not entirely sure yourself.

She died right in front of me because I was slow. I was too slow and she's gone. She was right there. Right there.

The words accurately reflect the rhetoric that's been repeating itself inside your mind around the clock. You can't seem to find the lie he so obviously sees. You've  been working with Spencer for two years now, and his mind still amazes you. But even geniuses are wrong sometimes. With a shake of your head, you bite the inside of your cheek and stare at the words.

"It's exactly what happened though." You confess, clearly remembering how the man had time to enjoy slitting the girl's throat. And you were still too slow.

"You tried to feed into his delusions, it was the only play we had left. And you were probably the best one to approach him, seeing as how you most closely resembled his victims." He explains with a wave of his free hand. Your eyes meet his and you see that he's being sincere. You've never been good at expressing your emotions, and so you try to deflect the ones bubbling up inside you.

"Spencer, are you saying I look like a ten year old girl?" You know he's only trying to help you deal with your fresh trauma, but you can't help yourself from making the comment. Used to your antics, his mouth flattens into a straight line.

"You do not look like a ten year old girl but seeing as how you're the youngest one on the team it was the best we shot we had." He follows up his explanation. You appreciate the effort he's making to make you feel better, you just wish it worked. With a sigh, you crumple the paper up and toss it across the room, barely missing the trash can.

"Don't say anything, I'm getting it." You preemptively dismiss the comment you know he's about to make. No matter how many times you try to sink a paper ball into the trash, you always end up missing somehow, and Spencer is always there to keep track of just how many you've missed.

"One hundred forty three." He quickly says before quickly moving out of the break room. A ghost of a smile finds its way onto your face and you pick up the pen you left on the table, going to search for a new report page.

-----

Unfortunately, by the end of the day, the report still had not been completed. You're unable to look at this case objectively, and you entertain the idea of asking Spencer to do it for you. But that would still mean you have to tell him what happened, and you know there's no chance those words can find their way out of your mouth.

The clock on the wall indicates that the work day is over, and so you close the blank paper inside the brown folder, vowing that tomorrow you will finish it. You don't want to stay here, but you also don't want to go home. But you guess it doesn't matter, no matter where you are you know the nightmares will find you in the dark.

Everyone leaves the office, save for you and Spencer, who's working over to finish his case backlog. Though in your two years here you've never known him to have a backlog. His insane memory is always allowing him to fly through reports three times faster than the rest of the team. But you're too tired, physically and emotionally, to delve into why he has a backlog now.

Realizing you've been staring at your desk for the past thirty minutes, you decide you can't stay here overnight. Standing from your desk you rub the drowsiness from your eyes and weakly smile to Spencer, who looked over to see what you were doing.

"See you bright and early." Your voice is soft as you push your chair back in.

"Wait, let me at least walk you out to your car. It's dark out there now." He says, standing from his own desk. You shake your head, not wanting to inconvenience him.

"That's okay Spencer, I'll be fine. But thank you." You try to dismiss him, but he's already got his jacket slung over his shoulders.

"I was just finishing up anyways." He says, and you're skeptical of how much of his statement is the truth. But you don't fight it, and let him accompany you to your car. After hours the office is eerily quiet, and you find yourself being thankful he wanted to walk you out.

"At least let me take you home, as a thank you." You say as you two walk out of the office doors into the parking lot. The chilly fall air infiltrates the thin shirt you're wearing, your breath evaporating in the air in a translucent white cloud.

"Sure, thank you." He says with a smile and the two of you climb into your car.

Spencer gives you directions to his apartment and you find out he only lives two blocks away from you. How you had never known this is a mystery. But had you have known you would've made the effort to offer him a ride more often. You park your car just outside of the building and look over at him, his hazel eyes illuminated beautifully by the amber glow of the streetlamp.

"I live just down the street." You break the silence as he unbuckles the seatbelt.

"And after all this time we've never seen each other outside of work." He points out and you smile,

"Well, this counts, right?" He lets out a small laugh and goes to open the door, but stops short of swinging it open. His lips open and close a few times, like he can't decide what he wants to say before he looks deep into your eyes once more, like he can see your mind through your pupils.

"You know, if it ever gets to be too much to deal with, you can tell me. I know how torturous thoughts can become." You're at a loss for words, but manage to nod your head. Spencer isn't known for openly extending empathy to very many people, in fact, you've only seen him do it twice so far. It's a break from the normal dynamic you two share and it throws you off for a second.

"Yeah, thank you." You say as he opens the door, leaving your passenger seat. He waves goodbye before he enters the building and you make sure he gets in before leaving for your own apartment, his words lingering in your head. What had happened to him to be able to understand such torment?

-----

A girl cries in front of you, her crimson tears flowing down her face and puddling on the floor. She's begging you to help her, to save her. Each time she's within reach, she slips right through your fingers and her agonizing screams ring inside your head.

Just like last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, you're awoken with a start. Panicked eyes stare down at your hands, expecting to see them coated in a thick layer of bright red blood, only to find that they've been scrubbed clean. In fact, they've been scrubbed so viciously that there are scratches from your nails evident on your knuckles.

Your head falls into your hands and you take in a shaky breath. The clock on your bedside table shows you that you've only managed to get two hours of sleep. But hey, it's more than last night so you guess you can't complain. Dragging yourself out of bed, you decide to get a shower, knowing that you're not going back to sleep.

As the scalding water trickles over your body, your mind is once again a chaotic mess. The girl's screams echo in your mind accompanied with questions about your effectiveness as an agent. If you were unable to save a girl within your reach, how good of an agent can you really be? How many more people will die as a result of your incompetence? Dwelling on that answer is almost enough to send you into an episode, but the hot water runs out and the cold shocks your system.

You step out and wrap yourself in a towel, but are unable to shake the thoughts away that easily. If you couldn't save that girl, how many do you expect to save? If you couldn't save her, then you won't be able to save others. And if that's the case, why are you still on the team? Your purpose is to protect and save people who are targeted by deranged killers, and if you can't fulfill that purpose, then what exactly are you doing? Wouldn't it just be better to give up your spot for someone who's more competent? Someone who can actually save people?

Your body moves as if it's been put on autopilot as you get ready for the day, hours earlier than what is necessary. Instead of holing up like a prisoner in your own home, you pull your shoes on and grab your keys, deciding to go for a walk and then head into work early.

It's still too early out for most people to be heading into work, so the streets are practically yours for now. A dense fog has settled across the roads and the crickets chirp all around. It's almost serene. Your feet begin wandering down streets with no real path or destination in mind, the coolness of the air helps keep you awake.

For about an hour you meander the streets until the clock on your phone shows that it's almost time to leave for work. When you reach your car, your gaze freezes on your passenger seat. Though you commute to work alone every day, the car feels empty now.

You don't drive yourself to work right away. Instead, you find yourself parked outside of Spencer's building, waiting for him to walk out so you can offer him a ride. It doesn't take long before he's walking towards your car, confusion clear on his face.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, opening the passenger door and getting in.

"I just figured you might enjoy a break from public transit." You smile softly at him before merging into traffic and taking the two of you to work.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the trip and once you park in front of the office building, you stop him from getting out by reaching a hand over the middle console and resting it on his bicep.

"How did you know that I was having bad thoughts?" Your voice is raw and you're sure you look exhausted. You're sure if your superiors found out about these thoughts that your punishment would be extended, but you're far too curious. He sighs,

"Persistent intrusive thoughts about a traumatic event are common. In fact, these thoughts can lead to insomnia and a change in normal daily functions." He explains like he's reading the words straight from a textbook. But you know it's more than that, it has to be. The way he offered his help yesterday was more reminiscent of someone who's lived through something similar. Empathy cannot be learned from a book.

"Right. Do they ever go away?" You don't push him to give you any answers about his own trauma, but you desperately want to know that these thoughts will eventually go away. Spencer glances down at your hand gripping his jacket,

"Sometimes they leave for a while. But, they don't ever leave forever." His answer is not what you had hoped for, but you know he wouldn't lie to you. You release him from your grip and clear your throat, turning your car off and getting out.

You know if the roles were reversed that you would suggest he seek out professional help. It's only the most logical way to deal with this sort of thing, but you know that you can't face a doctor and tell them about how you relive that girl's death every night. They'd surely diagnose you with something and you'd be kicked off the team.

But maybe being dismissed from this job would be the best thing for you. If you're unable to move on from this incident, how can you expect to function like everything is fine? And if something like this happens again, what will happen? Will you crumble completely?

As you step into the elevator, you can't help but wonder if the loss is worth it. Not only the loss of victims, but the loss of yourself as well. You feel the change within you, like a piece of you is fractured beyond repair.

Spencer and you part ways and begin your workload for the day. The blank white paper still waits for you. ----- The rest of the team had made it to the next site and had called Spencer and Garcia for their help. Of course, you used this as an excuse to abandon the report on your desk, insisting that you can be of some help to them. They're both geniuses and you know there's nothing you can do that they can't, but they let you join them anyways.

"Look for white males, aged twenty to forty, who recently experienced a severe head trauma." Derek speaks through the speaker and you watch in amazement at how fast Garcia is able to filter through hospital records.

"I've got one. Sending it over now." She drags and drops the file into a message and sends it off to the team.

"What would I do without you, baby girl?" You can practically hear Morgan's smile through the phone. His playful ways with Garcia had landed everyone in a presentation about inappropriate work relationships last year and you can clearly see they disregarded every piece of information shared there.

The phone clicks and goes silent, leaving the three of us crammed into Garcia's office and you can't help but feel like you're inconveniencing her and Spencer. You stand from your seat and dismiss yourself, telling them you're going to work on a report and to holler if they need you. You know they won't, but at least you offered.

Sitting back down at your desk, you grab your pen and convince yourself that you're going to write at least one good sentence. You need to have this done by the time Hotch gets back and at this rate you won't even have it done by Christmas.

Taking a deep breath, you tap the pen against the desk before putting it to the paper. You hold it there for so long that an ink blob begins bleeding through the document, and so you start moving it across the paper.

At approximately 4:47 pm EST on October 16, 2023 the Behavioral Analysis Unit from Quantico, Virginia, responded to a hostage situation that resulted in two deaths.

You stare at the sentence you had managed to write and wonder if you can just leave the report as is. Technically it is what happened. But you know that you have to fill in the details. Perhaps that part of it can wait just a little longer.

Deciding you've put in all the effort you can manage for now without slipping into another downward spiral or gruesome memories, you decide to go waste some time in the break room.

There's not much to do, but you make it seem like organizing the coffee mugs in the cupboard is the most vital mission you've encountered to date. And thankfully it keeps your mind distracted from everything falling apart inside your mind.

-----

Garcia and Spencer don't call on you to help them for the rest of the day, much to your dismay. You were hoping they'd at least take pity on you and let you do something insignificant. But perhaps they don't even trust you with the most menial tasks.

You sit at your desk at the end of the day and see others leave the offices, bidding each other goodbye for the weekend. The rest of the team will be back on Monday and you still only have one sentence written in your report that's sure to exceed ten pages if you do it correctly.

"Hey, staying late again?" You hear Spencer ask as he returns from Garcia's office. Spinning around in your seat to face him, you nod your head.

"Yeah." You reply without much enthusiasm, glancing back at the paper. He must think you're completely inadequate at your job because you've been unable to complete a single report in two days. If he's been secretly tasked with keeping tabs on your progress for Hotch, surely there is no good news to report.

"Why don't you take it with you? Work on it over the weekend?" He suggests, and it's not a bad idea. It would surely beat sticking around an empty office all weekend. But truthfully, you're not sure an empty house will be much better.

"You're probably right." You pick up the file and get ready to leave the office with Spencer, who has his belongings in his arms. The two of you walk down to the parking lot and he starts heading towards the bus station.

"Hey, I can take you." You offer, stopping him in his tracks. He looks between you and your car, almost like he's not sure if he should take you up on your offer. But eventually, he walks over and takes a seat in the passenger seat.

"Thank you." He says, fastening his seatbelt. You back out of the parking spot and make your way towards his apartment. Thankfully he says nothing about the fact you took the longest route possible.

"Any fun weekend plans?" You ask him as you pull up to the curb, stalling to keep here as long as possible, so that you're not left alone with your mind. He rests back in the seat slightly and puffs out some air as he shakes his head.

"What's fun for me doesn't always fit other people's definition." There's a small smirk on his face and you know he's either about to devour an entire book series in two days or learn an entirely new skill. He's always looking for ways to expand his knowledge, and you admire that about him.

"Well, as long as you enjoy it then who cares?" You shoot back, watching as he gathers his bag up in his hands and opens the door. 

"Apparently our coworkers. But thank you for the ride, see you Monday." He bids you goodbye and you watch as he walks into the building. You don't leave for your home right away, instead you lean your forehead against the steering wheel and become frustrated with yourself. Since when are you scared of being alone with your own thoughts?

-----

"Save me. Save me. Save me. SAVE ME!" The girl screams in your face, blood dripping out from her mouth and onto your body. Your hands desperately try to stop the bleeding, but it's no use and soon her chanting ceases and she crumples to the floor. Her dull eyes stare widely at the ceiling and you're left covered in her blood. You're acutely aware of how it's sinking into the crevices of your skin, drying in your hair, becoming part of you. 

Just like every night for the past week you awake from the nightmare. A sheer layer of sweat covers your body and you can't take it anymore. These nightmares are driving you out of your mind. You haven't slept for more than three hours straight over the past week and you start feeling like you'd do anything to be released from your own thoughts. 

You push yourself out of bed and into your bathroom where you splash cool water on your face. You're well aware that you're getting into a very bad headspace, and being alone is doing nothing to help the situation. If you keep heading down this path with no help, there's no saying how much of yourself you will lose. Or what your thoughts will drive you to do.

Bloodshot eyes stare back at you in the mirror and you hardly recognize yourself. The dark circles under your eyes make you look like a cheap halloween decoration, your cheeks are sullen. You look miserable. You are miserable. Tearing your gaze away from yourself, you put some decent clothes on and grab your keys off the dining room table. 

The air outside is crisp, dew gently rests on the blades of grass and the moonlight illuminates the sidewalks. The nocturnal animals sing their songs, their tunes carrying throughout the night. You almost feel a part of them, the nighttime animals, as you just meander the streets for another night with no destination set.

You turn down an empty street and hear the thumping of music approaching from the main road. Probably teenagers enjoying their weekend night without parental supervision. The music gets closer and closer and you see their headlights start casting a shadow of yourself on the sidewalk. 

"Catch!" You hear a boy yell from the car out of the window, and you turn to see what's going on. 

Before you can process what's happening, you feel something collide with your chest and your skin becomes wet. Looking down you see that they had thrown a drink at you, some sort of syrupy mess but you're not concerned with what it is; just what it looks like. Dark red syrup covers your hands and your shirt and you can't stop yourself from starting to hyperventilate. 

Your chest begins rapidly heaving, your hands start shaking and it feels like your knees are going to give out. It looks too real, and it's on your skin. It's seeping into your skin and it's on your clothes. And it's on your face and in your hair. It's everywhere. 

"No, no, no no no no.." Your repeat to yourself, trying to rid your skin of the syrup, but all it does it smear and glide across your skin, spreading itself all over you. Your nails claw at your hands trying to get rid of it but it just won't leave. Panicked tears fall from your eyes and you look around, seeing that you're all alone in the middle of the street. 

Without thinking, you start moving towards a familiar building. Your body is on autopilot and it feels as if you're practically flying down the street. It could've taken you twenty minutes to get there, but it felt like five seconds. Once you're on the doorstep your sticky, red-laden fist knocks on the door. You can hear your rattling breaths as if it's from a distance and your vision begins to contort, making you dizzy. You knock again, having enough knowledge that you need him to open the door before something worse happens. 

"Hello?" You hear his voice as the door swings open, and the soft lighting from inside his apartment illuminates his figure as if he's an angel. 

"Please." Is all you can say through your cries and he wastes no time before he's helping you inside of his apartment. 

He takes the jacket off your shoulders and helps you step out of your shoes, a vivid look of worry plastered all over his face. 

"What happened?" His voice is concerned as he places his hand on your back, leading you into the kitchen. He wets a cloth and gently starts to wipe the red from your trembling hands. With each pass of the cloth, your skin regains its natural color and you feel your breathing begin to level back out. It's leaving your skin, it's washing off. 

"I was outside and someone threw something. And then I don't know what happened, it's like my brain just snapped and I couldn't control myself, all I knew is that I had to get here." You try to explain it to him the best way you can, still feeling an adrenaline buzz. You half expect him to give you some clinical diagnosis, but he remains quiet.

His warm hand envelopes one of yours as he wipes the remaining syrup from your arms. Your face starts to feel stiff from the drying tears, and your eyes move from your skin to Spencer's face, who is standing less than a foot away, tenderly cleansing your skin. Guilt washes over you as you realize that you've just interrupted his weekend, intruded on his free time. 

As your senses start to clarify, the guilt intensifies and you pull your hand away from his grasp. You can't believe you actually ran all the way here because some teenage kid threw something at you. How juvenile. He takes a step back from you and scans over your body, sending a self-conscious pang down your spine. 

"I um, I'm sorry Spencer. I shouldn't have come here and I'm sorry if I interrupted your weekend." You tumble over your own words and go to leave his apartment, already mentally kicking yourself for knocking on his door. His hand on your shoulder stops you from walking to the front door, and he gives you a certain look you've never seen on him before. His eyes are tender and soft. 

"Don't be sorry, I'm glad you came. I told you I was here to help." His voice is kind and gentle, and you're grateful for him.

"I can go back home, I think I'll be okay." You can't help but feel as if you're still inconveniencing him and make one more move towards the door which gets stopped by him again. He shakes his head, 

"No, it's okay. Go sit on the couch and I'll get you some clean clothes to change into. What kind of tea would you like?" Your heart swells at his tenderhearted words. Your feet shuffle against the hardwood floor and you position yourself at the edge of his leather couch, careful to not get any of the stickiness on it. 

"Um, anything is fine, thank you." Your throat begins feeling scratchy, probably from how violently you sobbed the entire way over here. He nods before disappearing into his apartment and your eyes travel around his place. You've never been here before and you're curious as to what he's like, what his tastes are. 

It's not far off from what you expected. The color scheme is simple, the walls an earthy green and the lamp in the corner emits a soft amber glow. In true Spencer fashion, there's also a multitude of books, both laying on a coffee table and adorning bookshelves. It's calming. 

He walks back into the room and hands you a change of clothes, which feel warm, as if they just came from the dryer. Spencer shows you to the bathroom and tells you that he'll be in the kitchen while you get changed. You strip from your clothes and try to fold them as neatly as you can, not wanting to make more of a mess in his home. He had given you a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants, which you already know are going to be too long, but you're thankful nonetheless.

The sweatshirt easily falls over your head and it smells like fresh laundry and Spencer. You breathe in the smell and it makes you feel secure. And just like you thought, the pants are far too long, but you roll up the legs and make it work. Before you join him in the kitchen, you try to rinse out the red syrup from your hair, knowing that if you don't get it out now that it'll be ten times harder to wash when it dries. 

Once you're satisfied, you open the door and quietly walk back down the hall to the kitchen, where Spencer is standing with two mugs in his hands. He looks over you once and offers you one of the drinks. Steam rises from the top and you smell the chamomile. The warmth of the drink soothes your throat, and you follow Spencer back into his living room, resuming your position on his couch. He sits at the other side and you look over at him, feeling an intense sense of gratitude. 

"Thank you, Spencer." You whisper, not wanting to disturb the stillness. He places his mug on the coffee table beside an open book and his lips curl into a soft smile. 

"Anytime. I know you'd do the same for me." He says and you nod, knowing he's right. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find just the right words. 

"I don't think I'm okay. I don't feel safe being alone with my thoughts. I can't sleep without seeing her." You admit to him, no longer caring if he reports this to Hotch on Monday. You chew on your bottom lip with anxiety, feeling exhausted from suffering. Expecting to find him looking at you, analyzing you, you delay meeting his gaze only to see that he looks empathetic. 

"I know what you mean. I barely slept for two weeks when mine started." His voice is raspy, yet gentle. Your head shakes as you take another sip of warm tea. 

"How do you deal with it?" You're desperate for answers, knowing you can't keep functioning this way. He sighs, 

"One day at a time. I put off confiding in someone for a long time, probably too long. But this isn't something to deal with alone." The two of you lock eyes, and for the first time since the incident, you almost feel at ease. 

"Am I going to be kicked off the team?" There's worry evident in your voice, and you're scared of his answer. 

"No. If they got rid of everyone who has dealt with trauma from the job there would be no behavioral analysis unit." He says with a small smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood. You take another sip of tea and allow yourself to relax into the leather of his couch. His presence alone is enough to make you feel safe. 

"Are you going to tell the others?" You ask, looking down into the tea, watching it swirl gently around the ceramic. He readjusts on the couch. 

"No." He says, much to your surprise, but you're thankful he's not reporting back to Hotch about how you've been doing. 

The two of you let the conversation fall back into a silence, and you finish off the tea. Your body feels relaxed and warm, your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Leaning back into the comfortable cushions, your eyes close and you take a deep breath, thankful for the little moment of peace. You're not sure how much time passes, but you feel Spencer tapping you on the shoulder. Fluttering your eyes open you see him standing beside you.

"Follow me." He quietly instructs, gesturing for you to go with him down the hall. Without thinking of why, you blindly follow his orders. He leads you into a dark room, his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the shadows. Spencer sits you down on a bed and an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you can't let him do this for you. 

"Stay here tonight, I'll be in the living room." His hand leaves your back but you reach out and grab his wrist before he can leave. 

"No, Spencer, this is your home. I can't." You tell him and stand from his bed, which is admittedly very comfortable. He turns to face you fully and sits you back on the bed, his hands on your shoulders. 

"Please?" He asks, and you're not sure why he's being so generous. He's already done more than enough for you tonight, and now he's giving you his bed. The man doesn't like to shake peoples' hands because of germ transfer, and here he is letting you stay in such an intimate place of his? You can't wrap your head around it. 

Though you feel sleepy, there's an uneasy feeling in the back of your head and you know what will happen if you go to sleep; you'll see her again. You reach your hands to rest atop of his on your shoulders and look up at him through the darkness, just barely able to make out his features. 

"Stay with me." You whisper and let his hands go so that he doesn't feel trapped. In the darkness you see his shoulders tense, and you wish you could take your words back. But to your surprise, he nods his head and makes his way around to the other side of the bed. He pulls the covers back and slowly gets in, and you lay down, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you. 

Your heart pounds in your chest and you reach across the soft blankets for his hand, needing it to ground you, to remind you that you're not here alone. His larger hand engulfs yours and his thumb traces soft circles on the back of your hand. Your eyes close and before you understand what's happening, you fall asleep. 

-----

Bright, almost blinding, sunlight breaking through curtains stirs you awake and you open your eyes to find that you're not in your own room. Your mind takes a moment to remember where you are and your muscles relax when you realize where you are. But the relaxation is short-lived as you realize that it's not a pillow in front of your face, that you're in fact resting your forehead against Spencer's chest, your hand still entwined with his. 

A moment of pure fear strikes you and you try to untangle yourself from him without disturbing him. Surely if he woke up and saw this he'd be uncomfortable. Gently, you try to extract your hand from his, but instead of being able to separate, he squeezes your hand tighter. Your eyes trail up from your hands to his face, seeing that he's already opened his eyes. 

"I'm sorry I don't, I didn't mean-" You try to manage the fallout of your actions, but he shushes you. 

"It's okay. How did you sleep?" His voice is deliciously raspy, and it distracts you from answering the question for just a second longer than it should've. 

"Um, good. I didn't see her." You admit and lean back so that you can more clearly see his face. His curly hair is disheveled and his eyes are still clouded with drowsiness. His soft, pink lips turn upwards into a smile. 

"That's great." He says and closes his eyes once more, keeping your hand in his. Your tense body eases once more as you realize that he's not uncomfortable. You know him well enough by now to understand that if he were uncomfortable, he wouldn't still be here. 

You rest your forehead against his chest again, savoring the warm and comforting smell of him. The two of you are entangled with one another under the cozy blankets, and you're perfectly content with staying just like this for as long as possible. 

As you drift back off into a sleep, you feel Spencer move around and feel his soft lips press a delicate kiss to your forehead. Instinctually, you lean into him, nuzzling your nose into the space where his neck meets his shoulder. 

-----

Sometime during the afternoon, the two of you decide to get out of bed. You're very aware that a rosy color adorns your face, feeling flustered from whatever transpired between you and Spencer. You had always been attracted to him, not just for his looks, but also his intelligence, but you never thought he'd reciprocate those feelings. But after last night and this morning, you can't help but wonder what's actually happening. 

The two of you sit across from each other at the dining table, drinking coffee and eating mixed berries. You catch him stealing glances at you, and he catches you doing the same. You're too afraid to bring it up, scared that whatever is happening will be dismantled. So instead you're perfectly content just enjoying the moment.

After breakfast, you move into the living room where he picks up his book from last night and you pick one of them off his shelf. The synopsis sounds interesting, and so you curl up on his couch with it. Unlike last night, you no longer feel like you're intruding on his space, it almost feels natural to just coexist with one another on this Saturday morning. 

He finishes the book in record time, and you had only reached page twenty of yours. You watch as he files the book away on his shelf, and instead of reaching for another, he trains his gaze on you. Your fingers close the front cover of the book, waiting for him to say something. 

"You said you didn't see her last night, right?" He asks, breaking the silence. You nod your head, 

"I didn't see her last night." You confirm and he smiles, joining you on the couch. He's sitting so close that your knees brush against each other and it sends a warm feeling up your spine. 

"It's one of the harder parts of the job, I think. Nobody tells you about this side of it when you join. And nobody really talks about it either, everyone would just prefer to suffer in silence so as not to be perceived as weak. But without finding an outlet, it'll eat you alive." He speaks, resting his hand atop your knee. Your eyes stay glued to his hand as you add onto his statement. 

"I considered leaving the team because I felt like I was going insane. I thought that if I couldn't save that girl, then what good am I to anyone else?" You reach out for his hand and he looks over to you, hazel eyes shining with an unfamiliar light in them. 

"It's hard, but you can't focus on those you lose. You have to remind yourself of how many you save. To get yourself out of that darkness of guilt, you just have to remember the ones that are alive and well because of you. You've been on the team for two years now and you've already saved countless people, both directly and indirectly. Don't let the job strip you of your humanity." He tells you, looking deep into your eyes. You swallow, digesting his words and your eyes are unable to look away from him. 

"It's so hard though. She was just a child." You say with exasperation. He squeezes his hand on your knee in reassurance. 

"She was, but so many children get to live because you stopped him." His voice is sincere and your eyes water at his words. Your mind conjures images of children with families, alive and healthy. 

Spencer raises a hand to the side of your face, and you lean into his touch. His thumb comes up and brushes a lone tear from the corner of your eye before gently stroking your cheek. You reach out and pull him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he circles his arms around your waist. He hold you tight, and you never want to let go. Spencer is warm, comforting, and you know that from this moment forward, you won't be able to survive without him. 

Pulling away from the embrace, you rest your forehead against his, the two of you meeting each other's eyes with parted lips. Your hands find their way to the sides of his face, and you bring your lips to his. His hands hold your waist, keeping you in place as you move against each other in perfect harmony. 

One of your hands finds its way to his curly hair and you rake your fingers through it, eliciting a soft moan from him. Heat ignites within you and you push your body closer to him, unable to get enough. His skin is soft under your touch and you try to memorize the way it feels, just in case this never happens again. 

His hands move to map out the curve of your waist and your breathing gets heavier with desire. You move one of your legs across his lap, straddling him. He breaks the kiss first and holds you upright on his lap, looking over your body that's still concealed by his clothes. Deep in your soul, you know that this is more than just a random act of lust. 

You lean in to kiss him again and you help his hands remove the sweatshirt from your body. The air is chilly against your skin and you shiver. Spencer kisses your lips and trails down to your neck, and you're unable to contain your breathy moan. Your body aches with desire to have him all over you. 

His hands map out every inch of your body, taking the time to memorize the way you feel underneath him and how you respond to his tender touch. The two of you take your time to make each other feel good, to make each other feel loved and understood. There's no rush to your movements, and you're perfectly content taking as long as you want to touch him, to feel his warm skin on yours as you move in tandem, the two of you becoming one. 

You treat each other as if you're both made of precious glass, appreciating the fragility of the moment. The two of you soak in every moan, every breath, every kiss from the other, and you've never felt more alive. With each movement you find a new way to appreciate his beauty. His beauty is in the tenderness of his touch, the colors of his eyes, the pinkness of his lips. Every inch of him is beautiful, and you know that nothing else on this Earth can ever begin to compare.

Spencer rests his forehead against yours, the two of you out of breath and sensitive. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he moves beside you, cradling you in his arms and placing delicate kisses to your warm skin. The two of you hold on to each other as if the other would cease to exist if you let go. 

Without having to utter a single word, you know that the two of you will never have to face this life alone again. 

[unseededtoast]

Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x Reader

Finale

Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Finale

And now you know that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral into something all consuming. 

Spencer runs point in clearing out the warehouse. His gun is drawn and he's laser-focused on making sure nobody escapes from inside. The team had split up to cover the entrances, each moving swiftly. And once Spencer hears through his earpiece that everyone is into position, he makes his move.

"FBI hands in the air." He demands as he enters the warehouse. His voice reverberates off the metal walls as he swivels his head to locate Valentine.

But the warehouse is dark and empty. There's nobody here. Spencer holsters his gun and looks around the property to see if maybe Valentine is trying to hide somewhere. The rest of the team searches as well but an uneasy feeling settles within Spencer.

"It's clear." JJ states as the team convenes in the middle of the warehouse. Adrenaline still pumps through Spencer's veins as he tries to work out what this means for the case.

But no matter how logically he tries to think all his mind focuses on is you. Spencer knows that Valentine's absence here means that you're still in danger. He finds his phone tucked in his pocket and dials your number. But it goes to voicemail.

He tries not to panic, he really tries. So he calls again, hoping that maybe you were preoccupied with something else, maybe you had taken a walk or something. But it goes to voicemail again. Spencer calls for a third time, but this time he doesn't let it go to voicemail.

"Something's wrong." He tries to keep his strained voice level, but he can hear the tension in his words as they leave his mouth.

"What are you thinking?" Hotch asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Someone try to reach Garcia. I think we've been set up." Spencer says as he turns to run back to the SUVs.

As he runs his fingers fumble to call Penelope. Her phone rings and rings and rings. But nobody picks up. With shaking hands Spencer gets into the SUV and is about to turn the key to start it when someone opens the door.

"Get out kid, I'll drive." Derek says, motioning for Spencer to step out.

"We don't have time." Spencer practically shouts. Derek reaches over to still Spencer's hand clutching the keys.

"We don't. And you're in no right mind to drive. Get over there and let me get us back to the office." Derek's voice carries a sense of authority with it. And so Spencer hands over the keys before clumsily climbing over the middle console to the passenger seat.

While Derek speeds off back towards the office with sirens blaring, Spencer keeps trying to reach you or Penelope. His leg is bouncing up and down rapidly and he wishes that the car could drive at the speed of the jet. He just needs to know you're okay. He needs to know you're safe.

Finally, after the thousandth time, Penelope finally picks up.

"Your wish is my comm-"

"Penelope there's no time. I need you to go to the bullpen and see if she's okay. I can't reach her and Valentine wasn't at the warehouse." Spencer cuts Penelope off with rushed words.

"What? What do you mean he wasn't there his car clearly showed that he was." The panic in her voice is palpable and Spencer hears movement on the other line.

"I need you to go check on her now please." Spencer struggles to keep his cool. He hears Penelope's office door open and close and he faintly hears her heels clicking on the floor.

"The lights are all off." Penelope says.

"What do you mean the lights are off?" Spencer's mind feels like it could start smoking at any second with the amount of scenarios playing themselves out at the same time.

"I can't open the doors. The doors are stuck. I can't, I can't get in." The panic in Penelope's voice escalates and Spencer hears her pushing on the door.

"Do you see her?" Derek glances at Spencer momentarily before focusing back on the road. Spencer can tell that Derek's accelerated more as the car seems to scream down the road.

"No, I don't- wait. Oh my God. Spencer. You guys need to get back here now." Penelope's voice turns gravely serious before the line cuts off completely.

"Penelope? Garcia? Hello?" Spencer practically shouts. But all he's met with is silence. His hands grip his phone so tightly he thinks it might shatter under the pressure. A wave of nausea washes over him but he wills himself to not get sick. You need him, he doesn't have time to spiral.

"What did Garcia say?" Derek finally asks, no longer able to take not knowing. Spencer takes a shaky breath before looking over to Derek.

"The doors are locked. The lights are off. Garcia said we needed to get back immediately." Is all he can say without getting sick all over the car.

Spencer's mind starts playing cruel tricks on him. He sees you as the face of countless other victims. Some had been shot, others stabbed, a few dismembered, but they're all victims of stalking cases the team has worked in the past. He can't bear the thought of anyone harming a hair on your perfect head.

"We'll get there." Derek says with determination. Spencer can only hope he's right. 

———

Valentine's voice echoes through the empty bullpen as you spin around in the dark office, trying to see where he is. Your heart thumps heavily in your chest and your knees feel weak.

"Oh don't look so frightened dear." His voice booms out of the intercom. You're acutely aware that he's actively surveilling you but there's nothing you can even do about it.

The cameras in the corners of the room track your every move. Every inch you move, they move. Your brain is going haywire, wrestling between logical profiler thinking and terrified victim mentality. Thousands of thoughts race through your mind at once to try and form a plan, but no matter how many thoughts cross your mind, it all just sounds like a jumbled mess. You're freezing.

It feels as if your feet have been cemented to the ground. It's almost like your vocal cords have been cut as well, seeing as how you can't find it within you to form a sentence.

"I'm almost there. Don't worry." Valentine's voice cuts through the silence again.

You're too scared to move. He's going to be here soon. Deep down you know it's a threat. Valentines has you right where he wants you; like a caged animal. There's no way for you to get out or warn others. All you have with you is your service weapon. As you reach for your gun it's like your heart stops; you must've forgotten it in your bag you packed earlier, the one you left in the empty office Hotch is letting you use.

You're all alone in here and Valentine is on his way.

Time moves slowly but too quickly all at once. As if everything were suddenly in slow motion, you watch as Valentine unlocks the doors with his phone and steps into the bullpen with you. Instantly, all the cameras turn off.

Your breaths are shaky, your heart pounds and your chest hurts from fear. Adrenaline tingles the tips of your fingers.

But though you're afraid, there's a tiny voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you've dealt with people like this before. You've worked several similar cases. Deep down, you know how to navigate this situation. But when you're the victim, it's like your training has vanished and you're reduced to nothing but a scared little girl. You don't want to be a scared girl, you want to be strong and brave and smart.

Valentine smiles sickly at you, his white teeth shine like fangs in the dim light. The glint of something shiny in his pocket distracts you from this face. It seems he's brought a knife with him.

You try your hardest to level out your breathing and to think with a clear mind, with a profiler's mind. After all, you've been trained and conditioned for high stress scenarios. You can only hope you don't crumble when it matters.

"Well, aren't you happy to see me?" Valentine asks, taking several steps towards you. Instinctively you want to reach your hands out to maximize the distance between the two of you, but you keep your hands to your sides.

"I am." Your voice falters only slightly, hopefully he doesn't notice. Valentine looks you up and down, licking his lips as he does so.

"You know, you are so much more beautiful up close like this." He takes another step closer.

"Thank you." You accept his compliment, swallowing the sickness threatening to rise.

Valentine steps right in front of you, his tall figure looms over you. He stares down at you and you feel like a gazelle in the middle of an open field, and Valentine is a starved lion. His hand reaches out and touches your face. You flinch.

"Do you think I'd hurt you?" He sounds offended by your reaction to his touch. Thinking quickly, you answer.

"No, never. It's just- your hands are cold. That's all." You try to play it off convincingly. He looks down at his hands and rubs them together to warm them up. His fingers trace over your cheekbone once more.

"I've waited so long for this, for you." He whispers as he looks over your face. You can only hope you're masking your fear well enough.

"If only you hadn't let him touch you like that." Valentine's voice turns from sweet to sinister in the blink of an eye. Your eyes meet his and you see malice and hatred within them. He looms over you and takes his fingers away from your face, like your skin suddenly burned him.

"What do you mean?" You decide to play dumb, maybe there's a chance you can talk your way out of this. Valentine snarls and takes a step back.

"You know what I'm talking about. Spencer. Fucking. Reid." He enunciates his words in an exaggerated manner. Your mouth is dry and your brain can't keep up and decide how you should play your cards.

"I, I don't-"

"Save it. I'm not stupid." He cuts you off and begins pacing back and forth in front of you. Valentine pushes his hand through his hair and you see his face turn red.

"I saw. I saw it all. You let him put his hands all over you. You let him put his lips on your skin. You even let him into your bedroom. How could you? How could you do that to me after I went out of my way for you?" He practically yells at you. The vein in his neck pops and you see his hand drift to his back pocket.

You put your hands out towards him, palms facing him and try to de-escalate the situation. There have been several cases where you've had to talk down unsubs in this exact frame of mind.

"I only let him do it because I was imagining it was you and not him." It's a long shot but you hope he buys it. You also wonder how long you can stall before someone finally comes back.

Valentine stops pacing for just a fraction of a second. He stares at you intensely. His jaw clenches.

"You understand why I have a hard time believing that, right?" His voice has returned to being unsettlingly calm.

"I know. But it's the truth." You say, letting your hands fall back down to your side.

You and Valentine stare at each other, a tense silence filling the room. It looks like he's trying to rationalize your words. And after what feels like a small eternity, he speaks up again.

"If that were true, you would've let me stay that day I came to your apartment. Instead, you dismissed me and let him stay." Valentine's hand reaches for something in his back pocket.

He rushes at you and swings, a silver blade in his hand. You barely dodge it before he's swinging at you again. Valentine is a trained FBI agent, you both went through the same hand to hand combat training. He's fast, he's strong. And you struggle to dodge his attacks.

In an attempt to put as much space between you as possible, you back away and tip chairs and files into the floor to hopefully trip him. But eventually he lunges forward and the blade cuts your abdomen.

The pain temporarily freezes you, allowing Valentine to grab you and shove you to the floor. He stands over top of you and smiles widely down at you. You feel the warm blood start soaking through your shirt but you can't look away to see how bad it is.

Valentine drops to his knees and straddles your torso, he drags the blade across your cheekbone and down your throat. He presses ever so slightly and creates small cuts on your cheek. The blood streams down your face and onto the floor in thin streams.

"Please." You resort to begging. At this point you know he's got nothing to lose and therefore he likely has no boundaries or care in the world.

"Shhh. It's my turn, and I earned this." He says and drops the blade. His hands wrap around your throat and he presses down hard in the center, cutting off your air supply.

You thrash and kick and hit to try and get him off of you. But he's simply too strong. He's twice your size and deranged. You dig your nails into his skin and claw at his hands. But all he does is smile. And you feel your lungs burning and you're starting to panic.

You try to get air into your lungs and your body shakes from lack of oxygen. Your efforts to free yourself are only making you run out of air quicker. Valentine presses his thumbs into the column of your throat.

"We could've been great. You and I. We could've been so happy together. But you had to go and give yourself to him. No, he doesn't deserve you. He couldn't make you feel good like I could. How could you do this?" Valentine spits down at you as your limbs become too heavy to move.

The edge of your vision starts to become staticky and dotted. But you can see tears streaming down Valentine's face and you feel them drip onto your face. But you're too tired to wipe them away. Your eyelids feel like they weigh 20 pounds each.

It's just so much easier to close them.

———

"Garcia did you get the door locks back online?" Hotch authoritatively asks as the team rushes into the building. Penelope tries her best to keep up with Hotch, tears stream down her face.

"Sir I tried. I tried but I didn't have enough time." Her words are broken up by sobs.

Spencer doesn't have time for this. He shoves past everyone else and reaches the glass doors. His eyes scan the dark office and he sees you laying still on the floor. Motionless. Valentine is hunched overtop of you, his hands wrapped around your throat.

Without thinking, Spencer reaches for his gun and shoots through the door. The glass shatters and falls to the floor in a billion pieces. But he doesn't care. All he can see is red as he steps over the glass and into the bullpen.

Spencer reaches Valentine in record time and he wastes no time to kick Valentine off of you. He lands a solid kick to the side of Valentine's face and when Valentine loses his balance and falls from overtop of you, Spencer pushes him on to his back.

When Valentine rolls over onto his back Spencer grabs his shirt in one hand and punches Valentine's face with the other. He hits him again. And again. And again. Everything that Valentine has done to you replays in his head each time his fist connects with Valentine's face.

"Spencer, stop. Stop you can't do this here." He hears someone say as he's forcefully pulled away from Valentine's beaten body.

Spencer pays no attention to who pulled him off of Valentine because he sees you still laying still on the floor next to him. Your eyes are closed and he sees bruising begin to form on your throat.

"No, no come on. Come on baby. Come on." Spencer says as he kneels by your side. His bloody knuckles sting but his chest hurts worse, seized with anxiety and fear because you're not waking up. And those bruises are becoming way too dark way too quickly.

Spencer feels for your pulse on your neck, below your jaw. There's a pulse. But it's faint. Too faint.

"We need a medic. We need a medic right now." Spencer rushes his words as he tilts your head back to allow for maximum airflow into your lungs.

He faintly hears commotion behind him but all he can see is you. And he can hear are your shallow breaths.

Pure, genuine fear paralyzes Spencer.

———

"Derek, stay with him. Don't let him get to Valentine just yet. We're going to do pull some overtime today and get everything sorted. I'll keep you updated. Let me know how she's doing and how Spencer's doing." Hotch speaks authoritatively before hanging up the phone.

He sets the phone on the table and looks at the rest of his team, who have assembled at the round table. He sees their faces full of fear and guilt. And he knows that the team will collectively have to go through the process of acceptance, but not now. Not when there's work to do.

He sees your face in his mind and it launches him into action.

"Penelope. I'm going to need every bit of his equipment seized and searched. I'm talking in his office and at his residence. Document everything." He looks pointedly at Penelope, who eagerly nods her head.

"On it, sir." She affirms and he moves on to his next task.

"JJ, Emily, I need you to document every other piece of physical evidence from her residence and his. Construct a timeline of events. Try to pinpoint what caused this." The women look to each other before nodding. Hotch then looks to Rossi, who's been staring at the table the entire time.

"And Dave, you'll work with me to strategize questioning." Rossi looks up from the table and gives one concise nod.

Content with everyone's willingness to do overtime for your case, he dismisses them. Hotch waits for everyone to leave before addressing Rossi again.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, and Rossi scrunches his eyebrows together before meeting Hotch's gaze. There's a sadness residing in his eyes.

"I just can't believe it took us so long to take it seriously. I mean really, we see these cases all the time but when it comes to one of our own? We completely dropped the ball. And now she's in the hospital. We're supposed to be the most capable team, but we can't even protect our own." He articulates slowly so the point isn't lost on Hotch.

"We never could've known it would escalate this quickly." Hotch says, taking a seat across from Dave, who shakes his head.

"But we could have. The signs were all there. The flowers, the altering of footage. There were indicators present." Hotch is lost for words as the reality of the situation truly sinks in.

Hotch sighs and looks down at his hands that are folded on the table.

"You're right. We should've seen this before it even happened. But it did, and now we have to make sure Valentine never sees the light of day again." Hotch says, hoping that by seeking justice is makes up for a lack of action.

"Yeah we'll lock him away. But do you think she's going to come back? I mean after all this, how could she trust us again?" Rossi asks, exasperation replacing the sadness.

"I don't know." Hotch answers truthfully. He knows that when you recover and are released from the hospital that there's some chance you'll retire from the team. And he couldn't blame you.

"And the kid. You saw how much she means to him. I've never seen him act like that before. During any of it. You saw that picture too, and you saw how he shot through that door, you know exactly what I mean." Rossi says and stands from the table. Hotch rises as well, and he nods.

"I know Dave." Is all he can come up with. Rossi claps a hand on Hotch's shoulder.

"Just have to take this one day at a time." Rossi says before leaving the room, leaving Hotch alone.

Rossi's words repeat in Hotch's mind. What if you decide to not come back? Do you blame the team for what happened? Will Spencer blame the team? Will he leave too? Will you be okay? Will they be able to ensure Valentine's life sentence?

Question after question swirls in his mind until it becomes overwhelming. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists in frustration. He can't help but to blame himself for the team's lack of action. After all, he knew weird things were happening and there was more he could've done sooner that might've prevented this from ever happening.

And he knows the truth, the truth is that Spencer is the only one who took you seriously from the very beginning. And it's because of that bond the two of you share that Hotch knows deep down, that if you leave then Spencer will leave too. Maybe not right away, but soon after.

Hotch can see clear as day that you two love each other deeply. And he knows that Spencer is not prepared to lose you. Not to Valentine and certainly not to this job.

But he has no control over your decision. And he shouldn't stress about things that are out of his control. So instead, he walks out of the room and begins to stress about things he can control, like the compilation of evidence against Valentine.

And so he joins the team and gets to work.

———

Your mind is alive before you can even muster the strength to open your eyes. You hear squeaking shoes on tiled floors, the beep of a monitor somewhere near your head. Whispered voices come and go. But you can't seem to focus on one thing at a time, the sounds blur together.

And you don't know how long you're suspended in this state of mind. All you know is that your eyes are heavy and your throat burns. But you can't move to get a drink, you can't even open your eyes no matter how hard you try.

So you succumb to sleep once again.

And then you awake once more, much like the last time. But now you hear voices and they're closer. They sound like they're near the beeping machine behind you. The tone and cadence sound familiar but you can't make out their words.

You feel trapped within your own body and you begin to panic because you can't open your eyes. You're here and you're awake but you can't open your eyes and you can't move.

You hear the beeping sound behind you grow louder and the voices you heard are now gone, replaced with squeaking shoes against tile. And before you know it you feel people's hands on your arms and on your forehead. It feels like they're trying to soothe you, and it's working.

The beeping behind you calms and voices are heard once more. And this time, you try your hardest to listen in. You really want to know who's here and what they're saying. 

"Hotch wants updates on her. I'm going to give him a call. Will you be okay here for a while?" A deep voice says. 

"Yeah, yeah I'll be fine." Another voice says, and this one you recognize. You'd recognize his voice anywhere, that's Spencer. You feel his hand on yours and you desperately try to open your eyes, but you can't, you're still stuck.

"I think you can hear me. At least I hope you can." Spencer talks again, his hand gently squeezing yours. You hear him sigh before continuing, 

"I want you to know that we got him. We got him and he's never going to hurt you again. I'm so, so sorry that I wasn't there to protect you. I should've been there. I should've seen the signs that we were being set up but instead I was blinded. I was so focused on catching him that I didn't slow down and think rationally about it. I am so sorry." He raises your hand and places a delicate kiss to the back of it. And you feel something wet drip onto your skin too. 

His words make your heart ache and you want to open your eyes and let him know that none of this is his fault. He shouldn't blame himself one bit. You hear him sniffle and it ignites a fire of determination within you. With all your might, you try to at least wiggle your fingers. You just need to show him that you hear him. 

And so with all of your might and strength you can muster, you feel the tips of your fingers twitch. And then you do it again. You hear Spencer take a sharp inhale and you know that you're message reached him. He knows. 

"Do that again if you can hear me." He whispers. And so you try your best to do it again. 

It must've worked because the next thing you feel is Spencer's lips on your forehead. The feeling of his hand holding yours and his lips on your skin sends a warm sensation through your body. And you hear the monitor beep louder again. 

But then the moment is interrupted as someone enters the room, apparent from the sound of their shoes. 

"Pretty boy I think she likes you too, look at that heart rate." The voice is undeniably Derek's. His voice is clearer now and you know that nobody else calls Spencer "Pretty Boy". 

"What did the doctors say?" Spencer asks him. 

"They said it shouldn't be too much longer. Her vitals have stabilized." Derek answers. 

The room falls back into a silence, the only sound to be heard is the monitor behind you. Spencer's hand stays on yours and you feel yourself being lulled back into sleep by the rhythmic monitor.

———

Spencer looks down at your sleeping face and wishes there was something he could do to nurse you back to health in an instant. He thinks it's his fault you're laying in this bed in the first place. Out of everyone on the team, he should've been able to see that Valentine was setting everyone up. That was his hail Mary; to get everyone out of the office on a goose chase so that he could get to you. 

And Spencer knows that if the team had arrived even one minute later that there may not have been a chance to save you. It's a miracle you're alive, even more of a miracle that your hyoid bone didn't break or that nothing internally was severely damaged. The deep bruises were superficial the doctors had said. 

Spencer isn't sure how long he's been standing by your bedside with your small hand enveloped in his. And truthfully, he doesn't care. He would stand there for an eternity if it meant you would be okay. 

"Hotch just texted. They're planning to question him tomorrow, time constraints of the arrest and all." Derek says, showing Spencer the screen. 

With a sigh, Spencer knows that questioning Valentine tomorrow is cutting it close. The team will be strapped for time trying to piece everything together without him there. But he can't fathom the thought of leaving you, not now. 

"They'll be able to pull it off." Spencer says, less than confident that everything will be concisely and plainly compiled. 

"Spencer, we both know that you know exactly what happened, beat for beat. They need you back there. She's okay. I'll stay here with her. You go help the team secure the arrest." Derek says, walking over and putting a hand on Spencer's shoulder. 

Spencer looks back at your peaceful face littered in dark blue bruises and it makes his stomach turn. While he would rather pull his own teeth than leave you here, he knows that he can leave no room for error when it comes to Valentine. And he knows that besides you, he's the only one who knows the depth of everything that happened. His eyes drift from you to Derek and he sighs.

"I'll go help them. But if anything changes here, let me know right away." Spencer lets go of your hand and forces himself to walk away. 

"I will." Derek answers as Spencer exits the room and heads back to the office. Each step he takes he feels like high-force winds are pushing against him, making it difficult to keep going forward. 

When he arrives at the office, everyone regards him quietly. There's a tension between him and the team, one that likely won't go addressed until this is all over with. But Spencer knows it's about that picture, about him shooting the door, about him crying as the EMTs took your body away in an ambulance. 

But he can't afford to dwell on that, not now. He pushes his sleeves to his elbows and finds Hotch, ready to get to work and do it quickly. There's no room for error here.

———

You hear the beeping monitor again and feel the blankets had been pulled up higher on your body. You don't even remember going back to sleep. But you do remember that Spencer is here. But you don't feel his hand on yours anymore, his warmth is gone. 

Panicking slightly, you wonder where he is and what happened. Is he okay? The monitor picks up frequency and you feel someone touch your arm. But it's not Spencer, no the skin is too rough, the fingers too big.

"Hey, hey it's me. I'm here and you're okay." Derek says to you. 

And you're thankful he's here but you need to know where Spencer is, you need to know he's not in trouble. What if Valentine got to him? What if Valentine has his hands wrapped around Spencer's throat, draining the life from him slowly? The thought of Valentine hurting Spencer like he hurt you sends a rush of adrenaline so severe through you, that you think for a split second you had been struck by lightning. 

Suddenly, the room isn't dark anymore. No, it's blindingly bright. The white light burns. But eventually, it calms into something more manageable. And then you see Derek standing right next to you, his mouth open, his eyes full of worry and then joy. 

"I knew you could do it. I knew you could." He says and smiles. 

You go to say something but your throat burns and is too dry so instead you end up choking and coughing. 

"Here, here you go." Derek holds a cup of water to your lips. Your shaky hands land atop of his and you help him tip the cup so you can get a drink. Every swallow feels like you're consuming liquid sandpaper. 

"Spencer." You whisper, trying to ignore the sharp, stinging pain. 

"He's okay. He left a few hours ago to help the others." Derek says, pulling a chair over to your bedside. You make eye contact with him.

"Valentine?" You ask, needing to know if he's still in custody. 

"We got him. Spencer's filling in the others about what happened. He's never going to see the light of day again for what he did to you." Derek says and you can hear the clear conviction in his voice. 

There's a tiny part of you that becomes angry at his words. If they had believed you sooner, this wouldn't have happened. But instead they chose to believe you were fabricating evidence to make yourself look better. And for what? To gain clout over a case that happened months ago? To make yourself look better overall? To prove you're just as good as the rest?

You opt to say nothing back. Because one, your throat feels like it's made of molten lava, and two, because you really can't find anything positive to say to him. You almost died because they didn't believe you were in any real danger, not until it was too late. 

Staring down at the water cup in your hands, you wonder if you can go back to the team after this. Would you be able to trust them and rely on them in the field? Would they take you more seriously? Would they treat you the same? Or would their guilt cause them to treat you differently? 

There's too many questions racing through your head and you feel a headache coming on. You wish Spencer was the one who stayed with you, but you know that he's the best equipped in briefing the team. But then again, so are you. 

"When can I leave?" You ask Derek. 

"I'll go find someone and ask." He offers a tight smile and leaves the room. 

If you can get out of here then you can find your way back to Spencer. You would be able to help the team, maybe for the last time. 

———

"Are you sure that you're well enough for this?" Hotch asks you with crossed arms. You give him a nod, knowing that you're more than capable of doing this. 

Hotch simply nods and looks down at the folder in his hand. You stare through the one-way glass at the man who tried to kill you. He's sitting there, chained to the table, looking like a pathetic coward. All of his confidence he had when he was strangling you had been washed away, revealing his true self; an insecure excuse of a man. 

You hear someone else walk in behind you and turn to see Spencer. His hair is disheveled and the stubble on his jaw is prominent, evidence of his lack of sleep. You meet him halfway and he welcomes you into his arms. He holds you like he may never again, his arms wrapped around you securely. 

Hotch is obviously ignoring what you two are doing and is immersing himself in the file folder that you helped them complete yesterday. 

The hospital staff had been reluctant to let you go, but you were determined to get out of there. You pushed through the pain and told them that because your injuries are superficial, that there's no reason to stay any longer. And sure, they tried to persuade you to get more imaging done, but you denied. All you cared about was getting back to Spencer. 

"Are you ready for this?" You ask him, your voice weak and scratchy. Spencer's jaw tightens and he nods, looking through the glass. 

"More than ready." His tone is flat and you know that he's trying to get himself into the right mindset. 

Hotch didn't want to let Spencer participate in the questioning, but Spencer was unrelenting. Spencer told Hotch that Valentine has a personal prejudice against him and that they could use his anger against him. And Spencer was banking on the fact that Valentine hates him to secure an airtight confession. And eventually, Hotch agreed once he saw that Spencer could control his own anger. 

"Spencer." Hotch says, causing the two of you to step away from one another. 

"I'm ready." Spencer answers, face void of emotion. Hotch nods and you watch as they step into the interrogation room together. You take a seat on the other side of the glass and feel your heart beat heavily, anxious for what's about to happen.

Hotch and Spencer take their seats opposite of Valentine and you see Valentine's eyes lock onto Spencer immediately with malice. You lean forward in your seat. 

"You've been read your charges and your rights, do you understand them?" Hotch begins the questioning. Valentine nods, 

"I do." And you know that's the all clear needed to dig into the interrogation. 

Hotch lays out the altered documents on the table, taking his time to spread them out. Valentine looks over each paper, his eyes scanning over the words. He says nothing. 

"These are documents you altered under the credentials of another agent." Hotch states, not breaking eye contact. He doesn't frame it as a question, because if it's presented as a known statement, it gives further incentive for someone to want to defend themselves and provide alternate facts. 

"How do you know she wasn't the one to make those changes herself?" Valentine asks and a small smirk breaks out across your face. He just admitted that he knew the credentials used belonged to a woman and that there were in fact changes made. 

"We know because I personally review each and every one of her case reports. Hers are not nearly as detailed as these, and there are phrasings included that are not conducive to our report writing policy." Hotch fires back flawlessly. You see Valentine clench his hands on the table; he's getting flustered. 

"And in addition to these documents, you were able to spoof credentials to make entry into our office and retag evidence and alter the footage." Hotch says, his tone indicative of being impressed. This is to build Valentine's confidence back up and stroke his ego. When people are overly confident in their abilities, they tend to slip up more by trying to prove themselves. 

"You can't prove that." Valentine resists. Hotch takes a moment before responding. 

"You chose to wait until the cameras were being replaced to send the flowers. You wanted to remain anonymous. You wanted her to work as hard for you as you were working for her. So you used your knowledge and expertise to your advantage." Hotch says, trying to further inflate Valentine's self confidence. 

"She just needed to see the lengths I would go for her." Valentine slips up again. 

"And you didn't stop there to show her that did you? You orchestrated a false cellphone ping at an abandoned location so the rest of the team would go there and leave her in the office. You knew we wouldn't bring her along, so you created an opportunity for yourself." Hotch doubles down again, knowing that Valentine can't help but to brag about his perceived accomplishments. 

"It wasn't that hard. I knew with him around I wouldn't have another chance. So I did what I had to do." Valentine glares at Spencer as he speaks. 

And you know this signals for Spencer to take over the questioning. They've got under his skin, they've got him flustered, and they've got him overly confident. Valentine has so much conflicting thoughts in his head right now that he likely can't think straight or have the foresight to see what's happening. 

"And you hated seeing her with me so much that you entered her home and placed a camera." Spencer states. Valentine crosses his arms. Spencer licks his lips and leans forward, continuing his approach. 

"But before that you entered her home while she wasn't there and took her sweater. That was a shame, that was my favorite one she wore." Spencer then leaned back and sighed, acting as if he could only think of you in that sweater in that moment. 

Valentine's fists clench on the tabletop once more, the vein in his neck starts bulging. He's close to cracking and losing it all. And it's all being done in record time. No matter how smart Valentine thinks he is, the BAU is smarter. 

"You don't deserve to have her like that." Valentine growls through gnashing teeth. Spencer tilts his head to the side. 

"Have her like what?" Spencer provokes him further. Valentine takes a measured breath. 

"You were in her room, I saw you. You were in her house and you had your hands on her. I just needed a small part of her." Valentine now starts to sound unhinged. His voice rises in volume, and Spencer keeps pressing on. He stands from his seat and leans forward on the table. 

"I was there because she wanted me there. In fact she begged for me. It was nice of you to send her those flowers, it just made it more easy for me to take credit for it all." Spencer makes eye contact with Valentine, and refuses to get back into his seat, instead opting to stay leaned forward. Valentine's face is red, his veins popping, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. 

"Those were for her to see how much she means to me. You couldn't let me have that, you couldn't even let me speak to her that night at the bar. You put those curtains up so I couldn't see her anymore. No you took her all for yourself. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't sit around and do nothing while you got every part of her to yourself. I tried to forgive her, I really did. But she wasn't grateful for what I was doing for her. I was trying to give her the credit she's due and the love she deserves. I did it all for her! And you just swooped in and took it all for your fucking self!" Valentine screams in one breath. His chest is heaving and his face is as red as a tomato.

And after a minute of silence, Spencer stands back to his full height. 

"Thank you." He says and walks out of the room without another word. But Hotch stays. 

Once Spencer walks out Valentine loses his composure again. But Hotch is there for more, they're going to take everything they can get from him. 

"And what were your plans for the photos in your basement?" Hotch's voice starkly contrasts Valentine's delirium. 

"Those were for myself. I needed to see her any time I wanted. But I had to cut him out of the picture." He answers, glaring at Hotch. 

"And so you loved her that much that you were willing to kill her?" Hotch's voice is soft. This causes Valentine to look down at the table where he stares at his hands. 

"I didn't want to. But I couldn't live knowing he was with her. If she were to die I would've killed myself right after, so that we could be together in another life." Valentine answers and it sends a chill through your body. 

"And how did you plan to kill her and yourself?" Hotch's head tilts to the side.

"I brought the knives. I wasn't going to cut her skin with those blades, I would never. But once she was gone I was going to stab myself in the neck." He answers casually, as if Hotch had asked him about the weather. 

"I see." Hotch closes the folder and stares at Valentine. You had one request of Hotch, and you know he's about to fulfill it. 

"Well, you succeeded in one step of that plan." Hotch prefaces, piquing Valentine's interest once again. 

"What do you mean?" Valentine asks, eyes wide. 

"I mean you were successful in strangling her. She passed away hours after she was transported to the hospital." Hotch tells him. 

Valentine lets out a loud sob and hits the table with his fists over and over again. 

"No! No I couldn't have! No!" He screams until his face begins to turn purple. Hotch then stands from his seat and adjusts his tie, unphased by the drama of Valentine.

"Thank you for your time." He says without emotion and walks out of the room to join you and Spencer.

Valentine carries on with his screaming and crying, the three of you watch him from the other side. But you can only look for so long before it starts disturbing you. 

You stand from your seat and leave, content with how things ended. Valentine will live the rest of his days thinking you're dead. And that's exactly how you wanted it to be. 

———

Rain drops pelt your window and thunder rolls above in the sky. Your apartment is empty and the sounds echo off the walls. It had taken you about two weeks to get everything packed up and moved out. It would've taken longer, but you had some wonderful help. 

Spencer enters the empty apartment, his hair wet from the rain outside. He sighs as he stands beside you, taking in the emptiness. It's odd to see your apartment like this, but you know it's necessary if you want to move on with your life. You couldn't stay here any more, all you could think about was Valentine. And if you're dead to him, you want him to be dead to you as well. 

Valentine had been sentenced to two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. Hotch had some connections to the judge and was able to secure the maximum sentence. And for that you're grateful. 

"You ready?" Spencer asks you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

You take one last look around the empty apartment and remember the good times shared here. The happiness you felt when you first moved in, the giddiness of Spencer staying over, and how you two made this like your own haven for a short while. Some of those memories stay untainted, but the most recent ones leave a sour taste in your mouth. And you don't want your memories with Spencer to be distorted any more. 

"I'm ready." You answer and the two of you leave. You hear the door click shut behind you and you keep moving forward, refusing to look back. 

The two of you arrive at Spencer's apartment about ten minutes later. Or, you should say you arrived at the apartment you now share with Spencer ten minutes later. He opens the door for you and you smile, feeling over the moon. 

Your furniture now complements his, your photos hang on the wall next to his, and your clothes now occupy the space beside his. The two of you had made this your sanctuary, your own personal utopia where you two blend perfectly with one another. 

Every night you're able to fall asleep in his arms and wake to his perfect face every morning. You still love the way his eyes squint when he first wakes up and how he insists that you make pancakes every Saturday morning. 

There's no pressure or threat looming over the two of you any more and you're able to grow closer and closer naturally and without stress. Truthfully, you had never loved anyone like you love Spencer. The love you have for him is rooted deep within your soul and blooms higher and higher each and every day. 

The two of you sit on the couch together, Spencer's leaned up against the arm and you've fitted yourself between his legs, leaning your head back on his chest. His arms wrap around you and you sigh, feeling nothing but pure peace and contentment.

After Valentine was sentenced and everything started going back to normal, you and Spencer had discussed what the future held. You had told him the truth, that you didn't want a future without him in it, you didn't want to live in a world without him in your life. And thankfully, he felt the same way. 

You took an extended leave of absence from the team, just until you figure out if you want to go back or not. Spencer supports your decision either way. But you can't seem to make up your mind. Hotch had given you all the time you need, and you're taking full advantage of it. Spencer had taken a month off as well, the two of you using this time to focus on nothing but each other. 

You tilt your head back and look up at him through your lashes and he smiles down at you. 

"Hi there pretty girl." His smile widens, revealing his perfect teeth. Adoration fills your heart. 

"I love you." You tell him, and he leans down and kisses your forehead gently. 

"And I love you more, much more than you could ever know, with all my heart." He answers and hugs you tightly to his body. 

You melt into his touch and take in his intoxicating smell. You'll never get over the way he holds you, the way his hands map out every curve of your body, how his kisses you like his life depends on it. How he looks at you as if you had personally painted the night sky.

And now you know that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral into something all consuming. 

But this love is tender, this love is kind. This love you and Spencer share is pure and true. And you will happily live with this love for the rest of your days. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @yondiii@juhdoche@themarauderseraslut@shardsofmarxx@mel-vaz @bippityboppityboob1tch @babyspiderling @honestlyloving @emisback @thatredlipped-classic @desperately-seeking-serotonin @threespacemonkeys @small-and-violent @ropickle @honestlybabymiracle @hiireadstuff @suckstobrlaurie @random000000sblog @mynameiskelly @emma-e-a @pleasantwitchgarden @your-favorite-god @gghostwriter @all2unwell24 @haleyshue97 @placidus