This Love: Spencer Reid

one

i remember seeing the scared look in hotch's eyes when he walked into his office. he had told me to meet him there because we needed to "talk".

with hotch "talk" could mean a lot of things. normally none of those being good.

i figured for the sack of overcoming my worries that i was overacting and i would be laughing later about how he had worried me.

but what if i wasn't overeacting? what if emily or derek or jj got hurt? what if my family or i was in danger? i felt the familiar sick feeling in my stomach that i now get whenever i think too much about you.

i sat across from him in one of his uncomfortable chairs that made my legs itch as i waited for him to start talking.

hotch folded his hands and looked me dead in the eye.

"spencer was shot two days ago."

what?

at first i didn't quite process what he said. i remember thinking "spencer"? that's odd. why isn't he calling you reid? he hardly ever calls you spencer. and then thinking spence hasn't answered my calls in the last two days, why's that? and then i thought about what hotch said. and i thought about it again, and again, and again.

"is he...okay?" i asked, my voice getting caught on my throat as i stumbled over my sentence. the question was stupid and the answer was obvious but what i really wanted to say wouldn't come out.

he studied my face carefully as he thought about what to say next.

"it was fatal. he died quickly with diana next to him." 

you had been shot.
you had been killed.
you had been shot and killed two days ago.

obviously hotch was lying. what he said made no sense. you had a good aim, you wouldn't let someone get you. what if you were pretending to be dead, like emily?

"that's impossible." i stated. i noticed the obvious crack in my voice and realized that the words came out in a desperate tone. hotch's eyes softened and he frowned slightly, shaking his head a little.

he probably thought i was in denial.

which would be understandable.

i mean, if you were dead.

but you weren't dead. you couldn't be.

"fran, he didn't suffer."

i nodded quickly more for the sake of the conversation then anything else.

the last words you had said to me, the last time you saw me, was burned into my mind.

i wondered then if i would ever get any water to put out the fire.

"i would understand if you need time off. so far i've only informed jj and garcia who both decided they need the rest of the week to themselves, so no one would think less of you if you felt the same. we have other units that can carry our weight for a little."

i blinked as hard as i could which was stupid. why shouldn't i be crying? i have every right to spill tears over you. but for some reason crying made it feel real. like i thought that somehow if i didn't cry for you then this wasn't actually happening to me.

to you.

i knew the implications behind what aaron was saying. my brain is the most valuable tool for the team and if my heads not in the right space then i'm no good.

i felt a firm hand on my shoulder and i realized that hotch had stood up from his chair.

i nodded again and gasped quietly, the inevitable tears drowning my flushed cheeks.

the room around me went blurry and i felt a cold panic wash over me, mixed with the silly childish humiliation of crying in front of someone.

where were you?

hotch walked to the other side of his desk and pulled me into a firm hug. he held my head with his hand and let me rest my forehead on his chest as i shook.

it was kind of like the hugs you would give me when there weren't words that could be used.

which for you, was uncommon.

you almost always had a statistic to share or something to add to the conversation.

until you didn't.

an understanding silence pushed hotch and i apart and he reached for the door.

"hotch,"

he spun around a little too quickly and looked at me sympathetically. "yeah? what is it, fran?"

i took an audibly shaky breath.

"who did this to spence?"

- fran