✓ | 𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗘 · ͟͟͞͞➳ spencer reid

CHAPTER 38 ━━━

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- she's lost in the clouds

━━━ AFTER CLEARING HIS
head a little bit, Hotch had called Meryl on Saturday morning and told her not to come in on Monday, and she'd be taking a half day on Tuesday.

To this, Meryl had outwardly accepted the demand but was internally groaning. She was perfectly fine, she didn't need this down time that Aaron was so insistent upon. She had stepped out in to the hallway to take the call but now returned to Spencer, who wore the softest smile even in sleep. Her phone screen told her it was just after five in the morning and she crawls back to him after rinsing with mouthwash.

He stirs, rubs his eyes and then looks over at her. "You okay?"

Spencer was glowing in the mellow illumination from his window, shadows allowing the definition of his arms and chest to look that much more breathtaking. Hair fell in to his face in disobedient puffs. "Never better," she answers honestly, kissing his shoulder softly before they both drift back into a melodic sleep.

ೃ⁀➷

Meryl returned home shortly after awakening for the second time that morning and proceeded to get through Sunday and Monday at a snail adjacent pace. No matter what she did, time couldn't seem to go any faster. She needed to get back to work but Hotch had called her on both days to make sure she wasn't overworking herself.

At the office on Tuesday morning, Derek waltzes in to the bullpen and straight over to Spencer's desk. "Hey, pretty boy."

Spencer glances up from his watch. "Oh, good morning. You have plans with Garcia tonight?"

The flirty agent smirks, raises both dark brows. "We got a lot more than plans, baby. What've you got going on with pretty girl? I know you ain't been staring at every clock in this place just because you like watching the second hand pass."

Spencer smiles. "We have pretty big plans, I guess. And that-" he tips his head toward the door, "-is what I'd been waiting on."

Meryl grins brightly as Garcia, JJ, and Emily swarm her, the chatter of high pitched concern echoing over to the two men. She sports her usual offering of breakfast and coffee and then lets the gremlins feast. Spencer takes a moment to appreciate her outfit, a tight fitting black turtleneck tucked into loose grey dress pants with a red belt and matching heels. She wears red lipstick and winged eyeliner with a few gold rings and necklaces. Her style would never not be attractive to Spencer, similar to how Meryl was once again floored by his sweater vest suit situation and the way his hips move as he approaches her.

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and eventually manages to get away from mother JJ. "Hey, doll," Meryl murmurs, hugging him tighter than was normal for her.

He inhales sharply and then laughs it off. "How are you feeling?"

"Peachy!" she chirps, taking a seat at her desk. She kept a miniature corkboard next to her monitor which held a few of her favorite Polaroid pictures. Ren, Joey, and Leona playing checkers; the entire team, herself excluded obviously, wearing elaborately colored tiaras and boas from a case in Austin, Texas when they were granted a day to have fun; Spencer with frosting all over his face after Morgan had smashed a cupcake into his nose; Garcia, JJ, and Emily holding a precarious amount of shopping bags; Rossi holding a giant log of summer sausage. They were all stupid and funny and they meant to world to her.

Spencer rolls his chair the few feet over to her side of the cubicle. "Are you still good for tonight?" he asks. They had reservations at the same restaurant they'd planned to go to for their first date, a little inside joke of sorts. Meryl finds Spencer's hand under the desk and gives it a squeeze. "Yes, sir."

Sir, doctor, princess, Barbie, doll. Every one of those endearments made his stomach jump. He could deal with pet names from everyone else, but something about them coming from her just made his spine tingle.

After a few hours of paperwork, Hotch sends Meryl on her merry way, not forgetting what he had said about making today a half day.

And she goes home, but not for long does she stay there. When the letter arrived this morning, she knew that workday succeeding it would almost certainly be her last. But not their last, not his last.

Meryl did not cry. Not when she read over the piece of mail she'd received yet again, and not when she felt her stomach lurch as the Venus jet's wheels made their break from the ground. She felt only determination, resolve at what she had to do, and hope that Claudia Ferrara would hold true to her word. For although it may be true that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, fury is no match for the inherent act of a woman in love.

ೃ⁀➷

As Spencer packs up his messenger bag on the way home, his fingers snag a slip of lavender colored paper with swooping black ink.

"First best is falling in love. Second best is being in love. Least best is falling out of love. But any of it is better than never having been in love."
- MAYA ANGELOU

know that I am in love with you, Spencer. know that though those words will likely never reach your ears from my mouth, my hand and mind are steady and I sit here with your hand holding mine even in your sleep and I am in love. I am in love down to the very definition which is why I must do this. please forgive me.

xo, M.M

He reads the note one, twice, eight times before panic houses itself low and deep in his chest. The tight hug, the cheery attitude, it all made perfect, sickening sense.

Spencer sprints out of the office before Morgan can even ask what is wrong, sending Garcia and her pile of papers floundering. Every speed limit sign between Quantico and Meryl's home is discarded, similar to his phone volume after calls from the team bombard him. He tries Meryl's number, instantly getting her voicemail. "You've reached Doctor Meryl Murphy. Feel free to leave a voicemail or text message with the nature of your call and I will reply as soon as possible, thank you."

It was so distant. Her voice was emotionless, as it had to be to sound professional. But Spencer didn't need Dr. Murphy, he needed Meryl. He needed his angel. His fun, happy, bright lover. Upon arrival at her house, Spencer finds the heavy black oak door to be closed but unlocked. Inside, everything is pristine and the smell of her brings tears to his eyes. He was so fucking confused, and he hated being out of the loop.

A call from Garcia snaps him out of his thinking. "What?" he seethes, eyes curiously locking on the dining room table.

Garcia's voice is broken when she answers, no fun name or hook to cushion her news. "Two bodies, mouths notched and straw stuffed down their throats. One of them is Marilyn Ferrara."

Spencer chokes on a sob as he reads over the two letters. "I'll meet you guys at the jet."

He thinks about every deity he knows of on the drive over, desperately chanting the same mantra over and over.

Don't let her do it. Not before we've hardly lived.

Approximately two thousand one hundred and nine miles away, Meryl walks in to the home that had, at one time, been the keeper of a great many memories. She enters the stable and the smell of copper, bleach, and the unmistakable stench of death stab at her sinuses. There, in the stalls, lay the many bodies of every piece of livestock on the farm: gutted, stuffed with straw. She allows this to wash over her and hardens her facial expression as the approaches the silhouette of a woman bathed in the shadows.

"I've come to repent," Meryl says, cadence the same monotone of the voicemail.

Out of the shadows seeps Claudia, a cruel smile pulled tight across her angular face. She was playing one of the smartest people in the world and it felt good, damn good. Now all she had do to was eliminate the girl before anyone showed up to ruin it.