You'll Never Be Whole Until You Lose Control- Spencer Reid

Chapter 32: Pseudologia Fantastica

"Fill the air with what you like

Another weekend massacre of opinion

Don't be afraid of the knife, sometimes you have to cut the limb to survive" Pseudologia Fantastica, Foster the People

Summary: Anna learns the hard way the dangers of Spencer's job

Anna

I was able to distract myself all day from the gut feeling of something incredibly wrong, but as evening rolled around, the paranoia won over. I had worked on our website, called my mother and done countless other tasks to distract myself but the thoughts remained.

I paced back and forth in my room. My mind raced with infinite terrors and possibilities, fear boiling beneath the surface of my skin.

He's fine, you're being paranoid.

But it was a sinking feeling in my chest, and I could barely get enough air into my lungs. I held onto my phone, looking at the messages that had been left unread for four hours. I know; I'm being dramatic but four hours felt like eternity when the last weeks we had spent our time joined at the hip. I had no evidence to believe that anything was wrong except for the fear that built up in my chest.

I trusted my intuition; she was rarely wrong.

So when my phone rang, I picked it up before the first ring finished.

"Spencer?" I gasped.

"Hey, pretty girl," his voice was tired but warm as inviting as ever. It was music to my ears, and calmed me immediately.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said. I could sense the lie of omission; he always shielded me from the horrors he saw at work. "You sound worried."

"I just had this feeling, and then you didn't text me back..." I blubbered on.

"I was busy, sweetheart. You don't have to worry about me."

"That's easier said then done," I let out a nervous laugh. He was silent for a long moment, and I could tell that things were decidedly notfine. I could hear a thousand "I'm sorry"'s on the tip of his tongue but he never said them. I should have done more to help him, and made sure that he knew how much I loved him.

Instead, I said, "I miss you."

"I miss you more," there was a sadness to his voice; a longing and yearning.

"When will you be home?"

"We leave in the morning."

"I can't wait to see you."

"And I you."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

All I heard was static crackling for a long moment. I hoped for the truth, but I knew him better. "Y-yes."

I knew it was futile, but I was stubborn. "You know you can tell me anything-"

And he was just as stubborn. "Anna, I said I'm fine," he snapped.

Tears burned my eyes suddenly. "I'm sorry," I mumbled over the lump that rose in my throat.

'God damn Scorpio.'

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. That wasn't fair," his voice was filled with regret. "It's been... a long day. I don't want to talk about it."

I didn't know what to say so silence dragged on. We listened to each other's breathing for a long moment, worlds and many miles away.

"You should get some sleep," he finally said, voice sounding so tired. "It's late there."