Ghost of You ~ Spencer Reid

Ch. 17 | Scarlet Stained Hands

"You're in my head. Always."
- Always, Gavin James

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November, 2019:

3 months.
91 days.
2,190 hours.
7884008.64 seconds.
7.884e+9 milliseconds

That's how long it'd been since that day.

God, I miss him so much I'm starting to sound a little like him...except I had to actually use google.

I've idiotically written him nearly each day since. I know he'll  never read them, but I feel as though I owe him. He wrote me 15 years worth of letters, so in return, I might as well write to him for the rest of my life.

The rate of which we have cases has slowed down drastically. It's not our fault the case load has lessened since his death, it's just the board feels as though we aren't as well-working as we used to be. The truth is we aren't. How could we be? Emily nearly resigned after he died. Garcia shut down. JJ and Rossi resided themselves more to each of their families rather than their work. Luke and Tara were the only once who seemed to be adjusting properly, and still they weren't exactly well oiled machines. As for me, it's getting easier. It's not as bad as it was the first few weeks. I'd either be in a state of nothing, tears, or diving into my work at an unhealthy rate to ignore my pain.

We still haven't caught whoever Jane Tyler was referring to during her last moments alive. We found Jane's husband's body less than two days after it all went down. He'd been bound and shot in the head. All we know is for some reason whoever was holding Jane's husband captive at the time needed Jane to kill Spencer and used me to do it. The guilt used to be overwhelming. Now I'm more numb than anything.

Now, it's a normal Thursday at the BAU. Everyone was silent buried in mounds of paperwork. I was chewing on my pen; a habit Spencer used to always scold me for.

"Do you know how many germs are on the end of that pen?" he'd say. "I do. 200 bacteria per square inch, y/n!"

I giggled a little to myself at the memory when suddenly Garcia rushed past everyone in the bullpen and into Emily's office, shutting the door and turning down the blinds. We all immediately got up and walked over to Tara's desk which was closest to Emily's door.

"Wonder what that's about," Luke wondered aloud, nearly burning himself when he took a sip of his coffee.

"Maybe we finally have a case," JJ sighed, all of us staring at the door. We couldn't see or hear much with the door shut and the blinds closed, which Emily didn't do often, unless it was absolutely confidential. Something made us feel as though this time might be different.

"I hope so," Tara said. "I never thought I would be so sick of paperwork."

"Shhh," Rossi said suddenly from behind, surprising all of us. "I can't hear what's going on."

It was only a few more minutes of listening to muffled conversations when Emily's door opened and all of us scattered, acting as though we weren't attempting to eavesdrop.

"We have a case." Emily said, an almost triumphant look in her eyes. We all smiled, making our way to gather in the conference room.

"3 bodies have been found on the sides of highways, here in D.C." Garcia stated, flashing the gruesome images of multiple middle aged men ,who'd been shot in the head, onto the screen.