Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

When His Angels Don't Sing

Spencer

I sit in Stephie's apartment, the place that still feels like her, even though she's gone. I shouldn't be reading her journals, I know that. But it's all I have left. They're the last traces of her thoughts, her heart, the things she felt but could never quite say to me. The words she wrote before she could say them aloud, before her walls came down. Every page is a doorway into her mind, her soul laid bare. And now, it's all I can hold onto.

I keep coming back to this one entry, reading it over and over, as if somehow, if I read it enough, she'll come back. I trace her handwriting with my fingers, memorizing the curves of each letter, feeling the weight of her words sink deeper into me.

Dear Diary,
I miss him so much it hurts. Spencer, with all his weird little stupid quirks that made me fall for him in the first place. The way he would ramble on about the most random facts, his mismatched socks, the way he scrunches his nose when he's deep in thought. I miss all of it.

It's so frustrating to love someone this much. To love him so much I hate him for it. For making me feel things I never wanted to feel. For breaking through my defenses with his awkward charm and brilliant mind. For being the one person who could see through my lies, the one person I couldn't fool.

Every day without him feels like a piece of me is missing. I hate that he's the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep. I hate that I still look for him in the bullpen when I walk into work, I hate that I can't let him go, even when it's my fault he's gone. But most of all, I hate that I still love him. More than anything.

XOXO, Stephie.

The words are like a knife, twisting inside me. I miss her too. I miss her so much I can barely breathe. Flashbacks from that night flood my mind, invading every quiet moment, every second I try to close my eyes. It's like I'm stuck in that moment—replaying it over and over, trying to find a way it could have ended differently. Trying to believe that it's not real.

Three Days Ago:
JJ walks out of the hospital room with Hotch by her side, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with red. She's barely holding it together, her expression haunted. I'm the first to stand, my body moving before my mind can catch up. Emily follows right behind me, then Derek. Soon, everyone is on their feet, tension thick in the air.

"How is she? Can I see her?" I don't wait for an answer. I try to push past them, desperate to get into that room. But Hotch grabs me, his grip firm, unyielding.

"Reid, don't." His voice is low, but there's something in it that makes my stomach drop.

No.

"She didn't make it." JJ's voice cracks, tears spilling over her lashes. Her words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest, knocking the air out of my lungs. My world shatters. Everything in me screams, but no sound comes out.

"No." I shake my head violently. "No, you're lying!" I can feel the heat of my anger rising, boiling over. "You're lying! You're both lying!" My voice echoes in the hallway, but no one moves.

I couldn't believe it. I still can't. I was furious—screaming at them like they were the enemy. Yelling at JJ, accusing her of being a liar. Hotch too. They wouldn't let me see her body. They told me it was better this way—that she didn't look like herself anymore after the beating. They said it was better to remember her as she was.

But how could I? How can I let her go when I wasn't even allowed to say goodbye?

Her funeral is today. I woke up in her apartment, the bed still faintly smelling like her. I've been staying here, surrounded by her things, trying to keep the illusion alive that she's just...away for a while. That she's still out there, walking the Earth. That any minute she'll walk through the door, roll her eyes at me, and tell me I've been sulking too long. But the silence is deafening.