Killer Affair | Spencer Reid Short Story

Final Smile

Gwen

"He wants to see you," Hotch randomly says this at the end of our interview. He had come to ask me questions and was now leaving with saying this to me.

"I know." I look off to the side, I don't want to think about him.

"Gwen. They almost have you on death row, that's where you're going. Don't do this for you, do it for him. He deserves that."

I just stare at him. I can't bare to see Spencer. I can't.

"I don't want to see him. And you can tell him that." I spit back and Hotch sighs. I'm lying straight through my teeth. I love Spencer. I wouldn't want anything more than to see his face one last time. I knew I was bound for death but I couldn't do that to him. I'd done enough damage. I wasn't going to loop him back in just to break his heart when he finds out my fate.

As soon as the cell door clicks shut, I feel the weight of Hotch's words pressing down on me, heavier than the bars surrounding me. Do it for him. know he's right, in a way. Spencer deserves some kind of closure, and if I had any courage left, I'd give it to him. But courage is something I used up a long time ago, burned through it like the rest of my humanity.

I stare at the bleak walls, refusing to let myself think about Spencer. He's the one thing I don't deserve to think about, the one thing I can't bear to ruin any further. Letting him in now, at the end of everything... that would be cruel. He's already seen the worst of me. There's no reason to let him watch me walk toward my death.

But the truth is, I love him. I know that much. It's buried under layers of guilt and regret, but it's there, clear as day. I love him, and I want nothing more than to see his face, to hold onto the last piece of light in my life. But I've dragged him down with me too many times, hurt him in ways I can't take back. This is my punishment, and he deserves better than to watch me go.

The final day comes faster than I thought it would. I don't know what I expected, but somehow, I thought there'd be more time. More time to regret, more time to feel afraid, more time to make peace with everything I've done. But there's no peace, only a numbness that settles over me as I'm escorted down the sterile, echoing halls. My chains clink against the floor with each step, a constant reminder of where I'm going and why.

When I enter the chamber, I don't look up at first. I keep my eyes on the floor, on the shoes of the guards beside me, on anything but the room ahead. But then, as I lie down and they begin to strap me in, I feel the urge to look one last time, to face the ending with my eyes open.

I raise my gaze slowly, and the first thing I see—the only thing that matters—is Spencer.

He's standing at the back of the room, watching me with eyes that are already filled with tears. I feel like I've been punched in the gut, the air knocked out of me as I realize what I've done. I'd pushed him away, denied him, hurt him, and still... he's here. He came. He's here to see me through to the very end.

I can feel the tears welling up in my own eyes as I watch him, and suddenly, I'm filled with this overwhelming regret, this crushing sorrow that's been building for so long. I want to scream, to tell him how much he means to me, to apologize for every lie, every hurt, every twisted secret I kept from him. But there's no time for that now. All I can do is stare back, my heart breaking as I see the pain in his face.

"I'm sorry," I manage to whisper, my voice cracking as I struggle to get the words out. "I'm so sorry, Spencer." The words feel useless, too little, too late, but they're all I have. I keep repeating them, desperate for him to know that I mean it. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

His face crumples, and I can see the tears streaming down his cheeks. He's trying to stay strong, to hold himself together, but I can see how much this is hurting him. I want to reach out, to touch him, to do anything to take away his pain, but I'm trapped, bound by the choices I made and the consequences I earned.

"I love you," I choke out, the words barely audible. It's the truth, raw and bare, stripped of all the lies and masks I've worn. "I love you, Spencer."

He nods, just barely, and I see him mouth the words back to me, a silent promise that he'll carry this with him even after I'm gone. It's the only comfort I have now, knowing that somehow, he still loves me, despite everything. Despite the monster I became.

The room goes quiet, and I feel the cold prick of the needle in my arm. Panic rises in my chest, but I force myself to keep looking at him, to hold onto him for as long as I can. I can feel the drug starting to work, my vision blurring, my heartbeat slowing, but I keep my eyes locked on Spencer, holding onto his face as my last tether to this world.

"Spencer..." My voice is barely a whisper now, fading as the darkness closes in. I want to say more, to keep apologizing, to keep telling him I love him, but the words slip away, lost in the haze.

As the last of my strength leaves me, I give him one final smile, a small, fragile thing that carries everything I can't say. It's the only gift I have left to give him, a broken promise of what might have been.

And then everything goes black.

————

We're wrapped up in each other under the blankets, tangled together as sunlight spills across the room. Spencer's hair is a mess, and I tease him for attempting breakfast in bed, despite his complete lack of cooking skills. There's toast that's slightly burned, eggs that aren't exactly scrambled, and orange juice that's more pulp than juice, but I eat it all anyway, smiling as he watches me. I lean over to kiss him, laughing as I whisper, "Thank you." This, I think, is happiness—small, simple, perfect.

————

I'm trying to teach Spencer how to make my favorite recipe, and it's a complete disaster. He fumbles with the ingredients, and I have to guide his hands, laughing as we make a mess of the kitchen. By the time we're done, there's flour everywhere, and the food is barely edible, but we're both laughing too hard to care. I look at him, flour on his nose, his smile wide, and think this might be the happiest I've ever been.

————

We're curled up on opposite ends of the couch, each with our own books, our feet touching in the middle. I glance up occasionally to watch him reading, his face so peaceful it makes my heart ache. After a while, I slide over, resting my head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around me without a word, still absorbed in his book. We sit like that, quietly, the silence comfortable and warm.

————

Spencer's making tea, and I flip through the radio until an old, slow song comes on. On impulse, I grab his hand and pull him into a dance in the middle of the kitchen, swaying to the music. He's awkward at first, but I tease him, helping him loosen up until we're moving together in sync. By the end of the song, he's smiling, his hands warm on my back, and I feel this strange sense of belonging I never thought I'd feel.

————

One night, I drag Spencer up to the rooftop of a nearby building. We lie side by side on an old blanket, staring up at the stars while he points out constellations and shares the myths behind them. I'm fascinated, but mostly I just like listening to him talk. When he starts to get self-conscious, I reach over, squeeze his hand, and tell him I love hearing him. He smiles, and we stay there for hours, wrapped in each other and the vastness of the night sky.

————

It's our first real movie night, and we're buried under a mountain of blankets with popcorn everywhere. He's attempting to explain the plot twists of an old Hitchcock film, but I'm barely paying attention to the movie—I'm too busy watching him. When he spoils the ending, I toss popcorn at him, and he laughs, finally giving in to just enjoying the moment. Eventually, I lean my head on his shoulder, and we finish the movie in comfortable silence, our fingers intertwined under the blanket.

————

I'm gone.

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AN: THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER