We All Fall Down - A Criminal Minds AU

Two

It wasn't up to you, not really. And he knew this. You had no friends in the city that you could have stayed with, no friends at all actually. Not anymore. You sometimes wondered whether you'd truly had any friends. You'd always been popular in high school and college but it was only after leaving that you realised that people only associated with you because you were pretty. Because back then, you took no shit from anyone. You were the girl guys wanted to sleep with and that girls wanted to be best friends with. But that didn't carry through. Now, you were a shell of your former self. Sure, if required you could still plaster on the mask of 'Spencer Reid's wife', his young trophy that you knew you had once been to him, however inappropriately he had gained you. Not that any of his work colleagues knew about that, there was a reason why you had moved once you had agreed to marry him. Although you were of age, it would have still ruined his reputation.

You wondered if you were to go back there, would any of your old college friends still be around? Or if you were to go back to your Aunt's who had looked after you since you were eleven years old, would she take you in? No, you remembered her words very clearly. 'You'll regret this one day. Just like your mother regretted it. And look where she is now.' If you knew where she was then perhaps you would. But you hadn't seen Amanda Y/L/N since she walked out on you and your father when you were seven years old. Aunt Lorel was right though. And she wouldn't take you in, you were sure of that much.

Two days after Spencer dropped the bomb that you were leaving New York and returning to Nevada, you found yourself on a flight, not seated with your husband. At check in, the customer service clerk had been extremely confused.

"So we have one ticket for first class and one for economy?" she stared at the screen, her brow wrinkled. "I'm so terribly sorry Mr and Mrs Reid, there must have been an issue with the booking. Let me have a look, I'm sure there's another seat in first class we can find for Mrs Reid."

"There's no problem, this is what I booked." Spencer placed his passport back into his briefcase and handed yours back to you. You avoided eye contact with the woman who was now staring at you incredulously. You knew what she was thinking. Why had your husband booked not just separate seats, but seats in completely different parts of the plane?

To punish you. You hated flying at the best of times. Luckily you had foreseen that Spencer would do something like this and had bought your prescription bottle of Xanax along for the ride. You rarely took it now, preferring alcohol as your tranquiliser of choice, but luckily the script was still on repeat and would help get you through the next few days.

Boarding passes printed and handed over, the check in desk clerk giving you a pitying look, you both made your way through the airport. Spencer didn't speak to you at all. When you set the alarms off going through airport security, an old safety pin that you hadn't realised was in your pocket, he didn't even wait for you. You found him sat in a coffee shop after scouring the airport for him. You felt ridiculous, like a lost dog trailing after its human. It was clear he didn't want you here so why could he not just tell you that. Why could he not just give you the divorce papers and release you from this. At least then your hand would be forced and you would have to find a way to survive.

You sat opposite him, drinking from a bottle of water that you'd picked up whilst searching for him. He looked different, so much more confident than when you'd first met him. He was no longer the bumbling 29 year old English professor he once was. Five years on from your first meeting and he'd finally learned how to dress himself, your digs at him about dressing like a grandfather in the first few months of your  relationship obviously sticking. He no longer slathered his hair in product, letting his waves flow freely. And he swapped out his messenger bag for a professional briefcase. For the first time in ages you properly looked at your husband. He looked good. Much better than you did currently.