Romeo + Juliet | s.r

Chapter 9

TW: panic attacks, PTSD

Spencer's POV:

"Spencer... I am so sorry." Emily's voice sounded distant. She was tired, I could tell. Tired of losing people. But she was so strong, it hurt to see her like this. It hurt, knowing that even she was so drained.

It felt like we were just two marionettes, holding onto life by the thin stings. I rubbed my eyes, my head pounding.

Everything hurt.

"Emily, do you ever feel like maybe, just sometimes, the world's laughing at you? Laughing at your misery? That sometimes, life gives you things just to see how hard you'll break when it takes them away?" I spilled, rambing my haywire thoughts.

"Oh Spencer. You have no idea." Emily sighed. I wonder how many people she'd lost too.

"I knew I was making a mistake. After Maeve, I don't know why I thought this would turn out any better." I said, honestly.

"No, you know what? Don't you ever do that Spencer. Don't you ever shut out your feelings like that. Trust me, it's better to feel everything than to never feel anything at all." Her tone was furious, but I knew deep down she was more mad at herself rather than me.

"I'm so tired. And I feel so weak." It was true, I could literally feel my heart bleed at the thought of her.

Maybe because it only ever beats for her.

"Emily, I don't know what to do." I cried, my whole body shaking.

"There's nothing you can do. Just know that once you hit rock bottom, the only way you can go is up." I let Emily's words sink in, I could tell she was smiling through her phone.

"Get some sleep Spencer, please." She pleaded.

Yeah, I lost Peyton, but I wasn't going to lose anyone else. These people at the BAU cared for me. They were my family. And I was just now realizing, I never once said so much as a thank you to them for still being here. "Thank you, Emily. You mean so much to me."

"Alright, I'm going to stop you there before you get all sappy with me." Emily laughed, and a loud rumble was out of me before I could stop it. I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like this.

"Goodnight, Spencer."

"Goodnight, Emily."

•••

Here I was, standing amongst the crowd, trying my hardest to not break down in front of all these people. Most of them didn't even know her that well, but still, their fake sympathy was glowing off their faces.

The team was here, along with many other people from the unit. None of her personal contacts had attended. Not that we were able to contact any of them anyway. She had told us about how her mom was dead and her dad was rotting in jail. Somehow, she always managed not to talk too much about herself. In reality, I didn't know her. Sure, I knew how she was but I didn't really know why. I didn't know why she was always so sad, why she thought she didn't deserve love. I never profiled her. Maybe, I should've. Maybe, then she'd still be alive, here with me and my heart wouldn't be burning with guilt and the weight of all my regrets.

Today was her funeral. It was long overdue, a month after the initial incident. While I was sulking at home, the rest of the team was hunting down anything that could give us a clue about who she worked for. In the voicemail, she said, "I'm part of this illegal organization. It's filled with people like me. Broken. I had an undercover mission and that's why I came here."

Hotch had a meeting with the chief officer of the CSI Unit but, just like we thought, he never transferred any Agent Peyton Rivera to our unit. Her badge was fake but it looked so real, we figured it was from an ex police officer. We checked with the local police stations around us but we were unable to find any evidence. We also considered the possibility of a hacker. That still led us nowhere.