Spencer Reid One Shots

Machines (Ashes Like Snow Part Two)

I would dig a thousand holes to lay next to you

It had been almost a year. Almost a year since Spencer had last held her in his arms, almost a year since that teeny tiny coffin was lowered into the ground.

Almost a year since everything changed. Everything.

He’d felt grief before, at the age he was it was natural that he’d have experienced grief. Just… Never this sort of grief.

I would dig a thousand more if I needed to

For a short period of time he’d had everything he’d ever wanted. A loving wife, a career he was passionate about. And a baby, a family; something he never actually thought he’d have. And then it was horrifically ripped away from him in the blink of an eye.

He still had the career, of course he did. It would take a lot for the Bureau to fire Reid, they did an awful lot of concession making and rule bending to keep him in the job in the first place just because of his intelligence and skills. But was he passionate about it anymore? Probably not, he didn’t feel passion about anything right now.

He still had the wife too. But to call her loving would have been a lie. Not that Spencer resented her for it. She was trying recently. Since she’d started being medicated three months ago, she had started dragging herself out of bed everyday. She had started bathing herself and cleaning house. And she had finally started talking to Spencer again and not avoiding him like he was the one who had caused their infant to die.

I look around the grave for an escape route of old routines

There doesn’t seem to be any other way

She still cried as did Spencer. He came from work only two nights okay to find her slumped outside of the nursery door, tears running down her face. She’d tried to go in there to air the room out, give it a clean. But the sight of the small white cot had tipped her over the edge. He’d pulled her into his arms and smoothed her hair, crying with her, before tugging the door to that room shut again.

Neither of them knew what to do with their feelings. Neither of them knew how to be their for each other during this time. This time that didn’t seem to have an ending.

Spencer had read plenty of books on how to deal with death and loss, but not one of them could give him a satisfying answer to the question “when would things go back to normal, when would this stop hurting as much?”

He’d tried to get back into as much of a routine as he could. Get up, go to work, work a case, come home. Hotch had excused him from being field based for as long as Spencer needed, he was working from the BAU with Garcia, only travelling locally where required. He wanted… He needed to able to get home quickly in case his wife called him, in case she needed him.

Spencer had considered followings in his wife’s footsteps and taking a trip to his doctor. As intelligent as he was, he could self diagnose though and he didn’t think he was clinically depressed.

Just very very sad and low.

Cause I’ve started falling apart I’m not savouring life

I’ve forgotten how good it could be to feel alive

He sat on the small wooden bench in front of the grave, the bench he could almost guarantee that his wife would have been sat at only hours before. The bench he’d almost had to drag her from on the day of the funeral. It was a peaceful place to be as cemeteries tended to be and Spencer always felt a sense of calm when he came here. Which was strange considering the emotion he felt when he left.