Spencer Reid One Shots

The Ghost Of You (Softly - Two)

Four months had passed. Four hellish months.
Every second you spent without him was hell on earth.

You didn't get chance to say goodbye to him. That night he'd told you to go home, you now realised that he must have known. And he didn't want to you there. Which meant you hadn't got to tell him all the things you wanted to.

Like how you couldn't imagine life without him. How you'd planned your wedding in your head already even though you'd only been engaged for two months. How excited his Mom had been when you talked to her on the phone, she'd already ordered at least five hats. Hats she'd now had to cancel or send back.

You couldn't tell him how perfect he was, and how thankful you were for meeting him. You couldn't tell him how long you'd actually crushed on him before you plucked up the courage to ask him out, your heart hammering as he'd stuttered out a yes and blushed red. You'd never get the chance to hold him again, to feel his embrace, his lips, his everything.

You hated him for leaving you how he did. Three hours after you'd left, at his insistence.

When Morgan had burst into your bedroom in those early hours, you hadn't needed to ask. The look on his face had been enough and you'd both collapsed in tears. His best friend, and your best friend and lover, your world. Gone.

You couldn't even remember his funeral. You'd gone, of course you'd gone. But you could barely recall what had happened there. All you remembered was being distraught because you'd not been able to find his favourite purple scarf and you'd wanted to bury him with it.

You still couldn't find it, and it plagued you everyday. You'd had it, the night you'd come home from the hospital. You'd gone to sleep with it tangled around your arms. But it was nowhere to be found, and you turned your house upside down looking for it.

The house....

Spencer had moved in three months before his death, and his stuff was still in boxes. Rather convenient when you thought about it. At least it would be make clearing them out easier, had been one thought that had passed through your mind early one morning when you couldn't sleep. Then seconds later you'd burst into tears at the thought of removing his stuff, his things from your home.

Days blended into nights; half the time you weren't sure what time it actually was. You rarely left the house now, you had no reason to. You were on indefinite leave from work and when you'd gotten engaged, Spencer had made arrangements so that any death in service benefits would be split between yourself and his mom and you'd done the same with yours.
Neither of you had quite imagined you ever having to use them, but needless to say, they were sat in your bank account paying your bills for you.

The team still came around when they could. Penny and Derek more than the others, although Aaron checked in via text daily. If you didn't respond within an hour or two he'd call. He was worried about you, they all were.

You knew why. Four weeks after the funeral Derek had turned up at your house to find you sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of vodka and a tub of prescription pain killers you'd had stashed in your drawer since you'd injured your shoulder on a case two years ago. Derek had been distraught, begging you not to do anything stupid, saying how he couldn't lose you too, you were all he had left of Spencer.

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?

So you didn't go through with it. You weren't sure if you'd really intended to or not but it seemed like an option at the time. Your Catholic upbringing had niggled at you and said you wouldn't be reunited with him anyway, not that you actually believed in any of that. When you were dead, you were dead. That was it. There was no heaven, hell or purgatory, just like there was no such things as ghosts or spirits.