Spencer Reid One Shots

The Wreckage On The Rocks

It had been a long week and Spencer was looking forward to finally getting to spend some time with his family. He was away from them so often and family time was so sparse that he had to value it when it came around. He should be home just in time to put the kids to bed our so he thought. 

As he pulled into the driveway he could see that the bedrooms where the kids slept were dark, the only light in the house was the dim strip showing through the lounge curtains. He parked up and unlocked the door, entering the lounge where his wife was sat, a glass of wine in her hands. She paused the TV and turned to him. 

“Hey Y/N. Are the kids already asleep? I thought I might make it home in time to get them settled for the night.”

Abby was eight and Jacob was five, it had been a while since he’d done bedtime duties but he was sure they wouldn’t have been down already. 

“Nope, they’re not here. They’re with my mom for the weekend.”

“Oh. Any particular reason? I thought we’d spend some time together. It feels like ages since we did anything together as a family.”

“Exactly.” Y/N’s voice was curt, an edge to it he couldn’t place. 

“Is something wrong?" he asked carefully.

"It has been ages since we’ve spent any time together as a family.” She rose from her seat and reached for the bottle that was on the coffee table, refilling her glass. “You know, Jacob had his parents evening six weeks ago. You were meant to be there…." 

"I… I know, but we had that case where…." 

"I know you had a case,” she interrupted him. “There’s always a case. Cases that make you miss parents evenings, cases that make you miss Abby’s recitals, there’s always something. Anyway, his teacher asked me if everything was okay at home. Said Jacob didn't really mention his father at all, and when asked about you he apparently told her that he thought his daddy didn’t love him anymore.”

Spencer’s face crumpled. Of course he loved his son and his daughter. They were the lights of his life. “Why… Why didn’t you tell me?" 

"I was going to but you didn’t come home. And then the case stretched on and on and you didn’t come home for over a week and by then, well, by then I’d started to wonder.”

She began to pace back and forth slowly in front of the fireplace and Spencer felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“I know you love your kids Spencer. But, you don’t see them. You don’t spend any time with them or with me.”

“But…. but it’s my job,” Spencer protested.

“Ten years ago when we first started dating, I got that. I thought you were a hero, a hero in a cardigan off saving the world at any given moment. You were my hero.” She smiled, wistfully, remembering happier times. “And then Abby came along and we talked about you cutting back, taking more of those lecturing jobs Emily told you she could arrange, taking more of a consulting role rather than running out into the field and risking your life. And everytime I bought it up, you told me soon.”

“And I mean it! I want to spend more time with you all.”

“This was eight years ago Spencer! Eight years since we first had that conversation and for eight years you’ve been saying the same thing. When Jacob was born you promised me, you promised me you’d take a desk job. I didn’t ask you to leave the FBI just move to another role. I left my job entirely so I could be with the kids whenever they needed me, I don’t think I was asking too much for you to work regular hours and not risk getting shot or stabbed or blown to pieces everytime you take someone down. You promised me. You promised the kids.”

She wasn’t even angry. Spencer knew when she was angry, she would clench her fists so tightly she would draw blood from her palms but her hands were relaxed aside from the grasp on her wine glass. She was calm. Resolved. A decision already made.

“I… I know I did. And I will. It’s just… It’s just not easy for me.”

“It’s not? I remember you telling me about your old boss, about how he ended up losing his wife and nearly his son because he constantly put the BAU first. I’ve been patient, so very patient. But I just…. You’re never here. I’m constantly waiting for the phone to ring, for you to tell me you won’t be home. I’m constantly waiting, trying to think of new excuses to tell the kids, to try to explain why their dad can’t take them out. And I just can’t anymore.”

“What… What are you saying?” His heart was pounding and his palms were beginning to sweat. He started to take a seat but she shook her head. 

“You remember the house up on that hill in Maine? The one we first saw ten years ago when we took our first weekend away together?" 

He nodded glumly. 

"It looked like any given moment it would tumble off the cliffside, into the ocean. Every year we went back together, and then with Abby and Jake, and each year a small part of it would have disappeared into the ocean.”

She took another drink and looked directly at him, sadness in her eyes. “The last four years it’s been just me and the kids. No matter how we try to plan it, you always get that call and it doesn’t matter that they say you don’t need to go in, that they just want your opinion, you still go. It doesn’t matter how much the kids are looking forward to spending time with their dad, you still go. I’ve actually been relieved these last few times. I don’t actually know how we could spend two entire weeks with just each other and the kids. I don’t know what we’d say to each other anymore.”

He went to open his mouth but no words came out. She continued on. “This last time, three weeks ago, we went down there whilst you were in New York, tracking down another serial killer and risking your life again. That house on the hillside, it’s not there anymore.It’s fallen apart completely and it’s just crumbled into the ocean below. And you know, it reminded me of our marriage. Year after year with each broken promise, a piece of our relationship has crumbled away. And now there’s nothing left. We’re like that house, we're just a wreckage on the rocks below. All that’s left is pieces that don’t fit together anymore, that can’t fit together anymore.”

“No, Y/N, no. We can fix this, I can fix this." 

"Spencer, we can’t. I’ve booked you a room at the Holiday Inn, you can’t stay here. And I’ve made an appointment with a divorce lawyer. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t stop you seeing the kids but you need to actually turn up and see them when you say you will. You can’t keep letting them down the way you have been doing because if you do… Well, they’ll end up hating you. You need to figure out what your priorities are because up until now, it hasn’t been us.”

Tears started to stream down his cheeks and he felt his chest begin to grow tight. Y/N motioned towards the door and he spotted a suitcase and a holdall he hadn’t noticed before. 

“The Holiday Inn is booked for a month under your name. That should give you time to find somewhere else to stay. I need you to leave now please Spencer.”

“No, I can’t just…. You can’t just… We need to talk!" 

"No, we don’t. We’ve talked time and time again and each time it’s the same thing. You make promises which you don’t see through. We cannot live like this, the kids cannot live like this. It will be better this way. For us all.”

“Not for me it won’t! You can’t just make this decision for me.”

“I didn’t Spencer. You made this decision years ago, when you didn’t cut back your hours. When you missed both of your children’s first birthdays. You made this decision, it’s just taken me this long to actually act on it. You need to leave, now. My lawyer will be in touch to make arrangements for you to see the kids.”

He had no choice, not anymore. And he knew deep down that what she was saying was the truth. With a breaking heart he picked up the bags she’d packed for him and made his way to the front door. 

“Leave your key on the table.”

He placed them down on the table by the front door, the sound echoing in his ears. That was the sound of his marriage ending, the sound of his life falling apart. As he walked through the door he wondered what sound the house on the hillside had made as it tumbled into the sea.