Welcome.

Thank you for your interest in this story.

This is my version of what happened between episodes Zugzwang and Magnum Opus, from Season 8.

I'm not a native English Speaker. Every critique, concerning the story, but also spelling and grammar, will be highly appreciated.

LIKE A LEAF ON A BREEZE.

A Criminal Minds Fan Fiction.

"All we are is dust in the wind."
Kerry Livgren.

-v-v-v-

"WAIT!"

The sound of the gunshot echoed in Spencer Reid's ears for never-ending, horrifying moments. Then, it came the sick smell of the burnt gun powder, mixed with the rusty, distressingly well-known odour of spilled blood. His throat seemed to narrow, almost to the limit of impeding his breath. His eyes stung. Hot tears blurred his vision as he lowered his eyes to see, to face the reality of the two bodies, laying on a large red pool on the floor, murder and suicide next to each other, just in front of him.

All the physical pain that he had, became nothing at the moment he saw the crimson liquid, running almost inadvertently from a wound on the left side of Maeve's forehead, losing itself in the darkness of her hair, her eyes open, lost in a distance where he could not follow.

Now, there was a greater pain, bigger than the biggest mountain, deeper than the deepest sea, colder than the limit of the Universe itself.

The young man gasped for air, but what came out of his mouth, was a sob. A painful, horrible sob that suddenly broke in a desperate, heartbreaking, hysterical crying.

Unable to hold his weight anymore, his legs gave way, and he fell to the ground on his knees and hands, next to his beloved Maeve, his eyes flooded in boiling, bitter, unstoppable tears that fell at her feet, drawing small wet circles on the dusty concrete floor.

A few steps behind him, Aaron Hotchner saw a paralysed Derek Morgan by his side, still pointing his gun to the emptiness where once stood the killer, Diane Turner.

"Morgan, lower your weapon." Aaron whispered, and his usually cold eyes were damp. The big dark skinned agent gave him an awkward look, like he was an unknown person, but obeyed.

"I-I'm s..." He tried to say.

He had sworn to protect that man... His younger brother in heart... with his own life... And he just had failed. Now, the only thing Morgan could see was the shattered figure of Spencer on the floor, crying for the woman that he loved... who now was dead.

"It's... my fault..." Morgan said, horrified after the sound of his own words. "I'm s..."

He could not handle it anymore. For the first time in his life, Derek Morgan felt utterly worthless... His heart fell in pieces. Trembling, he just put his gun in Hotch's hands, turned around and ran away, incapable to dare to look at the young man's face, and pushing David Rossi on his way out without even noticing. The older agent went after him. Yes, Reid needed their help, but so did Morgan.

Aaron felt like he wanted to run away as well. He believed that, at some stage, they really had the chance to gun down Diane and save Maeve... To his eyes, that microsecond of doubt, when the team came in, and Spencer desperately begged them to keep back, started to look like an eternity, and the words 'what if? what if?' began to repeat themselves painfully in his mind, like a wicked illuminated sign.

Every tear, every sob coming from Spencer was like a stab on his chest. He came close to him, feeling his own legs actually shaking. Aaron knew from memory every word used to offer peace and consolation, he said those so many times before to the relatives of the victims... But now, the studied words seemed hollow, stupid and senseless when the pain was so close. When his own friend, someone considered as family, almost like a son, was torn apart like this. Doubtfully, he tried to put his hand on the young man's back, but Spencer just shook his body violently, cleaning harshly his face with his sleeve, and sniffing. He kept his expression hidden within his long hair and the shadows, and then crawled to be closer to the girl, and further away from Hotchner.

Aaron wanted to say that he understood the pain Spencer was suffering, but realized he didn't have the slightest idea. Yes, a soulless killer had taken his wife's life, but at least, he'd had a beautiful marriage with Haley. Even if that was cut short in the most horrible way, he still had his son, Jack... The boy in front of him didn't have the chance to even touch the woman that he loved.

Absent to the older man's thoughts, and to the fact that he was messing a crime scene, Spencer laid down on the floor for a moment, on his left side, with his face right in front of Maeve's. He raised his hand to barely touch her cheek, for the first time. It was still warm, and so soft... He didn't notice that his face, hair and the fabric of his black shirt were now also stained with her blood.

She truly was the most beautiful girl in the world, more than he could have ever imagined.

The young man exhaled a small chuckle, mixed with a sob.

"You are all right." He said to her, in a broken whisper, smiling, not knowing the tears rolling down his face. "We will be fine now. We will be together."

Aaron frowned, and his heart jumped in his chest when he heard those words.

"Reid, what... What are you talking about?"

The young one didn't appear to hear him.

"Don't worry, my beautiful." He mumbled, with his eyes fixed in Maeve's dead ones, and ran his hand through her bloodied hair. "I will not allow them to take you away from me. Not until I die."

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, and put his memory to work.

When Diane took the blindfold of him, what felt like ages ago, all he wanted to do was to see Maeve, to know her face, to find that she was all right... Even so, he was a FBI agent, and scanned the environment as thoroughly as he could. The place was dark, but he noticed every single detail of the room. They were in what appeared to be an abandoned office. At the rear wall of that horrid place, there was a grey metal door, slightly open.

Whatever was behind that door, it was the last hope for him and his beloved one to remain together.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes and rose, just enough to be able to partially lift her body in his arms, and hold her next to his chest. Then, he could feel the sharp pain of the gunshot wound inflicted by Diane to his left shoulder, and the warmth of his own blood spilling from it.

He knew his time was running relentlessly, like the sand in an hourglass.

That pain didn't matter. It was nothing.

"Spence?" Jennifer Jareau said, a few steps behind Aaron. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, and they were not sure if he heard her at all.

Reid's heart began to beat faster, as a rush of adrenaline flooded his blood stream. It was now, or never.

He stood up, painfully half carrying the dead body of the woman he loved in his arms, and suddenly ran to the metal door, surprising everyone for a moment. He went inside that unknown room, and managed to close the door behind him. A few seconds after that, his workmates and friends, who had witnessed the worst moments of his life, could hear the door locking.

When Aaron ran to the door, there was no chance for him to open it.

"Reid, don't do this." He said, to the empty cold surface. "Please. Open the door."

Spencer could hear the muffled voice of his boss behind the metal surface, but he didn't care.

"Go away." He said bitterly. "Leave us alone."

He was in what seemed an archive room, only ten or twelve feet wide. There were metal drawers on the rear wall, and a big heavy book shelf next to the door. To the left, above his head, there was a tiny window, protected by some wire. It let the dim light from a close street lamp fill the place.

With all the gentleness he could, he put Maeve on the floor, in the corner under the window.

It was then when he heard the people out there, fidgeting with the lock, trying to open the door. He would not allow that. He would not let them take the love of his life away from him again. He knew they were going to find a way to open that door soon, so, he decided to use the book shelf to block it.

He tried to push it, but it was too heavy, and he decided to pull it instead, using all of his weight, strength and distress to bring it down.

Outside, Aaron, Alex Blake and JJ could hear a huge, sudden noise that made the floor vibrate under their feet for a second, and caused their hearts to miss a beat.

"Oh, my God." Alex said, placing her hand on her chest. "Spencer? What was that?"

Without even stopping to think about it, Hotch shot once at the lock of the door, the horrible noise causing Spencer to flinch, JJ to yell, and Alex to step back.

Aaron opened the door pushing it, but soon found that it would not offer a gap wider than two inches. He saw the piece of furniture preventing the access to that room, and a little movement from the young agent's shadow on the filthy wall.

"Reid! What did you do?"

Again, he didn't answer. He just sighed, sat down on the floor, and carefully carried Maeve's body into his lap, with her head resting on the right side of his chest. He leaned back on the same corner where she was before, and put his right arm on her shoulders, in an embrace. He tried to wrap his other arm around her body, but the pain from his wound suddenly became too much, and he found it better relaxed by his side. Unconsciously, he started to rock her, like comforting her from a nightmare.

"Shhhh... It's over..." He said, his voice shaky with tears. "No one will hurt you anymore... No one..."

And then, he started to hum a lullaby.

Aaron, Jennifer and Alex shared a meaningful look, and he grabbed his smartphone from his pocket. They had to open that door as soon as possible.

In the next few minutes, Jennifer could see Aaron moving to the other side of the room, and heard him speaking with someone on the phone, but she didn't pay much attention. What was shocking for her was listening at the young agent inside, mumbling unintelligible words, crying and even laughing at times. She felt a lump in her throat, thinking that after everything his friend had suffered before, this was the one thing that made him lose his mind.

"Spence... I'm so sorry..." She said, placing her hand on the cold surface of the door. A silent tear ran down her cheek, and the hand became a fist, as she hardened her expression. Why? Why did it always have to be him?

Inside, the young one didn't feel the minutes passing by, or notice when he stopped rocking Maeve. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin, his teeth began to clatter and he started to shiver. Suddenly, he felt extremely tired, and his breathing grew difficult, as if someone laid a rock on top of his chest. His pain became unbearable, and he whimpered. There was a puddle of blood next to him on the floor, and it was his.

"S... So cold... so... sorry..."
(I think I'm dying...)

"I love you." He said, without a sound across his trembling lips. His eyelids became heavier than ever, and his sight lost its focus. He tried to fight to keep his eyes open, but in the end, that battle was also lost. The arm that had been resting on Maeve's shoulders fell limp to the side. At the same time, his head came to rest on top of hers, tracks of his tears still wet on his pale, expressionless face.

Unexpectedly, the little room behind the door became eerily quiet. Jennifer tried to see something through the gap, but there were no signs of life whatsoever. Her heart leapt in her chest.

"Blake, can you hear anything?" She asked, looking at the wide eyes of the older woman with fear in her voice. Alex shook her head, holding her breath for a moment.

"Spence?" JJ asked. "Spence?"

All she got for an answer, was a deep dark silence.

"Hotch!" Alex yelled. "You have to hurry! Something happened!"

-v-v-v-

Derek was sitting on the path walk across the road of that awful, terrible place. He had his face hidden in his palms, when David came to his side, and placed a hand on his shoulder. At the soft contact, he gave a shaky sigh.

"I failed." He said, in a whisper. His hands lowered and he dedicated a sad sight to the older man. "How am I supposed to be a FBI agent if I can't even help the ones who I care the most, man? Why can I help everybody but him? How can I ask for his forgiveness if I cannot forgive myself?"

David sat down on the curb, next to Derek.

"Morgan, don't blame yourself. We had five guns pointed to that... woman. There was no way any of us could've made a clean shot. Everything happened too fast. Not even Hotch, the best shooter in the BAU, had a chance, and I'm sure Reid knows it. Knowing him, if he's blaming someone at this point, it's himself, even if he's only a victim."

"These last few months..." Morgan said, lowering his gaze to his hands. "I knew something was happening, Rossi. I could see it in his eyes. Reid was happy. The happiest I've ever seen him, I swear... and now it's all gone. This morning... he was scared to death, and I told him everything was going to be just fine. I promised he was going to have the chance to finally tell her he loved her. He didn't. I know that you're trying to comfort me, and I appreciate it, but it ain't working. I broke my promise, and that will stay with me for the rest of my life. There's always gonna be this doubt in my mind... Could I do something? Could I've stopped this from happening?"

"We will never know." David said. "And it's not worthy to get stalled in the past. What's done is done, and we cannot change it. What we need to do, is to be strong ourselves, because he is going to need us now, more than ever. He is going to need you, his best friend, to help him go through this. I know it hurts, but we can't fail this time. We can't allow Diane Turner to steal even more than she already has."

Morgan swallowed, thinking that probably to try to offer consolation to his friend was going to be one of the hardest tasks he ever had to face.

"I don't know if I can, honestly." He said, after a few moments, with a sigh and a sad expression in his face. "It's funny how we always tend to think that Reid is weak... Now I believe he's strong. One has to be really strong to survive everything that he has passed through. All that I can do now is hope. Hope that I will be able to help him. Hope that he will let me try."

"You have always been there for him, Derek. You are part of his strength. And he will also survive through this, I'm sure."

"I wish your words to come true, Rossi. I really do." Morgan said, with a sad smile, and David placed a supportive hand on his back.

-v-v-v-

Spencer woke up to the scent of fresh coffee and lemon cake.

He opened his eyes, to find an A frame white ceiling with dark wooden beams above him. With a small smile, he sighed, taking a moment to enjoy that peace, before he removed the silk white sheet from his bare body, and got up, stretching himself.

There was a wide window behind the headrest of the huge brass bed, and he could see that the sun was already high in the sky, above the blue snowed mountains in the distance, the evergreen woods, and their reflections in the calm and pristine lake.

She had left him oversleep, but after all his years of insomnia, he couldn't say he was bothered.

He grabbed a dark purple robe from the bottom of the bed, and wrapped himself in it. It was a little chilly.

There was a book on the floor, 'The Narrative of John Smith', by Arthur Conan Doyle. With a wider smile, he picked it up and put it back on its place in the book shelf that ran all along one of the angled walls.

He went to the wooden banister that separated the bedroom from the open plan family room and kitchen downstairs, and saw a nice fire in the cast iron stove, a round table with two large white mugs, one empty, and the other filled with steaming coffee, two pieces of cake with white icing, and a chess board, ready to play.

He couldn't resist anymore, so he almost ran down through the winding staircase, and he was stunned when he saw her. She was grabbing some milk from the small fridge... and she was prettier than ever, wearing a white blouse, a light grey jumper, and black pants.

"My beautiful." He said, with a large grin, and went to hug her from the back, coming so close he could smell the scent of her hair.

Maeve ran away from him and turned around, laughing. To hear her, overflowed his heart with joy.

"Stop that, you are going to make me spill the milk."

She sent him a kiss with her hand, and went to the table, poured some milk in her mug, and sat down on the side of the white chess pieces.

"So the lady wants to play." He said, and went to place a couple more logs in the stove, before he came to sit down in front of her. "Don't you think it is a little cold in here?"

She didn't answer, and he could see a shadow of doubt in her eyes, for just a second. Instead of that, she moved one of her pawns two places forward, to d4.

"You know I love you." She whispered, with an unexpected serious tone he didn't seem to notice.

"I do." He spoke, staring at the chess board, to make his move, and sighed. "And I also remember you said it first, even if I felt that way long before you told me... In fact... I think I loved you the first time I heard your voice on the phone."

Saying that, he moved his knight, to f6. She exhaled as well, and gave a sip of her milk, taking some moments to make her next move. It seemed like she didn't know where to start, not meaning the chess game.

"All I want for you is to be happy" She said, and moved another one of her pawns, to c4.

"I am now. Totally." He affirmed, and moved a pawn of his own, to d6, before his eyes immersed again in the beauty of her features.

She took several seconds to make a move again, biting her lower lip for a moment.

"Spencer... the time we had... was the best part of my life. Don't ever doubt about that." She said, her voice trembling a little, and moved her knight, to c3.

He suddenly looked away, not wanting for her to see the abrupt shine of tears in his eyes, happiness and sadness swirling together in a strange unnerving mix, building up like wind in a twister. Through the nearby window, he could see the sun was not shinning outside anymore, covered by thick grey clouds, as a storm was approaching.

"The time we had, and the time we will have." He said determinedly, his eyes now fixed on the board, with a lump in his throat. Somehow, he decided to go on with the game, and moved a pawn, to e5. "We will always be together."

She stopped for a few seconds, holding her breath, like studying the situation. Then, moved another pawn, two steps forward, to e4.

"Sometimes..." She spoke. "Most of the time, I'd say... things are not the way we wish for them to be, even if we want it with all of our souls."

There was a moment of silence.

Spencer now looked painfully at her, his hands turned into fists under the table.

"Your turn." She said.

(I just want to be here with you. Forever.) He started shaking a little, and gave a trembling exhale. Then, he moved the pawn he had in e5, to take the one Maeve had in d4.

"You are everything I have." He mumbled, clasping the white piece in his hand for a moment, his lower lip now visibly quivering.

She smiled, and he could see she also had tears in her eyes.

"You have so much more, Spencer... You have your amazing intelligence, your memory, your friends... Your family. So much love around you... You have a future. A bright one."

He got up from the table, startling her.

"It is damn cold in here." He said, and went to put more firewood in the stove, not daring to look at her now.

"This is your dream." She sighed, and he could feel her looking at him while she spoke. "This is your future. You can have all of this."

"I know what you are going to say," He said, shuddering, still bent down in front of the stove, watching the flames dancing through the glass. "and I don't want to hear it. Please, don't..."

Maeve stood up, and he could see, with the corner of his eye, how she gently laid down her king, resigning to the game.

(No.)

"This can still be your future." She continued, coming close, and he could feel her presence mere inches behind him. "Your dream come true. Only... I am not in it anymore."

Outside, now it was completely dark, and big drops of water started to hit the windows all around the house, the sound almost as strong as if it was hail, the wind rising through every corner, howling like a wounded beast.

Spencer felt a sudden pain in his left shoulder, as if someone hit him with a hammer. He fell to the floor from his current position, and exhaled a whine, his eyes full of fear and loss.

"I don't want the future", He said, with a small, almost childlike voice, grabbing his shoulder with an unsteady hand. "Not without you. Let me be with you, my beautiful. Let me die with you."

She went to bend down next to him, her tears now flowing freely, but still, smiling, and he could feel her love, like precious waves of white heat over his freezing body.

"You said you'd die for me."

"Yes." He affirmed, no doubt at all in his mind.

"And you don't know how alive it made me feel... It made me feel complete, even in the edge of death. No one ever loved me the same way you did. The thing is, Spencer... that I don't want you to die for me."

He looked at her with immense love.

"Maeve..."

"I want you to live, Spencer. I want you to live for me, and most important. I need you to live, for you. Don't die. Fight."

"I can't..." He said, lowering his eyes to the floor. His breathing became fast, and shallow, the cold not offering him a truce for a second. "I am weak."

"I understand why you feel that way." She said, and he could sense her breath in the back of his left ear, just like he did when he was playing chess with Alex Blake in the park, trying to find her, one Sunday afternoon that now seemed very distant. "Sometimes things happen that challenge the foundations of our souls, and we believe we will not survive the pain... But in the end, we do. We go on and live, and we find happiness. You are strong, more than you can imagine. You have survived many times, and will do it again. Now, get up. It is time for you to go. It is time for you to live."

She moved away behind him, to give him space to stand up. After a few moments, he tried, and he found that, even if his legs were unstable, and he was in a lot of pain, he was capable of rising on his feet. He went to the door, with doubtful steps, and placed a hand on the knob.

"I will see you again, in your dreams. Then, you will discover it doesn't hurt as much anymore." He heard her say.

He didn't think the pain of her loss was going to stop, ever, but found himself desperately wanting to believe in her words.

"I will love you, always." He said.

He felt a sudden warmth around, like an embrace of silver light that wrapped him for a moment, and when it vanished, he knew she was no longer by his side. He swallowed hard. He opened the door, and reality stormed in, blowing away his robe, the curtains, the table cloth, and the whole house behind him.

Then everything faded to black.

-v-v-v-

He didn't hear when someone used a blowtorch to open a hole on the metal door, or the huge noise when a large piece of it stumbled to the ground, a hole big enough to let them come into the room. He didn't hear the voices of the people from the SWAT team hastily moving the book shelf away to open the door wide, finally, or the paramedics coming to his side and calling his name. He barely felt how someone took Maeve away from him

(No, please...),

he wanted to stop them, but he was so frail, couldn't even open his eyes. He felt their hands all over him, how he was carried and put on a stretcher, the excruciating pain of his shoulder, and the needle from an IV line piercing the fragile skin of the back of his right hand. He heard Alex and JJ's voices somewhere, crying and asking if someone was all right, and the distant call of an ambulance.

Then everything went to black again.

-v-v-v-

When he opened his eyes once more, there was a white ceiling above him, very different from the one in his dream, but at the same time, sadly familiar. There was a plain LED lamp above the headrest. The smell that greeted him now, was the one of the oxygen coming out of a cannula underneath his nose, and the antiseptic all around him. He could also hear the low and steady beeping sound of a heart monitor machine, from some unidentifiable place behind him.

A hospital... again.

He tried to move, but the huge discomfort in his shoulder, and the fact that his arm was restrained by a sling, stopped him. Besides the pain, there was a cold, freezing sensation that seemed to flow everywhere from within his inner self. Somehow, he imagined that it was his soul... Just as dead as the woman that he loved.

He groaned, and almost immediately, felt the contact of a warm hand on his. Someone quickly moved to come closer to him from his right side, and he could see Derek looking at him, with a sad smile, and dark circles around his wide eyes, that told he hardly had slept in days.

"Hey, kid." Morgan said, and his voice was coarse, as if he had been shouting, or crying. "How are you feeling?"

Spencer opened his mouth, to say something, but the only thing that came, was an overwhelming need to release all the agony, all the struggles inside. To cry. His eyes inevitably flooded with tears, and he closed them and grimaced. His right hand escaped the contact of his friend's fingers, and he tried to cover his face with it, painfully pulling the IV line. He was immerse in desolation, and embarrassment of letting his fellow agent to see him like this. Behind him, the machine that had been monitoring his heart for who knows how long, started to beep faster, and louder.

"Damn, Reid..." Morgan said, with sudden worry in his features. "Are you in pain?"

Without expecting for an answer, the dark skinned man found the cord of the emergency button, and pressed it. Moments later, a blond female doctor wearing green scrubs, a white coat and a stethoscope, came into the room, in a rush.

"Agent Morgan, please step back." She said, politely but firmly. Derek moved out of the way, his mouth open in surprise. He had never seen his friend in such a state, and it was very, very scary. She started to check all the erratic readings from the heart monitor, and the vitals of the anguished patient.

"Doctor Reid, I need you to calm down."

Spencer almost laughed at the mention of his title.

All of his logic, his studies, his capabilities, his supposed prodigious intelligence, had gone out the window one Sunday morning, the moment he heard Diane Turner's distorted voice on the phone. Now, he was nothing but a pathetic, pitiful mess.

However, the use of that word seemed to work, his sobs started to cease, and with that, his breathing and heart rate slowly went back to normal.

"I-I'm sorry." He whispered, after several minutes, trying to clean his nose and face with his hand, and avoiding eye contact. The doctor offered him a box of tissues that had been on the rolling table next to the bed, and he gratefully took it, and let her help him to remove the cannula and put it back afterwards.

"There's nothing to be sorry about." She said, with a comforting voice, and risked to hold his hand. "Not after what you have been through. All you have to do now is rest, and try to remain calm. We don't want to stress that heart of yours anymore."

Spencer nodded, trying to breathe deeply, and keep his tears at bay.

"Water, please?" He asked.

The doctor beckoned Derek to come back, and so he did. He poured some water in a glass with a straw, and offered it to his friend. The young man drank a couple of sips, and it made him feel a bit better.

"Thank you." He mumbled, still not daring to look at the older man's face. "I-I am a little cold. For... for how long have I been here?"

"Three days." She said, grabbing a blanket that had been folded at the bottom of the bed, and added it to the one he already had. "Do you remember what happened?"

He nodded again, and formed a thin line with his lips, like he did unconsciously every time he was distressed. For a few moments, he tried to gather the courage to finally look at Derek's eyes, and most of all, to ask a question no one was expecting.

"The f... The funeral?"

Morgan felt like he was punched on the face. He held his breath for a moment, and closed his eyes, this time he was the one avoiding the sight of his friend.

"Did it happen already?" Spencer asked, frowning and squirming. His voice became faster and higher in pitch, his eyes wide and lost. "It is too soon, too soon. I wanted to say good bye. I wanted to at least do that for her and again I couldn't... I couldn't..."

The heart monitor sound jumped once more in the background.

"The day after tomorrow." The older agent said, finally. "It's going to be next Friday. With the... the... autopsy performed, and our statements as witnesses, there are only a few steps left to declare the case closed. Her parents want to lay her to rest as soon as possible."

Of course, Derek didn't want to mention that those few steps included Spencer's statement, as a victim.

"I will be there." The young man said, with determination in his eyes.

"There is no way in the world that I'd allow you to do that." The doctor said, then. "That gunshot you sustained was more difficult than we thought when you first came in. The bullet passed too close to your heart. It may sound clichéd, but one inch to the right, and you'd not be here by now. Besides that, you had a significant blood loss. We had to give you a transfusion. Your body needs time to recover."

"But I want to go. I need to go. You don't understand... She's the love of my life... Let me tell her parents I'm sorry... Let me at least say good bye..." Tears menaced to spill again, but he fought to keep them at bay.

"Let's do this." She said, trying not to cause more anxiety to her patient. "Please try to rest, do as the doctors and nurses say for the time being, and we'll see if you are well enough to stand on your feet by Friday."

There was a hint of a smile in the young agent's face.

"Thank you, doctor... "

"Whitman. Maggie Whitman." She smiled at him. "Now, are you feeling any pain at all? I want you to tell me where you feel it, and how strong it is, from one to ten, ten being really, really strong."

At the mention of the pain, Spencer went from pale to paler, and his heart sank. It reflected in the sound of the heart machine.

"Pain medication..." He said. "I can't..."

"Don't worry about that, Doctor Reid. Agent Hotchner told us about your special request. Your pain is being managed with non-narcotic analgesics. Now, how is it?"

"Eh... My shoulder... About five." He lied. Of course he was not going to tell her how bad it really was.

"Ok. A nurse will come in a moment to give you NSAIDs. However, if you feel that it's becoming too much, you have to let us know. Right?"

Spencer closed his eyes, clenching his teeth for a moment, trying with all of his will not to think about his past with the drug, instead focusing in the words Maeve said in his dream...

(I need you to live, for you. Don't die. Fight.)

"I will." He said, opening his eyes and facing the physician. "Thanks again."

"No worries. It's my job. Now, I will have to go and check other patients. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

She headed to the door, but before she left, she turned back to face Derek with a kind smile.

"Agent Morgan, I strongly recommend you to go home and have some rest. We don't want to have you as a patient as well. As you can see, Doctor Reid is better now, and we will make sure he goes on like that. I'm sure any of your friends would be glad to take your place watching over him tonight."

Saying that, she left.

"Thanks, Morgan."

"For what, kid?"

"For being always here."

"That's what big brothers are for. Besides, Doctor Whitman gives me way too much credit. I haven't been here by myself, you know? Everyone is worried about you, see?"

Saying that, the older agent pointed at a large table in the corner of the room, at the left. Something that the young man was completely unaware of, until now.

On top of that table, there were many items: a bunch of fresh purple lilies in a glass vase, a big white teddy bear, a couple of colourful balloons saying "Get well soon", some cards, plenty of books, a small night lamp with the shape of the Tardis, and a frame with the picture of his godson Henry.

Spencer did feel the warmth of his colleagues, his friends, all around. Their personalities reflected in each and every one of their gifts. He really appreciated it, and he forced himself to smile... but it didn't help to ease the pain in his soul, which was far stronger than the one in his body. It didn't help to fill the emptiness, the void that the death of Maeve had left in his heart and mind.

At this stage, those words she said in his dream, and her conviction about him being happy again, seemed farther than ever.

-v-v-v-

A black SUV stopped at the entrance of a small white chapel in the middle of a beautiful but sad memorial park. Under a cold light rain, three of the doors of the vehicle opened, letting see, first, from the passenger seat, a big dark man with lots of muscles and a grey suit. From the driver seat, a tall man with perfect dark brown hair, impeccable appearance with black suit, shirt and tie, and stoic expression; and from the back, a young man with a blue nurse uniform, bright red hair, and a small suitcase in his hand. The three of them reunited to open the fourth door, and help the last person to descend the vehicle. Some of the people attending the service looked at them with curiosity.

As the last door opened, the dark man with the grey suit came close holding a big umbrella, while the man in black offered his hand to the person inside.

When the last passenger came out of the car, it was painful to see him. Even if he was the tallest of the group, his figure still looked bent, small, defeated, like a tree after a hurricane. He was wearing a white button shirt, black suit and black tie, and all of his clothes seemed to be oversized on his skinny frame. He had a dark blue sling holding his left arm and shoulder, but no one would've needed to see it to tell how sick this young man was. His long brown hair was combed backwards, but a stubborn strand insisted to curl at the right side of his forehead. His features were so pale the skin almost looked grey. The huge dark circles underneath his brown bloodshot eyes were literally purple, just as if someone had punched him, and he kept making a thin line with his lips, like trying to hold himself from breaking in pieces.

Spencer refused any help to walk the thirty feet of path walk, and the three marble steps that separated the car from the door of the chapel. However, he couldn't stop Aaron and Derek escorting him, at a short distance. Inside, near the door, he could see an always elegant David, with Alex, JJ and Penelope Garcia, the three women dressed in black, with discrete make up. Garcia moved like she wanted to come and help him, but Alex stopped her, holding her arm.

And then, he saw them.

They didn't know him, but he had seen them before, across the mirrored window of an interrogation room, that fateful Sunday when the love of his life was lost.

Joe and Mary Donovan. Maeve's parents.

They came close to the approaching group, right outside of the chapel. In the background, Spencer could see a hint of the white coffin that had the remains of his beloved one inside, and the flowers near it. His legs started to tremble, and for a moment he thought he was going to fall.

"Agent Hotchner, Agent Morgan." Joe said, and extended his hand to greet each one in turn. Then, he looked at the young man in the eye, with interest, but also with understanding. "And you must be..."

"Doctor Spencer Reid." Aaron said.

In that moment, out of nowhere, a pained Mary Donovan came, and slapped the young agent across the face, with such force that made him stumble backwards, leaving a red mark on his cheek.

Everyone looked at them in surprise, even more when Spencer responded the slap with an embrace, holding Mary tight with his good arm. After a few seconds of stupefaction, she buried her face in his chest, and started to cry.

"I have cancer." She sobbed. "I was supposed to die first. No parent should live through the pain of burying their child. Why did she have to die while I am still alive?"

"I've been asking myself the same..." He whispered, and only she could hear him. "I'm sorry."

After a few moments, she let him go, and he saw that the expression on her face had changed. She was not angry anymore. She was only deeply sad.

When they finally entered the chapel, Spencer saw the coffin at the centre of the place, with a framed picture of the beautiful girl smiling with bright eyes on top of it. It was surrounded by white flowers and candles, and mourners he didn't know. The reality of Maeve's loss kicked him hard. All of his crazy hopes that everything had been a nightmare, and that somehow she was going to answer the phone next Sunday, like she always did, disappeared, and it was like seeing her dying again. He swayed dangerously, but Derek held him, with worry on his face.

"Kid, this was never a good idea." Morgan whispered. "I don't know what you said to convince Doctor Whitman of letting you do this, but it's hurting you too much. We're going back to the hospital, man."

"No! No. I'm fine. I just need to sit down. Now shut up and have respect."

Spencer sat down between Garcia and Morgan, the last one with the mouth agape in surprise after what the young man had said.

This time Penelope took Spencer's hand in hers, and he let her do it, now absorbed by the beginning of the service.

Three people came to the microphone to talk about Maeve and her life: Her mother, one of her teachers at the University, and a workmate that was also a friend. Spencer listened to every word with complete concentration, absorbing the information hungrily, getting to know more and more of the woman he loved. At one moment, he heard a funny fact from her past, and he laughed, with tears in his eyes.

At the end of the third person's speech, Joe came where the young agent was, and made an incredible request.

"Spencer... Would you please say some words, for her? You are the man that she loved. You were there when she... when she passed away... you almost died with her…"

The young man opened his eyes wide in surprise for a second, then held his breath for a moment, and finally nodded.

"It's all right." He said, with a weak smile.

Behind him, Aaron and David shared a meaningful look.

In any other occasion, that would've been funny.

They knew how uncomfortable speaking in public was for Spencer; it was almost like his tongue was disconnected from his brain the moment he had to talk to a crowd bigger than five people... Many times before, he had gotten in trouble because of that. Now, this man wanted him, in the most precarious state of mind, to talk to at least fifty total strangers. Anything could happen.

The young agent stood up, following Joe, and followed by Derek.

There was a deep silence when he stood at the microphone, his sight looking at the coffin that now was on his left side, and all the eyes on him. Morgan stood a couple of steps behind, ready for anything.

Spencer cleared his throat, and the sound came coarse through the speakers in the chapel. Then, sighed.

"Hello." He said, with a timid voice at first, holding himself to the podium, his gaze now fixed at some point of the marble floor. "I know you don't know me, and you're probably wondering who I am. My name is Spencer Reid, and I love Maeve more than I love my own life."

There was a little pause, and someone in the audience gasped.

"We didn't know each other physically, not even in pictures, until that day... when she died." The young man continued. A lonely tear came down his cheek, he didn't notice. "But what I love of her, what I adore... is her soul. There is no point on saying again how amazing, how beautiful she is, everybody here knows it. You know? Ours is one of those loves that are hard to understand for someone who sees it from the outside... It was hard to understand, even for me. I used to think love is just a chemical reaction from the brain; I was convinced I didn't need it. She said she loved me and I could not bring myself to say it back... I just... couldn't believe it, and I didn't think I deserved it, because except for my mother, no one else had said that to me before. If there is one thing I regret... that's it."

The young agent swallowed, and tried to change his position, discomfort visible in his face.

"She made me believe I could reach the stars." He continued. "She made me understand we cannot live without love. She made me realize I was incomplete until I found her. She made me want to improve, to be a better person, in my life and in my job. To be worthy of her. One hundred and a half days... That's the time our souls spent together. Phone calls, letters... That's all I will ever have... and it's not enough. Please... If you love someone, say it. Tell them how you feel every time you can. Don't repeat my mistake... Don't waste a chance that can be the last, because one day we are here, and the next day we can be gone..."

He lowered his head, and tried to breathe deeply for a moment. Then, hurriedly, almost ashamed, he tried to leave the podium as fast as he could, his feet tangled with each other, and he nearly fell. Fortunately, Derek was there to catch him. The older man helped his friend to come back to the same seat he had before, and this time, Spencer leaned on Penelope's shoulder, looking for a much needed hug. He was unaware of the glances people around was giving him, some with respect, some other with concern, and Aaron and David, with pride. He had suffered far beyond any of their imaginations.

After a few instants, Joe stood up. In silence, he went to the coffin, picked the photograph of his daughter in his hands, touched the cold white wooden surface of the box, and finally, came back to the podium.

"When I was young, and Maeve was a toddler," He said. "a friend from UK gave us this album, it was a version of The War of The Worlds, with music, as awkward as it sounds. In the beginning, it used to scare her like crazy... But she ended loving it, and I want to believe that this music awoke her love for science. This was her favourite song from that album. Farewell, beloved Maeve."

"The summer sun is fading as the year grows old,
and darker days are growing near.
The winter winds will be much colder,
now you're not here."

At the same time the music started to play, there was a video on a screen above the coffin. Spencer watched it with the mouth slightly open in awe. Maeve with her parents, as a baby. Then, her first day of school. She, next to a project of science in High School, holding the first prize trophy in her hand. Then, dressed with cap and gown, all of it mixed with quotes by her favourite philosophers. It went on and on, showing her achievements, her family, her friends... everything that she was. Everything that Diane Turner would never be.

"I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky,
and one by one they disappear.
I wish that I was flying with them.
Now you are not here.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,
like a leaf on a breeze you blew away.

A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes,
as if to hide a lonely tear.
My life will be forever autumn
cause you're not here...

Cause you're not here...

Cause you're not here..."

A white curtain closed, hiding the coffin from the view of everyone in the room, and silence fell.

Maeve's last good bye was finished.

Joe took his wife's hand, and both came where the group of FBI agents was preparing to leave.

"There is going to be a light lunch at home, if you want to join us." He said.

Aaron looked at the youngest agent of his team, and found that he was fast asleep, completely exhausted with his head on Garcia's lap. The nurse was checking on him.

"He's got a fever. We have to go back to the hospital." The nurse said.

"We understand." Mary said, coming close to Spencer and placing a hand on his head.

"Agent Hotchner, can you please give this to him when he wakes up? I know he doesn't have a picture of her." Joe said, offering the framed photograph to Aaron. He took it, with a sad smile.

"I will. Thank you."

"Thank you." Maeve's father said, emphasizing the last word. "Good bye."

-v-v-v-

The door of the apartment opened, breaking the silence. There was a stale smell in the air.

Spencer tossed his keys on the table next to the entrance, and they fell to the floor, but he didn't care.

It had been two weeks since the funeral, and he finally made it home... except for the fact that his apartment, his whole life felt lonelier than ever. He sighed, and painfully dragged his small suitcase to the lounge room, with his good arm, before closing the door behind him. Then, disobeying doctor Whitman's instructions, just as he did when he got a cab instead of accepting Morgan's offer to bring him home, he got rid of the sling and threw it on the couch.

He opened the suitcase, and took Maeve's portrait out. Then, he moved out of the way some things he had on his coffee table, and put the picture there.

The words that she said in his dream resonated in his mind, once more.

(I need you to live, for you. Don't die. Fight.)

Silent tears came to his eyes again. These days they seemed endless.

"How?" He asked in a loud voice, to the emptiness. "How will I do that? How will I learn to live without you?"

He went to one of his book shelves, and picked one of the books, not caring about the title. He started to read it frantically, and anyone who wouldn't know about his ability to read 20,000 words per minute, would think he was completely crazy. He tossed the book to the floor, and grabbed another, did the same. And another.

"Is the answer in any one of these books?" He asked, throwing another one to the floor. "Will I ever know?"

-v-v-v-

"There is a saying in Tibetan, 'Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength.'
No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that's our real disaster."
Dalai Lama XIV

*The song played in Maeve's funeral in this story is 'Forever Autumn' by Justin Hayward.