Author's Note: So I couldn't resist doing a post-Lauren fic. I've got a massive affinity for the Reid/Emily friendship (sometimes I have shipping tendencies, sometimes not…depends on the day) and Reid just broke my heart in the episode. Plus, grief is one my favorite subjects to write about, so I couldn't resist the set up.

It will probably be continued, though right now I don't know if it will just be a series of scenes tracing the aftermath of Emily's 'death' or if it will eventually evolve into a bigger plot (i.e. her eventual return and the reveal). Right now, it's just as things occur to me. Hope you enjoy…let me know what you think.

Chapter One

So what would you think of me now,
so lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that,
now I'll never have a chance.

There is a moment, barely thirty seconds after she's confirmed what Hotch already knew, that makes JJ, for the first time, glad for her distance from the team.

All it takes is Hotch turning to gaze into the waiting room, a storm in his eyes as he watches the team absorbing the blow, and suddenly JJ understands how heavily this lie will weigh on her.

She follows Hotch's gaze and grimaces; her friends have not yet begun to reach out to each other, not even Morgan and Garcia. They sit apart, wordless, locked in their own grief.

Rossi's head is bowed, as if in prayer. Seaver has stood up, drifting away, as though understanding her own detachment. Morgan is staring down at his hands, as though he can still see Emily's blood staining his palms, in spite of the dozens of times he washed them when he got to the hospital. Garcia cradles her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. And Reid is doubled over on the couch he sank into when JJ left, clutching his stomach as though he's in physical pain.

Then, as JJ watches, Reid's head snaps up, a strange, focused look coming into his eyes. Instinct propels JJ toward him, a dim sense of panic stirring.

He stands up, and JJ has barely rounded the corner when Reid states, "I need to see her. " His eyes are huge, and he fixes JJ with a wild stare. "JJ, I need to see Emily. I, I need to see her. I need to see Emily now."

JJ winces. She had a suspicion that's where Reid was heading earlier, and she'd been relieved when she'd managed to stop him. She casts a helpless gaze at Hotch for help, who looks, for once, at a loss.

"Spence…" Her voice is soothing. "That's not a good idea."

"No." The pitch of his voice is climbing. "I, I, need to see her. Tell me where Emily is, JJ, tell me, I have to see her, right now." He waits, eyes darting, waiting for one of them to give in. When no one says anything, he repeats, emphatically, "Tell me where Emily is."

"Reid," Hotch finally speaks, his voice both gentle and firm. "They've already moved her."

Immediately, Reid is protesting again, the words coming out in a rush. "Then…then I'll go there. I'll go where they took her. Where is she? The morgue, or…" He pauses, staggering backwards a little, the word knocking the wind out of him.

For a long, still moment, everyone is silent. Then, Reid's face tightens in a childlike mask of grief, and JJ feels tears well in her eyes.

Something about Reid's outburst seems to get through to Morgan. He touches Garcia's shoulder before slowly getting to his feet and addressing Reid, his voice hoarse as though it's been years since he spoke. "C'mon, kid. We don't want to stay here, let's…let's go home."

Reid doesn't answer, his face tight, but as they begin to slowly move forward, he mechanically follows Morgan and Garcia out of the hospital, allows himself to be coerced into Morgan's car, and doesn't protest when Morgan goes to his own apartment.

~(CM)~

Morgan, Garcia and Reid sit around Morgan's living room. They haven't bothered to turn the lights on, and for twenty minutes, no one speaks.

Then, Garcia asks Morgan in a small voice about Emily's last moments of consciousness, and Morgan's off, his voice low and unsteady as he recalls his last conversation with her.

As he talks, something heated begins to flare in Reid's chest. He can't name it yet, but suddenly he can't look at Morgan, can only glare at the floor as he tries to block out the words.

Garcia and Morgan talk for over an hour; maybe they're crying at some point, Reid doesn't know. He has detached, staring at the floor without moving, their voices a dim hum in the background until Morgan says his name.

"Reid?" Morgan's voice is concerned, and there's a force in his tone that suggests this isn't the first time he's tried to get Reid's attention. Blinking up at him, Reid waits.

"Garcia's gonna stay in the spare room tonight… You want me to take you home?" He casts a glance back at Garcia, then adds, "Or you could crash on the couch."

Somehow, Reid manages to lift a word from his throat. "Sure."

Morgan looks relieved. He says something about blankets and pillows, and soon they're dropping onto Reid's lap.

Garcia and Morgan disappear. Bedroom doors click shut behind him.

Reid lays back on the couch, not because he feels tired but because he feels heavy. He agreed to stay here because moving feels like too much effort.

~(CM)~

Time is slipping away from him. He can't quite grasp it. So Reid doesn't know how long he's been lying awake, listening to the distant, muffled sounds of Garcia crying and, later, the thump of footsteps from one room to the other.

He cannot sleep. Thoughts are beginning a slow, torturous cycle through his mind, useless, idiotic thoughts that make his head feel like its splitting open.

Like…those times, so long ago, when he'd snapped at Emily every chance he got for scrutinizing him, for calling him out on behavior no one else was.

Like…once, when Benjamin Cyrus held a gun to his head, she spoke up and took the fall the save his life, and he hadn't even part of the team trying to save her.

Like…she was the one person he's told about the headaches, and now that secret's gone with her, and now he will never tell any of the others.

Like…for the first time in over two years he is craving.

Like…the last conversation they will ever have was about surveillance footage, and he will never be able to change that.

He is flat on his back and the skin on his temples is slick with tears. Reid's lungs feel constricted, aching, but when he opens his mouth for air, a scream claws its way out of his throat, raw and animalistic and stripped with pain.

Suddenly, the screams won't stop.

~(CM)~

Morgan can't sleep. His hands are still shaking, and even though it's been hours since there was a trace of blood on them, the cold sweat on his palms make him nauseous.

When he hears Garcia crying through the wall, Morgan listens for several minutes before he gets it together to stand and walk to his guest room.

He's quiet on the way, in case Reid is sleeping. There's no sound from the living room, but that doesn't tell him anything; the kid barely managed a syllable since they left the hospital.

"Baby girl?" Morgan whispers into the darkness, easing the door closed behind him.

A sob hitches, and Garcia whimpers an apology for keeping him awake.

"Couldn't sleep no matter what right now," he says softly, sitting beside her and putting an arm around his best friend's shoulders, offering a comfort he hadn't been able to so far.

Garcia's head drops onto his shoulder, and they sit together for several long, silent moments. Then, Garcia whispers thickly, "I can't believe she's really gone."

His eyes burning, Morgan tightens his jaw and says roughly, "In the ambulance, she…she kept squeezing my hand. The whole time, she squeezed it so tight…" His voice cracks, throat narrowing. "I really thought…"

"I know," Garcia replies, taking his hand and squeezing it.

When Morgan can speak again, his voice his choked as he determinedly changes the subject. "I'm worried about Reid."

"Me, too." Garcia pauses. "I'm worried about all of us."

This statement hovers in the air between them for a long moment, until a deep, gut wrenching scream penetrates the silence.

~(CM)~

He's on his knees in the middle of Morgan's living room with no memory of how he got there from the couch, no understanding of when he began driving his fists mercilessly into the carpet, screams continuously tearing themselves from some deep place within him, with no rationale.

Spencer Reid is not irrational. He does not break.

Except it feels like he is cracking open, falling to pieces, every scream shredding some part of his sanity.

Then Morgan's arms are grabbing him, hooking his arms and holding tight. The screams don't stop, and Reid thrashes, trying to wrench away, but as usual he is not strong enough.

"It's okay, you're alright. C'mon, Reid, we're right here, you're gonna be okay…" Morgan's voice is low and calming in Reid's ear. "I know, kid, I know…."

At that, a coherent thought finally penetrates Reid's consciousness and he feels a surge of resentment and rage so strong he can't see straight.

Because Morgan doesn't know. Morgan got to say goodbye.

He got to tell Emily he was proud of her, that he was her partner and friend. He got to hold her hand and stay with her and he got to say everything he needed to say.

And Reid never will.

A scream dies in his throat, and instantly Reid stops fighting, going limp in Morgan's hold.

"That's it, there you go…" Slowly, Morgan eases his grip, and Reid presses his face against the carpet. "I know…"

Again, rage grips Reid. He wants Morgan to go away, to leave him alone and stop pretending to understand.

He can hear Morgan talking to Garcia, who must be somewhere in the room. "Can you get him some water?"

Reid doesn't wait for that. With a sudden flash of purpose, he pulls himself up from the floor, not sparing his friends a glance as he strides out of the apartment and slams the door behind him.

A/N: That's all for now. Please do let me know what you thought. Been awhile since I wrote Criminal Minds, and this is the first Reid-focused one I've done.