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A/n this is a one shot tag to "The Gathering," hope you enjoy. As always many thanks to my wonderful beta, REIDFANATIC.

His hands began to shake when he reached the first floor of the building. His jaw ached from clamping his teeth together and his heart felt like it might break free from the confines of his ribs at any time.

He stopped in front of the glass doors and stared at his reflection against the black of the night that closed in around him. He didn't recognize the face that stared back at him. Lately, when he looked in the mirror he often stared until something rang a bell in his head, something that reminded him of the man he used to be, before… he shut his eyes and reached for the handle.

"Dr. Reid."

He stiffened, and then decided to ignore the voice behind him. He was halfway down the sidewalk when the voice called out again.

"Spencer."

He stopped and stared at the shadowed concrete under his feet as the footsteps drew closer.

"I don't want to talk."

"I heard about what happened."

Reid laughed bitterly. "I'll bet you did. I'm sure Hotch couldn't wait to send it on to Strauss and then on to you."

"No, I didn't hear about it from Strauss."

"Then how -"

"I have my own sources."

Reid turned and confronted John. "With all due respect, sir, I'd like to catch the train."

"Spencer…"

"We're not in a meeting, which means that you can order me to fill you in and if I refuse, you can discipline me. Surprisingly enough, I don't care!"

"I thought we were past titles and responsibilities."

Reid laughed again. "I just said I don't care what you do to me for my," he made quotes with his fingers, "insubordination."

John began walking. He didn't stop when he passed Reid. Spencer watched him move away toward the parking lot. Cursing, he hurried forward and caught up with his mentor.

"John, I -"

"Why don't I give you a lift home?"

"Aren't you in a hurry to get home?"

"My wife is out of town. Her sister's ill and she went to Minneapolis to help her."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I -"

John unlocked his car and motioned to Reid. "It's okay. She's on the mend."

"I don't want to go home."

"Then we'll go get a cup of coffee. I happen to know there's a Dunkin Donuts a block from where you live."

Reid actually smiled. "Yeah, they know me by my first name there."

John chuckled. "I thought you were a Starbucks man."

Reid sat back in his seat and turned his head to look out the window at the passing traffic and streetlights. "I am, but I like Dunkin Donuts coffee, too. There's something about the smell of donuts and coffee that just draws me in."

John laughed. "Well, I'm glad you found something to make you smile."

Reid only shook his head. He didn't speak again until they found a seat in the brightly lit little shop with its yellow walls and array of pastries in the glass display case. John had coffee and a cream filled donut, but Reid passed on the fat and sugar for plain coffee.

"Maeve said…" he began, and then looked down at the white paper napkin under his coffee cup.

"What did she say?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm concerned about you, Spencer. You haven't been to a meeting since she died."

"Since she was murdered, you mean, let's not mince words."

John sat back in his seat and sipped his coffee. "I'm simply trying to be sensitive to your pain. Don't change the subject."

Reid picked at his napkin. "I can't tell the group about her."

"Why not?"

"How can you ask me that? I loved her and I couldn't save her. I let her down when she needed me."

"Is that why you decided that honesty is the best policy when dealing with a suicidal killer?"

Reid sat up and grabbed his coffee. "Is that why you brought me here, to ambush me?"

"No. I want to help you."

"Yeah, like Hotch and the rest of the team want to help me. They want everything back to normal so they don't have to walk on eggshells around me. Although," he held up a hand to stop John from speaking. "Hotch doesn't have that problem. He made sure to confront me as soon as we arrived home."

He shoved his coffee away and crossed his arms over his chest. "He said what happened was about Maeve."

"Spencer, I don't want to add insult to injury, but don't you think -"

"He was right."

The only other customer, a woman with very short blond hair and a copy of Dante's Inferno on her table looked up and scowled at them.

Reid ignored her. "Everything is about Maeve. When I close my eyes at night, all I see… is her face the way it was the first and last time I saw her. I dream about her all night long, every night. That is, when I can sleep at all. I dream about the same thing every night. I'm there in that room with her and Dianne, and I watch her die over and over again.

Every sound is the sound of her voice. I can't stop thinking about every conversation I had with her. I see her letters in my head. I curse my eidetic memory because it allows me perfect recall. Then, I rejoice because I have that perfect recall.

So, you tell me what I'm supposed to do. Everyone thinks I should just buck up and forget about her. I should just come back to work one day and be the person that I was."

"No one expects that of you."

The woman with the blonde hair gathered the remains of her pastry and her book and headed out the door. She tossed an annoyed look over her shoulder as she left, but Reid and John ignored her. The only clerk in the store was busily texting on her phone and popping pink bubble gum. She ignored them as thoroughly as any veteran Department of Motor Vehicles Clerk.

"Hotch does," Reid said waving his hands in the air. "He jumped all over me and I just took it because that's what I do."

"He's your supervisor, what else could you do?"

"Yes, and so are you, and yet here we are!"

John drank down half of his coffee in one gulp. "I had hoped we are more than that."

His intense eyes bored into Reid. The younger man sighed and his shoulders dropped. "We are. You and the BCC helped me through one of the darkest periods of my life. It's different with you."

"As it should be. Aaron Hotchner cares about you. He wants you to go through your grief, but he has a job to do, too. He needs his team at 100 percent, and you are not 100 percent."

"Don't you think I know that," Reid squeaked. "I'd give anything to feel like I did just two months ago."

"I can see that you get more time off."

Reid waved him away. "I don't need more time off."

"Don't you. It seems to me that you do, otherwise you wouldn't have ditched protocol."

"I just didn't see the point of the perfect lie. How do we know that he wouldn't have cut his throat had I adhered to the standards of the BAU? Protocol didn't stop Maeve from dying."

"No, it didn't, but you can't go into a situation like that and compare it to Dianne and Maeve. If you do, you'll get yourself or one of your teammates killed."

"John -"

His boss held up a hand. "You've still got The Replicator out there. When you have him cornered, what are you going to do?"

Reid looked down at the dregs of his coffee cup. "I don't know," he admitted very softly.

They sat for a very long time. Reid ignored the last of his coffee, and John watched him carefully.

"I was thinking the other day that he must have enjoyed the outcome of Maeve's stalking," Reid said suddenly in that same lifeless tone. "I'll bet he had a good laugh about it."

He lifted his eyes to meet John's gaze and John almost drew back in alarm. Reid's eyes were utterly dead, except for the barest hint of a cold rage.

"Part of me wants to be the one to find him and I hope he has a gun trained on me. I only need the excuse."

John nodded. "Well, I'm done stalling. Why don't we both go home?"

CMCMCMCM

He stood in the dark next to his chess set. Light from the street filtered in and played over his face, hands, and the game he'd begun after JJ had received the flowers with the zugzwang taunt. The game was nearly over. The trap was perfect. All he had to do was spring it and he'd win.

"I'm going to take him down, Maeve, for you." He picked up the white queen and pressed his lips to it. "I won't make the same mistake twice."