A/N: All the dialogue in this chapter is from Zugzwang (8x12) and not mine.

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another." – Thomas Merton

Maeve could hear the blaring sirens and the muffled voices of strangers. She heard Diane demand, "Put it on."

Her captor dragged in a tall, lanky, blindfolded man. She looked up upon hearing the one familiar intonation amongst the chaos. "Can I take the blindfold off?" her personified gentleman caller asked. Despite never having laid eyes on this would-be stranger, she instantly knew who he was. Spencer.

"No," Diane barked, shoving him to a chair across from Maeve.

He took a few breaths, steadying himself. "Hello," he said to Maeve. For a moment she was mesmerized by the familiar music that danced on the man's tongue. It was strange coming from a person instead of from the other end of a receiver.

"Hi," she replied. She couldn't take her eyes off of him.

"I was hoping you could figure out my riddle," Diane purred, quite pleased with herself. "I-I mean, I knew you would." She slid her hand down Spencer's shirt, near his throat and down his chest. "The fun was just...how fast you"d do it." She maliciously tried seducing him, snaking further down his shirt. "All this and brains too." He swallowed nervously.

"It took me a long time. To be honest, I was distracted by your thesis."

"You read my thesis?" Diane was taken aback. No doubt all a part of whatever plan Spencer had formulated.

"I did. I think your writing could put you on the same plane as Jonas Salk. I've already sent it to the NIH." Maeve immediately saw his bluff. She'd read Diane's thesis—it was flawed and biased and, quite frankly, didn't make sense. The hypothesis that cells could somehow become suicidal wasn't exactly putting her on the same track as developing a polio vaccine.

Diane made a whiny noise, as if she were about to throw a tantrum. "Flattery is not going to get you out of this. I know what's waiting for me outside!"

"I've arranged for your freedom," Reid stated calmly.

"The federal government doesn't make deals with people like me," Diane said, almost condescendingly, as if she could see right through Spencer. Maeve knew she couldn't; their minds were incomparable.

"Not true. Nazi scientists were recruited for the Manhattan project; mafia bosses are regularly put into witness protection. If what you have is valuable enough, the federal government will work with you. And what you have is very valuable."

Diane was intrigued. "And what do I have, Doctor?" Maeve's pulse sped up as Diane pointed the gun directly at Spencer's chest. Though he felt the tip of the barrel, he didn't waver.

"You have a brain that doesn't play by normal societal rules. I know that all your life, the people you care about the most keep leaving. And there's a part of you that thinks it's because of that brain." He was taking advantage of her weaknesses, trying to sympathize with her, and gain her trust. He was very good at his job. "Well, I'm here because I'm not going to leave you. I'm here because I just hope that I get the chance."

This piqued Diane's curiosity. "A chance at what?"

"To be with you," Reid lied matter-of-factly. At that, Diane's expression softened slightly. "Me for her, that was the deal, right?"

"You're choosing me. Over her?" Diane couldn't hide that she was pleased.

"Diane, how could it be anyone else?" Reid asked, playing into her fantasy.

Diane may have been a delusional, obsessed stalker, but she wasn't completely stupid. "Prove it," she demanded.

Spencer inhaled, not quite as sound as he was before. "All right, how?"

"Say it again," Diane taunted, almost childishly. "This time, say it to her face." She stalked behind Spencer and threw off his blindfold.

In awe, Maeve looked into the eyes of her savior.

The first thing he saw was a pair of big blue eyes staring back at him. Even though her eyes were puffy and ringed with red, though her dark hair was knotted, though sweat and tears streaked her face, she was beautiful. Spencer had expected no less; regardless of what she looked like, she would always be beautiful to him.

She was here, in the flesh. It made her seem more real. And it made the situation even more dire. Seeing her confirmed the danger she was in. His eyes welled up.

He exhaled, bracing himself for what he had to say if there was any chance to save her. "I don't love you," he croaked in a small voice, choking on the blatant lie. How much did he berate himself for failing to tell her how he felt? How much did he regret not meeting her sooner? And now, when he finally saw her face—not smiling as he'd hoped, but streaked with tears—he couldn't even tell her that he loved her. He wanted to so badly; he'd mentally prepared himself for their first meeting, that moment when he could finally utter those three little, wonderful words. But now, doing so would kill her. His confident façade was gone; he looked at her with the greatest empathy and the most grievous guilt. "Sorry." His voice cracked. There was more sincerity in that one little 'sorry' than anything he'd said since he walked in the room.

Maeve gave him a small nod. "I understand." And she did. It was a neutral statement, safe in Diane's presence. But she understood every intonation and every tiny waver in Spencer's voice; she'd been listening to it for so long. Spencer blinked more times than what was necessary, keeping the tears from spilling over. And then, their small flicker of clarity was lost in the grand deception.

"I don't need her anymore," Diane hissed, her ultimate goal finally met. She bombarded Maeve, gun poised and ready. She closed her eyes, bracing.

Spencer put his mask back on. "Kill her and she won't have to live with the fact that you're smarter." Now it was Reid's turn to taunt, saving her as the gun met her forehead. "Let her live with her irrelevancy." The gun drifted away from Maeve's head.

Diane cut one of the shackles that bound her prisoner, and trained the gun back on Maeve's temple. "I just want her to see one more thing," Diane purred, feeling victorious. She stalked toward Reid, gun first. She ravished his mouth, like a leopard devouring her kill. Maeve felt sick with disgust, averting her eyes; she couldn't watch someone so devilish violating the person who came to her rescue.

Diane backed away from Reid's unmoving lips, realizing her meat was rancid. "Liar," she hissed. She stood up, roaring, "Liar!"

Reid struck, grabbing the gun still in Diane's claws. Maeve tried desperately to free her right hand from the zip tie. The trigger was pulled as he tried to wrestle it from Diane's grasp, the boom echoing throughout the room. A second boom penetrated the air, and Spencer skidded to the floor. Maeve jumped, silently pleading that Spencer wasn't hurt. Diane dove on her then, dragging her backward with one arm around her neck, the other pinning the gun at her thrumming carotid artery. As the building was stormed by several people wielding guns in FBI Kevlar vests, she saw Spencer clutching his arm. Her panic welled up, her pulse beating in her ears.

"Stay back, stay back, stay back!" Spencer desperately pleaded to his team.

"Spencer!" Maeve shrieked as Diane's gun prodded into her throat. He got his bearings; she hoped the bullet hadn't done irreparable damage.

"St-stay back, stay back!" He continued to beg the agents, all their guns trained on Diane. He pulled his hand away from his arm; Maeve saw there was no obvious bleeding. He held up his hands, palms up, to Diane, surrendering. "Diane. Diane, there's still a way out of this." But she was beyond reason.

"You never wanted me. Never! You lied!" She was going into hysterics.

"I didn't. Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it. Me for her, let me take her place." Spencer was urgent, unwavering. Maeve stared at him in awe at his words.

"You would do that?" Diane wailed.

"Yes," Spencer said fiercely with absolute certainty. This was no bluff.

Diane continued to bawl. "You would kill yourself for her?!"

"Yes," he said tenderly. The willingness in his eyes was undeniable. Maeve stared in wonder at the man willing to give up his life to save hers. She wouldn't let either of them die without letting him know how she felt.

"Thomas Merton." Just that name was more significant than any drawn-out declaration of love she could come up with. Recognition spread across Spencer's face. Now he stared in wonder at her.

"Who's Thomas Merton?!" Diane demanded.

"He knows... He knows." As long as she lived, Spencer Reid would always be in her gratitude. Even if she never survived to see tomorrow.

"Who's Thomas Merton?! Who is he?!" Diane screeched, jerking Maeve violently. But this time she didn't whimper.

If she was going to die, she wouldn't die afraid. "He's the one thing you can never take from us." Her eyes never left Spencer's.

Diane reached her resolve. "No," she spat. She very deliberately moved the gun up to her own temple, lining up both herself and her enemy in the path of the bullet.

"WAIT!" Spencer screamed.

In the same second, deafening gunfire seized the air.

"No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they'd die for." - Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

A/N: I know there wasn't anything new in this chapter, so chapter 2 will be up soon. Reviews are always appreciated.