A/N: Some of the dialogue is directly from "If the Shoe Fits", and not mine.

"We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones." – Stephen King

Spencer exhaled uneasily. His left hand squeezed his knee shakily. It was only him and JJ going on the take-down, but that only accounted for a portion of his nervousness. When Hotch had called with specific orders about talking the unsub down, Reid was hesitant.

"Hotch, I don't know if I—"

"If she's at a cemetery with her next victim, we don't have much time. You'll have to be quick and convincing. Reid," he said, pausing briefly, "you can handle this." He had hung up before Reid could answer.

Spencer exhaled again. Thankfully, JJ was too occupied stepping on the gas to notice. He should have been focusing on what he was going to say, how he would coax the unsub into cooperation so that no one else would get hurt. But all he could think was, No, I can't handle this.

The way in which he would have to approach the unsub bore an uncomfortable similarity to another situation, years ago now. And a similar unsub who sought a delusion that she couldn't have. That time, he had failed. And he couldn't allow himself to fail again.

JJ pulled up to the cemetery, and both agents got out of the black SUV. Reid was without his vest or gun. "You got this, Spence?" JJ asked, affirming he was okay to move forward. He nodded quickly. "Yeah." He gulped. She walked forward, gun out in front of her as her eyes swept in all directions. Reid flanked her.

"JJ," he muttered, gesturing to their right with a head nod. A petite woman who matched the exact description of their unsub sat near a grave, threatening a man who lay few feet from her on the ground, in obvious pain. JJ nodded, indicating that it was okay for Reid to move on ahead, that she had him covered. Spencer stepped forward. His heart raced.

"Excuse me," Reid called. "May I approach?"

Claire Dunbar turned around rapidly at his voice. "Who are you?! GO AWAY!" she yelled in a childlike voice.

"Please. Just give me the chance to speak." He approached her cautiously, his hands raised slightly at his sides to show that he was unarmed and posed to threat. "I've looked for so long," he stated, leading into the charade.

"What are you talking about?"

"I searched this entire city trying to find the right person," he started, speaking in an overtly pleading tone. It wasn't a lie—he had been searching for the person who had committed these murders. He decided if he started out telling the truth, it would be easier for him to convince her. Lying hadn't worked last time. "Are you the right person?" He quickly remembered something that would speak to her. "The dance. The other evening, do you remember?"

That caught her attention. Her expression was that of recognition. She stood up and dropped the bloody gardening sheers in her hand. "The dance?" She spoke almost meekly, in stark contrast to what one would think the voice of a murderer would sound like.

Reid could tell that she believed him, but he had to keep it up; he hadn't completely convinced her yet, and he couldn't lose her belief in the story now. He thought his best chance was to keep telling the truth.

"I'd met the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life." His voice shook ever so slightly, but Claire didn't seem to notice. He had met the most beautiful girl in the world to him. And she wasn't standing in front of him. He went on, keeping the soft, pleading tone in his voice. "We danced the whole night, and then…she was gone…"

He jerked his mind back into the present.

He had to do it now. He figured he had Claire convinced enough to start lying. He spoke with confidence instead of pleading. "But she left this behind." He reached into the bag he carried with him, into the evidence bag and pulled out the murder weapon: the high heel shoe that had been lodged in the neck of her latest kill. He approached her slowly. "May I?" He crouched down in front of her and put on the 'glass slipper'. He looked up to gauge her reaction, to determine if she was entirely convinced and ready to be taken away. She was almost there. He took her hand and kissed it for good measure. "I brought the carriage."

"You did?" she asked in awe. She completely believed the fantasy.

"It's waiting for us." Reid got up, took her hand, and led her toward the SUV. He let her step in front of him through the small gate.

He glanced back at JJ with a look of relief. This time, he had succeeded.

Reid lay on the couch on the jet. The case had wrapped up, somewhat unexpectedly, and he pretended to sleep so that he could be alone. It was still bothering him. He kept reminding himself that this case was different, and despite the similarities to last time, they were entirely separate instances. And most importantly, they had ended differently. He tried not to think about if his involvement had anything to do with that.

Ever since that…failure…he had shied away from talking down unsubs, something that at one point he was kind of good at. He could sympathize with them, lead them to believe he was on their side, while telling them exactly what they wanted to hear. And on that night, he believed that he could do it again—tell the right lies, execute the perfect deception…and save Maeve from her tormentor.

But he didn't. No matter what anyone told him—no matter what he told himself—he still couldn't convince himself that he was blameless for her death. It was like a horrible game he played in his head: that he could have done this or that—said something in different words, entered the loft differently, gotten to her sooner—and she would have lived.

In the last almost two years, he slowly built up to talking down unsubs again. He tried different, sometimes risky tactics, and they worked. He had become good at it again. But this case…this talk down was far too similar. He feared failing again. Despite all his successes, he still dwelled on that one catastrophic failure. Because this time, he had to try to win the unsub over romantically—something he was never good at in any capacity. That was the one deception he was uncomfortable with. And he couldn't let himself fail at that again, even if the consequences of doing so were far less severe than last time.

That talk down really hit a nerve with him personally. While he was playing the role of Claire's Prince Charming, he had to shove down the thought of 'this is wrong'. He had felt almost like he was cheating—which he acknowledged was ridiculous—but it shouldn't have been a murderer he was kneeling in front of. That was the same way he had felt when trying to convince Diane that he loved her.

That was his weakness: he couldn't lie about who he loved.

JJ sat by herself on the plane and scrolled through the pictures that her mom had sent her of Henry at the zoo. She chuckled to herself when she saw a picture of him chasing pigeons, a huge grin on his face. She sighed.

He was still a child, not yet old enough to fully understand the concept of death or why someone would want to… She stopped herself.

Henry never had any experiences with death. JJ was so determined to shield him from the atrocities she experienced nearly every day that she didn't stop to consider if maybe she should let him know what she was doing when she got called in to work. Not the full story, of course. But all he knew was that Mommy went to catch the bad guys. He didn't know that people were killed by these 'bad guys'. Should he, though?, she thought.

She looked across the plane at Spence. From what he had told her earlier about the gruesome and gory original fairytales, it seemed that he didn't see the harm in letting children see the realities of the world. The way he had said it made sense: 'So that children could safely confront their darkest fears.'

He had been forced to confront some of his darkest fears, at an age even younger than Henry was now. He continued to face those fears, even now. He had witnessed more than his fair share of brutalities, experienced more tragedy than he should have. Yet he still kept his innocence. It would have come as no surprise if he was bitter and jaded after all the unjust adversity he went through. But he wasn't. Time and time again, he confronted his darkest fears, and time and time again, he came back, still compassionate and noble, trying to prevent the world's cruelty that had caused him so much grief; he spent his life saving others.

She was glad her son had picked such a fitting role model. If Spence could confront his darkest fears and still be such a kind person, then maybe Henry could learn more about his Aunt Roz and still be the innocent little boy who needed his mother's protection. Even if he was scared, she was there to guide him through it. Maybe she could make him understand in a way that would strengthen him.

Spencer opened the door to his dark, empty apartment. As he shut the door behind him, he let out a big, tired sigh, relieving himself of the emotional weight this case had put on him. He plopped down on the couch and rubbed his eyes, feeling like a headache might be on its way. He was still and silent for a moment before sitting up. He flipped open his bag and pulled out a book. He examined the familiar cover before opening it to the first page, which held more meaning than the entirety of the work.

He traced his finger nostalgically over Maeve's handwriting. He glanced at the Thomas Merton quote and dwelled on the word 'alone'. He did feel alone. He furrowed his eyebrows at the thought that one event could so drastically alter his life, and continue to affect him. He didn't want it to always affect him like that. He didn't want to become dysfunctional whenever he was reminded of it. He didn't want to wallow forever, but 'moving on' didn't sound quite right.

He reread the quote. This time he lingered on the words 'meaning' and 'another'. She had given his life meaning, and had prompted him to find meaning in things that he hadn't before. Even if she had only been in his life for a short time, that could never be taken away.

He ran his finger over the page one more time before closing the cover. He smiled.

A/N: I started writing this immediately after I watched the episode. They had never done an unsub or a take-down like that before, which was really interesting. I sort of have mixed emotions about that whole scene. When I was watching it, I was thinking, "But...but...she's the unsub! I want this to actually happen to Reid, not just as an act!" And then I missed Maeve, and got sad about how Reid can never be happy for a long time. But that's a whole other rant.

Thanks for reading!