Please note:
I know that the idea sounds like a rip-off of The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold), but just let me tell you: I am horrible at coming up with ideas! I am, however, in love with the idea of a beloved character being caught in the "in between" and witnessing life as it happens after their death. I hope that I can borrow this idea from Sebold (who is an absolutely genius) and spin it in a way that all you readers will love

Disclaimer: I don't own this show, the characters associated with this show. I based the idea of The Lovely Bones

Eternal

Song of this chapter: Possibility – Lykke Li

Chapter 1 - Mirror

The thing Reid remembered most about dying was the feeling of losing everything: the breaths from his lung, the feelings of his body, and-tragically of all-the hopes of being found by his team. There were other things he remembered as well, like the burning pain radiating from the gunshot wound in his stomach, the stomach acid seeping into his lungs, choking him and poisoning him slowly. He remembered what his emotions the moment leading up to his death. He was angry at himself for getting the profile completely wrong. He was panicking because his teams were on their way to another location at the other side of town chasing the wrong guy while he was dying.

But it didn't matter what he was feeling or what he was thinking because as his time drew to an end, everything began to blur into a vivid dimension where reality blended in with dreams. He felt a part of him disappearing, but along with it, another part of him was propagating and seeping into the heavens.

At first, he didn't even realize that he was dead. He floated for awhile, for how long he did not know. The air around him felt cool and cleansing against his hot skins. Every time he opened his eyes, he saw blinding white light that forced his eyes shut again. He should keep his eyes close, his instinct told him, when the time comes, he would be allowed to open them again. He could smell jasmine lingering in the air; it reminded him of his childhood: when his mom was well enough to wash her hair, she was use jasmine-scented shampoo. Eventually, he associated that scent with his mom's brief periods of sanity. It was his favourite smell in the world, even now.

Eventually, he felt something solid beneath his feet again. With his eyes still closed, he began assessing his situation. He was sitting on some sort of office chair with his back resting again it. He could swivel around if he moved his feet. The jasmine scent was replaced by the smell of coffee bean. The room was quiet, so much so that it sent a chill up his spine.

Slowly but surely, Reid opened his eyes. He breathed a sign of relief when he realized that the white light was gone and he could see clearly where he was now. But once he realized where he was, he couldn't help but gasp in shock.

He was here. He was at the BAU office, sitting at his desk. This was his life for the past seven years

The regularly bustling office was empty. He glanced down at his desk. The usual messy surface was clean. His computer monitor was always pasted with millions of little sticky notes to remind him of everything he needed to do, but now it was clean and bare. His desk was usually swamped with hundreds of brown folders filled with horrendous BAU cases, there were none now. He opened his top desk drawer and find pens and pencils, papers, sticky notes, paper clips, and various stationeries neatly arranged inside. He smiled when he imagined what Garcia would have told him if she saw how clean his space was.

Garcia

His mind grasped around that name: Penelope Garcia. Then, almost instantly, several names emerged from the shadow of his mind

Emily Prentiss

He shifted his gaze to the desk next to him: Emily Prentiss' desk. Unlike his clear desk, hers was swamped with BAU files, albeit they were arranged into two neat piles: one requiring her attention and one she successfully looked through.

Aaron Hotchner

He ran up the short flight of stairs leading to the superior's office. Aaron Hotchner wasn't there, but his desk was also filled with paperwork and cases. Jack Hotcher's picture beamed up at him once he got to his desk.

David Rossi

He crossed the short distance separating Rossi's office from Hotch's. The office was empty but it retained its usual OCD-like neatness. There was not a pen out of place, they were arranged according to colour on Rossi's desk. His books were neatly stacked in the bookcase opposite his desk, organized by the author's last name and date of publications.

Jennifer Jareau

He burst into her office. Her office was how it always was, the piles of unsolved murder cases reaching ceiling height. But JJ was missing

Derek Morgan

He walked down the BAU hallway towards Morgan's new office. He opened the door and peeked inside. Once again, Reid was greeted by an empty room, but his desk was exactly the same as it was before they left for the case. He was in the middle of filling in some paperwork when he was called to the conference room and the form was still there, half-filled.

There was one last person left. Reid ran towards Garcia's room. She was there, she has to be: she was always in her office. He opened the door and was greeted with blinking computer screen. Garcia's toys and paraphernalia decorated her wide desk. However, her chair was empty.

What is going on? He wondered. He wracked his brain to try and remember what was going on the moments leading up to his awakening in the BAU office. Images began to form in his mind: the barrel of a gun, the unsub's sneer, the sight of him pulling the trigger. He remembered hearing the sound of the gun as the bullet left it and bury itself into Reid's body. Then the worst sound of all: it was the unsub's rough voice: they'll never find you, and the sound of a door slamming shut, leaving Reid all alone, bleeding and dying.

Am I dead?

Reid ran out of Garcia's office. He ran and ran while he felt his emotions gripping him. It was strange how magnified his feelings were now. He couldn't focus on anything but his fear, his disappointment, his sadness, and his anger.

He ran until he was out of the FBI building. But instead of standing on the cemented sidewalks of Quantico, Virginia, he was now in the middle of some unknown park. He looked around to see if he would recognize the location. He spotted a chess table somewhere away from him. Other than that, there was nothing else: no swing sets, no slides, no basketball court, no baseball diamond. In the distance, he could see one lone park bench. He walked towards it, struggling to keep his pace even and his mind calm. As he approached the seat, he realized that there was also a gazebo located beside the bench.

He gasped. He recognized where this was now.

It was the park he used to go to as a kid. When his mom's episodes were bad enough to scare him, Reid used to run to the park and hide in that very gazebo. He would duck under and imagine what it would be like if the gazebo would launch into space and he could escape his dysfunctional life. But he knew it was impossible, gazebos didn't spontaneously developed rocket packs and launched itself into space. The amount of fuel power wouldn't just materialize out of nowhere. You couldn't create matter. Besides, once he reached space, he wouldn't be able to breathe because he didn't have source of oxygen.

Am I dreaming or am I actually dead?

He sat down on the park bench and stared straight ahead. He blinked in confusion at what he saw: instead of a never-ending sea of green grass like he had expected, there was a mirror in front of him. His reflection stared back at him; his face was the familiar expression that he had when he was thinking hard. He reached out and touched the glass and felt the cool surface of the mirror.

"Are you dead?" he asked his reflection, then paused as if he expected it to answer him. He withdrew his hands and rested them on his lap, his long fingers intertwining each other.

"Am I dead?" he repeated the question in a whisper.

The mirror seemed to answer him. His reflection soften and melted away to form a whirlpool of colour. Moments later, the colour separated to form a fuzzy image. Then, as if the auto-focus on a camera was taking effect, the reflection sharpened. Reid felt like the floor had disappeared beneath him as he stared at the mirror

It was him. It was Dr. Spencer Reid, except he wasn't sitting on a park bench staring at a mirror. Dr. Reid was lying on a surgery table while the doctor, leading an army of nurses struggles to bring him back to life. The doctor pressed a defibrillator to his chest, jostling his body. As it happened, he felt himself being hoisted from the bench, ripped through an unknown dimension, and reunited with his body once again. But it only lasted a second, before he was escaping back to where he was before. It happened quite a few times, he felt like he was a baseball being thrown back and forth between the pitcher and the catcher. No, it was more like a fishing game between the doctor and the inevitable. The doctor was pulling and pulling on the rod but it was useless, the catch was too big. But the doctor kept trying with sweat beading down his forehead. His actions becoming more erratic and desperate as time passed by

Whenever Reid could, he saw his teams through the mirror anxiously anticipating the doctor's return in the waiting room. Morgan was pacing the room angrily with his cell phone pressed to his ears. Garcia was on the other side of the receiver, crying and begging for him to be okay. JJ buried her face in her hand. Her breathing was quick as she tried her best to keep the tears from falling. Emily kept an arm around her, rubbing her back in slow, circular motion, whispering to her that it would be alright. But each time she said it, she could feel her voice losing the conviction that it usual has. Hotch stood by the emergency door with Rossi, his face was stone cold as usual but his eyes couldn't betray the fear that he had while Rossi kept his gaze fixed on a spot in the ceiling.

Strangest of all was that he could hear their thoughts:

I should've been with him. That was Morgan

I should've stopped him from going into that cabin alone. That was Hotch

Spence, please be okay. He heard JJ begged

He has to be okay. Emily told herself

He could even hear Garcia: What are we supposed to do if he doesn't survive?

Rossi was struggling to stay on the positive: He's already lost too much blood...No...he'll be okay.

Finally, the tossing stopped. The doctor had quit. They had lost.

"Let's call it in," he heard the doctor said quietly to one of the nurse

"Time of death," the nurse uttered glancing up at the ceiling clock, "7:00 PM"

He marched outside of the surgery room, down the hall and exited the emergency wing where the five profilers were situated. As soon as he exited, they all stood and gathered around him. They couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of hope in their heart as they saw the doctor emerging from his cave. But whatever shred of hope they had was replaced by despair and disbelief when they saw the doctor's grim expression. A shake of the head from the doctor confirmed it all.

"I'm sorry." He said simply, "We tried everything we could"

Dark clouds were gathering over Reid's head, but Reid didn't noticed. He pressed an arm to the mirror in the park, watching as his friends fell apart in front of one another.

Morgan dropped his cell phone in shock. He picked up one of the plastic chair and violently threw it across the room. JJ was no longer able to suppress her tears; she collapsed on the ground and cried uncontrollably Emily sat down beside her, and soon, her tears began to trickle down her cheek. Hotch and Rossi looked at one another, the pain all too evident in their eyes. The only thing keeping them from breaking down like the others did was the years of experience with this type of pain.

Reid was in shocked. He couldn't even deny it now. He was dead. He was gone. He was nothing but a corpse now. He wanted to cry but for some reason, he couldn't.

It started to rain. Reid looked up at the sky to see fat rain droplets falling from the sky. He looked back at the mirror, each time JJ or Emily cried, it felt like their tears were penetrating the barriers between Reid and his friends and splashing down on his face.