Title: He Sits
Pairing: Reid
Rating: K
Summary: Reid after 6.18 Lauren
Author's Notes: I don't know what to say about this. It isn't meant to be good. It isn't meant to be anything, but... I wrote it, so I'll put it up. It's kinda sad, after I read it. I miss Emily already.

He sits.

Because he can not stand.
Because he can not continue to walk away.
Because he can not sleep, his dreams full of dreams of death.
Because he can not sleep, his dreams full of her.

So he sits.

He stares out in front of him, white door surrounded by off-white walls. The mental lock is scratched from previous owners. The bottom of the door is scratched too, signs that someone if not many had a dog, begging to be let out, to be free of this apartment.

He closes his eyes, breathes in slow.
He opens his eyes, breathes out just as slow, blowing it out through his nose as a shiver runs through him.

He sits.

He understands a dog, whimpering at the door, needing to escape, clawing at the one thing that keeps him from his goal.
He understands the need.
He understands the craving.
He understands the desperation.

He's desperate.
He's craving.
He's needing.

But not even a drug will make this better.
Not even a drug will make him able to escape.
Not even a drug will block out the pictures.
Make this last week stop playing before his eyes.
Make his mind stop screaming about
the signs he should have seen.
The words he should have said.

He could have prevented this loss.
He could have prevented this loss.

The loss.

His friend.
His sister.
Ever since Cyrus, she had been his sister.
Wrapped her arms around him, held him around the ashes.
She had always been his older sister.
The one that called him out when he was struggling.
The one that helped him deal with the loss of his father-figure.
The one that made him feel better.
The one that teased him about his intelligence, but loved him for it.
The one that listened.

He closes his eyes again.
To keep the tears from coming.

He can't cry again.
there's no one to hold him up.
There's no one to make sure he stops.
There's no one.

He sits.
He sits and he stares.
He waits for the alarm to go off in the bedroom.

When he will stand.
When he will walk away from this spot.
When he will stop staring at the door, waiting to escape and dress.
When he will dress in black.
When he will dress to mourn.

To mourn. Verb. To feel or express grief or sorrow. To grieve.
To show grief for a death by conventional signs, as by wearing black clothes.
To make a low, indistinct, mournful sound. Used especially of a dove.
To feel or express deep regret for.
To grieve over, for someone who has died.
To utter sorrowfully.
From Old English "murnan"
Or Old High German "mornen."

He closes his eyes.
Intellect does not help.

He will dress. He will mourn.
And then?

He will sit.
Because he cannot continue stand.
Because he can not continue to walk away.
Because he can not sleep, his dreams full of dreams of death.
Because he can not sleep, his dreams full of her.

He will sit.