A/N: I hope that I didn't make too many mistakes on this. I was kinda in a rush. I'll edit any typos that I may have missed later. Anywhoo, thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, guys. Thanks to all the readers, favers, and followers as well. I hope you enjoy!

W is for Winter

It was a beautiful day, really. The warm afternoon sun filtered down through the leaves, sending spots of light and shadow dancing across the early spring grass. The stone was warm beneath Derek's hand as he grasped the edge as tightly as he grasped for words. He gazed around, lost for a moment, struggling to reconcile the beauty surrounding him with the ruin and desolation within.

It had been a long year- a year of suffering and solitude, punctuated briefly by a flicker of hope in the midst of darkest winter. But the winter was gone, taking with it the friends and family who had gathered to his side, forcing him to wring out every drop of yuletide cheer that existed in his already too-dry soul. They were gone now, and he was left with nothing but the ghosts of echoing footsteps and a pile of unopened gifts.

New Year's came and went, and he watched the dropping of the ball in Times Square as he had done for the first time two years ago.

"Did you know that the dropping of the ball in Times Square is attended by at least one million spectators yearly, and that it has an estimated global audience of at least one billion? It's one of the most widely recogni-"

The smile that graced kiss-bruised lips minutes later was brighter than all the lights in Times Square. He hoped that they really would be doing this all year. A little superstition might be nice for once.

He blinked his eyes and January was gone. The girls left hearts and chocolates on Spencer's desk. The cookies were undoubtedly from Garcia. The flowers had obviously come from someone who didn't know Spencer. Derek suspected their newest team member, Mitchell. White lilies, purple roses, and lavender: purity, enchantment, and distrust. 'What would Spencer say about that?' he wondered. Derek just nodded and gave the closest thing to a smile that he could muster. The kid didn't know any better. After all, he'd never had to calm down an insecure genius who had once misinterpreted an ill-chosen bouquet. Derek would never again choose an arrangement just because it was pretty. He'd take the flowers to Spencer later that day. The sweets would go stale on their kitchen table.

How many months had passed since then? Since that unusually somber holiday that none of his teammates had dared mention was their anniversary? They just silently left their tokens like offerings at a makeshift altar- an altar that had yet to be disturbed in any other way. Mitchell took another empty desk on the other side of the bullpen without question or complaint. He was observant, that much could be said for the rookie. He never asked questions about his predecessor, choosing rather to listen intently whenever stories about the genius were shared around him. He wasn't yet a part of the tightknit group of profilers. No- he wasn't yet a part of this family, but he had quickly proven himself a friend. Rumors of just how close certain members of the team were would never originate with him. An ill-timed scandal might have been the death knell to the gasping and wounded soul of this family.

"3 years, 2 months, 6 days, 11 hours," Derek offered lightly, and it was so hard to keep that small upturn of the lips. "Don't ask me how many minutes," he snorted, looking away briefly to swipe at a tear that had finally managed to escape. "I miss you," he said, and for all the longing in that statement, it sounded like an accusation.

"Three years, Spencer. Do you know how long that is in Morgan Years?" He cracked a genuine smile at the inside joke. Prentiss was the first to discover the budding relationship between the two coworkers. She playfully slapped Spencer on the back and joked that 'of all the dogs' he could have picked up, he had to take in 'this old stray'. Spencer had blushed and laughed, ducking his head and completely missing the threat conveyed in Emily's stare and the promise in Derek's. She knew that Morgan would never hurt the man she viewed almost as a little brother, but it still took a few months for the irrational surge of protectiveness to subside.

The memories kept coming, and before he knew it, Derek had spent nearly an hour in a one-sided conversation. It was odd to hear what should have been Spencer's words in his own voice. Sometimes, he'd catch himself trailing half-formed sentences as though expecting Spencer to finish his thoughts. "Like you used to…"

He cleared his throat. "Henry turned five on Saturday. JJ… she went all out for the party. It was like a sweet sixteen for five year olds," he laughed. "She even hired a magician. Henry said that his Uncle Spence was better. He misses you. We... We all miss you."

A faint buzzing drew his attention, and Derek reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. "Speak of the Devil," he said, checking the text. There were three missed calls. This wasn't the first time that he'd allowed the rest of the world to fade into the background. He hoped that the team understood. "We have a case," he sighed pushing himself off of the stone bench and stretching his back.

"You know, we could be back a lot sooner if we had that big brain of yours. But then… Yeah, you're right. Then I wouldn't have to come back here, would I?" Derek leaned down into the blank face of his lover and looked into the vacant eyes that had done nothing but stare back at him for over a year. "See, Pretty Boy- that's why you're the genius," he said softly. "Come on. Let's get you back to your room."

Derek unlocked the brakes on the wheelchair and started the familiar stroll back to the hospital entrance. As he walked along, he kept up his side of the light banter, imagining a response for everything he said. If he tried hard enough, he could almost remember the exact changes in Spencer's inflection- the way the pitch of his voice would rise half an octave in irritation or tremble with stifled laughter. If he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine that this was just another lazy afternoon interrupted by a work call and that they would pick up where they left off as soon as the case was done. Looking up at the pale blue sky, hearing the song of the thrushes in the nearby trees, he could almost convince himself. It was a beautiful day. Really, it was.