Finally! I have contributed to the one fandom I have had no inspiration in! Criminal Minds fanfiction, I adore you! Such a difference to what I usually write but here it is, Spencer Reid in his thoughts. I hope you enjoy this and please review!
~RavenclawStudent.
He wandered the streets alone, thinking.
That's all he did in his free time now.
Think.
Ponder upon the many times he spoke to her, the many moments he shared with her. The sisterly love she felt for him. That's what they all were. One big family.
Now that's been ripped right apart.
The name brought fresh tears to his eyes whenever he heard it. Prentiss.
The other brought anger and unadulterated hatred whenever he heard it. Doyle.
It was he, he who murdered her. He murdered his partner. He murdered his friend. He murdered his sister. He killed Emily with his bare disgusting hands, poisoning her with his filth moments before her death. He was the last face she ever saw before unconsciousness and life left her. And that doubled his hatred for him.
As the pavement dragged on, Spencer Reid wondered whether the team would ever recover. How could they? Prentiss was a valuable and important member of the team, her skills outweighed many and she was an excellent profiler. Not only that, but she was... Her. Emily Prentiss. A friend, a confidante, so many things! And now she was gone, gone to the world and gone to them.
As he absentmindedly crossed a road, Spencer's mind dragged back to Tobias Hankel. He remembered the feeling. The guttural anguish of inevitable death. While he was tortured inches away from his death he felt it. It was numb to him now, the Dilaudid had made sure of that, but he still knew it was there. He knew he had felt it, even if it wasn't as vivid now as it once was. Did Emily feel that? While she was confined to minimal space with Doyle, did she acknowledge the fact that death was a high ending to this story? Did it set low on her stomach, making her feel empty and hollow, like it did him? Did she think about her BAU family as the life drained from her?
So many questions and not a single answer to any of them.
He could feel it. The pain. It was creeping up to him, he knew it. In few moments, tears would splash onto his cheeks and he would cry, cry for the one who wasn't here. Cry for the one he never said goodbye to. Cry for the one he had loved and lost like the rest of the team. And it had. Tears did fall, they fell constantly. In the confinements of his own home or at times he was alone and his thoughts had eaten him out. They fell harshly, scarring him as he remembered hurting her, being rude and mean when she was new and he was still wallowing in his own pity. He resented himself for this. Loathed it so much it made him scrape at his skin angrily. Because that's what Spencer Reid was. Angry.
His apartment came into view, clouded with tears, but it was there. How many times was she around? Laughing good-naturedly, smiling and laughing and unbeknownst to what would occur? He couldn't count. His own home was making him upset.
The manhunt for the psychopath Doyle was underway, and Spencer strained his genius mind to find that son of a bitch. To think, that at one point, he laid lewd hands upon his sister? He touched her in horrifying ways? He offered her things in the name of 'love'? It made Spencer want to vomit.
He wished things were different. He wished things were better. As horrible as it sounded, he wished it was Prentiss he saw everyday walking in through the door instead of Seaver. He missed her. More than words could describe. Being so used to her presence that now it was gone, they were lost. Depressed. If only they had been a little sooner...
As foolish as it seems, Spencer blamed himself for her murder. He felt accountable. They all spoke highly of his incredible mind, but what use was an IQ of 187 when you couldn't use it to save the ones you love? It was Emily this time but who will be next? Morgan? JJ? His mom?
After the investigation for Doyle ends, Spencer would seriously question his position at BAU. He didn't feel like it was the job for him anymore. He couldn't bring himself to act as he once had. Gone were the days of the blabbering young genius, who spurted nonsensical facts and thoughts aloud. No. Spencer had grown up definitively. It's all changed now.
His mind wandered back to Dilaudid. He may not remember much from that dark time in his life, but he remembered that. The way it soothed him, calmed him, [I] freed [I] him of the pain and the torture and the hurt... He wished he had not thought of it because now it seemed so tempting. So alluring that Spencer couldn't help but walk into his bathroom and peer into the medicine cabinet. Dilaudid hadn't been in his house for over three years and in spite of Emily's death, that had not changed. But he searched for something, [I] anything [I] that would give him that feeling again... That painlessness and freedom... It was in vain. He found nothing.
His desire had multiplied and it was everything he had to stop himself from walking out of that door and feeding his need. Self-restraint was one of the things he had ultimately picked up on when he became clean, but it was not doing itself justice today. He was twitching and fidgeting more than he had to.
Spencer made some food. He was at the BAU again early in the morning and it was imperative for him to get some food down his throat so he wouldn't cause any disruptions tomorrow. Emily was important; nothing could disturb the hell-bent pack of BAU in their desperate search for Emily's murderer. In honour of her dead spirit, justice must be served to those who deserve it and despite all the wrongness Emily had committed in this life; she made up for it with the lives she saved. Doyle was another obvious matter.
Coffee did for now. It was all he could be bothered to make. It had been three days, nine hours, forty-two minutes and fifty-nine seconds since they had found out about Emily's demise and still it had not sunk in fully yet.
No, it wouldn't until Doyle was incarcerated or dead.
A wicked smile set on Spencer's lips as he knew exactly which he wanted.
He sighed. Her death had affected him more than he let on. A man, twenty-nine years of age had gone to his female friend's house twice already for a shoulder to cry on. Pathetic. He supposed they were all doing it though, putting on a front that contradicted everything. It was wrong, so very wrong.
It was them.
He worried about Garcia. She was exceptionally fragile at this time, the only one who outwardly showed her emotions. A beautiful creature, who only saw the light in everything, despite what she saw everyday on her beloved screams. Morgan was there for her, holding her and comforting her and being a friend. And Hotch, who still had his outward stoic posture, adamant to find Doyle and bring him down. Spencer knew why, even if they had a no profiling profilers rule, it was obvious. Hotchner wanted to avenge her death, have Doyle pay for the mistake he made. No one kills a family member of ours and gets away with it, especially if the family consists of federal agents.
He remembered Gideon. How he simply... gave up. A talented profiler, excellent at his job, and yet it had gotten to him. Everything had risen above him and he left them. Could Reid do that? Did Prentiss' death affect him that badly? He didn't know. Could he leave? Was it what Emily would've wanted? Would she have wanted him to leave this job? Spencer didn't see the point of it, if he couldn't save his own, how was he to save others?
Sleep bypassed him; time went by slowly, torturously. He didn't know what to do.
So he just did what he needed to do.
He crossed the room to his leather side bag, opened it and removed a manila folder. Sitting down, he did what he was best at.
Profiling.