Song to this story :
Vanessa Williams - Amazing Grace
Monday – 1:21 am
He was sitting on the wooden floor in the bedroom.
Empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, and another next to him.
Impossible to sleep. Impossible to close tired eyes. Impossible to stop thinking about that day.
Alcohol was a best way to forget. But it was Monday. It means, time to work. Time to be sober and conscious.
Reid tried to stand up . . . It looked like the most hardest thing at that moment.
He was wearing jeans, faded blue t-shirt and converse. But it didn't matter for him.
The sound of raindrops on the window glass disturbed his thoughts.
He looked on the clock.
Too early to go to the work.
Too late to get drunk in the bar.
Only one place was always open for him. Place where he could talk and be himself.
Place where he could be with her. With his Maeve.
He walked few blocks by lonely streets. Rain was more intensive, as when he arrived. But an umbrella was not needed.
He liked rain. Pieces of water, falling on a face.
Maeve loved it too. Once she told him about autumn, when she was 17, in the London.
She was walking through the streets just like him. Her red dress were waving into the sounds of wind.
Suddenly the single raindrop fell on her cheek. Only one. She looked up.
Maeve said, it looked like the sky was asking her, if she agrees.
She smiled, and few seconds after, the huge rainstorm fell on the city.
The people ran under their umbrellas out of the street. But she just stood there.
Alone.
Everyone was gone. At home.
She smiled again, and started to dance, while she was going to the underground.
Not much. Only few volatile moves. But she was happy there.
Spencer remembered her voice, when was saying it.
She was smiling. He couldn't see, but he heard it.
That was the moment when he find out he loves her.
He looked to the sky.
'. . .loved her." he thought.
He looked in front of him.
Maeve Donovan
1983 – 2013
"Forever in our hearts & memories"
Red rose, which he brought there yesterday was still there.
Rain was weaker and weaker every minute.
And he was just standing there . . . In front of her grave. Grave of only one woman he ever truly loved.
He touched his revolver, which he always had with him.
It was a way to escape. So simple, so fast . . .
But he decided to not think about it now.
Now he was there with her.
Suddenly the unknown voice came from behind him.
"I thought I'm the only one here . . ."
Woman voice sighed sadly.
Reid turned to the sound.
In the rain. In wet clothes and hair. With tears in the eyes.
She smiled weakly and wiped her tears with sleeve.
She looked nice, but in her voice was grief.
". . . your wife ?" she asked, watching Maeve's memorial.
Without any doubt he answered.
"My love." he smiled gently
"Life's not fair, isn't it." stream of teardrops run down her face.
She sat on the near bench, looking at hundreds of graves around.
"One day they are here, and everything looks great. And then . . ." her head fell to hands.
Spencer slowly came closer, sat next to her.
". . .then they're gone. And life doesn't make sense already."
he continued.
"For who are you here ?" he sighed, watching the rain.
She closed her eyes painfully.
"My sister . . . Few years older."
"What happened ?"
"Cancer. I saw her dying every day. . ." She looked at him, with so much suffer in eyes. His face looked same.
"Molly . . . she was the most genial. Protected everyone, and never wanted anything for it.
I'll never forget that pain in her husband's eyes, after she died. So empty, without any sense . . . just like yours."
There was a silence at the second.
"She . . ." he stopped at the second, trying to keep his tears inside. ". . . she was killed in front of me. My Maeve."
She lay her head on his shoulder. Without any word, without any noise.
Only two broken souls in the rain.
"It hurts so much .To live without them . . ."
She sighed deeply, while warm tears were falling from her eyes.
"One day It will stop." he said strongly.
She looked at him little confused.
"What you mean ?"
"The pain." he said with the same tone in voice and looked to the sky.
She dried her tears.
Spencer didn't say a lot. But it makes sense more than anything else.
That unbelievable pain one day will stop.
For average human it could means many things.
For example, that people can teach to live with the grieve or that death is not the end.
But she knew what he means. She knew it exactly.
Suicide is the only escape.
But she was quiet. And he too.
They were just looking to the sky, and thinking.
"Hey . . ." she smiled a little ". . . the rain stopped. I didn't recognize it."
Reid smiled gently, still looking up.
"I thought It will never end."
She dried tears, and the rest of the raindrops from her face.
"I'm Claire. Claire Laurens . . . ."
She smiled friendly and stood up.
He followed her.
"Spencer Reid." he smiled back.
"So, Spencer, I must ask. How are you doing it ?"
"Doing what ?"
"Be so calm suddenly."
"It's my job. I have to." he smiled a little at her, and she smiled back.
"It's sound interesting. Tell me about it. . . "
Some women would tell it sarcastically, but she was really interested.
Interested so much, that her eyes were almost shining.
"Sure, why not. But It's little cold in here. If you want, I live few minutes from here. We can talk on the way."
"No, no. You helped me enough for tonight."
"Look, I'm gentlemen. I can't let you here alone."
His hair and clothes were too wet, that the drops were falling from it every second. Brown , gently eyes followed her every move. But he still looked so . . . so calm, and strong.
Unusual for someone who was almost hour in the weather hell.
But she had to choose.
To stay there, on the cemetery alone and wet ?
But . . .
To say NO looked a lot harder!
"Normally, I would protest, but it's really cold. So thank you, Spencer."
He took of his jacket and put it on her shoulders.
That was a moment when she understood she chose a wonderful way.
They began to walk away. But Spencer stopped and turned to Maeve's grieve.
But didn't say a word.
Claire came closer.
"Goodbye, Maeve. I promise next time I'll bring you some flowers." she whispered.
Spencer smiled gently.
"Thank you."
"She deserves it the most."
He looked at the grieve, sighed.
"Oh yeah, she does."
Then they turned and started to walk away.
"You know, Spencer, normally I don't do this."
"Do what ?" he asked, trying to dry his t-shirt.
"I'm not so open to everybody. Truly, . . . to nobody."
He sighed.
"Me too. But today is more and more exceptional."
"But, It's weird."
He raised his eyebrows.
"What ?"
"Weird is, I'm not feeling weird."
He laughed a little.
"I guess we're a friends . . ."
