Warnings: Sick Character, Angst, Tragedy, Major Character Death
This was written as a response to a picture prompt challenge. The fic was supposed to be between 500-2,000 words. I failed, spectacularly. This became something extremely emotional for me and I just couldn't do it justice in 2,000 words or less.
Title is also the title of the song that helped inspire this fic: Angels on the Moon by Thriving Ivory. I highly recommend giving it a listen before, during or after reading this. It's absolutely beautiful and perfectly fits the feel of this story.
If you'd like to see the picture that goes with this, you can visit my other site, A O 3, under the same name.
ANGELS ON THE MOON
.
Do you dream that the world will know your name?
So tell me your name.
Do you care about all the little things,
or anything at all?
I wanna feel, all the chemicals inside.
I wanna feel.
I wanna sunburn, just to know that I'm alive.
To know I'm alive.
- Thriving Ivory
.
The air was filled with the sounds of ocean waves lapping onto the shore, seagulls flying overhead, and children laughing and splashing. Hotch was comfortably laid back in a lounge chair watching Henry, Jack and Will wade around in the water, the trio throwing a frisbee between them. Every now and then, Clooney would run up and snatch the disc right out of mid air and bolt down the beach with two energetic little boys hot on his paws. Morgan, JJ and Garcia were packing up all the left over food from the picnic they'd had earlier, Garcia 'accidentally' dropping a bun every now and then for the birds to enjoy. Somewhere, he could hear Rossi and Prentiss in a very heated debate over what type of scotch was best, and from all the giggles coming from the pair it was obvious Dave had brought samples. Spencer was in the chair right next to him, a blanket Garcia had knitted covering much of his body as he laid there with his eyes closed and a happy, content smile on his face.
They'd spent the entire afternoon here, sitting at the beach enjoying everyone's company. It was nice to be able to let go for a little while, forget all the horrors they had to deal with on a daily basis and just be together. Morgan and Rossi had cooked up a deliciously filling meal of hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad and baked beans; and Garcia had supplied her infamous red velvet cupcakes and peanut butter cookies for dessert. The day was coming to a close, the sun drifting ever closer to the ocean horizon as new colors began to emerge in the sky, and a warm, light breeze wafted in from the water, bringing with it the scent of salt and seaweed. It would have been a sublime feeling to be here with their entire team...their family, really...if it wasn't for the true reason for the gathering.
Today was a very important day.
One of the most important days.
Today...was a goodbye.
"This has been so wonderful," Spencer sighed, then opened his eyes and turned to look at Aaron, "It's been a fantastic day. The perfect day. Thank you for making it happen, Aaron."
"It was my joy to do this for you, Love. That is why we're all here." He met Reid's gaze and felt the familiar sting of tears filling his eyes. Spencer had lost so much weight over the last four months, weight he really couldn't afford to lose. He was paler than usual, his cheeks sunken in and his skin taut. His long, flowing curls had thinned out significantly, and the strands didn't have quite the same lustrous shine to them that they used to. Dark circles were now a constant shadow under his tired hazel eyes even though he slept more now than he ever had before. And no matter how long he slept, he never seemed to have much energy. It had all been zapped out of him over the months. But today...today was an amazing and glorious exception to their new normal, and Aaron would be forever grateful. Spencer had woken up this morning so energized and excited that Jack had thought they were going to Disneyland instead of the beach. He smiled, "We're here to give you your perfect day."
Reid smiled back at him and he moved his chair closer until the sides were flush together. He dipped his hand underneath the blanket in search of long, delicate fingers, and when he found them he covered them with his own, giving a little squeeze.
Too cold.
He always felt so cold.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked, "Maybe we should pack up and go—"
"I'm fine, Aaron," Spencer reassured, turning his hand over and threading their fingers together, "Besides, it's not time yet. I don't wanna go until..."
"Until we see the sunset," he finished for him.
Reid softly chuckled, "Yeah. I just don't wanna miss any of it. It could be..." he hesitated, a solemn look crossing his gaunt features, "...well, you know."
He did know; he knew all too well. Apparently Spencer didn't want to say it. That was okay. Hotch really didn't think he wanted to hear him say it again. He didn't know if he had the strength anymore. He didn't know if any of them had the strength anymore. They were all so emotionally drained, mentally beat down and physically exhausted. They had been at war, after all, and they were battle weary.
A vicious murderer had been stalking the BAU for the last four months...threatening to take everything away from them and sadistically vowing to destroy the very heart of the team. They had all been scared, and angry, and eerily calm at times, and then absolutely exhausted at other times. Emotions had ebbed and flowed so freely that Hotch felt he was suffering from whiplash most of the time.
This particular unsub, though, wasn't one of the typical bad guys that they hunted day in and day out.
No, not at all.
The killer wasn't someone they could just find, arrest and lock away in a maximum security prison for the rest of their miserable life. This evil wasn't even a person, it was a thing; a terrible, awful, wretched thing that Aaron couldn't fight. He was utterly helpless against this enemy. No matter how much he wanted to beat it to death with his bare hands just as he'd done with Foyet, he couldn't actually lay a finger on it. It was untouchable and absolutely terrifying, and it had an equally frightening name:
Oligoastrocytoma.
Its body count was high, and its aliases many:
Mixed glioma.
Brain tumor.
Malignant.
Cancer.
Fast growing.
Aggressive.
Ironic.
Ironic, because the most brilliant mind that Aaron had ever known was now intent on killing itself, and it was doing it at an alarmingly rapid rate.
About a year ago, Spencer had started complaining of headaches. He'd gone to their primary care physician and had several tests done, which all miraculously came back relatively normal. Aaron would later wonder how in the world they hadn't found out sooner, not that it would have made much of a difference. At the time, the doctor had explained that the headaches were most likely stress-induced migraines and they'd taken him at his word. They'd trusted him. They'd gone home and gone on with their lives...catching unsubs, going to Jack's soccer games and school plays, writing papers, preparing for marathons, guest lecturing...their usual.
Four months ago, however, their usual crashed down around them and became their never ending nightmare. The team had been gathered in the round table room. Garcia was up at the board explaining the grizzly pictures pinned on the surface as she ran through their newest serial killer's M.O. when Reid suddenly collapsed without warning. Aaron had watched with horror as his body fell lifelessly to the floor and began to violently seize. He'd been at Spencer's side in an instant while JJ called for an ambulance. After what seemed like hours, but he was told later had only been about two minutes, Spencer had stopped convulsing but had remained unresponsive. The paramedics arrived quickly after that, swooped him up onto a gurney and whisked him away. Tests had been done, scans ran, blood drawn...and then they'd waited.
When the ER doctor came into Reid's room, Aaron knew something was terribly wrong. The man really needed to work on his poker face. Apparently the MRI had shown a shadow. There was a shadow on Spencer's brain scan...a hint of something sinister.
He was admitted.
A biopsy was done two days later.
The doctor explained the findings, and Aaron had heard that wretched name for the first time. The name he would never forget and never stop hating...
.
"Oligoastrocytoma. It's grade 3. Anaplastic. That means it's rapidly growing. A combined approach of chemotherapy and radiation is the usual treatment, paired with surgical intervention to remove as much of the mass as possible. Unfortunately, Dr. Reid's tumor has already invaded neighboring tissue and it would prove too dangerous to operate at this time. I would still strongly urge you to have the chemo and radiation, though."
.
Spencer had jumped in then, interrupting the doctor and giving his own spiel about his diagnosis and the treatment options. Hard facts and all...
.
"The prognosis for patients with high-grade gliomas like this one is generally quite poor. Of the approximately ten thousand Americans diagnosed each year with malignant gliomas, only fifty percent are still alive after one year. Twenty-five percent will survive about two years. The conventional treatments you're suggesting, Doctor, haven't been proven to prolong life and can actually cause very significant and debilitating side effects."
.
Spencer had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want treatment if it meant he was going to suffer through all of the terrible side effects and still die at relatively the same pace as he would without it...
.
"Aaron, Love, I'm dying. It's not the ideal situation...clearly. It really, really sucks, actually. But you heard what the doctor said. The tumor's too advanced for surgery, and I know the other treatment options won't do anything to prolong my life. They'll just...be painful. I don't wanna go through all the side effects of chemo and radiation if it means I'm not gonna be able to enjoy whatever time I do have left. I'm so sorry, Aaron. And, you know, if you really want me to, of course I'll do it. I'll take the meds and I'll do the radiation...I'll do it for you. But all I truly want now is spend as much good time as I can with you and Jack. That's it. That's really all I've ever wanted. Please, Aaron."
.
So Aaron had let him have his way, even though it was crushing him in agonizing grief. They'd left the hospital with plans for a home health nurse to come visit Spencer every week; and then, when his symptoms worsened, they would increase the visits until it became evident that hospice care was needed.
They'd gone home and had almost four amazing, wonderful, fantastic months together as a family.
Over the last two weeks, though, Spencer had deteriorated frighteningly quickly. He was having more seizures, and they were lasting longer than they had before, taking more out of him. His vision had started to fade as the tumor began to encroach on his optic nerve. He'd completely lost the ability to walk on his own and was forced to either remain in bed or in a wheelchair most of the time. His appetite was virtually nonexistent, and home health had started talking about placing a feeding tube to make sure he got the nutrition he needed. Probably the hardest thing for him to deal with, however, was the loss of some of his bowel and bladder control. He tried to put on a brave face for Aaron, but it was obvious that he was embarrassed every time he had an accident.
That's what really broke Aaron's heart. He wished he could make Spencer see that he had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. He was still the most beautiful person Aaron had ever laid eyes on. He was still the man of his dreams and the love of his life. And if Aaron could, he wouldn't hesitate to take care of Spencer forever.
If only they had that long.
But the excruciating truth was that they didn't.
They were running out of time.
He never thought they'd actually run out of time.
Last week, Spencer had mentioned something to him about wanting to gather everyone together to say a proper goodbye. A sort of farewell to all his friends. He'd wanted to make a whole day of it, at the beach where they'd had family vacations every summer for the last five years. He'd wanted to have a picnic and watch the kids play in the water, then watch the sunset over the ocean one last time; and with his vision steadily declining, they'd had to organize it quickly. Planning an entire day for Spencer to say goodbye to the team before he died was really the last thing in the world Aaron wanted to think about, ever, but he wasn't going to deny him anything. If Spencer wanted to see the sunset in a different city every day for the rest of the time they had left, he would make it happen.
And so here they were.
This was the day Spencer had marked on the calendar hanging on their kitchen wall as the day he would say that goodbye to his team, to his family. After lunch, Aaron and Jack had taken Clooney for a walk to give Spencer privacy while he spoke to everyone individually.
"You know, being Henry's godfather has been one of the greatest honors I've ever had," he looked down at the little boy with the messy mop of blond hair playing in the sand at his feet and smiled lightly, "I just hope I did an okay job at it."
"Oh, Spence," her voice wavered, "No one could have done better. He's been so blessed to have you in his life."
"Just make sure he reads all the books I left him. And, um, I hope you don't mind," he hesitated, biting his lower lip, "I opened a savings account for his college fund. There's not a lot in there yet, but..." he paused when he heard a sob and moved his gaze from Henry to look at his friend, "Please don't cry, JJ."
His voice was strained as he tried to control his emotions. When he let himself think about all the things he was going to miss with the kids, that's when it was the hardest for him to keep his composure. He wanted to be able to see Jack and Henry grow up. He wanted to see them graduate and go to college. Wanted to watch them get married. He wanted to meet their children. He wanted it all. He deserved it all, didn't he?
I don't want them to forget me.
It was selfish, really. He shouldn't be upset. Soon, this would all be over for him and the only people left suffering would be everyone in the world that he loved. Everyone that he had to leave.
He was brought out of his thoughts by JJ pulling him into a tearful hug. "Henry loves you so much," she whispered, "We all do, Spence."
He wrapped his arms around her and held on for dear life, his eyes clenched tightly shut to keep the tears at bay, "I love you guys, too."
He looked over to the usually bubbly blonde sitting across from him. Her mascara was smudged, gray lines tracking down from her eyes to her cheeks, and her nose was red from an excessive use of tissues. She'd been crying on and off all day.
"I know this isn't an ideal situation," he cleared his throat as he thought about the utter absurdity of that statement, "But please don't let this stop you from being who you are, Garcia. I don't want to be the reason you lose that glimmer of hope in your eyes. You're always so full of joy and optimism and fun, and the team needs that. They'll need you. You all see the worst of humanity, and you make it a little easier to deal with."
I'm gonna miss her smile.
"Oh, Honey," her voice quivered as renewed tears fell from her soft, brown eyes, then she lunged forward and clung to him, "I'll do my very best, but I don't see how things could ever be okay again."
"I'm really gonna miss you," he mumbled, resting his head on her shoulder as he allowed a few tears to leave his own eyes. "I'm gonna miss everything. Or...well, maybe I'm not," he muttered, "I guess I don't know what's gonna happen."
A tiny whimper accompanied a long kiss to his cheek, then Garcia pulled away and gently rubbed the lipstick off his skin. "Baby Genius, I'm sure wherever you go, it's gonna be spectacular."
He gave her a tiny smile and a nod. He appreciated her attempt to comfort him, but really, no one knew what was going to happen to him. The only people who actually knew anything about it were, well, they were already dead.
"Take care of Morgan," he whispered, "He's gonna need his Baby Girl."
Derek threw himself down on the lounge chair next to Spencer, sighing heavily as he rubbed his hands over his scalp, then shot him an obviously forced grin, "It's been a good day, huh Pretty Boy?"
He gave his friend a nod and a smile, then pointed to his face and jokingly added, "Not so pretty anymore, really."
Morgan's expression quickly turned serious, his smile fading as he leaned in and took Reid's hands, "No, Spencer, you're not pretty." There was a long pause where they just kind of looked at each other in a semi-comfortable silence, then Derek gently murmured, "You are so much more than that. You're the most beautiful person I've ever known." He swallowed thickly, brows furrowing and eyes glistening, "I love you, Kid. You know that, right?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "I love you, too, Derek."
Spencer tugged on his hand and brought him into a fierce hug, letting his emotions out and crying into Morgan's shirt as he wrapped his arms around his neck.
This isn't fair.
I don't want to go.
"I don't really know how to do this without my best friend," Morgan muttered against his cheek, and he felt moisture trickle onto his skin.
"You'll be okay," he pulled away to look at Derek, the man who'd become his closest friend aside from Aaron, and gave him a mischievous smirk as he sniffled, "I mean, I may have told Garcia to take care of you, so..."
"So I can expect a massive amount of baked goods for the foreseeable future is what you're telling me," he laughed, "Thanks for that, Reid."
"Yeah. I wouldn't stop working out if I were you."
"Please, Rossi...please take care of him. Make sure he's okay." Spencer wiped at his face and his eyes, then took a deep, steadying breath, "I—I don't want him to get lost because of this...because of me. Jack needs him too much. I don't want that sweet little boy to end up losing all three of his parents."
That thought was just too much for him to bear, and a sob escaped his chest as he lost the battle with strength. He covered his face with trembling hands and let himself break down. How was this really happening? Why did this have to happen to him? He needed so much more time.
Be strong.
You can do this.
He felt Rossi move to sit next to him, and then there was a heavy yet gentle hand rubbing up and down his back...soothing him. "Oh, Kiddo..." Dave breathed, "I'll do everything in my power to help them through this, I give you my word."
He looked back up and met Rossi's gaze as the man continued.
"You've been so good for him. You know he was a damn mess before you came along," he smirked, then his smile fell slightly, "He's gonna miss you so much. All of us—" He stopped and brought his hand up to his mouth, covering it as he closed his eyes. Spencer bit his lip and waited, unsure whether he should try to comfort him now or just sit there. In the end, he played with a string unraveling from the blanket that covered his lap until Rossi cleared his throat and looked back at him, "I'm gonna miss you so much, mio figlio prediletto. You've always been like a son to me, Spencer."
"I would have loved to have you as my dad."
Emily sat down next to him and blew out a long breath as she looked out toward the ocean, squinting at the bright colors dancing along the surface of the water. Spencer noticed a single tear fall down her face right before she wiped it away, sniffing and turning to face him.
"You know, it's hard to think that you won't be coming back from this one," she began, "I mean, that's what we do, right? You and I...we always come back."
"Yeah," he huffed, then bowed his head. Suddenly, the way the grains of sand moved between his toes seemed absolutely fascinating to him. Maybe it was just easier to look down than to have to see Emily watching him with misty eyes. He wasn't used to seeing her so vulnerable. He let out a little snort of a laugh, "It's kind of like our superpower."
If only.
"But even Superman died," he softly added.
"Superman came back..."
He could hear a quiver in her voice and looked up just in time to see the mask of compartmentalization she always wore fade as she frantically tried to blink back tears shining in her eyes.
"Hey, it's okay," he reached his hand out and she latched onto it, "It's okay to not be strong sometimes. You know, to let yourself cry..."
"Is it?" she asked at the same time that her voice broke and her face crumpled. She pulled him closer, and he let himself fall against her as she whispered, "Okay, but only for a minute...and don't tell anyone..."
"I promise."
Aaron had just gotten back and settled into the chair next to Spencer while he slept, Jack running off to play with Henry and Will, and Clooney heading over to Garcia and her clumsy hands. A month before, he had taken Spencer back to Las Vegas to see his mother, and they'd pulled Jack out of school so he could come along. It had been kind of a last family vacation for the three of them. Spencer had shown them around his old neighborhood and his school, then they'd signed his mother out of Bennington on a day pass. The four of them went to lunch at Spencer's favorite Chinese place and then they'd driven to the Hoover Dam. Dr. Reid had been out in full force as he answered all of Jack's questions about the dam. It had been a wonderfully peaceful trip, and Spencer had been in exceptionally good spirits.
The three of them had kind of said their goodbyes to each other then, in a way. Today was mostly for Spencer and the team. When the time came, Aaron and Jack would spend Spencer's last moments at home, just the three of them, watching old Doctor Who reruns and eating junk food. That was the plan they'd all agreed on. Obviously, the junk food was mostly just for Jack...Spencer had insisted that the boy have whatever he wanted for the occasion.
The sun was beginning to set and the sky was painted in beautiful hues of reds, oranges, blues and purples. It was time. This was what they'd been waiting for all day. Aaron looked over to Spencer, still sleeping, and crawled out of his lounge chair to sit on the ground at his side. "Love," he whispered, placing a hand to the side of Spencer's neck and feeling the gentle pulse underneath his fingertips. It was something he did quite often now; he didn't really know when he'd started, but it gave him a sense of comfort to feel the steady beat. He moved his hand up to caress Reid's cheek, "You need to wake up, Sweetheart."
Slowly, Spencer's face crinkled and he let out a soft, sleepy moan, then turned his head toward Aaron and opened his eyes to look up at him. Blinking repeatedly, he furrowed his brows and mumbled, "What time is it?"
Hotch looked down at his watch, "It's 6:24."
"Did I—did I sleep through the sunset?"
Aaron gave him an odd look and then felt a lump slowly rise in his throat as his chest tightened. He glanced back toward the ocean and the colorful display in front of them, then choked out, "The sun...it's, it's setting right now, Baby."
"Oh," Spencer blinked several more times, coughed to clear his throat and softly murmured, "It's, um—it's just that..." He swallowed hard, then threw his hand out in Aaron's direction and grabbed onto him as he calmly spoke, "Aaron, I can't see."
No no no no...this couldn't be happening right now.
It was sunset, and Spencer needed to see the sunset. That's why they were here! And then they needed to get home. And Jack...Jack needed to be with them. He felt panic rising as he looked around the beach for their son, but there was no sign of him, Henry or Will. Off in the distance he thought he heard a dog bark.
They were too far away from Jack.
Too far from home.
This couldn't be happening.
This wasn't part of the plan.
"Can you—" Spencer started, and his voice grounded Aaron back into the urgency of the moment, "Will you describe it to me?" he timidly asked. He was staring blankly out in front of him, his voice weak and his hold on Aaron's hand slipping as his breath started to come in faster bursts—a little more labored. "Please? Will you...will you just hold me? And describe it to me?"
Okay, this was happening.
This was really happening, and he had to calm down and get himself under control. This was just too important. Spencer needed him, right now, and he wasn't going to fail him. He would never forgive himself if he failed him. No, he was going to be there for him. Aaron was going to give him everything that he needed.
"Aaron?"
"Yes, of course," he quickly answered, "Anything, my love." He could feel his hands begin to shake as he carefully climbed up into the chair beside him, and the younger man slid over to make room. He laid down and Spencer quickly curled into him, resting his head on Aaron's shoulder and nuzzling his face into the curve of his neck, a hand coming up to rest on his chest—over his heart. Aaron wrapped him up in the blanket and held him safely in his arms, pulling him right up against his body...and he felt so small, so light, so fragile. He turned and pressed his lips to Spencer's forehead, then looked back out over the ocean and took a deep, trembling breath.
He could do this.
"It's colorful..." he began, rubbing his hand along Spencer's back in an effort to soothe the both of them as he tried to find the right words to say. "You know, some sunsets have just a few colors that fill the sky. But not tonight, Spence," he chuckled and placed another kiss to Reid's head, "No, not even close, Baby. Tonight's special. Tonight, mother nature brought out all the colors in her arsenal to paint the most stunning picture just for you."
He sensed a smile against his neck and then felt tears stinging his own eyes as he heard Spencer quietly ask, "What colors did she bring, Aaron?"
"Well," he squeezed a little tighter and examined the sky, "The sun's dipping below the horizon now, and it's casting a bright ray of light right down the center of the ocean. It's almost like it's connecting us directly to it, Spence. And it's surrounded by a hazy mixture of vibrant yellows and burnt oranges that shoot out from the center like a brilliant explosion, the colors blanketing the water and glimmering over the waves." He had to stop and swallow down a sob that was filling up his chest, making it unbearably heavy. "And she knows your favorite color, Sweetheart," he smiled against Spencer's hair, "There's a deep violet shimmering around the outskirts, seeping into an azure sky. There's a few clouds stretching across the fiery display...kind of like cotton candy, all wispy, you know? But most of them are higher up, floating in the wind like little cotton balls."
"Little cotton ball clouds?" a tiny giggle asked below his chin, "Really? That's so cute..."
"Hey now, don't laugh. I'm doing the best I can here," he joked, trying to mask the grief in his voice, "I'm a profiler, not an artist."
"Oh no," Spencer softly chuckled, "I love it. Really. It's perfect. It all sounds...just perfect." He took a deep breath against Aaron's neck and sighed, "It sounds amazing. Beautiful..."
"Well, it's definitely a gorgeous sight, but it really holds no candle to you," he rasped through a throat that suddenly felt much too tight, too suffocating. He tilted his body slightly so he was lying more on his side, and pulled Spencer right up against his chest as he started to run his fingers through soft hair. "It's not even a contest," he murmured, "Nothing will ever be as beautiful as you, Love. Absolutely nothing."
They stayed like that for a while, Spencer quietly resting in his arms as Aaron continued to scratch his head and rub circles along his back. The sun finished it's elegant descent below the horizon and the moon came out, it's soft glow illuminating the beach as the waves continued to lazily lap at the shore. He'd almost fallen asleep when he heard Reid's soft voice speaking to him.
"Aaron?"
"Hm?"
"I'm...c-cold," he whispered, "Is it—is it cold, Aaron?"
Oh, god.
No...
No.
Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, lashes wet with tears that refused to stay in any longer as his body quaked through a silent, overwhelming sob. He laid his cheek on Spencer's head and held him a little firmer, tucking the blanket around his body to try and keep him warm. "No, Baby," he answered when he could finally form words, "It's not cold, Sweetheart."
Spencer shivered in his arms, then long fingers clenched into the fabric of Aaron's shirt and he sighed, "Yeah, I—I didn't really think so..."
"We're not going home, are we?" he asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth even though he already knew the answer. The creeping realization that they'd just ran out of time stabbed him in the gut, and he was drowning in the devastating wake of their harsh, cruel reality.
They needed more time.
This wasn't part of the plan.
They were supposed to be at home...with Jack...and The Doctor...and junk food.
"I don't think I am..." Reid muttered, "I'm already there, though. My home is...well, it's in your arms, Aaron."
A small, strangled whine escaped Aaron's throat as he buried his face in chestnut curls and tried to focus on the comforting warmth of Spencer's breath on his skin.
Still breathing.
Still here.
"I think it, it m-might be time?" Spencer's voice trembled in chorus with his body, "Do you think maybe...maybe I should go now?"
"Oh, god Spence," he cried, "Please don't—" He gasped and bit down hard on his inner cheek to try and stifle another outburst. He was supposed to be the strong one right now! It was his job to be Spencer's rock and his anchor. But Spencer was trying to leave him, and Aaron didn't know how to stop himself from crumbling into a million pieces. It felt like his heart was physically shattering inside his chest, and the shards were ripping him to shreds. "I—I don't think, I don't think I can do this, Baby."
Slowly, and with so much effort it broke Aaron's heart, Spencer lifted his head and looked in his direction, his hand blindly feeling it's way up to Aaron's face. "Shhh, it's okay," he curled his fingers tenderly around the nape of his neck and pulled him into a gentle, chaste kiss. It was feather-soft, sweet like red velvet, and salty from the waterfall of emotions crashing down around them; and when their lips separated, it was agony. "You can do this," he whispered, his words filling the small space between them, "I know you can. You're Aaron Hotchner, after all—" his voice broke and he closed his eyes as his face scrunched up into a pained expression Aaron knew all too well. He breathed through it, and thankfully, after a moment his features relaxed and he gave Aaron a tiny smile, "You are the strongest person I've ever known."
"Baby," he sobbed, shaking his head, "You're the strongest person I've ever known. You're so much stronger than I am, Love. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. I'm not strong enough to do this..." His face crumpled and he pressed his forehead to Spencer's as he closed his eyes. "How can I do this? How can I say goodbye to you?" he sobbed, "We just—we just need some time. We just need more time!" It was selfish and cowardly and weak, but he didn't care. He couldn't stop himself from begging, from praying, from fucking pleading with everything he had to whoever might be out there listening, "Please, please, please...please don't take him. Just give us more time. Just a little bit more time...please..."
"I'll—I'll hold on." Spencer gently ran his fingers over the skin of Aaron's neck, "I can do that...I think. I think I can hold on...f-for a little while...if you need me to," he mumbled, tired and fading, "I'll try...for you..."
Aaron opened his eyes and glanced down into Spencer's face, his heart instantly shattering at the sight. He looked so tired, so frail, so ready to finally be done with all the pain and illness that had wracked his body. He was ready to rest. How could Aaron take that away from him? How could he ask him to continue to endure more suffering just so he wouldn't have to be alone?
He couldn't.
He couldn't be selfish anymore.
He had to be stronger.
He had to let Spencer go.
"No, Love," he gasped, "Oh god, Sweetheart, no... I'm so, so sorry." He tenderly caressed Reid's cheek, still too cold, and looked into unseeing eyes as tears blurred his own vision, "Baby, I'm so sorry. You don't have to stay in pain for me. If you need to, then you can—" he choked on the word. That one word, so simple and small. How could two tiny letters be so immeasurably devastating? He took a breath, set his jaw in determination and forced it out, quietly murmuring, "If you need to, Sweetheart, then you can go."
"A-Aaron?" Spencer questioned, brows furrowing as his eyes frantically darted back and forth, fingers clutching to Aaron's shirt.
"I'm here," he sniffed, "Spencer, it's okay. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"I—I really don't want to—I don't wanna go," he wept, hazel eyes glimmering, "Aaron, I'm so scared."
"I know," he whispered, "Shhh, I know I know I know..." His heart hammered painfully in his chest and his stomach twisted as he mustered up a level of courage he didn't even know he was capable of; then he kissed Spencer's forehead and leaned in close to his ear, "I know that you're scared, Baby. I am, too. But listen to me now...just listen to my voice. You're amazing. You are so, so brave, and I am astoundingly proud of you. That is never gonna change. Do you hear me? You, Spencer Reid, are my hero."
"Really?" he looked up at Aaron, and for a split second it seemed like he could see again as his lips turned up ever so slightly. "I just w-wish I could stay with you," he murmured, "Why...why can't I just stay here?"
"Oh, Sweetheart," he sighed, his face wet with tears as he rubbed his thumb along Spencer's cheek, "I wish you could stay with me, too. I would give anything in the world..."
"I want you to know, b-being with you and Jack...our life together...that's been the best thing that's ever happened to me." His hand fell from Aaron's neck and slid down to rest between them, "Promise me that you're gonna be okay..."
He couldn't possibly promise that.
"I promise."
Spencer gave him a tiny smile and then slowly, very slowly, closed his eyes; and Aaron knew then...he just knew that was the last time he would ever see that brilliant, beautiful shade of hazel on this side of eternity.
He felt Spencer's body start to completely relax into his arms, and he pulled him in even closer, resting his head under Aaron's chin as they laid there chest to chest. He tried to focus on that comforting warmth again; the little puffs of air on his skin...still breathing...still here.
"I love you, Spencer," he muttered into wind blown chestnut curls, and he brought his hands up to card through the wispy locks, dampened by the heavy sea air, "I'm going to love you for the rest of my life. Even if we're apart for a little while, Sweetheart, you're still it for me."
"Always?"
"Always, my love."
"I love you, t-too," Spencer whispered, "Please...m-make sure Jack knows how much—" He stopped, his body trembling through a sob muffled in Aaron's shirt, "Make s-sure he knows just how much I love him."
"Spencer," he spoke, his voice soft yet amazingly powerful in that moment, "I promise you, Jack will never, ever question that. I will tell him every single day for the rest of my life how much his Papa loved him...loves him."
Spencer nuzzled into his warmth and they held each other, listening to the waves until his soft voice flowed into the air once more.
"Aaron?"
"Yeah?"
"I...I see angels," he laughed, then let out a delighted gasp, "I can see them..." and Aaron could hear the absolute awe and wonder in his beautiful, sweet voice, "They're on—Aaron, I th-think there's angels on...on the moon..."
That didn't make any sense.
What Spencer was saying absolutely made no sense at all, and Aaron didn't know if he was talking gibberish or beginning to see things. Words Spencer had told him what seemed like a lifetime ago played in his mind.
.
"I could have hallucinations...you know, when it gets close to the end..."
.
Aaron gripped him even tighter, starting to slowly rock them as they continued to lay on the lounge chair in front of the ocean. "Angels on the moon, huh? Well, then," his lips quivered, he was hardly holding it together, "I guess—I guess that means you're gonna fit right in up there, aren't you?"
"You r-really think so?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his whisper soft voice. His breathing was much more labored; and it sounded like he was struggling to take in enough air to speak. "Yeah," he gently nodded his head, then stammered, "I can be...I'll b-be yours...a-always. I p-promise you, Aaron, I'll always...b-be your...a-angel—"
Spencer choked, and his words were halted when he suddenly began to convulse. Aaron just held him through it, his own body and mind trembling right along with him.
This wasn't a normal seizure.
It felt...wrong.
Terribly, terribly wrong.
Spencer took in a sharp, painful sounding breath, and Aaron listened as it rattled right back out of his chest with a wet, gravelly groan. He couldn't make out any more respirations after that, no matter how hard he tried, so he just clung to him and waited for it all to stop. Eventually, the shaking started to slowly subside; and when it was finally over, Spencer was completely and utterly still.
And the silence was deafening.
"Spence?" he asked, swallowing down the gut-wrenching scream that was trying to wildly claw its way out of his throat. Spencer wasn't moving. At all. He couldn't even feel the motion of breath in and out or the warmth on his skin that had been such a precious comfort to him earlier. There was just...absolutely nothing. "Love?" his voice trembled as he hesitantly brought a hand up to Spencer's neck like he'd done so many times before. He gingerly placed two fingers against the skin, desperately feeling for a pulse...praying for the tiniest wave of something just below the surface. "B-Baby? Spencer, please..."
Nothing.
There was nothing.
There was no movement, no pulse, no breath.
He was so still and so, so quiet. He'd never been that still or that quiet. Not ever.
He was gone.
He was really gone.
This wasn't part of the plan.
They were supposed to have more time!
Aaron stopped trying to hold down the clawing scream and instead brutally hurled it out of him, a savage wail erupting from his chest as he clung desperately to Spencer's body, still warm yet so very, very wrong. He cried—bawled—into silky locks, soaking them as he breathed in their sweet scent and let it surround him, fill him, become a permanent part of him. If possible, he pulled him in even closer, searing the feel of his body next to him deep into his mind. The longer he held on, the more of his lover he would be able to take with him when he inevitably had to let him go. He committed every single piece of Spencer to his memory as he continued to weep, his tears mixing with the salty ocean air as though they'd always belonged together.
Time lost any and all meaning to him as he laid there holding Spencer, rocking him; and Aaron's eyes remained closed as he thought about the amazing life that they'd shared. It had been such a glorious, beautiful, magnificent, wonderful life. It had just been too fucking short!
So, so short.
Agonizingly brief.
He imagined that even if they'd had a hundred years together it still never would have been long enough, though. But dammit, why couldn't they have had a hundred years? "I love you so very, very much, Sweetheart," he murmured, kissing the top of Spencer's head one last time, then laying his cheek there, "Always, my love. Always. You just rest now. Just...just rest..."
He swallowed down the lump of threatening despair that had lodged itself in his throat and carefully untangled from the love of his life, sitting up and looking back down at him. He seemed so peaceful. Aaron couldn't remember the last time Spencer's face looked so relaxed, so comfortable, so tranquil...with not a trace of pain marring his beautiful features. He just looked like he was sleeping...like he could wake up at any minute. If Aaron reached out right now and tickled his side, he knew Spencer would startle awake and give him one of those glares of his.
"Dad?"
His body tensed when he heard that tiny little voice behind him. Quickly, he wiped at his eyes and tried to make his voice sound stronger than it really was, "Hey, buddy." He sniffed, then turned around in the chair to look at his son, reaching his hand out toward him, "Jack, come here sweetheart."
Jack swiftly ran to him and Aaron fell to his knees on the sand as he wrapped his arms around the boy and held him tight. He held him like he was a life raft, the only thing keeping him afloat over the raging waves of anguish that were lapping angrily at his heels and threatening to pull him under.
"Is...is Papa okay?" Jack asked, and Aaron squeezed him even more because he couldn't do anything else.
How in the world was he supposed to tell his son that his Papa wasn't coming home with them tonight? That Spencer would never hug him again, or go to his soccer games, or read him a bedtime story?
How was he supposed to do this?
He looked up to the night sky and contemplated that question as he watched the stars twinkling across the blackness, softened by the glow of the moon. He had to figure this out, he had no choice. This conversation would surely be one of the most important conversations he ever had with his son, and he needed to find the proper words to give it justice. Slowly, he cleared his throat, took a long, deep breath and brought his gaze back down to the little boy.
And then he figured it out.
"Jack, honey, you know that Papa was really, really sick..." he pulled away slightly and took Jack's small hands into his own as he looked at his son's face. There was growing sadness in the boy's eyes and Aaron almost broke down again. Instead, though, he mustered the last remaining bit of strength he hand, clenched his jaw and swallowed down a sob that was begging for release. His brows pinched down in concentration, and he managed to choke the words out, "...and...you know he was in a lot of pain?"
Jack gave him a small nod and nervously glanced over to Spencer, then back to him, moisture misting his eyes as his little chin began to quiver.
"Well, Papa's not sick anymore, baby." Aaron gave him a small, sad smile, "He's...he's not hurting anymore."
"Is Papa..." Jack's voice trembled, and Aaron felt a tear drop onto his hand, but he refused to look away from his son, "...is Papa, in Heaven now?"
He didn't know how to even begin to answer that question. He had no idea what to tell him, and his heart broke just a little bit more because of it. "Oh, honey...I, I don't really know." Jack's face fell in obvious disappointment, and Aaron saw tears welling up in his eyes so he quickly added, "But listen...you know what I do know, buddy?"
"Wh-What?"
"I know that he loves you so, so much. And I know that he's still here...I know he's still with us. I can feel him. If you wanna see your Papa, all you have to do is look up there." Aaron pointed toward the stars and they both shifted their gaze up to the full moon, huge and glowing, and now brightly lighting up the sky.
"He's in the moon?" Jack asked, his eyes glimmering with a brilliant, child-like innocence as the tears began to dry up.
"That's what he told me right before he left."
The boy's eyes grew wide with wonder and his mouth curved up into an excited grin, "Really?"
Aaron smiled and looked back up into the dazzling night sky as Spencer's soft, sweet voice echoed in his mind, warmed his heart and soothed his very soul.
.
"I see angels. Aaron, I think there's angels on the moon."
.
Spencer wasn't here anymore, he was up there. He was some place better. Some place spectacular and mind boggling and unfathomable in its vast awesomeness. Some place where his beauty would shine so much brighter. And Aaron just knew Spencer was learning all the mysteries of the universe while he waited for them to join him.
That's what he was going to believe. For the rest of his days, every night he would look up to the bright moon and know that Spencer was up there having amazing adventures and watching over them.
He was their angel.
.
"I'll be yours, always. I promise you, Aaron, I'll always be your angel."
.
"Yeah, buddy. Really." He looked back down into Jack's eyes, sparkling just like the stars, and sighed, "We have our very own angel on the moon now..."
.
Don't tell me if I'm dying,
'cause I don't want to know.
If I can't see the sun,
maybe I should go.
Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming,
of angels on the moon.
Where everyone you know,
never leaves too soon.
- Thriving Ivory
.
Fin
.
I'm so sorry...
Thank you for reading. Always.