Spencer needs me. After all this time. Spencer needs me. I was still the person he called first.

There was a tone to his voice that I had only heard once before, when we lost Emily. When he thought we lost Emily, when I allowed him to think we lost Emily. Please god, let him not be using again, let his mother be alright, let him be safe, let me help him.

And when I saw him I was sorry that I had felt even a small moment of victory for being the person he called first. I wish he hadn't needed to make that call.

I hated having to call Aaron. I hated that he was, after Mauve, still the person I trusted most in this world. I hated, that after all this time, I still relied on him. But I was desperate, more desperate than when we lost Emily, more desperate than when I was an active addict, because this was more important (sorry Emily) this was Mauve, and there was still hope we could find her alive, not much hope, I knew that, I knew I sounded desperate.

I closed the door behind us as we walked into the office. Different, far different, circumstances than the last time I had done that.

"Ten months ago,"

I should have been registering more of the content, all I heard was that for ten months Spencer had been seeing someone (if that's what one would call it), seeing someone else. I knew I shouldn't be jealous, I was with Beth, I had moved on, but I was. I don't think he knew, I don't think he even really knew I was there. All he could think about was finding Maeve.

I know the horror of the anticipation of the death of someone you love. The anticipation, of the violent death of someone you love. Spencer, I had nearly lost Spencer to Tobias Hankle, and that victory would always be bitter; and Haley, dear god, please let Spencer never know that loss. Only my respect for him kept me from wrapping my arms around him. He had moved on from me, he come to me for help, actual physical help, not comfort.

Then my mind came back, and I began realizing the extent of Spencer's problem, he had never seen her; and I couldn't imagine loosing Spencer or Haley either before I had held them to myself, before I had the opportunity to love them fully. Please do not let him know that loss.

"Please help me." I heard my own voice. I was humiliated that I should have failed so fully in protecting Mauve, just as I had failed to protect Aaron. I should have been at his apartment, instead he spent a night in hell, but he lived, please let her live, no matter what else, let Mauve live. My thoughts so scattered, splintering apart, her voice, her letters, hours of correspondence, of thought put into letters, of her hiding, and my worrying, and my being weak, and not insisting on finding her stalker, and now she was in danger, if she was even alive. Now, at the last moment, I had to be strong.

Spencer shouldn't be alone. His head isn't clear, even he said so. He can have poor judgment when he is stressed; I had let my mind wander back to Texas. So I take him with me. I can have him listen, bring to bear his knowledge of Mauve, any clue that can be triggered, anything to shake loose the knowledge in that precise mind—now so shaken. And I know when her parents say "Fiancé" that something slips from under him, he no longer understands, but he still loves.

Dumbest smart person ever. And Aaron is trying to protect me. Or is he trying to protect Mauve? Or is he trying to protect Mauve from my incompetence? I know there is never any detail too small. Why am I still hiding this from him? I feel his hands on me, and I see the empathy in his eyes, and I know that he is also too close to this. I want to beg him, to let him take care of all my problems because I can't protect her, I will let him handle it.

I should never have brought him with, but I couldn't leave him alone. He is so hurt and so confused that she hadn't mentioned her fiancé to him, maybe he had mentioned us. Why should that matter? How much didn't he know? And the look on his face when he recognized that man, her fiancé.

And Morgan asks me the question and I tell him what I didn't tell her, I tell him what I didn't tell Aaron. I tell him I love Mauve.

I was surprised at his reaction to the idea she might have had a lesbian lover, had he told her about us? And then he picked Blake. I had never told him I was happy when he picked me, when Tobias forced him, and he picked me, because I knew he trusted me with his life. I hope he is right to trust me with Maeve's life. I didn't save Haley. He saved Leela, I didn't save Haley.

I wish I could throw myself on his mercy and beg him. I nearly begged him, for what? To do what he couldn't do for Haley? So I don't choose him, I choose Blake. I don't choose him I choose Blake because I can't bear to hurt him by telling him. Why would I ever have thought that I would have hurt him? He walked away from me when he chose Beth. Maybe that's for the best, because now we are here to save Maeve.

And then he holds up that note, "Me for her." And my world is going to end. And when he says he will go in, because, and he is right, that is the only way to save her, my world is going to end. And when I tell him that he will die if he does, and when he doesn't pause, my world is going to end. But I won't stop him. He deserves the opportunity I never had with Haley. He deserves the victory I had with him. I can't take this opportunity to save Mauve from him, and my world ends.

I know that look on Aaron's face. I know every look on Aaron's face. He is going to go against his better judgment. And there is another look, the look he has when his world ends. And I shake myself free of it, because the only reason he and I are even here together is save Mauve, and without her, without saving her, my world does end.

And then he explains it all logically, but what it comes down to is that he has set aside what he feels and used this true gift, his intellect to save Mauve.

And now Aaron does what he does best. He steps forward, and helps me, and makes it happen. And in what might be the last moment we have to say goodbye I feel his hand on me. "Reid." He says my name, and I can't think about him now.

It is a mistake on my part. This is the moment when we say goodbye, one way or another Spencer and I are done. So I call out to him, "Reid." I hear myself it sounds so desperate. And I reach out, I don't know why, but as I pull back my hand I know I have let him go, have to let him go to Mauve. I wish it was me walking through that door. I doubt whether he knows it.

I'm the first through the door when we hear that shot.

And then Mauve is lying on the floor.

And I see her lying on the floor, and I see Spencer, so hurt. And I don't go to him, this time I don't go to him.