Of Loss and Heartbreak

Reid had recognized his face even before the color had drained from his face. Despite being over seven years since he had seen the man that had meant so much to him, he hadn't aged a day. Reid almost felt his breath hitch when he saw the amount of blood soaking the ground. There was so much. Colored almost black, the small streams still flowing from the wound that had ended his life. It had taken him a long time for his mind to remained intact when he saw pictures of victims with head wounds, blood soaking their faces as their glassy eyes stared at him – the image of Maeve dying had not left him. He could still remember her beautiful face, pale as she lied unmoving against the floor coated with the liquid that used to haunt Reid's dreams.

Now as the man stood little more than two years later, he was again overcome with numbness as he witnessed Gideon lying dead in his cabin floor. Morgan had asked him if he was okay, speaking quietly. Reid couldn't even speak. His mind remained blank as he stared at the body of the man that had once been his mentor – and raced outside as vomit reached to his throat. He wasn't aware of the tears on his face until he heard a strangled sob emerging from his mouth. He had never vomited from a case before. Never. Reid simply hung there, his trembling hands on his knees, taking shuddering breaths as he tried to focus him mind.

He couldn't. It seemed that the case, the crying and the spoken past tense about Gideon was nothing but a dream. How could this be? Reid knew that people died – he saw it every day working for the FBI. Even so, seeing Gideon lying there without a breath in his body almost made Reid's mind shatter. He could hear the concerned whispers of Garcia and JJ whenever he walked by, thinking of him broken and unable to function as his empty face came into the room. It was something like that, Reid thought hoarsely. "I wanted to play chess one last time," Reid had told Rossi. It had been his way and Gideon's of bonding. It was of how they knew each other's emotions and thoughts. Very rarely did they speak during those times. It was of how they met, after all.

Gideon had been visiting for a lecture during the time that he had met a lonely young man playing chess by himself. Reid still remembered that moment. His thoughts were usually about math and science around that time, and didn't even notice the older man standing before him until he heard one of the chess pieces move – and not by his own hand. Reid, although writing letters to his mother of how happy he was at college, was actually very lonely.

Whenever he tried joining into a conversation, people would usually become tired with him or abruptly leave. Gideon was different. Their first meeting was brief, but eventually they managed to see each other more often than not. It was around the year after they met in 1998 that Gideon started telling him about his job. Although most would presume that Reid had joined the FBI to become an agent to help save lives of the potential victims of serial killers, they were wrong.

He simply wanted to stay near Gideon. It was only after that Gideon had left on that day seven years ago that Reid realized of how much his mentor had meant to him. Gideon was the only one that he truly knew, and the only one that Reid felt safe around – the one he could tell anything to. For many months Reid had been angry at Gideon – he had left in the exact same manner that his father had, and the pain had been worse since he had thought, had believed that Gideon would never leave him. It was only later in a sleepless night that Reid realized that he accepted the path that Gideon had decided to take. He didn't blame him anymore. As long as I know he is there, I am fine with us being apart and only seeing each other through our memories.

The death of Gideon had shattered that. The raw grief and the burning pain and sorrow had to be put away until he could fully grieve again. He knew that the death of the serial killer that had killed Gideon would not make the pain go away, but he was surprised of how far the grief went. The letter Gideon had given him repeated itself in Reid's mind until he broken down in tears and cried the entire night, alone and whimpering as he at last fell asleep. The others had attempted to comfort him that morning when he came stumbling to work – they could see the dark circles under his eyes and the pale and swollen face.

Reid had flinched when Rossi had called him by his given name when he had tried to speak with him. It was Gideon who was the first one to call me that besides my mother, Reid thought as he remained morose and silent as the letters and words of the papers in front of him blurred from unshed tears. The pain over Gideon's death was not as consuming and drowning as Maeve's had been, but Reid always sobbed himself to sleep and woke up to rewind again.

And now it was a week later since the death of Gideon. The sight of the stone bearing the man's name almost broke him again. Reid swallowed heavily, blinking back tears as he stood alone in the graveyard. Everyone had left very soon after the funeral. Even Gideon's son, Stephen, had left, but not leaving before they shared an embrace. "I…kind of envy you," he had said. Reid managed to look into the man's brown eyes, and saw his eyes bright with grief. "He was always around you, even more than me. Ten years you were with him."

A hoarse and pained laugh escaped from his lips. "I know I spent seven years with him, more than he ever spent with me. We actually talked and laughed even." A heavy sigh surged from him, and Reid could see the tears trailing down his face. "But…he talked about you a lot. In passing of course." There was a pause. Reid could only hold his breath. "I just…get the feeling that you knew him more than I did, and I wish…" The whispered sentence was left unsaid, but Reid understood what he was thinking. A sad smile graced his lips briefly. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Reid now stood alone as the snow melted into his hair. He strangely didn't feel cold, although he knew that judging by the coldness of his lips, he should go. Dry hazel eyes stared at the grave across from Gideon's. You're wrong, Reid had wanted to tell Stephen. He did talk about you, at least to me. He only talked about Stephen in passing too, but he mentioned of how much his only son was like his mother. Reid had made a mistake of asking of when his wife had died. Gideon had said a word for an extended amount of time, and Reid suddenly became afraid that the man would now dislike him like everyone else, and hurried to pack up his chess set.

Suddenly Gideon touched him slightly on his arm, a compassionate look in his eyes as if he knew what he was feeling. "My wife died on October 9, 1981." Reid didn't even mention that the date of his birth was the same day that Gideon's wife had died until something had slipped. Instead of receiving a pensive look that Reid recognized, he saw a smile on Gideon's face and received a homemade cake. Reid had simply accepted the cake out of politeness. He didn't really enjoy cake that much. Now Morgan teased him for making the best cakes out of the BAU. Reid didn't have the heart to tell him that the recipe had been Gideon's specialty.

Reid opened his eyes again as the memory faded away and saw the present. The grave was simple, without any decorations engraved, something that Gideon would have approved of. He always wanted to be buried by his wife, he thought with a small smile. Reid took a deep breath and silently traced the letters on the grave before him. "Jason Gideon,"Reid whispered almost inaudibly. "July 19, 1954 - January 28, 2015."

The memories that Reid had wanted to forget never left him alone. They were always with him now. It was too late for him to have a last game of chess with Gideon. It was too late for him to tell him that he forgave him for leaving him, and that he understood now. Reid crouched down feeling the snow against his knees as warm thick tears escaped from his eyes. His breathing started to become uneven again as the memories started to overtake him again. It was during a sleepless night during that week that Reid realized what Gideon truly meant to him. The man that had transformed into his friend and mentor during the times when he was less uncertain of himself made him think. Remembering of how Gideon was always there for him until that fateful night.

"Hey, Dad." Reid whispered. The tears dropped into the snow, appearing almost like rain. His father had left him when he was only nine years old. Reid had thought for many years that his father had left him because of shame, shame that his wife had schizophrenia and his son an unnatural genius. His father had left them for a different reason, one that most people could understand, but Reid couldn't help but feel unease and wounded around his father. It had been many years since they had seen each other, and Reid didn't know how to feel about that.

Gideon remained in his memories and thoughts throughout the seven years that he had been away, and the hurt and anger hadn't lasted for long. It was only know that Reid realized that Jason Gideon was a father to him. A father that had made mistakes yes, but who loved him like a son. A father that was always in his son's mind. "I want…to thank you." The tears flowed even more, masking his face and dripping onto the grave. "For everything," Reid hoarsely rasped. "For everything that we had together, and for making me the man that I am today."

There was only the sound of sobs as they came from the heartbroken man.

"Thank you so much…Dad."