Disclaimer: see my profile
A/n hey everyone, I just wanted to thank you for nominating me for a Profilers Choice Award. I'm very excited and so grateful.
A/n2 This takes place right after the end of the episode. The statistics contained therein are a product of my ever faithful beta's research. Thank you again, REIDFANATIC
"Didn't anyone tell you, you shouldn't sit alone in a city park after dark?"
He turned at the sound of her voice to see her sitting in the swing next to him. Her eyes were clearly visible in the low light of the street lamps. Her long, wavy hair fell over her shoulders. She was smiling at him, but there was concern in her expression. Her swing moved slightly, which made the chain squeak.
"Tough day," was all he said. A breeze ruffled his hair, and it was cold on his face.
"You're over your fear of the dark."
He looked at his feet instead of herface. He wanted to gaze at his heart's deepest desire, but he couldn't stop obsessing about his mother and all he'd been forced to reveal. His hands fisted in his lap as he strove not to give into a scream of rage. Despite his empathy for the lost, little girl, Cat had been, he despised the woman she'd become and the damage inflicted as a result of her hatred for one man.
"She made me tell her everything," he said miserably.
"I know."
He felt her hand touch his, and he curled his fingers tightly over hers. He looked at her again because he couldn't keep his eyes away from her beautiful face.
"I hated her for that."
"What else is bothering you?"
"You know," he said irritably.
"You'll feel better if you say it."
He laughed bitterly. "I already said it out loud and trust me, I don't feel better."
"You told a complete stranger, Spencer. A human being without empathy. She wanted to play with you. Telling her only enhanced the pleasure she took from making you dance to her tune."
He nodded and found the courage to look into her eyes. She wasn't smiling and there were tears on her cheeks.
"What am I going to do?"
She reached up and ran a hand through his hair. The light touch of her fingers was like a warm blanket around his shoulders.
"You're going to do what you've always done, Spencer. You're going to live your life."
"I don't know if I can anymore. Why?" He gripped one of the chains so tight his fingers began to cramp. "Why can't I have all the things other people have, a home, a family, someone who loves me. Everything's ripped away from me. It isn't fair!"
"What's ripped away from you," she countered. "You have friends, you have Henry and you still have your mother."
"I –"
"You can still find someone to love and have children."
"NO!"
"Spencer!"
He looked at his feet again even though he could still feel her fingers in his hand. "I can't risk having a family. What if they inherit all of this? What if I end up in an institution with no memory of them?" He pulled his hand free from her and waved his hands around. "How is that fair?"
She studied him without anger or judgment. "Spencer, there are genetic pitfalls for everyone. If we all decided not to have children because of the possibility of Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, Schizophrenia or one of a hundred other diseases, the human race would cease to exist."
"I know but –"
"You did the research," she interrupted. "You know it's a myth that just because your mother has Alzheimer's means you will. The chance of inheriting it from your mother is about 5 percent. Compare that to the ten percent chance of inheriting Schizophrenia, and I'd say you're in good shape."
"Maeve, I do understand the odds."
"Do you?" She reached out her free hand and touched his temple. "I'm here, but I'm a creation of your unconscious mind, so yes, you know it in your mind, but do you know it in your heart?" She lowered her hand to his chest and held it over his beating heart.
"I know in my heart that I still love you."
"And wherever I am, I still love you, but there is someone out there for you, Spencer. I want you to find her, have kids and be happy. Okay?"
"I don't know if I can do that, Maeve. No matter what might come my way, you'll always be the first woman I ever truly loved. I don't want to forget you."
"You won't," she said and her voice was suddenly far away and close at the same time. "I'll always live in your heart."
He turned to face her full on, but she was gone. The park was still empty, it was still night, and it was very cold. He shook his head over a mental argument with a version of a beloved memory. Maybe his subconscious had a point, but for now he only wanted to remember everything his mother could lose because if he didn't, someday it would all be gone.
