"Do you ever talk to her?"
"Well, she's dead, so I don't know how that would work." Spencer answered bluntly.
Avery shifted slightly, nestling deeper into the corner of the couch as Spencer repositioned his shoulders and head more comfortably against her, the back of his head resting against her collarbone.
"You know what I mean." Said Avery, running her fingers through his hair.
"I know what you mean," Spencer said, "I just don't see how I could expect it to work. There's no empirical data to suggest that anything happens to us after we die, so how is standing at a grave talking to nothing supposed to give you closure?"
"So just imagine it's like your memory recall thing." Avery suggested. "Or lucid dreaming."
Spencer was silent.
"All I'm saying is that it feels like there's still a lot you want to say to Maeve." Avery's tone was quiet and serious. "And I understand that. But not getting it out there... don't you feel like it's holding us back?"
"How so?" Spencer tilted his head up, rolling his eyes back so he could see her from his position.
Avery released a long, low breath.
"I don't know." She said at length. "I'm getting tired. I don't want to trek all the way across town this late. Can I crash here?"
"Sure." Spencer agreed. "You take the bed. I'll sleep out here."
"Yeah." Avery nodded halfheartedly.
Avery slid in between the flannel sheets, waiting for them to warm as she tried to unwind. A few minutes of silence passed before she heard the door opening at the foot of the bed and Spencer quietly shuffling to the side of the bed.
She felt the mattress sink as Spencer sat down outside the covers.
"Did I say something wrong?" He asked innocently.
Avery couldn't help but smile a little. Poor, sweet Spence. He tried so hard. He really did. Avery rolled slightly, looking at him over her shoulder.
"No." She smiled sedately.
Spencer leaned back against the pillow and Avery rolled over, resting her head against his chest and tracing small circles on his shirt with her fingertip. Spencer wrapped an arm around her protectively while, slowly, they drifted off to sleep.
Spencer Reid moved carefully through the hallway of the dilapidated building, his gun drawn. Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed. The screams echoed off the walls and down the corridors til he couldn't tell from which direction they eminated.
Carefully, he pushed open a door and rounded the corner, his gun leading the way. A shadowy figure stood in the corner.
"Who are you?" Spencer demanded. "What's your name?"
The screams pierced the air again. The figure tilted its head menacingly.
"Say it." The figure demanded.
"Tell me your name!?" Spencer demanded again.
The figure lunged forward.
Spencer opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat. The familiar warmth to his right let him know Avery was still sleeping soundly. He turned his head. Her back was to him, her shoulders rising and falling with relaxed breaths.
The cell phone on Reid's side table buzzed. He picked it up and looked at the ID screen.
"Hey, Garcia. Yeah. No, it's alright I was up. What's up?" He glanced at Avery's back, the straps of her tank top draped over her shoulders. "Yeah, I'll be right in."