Spencer had been tucked into the end of the couch on the jet for the better part of an hour-not reading or listening to music or anything, just staring down at his clenched hands-when Derek finally managed to extricate himself from his conversation with Hotch and sit down next to him.
"Anything you want to talk about, pretty boy?"
Spencer shuddered, moving closer until they were only just barely not touching. Derek glanced around the cabin, then rested a soothing hand on top of Spencer's. He exhaled a long, stuttering sigh at the contact and a fraction of the tension in his slim form eased. The silence stretched so long that Derek was surprised when Spencer finally spoke, his voice low and quiet, but not so low and quiet as to disguise the broken hopelessness in it.
"How do other people cope? How are we expected to do this job without going insane when all we ever see are the constantly rising levels of depravity that people are capable of? They were just little kids, barely more than babies, and he...How do I look at something like that, knowing that every person I pass on the street could be doing the same thing, and still smile and act like everything's okay?"
Derek shifted so that their shoulders were touching. "We do it because if we didn't, then even more innocent people would die, and the monsters doing it would be allowed to continue killing unchecked. Nobody expects you to be okay all the time, but you have to remember that we do what we do because it save lives."
"I don't think that's enough for me, anymore," Spencer said, leaning on Derek. "You know, the other day I watched a horror film. All the reviews talked about how gruesome and terrifying it was. It was supposed to be the best for the past decade in terms of shock value. I didn't even flinch. I barely blinked. Instead, I spent the entire movie formulating a profile for a fictional serial killer." Spencer laughed hollowly. "How fucked up is that?"
Derek ran his thumb over his lover's knuckles, his brow creased with distress. "Spencer..."
Spencer finally looked up from their clasped hands, and turned to Derek with a heartbreakingly shattered expression.
"How much longer can I keep doing this job before it destroys me? How much longer can any of us?"
Who was it that said only the dead have seen the end of war? I have seen the end of war. The question is, how do I go on living?
~ Brothers
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