I don't own Criminal Minds. Okay, so Zugzwang...wow. Just really sucked. A lot.

Schachmatt

Italics is flashbacks

Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.

Part 1: The White King's Gambit

Morgan looked over at the empty desk. He was still hoping for their genius boy to walk in, that ugly satchel slung over his shoulder, a coffee and book in his pianist hands. He knew it was definitely not a possibility, not so soon.

He could still see the anguish etching into the delicate features of his little brother. His tears were silent and bitter, bottled up. Morgan could still hear the soft sobs that bubbled from his friend's throat, and his own desperate need to stop them.

Spencer Reid sat there in front of his friends, crying. They had all seen him cry before, save Blake, but this time it was just too…raw. It was not hidden, or quiet, nothing was withheld. A blaze seemed to light itself underneath the young genius as his wails burst forth suddenly.

Everything was quiet as they watched Reid sit there and cry for his lost love. Morgan finally put away his gun and walked up slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. The rest of the team silently watched, waiting for the inevitable moment Morgan would reach their friend.

"Reid?" he gently prodded. The older man rested his hand on the genius' shoulder. "Come on Pretty Boy, let's get you outta here."

Reid didn't move.

Finally, after several minutes of soft ministrations by his companions, JJ and Morgan guided him out of the room. He calmly spoke at the ambulance before they loaded him up.

"Morgan," he began. His voice was hollow and unfeeling, so different from his usual enthusiasm, "I guess you were wrong. 2,412. 100.5. That's all I got."

The doors of the vehicle shut before Derek could find it in himself to respond.

"Guys, we've got a case," Garcia stated gently. She had been sporting shades of blue, purple and gray recently. She walked into the round table room without another word.

A part of her wanted to just drop all the files she was currently carrying and rush out to her Sweet Cheeks apartment this very instant. She knew it took time for wounds to heal, especially for a person as fragile as Spencer. He was a child, in a way, so naive to what the world offered, and how easily it could be taken away.

Logically, she knew that he was smart, and in his job, he knew of the dangers that presented themselves to the world. However, the bubbly techie couldn't bring herself to think otherwise of Spencer's delicate state of mind.

Every single moment they weren't solving a case, she was keeping track of him. According to his phone, he was at home. For the last four days.

Was he eating? Sleeping? Living?

Garcia shuffled through the pictures on her tablet as she waited for the team to file in. Her mind was made up, she would fix this. She had to. For all of them.

"Hey Reid," she tried as he walked in. He simply nodded, nothing more nor less.

Dropping his satchel on his desk, he navigated around the people milling around occasionally pausing when one of two of them stopped to give their condolences. Maneuvering to the best of his ability with his bandaged shoulder and slinged arm, he walked into Hotch's office.

She waited by his desk until he came out. Looking down, she spotted a tan envelope sticking out of a pocket and immediately realized it for what it was. Maeve's letters. Tears sprung up fresh when she recalled the words instantaneously. Reid had truly loved her with all his heart, only to have it torn away by the cruel hands of fate.

"Reid?" she asked as he silently grabbed his satchel. "Where are you going?"

He smiled falsely, "I'm taking a break for a while. I-I need…I need to sort some things out."

She stood there, even after he was long gone.

Blake settled down into the cushy seat of the plane as she got ready for the long flight. She opened up the book that the young genius himself had given her as a welcoming present. After the first chapter, she realized she had no idea what she'd just read.

Closing the book, she glanced outside into the vast skies. She vaguely wondered if the young man she had surprisingly come to like was alright. She had never met the girl, only heard of her through Dr. Reid, but the way he had described her…she was his goddess.

To have that so brutally taken must have been a devastating blow.

Blake still wasn't very comfortable with her team that was very clearly a family in its own right. She was getting there, but not yet. She hoped her own idea would be enough to help their colleague.

After listening to JJ and Garcia whisper about a person known as Emily, she had made her decision. This woman was needed here. Blake wasn't sure how to go about this, but when the opportunity-in the form of JJ's phone-presented itself, she took it.

Waiting hesitantly for it to ring, she found herself taken aback at the drowsy voice. "JJ, this better be good. I finally got an early night."

After a moment's silence, "JJ?" the voice repeated.

Blake cleared her throat, "I'm not JJ." She could almost hear the other woman's voice crinkle in confusion for a moment.

"Who exactly are you then?"

"JJ might have mentioned me. I'm SSA Alex Blake."

"Ah. My replacement," the voice interceded.

"Right."

Emily was kind enough to allow Blake to continue. Blake regaled the woman with the version of her former teammate's tragic tale. When she finished, all she heard was silence.

Suddenly the other end exploded as sheets or clothes-maybe both-rustled rapidly and there was a sound of water rushing through pipes and muffled words of 'Sergio, let go'.

Emily came back on the phone, "Tell the team that I'm on the next flight out. I'll be emailing Garcia the details." There was a pause before her voice softened, "Thank you, Agent Blake."

"Call me Alex."

Rossi looked at the map before him. How Reid ever figured this out was beyond him, and then he realized that was the most idiotic thought to cross his mind in years.

He knew he wasn't completely focused on the map, which was dangerous, considering this town needed undivided attention, but he couldn't help himself. His mind kept drifting back toward the chair filled with stacks of paper, one that should have a leather man purse-as Morgan so fondly called it-sitting within its depth.

Without Reid, everything seemed a step harder. The facts, the profile, the childish antics. Nothing seemed as…interesting as before.

The Italian man looked at the coffee pot before him. He only drank from it when Reid made it anyway, but he had felt the odd urge to come in. As if the young man would actually be here.

The pot was full.

That just felt wrong to him. The pot was always either half empty, or clean of anything but dregs. Reid drank so much of it, he might have as well just had it on his own desk.

It wasn't just the coffee. It was everything. The entire team had a somber overcast to it, penetrating even Strauss. She hadn't belittled them in the slightest after Reid.

Rossi always suspected Reid had gained Erin's respect, in a manner of speaking. Even she seemed affected by this whole fiasco.

He hadn't known Reid as long as Morgan or Hotch, but he cared for the younger man. This team was falling apart, and they hadn't the smallest clue how to fix it.

He walked out of the room. Without Reid, a lot of things had lost his interest.

Hotch watched as the local coroner took the unsub's body away. They might have been able to save this one. He wasn't bad, just sick. Reid would have found a way to talk the man down, calm him slowly and casually.

He didn't necessarily like it all the time, but Reid's ability to connect with every person he met is what led them to many of their apprehensions, rather than deaths. Nodding his head at the chief, he turned to his team.

It was finally time to go home.

Hotch looked over at the empty desk when he passed by for coffee. It seemed odd to not see a childishly happy face peering at a new book, or a small crowd that erupted in quiet giggles after a cap launched into the air.

He sighed and shut the door to his room. The leader looked at the picture resting on his desk of his deceased ex-wife. Haley had been his soul at one time, but he had gotten time with her and without her after her death. He'd gotten the chance to know her, love her, marry her.

He picked up his phone and hit a number. The phone started ringing, and then continued. Without surprise, he ended the call when it went to voicemail. He tried again.

And again.

They had been too close to losing Reid too many times to let it happen again.

JJ relaxed into the seat of her car as she drove home. Finally, a little alone time with Will tonight. Maybe she should stop in to see Reid before heading home, just to see if he had taken in some of the baskets Garcia had dropped off.

She missed him. Reid was like a little brother to her, in all of his innocence and geeky appearance. She loved it, and so did Henry.

Maybe taking Henry to see Reid would be good for their genius. Henry hadn't seen him for a long time, and even the small child was beginning to worry about his godfather.

But, she did have one extra guest at her house.

"Hello?" JJ asked.

"Hey, it's me."

"Emily?"

"Yep," her friend paused. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure…"

"Come pick me up at the airport?"

"You're here?" JJ exclaimed. "What? When? Why?"

Emily chuckled quietly. She somberly answered, "I heard about Reid."

JJ sank back into her seat, "Oh. You heard, huh?" she asked. "Emily, why do you think it always ends up being him? Hostage, kidnapped, drugged, shot…violated…"

"Violated?"

JJ cleared her throat, "The woman that, uh, killed Reid's girlfriend stuffed her hand down his shirt and kissed him."

Emily made a sound of rage. "How is he?"

"I don't know. He hasn't answered any of our calls."

"You too, huh?"

Reid curled up on the couch. In the past week, he had been reduced to reading, and occasionally getting up to make coffee. If not that, he would lull himself to sleep by listening to the voicemails left by his team, or read the letters left by…

He missed her, without truly even knowing her. What had she ever done to deserve this? Was being smart a crime? Was that why he was doomed to forever be alone, and forever deal with pain that only seemed to replace itself when it seemed to fade?

"Zugzwang," Reid quietly murmered.

To play until the bitter end.

And what a bitter end it was.

Schachmatt: checkmate in german

Gambit: sacrifice to gain an advantage