A/N: Heh, I'll start updating my other project SOON, but first this one wanted to jump out.

Like I said, this can be considered a sequel to my story 'The Darkest Night', but this also works perfectly alone.

WARNINGS: character death, some adult themes… Hmm… Mah, I'm stopping here while there are still some brave readers out there. (grins sheepishly)

DISCLAIMER: Oh, if only…! But I only own 'CM' in my dreams.

Awkay, because I'm in a bit of a hurry… (gulps loudly) Let's go! I really, REALLY hope you'll enjoy this!

Horizon

Few people knew that Spencer Reid kind of liked high places. He enjoyed watching the landscape far below, loved to look towards the far, bluish edge of the horizon. High up it was impossible to see the shadows and evil lurking in the world below.

Due to this atypical fondness Spencer had long since decided that his favorite spot in his small apartment was the balcony. That's where he sat that barely dawned morning of late autumn, not managing to care about the fact that he was shivering violently from cold. Spencer closed his eyes, letting cool air caress his face that had a clear touch of fever.

The night before had been hellish, to say the least. Spencer's had been in so much pain that he'd slept barely two hours. Instead he'd found himself killing time with staring at the ceiling, valiantly counting prime numbers in a futile attempt to chase his mind out of his body. He'd also thrown up fifteen times. He was still surprised he'd managed to keep count while kneeling on the bathroom floor, gasping for air and fighting not to pass out under the flood of fresh pain every vomiting-session woke up in the pit of his already tormented stomach.

It was his tenth such night in a row, and Spencer was beginning to wonder just how many more his exhausted, strained body would be able to endure without shutting down. (If he was brutally honest with himself sometimes a huge part of him wished the number wouldn't be a big one.) Spencer wasn't sure if it made matters better or worse that he no longer spent those nights in his own solitude.

Emitting a small, nearly soundless sigh Spencer forced his eyes halfway open and peered over his shoulder, so that he could see to his couch through the balcony's glass-door. The night before it'd been Derek Morgan's turn to stay with him. The man was still fast asleep, appearing just about as exhausted as he felt.

The 'watch-turns', as Spencer silently called them, had started when he demanded to be discharged from the hospital eight days earlier, stating that two months was enough. Spencer knew why the team wanted to stay with him although it had never been spoken out loud. After all he remembered the grim-faced doctor's words perfectly, and it had nothing to do with his eidetic memory.

/ "I… I'm sorry, Spencer. But the cancer… It isn't responding to the treatments, and… it looks like it's been spreading aggressively. At this point we can only make you feel comfortable." /

After months of gruelling treatments, pain, nausea and recovering from three surgeries those news had felt like a punch right at his face. He'd given the fight against cancer everything he could and somehow even that wasn't enough.

Spencer had never been one to like mirrors too much, let alone lately, but he did know the toll the battle had taken on him. He'd always been nearly sickly thin, and now he'd lost even more weight; it was extremely easy to count his ribs with naked eye, and his legs had become two sticks. The little color there'd been on his face had transformed into something sickly when the cancer invaded his organs one by one. The dark circles around his eyes had turned red, especially now that fever had become his permanent companion. A one more additional part to the entire humiliation was the ostomy bag he was forced to carry on his constantly cranky stomach. The bag was all too visible on his shrunken form even through the thickest of his shirts. And he'd lost his damn hair. Spencer was by no means a vain person but somehow that felt like the worst of all fate's insults. The treatments weren't working but they'd still managed to steal his hair.

It almost made matters worse that the team seemed to like to pretend that they didn't see or understand what was happening. Spencer couldn't chase from his mind the look that'd lingered in Penelope Garcia's eyes when she gave him a black headscarf the day he started losing his hair. She tried to smile back then, tried so very hard.

/ 'See, boy-wonder? It looks good on you. You look like a real tough guy', she teased him, but it came out half-heartedly. /

But no matter how hard the subject was avoided Spencer knew the truth. His body was dying, fading away, a little bit more each day. And even with all his intelligence, knowledge and statistics Spencer had no idea how to deal with it.

He wasn't afraid of dying, not really, although he would've lied saying he wasn't a bit bitter about having been granted so little time. But he was afraid, almost terrified, for his team.

Since finding out he was going to die Derek had visibly fought with himself to bottle up all the boiling, seething anger inside him. Aaron Hotchner wasn't much better; the unit chief who was formerly known for his nearly stony exterior had gained a temper that had the team on their tiptoes. (No one had told Spencer about that, but he'd heard the team discuss the matter once when they thought he was asleep.) Ironically the only place where neither of the two appeared angry was with him. He heard the tears Penelope bravely fought back whenever she was around him, and somehow that stung worse than anything else. And David Rossi… was impossible to read, even to a profiler. Most of the time they spent together they didn't really talk, instead focused on watching old movies. (Or in Spencer's case tried to focus; he didn't think he'd seen a single one of the movies fully.) Emily Prentiss, however, worried him the most. At least the rest of the team showed some emotions. But Emily had locked herself up completely, and no matter how hard he tried Spencer couldn't remember a single occasion when she would've said the word 'cancer' out loud. The only time she'd showed emotions after hearing he was going to die was when he had a particularly bad pain-episode while she was visiting him in the hospital. For a while they were both sure he'd die right there and then. That endlessly long night Emily had sat behind him on his bed for nine hours when he was too uncomfortable to lay down, rubbing his back in a desperate attempt to make him feel better. He wondered if she knew that he could hear the tears in her voice.

/ 'It's… It's okay, Spencer. You'll be okay, I promise.' He couldn't be sure which one of them she was trying to convince. 'Just breathe. You'll be okay.' Like it would've been that simple anymore… /

Spencer had tried to prepare them all, he really had; although it was the last thing he wanted he'd even let them see him at his worst so they'd get a picture of what his life was now, so they'd know he'd held on as long as he could. But he'd never been much good with goodbyes and the team refused to see what was in front of them.

Aaron seemed to be the only one of them who saw, the only one who understood. One night about four or five days ago, when the unit chief had for once been free of all anger, he'd caught Aaron's eyes when the man gave him pain medication. That single look exchanged a million words neither one of them had enough courage to voice.

/ 'I'm going to try to do this as painlessly as possible', Aaron promised while preparing the injection. He was the only member of the team who didn't apologize for giving him narcotics, which were the only form of medication that gave Spencer any ease.

Spencer nodded, those words of nearly comforting, brutal honesty striking him speechless. Somehow the injection hurt a lot less than usual. /

Sometimes, when they thought he was asleep, Spencer took a moment to look at the family fate had introduced to him. It was painful but he imprinted every detail to his mind, hoping that wherever he went he wouldn't forget. He wondered if they knew how much they meant to him, how badly he would've wanted to stay with them. He'd never been much good with words, but he hoped they knew nonetheless.

It wasn't just the members of his team – family – that were in Quantico on Spencer's mind.

He'd started at least five letters to Jason Gideon, but never managed to finish any of them. He didn't even know why he started; after all he wouldn't have known where to send the letter. He'd also called Jennifer Jareau twice. The first time he hung up as soon as she answered. The second time he ended up talking about something trivial instead of just biting the bullet. It was Henry's birthday, anyway. What kind of a godfather would he have been if he'd told her then that he was going to die very soon?

And his mother…

When Spencer was still well enough he'd travelled to see Diana, but never got that far. As it turned out she'd been having a particularly bad episode; her own nurse had been planning on calling him. Spencer, of course, couldn't tell her the news. Two days after his return to Quantico he'd passed out when trying to take care of groceries, and only a miracle had prevented him from falling down the super market's escalator. To his surprise his father had been sitting beside his hospital bed when he woke up; he still didn't know who'd notified the man. William was asleep at the time, and Spencer was glad. He had no idea what he should've said or done. Almost an hour later William woke up. Their eyes met, and suddenly they both seemed to realize that there were no words that would've been enough. Spencer wasn't sure if he was relieved, angry, sad or disappointed when William did what he seemed to know best. The man got up and walked out of the room. Already then they both seemed to know that it was the last time they saw each other.

They never managed to really talk about things, to sort out the mess between them. It was one of the million unresolved and unfinished things in Spencer's life.

Spencer knew he was torturing himself, but he couldn't help wondering what might've been if he'd had just a little bit more time…

Fortunately a sound Derek emitted in his sleep pulled Spencer out of that line of thought. Feeling even more exhausted than before he blinked slowly and peered over his shoulder towards his friend. Derek was frowning in his sleep, arms folded to his chest, and Spencer wondered if he was having a unpleasant dream. He liked to think that wasn't the case.

Spencer swallowed thickly, fighting furiously with himself. For a moment he almost called out to Derek, but in the end decided that this was something his friend didn't have to see.

He'd felt it coming since darkness fell to foreshadow the night before. His fatigue became different from before, as did the pain, and his head was blurry and oddly lucid at the same time. For the first time in who knows how long he felt perfectly calm.

Finally giving in to the fatigue Spencer allowed his eyes to close slowly, carefully imprinting the image of a radiant sunrise. It was the last thing he saw before everything turned into a blinding shade of white.

The horizon was calling out to him.

And so the two friends slept on, one waking up slowly and the other slipping into a dream that'd never end. Gentle wind brushed the piece of paper Spencer's fist kept holding on to. 'To my family', was written on top of it, followed by brief lines of lyrics.

'Heaven is a place nearby
So I won't be so far away.
And if you try and look for me
Maybe you'll find me someday.
Heaven is a place nearby
So there's no need to say goodbye
I wanna ask you not to cry
I'll always be by your side.' (1)

'Life is eternal, and love is immortal,
and death is only a horizon;
and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.'

(Rossiter Worthington Raymond)

Owari.

1) The lyrics are from 'Heaven is a place nearby' by Lene Marlin. It's a beautiful song, but me no own. (pouts)

A/N: Oh man… (sighs and blinks rapidly a bit) Quite sad, huh? What is it with me killing poor Reid?

BUT… (swallows thickly) Was that any good, or would the computer's transhcan be the proper address for this one?

PLEASE, let me know your thoughts! You should know by now how much I adore chatting with you guys. (gives puppy's eyes)

Thank you so much for reading!

Take care!