Jordan couldn't think. Thinking hurt. It didn't matter anyways; she didn't need to think to do what she was going to. She walked on the side of a road, staring at her feet but not actually looking. There was a bridge not too far ahead.
Spencer Reid hated feeling weak. But that's all he felt lately. Weak. Useless. Like he couldn't handle himself with his team.
He was wasn't vaguely aware of where his feet were leading him to, until he saw a bridge up ahead. Something told him this was important. The bridge wasn't just a bridge. It was an escape.
He stopped and tried to focus for the first time on his surroundings. When he looked down, he saw water and rocks flowing unforgivingly rough, and stared at them for a while. It was calming in a way.
Reid couldn't swim and that water looked too deep anyway.
He never knew he'd hate it this much. The morbid job, that breaks everyone, sooner or later. That scarred everyone. But he was scarred long before he took the job.
Gideon and Elle were right to get out.
He could've died, many times. Dying seemed like a topic off limits to everyone. No one wanted to talk about it. A stupid idea, considering everything dies, Reid thinks.
He sighed. It didn't have to be suicide. He would have been fine with getting shot on the job but at least like this his team can't blame themselves. Leave it to them to find a way, though. Claim they noticed he was more distant or didn't spew enough random statistics to be considered normal for him.
Reid climbed over the railing, and closed his eyes. All he had to do was let go.
What about your team? That small voice in his head spoke softly.
They don't need me. He thought sadly. Members have been replaced before, it'll happen again.
Your mom?
She's fine without me too. I made sure of that.
He can't help but feel he was right, no one actually needed him. People would grieve when they heard, and people move on. Just like they always did.
Reid began letting his fingers go from the railing one by one, when he noticed a small woman, around his age, over the railing and hanging off the side, just like him. She didn't even notice him. How did he not notice her? The profiler in him started examining her, and he just couldn't stop himself from climbing back and walking over to her. If he wanted to die, he deserved to do it however he liked, with no one else watching.
He looked at her. She wore no makeup or jewelry though Reid somehow knew when she was happy, she could look like the prettiest girl in the world. Her clothes were simple. She was short, (5 ft 3 he guessed) and her dark hair was lighter in the sun. Brown skin. Brazilian? Cuban? Central or South American, definitely. He could see a part of her eyes, facing away from him. They were an average dark brown, and might have seemed normal, if not a bit big, but they showed a certain sunken look about them. They looked a lot like ones he'd seen before but couldn't remember.
She must have known he was there by now though she had acknowledged nothing. He didn't know why, maybe it was because they were both about to kill themselves, or maybe it was because she looked younger than he did, but whatever it was, it made him decide to confront her.
He wanted to ask her why, what drove her to this.
She finally noticed someone was watching her and turned around.
Her eyes are like mine, he thinks. That's where I saw them.
Reid silently takes her hands, puts them in his, and helps her climb back over.
Then he notices something else. A smile. A happy one, not without troubles and worries, but a smile nonetheless. Her smile made him smile.
"What's your name?"