Holding On

Disclaimer: You recognize them, I don't own them

On the night the baby died, it rained.

This one little fact is the only thing Spencer Reid knows for sure in the nightmare that's been the past day and a half.

It's really all been one big blur. Sure, some parts stand out. Waking up to his partner's horrified screams. The loud wail of the police sirens as they rushed to their house. The way Garcia silently broke once he told her the news and how she started frantically mumbling something about needing cabbage leaves and ice packs before breaking into heart-wrenching sobs.

Other than that, he really knows nothing.

"Mom wants to know what she can do." Derek Morgan wanders in from the outside. "I told her that we would let her handle the funeral planning other than the basic decisions. I know I didn't ask you but I don't think any of us are really in the space to do this and the coroner needs decisions because the autopsy will be done soon enough."

"Can you not mention that?" Reid curls up on the hotel bed. "It's a thought that I don't want. Just…no."

"Sorry. Although, I don't like it any more than you do. We just need to start thinking of these things. Like burial or cremation? What funeral home?"

"I thought that was why we were letting your mother handle everything. " Reid sits up. "God, I hate hotels."

Since losing the baby, they've only been home once to get clothes before going to a hotel. The fifteen minutes there had been pure hell. They had bought the converted high school when Garcia had been pregnant- a thirteen thousand square foot home- a place for their hopes and dreams. Now, it just seems big and empty, more so now than it had ever been when she had been there.

He inhales slowly and then exhales. After pausing, he does this again.

"I'm sorry. Snapping at you like that was uncalled for. I suppose I'm just a bit on edge." He begins to pace. "Times like this really made me wish I smoked. "

"We're all upset. I mean- our daughter just up and died suddenly. Six month old babies do not die mysteriously." Morgan sits on the edge of the bed, watching Reid pace.

"Sometimes they do. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome can happen without warning. If that's what it was, I mean. It could have been a problem with her heart. Something Penn took without realizing it was in her breast milk. A virus…"

"I think we can rule out contaminated breast milk. Come on! You know how careful she is with everything. I couldn't even get her to take Theraflu and she had doctor approval." Morgan sighs.

XxX

"I don't know where he is." Reid settles down. "Probably going to the funeral home with Fran? They're trying to pick an urn. Or maybe it's a casket? They weren't sure."

"And you didn't go with them?" JJ asks, sitting beside him.

"I can't do it. She can't be gone. My princess can't be gone. It's all got to be some crazy nightmare." He bites down on his lip until he tastes blood. "You know I was the last one to hold her right?"

"No, I didn't know that." Gently, JJ eases her arm around him.

"I don't remember what happened. But I naturally wasn't a big sleeper so I took the middle of the night feeds. She was starting to phase them out but that night, she was a little fussier than usual. I remember that much. Derek wanted to let me sleep but I knew that we had an early morning. So, I told him to go back to sleep…." His words drift off. "That's all I remember."

"It'll come back one day." JJ gazes down to his hands. "What are you holding?"

"It's the blanket from her crib." He reveals the pink cashmere. "We spent way too much on it- like six hundred dollars but I figured that it would be a splurge that lasted her." Bringing the soft blanket to his nose, he inhales, taking in the gentle scent of organic citrus baby shampoo. "We're burying her with her bunny. Or cremating her… The cashmere one that Rossi gave us? It never left her side. That was the reason we got this. It was the matching blanket and nothing was too good for our girl." He looks at JJ. "Does it make me a monster that I can't cry?"

"No, of course not, Spencer…we all grieve in our own ways. Some people cry. Others don't. "She rubs soothing circles around his back.

The room door opens. Morgan and his mother walk in. Reid can tell they've been crying from their tell-tale red rimmed eyes.

"Remember the music box Penn gave her when she was born?" Morgan asks, dabbing his eyes with a tissue.

"It plays some Beatles song. It's the only thing puts her to sleep when she's fussy. I mean- it did." A look of fresh pain crosses his face. "Why?"

"We're cremating her. And then they had a beautiful pink wooden urn that was a music box. It plays Brahms' lullaby." Fran sighs, leaning against the door frame. "Until today, I didn't know that they made urns that small. Breaks my heart even more..."

"It sounds lovely," JJ comments. "I can leave." She goes to stand.

"Please don't." The words catch in Reid's throat. "Just don't," For some reason, he's finding a lot of comfort in JJ's presence.

"Can you two go check on Penn?" Morgan asks. "Mom and I still have a few more arrangements to make and I really need someone to make sure she's alright since she just wants to be alone."

Reid nods.