Author's Note: Hello there! Enjoy this lil' one-shot. WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON SIX.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Spencer Reid was pissed.
Number one.
Number two, he was seriously considering Dilaudid. Again.
This was the aftereffect of Emily's death.
He'd never been an alcoholic.
He'd never been one to get angry easily.
Now, he was all of the above. The tiniest things at the BAU set him off.
For example:
"Hey, Smart One. Wanna grab a drink after we get out of here?" Morgan asked.
"Don't call me Smart One. And sorry, I don't drink," he said angrily, walking past him briskly.
That was just one occasion where he'd gotten mad. There was a hell of a lot more.
He slumped back on his couch. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a half-empty glass of whiskey that he had downed part of this morning. He lazily picked it up, brought it to his lips, and closed his eyes when the liquid reached his tongue.
He sort of hated her for dying. Another part of him kept saying that it wasn't her fault. He'd just totally given up on her. He missed her painfully, every day, but never had he once asked to join Garcia and Morgan in finding Doyle, the bastard who killed her. There were lots of things he would miss about her, though.
Never again would he hear the way Emily whispered "Spence" when they were together.
He'd never see her beautiful, happy smile again; the way she'd come into the room and everything would be better.
He'd never give her another hug. That was the number one thing he'd miss about Emily. Her hugs. He remembered when he'd gotten out of Cyrus's grasp. The explosion had been absolutely unreal. What brought him back down to earth was Emily's hug. The hug was full of comfort and safety, but also filled with sadness and despair.
Nobody else would stand up for him like Emily had with Cyrus. He'd beaten the living shit out of her, and yet she still managed not to be totally and completely pissed off at him when she came downstairs. Hell, she'd held his hand on the plane. He knew Emily well enough to know that she wasn't faking.
Would Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, or JJ take the beating for him again?
That was the thing. On the outside, Spencer Reid was an awkward, shy, extremely intelligent, funny, naive guy. But on the inside, he was a coward.
A coward, and he damn well knew it too.
If Emily hadn't taken the bad end of it for him, he would've passed out from the pain.
When Tobias Hankel had him in captivity, he kept praying and praying. His calm, relaxed demeanor was just a front to stop Tobias from killing him.
Reid knew all too well that he would be the last person to stand up for someone like that. Without Emily, he wasn't sure if anyone else would do the same for him.
As he set the bottle down on the glass table, he heard a knock on the door. He stood up, but immediately sat back down because of his dizziness.
"One second," he called. He stood up more slowly this time and made his way to the door. He unlocked it.
"Hi, Spence," Emily said softly.
His heart soared. All the anger that he stored up inside immediately washed away. Tears were welling in both their eyes.
"Spence, I-I have a lot of explaining to do," she said quietly.
"No. Just come here," he whispered, tears tricking down his face. They embraced, finally seeing each other for the first time in months.
"Spence, I know I must've put you through hell and I'm so sorry," she mumbled into his shoulder, sobbing.
"Shh, Emily. You're here now, and that's all that matters."
The End