Summary: Driving home from the bureau late one Friday night, a car collides with Reid's vehicle. The police and ambulance are at the scene only moments later, but it is not enough to save him. Being shot seemed more likely than a car accident. They said it would never happen to them, but they were wrong. Will they be able to pull through this dark time? Elle-centric. Setting = season 1. Pre "Fisher King." ElleXReid

Warnings: Character Death (!), foul language, fic AU, possible OOCness

Chapter One was slightly revised & reposted April 30th, 2015. NOTE: I apologize to readers about the "CENSORED" sections. I did not write the word "censored" into the story; I have an extension on Firefox that immediately blocks swear words, and it sometimes does this when I edit a story in doc manager before posting. As such, please don't focus your reviews on this one aspect of the fic.

Chapter One

Dr. Spencer Reid drove through the streets of Quantico, listening as Emerson Drive's I've Had My Moments drifted from the car's radio. The night was warm and clear, the stars sparkling playfully in the dark blanketed sky.

The team had just wrapped up another rape case, and that feeling of a-job-well-done fluttered in the pit of his stomach, despite the gruesome nature of the case. It felt good to do his part; there was no doubt about it. Working at the Behavior Analysis Unit gave him a sense of guardianship. He loved using his talents for honorable tasks, saving people's lives, and bringing another man to justice.

Of course it didn't always play out like that, but today had been pleasant, and he didn't want the future dragging him down just yet.

Reaching forward for the volume dial, Reid suddenly became aware of headlights speeding towards him. The world stopped, and everything happened in slow-motion. Reid threw his hands up, trying to cover his face. The truck hit him head on, the sounds of crunching metal, the screeching of steel against steel, and pain-filled screams breaking the night's silence. He tasted blood, the heavy, coppery flavor weighing down on his tongue. The crimson liquid was everywhere - on his hands, all over the car, flowing thickly from his mouth. Images of past crime scenes flashed through his mind, but this wasn't just some crime scene. This was not some victim's blood. It was his own, the sight foreign to his eyes.

Reid stretched a shaking hand to the dashboard, grabbing his red stained wallet from its perch. It was flipped open, its leather binding exposing a glossy photograph. He worked up enough strength to concentrate on the picture it held. There they were, smiling up at him. They were his team, his friends…his family. "I'll miss you guys," he said weakly. Death was to take him soon, a release from this horrid pain. Reid knew it. In that moment, almost welcomed it. He knew a grave was waiting for him. Silently he prayed, the cold fingers of death taking him seconds after his final, "A-men."

CriminalMinds

Aaron Hotchner's cell phone rang loudly from its nest on the wooden nightstand, wakening both the agent and his wife. Sleepily he checked the time, the red numbers glowing from the digital clock, and reaching out a lazy arm grabbed the phone.

"Hotchner," he answered with a yawn, pulling his tired body into a sitting position.

"Mr. Hotchner, I'm Officer Frank Beaufort. I'm sorry to call ya at such a late time, but I'm here at Quantico General Hospital. We need ya down here straight away… there's been an accident."

CriminalMinds

Elle, Derek, Jennifer, Penelope, and Gideon all received similar calls that night. They met in the hospital lobby, offering empty words of encouragement. It seemed like hours had passed before a doctor finally appeared. Her brown hair was swept back into a long ponytail, and she had a lovely young face.

Elle swallowed the lump in her throat. The woman looked so young. Like Reid - his appearance seeming too young for someone of his authority. "And this is Agent Elle Greenaway." Hotch's voice broke the brunette from her thoughts. Clearing her head with a quick shake Elle accepted the doctor's out-stretched hand.

"Dr. Samantha Kerr," she said softly. Oh God, Elle thought, she's using that tone of voice. The one reserved for wrost possible news. Elle knew that voice well. She had used it herself hundreds of times. "I was informed to call you six. You were referenced as family of Spencer Reid."

"Family is correct," Gideon said. His voice was calm, but his heart tightened in fear. Reid was like a son to him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Maybe it had been the childlike looks of the young man, or the skilled mind and awkward socializing. Whatever the case may have been, Gideon treated Reid as his son, doing his best to protect him. Guilt's hammer smashed around the man's heart…it looked as though he had failed.

"How is he?" JJ spoke up, her voice wavering. Elle looked away swiftly. Fool, was it not obvious to her?

"Ma'am," the doctor also seemed broken up. She must not be used to this, Elle thought, having to tell a person their loved one is gone. Or maybe it was the age. People always seem to take younger deaths the hardest. "I am terribly sorry to be the one to inform you…He was DOA." Absent mindedly she added, "Dead on arrival." The room fell silent. The only sounds the clicking of heels, and hushed whispers here and there. Dr. Kerr took a couple deep breaths before saying, "If it's not too soon, I would like you to follow me to the morgue. We would like a positive identification."

"I refuse to go in there!" Garcia declared through her tears. "I want to remember him as he was…" The past tense hung heavily on her lips. She fell gracefully into a chair outside the morgue's door. Holding her hands to her face she began to cry, salty tears trickling down her cheeks. Gideon laid an understanding hand on her shoulder. Personally he didn't want to see the body either, even if it was Reid's.

"I'll stay with her," JJ said, taking a seat next to her friend. She tried comforting Garcia, but she couldn't put any spirit behind the words. How could she comfort her, when she couldn't even comfort herself? Hotch nodded, leading the other three into the room.

Dr. Kerr stood beside a table, the white cloth draping over the edges. Elle's heart broke in two at the sight. A pale hand was hanging over the side, poking out beneath the fabric. How she longed to rush over and grab it, and how she longed for the person under the sheet to sit up and smile at her. She loved his smile, so warm and playful.

"The damage was pretty bad," Dr. Kerr said, breaking Elle from her trance. "You may-"

"We can handle it," Morgan replied sternly, cutting the doctor's words off. She opened her mouth to protest. They may be federal agents but seeing a loved one bloody and broken was an entirely different situation. She decided against it though; these people had surely seen worse.

"We cleaned up most of the blood," she said softly, pulling the sheet down, revealing a pale, familiar face. Lying there he looked like a little child. He may have even appeared to be in a peaceful sleep had it not been for the dark bruises flowering the right side of his face, or the dark blood caked around the top of his head.

" Damn it!" Morgan smashed his fist angrily into the wall. " Damn it, Reid! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" He had been holding onto a sliver of hope that they had made a mistake, and somewhere out there Reid was alive and they would laugh about this later. But they would never laugh, because he was dead, and all hope was gone…

"There were multiple bruises, most likely caused from when he hit the steering wheel. He was wearing a seat belt, but it was a head-on collision. The entire front of his car was pushed towards him. The wind shield shattered. We had to pull several pieces of glass from his skin." She paused. "It took ambulances almost ten minutes to arrive on scene, because there had been another accident. You friend was… …" she stopped as her voice began to waver. Her face paled and she swallowed, hard. This was the first time she had ever had to tell someone that their loved one would not be coming home. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm not usually the one who does this, but we're understaffed tonight, and..." Reid reminded her of her twin brother. It could have been Alex laying there, and not this man, who may have been someone's brother, was someone's son. The doctor made a fist around her left hand, crushing her fingers painfully, trying to calm herself. She was not behaving professionally. She needed to get it together.

When she spoke again her voice was more level. "When paramedics arrived your friend had already died. Cause of death, external and internal bleeding."

Elle let out a choked sob, failing to contain her emotions any longer. She collapsed into Morgan's embrace, crying uncontrollably into his shoulder. "He was too young," she whispered between tears. "Why, Reid? He's never done anything wrong!" Seeing such a usually strong woman engulfed by over-whelming sadness was heart-breaking. Why was she taking it so hard? How was the rest of the team supposed to handle something like that?

Dr. Kerr handed Gideon a clear plastic baggy. Inside was a watch, brown leather wallet, and a broken pair of glasses. He looked the contents over carefully. Noticing the fingerprint blood stains, he reached inside for the wallet. He flipped it open, his eyes resting on the last sight Reid's vision had ever met.

"Thank-you for making a positive identification." The doctor stared uneasily at her feet. She wanted out of this room, out of this hospital, as soon as possible. She wanted to curl up in her bed at home, and talk to her brother on the phone. "I know this must be happening very fast for you, but I ask that your team wait in the lobby. There is someone who wishes to speak with you." And with that the young doctor hurried out of the room, the fast-paced clicking of her heels echoing loudly down the narrow hallway.

They turned to leave, Morgan steering Elle gently, but she stayed rooted. There was no way she was leaving.

"Elle-" Hotch began to protest sternly, his face hard but his eyes pleading.

"Please, Hotch," she begged, "let me stay here. Just a minute." He debated with himself mentally. Should he allow her to stay? She was not handling herself too well. But could he really force her to leave? That was out of the question, especially if it left her with regrets or guilt. He could not let that happen; those kind of things ate away at your soul. Maybe she needed some additional kind of closure.

"Do not stay too long, we need to upstairs," Gideon told her, freeing Hotch from answering.

"Do you want us to stay with you?" he asked.

"No," she said, kicking herself for replying too quickly. "There's just something that I need to do. You guys should check on Penn and JJ." Gideon nodded his fatherly "I understand" sort-of nod, leading the other two agents out of the room.

Elle waited. She waited until after Garcia's and JJ's horrified reactions to the positive identification and cause of death. She waited until she could no longer hear their voices or their footsteps. She waited until she was sure the elevator was heading to the first floor. And while she waited one question seemed to repeat in her mind, why had Dr. Kerr wanted them to meet this person?

When all was quiet, and she had mustered all her courage, Elle stepped up to the metal table. With trembling hands she reached for the sheet, pulling it down far enough that it revealed the handsome face once again.

Her fingers continued to tremble as she cradled his face in her hands. Immediately she recoiled. The cold feel of his skin felt foreign to her finger tips.

"Why did you leave me?" she asked, the tears trailing her cheeks. It was a stupid question, she knew. Why would anyone wish to leave their loved ones behind? "There was so much I wanted to tell you. So much that I left unsaid. I thought there'd be more time…" Elle reached for his limp hand. Holding it tightly she ignored the temperature that replaced the warmth she knew. "You've saved my life so many times. I should have been there for you!" She squeezed his hand, as though she was transferring her life into his body, trying to raise him from the dead.

Slowly, Elle leaned forward, her face hovering inches above his. How she longed to see his chocolate eyes, to melt into their warmth, like sugar in coffee. It felt odd being so close to a dead body. Especially when it belonged to her best friend.

Gently she kissed his blue tinged lips, holding the position for a moment. "I've wanted to do that for the longest time." She tried to hold in a heavy sob, her breath catching painfully in her lungs, choking her. Lowering her mouth to his ear she whispered, "I love you."

Elle left a few moments later, reluctantly. Leaving behind the tiny room, with its smell of blood and death. And the love of her life… The team has been waiting for me, she told herself, trying to forget.

She stepped into the unoccupied elevator, allowing its walls to close in around her. She wished they would, and free her from this ever spiraling pain. Then, maybe, she could wake up from this nightmare. The hospital seemed more foreboding that usual. But Elle knew death was all around her. It didn't mean she was used to it, death always hurts, but she knew what to expect afterwards.

Death is always with me, she thought sadly. At home the reminders of her father's ghost haunted her; at work she was faced with the bloody remains of innocent people; eating out at restaurants, walking into a bathroom, and now in her car. Everywhere she went there was a reminder of someone she had lost.

Elle remembered the pain of losing her father. The heartbreak of growing up without a dad, the painful Father's Day that passed each year, and the shattering memories of her final words to him, "I hate you, Daddy." And all because he didn't have time that day to teach her how to ride a bike. She never did bother to learn.

In high school her best friend, Teddy, had a heart attack when they were hanging out at a diner. He died later that same night at the hospital. Teddy was her closest friend; she had grown up with him since they were babies. He had wanted to a leader; he had wanted to change the world.

Then there were her tragic years in university. She had roomed with a girl from Georgia, Mary-Jane. They had become close. They were like sisters. And Mary-Jane with her beautiful looks and gentle ways was nice to everyone. She was truly an angel. Elle shuddered, remembering her friend's suicide. To Elle, it had been unexpected, unprecedented. Unbearable. She had known her better than anyone else, but she hadn't seen until it was too late. Mary-Jane hung herself from the bathroom ceiling. Elle had been the one to find her. It was the most horrifying sight she had ever seen. Later she found the note, in her roommate's hand-writing, explaining that people were cruel, that the world was more than she could handle, that she loved Elle as her sister and that she was sorry. A frat boy had raped her earlier that year, and the pain had been too much for her. That was the day Elle realized she wanted to become part of the F.B.I.

But now Reid? How could she recover? Since she was born four people close to her had died, four of the most important people in her life. And not a day went by she didn't feel regret.

The day Reid had join the BAU Elle had been attracted to him. Maybe it had been his adorable ways, or his handsome face. Maybe it had been his awkward socializing, or his brilliant mind. But whatever it was she loved it. And then when her train ride turned hostage situation, he had saved her life. His bravery and courage had washed over her, and that was when she was positive she wanted to be with him forever. It's funny how life screws things up, isn't it?

The elevator doors swished open, revealing the large lobby. She spotted the team standing in the far corner, talking to a police officer. Suddenly Elle felt dizzy, and she slammed down on the close button, and allowed herself to slide down the wall until she was in a sitting position.

A cop was involved; that was never a good sign. Had someone purposely killed Reid? A foe of some sort? Had they meant to steal him away from her? Had someone been targeting him? Elle buried her face in her hands. She should have been there to save him! She should have protected Reid!

Elle tried to remain calm, tried to breathe, but it was too much. They had left her barely any time to grieve. What are you doing? she asked herself. You're supposed to be stronger than this, Damn it! You're supposed to be trained for the F.B.I! You should be able to handle this! Elle knew that wasn't true. Even the strongest of people feel loss. It was human nature. Sometimes being strong meant being willing to break down. Yet the mental self-destruction helped her to stay level.

She pressed the open button, and walked towards them. She focused all her attention on the cop, trying to avoid the waiting eyes of the team. When she reached them she stared at her feet - "Reid move" she would have called it - her face tingling from anxiety.

"This is our remaining member, Agent Elle Greenaway," Hotch introduced her, his voice monotone, like a robot's. Elle hated him for it. Why did he have to hide what he was feeling all the damn time?

"Officer Frank Beaufort," he replied, extending his hand. Elle didn't take it. "I'm really sorry that this happened. These things are preventable."

"What do you mean 'preventable'?" Garcia asked suspiciously.

Beaufort cleared his voice before saying, "I'm terribly sorry to inform ya that Spencer Reid was hit and killed by an impaired driver. The truck owner was higher than a kite while driving."

Was anyone expecting that? I know Elle is very OOC, but it makes more tension. Thanks to everyone who reviewed to he summary I originally posted, and to everyone who has since.

If you read please review. Hope you liked the chapter.

Beauiful-Crying-Angel