Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no copyright infringement is intended.
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Reid passed the fountain and sped down the long hallway in hopes of making a hasty escape. "Spencer," he heard from behind him just as he had on his first meeting at Beltway Clean Cops. He tried to ignore the voice but it came again, only louder, "Spencer." He better stop before he got the attention of everyone in the meeting room. He turned as John strode up to him as he had on that first night.
"I really don't want…" Reid began.
"I know you don't want to talk about it." John interjected. "Tough, we're going to talk about it."
"Are you saying this as the FBI…?"
"No," John interrupted again. "You know that has no place here between you and me."
"In that case, I'd rather not…" Reid began again only to be stopped again.
"Look, I'm not about to lecture you or anything. I know you're in a bad way right now and before I say anything else, just let me say how sorry I am for your loss. I truly am."
Reid nodded, "Thanks."
"But you've been getting a lot of that lately so what I really need is to ask you some questions."
Reid raised his eyebrows.
"You're a profiler with the FBI and it is your job to deal with families who have lost a loved one in a most horrific way, correct?"
Reid nodded.
"Do you ever tell them it's their fault?"
"No, that would be awful and totally unproductive," Reid replied.
"Right," John nodded and waited patiently.
"Oh no," Reid said at last. "This isn't anything like that."
"And how is it different?" John asked.
"I'm an FBI agent."
"So what! The way I see it, you're a man first, and you're a man who has lost the woman he loved to a psychotic stalker."
"But I should have…"
"No," John stressed adamantly. "You offered her your help and the help of your team and she refused. She was in her right mind to refuse."
"But she refused because of me. She thought I might get hurt." Reid countered.
"That's a perfectly valid reason for her to refuse and, considering what happened, you put yourself in harm's way so she wasn't really foolish for thinking that, was she?" John raised his hand when Reid looked about to speak. "Spencer, you couldn't make that decision for her." He paused for a moment. "I know you're used to that, making decisions for the person you care most about. You couldn't do that here. Maeve was not your mother. The decision was hers and she made it with you in mind. You can't fault her for that and you can't fault yourself for abiding by her wishes."
"I just feel I should have done something." Reid replied.
"I know and, from every report I've read you did everything you could." Reid's eyebrows rose again. "Yes Spencer, I've read the reports. I think that's the FBI agent in you talking. Maybe we should remove him from the equation and we're left with a man who's lost the woman he loves to a psychotic unsub. You see that all the time Spencer, only this time it's you. This time around that's your role and you have to talk to yourself like you would talk to him in any precinct in this country."
"I'm the victim, you're saying." Reid answered.
"No one likes to be in that role but, in this case, that's your role and you have to deal with that role and not hide behind your FBI training. You know it'll only eat away at you."
Reid nodded, "I'll keep coming to my meetings. I'm not going back on Dilaudid. I wouldn't do that to Maeve's memory."
"I'd prefer if you said you wouldn't do it to yourself, but I'll take what I can get. Don't let that psychotic take any more from you than she already has."
Reid nodded again and John held out his hand. Reid shook his hand as John patted him on the shoulder. John reached into his pocket and came out with a card and his pen. He wrote a number on the back and passed it to Reid. You can reach me at that number anytime." Reid looked at the number in black ink. "Anytime," John repeated.
"Thanks John." Reid felt his eyes begin to water so he turned and headed for the exit.
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"And I haven't been able to go there since," the redhead said dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "I really used to love it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to go to the museum again."
A man behind her patted her on the back. "In time it'll bring back good memories Adele."
The door creaked loudly at the back of the hall and the group turned to see a man enter. He was tall and thin with brown hair that seemed to fly every which way on his head. He wore brown corduroy pants, a tan shirt with a brown vest under a brown jacket. Around his neck he wore a purple scarf. He squinted with the squeaking of the door and they thought they saw him mouth, "Sorry."
Penelope Garcia stood and walked toward him; "Re…" she began and stopped. "Please, come and join our group."
He looked at the group and back at the door, "Garcia, maybe I should just…"
"Come and join our group. I agree completely." She pulled the man forward. "Everybody," she said when she got to the front. "This is Spencer."
One of the men grabbed another folding chair and set it up for their newest member to sit in. "Welcome Spencer," he said.
"Thanks Eugene," Garcia said as Reid sat down and the rest of the group welcomed him.
Garcia took her place at the front of the group. "Spencer," she began, "Would you like to tell us what brought you here tonight?"
Reid remained silent and his eyes kept darting back to the door. Don't let that psychotic take more from you than she already has. Reid looked up at Garcia and he could see her eyes brimming with tears as she nodded and then his gaze fell to his hands resting on his lap. "Recently," he choked out the words, "the woman I loved was killed by a stalker. Her name was Maeve and she…"