Hi! There's been a while since i've written a story, so I hope I'm not too rusty. I just want to say that any kind of feedback will make me super happy! Also, thank you so much everyone who gave me feedback, favorited/followed my previous stories.

I hope you like it :)

IN THE DISTANCE

It was always Emily who saw Spencer for who he was. And it was always Emily who understood. It had always been like that. When she had left, Spencer was alone, until when she came home for a visit, and even though she had given everyone on the team a hug so tight their ribcage almost burst, it was with Spencer she had lingered. Because she saw that something was not right with the way he smiled. And she noticed the shadows, the darkness that lingered amongst the hazel brown in his eyes.

"Hi, Reid," she whispered.

Her lips almost touched his ear, it was an accident. For a moment she felt embarrassed, but he kissed her on her forehead and his hands clutched her jacket for moment while she put her arms around him. He smiled.

"I've missed you, Emily."

"And I you."

She put his hair behind his ear and this new way of touching him didn't feel strange, it felt natural. When she withdrew she still held her hand around his overarm. She looked at him, but when she got close, seeing the emotion shift in his eyes, his glance dropped to the floor. These brown, almost golden eyes with the expanded pupils, they darkened the colour. There was something he didn't want her to see.

"How are you, Spencer?"

she asked, and her head leaped a little to the side. With his eyes still concentrated on the floor, the gaze wandering slightly to the side, he answered.

"I'm fine," and he looked up at her, asking:" And you, how are you? I guess you work too much."

He grinned, and she laughed, almost forgetting how good of an actor he could be sometimes. Joining in, Hotch came and turned to Emily saying how nice it was to see her, and when he turned to Spencer asking if they were going to sit down at the table near the door, Emily noticed how Spencer made sure not to meet his eyes. He smiled, nodded and gripped Emily's hand leading her toward Hotch and the others.

After a couple of beers, the conversation they had all had with each other began losing focus and broke into multiple small conversations. Across from the table, Emily could hear Garcia telling JJ how much her new born son looked like Will. Hotch who sat across from her and Spencer, had turned his attention toward Rossi who was teasing Morgan about his shirt. It had coloured off in the wash, and where there were supposed to be white, it had turned pink. Hotch laughed, holding his beer in his left hand.

Spencer met Emily's eyes when she smiled at him. In the shade where the light from the lamp didn't reach, she could see that his eyes were glassy. A veil stroked over his glance, and suddenly she understood that he was somewhere else, somewhere far, where reality didn't reach him, and where the kindness of a smile didn't console his woe.

He broke away from her stare and bit his lip. He turned around and focused his eyes on the bartender who was rubbing the table with a cloth. He was probably removing a stain. Emily nipped at Spencer's shirt and when he gave her his attention she asked if he wanted to come with her. Said she needed some air, and they got up, leaving the table where their elated colleagues sat.

Outside the air was cold; ruthless it flared through their clothes and shivered through their bones. They didn't say anything for a long time. She had never seen him so quiet before. It scared her. She took his hand and warmed it between hers. He looked down at her hands while they rubbed his, and then he locked eyes with her, meeting her stare.

She tried telling him something, not using words she tried to make him understand, her expression being her language. Piercing her eyes in his, she demanded him to speak. He looked away again. He seemed to like that she held is hand. He leaned backwards towards the stone wall of the building. For a brief moment she wanted to kiss him. She didn't. Spencer had closed his eyes, his head resting against the wall. He seemed relaxed, at peace almost, but the shadows under his eyes gave him away. Emily wasn't easy to fool, she knew what to look for and her suspicion wasn't wrong.

"Spencer…" she whispered, his eyes were still closed. He turned his head at her, his smile fading when he saw her concern.

"Your pupils are dilated."

"It's dark," he answered and continued:"Don't you know your pupils expand in the dark, so that they can take in more light? When it's light they grow small."

"Don't be clever."

He bent his head, the wind ruffling his hair. A lock of his hair fell from behind his ear and swung before his face. It looked almost like a coiled snake hanging there, blowing gently in the wind. From the dim light shining from the neon sign above them, she could see his face, half buried in shadow. She touched him behind his neck with her hand, and she went from there and down his shoulders, rubbing his left shoulder. Slowly and gently she touched him, and had this been a different situation, her movements would almost seem sensual.

A tear fell from his eye and splashed down at his sweater. It made a dark mark on the material, sinking, absorbing through the cotton fabric. And more tears came, streaming, slipping. Clumsy and big they glided down his cheeks. He stroked them away with his hand. He was silent, she was silent.

Dilaudid. The drug was his sworn enemy and his best friend.

"How long have you been taking it for?"

He shook his head, as if he didn't want to believe it.

"I only took it on Monday. And I'm on it now, obviously."

A relief soured through her.

"I'm glad. Relieved."

"Why?"

"It could have been so much worse. You could have been taken it for weeks, months even." She replied. Her words seemed to anger him. He looked away from her, and gazed at a car driving away from the parking lot.

"What is it?" she said, frowning with confusion.

"It's just…" his voice disappeared. She figured he was crying again, but when she looked at him, his face was calm.

"Just what?" he didn't answer. This time he turned his head away so that she couldn't see his expression. They were quiet for a while. She gripped his arm, squeezed it.

"fuck this…" his voice cracked and he broke down in sobs. His face buried in his hand, he bent slightly forward so that he could, to some degree, conceal how much his body was shaking under his breath. Emily pulled him into a hug, pushed his head slightly so that it rested against her shoulder. He buried his face in the crock of her neck.

He calmed down. His breath eventually became still. He pulled away from her. It looked like he was freezing. The night air was cold and harsh. The stars were shining far up in the sky.

"You wanna go inside? We can sneak past Hoch and the others and sit at a table where they won't see us."

He shook his head.

"Does Hotch know about this, Spencer?"

"I don't think so. But he knows something's wrong."

"How do you figure?" she asked.

"He asked me if I was depressed."

"Are you?"

"I don't fall off the wagon because I want to, Emily."

"I know that."

She could hear laughter coming from the entrance; a car drove off into the night, the lights fading in the distance.