Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for everyone who favorited, followed and took the time to review on my last story. It meant a lot and you warmed my heart! This is another story with Reid and Hotch as the main characters, but Morgan and the rest of the team is also slightly included.
Again, any kind of feedback, good or bad is greatly appreciated! Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy.

SHATTERED HEART

"And I wish I could leave my bones and my skin
and float over the tired, tired sea
so that I could see you again" –
Gregory Alan Isakov

The sound of the trees whispered in the wind, told tales of forgotten lives and buried memories. It would never be dark this time of year. He talked to Maeve in the silence of lonely graves and old trees that stood tall against the clear sky. They had always talked on Sundays, but she was gone now and the echo of her absence rang so loudly that Reid barely heard his thoughts. He wanted to scream into the night that it should have been him instead of her and he was so sorry. He whispered; you're the only one I wanted to marry, and he listened for a reply just in case, but it never came. He ran his fingers down her name, and wished that it was her skin he touched so lightly, instead it was the coldness of a lonely stone he met when he kissed her.
His phone rang, and once again he hoped in foolish denial that it was Maeve, only to feel that he was slowly going mental when he saw that it was Garcia. He wanted to stay, because here he could allow himself to pretend that she heard his words and his overwhelming sorrow and it was all he had left of her, and he wanted to grip on to this delusion so tightly because without her he was lost and his love didn't fade away. But though he would rather stay and fool himself, he could not and so he got up and once he stood he gazed at the sky and he prayed to a God he didn't even know he believed in, that he would take his pain away.

The metro wasn't full tonight. Only a few people sat across from him, lost in their own thoughts, living so different lives. He didn't know what the case was about this time, maybe some poor woman stabbed to death or a child taken from its home. Spencer realised that he didn't want to know, he only wanted Maeve, and for all he cared everything else could go fuck itself. He gazed out of the window, caught glimpses of raw stone and dark tunnels rushing past the glass. He thought that he knew the walls that they rushed past, he had walls like that inside of him and they never let in light. He was a dark tunnel, consisting of shady stone that stood solid and strong against the sun. Maeve had climbed over those walls, she had made them crumble and fall so the sun could shine him in the eyes and through her hair, making him squint so he wouldn't realise that she was about to kiss him before she caught his lips in hers. If only he could've kissed her before she fell. It had been four weeks since that gunshot filled him, four weeks since Maeve's blood seeped from beneath her body turning grey cement to red puddles forming circles around her head. In his dreams she would ask him to dance, but he always shook his head no, because he didn't know how. But he wanted to; he wanted to dance with her until she leaned so close to him that her smell remained on his shirt. Instead he woke up, knowing that if he stayed in this dream with her, he would be lost forever.

He got up when the metro stopped, followed a few people in front of him through the exit and began walking up the stairs knowing he would be late. He knew Hotch would give him that look when he sat down at the table, that look of concern that drew attention to Spencer and made the rest of the team aware that "something's not right with Reid," and he hated it. They could spare him their sympathy.

"Two women have been found dead behind a church, both had been strangled and sexually assaulted. Their hands had been tied behind their back and ironically enough, both were dressed in an angel costume, but the… Hello there you beautiful stranger…" He had walked with silenced steps, quietly sitting down at the table. He smiled feebly at her, sat down avoiding everyone's eyes. Garcia cleared her throat and continued, but Spencer didn't pay attention. He tried to, but he couldn't. He was suddenly so tired. The next he knew Hotch had spoken and everyone were making their way out the door. He got up too, but didn't get far before he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Morgan. "You ok, Reid?" Morgan's eyes were darker than usual, maybe it was the dim light in the room, making his pupils widen, making the hazel brown reduce itself to a small ring that hid itself around the corner of his irises. Morgan tilted his head slightly and Reid wondered whether he studied his eyes the way he had studied his, if so he would find deep pits, dark abysses that hadn't been there before and he would know that this time the gloomy dim in them wouldn't disappear. So he looked away to escape Morgan's eyes. He preferred looking at the floor. "Yeah, I'm tired, that's all." Again he smiled weakly, and he was surprised that his smile didn't falter just then, because the sorrow within him was so overwhelming that it felt like he would collapse under this weight, under this sickening grief. His chest was surrounded with nasty bugs that pulled and picked and ate at the roots of his heart. But he was just tired, that was all. "If you want to talk..." "I'm fine Morgan, leave me be." He made sure his voice was not filled with anger or irritation, after all it wasn't Morgan's fault that she was gone. Morgan understood and he gave him a lopsided smile and left. Someday, Spencer thought, he would tell Morgan he was sorry for pushing him away.

Reid slept on the plane, he slept and he slept and he slept, forever falling into this heavy sleep that caught him in a web of dark, soothing material. He lay so still, his head turned to one side, his hair falling in his face, exposing his naked neck. And he was not aware, then, that someone was observing his worn body swimming in dreamless sleep.

Hotch was sitting in a corner of the plane. His left foot was placed over the knee of the other and his hand was supporting his head. From time to time he bit at the side of his nail, but he never tore it off properly, he just bit it so that small crumbles of it would fall. The casefile was lying in a neat stack in front of him, and every ten seconds or so he would glance down at it, challenging himself not to open it. He'd been told by the consular he had years back when Foyet was after Haley and his son, that when he could he should rest, and when he was resting he was not to think of work. But it was hard for Hotch, he was used to focus only on work when he was away from his son. This time, however, Hotch had turned his interest, or rather, his concern at something else, and was not thinking of work. It was something about Reid's avoiding eyes and rejecting body language that made Hotch scared for him. It was not that it looked like he was in trouble, it was not either that he looked like he was in a state where he couldn't take care of himself. No, he looked surprisingly fine, but deep within his eyes he so rarely got to meet lately, he found something familiar, he found a lonesomeness he knew all too well. It was also that he looked so sad, there was an ocean of sorrow in him. He knew that it hurt every time he drew in breath- He had been there himself once, because he too had a heart that ached for the love he had once known. And now, every time Hotch looked at Reid, he saw that familiar sorrow, that loneliness he knew so well.

He had tried talking to him. He had even stopped him in the hallway outside the toilet last Monday, but just when he was about to ask if Spencer was alright he had found that he just could not make himself do it. And so he had stood there for a while, his hand on Reid's shoulder standing there a bit too long and it was beginning to get awkward. He had tried to open his mouth, but he couldn't and for days he had wondered why, but now he thought he knew- it was his eyes that wouldn't look into his. He couldn't find his gaze, his attention, the way he could before. He looked straight into them, and Spencer would look back, but they wouldn't connect, his mind were someplace else. It was then Hoch knew that he wouldn't be able to reach out to his youngest member. He had suddenly remembered how he'd been himself three years prior, withdrawn and angry. He had let him be. He had let go of his shoulder and watched Reid smile while his eyes told something different than his mouth. Hotch could've sworn that he had seen something in Reid's gaze just then, but he couldn't place it. It was something he could vaguely remember to have seen before in the agents eyes, something that left his vulnerability naked and exposed, and he was almost sure that it was plead he had seen. He was gone before Hotch could call him back, and he was left behind, wondering.

New York, a city where every motel was full and where the traffic was endless and people were always in a rush. Reid always found it exhausting, and in him the tiredness grew and grew and grew until it was a black hole that sucked all feeling of energy that entered him and left him drained and worn. And it was something about the thronging crowd of people in the streets that made him feel so alone amongst them all.

In between the rush of people and cars, there existed a killer that raped and strangled, and tonight he had struck again, leaving behind yet another victim, a young, dark- haired girl. Her name was Alisha Brown and she looked like Maeve.

"You can turn her over now, we are done looking. Rick, you got enough pictures?" Detective Harrison, a working crime solver since 1976 ran his fingers through grey hair and sighted. He said:" you see a lot of this weird shit?" And Hotch replied:" Too much I'm afraid, but I reckon you have seen some yourself in your years of duty?" "Yeah, but mostly it's drug related, it's hardly any big mysteries, this one caught us off guard." Hotch nodded, looked over at Reid. Reid caught his stare, and turned away. Was it only him, or did the girl at the ground look remarkably like Maeve, the way she was posed. Her knees bent slightly to the right followed by her body and her head. Her eyes open, lingering on emptiness, robbed from a young life that was meant to have lived for years to come.
"She's not tied like the others," Morgan said, he continued:" But look at her wrist, they were without a doubt bound at one point." Focus Spencer, snap out of it, she's nothing like Maeve. Her Hair isn't as dark. But the colour of her eyes was the same, and the way her hand laid at a short distance from her body. Stop it, she's not Maeve. Focus. "You ok?" It was the detective; he wore a frown and his wondering eyes searched for Reid's. Even Harrison that didn't know him at all, saw that he was off his game. Shit, I can't do my job. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He laughed a little, short and humourless and then he walked away and followed Morgan into the car and they drove off. Gazing through the passenger window he saw building after building rise at the sky. He saw taxis and people living in this travel town and he wished he could have been a stranger, a man that knew nothing of what he witnessed at the job, or never knew a woman named Maeve. Never knew what horror that lurked around every corner. He wished he was a stranger amongst all these people, just anyone but him
Had he ever felt so wounded?

"We're sharing rooms." He heard Hotch say. Reid wanted to be alone, he wanted to wallow and welter in the darkness of an empty room, and let the tears slide over the bridge of his nose. Let them fall and soak into the pillow so that he would never see them again. He wanted to sink heavy into the mattress and long for Maeve in silence. But tonight, and for the rest of this case, Morgan would keep him company in the night.

"Hey, pretty boy, you want the left or the right bed?" "It doesn't matter, just take the one you want." He smiled at Morgan, kindly and politely. He knew it was out of character, and he knew Morgan would pick up on that, but he was too tired to bother. "Hey… Seriously Reid, if you need to talk I'm right here." Morgan had lost the joke that had played on his lips so fast that Reid swore he could see the emotion shift in his eyes. He stood quiet and concerned in front of him, and Reid knew Morgan would beat himself up for not being able to make him talk, so he said:" I just miss her."
His voice was barely a whisper, but it was a whisper that came from the innermost chamber of his heart where honesty was the only thing that existed. For a moment the older agent had looked surprised that he had been honest with him, and it looked as though he wasn't entirely sure what to say, but eventually he spoke:" I know, but it will pass and you will laugh again, I know it." For a moment Reid thought about Morgan's dad, the man Morgan rarely spoke of, but that Reid knew he kept the memory of, dearly hidden at the roots of his heart and in the deepest hollows of his mind. And he thought that Morgan really did understand how he felt, but at the same time his heart wasn't broken like his, he didn't lose the person he wanted to marry. And he wanted to tell him that, that he didn't know how it was to get your heart smashed and shattered into so many pieces that you didn't know if you ever would be able to find them again and glue them into the heart that you once had. Before it fell out of his chest and collided onto the floor and left him empty and wounded. He still felt like it bled behind his ribcage, like everything inside him was displaced and weird because there was no heart. He wanted to scream all this; he wanted to yell and shout he wanted to fall to the floor and lay there, still and unbothered, but instead he nodded, folded his arms and turned his head slightly to the side to avoid Morgan's stare. Morgan didn't say anything, even though Reid had been quiet for a while. He wondered if he too thought about his dad. Morgan's voice was hoarse when he spoke again; "Get some sleep, it'll do you good." And then he squeezed his shoulder gently and stroked his arm before he turned and went for the bathroom. Leaving Reid behind, relieved that he didn't notice the tear that had slipped quietly down his cheek.

In the blackest of the night Reid dreamt. He dreamt of her skin that touched his, the feeling of electricity and warmth and vibes of pleasure. He dreamt that he could feel all of her, and that her smell lingered on his clothes. Her hair was darker that raisins and it smelled like peace of a summer's day and around them it was light and the sun shone him in the eyes. She kissed him and he kissed her back. She tasted like coffee and she smelled vaguely like old books. She whispered poems in his ear until he fell asleep in her arms and the only thought he had was of her. He could feel her breath, her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm. It was Maeve's heart that sounded in his ears- its strokes melting together with her soft voice telling poems she knew by heart. And then it all happened so fast. The shot. The bang. The sound that haunted him even in his sleep. And it smelled of gunpowder and dust and she screamed and he screamed and he ran and ran and ran, but his legs were too heavy to run with. They broke beneath him, they couldn't carry him and he fell. He dragged his legs behind him, they felt like gelly and he couldn't move them fast enough. He was too slow and before he knew it, it was Tobias that stood over him. He held a gun, but then Hotch came and he spoke harsh words of doom; you can' t do you job, Reid, you can't do anything. I'm afraid you're too sad to be in the FBI, Go and be with your mother instead. And the gun went off. A bang so loud that it rang in his ears even after he had woken up and risen from the bed.
Screaming into the dark motel room feeling sweat and tears running down his face he felt Morgan's arms lift him into sitting position and he heard him say that he needed to breathe, but he couldn't because his lungs wouldn't fill itself with air. His chest ached and he heaved and gasped for air. Morgan forced him to put his head between his knees. "Breath, Reid, it's ok. Relax, breathe, in and out, there you go." He could feel himself calming down. His breath hitched, but the knot in his chest lessened. He felt Morgan's hand stroke his back, up and down, up and down, and he breathed. Reid put his head in his hands. He was still bent forward, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was sticking out between his fingers, and he said: "I'm sorry I woke you." "Are you kidding, Reid?" He didn't look up. Morgan still had his hand on his back. It was so dark in the room that he couldn't see his feet. He only saw the silhouette of Morgan's athletic shape, it drew shadows from the vague light that shined from the streets on the wall. He saw himself on the wall too, his long fingers and the curls in his hair. His shape was almost feminine. "What did you dream of?" he asked gently, his hand moving to his shoulder, he squeezed it. Reid was beginning to feel self-conscious, but it felt safe when Morgan touched him like that, so he let him do it. He didn't answer at first, he tried to find his words but they wouldn't pass his lips. He sighted, drew in more breath and felt a lump in his throat. Tears threatened to well over, but he was not going to let it happen. If he cried now his dignity would fall along with his tears. He swallowed and swallowed until he knew his voice would sound normal. "It was nothing really; it was just a load of bizarre fragments of old fears and thoughts." He knew Morgan wouldn't buy his bullshit and he was confirmed when he answered: "Come on, Reid. You were screaming, you couldn't breathe for Christ's sake. You scared the hell out of me, don't come here and say that it was nothing, because that is just crap Reid, and we both know it." Reid chewed hard, his jawline moved. From the way his hands supported his head he could feel his thump brushing against the stalks of beard that he hadn't bother to shave. "Reid… what did you dream?" Then Reid moved, he sat upright and he looked at Morgan that had become more visible now as his eyes had grown used to the dark. "I dreamt of spiders that crawled on my body. People have bad dreams, Morgan, this is not my first, and it's not gonna be my last. Stop worrying and get some sleep." He grasped his shoulder the way Morgan held his, and he smiled reassuringly when he saw that his eyes still wore shadows of concern. "It's ok, Morgan, I'm fine." "If you have one more dream like that, just one, I'm telling Hotch." Reid nodded. "Good night, Morgan." Morgan stood and watched the younger man for a moment before he answered.
"Good night."
But Morgan was still heavy with worry as he got into bed and gazed into the dark room. He couldn't help but look towards Reid's shape in the dark. His back was turned and his hair made doodles and swirls on the pillow he rested against. If only he could see behind his tall walls of protection. And it was almost light out when Morgan fell asleep to cars that made silent whooshing sounds and birds that chirped beneath streaks of dawn that sluggishly rose to the sky.

Reid had the slightest suspicion that Morgan might have told Hotch about what had happened the night before. Hotch kept looking towards him, giving stolen glances that he thought he didn't notice. It made him annoyed and the next time Hotch gazed towards him, Reid met his stare and he gave his boss a hard look that told him; Leave me alone. He had never been so direct with Hotch before, it gave him a rush, an excitement he hadn't felt before. Reid was couscous and obedient, he had always been, but inside he knew it lurked a rebel in the shadows of his prudence. Hotch quickly looked away and into the file that he held in his hands. He was sitting at a table near the window. His hair was almost as black as his suit and as always it looked as though he had tied his tie too tight. Reid sipped from his coffee mug and sat down beside him. JJ came into the room along with Blake and Rossi. "Morgan's talking to the medical examiner," JJ said. Hotch ignored her and asked instead:" Why is our unsub placing his victims outside churches?" "Maybe his mocking Christianity," Rossi said. Hotch quickly looked towards him. "What do you mean?" Rossi took in breath and said:" Well, Raping and killing are both sins, maybe he's mocking Christianity by letting his sins bathe in the presence of the church, or maybe… he's killing his victims because they are sinners, and placing them outside a church like you would place a criminal in front of a judge." "But if so, the rape doesn't add up," Blake said. She continued:" It's like his symbolically saying that his victims are worth nothing by raping them." "Then maybe his testing God." They all looked at him and Spencer suddenly felt somewhat naked under all their stares. He hadn't shaved in three days; he was beginning to grow a beard. Self-consciously he moved his hand up to his chin and touched it before he said: "In the Old Testament it's written that if a woman lays with another man before marriage she shall surly be put to death, and it says nothing about rape, so if you want to, you can interpret it as being raped is in fact being a sinner. Maybe he's waiting to see if God will accept a "sinner" that hasn't begged for forgiveness, as his own, as an angel of his kingdom, hence the angel costume." Morgan came in. "Hey guys, he didn't rape Alisha Brown." "Well that kills my theory."
Hotch said: "Morgan, you and JJ go to the church she was found by and interview the priest, maybe he has an interesting biblical perspective of these murders. Reid, you and I will go and talk to Alisha Brown's parents; we should know her whereabouts the hours before her death." Great, a road trip with Hotch. Maybe now his stolen glances will turn to questions. Reid put his hands in his pockets and followed Hotch.

Hotch walked in such a fierce way, Reid thought, with every step he wore respect. He had this sense of authority to him and Spencer couldn't help but admire him a bit. He got in the passenger seat and closed the door beside him. Hotch walked around the car and came in beside of him. He started the car, turned out of the parking spot and on to the road. Even though Reid was gazing through the window, carefully studying the view from the road, he felt Hochner's eyes on him from time to time. He really wished he would stop, and for a moment he consider to tell him so, but he stopped himself, figured it would only make him ask why he didn't want him to look at him, what would he then answer?

They had driven for a while when Hotch asked:" How are you?" Reid turned his head towards him and met his eyes. "I'm fine." Hotch turned the staring wheel calmly and controlled, and looked at him in frequent intervals. "You seem tired." "Yeah, I didn't sleep that well last night." Although Reid had mentioned the night before, Hotch didn't bring up the nightmares. Maybe Morgan hadn't told him after all. Hotch didn't speak for a while, he just drove in silence and Reid appreciated the quiet between them. Reid looked at Hotch, noticed suddenly how old he looked. Shadows lined his familiar face and valleys lay under his kind eyes. The sun shone through the rear window of the car and lit the one side of Hochner's face. His brown eyes seemed pale in this light. His pupil grew small and the space it left behind gave room for the iris to expand. It made him look kinder. Hotch always looked concerned, but apart from that he now looked almost peaceful as the sun hit him. Maybe it was with those eyes, with the brown expanded from the light, that he had looked at Haley. With streaks of laughter lined underneath his eyes. Hotch's heart is also shattered, he thought, and Reid understood that maybe he felt the same loneliness that he did. The loneliness from a missing heart and a life without the girl he wanted to marry. He wondered if Hotch had ever felt whole again after Haley's death. He wondered if he was still empty and he wanted to ask him, but he didn't. Hotch had caught Reid's stare and he looked at him and gave him a small smile that seemed almost shy in the seriousness of his face. Reid smiled sheepishly back to him and turned away as a hot wave of embarrassment flooded through him.

Alisha Brown had grown up in a modest house some miles away from town. The garden was neatly kept and flowers grew at each side of the gate. Hotch rang the doorbell, it didn't seem as though he noticed any of the flowers or the gate that had been painted white recently. A woman came at the door, Reid assumed Alisha's mother, and he was right, she introduced herself as Mrs Brown and invited them into the house. "Don't bother taking your shoes off, it's not that clean in her anyway," she said and Reid could've sworn he smelled alcohol on her breath. You can't really blame her, I did the same ting after Maeve, after Emily, after Gideon. "Make yourself at home." Mrs Brown pointed at the couch and Reid sat down along with Hotch who glanced over at two men sitting across from them, the eldest of them got up. Alisha's father, a short, but muscle-bound man with dark hair, the same colour as his daughter, the same raisin-colour like Maeve's, he introduced himself; "Finn Brown, Alisha's father." He smiled. He too, like the mother, had red rimmed eyes and shadows underneath them. Alisha's father turned his head toward the younger man still sitting across from them. He looked far away, like he didn't take notice of the things that was going on around him. Mr Brown had to shake his shoulder to get his attention and when he became aware of his surroundings he jumped a little and got up from the chair he was sitting in. He shook Reid's hand weakly and smiled that same smile of attempted friendliness that Reid had so often tried to mimic recently. Behind his feeble attempt at a smile Reid saw deep depths of endless loss, like his heart too was stolen from him by death. Little did Reid realise that on his own face that same smile hung at his lips. "Gary Hastings, Alisha's fiancé." Reid stood for a while and held on to his handshake before he said:" Spencer Reid." Gary Hastings had indeed a shattered heart. "If you don't mind, we wanted to ask you a few questions about you daughter and her whereabouts the night of her death." Hotchner was the one who spoke and when he did he directed himself toward Alisha's father who nodded without looking at him. Reid glanced at Gary Hastings, he sat with his hand up against his cheek and gazed into nothingness. "Where was your daughter at the night of her death, sir?" "She was at church, she did… Er…" he looked as though he was trying not to cry, but he didn't quite succeed, a tear slid down his cheek and splashed down at his t-shirt before it absorbed through the fabric. He brushed away a second tear before he continued: "She did charity work, she…" and then he really started to cry, tears welled over and sobs echoed against the walls. His voice had broken into vulnerable yelps and he cried like a wounded animal, nevertheless he spoke through his tears; "she was my sweet little girl… always wanted to help, my baby…" Reid took notice of Gary Hastings who sat with his face half buried in the inside of his elbow, the left side of his face was red and streaks of tears flooded like rivers down his cheek. He sobbed hard into the sleeve of his sweater and a lump in Reid's throat appeared at the same time. He didn't usually feel the need to cry at visits like this, though at times it was hard not be lead away by the victim's families' overwhelming grief, not to mention the shock that always stood in their eyes like a veil of hard steel, but Reid had visited so many grief-stricken families, so many lost parents, so many damaged wives and husbands and sisters and brothers that even though it sounded cynical, he had grown used to it, but this time… he swallowed and swallowed to try and ease his throat that had swollen up two sizes too big, and he blinked franticly trying to make the tears vanish. He was lucky when attention was directed toward Mrs Brown who had gotten up from the couch, maybe she wanted to hold around her husband, but she stood instead swaying on the floor, trying to keep her balance before she feel on her back and sat there sobbing like a child into her hands. Hotch made his way over to her, sat down in a squatting position and took her shoulder. Mr Brown helped his wife to her feet and mumbled that they would please excuse his wife, she had had a little too much to drink, she didn't normally drink this much though, it was just that everything was so hard right now, and then he led her out of the living room. Reid took advantage of the situation and wiped his tears way. Hotch went over to Reid and whispered in his ear; "Maybe we should come back another time." Reid nodded and whispered back:" we did at least get to know that she spent a lot of time in church, like the other girls… That's something right?" Hotch nodded.

On their way out Reid had shook Gary Hastings's hand for a second time, he had lingered and said:" I'm really sorry about Alisha, I really am." "Thanks, thank you… she really was a fantastic woman." "I bet she was," he answered and he smiled and went for the stairs.

Reid felt drained; it had been his own feelings that he'd seen in Gary's eyes. He looked through the window and tried not to think, but his mind wouldn't shut up. He had a throbbing headache and he wanted this day to end. He kept fiddling with his hands. He closed his eyes against the cold window and he wanted to fall asleep.

Hotch took a deep breath and grasped at the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. He glanced over at Reid and saw that he closed his eyes against the window. His chest rose and fell, his arms lay folded over his abdomen, his shoulders looked tense. Hotch had noticed Reid's tears in there, and he knew so well how he felt. He wanted to talk to him about it, but something stopped him, he had a feeling of not wanting to invade his privacy, he knew how private the kid was, but it was just that… he had this shield around him that made him withdraw into himself and it wasn't good. No one got see behind his armour even though everyone knew that he was wounded behind it and it didn't protect him, it made him wither away unnoticed by the same people who wanted to help him. He decided to weaken his defence.

"I saw your tears in there…" Hotch suddenly said, but he had kept his eyes on the road. Reid turned his head towards him, but Hotch didn't lock eyes with him because his were on the road. Reid didn't know what to say, he didn't want to talk about this. "Congratulations," he answered, sarcasm clinging to his voice. He didn't mean to come off as mean or rude, he was just tired and he didn't come up with a good excuse for his tears. Hotch suddenly pulled over and silenced the car on the left side of the road. It was quiet around them; the road lay empty and abandoned and for miles it stretched towards the grey sky, faintly lit up by the weak sun. "What are you doing?" He made a gesture with his hand that asked the question for him. Hotch leaned his shoulder against the seat so he could face Reid. Hotch could see the tiredness in his gaze. His voice was not touched by anger, but it was instead determined as he spoke;" When Haley died I felt really alone. For months I wanted to crawl into bed and stay there for the rest of my life. Jack was the one who saved me, Jack was the one that got me up from bed. I know how difficult it is, Reid. I need you to talk to me, because if you shut me out now like you do with everyone else, I'm afraid I'll never reach you." Reid sat quiet. He looked through the front window of the car. He saw specks of dust lingering in the air of the car, and followed one in particular with his eyes. It hovered in the air, drifted silently downwards until it fell on his knee. He saw more dust falling down, down, down and he wanted shut it out, he wanted to shut Hotchner's words out, but at the same time he listened, took in every word he spoke. Reid looked for hope in his words, a hope that it would get better, and he was curious too how Hotch had managed to get over the loss of his wife. The sun disappeared behind a cloud and for a moment a shadow came over Reid's face. It felt like that to lose someone… like a shadow settled on the place that used to keep laughter hidden waiting to emerge, but it was dark now, and the laughter had turned into broken sobs instead. "Morgan told me about last night…" Hotch said. Spencer froze. Cautiously he bit his lip and swallowed. "I don't want to talk about this." Hotch ignored him. "What was the dream about, Reid? Why couldn't you breathe?" Tears stung in his eyes, he blinked and swallowed, God! Why couldn't he just leave him alone? A tear slid over the edge of his eye, and he brushed it away quickly. Hotch pulled at his arm, held it in his hand for a moment. He didn't know what, but something about that touch made him speak. "I dreamt of her…" "Maeve?" He nodded. "She was reading poems… and then…" he swallowed once more, took in breath. "I smelled gunpowder and the sound was so load. I hear it all the time, it's ringing in my ears." Tears slipped down his face, more and more tears, they fell heavy and he wiped them away with his hand as soon as they came. "You dreamt of that night, when she got shot?" Reid just nodded, because if he talked his voice would break. "It takes a while to understand that she's gone forever… but after you have, it gets better." Hotch looked at Reid and noticed suddenly how he tensed at his words. Hotchner's words had hit him like a beat to the stomach, he knew she was gone, of course he knew that, it was just that it sounded so harsh. Would he really never hear her voice again? Would she never call, would she never laugh, never speak… It should've been him who died that night. Maeve… And he begged her to call, if she would call just once more… But all was quiet and he realised that his breath had shortened, his mouth went dry, God, he couldn't breathe… and it rang in his ears and his head twinged so violently. He tried to draw in breath but his chest tightened and it was too cramped in here, he needed air! He bent forward and got up again, he tried to stay calm but he couldn't breathe. "Reid?" Hotch grabbed his arm again, shook him a little. "Reid, take deep breaths!" Reid had fumbled at the car door, he couldn't get it open, panic shot through him and when the door finally budged he threw himself out of the car and fell to his knees. Hotch came after, he called his name but all Reid could hear was the ringing and whooshing that came from inside his head. He retched but nothing came out, it was then he felt Hotch's arms around him and he forced him to look at him. "Reid, hey... Reid, calm down, take deep breaths, its ok." Hotch shook him and he squeezed his arms until Reid got his breath back. Reid had a throbbing feeling in his hands, they were cold, he was so cold and he became aware that he shivered. Hotch rubbed his arms. Reid's face was wet from all the tears that came running, and as he calmed down he wiped his face with one hand and got up to his feet. Sadness weighted on him and he leaned against the car, wishing he could just go home. A sob escaped his lips even though the tears had stopped, he had his arms around himself, his hands were groping at the shirt around his torso. Hotch came over to him, put a hand on his back and stroke it. "It'll get better… I promise." And he hugged him tight and fatherly, and for a moment Reid had smelled Hotch's subtle smell of cologne, he felt too intimate and Hotch let go rather fast when Reid made a motion that he wanted to pull away. "Come, get in the car, we'll go home," and he pushed Reid gently towards the car and watched him get in before he got in himself.

On the way home, sleep had washed over Reid and taken him to a place where peacefulness was all he knew and where his mind could escape from the reality he found so heavy. And Hotch drove and drove on the empty road and he thought about his own shattered heart. It had once been like smashed china like Reid's, but time had eventually glued all the pieces together and it was whole again, at least it almost was… There was a piece missing, Hotch thought as he gazed up towards the sky where pale flashes of sun withered the grey, he had always known that one piece had disappeared forever and that his heart would always have an empty hole where Haley was supposed to have been.