Chapter 11

Will sat at the dining room table, cleaning his gun. The boys were bathed and in bed, the dinner dishes done, with Henry's help.

His wife was out of town with her boyfriend and the rest of her team, catching another murderer.

Some days were better than others… bearable. This was not one of those days. He finished with his firearm, setting it out of the way and stretched out his arms across the table, laying his head down, and letting the tears come. His stomach felt hollow, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, and he'd been moving through his days in a fog. The pain, the loss of her, his JJ, was… it felt like it was more than he could stand.

He'd been shot, kidnapped, he'd had explosives chained to him and was nearly blown to bits with a single second to spare. He'd survived a hurricane and the loss of his father, and his partner. Nothing, nothing he had ever experienced had prepared him for this level of pain, of loss.

He got through each day because of his sons. He had to do that for them, to continue to be their dad. But once they were safely tucked in, Will allowed himself to feel the effects of her leaving. And not just leaving, but leaving him because of Spencer Reid.

He had been supportive of their friendship from day one. He had bought in to JJ's wanting Reid to be the boys' godfather, even though he had his doubts. He had allowed… endorsed her being there for him above all else, thinking that she would see his own trust and love him all the more for it. But instead, he had stood by and watched her love for another man steadily grow until it was too much for her to resist. Until it consumed her.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to walk, or talk. Making eye contact with his fellow detectives was a visceral torture. He couldn't even find any solace in hate, in anger. He liked Spencer, and knew him to be a good man. And he loved JJ, with everything he was. He'd always been the one that loved more. Hell, it had taken him years to convince her to marry him, and only his imminent death had finally secured a 'yes'.

Will was under no delusions that he was the love of her life. But he thought they had established such a solid, secure… bond. He had allowed himself to believe in the fact that even though she wasn't madly in love with him? That she needed him, trusted him, and that there was enough affection between them to keep them working on the marriage, forever.

Now none of that was true and he was left hollowed out, a shattered hull. He tried drinking, something that had always been somewhat of a cultural comfort, but even that didn't help, only making him sadder, more bereft. Hugging his sons didn't even help at this point. All he could see was her when he looked at them, held them. Still, his love and devotion to them was greater than his need for comfort and he went through every motion of every day copying the day before, just to give them a sense of security.

Henry had been spending more time with Spencer, too. They had always had a strong bond, and Spencer had indulged Henry's creatively scientific side when it came to things like magic, and rock-hounding. Henry loved to read, and spent hours looking through the encyclopedias that Spencer had gifted Michael upon his birth. It was almost like his godfather understood that side of Henry more than Will himself did. Will could throw the football with his son, but Spencer could tell him how that football was made, what it was made of, the production process it had actually gone through, and why it followed the trajectory it did. Will knew that he had often become impatient with Henry when he insisted on knowing the 'why' of everything down to the last detail. He also knew he became impatient because it highlighted the limits of his own intellect, whereas Henry had yet to find a limit, short of age. He also knew Spencer didn't have that issue, that he could answer Henry's questions for hours, and would do so gladly. Will envied that.

Jealousy, envy, guilt, anger, fear… all of these things were now something Will dealt with, and fought to tamp down every single day. This was what his life had become, and he couldn't see any way out of it. Insecurity had seeped in too, ever since the day she left, and it was chipping away at his confidence in himself as a parent, a cop, and as a man.

And now it was certain that another man had his wife, and not just her physicality, but her heart, too. He wasn't proud of it, but once in the wee hours he had driven to Spencer's place and had seen JJ's truck parked there. Another time he had even waited until sunrise to see her emerge, looking ravishing and fresh-faced, then saw her look up to where he stood at the window, and blow him a kiss. A kiss.

JJ had never blown him a kiss, not in their entire time together that he could remember. And he would have remembered.

He laid his head on the table, his cheek resting on the warm wooden surface. As his tears fell, he folded his arms against his stomach, trying to guard against the onslaught of grief and profound sadness he couldn't keep at bay. Why couldn't he hate her? At least that would be something for him to do, to work through, to give him impetus through the days ahead. He could resent Spencer, but he couldn't even hate him either, knowing what he did about the man, and knowing first hand the all-encompassing effect of being in love with JJ.

He was devastated, and he knew it. He also knew he needed to find a way to deal with it. He was a grown man, and N'Awlins men were strong. It was the getting there that was going to be the hardest part. He pushed up from the table, turned out the lights, and took a deep breath. Maybe he'd feel better after a shower. He went to check on the boys first, they now shared a room since Michael was out of his crib. He opened the door a crack, and peering in, noticed Henry's covers were off. He went in and moved to tuck them up around the boy's chin, when he saw Michael's toddler bed was empty. He gently shook Henry's shoulder, waking him.

"Hey there, buddy. Know where your brother went?" He whispered.

Henry yawned and shook his head 'no', rubbing his eyes.

Will jumped and Henry sat up quickly as the familiar sound of his weapon discharging rang through the house, followed by silence.

Dead silence.