ALTERNATE ENDING 2
Marriage.
To think that he was getting married.
Even as he stood before the mirror dressed in a fine black tux with a crooked bowtie he still had difficulty admitting to himself that it was his wedding day. It's not that he didn't believe in marriage. Once upon a time he used to think that the wonders and miracles of it would not benefit the likes of him but upon a late night with Morgan and a couple of cartons of Chinese food he had changed his mind. Nor did his hesitancy have anything to do with the extremely unorthodox nature of his wedding. His mother, who had been sitting in the corner reading a book, looked up and gave him a loving look. Her hair was longer and her face was much smoother than before which made her look as if she were still thirty and capable of taking on the world on her own. The various scarves and colorful garments decked in plastic beads fell away from her arms when she held them out to him.
"Come here, baby," she said. "Let mommy hold you again."
"I can't," he said, his voice low and grating. He cleared his throat, "the wedding is about to start."
"The wedding started a long time ago. You just didn't realize it." He turned around and looked at her in fear. He was bound to forget something every once in a Blue Moon but this was unacceptable.
"When did it start?!" The straps of his bag were drenched in sweat and when he looked down he found that they had secreted a puddle onto his new Converse. He cursed, glanced bashfully at his mother, and attempted to adjust his bowtie again.
"It started years ago. They've moved onto the reception now."
"Who did he marry?" For a split second the image of Angelica dressed in a flowing emerald dress entered his mind but he quickly pushed it out. Diana smiled and dropped her arms.
"No one. He's been waiting there for you all this time. Spencer, come and give your mother a hug. After today you're going to have a new person in your life who will hug you whenever you feel like a weary, bespectacled child again. Come here, Spencer."
"No thanks, mom." Reid ran to the door, thought twice about it, and ran back to give his mother a hug. Her body felt so weak and tired in his arms but he couldn't think about that. He was late for his own wedding! Of course, in his rush to reach the altar he didn't see her disappear into the world around her.
When Reid shoved open the giant double doors leading into the chapel he was pleasantly relieved to find Morgan still standing there. He was still dressed in his ruffled work attire but with his hands clasped in front of him and his laughing eyes, when he turned them on him, brighter than ever he seemed to Reid to be almost unbearably handsome. Without another word Reid ran to him and kissed his smiling lips.
"Garcia called. She wanted me to ask, and I quote, 'who's late for their own wedding?'"
"You waited…"
"As opposed to what? Leaving you? Come on now. That is something that I would never do." Reid smiled tensely and Morgan lovingly caressed his neck.
"Neither would I. Sorry," he whispered, wiping the sweat from his brow, "I'm just a little nervous."
"Those aren't your vows!" Reid jumped and turned to find Samuel standing at the head of the altar. With white fangs bared and eyes that flashed fire Reid really had no idea how his unwelcomed presence could have gone unnoticed for so long. Before he could take any action he heard a noise behind him and turned to find Benedict walking towards them, a silver tray baring pink flowers in hand. The toad like grin was quickly melting across his lips thus making him seem more unreal than ever. Samuel leaned over the altar and hit him, hard.
"What were you saying just now, agent? Your vows, am I right? Right? Come on, he waited all of this time just to see you!"
"Samuel!" Morgan said with a laugh. Reid looked at him in horror.
Reid wanted to ask why he was laughing but instead he found himself saying, "Awfully hard to talk when there's a chain around my neck." He looked down and found, to his surprise, a rusty chain slowly winding itself round and round and round his neck as Benedict, Morgan, and Samuel laughed at the sight of him struggling. Burn marks were beginning to appear on his skin and these he tried to rub off but the chain was too tight, the laughter too loud, his body too weak…
Reid woke up with a start and tore the sheets from his body. They were too hot like the burns that infected his dream. Or perhaps it was all real. He didn't know what hid in the shadows that crouched at his bedside. Any second Samuel could step out with a bible in one hand and a chain in the other. So sure was he of this possibility that he stumbled out of bed and began to run, the sound of lighters flaring and unfamiliar laughter growing louder and louder with every heavy step. His heart beat like a rolling drum and his pained breath came in uneven waves as he ran away from the imaginary pale hand extending towards him.
And suddenly it all stopped.
Morgan.
Reid rested against the wall that separated his living room from his kitchen and simply stared at Morgan's slumbering form. His face was turned away from him but still he could see the signs of a frown on his cheek. "It was just a dream," he reminded himself as he turned on the lamp and sat in an armchair adjacent to the couch that Morgan was sleeping on. He sighed and let his head fall back into the dim circle of light. "Just a dream."
He could hear Morgan stirring. When he opened his eyes he saw the older man sit up with a bewildered look on his face. His clothes were still rumpled from work and he had forgotten to take off his shoes but still, as bedraggled as he looked in that one moment, the sight of him was comforting.
Ever since the team had returned home from the city that would forever haunt them both Morgan and Reid had gravitated towards a tentative and barely acknowledged relationship. The second week home had found them both hunched towards each other in a small café, buried beneath scarves, jackets, and the weight of the final conversation that was supposed to help settle the extremely personal things that the various recommended counselors and worried loved ones could not settle. This had led to many more café meetings along with random excuses to visit each other's desks in the office (amongst many a knowing stares) and eventually Morgan's coming to Reid's home two to three times a week 'just to check in.' Some nights found them at a foreign reenactment of an unheard of sci-fi production and others found them at a jazz bar where Morgan would laugh as Reid, always to his surprise, managed to draw in a crowd of amazed (and quite attractive) patrons with little known facts and trivia about popular media culture. Still, more often than not, the nights grew short and Morgan ended up staying overnight at Reid's house, too tired to make the drive home. Reid never objected: it was a new and rather nice experience having someone to mutter goodnight to and remind that there were fresh sheets somewhere in the closet. But would he call it a 'relationship'? He didn't know - he had never had one to offer a basis of comparison. All he knew was that he felt a strong sense of something towards the man who had chosen to sleep on his couch on many occasions.
Now he watched Morgan scratch his neck and gaze at the lamplight irritably. "Everything okay?" he asked in a thick voice. He stopped moving around and took a second to look carefully into Reid's face. "Hey?"
Reid sighed. "I had a nightmare. It was about us getting married."
Morgan laughed and shook his head. "Um…ouch?"
"I don't mean it like that," Reid said angrily. He sighed again in frustration and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "It…it had to do with Samuel again."
"Again?" Morgan said with concern. He knew that Samuel had haunted Reid's mind every night since they had returned from San Francisco. It was always the same: he appeared out of nowhere and threatened Reid with chains, whips, and the many other devices of their torture. What made it worse was the fact that he always said the same thing over and over again. But the nightmares had stopped or so they thought. Morgan stood up and walked into the kitchen. After a few minutes he came back carrying two jackets – one made of faux leather and the other made of fine cashmere – and two mugs of coffee.
"Where are you going?" Reid said with mild annoyance. He had been having a bad dream and Morgan was just going to leave…and take his cashmere sweater and two mugs with him? Morgan put the mugs and sweater on the table and shrugged on his jacket.
"We'll find out." He dropped the sweater on Reid's pajama clad lap and gave him a Look. "You coming?"
"Morgan, I don't really want to go out right now."
"Neither do I. But it's better than sitting in the dark with bad dreams. You forget: I used to have them, too." He paused, his eyes darker than usual, before he roused himself and lifted the mugs off of the table, "I have coffee."
And with that he left. Reid had a feeling that he didn't really give a damn if he followed or not.
xXxXxXx
"So are you going to tell me what's up?"
Reid stared at the water beneath the bridge with eyes squinted against the cold. Both men had drained their coffee long ago but still Reid held onto the cup with gloved hands as if imagining the aromatic warmth would make it suddenly appear again. He didn't want to tell Morgan what had been nagging at his mind ever since they had arrived in Virginia. But now that his mind was using wedding metaphors to bring his attention to it he wondered if it was best to let Morgan know. Morgan's eyes were still riveted on his face and Reid knew that, as fast as his train of thoughts flew, Morgan always had some uncanny way of keeping up with them.
"You know, I'm curious," he said, "you dream about us getting married – the biggest day of our life together – and Samuel appears? No, he doesn't just appear, he makes the whole thing official with Benedict as our ring bearer using the very same tray that he used to give us his address in the pink envelope….you think that they were the start of it all, that they brought us together. Reid," Morgan said firmly. He snaked his arms around Reid's torso and pulled him closer. "We would have happened regardless, in our own time."
"I know. It's just that he won in the end." Reid said, moving away.
"Who?"
"Samuel. We spend all of our time chasing down serial killers just to keep them from doing certain things that they think will satisfy them. Really, our goal is to make sure that they don't reach theirs."
"But that's not it."
"No….Morgan….we were Samuel's goal. Has the thought ever crossed your mind that even though Samuel was finally caught the fact that we're together satisfies his whole vendetta? We never stopped him – so long as we remain together we'll always be the legacy of one serial killer's dream."
Morgan was silent. He stared out into the watery horizon with unreadable eyes. Anyone who didn't know him so well would have mistaken the look for anger but Reid could tell by the clear forehead and distant eyes that Morgan was thinking. The idea that their relationship could have been born of any such murderous impurities and would always remain thus was slightly troubling. Morgan closed his eyes, took a breath in, and sighed as if to expel the very thought of it.
"A long time ago you told me that you thought that some serial killers could still be considered good despite their actions. Of course, you then went on to have a debate with yourself about the truth of good vs bad or something while I stood there and watched. I didn't understand a single word that you had said back then. Hell, when I first entered the job I wanted to put a bullet into the gut of every son of a bitch that murdered an innocent child. I still do. But I've had a chance to think about it over the years. Every once in a while we'll run across a killer who did what they did because they thought that they were doing it for the better good. They thought either they, the world, or someone that they cared about would be better off because of it. That still doesn't justify murder and torture but think about it, Reid. It is possible that somewhere in that man's heart he honestly thought that he was doing us a favor."
"Oh, oh it's the thought that counts. Right." Reid said sarcastically. He followed Morgan's gaze and sighed. "I just don't think that good intent makes up for what he wanted and the way that he chose to get it."
"Maybe not but Spencer," Reid looked over at him and immediately Morgan pulled him in to a gentle kiss. Before Reid could move away Morgan fixed him with an unwavering gaze and said, slow and easy "We're not the product of a monster's imagination."
"I know. It's just –"
He shook his head and looked over the edge of the bridge on which they were standing. There was nothing particularly interesting to look at: just the usual slow-moving water hidden beneath the shadows. But he didn't want to look at Morgan. No, the man would know what he was going to say even before he fit the pieces of the puzzle together. And it was an ugly puzzle, Reid then realized, an ugly puzzle that presented the cracked but vibrant truth. Love was supposed to be unburdened or, at the very least, its troubles were supposed to be like a flickering light bulb in a mansion: fixable, safe. Though Reid did love Morgan and the things that he had taught him about giving and receiving love the depressing fact of their beginning would always be unforgettable to him. If the new and crazy intimacy that they had so briefly shared was a mansion then, Reid was sure, the thought of Samuel would forever be the expanse of land that surrounded them, not a fixable bulb.
Reid didn't know how to say any of this. He wasn't unafraid of his emotions like Garcia or guarded with them like Hotch – but that was the thing. Morgan knew that. And Reid appreciated the fact that, simply by being himself and being honest with himself, he could do no wrong in Morgan's eyes. He took a breath in.
"I think I'm going to take a cab back." He said in a slow and steady voice. Morgan looked at him surprise and when that faded away he simply stared at him for the longest time. Careful to avoid his eyes, Reid then said, "Do you need anything?"
"Reid…"
"I know."
Morgan sighed. Now it was his turn to look out over the waters, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw was clenched, something that Reid duly noted out of the corner of his eye. The man was upset and why not? Reid hadn't just hinted that he didn't want Morgan in the cab, he had hinted that he wouldn't accept Morgan in his life. Awkward at first, Reid placed his hand on his shoulder and then, thinking twice, pulled him into a hug. It was a loveless hug, carefully heterosexual but openly friendly. He could no longer feel the ripple of Morgan's muscles against his own or the soothing thump of his strong heartbeat. It was all obstructed by the fabric of the jacket and the sudden chill in the air.
"Will you be okay?" He asked when he pulled back. Much to his surprise Morgan smiled.
"Come on, kid. We both will be. I think I'm going to walk home."
"It's like four miles in the dark, man."
"Yeah but, come on, nobody's going to want to attack this unless they want a little extra lovin'. Which I'm always happy to give." When Morgan spread his arms wide and wiggled his fingers his smile was wider than ever, so wide in fact that his eyes crinkled at the edges. He began to back away, one foot behind the other. "You know I'm always here for you, right?"
"Yeah. I know. Same here."
It was as simple as that. Morgan turned away, hunched his shoulders against the cold, and walked. He walked and walked until he was swallowed by the shadows. He would see him again tomorrow, Reid knew, but even so he knew that he was experiencing the irrevocable end of something. Morgan would be there for him, sure, and Reid would always be there for him but never again would they be there with each other, close enough to whisper in fright or in love. They would go on, experience new relationships and dramas – that was to be the continuity of the situation. But never again….
Reid dialed for a taxi on his phone. But when the vibrant green car finally did arrive at the bridge Reid was long gone. The driver stepped out of the car and looked around in annoyance at the scene. Another fucking no-show, he thought as he lit a cigarette. His eye settled on two mugs sitting humbly at the base of the cement wall that separated the ledge from the rest of the world. Two humble cups, huddled close to each other in the cold, abandoned but not yet broken. The lasting legacy of an honest affair.
