So... I have a Master's degree! What!? That's so wild to think about! I remember writing this a bit in undergrad but didn't actually start writing heavily until after I got my BS and then I kinda went on hiatus right when I got accepted and now, we've basically come full circle. That is so insane to me.

What did I do during the hiatus? I created a tumblr account and wrote a lot of Marvel fanfic. If you wanna see what I did on there (I'm still active just haven't written much on that platform recently) you can! Sidehowriting! Tumblr ain't great but its easier to engage there than here.

Maeve Donovon. That was the mystery woman Spencer was in love with. The woman he only ever spoke to over the phone. The woman he watched be murdered right in front of his eyes.

It hurt me when he talked about her. When he came, practically crying to work that she had been taken by her stalker. The pain in his voice over someone else gripped my heart and squeezed it so tight I thought I was going to burst.

But none of that mattered after she died.

No one had been able to get a hold of him. We all tried. Penelope made care package after care package. Every time she dropped off a new one it joined the previous ones in an ever-growing pile. His doorway was almost completely blocked by her lovely baskets.

Two weeks after and still no contact with him, a terrible thought entered my head. I remembered him saying after Emily faked her death, he thought about taking drugs again to deal with the pain. If her fake death hurt him that badly, I can't even imagine what losing Maeve must feel like for him.

I wasn't a great cook by any means, but I knew a few good crockpot recipes. I had one already to go, and a few extra things in my bag. Gathering everything with me, I headed to Spencer's apartment before work.

As I was entering, JJ and Penelope were walking out.

"Hey, Dolly." Penelope gave me the best hug she could with my hands filled with my crockpot. "What'cha got there?"

"Some food for Spence," I said. "It's chicken. I think it came out really well, too."

"Did you burn down your kitchen?" JJ joked halfheartedly.

"Ha ha." I rolled my shoulder so my bag of others didn't fall down. "I do have some skills. Like throwing everything in a pot and letting it sit for hours."

"You know," Penelope started after a beat of silence. She glanced back up the stairs towards Spencer's apartment. "He hasn't opened the door or said anything. All my baskets are still out there. He is conscious though. We had him knock twice to prove it."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I'll kick myself if I don't try again."

JJ gave me a quick hug that was all her wrapping her arms around me. "Good luck," she said, glancing back up the stairs as well.

"Thanks." I passed them then quickly called back, "Will you let Hotch know I might be late coming in?"

"Sure thing, babe." Penelope waved at me as she spoke. Together, they left, and I continued my way to Spencer.

There were eight baskets when I reached his floor. Two more than the last time I tried to visit. "Spencer!" I called, unable to knock with my hands full. "I have some food for you!"

I wasn't surprised that I was met with silence. I expected nothing less. "I know you're there; I just saw JJ and Penelope on my way up. They said you're at least conscious." Again, nothing but silence.

Kicking one of the baskets to the side, I sank down along the wall next to his door. "That's fine," I said, more to myself than for him to hear. "I can wait."

I let my bag fall off my arm and set my crockpot down between my legs. My phone was right on top of my things and easy to fish out. I had a text from Penelope time stamped almost as soon as I left her and JJ.

Penny: Good luck let us know if you get anything.

I replied, letting her know he didn't answer me yet. We texted back and forth for a while, until she said a new case came in. Then, I got one from Hotch.

Hotch: We have a case can you make it?

"I'm still here, Spence." Still, he made no noise. I turned my attention back to my phone, thinking how I should respond to my boss.

Lila: Would you fire me if I can't?

Hotch: Of course not. Do what you can.

"There's a case," I called back to Spencer through his closed door. "But Hotch gave me the green light to miss it. So, I'll be right here."

For the next ten minutes I kept a light line of communication with Penny. Twice, down the hall, I saw a door open, and an older lady stick her head out of her room. Seeing me, she quickly closed the door. Someone was scoping out what was happening at Spencer's. "You have some nosy neighbors," I said, laughing to myself.

Another ten minutes went by. "I'm still here," I called again, not expecting anything. "I know you don't want company but I'm not about to leave my very expensive crockpot with food in it outside your door." The crockpot wasn't expensive. My mother had given it to me when I moved out here. She got a new one and I got the hand me down.

The door still didn't open, but I heard the distinct sound of his lock sliding out of place. "Thank you," I said, standing back up. Turning the knob, I pushed his door open before he could change his mind and lock me out again. I picked up my crockpot and carefully stepped over a few of Penelope's baskets as I walked inside.

He was always very neat and tidy. Nothing was ever out of place. Seeing all his books and belongings scattered on the floor broke part of me but I wasn't going to let that show. I was cautious as I made my way into his small kitchen.

I set the crockpot down on his counter. "Well, this was good to go when I got here," I said, searching for an outlet. "But I think it needs to be warmed up a bit now before you eat it." I found one and plugged it in. "I'm gonna set it on low for a couple hours. I'd say give it at least a half hour to warm back up. You can unplug it when you're done and just put it in the fridge."

Standing up straight, I looked around for him. He kept to the side when I walked in, being silent and staying out of the way. Now, he was hanging by his couch, keeping his head down. He looked rough, hair mused and matted. He was still in his pajamas, covered by a long robe. He hadn't taken care of himself in days.

"Uh," I said awkwardly, unsure of what to do now since he didn't say anything. "I'm gonna bring in the baskets Penelope left. I know she put a lot of goodies in them." He didn't respond or acknowledge me as I went back to the hall and started to bring the baskets in. There were only seven now.

"I think your neighbor snagged one." I put the remaining baskets safely inside his apartment, making sure my bag was there as well. I closed his door to keep anything else from getting taken.

"That's everything…" I picked up my bag and tossed it over my shoulder. "All the remaining baskets." While I was hauling the baskets in, Spencer had laid down on his couch. From my spot by the door, I couldn't see him but assumed he was still there. He still wasn't speaking. "I'll head out then."

I turned around, and just as I touched the doorknob he spoke. His voice was dry and horse as he uttered, "Stay?"

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "Of course," I said too, putting my bag back down. "I can stay as long as you want."

He didn't say anything else as I locked his door, making sure he kept his privacy. I pulled out my phone again, sending a quick text to JJ that I was in Spencer's apartment and he was… well, he was here. She responded right away, thanking me and not two minutes later I had at least five texts from Penelope.

Tossing my phone in my bag (Penelope could wait), I went back into his kitchen. "I am a bit hungry." I grabbed a plate. "Want something too?" No reply. "That's fine. You just let me know when you're hungry." I put the now kind of warm chicken from my crockpot on my plate and went through his fridge to see what else he had. There wasn't much. I wasn't sure if that was because of his current state or because the nature of our job makes it a bit hard to keep a fridge stocked. I made do either way.

I left him alone as I ate, keeping myself in the kitchen for the time being. When I was done, I did the dishes that were sitting in the sink and on the floor. I dried and put them away to the best of my ability. I had never gone through his cabinets before. I didn't know how he liked to have them organized.

After finishing, I went over to the couch to check on him. He hadn't moved. "Is there anything I can get for you?" He shook his head, eyes just staring straight ahead. Glassy. He was clutching a book to his chest.

"Alright…" I turned, looking around his apartment, unsure of what I should do now. Everything was in disarray, but I didn't know if it was my place to tidy up now. I didn't know if that's what he wanted. I knew from being here before that he didn't have Wi-Fi, so I wouldn't be able to do any work.

With nothing else coming to my mind, I plopped down on the floor across from him. "Let's see…" My eyes roamed the books on the floor, looking for an interesting one. "Ah," I said, stretching forward and grabbing one. "Catcher in the Rye?" I turned the book over in my hands. "First edition, huh? That's pretty cool. I haven't thought about this book since high school." I started flipping through the pages. "I hated it when we had to read it. Wonder if I still feel the same."

I slowly turned to the first page, running my finger down it. "Will you-" Spencer started, voice broken. He cleared his throat. "Will you read it?"

I looked up at him and smiled kindly. "'Course," I said, turning my attention back down to the page. "I'm nowhere near as fast of a reader as you are though."

A solid hour passed by of me reading to him. He shifted around a bit, but otherwise didn't move. A few times I looked up and noticed he had closed his eyes. Letting the sound of my voice wash over him.

I let my voice trail off, noticing that this time he was sleeping. Quietly, I marked the page in the book and set it down on his coffee table. I got up and tiptoed to where I had discarded my phone. There were a few more messages from Penelope but not as many as I expected.

Penny: You're with Reid?

Penny: Is he ok?

Penny: Does he like the baskets I left him?

Penny: Will you have him call me back?

Penny: Just tell him I love him.

Penny: Morgan said I'm probably being annoying, sorry!

Penny: Just… is he alright?

I quickly texted her a reply.

Lila: He's as good as he can be. I'm still with him. I'll update you as often as I can.

Not even a minute went by before she responded with a bunch of heart emojis. I chuckled softly to myself and slipped my phone into my pants pocket.

I didn't thoroughly think through what I would do once I was here, so I was at a loss of how to entertain myself. I wasn't about to leave when he asked me to stay. I decided on going to freshen up in his bathroom. That turned out to be the only room that wasn't trashed. It was very barren. Not much to trash, I guess.

Cupping some cold water in my hands, I splashed it on my face. Cool and refreshing after spending the last hour reading aloud.

I spent a few more minutes in the bathroom, taking my time. When I emerged, Spencer was sitting on his unmade bed. I jumped back a step, not expecting to see him there.

"Sorry," he said softly, glancing over at me. "I woke up to use the bathroom. I didn't realize you were in it."

"No worries," I said as my heart rate came back down. "I just didn't think you'd be up. It doesn't seem like you've slept that much."

"Nightmares," was all he said.

I sat down next to him. "I'll do whatever I can to help you."

"I appreciate that," he said, not looking at me. He sniffled before getting up. "I'm going to use the bathroom now."

I got up too. "I'll make you a plate of food." I didn't give him a chance to respond as I quickly went out of his bedroom and back into the kitchen.

All his plates were clean thanks to me. I didn't have to think twice as I grabbed one. I got my chicken out of the fridge too. His plate of food was just coming out of the microwave when Spencer walked in.

"I'm not…" he started, hanging back by his couch. "I'm not hungry," he tried to tell me, but I wasn't having it.

"When was the last time you've eaten?" I demanded.

He shrugged and that was all I needed to hear. "Exactly," I said. "Come. I worked hard on this chicken. You can at least sit down and look at it."

Thankfully, he did as I asked. I took a seat next to him and he started to move the food around the plate. "I promise it's not that bad." I smiled at him. He didn't return it.

Finally, he took a bite. That seemed to be enough to get him to realize how hungry he actually was. His focus was on the plate of food I gave him. He wasn't saying anything, and I felt awkward just sitting there watching him.

"So…" I folded my arms on the table. "Is my reading aloud adequate?"

He peaked over at me. "Yeah," he said. "It's nice. You give me something I can just focus on."

I smiled. "I'm glad. Whatever I can do to help."

"Thanks," he said, trying to smile.

Once he was done, I easily fell back into a helping roll. I grabbed his plate and started washing it. "You don't have to do that," Spencer said, his eyes tracking my movements.

"It's fine!" I started to dry the dishes. "It gives me more to do."

HIs voice was so soft I almost didn't hear him. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated louder. "I should have known you'd be bored here."

"Spencer-"

"You can leave." He avoided my gaze. "You can leave whenever you want. You don't have to stay. I'll be fine." His voice was breaking as he spoke, keeping his eyes down on the table.

With quick steps, I walked from the sink to his chair. "Spencer," I said, kneeling next to him. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay here with you."

"You said it yourself you don't have much to do." He still didn't look at me. "I don't have the internet; I don't have a TV. I just have books that you probably don't like."

"That couldn't be farther from the truth." Still crouching, I grabbed his hand. "Sure, I still don't care for Catcher in the Rye, but that's fine." I squeezed his hand and he turned to look at me. "I can leave at any time and I'm choosing to stay. You let me inside when you didn't do that for anyone else. I'm not leaving until you specifically tell me to leave."

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "Thank you, Lila." He almost smiled as he said it.

I did smile as I stood back up, releasing his hand. Silently, I want back to doing the few dishes. I heard him get up as well. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him going through the baskets Penelope had made.

"She worked hard on those." I grinned, remembering her texting me little facts she was learning as she made each one.

He sat on his couch with one of the baskets on his lap. "I can tell."

When I was done, I went and sat next to him, tucking my feet under my legs. "I see a mix of nuts and seeds in that one."

"They contain magnesium which helps produce serotonin."

"Like I said," I started picking a few bags of sunflower seeds from the basket, "she worked hard."

Together, we went through the baskets that weren't stolen. I'd tell him what she learned and why she thought it would help him. Most of the time, it was right. A few things needed correcting, but she was at least on the right path.

Through his closed windows, I could vaguely make out the sun starting to set. Night was approaching. He seemed to realize this too.

"Um, thanks," he said, looking from me to the window. "It's, uh, it's getting late. You probably want to go home."

"You know my bag I brought in? After our last case I needed to revamp my go bag. New, clean clothes, toiletries, all that jazz. So, I can stay in this apartment with you for up to three days before I need to have something washed."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Then don't," I said quickly, staring at him. "I've already volunteered."

"Lila, I-"

"Hey," I said, laying my hand on his leg. "I came here fully prepared to stay as long as you need me. I had a crockpot full of chicken to try to get you to open your door so I could check on you with my own eyes. I'm not about to just leave and have you lock the door behind me."

"After everything… why would you go through all that to see me?" He held my gaze.

"Because, Spence, you're my friend. And honestly… I was really worried you might... " I felt awkward bringing his drug use up. I didn't want him to think I assumed he was incapable of staying sober. I didn't want to offend or upset him.

Quietly, he finished for me. "I might relapse."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I wanted to see you for myself."

"I considered it," he said, his voice just as soft. "I know where to go. Based on my old tolerance and how the average falls each year, I know how much to take to feel numb without dying."

My heart broke for him. "It sucks being so smart sometimes, huh?"

"Every time I think about it, I-" his voice cracked, and I saw tears well up in his eyes. "I think about how Maeve would feel."

"She wouldn't want you to do it," I said.

He shook his head. "No," he choked. "She wouldn't."

Tears started falling from my own eyes. I didn't think twice as I reached over and hugged him. The basket on his lap fell to the ground as he hugged back, nesting his face in the crook of my neck.

His fingers were tight in my shirt as he clutched me, sobbing. I felt so helpless as he cried, keeping me as close to him as he could. Soothingly, I rubbed his back. Ran my fingers as best as I could through his hair. Whatever I thought that might bring him just a moment of ease.

I didn't pull away. He needed comfort. I would let him make the first move.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few moments. His voice was still horse and full of tears.

I squeezed him tightly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Slowly, on his own time, he pulled away from me. Sniffling, he wiped his eyes with the palm of his hands. I did the same thing too, having cried with him. "Will you stay the night?"

I smiled, nodding. "I had already planned on it."

"Thank you, Lila," he whispered. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

"You're my friend, Spencer. I want to do these things for you."

He kept his head down. "I want- I want to apologize-"

"We went over this already, Spence. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I want to apologize for something I said to you before," he clarified. I cocked my head, not sure what he was implying. "I told you," he said slowly, almost testing the words. "I didn't trust you with my heart. I know- I saw- how badly that hurt you. I didn't mean to do that."

"You were right, though." I moved my hands to my lap, keeping my focus there. "I was inconsistent, and I didn't know what I wanted and, in the process, I hurt you. I needed to hear what a screw up I was." Tears were forming in my eyes again and this time I didn't know why. "It did hurt. A lot. I don't blame you for it, though. I only blame myself."

I didn't like the silence that followed. "You know," I said, filling it, "when Penelope and I went to England I actually ran into Ben?"

"You did? The odds are astronomical."

"Tell me about it," I said. "I go across the world to another country to get away from men and I see one I'm trying to avoid."

"What happened?" He asked.

"He wanted to hang out. Get coffee. Whatnot. And we did. Which was a mistake because I'm weak and ended up back at his hotel room for sex and afterwards I just felt… empty? I don't know. It just didn't feel right. I didn't want to… well, I wanted to, but I didn't… I didn't want the emotional involvement. He wanted to try to get back together, and I just didn't. I don't think I would have realized how much I changed if you didn't say that to me."

This time he reached over and grabbed my hand. "I didn't realize…"

"You had no reason to. You had someone who made you happy. My relationships had nothing to do with that." I noticed him subtly flinch at the mention of Maeve. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought any of this up. It doesn't matter now."

"I'm glad you told me," he said. "I still care about you."

With my free hand, I pushed my remaining tears away. I didn't want to cry anymore. Not over this. So, I didn't say anything else on the matter. Spencer didn't either. He simply sat there holding my hand.

I didn't say anything as I reached forward to the coffee table and picked up Catcher in the Rye. I scooted closer to Spencer as I opened it back up to where I had left off before. He reciprocated, moving closer as well until his shoulder was touching mine. His warmth was an immediate comfort, making all the pain from earlier drift away. I felt more at ease as I started to read to him again.

I feel like the show should have touched on Reid's past drug addiction more and now actually knowing about addiction I wanted to include it. I also hate slow burns and I'm so sorry I started writing one so I think I said it before but we're speeding shit up because I have no chill.