CHAPTER ONE

Present

His world was dark now.

It had been dark for some time, but it was only now that he realised just how much. As he sat in complete darkness, he couldn't remember the last time the curtains were opened, or when he last felt the warm sun upon his face. It seemed the life and soul of everything he once was, was removed from his very being; the laughter within his life disappearing into the darkness, taken away from him abruptly. He hadn't expected to feel this way; the not knowing when his world would become light again, and whether the pain, anguish and sorrow he felt within him would fade.

His whole routine was broken. He ate only when they made him; he drank nothing but alcohol to numb the pain, and he only slept when his body and mind became too exhausted to comprehend anything else. And in those moments of which he slept, he forgot about the harsh reality of his new world. The world that had been thrust upon him, and there was nothing he could do to change it. And he would wake up hours later with a start and reach for her, only to find her side of the bed cold and unslept in. He now usually collapsed on the couch; the pain of sleeping in their bed being too hard to comprehend.

She was gone.

She had walked out of their apartment that morning and she never came back. And it was as if there was a glitch in his reality that made him wonder if she had been real in the first place. Her things were still there, her clothes still hung in the closet, her books still lined the bookcase alongside his own books, every little trinket of hers remained within his grasp. She had been real, and she had been his.

A knock at the door sounded then, a sharp tapping of knuckles against the heavy wooden door. He closed his eyes, hoping that whoever was outside would get the idea and leave. He didn't want to see anyone or listen to anyone's voice. He just wanted silence. Even his own thoughts were invasive and unsettling. The knocking continued and became louder, and he could tell they were becoming frantic at the fact that he wasn't answering. That allowed him to narrow it down to a select few: his friends and colleagues. They were one and the same: his social interactions had always been limited, and his colleagues had quickly become like family to him.

He reached for the bottle of whisky and gulped down a mouthful. He stood to his full height and closed the gap between him and the door, just as another knock sounded. Reid pulled open the door. Gideon was standing there, his hands laden with groceries.

"I see, uh… you're still avoiding daylight," Gideon commented as Reid stared at him, deadpan.

"Night or day, doesn't matter now, does it?" Reid scoffed, moving out of the way to allow Gideon entrance to his apartment. As Gideon stepped past him, he allowed his eyes to scan the surroundings presented to him. A bed untouched; a duvet folded upon the couch; multiple empty beer and whisky bottles scattered around the room; books strewn over every surface available.

"When was the last time you ate, Spencer?" Gideon asked, his tone becoming worried. The older man turned to him as he navigated his way to the kitchen. Reid remained beside the closed door.

Ah, the use of his first name signified the seriousness of the situation. Like a child being told off and the use of his or her full name stopping them in their tracks. Spencer scoffed once more and shrugged.

"Been too intoxicated to care?" Gideon analysed his body language.

"Something like that," Reid said, seeing the disappointment radiate from his older friend. He was expecting an argument or a shake of the head, but he got nothing. Gideon simply nodded and placed the groceries down on the kitchen counter. He began to tidy away the clutter; the empty bottles, the pile of letters that Reid had thrown on the counter; the empty cartons of takeaway food left there to decay. At least he had eaten, Gideon thought, as he swiped the rubbish into a trash bag. "Why are you here?"

"You're my friend," Gideon shrugged. "And you need help. You'd do the same for me."

"I just want to be left alone," Reid whispered. "Please… just go."

Gideon observed him for a moment. "I can't do that. I left you alone before, and now I know you need my help. So… get used to me being around."

"I'm not a kid, Gideon. I don't need a babysitter," Reid hit back harshly. He didn't want to hurt his friends' feelings, he just wanted to be alone. He knew Gideon's intentions were true.

Gideon nodded. "I know you don't, but you need a friend."

..

Gideon had pulled open the curtains, cleared the empty bottles of alcohol, vacuumed, and straightened up the apartment by the time Reid came out of the shower. He had sent the young man in to freshen up, knowing that it would make him feel a little better. As Reid came out dressed in a fresh set of clothes, he was surprised how the apartment looked different with just a quick tidy. The smell of dinner cooking had filtered through the door to the bathroom and he had felt his stomach grumble as he realised just how hungry he was. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.

"Smells good," Reid said as he came to sit down on the couch. Gideon looked up at him and smiled.

"Your favourite," Gideon commented, as he pulled open the oven. He started to plate up the food.

"You want a drink? I've got beer…" Reid asked as he stood up and moved to the kitchen.

"Not anymore," Gideon responded. "The drain looked particularly thirsty."

Reid stared at Gideon, deadpan. He scoffed and shook his head before running a hand through his hair.

"You know you're not supposed to be drinking," Gideon told him, his voice harsh. "You know what it does to you. You're relapsing with alcohol, and before you know it, it's… going to take you away too."

"Except this will be my doing," Reid responded bitterly. "She didn't have a choice though, did she?"

Gideon stopped in his tracks. "You want to talk about it?"

"No." Reid said harshly, turning away and returning to his couch.

Gideon watched Reid for a few moments before picking up the two plates and bringing them over to the dining table. He returned to the kitchen to grab cutlery and sauces before taking a seat at the table. "Dinner's over here, by the way," Gideon informed him. "If you want to join me, that is."

Reid was silent. He rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. Gideon could tell that Reid was resisting and hesitating, but he knew he was hungry with the way his fingers and foot kept twitching. It took a few more moments before Reid stood and closed the gap between them, slipping into the wooden chair in front of a warm meal. They ate in silence for a while, and Reid played with his food for most of that time.

"When did you last sleep?" Gideon asked him, as he took a bite. He wanted to allow Reid some normality, even if it was a simple conversation over dinner.

Reid looked up at him and shrugged. "Sleep isn't important anymore."

"I'm sure there's some doctors that will refute that statement," Gideon commented. He placed his cutlery down on the plate, knowing the next question he would ask would be a difficult one. "Have you, uh… visited her yet?

Reid's whole demeanour changed then, something that Gideon had expected. Gideon was quick to continue. "It's just, I've gotten a few calls from the hospital and the head nurse says she's doing well, that she's exceeding their expectations."

"No, I haven't," Reid answered, placing his cutlery upon the plate too and pushing it away. "And I'm not, by the way. I know what you're like, Gideon. You can't force me to go."

Gideon nodded. "I'm sure your daughter would like to hear your voice sometime."

"So, it's a girl?" Reid asked, to which Gideon nodded. "She wanted a girl. Ever since we found out… she had a name for her already."

Gideon offered him a sad, knowing smile. "What was it?"

"Evelyn Rose," Reid said in a whisper. "But that doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Why doesn't it, Reid?"

"Because the baby is going up for adoption," Reid stood from his seat. "If you don't mind, could you leave me alone? I need to, uh… I want to be alone."

Gideon respected his wishes and left shortly afterwards. As soon as the door closed behind him, Reid locked it fully, placed the dishes in the sink, and pulled the curtains shut. As the apartment fell into darkness once more, so did his heart.

..

The nightmares began soon after. It was as if his unconscious mind was too vulnerable to fight off the nightmares; he'd experienced them before, many times, but this time was different. It was almost too real, as if his mind was taunting him for what he'd lost, for what could never be replaced. The events of the day burned in his conscious mind, but even more so when he was asleep, his body failing him by doing the one thing he didn't want to. He didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to fight through the nightmares, nor did he want to wake up to realise she was still gone.

Sleep was his enemy now. And he wasn't strong enough to fight it any longer.

The couch was uncomfortable, and he forgot for that moment that it had always been an uncomfortable seat. She always joked about throwing it out of the window, or that it would be out on the sidewalk when he came home from work. He always promised her that they would get another couch, one that didn't feel like they were sitting on springs. It was an old couch, one that they had bought from a thrift store, but it had been the only one they could afford at the time and somehow, despite hating it, they could never let go of it. Not only that, but he was around two-foot taller than the couch, and it wasn't a comfortable bed.

He sat up and rubbed his exhausted face. He moved into the kitchen to grab a glass of water when his eyes fell on a piece of paper attached to his fridge, something that he knew hadn't been there until… Gideon was there. He sighed and shook his head, pulling it from underneath the magnet that was holding it in place.

Goodwill Memorial Hospital. Nurse Lara Holmes. Name is on the list to visit any time. Please visit her, it's what she would've wanted.

He threw it in the trash and returned to the couch with the glass of water. He sipped at it slowly, his mind wandering back to Gideon's note. It burned his mind, and he wasn't sure if it was because he was exhausted that it stood out more, but he found himself placing his glass upon the coffee table, reaching the note out of the trash and dressing quickly.

He locked the door to his apartment and headed out to his vehicle. It must've been the middle of the night, but time meant nothing now. He wasn't sure of his destination as he started the engine and began his journey, but it seemed as though his subconscious already knew. The note burned in his trouser pocket.

He drove for a while before he found himself parked outside the hospital. And his mind hadn't caught up with him as he exited the vehicle and was walking into the hospital. The receptionist furrowed her brow at him, taking in the dishevelled appearance of him.

"I'm… Spencer Reid," he said, his voice sounding foreign to him. The receptionist offered him an understanding nod before directing him to the right ward.

"I'll phone ahead so they know to expect you," she said as he nodded and followed in the direction she showed him.

As he reached the ward, a nurse was waiting for him who instructed for him to follow her. The corridor was quiet, and he found comfort in that. As he followed behind the nurse, he was aware of the squeakiness of his shoes against the bleached floor. But the thing he was most aware of was the fact that his body and mind was screaming for him to stop, to turn and to run away. But he knew he needed to stay, to face up to what was true and real.

The nurse came to a stop in front of a window, and she turned to him then. "Are you ready to meet your daughter?"

He hesitated for a moment before he nodded. She pointed towards a cot just in front of the window. A baby, innocent and pure, was wrapped up in blankets, a yellow hat adorning her head, her eyes closed and snoozing.

"Can I… hold her?" he asked, his voice shaking.

The nurse smiled and nodded. "I think she'd like that."

As he stared at her face, he couldn't help but feel guilty for allowing his daughter—his innocent child—to not know what parental love felt like for the first three weeks of her life. Her mother was gone, but he was still there. And she needed him more than ever, and he knew he needed her.