A/N: Well, first, thank all of you who added this story to their favorites and alerts. I actually wasn't going to continue this story but so many people alerted this that I felt bad not continuing. This is my very first story so please review and let me know how you like it. I am really sorry this is super short but like I said I wasn't going to continue it. This chapter is just kind of a follow up of what happened after.

Suicide is a real thing and it affects people worldwide every year. It is the third leading cause of death in the US, tenth cause worldwide. Over eight hundred thousand people commit suicide each year, most because of mental disorders. If you have thoughts of suicide please – PLEASE – get help. I do not want you to make a stupid decision to end your life over something pathetic, even if it doesn't seem like a petty thing now.

If you have anything to contribute to the story, or maybe just want to talk, you can pm me. I'm in the Pacific Time Zone so be aware. Thank you once again.

– BG

"As anyone who has been close to someone that has committed suicide knows, there is no other pain like that felt after the incident" – Peter Greene

Words hurt, physically hurt. That is the very first thing Hotch learns as the phone falls out of his hand, thumping on to the desk with a sharp bang that echoed through the room. A hand came up to clutch the middle of his ribs, as if trying to crack them open enough to breath. His chest was constricting painfully, a sob caught in his throat, a single word on his lips.

Reid.

It wasn't a secret that Reid had been distant. They had all noticed it – they were profilers after all – but they let it go, he would act oblivious when it was brought up, so they left it alone, leaving it to the younger man to sort out his problems himself.

'Reid…we didn't want this to be your solution…'

Very softly Hotch picked up the phone, placing it back into its place. His head falls into his hands and the sobs come echoing around the room.

*BG*

They all sat around the round table, most very wary due to the tear streaked face of their boss.

The words came tumbling out, each face slowly breaking into horror struck look. Tears making rivers, sounds of disbelief reverberating, and the distinct noises of someone slamming their fist into a wall.

"He…why didn't he talk to one of us? We could have helped!" The sentence came from Morgan's direction.

It was Prentiss who answered – monotone. "He didn't want to be a burden."

*BG*

Everyone was crying – manliness be damned. Garcia was holding her chest, trying to keep herself together. Her color was gone, black clothes reflecting the void that Reid left when he departed. She refused to think of him as dead, just his soul simply departing his body.

Words flew by as each member of the team spoke, sharing heartwarming moments they each had with their genius. When it was her turn she shared the fun times they had in her office during the time he got shot in the leg, and the time he had gotten so smashed at one of the office Christmas parties. She had to stop when the tears became to much. The priest was speaking but no one was listening. They were trapped in their own personal hell.

"He shall forever be remembered. May god have mercy on his soul and let him into the eternal bliss of heaven…"

'Reid didn't believe in god. He didn't believe in the afterlife.' The thought strikes Garcia so suddenly she almost flinches. 'It must be awful to never have faith in something of any kind.'

She watches in silence as her teammate – more like a brother than anything else – was lowered into the ground, the stark black of the coffin reflecting the image of the solemn team members.

He was truly gone.

*BG*

For a brief moment Derek Morgan pretended it wasn't real. Hoped it wasn't real, but as the chilled hand reached out to trace the black letters within the marble stone the hope shattered.

Tears streamed down his face as he thought of the young agent lying beneath his feet. Memories of all the times they had smiled and laughed together, breaking away from the horrors of their job. The times he has seen the young man blush and ramble about some obscure topic that no one really knew anything about but didn't want to interrupt him for fear of being rude.

For an innocent young genius who had one of the most respected jobs Reid had known way to many drinking games. Having called Morgan over several time to help nurse his hangover. But having Reid make a fool of himself on the dance floor had been more than worth it.

There were moments – wonderful moments – where Morgan would forget. Times in the office where he would get coffee and get one just the way Reid liked it. Morning where he would swing by Reid apartment expecting to see him standing outside waiting for Morgan to come pick him up. Instances where he would see a new sweater vest that would look great on the dead agent and grab it before he realized what he was doing. But it wouldn't last. Slowly he would come to accept his death, and hopefully move on.

Casting a glance at the marble the words fidelity, bravery, integrity stood out and for a moment Derek was angry. Those words were not Spencer; they were just a part of Spencer. A part of Spencer that no one would ever be able to see again.

The shrill ring of his phone seemed to obscene in the quiet clearing. Looking down Derek saw that it was Hotch and answered reluctantly.

Life went on. It was cold and harsh but true never the less. With a heavy heart Derek Morgan left the cemetery.

"The life of the dead is placed in the heart of the living." – Cicero

A/N: I always imagined Reid to be a heavy drinker. Obviously he is a light weight but I always thought of him as intoxicated a lot. The reasoning behind this is because normally people with above average intelligence tend to drink a lot more to feel more comfortable in their own skin. To those of you who disagree with me, sorry, but it's just the way I see it. Hope you guys enjoyed the story.