Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds

Dawn is always a moment of relief and happiness to Spencer.

It is usually the time during which he awakens for he is a light sleeper and he only needs the tiniest bit of light in combination of waking birds who greet the world while warbling cheerfully yet loudly to rouse him from his sleep.

He has to admit he is slightly surprised he actually slept at all last night, considering how he isn't even at his own place. Then again, his own apartment is what holds the memories that make the darkness almost unbearable.

It is all just a psychological issue. He knows that just like he knows if he truly wants to get rid of it there are means to do so. But he also knows that it is even harder to trust someone else when all you have had for a long time is yourself.

And he knows, that if only he allows his feelings to reach the surface instead of always letting them drown in the sea that is his past, that he could be truly happy. That he is the only one that is withholding a happily ever after from himself.

And perhaps, he thinks while the first rays of sun filter into the room through the white curtains that Morgan insisted were drawn close, perhaps it is a way of punishing himself.

He had been selfish a long time and now the guilt of the selfishness is slowly eating away at him and he lets it by not grabbing the chances for a happy life as they present themselves on a silver platter.

Because he knows what happiness looks like and he knows exactly where to find it.

But happiness is also a frail thing and sometimes it is like the dawn. Sudden in rising and quick to disappear, overtaken by a blinding light and afterwards dimmed by darkness.

And he is afraid of that too. That the moment he allows happiness to enter his life it will be taken away from him again.

And he knows it is stupid and silly to think that and also realizes that the guilt he feels is unjustified because deep down he agrees with himself he did the right thing for both his mother and himself.

Suddenly a soft whining noise disturbs his slumber and he closes his eyes for a second to allow a sigh to pass his thin lips.

He then opens his eyes again, the room basking in the rising light of the sun and slowly pushes himself up, the blanket pooling in his lap and he yawns.

He brushes is ruffled hair out of his face with his hands and when he steps out of the bed he stretches himself to allow his muscles to move again.

A nudge against his knee alerts him and he looks down with a tired smile. "Morning Clooney." He mutters and pats the dogs head a few times.

He then makes his way to the bathroom and splashes water in his pale face, the bags under his eyes are dark as always and he realizes he truly is sleeping too little.

He swallows and looks down to the water running from the tap. He tries to smile but his lips won't quite lift the way he is trying to force them to and even though he should be happy, because he now understands he needs to grab his happiness, he is scared. So very scared.

He is already listing all the things that could go wrong and he tries to force them down, tries not to think about them for he truly shouldn't feel like this.

He needs to start taking better care of himself. Allow his body to rest and his mind to sleep and there is only one way he knows he is able to get that done.

He turns off the water and licks his lips, raising his eyes again and he watches himself in the mirror for a few seconds.

This, he decides, is the last time he will meet the ghost that is his mirror image. Because after this morning, he wants the person in the mirror to be smiling.

Because he fears that if that doesn't happen soon, there won't even be a ghost to look at anymore.

He leans against the doorway, his arms crossed in front of his chest and he is smiling.

He has always known that this was his true home, that here is where his actual happiness lies.

But fear is a strange thing, rejection perhaps even crueller and guilt can eat at you from the inside.

But the fact that he actually slept last night is enough proof to him. The fact he is now feeling his entire body overwhelmed with a feeling of love he is unknown to yet has known for such a long time tells him he should've done this ages before now.

But that is all in the past. Doubts are not there anymore and when the person on the bed stirs, turning awkwardly under the sheets and rubbing his eyes with a frown, muttering drowsily: "Reid, that you?" Spencer knows this is it.

This is man in the bed looking at him is it.

Derek Morgan is his happiness.

The End