A/N: This episode really did break my heart. Even though it was kinda obvious Maeve was going to die (reading the synopsis of "Magnus Opum" where Reid has to deal with a tragical loss) I was so damn shocked. Until they turned to them laying in their own blood I was begging she didn't die, though I knew she was dead already. So. This is my answer to that.
You might try listening to "Any other name" by Thomas Newman, while reading. I listened to it, while writing. Please let me know your thoughts.

*

Thomas Merton once wrote: "To consider persons and events and situations only in the light of their effect upon myself is to live on the doorstep of hell."

The first weeks are the hardest, they say. It'll get easier, they say.
They're all wrong.

The black suit didn't fit Reid not at all. He had dreamed of wearing a suit once. He had even dreamed she would be there. But it was a whole nother situation.

The mortician did a good job on her face. The smile, which stayed through rigor mortis and everything was still drawn on her pretty pale face. Her eyes were closed, unusual for someone, who got shot, as if she was sleeping. She must've known.

If it wasn't for seeing her one last time he wouldn't have even attended. He didn't ever like funerals. Blake dropped him off. The others were heading to their next job. Probably they were on the plane right as he was walking down the aisle. But not for the happy reason.

Her parents were there. Some of her further family members. And Reid. Some doctors did come, too. But they weren't there to mourn Maeve. They mourned the work she could have done if she didn't die at thirtyone years, eleven months, twentytwo days, thirteen hours, fifteen minutes and fourtysix seconds.

Reid hadn't had good sleep since that night. He knew - as well as she did when dying - that she was dead. Immediately. But they still called an ambulance. A hell lot of people left fresh bruises along with her ligores mortis. The most blood was from Diane.

The bullet went through the young psychopath's brain and then hit Maeve. They revived her twice. They did surgery to pull out the bullet. But all that time she was already dead. There was nothing they could do. And so she died three times that night.

He was always at her side - screw all provisions. Even though he knew she wouldn't make it, deep in his heart he wished she would. Couldn't she at least open her eyes once more? He wanted to tell her so much. She couldn't just leave. It wasn't fair.

Maeve's parents had contacted him some days ago and asked him to help them clear her apartment. They suspected him to have some stuff over there he might want.

But Reid couldn't. He just couldn't go there. See her apartment. Smell her scent. Taste her air. He couldn't.

The apartment she died in had be so near to hers. He kept asking himself questions:
Why didn't they search near apartments for neighbours or something?
Why didn't they find her earlier?
Why didn't anyone just shoot Diane before she killed Maeve?

Someone could have just shot her.

Why didn't he take his gun with him?

He could have suspected her coming next to him. He could have just killed her, before...

But those weren't even the worst questions. Other questions spooked through the profiler's mind killing him slowly from the inside everyone watching. And he wished they'd kill him soon. Without Maeve there was no reason for him to live anyways.

What if she didn't die? What if she'd survived? What would their future be like?

He dreamed of them getting married once. After he started sleeping again he dreamed of their kids. Wouldn't Maeve have been a great wife and mother? And with her at his side, he could have been a good husband and dad, as well.

Now he'd never get any answers to that questions.

Taking a deep breath in he lowered his face to hers and kissed her on the icy cheek.

"I love you", Reid said.

Three words. Why didn't he say them sooner?

Thomas Merton once wrote: "Love sseks one thing only: the good of the one loved. It leaves all the other secondary effects to take care of themseleves. Love, therefore, is its own reward."