ㅤཐིཋྀ˚̣̣̣ㅤ

Ross has been a waiter at Azul coming up to three years now. The restaurant was the only thing stopping him from completely drowning into debt mid-college. And he will admit, it’s a nice job. Sure he hated it at the start when he was the new guy left to get all the worst tables, but now he has built up a second family here.

It’s not an over the top restaurant, so it’s not often that they get snobby customers, and it’s not the most popular so it’s packed, but not overwhelming usually. Over the past years Ross has gotten to know more about the people around; the usuals. 

The grandmother–mother–daughter trio that comes in twice a month on a Tuesday for lunch. The teenage couple who come in every Saturday– Ross originally thought they weren’t going to last, but now they are on their second year and seem to be equally in love as they always have been.

The job is nice, it’s simple enough compared to what horror stories he has heard from other servers, his team and manager is nice, and most importantly, it allows him to get a bit of insight into people’s life, even if it’s only for a meal before they go their separate ways forever. 

The shift was going the way it always did on a Thursday night. The main dinner rush is over, so it’s steady but not chaotic. Ross is mostly cleaning tables and giving people their cheques instead of preparing glasses of water and handing out menus. 

He hummed through the muffled conversations in the background. He liked Thursdays, he liked this Thursday especially since one of the cooks gave him Torreznos for his break. Thursdays were the best days, and he didn’t have to fake the smile on his face as he went to greet the new group.

He noticed them immediately, even without a bell to signal their arrival. Partly because the trio looked like they walked straight out of a magazine. The guy in front was hardly one step in before he was looking around the place, his brown eyes studying the place, before nodding to himself, causing a bit of his brown hair to fall down onto his face.

The other adult was golden. It was a weird descriptor, but it was the first word that came to his mind. He was all easy smiling and bright blue eyes moving between his company. 

They both were annoyingly, the kind of attractive that made Marco rethink his entire existence. The kid between them looked like he was the center of their universe. And the theme of the universe suited them; a sun, a moon, and their star.

“Table for three ?” Ross asked as they met in the middle, he was sure of the answer as he grabbed that many menus, but wanted to be sure there wouldn’t be a later guest fourth wheeling this family.

“Yeah, thanks,” The sun said, flashing a smile that would have Ross breaking open the closet if he was still into it, a smile that was definitely responsible for more than a handful of broken hearts. 

“Any seat in particular ?” He always asks that when possible, when there are the options open, and he was glad he did when the young boy led them to a booth near the window, instead of the plain four seater table across the restaurant that Ross probably would’ve led them to. 

As they slid into their seats, he took a moment to observe them, despite knowing he will be doing more of that whenever he gets the chance. How they didn’t even hesitate to wonder where everyone would sit. The sun sat on the outside, the moon beside him and the kid seemed to enjoy having one whole side to himself. 

He got them drinks, the moon– Eddie, he learned from the sun– Buck, ordered for them all. As he walked away, he could hear Buck’s “Did you just order for me ?” He sounded offended, and Ross risked a glance behind him to see Buck’s eyes narrowed at Eddie.

“You always get Sprite,” Eddie pointed out, as if he was saying that the grass is green, or that the sun is yellow. 

“And what if I wanted something different tonight ?” Ross was about to turn back and double check with the drinks, he isn’t losing his tip because Eddie got an order wrong.

As he turned back though, he watched as Eddie’s lip twitched. “Do you ?” It seemed all too cocky to be about a drink out of everything. Buck paused for a second too long before rolling his eyes and giving Eddie a shove.

Throughout the meal, Ross couldn't help but look at the trio; at the family. Because while Buck and Eddie might’ve not been holding hands or sharing kiss, everything else about them screamed that they were deeply in love, nearly tragically so. 

They shared food like it was second nature. Eddie barely reacted when Buck stole bites off his plate, and Buck swapped the food between them like it was nothing. There was an ease between them that only could come from knowing someone so deeply, as much as you knew yourself.

Eddie was clearly watching out for Buck too, secretly though, the silent type of love he sees between his sister and her husband. Buck and Christopher were carrying the conversation, and every so often Ross would catch Eddie glancing at Buck’s plate to make sure he was actually eating.

If he got too caught up with his stories, Eddie would bring his plate closer and nudge their shoulders together as a silent reminder to get Buck to eat. And Buck would do so without a second hesitation.

Ross wasn’t taking his time cleaning the table near them to stalk on them, but he is glad he did. It meant he got to see Buck bending over to grab a napkin that had fallen to the floor. The second he was leaning over, Eddie moved his hand away from where it was halfway to grabbing his next bite and used it to cover the sharp corner of the table so Buck wouldn’t hit off it on the way up.

It wasn’t a habit, it was care. 

Then came the inevitable fight over the check. Usually there were half-hearted fights between groups, and they were either entertaining or annoying and fake. This one was the former. “You spent all that money on that science kit for Christopher, so–”

Buck put a finger to Eddie’s lip; missing slightly so it was more like a small tap more than a shush. “That doesn’t count, that was for Chris !” Was his protest. “You can’t use that as an excuse.”

“I can and I did,” Eddie said, reaching for his wallet, only for Buck to swat at it uselessly.

“I’ll wrestle you for it.”

“Oh, like you could take me.” Ross didn’t know if they forgot that their son, and their waiter was right there, but he is getting a feeling that this will be turning into softcore porn if it continues. 

“They do this every single time,” Christopher sighed, and Ross didn’t have a hard time believing it. Finally, Eddie managed to slide his card to Ross first, shooting Buck a smirk at the same time that Buck sent Ross a betrayed look.

He just rolled his eyes and muttered, “You’re impossible.” That didn’t seem to hold any bite to it.

Eddie grinned. “And yet, you stick around.”

Ross knew it already, but this whole interaction really convinced him that they were together. Before dropping the bill onto the table, he pulled out his pen, and in his best handwriting wrote: ‘Cute Couple Discount – 15%’ “No rush, take your time.”

It took no more than five seconds for their confusion to set in. “Uh– what’s– what’s this ?” Buck asked since he grabbed it first, tilting it towards Eddie. 

Eddie blinked at it once, twice. Then at Ross once, twice. Then back at Buck, talking like Ross wasn’t even there. “I… I think he thinks we’re together.”

There was a beat of silence. “Wait– us ?” Buck asked as if they weren’t proving his thoughts not even five minutes ago. Ross never felt more confused, and he accidentally joined an advanced German language class when he was only starting to learn it.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re not a couple.” Ross opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. He is red out of embarrassment, but he thinks Buck is red for a different reason.

“Really ?” He nearly asked if they were sure. “Kid, back me up here.” He asked Chris, the only other person to witness all of this.

Christopher, bless his soul, just grinned. “They do act like a couple.” Thank fuck the kid is sane. 

Ross kept the discount on it though, shrugging as he walked away and heard them mutter about it. They stood to leave, and Ross could hear a “You coming back home with us ?” from Eddie. 

Buck grinned, bumping their shoulders together. “Yeah, of course.” Ross watched them go, still struggling to compute it all. They weren’t together.

But the way Buck slung an arm around Eddie’s shoulders as they got to the exit ? The way that Eddie leaned into him as if that was the home he was talking about ? “Not a couple my ass.” 

Eddie Diaz has been on dates before, he has been on hundreds with Shannon before Christopher and before he left for the army, and he also had dates after Shannon, ones with Marisol, and Vanessam and Ana, and much more people he did a first date and maybe a second one to appease his tía. He was always nervous before them, panicked and sweaty because he wasn’t sure how it would go, how he would perform. 

He thinks maybe he should be more nervous considering this will be the last first date ever, and the fact that this is his first ever date with a man– the ones with Tommy doesn’t count because Eddie wasn’t even aware they were dates, and he never looked at Tommy as anything other than a friend, and then as Buck’s, thankfully now ex, boyfriend.

But he isn’t nervous, he is only ever excited. Because at the end of the day it’s Buck; it’s Evan Buckley. He ran out of nervousness surrounding Buck years ago. They don’t have to spend the date doing small talk only for Eddie to find out that his date partner would never want to have a kid, or that they chew with their mouth open. Eddie knows Buck more than he knows himself, and vice versa. 

This is less of a first date, and more of a first romantic date. Because what else do you call falling asleep on the couch together after a trip to a cinema to watch a rated 18s movie, or travelling an hour together to a five star restaurant because Buck heard about it online and wanted to experience it at least once. They didn’t know it back then, but they were dates.

Years of dancing around their feelings had led to this moment, and while he wanted everything to be perfect, something he would be worried about for everyone else, but he knew with Buck, anything would be perfect. Even the most busy shifts are perfect when he passes a cup of coffee over to Buck.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts and he only stopped on his trip from the kitchen to the front door to check his hair. He rolled his eyes with a smile at the fact that Buck didn’t just walk in like he did just this morning. He is really playing into the first date aspect of everything. 

He took a steady breath and opened the door, and of course there stood Buck, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. Though he looked different than when he left this morning, he is dressed up to the nines, and he is attempting his usually infectious grin but it doesn’t make it to his eyes. His skin has a faint sheen of sweat, and instead of his birthmark being the most noticeable thing near his eyes, it’s dark eyebags. 

“Hey,” Buck said, his voice hoarse but Eddie can tell he is trying to keep an energetic tone in it. He held out the flowers with a small, lopsided smile. “I uh– I got these for you.” 

“Thank you, Buck.” Despite his worry, Eddie took the bouquet with a soft smile and a clenched heart. “You’re sick.” He said, skipping past the dance of ‘are you okay’s and ‘I’m fine’s that would keep Buck on his feet for longer than needed. Buck shook his head, but instead of that doing any convincing for Eddie, it just made him even more worried as he swayed slightly.

Eddie reached out instinctively to steady him. “Why didn’t you call ? You shouldn’t be out of bed ?”. 

Buck let himself be led to the couch, although the short journey was full of half-hearted protests. “Because it’s our first date,” he said as he slumped into the cushions. “I didn’t want to cancel. We’ve waited so damn long, and I– I can’t wait longer.” Eddie hummed, setting the flowers onto the coffee table for the time being, to later remember to put them in an empty vase that Buck bought a week ago without explanation. 

He sat on the arm of the couch, not wanting to get comfortable next to Buck just yet since he still wanted to get medication and water for him. “Our date can wait. You’re far more important.” Eddie said, and he would be willing to say it a million more times if that’s what it takes for Buck to listen. 

Buck opened his mouth to object, but was interrupted by himself, a harsh cough that shook his whole body, lifting him from the couch. By the sounds of it, it wasn’t the first coughing fit he had today. “Alright. No more arguing. Let me take care of you.” He only spoke up once Buck finished, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears caused by the fit.

He debated on bringing Buck to the bedroom now or later to sleep, but eventually chose the latter so he could continue to keep an eye on him. So with that choice in mind, Eddie helped him stretch out on the couch, grabbing a blanket to drape over him. 

“You’re burning up,” Eddie noted, mostly to himself as he checked Buck’s forehead. “Have you taken anything ?” Buck opened his mouth to answer, before quickly shutting it and instead shook his head, eyes already beginning to close now that he wasn’t standing, and didn’t need to pretend that he wasn’t sick.

“Didn’t think I needed to.” He eventually answered because, of course, Buck didn’t take himself serious when it came to sickness.

“Stay here.” Eddie sighed, even though he knew there was no getting Buck off the couch. His mind was already going fifty miles an hour thinking about what he needs to get. “I’ll be right back.” He moved quickly, grabbing a thermometer and Aspirin with a class of water. He only took a few minutes, but when he came back, Buck was half-asleep.

He roused enough to take the medicine, the glass of water almost completely empty before he laid back down, which Eddie decided would be a good time to get some food for them; for both of them. He would order, but takeaway food can be unpredictable and he isn’t willing to take that chance, and not willing to wait that long when he could make some toast for them.

Sure, it’s not a dinner at the restaurant they had planned to do, or even a full meal, but it was enough to hold Eddie over for the night, and enough for Buck to have food coating his stomach. When he came back, he listened to the whines of protest that Buck let out as he was being moved. Eddie would say he finally got him to sit up, except the second he sat down next to him, Buck was slumped over on him, head on shoulder. 

“You’re really good at this,” Buck commented absentmindedly when he finished eating half of his toast. Eddie smiles around his own slice, glad that toast was a one handed food so he could use his other to draw lines on Buck’s arm. “Sorry I ruined our date.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. I’m right where I want to be.” Eddie said without hesitation, the way that Buck was hardly eating any more and was leaning on him more, he decided this would be a good time to transfer them to the bedroom. A task that is easier said than done,  Eddie didn’t think you could stretch out the few steps to take eight whole minutes.

“It’s not fair,” Buck mumbled from his spot on the bed as Eddie got the bed and clothes ready for them. Date clothes are definitely not comfortable to sleep in. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. I got flowers… I picked out a shirt, Eddie. It was a really nice shirt.” Eddie had to bite back a laugh. To be fair, it is a really nice shirt.

Evan Buckley has been to many places before he settled down in the 118 station, he has been to Florida, Hawaii, Louisiana, Texas, so Los Angeles heat should be nothing for him. Except LA’s heatwaves are nothing to joke about. It was the kind that made the air feel thick and suffocating, and Buck thinks that would be manageable if not for the sheer length of them. It had been days of unrelenting sun now, which also meant the last few days the station has been running non-stop, dealing with everything from dehydration to heat-induced blackouts. He was barely off for six hours before being called in, so other than that it was just another ordinary shift. 

Calls came in, they answered them, they went back, just like always. But now with the sun following their every move, as if it had its own personal vendetta against them. His skin tingled under his turnout gear, sweat soaked through every layer, and the heat seemed to wrap around him like a suffocating blanket. “Hydrate, Buck,” Bobby said during one of the few lulls of calls they got, throwing a water bottle his way as he went up the stairs.

“Yes, Dad,” he teased, although even that took some effort out of him. There was no denying the slight tense and miniscule slur in his voice, the tired edge creeping in no matter how much he tried to keep it hidden. He can’t lie, the cold water bottle in his hand was a god send and he wasted little to no time downing the water, the plastic bottle scrunching up as he did so. He turned and put it in the bin, not noticing how Bobby stood idle at the top of the stairs until the water was gone.

The lull of the moment didn’t last long, a call came ringing through during the late afternoon, right when the sun was at its highest as if it was some funny joke. It wasn’t one of the usual ones that they can send three people on and be back within a half hour. A construction site accident — collapsed scaffolding. It was chaos when the 118 arrived, the area cordoned off, debris scattered across the site. Workers were shouting, pointing toward a half-buried man in the rubble. Buck didn't wait for orders; he was moving before anyone else had even unbuckled their seatbelts.

"Careful, Buck !" Bobby called after him, but Buck was already darting toward the collapsed structure, not completely surprising on his behalf. Still, it made Eddie curse under his breath and follow through, following Buck’s path step by step. The smell of burning metal and sweat filled the site, and Buck was in the thick of it, hands pulling at the debris, trying to free the trapped worker. He gritted his teeth, muscles straining, but his movements were sluggish, less precise than usual. “Hold on,” Eddie called and rushed to his side, another firefighter a few steps behind him too.

Buck barely acknowledged him, Eddie knew how he could get too focused, too driven, on calls, but he was focused on something else right now. The redness creeping up Buck’s neck, the way his face was flushed beyond the usual exertion. His breathing was quick, shallow, not in the controlled way it should have been during a rescue. “Buck, you’re burning up,” Eddie said, a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You need to get out of this heat.”

He barely had the words out of his mouth before Buck was protesting it, a dance they have done many times up to now, and will continue to do. “I’m fine,” Buck snapped, brushing off Eddie’s hand as he reached to pull him back. “The guy needs help, we don’t have time.”

Eddie grabbed Buck’s shoulder, firm but not rough. "Buck, you’re gonna collapse if you keep this up. Let us handle this." For a moment, Buck wavered, his brow furrowing, but that was the moment they needed for Eddie and some new transfer from C-Shift to lift the trapped worker and get him out. Eddie was about to make a half concerned, half cocky comment before Buck’s body seemed to betray him. His knees buckled, and the world tilted. Eddie was there in an instant, catching him before he could hit the ground. The heat radiated off Buck’s body like a furnace, his skin hot to the touch.

“Fuck ! Buck,” Eddie’s voice was sharp with panic as he lowered him to the ground, his hand cradling Buck’s head as he laid him down. Buck’s eyes were glassy, his breathing rapid, but shallow, and his skin had taken on a deep, alarming shade of red. Chimney and Hen were by their side in seconds, Chimney taking care of the worker while Hen gathered beside buck, quickly checked his pulse, and her frown deepening as she felt the heat radiating from him.

“He’s got heatstroke,” Eddie more or less already knew that, and he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that he was right. “We need to cool him down, now !” Buck’s breathing was erratic, his eyes fluttering closed as he weakly tried to move. Eddie knows that they have been through worse– Eddie was trapped underground and Buck literally died, but that didn’t stop his racing heart, especially not as he watched as Buck slipped, his body limp and completely unresponsive now. 

They rushed Buck back to the rig, stripping off his turnout coat and helmet. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, his skin bright red and scorching hot to the touch. Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, his heart thudding in his chest as he knelt beside Buck, wetting towels with whatever cold water they had and laying them across his chest and forehead.

Spencer Reid isn’t a hoarder. He doesn’t keep a lot of things and if you take away the books from his collection, he could be seen as a heavy minimalist, but the one thing he never throws away are letters. Especially when those letters were written by none other than Jason Gideon. He never looked back at them, he just liked the comfort of knowing they were there, especially when the news of Gideon’s death came out, it was a part of keeping him alive. And now a fresh unopened letter joined them. 

He couldn’t open the newest, and definitely last letter that Jason would have addressed to him.It was easy enough to read the letter when he left, because at least Spencer knew he was still writing something wherever he was in the world. The second Spencer reads the last word addressed to him, Gideon is finally dead.

The envelope joined the box two years ago, and from then it has only collected dust, pushed under Spencer’s bed until he decided to redecorate his room on the week he was off work. That plan was thrown out of the window when he saw the shoebox. It’s not like he forgot he put it there, he just didn’t think it through in his plan of being spontaneous. He left the box on his bed as he left to get some coffee, already knowing that he wouldn’t be moving from that spot on the bed for hours to come.

He pushed himself up against the headboard and lifted the lid off the box, the thin layer of dust tickling at his nose but he pointedly ignored it, instead focusing on paper upon paper in the box. He turned it upside down, leaving the earliest letter to be on the top of the pile now. It didn’t matter that he read it enough times at the start to know it word by word. It was different reciting the words in his head than it is reading it in Gideon’s writing. 

His fingers trailed over the paper, eyes driftings over sentence to sentence ‘I know you're finding your place, and it isn’t always easy when your mind works differently than others.’. ‘This job can wear people down, make them feel like it’s safer to close themselves off. But the world needs more people who care as much as you do.’. It was only the first letter and yet the words were already becoming blurry from tears. 

He doesn’t remember at what point did one letter become the next, he didn’t notice when his tears mixed in with the ink blob stains and coffee ring stains, He got to a letter after one of the early cases that hit Spencer hard, the line always in the forefront of his brain everyday. ‘There’s an old saying that I’ve held onto: You can’t save everyone. I know you’ve heard it before, and it might sound hollow, but it’s true. You did save someone today. You saved yourself, your team, and those who will live because of the work you did.’ He didn’t even have to look at the paper to continue it. ‘You can carry this with you, but don’t let it consume you. Learn from it, grow from it, and use it to become even better. But don’t let it break you.’.

The next letter he picked up was from a different type of paper than the others. A letter Gideon wrote while Spencer was kidnapped and the continued aftermath of the dilaudid. ‘It's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to admit when you need help. We all have our demons, and what you've gone through doesn’t define you.’ If it was from anyone else, Spencer might’ve found the words sappy and even slightly cringey, but this was Gideon at the end of the day. ‘You have a brilliant mind, but that same mind can trap you in dark places if you're not careful. You’re stronger than you realise, but you don’t have to carry everything on your own. Lean on us. Lean on me.’

Then came the one Spencer knew what it was about before he even opened it, his many different tear stains on the envelope giving him the hint. The letter Gideon sent before he left. ‘Spencer, I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me.’ And not for the first time, Spencer wished it wasn’t him. Or wished that he brought Hotch or Morgan around with him. 

‘I guess I'm just looking for it again, for the belief I had back in college, the belief I had when I first met Sarah, and it all seemed so right’ Spencer always questioned if he ended up finding it, and he lies to himself and says Jason did, only if to help him sleep at night. He wonders if he could ever get that belief back, or if he ever really had it in the first place. 

Spencer Reid’s mind was always running, it was always active. It was like a constant hum that was on in the background, a never-ending flow of statistics and facts that he couldn’t turn off, no matter how much he wanted to. He had read about hypnosis, of course he had, it intrigued him and he knew it was a valid practice, that it could work– on other people. Not on him. He couldn’t turn his mind off for himself, let alone for someone else. It felt impossible. Hypnosis couldn’t work on him. His mind didn’t know how to be still.

But then again. He was desperate. 

What was one of the biggest fights his parents had about ? What was the other reason that his father left ? Why did his mother insist on pushing the memory away, claiming nothing had happened ? And the most important question in his head. What had happened to that little boy ? Riley Jenkins. The kid’s face haunted Reid in every quiet moment, plaguing every dream and nightmare he had. He no longer lingered in the background of his mind like a light buzz; now he was always there, seeping into everything he did.  He couldn’t work on the case, couldn’t think clearly, because the not knowing had consumed him.

So, Spencer found himself here, at the office of a hypnotherapist. Not alone, though. He’d asked Rossi to come with him. He wasn;t sure why he asked the author to come along instead of his best friend. Maybe because Rossi was still distant enough not to suffocate him with worry. The office looked exactly like he expected. Clinical. He’d been to places like this as a kid, specialists assessing his iq level. He'd also been here as a teenager with his mother, trying to make sense of her illness. The faint smell of lavender hit him, and he swallowed hard. Nostalgia crawled up his spine and he assumed there is more where that came from.

Later on, Spencer will regret how snappy he was with the hypnotherapist. She asked him basic questions, and he answered sharply, sometimes even cutting her off. Maybe it was because he wasn’t going into this blind. He had read more books about hypnosis than she probably had, and part of him resented being talked down to. It wasn’t personal; he just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a waste of time. But it wasn’t, was it? He needed to know what happened that day. He couldn’t live like this anymore, letting his mind unravel every detail but never actually getting an answer.

He didn’t speak as he was led to a second room, equally as clinical but with an attempt at being warm and welcoming. He didn’t respond as he was told to have a seat on the long couch in the centre of the room, lying down. He shifted his  weight, trying to find a position that didn’t make him feel so exposed. The therapist’s voice washed over him, soft, steady, guiding him to focus on his breathing as she had him grab her hand. “You’re safe here, Dr. Reid,” she said instead of counting once they went through a few rounds of breathing exercises. “You’re in control.”

He didn’t really feel like he was in control. In fact, never in his life did he ever. He tried to clear his mind, but everything was floating around like an itch you just can’t reach. “Spencer,” The therapist said softly, this time using his first name, her voice dropping into a more intimate tone. “I want you to let yourself remember. Just let go.” 

For a second nothing happened, and he was surprised when she spoke up again, thinking she was going to give him more time. “Where are you, Spencer ?” She asked, and in the back of his mind he wanted to give a sarcastic answer of her office, but instead he continued along, knowing nothing would come from more of his doubt.

“It’s night,” he finally spoke up, but even his own voice felt far away. “My father is on my bed. He knows I’m awake but I’m acting like I’m asleep. I couldn’t sleep when they were yelling at each other.” It felt wrong to tell this stranger all of this, and he forgot that Rossi is also witnessing this. “He smells different than he usually does. He has an office job, he shouldn’t smell of sweat or fire.”   His heart started racing. He wasn’t sure if it was the memory or the anxiety of not being able to pull away.  “He leaves. I don’t sleep that night.”

“It’s the next day now. You leave your room. What do you see, Spencer ? ” He paused, his breathing was the only thing heard in the room and he only continued when he realised that the hypnotherapist wasn’t going to lead him any further.His breath came faster, and he could feel the tightness in his chest, the same tightness that had clamped down on him as a child.

“I– I don’t know...” His voice shook, sweat beading on his forehead. The images were coming faster now, jumbled. His father’s face, then his mother’s, blurred, contorted. “I’m alone. I think. I’m– I’m alone in my house. My father is here, he is outside.” He could feel himself moving, inching forwards the glass doors that could hold all the answers, but the panes were fogged up. 

He couldn’t breathe. It was too much. His chest heaved as panic clawed its way up his throat. “No !” The volume of his voice shocked himself, and he wished to open his eyes but he couldn’t, only squeeze them further shut. “Stop it.” He doesn’t know who he is directing that to. A wave of nausea hit Spencer as he struggled to see, to make sense of what was happening. It was blurry, as if he was looking at it through tears but it is no doubt his dad was burning perfectly good clothes– well, perfectly good clothes other than the fact that they are stained red. 

He was too focused on the growing of the fire to register Rossi’s voice panic talking to the therapist, or how she was asking him to wake up, how his eyes stayed shut even after she counted down from one. He had said stop, but the hypnotist’s voice didn’t seem to reach him and the room’s presence felt distant. His pulse quickened as the smell of burning leaves filled his nostrils again, stronger this time, acrid and suffocating. “There’s–” his voice ripped out of him, “Blood. Smoke. It’s–” he knew it was impossible for him to actually smell the smoke but it felt like the clouds were down his throat. “Stop it.”

He tried to pull away, to wake up, but his body was frozen. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he couldn’t make himself move. It was like his mind was trapped, stuck in the memory. He clawed at it, trying to force himself awake, trying to scream, to do anything. His fingers dug into the armrest, but it wasn’t real. Nothing was real. The therapist’s voice was somewhere in the distance, but it was muted, like she was speaking underwater. He could barely hear her. 

“Spencer!” Rossi’s voice suddenly cut through, sharp and urgent, but distant, like it was coming from the other side of a tunnel. He was trapped. Locked inside the memory, with no way out. Panic surged through him, his chest tightening, his breaths becoming shallow and ragged. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning in the weight of the past. “You’re safe. You’re not there.” Rossi continued but it didn’t feel like the truth. He was there. He could smell the burning leaves, hear the fire cracking in the air, feel the cold sweat on his skin as he tried to get a closer look.  

Evan Buckley came into Eddie Diaz’s life way too late, and left way too early. Eddie would love to be able to hate the other, hate the way that he carved a place into his heart, only to leave it gravely empty, hate the way he can’t even open Wikipedia anymore without his tears blurring the words, hate the way the Diaz–Buckley household is once again only the Diaz, hate the way his son had to lose a parent once again.

But he can’t hate the other, even as he punches the very wall Evan once helped fix up, he can’t help but hate himself. He knew nothing could’ve prevented what happened, that if it wasn’t Buck up there, it would’ve been Chimney. He can’t help but wonder what Buck was thinking in his last moments. He wonders if he felt the whiplash of falling from the ladder or if he was still reeling from the lightning strike. Eddie has had his share of near death experiences, times where he has drifted off into consciousness not sure if he would ever wake again. During those moments, Christopher is usually the last person he thinks of, and he wouldn’t be that surprised if it was the same in Buck’s case. Not that Evan could ever tell him. Buck couldn’t ever tell him anything anymore. His best friend won’t talk about the history of wardrobes, or odd habits that whales have. 

The death of the youngest member of the 118 hit everyone hard, not even the station's firefighters and close community of them, Eddie has gotten texts from other firefighters that they have only worked with once or twice wishing him well. They had to hold two funerals for him, one for the immediate side, and another for the public, and Eddie never saw so many people in one place before. He still had tubs and tubs of tupperware full of food in the kitchen that could very well last a lifetime, but he hasn’t felt hungry ever since he watched Buck take his last breath. 

Christopher was with Eddie’s parents, they said it would be good for both of the Diaz boys to have this time. Christopher caved in, but only for a month. The school was more than willing to give him the time seeing as Buck is always brought up by the boy, and they watched as Evan would pick Christopher up from school, and attend parent-teacher meetings, everything. Eddie is sure that the teacher’s thought he and Buck were dating.

But they didn’t get the chance to. Buck died while they were still walking the tight-rope between platonic and romantic. Buck died before Eddie could admit to him that he imagined what it would be like to call him partner in more than just the job sense. Before Eddie could admit that he wants to grow old with Buck, wants to be able to share a bed and hold him in his sleep, and wants to worship each and every part of Evan Buckley’s body. 

The house was deathly silent, pun not intended. All that could be heard was Eddie’s laboured breath. He doesn’t understand why he can be sitting here while Evan is dead. He knows Buck isn’t religious, and neither can Eddie be, not when the so-called God can let Buck leave before they get their happy ending, but if heaven does somehow exist, he hopes that Buck is waiting at the gates for him. 

He doesn’t want to leave Buck waiting long, but he can’t make an orphan out of his son, he can’t have Christopher lose two of his dad’s within one year. Maybe sometime, but not now. He doesn’t know how long he stood staring at the wall before he faded into sleep, wishing he could dream of him and Buck, but instead it was an endless pit. 

— 

Hen liked to deal with her grief alone. She finds it easier to sort out things alone before letting someone inside her head. Karen didn’t always like it, but she allowed it, gave her wife some space. With the death of Buck, she made Hen begin therapy, and had some herself. This wasn’t like a bad call, or stress building up after an injury. This is death, permanent death, you can’t come back from this.

It was after a therapy session that Hen pulled up to visit Eddie, they’ve each texted the groupchat sparingly, each dealing with his death in different ways but she decided a visit to the Diaz household wouldn’t be the worse. When Eddie answered the door, he looked much better than she thought he would, if she was honest. He was put together in a way. When she last saw Bobby he couldn’t bring himself to shave and had an unruly beard, but Eddie had none of that, but the looks of it he was even just out of the shower and making the most of the day.

“Oh Hen. Come in,” he left the door open and she closed it behind her, noticing the three pairs of shoes by the door. Eddie’s black trainers that he debated on getting for the longest time until Evan surprised him with them, then Christopher’s school shoes, and on the other side of the smallest pair was Buck’s beat up trainers, full of dirt and stains. They were lined up neatly, with each person’s coat hung above it as well. “Tea ? Coffee ?”

The question was the only thing that made her move on from the display at the entrance. “Oh uhm, green tea please.” She was never a tea person, but Karen had the idea of drinking it when off shift in a way to separate the two lives, it’s been working. During the small walk past the sitting room into the kitchen, Hen could only find more and more instances of Buck being in the house. The green blanket he talks on and on about the comfort of was draped halfway off the couch, like he spent the night and left in a rush. 

“Buck isn’t back yet, but you are welcome to wait.” Hen had to stop to be sure she even heard that right. She knows the five stages of grief— denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, and she has jumped from one to another during the last few weeks, yet it seems like Eddie has kept himself in the denial box. Hen could only look around in the kitchen, where three plates were set on the dining table, but only one chair pulled out. 

There was a whiteboard on the fridge, one she knew Buck got them ages ago, and Eddie’s purple marker was the only new one, adding notes as if there was someone else to read them. Hen’s stomach twisted and she tried not to show the discomfort on his face. She could only stare at Eddie, who moved around the kitchen with an unsettling amount of calmness, as if everything was normal. As if his partner in crime didn’t leave them all without being able to even say goodbye.

Hen just wanted to scream, to shake Eddie and tell him the dark trust that he seems to be unaware of– no, not unaware, but actively avoiding, but she held back. Not yet. “Thanks,” she mumbled as Eddie handed her the green tea. He at actress from her at the table, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the surface. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable one, but it was clear that there was a lot that needed to be said, but Hen couldn’t find the right words for the life of her. How do you even talk to someone who’s drowning in grief but doesn’t know it yet ? It is easy to comfort people on cases because she doesn’t know them, but she watched as Eddie built a life with Buck, and now he is doing the same with his ghost.

“Eddie...” she trailed off softly, as if she was talking to one of the kids she had fostered. He looked up at her and a slight smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, his eyes seemed hollow, as if they were clouded by mist and he wasn’t really seeing her. He hummed in response as if everything was normal. As if he isn’t living in the shell of the life he had once imagined with Buckley.

Hen took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. “I uh. I just wanted to check in ?” It came out more like a question than she wanted it to. “Just see how you are doing. It’s been a few weeks and...” Her voice faltered but she didn’t really have to continue. She couldn’t just say that Evan was gone. That he isn’t coming back and they have to accept it. He isn’t bouncing back this time. How could she even attempt to say that when Eddie kept glancing at the door as if he expected Buck to walk through them at any second ?

Eddie’s smile wavered only for a moment, and if Hen wasn’t constantly looking at him, she might’ve missed it. Then he spoke and his voice was way too calm and collected to seem natural. “I’m okay, Hen. Really.” Hen didn’t believe that one bit. “Chris is with my parents for now, and I’ve… I mean I’ve had a lot of time to think you know ? To figure things out.” He paused to take a sip out of his cup. “It’s hard but... Buck is coming back. I can feel it.”

Out of everything Hen thought she’d hear come out Eddie’s mouth, this was not it. She nearly choked on the warm drink. She had seen grief manifest in all kinds of ways over the years, and so had Eddie. They’ve watched people react in anger, or sadness or downright full of numbness. This wasn’t denial though. Eddie wasn’t just in denial, he was living in a whole new alternate reality. One where Buck was still alive, where a part of his world was still going to come home.

“Eddie,” she said gently once again, placing her cup down on the table and the sound of ceramic hitting against marble was the only thing heard for a moment. “I know this is hard. We are all struggling. But...” She couldn’t continue her sentence, not when Eddie suddenly interrupted her. Something she was glad for considering she wasn’t even sure where she was going to go with that.

His face hardened with an expression she has only seen a small handful of times over the years they have worked together. Usually when the Buckley parents are talking, or sometimes towards Buck’s ex-partners. “I don’t need you to tell me how hard it is,” he said with no room for argument. He took a breath and continued with a lighter tone. “I saw what happened. But he’s still– He is still here,” he tapped his temple with his finger, his eyes burning with a level of conviction that terrified her. “He is still alive.”

“Eddie,” she could only repeat his name, a total loss of words as she leaned over and took one of her hands. They were cold, she remembers how he would always complain about that and Buck would hold them cause that boy was a human heater if she ever saw one. “I know you want to believe that. So do I. But Buck– He isn’t, he can’t come back.”

For a moment Eddie’s eyes flickered and Hen thought he might break, he might’ve finally let the reality settle in. But then he stood abruptly, ripping his hand away from hers and leaving a mark from the chair on his usually clean tiles.“See this ?” He grabbed a plate by the sink and lifted it up as if held all the answers that only he could dissect. “It’s Buck’s. He had breakfast here this morning. He is just– He went out. He will be back.” He said the last sentence to himself instead of Hen.

Hen was surprised she hasn’t cried yet from this, having to swallow the lump stuck in her throat. She glanced at the plate, and then around to the meticulously cleaned and organised home– house; it hasn’t been a home for weeks now. She couldn’t keep watching this, she couldn’t just watch Eddie dig a deeper hole for himself. “Buck’s gone. He’s not coming back” she whispered, feeling like they are going around in circles.

“No !” His voice cracked and dropped the place into the sink’s basin without a care for it breaking. “No he’s not gone.” He stressed out. “He’s here, Hen. He is here.” He pointed around the room, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. “His shoes, his jacket, his blanket, his goddamn plate ! He is not gone.” 

He had tears in his eyes at this point, ones that he might’ve brushed off as frustrated ones but Hen matched him, tears welling up in her own eyes as the grief she had been holding back as well for weeks crashed over her. She got up softer than he had and moved over to him as he continued to mutter that Buck was going to come back. She touched Eddie’s arm gently in an attempt to ground him and pull him out of the spiral he was quickly falling into.

Evan  Buckley didn’t even blink when Eddie Diaz invited him to be his plus one for his cousin’s wedding. The invitation came so casually, Buck barely thought twice about saying yes. In the back of his mind, he figured the only reason Eddie had asked him was because he was the few people Christopher was okay with being alone with in the case Eddie was dragged into one thing or another. Then Buck learned that Christopher wasn’t coming at all. It was a no-kids wedding and Eddie could’ve invited anyone. A proper date, maybe. Some woman to get his overbearing family off his back about finding a new girlfriend. That would’ve made much more sense than just inviting his co-worker slash best-friend.

It was only after Buck’s enthusiastic agreement that he learnt more about it. How it would be on Catalina Island, saying it as if he was offering a trip to paradise and not a place surrounded by the very thing Buck could still feel choking his lungs on some nights (Not that Eddie was aware of that, a purposeful move on Buck’s side). He never would assume that Buck has an issue with boats, not when he used to openly love the vast ocean, sharing stories of the boats he had been on when he was jumping from one place to another. He had no idea how different it felt now.

A part of him just wanted to say no. He knew Eddie wouldn’t take it to heart, he would understand and even feel guilty for putting Buck in that situation. He could suddenly become sick, or accidentally take on a last minute shift at the station. Anything to avoid his fear. But he knew he couldn’t do that, and definitely not to Eddie out of everyone. He couldn’t just bail. He wouldn’t. 

And so, here they were. Buck drove them in the Jeep to the docks, each mile pushing Buck closer to a boat he wasn’t sure he could handle. His stomach churned uneasily, and he felt an unwelcome tightness creep into his throat. He could feel his palms getting clammy as he held them against the steering wheel. If Eddie mentions it, he could just say it is his first time taking a break by choice, or the fact that this is the first time Buck has met Eddie’s extended family. That could work.

He knew he should feel excited. He knew Eddie had chosen him, and that alone should’ve been enough to make him feel honoured. Six days together, on an island; the type of getaway they would’ve killed for under normal circumstances. He should’ve been thinking about the sun and sand, or the fact that he and Eddie will probably be put into one room together and he can wake up in the same room as him for the next handful of days. He should’ve been thinking about Eddie choosing him over everyone else. The thought stirred something deep inside him that he should think about more, but it couldn’t completely drown out the anxiety rattling in his bones.

He parked his car up and was quick to get out of it and grab his suitcase and bag, as well as grabbing Eddie’s bag before the other could get his hands on it. “It’s the least I can do with you getting me out of work,” he hoped if he pushed himself to act like normal, that he would eventually feel like normal. 

Boarding was surprisingly quick and in any other situation Buck would’ve been secretly happy about it, but not this time. Even when he took his first step on the docked boat, he felt like he would collapse. He chewed at his lip and knew by the end of the trip it would be scarred and picked at over and over again. He chose to lead them into a lounge room, knowing he couldn’t hold himself together if they stood outside on the deck. 

“What’s up with you ?” Evan jumped when he felt a heat beside him, Eddie placing down a drink for the each of them that Buck doesn’t even remember him leaving to get, and putting an arm around Buck’s shoulders. “You look like someone just said the q-word in the house,” he joked, his tone light, but Buck knew there was some level of seriousness in his words. 

“Uh nothing,” he said and it was clear he didn’t even believe himself, he glanced around the lounge they were in so he didn’t have to meet Eddie’s eyes, who he can see from his peripheral looking right at him. It was the sign on the wall on how to deal with sickness that gave him his excuse. “It’s just...” he sighed, acting as if he lied because he was shameful about what he was going to say. “I get motion sickness. It’s why I stopped going on boats.” The guilt of lying was eating him alive already, but he didn’t want to ruin this for Eddie. 

Even though it was a lie, Buck flushed red with embarrassment. They are firefighters, their engine speeds down roads several times daily and he has literally swung from burning buildings, and yet being on calm water is what gets him all worried. Eddie flashed his emotions too quickly for Buck to fully understand them all, but he just knows that it doesn’t seem like Diaz fully believes him, and he should’ve known that it’s next to impossible to lie to his best friend. Still, Eddie settled on pity. “We can get through this. Five hours. I have your back.” And if that last sentence didn’t have Buck even guiltier for lying, he doesn’t know what would.

The first half of hour one was the fastest for the duo, they had signal for the first thirty or so minutes and Buck had a bunch of TikToks he saved to show Eddie. The second half of the hour was just as easy, as conversation was easy for them, people were still settling down so there was just enough noise for Buck to block out the sound of waves hitting off the boat.

As the second hour crawled in, people had gone to wherever they wanted to spend the next four hours, and the boat continued with the steady glide over the ocean. Buck has heard people say that the gentle sway of a boat’s floor beneath their feet was soothing to them, but it only succeeded in pulling Buck back to the place he had fought tooth and nail to leave behind. 

As his and Eddie’s conversation continued, he didn’t notice how he spoke less and less, letting Eddie carry the conversation– and to his credit, he is doing great at it. Evan kept trying to focus on Eddie’s voice, on the familiar warmth pressed up against him closer than it was originally, but the memories playing in his head were relentless, they were crashing around his mind harder than any wave could. The tightness in his throat was now unbearable, and he struggled to breathe without it feeling like salt water was filling his lungs. He could almost hear it again; could hear the rush of the tsunami, the frantic splashing, the muffled screams. The water had swallowed everything. Everyone.

“Buck ?” Eddie’s voice only barely managed to cut through the fog of Buck’s mind, and he blinked hard, pulling himself back to the present, not realising that their conversation went dead minutes ago. His hand was gripping his knee so tightly his knuckles had turned white. “Hey, you okay ?” He said, but as Buck looked in his eyes, he could tell that Eddie already knew the answer.

That didn’t stop him from his attempt in lying. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he croaked but his voice was too tight, too strained. The blatant lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He could feel Eddie's gaze on him, assessing, no doubt seeing straight through him, like he always does. Usually Buck loves that level of communication they have, but right now it just seems like a curse.

“Buck,” Eddie’s voice softened, his brow furrowed in concern. It was a tone Buck has only seen reserved for Christopher. He doesn’t even manage this tone with people they meet on calls.  “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know that. If something’s wrong, just tell me.”

But Buck couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t admit that being on this boat was ripping him apart, dredging up nightmares he thought he had buried deep enough. It wasn’t just the fear of being surrounded by water; it was the helplessness and he knew that. The feeling of being utterly powerless while the world collapsed around him. He couldn’t go back there. Not now. Not with Eddie. Not with another Diaz.

“I told you,” Buck forced out, his voice sounding foreign to even his own ears. “It’s just the uh, the motion sickness. It’ll pass.” He wasn’t even trying to convince Eddie at this point, only himself. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the air felt too thick, too suffocating, like he couldn’t get enough of it into his lungs.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t push. Instead, he stood up, his arm leaving Buck’s shoulders, and Buck almost regretted the loss of the grounding warmth. “Alright, come on,” Eddie said, standing in front of him with his hand outstretched. “Let’s get some fresh air. It’ll help.” He said it like a suggestion, but Buck knew well enough that it wasn’t. 

The thought of going outside and seeing the vast expanse of water stretching out for miles with no signs of land made Buck’s stomach lurch violently, but he couldn’t say no. Eddie was just trying to help, and Buck hated that his own fears might ruin the trip. The trip that is for Eddie. Buck could hear himself as he swallowed and took Eddie's hand, something he would’ve fought against or over thought if his legs didn’t feel like jelly right about now.

The moment the fresh air hit his face, Buck’s lungs seized once again, but this time it was for a whole different reason. His eyes immediately fell to the water, the waves seemed to be soft against the boat to others, but they couldn’t be louder to Buck and the world felt like it was tilting beneath him. The horizon seemed to be stretched out endlessly and the water seemed never ending.

He was looking at the same ocean that drowned him, it looked the same as the day he had almost died.

He gripped the railing nearest to him tightly, as if even letting go by a slight bit would mean the end, and it once did. He could hear Christopher’s shout of his name, could feel the salt water in his lungs, remembers the desperate need to save everyone and then not even being able to save his kid. His heart raced as fast as his thoughts and no matter how hard he attempted to steady his breathing, he couldn’t shake away the feeling that the water was going to take him over again.

“ –ck ? Evan ?” Eddie’s voice was soft, but there was a note of panic in it now. Good. He should be panicking, a tsunami could start at any moment and they are in the middle of the ocean. “You’re shaking.” Buck hadn’t even realised it, but he was. He was trembling so hard that the railing under his grip was rattling. But just because he was aware of it didn’t mean he could stop it. He was frozen. He had always been the fight in the whole fight or flight response, but right now he couldn’t even move his mouth to talk.

“Hey, hey, cariño. C’mere.” Eddie’s hand was suddenly on his arm. When did they stop holding hands ? They pulled him away from the railing, and guided him back to a corner of the deck where they were more sheltered from the wind, and where Eddie could block his view of the vast ocean. “What’s going on ? This isn’t motion sickness, is it ?” 

Buck’s chest tightened even further if that was even possible, the guilt and shame crashing over him. He hated this. Hated feeling so weak, hated that he couldn’t even handle a simple boat ride– he is a firefighter for fuck sake, he runs into burning buildings and scale cliffsides, he should be able to handle a boat. He was supposed to be the strong one, the guy who jumped into danger without a second thought. But now ? Now he couldn’t even stand on a boat without falling apart. It was pathetic.

“I…” Buck tried to speak, but his voice cracked, and he could feel the burn of tears behind his eyes, anything he said died on his tongue. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as if that would make it all go away. But it didn’t. Nothing did. He can’t think of his life without this suffocation being with him, always there, underlining. 

Eddie’s hand squeezed his arm, grounding him, steadying him in a way that Buck wasn’t sure he deserved. He didn’t deserve Eddie at all, he didn’t deserve either of the Diaz boys, not after he failed them in a way that could never be forgiven. “It’s okay,” Eddie said softly, his voice so gentle that it almost broke Buck. “You don’t have to say anything. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

Buck squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing the lump in his throat as he fought to get control of himself. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not in front of Eddie. Not after everything they’d been through. He isn’t sure why he felt so embarrassed about this situation in particular; he has broken down before in front of Eddie, and he has walked in on the other crying as well. It wasn’t the first time emotions got a hold of either of them. “I’m sorry,” He finally whispered, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want to ruin this for you.”

“Evan.”  It isn’t often that Eddie calls Buck by his birth name, yet he has already twice this trip alone; at least twice that Buck could register hearing. “You’re not running anything,” he said, tone full of confusion, but something else was mixed in there that Buck tries not to linger on, something much softer. 

He shook his head, wordless, he didn’t want to admit it because that would mean admitting that he can’t handle the weight of what happened to him, the weight of an ocean full of water pushing on his lungs. “It’s just,” He rushed out, forcing the words out before he lost the small amount of nerves he built up, “It’s the water. Ever– Ever since the tsunami, I just... I haven’t… I can’t do it, Eddie.” There. He finally said it. 

He waited for Eddie to say something, anything. Then there was a moment of silence, and another, until Buck finally dared to open his eyes and all he could see was Eddie’s cornered eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me ?” Eddie said. Buck could tell that he was trying to keep the betrayal out of his voice, but just as Eddie can read him like an open book, so can he. 

“I didn’t want to–” He trailed off, his voice faltering as he realised maybe how dumb he was acting. “I didn’t want you to feel– to feel guilty I guess. You were so excited about this, and I didn’t want to take that away from you,” he said, focusing on the buttons of Eddie’s shirt instead of risking another glance at his face. 

Eddie’s hand tightened on Buck’s arm. “You should’ve told me, Buck,” he lightly scolded. “I wouldn’t have cared about the trip. I care about you,” he said as if it was one of the facts in the world, as if he just said that the sky is blue, or there are twenty four hours in a day. The pure sincerity in his voice is like a punch to the gut. 

It was strange how quickly a person could become desensitised to their surroundings. Spencer Reid never thought he would get used to the dim and sterile lighting of the prison cell hall, or the distant clanking of metal doors and card swipe beeping, but eventually they became something integrated in his mind, things that became a part of his reality without him fully realising it.

He didn’t think he would end up here, didn’t think he would ever find himself on the same side of the cell as the people he works against, but now in his isolation he couldn’t help but think that he isn’t much better than them. That may be along the way, they rubbed off on him until he became more monster than man. 

He didn’t expect anyone to stay; not after what happened in Mexico. He knows how damning it looked, the amount of evidence stacked against him, he wouldn’t hold it against them if they move him to the back of their mind, only bringing him up as the ‘co-worker that lost his mind’. They had too much to lose if they tried to defend him. It doesn’t matter that he would kick tooth and nail for any of them, he doesn’t expect the same back. 

He picked at the scab building up on his thigh, pausing it’s healing once again and closed his eyes as he thought about all the overwhelming things that have happened to him. He never had an issue with his memory, and it’s one of his biggest fears, so when there were blanks in his memory, he could argue that it was worse than being wrongfully arrested. 

The worst part of it all, he thinks, is the connection that was fraying with them. Mostly on his own part, he will admit, after they travel so far during visitation and he refuses to show. He couldn’t let them see him like this, he isn’t even a shell of his old self, he is a completely different person. He couldn’t have them worry about him, he doesn’t think he could handle their caring looks. Looks he doesn’t deserve.

It doesn’t matter that he was manipulated and drugged, it was still his fault at the end of the day for going to Mexico. 

Life became the same quickly and he stopped trying to distinguish Mondays from Tuesdays. Well, it should’ve been, until he went to meet up with his lawyer and saw three extra people then there should have been in the room. 

— 

Aaron Hotchner has seen a lot in his time not only as a Unit Chief, but also as a Lawyer. He has seen people succumb to the worst part of themselves, and he can’t stand to see Spencer like that. That’s why he nearly opted out of being one of the three to visit him. It was hard to get the prison onboard for even one private visitor, nevermind three. Still, with a bunch of convincing and push on their side, it was allowed.

He could see it in Spencer's eyes when he noticed them. He walked in originally with his head down, hands cuffed and it was only when he looked up and saw the abnormally did his face show emotion, a whole range of emotions flashed by quickly, too fast for Hotch to exactly put a finger on any of them.

He stood still, as if he was waiting for permission to move, as if it was a whole restraint trick on him. But it wasn’t, and Alex seemed to have given him that permission when she opened her hands towards him, which he was quick to collapse into. And just like that, a body of 6’1’’ crumbled right down into the hands of a 5’6’’ one. It was silent for a few minutes and Aaron hated to be the one to break it, but they have a time limit for how long they are allowed to be there and he doesn’t want to push their luck much further.

Aaron didn’t have to break the moment though, not when Morgan spoke up instead. “Hey, pretty boy,” he said in an attempt to make out some sort of normalcy in this situation, despite the light words though, Hotch could see the pain on Derek’s face. Spencer eventually left the hug, though he didn’t stray much from Alex’s side. Aaron has worked with Spencer long enough to read him, even though it has become so much harder now. 

He could tell that Reid’s mind was racing (as always), trying to process why they were here, why they hadn't abandoned him. As if they would ever abandon him. Eventually he spoke up, voice raw as if he hasn’t spoken in days and Hotch isn’t sure if that’s too far from the truth. “You shouldn’t be here.” He glanced down at his hands, cuffs clinking against the metal table. His wrists were bruised, the evidence of his captivity painfully clear. 

Hotch wasn’t really sure what he could say, because Spencer is right in his own wrong way. They shouldn’t be, it’s against protocol and guidelines. “We are going to get you out of here, Spencer. Whatever it takes,” he said with an arm on the younger’s shoulder, something he did a lot in Reid’s younger years in the BAU, and when the dim light shines right, Aaron can still see the young twenty-something year old there. 

“You can’t undo what happened. You all saw the evidence. It’s airtight. I’m–I’m... guilty.” Spencer wasn’t really focusing on them, and his voice doesn’t even sound like his own. In a sick way, Aaron feels responsible for all of this. Maybe he should’ve told Gideon to calm down on their new agent and wait a few years, maybe he should’ve been a better support pillar, maybe he should’ve helped more. 

“You didn't do this. We know that, man.” Morgan once again cut in while Hotch was in his head. “We know it’s wrong. This will be over soon.” Derek was always more of a nihilist than an optimist, but maybe he is changing his views for their youngest member. Spencer’s heart hammered in his chest. His throat tightened as he fought back the tears that were threatening to spill. When was the last time he was spoken to as human ? When was the words he said listened to ?

“They won’t even let me call my mother” Spencer whispered, his voice cracking. He didn’t mean to say it, but the words slipped out, raw and unfiltered. He was unravelling, days of being nothing more than a number and a crime had him desperate to share all his secrets it seems,  “They wouldn’t let me call her, and now– now she probably thinks I’ve abandoned her too.”

Of course, even after everything, his number one concern was Diane. Alex continued to rub her hand up and down his back, a sort of comfort he probably haven’t had in weeks. “I’ve been in contact with her. She knows you didn’t abandon her, and she is being cared for.” She reassured. 

“You are family, Reid.” Hotch finally spoke up. His voice was steady, but tense in hopes not to let too much of the emotion beneath the surface show. “We don’t abandon family.” Spencer shook his head, his chest tightening. He didn’t know how to explain it to them—the guilt, the shame, the overwhelming sense that this was his fault. No matter what they said, no matter how much they believed in him, it didn’t change the fact that he was trapped in this hellhole because of his own mistakes.

“I– I don’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunching alongside the action. “I don’t know how to get out of this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared.” The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. They could’ve guessed as much, anyone would be if they were in Reid’s situation, but still.

When Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid got together after eight years of constant pining and flirting, it was a whole new territory for both of them. But they were friends for years now, it shouldn’t matter that this was Morgan’s first relationship with a guy, or Spencer’s first real relationship in general. They have been in sync forever by now, a new label shouldn’t change much. Except it did.

Morgan could only stare up at the ceiling despite the tiredness that pulled at him, the darkness of the room surrounding him and he wished that he got those glow in the dark stars for kids so he wouldn’t feel like he was stuck in the void. The bed was cold beside him, the exact spot where Spencer had been a handful of hours ago now empty, the only sign that he was even there was the dent in the pillow and pull back of the duvet. Derek didn’t have to reach out and feel it to know. The absence of the other was loud, and Morgan didn’t know that silence could be so deafening.

Spencer was gone. Again. Third night in a row, maybe the eleventh time this month. He didn’t have to look around to know that there would be no notes, no texts, no explanations. 

Maybe Morgan should’ve been used to it by now, to the way Spencer would just slip out in the middle of the night like it was nothing, claiming some sort of restlessness or a need to be alone. He told himself that Spencer just needed space, that it wasn’t personal and Spencer will tell him the problem when he is ready. The ache in his chest told him something different, it told him that it was personal.

And that was scary because Morgan wasn’t used to all this. This feeling of waiting. This wasn’t like all his previous relationships. He wasn’t used to being the one waiting, wasn’t used to feeling like he was the one being left behind. Spencer was different and that terrified the shit out of him. He hated that vulnerability, hated the way it got under his skin and made him feel like he was constantly second-guessing himself.

All those years of flirting, of bantering back and forth each morning, of gentle teasing and underlying tension that no one mentioned but everyone noticed. It all felt safe, it was easy. But now they were together, actually together, and suddenly everything felt different. There was a sudden air of uncertainty and a different type of tension that Derek never expected. He had thought, foolishly, that everything would just click into place once they crossed the line from friends into something more. But it was clear not that that wasn’t the case. 

If it was anyone else, Morgan wouldn’t mind walking away from it all when things got tough, or when the emotions got too reel. But Spencer wasn’t anyone else and he wasn’t someone Morgan could distance himself from even if he tried. Spencer mattered. He mattered much more than Derek ever thought he would. He carved out a home in Morgan’s heart. Something no one else has ever managed to even get close to.

The blanket fell off her shoulders as he sat up, running a hand over his face as he stared at the door as if Spencer will magically walk back in, maybe with yet another quiet apology or some explanation that doesn’t really explain anything. But that didn’t happen, the door stayed closed and Morgan couldn’t help but glare at it. As if the wooden object is the reason for this disconnect.

They tiptoed around it on the rare occasion they would mention the fact that he left, Spencer would always ramble for one reason or another but Derek couldn’t help but notice how he seems to be avoiding something as if he doesn’t trust his partner with whatever he needs to say. And Morgan hates that, because trust wasn’t supposed to be an issue when it came to them. They have known each other for years now, they have been through hell together, had each other’s backs more times than they could count. Despite all that, Morgan couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Spencer didn’t fully trust him.

Even worse, he thinks he doesn’t trust Spencer completely either. He wants to, and maybe at one point in the future, he will, but it seems that their relationship that is meant to be built up from trust is cracking, and he doesn’t want that. 

There was no way he could go back to sleep now, shivering as he got out of the bed and allowed the cold air to run through him. He threw on a pair of sweats along with a hoodie that he found on the floor. He couldn’t just lie there, waiting for Spencer to come back like a ghost haunting the place. 

Was he pushing Spencer away without even realising it ? Will they ever be okay ?

He didn’t bother to turn on the lights as he padded out of the bedroom to the living room, the only noise coming from the hum of the city outside of his window. It didn’t matter that it was two in the morning, it was as lively as ever and not for the first time Derek debated on moving further out from the heart of the city.

It took him a minute to notice the half-finished cup of coffee. It was still warm. Spencer was here recently. He hates that he can only stand there, staring at the cup as if he would answer all his questions. He isn’t too sure how long he stood there, his feet felt like they were bound to the wooden floor, not being able to move even if he wanted to.

Why was Spencer pulling away when they had fought so hard to get to this point ? They have been through so much together, and yet now they can’t even communicate. He thinks it’s worse because it’s not like it is affecting their way of working. They can work alongside each other like no problem, but the second they aren’t running with a case, they can’t help but feel like strangers.

His phone was left in the bedroom but he doesn’t think he had any use for it anyway. He could call or text, but what could he even say ? Anytime he tries to start a conversation about it, it dies on his tongue. He sank down on the couch, the same couch that Spencer would fall asleep on when they first started to hang out and he didn’t want to leave. It never felt more uncomfortable.

What if Spencer just didn’t feel the same amount of love and commitment that Derek feels for him ? It was a terrifying thought. He knows his reputation of being a player, but Margot Robbie could pass by and he would be none the wiser, he only has eyes for Spencer. How can the other not see that ?

He wasn’t sure when he began to spiral, or when the sun started to seep in through the blinds, but then the door opened with a faint creak that echoed in the house. Spencer was quiet other than that, and Derek is sure that if the door was oiled properly, he wouldn’t even notice the other coming in. He froze when he saw that he wasn’t the only one awake. “I didn’t think you’d be up.” It was hard to read Spencer’s tone sometimes, and this was one of those times. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Morgan could only reply. His tone was flat, but he tried not to come off as cold. He isn’t angry at Spencer, he doesn’t think that is possible, just confused. He didn’t know how to begin, didn’t know how to say what’s on his mind without sounding like he is accusing Spencer of something, or coming off as clingy.

“I’m,” Derek watched Reid bite his lip from the small bit of light he was given from the windows, a habit he would usually interrupt if they were beside each other– he would trace Spencer’s scarred lips with his thumb before offering him a chew gum. Strawberry flavoured to match the shampoo Spencer uses. “I left without saying anything. I’m sorry. Needed to clear my head.”

They have done this dance before, Derek would drop it after Spencer said that he needed to clear his head, and just say he is open for whenever Spencer wants to talk about it, but he can’t do this routine again, he needs to cut it before they jump back into the non-stop cycle. “Clear your head about what ?”

His eyes didn’t leave Spencer even as he shifted his placement on the couch to invite the other over. He watched the doctor kick off his shoes and neatly place them beside Morgan’s, he didn’t have a coat on even though Derek knew it was cold outside and Spencer is usually the first to complain about the lack of heat. 

“About... About us, really,” if there was any other activity going on in the room, Derek would’ve missed what Spencer said. But he heard it loud and clear. He knew it, he felt it coming from a mile away, but hearing it still felt like a punch to the gut. “What about us ?” It was harder to keep his voice level with the amount of worry oozing from him. And he knows Spencer notices that. They can always understand each other. Just not trust each other. 

Morgan only realised that he must’ve been silent for too long when Spencer continued, “I don’t know if I’m… If I’m doing this right. I just don’t know if I’m good at, at just being what you need.” It was weird how Spencer’s words mimicked Derek’s thoughts exactly. He stalled at the end of the couch, not making any movement to sit down but instead shifting his weight between his two feet.

“What I need ? Spencer, I’m not asking you to be anything other than who you are. The person I love.” Spencer’s eyes met his and not for the first time, Morgan saw the fear in them. Except the fear was not towards an unsub, or of the future, or of not knowing. It was the fear of not being enough for him. Something he never wanted Spencer to feel.

“I’m not used to this,” Spencer admitted quietly. “I’m not used to someone actually staying. I guess part of me just keeps waiting for you to realise I’m not worth it.” That made Derek’s breath catch in his throat and he had to make a conscious effort not to choke on it. He stood up slowly and crossed the small space between them so he could stand in front of Spencer, holding his sides.

“Spencer, you are everything to me.” He said without any hesitation, and without any hint of a lie. Spencer is a profiler, he should be able to read Morgan’s face and understand that there was nothing but truth in his voice, but he still looked sceptical. “You are the only person I need.” He continued. There was so much he wanted to say, but he can’t seem to verbalise it. Reid was always the better of the two with words.

“I don’t know how to trust that. I want to– I really do, but...” Spencer refused to look Derek in the eyes, which isn’t surprising but he wasn’t even trying to look in Morgan’s direction, looking to their feet as if that was the most interesting thing in the world. “You could have anyone. You know that–” It wasn’t often that Derek interrupted Spencer unless they were on a time restraint case, but he couldn’t let him continue that thought.

It wasn’t often that the Buckley siblings manage to have time just for themselves. There is always someone else lingering around nearby, or a complication in their day out interrupting their plans. But today, for once, it was just them. Buck had no problem filling their conversations with facts and stories, and Maddie had no problem with listening, a light smile on her face as she helped weave him between families and groups of friends, holding his shirt so she could push and pull him when needed. Evan tends to lose all spatial awareness when he gets to a passionate part of one of his many stories. 

They couldn’t stay in this bubble forever though, eventually their legs started to grow tired from the mindless walking around in between rollercoaster rides; rides that Buck has to practically drag Maddie on each time, and their stomachs started to yell about water and food so once they got off their next ride, Maddie was on a mission to lead Buck to a place they’d be able to sit down and get food because god knows he would fight against eating until he is done with all his amusement park activities. 

“Wait here, I’m going to get some food for us because I’m hungry,” It was a dirty move, Maddie knew that Buck wouldn’t really complain (until they are actually done eating) if Maddie says it’s because she is hungry instead of saying they both are. Buck huffs but doesn’t really argue, he only plops himself down on wooden seats screwed to the ground. They are definitely old, what was new oak at one point in its lifetime was now a weathered down slab with the corners rounded over by weathering and being hit off. His hands knead at the giraffe teddy he won while unapologetically showing off to the man working the stall. He ends up actually winning five plushies, but he only kept one (the one that the same cute worker signed his phone number on the tag), and just gave the other’s to the kids around them.

For a while, he is content like that. He likes people watching, it was someone he does all the time. There are many times he looks out of his apartment’s window and studies the people that look like ants as they go about their day. It was one of his favourite parts about travelling too when he was younger, most of his jobs allowed him to indulge in this ‘hobby’. Bartending people watching was by far his favourite. He can’t help it, he loves watching people who have a life all of their own, he loves looking at how they interact with this world. Sometimes he tries to picture two strangers interacting. Sometimes he will go grab a coffee at new cafés so he can sit and watch as people come and go. 

After a while though, as the clock ticked by, an unease arose in his chest, an unfortunately familiar discomfort crept in.A tightness settled in his chest, his skin prickling with a sensation that felt like it was being pulled too tight over his bones. His mouth grew dry. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like sandpaper and it got caught there. He felt guilty, but he couldn’t help but have the thought of ‘what if she doesn’t come back’ occupy the forefront of his mind. 

It’s not like it is exactly out of the question. It’s happened before, happened twice before, and it could happen again. Logically, he knows that’s not true. Maddie has gotten better, actually better– there was actual progress. She goes to therapy once a week and has been more open and honest about her emotions. Sure, there are bad days, bad weeks, but never enough for her to leave, it was not like before. Still, the thought clung to him, gnawing at the edges of his reason. Reasonably, he knows that she could just be in a large line, or there was an issue with making the food, or even that she got lost on her way back but will find her way eventually. He tried to push the thought of abandonment away, but it clawed its way back, more insistent.

He wasn’t sure when he’d learned that people don’t stay, but he knew it was a fact, like how the sky is blue, or how Bobby was the best chef out there. People leave, especially when he’s in the picture. He is similar to a train station, a place people only pass by to get from place A to place B (Buckley never knew he could feel sad for a train station). He is a limbo, an in between for people. Despite the long list of people who have left, sometimes without ever saying goodbye, he never got over it fully, never found a way to really understand or get used to it. Each time someone left, they took a bit of him with them, and he doesn’t know how much he has left.

He stood from the seat awkwardly, his knees hitting off the scrapped one as he tried to look over the constantly moving crowd. Not for the first time, he is glad for the extra bit of height he has on others. Panic tightened its grip on his chest, squeezing until it hurt. He knew he could spot Maddie in the most bustling of places, so the panic was tenfold when he couldn’t see her at all. Sitting back down, the teddy in his hands gripped so hard as if it would, too, leave him if given the chance. His mind spun with the possibilities, each one darker than the last. His breaths came faster, shorter, and his vision blurred at the edges. He didn’t know how much of himself he had left to lose if she walked away again.

All at once, he felt like he was twelve years old again, thrust into a world that suddenly seemed far too big and terrifying, forced to navigate it without his older sister. A familiar, sinking sensation crept into his chest, the same one he’d felt when she left for Boston, and when she left after Jee-Yun too. His thoughts began to churn, over and over, replaying the events of the day in relentless loops. Every single word exchanged, every glance, every pause; his brain picked them apart, desperately searching for the exact moment things had gone wrong. Had he said something wrong when they were walking to the amusement park ? Or was it when they were in line for the ferris wheel and he had laughed too loudly, or maybe when he didn’t laugh at all ? The questions swirled around in his mind, one after another, until they blurred together into an incoherent mess of self-doubt. And it wasn't just today; his mind went further back, dragging up memories of everything he had done or said for the past month, or maybe even longer.

His breaths came in sharp and shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling in quick loops, as if the very air he was taking in was being snatched away before it could fill his lungs. What does he tell Chimney ? How can he tell Chimney ? His brother-in-law blamed him when Maddie left the second time, and this time around it’s even more his fault. Every tiny mistake, every awkward moment, every perceived flaw in himself now felt magnified a hundredfold. He was searching for a reason, a single, tangible cause that would explain why. His stomach churned with a mix of anxiety and regret, an all-too-familiar feeling. He is glad his stomach was empty, because he wouldn’t have been able to stop the vomit. 

The crowd seemed to be in a whole different universe now. The noises around him were far muffled and distorted by now, as if he was underwater or in space, with only the thudding of his fast beating heart and the rasp of his struggling breath cutting through the fog, not only clear in his ears but overpoweringly loud. The edges of his vision darkened and brought everything he could see into a terrifying blur; out of the lack of full breaths or because of the tears gathering around his eyes, he didn't know. He didn’t notice that there were people noticing his panic, people worried about him.

His mind lost all fight for control as he gripped at the giraffe, biting nails digging into the soft fabric and his knuckles matching the white of the tag in an attempt to anchor himself, but he was only slipping more and more away from the world he lived in. He tried to steady himself, to pull in a deep breath, but it felt like trying to breathe through a straw, every inhale too thin, not enough air going in despite all his best efforts. He barely could register the wave of dizziness that washed over him like the biggest wave before it took him out, knocking his body from the slouched sitting position to the hard wooden floor.