Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dr. Spencer Reid is sitting on the floor of his bathroom thinking, reflecting. It was all he was really good at, wasn’t it? Guessing? Making inferences? Hypotheses? What good is he if he can’t keep anyone alive?
Emily Prentiss had been stabbed by Ian Doyle, but Morgan found her in time to get help. They took her straight into surgery and she was there for hours, but never made it off the table. Emily was gone, really gone and he was useless to help her. She was no longer there to help him through his problems or tease him, which he never really minded.
He remembers seeing JJ and Hotch leave the room to talk about something, he didn’t care what. He watched as Morgan, Rossi, and Penelope, hugged each other. He was once again left forgotten and alone. He wasn’t even able to say goodbye to her. No one bothered to comfort him as he stood there crying his eyes out, so he ran away, broken.

Then he met Maeve, the love of his life but then she was taken from him too by her stalker, before he was even able to touch her for the first time. He was useless then as well, unable to talk Diane Turner down. She shot and killed herself and Maeve in cold blood because she was jealous of what they had.
He thought about going back to Dilaudid then but, the team, his friends, helped him through it. But now, now time had gotten the better of him and he was realizing how useless he really was. He can’t run, he can’t shoot; all he can do is think. Well, he thinks he’s tired of being alone and doesn’t want to feel anymore.

Seeing their faces in his mind he begins to cry, Emily—dead, Maeve—dead, Gideon—dead, oh, Gideon…why did you leave me…

He wasn’t able to help any of them. He was useless in the thick of it, as always.

He shakes his head, trying to clear their faces, and more tears stream down his cheeks as he rubs them away quickly with his fingers.

He laughs at himself, “Fucking weak, like always, aren’t you Spencer? Maybe they’re right, I am just a damn baby.”

He tossed his jacket in the bathtub and rolls up his sleeves. He looks at his hands and back to the floor as more random thoughts pass through his mentally unstable head.

He takes his phone out of his pocket, about to call Jake, but tosses it to the floor next to him as he sighs. Knocking his head back against the door several times, so sick of everything, he mumbles, “Fuck it, I want to forget it all.”

He picks up the leather bag with all his paraphernalia in it, and pulls the rubber band tight around his bicep with his teeth. Once he filled the syringe with the narcotic, he slaps his vein and slowly inserts the needle, pushing the plunger slowly. He was unconscious before he could remove it from his arm.

He dreams, of Maeve, of Emily, of his mother; they’re happy. Everything is right here, he has all the answers, and even when he doesn’t, it matters not. But this time, something was wrong, something was off. Something deep in his subconscious wakes him. Spencer looks groggily around his apartment, realizing, maybe too late, that he took too much and he may very well overdose this time. He can’t call the team, they think he’s clean. He can’t call Jake now, he would betray over a year of trust and “sobriety”. He dialed the only number he felt safe calling.

Stella is sitting in her flat, fidgeting with her shirt sleeves and chewing on her cuticles. She’s trying to come down enough so she can face time her boss and talk about the next project they’re working on. She’s a recovering addict, but not a very good one. She’s been in and out of NA more times than she can count. She has a steady job that pays extremely well, keeps her habit healthy and gives her a place to live, but if they ever found out she’s a high-functioning addict, she’d be out on her ass.

It wasn’t all bad though, during her most recent stint in NA, she crossed paths with a young man named Spencer. She was always happy to see him when he came to share, but she felt sorry for him. It seemed like he’d had nothing but bad luck in his life. Absolutely terrible things would happen and drive him back to the needle, then he would spiral out of control and need the support more than ever. But, it seemed as of late, he was doing well, because she hadn’t seen or spoke to him and as far as NA is concerned, that’s a good thing.

They’d hit it off pretty well and exchanged personal information so she knew he worked for the FBI. Many times he called her instead of his sponsor, saying that he liked the way she sounded more than Jake. He was awkward, but he knew how to make her laugh and she would listen, helping him sort out whatever was going on in that busy brain of his. Over time, they grew close; close enough that they exchanged house keys, in case either of them really needed the other for anything.

They’d spent time together often, staying up late into the night eating doughnuts and watching horror movies. It felt nice to have someone to snuggle up against that didn't expect something in return. Stella would curl herself into a ball at his side and he would put his arm around her, pulling the blanket around them when things got too creepy for her. She liked the way he smiled, so shy and bashful, when she doted over him, pushing his curly hair behind his ear. They supported each other in so many ways and she felt herself daydreaming about him often and wondered sometimes if he did the same.

Stella’s phone starts to buzz. “Speak of the devil,” she says smiling. She picks up and greets him, “Hey Spencer, what’s up?” There is no sound on the other end. “Spencer, hey, you there?” Still nothing. She frowns, worried, “Spencer, are you alright?” Finally, she hears small faint sobs, “Shit. Spencer, I’m on my way, hang on, ok? I’m coming!” Stella shoves her phone in her back pocket and goes to the bathroom, grabbing NARCAN and sprints out of the flat, heading to his apartment.

By the time she reaches Spencer’s door, her throat is dry and raw from running and gasping for air. “Please let me be in time,” she thinks. She crams the key in the lock and nearly falls onto the floor as it opens. She looks around frantically for him, calling out, “Spencer! Spencer, where are you? Can you answer me? Make a sound, please!” She hears the faintest sob coming from the bathroom and runs to the door. She turns the knob, it’s unlocked but heavy. As she pushes the door in, she sees him. His body is hunched over and a needle is sticking out of his left arm. “Spencer!” Stella squeezes into the tiny white room and holds her head up to his nose and chest. “Damn it, hold on Spencer, shit, don’t let me be too late!” She pulls the container out of her pocket and shoves the end of it up his nose and squeezes. Stella only has to wait a few seconds before Spencer’s body responds to the life-saving drug and he lurches forward, choking and gasping for breath. Stella lets out the breath that she was holding, relieved he’s breathing. “Thank fucking god,” she says. As she watches his face regain color, she slowly reaches down and pulls the needle out of his arm and tosses it in the sink. Turning on the faucet, she gets him a glass of water and holds it out to him. “Spencer, can you hear me? It’s Stella, here, drink this.”

Spencer’s eyes are wild as he literally comes back from the dead, again. His vision is blurry and his breath is coming too quickly. The light in the room is blinding, but he hears a familiar sound. There is a dark silhouette crouched before him and he hears her voice, “Spencer, it’s Stella.”

This is the second time Dr. Spencer Reid has died and been brought back. Both times dilaudid was involved. Both times he saw things. Both times he should have died. Spencer smiles to himself saying, “It’s no coincidence, you know.” Stella looks at him confused, “What’s not a coincidence, Spencer?” He doesn’t answer her. Stella exhales as she realizes that he’s still high. “Spencer,” she snaps her fingers in front of his face, “Spencer, do you see me? It’s Stella.”

He smiles up at the blurry spot in front of him, his brain at least partly understanding, “Stella, how nice of you to stop by!”

Stella looks down at him, “Alright, handsome, let’s get you on your feet.” She reaches down and grabs him under the arms and lifts him up, guiding him to the toilet. As he sits down, he shakes his head, “Wait, what are you doing? Stop!” Spencer yanks away from her and Stella backs up, throwing her hands in the air, “Ok, ok, no problem, I was just trying to get you off the bathroom floor is all.”

“Don’t touch me!” he shouts, “Why are you always trying to fix me? Just let me help them! Don’t you see? I’m useless any other way!” He attempts to stand and falters, grabbing the edge of the sink.

Stella puts her hand on his shoulder to steady him, “Hey, be careful there…”

“Damn it, I said don’t touch me!”

“You know what? Fine.” She turns and walks out of the bathroom, mumbling to herself about Spencer, the Dilaudid, the needle.

As she tries to put herself together in a hallway picture’s reflection, Spencer stumble-strides out of the bathroom, angry, “Why the hell are you here, Stella?”

She turns on him, “Are you kidding me, Spencer? You must still be high. You called me, remember? Look at your phone! You took too much!”

He yells back, angry,“I mean, why the hell didn’t you leave me be? Do you know where I was? What I was seeing? Of course you don’t, you’ll never see.”



“You were dying, doctor,” saying the last word with venom.

“You should have let me be! I would’ve been fine. At least I could’ve helped them,” he seethes, his head still not clear of the Dilaudid.



Stella stomps over to him, “Maybe you didn’t hear me, Reid, you were dying. I had to give you NARCAN to get you to back.” He turns away from her, angry as she keeps clouding his issues with facts. Stella is getting tired of his shitty attitude, she just saved his life, the least he can do is look her in the eye. She steps forward, “Hey! Stop turning awa—”

In his bout of rage, Spencer turns sharply towards her, his hand outstretched. She’s too close and he connects with the side of Stella’s face knocking her back. She hits her head on the wall and crumbles to the floor.

He looks down at her, his brain knowing he should probably do something, but the drug-induced demon that snarls in his psyche tells him that she just won’t listen, and maybe he has to show her to get her to understand. He crouches down next to her, “Would you like to see, Stella? Would that help you understand?”

Picking her up, he carries her over and lays her down on the sofa, peeling off her jacket and pushing up her sleeve. He can see the scars on her arms from her past addictions. She had told him the last time they spoke that she was only doing pills now when she slipped, trying to let her body heal up.

He smirks, looking down at her, “What’s one more to someone like us?” He walks to the bathroom and picks up his kit, grabs the needle out of the sink, walks back, and sits down beside her. He ties the rubber band around her bicep and flicks her vein, watching is swell. Pulling the liquid into the syringe, he holds her arm steady.

Stella is coming to when she feels a pinch on her arm. She looks at Spencer, “Hey, what the hell happened?”

He’s only smiling at her, she grins and then remembers he hit her. She frowns and tries to pull herself away from him, speaking calmly, “Spencer, I’m serious, let me go. I’m glad you’re not dead, but I’m over your bullshit today.” He holds her firm and pushes the plunger, sending the drug into her bloodstream.

Stella looks down at her arm as Spencer unties the band, the Dilaudid flowing into her system. “Spencer, what the fu—,” her sentence is halted. As the Dilaudid saturates her bloodstream, Stella’s eyes roll back and her body goes limp against the back of the sofa. Spencer watches her, grinning, “I want you to trip like I do.”

Chapter Text

Stella’s mind is cloudy, like she’s been asleep for days. She remembers going to Spencer’s apartment, he was in trouble. Where is she now? Was that a dream? “Spencer,” she calls out, “Spencer, are you here?”


“Who the hell is Spencer?” A voice returns.

She looks around at her surroundings, speaking, “He’s my friend and he was in trouble. Have you seen him?”

“Nobody here by that name, least not today,” the voice answers.

“Where is here?” She says, blinking, eyes coming into focus.

“What you don’t recognize it? To think it’s only been two years and you don’t remember your best friends’ place?”

Stella focuses her eyes, finally seeing the room for what it is. A studio apartment, it’s dark and dingy. There are take-out cartons stacked on the table and kitchen counters. There are pop cans, beer bottles, and clothes strewn randomly about the floor. The door to the bathroom is closed, but she can tell the voice is coming from there.


“You finally remember where you are? Heh, damn Stel, how much did you take?”

The door opens and a thin blonde comes walking out slowly. She stops in the doorway leaning her head and back against it, looking down at her roommate.

Stella finally sees her, “Damn Cheryl, I didn’t recognize your voice from in there.”

She laughs, “You must be in a good place then.” She walks over to Stella and sits down, leaning her head against her shoulder. She smells of eucalyptus and mint toothpaste. Her cropped hair falls onto her face, softly.

Stella lolls her head Cheryl’s direction she smiles, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. How have you been?”


“Shit, Stel, I would’ve been better if you didn’t let me die last time,” she cuts.

Startled at her answer, she looks up at her and sees that her eyes are closed. Stella sits up and Cheryl’s body slumps away from her from its own weight. Scared and confused, Stella pushes away from her, blinking, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Looking around the apartment, looking for a phone, Stella calls out, “Cheryl! Wake up, please!” She reaches over and shakes her, but she doesn’t respond. Stella’s cries get frantic, “Help! Please! Someone help me! My friend needs help!”

Lost and helpless, Stella hugs her friend and curls up next to her, crying, “Please,” she squeaks, her voice small, “please, someone help…”

A hand lays itself softly on Stella’s head, “Don’t worry, Stella, I’m here.”

Stella looks up and sees, “Spencer? What are you doing here?”


“Everything’s going to be ok now.” He’s looking at her with those big doe eyes and a heart-warming smile.


“But Cheryl…”


“What about Cheryl?”

“She’s…,” Stella looks from Spencer to the couch, Cheryl is gone. Stella looks around frantically, “She was right here! She died! I let her die! It was my fault!” She sits up and turns to Spencer with tears streaming down her face.

Spencer kneels down so he’s face to face with her, “You stop that crying,” he gently wipes away her tears with his thumb, “there was nothing you could have done for her. She made the choice, just like you and I did.”

Stella’s face is screwed up as she yanks away from him, “No! I could have saved her!”

He pushes towards her and grabs her by the arms, holding her so she’s facing him, “Stella,” Spencer says, his voice low, demanding her attention, “Cheryl is gone and there is nothing you could have done to stop it. She died when you were away, remember? You were on a business trip and found her when you came home. It’s why you started going to NA, so you could get clean for her. A lot of good that did anyone,” he laughs through his nose, “…here we are again.”

She pouts up at him, “I tried so hard to stop.”

“I know you did, so did I,” he says, “but sometimes, we have to do what’s right for us, for ourselves.”

“What do you mean, Spencer?” she asks, “What’s right?” She looks at him desperate and sad, eyes wet with tears.

“Maybe we can do better for those who are gone. What if we can help them from this side? I’ve seen my friends that I’ve lost, the ones who died because of me. Here I can help them, but with you here, maybe we can help others too, like Cheryl.” He smiles, pulling her towards him into a hug, “It’s not too late for us, we can help them and I’ll be here for you.”

Stella puts her arms around him, “Spencer, I think that would be nice. I want to stay and help. I want to help Cheryl.”
He pushes her back and looks into her eyes, “Maybe we can help each other too?”

She smiles, “I’d like that very much.”

Spencer pulls Stella upright and interlocks his fingers with hers and turns to walk out of the apartment. When he opens the front door for her, a beautiful blue sky awaits them on the other side. Fluffy clouds litter the space and there is a breeze blowing sending the scent of honeysuckle through the air. Stella hears the door close behind her, but when she turns to see, it’s gone. She and Spencer are in the middle of a beautiful wheat field, her long, black hair carried into the air across her face. “Spencer, where are we?” she asks.

“Right where we need to be, love,” he answers.

“What did you call me?”

He turns to her, his eyes look hurt, “I’m sorry, that was forward of me and very presumptuous…I—”


“No!” she says too quickly, “I just, um, I’ve thought about you so much. I wondered if you ever thought about me too.”

He turns to her slowly, “Does this answer your question?”

Spencer takes Stella’s hand, pulling her to him and smoothing the hair out of her eyes.  He holds her face in both his hands softly. Gazing into her brown eyes, he leans in and places his soft, pink lips upon hers. When Stella finally remembers to breathe, she closes her eyes and relaxes into his touch. His lips feel like velvet and his tongue is like silk as it teases her lips. She take a breath and parts her lips slowly, sighing into him. Spencer moans into her mouth and deepens the kiss. He pauses briefly, “You taste like heaven, Stella.”

She puts her hands around the back of his head, pulling him to her. She realizes that she’s always wondered what Spencer’s hair felt like, and as she runs her fingers through it, it’s as soft as she thought it would be. “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs, pausing momentarily to catch her breath.

He smiles, “Yes, love?”

“You’re right, I’ve loved you forever it seems.”


“Good,” he smiles, “come on, we have a lot of work to do.” He waves his hand over the area where they are standing. When Stella opens her eyes, they’re in an alleyway and it’s dark and raining.

She looks around, panicked, “Spencer, what the hell is going on? Where are we now?”

“They need our help, Stella. We’re here to help them. Come on, let’s go.” He takes her hand and leads her down the alley and into a warehouse. They duck into a slightly open door and as they enter, it’s dark, but Stella sees people slumped over everywhere in makeshift beds and sleeping bags. “Spencer, what’s wrong with them?” she asks.

“They’re waiting for us, don’t you see? Soon, you will. Come, love.” He takes her to the corner to where there is a small living area of sorts. There is a bed, chair, and table with a lamp on it. Spencer leads her and sets her down on the bed, “Wait here for me. I’ll be right back.” Stella is confused but does as she’s told, watching him disappear into the darkness. When he returns, he’s carrying a leather pouch, “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. I love you, Spencer,” she says.


He smiles widely at her, “I love you too. Now, it’s time. Are you ready?”

She nods at him and he motions for her to slide so her back is against the head board. He pushes her sleeve up and ties the band around her upper arm, flicking her vein with his finger. He looks at her, “Now, do the same for me, we’re going to do this together.”

She nods and repeats the motions. Once they’re both ready, Spencer pulls the Dilaudid into the syringes and hands Stella one, “You remember how to do it, love?”

“Of course, it’s like riding a bike.” Together, they push the needles into one another’s veins and squeeze the plungers. Stella’s head falls back against the pillows and Spencer, collapses forward against her body. They’re both out for a few moments, but when they open their eyes, the warehouse has come to life. It’s bright, there are sounds, bustling, but now the people that were once slumped over are now in a line.

Stella sits up and looks at Spencer, “What are they all doing? I don’t understand, they look like they’re waiting for something.”

He scoots forward on the bed, taking both her hands in his, “They’re not just waiting for something, my dear. They’re waiting for us.”

Chapter Text

In reality, Stella is collapsed on the sofa with Spencer watching over her. Her body twitches occasionally and Spencer smiles, “That’s it, see them. You’ll soon see that I need to be there to help them, just like you do. You’re going to want to help them too.” He brushes his hand down her cheek and she sighs, her subconscious pushing into him slightly. “Keep going, my darling Stella. I’ll be waiting.”

She looks around, awe-struck at all the people, all the activity. She turns her head and looks at Spencer, “They’re all here for us?”

He nods, “Yes, and this is the only way to help them. They aren’t on the other side, they only exist here. Do you see now? That’s why I have to stay. I have to help them.”

Stella is still taking in everything as someone comes up and greets Spencer. She watches as Spencer embraces the woman, laughing and smiling, “Emily! You’re here! I’m so glad I could finally get to you. I’m sorry I’m late, I was trying so hard to get here. Have you seen Maeve?”

Emily answers, “Spencer, thank you. You’ve saved me. Yes, Maeve is here and she’s waiting for you.” She looks down at Stella, “For both of you. She wants to meet you as well, Stella.”

“You know my name?”


“Of course. We all know you and Spencer.” She waves her hand over the crowd of people before her and they all nod and smile, approvingly.

Spencer takes Stella’s hand, “Come, we have to go.”

Emily waves, “See you soon!”

As Spencer pulls her further into the warehouse and suddenly the light fades, the voice disappears, and the once bustling building is hauntingly silent. “Spencer, where are we—”

“Shh, not so loud, we don’t want to scare her.”

Stella goes quiet, letting Spencer lead her. Finally, they slow their gate and stop in front of a door. Stella frowns, the door itself looks like the door to a home. There is a curtain blocking the window and a shiny brass knocker in the center shaped like an atom.

Spencer reaches up and pulls on the neutron/proton bundle and gently raps in on the in the nucleus center. After a few long seconds, the they hear the dead bolt unlock and the door cracks open slowly. A slender figure breaches the shadow of the doorway as it opens and Stella sees Spencer’s face light up, “Maeve,” he says longingly.

She looks from him to the figure in the doorway. This woman, Maeve, is beautiful. She reminds her of Spencer, her clothes, her smile, the kindness in her eyes.

Stella drops Spencer’s hand and folds her arms across her chest, making herself small, thinking, “Why did he bring me here? She’s so beautiful, I thought we were supposed to be helping people?”

Spencer turns to Stella, “Stella, this is Maeve. She’s someone I knew and loved. It’s been awhile, but I finally got back here to help her, like Emily, but she’s going to help us too. Come here, I want her to meet you.” He reaches out and puts his arm around her back, pulling her towards him.

As she comes into the light, Maeve speaks, “Spencer, hello! How are you after all this time? I see you brought Stella,” she looks at the woman, folded in against Spencer, “It’s so wonderful to meet you! Are you two ready?”

Spencer smiles and nods, stepping in as Maeve opens the door further. He pulls her in after him and the door closes behind them.

Back in the apartment, Spencer is trashing his own home. “The NARCAN she gave me won’t let me see them! Bitch, I should just end her here and now, but I can’t. Not if she’s there with them, helping them, doing what I should be doing! It’s not fair!”

Sobbing and angry, he slides his arms across his desk, throwing everything to the floor. Glass shatters, books fly everywhere.

Spencer’s neighbor bangs on the wall and Spencer shouts, irritated, “Mind your own damned business!” He turns and sits down next to Stella again, her body slumping into him. He pulls her upright and shakes her, staring at her closed eyes, shouting, “What are you doing in there? You have to let me see. I’ll make you show me!”

Back in Stella’s dream she follows Spencer and Maeve through the house. She leads them to the kitchen and there are two places set for dinner.

Maeve turns and smiles, “If you two would be so kind as to take your seats, I’ll be right back.”

Spencer eagerly take his seat and motions for Stella to sit. She smiles at him and quickly slides into the chair next to him.

He reaches out and takes her hand, “This is it! Are you ready? We’re almost there. We’ll be able to help them all after this!”

Stella is confused, but she gets lost in Spencer’s smile and eyes. Only when Maeve returns with a large silver platter covered with a cloche, does she look away from him.

Maeve sets it in the center of the table and looks at them with anticipation, “Are you two ready for your dinner and a cocktail?”

The both of them smile as she lifts the cloche and as Stella focuses on what lies before her, she inhales a sharp breath and her face is contorted. On the platter is Spencer’s leather pouch that holds all his paraphernalia. Two little glass bottles of narcotics accompany it along with a single old looking, metal and glass syringe.

Maeve jumps up and down, clapping, “Yay! I hope you two are hungry! Everyone is going to be so proud of you!”

Stella looks at Spencer, “What is going on? How are we going to help anyone with that?”

Spencer is still smiling ear to ear, “Whatever do you mean? Do you not understand? Maeve is going to kill us. When we die, everyone will be saved. We’re going to sacrifice ourselves…one for the many.”

Stella’s face contorts into one of terror. She rises, or tries to, she’s met with resistance, whispering, “No.” When she looks down, her arms have been restrained to the chair. “No,” she pleads.

Spencer is restrained too, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

Maeve approaches Stella and pets her head, “Oh darling, don’t fight it. It’s only natural for people like you. You take these terrible chemicals into your body, and for what? Without people like you, the world is a better place. Not spreading your poison, being a burden to society.”

Stella’s breaths are coming in quick succession now, her skin is burning from pulling at the leather that bounds her.

Spencer laughs, “Maeve you always knew what was best for me. You have a way with words. Would you please do the honors?”

Maeve moves to the vials of Dilaudid and opens the leather pouch and prepping. She fills the syringe and moves first to Spencer. He has his head back and eyes closed, humming happily to himself.

As Stella watches her inject the narcotic into his vein, she begins to cry out, “Help! Please! Someone help us, please! Maeve, let us go, please, no don’t. You’ll kill him, please don’t!”

She watches in sheer terror as Spencer’s chest rises and falls quickly but then not at all. She screams, “Nooooo!” as his body relaxes and doesn’t move again, his head lolling to the side.

Maeve looks at Stella, “Almost done. Calm down, sweetie. It hurts less going in if you don't move.”

Stella can only watch as Maeve refills the syringe and closes in on her, “Just remember who you’re doing this for. Spencer loved you, just as he loved me, and now you’ll be together.”

She takes Stella’s arm in her hand and sinks the needle into her arm. Stella is sobbing, but soon, the world turns hazy. It’s hard to think, but then she feels like she’s floating.

Her head lulls back slowly and she exhales heavily. It’s hard to make her lungs work, she wants to breathe but does it matter now? Stella’s head rocks to the side and she sees Spencer’s still form.

The drugs are taking her away, but he’s here still, beautiful, even in death. She loved him and he loved her. Tears run down her cheek and her eyes are heavy now…she closes them.

She hears Maeve, “It’s time, Stella. You’ll see Spencer soon and you’ll get to see the fruit of all your labor. Rest now.”

Maeve puts her hand on Stella’s head, “He’s the one thing you can never take from us.”

In the apartment, Spencer is sitting next to Stella staring at her loathingly. He’s turning a kitchen knife in his hands, spinning it around his nimble fingers. As he watches her he’s thinking, ”She doesn’t deserve them. I should be there. They’re mine after all. Damnit all, how do I get there? Is this the only way?”

He looks down at the knife and nods, speaking out loud to himself with finality, “This is the only way.”

He reaches out and pushes the plunger of the syringe sticking out of Stella’s arm, sending more of the deadly drug into her system. At this point, the amount in her body is turning into a lethal dose and he knows it.
Flicking the syringe across the room, Spencer takes a deep breath, blowing it through his nose, and leans back into the cushions of the couch.
He looks down at the knife in his hands and at the blue, pulsing veins in his wrist, “Go up the river, not over the bridge.”

He holds the point of the knife over his skin, taking several deep, quick, motivating breaths, ”C’mon! Coward! Just do it already! They’re waiting! Argh!” He hovers the tip over his wrist, willing the bravery to come, his face contorting. He speaks to himself, “What’s the matter? You can inject poison into your own blood stream but you can’t stab yourself? What the hell, Spencer? Mind over matter, you coward!”

He counts down, “One…two…three…” He forces the hilt of the knife down, feeling the cold steel burn into his flesh, “Aggghh, fuck!” As he drags it up towards his elbow, the front door of his apartment is kicked off the hinges. The sound and actions startle him and he drops the knife, collapsing on the couch, but the damage has been done.

“Over here! Quick!”


“You got Narcan?”

“Yeah, here.”

“Shit, we need an ambulance. He's bleeding bad, give me your jacket.”

“C’mon, Spencer, stay with us.” Spencer feels his head getting heavy, but his body feels light. He can hear voices around him, but he can’t focus. He blinks a few times, but then darkness takes him.

Stella jerks awake with the force of an army. Arms close around her from everywhere to hold her down. She flails against them shouting, ”Let me go! Let me go! I don’t want to be here! Don’t make me stay. I don’t want to help. Please, please Spencer, let me go!”

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, you’re ok. My name is Aaron Hotchner, I’m with the FBI. You’re safe. Okay?”

Stella’s wide eyes blink frantically as her head jerks around trying to figure out where she is. Finally, she focuses on the dark brown eyes in front of her, thinking, Aaron he said, “Aaron.”


“Yes, my name is Aaron. And you are?”

“S-St-Stella. My name is Stella. Wait, Spencer! Where’s Spencer!? He—”

“Don’t worry about Spencer, look at me.” She refocuses her gaze on the penetrating eyes of the stern man holding her arms. His touch is gentle, but controlling. “Do you remember what happened to you?”


Stella nods, “Spencer was in trouble, I came and he was dying. I gave him NARCAN and…”

She sobs, Agent Hotchner rubs her arms with his thumbs, “It’s ok, you don’t have to go too far too fast, take your time.”

“Is he ok?”

He looks over his shoulder at another FBI Agent and they both nod. He looks back to Stella, “Let’s get you looked at, huh? It looks like you’ve been through a lot.”

The Agent helps her to her feet as an EMT comes to check her over. Stella’s cold and feels like she’s gotten the shit kicked out of her. She looks around, “Can I have some water? I feel like I’m dehydrated.”

A hand comes out of nowhere with a bottle of water. Stella turns the cap off and drains it in one go. She finally looks at her surroundings and takes in the horror around her. There is drug paraphernalia all around and blood, lots of blood. The apartment is destroyed. Looking around she finds Agent Hotchner’s eyes, “Where is Spencer?”

The man turns and nods to the group of people near him and takes her aside. He takes a deep breath, “You may want to sit down for this.”

Stella can only look on in horror at the story Agent Hotchner unfurls. She can only remember bits and pieces of it.
It seems her saving grace was an anonymous neighbor who called the police about a disturbance of the peace. Spencer was out of his mind, having a psychotic break of some sort out of withdrawal, or irritation, seeing the images and memories of his dead friends and lovers.

Stella was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d confessed himself, shot her up with drugs and left her for dead, all while trying to take his own life, so he could fix the wrongs, the deaths, that he blamed himself for.
Thinking that if he sacrificed himself, he could save them, his penance for everyone he failed.

Stella finally finds the ability to speak, “So…I’ll ask again, where’s Spencer?”

Agent Hotchner, Aaron, looks at her sternly, “He’s being transported to a facility. The wounds he inflicted on himself are cause for detainment. He’ll need to be kept and evaluated. We’ll then know if his behavior was because of the drugs or because of some other factor. Right now, he’s as good as he can be and he’s in good hands. You being here today probably saved his life. Such as the case may be.”

Aaron smiles a small smile at Stella and he reaches his hand into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a business card and hands it to her, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll personally let you know when Reid—sorry, Spencer, can have visitors, okay?”

Stella smiles weakly and nods, “Thank you.” Once the EMT’s clear her, Stella heads back home. She dumps the remaining pills she has in the toilet and flushes them. Looking at herself in the mirror, she says, “NA, every fucking week. Every fucking day if you have to, yeah?”

*three months later* (epilogue)

Spencer hesitates in front of the door. He blinks a few times and his hand hovers over the wood beneath the numbers. He takes a deep breath and knocks. After a few moments, the door opens, “Spencer!”

“Stella!”

“Come in, please!” Stella greets Spencer with a bright smile and ushers him in. He turns to her and they hug. It’s a good hug. Spencer was always good at giving the best hugs. Like he meant every second of it, like you were the closest person to his heart every time. Stella asks, “How have you been?”


“Really good, actually,” he answers.

She goes and sits on the sofa, “Please, sit. Would you like some tea or water?”

Spencer declines, “No, I can’t stay. I we have a case and I need to go. I just wanted to stop and say, ‘thank you’. You saved my life and you saved my job by,” he hesitates, bowing his head and looking shamefully at the floor, “b-by not pressing charges. I can’t believe what I almost did to you.” His voice cracks, trying to keep it together.

The room is silent for a moment as they both take in that statement.

Stella finally breaks it, “Spencer, you were out of your mind with drugs and you’re one of my best friends. I would never do something like that. Not when I’ve been in the exact place you were. People like us will struggle with those demons for the rest of our lives. We have to be there for one another.”

Spencer’s head lifts, along with his spirit, “Oh! That reminds me, I have something for you.” He reaches into his shoulder bag and pulls out a small box. Stella takes the small package and looks at him, slightly confused. Spencer smiles and pulls out an identical box.

“Let’s open them at the same time. Today marks a special day,” he says happily.

Stella smiles, “Ok! 1, 2, 3!” They both lift their lids and there inlaid with black satin sits a violet and silver chip. Stella looks up at him and smiles, “Has it been three months already?”

“Yep, three months,” he says, reading the engraving, “‘Unity, Service, Recovery,' I picked them up on my way here.”

“Thank you Spencer, so much, this is lovely.”

Spencer smiles and exhales, “Thank you, Stella. I probably wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you.”

He instinctively places his hand over his wrist where the jagged scar now sits healed, but a constant reminder of that night.

Stella rises and closes the space between them, “I’ll always be here for you, Spencer.” She leans in and kisses him gently on the cheek, “Now, get out of here before you’re late for work!”

Spencer blushes and turns, smiling, “Ok! Ok! I’m leaving! The next one’s Thursday, see you there?”


“You know it,” she responds.

Spencer leaves the apartment and closes the door behind him, pausing briefly to touch his flushed cheek. He looks back over his shoulder and smiles before departing for the Bureau.



Back in her apartment, small tears have gathered in Stella’s eyes at the sincerity of Spencer’s gift. How did she forget that it’d been three months? She flips the coin over and reads the inscription there; GOD GRANT ME THE SERENITY TO ACCEPT THE THINGS I CANNOT CHANGE, COURAGE TO CHANGE THE THINGS I CAN, AND WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.

The tears fall now as she holds the coin over her heart, “Thank you, Spencer.”