Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.

AN: DARK (I guess) / Personally, I wouldn't call it dark since there is "more" between the lines.

We Were Bound To Fall



In the end he calls her.

Because he knows she's too far away to save him in time. Because she promised him she wouldn't. And because he needs to tell her goodbye.

He can't help but smile, when she takes his call. The first time in weeks.

It's almost like she already knows that it'll be the last time he calls. And maybe she does know. She always knew him better than anyone else.

She asks him how he's doing, tells him that she missed talking to him. And Spencer wishes he could tell her how much he loves her. But he's never been good at talking about his feelings and he just can't.

He stares at the piece of paper on the floor, the results he got back an hour ago. Watches the words typed in black ink vanish under red waves of despair. The words that confirm what he feared all his life.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. The phone slipping from his bloody fingers. "I'm so sorry, Emily."


Ten minutes later she's in front of his apartment door. It's a coincidence that she's in Washington instead of London. She hasn't even told him that she would be there. Hadn't planned on visiting him or anyone else for that matter.

Now she's knocking at his door, calling his name frantically. Again and again. But it stays silent.

Deadly silent.

Breaking down the door is a split second decision, due to a feeling she can't shake since she heard his choked voice on the phone. Apologizing.

When Emily stumbles over the threshold the first thing she sees is blood. A foreboding of destruction and death, the coppery smell heavy in the air. It's then that she sees him.

She falls to her knees beside his lifeless body. Blood soaking the rich fabric of her black coat, while she calls his name. Looking for something to tie around his wrists. Afraid to search for his pulse.

Afraid she may find nothing.


Emily stands in the hospital hallway, staring at her trembling hands. Her phone keeps ringing in her pocket, but she isn't able to answer it. Isn't even able to move.

She stares at the blood on her hands and the red stains on her clothes. Aware that people are staring.

It feels like the scarlet letter.

Someone is calling her name, a hand grabs her shoulder. Shakes her. She looks up to find Morgan looking at her. Asking about Reid. But all Emily manages is to stare right back at him.

He looks frightened. Just like she feels. And she wonders who called him. Did she?

Morgan asks her again. But Emily doesn't answer.

Her mind keeps whispering the italian words she thought she'd forgotten more than a lifetime ago. But yet here they are, flooding back to her so easily. And she whispers them, again and again. One prayer after another.

Padre nostro che sei ne' cieli, santificato sia il nome tuo...


She sits on the cold hospital floor, her gaze fixed at the white wall, while she thinks how much she hates hospitals. The smell of disinfectant, blood and tragedy.

Someone tries to hand her a coffee, but Emily just shakes her head. Someone else tries to make her get up from the floor, but she refuses to move.

They're all here. JJ and Hotch, Morgan and Garcia. Rossi and even the new agent, the woman who took her place. And by the looks of it not just her BAU desk.

Emily hasn't seen them in what feels like forever. But not because she doesn't want to see them, only because she doesn't know what to say anymore. It's like there's much more than an ocean between them.

She feels guilty, guilty for a million reasons and she knows it's exactly how she's supposed to feel. Because she knew.

She's too exhausted to fight off the person who sits down beside her to take her bloody hand slowly into his own. She just closes her eyes, whispering yet another prayer.

Ave, Maria, piena di grazia, il Signore รจ con te...


Emily has no idea how much time has passed when a tall man in blue scrubs finds her. His expression gives nothing away. And why should it, he doesn't know her. Doesn't know him.

Doesn't know anything.

She stumbles to her feet, manages a few unsteady steps forward. Her voice barely above a whisper, she asks the question she knows will change her life.


She's sitting right beside his bed. Unable to move, unable to do anything but watch him breathe. Telling herself that he's going to be okay, even though she already knows that he won't.

Emily knows why he did what he did. Remembers the night he made her promise to let him go. The night he told her that he couldn't bear the thought of her watching him lose his mind. That he couldn't bear the thought of becoming like his mother.

And even though she wishes she didn't, she remembers her own words. Remembers promising him things she'd been sure she would never have to do.

She reaches for his bandaged hand, while tears start to blur her vision. Thinking that she'll never be able to let him go. Wishing that she told him that years ago.


When Spencer wakes up, he finds himself in a dimly lit room. The only sound coming from a heart monitor to his left, the only other person in the room with him Emily.

She's sitting on a chair beside his bed, her eyes closed. Her hand curled around his. Spencer wonders if it's another hallucination.

It wouldn't be the first.

Emily's supposed to be in London. It had been the reason he'd called her, it had...

He laughs. Of course. They always had such a bad timing.

It's when she blinks, her dark eyes fluttering open. Finding his instantly. And there's no need for him to ask any questions, everything he needs to know, is written clearly all over her face.


Yesterday he would have thought he woke up in heaven. Today he knows he's doomed to hell.

And in the end, so would she.



Disclamer: I own nothing, Everything belongs to their rightful owners.

AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me!And of course a big thank you goes to my wonderful beta reader clairebare!