I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make everyone cry! I still want to continue at least a few more chapters...I hope people will still read it!

Telling Mrs. Reid was one of the hardest things Hotch ever had to do. The entire team was there and Garcia hugged Reid's mother as Diana screamed and sobbed into her arms. They actually had to sedate her, it was too much for her to handle.

Hotch hated saying those words.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Mrs. Reid, but your son Spencer was killed in the line of duty."

"He died a hero," added Morgan quickly.

"You were supposed to protect him!" She had screamed after he had told her. "You were his boss! His life was in your hands! It was your job to protect him!" She even flung herself at him and Hotch stood there as she hit him over and over and over, while sobbing, as everyone tried to pull her away from him. "You were supposed to protect him! He trusted you!"

Emily gripped his hand for comfort and he jerked away. He didn't deserve any comfort.

Diana Reid was right. It WAS his job and he had failed, and that failure cost Spencer Reid his life.

"You should burn in hell!" Mrs. Reid as screamed as she was being dragged away. "Burn in hell!"

Hotch couldn't get her voice out of his head.

"You were supposed to protect him!"

Rossi knocked on his door.

He looked up.

"What are you still doing here?"

"I wanted to see if you were all right." Rossi sat on the chair in front of him. Hotch stared at him.

"Reid's dead and it's my fault. I'm far from all right."

Rossi sighed.

"His death was NOT your fault."

"Yes it was," hissed Hotch. "I'm the one who sent him out there in the field! He was too...inexperienced. He...shouldn't have been out there in the first place."

"He asked to go." Rossi's voice was soft. "He wanted to do more stuff. To get more experience."

"I should have said no," Hotch growled. "I should have said no...if I had, he's still be alive. Mrs. Reid was right. It was my job, as his boss, to protect him. He trusted me with his life and I let him down...and for that I'll never forgive myself." He stared coldly at Rossi. "Never."

Rossi swallowed and nodded.

"You're not thinking of leaving the team,are you?" He suddenly pressed. Hotch said nothing. "Aaron, leaving the team right now would be a mistake."

"Why?" Hotch asked. "If I'm not in charge, I wouldn't be responsible for any more deaths."

"The team NEEDS you now. More then ever. You leaving would completly destroy them! They are barely hanging on by a thread...YOU are that thread." Rossi sounded adament.

Hotch sighed.

"I don't know if I can," he whispered. "I don't know if I can keep on making these difficult decisions..."

"You have to...for the team. That's what's being a leader is all about. Putting aside your feelings for the sake of the team."

Hotch shook his head.

"I just don't know if I have the strength anymore. I just don't know."

Worry filled Rossi. He knew for a fact the team couldn't lose both Reid and Hotch.

"You left too soon, Reid," he said to himself. "Too soon."


Garcia was packing away Reid's stuff on his desk. She smiled at the tabloid paper of him with the Lila actress, one of the biggest things ever to happen to the kid.

Emily came up to her.

"What are you doing?"

"Someone has to pack this up," Garcia said softly. "We can't ask Morgan to do it." She gasped softly.

"What is it?"

"The compass I gave him one year, for his birthday.I can't believe he kept it." Garcia lookd at Emily. "I didn't know what else to give him, it was my father's."

Emily smiled and her eyes widened also.

"The book I gave him! Slaughterhouse 5." She picked it up. "He said he hadn't read it. I told him that was unacceptable, so I gave it to him as a Christmas gift, he's even dogeared one of the chapters." She smiled as she flipped through the pages. "It looks well read, I figured he'd probably hate it."

"Reid was always full of surprises." Garcia hated using past tense when it came to the kid. "Say this was JJ's scrapbook she made for him, with pictures of Henry in the front." They flipped through the pictures of the team during holiday parties and regular workday weeks. All of them smiling, laughing, unaware of the cruelities that laid ahead.

"He even kept the bag of silly putty that Morgan gave him on April fools day," Emily noticed. She looked at Garcia. "I think he kept everything that we gave him." Her voice was soft when she said that, almost stunned. Tears sprang from Garcia's eyes as she nodded.

"I think you're right." She fished out the leftover tickets of the Redskins game that Gideon had once given Reid. "He even kept these tickets to when he and JJ went out to a Redskins game."

Emily's eyebrows rose.

"JJ and Reid dated?"

"They went just as friends. Gideon gave it to him as a birthday gift." She fingered the stubs. "That was so long ago..." She hated invading Reid's privacy like this, even though he was dead. It still felt wrong.

"Has someone told him?" Emily asked.

"Told who?"

"Gideon."

Garcia nodded and swallowed.

"Hotch finally contacted him. He's coming for the funeral."

The funeral. The funeral was next week, and each time someone mentioned it something died inside of Emily.

A funeral would make things so much more real.

More official.

Right now the thought made her sick. She still wasn't sure if she could go.

"Have you talked to Morgan recently?" Emily dared to ask. Garcia bit her lip and shook her head.

"He's stopped coming to work. He's now locked in that apartment...he won't talk to anyone." Her shoulders started to shake. "I think he died when Reid...died as well." Tears fell. She looked at Emily. "I don't think he's ever gonna recover from this," she whispered and convulsed into sobs. Emily quickly grasped her into a hug and held her as Garcia cried-in fear of losing yet another person she cared about as well. In fear of losing Derek Morgan forever.

They were both afraid of that.


Morgan sat in the chair, a bottle of whisky in his hand.

He stared at the picture of Reid in front of him. Each time he looked he took another swig.

He hadn't showered in days. Or changed. He didn't care what he looked like. He didn't care what was going on.

All he knew was that Spencer Reid was dead, and never coming back.

"Why'd you leave?" He suddenly shouted, anger boiling in him. He threw the picture against the wall. "Why?"

More anger appeared.

It wasn't right, for Reid to just leave them like that.

Wasn't it obvious how important he was to them?

"Why?" He screamed suddenly, tossing the bottle. He stood up and started to toss the chair against the wall, then the coffee table. "Why?"

When there was nothing else to destroy, nothing to toss, he collapsed onto carpet, hot angry tears falling from his eyes.

"Why?" He sobbed as he laid down and curled up into a ball. "Why?"

His sobs could be heard in the streets, and throughout the night, as he laid there, unable to move, unable to think, and barely able to breathe. Only really say one thing.

Why?