Well, guys, here is the last part of what was supposed to be a one shot. Thank you for the comments, the faves and thanks to all who read this. I enjoyed writing it and maybe you've enjoyed it a bit, too.

Still Slash! (Like you don't know that by now...)

Have fun!

The Kid raises his head and looks at you through strangely reddened tearless eyes. To be this close is unusual, but it makes all that surrounds you feel less horrible – because he is here, still breathing, right in front of you.

"This is so… why is this happening now?," he asks quietly, sounding like he is talking to himself.

You are not sure what he means. 'Why is this happening now', why didn't it happen sooner? 'Why is this happening now', this is the worst and most inconvenient time. 'Why is this happening now', where there is quite the possibility that you won't survive?

"You said it yourself," you answer, even though you think it was maybe a rhetorical question. "We wasted way too much time already. If this is not gonna happen now…" Then maybe it won't happen at all. Reid's expression is not exactly guarded but something you cannot pinpoint. "What, you gonna tell me now that I confuse fear with love?" The worry of losing him (which you experienced certainly too often in your life) with every minute you cared about him, you laughed with him, you longed for him.

"Do you?," he asks lowly.

You give a breathy, not very amused laugh at that. "No," you say. You certainly do not.

"Then I don't have to," he replies, a smile ghosting over his lips along with something very similar to relief. "Even though... did you know that relationships, inferred from highly dangerous situations, that relationships like that are more likely to end after a short time, because once the adrenaline wears off and you get the shock out of your system the affection or the... the infatuation you felt in the moment of imminent danger – "

"Pretty Boy," you all but snicker, kind of desperately, kind of hopelessly, shaking your head a bit and thereby rubbing your temple over the concrete floor. "I've seen you… playing chess with whatever poor soul you could find. I've seen you on my couch watching a movie, with Clooney's head in you lap. I've seen you with Henry when he… just believe me when I say, I want you with adrenaline pumping through me as much as without it."

"But right now you refer to situations involving dogs and children and considering the Reid-effect – " He stops his purposely silly objection and grins when you look at him with fond disbelief, raising an eyebrow. "So this is it?," he murmurs as if not daring to get any louder. "I mean, does this aim for the long run?"

"Well, at least I wouldn't call year 'n' years of oogling a fling or a one time thing," you answer off-handedly, and in any other situation you would raise a shoulder, tilt your head, cock an eyebrow, do anything just to show that it is no big deal.

You don't do any of it now, though, and Reid smiles vaguely. He doesn't doubt your sincerity.

Everyone knows you settled down a bit over the years, got calmer. You still turn on the charm from time to time and you still dance with girls in clubs, you flirt with them and with cute waitresses like the one in the coffee shop down the street (let alone Garcia) and you still display what the world calls a 'ladies man', you think. But that's it. You have grown up. You are ready for something real.

And even if it's not like everyone knows – Reid knows. Though he stated those flimsy excuses (which he didn't even believe himself, by the way) just some minutes ago, you know he knows better than that.

That is all that matters to you.

"You an' me, we could do this, y'know? We could pull it off," you say. You are drenched with sweat, your clothes cling to places you never thought were possible and you feel sticky and disgusting like hell. Yet Reid doesn't seem to notice any of it. He looks at you like he always looks at you – like he is really seeing you. It doesn't happen all too often that you feel as if your counterpart truly gets what or who they are looking at.

With Reid, though, it never was any different than that.

"Do you" – Reid swallows – "do you really think it would be that easy?," he asks. "I mean, this isn't just you and me, this would affect the whole team and Strauss, too, and – "

And a Federal Bureau of Investigation full of stubborn bigoted pigheads with their regulations against fraternization and slight aversion for homosexuality.

"What if this would not work out?," Reid asks in a breathless voice. Does he earnestly believe 'not work out' would be any kind of a possible option for the two of you?

"It will," is what you say, without any hint of hesitation or doubt – because there is none.

"What if not?"

"It will." There is no room between you and him for a stupid 'what if not'. Unwittingly you straighten your back, scooting even closer than before. "Reid, we are profilers. We know each other better than most could ever imagine. This is not a joke" – unless you have read him unbelievably wrong – "and I don't plan on starting this just to end it again."

The corners of Reid's mouth curl upwards. "You know, you sound like you are referring to all these 'once in a lifetime'-experiences you read about in novels and see in movies."

See? Do you see this? Now he does start, too, with the movie-thing! How is it possible that this is by any chance not meant to be? How could anyone ever think that?

But you do not say this. You just press your forehead against his once more, closing your eyes, your noses touch each other. You waited entirely too long, but you don't want to think about it, because while it was definitely too long perhaps it hopefully is not too late. And maybe it is true, maybe this thing is a 'once in a lifetime'-experience. The odds are pretty much in your favour so far.

"This would be so dangerous," he whispers eventually, the tip of his nose skimming over your cheek as he moves his head. "So much trouble in case of this leaking out."

It is said with a sad undertone and you can do nothing but to agree. You know the risk – being transferred, losing your jobs if Strauss would hear about it. It would have to be hidden, have to kept secret. But it would not be a secret because you want it to be a secret but because it has to be a secret. That would be just a scrap of comfort, but comfort nonetheless. At least for you.

And you open your eyes and you meet Reid's eyes and you think that, maybe, he feels the same.

"We would never be allowed to tell anybody," he says. "And the team. What about the team? What you… we would throw the entire team dynamics off balance."

You don't say anything to that at first. You can't. You wait one heartbeat, then two heartbeats, and then heartbeats turn to seconds of heavy silence while you remember something that doesn't allow you to agree with him.

"You know, Garcia," you say slowly, already starting to chuckle, because honestly, what the hell? "The other day she approached me and asked whether or not I want to make a move on you before I retire or if it just accidentally happens that you are constantly in my line of sight."

It really is ridiculous and your chuckle rumbles in your chest and it feels strange and an awful lot like a cough. On the outside you are melting, drowning in sweat, while on the inside you are slowly but surely drying out.

Under normal circumstances, you think, Reid would have had the decency to at least look a bit sheepish at your comment. Now he only blinks a few times and processes what you told him. "JJ is suspicious, I guess. Well, sceptical towards me," he says then and looks at you as though it would not be all that surprising with Garcia being so straight forward with you. He doesn't dwell on how he has come to think that JJ might be suspicious. It is not that important and you don't doubt his ability to gage it right.

So Garcia assumes something. JJ as well. And since these women do talk with one another, Prentiss probably does, too. That would explain these funny looks she shot both you and Reid recently whenever she thought you wouldn't notice.

Again, what the hell? "They ain't even profilers," you all but complain, because really, they aren't. At least not Garcia and JJ.

"They are... attentive," Reid offers and you utter a short laugh.

"So what does that mean?," you ask. Does it mean they are okay with it? With this, with the idea of you and him, together? Does it mean they will keep quiet about it? Does it mean they are on your side?

"Maybe it means that we... wouldn't have to worry as far as they're concerned," Reid says.

Huh, maybe. Maybe the team dynamics are safe for now. Maybe the way Rossi smirked at you when you turned the receptionist down was... no, on second thought you don't want to know. Not now. You don't want to think about any of that crap, you want to shut it out and just... you don't know. You feel numb in an unpleasant way and somewhere behind your eyes the room starts to flicker.

"I hate profilers," you mutter. You don't, but you do, because now and then working with these guys can be a real pain in the ass. And sometimes it sucks just as much to be a profiler yourself – you try so damn hard not to profile each other that you seem to dismiss the most obvious things as not important and coincidence and whatever excuse you can get a hold of.

But you cannot just stop to be a profiler, so you have to either ignore it or act on it. And once, ignoring it almost brought the downfall of you all, because the shadow of Tobias Hankel went so much further than expected.

Words die down and whatever you or Reid wanted to say stays unsaid.

You look at each other again. Reid's face is so close, you can almost see yourself in his eyes, reddened and tearless and with more light gleaming in them than should be possible. The tip of his tongue appears for the briefest instant in the corner of his mouth and that is all it takes for you to try and move closer. You attempt to close the gap between the two of you, because it's too hot and because you are not thinking straight and because at worst this could be the last chance you get.

So you move forward and Reid draws back, his eyes toggling between your own eyes and you lips. Somehow you have thought it would be okay with him, but apparently it is not as okay as you thought it would be. You halt.

"Whatever this is supposed to become," Reid says slowly, "I am really very sure that I really would like to brush my teeth before we would do any of it."

Oh. Nice. And you are really very sure that you really couldn't care less about not brushed teeth. Not today, not right now. But how can you say that? You who has to be the optimistic one in your little distress? "Reid," you say and it is all you can come up with.

But it is also all you have to say, because suddenly, just like that, it happens.

You don't know who moved first or who closed the gap, you only know that it is indeed closed and that you press you lips to his just like he presses his lips to yours. Your eyes fall shut.

It is intense but simultaneously it is so different than anything you have ever imagined when it came to this. It's not skilled and it's not sexy and it is barely even a kiss at all. It is a constant touch of lips, a nibble at lips, a try to get used to the feeling of your mouths against each other. So simple, so intensive and as close to perfection as it can possibly be.

After a while it turns into something more like a kiss and slows down to pecks and light caresses, and even after your lips part you never lose contact. Your foreheads touch, your noses touch and Reid lightly sucks the edge of his lower lip between his teeth.

"Uh… I think we should to this again sometime," he says after a moment and his face lights up in a tired but easy smile.

You feel winded yourself when you grin back. "Absolutely," you say. "And then you can treat me to dinner."

"Me treating you?," he asks amused. "But you're not a girl, now are you."

"No, but I would be you date," you clarify.

"Oh, really. And I wouldn't be yours or…?" He doesn't finish and raises an eyebrow, staining his innocent look with something almost teasing.

You have to admit he has a point. "So… my treat, then?"

He laughs a soft and inaudible laugh, a puff of hot breath among hot air against your chin. "But I'm not a girl either," he says and you know that. How could anybody not know that?

And because you know that you didn't say it would be your treat in the first place, even though you would have been okay with it either way, as long as you finally get it going somehow. But that? "So what? I mean, wouldn't it be strange to pay for ourselves separately when we're out on a date?," you ask. You never really done it that way before, a date always meant something… different to you.

"We could, uh, pay fifty-fifty. Or… pay for each other?," Reid offers somewhat uncertain and his smile falters a little. "This sounds a bit… well, it sounds stupid, I know, but I just thought, you know, we wouldn't be the average couple… I mean, if we would be a couple in the first place, that is. So, anyway, in case we would be a couple, I thought in order to make it work we would have to… to adjust the circumstances to our personal standards, so to say and… oh man, listen to me rambling about – "

"Okay, so we try it your way," you interrupt him and he just blinks and nods his okay after a few seconds. It really seems like an unorthodox way, but maybe it works for the two of you.

That of all things really wouldn't be a big deal and you are willing to give it a try if it means it is you and him together in the end. "And we'd definitely be a couple," you say and it lures a smile out of Reid.

You cannot resist to press your lips to his once more. Giving and taking a kiss that is almost as sweet as it is innocent. A kiss you need to be reassuring for the both of you. It is the first time you feel dizzy and actually enjoy it since you have opened your eyes in here.

In the middle of all the menace and the breathlessness, the drought and the heat and the frightening threat of losing him to your last breath, this is almost... peaceful. Calm in a strange yet pretty comfortable way. But your chests rise to much, it reaches to deep and is still not enough. It hurts to breathe, your lungs feel sore, but you have to hold on, you have to keep going.

"You think..."

Reid cannot speak. He cannot swallow. He tries, he fails, it rattles in his throat. His lips are parted and he pants with closed eyes, he is shaking in a desperate attempt to slow down. This is not good. This is so not good. Do something, dammit!

"Clooney would love this," you babble. You don't know what you are about to say, you just want to say something in order to get Reid's attention again. "I mean, you know he adores you completely, it's not as if this would change someday, y'know?"

It really is true, Clooney is crazy about Reid. Much like you are, which is pretty funny – as the tree so the fruit, in a pretty strange sense of the word somehow, it seems. Clooney has always been a… well, you would almost call it polite. He really is a polite dog, always friendly towards your visitors, never openly hostile to anyone. But with Reid, it was a totally different story. Forget the Reid-effect. If it actually had any effect on Clooney at all, then it was the exact opposite.

With Clooney being such a nice and well-trained dog, most of your guests seem to think they just have to pet him. Reid didn't. The first time he and Clooney met, Reid pursued his 'I leave you alone, you leave me alone'-policy. And Clooney was left alone. No scratching behind the ears, no praises of "You are such a good boy", nothing. For the first time in a very long period Clooney had to fight for somebody's attention and, more so, affection. And he wanted it. He fought.

You really did rub off on him, now didn't you, Derek?

"-rgan… Morgan…"

You are so lost in thoughts and dizziness that you don't hear Reid calling out for you at first. He heaves and almost chokes just as you do. It gets worse, so much worse with every passing minute. You feel light-headed and you don't know what that means. You don't know how much longer you can go with that.

"Tell me – "

You pant and try to gather enough voice to speak and it is so hard to focus on his face. "Tell me that you understand that, Reid," you demand somewhat desperately. "Tell me that you understand that this is the real thing. Tell me that you realize that is has to be you." Because it is just like that – it has to be him.

Reid doesn't say anything, but he nods – or so you think. He presses his dry lips together and he narrows his reddened tearless eyes in the slightest way and he nods, something like a sob somewhere near you.

"Good." You suck you lower lip between your teeth, the only thing you can hold onto, and close you eyes. The world is spinning everywhere, even in the darkness behind your lids. "And once we're home we'll get this started and we'll do it right and I'll call you Kid and Spence and Baby and Pretty Boy and all the stuff you won't like. But it'll be okay because it's me and I'll be allowed to call you that stuff."

"Maybe I wouldn't mind it coming from you," he says and you know he wouldn't.

He smiles weakly and you chuckle, and for a wonderful moment you indulge yourself in the anticipation of the first time you call him Baby in full awareness. Something that gets out of reach more and more with every taken breath.

"Huh. That would've been nice," Reid murmurs hoarsely, eyes closed, almost appreciative, and you don't know what it is he does – but under different circumstances you would have called it a sigh, probably.

"Reid, it will be nice," you say and you try to sound convincing. But you can see in his eyes that you don't succeed. Who are you trying to fool? You don't know. You can not come up with any reasonable thing to say or to think, your thoughts running circles in your head and maybe this is what passing out feels like right before.

"Morgan," Reid whispers, because in the end, it is even more unbearable in silence.

You take a deep breath – three times to be exact. It doesn't help, it doesn't feel like breathing.

"Pretty Boy, we'll take this as fast or as slow as you want to, whatever pace you set I'm in," you assure him, because it is the truth and because you need to occupy your mind and his mind, too, and what the hell is taking Hotch so long, dammit? "I'd never rush you into anything and I'd never do anything you don't want. But don't be surprised when in three weeks from now you'll come home and find me in the living room on one knee with a ring, asking you to marry me. Don't be surprised when I'll ask you to marry me."

"What?" The corners of his mouth turn up in a disbelieving, insecure smile. Then he laughs and it doesn't sound like a laugh, at all. "You wouldn't do that," he says and shakes his head a bit, and you cannot decide whether he seems daring or defensive.

You don't say anything, you keep a straight face. This is something he has to realize on his own, and when he does and he gets the point, you can see it in his eyes.

"You would." His smile fades with his words, shattering to pieces. "You would marry me?," he asks with a shaking voice and a desperate face that changed so slowly you only recognize the desperation when you wonder just how long he isn't smiling anymore.

"I would," you confirm. "I mean, it's not like this thing I have for you would change anytime soon so I don't think it'd be that big a deal. Whether I ask you now or in three weeks or in three years, what's the difference? We can drive up to Vermont first thing in the morning, if you like, and maybe we'll make it back home for dinner in time."

"… stop…," he whispers, and what are you talking about, Derek? Think before you open you mouth. It's not like you to babble.

"We could try this 'I pay yours, you pay mine'-thing you've mentioned. But my mom would be pretty pissed if she is not invited to this marriage-thing. And she'd want to know about kids, y'know, her grandbabies and stuff. I guess we could stick to Clooney for the time being, but sooner or later, I mean, I think we could at least discuss this. We'd have a lot to discuss anyways and – "


You didn't expect Reid to still be able to raise his voice that much. Now a faint echo seems to thrum in your ears and there are sparks of blinding light, dancing around the edges of your vision.

"Stop," Reid almost whimpers, "stop, please stop it." He says it again and again and you hear everything he means in it. Please stop, please don't tell me about things I'll never have, please don't make it harder than it already is.

"Reid," you whisper defeated.

A sharp intake of breath. "I can't breathe." Nearly a sob, pressed through gritted teeth in said failing attempt to do so.

The light above your heads flickers again. It wavers, then it is gone completely for a second. Two pairs of tearless, burning eyes shoot up to the ceiling, waiting for the light to return. It does, dimmer, though, darker. Reid looks at you and you look at him, holding onto him with everything you've got. The light goes out again.

"Oh God," Reid breathes.

"It's okay, I got you. I got you, Pretty Boy." Like hell you got him. You feel panic form in your belly, a ball of hundreds and thousands of tiny ice cold splinters that rise in your chest and crawls right between your shoulders. "Focus on me, nothin' else, just me." Let him focus on you so you can focus on him.

You both are breathing so fast, way too fast. Panic shimmers in the space above you, beside you, everywhere around you and your chest feels tight and constricted. You cannot feel your hands or your feet, there are just icy somethings where your fingers and toes should be, and it feels strange, considering that there should be no room for iciness in all the heat that surrounds you.

There isn't much more air left to suck in, no matter how much you try it. Reid's skin is dirty and pale and flushed all at once and his eyes cling to you for dear life, while the light goes out and comes back without any noticeable rhythm.

"It's not going to end here," you pant. When the light stays out for a particularly long moment and it is so completely and utterly dark around you, you have to move only a tiny bit to press your forehead against his again. A flash like a lightning and you see how Reid has his eyes squeezed shut before you do the same, blocking out everything that is not him – the dark, the light, the shadows, the heat. "Not like this. I still have to ask you to marry me, it just, it can't."

There is a huff right in front of you. Reid.

"If you enter into marriage that way, the same disadvantages of entering into marriage as a virgin are bound to occur," Reid whispers, breathing the words against your lips, his tone indicating that he is talking just to talk, to distract, to not let this end. "You don't know what your partner prefers on a sexual level. Sexual incompatibility is one of the top ten reasons for divorce."

"But I know what I prefer," you argue gaspingly, moving a little to be as close to him as you can – foreheads touching, chests touching, knees touching. The flickering above you reminds you of a stroboscope you sometimes see in clubs. "And you know what you prefer. And I'm all for experimenting."

With the flickering just like lightnings and your heartbeat pounding in your ears like thunder it is a bit like being trapped in your very own thunderstorm.

"Would you marry me?"

Your whispered words are hard to get within the noise that is both your breathing.

"I guess I would." The answer is just as low as your own words were. You don't know how much time has passed, the silence cannot have lasted all too long – still, it feels like an eternity.

You feel light-headed to the point of fearing to fall off the ground because it ceases to exist any longer. The question you have to ask while you still can is simple. It is consequential. It is the one last thing you said you have to ask before it can end.

"Will you marry me?"

Somewhere fare away – at least, that is what it seems – you hear a silent ping and the darkness returns and is absolute, like a thick heavy blanket. The light bulb has blown. Now only the thunder of your storm is left, more intense than ever.

"… yes…"

It is just a tiny little word, easily lost in the struggle your heart is getting into. A battle it is not about to win. You almost think you just imagined it, a sweet little throbbing your pulse has sent through your veins. But then, there it is again, this tiny word that means nothing now, not anymore, and yet, it means everything to you.

"… yes. Yes. Yes."

Repeated like a mantra, a beating heart on its own. The darkness around you makes it so easy for you to feel it with all that is left of you to feel. It feels like a dream and if this is what dying feels like, then maybe it is not that bad after all.

You do actually smile right now, so naturally, so at ease. What was it again you say in situations like that? You pant and it is so loud and Reid pants and it sounds like lighting a match over and over. Your heart cramps in your chest, it is fighting and it is losing and it hurts, but you smile. "I, Derek, take you, Spencer, to be my… my wedded husband, to have and… to hold from this day forward, for… for…" Think, Derek, you know the words. You've heard them in every single movie your sisters ever forced you to watch. "For better for worse…" Yeah, and?

"For richer for poorer."

What? Oh, right. For the split of a second you have to think about who is here in the dark beside you and knows what you are about to say. To whom does this voice belong to? But then, of course. How can you forget that?

"In sickness and in health… to love 'n' to cherish… till death do us 'part," Reid finishes, so low, so shaky you almost cannot grasp his words.

"I…" No, not you. Who do you think you are? You have no right to do that, you are not a priest or something. By the power vested to you by whom, Derek? The FBI headquarters of Virginia? Doesn't matter, though, finish it, you are running out of time. "I guess that'll have to do it."

"'s 'nough…," he breathes.

It has to be enough. No rings, no families or friends, this is nothing like you would have imagined it, with Reid of all people. So unbelievable, and he still said yes. So you have to conclude it, before this ends. You have to. When will you ever get the chance to marry Reid again? "May I… now kiss my husband?"

Deafening silence answers you.

The inhaling is raspy, the exhaling all but a whimper, a strangled cry, a plea not to let this end – every time. But there is nothing you can do, nothing left to breathe in. You know that silence isn't right and that there should be something else, but what? You cannot remember. The room is spinning and you are falling, and somewhere far away in the distance, as if reaching you through water, there is… something. Muffled noise like… like people, like something familiar and…

"… yes… yes. Yes. Yes…"

There is this heartbeat again, lulling you into nothingness, and you cannot find it in you to get angry about that. Quite the contrary. You are dying with Reid's lips against your own and the certainty that yes, he would marry you, and yes, he will marry you, and yes, you may now kiss your husband. Your bond is sealed.

What better way to die can you wish for?

A creak stirs up your haze, then a scraping sound on the floor and the door opens inwards with screaming hinges. It bumps against what you think is your foot and you actually groan. You almost lose Reid's lips. The thin ray of a flashlight seems blurred and kind of foggy as it rushes from one corner to the next until it falls first on you, then on Reid.

All that happens in a matter of seconds, it is not even enough time for you to fully process it. Shadows dash behind the person in front of you who holds the flashlight. You can hear various voices whisper something to each other and whoever is standing there seems to almost drop the flashlight. "I found them!"

And isn't that great? It sounds like Emily.

Now it dawns on you to whom the voices belong to, why this feels so familiar and that the voices don't whisper. They are calling. To each other. Clear.

Prentiss takes a step towards you and coughs. She raises her arm to cover her mouth, still coughing, and you know that it is useless, that there is no smoke or gas she could protect herself from. Calling out for help, someone joins her, maybe Rossi. They grab you at your shoulders and your legs and it is indeed Rossi and they lift you up to carry you outside, and you want to tell them no, you want them to take Reid first, this is not right.

It is Reid, whose chest has risen and fallen at the speed of light until it suddenly didn't anymore.

When your back hits the ground again, gently of course, your hands and feet are untied. When did that happen? And Reid is with you, just a few feet away. Hotch bends over him and your head lies in Prentiss' lap. You can taste the cool air around you on your tongue and you know that you are in some kind of basement and that the air in any kind of basement is never fresh or pleasant or somehow enjoyable – but you cannot get enough, you suck in as much as you can.

Reid doesn't.

He is calm, not nearly as agitated as you are. He is very still.

Then (and you are pretty sure it is okay for you not to be okay with that) Hotch who is crouching next to Reid bends over double and kisses the genius. Just like that.

Really, this is not okay. It was you who did that not a minute, a moment, a heartbeat ago. You still can feel it on you lips. It meant something. You both have sealed a bond, didn't you? Reid said he would marry you. He said he would be your husband. This is not okay.

You close your eyes. Breathing still hurts, so much, like someone is stabbing you with a very blunt knife or a spoon. Your heart fights to find an appropriate rhythm. The black and white swirls are back, dancing as ever, and your head hurts and the world is spinning horribly and honestly, Emily, can you please just stop moving? Why is she moving so much? You need Reid's shoulder to breathe into, you have done it before and it helped. It is too much. It is not enough. You cannot breathe.

Suddenly Hotch raises his head, shakes his head and puts his hands up on Reid's chest to steady himself. What is he doing? He puts pressure on it several short times but he doesn't stand up.

A second kiss. The same procedure afterwards. "Come on, Reid," Hotch growls while pumping, "c'mon!" But Reid is not about to do what Hotch obviously wants him to do. He is just lying there, eyes closed and shaking with every movement of Hotch.

And very, very slowly you get it. You get the difference and you understand that what you gave Reid has been a kiss. Now, Hotch is giving him CPR.

"Not working," Hotch hisses, breathlessly through gritted teeth, eyes glued to Reid's face. "C'mon!"


No, this is not right. It was supposed to be either both of you or none of you. One isn't enough. You are here so why the fuck isn't Reid? You raise your arm to reach for him, wanting to call out for him, but his name won't make it pass your lips this time. He is not far away, he is right there, pale and untied and not breathing. The world shrinks and it is only you and him again.

He said he needed you to get through this with him – doesn't he get that you need him just as much?

Prentiss grabs a hold of your hand, she doesn't understand and she is trying to soothe you, but you cannot feel her touch. "I need a medic!," she calls and not a second later there is Rossi, shouting, "Where are the medics?"

Fogginess pervades your mind and the dancing swirls take over. You feel like you are floating.

The next thing you notice again are the stars. You can see them. So you have to be outside. And you are moving. But you are still on you back. On a stretcher, maybe. Something covers your nose and mouth, probably a breathing mask. And it is night. So you must have been down there half a day, at least.

You turn your head and there is Reid, on a stretcher as well and with a breathing mask and people surrounding him, and they are rushing away with him. You feel cold down to your core, freezing like you seldom did ever before.

"Reid," you murmur and it is so muffled because of the mask that you can barely hear it yourself. You lift your hand and even though your fingers still feel strange they try to obey as you want to get rid of the mask.

"Reid, you're not 'llowed to die."

It is supposed to sound firm and determined, but your speech is slurred and you feel dizzy. Why are you here and not with him? "We're married." You are supposed to be with him. In cases like this you are the one who watches over him and waits beside his bed for him to come back to his senses again. "We're gonna get married, so don't you dare die on me!"

Someone shoves the mask back in place and you hear a faint voice, maybe even two, and whatever you are inhaling, it is numbing and easy and way too much.

Reid and whoever is with him have reached the ambulance. Seconds later, they are disappearing in it and with it. In a sea of SWAT men you think you can spot Rossi in his kevlar vest standing next to JJ with a ponytail. She looks shaken up and jerks her head to follow Reid's ambulance with her eyes while Rossi grabs her arms, talking insistently to her. Then her eyes find you and her lips part in worry, and out of nowhere Emily is beside you, telling you something you cannot hear. The stretcher shakes and rattles a bit and then the stars are gone as you are lifted in your own ambulance.

Your mind drifts away. You are sure you are following Reid, and wherever you are heading, you can only hope (for him, for you, for everyone) that he will be there, too, waiting for you. It cannot end and it definitely cannot end this way. It cannot be just you who made it out there, it is absolutely impossible for you to lose him.

You don't want to be a widower before you even got the chance to be a husband.

~ Fin ~

This is it... what do you think about it?

That last sentence was one of the first things in my head when my mind came up with the story. In the end, it became a bit cheesier than I had planned. (Or is it just me?)

I thought about making a sequel, maybe, but I'm not sure about it yet. I don't quite know how to fill it, and there are other ideas I would want to write as well, when I have the time to. We'll have to see. Maybe.

I hope you liked it. Let me know what you think! :D


To those who are still conntected to this story:

It's done, my friends. The sequel is done! I will start to upload it in the next few minutes/hours and just wanted to let those who are still linked to this know that you can find the sequel now on my profile. It's called "Breathing Again".

I will delete this note in a few days again and put an edit in chapter three of this story. Just wanted to let it pop up in your boxes to inform you, so that you can take a look, if you want to.

Hope to see some of you again, soon. :)