He couldn't believe it. How could he? His Maeve… lying in a pool of blood shared with the crazy Diana Turner.
He had told her he didn't love her! And even though she understood it was a lie, that he had said it to get them out of there, it still hurt, especially because it wasn't true. Not at all.
Thomas Merton was the last thing he got to share with her. That quote would always be burned in his brain, regardless of his eidetic memory.
"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another."
It was true. Every word of it. He had found love, life, with her. She had completed him in a way he had never felt before. Not with any crush, or even Lila Archer.
Trapped in his grief and thoughts, Spencer Reid never noticed when Morgan and Hotch came in front of him, checking and pronouncing both women dead.
Painful tears fell unnoticed too from his eyes. All he could think of was how this was just a sick dream, like the one he had woken up to this morning.
Eventually Spencer did realize just how tight he was holding onto J.J. Bawling into her shoulder like a child, just as he had two years ago. Except this time no one was magically coming back.
His whole body and mind was numb. He couldn't even feel the gunshot wound in his arm. How could he? His pain was nothing.
He no longer had anyone to laugh at his jokes, let alone get them. Nobody wanted to talk books with him like she had. Not that others are not as smart, or… anything less. She just got him. Who else could he say that about in the world?
Somehow he got into an ambulance, probably due to Hotch or Morgan. How couldn't they se his wound was unimportant? Nothing else mattered but his Maeve. Oh, his Maeve. How could he let this happen? It was all his fault! And now she, her parents, relatives, and everyone else would have to pay.
But she had known. Known their connection. Thomas Merton WAS her way of saying goodbye. Until their last second together she had known. She had known he wouldn't forget it. She had said so much with the just the mumble of a name. He had to go on, for her. Not right away, but within due time. He would make sure she always lived on.
His Maeve would always live on.