✓ | sick of losing soulmates [SPENCER REID]

12.1

12.1
( doubt. )

☆ ★ ☆

iris

"You're clenching your fist again."

"I know." Nonetheless, she forces it to lie flat on her desk.

"You only do that when you're in pain," Morgan says. They're sat opposite each other, his nose buried in a file, her face focused on her computer, while they wait for the others to get in; Morgan's looking at her through his thick eyelashes with his head still bowed, and her eyes peer at him anxiously over the top of her screen. "Is it your leg?"

She lowers her eyes, letting out a low sigh. "It's nothing." It's not physical, anyway.

"Tell me what's wrong." His voice is steady, not demanding but definitely assertive.

Iris does a double-take, eyes going to him, then away, then back again. His head has raised and he looks at her earnestly, eyes wide and filled with brittle honesty, and she can't say no to a face like that. She pulls her hands away from her face, shifting to lean on her elbows, and her mouth opens but no words come out.

Some words are hard to speak. She can feel them dying on her lips before they can escape, even though her conscience is screaming at her to speak, to explain, to trust.

But what's happened every time she's trusted? Death. Murder. Loss. Relationships that have taken years to form, friendships built upon a sturdy base of rock-solid unity, have all crumbled in mere seconds.

"It's nothing," she says, forcing a smile and an exhale of her once-baited breath. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

Morgan gives her a sad smile, eyes watery and glossy. "You say that too much, Remington. Surely you can't be fine all the time."

Iris lifts her gaze away from her screen again, staring over at him, and he stares back with steady eyes. Waiting.

"Tell me what's wrong," he says again.

Closing the email she'd been rereading for the thousandth time, Iris swallows and tucks a hair with slow movements behind her ear. Then, all too hesitantly, she says, "I'm... I don't know. I'm doubting," she's just gotta say it, just gotta say it, "I'm doubting if this is right for me, you know?" She looks at him, fear of judgement swimming deep in her eyes. "This job. The BAU."

Her chest unclenches, and she releases a breath she hasn't realised she'd been holding. As terrified as she feels — of Morgan's reaction and her own thoughts — that felt fucking brilliant to say.