The Keeping of Words | Spencer Reid

45| Addition

Reid could hardly wait to return home after two weeks of tracking a serial killer through the backwoods of Alabama. All of the horrors could be replaced with a few good books, a cup of coffee, and time with the person he loved most. Bianca. Fourteen days felt like an eternity to be without her, without her stories and her hugs and the ability to fall asleep next to her. She wasn't answering her phone though, and he figured she must've been busy. It was unusual though, for her to go two days without answering his calls.

There was a light on in the living room when he finally pulled into the driveway, and he jogged up the sidewalk to let himself in. Most days he could find her reading in one of the overstuffed armchairs or lounging on the sofa while she wrote, but both chairs were empty. "Bianca?" he called. There was no answer, but he could make out a muffled sound from the bedroom.

He followed it, and discovered her crumpled up on the bed, sniffling. At the sound of his approach, she looked up, panic written on her face. Typically he would go to her, comfort her, but when he tried to she jumped down from the bed and backed towards the corner of the room, near the window and the bookshelves. "Are you okay?" he asked. What was happening? Had someone hurt her?

She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out beyond a whimper.

"B," he said slowly, speaking to her the way he would a frightened victim. "What's going on?"

Her entire body was shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I – I can't – I..." On one hand he count the occasions he'd seen her in a state like this, inconsolable and unable to speak. There were only a few things that scared her so; her family, his relapse, when she thought that she had messed something up beyond repair, thunderstorms. The look in her eyes now though, it was pure terror. So many people he'd profiled in the past, but right now, when it mattered most, he didn't understand a thing.

"Please, you can tell me. Bianca, you know you can tell me anything. Let me help you. What's wrong?" He took half a step forward, but she took half a step back, wringing her hands together frantically, and she was crying now. Why was she crying? What had happened to make her so afraid? Was it something he did? Something he said? Reid was growing more anxious with every second that passed, his wife standing in front of him and crying, and he had no clue why.

"I promise, whatever it is, it's going to be okay. Bianca, please. I love you."

Those words were supposed to be a protective charm, but the spell they cast only seemed to make matters worse. She flinched away and shook her head back and forth, back and forth. There was something she was trying to deny, trying to ignore, but for all his knowledge he couldn't explain it.

Through a mess of tears and tremors, she tried to compose herself enough to speak, her words choppy and strained between sobs. "I – I'm s-sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, punishing herself for the words that she couldn't manage to speak, and he wanted to go to her and kiss her just to make it all stop. "Wh-when you were g-gone, I... I went to - to the d-doctor."

Was she sick? If she was crying so hard, if she was so shaken up, it had to be bad. He ran over a list of ailments in his head. Something worse than the flu, certainly. Something genetic? Was it something with her mental health? She hadn't shown any indication she was feeling depressed, and as far as he knew she had been eating. Her weight seemed normal, she wasn't over-exercising. What had happened in the fourteen days since he'd seen her last?

"And I... I..." Her body was wracked by another series of sobs, and he could feel his own lip quivering, his chest aching. He hated seeing her like this. It hurt him, and he it was painfully obvious why unsubs targeted their families – watching someone you loved in pain, and being powerless to fix it was a million times worse than any beating one could personally endure. It was as though your heart was more tied to the people you held within it than the body it was charged with keeping alive.