The Dancer: A Spencer Reid Love Story

Chapter 24

Bianca

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"Your diagnosis changed, the doctor stated."

"To what?" Spencer asked over the phone. He had a case in Vegas, and was visiting Diana on his off time. Nevertheless, he wanted to be at my pulmonary appointment-even if it was virtually.

"It's progressed The embolism is increasing. Nothing else can be done."

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My brain was in a fog the rest of the day. I wasn't sure on next steps and I couldn't scratch the worry that I was dying.

I sat on a bench outside of my theater. During my appointment, Spencer was called to the crime scene to try to apply the geographic profile that he built. I considered calling him now, but he heard the diagnosis. I didn't want to bother him more than I already had. His focus needed to be on the case.

Spencer called me, dragging me out of my numb world. "Hey," I answered.

"How are you doing?"

"I think I'm fine."

"I should be there. Do you want me to come home?"

"No. They need you on this case, Spence; and your mom needs you. I'm going to be alright. I'm not dead yet, you know?"

I heard him sigh over the phone. I felt horrible. I could tell I was breaking his heart.
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A few nights later, a huge event was being hosted at The Sax. Eliza was frantic in her preparation, running the ensemble numbers continuously. I attempted to get her to calm down, but it was like trying to put out a gas fire with water.

I slipped into my costume for my entrance. The BAU were gathered at my dressing room.

"What kind of event is it?" Morgan asked.

"Eliza told me that it was a corporate dinner."

"A corporate dinner?" Rossi exclaimed. "Can she get us on the schedule, Hotch?"

"Five minutes," Eliza snapped.

"Noted."

"Unfortunately it's not that simple. We don't usually do things like this."

"Noted," Morgan popped, imitating what I had responded to Eliza.

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Time was, to put it simply, flying tonight. Of course, that could be due to acrobatic ribbon pulling me through the air.

I made my way over to Spencer's team, once the performance was over. Spencer was nursing a cocktail, averting my gaze.

"You did good tonight, kid," Rossi exclaimed, taking my attention away from him.

"Thank you," I simply responded.

I moved closer to Spencer, before asking, "Can we talk about it?"

Spencer looked up at me, "Not here. Not now."

"Later?" I questioned.

"Of course."

I couldn't gather what he had told his team. We had only found out about my prognosis, mere days ago. He hadn't called me, in that time, besides to check that I was doing alright.

I didn't blame Spencer, if he told his coworkers about it. I truly didn't. If it was going to affect the functionality of their process, then they deserved to know. And he was going to need them, especially when I was gone.