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Nine months ago, Spencer had reached for the phone for the first time, searching for answers that any other doctor couldn’t give him. He spent all of his free time at his laptop, or in the library. He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes, before sitting at his desk in his dimly lit apartment. After spending hours scouring for answers to his migraines, he stumbled upon a geneticist who he thought may provide some new insight.
“This is Dr. Maeve Donovan, please leave a message at the tone”
The sound of her voice provided immediate comfort to him, he lifted his sunglasses off before rubbing his eyes and leaving a message.
“Hello, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, I was wondering if you would be available to talk about some problems I’ve been having that I see you specialise in. Call me back at this number. Thank you.”
It felt like only yesterday he left that message, although he knew it had been 39 weeks, 275 days, 6,576 hours, 393,120 minutes. Every possible unit of time that existed, he knew it, the day he first talked to the love of his life, his soulmate. Unbeknownst to him then, that she would be the loss of his life.
He woke up that Sunday with a smile on his face, he took his vitamins, which had since rid him of his migraines, and he prepared breakfast for himself. Ever since finding out Maeve’s favourite, he would cook himself a full English every Sunday morning, that was their day after all.
He sat at his dining room table, eating his freshly prepared meal, despite never being much of a cook before meeting Maeve. He soon picked up the habit, wanting to impress her with her favourite once they met. He had thought that since his looks wouldn’t live up to her expectations, he needed to make up for it.
He dreamed of his future life with her, cosy winter mornings, their two children jumping into their bed, waking them up ridiculously early, but he knew he would never mind. God, he always wanted to be a father.
The sound of his cutlery scraping against the empty plate snapped him out of his dream. He washed up and put on one of his finest shirts, with his favourite cardigan neatly placed over the top. It just felt right, even though she couldn’t see him, he wanted to feel presentable, proper, wanted.
He strolled down to a new telephone box, before entering his change and dialling her number, before setting the phone down. He stood with a book, and leant against the booth as he waited with a grin on his face for the phone to ring.
A minute passed and the phone rang, he picked it up within seconds.
“Hey! Good Morning Maeve!”
“Zugzwang”
His smile dropped at the voice, he knew Maeve had a stalker, but they both had thought he had gone, or at least was slowly losing interest in her.
“Excuse me?”
“Zugzwang.”
Tears began to well in Spencer’s eyes. He knew this would change the course of his life.
“Who is this?”
“Adam Worth.”
The phone hung up and Spencer’s cheeks glistened with his tears, his hands trembling as he set the phone down. He knew it was him. That stalker.
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It had been a week since her death. Well, 6 hours, 17 hours, and 23 minutes to be exact. Spencer always knew, how couldn’t he? How couldn’t his soulmate's time of death be ingrained into his mind forever? Eidetic memory or not.
Every night since she was shot in front of him, that memory repeated over and over, not even sleep was an escape for him anymore. No matter what he did, the presence of Maeve in his life still surrounds him. He sees unsent gifts to her scattered around his apartment, sitting in the scent of dried ink from unsent letters that lingers in his apartment.
Spencer lays asleep in his bed, sitting unmade for a week, filled with used tissues. His arms wrap around ‘The Narrative of John Smith’ by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, her inscription burned in his memory, having repeated it to himself countless times in an attempt to soothe himself. It never worked.
It had taken him hours to fall asleep, but what did that matter? Who cares if he didn’t sleep, or didn't take care of himself? He lost the first person to truly care.
“WAIT!” He shouts as he awakes from his nightmare, waking up to live the very same one. He clenched his eyes shut, turning onto his other side.
“Good morning sleepyhead! Bad dream again?”
His eyes shot open at the sound, at the voice, at the oh so familiar voice. He felt the sweetest relief imaginable.
“Maeve? What.. how?” Spencer looked at her, took her in, and for the first time, he saw her face with a smile.
“Don’t you worry about that Spencer, have you been keeping up with your vitamins?”
Spencer was stunned. Was this some sort of sick dream? Would he wake up and have to lose her all over again? He pinched himself, but he didn’t wake up, because he couldn’t. He was already awake.
“Uhm, no I suppose. I haven’t, not since you..” Spencer was cut off.
“You need to be taking care of yourself Spencer. I’m here now, with you. Now come on, put some fresh clothes on, and make me that Full English like you once promised me.”
Spencer practically leaped out of bed, not caring if this was illogical. Because for the first time in a while, he wasn’t thinking much at all. Maeve lay in his bed across from him, and as long as that was the case, nothing else mattered.
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Spencer and Maeve sat across each other at his dining room table, with two freshly prepared meals sat in front of them. They talked to each other with no sign of stopping, Spencer’s plate slowly emptying as they converse. Maeve’s plate remained untouched.
“It’s an important day today, what are you going to wear?” Maeve asked him with a smile, practically glowing in Spencer’s eyes.
“Hm? What’s happening today?”
“My funeral, silly”
“...oh”
Spencer’s smile dropped, he knew this couldn’t be real, of course it wasn’t. I mean, he watched the life drain out of her eyes right in front of him.
What was happening? How was this happening? His whole life had centred around logic, but for once, all logistical explanations for this left his brain. All he could focus on was how she was dead, yet right in front of him. Talking to him, like nothing had ever happened.
“Spencer, listen to me”
He snapped out of his gaze and looked at her, admiring her, losing himself in her eyes.
“I may not be here for you physically anymore. But spiritually, I am right here with you, and I always will be. If it weren’t me, it would have been you, and that would have been a loss the world never could have recovered from.”
And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best
Though it never felt right
My little Versailles
“But what about me? How can I go on when the Eurydice to my Orpheus is gone? In my world, your loss is one that can’t be recovered from.”
“Spencer, when you look at me you will not lose me to the land of the dead, you have found me despite everything, and you always will. And I will always be here waiting for you.”
Tears stream down Spencer’s face.
“Orpheus was destined to find Eurydice when he ventured to the land of the dead, but Spencer, even though I will always be here, please do not get lost in the memory of the person I used to be.”
“You’re right here with me, can’t we just live like this, together. You’re here. physically, right now! The way it was meant to be.”
“I am only here for you, not for the world to see.”
Spencer’s eyes clenched shut.
He would spend the rest of his days accompanied by the girl he once loved, of the girl he does love, and no one else. This is his ending. His final chapter. The world is his land of the dead, and there was no escaping.