❝I swear to you that to think too much is a disease, a real, actual disease.❞

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

✩

0.3 : 3:45 am

FIN STARES UP AT THE CEILING OF HER BEDROOM, UNFAMILIAR, EVEN IN THE DARK, THINKING ABOUT DEATH.

The Las Cruces case didn't go well. Ashley snuck off unannounced to go and talk to Aubrey Jacobs' husband again, who turned out to be the unsub and pulled a knife on her. Hotch had to shoot him in front of her. It was a huge mistake, especially for someone as smart as she is.

Fin had to turn her music up on the jet to drown out Hotch and Rossi chewing Ashley out, and the sad part is, she understands Ashley's pain. Having a serial killer for a parent gives you a strange guilt to carry around with you, this need to apologize for everything they've done, every life they've ruined. It's not your fault, but at the same time, you didn't recognize the signs, didn't do anything about it.

Fin wonders every damn day why she didn't call the police the first time Esther cut her.

When they got back, Ashley hinted a bunch about how she wanted to continue her remedial training with the BAU, but Hotch made it extremely clear that that wasn't going to happen. Not after she put herself in danger like that.

Fin's not exactly sure why, but maybe it's because everyone else on the team is so damn reckless, Hotch doesn't have time for one more.

She props herself up on one elbow and flips her pillow over. Maybe the cooler side will help her fall asleep.

Probably not.

She doesn't sleep much anymore; her brain's far too awake in the middle of the night. Usually it's planning, plotting out every step to catch Esther in every scenario, but tonight she's thinking about Nick. The first guy she ever truly loved. The first real heartbreak of her life.

And Esther's thirteenth victim.

Nick, her ex-boyfriend. Nick, the abusive asshole. Nick, the alcoholic and drug addict.

Nick, the guy who saved her sister. Nick, the guy who protected her sister.

Fin's not sure if she mourned him enough.

She rolls over and looks at the clock. It's 3:45. That means it's almost ten a.m. in Germany. Lars is probably awake by now.

Fin grabs her phone from the bedside table and dials Lars' number. The phone only rings twice, and then Lars picks up. "Hi. What are you doing up so late? Isn't it like, three a.m.?"

"Yeah. We just had a tough case and I'm having a little trouble sleeping." Fin swings her legs over the side of the bed and pads out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No. I think sleep issues run in the family, I've been awake since four-thirty." Lars laughs quietly. "I think I finished A Wrinkle in Time faster than anyone else has ever."

"I don't know, I think Spencer might have you beat on that one." Fin grabs a glass out of the cabinet-after about three minutes of searching for the right one-and fills it from the sink faucet. "I've watched him read 19th-century Russian novels in a single sitting." She pauses to think about the last time she saw Spencer reading. It's been a while.

Lars hesitates, before asking, "Are you doing okay? You know, with the whole moving-back thing."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you did kind of pack up and leave out of nowhere and now you're back after months with no explanation. I mean, that's kinda weird, right?"

"We catch serial killers. Everyone here specializes in weird." Fin drops into a stool at the bar, spinning her glass slowly on the counter.

"I know, I know. I just-" Lars pauses, clearly thinking about how to phrase it- "If there's anything on your mind, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know." Fin sighs, running a hand through her hair. "You've got so much going on, I don't want to bug you-"

"I'm living in a basement in Germany. My groceries are delivered, there are two very hot and very silent government agents around at all times, and I read books all day. Fin, you know how much I'd kill to hear a little bit of what's going on with you?"

Fin closes her eyes, chuckling softly. "Sorry, I forgot. The truth is...I don't know how I feel anymore. I'm happy to be back, because I missed this job, these people, but-"

"But what?" Lars asks.

"It can't be how it was, I guess. Not with everything going on. I feel so guilty even being here, because it puts them in so much danger."

"You guys catch serial killers. Isn't danger part of the job description?"

"You sound like Hotch," Fin says, shaking her head. "That's almost word for word what he said when he asked me to come back."

"Well, maybe he's right," Lars counters. "If they care about you, they'll want to help you."

"I can't, Lars. I just..." Fin sighs, running a hand through her hair. "You should've seen how they reacted when they found out this other girl was the daughter of a serial killer. They treated her so differently, like she was this-this anomaly, you know? Like they had to walk on eggshells around her. I don't want them to see me that way."

"I understand, but at some point you will have to tell them. You know that, right?"

"I know." Fin glances up at the clock on the microwave. It's nearly four-thirty now. Early enough to shower and get ready. "I'll let you go, Lars. I guess I'll go take a shower and get ready for work."

"Okay. Love you. Have a good day at work."

"Love you, too." But when Fin hangs up, she's not thinking of Lars. She's thinking of the last words she ever said to Spencer. At least she said "I love you".

✩

Barely six miles away, Spencer Reid is awake, too, but he's not thinking of death. He's thinking of Fin.

When she walked through the BAU doors, he wasn't sure how to feel immediately. At first, he was angry, because how dare she disappear for eight months and then show up smiling like nothing happened? And then he was confused, because he knew why she left, and why would she come back when Esther is still out there? And then he was sad, because things can't go immediately back to the way they were.

But when she walked up to them, wearing his sweater and trying to hide her shaking hands, all Spencer felt was relief. She's finally home. It might have been inappropriate to hug her, especially in front of Ashley, but how could he not? Not when he missed her in his arms every damn day.

Sure, he was heartbroken when he found that letter in his inbox. He was angry, too, and he won't lie and say he didn't think about flying to Greece and knocking on every door until he found her. Telling the team everything she ever told him. Burning everything she ever touched until nothing was left.

But to some extent, Spencer understands. He used to run away from his problems, too. Used to hide them from his friends, his family. Used to lie and say he was fine.

And he knows he couldn't have gone with her, knows Hotch couldn't have convinced Strauss to let him go, but god it hurt that she lied. That she lied to him, even in her last text: Accidentally fell asleep on the couch. Just gonna stay here tonight, so don't wait up.

Everyone knew he was hurting; he didn't even try to hide it. He cut his hair, changed it up completely, put all her books into a box and shoved them under his bed, but that letter's still on his desk. He didn't need to read it again; he had it memorized the first time he ever laid eyes on it.

Every line felt like a knife in his heart, but there's one line that he can't stop thinking about: Let me go. Let yourself love someone else. Be happy, Spencer. He can't imagine how Hazel could possibly think he could be satisfied with that, because if she truly knew him, she'd know he could never love anyone else the way he loved her. The way he loves her. And being happy was never a possibility when he didn't know where she was, didn't know if she was safe, if she was alive.

JJ was the one who understood how he felt more than anyone else, was always there when he felt like screaming, crying, throwing things, or if he just needed to talk. She knew how much he loved Hazel, how much anger he had, how guilty he felt. But once she got the Department of Defense job, she wasn't around as much anymore. Of course, he could still go to her house, could still call, but those visits got fewer and farther between, and Spencer felt guilty interrupting her time with Will and Henry, so eventually he stopped calling.

And ever since she left, he's had these headaches, these blinding migraines that send his stomach and his eyes into constant uproar. He can't read, can't think, can't sleep, and there's no explanation he can think of. It keeps him up at night, wondering, self-diagnosing, running through the millions of diseases and disorders he could have. A brain tumor, heart disease, lupus, and the most terrifying: schizophrenia. He's at the prime age to start showing signs and symptoms of schizophrenia, and every phone call with his mother leaves him more and more afraid he's going to end up like her.

Morgan kept telling him to move on, to try and live, that she wasn't coming back, but Spencer couldn't do it. He held onto that sliver of hope that she might show up at his apartment in the middle of the night, saying she loved him, saying she was sorry for disappearing, asking to stay over, and every time he imagined that scenario, he could never say anything but "yes".

Because Spencer can hold a grudge. But not against her. Never against her.

And now she's home. But his heart still feels empty.

Hazel's avoiding him, he knows. He doesn't really blame her. She left a breakup letter in his inbox, clearly intending not to come back, but now that she is, it makes it a little awkward.

If Spencer had his way, they'd go back to how it was. Sleeping with his arms around her, her face tucked in the crook of his neck, her breath against his collarbone. Lying on his sofa, his head on her stomach, watching her favorite movies. Fingers intertwined, hands resting on the console of his car.

But Hazel made her intentions clear. I can't be with you anymore. We can't be together. I can't in good conscience put you in danger that way.

So lying in the dark, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, Spencer makes a silent vow.

That he will do whatever it takes to put Esther Rose Hayward away forever.

And he will wait a thousand years or however long it takes until Hazel Ophelia Finley is ready to love him again.

~

;-;

my poor babies.

alsoooo i had my birthday last week! it was lovely <3 i don't think anyone can guess how old i am now though...