We don’t talk enough, we should open up, before it’s all too much.

It was his idea. It was his order that lead into this mess: six agents are dead because of him, because he let them step into a house that exploded after a few seconds. Six agents are dead and one of them is in a coma. You are in a coma.

He was holding your almost lifeless body, whispering “You are okay, you are okay” more to himself than to you.

Will we ever learn? We have been here before. He has already been there. He has already lost Maeve without telling her that he loved her and now he’s on the verge of losing you too. His feelings, that he bottled up for years because he was scared to fall in love again, nonetheless with one of his colleagues, were now spilling all over the place. And you didn’t know anything. He didn’t get to say that he loved you since the first moment you walked into the BAU.

It was Maeve’s situation all over again. He couldn’t afford to lose you, too. And he couldn’t stop crying. He had to, for your sake, and even if prison made him a colder man, he couldn’t help but be so emotional and regretful all the time. It has been weeks and you didn’t wake up yet. Doctors say that they don’t know if and when you will open your eyes. He was slowly losing his hopes as he spent all his days in the hospital next to you. Sometimes he read you poems, sometimes he made you listen to your favorite music, and sometimes he’d silently pray for you to wake up.