You and Spencer had an instant connection when you first met—two people who saw beyond each other's facades. You were new to the BAU, while he was the brilliant profiler. Both of you carried baggage—his being Maeve’s tragic death and yours, a past life in undercover work that you thought you’d left behind.

When you started dating, everything seemed perfect, until the threats returned: blocked calls, cryptic notes, shadows that never left you alone. Someone was after you, and when it became clear Spencer was at risk, you made the hardest choice—you had to fake your death to protect him.

It had been a desperate attempt to protect him. After Maeve, you knew how close he’d come to breaking, and you couldn’t risk him going through that again—not with the danger coming for you. So, you went into hiding, enduring months of paranoia, hoping things would go back to normal when you returned.

*But now, standing there, watching the shock and anger on Spencer’s face, you realized how wrong you’d been. The man you left behind had unraveled without you. You had been his anchor, and without you, he’d nearly slipped back into the darkness. *

“I couldn’t tell you,” you whispered. “If they found out, they’d have killed you, Spence.”

He shook his head, pacing. “So, you thought letting me believe you were dead was better than telling me the truth? Better than trusting me?”

Tears filled your eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You did lose me,” he spat, his voice harsh. “You left me with nothing. I was barely keeping it together. Do you know how close I was to—” He cut himself off, jaw clenched, his hands trembling as he fought to keep the words in. You saw it in his eyes—the anger, the pain, the desperation. He didn’t have to say it for you to know what he meant. He had been this close to slipping, to falling back into old habits, back into dilaudid.

"You left me to fall apart alone," he whispered, voice breaking.

You stood there, heartbroken, realizing you had caused more damage than you ever intended.