Working has never been easy, not in your field. Not as homicide detective. You had started working less than a year ago and you were already collaborating with the FBI because apparently, the murder you were trying to solve ended up being another atrocity made by a serial killer.

You didn’t imagined working with the FBI , nor meeting Spencer Reid. The first time you received them your eyes focused directly on him. He was peculiar, in a good way. You were kind of odd as well, so it did not take a lot for you both to start a conversation, even if it was always ”hey, did you sleep well?”. Working together was… amazing. He was calm, you a kind of bomb, but it made everything better, or at leasr thats what you felt. You put up with him easily: you listened to his rants, complemented his doodles, or brought him coffee. In three days the little details that no one ever had with him before made Spencer be utterly into you. So (secretly) were you. Afraid by the amount of love you could feel, you were starting to feel for him a bit too much. It was extreme, but you had always been intense. However, things are not fair in love or war…

“Please don’t do this to me” you begged as the tears streamed down your cheeks. “Don’t do this to me, Spencer!”

..and when Spencer saved your life by pushing out of the way taking that bullet, you started asking yourself why did you became a homicide detective and why you had to be so intense to love a man in three days. Red and blue lights snapped you out; ambulances were coming but your hands were covered in blood as you tried to stop it from coming out of Spencer’s body.

”It should have been me” you said desperately. “Please don’t do this to me, please, stay with me”

What was the point of living if you feel you are losing everything you love?