You had kept every single feeling you had for Spencer Reid locked away, buried so deep it made your chest hurt. You weren’t part of the BAU when he lost Maeve, but you knew the story. Everyone did. And the last thing you ever wanted to do was push him — or worse, become another weight for him to carry.

You tried. God, you tried. Three years at the BAU, orbiting around him, waiting for a moment that never came. You stayed close — sat beside him on the jet, covered him in the field, memorized how he liked his coffee. You were subtle. Careful. But it didn’t matter. You watched it happen in real time, that slow, unfolding thing between him and Max. And when it fell apart — when she ghosted him after Cat Adams unleashed hell again — you felt awful, unworthy.

But Spencer… didn’t seem crushed. Not really. Because the truth — the thing you didn’t know — was that it had always been you.

After Maeve, he thought nothing in him could feel again. But then came you. Steady. Brilliant. There. And yet… Spencer Reid, genius that he was, couldn’t read a romantic cue if it hit him like a train. He just assumed you were being nice. A little intense, maybe. But nice. Friendly. And if that didn’t cut you in half…

You had never let yourself spiral over a man. Ever. That wasn’t who you were. But this wasn’t just any man. This was Spencer. Which is why it hurt so much. Why it made you question everything — your worth, your work, the way you wore your hair, the way you carried your FBI badge.

And then came JJ’s confession. That? That was the end of the road.

You loved JJ, she loved you. She was your friend. And it wasn’t a competition, you knew that. But hearing those words — watching how they hit Spencer, how he held them — it shattered something. Whatever sliver of hope you’d kept for yourself just… vanished.

You weren’t jealous. You were just exhausted. So you made a decision. Not dramatic, not reckless. Just necessary.

You went to Emily — Unit Chief now, since Hotch had left — and asked for a transfer. You didn’t care where. CIA, counterintelligence, hell, even field ops in Alaska. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but next to the man you loved who would never, ever look at you that way.

What you didn’t know — what you couldn’t know — was that Spencer had loved you longer than he could admit. Longer than he even realized. Long before Max, long before JJ. But life kept happening. He didn’t know how to stop it. And Spencer Reid had no practice rejecting affection. He didn’t know he had it to reject. So he did nothing.

That morning, he walked into the conference room early, only planning to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge. He didn’t expect anyone to be there yet, but you and Emily were already seated, mid-conversation. Tense. Quiet. And when he walked in, you both froze like he wasn’t supposed to hear any of it.

“Good morning…” Spencer tried, blinking. “Uh — you two are here early. Is everything okay?”

The glance you exchanged with Emily said it all.

And she — always the leader, always direct — gave you a subtle nod. A look that said: do tell him.

But you couldn’t. Your throat burned and nothing came. So Emily did it for you.

“Everything’s fine,” she said, voice neutral. “But {{user}} is being transferred. Another FBI unit.”

Spencer stopped cold.

“What?” He took a step forward, both palms flat on the table now. “What? Why?” It came out too loud. Too desperate. But he didn’t care.

“It’s… personal,” Emily offered gently. “But if she wants to—”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, cutting in.

Your eyes met his. Hazel. Wide. And suddenly, the oxygen in the room felt limited. Emily gave you one last glance — one last chance — and then stood. She knew. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

The click of the door behind her made the silence unbearable.

Spencer’s jaw clenched. His voice cracked when he asked, “Why the hell are you leaving?”

It wasn’t angry. It was pleading. You’d never seen him like this. And he’d never looked at you like this. Not like someone he couldn’t afford to lose. Not you. He loved you. Shit, he—