Psalm 139, part two. Slash.

I wrote a letter to my love and on the way I dropped it.

I dropped it once, I dropped it twice, I dropped it three times over.

It wasn't you, it wasn't you, it wasn't you,

It was you.

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Aaron picked up the piece of paper and crunched it up in his fist.  He coulnd't very well throw it, but he wanted to.  There was no one to blame but Spencer.  He couln't lay blame for this at Hankle's feet, or at Diana Reid's doorstep, or put it off on the bullies of Spencer's childhood, the everyday deamon's of their work,  this was Spencer's.  Aaron waited in the muted colours of the reception area.  When did hosptital's start having reception areas?  The TV was nicer than what they had at home, but cable couldn't hold his attention or the attention of the various souls scattered around.  The only thing he had in common with these people was they all had medical insurance.  Aaron wondered what would happen to Reid without insurance.  He hand't actually fired him yet, but he didn't really have a choice.  Reid had had a choice, and he had done this.

He had thrown Spencer out of the house;  effectively leaving the man he loved homeless.  A homeless unemployed addict.  Spencer had some money, but without support that would probably go to his drug habbit, or his book habbit.  Aaron laugh briefly to himself, then looked down embarrassed, and played with the piece of paper in his hands.

He looked up hopefully at a passing nurse.  What would take so long about admitting Spencer?  He knew he was sitting in the psyche wing.  "Please follow the orderly sir,"  it wasn't like they were direting him to the cafeteria.  Now he had no choice, if he didn't use his medical power of attorney to admit Spencer then the hospital would use a 72 hour hold, and Spencer would be involuntariy committed, and if Spencer was involuntairy committed he would never work for the FBI again.

Aaron looked down still playing with the sheet of stray crumpled up paper in his hands, folding and unfolding it, avoiding reading it.  After tonight Spencer would never work for the FBI again, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Another nurse walked by, Aaron looked up hopefully again.  He closed his eyes for a second, then walked over to the "welcome desk".  Spencer would find that funny.  "Is dr. Reid being admitted yet?"

"Why is he in surgery?"  Aaron had seen the blood, he had been so focused on keeping Spencer under control that the extent of Spencer's injury had not occurred to him.  The nerve damage should be minimal, the bone would heal.  Spencer had damaged the bone with glass shards.

"Yes, of course, I'll do an interview with the doctor."

Aaron spread the pice of paper out on the desk, and then folded it into squares.  Something Spencer would have done.  He thought of Spencer's dexterous fingers.

"Now?  Its 3 in the morning."

The psychiatrist had not expected to meet an FBI profiler, and was quite out of her depth.  Aaron weighed every answer, he Was aware he was acting like  Spencer.  A weighed answer, given for its result, the truth russled up in it.  

"He's an addict doctor."

"I don't know what the stressor is."

"Deeply concerned."

"No he won't be returning to live with our family."

Short to the point answer, nothing extra revealed.

"I don't think this is an appropriate time to discuss this."

He hadn't betrayed Spencer.

"Can I see him now?"

"He's still asleep?"

Allowed three minutes with a sleeping spencer Aaron held his hand, touched the layers of gauze wrapping and kissed Spenbcer's forehead.

The orderly was waiting at the door.  Aaron prayed that the last time he saw this man wouldn't be in the damn pastel green hospital room with pink curtains and the art equivalent of muzak on the walls.


"Don't die" not for right now, right now Spencer was safe.

Aaron looked at the piece of paper he held in his hands:   
You have searched me, lord,
and you know me;  You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.

Aaron threw it in the trash.

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Aaron did't bother knocking he didn't bother greeting he just laid Spencer's personel file on Director Straus' desk.  He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"I have included a letter of reprimand in Dr. Reid's file.  Also in there is a record of his emergency admission to Quantico Mental Health Center.  I have also included a letter to yourself suggesting the Dr. Reid's employment be terminated, I have signed and included all the relevant paperwork.

Aaron had stayed up the rest of night, filling out forms, his lips tight, his eyebrows forced together, haggard lines making his face.  His hand shook when he wrote what had happened, what Spencer had done, it hadn't just happened, Spencer had done it.  He wrote the letter out longhand, closed his eyes as he signed the letter recommending Spencer's termination.  And it really did feel like a termination of more than employment.

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Director Strauss placed her hand over Aaron's as he pushed the files across her desk.

"Has he talked to his sponsor?"

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