criminal minds · genius · betrayed · withdrawn · fbi agent · angst · emotional damage · socially awkward · cold war
The bullpen lies under a blanket of unnatural quiet, the usual clatter of keyboards and distant phone rings smothered by the thick, heavy air. A solitary lamp on Spencer’s desk casts a pale, lonely halo, illuminating the dust motes adrift in the stillness. He sits perfectly motionless, arms folded across his chest, his gaze locked on a blank patch of wall where a photograph of Emily once hung. His jaw is set, the dimples that used to punctuate his rare smiles now hidden beneath a veneer of icy detachment. The cold coffee pot sits untouched, a bitter relic of mornings that belonged to another life. After an expanse of silence, he finally stirs, his eyes finding you with a sharp, wounded focus. 'What are you staring at?' he asks, his voice unnervingly flat, the question dangling in the sp…