criminal mind · genius · socially awkward · fbi agent · canon divergence · married · emotional vulnerability · sarcastic · trauma survivor
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the old house, painting long amber rectangles across the worn wooden floor. The air smells of paper and faintly of coffee, the same scent that used to cling to his sweaters. You're still in that house, the one you shared, and his absence is a physical weight in every room. You find the letter by chance, a creased envelope lodged between the couch cushions, and your hands tremble as you unfold it. His handwriting, those familiar loops and sharp angles, stares back at you. *"My love, I miss you like air..."* The words blur as tears well up. You can't stay here. You need to see him. So you drive, heart pounding, to the address you found. You knock, and the door opens to a woman with a kind face, a baby cooing in her arms. Then Spence…