Okay so it's a bit long... Can you do an imagine set in season 6 where instead of Emily "dying" it's spencer and YN and spencer have been together for long time but she doesn't get told he's still live (and she's on the team) after about a month jj visits her at Spencer's apartment and finds out she's pregnant, when spencer comes back she's further along, and he can tell, and I don't know, you can make up the ending aha x thank You xxxx
Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again
[Previously titled: “Wishing I Was With You,” rewritten 5/19/2021]
Contains: Angst with a happy ending.
A/N: For the sake of fanfiction, there’s obviously some tweaking of the plot and the functions of certain elevator buttons. Set around Season 7, episode 1.
I do not own Criminal Minds or any events/characters.
Had Spencer been gone for years? Weeks? Months? Hours?
Somedays you woke up and knew you wouldn’t make it out of bed, your tears staining your cheeks, throat too tight to speak, pain as raw as it was then. There were other days where it seemed bearable, being able to get up and go to work, eating lunch by the portrait of Spencer that hung against the wall of the fallen.
You both had known the risks of being agents, let alone being involved with each other, but you could still barely believe he was gone. It was like running your tongue over your gums after a tooth fell out or running your hands through your hair after a haircut. So obvious but so surreal.
“No!” A scream had ripped through your throat. Spencer lay on the ground unmoving, blood pouring from his chest wound. You and Derek had stumbled into the storage unit to find that Spencer had been wounded and Doyle had escaped, but not before shooting Prentiss in the arm.
You started crying, kneeling to the ground and rubbing some strands out of his pale face. You started muttering incoherent words, silently begging someone, or just anyone really to make this all a bad dream.
Morgan must have called for the paramedics, because it seemed as soon as you had touched Spencer, the medics were loading him onto a gurney, heading for the nearest hospital.
You watched him go, Morgan holding you back because they wouldn’t let you ride with him in such fatal conditions. He whispered reassuring things in your ear, trying to calm you down, never leaving your side as Spencer went into immediate surgery.
Silence had never been quite so loud, you remembered, the waiting room full of nervous energy from the entire team. In times like these, it seemed that even the unreligious would pray until their hands turned red and their words turned to much.
It was at 4 in the morning when the nurse finally came by, announcing that Spencer was dead.
You snapped out of your daydream when a kick to your belly startled you, reminding you of the months that had passed since that day. You smiled softly, rubbing your stomach. Spencer may not be around anymore but at least there was a little part of him that remained near the team, his child.
You didn’t know you were pregnant until a few weeks after Spencer’s funeral. At first you thought the frequent vomiting was from grief, or stress, pregnancy the last thing you could think of. After Garcia and JJ urged you to go to the hospital, you were surprised to hear your doctor even mention the possibility.
You were upset at first, not wanting to raise Spencer’s child in a world without him, thinking how unfair it was that something so happy, the idea of raising a child, was tainted with so much sadness. How were you supposed to answer the tough questions, like, “Where’s daddy? Why isn’t he here?”
After a while you realized you were thankful for the chance. For a son or daughter who may inherit his advantageous intellect, his brown eyes, dark hair, lanky limbs, his soft smile, his love for Halloween, or even his name, no matter what the born sex of your child.
“What?” You had asked, Morgan’s face not quite reacting in the way you had thought he would. Penelope looked over her shoulder to catch the unsure facial expression he wore.
“Is Spencer considered a girls’ name?” He asked carefully, causing you to roll your eyes. Thankfully Penelope had this one covered.
“Haven’t you ever seen Pretty Little Liars?”
“I think it’s safe to say I haven’t. Why? Was I supposed to?” He teased, causing you both to huff.
“It doesn’t matter if you haven’t seen it because we’ll force you to watch it next time you come over.” You elbowed Penelope, who nodded vigorously. “Besides, it’s a good gender-neutral name, in case our kid identifies as something other than their birth sex. You have to think of these things when you have kids, Morgan.”
“Well see, now Morgan’s a good gender neutral name, why don’t we work that in somewhere, hm?”
“Oh my god, here we go again!” Penelope had cried out, causing a silly argument you couldn’t quite remember the rest of.
Garcia and Morgan became the shoulders you would lean on during your appointments, midnight cravings, your emotional outbursts, your back, shoulder and foot pain. They were always there for you and you had decided early on that they were the perfect godparents.
The rest of the team was also quite caring and helpful to you when you announced your pregnancy, JJ and Hotch both offered cribs, extra clothes, bottles, baby bags, etc. in case you were in need. Rossi, never having been the best father, thought this might be his chance to do something right for a child, intent on helping you, Penelope and Derek with the baby nursery.
The best gift itself being a scrapbook that the entire team collaborated on, filled with pictures and stories of Spencer for your child to grow up with. One page in particular stood out, a tale about Spencer’s fascination with phantasmagorium and a certain paragraph about him wanting baby geniuses someday. You knew it was written by Emily, who you hadn’t seen since Spencer’s funeral, being placed in the Witness Protection Program for her safety. You didn’t ask how she was able to collaborate on the project, happy enough that your child would be born into the world with a group of kind and caring people who would love them no matter what.
You could almost feel Spencer’s happiness, as if he was still there with you.
You were now in your third trimester, which meant you were stuck on paperwork duty. No more missions for you since you were prohibited from flying and because extreme stress might send you into early labor.
Which is why you were so surprised when Morgan called you into the debriefing room, presenting the current case of a missing Declan Doyle and making you aware of
“Why do you guys want me on this case? It seems like a conflict of interest.” You swallowed thickly, trying not to focus on the fact that the man who murdered your boyfriend was so close by. “You know Strauss will throw a fucking fit once she finds out.”
“Hotch and I agree, we’re going to need all hands on deck for this. If we don’t find him soon, an innocent child might die. Hotch swears he will be at fault if Strauss finds out, your job won’t be in any jeopardy.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“We think your state might make Doyle more willing to cooperate, reminding him of his own son and what he might lose if he refuses to comply.” You knew you couldn’t refuse, agreeing to the proposition softly. Though you couldn’t name it at the time, you knew something was off.
The past few hours had thrown you up, down and sideways, from Emily and Hotch coming back and interrogating Doyle. Declan was still missing, and time was running out. Little did you know that the stress was just beginning.
You sat in the round room, eyes barely catching sight of Hotchner as he entered the room.
“Why?” Derek asked. “What’s going on?”
“Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team.” An uneasy feeling immediately entered your gut as he continued, avoiding your stare. “As you all know, Spencer had lost a lot of blood after protecting Emily from Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize him and he was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Since Doyle thought he was dead, he was the perfect candidate to follow him. His identity was strictly need-to-know and has been living under several identities. He’s the reason why we have Doyle in custody now.”
You let out a shaky breath, hand reaching for your stomach.
“She’s alive?” Penelope asked softly, reaching for your free hand.
“We buried him.” You declared, voice wobbly. “He can’t… he can’t be alive?”
“I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”
“Any issues?” Derek snapped, standing and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Yeah, I got issues-” his raised voice was cut off by approaching footsteps.
It was him. The man you had cried over, grieved over, buried, the father of your children. The man whose mother you had been writing to every day since he passed, standing in front of you. Perfectly healthy.
Spencer’s eyes met yours before dropping down to your stomach, opening his mouth to say something.
“No.” You spat the word out, standing to your feet. “No. You don’t get to say anything. I… I can’t even look at you, I’m so… so angry!.” You stuttered.
“Y/l/n..” Hotch began, before you whipped around to face him.
“No! No! You saw me grieve and prepare to be a mother. You just watched me struggle and you didn’t say a damn thing!? And- and not even for my own sake. Were you going to continue to lie to me and my child for years? What if we didn’t catch Doyle?”
“We have a case-” He tried again. You grabbed your badge out of your pocket, slamming it on the table.
“You’ll have to finish it with one less agent.” You hissed, heading for the door. Spencer stood in front of you, unoving, eyes still fixed on your stomach.
“Get out of my way.” You tried to stop your voice from cracking.
“Get. out. of. my. Way.” You bit out, tears spilling down your cheeks. He continued to stay still, only moving as you pushed past him, heading for the elevator.
“Y/n!” You heard him call after you, furiously pressing the “close door” button to no avail. He made it in the elevator just in time for the doors to shut.
“Don’t.” You tried to stop him, reaching to press the button of the closest floor. You could try to lose him on the stairs, if you waddled fast enough.
“Y/n!” He raised his voice, jamming the ‘emergency stop’ button, the shaft lurching in response.
“What are you doing?!” You cried, latching onto the railings.
“Please, hear me out. I never wanted to be separated from you. But I had to think of the mission. Of Emily. You would have done the same, I know this, you know this.” You avoided his stare, knowing he was right. “Y/n, it was one thing to leave you. But neither Hotch nor JJ told me that you were pregnant. If I had known I.. I would have-”
“No you wouldn’t have.” You admitted hoarsely. “Because I wouldn’t have. You and I both know we have to prioritize the masses before the individuals.”
“You have to believe me.” His pleading sounded out of character for the man who seemed to know everything. “I would never want to miss this, and there wasn’t a day that passed by that I didn’t want to call you, drop everything and take the first flight back home, to be here with you.” Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.
You were so caught up in your own emotions that you had refused to think of his. Spencer, who swore up and down that when it was his time to be a father he would never abandon them the way his dad did. Spencer, who cared for Henry like he was his own. Spencer, who was the love of your life.
You knew many a coworker before and during your time at the B.A.U. to know that they would give anything, anything, to have a moment where their loved one was actually alive. So, instead of stewing over the rights and wrongs of the situation, you let your anger and sadness go, wrapping Spencer in your arms.
“How about Andrew?” You sat on your bed, watching Spencer try to read through the instructions of how to assemble a crib. He may be able to read 20,000 words per minute, but he wasn’t able to construct as quickly.
“It’s Greek for valiant.” Spencer chimed in, more focused on trying to connect to pieces together but still listening as you read through a book of baby names.
A few weeks had passed since the Doyle case had passed. Thankfully, after you and Spencer made up, you both agreed to put a hold on your feelings until after the case had been solved, Hotch remaining quiet as you re-entered the round room directly after, a simple nod sent your way.
You were just glad that Emily was safe and that the suspension had been lifted off of you following the trial that occurred shortly after. Now you and Spencer could focus on your up-and-coming due date.
Thanks to a recent ultrasound, you both found out you were having a boy though it didn’t matter the sex. At least he would have a father, the most loyal and caring one you could have asked for.
Spencer, although flattered by your idea to name the child after him, felt it was a little odd now that he was “alive” so now you both were coming up with new ideas.
“Let’s call him…Sergio.” You teased, smiling as you heard him chuckle.
“Oh! You’re right, I completely forgot about that. We could try… Butch? Or…. Hans?”
“I think we should put this conversation to bed soon.” Spencer warned, and you could tell you were losing your credibility.
“No! Wait, wait. Um… what about Morgan?” You tried as a last-ditch effort, thinking back to your conversation with Penelope and Derek..
“…It means ‘of the sea,’ Welsh origin, gender neutral.” He answered, peering over his glasses to meet your stare. He wasn’t saying no…
“So you like it?! Morgan Reid?” You sounded it out, repeating it a few times under your breath to get used to it on your tongue.
“What about Morgan Gideon Reid?” He suggested and you felt your face get warm. It was all so… real. You couldn’t have possibly imagined when you started at the B.A.U. that you would be pregnant, while your coworker and long-term boyfriend who had been previously dead three weeks ago was trying to build a crib in your bedroom, deciding on a baby name.
“Well,” You flipped through the book, finding the name in print. “It means ‘he who cuts down’ and if i recall, in the bible he was a hero and judge of Israel who won battles through skillful planning and faith rather than strength of arms alone.”
You looked down at your stomach, tossing the name around in your mind. “Welcome to the family, Morgan Gideon Reid.”
