Seventeen years since Eleanor and Midnight found one another, his life came to a close. He spent his final moments curling up at the feet of the person he loved the most. He watched his person sleep, purring excessively, content with how at ease he felt there.

Eleanor was barely awake when she felt the weight of his head rest on her ankle. "Good mornin', love," she had croaked. "Give me five more minutes, then I'm all yours..."

Needless to say, Eleanor had a rude awakening once her alarm rang. For several minutes, she cradled her boy in her arms, crying quietly into his dark fur.

"El?" shouted Nora from the stairs.

"Where are you at, girlie? It's time to..." Sydney fell quiet as she entered into the bedroom. "Oh, El."

"He's gone," sobbed Eleanor.

"Oh, El, I'm so sorry. Syd and I can run the place today, really. We'll take care of it. Just do whatever you need to do," offered Nora sweetly.

Eleanor hated to leave the cafe, but she took the girls advice. She had her boy cremated at a nearby pet shop. She placed his silver urn on the mantle above the fireplace. She surrounded him with two photos. One was taken the night she adopted him. The other was of Kermit, Midnight, and her all together. Her little family.

For two days, Eleanor ignored their scheduled phone calls. Spencer wasn't able to check on her at the cafe, as he was across the country on a case. He panicked. His mind raced uncontrollably, thinking of all the absolute worst about possible reasons she hadn't answered.

Not five seconds after the jet came to a stop, Spencer was at the door, impatiently knocking against it.

"Spencer, what's the rush?" laughed JJ.

"I need to be somewhere," he muttered.

"Aw, does Pretty Ricky have a date?" teased Morgan.

"I just need to get somewhere," he said quietly.

Hotch placed a worried hand on his shoulder. "Reid?"

"Do you need anything?" asked Rossi.

"I just need this door to open."

It did. Spencer, without so much as a goodbye, sprinted to his awaiting car. He sped through the deserted Virginia streets to the cafe. It was a quarter to ten. He wasn't going to make it before closing time, but it didn't worry him. He had high hopes she would open the doors for him.

For the first time, the windows of the cafe were guarded by blinds. Lights remained on. The front door was locked. Spencer jiggled it until someone ripped it open, annoyed.

"Nora?" asked Spencer, confused.

"Dr. Reid?" asked Nora, sharing the same emotion.

"What are you doing here?" they asked at the same time.

Spencer shook his head. "Where's El?"

"She didn't tell you what happened?"

"No, I haven't heard anything from her for days. Nora, please, tell me she's okay," he begged.

"I mean, she's hurting. Midnight passed away. She's upstairs. Hasn't left in two days, except to cremate the poor cat," explained Nora.

"I'm going up there," said Spencer.

Sydney slid him a coffee mug when he passed by the counter. "Good luck, Doc," she sighed.

"Thanks."

Spencer carefully balanced the mug between his hands. He took the steps leading into her apartment above the cafe. He didn't know what to expect of her home. It screamed Eleanor, that was for sure. An abundance of photos lined the walls. She held a good amount of coffee memorabilia, not to mention an impressive cookbook collection.

He kicked his shoes off at the door. Hidden behind the wall of the tiny kitchen, he found her bed. She was buried in the comforter. If she was awake, she made no indication. He set the coffee mug on top of the dresser. The noise it made caused her to roll over.

"Spencer?" gasped Eleanor. She rushed to rub her reddened eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer frowned as he looked down at her. Softly, he mumbled, "You didn't call me for two days, El. I worried. What did you expect me to do?"

"Not come into my house uninvited..."

"I can't leave you alone."

"I want you to."

"That's not true."

Eleanor sniffled. At last, she looked at him, her own lips stuck in a frown. "I hate that you can read me like a book," she admitted sadly.

"Now, that is true," said Spencer.

Alongside her, he lay, allowing her to cuddle into him. He held her. He didn't have to say anything. All she wanted, all she needed, was to be held by someone. Spencer, she admitted, was not at all a bad person for the job.