𝛮𝑖𝑛𝑒𝘵𝑒𝑒𝑛.

Melanie doubted the knowledge of even the greatest poets known to man. Their use of flowery language and unsolvable metaphors had left her stumped since she was a child, but the one thing that she could acknowledge for being the most beautiful thing in existence was the way they wrote about the light.

       To poets, light was the only thing that should drive a person. Finding light. And much to Melanie's extreme relief, life was much brighter in Paris. So bright to the point that she was able to smile to herself as she wrote in her personal journal that morning, an outlet that her therapist proposed to her as a way to release her most intense feelings of grief onto paper and had quickly transitioned into a way for Melanie to stay light and afloat. Light and afloat was exactly the way she felt ever since she stepped foot in Paris. With no obligations, no distractions, and her cat by her side to keep her the smallest amount of company.

      She rented a flat in the center of the city overlooking the busting tourism that lingered beneath her feet as she sat on her balcony, half of her shoulder-length hair pinned back into a bun and her brown leather journal sat in her lap, the smoothness of the untouched paper scratching beneath her ballpen's weight. Melanie wrote about the coffee she'd purchased from a nearby cafe that early morning and how she had finally begun to change her order from toffee nut cream to hazelnut. She wrote about the man she'd met in the lobby of the small shop, and how he made her laugh with one cheesy joke about the weather. This was the first time since Louise's death that Melanie felt like she was advancing as a person rather than regressing into an individual she never wished she would become.

       With as much personal growth and improvement that Melanie made, there was still a piece of her that she wasn't sure she'd ever get back. As she sat here now, she fought the urge to question what Spencer might be up to right now. Would he be at work? Would he be at home, sat on his couch curled up with a good book? Would he be on a date with a new woman he'd met at a bookstore earlier that week? She sighed, leaning her head back onto the back of her chair. It had already been four months, Melanie reminded herself. She couldn't expect Spencer to wait for her, and she understood that. In her dreams, she still thought about the sentimental moments they had shared before her entire world crumbled around her.

      Melanie thought about how he held her hair back out of her face after a night out with the team that consisted of far too much drinking. Despite Spencer's intense germaphobia and emetophobia, he still stayed by her side and attempted to console her during such an embarrassing and vulnerable time. That was something she knew she would never be able to forget about Spencer: his heart. Most believed that the most impressive thing about him was the capacity of his brain and his neverending consumption of knowledge, but having been loved by a man as wonderful as Spencer Reid gave Melanie an entirely different perspective on the debate. He was gentle. He was caring. He was perfect. Melanie knew that all too well.

      A knock at her door cut off her intense daydreaming session. She cleared her throat and traveled back inside, looking through the peephole of her door to find a young woman standing there. Melanie cracked the door open and a confused expression ruled over her face. "Can I help you?" she questioned.

      The woman held out a bright orange flier in front of Melanie's chest. "Cherry's Grand Opening is tonight. Can't wait to see you there," the woman said with a reheard smile afterward. She continued down the road and Melanie watched as she approached her neighbor's apartment, performing the exact same sequence of behavior and then continuing down the road even further. Melanie shook her head as she locked her front door, finally looking down at the flier in her hand. Cherry's Grand Opening. Free shots for those who bring this flier into the bar to support.

      Melanie hadn't even considered going out to socialize since she'd moved. As much as she hated door to door soliciting, she couldn't help but find interest in the grand opening of the bar. There was a good chance that she'd finally be able to properly socialize beside the people she met out on her walks around the city and the daily coffee runs she'd make in the cafe near her flat. Meeting new people couldn't be so bad, right? Especially if she found herself wanting to stay in France... permanently? A new circle of friends wouldn't be out of the cards forever. At that moment, she decided that she would go to test the waters of the nightlife of her community. It certainly wouldn't be anything like her outings with her.. old.. friend group, but it was time for Melanie to begin moving on and forward. They'd undoubtedly been out plenty of times since she had moved, so why was it that she felt she couldn't do so without them? Nothing made sense (per usual) but her mind had already been made up.

      Spencer and Blake were nearly outside of a restaurant where their suspect had been resisting the attempts of the local police department to get him to come out and face himself and his crimes. It was dark out, and at that moment Spencer's overgrown and shaggy hair didn't make his job any more helpful on him.

      Blake noticed him brushing his hair out his eyes and scrunching up his nose, a sign that he was getting annoyed with it. She laughed softly to herself. "You should go see a barber, you know," she joked as she looked to her right. "How long has it been, Spence? Jeez."

      Spencer cleared his throat, still uncomfortable with the topic while knowing that her intentions of the conversation were all in good fun. "Four months," he voiced.

      She shook her head as her jaw dropped open. "You're joking."

      He shook his head vigorously, pulling his lips in tightly. "I assure you I'm not. She, uh.. She was the one who cut my hair."

      Alex nodded, knowing how sensitive of a subject Melanie still was to him. Since she'd left, Spencer hadn't even had the strength to even say her name out loud let alone talk about her at great length. The team knew how large of a distraction it was for him. He hadn't been focused on his work in months and found himself drowning in nearly every poetry book collection that he could find, hoping that he'd find some sort of relief in the tales that they spoke of. The only thing that comforted him was the light. Soft, yellow hues of sunlight always tended to remind him of Melanie. Their best memories were shared beneath the rays of the sky, specifically between the times of 7-8 AM and 6-7 PM. He always preferred flying home from cases at these hours, even delaying some of them by feigning temporary sickness or fatigue, to ensure that he'd feel as close to her as he possibly could be from four thousand miles away.

      His hair had always been very personal to Melanie. She always adored whenever he let her cut it herself, even if it resulted in it being shorter than he would have liked. In a way, cutting it off meant that he was cutting yet another piece of him out of his life. He couldn't afford that yet. As much as he desperately wanted to move on and continue his life as if Melanie was only a figment of his ever growing imagination, he couldn't find the strength for it. Because Melanie was real. He knew that he wouldn't ever be able to get away from the lingering thoughts of her for as long as he existed, even if he was able to move on and begin anew with another woman. He wouldn't ever get away from the woman that loved him, and in all honesty, he wished that he didn't have to.

      Spencer rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he stared out the passenger widow. He couldn't help but feel guilty for two incredibly pressing reasons. For one, he felt guilty that he hadn't fought hard enough for the woman that he deeply loved and cared for. He typically wondered about what would have been the outcome of Melanie's rash dilemma if he had fought harder for her to stay in Virginia, promising that he and their team would never leave her side for as long as she wished. Secondly, and more-so than the first, Spencer felt guilty for never informing Melanie about the letters that Samael Cadell had sent her during the months that she rotted away in the comfort of his bedroom. He knew that that information alone would have convinced Melanie to stay in Virginia her entire lifetime if it meant bringing even more justice for both herself and her sister.

      As Blake pulled in front of the restaurant, the two of them stepped out and approached the local PD stationed outside of the establishment.

      "There hasn't been any movement for a good five minutes now," one of the female police officers spoke up.

      "How many entrances?" Blake questioned.

      "Uh, two it looks like," the woman replied as she peered back at the restaurant.

      "The question is: Is he alone?" Blake continued, placing her finger top on her gun holster which influenced both Spencer and the deputy beside her to do the same.

      "Guys, I've got movement, we should move in now," one of the male officers positioned behind the door of his police car stood with his gun pointed at the front window of the establishment as his gaze remained on the suspect.

      "Actually, we're better off establishing the perimeter first," Spencer countered. "Then we can open up a line of communication."

      "All right, agreed, we need to-" the sheriff began to speak but he was cut off by a single bullet being shot directly into his chest, forcing him to the ground immediately.

      "Fired! Shots fired!"

       Both agents and every officer on the ground attempted to duck behind something as rapid gunfire ensued from both ends, the two suspects inside of the building began to unload multiple clips of their guns as the glass of the restaurant shattered almost instantly. Multiple officers had already been hit and fallen to the ground, and Alex immediately rushed to their aid, putting her directly in the line of fire of the two gunmen.

       "Blake!" Spencer exclaimed as he began to dash out from his secured place behind a door, pulling Blake out of the way of a bullet.

      He felt a sharp, boiling hot sensation erupt from his neck as his body gave out and forced him to hit the gravel beneath him. He laid limp, his eyes screwing shit and his limbs giving out simultaneously. While his mind was awake, his entire body began to shut down on him, so much so that he hadn't even felt Morgan drag him out of the line of fire and behind one of the sheriff's cars. He could feel his eyes roll back into his head as Blake rushed to his aid, applying pressure to the bullet wound in his neck.

      "We need a medic now!" Blake frantically exclaimed. "There's too much blood! Hey, hey. You're doing great, alright?" she spoke to Spencer in her calmest voice.

       Spencer's eyes felt extremely heavy and he struggled to keep them open. His perception of reality and fantasy began to blur in front of him as he saw a struggling Alex fade into the background as she morphed into Melanie instead, her soothing voice giving him the tiniest bit of energy to open his eyes fully. "Reid, stay with me," Melanie's voice echoed in his head in place of Blake's as he fought his eyes to stay open. He was losing the battle as his eyelids continued to flutter open and closed, eventually leading him to a borderline unconscious state as Blake began to yell frantically.

      "Ethan! Ethan! Open your eyes!" Blake yelled, calling Spencer by the name of her own deceased son that she had lost years ago. Evidently, the motherly protectiveness she felt with Spencer had reminded her of the relationship she had with her own son. Blake couldn't afford to lose two of her sons. "Medic, hurry!"

       At the speed of light, Spencer was placed into the back of an ambulance with Morgan by his side. The bright overhead light snapped him back to consciousness, still groggy and out of it but coherent in some aspects.

       "She sounded like an angel," he spoke from his delirious state, his eyes still rolling into the back of his sockets. "Is she still here?" he asked through a faint breath.

       "What?" Morgan asked back, leaning closer to understand him better. "Reid, talk to me."

       "Melanie," he breathed. "Is she still here?" he repeated his question again, his mind feeding into his delusions at an attempt to keep him awake as his unconscious state approached him yet again.

       "His pressure is dropping," the EMT said out loud. "His pulse is weak, starting with a large-bore IV."

       Morgan was unsure of what to reply, but he knew that he needed to keep Reid alive in any way he could. If motivation was what Spencer needed, it would be what he would get. He prayed that Spencer would forgive him for it. "Yes, Reid. Yes. She's here. Stay with me now, kid."

       The grand opening of Cherry's was a success.

       The establishment busted with people of different areas and crowds of life as they mingled together, exchanging contact information or life experiences with liquid courage to help them do so. Melanie sat at the bar, having a few men and women proposition her for various romantic endeavors, all of which she found herself declining. She knew that the point of going to this event was to meet new people and accept all new experiences, but she still struggled with the concept. As she took another swig from her glass, Melanie told herself that she wouldn't turn away the next person who attempted to speak to her despite how much her mind told her to do so.

      Melanie stood up from her stool at the bar, pulling down her jean mini skirt that cut off at her upper thigh and straightening out the cherry red long sleeve that had been scrunched up to her elbows. As she turned around to head into the crowd of people, she found herself bumping into a black-haired woman who nearly spilled her drink on both of them.

      "I am so sorry," Melanie frantically spoke, her hand moving to cover her mouth. "I should've looked where I was going, and I-"

      "Sh," the woman smiled. "It was no harm at all, really. I didn't even spill anything. You're good."

     Melanie sighed in relief. "Thank you. You're a tourist, I take it?"

     The woman's eyebrows pinched together as she tilted her head, a smile still shining on her defined face. "American," she laughed. "From Virginia to be exact. Was it that obvious?"

     "A little bit," Melanie laughed, her eyes dropping to the floor as she let a factor of mystery linger between them. This was the first time she'd even begun any sort of conversation with someone else in Paris. "What's your name?"

     "Gisele," she smiled. "And you?"

     "Melanie," she replied, taking Gisele's hand into hers and shaking it firmly. "How long are you staying in Paris?"

     "I'm only here until tomorrow afternoon," Gisele sighed disappointedly. "I was supposed to stay for the week, but... duty calls back home," she laughed.

     Melanie understood the feeling as she quickly recalled her time as an FBI agent. "Ah, that really sucks. What do you do for work?"

     "I'm a crime scene investigator and sketch artist," she replied. "I work cases all around Virginia specifically and apparently they couldn't find anyone else to cover for me."

     Melanie laughed and nodded. "I understand you completely. I used to be an agent myself. I only resigned about four months ago."

    "No kidding," Gisele smiled, leaning back as she took her glass between her bright red lips and took a sip. "What unit?"

    "Behavioral analysis," she replied, giving the woman a tight-lipped smile.

    Gisele nodded. "A smart cookie, huh?"

    Melanie laughed and shook her head, still on a high from her first social outing in months. "I guess you could say that," she replied, halting her words at the sound of Gisele's phone buzzing in her pocket. "Duty calling?"

    Gisele rolled her eyes. "Yep. Excuse me just for one second," she voiced before racing into a quieter area of the bar to take the call.

      It only took about two minutes for her to return, but once she did Melanie noticed the change in her demeanor. "What's up?" Melanie asked concerningly.

     "Turns out I'm only going to be here for the night," she voiced, her beaming smile that she previously wore was fully erased from her expression. "And if I were you, I'd come back to Virginia with me."

     Melanie looked at her in utter confusion. "Why is that?"

     "One of your teammates, err– ex teammates has been... shot," Gisele finally said. "I hear that your team was the best in the business, and it's no surprise that you're all tight-knit."

     Melanie tilted her head. "Who... Who was it?"

     "Spencer Reid."

Notes.
give me your thoughts on this chapter <3 i'm dying to hear

special thank you to those who interact with my work by commenting and voting. i've been so unmotivated lately to write this book that those are the things that have motivated me to even write this chapter. going back & reading comments is what sparked up my motivation, so i thank you all. as usual, thank you all for still sticking around and reading, i appreciate it more than you know!

p.s. this isn't proofread so when i finally finish this book and come back to it i'll revise all of the silly mistakes i've made 🤠