The Tiny Hat on the Shelf

Stephie

I'm not even suppose to be in the field right now.

The warehouse had a smell—damp, metallic, and faintly musty, like the place hadn't seen daylight in years. The team was spread out, combing through the shadows, flashlights cutting through the dimness. Every sound felt magnified, and my senses were on high alert. We were close, I could feel it. But the tension in my shoulders told me we were running out of time.

Hotch had briefed us earlier. The unsub had taken two women, both in their mid-twenties, and was holding them hostage somewhere in this industrial graveyard. We'd managed to track him here after days of dead ends, but the situation was volatile. And we didn't know how stable the women were—emotionally or physically. They'd been missing for almost a week.

I followed closely behind Spencer, my grip tight around my weapon, listening to the team's voices over the comms as they cleared each area. The click of Morgan's voice came over the line.

"Clear on the east side, but no sign of the unsub," Morgan's voice was steady, but there was an urgency in it, a mirror to the ticking clock in my head.

We turned a corner, and then I heard it. A low, pained moan. I froze, and so did Spencer.

"You hear that?" I whispered, already moving toward the source of the sound.

Spencer gave a quick nod, his eyes alert as we approached a large steel door. It was rusted at the hinges, and the faint sounds from inside confirmed my suspicions. The women were in there.

Morgan and JJ joined us within seconds, followed closely by Hotch. He nodded, signaling us to move. I took a deep breath, pushing open the heavy door as we flooded into the room.

Inside, two women lay huddled in the corner. They looked exhausted, dirty, but alive. One was sobbing quietly, clutching her stomach. I could see the fear in her eyes as we approached. But the other woman—the one hunched over, panting—she wasn't just scared. She was in pain. Real, physical pain.

JJ moved quickly to the first woman, while Morgan kept his gun raised, scanning for any sign of the unsub. Hotch stayed by the door, ready to call for medical backup if we needed it.

Spencer knelt beside the second woman, his voice calm and soothing. "It's okay. We're here to help. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

The woman could barely get the words out between gasps. "I... I'm... I think... the baby... It's coming."

I felt my stomach drop. Spencer looked up at me, eyes wide with understanding. This wasn't just a hostage situation anymore. This was a rescue mission turned into a medical emergency.

"Her water broke," I said, assessing the scene as I knelt next to Spencer. "She's in labor."

Hotch was already on his comms. "We need an ambulance, now."

"It's too late," JJ said softly, looking at the woman's trembling form. "She's too far along. This baby's coming whether we're ready or not."

The woman let out another cry, her body tense as another contraction hit. I watched her grip Spencer's arm, her knuckles turning white.

Morgan's voice came through the comms. "Still no sign of the unsub. Could be he took off already."

Spencer's attention was focused entirely on the woman now, the wheels turning in his head, figuring out what to do next.

"I've got this," Spencer said, looking directly at Hotch. The determination in his voice surprised me. "I can deliver the baby."

Hotch's eyes flicked to me, then back to Spencer. There was hesitation, but we didn't have time for doubt.

"You've done this before?" JJ asked, eyebrows raised.

"Not exactly," Spencer admitted, his hands already moving to guide the woman into a more comfortable position. "But I studied the delivery manuals... just in case."

I blinked, watching him with a mixture of disbelief and... something else. Spencer had always been the type to prepare for every possibility, but the confidence in his voice wasn't something I'd seen from him in situations like this. He had memorized those manuals. For me.

For a brief moment, the memory flashed in my mind—the months where we thought we'd have a baby. The months we spent dreaming about a future we never got. My heart twisted, and I pushed the thoughts aside. This wasn't about me. This was about saving this woman's life—and her baby's.

"Spence, are you sure you can do this?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended, knowing the weight of what he was about to take on.

"I'm sure," he said, his gaze steady. He looked at me for just a second longer, and I knew. I knew that the hours he spent studying, the quiet moments I'd caught him lost in thought, were all for this—for me. But this wasn't our moment, and he wasn't going to make it about that.

"Okay," I said, taking a step back to let him work. My heart pounded as the woman cried out again, her face twisted in pain.

Spencer moved into action, his voice gentle but firm as he guided the woman through her contractions. "Breathe," he instructed. "Just like that. You're doing great."

I stayed close, watching Spencer as he coached her. He didn't hesitate, didn't falter. His hands were steady, his words calculated but kind.

Hotch and JJ stayed near the entrance, keeping the area clear, while Morgan watched Spencer in stunned silence. I think we were all a little awed by what was happening—by Spencer's calm in the chaos.

Minutes passed, but it felt like an eternity. The woman screamed, pushing through another contraction, and Spencer didn't waver. He kept her focused, his eyes never leaving her face, offering comfort that only Spencer could.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the baby's cries pierced the room. Everyone exhaled at once. The relief was palpable, and Spencer, holding the tiny newborn in his hands, carefully passed the baby to the mother.

She was crying, but these were tears of joy, not pain. And as I looked at Spencer, standing there, I could see the emotions flickering across his face—pride, relief, maybe even a little fear. He'd done it.

"Reid," Morgan's voice broke through the quiet, "How did you know how to deliver a baby?"

Spencer blinked, his eyes flicking over to me for the briefest second before looking away. "Uh, when Ste-" He stopped, quickly correcting himself.

My stomach drops. They don't know.

"Sorry, when JJ was pregnant with Henry, I memorized the delivery manuals. Just in case she went into labor in the field."

It was a smooth recovery, but I knew better. JJ nodded, a small smile on her face as if she understood, but my heart ached. Spencer and I never talked about the time we lost our baby, and we never pushed each other. But standing there, watching him, I realized how much of that pain he carried silently.

"Good work, kid," Rossi said, clapping a hand on Spencer's shoulder. The tension in the room started to ease, the team's attention shifting away from the rawness of the moment.

I took a deep breath and moved closer to him, placing my hand on his arm. His gaze met mine for a second, and I could see it—everything he wasn't saying, all the things we'd been through.

"You okay?" I whispered, keeping my voice low enough that the others wouldn't hear.

He nodded, but I could see the weariness in his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay."

But I knew that wasn't entirely true.

As the team started making arrangements to get the woman and her baby to safety, Spencer stayed by my side. Like he was almost scared to step away. I wasn't sure if his almost slip up had scared him or if me being out in the field right now was making him nervous. Knowing him, probably both.

"Do you guys ever thinking about having kids?" Emily peaks up at me on the jet ride home, Spencer passed out next to me.

I shrug, "We haven't talked about it,"

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing there was more beneath the surface. "Really? I mean, you guys seem like you'd be great parents."

I forced a smile, though it felt tight. "Maybe. It's just... complicated."

She nodded slowly, her expression softening. "I get that. But you know, if you ever do decide... you'd have a whole team of babysitters lined up."

I chuckled lightly, appreciating her attempt to lighten the mood, but inside, the knot in my chest only tightened. I could feel the weight of what we hadn't said pressing down on me. I glanced at Spencer again, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath, and I wondered if he dreamed about what could've been.

The truth was, there had been a time when we talked about it constantly. The idea of a future, of building a family together, had felt so real. But after losing the baby, everything had shifted. We stopped talking about it, stopped imagining that future. It wasn't intentional, it just... hurt too much. And now, it felt like a door we were both too afraid to open.

I leaned my head back, closing my eyes, trying to shake off the sadness creeping in. The rhythmic hum of the jet should've been soothing, but it only made my mind wander further.

The woman we rescued today—how terrified she was, and how Spencer had stepped in so effortlessly. I'd seen him in the field countless times, his genius mind working through the most complex of puzzles. But this was different. The way he had coached her through the pain, the way he had held that newborn with such tenderness—it wasn't just another problem to solve for him. It was something deeper.

And that near-slip... Ste-. He had almost said my name. I knew why, of course. Spencer had learned how to deliver a baby because of me—because of us. When we thought we were going to have our own, he had memorized every manual, every possible outcome, preparing for a moment that never came. It was just like him. Always needing to be prepared, always needing to know the answers, even for the unknown.

Emily must've sensed my inner turmoil, because she didn't push any further. Instead, she stood and moved to the back of the jet, giving me space. I exhaled slowly, grateful for the moment of quiet.

As I sat there, I thought about what our lives would look like now if things had been different. Would I still be with the BAU? Would Spencer and I be balancing the chaos of work with sleepless nights and diaper changes? Would he have still memorized every piece of parenting literature, just in case? My heart ached with the weight of it all, the what-ifs that seemed to haunt me in moments like this.

I looked down at our intertwined hands. Spencer's fingers twitched slightly in his sleep, and I squeezed his hand gently, grounding myself in the present. We were here. We had each other. But was that enough? Was I really okay with the silence we kept around the idea of a family?

Spencer stirred next to me, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked groggily, adjusting his glasses, and gave me a sleepy smile.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I lied, but the concern in his eyes told me he saw right through it.

He didn't push, though. He just shifted in his seat, his hand tightening around mine. "You did great today," he said softly, leaning his head against mine. "I know you weren't supposed to be in the field."

I let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I wasn't. Hotch is probably going to lecture me when we get back."

"I'll take the blame," he offered, his lips curving into a playful smile. "I needed you there."

And I knew he meant it, though the words carried more weight than he probably intended. He had needed me there today, but I wasn't sure if he'd ever admit just how much.

"Spence," I began, unsure how to phrase the question that had been sitting heavy in my chest. "When Morgan asked how you knew how to deliver that baby... why didn't you tell them the truth?" Spencer was always honest, he never lied. I guess I was just expecting him to be honest with the team but he didn't.

He looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. "I didn't think it was the right time," he said quietly. "And... I guess I didn't want to bring up something that might make you uncomfortable."

My heart clenched. He always did that—put my feelings first, even when he was hurting too.

"You know you can talk to me about it, right?" I whispered, turning his face toward me so he'd look at me. "We've never really... dealt with it."

He nodded slowly, his eyes searching mine. "I know. It's just... hard. Every time I think about it, I feel like I failed you."

"Failed me?" I repeated, shocked. "Spencer, you didn't fail me. We didn't fail. It just... happened. And it wasn't your fault."

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of that admission had been crushing him. "I know that, logically. But emotionally, it's harder to accept. I guess that's why I memorized all those manuals. I needed to feel like I could control something, even if I couldn't control what happened to us."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away. "You were amazing today, Spence. Watching you deliver that baby... I saw a glimpse of the father you would've been."

His hand tightened around mine, a brief smile tugging at his lips, and for a long moment we just sat there, letting the silence fill the space between us. It wasn't the heavy, painful silence that we'd been carrying for so long. This was something different—an acknowledgment, a shared understanding.

"Maybe one day," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we can try. When we're ready."

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. Maybe we would. Maybe we wouldn't.

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The case had been hard, but it had opened something between us, something we couldn't ignore anymore. We can't stay like this forever, Spencer's almost 30, I just turned 29. We're not getting any younger.

"I'll meet you in the car, I have to go turn these files back to Hotch." I peak around spencer's shoulders and he looks at me with big, tired, eyes.

"I can wait for you." He leans against the wall, I move to stand in front of him.

"I'll meet you down there, besides I don't want to get into a cold car." I shrug and he makes a face at me. "Go turn the heat on genius." I pat his chest and walk towards Hotches office. I hear spencer's feet shuffle behind me.

"Knock, knock," I say walking into the room without actually knocking, due to my hands being full. Hotch points to the pile of files on the table and I set them down next to the pile.

"Everything you requested," I tell him and he sets his pen down with a slight smile. It doesn't last long though. With anxiety filling my body as he stares at me I turn on my heel.

"Alright then, night Hotch," I got for the door but I just end up frozen in my tracks.

"You never talked about it. Neither of you have."

I slowly turn back around and stare at him. I'm stunned. I feel like i've been caught for murder, i've been cornered. I feel as if I have committed a crime by not telling the team about my miscarriage.

"When?" He asks softly and I sit down in the chair across from his desk.

"Um, after few months after I called off the wedding with Austin." I mess with my fingers trying to distract myself, to not go i to too much detail.

"I didn't tell anyone, Spencer only found out when I was at the hospital; the day I fainted in the bullpen." I look at Hotch and he just nods along to tell me he's listening.

"Spencer," I chuckle at the thought of the memory. "He only had four hours to read everything before I woke up. We weren't even on the best terms and he had already become an expert. I lost the baby that day." I bite back tears, quite literally in fact.

"I only gave him 4 hours to be a father." I let a tear slip out.

Hotch's eyes narrow slightly in that way they do when he's thinking deeply, processing. "Why didn't you tell us? I would've given you both time off to grieve, to process."

The question hits me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I can't speak. Time off? To grieve? I hadn't even thought about it that way. I hadn't thought about anything beyond the overwhelming, confusing ache that had swallowed me whole after that day.

"How do you grieve something you can't even understand?" I whisper, my voice breaking slightly. "It all happened so fast. One minute, we didn't even know how we could mend our broken pieces to raise a child, and the next... it was over. How do you process something like that?"

Hotch's expression softens even more, and he leans forward slightly, folding his hands on his desk. "You weren't supposed to understand it. Losing a child... no matter how far along... it's not something you can rationalize. You just... feel it."

I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. "It didn't feel real, Hotch. It still doesn't. I think that's why Spencer and I never talked about it. How do you grieve for something you never really had?"

Hotch sits back, his gaze steady on me. "You had it, Stephie. For as long as it was there, it was real for both of you. And it's okay to grieve what could have been, even if it feels... abstract."

I wipe at my eyes, feeling the weight of his words settling into my chest. "Maybe we didn't give ourselves permission to grieve," I admit. "We just... kept going. Pushing it down, ignoring it, hoping it would go away."

Hotch's voice is calm but firm. "It doesn't just go away. But you can give yourself the space to heal. Both of you can."

I nod slowly, realizing for the first time that maybe we hadn't allowed ourselves to feel the weight of it, to process it together. Maybe that's why it still lingered in the background of our lives, unspoken but always there.

"Thank you," I whisper, standing up slowly. "For understanding."

Hotch gives me a small nod, his eyes full of quiet empathy. "I'm proud of the person you've become, Stephie. Thinking about where you were when you first joined the BAU to right now in this moment. I'm proud of you."

My heart melts a little bit. "You really know how to make a girl cry, Hotch." I wipe my cheeks and give him a soft smile as I walk out the door. Spencer's going to ask one million thousand questions when I get to the car.

—————————AN: Hotch and Stephie moment awe 🥺🥺