Bitter

Chapter Five

"All sorts of yayness floods my brain. Love is such a drug."

― John Green, Will Grayson, Will Grayson

She put the gun down. Holstering it against the tan pants, she was wearing. She watched, on edge, as he untucked his shirt and lifted it to reveal a pair of handcuffs in his pocket.

"So you weren't just happy to see me." she pouted. A grin spreading across her cheeks. It was lopsided. With only one dimple. The perfect imperfection.

"You're joking when I could arrest you right now? You know you would be put to death. You killed the prince."

"I've killed plenty of people. Besides, I was thinking we could have some fun with those instead. But if you insist." That was all she said as she walked out of the alley onto the street. He followed after her, but she had disappeared—a ghost, gone into thin air.

*

"I'm more a creative problem solver."

"Of course." he laughed.

*

"How did you get into this work?"

"Not important," she said, shying away from his face.

*

"I was stuck on the goal post for hours. It was horrible."

"I'm so sorry. You'll never have to go through that again." she held him as he cried.

*

"I've never met someone like you."

"Not many have lived to tell the tale." she laughed.

*

Spencer had spent the last few weeks bored. Coming back from Paris was one of the hardest things he had had to do. He had used two extra days of vacation time so he could stay. He stayed in her apartment. Apparently, she had them scattered all over the world. She made him sleep on the pullout couch. The last night he was there, she had finally trusted him enough to tell him about her work. She was a hitwoman, but she thought of herself as a 'creative problem solver'; she was the one person he didn't want to profile. He wanted her to trust him more than anything. Before the alley, he told himself he was only interested in pursuing her because he wanted to catch her, but now? He knew it wasn't true.

"Reid, case. We are going to New York." Hotch yelled, walking past his desk to the round table.

*

"Spence?"

"Oh my god. It's you. How are you? Where are you? Wait, shit, you can't tell me that."

"No, no, I can. Because either I'm going blind, or I just saw you at the airport. Are you in New York?

"Uh yeah, I am, wait, are you in New York?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am."

He smiled, excited at the prospect of seeing her again. But upon looking at Morgan making kissy faces at him, his tone and expression leveled. "Do you want to meet up?" he asked.

"Definitely. Meet me at the corner of 27th and Newman, dress for a date." That was all she said until the phone clicked off. Looking down at the number, he added it to his contacts but then realized he still didn't know her name. How does someone know your deepest secrets without you knowing their name?