・゜゜・.THREE DAYS LATER .・゜゜・
The BAU had returned from the case, as suspected, the night of the gallery opening. When Hotch found out about her influence on the case and how significant it was, he had no choice but to welcome her back to the workforce. She found Spencer pretty soon after he had gotten back, reading in the corner of one of the office rooms. She hadn't wanted to disturb him, he looked so peaceful it seemed an awful thing to ruin that. But he looked up and put the book down the second he saw her, smiling brightly. So she asked him and explained all the details first, how it was black tie and there were likely to be lots of posh people around but the art would be absolutely incredible. He agreed to go within a heartbeat the second he saw how she craved to go but wouldn't do such a thing alone, plus he liked galleries and could deal with all the people for a little while. And even if he hadn't wanted to go, he figured he owed her something she wanted as she had agreed to go to a five hour movie in Russian for him. She did not know a word of Russian but he (and neither did she) had nothing against whispering translations to her throughout the entire movie.
Due to the two of them having to dress up, they both decided it was best to just meet outside the venue as time constraints made it a little bit tricky. She had already brought a dress to work, having planned to go anyway if they hadn't got back, but he hadn't had that luxury. Somehow though, he made it to the steps outside the gallery before she did and Clara could not help but smile at the sight of him in a tuxedo. He, after complimenting her dress and her hair, offered her his arm. She smiled and softly chuckled as she took it, wrapping her hand around the bottom of his upper arm.
Upon entry they were both handed rather large flutes of sparkly champagne which were slowly sipped as they both walked around the room, spending sometimes minutes looking at particular paintings. Her hand only left his arm once, when she had become so enraptured by a painting that she did not want to leave to go and get another drink so he offered to do so.
About an hour and a half into the evening, just as they finished up with one of the paintings, the room suddenly became so loud and chatty it was rather insufferable. Someone famous had arrived and ruined the entire calm and peaceful atmosphere of the evening, typical. He leant closer towards her, his voice just low enough that he knew she would hear but nobody else would. He asked if it would be okay to take a second outside, away from the chaos and the stiffness of the room. Clara obviously agreed, not wanting him to be uncomfortable. They walked out slyly, using quick deductive skills to figure out the most covered and easiest escape route. Both of them did not want to sit on the stairs so they ended up walking around the gallery just a little, choosing to hide near the workers entry door down an alley at the side of the building.
"What band is this?" he wondered aloud, referring to the music that had been playing all evening from various speakers around the hall. In the alley the music became dulled and much softer, an aura of peace surrounded her at an instant.
"Fleetwood Mac," she responded softly, letting her lungs fill with the cool night air. The coldness surrounding them did nothing but cause a few goosebumps on her shoulders. Her blood felt too warm, veins buzzing with glitter and bubbles. "The songs called Gold dust woman i'm pretty sure, I haven't listened to them in a while."
He nodded in response but gave no vocal response, too enraptured by a beauty better than any painting in existence to even be able to form a sentence. Clara looked out of the alley, up at the stars and smiled softly at how the full moon casted rays of light all across the dark night sky. Seeing the stars in a city was such a rarity, almost never occurring, but tonight they were bright as anything. The lights from the gallery casted orangey lights on her face, highlighting her eyes and the mole beneath the left one. He admired her peace, how she breathed steadily and the one thing that had seemed to burden her soul for so long seemed to have dissolved.
YOU ARE READING
Ineffable - S.REID
Fanfiction(adj) ❝too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words.❞ CLARA DAVIA didn't have much of a view of fate, of people joined by strings that pulled them together no matter what occurred in their lives. SPENCER REID hadn't an opinion either...