COVERT : Spencer Reid (II)

04

Spencer is relentless about staying, and while I'm trying to protest I hear Estelle inflating the air mattress. We're leaving early tomorrow morning. I sleep on the couch next to him in the living room, my eyes too awake. We're going to land in Las Vegas even earlier, and fieldwork is always exhausting. The time zones will shift and I'm going to hate myself tomorrow. I can't sleep though. Eventually, my alarm wakes me up. I'm sure I didn't sleep at all, tossing and turning, wrestling with consciousness more than the throw blanket I use on the sofa. Reid is already in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. I suppose I did sleep, since I didn't hear him get up.

When I open the door to my bedroom, the hinges creaking, I'm worried about waking Bastien. I slip inside the room, shuffle to my drawers. My feet stop.

He's gone. My bed is unmade, a mess of pillows and blankets, and blood smugged on my pillow. No note. No text on my phone.

We all meet at the jet. Reid drops me off at our office so I can get my go bag. It works out well, since I don't want us to roll up onto the tarmac and step out of the same car. We're supposed to go over the profile on the plane. JJ sent us all emails with documents to look over for now. I try to study it while Reid sleeps.

It's easier to get lost in the case. Since JJ is leaving, they might ask me to take a more proactive role while the temporary worker transitions into her job. I become her shadow for part of it, listening in as she talks to the mother of an abducted child. I sit in on an interview Prentiss and Rossi conduct. Surely, I'd be a terrible person to run an interrogation or comfort a grieving family member, but I suppose someone will have to do something with JJ's maternity leave.

During lunch, Reid is about to step out for a few minutes. He stops by my makeshift desk in the boardroom. On my laptop, I'm skimming through research on murderers who attend the funerals of victims. Unlike the profilers, I can't make sense of it. Much of the research focuses on the egoism of the murderer. The team thinks the killer is remorseful, and I don't know if it's even possible to know if someone you've ever met has regrets; I don't even know how many I have. Estelle would get a kick out of my suffering. Spencer leans in, and I'm aware of how my skin prickles. A long time ago, I'd tell myself it's the case at hand.

It's not though. It's so deep within me that it's at a cellular level. It's the electrons in the hair follics on my arms as his hand hovers over them. He sets it down on the table beside me, still hanging behind him.

"You feeling okay?" he whispers into my ear.

I nod. Most of the other times I've been in the field, my coping skills were lacking. He doesn't know what I felt like the most recent time he was held hostage, cooking in a car in the desert, praying I'd see him alive again. The first time I saw a corpse, I was sick. I trembled while holding a gun in New Orleans. I wasn't myself in the hotel room when we were on a case without Hotch and Prentiss. This is a kidnapping too. Statistically, I should be in shambles. I guess things really are working better.

So, I definitely don't need to tell him about What Happened in May.

"If we've solved the case tonight, I'm going to ask to stay another night," Reid mumbles. "Would you come visit my mother before dinner?"

I nod my head, slowly. Likely, we won't be finished tonight. The odds for this child don't look good, and if we do catch the unsub this evening, I don't think anyone is going to be in enough of a celebratory mood to stay in Vegas the extra night. It's an empty promise.

Reid pulls himself up and then walks away. I start to straighten my hair, making sure the loose pieces frame my face properly.

"You found something?" Prentiss asks, approaching my computer.