COVERT : Spencer Reid (II)

16

No one is really up for holiday festivities.

Cletus grabs plates for himself and Caro, bringing them back to Rachel's room for them to share. I grind my teeth at his presence. Estelle helps herself to a plate but takes it to the kitchen where she cleans up the cooking items. I stay in the dining room, sitting across from Stéphane at the table, eating in silence.

He gives me the barest of bones of what happened while I was with Spencer.

Caro locked herself in Rachel's bedroom and wouldn't come out. I don't know what the fuck Cletus got up to during that time, and frankly I don't care as long as he wasn't with her. According to Estelle who sat in the hall, he was in the bathroom for a bit, then the kitchen.

In my bedroom, Stéphane trapped Bastien inside. It proved easier than he expected, because after thirty seconds of Bastien begging to leave, he curled up on the floor and held himself. Stéphane was expecting physical resistance, or something, but Bastien just waited. Corralled. No crying, no explanations, nothing. Just silence.

Eating is too easy. My stomach hurts with every bite, but I can't stop. Otherwise, I'll start pacing and maybe I'll break down my own bedroom door. I don't like that Spencer is inside with Bastien. It's not Spencer's burden. It's my family.

At least the food tastes wonderful. Stéphane is not eating, pushing food around on his plate.

"How are you feeling?" I swallow food quickly after I ask the question. I hope it might help force down the lump in my throat.

Stéphane pushes his food around, "he got in a fight and you didn't tell me?"

"That's an observation, not an emotion," I point out, glancing up at him while trying to cut my slice of turkey into smaller and smaller pieces. "How are you feeling?"

Stéphane's shoulders tighten, "okay. I'm feel angry because he got into a fight and you didn't think to tell me."

"I don't report to you," I snap. "I know you're used to getting all sorts of reports about me from Estelle, but I'm not into your little whisper network, alright? If he was comfortable telling you, he would have."

Silence follows. I force more of the turkey in my mouth. I grab water off the table. It's the cup that was meant for Spencer, but it's been twenty minutes and he's not back yet.

"Arguing with you about this isn't productive," Stéphane decides.

For both of us. Without my input.

"You know, maybe he would come to you if you weren't so unilateral," I point out. "Who died and made you king?"

"Dad."

I grit my teeth, "I'm the only one Dad respected out of all of us, so I wouldn't go around touting his praises."

"You're being awfully cruel to the brother who didn't punch your boyfriend in the face," Stéphane coughs. He pulls at the collar of his shirt. "And I wouldn't go around sharing just how proud you are to be just like Dad. I know he liked you, but he terrorized the rest of us. Well, not Caro – but that's not the point. You set a good example for Bastien like Dad. Hide all your feelings, share nothing, and snap whenever someone pushes your buttons."

"Not my boyfriend," I spit.

"Right," Stéphane shakes his head. "That would require a level of emotional vulnerability that is impossible for you."

He picks up a fork, and that's when I notice his hands are shaking. He catches my glance too quickly, shoving them both under the table. He takes in a breath, one singular, too shallow.