Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

The Way She Is

Spencer

Her eyes are so intense, her attitude is so annoying, I think I wanna kiss her. 
And she slapped me. 

That moment replays in my head every second. Weeks have passed since then, and I fight the urge to text her or call her every day. Especially since she hasn't been to work since Hotch sent her home. I keep meaning to ask him about it—about when she's coming back—but I can never bring myself to speak.

I'm not sure if it's guilt or fear that keeps me quiet. Guilt, because I know I pushed her too hard that day. I kept pressing, kept digging into things she wasn't ready to talk about. Or maybe it's fear—fear that she won't come back at all, that I've driven her away for good. I've gone over our argument a thousand times in my head, analyzing every word, every gesture. Did I misread her? Or was she just doing what she always does, hiding behind that tough exterior?

But then there's that slap. I can still feel the sting on my cheek, a reminder of how much I don't know, how much she's holding back. I'm torn between wanting to give her space and needing to know that she's okay.

Every time I think about reaching out, something stops me. What if she doesn't want to hear from me? What if she's decided that this—whatever this is between us—was a mistake? The thought twists my stomach in knots.

Today, I see Hotch in his office, the door slightly ajar. My feet move before I can think, and suddenly I'm standing in the doorway.

"Hotch," I start, the word catching in my throat. He looks up from his paperwork, his expression unreadable.

"Reid," he replies, his tone as neutral as ever.

I take a breath. "Have you heard from Stephie?"

Hotch's eyes narrow just a fraction, but he doesn't answer right away. The silence feels like it stretches on forever before he finally speaks.

"She needed some time," he says carefully. "But she'll be back soon."

Relief floods through me, but it's quickly replaced by anxiety. Soon could mean anything.

"Do you know when?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He studies me for a moment, as if weighing how much to say. "In a few days, maybe. She's still processing everything that happened."

I nod, even though it doesn't really answer the question burning in my mind. Processing everything—that could mean a lot of things.

"Thank you," I manage, turning to leave before I lose my nerve. But before I step out, Hotch's voice stops me.

"Reid," he says, and I turn back to face him. "When she comes back, give her some space. I don't want a repeat of Missouri."

His words are more of a warning than advice, and they hang heavy in the air as I nod once more.

I leave Hotch's office, my thoughts swirling. I've spent weeks avoiding this, avoiding her, and now that she's almost back, I don't know what to do. 

But I do know one thing: I can't keep pretending that slap didn't happen, or that it didn't mean anything. If I'm going to make things right, I need to be honest—with her and with myself.
The real question is whether she'll let me.

Stephie is stubborn and mean. But I know a side of her that's sweet and caring. Deep down, that's the real Stepheni Foster.

I fear for Emily Prentiss. When Hotch finally hired her, I thought Stephie had quit—that she was really gone for good. But Emily was just Elle's replacement. She's okay, competent and driven, we've already worked a few cases with her, but she's stepping into a team that's still reeling. I don't know if they'll get along. Emily doesn't know Stephie, doesn't know anything about what she's been through recently, the reason behind her irritability.