A Damn Beautiful Genius

My Last Hoo Rah

"Reid!"

Spencer looked up from his desk, his long hair falling in front of his eyes. He blew softly on loose curl that fell directly in between his eyes before locking eyes with the tall brunette before him.

Emily sighed, looking into the eyes of her close friend, hesitant to break the news on their current case. In her hand, tucked away behind her folded arms, she held a letter, sealed and resealed three times before reaching her.

Reids eyes scanned her features quickly, noting the way her brown eyes dashed to and away from his face quickly. They always found their way back to her hand, which he could see was tightly gripping something she appeared to be guarding with her life.

"What?" he asked timidly. Based off Emily's reserved nature alone, he felt a growing sense of fear rising from the pit of his stomach. He refused to move, barely allowing himself to inhale as he awaited her explanation.

"It's Cat Adams," she breathed, her fingers twitching as she clutched the letter she was still reluctant to hand over.

He tapped the pen he had previously been writing with on his desk before slamming it on the wooden surface with an open palm, "damn it!" he yelled, rising from his chair.

Emily dropped her composure, relaxing into her crossed arms as she exhaled, her eyes softening as she watcher her friend's face turn red as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth.

"I'm sorry, Spencer, but she wrote you a letter," she said, carefully uncrossing her arms to hand him a wrinkled envelope with a piece of tape over the broken seal.

"Of course she did. Of course—" he tore the letter from her hand, falling backwards into his seat. He dropped it onto his lap, running his hands deep into his hair before gripping it tightly into his fists.

"Hey. . ." she started, reaching a comforting hand out and placing it on his shoulder. She looked around the bullpen, noticing the eyes, all turned on Spencer, "let's go into my office."

He shook her arm off his shoulder, and released his grip on his hair, allowing his hands to travel all the way through his locks. He looked up, noticing the eyes around him flashing away, pretending to be working, "no. It's fine."

He saw a picture of his rival's face on the screen in the conference room, and recognized that his team was already discussing her motives for sending the letter. He stood up, crumpling the paper in his fist as he stormed over toward the room.

"Spencer— no— wait!" Emily called after him, jogging only slightly to catch him, "you should read it alone first. It's. . . graphic."

"You read it?" he asked, unsure of why he felt a tinge of annoyance, as if she had somehow invaded his privacy. He focused hard on maintaining a straight face, trying only to appear curious.

"Mandatory security clearance. I had to read it after our security cleared it so that I could—" she stopped, unwilling to admit what the F.B.I. had thought of him.

"What?" he growled, acutely aware of the fact he was projecting his anger at Cat for contacting him again onto his friend, whom he loved dearly.

"Assure them that the contents of the letter were entirely one-sided, and," she sighed, "confirm that you are not, and have never been sexually, or romantically involved with Cat Adams.

"I haven't!" he yelled back, clenching his fists tighter around the already worn envelope.

"I know," her voice was calm, soothing, inviting him to trust that she knew he wasn't attracted to the psychopath who put him behind bars.