kindness above all

“Alright, I do not appreciate being the butt of the joke when I only want to plan the most satisfying bachelorette party for you as possible!” She shrieks, stomping her beautifully heeled foot.

“It is my duty as the maid of honor to provide only the best for the bride-to-be!” She seems slightly hysterical at this point. Her volume catches the attention of a now warm faced man making his way over to his desk, carrying a mug so sweetly potent, it can be smelt even at quite the distance.

Taking notice of his arrival and conclusive end to the discussion, Penelope points an accusing finger at each and every one of us to accompany her parting words.

“Do not let Hotch take away any of you, my delectable crimefighters, because come heckiedizzle or high water, this wedding will be happening on Friday.” She raises her eyebrows and backs away slowly, never breaking her gaze, and eventually slamming her batcave door in her own face.

The way she behaves, one would be put under the impression that anyone was objecting. Then again, Penelope Garcia is nothing if not a gorgeously pure albeit rampant whore for theatrics. Don’t misunderstand, she agrees. A very drunken she, admittedly, but still. Truly, a shitfaced Penelope Garcia is like a world class standup comedian. I say standup but I mean more like “cling to my well-tailored cardigan for stability” comedian. Despite my open aversion to alcohol, I could honestly think of no better form of entertainment on my last day as a single person than a skit act from Penny toting around a badly hidden bottle of wine. Knowing my dear friend, Em, she would probably make it a prioritized goal to make that happen. The woman has at least six flasks of hard liquor stashed in her desk as we speak and she enjoys it a little too much that we all know it, too.

After a little more chitchat, a smiling Derek Morgan returns from the same break room my fiancé had just exited and forcibly removes a disgruntled Emily from his chair. To his credit, he attempted to reason verbally with her but when she took his favorite baseball off his desk and kept it as a hostage, he was reduced to the use of brute force. Her and her chuckling blonde girlfriend disperse shortly thereafter, leaving me to my thoughts… and the object of those affectionate constructs sitting directly across from me.

We had requested this desk positioning only days after the resign of my desk’s previous resident. While Hotch silently but strongly missed Elle, he wasted no time in authorizing the move. This master of the RBF and poker face simply could not restrain the grin that breaks across his face anytime anyone even suggests that his little push for Spence’s asking me out was a professional work of matchmaking. They would certainly not be wrong. The large rock on my left hand easily proves that much.

“What are you looking at?” I question him, glancing at him through my eyelashes which he couldn’t help thinking were wonderfully proportioned above pink cheeks.

“You,” He blatantly states, seeing no need for a filter when he felt so at home around me.

“Why would you be doing that?” I shyly wonder, breaking the intense eye contact and focusing on my fidgeting fingers.

“Well, that would be because I want to be doing that for the rest of my life,” He promptly raises himself up by the arms of his chair, moving swiftly around the annoyingly obtrusive desks, and perching himself on his rightful place at the edge of my desk.

He places his cup of coffee down on the surface under him and reaches out to gently place a hand under my chin.

“You look so beautiful,” He whispers as he guides me to meet his eyes, “You always do but I cannot help admiring you when you blush and fiddle with your ring. You are so adorable, it is literally mind-blowing.”

We both do not even notice that he has been leaning down this whole time and I up. Well, that is until Spencer feels a strong hand clap him hard on the shoulder.

Jumping practically six feet in the air and clear off my desk, he recognizes his strictly unwelcome greeter back to reality.

“Derek, what do you want?” His voice has jumped about two octaves and I cannot help but smile.

“Y’all are cute and all but Hotch has been giving you nasty looks for a while,” His mocking grin only widens when he nods behind the both of us. Hotch is framed perfectly in his office window, focusing on one certain point in the bullpen. As I mentioned before, he cannot help the small but easily noticeable smile that directly contracts his eyes that are forced to be apprehending.

Spencer nervously swallows before heading back to his desk. I cannot stop the little giggles that result from the sickeningly sweet change in his attitude.

~~~

“Oh my god, I really thought you were playing me,” Emily groans as we exit the car.

I grin at the sight of the mom-and-pop bookshop Garcia had found through some well-practiced digging.

“Yeah, I would hope so,” I nod at her outfit which is appropriate for a dignified three star night club at best, “I thought you were into JJ, not some older grandfather type likely to be working the cash register here.”

“Well, if you’re right, it’s working,” JJ comes up to Prentiss’ side and links their arms. Her presentation is slightly more appropriate with a fur coat covering the strappy shoulders of her matching black reincarnation of Emily’s red party dress.

I grin at them and follow the command of JJ’s swaying arm, requesting I lead the way into the shop. Pushing open the door, a small tinkling bell comes to life. From a door leading off into an unknown room, a beautifully wholesome elderly couple enter the room. Their arms are linked and their hands clasp as they grin broadly at me. Their smiles remain persistent as Garcia walks in behind me, wearing a lovely pink cardigan over her bright yellow dress. Their happy expressions falter only for an almost undetectable moment as they take in the getups adorned by the caboose of our strange albeit merry band of FBI hotties.

The suspected owners of the shop shuffle up to the checkout desk beside the door as one and greet us all with figuratively open arms. Their eyes twinkle as they watch the affectionate way that JJ and Emily cling to each other and Garcia and I joke around.

“How can we help you, my dears?” The shorter woman behind the desk questions.

Before I can answer, Pen takes over for me.

“Well, this lovely human,” she wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer, “is getting married this week.”

“Oh my goodness, congratulations!” The man throws his hands up slightly, smiling at us.

“Oh, no, not to me!” Garcia giggles sweetly. “But they are quite the catch, huh?”

I cut Garcia off before she goes on an appreciated but maybe not time appropriate positivity tangent.

“I would just rather spend the night looking at some nice books than…” I trail off.

“Partying?” The lady offers.

As I nod, they laugh teasingly.

Leaning in slightly, the man whispers, “Do you think your friends over there got that message?”

I play into their joke when I say, “No, probably not.”

“We may be a little busy over here in our,” Emily flicks a wrist at us from over in the corner of the shop she and JJ had wondered to, “bubble but we can still hear you.”

“I know!” I smile brightly over my shoulder at the two of them and they cannot help but succumb to laughter with me.

“Well, sweethearts,” the lady behind the desk says, “please let us know if you need anything at all.”

“We wish you a very happy life with whoever it is that you love,” the man adds and my heart melts a little at the pure couple.

~~~

After much deadpanning from JJ and Emily about how much alcohol we could have consumed by now and much shushing from Garcia, I have accumulated a respectable stash of books in my arms.

“Okay, Y/N, hotcakes,” Garcia lays the gentle foundation for her slight, “you know I support you in everything you do but… it would take Reid like, six weeks to read all that.”

“Good because some of them are for him,” I respond.

Before she can think of a witty comeback about how this is supposed to be my last night of single freedom and I am thinking about my husband-to-be, a telltale jingling comes from the door. Not even the elderly couple blocking my line of sight can stop my immediate identification of the newly arriving customers. I didn’t need to recognize the teasing voice of one member of the supposed duo when I knew the footsteps of the first.

Derek spots Garcia behind the welcoming woman.

“Baby girl,” He calls clear over the head of this woman, “what are you doing here?”

“Garcia’s here?” A squeaky, nervous, and ungodly endearing voice I would give anything to hear asks.

“Spence?” I almost yell, running through the bookshelves and into the front sector of the bookstore.

“Y/N/N?” He responds despite being as unflinchingly sure of my presence.

He does not hesitate to pull me into a hug, my weight causing him to stumble, sway, and spin a little as I go barreling into him.

“What are you doing here?” He whispers against my scalp as he kisses it.

“Just about the same thing I’m pretty sure you’re doing here,” I answer, voice muffling into the fabric of his cardigan. I take one last sniff of his musk before I allow him to place me gently back onto the floor.

“See?” Garcia chuckles from behind me, “I told you it wasn’t me they’re marrying.”

The couple laugh loudly and merrily but Spencer’s eyebrows draw together.

“Wait, huh?”

~~~

taglist, i suppose :)

You hadn’t expected a man as rough-looking as he to take your word on it but his entire face lit up upon receiving his own brightly-colored drink like it was the first relief he’d felt in days.

“How did you end up here tonight?” the man asked.

You raised an eyebrow before firing back, “How did you?”

Silence. You turned back to your glass, relieved you’d managed to scare off the man who asked too many questions, the man who began the conversation the same way so many did when they wanted to flirt. It wasn’t the night for flirting, not when your fingers were tightening around the glass instead of loosening as they’d always used to.

Still, a glance at the man had your heart practically melting in your chest. It wasn’t quite pouting, but the gentle purse of his lips as he watched the ice melt in his drink was enough to make you sigh. “What’s your name?”

The man’s head whipped up to stare at you, honey eyes incredulous as he took in your expression. Was he waiting for a trick, for some sign that you’d laugh and walk away? Whatever it was he had been searching for, it was never found. Instead, he sighed and answered, “Spencer.”

“How long has it been, Spencer?”

“How did you know?” he asked over the edge of his drink, eyes flitting about as he tried to take in everything about you.

Instead of answering, you pulled your hand out of your pocket and slid the object held within across the bar to him. Spencer considered it for a long time, holding the weighted chip in his hands and occasionally rubbing a thumb over the surface, as though trying to clean away the wear and tear. He reached out to hand it back to you, fingers brushing your hand as he deposited the chip carefully in it. If you hadn’t known before, the careful way he handled your chip only confirmed it.

“Eight months is a long time.”

“It is. I came here right after a meeting,” you explained, slipping the chip and your hand back into your pocket. “I started missing the way my friends and I used to go to bars every Thursday night, thought this might help.”

“Is it helping?”

“It’s nice, being around other people who understand. It’s hard finding people who get that I can’t have a casual night at a bar anymore.”

“My friends wanted to go to a bar after work,” Spencer explained, and you couldn’t help but smile into your drink as he opened up to you. “Late into recovery, I was able to go with them if I only had seltzer. They said they understood why I said ‘no’ this time, but...”

“But how can you really be sure?” you finished, having known the feeling all too well. It was a feeling born from hopeful looks from friends, from pleading as they said, ‘you don’t even have to have a drink, just come with us,’ it was from all the times you thought, maybe you really could handle one night, as though you were ready to risk everything you’d worked toward for one night out.

“Exactly.”

“So how long have you been a recovering addict, Spencer?”

“Ten yea—” he began, though a familiar and crushing disappointment settled in his gaze before he corrected, “six months.”

“Damn.” Ten years. Your own sponsor hadn’t even been sober for that long. How had something so good ended up like this, with him looking more defeated than you’d ever seen a man before? How had ten years been ripped away, just like that? “What did it?”

“It’s a long story,” Spencer warned, hands curling protectively around his drink.

“If you’re ready to tell it, I’m ready to listen,” you offered, waving down the bartender to get another round of non-alcoholic drinks made for you and Spencer. “You know how they say no one knows you like the person sitting at the bar with you? I think that applies to sober bars too.”

Spencer laughed, tipping his head back as he did so. “I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to come here tonight.”

“Do you still think that?”

Spencer seemed to consider you again, smiling softly before saying, “I’m glad I’m here.” He was easy to talk to, that was for sure. As your conversation lapsed into what you both did for work and how you spent your time off, you wondered what it might’ve been like to meet when you were younger. Spencer, with soft cheeks and bright honeyed doe eyes, would smile up at you without the guilt set deep within his gaze. You wondered what he might have thought of you back then, wild and free without a single care for how the world worked yet. Would he have liked that version of you, the one who existed now only in pictures and memories of friends?

“Is it alcohol, for you?” Spencer asked to which you nodded carefully.

“College, you know?” you hoped to explain, shrugging your shoulders a little hopelessly. “Everyone always says that drinking is a necessity in school. I guess I just took that to heart.”

“For me it was hydromorphone, Dilaudid. I was kidnapped on the job, he was giving it to me because he thought it would help. For awhile it did, but then...”

“The ‘but then’ always comes eventually,” you sighed, knowing there had been faces in your meetings that you would never see again, of those who had tried to climb out of the hole you were all stuck in but ultimately were unable to for now. You would look down, begging them to take your hand, begging them not to pull you down as you tried to help them back up.

“I was doing well for ten years,” Spencer continued, finishing his drink as though it might instill some confidence despite the falsity of its contents. “Then someone framed me for murder.”

“Oh shit, really?”

The solemn nod was enough to confirm he wasn’t joking. “She gave me a narcotic laced with hallucinogens, exactly the same that I—” Spencer ran a hand through his curls roughly and you wanted to reach out, to grab that hand and make him promise not to be so harsh with himself. You wanted to tell him it was okay, that it was awful to lose ten years but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it again. Desperately, you wanted to remind this man that recovery was never linear, that even in a perfect situation there would still be relapses—that all you could do was pick yourself up from them and carry on, promising to fix the thing that had broken you that time.

It was too much. The grief and pain were clear in his hunched shoulders and downturned head. It was clear as he looked up to you, practically pleading for you to give him the answers as if you had any to provide.

You had no answers to give him, but that didn’t mean there was nothing.

“I’m free every Thursday after nine,” you told the man, “you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

“What makes you think I’ve been doing this alone?”

You shrugged, wondering if Spencer was able to see in you what you saw reflected back from him. Did he see the nights spent alone, struggling to keep going one more day and wondering how on earth you were meant to keep an entire life like this? Did he see the days you walked into work and wondered, when would someone notice how much you were struggling? In turn, did he see in you the days it began to feel better? That first day you went without thinking of it once, or the first time someone offered you a drink and you said ‘no’ without any hesitation? You hoped he saw each tiny step you’d taken forward in an effort to make it here, sitting with a stranger in a building meant just for them—a safe space for cracked souls to repair themselves.

“Because I know the look of someone who’s been fighting too hard for too long,” you answered softly, standing up from your stool and stretching out your back. “I have to go, but I’ll see you next Thursday, okay?”

“I promise.”

When Thursday rolled around again, you almost didn’t go. Could you handle the feeling of sitting at a bar, waiting for a man you hardly knew to show up? What would you do then, if he never showed? You didn’t tell your sponsor where you were headed after the meeting—after all, you knew she would smile and shake her head, warning you in no uncertain terms that doing anything to alter your stability right now was a risky game.

It ended up being a baseless fear, though, for when you walked back into that sober bar, Spencer was sitting right where you’d left him a week prior. “Hi, Sunrise, I thought maybe you weren’t coming,” Spencer greeted as you slid onto the stool beside his.

“Sunrise?”

“I realized after you left that I never got your name,” he explained, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “So Sunrise, for new beginnings.”

“And for the drink,” you laughed, pointing at the second brightly colored glass waiting for you beside his.

“And for the drink.”

What started as careful questions a week before ended up as loud laughter and raucous storytelling, both of you waving your hands about in an effort to get the point of each story across to the other. Spencer told you about his team and how much they cared for him—speaking with so much love held deep in his voice that you knew this was his family. You, in turn, told him about yourself and all the little things you’d come to love over the last eight months, like the smell of coffee early in the morning or the gentle sound of shoes crunching in the snow.

It was easy with Spencer in all the ways you’d ever hoped for. He looked at you and saw beyond the damaged parts you’d worked so hard to patch up—he never once tried to force out the old you, but rather smiled and gently coaxed out the parts of this new version of you that even you weren’t familiar with yet.

“All I’m saying is you need to give it another chance,” you laughed, shaking your head at Spencer’s attitude-filled eye roll.

“The Star Wars series is the most scientifically inaccurate set of movies I’ve ever watched,” Spencer reminded you.

“I don’t disagree, but movies don’t have to be accurate to be good.”

“Science fiction movies do, that’s the entire point.”

“And, I argue that Star Wars is not actually SciFi. SciFi is all about how technology can change society as we live now. It also has to take place in the future. Star Wars takes place ‘a long time ago’ and never once tries to explain any technology in it because that’s not what it’s about. It’s all about the story. Star Wars is a space fairytale,” you explained, laughing when Spencer began to.

It was the most joyous sound you’d heard in ages, Spencer’s laugh. When he was there with you, it was free and loose, often escaping past his lips before he could stop it and shocking even himself.

“A space fairytale?” Spencer laughed, shaking his head and finishing up his third drink of the night. “I can accept that.”

“You better, because it’s right.”

The bar was emptying out by now, later into the night than either of you expected. Both of you had work early in the morning, but it seemed neither cared about the exhaustion that would set in in a few short hours.

“Same time next week?” you asked as the two of you closed your tabs and re-donned your jackets.

“Actually,” Spencer began slowly, nearly pulling your breath straight out of your chest. Was this it? Had you said something that night to scare him off? “Would you want to go on a date? With me?”

Oh, it was somehow worse. There was no sign of a joke in his amber eyes, nothing but complete earnestness that gripped tightly around your heart.

“Spencer,” you sighed, trailing off as you considered how to answer. How could you possibly say what you knew you needed to say? There was nothing more you wanted in that moment than to say yes, to take the risk with him.

It was clear what you needed to do, though. The risk was enticing but both of you knew better, knew the chances of it working out would only increase with more time. “I’ll see you next week,” you told him gently, reaching out to take his hand when his expression dropped. “Let’s make it to a year together, and then I’ll go anywhere you want to go.”

“Okay,” Spencer agreed, allowing the obvious disappointment to melt into that loose smile you’d come to love, “let’s do this together, Sunrise.”

And you would. Tonight, Spencer would bring you in for a hug and both of you would cling to one another for a little longer than necessary. He’d walk you to your car and promise to see you next Thursday. Each week you would see each other, discussing everything from the new show you were watching to what made it particularly difficult that day to stay on track.

Just as with all things, there were good and bad days for both of you. And just as you’d always hoped someone would, Spencer was there to lift you up when you needed the boost. You were there for him too, coming over to his apartment after tough cases to distract him with good movies and even better company.

You would hit a year first. It would be your first year, the culmination of so much strife and hard work all leading you to sit in your new favorite safe space with Spencer, sipping on virgin Tequila Sunrises and feeling better than you had in years.

And the day Spencer made it another year, you came over to his apartment and you cooked together. You wore your best outfit and he did his, blushing and holding hands under the dining table as you ate.

And just like every other time you were together, the two of you would end up back at that sober bar. You’d curl up in your familiar seats, wondering just how lucky you’d been to have found a safe space in each other.

GENERAL TAGLIST @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthewgraygublerlover @silverhetdanes @ssawonderland @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora @reidsbookclub @katymarie @mrsobrien888 @writingquillsandpainpills @fightingdragonswithreid @lil-stark @sweetandsunny @stillsleepynat @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @givemeth @foxy-eva @happycamper72 @gubesboo @lilibet261 @redbloodtea @kateyee @exhaleli @m-mhotchner @ilovespencerreidmarryme @darkeunology @beatlesbug @taygottfried-blog @moonwarriorx3 @nomajdetective @fairyellieee @an-asexuwhale @meggie-m00n @soencerreid-MGG @y0urm0msfav @frickin-bats @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome

ONESHOT TAGLIST @spencerreidat3am @multixfandomwriter @justreadingficsdontmindme @natashxromanovfreads @reidsonlyangel

“That can’t be true,” Spencer laughed every time, bashfully looking down at his little Converse before beaming at you. “I’m only seven, there’s so many smart adults.”

“Well I’m nine, I’m older than you so what I say goes,” you told him matter-of-factly, plopping down onto the blanket you’d dragged along. Surely your mother would admonish you for getting her blanket covered in dirt and sand, but Spencer only ever agreed to come to this spot if he didn’t have to touch the dirt.

It was a beautiful spot, truly. You’d found it one night after sneaking out, dragging Spencer along to see whose parents would find them first. The two of you sat here, on a little hill at the edge of the Las Vegas suburbs, looking out at the chilled desert for hours until finally, Spencer’s dad had come running up in a panic.

You thought you’d lost the competition of whose parents cared more, but then his dad had told you that all four of them had been searching the whole town for you. When Mr. Reid brought you back, your mothers smushed the two of you up in tight hugs while your dads stood back, trying to appear stronger than they were feeling.

You never heard it at the time, but they shook their heads and said, “You know they’ll get married one day.”

Knowing it had taken them five hours to find you here, it soon became your safe space, your hideout where for a moment the only people who existed in the world were you and Spencer.

“Are you ready for school?” you asked, leaning forward to draw little figures in the loose dirt. Spencer had a book open on his lap—the next Sherlock Holmes if you had to guess—but was instead watching your fingers move across your drawing.

“I guess.”

“You guess? Spence, you love school!” It was enough to drop what you were working on, fully turning your body enough to twist up the blanket under you. How could he say such a thing when just a year ago he’d been begging you to change your mind on your hatred of education?

“Do you think we’ll still be friends this year?” Spencer asked then, crumbling your tiny heart.

“Of course, we will, why wouldn’t we be?” you shot back. “You’re my best friend.”

“They put me in middle school this year, I won’t see you all day.” That was the trouble with being smart, you supposed. No matter how much Spencer wanted to stay back with you, he was constantly being pushed forward, pressured to do all those great things the adults wanted from him. So many times you wished you could kick them in the shins, to tell them to give you your best friend back.

“Every day after school, come here. We’ll do our homework and you can tell me all about being an eighth-grader,” you offered, “I’ll bring a blanket and snacks, and you gotta help me with my math.”

“Deal,” Spencer laughed, placing his bookmark between the pages and shutting the book he was pretending to work through. “You’re learning long division this year.”

“I know, and I still say I won’t need long division to be a movie star.”

“What if you decide you don’t want to be a movie star?”

“That’s just silly,” you laughed, twisting your upper body to resume your sand drawing. “Of course, I’ll be a movie star.”

“I’ll miss you this year,” Spencer suddenly spoke after a few seconds of quiet, face all twisted up with an emotion that felt far too heavy for someone so little.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” you answered, voice a little higher as you fought to hold onto the joyous feeling of being with Spencer. You didn’t want to imagine the elementary school without him, walking the halls without searching for that mop of curls or playfully sticking your hand in front of his book pages at lunch. You didn’t want to think about having to make new friends to sit with in the cafeteria or play with on the playground, and you definitely didn’t want to think about Spencer having to do the same.

Just as you screamed to the world how much you loved Spencer Reid, he quietly did the same every day. Sticking so close to your side at street barbecues that his arm constantly bumped yours, holding your hand after you stood up for him in the hallway, telling you that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen when he caught you crying over something another girl had said about your hair. You wondered who would keep him company in the cafeteria now that he’d be in the middle school building, or protect him from stupid bullies in the hallways.

“What if I don’t fit in?” he asked, fingers picking at those on his other hand, head tilted down so far to look at them that his glasses slipped down on his nose. “Eighth graders are twelve years old. I don’t know how to be twelve.”

“My cousin is fourteen, and I talk to her all the time,” you announced, the wheels already turning in your head in hopes of processing something wonderful. “You know what she said?”

“What?”

“She said she had her first kiss at twelve. She said everyone did and that you have to have your first kiss before high school,” you explained, watching as Spencer figured out what you were saying as well.

“I haven’t kissed anyone.”

“But if you did, you’d fit in with all the eighth graders already.”

“Who would I kiss?” Spencer asked, chewing on his lower lip at the thought.

“You could kiss me.”

“What?” Spencer gasped, eyed wide. “You’re my best friend!”

“Right, you know I won’t have cooties,” you countered immediately.

“All girls have cooties,” Spencer told you, “I asked my dad and he said so.”

“I dare you to then!”

And thus the gauntlet was thrown. Almost immediately Spencer’s lips shut tight, eyes widened as he took in what you said. Between you two, dares were serious. There was no backing out of one unless you really really didn’t want to do it. It was a way you two had pushed each other just outside of your comfort zone, had gotten each other to experience fun new things. If Spencer was so worried about fitting in with the eighth-graders, you’d have to prove he was capable of doing twelve-year-old things.

So you stayed still as Spencer worked up the courage. You watched as he grew closer to you, lips puckered out dramatically. It was the second you felt his lips on yours that you squealed, turning red and leaping up from the blanket.

“Oh my God, ew!” you shrieked, laughing brightly as Spencer also screamed and wiped off his lips.

“Gross,” he whined, the beginnings of a laugh sounding once he’d suitably wiped you off of himself, “I’m never kissing you again.”

“Good!” you returned, the two of you flopping back down onto the blanket together in a heap.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Spencer told you a few minutes later, the two of you laying together watching the sun begin to set.

“That’s what friends are for, Spence. I’ll always be there when you need me,” you answered softly, “as long as you promise never to kiss me again.”

“Deal.”

It was the day you always knew would come but secretly hoped it somehow never would.

You should have been celebrating with everyone else. Since Mr. Reid left a few years ago, your parents had helped Spencer with a lot of things. One such thing was the graduation party, and now the going away party. Everyone on the street was there—even Old Lady Jenkins who used to yell at you for putting mud prints all over her driveway.

Still, you were sat at the edge of town, laying on an old blanket that had long since been relegated to being laid in the sand. The sky was clear that night, just for Spencer. It was easy to see the stars this way, counting all of the ones you could name and keeping a separate list for all the ones Spencer had told you the name of before, but of which you’d long since forgotten.

It wasn’t fair.

Why should you have to let go of your friend, to lose him when you weren’t ready for him to go? Why was it up to you to be mature at the young age of fourteen?

You let out a wild yell then, growling out to the desert every emotion you’d kept inside since Spencer announced he’d gotten into CalTech. It was fantastic for him, really, but what were you supposed to do here all alone? You’d gotten through the past couple of years with the knowledge that you’d get to see him at the end of the school day—especially when you caught on to what was happening to him in that high school.

“I was wondering where you were,” that familiar voice chimed behind you. You didn’t dare look though, sitting up but continuing to stare out at the vast Nevada desert. “The party wasn’t the same without you.”

“You better learn how to have fun without me,” you answered, wincing at the harshness infused within the words. It wasn’t fair to show him how upset you were. You’d be okay, really, it would just take time to learn how to live without him. Ever since you were born it had been Y/N and Spencer against the world, two souls who just understood each other.

“I’m not going away forever,” Spencer reassured you, though the words felt so empty they’d sooner float away instead of reach your ears.

“Why would you want to come back to this place? You were miserable here.”

“Because my best friend is here,” Spencer answered, sitting down on the blanket close enough that your shoulders brushed. He rested his hand on top of yours, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“I’m gonna miss you, you dork,” you chimed, resting your head on his shoulder. In moments like this, it was easy to forget the rest of the world existed. The pressures of beginning high school and trying not to get revenge on the people who hurt Spencer so badly melted away, as did the pressure of your promise to him. ‘I’ll check on your mom every day after school, don’t worry. I’ll call you if anything happens, she’ll be okay.’

“I could stay. I could wait until you graduate and we could go together.” It wasn’t the first time he brought it up, just like your answer wasn’t original.

“You need to go. You’ve always been way bigger than this stupid town.”

“You could come with me. Pasadena High is a fifteen-minute walk from campus.”

“You think my parents would let me run away to California with a boy? I think they’d sooner let me work the Strip,” you answered, finally pulling a laugh out of Spencer. It was a small thing, chiming like bells and making you smile wide. You’d miss hearing that every day.

“It’s not just any boy, it’s me.”

“I think that’s worse in their mind, Spence,” you laughed, knowing your parents had asked you countless times if the two of you were secretly dating. ‘It would be okay if you were, darling, we just want to make sure you’re being safe.’

“I’ll write to you,” Spencer announced, squeezing your hand to make sure you were listening, “I promise.”

“You better,” you answered, hating the way your words shook with the tears building in your eyes. “You’re gonna be so amazing at CalTech, Spencer. You’re really gonna love college.”

Spencer turned to wrap his arms around you then, one hand against your back with the other pressed against the back of your head, comforting you in the only way he knew how. You couldn’t hear him crying, but the gentle quiver of his body was evidence enough. “I made it this far because of you.”

“That’s not true, you never needed me. You’re brilliant on your own,” you answered sadly, knowing how much you had needed him to get through all of these years here.

“I wouldn’t have survived high school if you weren’t there every day, promising it would be okay someday,” and you hated the implication hidden deep in those words. You remembered how broken Spencer had been in those middle years of high school, how he’d sobbed each night about how cruel kids could be. It would be impossible to forget the night he never made it to your secret spot—how you went searching for him and that horrible scene on the football field being the first time you ever saw a naked boy. The two of you had cried together that night, promising to always be there for one another no matter what.

You hated to think how differently that night would’ve gone, had you not been there to wrap a sweatshirt around him and bring him home.

“Tell me all about California, okay? All the parties you go to, and the classes, and the place you study in. I want to hear about all of it,” you told Spencer, squeezing him again before letting go of his hug in favor of watching the stars twinkle above you once more. “And promise when you get lonely, you’ll go outside and look at these stars, and know I’m looking at them too.”

“I promise. I love you, Y/N,” Spencer told you, watching the sky and wondering how he’d ever get on without his best friend beside him.

“I love you too, Spence.”

9/27/1994

The second you saw the mail truck pulling off of your street, you took off in a sprint from the bus. Immediate joy ran through you as you tore open the mailbox, grabbing everything inside and sprinting into the house.

“Hi, Honey,” your mom called out from the living room, “How was your day at school?”

“Great,” you answered back, somehow breathless from the anticipation of the letter in your hand. “Spencer wrote, I gotta go!”

Your mother’s laughter rang all the way to your bedroom, where you hurriedly shut the door and slid down against it. As soon as you hit the ground, you were tearing open the pristine white envelope at full speed, grinning at the messy writing splayed out in front of you.

It had been as hard as you expected, not having Spencer right there with you. It was an adjustment both of you had to make, switching from seeing each other every day and simply knowing what was happening in your lives, to catching up with each other through letters and the occasional phone call when your dad could spare it.

As soon as you finished reading his letter, you’d jump up to your desk and write him back, making sure to note everything he’d written about in his own letter. After, you’d dig out the box from under your bed and re-fold the letter, slipping it into place behind the last one. You’d been at this since you were fourteen, and now at fifteen ready to drive you’d collected quite a few letters. It was the story of your new friendship with Spencer, the careful looping swirls from you and the sometimes rushed, shaky letters from Spencer detailing everything you wished he already knew.

It wasn’t the same as getting to spend hours talking and laughing with your best friend, but for now, it was enough.

Dear Y/N,

It’s good to hear you’re doing well back home. You’re learning how to drive? I think I agree with your dad there, it’s a little scary to think about. I know you’ll do fantastic on your exam, though. You underestimate how smart you are all the time, you have to stop doing that.

I know your parents will probably say no, but it would be fun to have you come stay with me for my birthday weekend. I’m having a couple of friends over that Friday night to play board games and watch movies all night. They’re both sixteen, but Laura and Stephen are the only people I’ve met here who aren’t adults. They said I don’t act thirteen anyway. I think you would like them, if you got the chance to meet them.

Thank you for checking in on Mom. She sounded lonely on the phone the other night so I was worried. It’s hard for her, letting me be here so far away from her.

Say hi to your parents for me, and thank them for the care package they sent.

— Spencer Reid

03/12/1996

“C’mon, Mom, I don’t know why you’re being like this,” you groaned, holding your completed letter in hand, complete with the bright blue envelope and stickers decorating as much of it as possible.

“You need to spend more time with your friends here,” your mother explained, and if it wouldn’t have gotten you into more trouble you might’ve considered rolling your eyes.

“What do you mean? I was just out with Jess and Erica yesterday!”

“This is spring break, honey, it’s different,” your father chimed in, and it was then you knew your case was hopeless. When both parents were on the same front, there was no use in arguing.

That didn’t mean you wouldn’t, just that even now you knew this letter was the closest thing you’d get to seeing Spencer this spring break.

“You’re seventeen, Y/N. Have some fun with your friends next week.”

“Exactly, I want to! Spencer invited me up there, and I want to go! I’ve never seen California, I want to see it before I commit to UCLA next year.”

“You don’t know you’re committing to UCLA,” your mom said, shaking her head after bringing up this point for the twelfth time. “Honey, I know you love Spencer, but you can’t make important life choices because of a boy.”

“He’s not just some boy, Mom, he’s Spencer.”

“That’s what we’re trying to tell you,” your dad spoke up, standing up to cross the room to you. You didn’t like the look on his face, serious and sympathetic in a way you didn’t often see from him—not since he’d sat you down at twelve and explained how Mr. Reid had left. “We know you love him, but maybe this is a good chance for some separation. You can find someone different—someone, better for you.”

“Who could be better than Spencer?”

“Honey, don’t make me say it.”

“No, I don’t get it, so you have to say it.”

“Y/N, we don’t want you getting too attached to Spencer, okay? He’s an awkward kid, and he has a rough family. You deserve better than that.”

Your head reeled back as though the words had been a physical blow. “What do you mean? You’ve known the Reids since forever! How could you just turn on them like that?”

“Honey—”

“No! No, absolutely not! Spencer is not just some awkward kid, he’s my best friend! He’s...he’s the sweetest, most thoughtful guy I’ve ever met. And Diana, she’s so nice. You know she lets me borrow her books, and she helps me through them? No teacher ever cared enough to help me with my dyslexia, but she’s been there, Diana Reid has been there! You can’t just make those kinds of judgments about her just because she has schizophrenia!”

“That’s not what we’re saying, and you know that.”

“Yeah, then what are you saying?”

The silence hurt more than you would ever let on. You nodded, trying to hold back the tears at this new knowledge. How could your parents disapprove of Spencer so much?

Well, you would prove them wrong. You’d go deliver this letter to the post office, and you’d continue to talk to Spencer every month because that was what you both deserved.

Hey Spence,

How’s it going? I know you’re almost done with your degree, but I hope you decide to stay and do another one like you were talking about. Why, I know you’re asking? Well, guess what? I got invited to play for UCLA!!! I looked it up, UCLA is only a 35-minute drive from CalTech. That means I get to see you whenever we want, not just on breaks. Mom said not to sign right away though, to ‘keep my options open’ or whatever. So we’ll see, I guess.

Your mom’s doing great this week, by the way. She keeps asking me to stay to read some books with her, and all of the books are so smart but I can’t say no. I think she misses you, but she’s constantly talking about how proud she is of what you’re doing.

I asked Dad about what you were wondering, I hope you don’t mind. He told me to tell you not to drink any of it, but if you’re going to drink something then go with Bud over PBR. I’d tell you that PBR is perfectly fine, thank you very much, if you promise not to tell him I’ve had any. There was a team bonfire I went to at the start of the year and Bobby brought along some beer. It was gross, but that’s what alcohol’s meant to be right?

Anyway, I miss you so much and good luck at your first party. I hope you kiss a pretty girl, or maybe a pretty boy if you want to.

—Your Best Friend

12/31/1997

Dear Y/N,

Have you heard yet? You have me sitting on the edge of my seat here waiting. I’ll be happy for you no matter what, but I hope the UCLA scholarship comes through. It’d be nice to see you every week again.

I told Ethan I didn’t want to go to the New Year’s Eve party. The end of the year party last spring was fun, but I don’t want to get caught with alcohol before PhD applications. I think if I did go, I would listen to your dad over you this time, the Pabst Blue Ribbon wasn’t that good. I still wonder how you manage to drink that when you won’t even drink apple juice because the flavor is too strong.

Letters will probably be late in January, I have a major chemistry project I have to work on. My group isn’t doing much to help so I’ll be doing the majority of the work this time, I think. College is great, but group work is just as terrible as high school.

Good luck on Decision Day, I know whatever choice you make will be great.

—Spencer Reid

The first thought that ran through your head was that Spencer would hate the crinkles and tears in the corners of his letter. Still, it had been harder to get to this spot today, legs sore from practice and head swimming from all of the schoolwork you were anticipating in the coming week.

Regardless, it was comfortable to lay out the blanket and sit, watching the same expansive desert that hadn’t changed since you’d first found the spot at a mere nine years old. The sky was clear that night, showing off all of the stars that you were slowly learning the names to.

“Your parents wouldn’t tell me where you were, but I had to guess you were here.”

You knew that voice. It had been a long time since you’d heard it—that summer he’d elected to stay in California for a research project he’d been hired onto. It almost didn’t seem real, to be sitting there now with Spencer simply maneuvering to the ground beside you. He looked good—hair a little more styled and tamed, still rocking a button-down and pants even now, and of course, the Converse he’d been wearing ever since he was a kid.

“Spencer!” you shrieked, practically leaping into his lap in order to hug him properly. “What’re you doing here? I thought you couldn’t come home for break?”

“I wasn’t going to, but I wanted to see you before you make your big decision.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you admitted softly, hating the way a few tears bubbled up in your eyes at the thought of how much you’d really missed seeing him. “How’s CalTech treating you?”

“It’s fantastic, you were right that I would love college,” he told you, laughing when you held onto him tighter instead of pulling from the hug like he’d expected. It wasn’t often you got to hug your friend anymore, so now you would take full advantage of the opportunity.

“Well I’m always right, so I’m not surprised,” you teased, grinning when it elicited another joyous laugh from him. It was a win anytime you got to hear that laugh, so completely free of anything that was usually weighing him down.

“I really missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you, too,” you told him, finally letting go of the hug.

The two of you looked to the sky, watching the stars that twinkled above you. You wondered if he still knew all of them, along with the constellations and origin stories that connected them all.

“You know, with as many friends as I have at CalTech, I still find myself missing you,” Spencer began softly, not looking at you but still you knew the love held deep within his upward gaze was not meant for the stars but rather for you. “Sometimes I’ll leave the research building, and it’ll be late enough in the night that the light pollution isn’t so bad. I’ll see these stars and wonder if you’re awake looking at them too.”

“I come out here all the time,” you answered back, the words floating off your lips and away into the desert—a gentle admission meant only for Spencer. “I wish you could be there with me all the time, and then I see the stars and I know you are.”

“What do you think you’re going to do?”

“I hear about the UCLA scholarship in January. If I get it, I’m going there. If not, I think it’s off to the east coast.” Unbidden, tears sprouted up in your eyes at the thought of going so far away from everything you knew. “I hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Hey, you would love the east coast. We’d figure it out if you went there, exactly like we figured it out when I went to CalTech.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Spencer reassured you, finally looking at you and smiling. The fireworks that began to go off in the distance lit up his face in brilliant shades of reds, blues, and greens, illuminating every feature of his face. “Happy new year, Y/N.”

“Happy new year, Spencer.”

02/14/1998

Hey Spence,

Don’t worry, I know your interview will be great. Who wouldn’t want you in their PhD program? They’d be absolutely silly not to take you.

Happy Valentine’s Day, by the way! I hope you’re doing something fun. Maybe you had a date with that guy you were telling me about? Or maybe that gal from your physics lab? I’ve been sending candygrams all week to fundraise for the team so I’m exhausted. I think tonight I’ll lay in bed and watch romcoms until I fall asleep.

Oh, and guess what? I officially committed to UCLA!!! Go Bruins!! I can’t wait to see you this summer, AND we’ll get to see each other in Los Angeles finally! Can you imagine all the trouble we’ll be able to get into? Dad says he didn’t want me going out there because we’d be unsupervised, but I don’t really get why he’s so worried, it’s just us.

Love you bunches, and good luck on that report.

—Your Best Friend In The World

After four long years, it was finally time. Though it should’ve been a sad moment to pack up your childhood bedroom, you couldn’t help but smile as you taped off another box.

Finally, after so long, you were starting your adult life. You’d go out to California, you would go to the school you’d been looking at for years, and you’d get to see your best friend every single day.

Your parents hadn’t been ecstatic at the idea, but even now they wore their Bruins shirts and dutifully helped you pack for your new dorm. As they loaded up the rest of the boxes, you bent down to retrieve a final one from under your bed. Though the purple box was several years old, it was still in pristine condition—protecting those cherished memories of years that you and your best friend had survived together.

You walked out to the truck clutching that box of letters, ready to put that era behind you to begin an entirely new chapter of your life.

GENERAL TAGLIST

@samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthewgraygublerlover @silverhetdanes @ssawonderland @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora @reidsbookclub @angstyalex @katymarie @mrsobrien888 @alexxavicry @writingquillsandpainpills @fightingdragonswithreid @idfvc @lil-stark @lady-anon-x @arrowurboat @sweetandsunny @stillsleepynat @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @nichmeddar @venomsvl @givemeth @foxy-eva @mondscheintraeumerin @manuosorioh @happycamper72 @beepbooptoop @gubesboo @lilibet261 @lassmich1 @alfonsais @redbloodtea @lolo2bougie @spookydrreid

SERIES TAGLIST

@ilovespencerreidmarryme @rosalinasam2 @onlyssca @mymymybby

“No, you don’t. You’re too close to this,” Hotch spoke with the tone that said ‘this is the final word.’ “You can watch from here. You’re too involved as it is.”

Not long after he said that Morgan and Emily stepped into the interrogation room, taking their seats on the opposite side of the table from Thomas. “Welcome back,” Thomas greeted, sending a smooth smile their way, “It’s good to see you two again.”

“Is it? Most people don’t think it’s good to be sitting where you are,” Emily called back, calm and collected as always.

“What can I say? It’s interesting to see how the other side lives,” Thomas answered, shrugging his shoulders simply. What an ass.

“When was the last time you saw your wife, Mr. Bennington?” Emily pressed, and Spencer clenched his fists until he could feel his nails digging into his skin at the way the man smirked.

“I don’t remember exactly.”

“I think you’re lying,” Morgan called out, voice tense in the way it got when one of their own was hurt. “You don’t get multiple chances at this, so if I were you, I’d answer our questions honestly the first time. So I’ll ask you again: When was the last time you saw your wife?”

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Spencer relished in the flash of fear he saw on Thomas’s face. He didn’t normally think of himself as a vindictive person, but Spencer found himself believing it now. “I don’t know, over a year ago.”

“You need to be more specific than that.”

“September 18, 2009.”

Spencer was sure all of the blood left his head. There was no way this was a coincidence. He turned to look at Hotch, sure there was a wild look in his eyes from the way concern reflected back at him from his boss. “What is it, Reid?” Hotch pressed, a sense of urgency leaking into the usually calm voice.

“That’s exactly one year from when I last spoke to Sophie.”

“Did she tell you what happened?”

“No, I didn’t even know there were problems in their marriage.” He practically choked around the word, guilt wrapped around him at the thought of reducing her situation to that simple of a term. It hadn’t been simple marital problems, it had been a hostile, abusive situation that she’d dealt with for five years without him noticing once. “I can go ask her.”

“That’s not necessary. JJ’s at the hospital right now,” Hotch spoke, slowly in a way not too far off from how they might speak to an unstable suspect. He supposed the man was right in doing so because Spencer’s head physically reeled back as if he’d been hit with the information. The team had told him. So far, Spencer had been there each time Sophie was questioned about her situation, there to comfort her when the questions got too difficult.

“Why wasn’t I told? I need to be there.”

“No, you need to be here. JJ told me what happened last time Sophie was interviewed. We think she may be holding back information.”

“What makes you think that?” Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, didn’t want to consider the fact that Sophie was keeping things from him yet again .

“The child we found with Bennington. The DNA tests came back, and it’s her daughter,” Hotch began to explain. That didn’t make sense either until a memory flooded back to Spencer. He used to help her study for her exams in med school. He’d read through her textbooks and lecture notes so he could quiz her on everything she needed to know. He’d helped her study for the exam on treating pregnant patients, too.

Ropinirole is a pregnancy category C drug. It is known to have teratogenic effects in each trimester but may cause the embryo to be unviable if taken in the first trimester. These effects are heightened when taken at higher doses.

Spencer already came to the same conclusion, but Hotch finished it for him anyway. “The baby is alive and well, and there are no congenital defects. This indicates that she wasn’t being dosed with ropinirole for at least nine months.”

She wasn’t dosed with the memory-altering drug for nine of the thirteen months. Sophie had to remember far more than what was being said. Spencer clenched his jaw tightly, almost having the brief worry of cracking a tooth before his thoughts took over. The tears blurred his vision and he considered momentarily how embarrassing it was to be crying in front of his boss, but by now Hotch was far more than his boss. This was a man who had been there for him through everything, who had mentored him every step of the way. “Why doesn’t she trust me?” The words fell out before he could really think about them, voice quivering along with his lower lip as he struggled to contain the tears. It had almost been better when he thought Sophie didn’t remember any part of her captivity. It would have made catching the perpetrators near impossible, but at least she wouldn’t have the traumatic memories.

“JJ said it was clear how much she cares about you,” Hotch spoke, voice gentle and soothing in the way only a parent’s could be. It made him, not for the first time but certainly for the first time in a while, wish he had a parent around capable of comforting him right now. “You’re a profiler, you’ve seen this before.”

“She’s protecting me.” Spencer didn’t remember thinking those words, but it was definitely his voice speaking them. He spat them out like they tasted bitter in his mouth, like he couldn’t stand to speak them into existence. Of course, he recognized the pattern, they saw it frequently in victims. That was why they tried to interview them alone if possible, to avoid any information from being picked out.

“JJ is hoping to find out what she knows by going alone. She’ll let the rest of us know when she gets back, but you can’t be there.” Spencer parted his lips to protest--how could he possibly work the case if he didn’t have any of the information?--but Hotch seemed to know exactly what he was going to say anyway. “We can’t break Sophie’s trust like that. She’s still a victim, and we wouldn’t do that to any other victim. For now, I want you off the case. We’ll ask you questions as needed, but until Sophie explicitly says you can know, you’ll be treated as part of the victim’s family.”

Deep down, he knew it was true. If a victim ever explicitly said they didn’t one a specific team member in the room while they were interviewed, then that was the end of it. That didn’t happen too often, and it made Spencer feel helpless in a way he hadn’t in a long time, but he had to understand.

“I hate to say it, but I think we need Pretty Boy in there,” Morgan sighed as he and Emily exited the interrogation room. “He’s too calm, he’s not giving us anything.”

Spencer knew what Morgan was implying. Abusers tended to hate friends of the opposite sex from their partner, typically feeling overwhelming jealousy. If Bennington knew he and Sophie were close (Spencer had been her best man, of course, he knew), then Spencer could hopefully throw him off enough to reveal something, anything .

“Reid,” Hotch started, and Spencer thought for sure he was going to have to fight for this, but the man just said, “be careful.”

He wasn’t quite sure what the other man meant; Bennington was chained to a metal table that was bolted to the ground, there was no danger for Spencer in there. Still, he nodded, removing his gun from his belt and putting it in the case just outside the door.

It took a moment to collect himself before he went in. While he was trying to evoke a reaction from Bennington, he couldn’t allow himself to display the anger he felt towards him. Spencer couldn’t give him anything, because Bennington would be far too willing to use it against him. He had to do what Hotch was doing; try to distance himself from the case, think of generic terms rather than names. The victim, the suspect, the crime. He could do this. He was a top profiler with a prestigious team within the FBI; he knew what he was doing.

“Spencer Reid, I was wondering when you’d have the guts to show up,” Thomas laughed as soon as he came in. Spencer didn’t sit, didn’t think he could stand sitting at the same table as this man. Instead, he stood just behind the chair, arms crossed to keep from fidgeting with his hands like he wanted to. “Long time no see, man. It’s been what, four years?”

“Why haven’t you seen your wife in two years, Thomas?” Spencer asked.

“Well, like you guys keep saying, she’s been missing.”

Spencer fought the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s been missing for thirteen months, not twenty-four. The fact that you were found with her baby is enough to arrest you, Thomas. It would be smart to start telling us what you know.”

“If that’s true, then you would’ve arrested me,” Thomas dared, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not a crime to have a kid, especially when my wife and I have been trying for years.” They hadn’t been, they couldn’t have. Sophie had told Spencer countless times that she wasn’t going to start trying for kids until she was fully settled into her job, when she wasn’t working so many hours to establish herself. “Ohh, I get it now. You’ve been trying to get rid of me since the beginning, you’ve just got a perfect chance now. Well, guess what, Spence , she married me not you.”

“And you abused her,” Spencer shot back, letting his anger show through for just a second before taking a deep breath, trying to school his features back to normal. “Sophie left you in 2009 because she realized that she deserved better. Do you know who she came to? Me, her best friend. You threatened to get rid of her so your precious reputation wouldn’t be harmed, but she gave me all the evidence she had first. We know what you did.” Spencer was bluffing, but he hoped Thomas wouldn’t catch on.

“What do you know, Spencer?” Bennington pressed, leaning forward with a loud clinking of the chains tying him to the table. He leaned on his elbows, smirking as he stared right at Spencer. “Did she tell you about the time she worked for forty-eight hours straight, forgot all about me? When she finally came home, she was on the phone with you ? I had to remind her who she married, any man would’ve done the same.”

He could feel his fists digging into the fabric of his shirt, grateful he’d thought to cross his arms at the start otherwise he’d be lashing out at Thomas. There was so much Spencer wanted to say at that moment. It was Hotch’s voice he could hear in his head then, reminding him of the job he was there to do. Thomas was just goading him, trying to make him angry enough to throw him off his game. He was profiling Thomas and trying to bait any piece of evidence he could out of him. It was clear Bennington didn’t directly take Sophie, but Spencer had no doubt that he was involved. They just had to find the trail.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you about that one? That was the day she left, said she needed to find herself. I knew it was only a matter of time before she came back, broken and ready to be put back in her place.”

“And what was her place, Thomas?”

“Being my wife, making me happy. We were starting a family and I couldn’t have her be a bad influence on our future kids.”

“You’re right, I didn’t like you from the beginning. What you forgot is that I’m a profiler. It’s my job to see through men like you. It’s simple, really. You’re narcissistic and got jealous when your wife seemed happier talking to other men. It didn’t matter that those men were just coworkers at the hospital or a childhood friend, they all were threats to you. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Sophie submitted to your wishes, but she wouldn’t be subservient to you and you hated that. When she wouldn’t break, as you put it, you hired someone to break her for you.”

“You’re reaching, Agent Reid.”

“It’s doctor. We’ve known each other for almost eight years now, you know that,” Spencer shot back. He leaned forward then, pressing his hands on the table to lean against. “What I can’t figure out, is Sophie’s daughter. You seemed confident we wouldn’t be able to track this back to you. You have a rock-solid alibi so there’s no way you could’ve been in the right place to be the father. How could you possibly let another man lay with your wife when you can’t even let her talk on the phone with one?” A pit formed in his stomach at the thought that this was his friend he was speaking about in that way, but the flash of rage behind Bennington’s eyes let him know he was on the right track. Spencer couldn’t let up now, not when he was getting somewhere. “Unless you actually have been trying to conceive. At first, you assumed it was her fault, that’s why you let him have her. She needed to learn that that’s what happens when she talks to other men, right, Thomas? This was all another way to put her in her place, but you never expected her to get pregnant.”

“I never let anyone touch my wife!” Thomas shouted, slamming his hands on the table and trying to stand, only sitting when the cuffs limited his movement. “She’s mine!”

“Then whose baby is it, Thomas?”

“I don’t know! That wasn’t supposed to happen!” he shouted, and then the man’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. Spencer smirked, actually smirked, and stood back up again. He had the fleeting thought of how much was this case changing him? He’d never spoken like that before, had never been the one to use this technique when interrogating a suspect. It had worked, but Spencer had the feeling this would be the last thing he did on the case for a while. The team had to see how the cracks within him were widening with each additional detail he pulled from this case.

“What was supposed to happen then?”

Thomas bent his head, staring at his fists clenched tightly together on the table before looking back up at Spencer. “Fuck off.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes, already trying to figure out how he could reopen the communication line again. Bennington was shutting down every time the baby was mentioned. That only helped confirm his story, that perhaps the baby really wasn’t a part of the plan. If she hadn’t been, then Thomas had to be scared. Sophie wasn’t supposed to still be around. If he had her taken to avoid evidence of his abuse getting out, and the baby wasn’t a part of the plan, why did he allow them to keep her alive for so long? Unless-

“You have no idea who you sold her to, do you? Someone offered to solve your problem for you, and you didn’t stop to ask questions. You just threw some money at them and abandoned your wife,” Spencer theorized, and from the way Thomas’s face paled, he knew he had it.

“I’m a good Christian man, Spencer. If I knew they would’ve defiled her, tortured her...”

“What would you have rathered they do to her? What other outcome could you have possibly expected?” Spencer knew already, of course, but he needed the man to say it, needed him to admit that he’d wanted to kill Spencer’s best friend. When Thomas didn’t answer, Spencer threatened, “If you don’t give me a better explanation, then we’ll go to the press right now with what we know. That you sold your wife to a group of people for her to be tortured and sexually assaulted so you could have a child.”

“I wanted her to remember who she belonged to, alright?” Thomas shouted, dropping his head in clear defeat. “They came to me and said that they could teach her to be a perfect wife. All I wanted was for her to realize her true potential, that she could find happiness in being with me. Despite what you may think, I love Sophie.”

“You don’t get to say that, not after everything you put her through. She will never be the same because of you,” Spencer said back, now allowing his voice to fill with all of the hate he felt towards this man.

“I wasn’t hurting her for no reason. I was making her a better woman, I didn’t want her to be the same.” Thomas sighed, staring unblinkingly at his hands. “She wasn’t supposed to remember anything that happened, just that one of the guys she spoke to took her. They weren’t supposed to-”

“What, Thomas?”

“The problem wasn’t supposed to be me. I thought she was already a flawed woman with a broken womb. I told them that after a month if they couldn’t make progress to put a bullet in her,” Thomas admitted.

“You wanted them to kill your wife.” Spencer was in pure disbelief. He knew this was a sick son of a bitch, but he never expected all of this from Thomas. He’d had dinner with the man several times, had stayed in his and Sophie’s house in the early days of their marriage. “You wanted them to take her out behind a shed and dispose of her like a horse with a limp leg.”

“I wanted her to be put out of her misery. I love Sophie, I only want the best for her. I thought she couldn’t bear children.”

“And that was enough to warrant her death,” Spencer continued, making sure he understood Thomas perfectly.

“I had her best interests at heart, Doctor Reid.”

“You may believe that, but a court of law will believe otherwise,” Spencer countered. “Now, we can put you in prison for life with everything we have on you right now. Help us catch the men who did this to Sophie, and we might consider helping you in return. We can get you protection there, solitary. You know what happens to men like you in prison.”

“I don’t know much about them.”

“Try,” Spencer ordered. “Describe the person you spoke to initially. Who did you plan this with?”

Thomas sighed, shrugging his shoulders and looking up to the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Spencer. “I don’t know his name, I never met him in person. He goes by Themis online.”

“How did you get the baby?” Spencer asked, something not sitting right in his chest about Thomas’s previous statement. He began to search through his mind for the name, feeling a hint of recognition, but he couldn’t stray too far from the present moment. The baby would be the key to all of this. It was the unplanned part, the accident. Thomas likely told the unsub that Sophie was infertile, so after the time was up the unsub thought he was safe to use her.

“It was sitting on my doorstep when I came home from work. Had a note pinned to the blanket she was in, all it said was ‘you’re welcome.’ As if I ever wanted a bastard child.”

“When?”

“I don’t know, recently.”

“I need better than that. You know the day you got her.”

“November 5th.” Sophie was found the night before, wandering the streets in the Minnesota winter. “I believe in life, Spencer. The girl wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t just get rid of an innocent life. I was going to raise her to be a good daughter.”

“That’s all I need,” Spencer concluded, moving to exit the room but not before spitting one last, “I hope you’re a popular man in prison, Thomas.” He had no doubt what that last statement meant, and it made his skin crawl in a way few unsubs managed to.

When he met back up with Hotch and Morgan, Spencer made sure not to make eye contact, knowing they would be profiling him despite everyone’s claims that they don’t do that to each other.  “That put us more behind than when we started.”

“It got Bennington arrested. It lets us know we’re looking for a man who does this professionally. We have helpful information, kid,” Morgan tried to comfort him, “We’re building a profile.”

“No, it’s more than that. Themis is a Greek titan. She’s the titan of law and order. This was also organized, paid for and planned. We’re looking at an entire team of professionals,” Spencer explained, “Everything about our preliminary profile was wrong. We don’t have any leads on this team except what Sophie knows, and she’s not talking.”

“This is bigger than we thought,” Hotch added, echoing Spencer’s thoughts exactly. With a case like this, their team may officially be in over their heads.

NOVEMBER 25, 1999

This was the day Sophie looked forward to all year. The girl was awake by five in the morning, already dressed up and sprinting down the stairs. Pure joy filled her, made her hands shake a little from the anticipation of the day. There weren’t too many times that her whole family was actually home, but they made it a point to care about Thanksgiving. No matter what, her parents were home and even her sister was traveling from Stanford to spend the long weekend with them.

“Well, good morning to you, Beansprout,” her dad called from the dining table as she flew by. Sophie rushed to a stop, heeled booties clacking a little on the wood floor as she hurried.

“Hi, Dad. How was San Francisco?” she asked, smiling brightly at him.

Even he seemed surprised by it, raising one eyebrow over his mug of coffee. “You don’t care about my business trips. Sophie Madeline, what’s going on with you?”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Sophie pointed out, “it’s my favorite holiday, is all.” It was the only holiday they were always guaranteed to spend as a family. Even Christmas she usually spent alone these days, ever since her sister started spending them with her boyfriend from Stanford.

“Well, your mother is prepping to cook. She’ll appreciate your help as usual.”

“Of course,” Sophie answered, practically bouncing into the kitchen to help her mom.

It wasn’t until eight that Spencer finally came downstairs, and seemed immediately startled that Sophie’s parents were there. He’d met them only a handful of times since moving here in June, and even then it had been more fleeting moments as her parents grabbed food before closing themselves back into their office.

“What’s going on?” he asked Sophie as he entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and beginning his morning coffee routine.

“It’s Thanksgiving, silly,” she answered, slipping the messed apron off of her body as the prep was done for now. “The whole family is here for dinner. Even Clemence is coming with her boyfriend Alex.”

“You’re gonna love it, I promise, Spencer. Mom, Clem and I cook, and Dad usually goes outside to toss a football around with Alex,” Sophie explained quickly, a bright smile never once leaving her face, “And then we all have the big meal together and have pie, and then we curl up on the couch and watch movies until we pass out from all the turkey.”

“Spencer, what does your family normally do for Thanksgiving?” her mom asked, turning around from where she was finishing up the first round of dishes.

“ Mom ,” Sophie immediately groaned, having a feeling she knew the answer already. She’d briefly explained Spencer’s situation to them, but of course, her mom wouldn’t remember.

At least Spencer seemed to take it in stride. He shrugged a little, curling his hands around his coffee mug protectively. “Thanksgiving isn’t a major celebration for us. If it was a good day, my mom and I would get Chinese takeout. If not, then I would use the day to get some extra studying done.”

“That sounds lovely, Spencer,” Sophie’s mom answered, but it was clear from the look in her eyes that she didn’t believe a single word that came out of her mouth. That was the trouble with her parents sometimes; they were well-off and seemed to be judgemental sometimes about people who weren’t. They would never vocalize it for fear of breaking proper etiquette and manners, but they’d make it clear enough how they felt.

“Anyway, I thought you and I could go play catch so you’re ready in case you want to join Dad and Alex,” Sophie offered. She hadn’t, but at least it would keep her parents far from him for the moment.

Spencer agreed, so Sophie scooped up the ball from where it was propped up against the bottom of the kitchen island. As they passed the living room, her dad let out a wild laugh. “My Sophie is gonna go throw a football? Good luck, Spencer.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re hilarious. I bet you were a comedian in another life,” Sophie shot back, though the light smile that accompanied her eye roll clued everyone into the fact she was joking.

“And you definitely weren’t an athlete. Not like your sister anyway.” The next eye roll from Sophie was a real one. She sighed, ending the conversation without a reply and instead making her way out to the backyard.

The pair set themselves up not too far away so they could still talk. Sophie threw the football only for Spencer to fumble with it, eventually dropping it. She did the same when he threw it back, but it didn’t matter to either of them that they weren’t any good at it.

“They talk about your sister a lot,” Spencer pointed out.

“Yeah, they got it perfect the first time with Clemence. She’s going to Stanford for law, and she has the most perfect boyfriend and the perfect friends. They love me, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t measure up to Clem,” Sophie explained. “You’re lucky you don’t have any siblings.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer answered, wincing as his throw went wildly to the left of Sophie and making her chase it down. “I like the idea of having someone that you know you can always lean on for support, no matter what. It’s guaranteed you’d never be lonely growing up because you’ll always have your sister around.”

“That’s true. I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Sophie responded honestly, once again feeling a little spoiled in her life. She knew it was different, that she couldn’t compare because everyone had their own struggles, but it could be hard to really believe that sometimes.

“Speaking of family, though. Over winter break, I need to go back home to Las Vegas. Now that I’m eighteen, I...” Spencer started to explain, cradling the football between his hands and staring at it as he seemed to reconsider his words. “I don’t want to go alone. Would you want to go with me?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I will, Spence,” Sophie answered automatically, already thinking of how much fun a trip to Vegas would be with her closest friend. “Will I get to meet your mom?”

“Most likely. It’s been a while since I’ve been home, and I need to check on her.”

Sophie was about to ask further about it when the french doors leading to the backyard opened and bright voices filled the space. “Soph-a-Loaf! It’s been so long,” the chirpy voice of her sister called. The older woman rushed over and wrapped her up in a tight hug, the whole situation overwhelming her for a second until she caught up to what was going on.

“Hey, Clem. How’s Stanford been?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started. If it weren’t for Alex I would’ve dropped out twelve times by now.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Sophie laughed, “Where is he anyway?”

“Oh, he’s already talking whiskey with Dad. You know, I’m starting to think he likes my boyfriend more than he likes me,” Clemence joked before her eyes drifted over to the boy standing awkwardly just behind Sophie. Her eyes widened and a wide grin spread across her face. “Sophie, you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

Sophie was sure her face must’ve been boiling from the heat that rose in her cheeks. She could already picture how red her face must be. A quick glance to Spencer showed he was as startled as she was, lips parted a little in surprise and hazel eyes wide. “Oh, no no no, we’re not, this isn’t, he’s not my-” Sophie forced herself to take a breath so she didn’t keep tripping over her words. “This is Spencer. He’s my best friend, he’s staying with us while he goes to CalTech.”

“CalTech? That’s impressive. How old are you, Spencer?” Sophie could already see the protectiveness leaking into her older sister’s voice. She winced, realizing she should’ve explained the situation better because now Clem probably thinks Spencer is older and trying to take advantage of her or something.

“Eighteen. I graduated early,” he explained, in a voice that let Sophie know he was far too used to explaining this.

“Oh, well it’s nice to meet you, ‘best friend’ Spencer.” The physical air quotes Clemence made caused Sophie to literally facepalm, knowing she’d have to explain this later.

“It’s not air quotes best friend. It’s just best friend,” Sophie tried, but the conspiratorial look on her sister’s face never faded.

“Uh-huh, I get it, Sophie. You don’t have to explain it to me. You’re living with a super cute guy who’s supposedly your best friend? I get it.”

“No, clearly you don’t get it because there is no supposedly in there,” Sophie tried again, feeling the embarrassment flooding her whole body. She took another glance at Spencer, who seemed more amused by the situation than anything else now that the attention was off of him. She tried to signal for help from him, but he just smiled in a way that said she was on her own. Oh, she would be getting back at him for this.

“No right, I completely understand, Sophie. You know, it’s totally normal at your age to be confused and scared by your emotions and-”

“Clem.”

“Soph.”

Sophie had never been so relieved to hear her mother call out, “Sophie, Clemence, it’s time to help in the kitchen. Spencer, you’re welcome to cook with us or keep throwing the football around with William and Alex.”

“No, he’s staying out here with us,” Alex demanded lightly as he walked out into the backyard. “I need to make sure this guy who’s dating our Sophie is a good one.”

“No one’s dating anyone,” Sophie groaned, head tilting back in frustration, but she knew it was no use at this point. She turned her head to check on Spencer, and could only sigh and raise one hand, completely over her overbearing family. “Alex, would you please let go of Spencer?” She couldn’t believe she didn’t watch him for one second and he already had an arm lightly around Spencer’s neck and was jokingly messing up his hair much like an older brother might. Alex had been dating her sister since their freshman year of high school, so he was already a fixture in their family. Sophie considered him a brother at this point, too, so she knew he would be protective over her.

“You don’t have to stay out here,” she told Spencer, pointing at him, “it’s warm inside and there’s coffee.” She turned her head, now pointing at Alex. “You, stop it. We’re just friends, you don’t have to do this whole interrogation thing I know you’ve got planned.”

“I’d like to, actually,” Spencer replied, shrugging his shoulders a little. Sophie was surprised he willingly wanted to participate in sports, but wouldn’t question it, “it’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll be right inside. If Alex bothers you, let me know. I love a good excuse to kick his ass,” Sophie teased, sending a taunting smirk at the older man.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, Bishop,” Alex growled, laughing as he ran over and scooped her up, tossing her easily over his shoulder. She smacked at his back but it didn’t matter.

“Let me go! Clem, your boyfriend’s bullying me! Spence, help me!” she whined, crossing her arms against his back and huffing when she couldn’t free herself.

“I think you got yourself into this one, Soph,” Spencer answered, earning a loud ‘whoop’ from Alex.

“I like this kid! You need to keep him around, Sophie,” Alex cheered.

“Alright, kids, that’s enough. If you want dinner at a decent time I need Sophie in the kitchen now,” their mother laughed from the backdoor, prompting Alex to finally return Sophie’s feet to solid ground. She stuck her tongue out at him then gave Spencer a bright smile before running into the kitchen. Cooking was always a passion of hers, so she threw herself headfirst into the work. Still, she couldn’t help but peer out of the large window in the kitchen to check on Spencer every so often. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust he could fit in, but rather she knew he struggled sometimes to vocalize his emotions so feared if he was uncomfortable, he wouldn’t say anything.

“I know that look,” Clemence pointed out as Sophie returned her focus to the dishes she was washing. The sink was positioned just beneath the window, giving her the perfect chance to check the backyard. All she had seen was her dad and Alex throwing a football back and forth, Spencer not participating but clearly engaged in the conversation. She couldn’t help but smile when his head tilted back in clear laughter.

At first ready to snap at her sister for teasing her once again, Sophie gripped the bowl in her hand a little tighter as she considered the statement. Clemence hadn’t said it with a smirk, but instead was looking at her with what could only be fondness. “I don’t know what you mean,” Sophie admitted, absentmindedly scrubbing at the already clean bowl.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Clemence continued, drying the dishes Sophie had set aside for her, “but I think you do. You’re the smartest person I know, Soph.” The sentiment caused Sophie’s head to snap up, bowl momentarily forgotten as her mind processed what was said. This was her perfect sister, admitting that she was smart? “Hey, what’s that?”

“What’s what?” Sophie surprised herself with how small her voice seemed. Clemence reached over, hands coming to rest on Sophie’s shoulders and the young woman tried not to cringe at the tiny bits of dishwater getting on her shirt.

“Don’t you ever think of yourself as anything less than the best in the room. Life is not gonna be kind to you. You wanna know my secret? That’s it. You walk into the room and you are the best at what you do. If you believe anything else then they’re gonna try to tear you down.”

It was a lot to take in at once. Clemence’s eyes were sharp, practically staring into her soul. Sophie knew the law field was still heavily male-dominated, but she’d always assumed Clemence never cared about what people thought, never worried about anything like that. Now she understood, saw that Clem had to fight for that feeling every day. Sophie would have to do the same, but it seemed to daunting. “I-, thanks, Clem.” There was so much more to say, so many questions to ask, but that would have to be enough for now.

They were silent for a few more minutes, enough for the sisters to finish the dishes and take a break sitting at the kitchen island. Sophie had begun to think Clemence forgot about the conversation when the older woman brought it up again out of the blue.

“In middle school, I looked the same way at Alex. He was a friend of a friend, and we were starting to hang out more. I had the biggest crush on him but no one could know. I realized a couple of years ago why I never said anything, waiting for him to ask me out.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t think I was worthy of his attention, his love. I waited for him to validate me, because if he was asking me out then that meant I had to be worthy of it,” Clemence admitted, looking up then to face Sophie. “You guys may really just be friends, but all I’m saying is if you do feel that way about him, nothing is ever going to happen until you admit you’re worthy of him.”

“I-...Then why are you all dressed up?” Sophie asked innocently, raising one eyebrow and leaning against the door frame.

“I have a lecture.”

“I think that’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard, Spence. You just finished summer term,” she answered, laughing breathily through it. Still, she couldn’t help but worry about it. Did he really not trust her with whatever was going on? She would ignore the way her chest filled with relief at the confirmation that he wasn’t on a date. It didn’t matter, Spencer could totally go on a date with another girl if he wanted to. After all, he was around a bunch of college women all day, why would he possibly go for someone like her?

What? Where did that come from? This was her best friend she was thinking about, she couldn’t be worrying this much over who he wanted to date.

“Here,” Sophie stepped into the room, scooping up the tie and stepping into his space to drape it around him. They were so close. Did he always smell this good? Sophie willed herself to focus on her hands as they knotted the tie for him, when she brushed one hand over his chest only to smooth down the tie when she was finished.

She didn’t step out of his space when she was done. He didn’t move either.

“I have my thesis defense today,” Spencer spoke softly, head tilted down a little to look at her. There was a nervous look in his hazel eyes like he was expecting some sort of judgment.

“What do you mean? Why would you have to do a thesis defense your first year of college?”

“This isn’t my first year of college,” Spencer admitted, causing Sophie to take a step back. This whole time, she’d just assumed he was a freshman. He was her age, how could he be anything else? “I’m about to finish a doctorate program.”

“I-what?” Sophie spluttered, thoughts racing at a million miles a second as she tried to reason through this. “Doctorate, as in PhD doctorate?”

“Yes. I actually started college when I was 12.” There was a lot of silence. Spencer actually parted his lips, ready to explain more, but Sophie spoke quickly before he could.

“I should’ve expected that from my favorite genius.” The statement was so simple, said as if it didn’t cause Spencer’s cheeks to heat up in the same way Sophie’s had moments before.

“Do you know another genius?”

“No, but even if I did you’d still be my favorite,” Sophie clarified, then took a few more steps backward until she was about to cross the threshold out of his bedroom. “Give me five minutes to get changed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“To go...?”

“With you to your thesis defense. There’s no way you’re not getting any support, this is a big deal, Spence.”

True to her word, five minutes later the pair set off in the direction of the CalTech campus, not living that far from it. “So why didn’t you tell me?” Sophie finally asked partway through their walk. She continued to look straight ahead, not wanting to put more pressure on him. Sometimes they would ask each other something they didn’t want to answer, and their go-to was to just not answer it. Both of them had gotten used to the system now, and knew what silence meant. She hadn’t really expected an answer, truthfully, so she was surprised when Spencer began explaining.

“I didn’t want you to think of me like that when we first met. You were this pretty girl at the cafe that I’d been wanting to talk to, and I didn’t want to scare you off. The fact that I graduated high school at 12 hasn’t been a good talking point, historically.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“That’s what you got out of that?” The words sounded teasing, maybe judgy, but a quick glance to Spencer showed that his cheeks were bright red. From the way his eyes were looking up at the bright blue sky above them, Sophie could tell he was embarrassed.

“Oh, absolutely. I can’t believe Mr. Genius over here actually noticed me before I started talking to you.” Sophie was pretty sure she was never going to forget this moment. Of course, she would never do anything about it. There was no way she could risk a friendship as good as this just because of a silly high school crush, but still. She knew, later on, she’d be lying in bed with a silly grin on her face, thinking about how she and Dana would squeal over how he’d called her pretty.

“How could I not notice you? Your laugh was always so loud, and - wait, no no no, not like that. I just, it would fill up the cafe and was so happy all the time. That’s why I kept coming back at first, your laugh would always make me smile,” Spencer explained, rubbing at his neck the way he always did when he was nervous, “and you know, smiling releases certain neuropeptides that are thought to reduce stress and improve overall health.”

It was a good thing they were approaching the mathematics building because Sophie’s vision was quickly blocked by the tears building in her eyes. How could she possibly answer that? He said it so simply like there was no other possible answer except her laughter drew him in. It was too much.

“Good luck, I know you’ll do great, Spence. I’ll be right out here,” she told him when they got to the right room, one of the professors already waiting for him. She gave him a hug, adjusting his tie a little before his nervous form disappeared behind those heavy wooden doors.

Did friends say things like that? Sophie thought about every book she’d ever read, every silly rom-com and tv show she could think of. Little speeches like that were almost always said by the love interest, but that was crazy, right? They were friends, best friends . Hell, they lived together now. They played chess and had coffee every Tuesday even though she was really bad at it, and they studied together when they could. They talked late into the night; Spencer sitting criss-cross on his bed and Sophie laying with her head hanging upside down off of hers, talking about everything from if plants feel pain to the proper way to eat an OREO cookie.

She and Spencer Reid were best friends. That was final.

What felt like hours later, those same wooden doors opened and Spencer slipped out, a wide grin on his face.

“You did it? I knew you would!” Sophie cheered, practically throwing herself at him in a giant hug. She held him close, standing on her toes to properly hug him.

“I didn’t even say anything,” Spencer laughed, hugging her just as tightly.

“You didn’t have to, Mr. Genius. Oh, I guess it’s Dr. Genius now,” Sophie laughed. “Damn, seventeen and already a doctor. What’s next?”

“I want to earn a doctorate in chemistry, I think.”

“Wait, another PhD?” Sophie asked incredulously. “As in a second one?”

“Why not?”

“...You know what, fair enough. You know I’m really proud of you, right?”

“Thanks, Sophie,” Spencer said, squeezing her just a little tighter, “You’re the best friend I could possibly have.”

“Oh, I know. It doesn’t take being a genius to know that.”

OCTOBER 29, 1999

“C’mon, you’ve never been to a high school Halloween party? It’s an essential life experience, you have to come with me,” Sophie begged, tugging on Spencer’s sleeve a little as she did so.

“You know, there aren’t many singular experiences that could actually be considered esse-”

“Spencer Reid, don’t outsmart me right now. It’s a chance to be wild, do something spontaneous.”

“I don’t have a costume,” he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders as if that were reason enough not to go to the house party.

“Oh, you don’t need one. See? Come here,” Sophie answered, walking on a mission into Spencer’s bedroom and right over to the closet there. She tossed him a pair of tan dress pants and a light blue button-up. “I have a red bandanna in my room. Put that on and you’re Dr. Alan Grant from Jurassic Park. I’ll even be your Dr. Ellie Sattler.”

Sure enough, the pair ended up at the party dressed just like that. Though, Sophie was admittedly a little chilly in her tan shorts and tied-up pink shirt. The teen was ecstatic though; not only was she at the biggest party of the year, she was there with her best friend who had never once been to a party like it.

It was going well, too, she thought. She got to introduce him to some of her high school friends. “Lia, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is my friend Lia. She’s on the tennis team with me.”

“Oh my Gosh, is this the Spencer?” Lia asked, words slightly slurred and giving her an obvious wink.

Sophie couldn’t help but wince, ignoring the surprised look the boy beside her gave. “Yes, yep, mhm. So anyway, have fun tonight, Lia. Call me if you need anything.”

“Oh no, I’m staying here tonight don’t worry.” She would’ve worried, so that was good to hear.

“What did she mean?” Spencer asked as Sophie pulled him far away from the already drunk girl. She shrugged, pointedly looking anywhere but at him. She picked up the nearest red cup, noting how full it was, and taking a large drink from it. “Do you even know whose that was?”

“Nope,” Sophie responded, popping the ‘p’, “but since they left it here, it’s mine.”

The cup was empty after a group of two dressed in cheerleader uniforms walked up to them. “Soph, oh my gosh! I didn’t think you’d come,” the blond girl squealed, giving her a hug and in doing so accidentally spilling a bit of her drink down Sophie’s back. She didn’t mind; she knew, either way, she’d be coming home reeking of alcohol. “It’s so brave of you to be here.”

“Right,” Sophie answered, drawing out the word and snatching up the cup that the other girl was offering her. “Thank you, Brittany. I really couldn’t do it without you.”

“Oh, I know! It has to be so hard knowing Josh and Beth are throwing this par-who’s this?” Brittany cut herself off, smirking and sidling up way too close to Spencer.

“I’m Spencer,” he offered innocently, giving her one of those bright smiles Sophie loved. Loved?

“Well, Spencer, I would definitely know if a guy a pretty as you went to our school.”

“I graduated early. I actually go to CalTech right up th-”

“You’re smart, too! Then I might just have to steal you from Soph here,” Brittany laughed, one hand on his chest and messing with one of the open buttons on his shirt. Sophie remembered just moments before when she was helping him get ready, ‘C’mon, Spence, you have to keep the top couple buttons undone. You’ll be irresistible.’ She already hated herself for it.

She saw the way Spencer was watching Brittany. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her once, hands hovering nervously around her but never once touching as if he wasn’t really sure what to do with them. His cheeks were bright pink and Sophie felt silly for thinking that he would only ever look at her with those soft eyes and sweet smile. Before she knew it, Brittany was starting to walk away, Spencer’s hand in hers. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at Sophie, she assumed to make sure she was okay with being alone.

It might’ve been the alcohol starting to settle in her, but Sophie waved him off. “It’s fine, go have fun, Spencer.” She tried to imagine that this didn’t hurt her as much as it did. It was only when he walked away with Brittany that she allowed herself to sniffle, to down the rest of her cup, and wipe angrily at her eyes before the wetness messed up her makeup.

“That’s rough, man,” Lia said from over Sophie’s shoulder, sliding yet another cup of something into her shaking hands. “Drink until you forget you just got abandoned.”

“I didn’t get abandoned.”

“He totally chose her over you,” Lia pointed out, having the decency to look apologetic when Sophie glared at her. “All I’m saying, is once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern.”

“We’re not dating,” Sophie told her, listening to the other girl’s advice and downing about half of the cup. “We never were.”

“Oh, I know that. How the hell would you be able to snatch up a gorgeous college guy?” The other girl must’ve been able to recognize the hurt flashing over Sophie’s features, because she quickly added, “I don’t mean just you. But I mean come on, why would any guy in college go for someone still stuck in high school?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie answered honestly, catching sight of Spencer and Brittany again. She was straddling his lap, and oh God they were kissing . Making out, to be more exact. “I don’t know why I thought-” Her throat tightened as the tears formed, blocking any other words from coming out. The tears flowed freely now that she was inebriated enough to lose control of them. Her body heated up, and everything felt too close, too compressing. “If he comes back, tell him I left. This was a bad idea.”

“You’re gonna leave without him?”

“He can go home with Brittany,” Sophie spat, feeling the anger rise up in her. Why should she be mad at him, though? She’d told him to go, told him it was okay. She’d brought him here to have fun, why shouldn’t he?

The night air was cold. The chill was a shock that went straight to her bones but Sophie relished in it. She walked down the sidewalk until everything got too blurry, until her legs grew too heavy to keep her up. She ended up sitting at the corner of the block, resting her back against the pole of the stop sign. The metal was cold against her back, making her shiver even more. She didn’t care, she just closed her eyes against the blurry world.

There was no indication at all that time had passed. After what felt like a few seconds, someone was gripping her shoulder tightly, one hand on her cheek and swiping back her hair from her face. Their hands were large and warm, Sophie leaned into the touch as much as she could, humming in contentment.

“-phie? Sophie, what are you doing out here? It’s cold and we’re in the middle of the city, something could’ve happened to you,” the voice was saying and Sophie smiled a little at how concerned they seemed to be. This person really cared about her. It was a familiar voice too, the ebbs and flows of the phrasing something she’s heard often before. “ Sophie .” This tone was harsher, cold even. It reminded her a little of her dad.

It was what made her open her eyes, blinking once, twice to clear her vision. Crouched in front of her was Spencer, hair tousled and a wild look in his eyes. “You scared me,” he told her, his hands moving again to pull her to her feet.

“Noo,” Sophie protested, limbs still heavy and uncoordinated. Her body tilted forward a little and it was Spencer that caught her, her body leaning against his chest to keep her upright. She could feel the way his heart raced against his chest. Hands on his chest. Brittany, messing with those open buttons that she’d suggested and-

Sophie pushed off against his chest, using every ounce of her focus to stand on her own. “I don’t need your help,” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you sure? Without my help, you’d be sitting out here all night.” Spencer’s words were hard too, laced with frustration. “Why did you just walk off like that?”

“Because you were busy making out with Brittany.”

“You told me too!”

“I didn’t mean it!” Sophie yelled back, reminding herself of a petulant toddler. “I didn’t mean it,” she repeated in a whisper.

“Then why did you tell me to go with her?” Spencer pressed, still sounding annoyed but at least the anger was beginning to fade away.

“You looked like you wanted to.”

“I didn’t. I was uncomfortable,” Spencer admitted, shrugging. “I wanted to stay with you.”

“You should’ve.”

“You should’ve told me what you wanted. You can’t assume I can read your thoughts,” Spencer told her, and somewhere deep down Sophie knew he was right. Still, it was a tough thing to admit, that this whole situation was happening because of her.

“You’re a genius, though.”

“Yeah, I’m smart, not a mind reader.” Sophie didn’t answer. Spencer sighed, reaching his hands out toward her again. “Come on, let’s get you home. Woah, woah, why are you crying? Sophie, why are you crying, what happened?”

She didn’t know. “I don’t know,” she sobbed, echoing her thoughts as they came. It was true, all of a sudden the tears were flowing again and she was full-on sobbing . She ended up tucked into his chest again, one of his hands against her lower back and the other stroking comfortingly through her hair. “I’m sorry, I wanted tonight to be fun for you.”

“It was fun,” Spencer promised her, and man did she hope that wasn’t a lie. “I went to my first high school party, got to meet a lot of my best friend’s friends, and had my first kiss.”

The tears stopped at that. “What? That was-she was- what? ” Sophie sighed, wishing her brain was working a little faster at the moment. Still, she fought through the fog to come up with the right answer. “I’m happy for you, Spence.”

“Thank you for tonight, Sophie. I’m sorry you got drunk.”

“It was probably bound to happen eventually,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. It was then she realized how close she was to him, hands still clinging to the front of his shirt. Her head was tilted up a little and his down so they could face each other. He had a look in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher, she’d blame the alcohol. She raised up to stand on her toes, their lips were so close that she could feel his breath brush against her and then-

Then he was leaning his head back, stopping her. “Sophie,” Spencer whispered, and they were still so close but- “Sophie,” he repeated, gently calling her focus back to him.

“You don’t want me,” she answered, feeling the shame of the situation smack her in the chest.

“I do, you have no idea how much I do.”

“Then why?” Sophie thought she sounded like a little kid asking why she couldn’t have a cookie before dinner. It infuriated her.

The look in Spencer’s eyes stilled her thoughts. It finally hit Sophie what that look was; was it lust , longing ? “If we’re going to kiss, I want you to remember it.”

“You’re right,” Sophie admitted.

“I usually am.” Sophie rolled her eyes at the cheeky smile on his face, the moment washing away as quickly as it came.

“Don’t get cocky on me. Now can you help me home? I’m really tired.”

They would get back to the house later that night. He’d help her into a warm pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt then would tuck her into bed. When she woke up the next morning, there would be a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on her dresser. There would be no memory of what happened under that stop sign, and Spencer would never tell her.

NOVEMBER 12, 2011

Spencer had begged his team to let him go with them to Houston. They all knew better, so instead, Emily and Morgan had gone. Hotch and Rossi had gone to interview the man who had found Sophie, and JJ had stayed at the local precinct to look over what little evidence they had. He’d tried to help her, tried to study the timeline as methodically as he normally would but every single time his thoughts went back to what he’d been doing while Sophie had suffered.

Eventually, he was kicked off of the case, at least until the others got back from Houston. So, now he sat in that hospital chair that was becoming far too familiar. He’d been there for 1 hour and 23 minutes, but so far Sophie hadn’t said a single word. Spencer was beginning to think she never would until her voice sounded, seemingly filling up the small hospital room.

“Do you remember the day I got engaged?” She asked, staring at her hands as they picked at the fingernails there.

“Sophie,” he tried. Of course, he had. Morgan ended up taking him out for drinks that night because of how upset he was.

“Of course you do, you have an eidetic memory,” Sophie came to the same conclusion. “You know, ironically enough, I keep forgetting that.”

He didn’t answer. She paused, sighing before continuing with her original train of thought. “So then you remember what you said when I told you.”

Spencer’s heart sunk deep in his chest, practically wincing at the words. He knew where this was going but like a runaway train, he could do nothing to stop it. All he could do was continue and hope the crash wasn’t that bad. “I told you I didn’t like Thomas. ‘Sophie, you shouldn’t marry him so soon. There’s something off about him.’”

“And I accused you of being jealous.” Spencer would never admit that the accusation was correct. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“You loved him. There was no way you could’ve known this would happen.”

“You did,” Sophie answered, and there it was, the crash. “I had one of the best profilers in the country telling me not to trust him, and I ignored it.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

The non-answer was answer enough for him. “I wanted to, I planned to, even. I got all the way out to D.C. and then I couldn’t help but think that, that maybe I had it coming? That I don’t know, I had all of this evidence that he was a bad guy and I still chose him.”

“Sophie Bishop, you did not have this coming. What happened to you was not your fault,” the anger at the situation began to leak into Spencer’s voice and he hoped she knew he wasn’t mad at her, but at the entire situation. At himself for not seeing it before, at her friends for never once reaching out to anyone else for help, at fucking Thomas for doing this to her, and- okay, maybe her for never once reaching out to him.

Spencer had once promised Sophie not to profile her, but it didn’t take any skills to read from her expression that she didn’t believe him. So, he tried a new tactic. “Do you remember when I told you about what happened to me in high school?”

“How could I forget?”

“Do you remember what you told me?”

A pause. A pause so long that Spencer started to think that maybe she’d forgotten. Sophie surprised him once again, though, by answering just as he parted his lips to tell her. “That targeted cruelty says more about the aggressors than it ever does the victim.” A sad smile formed on her lips then. “That the kindest people in the world are often targets of the worst cruelties because the way they love is terrifying to so many people. The best way to beat your aggressor is to stand up and continue to love the world.”

“You don’t have to believe any of it right away, but I’ll keep telling you until you do,” Spencer promised.

Spencer was beginning to get used to the silence, thinking that maybe it would just be a part of their friendship now. That would be okay, as long as he still had her in his life. He looked over at her when her hand grabbed his on the bed and noticed a smile warming her expression. It wasn’t one of those small, sad ones. No, this was one he remembered from before all of this, lighting up her whole face despite how small it was.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, unable to stop his own smile from forming.

“Do you remember the night I came to visit you? During my so-”

“-ophmore year of college. You showed up at my apartment with just your backpack. No clothes or anything in it, just your books. You said you got out of lecture and bought a plane ticket to California,” Spencer finished the story for her, laughing as the memory played back in his mind.

“You said it was reckless, and I told you that a little spontaneity never hurt anyone.” Sophie laughed too, uninhibited in a way that Spencer was worried he’d never hear again. “We sat up all night, playing chess and eating pizza, catching up on our lives. That was when you convinced me to change my major.”

“You weren’t happy studying law.”

“I was completely miserable. You reminded me that I wasn’t living to make my parents happy, I was living to make myself happy.”

“You stayed in Pasadena for a week. You skipped all of your classes, you had to wear my clothes even though they were way too big on you. It was the most spontaneous thing I’ve ever seen anyone do,” Spencer laughed, shaking his head. He never admitted the way seeing her in his clothes had affected him, now he wasn’t sure he ever would.

“No, you know what the most spontaneous thing someone’s ever done was? Calling me at 4 in the morning telling me they just got to Quantico and they’re training to be an FBI agent,” Sophie shot back, still shaking with her laughter. He was sure the rough movement had to hurt her, but there was no way he was pulling her out of this joy.

Spencer remembered that call with vivid memory, of course, he did. He’d never heard her so genuinely scared.

“Spencer Reid, do not tell me that means you’ll be carrying a gun. You better not be telling me you’re signing up for a job where you’ll be constantly shot at!”

“Hopefully, I won’t be shot at, at all.”

“Spencer! That’s it, I’m getting on a plane.”

“What? No, Sophie, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’m getting on a plane to Quantico, and I will walk right into that FBI building and give Agent Gideon a piece of my mind. How dare he put you in danger like that.”

“You were on a rampage.”

“I was scared , Spence,” Sophie laughed, “I mean, c’mon, you have to admit that the image of you at 22 running around with a gun isn’t exactly comforting.”

“I did it.”

“I know, and I’m so insanely proud of you,” Sophie told him, causing another bright smile from Spencer. He felt his cheeks heat up as she squeezed his hand, letting him know that she really meant it. “I told everyone I knew how cool you are.”

“You did not.”

“I did! All of my patients knew I have an insanely badass best friend who works for the FBI, who catches bad guys by studying their behavior, their psychology.” Spencer didn’t know why that made him feel so good and warm inside, knowing that Sophie talked about him to so many people.

“I wish I talked about you more,” Spencer admitted then, smiling slipping a little. “I didn’t tell them about you, but I wanted to. When you got that award for your research, I was so proud of you. I read through all of your published research, I used some of it on one of our cases. I cited your work so many times, I just never...”

“...never told them you knew me,” Sophie finished, and when Spencer met her gaze he saw that she wasn’t upset, or mad, just smiling like she knew something he didn’t. “I’m glad my research came in handy. It was a lot of fucking work.”

“Sophie, I’m sorry I-”

“Stop. It’s okay, I know you. When something is important to you, you make a point not to ever mention it.” Spencer’s phone rang, but he didn’t make a single move to grab it. How could he, when he was finally getting to Sophie again like nothing ever happened? If he closed his eyes, then they were still sitting in Sophie’s old house, sitting on their beds and laughing without a single care in the world. Back before the world had a chance to get to either of them. “I also know you have to get that.”

“I don’t.”

“Spencer, go ahead. It’s okay,” Sophie told him, slipping her hand out of his so he could pull his phone out of his pocket.

“This is Spencer,” he answered the phone, seeing that it was Morgan calling. “Are you back?”

“Yeah, Pretty Boy, we’re back. You should get back to the station.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Spencer asked, feeling his fight or flight response beginning to kick in. His head swam, his heart began to pound. His hands were starting to become slick and he had to grip his phone harder to keep it held in them. “Was it him?”

“He’s an ass, but he had a rock-solid alibi for that day. We’re still holding him here though.”

“Why?” When there was no answer, Spencer knew it was bad. It was worse than bad, because Morgan was always straight up with him. The other man knew that he appreciated the honesty because most people assumed he couldn’t handle it, that he was the baby of the group and needed protecting. “Morgan,” he pressed again, “If he has an alibi, why are we holding him?”

“Reid, he had a baby with him. A little girl, JJ says she looks about a month old.”

Spencer actually did drop his phone. It clattered to the floor and under any other circumstance, he would recall how filthy hospital floors were. Instead, he stared at Sophie and wondered just what family she had married into, wondered just how deep this mess ran. Instead, Spencer picked his phone up off the floor, not even brushing it off before holding it against his ear and asking, “Is she here?”

“Yeah, in police custody.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Spencer ended the call, fumbling to get his phone back into his pocket and dashing for the exit. He kept his head down, trying to focus on the white tiles and not the woman in the bed.

“Spencer, Spencer, wait! What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Like hell it’s nothing. Spencer!” Sophie called after him, but he couldn’t answer. How could he? Spencer didn’t even know if she remembered giving birth, how could he be the one to tell her that they think they just caught her husband with the baby she’d had while in captivity?

Spencer just looked at her for a moment, seemed to be looking for something in her expression before he sighed. “What if I don’t?” His voice sounded smaller, completely unsure of himself in a way that Sophie wasn’t expecting.

They’d only known each other for a few weeks now, almost a month. Through all of it, they only had their Tuesdays. Between Spencer’s college lectures and her overabundance of extracurriculars, this was all they had. Sophie knew she shouldn’t be this comfortable with him by now, and yet she was glad he trusted her enough with this conversation.

“Then you don’t.” The girl shrugged, wrapping her hands around the mug in front of her to warm them up. “That’s okay too.”

“You say that like it’s simple.”

“It is,” Sophie returned, “You don’t owe anyone any sort of success. I really didn’t mean to imply that you had to do world-changing stuff, just that if anyone could, it would be you.”

Spencer didn’t speak again for another two minutes and thirty-three seconds. In that time, Sophie nervously drank a quarter of her coffee. “I like this one, but it’s no-”

“Not as good as the first. You know, I’m starting to think nothing’s gonna beat the caramel latte,” she laughed, not surprised by the change in topic.

“You know, it’s really interesting. The rest of the world values a higher quality in coffee but the US consumes more coffee than any other country. Almost a third of Americans consider a latte to be their preferred coffee drink,” Spencer explained, at least knowing by now he didn’t have to apologize over it to her.

“That is interesting,” Sophie answered, taking a second to think about it while she sipped on her coffee. “I always hear from people that they think the caramel latte is too sweet.”

They lapsed into quiet again. This wasn’t awkward or forced, just two people who were genuinely comfortable enough around each other not to force conversation. “I don’t know where I’m going to live this summer,” Spencer admitted. At first, the confusion was clear across Sophie’s face until she realized this must be what had been bothering him earlier.

“What do you mean?” She asked softly, worry weighing down each word like a lead ball.

“I have to stay here for the research I’m doing, but I’m not old enough to get an apartment. My mom is...” Sophie waited patiently, even though she longed to hear more. Through this time, she’d spoken often about her two lawyer parents and her perfect older sister who’s going to Stanford for law. She talked about her cat Gregory and her best friends from school, but never once did Spencer bring up his family. She’d asked him once, but he just avoided the question enough that she knew not to ask again. “She can’t cosign. Caltech just let me know I can’t stay in the dorms anymore, they need it for newer students.”

“Spencer, that’s awful, I’m sorry,” Sophie answered, nearly breathless with the shock of how much he was dealing with right now. Her worst worry at the moment was her final exams, but he was struggling to find a place to live .

“I’ll figure it out, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Sophie answered, eyes wide as she couldn’t believe how nonchalant he was being about this. “I know, stay with me.”

“What? No, I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.”

“Sophie, what about your parents?”

“My parents are never home,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders as if that fact didn’t hurt her as much as it did. “When they are home, they really don’t care what I do. In fact, they’ll probably be thrilled there’s someone else there that’s not me. Or, they won’t even notice. I’m serious, come stay with me.”

“I don’t want to impose, Sophie.”

“What else are friends for? We’re the people you’re supposed to come to for help. I’m not saying you have to live with me if you really don’t want to, but if you have other friends you’re comfier with, then ask them. Seriously.”

“I...” Sophie didn’t think she’d see Spencer speechless. She watched as his eyes grew a little glassy and his cheeks got red. He looked at her, then down at his mug of coffee, then back up at her and she pretended not to notice the way his lower lip wobbled. “You’re the closest friend I have, Sophie, thank you. I don’t know how to thank you enough for this.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You can include me in your ‘thank you’ speech when you save the world,” Sophie teased, nudging him with her elbow as she got up to return to her other tables. Unfortunately, she was still technically working and her boss would only allow her these conversations if she still cleared her tables. “or maybe on the dedication page of whatever book you inevitably write.”

“I will, I promise.”

NOVEMBER 6, 2011

Spencer didn’t want to be here. Hospitals always made him uncomfortable. The bright lights, strong sterile smell, and white everything quickly overwhelmed him even under normal circumstances. He’d been to plenty of them, of course, doing just what he was doing now. It was common for his team to interview victims from the hospital, trying to get as much information as they could before the mind could inevitably forget the little details they needed to put an accurate profile together.

This was different though. This wasn’t an anonymous victim that he only knew from the outside, that he could put distance between even before he got to their hospital room. This was Sophie Bishop, who he stayed with in that tiny hospital room all night even when the stiff chair got too uncomfortable. This was Sophie, who he’d spent many nights with laying on their beds in the rooms across the hall from one another, practically shouting their conversations so they could hear.

JJ had asked if Spencer wanted her to do this alone. He really did. There was nothing he wanted to do less than interview Sophie about the fourteen months she was missing. They hardly spoke at all the previous night, but Sophie broke the silence that morning to ask him to stay. She’d asked him not to leave her for this, and how could he ever refuse her that?

So he stayed in that chair that was too low to the ground to be comfortable for his long legs, keeping his hand just beside hers on the bed in case Sophie worked up the courage to let him touch her. JJ stood beside him, clearly having been chosen because she was the least threatening in appearance. They hoped she could relate to Sophie in some way, get the woman to trust her in a way she might not trust Morgan, Emily, or Rossi.

“I already told Spencer, I don’t remember what happened,” Sophie finally spoke up after the three sat in silence for a few minutes.

“You’ve been through a traumatic experience, Sophie, it’s possible your brain put up mental barriers to protect yourself,” JJ explained, using that soft voice she always used with victims. Spencer saw the mistake before even Sophie did, wincing as he knew what was coming. It might’ve been helpful to talk to the team about her more. When would he learn to open up to them, when it backfired on them time and time again?

“You think I don’t know that?” Sophie answered back, eyes hardening and fingers digging into the blanket on the bed. “Three years ago, I was the lead researcher on a new treatment for people who experienced deep childhood trauma, a treatment I might add that is now one of the front line techniques used by professionals. I know about what trauma does to the brain, you don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child just because I’m a little shaken up.”

“Four years ago.”

“What?” Sophie asked, head twisting quickly to stare at Spencer in shock at his words.

“That was four years ago, not three,” he repeated, already feeling guilt flood through his body but knowing her. God, he knew Sophie better than he knew anyone else, he knew how to get through to her by now. “You’re missing an entire year of your life. Most trauma survivors have selective amnesia that causes them to lose hours, maybe days at a time. You know this is more than being a little shaken up, Sophie, you’re just scared of breaking those barriers down. You’re scared that if you remember what happened, then you won’t be able to recover.”

“Spence, th-” JJ began to tell him to back off, but Spencer didn’t even look at her. He just kept staring right back at Sophie, meeting her hard gaze.

He knew her. Sophie sighed, dropping her eyes to stare at the bandage on her left hand. Her pinkie finger twitched, moving to the side and just centimeters closer to his own hand. Was this an invitation? He considered it for a second, two seconds, but three must’ve been too long because she was moving the hand away, up to pick at a loose string on the blanket closer to her body.

“How can I not have any idea what happened to me? The brain can choose to isolate and quarantine selective memories that are too dangerous to recall, but how can fourteen months be so bad that all of it needs forgetting?”

“It may not all be a trauma response,” JJ tried again, this time surprising even Spencer. He looked up at her quickly, eyebrows tilted together as he tried to understand. The expression on her face though, the way she looked at him and the area around her eyes tightened a little, let him know that the team had continued investigating while he spent the night here with Sophie. “The toxicology report found high levels of dopamine in your system. We think this could be from a dopamine agonist like ropinirole. It’s used to treat Parkinson’s, but at high doses it could-”

“-cause side effects such as extreme memory loss and confusion,” Spencer finished, already trying to work through everything he knew about those types of drugs. He owed his team a drink after all of this was done. They never worked through the night on cases, but they knew this was different. This was practically one of their own, in a way. “There’s a theory about mental state-specific memory. The idea is that the brain becomes conditioned to recall certain memories under specific circumstances. That’s why when you chew mint gum while you study, you’re more likely to remember information on an exam if you chew that same gum. Your brain associates recalling that topic with the taste of mint gum. The same might be true with substance-related impairment.”

“Like when you can remember a drunken escapade better the next time you drink,” Sophie supplied, already following along with his thought process. “So I take more ropinirole, and I could remember what happened.”

“Let’s not jump to that right away,” JJ stepped in, already seeing what happens when two logic-based people make a plan; they tend to forget the social and ethical implications of said plan. “There are techniques we can use to try to unearth those memories. We may not get everything, but we could get something that could help us.”

“Let’s do it,” Sophie immediately agreed.

“Sophie, we’d be asking you to remember some really traumatic memories. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Spencer added.

“I need to know,” she told him, pulling a surprised sound out of him as her hand reached over to grab his. Her fingers were icy to the touch and the edge of the bandage was tickling his skin but he was so thankful to have her here again. “I have to know.”

“Okay, then I want you to take a couple of deep breaths, close your eyes and try to relax as much as possible,” JJ spoke, already using her soothing tone of voice that Spencer could only attribute to her being a parent. Hotch had the same voice, too, though he used it far less frequently. “Can you tell me about the last day you remember?”

“I was guest lecturing at a medical school. The professor was a part of the research team years back, he wanted me to come in and talk about our process and to let the med students ask questions about being a professional,” Sophie explained, the upper portion of her face twitching a little as she seemed to reach back into her mind for the information.

“What school were you lecturing at?” JJ asked. “You live in Houston, was it Rice?”

“No, no it was Georgetown.”

Georgetown. Georgetown University in Washington D.C., only minutes away from him. “Are you sure, Sophie?” Spencer asked, leaning forward in his seat but never letting go of her hand.

“I’m sure. His name is Dr. Nahili, he’s been teaching there for a couple of years now.”

“What were you doing in Washington, Sophie?” JJ asked, echoing the same question Spencer was asking in his head. And why didn’t you reach out?

“I-...” Sophie began to chew at her lower lip for a second before she said, “I don’t remember.”

“I think you do. Try to focus on that day. What were you seeing, smelling? What were you feeling?”

“It was starting to get cold out, so I dressed in layers. That lecture hall was so damn hot though, I spent half the lecture thinking about how I couldn’t wait to get outside to cool off.”

“That’s good, Sophie. What did you do after the lecture?” JJ continued to probe, Spencer fighting to keep attention on what was happening and not on the fact that Sophie might’ve been abducted just half an hour from their office.

“I went back to my apartment. No, wait, it was a Tuesday,” Sophie answered, clearly confusing JJ by the significance but causing Spencer to grow nauseous. Was he the last person she spoke to? “I found a coffee shop I hadn’t been to before. I got a caramel macchiato because the place didn’t have lattes, and I called Spencer.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see JJ’s look. If he really was the last person she spoke to, then he’d officially be a part of this case as a witness. There was no way Hotch would let him stay heavily involved.

“What did you talk about?” He could hear the extra tension in her voice, the tinge of regret letting him know that JJ hated asking these personal questions about his life. It was necessary though, they had to know everything about the last day Sophie remembered.

“Spencer told me about the case he’d gotten back from. I constantly have to remind him not to tell me about the details but,” Sophie stopped to laugh, a tiny one that was a little more sad than anything else, “never mind. We talked about you guys, his team. He asked about me and I...I talked about work, the hospital. I didn’t want to talk about Thomas.”

“Why not, Sophie?”

Nothing. Spencer held his breath, watching the way Sophie’s chest stopped moving too. Her hand slipped out of his and he wanted to mourn the loss. “Why didn’t you want to talk about Thomas?” JJ repeated, more insistent this time.

“I didn’t want to lie. I promised Spencer I’d never lie to him,” Sophie gasped out, fresh tear tracks streaking down her cheeks.

“Lie about what?” Spencer asked softly, trying to will his voice to remain even and calm despite the torrent of emotions and thoughts pounding away in his body.

“I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me,” Sophie begged, hiccuping through a cry that made his heart ache, “Please.”

“Okay, okay, take a deep breath, Sophie,” JJ cut in, shutting down the questioning for now. “We’re done for today, you’re safe, it’s okay.”

When Sophie opened her eyes, she didn’t once look at Spencer.

AUGUST 12, 1999

Nothing was more torturous than the first day of school. Fifteen minutes after her alarm, it took every single bit of effort Sophie had to get herself out of bed. Moving like a zombie, the girl managed to shower and get ready for the day.

She made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, standing at the counter long enough to work up the effort to pour herself a cup of coffee.

“Happy last first day of school,” a way-too-cheerful voice called from behind the girl, waking her up and causing her to spin around on the spot. Sophie had really thought she’d be the only one awake. Both of her parents were on a business trip to work a legal case in north Cali, leaving her alone for the next two weeks.

Except she wasn’t alone, because Spencer Reid was sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper, clearly working on a crossword in fucking pen . “Why the hell are you awake right now?” Sophie’s voice was low and tired, eyes not open more than they absolutely had to be.

“Well someone has to take your picture,” Spencer answered simply, writing in one last thing on the crossword before setting the paper down.

“How long did that one take you?”

“Oh, twelve minutes thirty-three seconds. It wasn’t my best effort.”

“I really hate you sometimes,” Sophie answered, opening the fridge to try and find something worthwhile to eat.

“No, you don’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. You’re also avoiding what I just told you.”

“Why do I need a picture?” Sophie retorted, practically slamming the fridge door closed when she didn’t find anything.

“Granola bars are in the left cabinet, don’t forget. You were hiding them from your dad,” Spencer supplied, not phased by her morning grumpiness.

“I take it back, you’re my favorite person,” Sophie answered, feeling nothing but pure joy upon opening that little cabinet door and seeing the four granola bars she’d tucked away behind the Crock-Pot. The girl snatched one up, practically groaning with delight as she peeled away the wrapper and took the first bite.

“You need a picture because this is the first day of your Senior year, and someday you’ll want to remember this moment.”

“Did you get a picture your Senior year?” Sophie asked pointedly, already knowing the answer.

“I have an eidetic memory, I don’t need pictures.” Not quite the response she was expecting. Actually, the sentiment threw her off. Did Spencer actually believe that?

“Wait, no. No pictures of anything? That’s sad.”

“It's not sad. Pictures are used to rem-”

“I mean I guess, but they’re also used to bring happiness and comfort. Sometimes in really tough times, it’s hard to instantly remember the good things. That’s why you keep pictures so that you always have the people and things you love with you,” Sophie explained. “I’ll let you take a picture of me, but only if you’re in it too.”

“How will we do that?” Spencer asked, tilting his head a little as he considered the question.

“Guess we’ll have to figure it out,” Sophie laughed, taking the camera from his hands and leaning in close to him. She recognized the disposable as the one she’d bought in July, stating she’d use it to record everything she needed to remember before going to college. She turned the camera around so she could take a selfie with it.

“That won’t be a good quality picture, you need a better one,” Spencer insisted.

“It’s already perfect. It has everything I want to remember about this morning.”

It wasn’t a very good quality picture. When she got it developed, it was a little blurry from where her hand shook as she tried to reach the button. Spencer was much taller than her, so he had to bend a little so they were both in frame, and in doing so some of his long hair had fallen into his face. Still, it would be one of the favorites that Sophie pinned to her board when she moved into her freshman year dorm at Rice.

NOVEMBER 9, 2011

“Thank you for getting back to us so quickly, Dr. Nehili,” Emily spoke when she answered her phone that afternoon. The team was all gathered at the local police department, sitting around a table not unlike the round table back at their own office. “Can I put you on speaker?”

“Please, it’s just Matthew,” the voice on the phone said. He sounded really kind, the type of person Spencer might trust right away. He could see already why Matthew and Sophie were good friends. “What can I help you with?”

“We were hoping to get more information for a case we’re working on. Do you know a Dr. Sophie Bishop?” Emily asked.

“Sophie? Of course, is she okay?” Spencer could hear the concern leaking out of Matthew’s voice. It didn’t take reading facial expressions to tell that he and Sophie were really close. It made sense though if they were the leads on a research project as big as theirs.

“We can’t give you the details, but she’s alive, she’ll be okay.” Spencer physically winced at her careful wording. She’ll be okay, because she certainly wasn’t it now. “When was the last time you saw Dr. Bishop?”

“Ah, that’d be....well, she came into my class a few times back in 2010 to guest lecture. I’d say August, September?”

“Did she come to D.C. specifically to lecture for your students?” Emily asked.

“Well, no. She only lectured because I found out she was living in D.C. at the time.”

Every single pair of eyes turned to stare at Spencer then. He tried not to shrink under his team’s gaze, but couldn’t help the way his hands began to shake. How little did he actually know about his best friend?

“How long was she living in D.C.?” Spencer piped up then, hating the way his voice shook a little.

“Oh, ever since that asshole did what he did,” Matthew explained, his voice quickly growing tense and deeper in anger, “I think she left Texas in December of the previous year.”

“Can you explain more? Who, and what did they do?” Morgan asked from next to Spencer, not once taking his eyes off of him. They’d all asked Spencer repeatedly if he was sure he wanted to be in the room for the phone call, but he had to be. He couldn’t let any of this affect his judgment. Spencer knew he could bring a lot to this case, he just had to focus on the facts. Not on the idea that Sophie, his Sophie, was currently laying in a hospital bed after-

“That lowlife husband of hers, Thomas Bennington,” Matthew practically spat out. “I kept telling her to leave him, every time she’d call me crying but she never listened. I guess she finally got the courage to do it.”

“What did he do to her?” Spencer asked, voice rising in a way it didn’t normally do. He could feel each muscle in his body tensing as all of the possibilities flashed through his mind. Deep down, he already knew the answer, but still, he needed to hear it. Why hadn’t he heard it from her?

“Every time, Sophie kept saying he was stressed. That he liked to take the stress out on her, you know? She said he’d keep going until he left a bruise because...because he hated the way bruises looked on her ,” Matthew spit out, and Spencer imagined he was also shaking in rage, “That last time, though, she said he didn’t stop after the first bruise. He kept going, said he wanted to ‘put her in her place’, the fucker.”

“Why did she come to D.C., do you know?” JJ asked, trying to steer the conversation away from what happened to Sophie. She was also staring at Spencer (would they please just stop looking at him like he’s going to break?), letting him know that she understood what he was thinking, she knew.

“Said she was trying to build a case up against Thomas. She kept telling me she was scared of him. He comes from old money, you know? Families like that, they can be real scary. You know, she did mention a friend she had here, someone she thought she could go to if Thomas tried to come after her. I don’t know his name, just that he’s some government hotshot who has a gun,” Matthew explained.

That was enough. Spencer stood quickly, sending his chair flying back into the wall behind him. His hands were clenched tightly into fists as he walked quickly out of the room, trying not to hear anything else about the friend Sophie thought could save her.

Because he couldn’t, could he? Sophie had been minutes from him, and still she’d been taken. She had been only a few miles from him for nine months and she never told him. Why hadn’t Sophie just let him help? Where would she be now if she’d let Spencer watch over her? When he got his hands on Thomas he swore he-

“We’re going to figure this out. We’ll catch who did this to her.” That was Morgan.

“Why didn’t she tell me? I could’ve helped her, I-” Spencer cut himself off as his words began to wobble, blinking to keep the tears back. He’d always hated crying around his team.

“She was probably embarrassed. When someone you’re supposed to trust hurt you like that, you feel ashamed. You feel like you should’ve seen it coming.” The way he spoke, Spencer knew this was coming from experience. He’d known about what Derek went through as a teenager, ever since they’d had to dig into his past for a case.

“I wouldn’t have judged her.” He wasn’t used to feeling this helpless. Ever since he’d joined the BAU, Spencer had been able to make a direct change in peoples’ lives. Countless cases were solved, sometimes directly because of conclusions he’d been able to make. Yet, somehow it felt like the only one that mattered was this one.

“Look, Pretty Boy. She moved to D.C. to be near you , just in case she needed you . That says a lot, you know that. She’s trusting you again, now, to figure out what happened to her. So let’s do it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Spencer cleared his throat, trying to erase any evidence of his near breakdown. He tried to erase the image he had of Sophie at that coffee shop that last Tuesday out of his mind. He tried not to imagine her sitting at the coffee shop he knew to be a block down from the park he played chess at, the park where he’d sat on a bench talking to Sophie that Tuesday. He tried to forget how the conversation was all about him, how she’d purposefully steered them away from any talk about herself and he’d let her . He’d let her because he was fresh off a case, and his head hurt, and god was he so tired of constantly profiling p-

He couldn’t have known. Spencer shook his head, trying to physically shake the thoughts out of his mind. No, he would focus on catching the bastard that did this to Sophie.

Fear flashed through her at the word. “No!” she shouted, flinching as if expecting that large hand to whip across her face in reaction. When it didn’t, she urged her gaze to look up at the man’s face again. It was blurry, but she could just make out some of his features. The man was older, probably late sixties. He had kind eyes, the ones that let her know he wasn’t like him . “Please, no police.”

“You need a hospital, miss. Is that blood yours?”

Blood? She turned her head down again to see the oversized shirt she wore to be covered in red, ripped a little in the abdomen area. “Not all of it, I don’t think.” It wasn’t the answer he wanted, clearly. She saw the way the fear in his eyes turned to apprehension, felt a sudden sense of pride and a mental note to tell someone (who, who did she need to tell?) that she’d been able to read all of that from his microexpressions. Whoever she wanted to tell, they’d be proud of her after all the time they spent teaching her how to read those minute changes.

“-pital. Miss? C’mon, stay with me. Okay, okay, let’s go, let’s go.” The words were sounding from above her, but she didn’t realize she’d lost any time. She felt her body moving, felt the chilled breeze hitting her exposed legs but couldn’t feel the burn on her feet anymore from the iced pavement. That gentle rocking though, that was soothing enough to put her to-

“Ma’am? Ma’am, can you tell us your name? What’s your name?” A different voice was speaking to her now. This one was professional, a woman with a sense of urgency in the way she spoke. She wanted to trust this woman who wore all blue and was looking at her like she might die. “No, you’re not dying. Not on my watch.” Oh. She’d said it out loud? “You’re in a state of shock, Ma’am. Now, do you remember your name?”

The lights were too bright. She winced, trying to move her hand to shield her eyes from it but finding the appendage was just too heavy. Another person was approaching the moving bed now, walking alongside them down the hallway. The man said something to the woman in blue, and she sighed before looking down at her again. “Is there someone we can call? There has to be someone missing you.”

She missed playing chess. She was horribly bad at it, measuring her success by how many moves it takes to get to checkmate. The board was always set up by the window, allowing the perfect amount of light to wash over her and warm her up. That smile would fill her with warmth too, that unabashed and unhindered grin that she hadn’t seen in years. She’d read his work as it was published, imagined his voice as if he were reading it to her. She missed playing chess every Tuesday.

“Okay, Ma’am, we’ll find him. We’ll call Spencer Reid.”

MARCH 16, 1999

“You know you’re allowed to talk to him.”

Sophie whipped her head around quickly to face her friend and coworker, practically pleading with her eyes to stop that train of conversation. While the coffee shop wasn’t completely empty, it was still a light enough business day that the girl feared the guy in question would overhear. “Dana, please,” Sophie begged, walking past the red-haired girl to return to the safety that was behind the counter.

“C’mon, you’ve been practically drooling over the dork for weeks now. Just go talk to him,” Dana teased, following her behind the counter and beginning to work on one of the orders she’d gotten.

“Hey, don’t call him that,” Sophie tried, “He’s not a dork.”

“He’s reading a textbook on quantum physics. No one in high school reads a book like that for fun.” Sophie looked up again, watching as the guy seemed to scan through page after page of a heavy college textbook.

“Okay, you have a point,” Sophie resigned, forcing herself to tear her eyes away from the boy to fix the waist ties of her black apron. She smoothed down the skirt of her dress too, ignoring the smirk from Dana all the while. She could practically hear the unspoken words from the other girl: Since when do you wear dresses to work? Since you have a nerdy cute boy to impress?

“He’s been out of coffee for a while and oh no, look at that I’m taking my break,” Dana sang, giggling as she practically ripped her apron off of her.

“You just got here an hour ago,” Sophie protested, face already heating up as she understood what her friend meant. Ever since her little crush had begun, Sophie had made it point to swap her section with Dana every time, insistent that she would make a fool out of herself if she tried to talk to him again. She wasn’t even sure what it was about him that drew her in. Her last boyfriend had been a jerk athlete, pushing her to go to parties instead of focusing on her grades as she’d really wanted to. This boy looked nothing like that; his longer hair always slicked back and glasses perched on his nose. He always dressed nicely too, never without a button-up or sweater that hung on his shoulders. He was cute, and Dana said he was always super nice to her if a little awkward. He came in every Tuesday to study, always sitting there for a few hours before leaving at closing. “Dana, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’re Sophie Bishop, you can do anything!” Dana cheered loud enough for a couple of the closest tables to look up at them.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, girlie. I’ll be back in half an hour,” Dana called over her shoulder on her way out the door.

“Breaks are fifteen!”

“I’m taking yours too,” Dana teased, and Sophie knew she’d let it happen. Dana went to the all-girls school a few blocks away from her high school, so work was the only time she got to saw her. Still, though, the girl made an impression on Sophie and was easily her best friend in the world. They planned on going to different colleges in the fall but Sophie hoped they would still keep up. It wasn’t often she made friends like Dana.

One deep breath. Two twirls of the pen in her left hand. Three blinks, four finger taps against her leg, and five steps to get in front of the counter. It was twenty-three steps to reach the boy’s table, hands fiddling with the pen in her hand and threatening to break the clip on it. He didn’t seem to notice her right away, still running his finger down each page in seconds, flipping to the next one and not looking up at all.

“Are you even reading that?” Sophie wanted to pass out right then and there. Really? That’s what fell out of her mouth? She watched as the boy’s head snapped up, watched his hazel eyes take in her expression with surprise before he seemed to steel himself.

“Why wouldn’t I be reading it?” Luckily, he didn’t seem annoyed. If anything, his voice carried the lilt that came with asking a genuine question in return.

“I, just...that’s a college textbook. There’s no way you’re reading it that fast,” she stammered out, and actually wincing at herself. Why didn’t she quit while she was ahead?

“I can actually read approximately 20,000 words per minute. I’m reading at about half that right now because of the noise level.” It should’ve sounded arrogant. It didn’t though, not from him.

“So you’re an actual genius then.”

“Reading speed doesn’t necessarily correlate to being a genius, but yes, I’ve been called that before.”

Sophie couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her then. “Well then, Mister Genius, can I get you a coffee or anything?”

“Yes, please.” She glanced down at Dana’s notepad to see his past order. “Straight black coffee? Who are you?”

“Spencer Reid.” Not what she meant, but at least she had a name for that face now.

“Well, Spencer Reid, Mr. Genius, I’m drawing the line at plain coffee,” Sophie insisted, watching the way he began to look a little nervous at her words.

“I don’t know what’s good.”

“Well, then we’ll just have to figure it out together, on the house. I’ll make you my favorite and you tell me how it is,” Sophie said, waiting for any disagreement to come before she turned on her heel and made her way back to the counter. It seemed Dana was watching, because the second she began making the drink the other girl bounded over to her. “I thought you were on our breaks.”

“I was, but then you got that dorky little smile on your face!” Dana teased, re-tying her apron and grabbing the notepad back from Sophie’s apron pocket.

“Yeah? What does a ‘dorky smile’ have to do with anything?”

“It means you like him, so I’m being a terrific friend and surrendering my break to you so you can flirt.”

“I don’t need to flirt with him, Dana.”

“Yes, you do,” Dana laughed, moving quickly to make another cup to match the one Sophie was finishing up. “I’ve never seen you like this. C’mon, we’re graduating in a year. Live a little, take some risks.”

“Fine, but you owe me.”

“When you two get married, you’re gonna owe me,” Dana called back with a wink.

Sophie made her way back over to the table with both mugs, watching the boy’s, Spencer’s, reaction to her sitting down across from him. He seemed surprised, but not upset, so she settled into the chair. “It has caramel in it, so it’ll be sweet,” she explained.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Spencer spoke up, but she waved it off quickly.

“I wanted to. It’ll be fun. Go on, try it.” The smile when he tried the coffee would stick with her for days after. It lit up his entire face, so uninhibited and joyful.

“I see why that’s your favorite.”

“Right? Much better than plain old coffee,” Sophie teased. “I’m Sophie, by the way, Sophie Bishop. I go to South Pasadena right down the road.”

“It’s good to meet you, Sophie.”

“What school do you go to?” she prompted when he didn’t automatically supply the information.

He seemed to get a little embarrassed then, eyes flicking down to stare at the cup cradled in his hands before he said, “I’m studying at Caltech.”

“Oh, oh ,” Sophie blurted out, feeling her face heat up. Oh God, she had to get out of there. What was she doing thinking a college student would be into her? No wonder he seemed so nervous, he was trying to get the weird high school girl away from him. “I’m so sorry, I thought...you look really young, that’s all. I thought you were in high school too.”

When she started to stand, Sophie was surprised to feel long fingers wrap around her wrist. She looked up to see an almost panicked look on Spencer’s face. “Wait, don’t go. I’m seventeen. I graduated early.”

“Right, genius,” Sophie sighed, relief flooding through her as she sat back down. She almost missed his touch, though, when he retracted his hand from her wrist. How smart did someone have to be to graduate a year early? Suddenly the college-level textbook made perfect sense, he probably actually did have to read it. “So how’s college? What are you studying? Do you live on campus, is it scary, are classes hard?”

Another smile from Spencer at her flood of questions. Sophie started to feel embarrassed about it, but his expression was so welcoming, so happy, that she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about her questions. “I’m studying mathematics, yes I live on campus. It depends on how you define scary as each person will have their own environmental triggers, but it’s better than high school ever was. Actually, about 79% of high school students are already taking classes that are at a college level so I wouldn’t say the courses are harder.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sophie breathed. A college guy. Dana was never going to believe it. They continued to talk for another twenty minutes before Sophie had to continue her shift. He left another hour after with the promise that he would be back on Tuesday to try another drink. Sophie’s cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing for so long, but she hoped he meant it. It was too early to tell for sure, but Sophie thought there was something special about Spencer.

NOVEMBER 5, 2011

“They haven’t been able to identify her?” Emily’s question hurt more than expected. When Spencer had gotten a call from a hospital in Minnesota that a Jane Doe was asking for him, the entire team refused to let him go alone.

“They said she was disoriented when she was brought in. She wasn’t able to tell them her name,” he explained from beside her on the jet.

“But she was able to give them yours?” The implications of that fact were clear; this was someone he knew intimately. There weren’t many people outside of those on the jet that could fit the category. “Is it Sophie?”

Spencer hadn’t wanted to tell the team about her. She was a piece of his life that no one else knew about, who knew so much about him that it was almost terror-inducing. They’d known each other for 12 years, 7 months, and 18 days, of course, she would know even the darkest corners of his mind, Sophie knew everything.

When she had stopped all communication fourteen months ago, Spencer had assumed the worst. It wasn’t like her to not call on Tuesday, or even to send a ‘good morning, be safe’ text when she knew he was away on a case. He had to tell the team then. He had to tell them that Dr. Sophie Bishop, pediatric physician, was missing. He told them how she was one of the most important people to him outside of their family, how he didn’t know what he’d do if she were hurt. Spencer never said the words aloud but he was sure the team could tell; he loved her.

Still, it only took a few days of investigating for them to drop the case. They’d gone to Texas where she lived then, had interviewed her friends and husband. All of them said they knew where she was. All of them said she must have just been ignoring him. It felt wrong, a deep pit settled in his stomach and never left, but there was no evidence that Sophie was missing.

Until today, when a hospital in Minnesota (How did she make it to Minnesota? That’s a 20-hour drive from Houston, why was she found there?) called Spencer at 2:13am to let him know that an unidentified blonde woman requested he was called for her. Sophie had brown hair the last time he saw her, a deep chestnut with reddish tones that glinted in the summer light, but that didn’t rule her out. The person on the phone, Angela Harris, said that the woman was in bad shape and was disoriented.

If it wasn’t Sophie, Spencer didn’t know who it could be.

Spencer insisted he go to the hospital alone. The others would head to the local police station, get set up on the case. Regardless of the identity of this woman, they’d agreed to work the case, they’d find whoever did this to her.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I’m here about th-” he began once he got to the desk, but the woman sitting there immediately jumped in.

“The Jane Doe? Of course, I’m glad you made it,” she told him, breathing a sigh of relief right after. “I’m Angela, I spoke to you on the phone.”

“Were you able to identify her?” he asked, though began to wonder if he wanted to know the answer. He didn’t want to think about which would be preferred, if they’d actually found Sophie or not.

“No, we were hoping you’d have some insight,” Angela admitted. “She won’t talk to anyone. This is a small town, we’ve never had anything like this come into our hospital. It’s...well, that poor woman.”

Spencer’s heart sunk at her words. “What happened to her?”

“We don’t know. Bobby found her wandering the streets wearing nothing but a men’s shirt. Poor thing was even barefoot out there in that snow. The doctor will be able to tell you more, I’ll grab her.”

Angela came back a few minutes later with an older woman walking beside her. She looked exhausted, deep lines worn into her face from years of work. Her graying hair was pulled back into a bun but some strands had slipped out by now, likely from running her hands through it in her stress. “Spencer Reid?” she clarified, voice carrying a deep weight, likely from the case she was dealing with now. Spencer could only nod, that pit in his stomach growing heavier with each second he stood in this hospital.

“I’m Dr. Amhrosine, I’ve been treating our Jane Doe. She’s going to need a lot of help, recovering from this. She’s malnourished, was hypothermic from long exposure to the winter night. There were ligature marks around her wrists and ankles, bruises and scars indicating she’s been held for a long time,” the doctor sighed. Spencer couldn’t move, felt like he couldn’t breathe as he listened to all she had to say. “There was a lot of scarring and bruising, it’s hard to tell how she was hurt. It looks like a few of her bones were broken and reset amateurly, there’s evidence her shoulders were dislocated several times and, again, set amateurly. There were scars on her arm and neck, indicating she may have been repeatedly drugged.” A chill was sent straight down Spencer’s spine at that, trying not to remember when he himself had been in that state.

“Is that all?” He was glad he’d gone to the hospital alone, otherwise, his teammates would’ve worried over how breathy and shaky his voice sounded then.

“Dr. Reid,” Dr. Amhrosine began, and he could tell from the tenseness in her voice and the way her eyes drifted to look just beside his head that she was about to break what she thought to be horrible news to him. “She hasn’t consented to a rape kit yet, but from what we can tell there’s evidence she gave birth sometime in the last month.”

There was a good chance he would be sick. The breath was knocked out of Spencer’s chest at the doctor’s words, leaving him practically gasping around his next words. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded, leading him down a short hallway to a closed door. There was a curtain up, shielding most of the woman from view. All Spencer could see were two bandaged feet poking out of the thin hospital blankets. “Be gentle with her. We obviously want to know who she is and what happened, but take care not to upset her.”

Spencer nodded, steeling himself for only a moment before stepping through the door. He wanted to crumble under the weight of himself the moment he walked to the other side of the curtain. Her hair had been dyed and crudely cut, she was thinner and more sickly than he ever remembered her being, but this was unmistakably Sophie Bishop.

APRIL 2, 2000

“Soph, you have a new customer!” Dana screamed from the register, likely irritating any of the other customers that were still sitting there.

The other girl groaned from the backroom, hoping her break would have lasted a little longer than this. “I just went on break, can’t you cover for me?” she called back, not even bothering to get up from the floor of the backroom. It had truly been an awful week, she could afford to push back on this one. Other girls at school were being particularly cruel to her, girls who had used to be her friends. ‘You’re gonna be alone forever, aren’t you, Bishop?’ ‘Who’d want to ever take you to prom? Josh was so smart to dump you.’ Sophie wouldn’t even bother to correct them that she’d been the one to dump Josh after catching him making out with Bethany after the football game a couple of years ago. Not to mention her parents were putting more pressure on her, criticizing her for going all the way to Texas for college, never mind the fact that Rice University was a highly prestigious school. They were just still upset she didn’t make it into Stanford, constantly rubbing it in that they both were alumni and she couldn’t get an acceptance letter.

“Oh, I think you’ll want to see this one,” Dana called back in that sing-song voice of hers that told Sophie that something was happening. So, Sophie pulled herself to her feet, brushing off her pants and making her way back to the front of the store.

The front of the store, where Spencer was standing in a sweater that must have been too hot in this heat and a bouquet of yellow gerbera daisies. “Spencer, I-” Sophie tried, but the words got caught in her throat as tears started building in her eyes.

“You mentioned once that they were your favorite. You know, gerbera daisies typically symbolize happiness, friendship, and innocent love. Yellow flowers also symbolize friendship but also loyalty,” Spencer rushed, practically stumbling over the last couple of words.

“I-...Spencer, what’s happening?” Sophie tried to understand, her hand brushing over his as he held out the flowers for her.

“You said you weren’t going to prom because you didn’t have a date.”

“You hate prom, you didn’t go to either of yours,” Sophie pointed out, heart threatening to beat out of her chest at the implications of this conversation. She’d been dreaming of this moment, and it was actually happening?

“But you love the idea of it. You told me that Senior Prom was going to be a magical night for you, that it would be the last chance to say goodbye to Pasadena before you left and never came back,” Spencer spoke, practically repeating verbatim what she’d told him several weeks back. She didn’t doubt that he could have said it verbatim, having learned long ago about his eidetic memory.

“Spencer,” Sophie tried again, beginning to think that his name was the only word she remembered.

“I want you to have that, Soph. If you really have to leave then I want to have a proper goodbye. So, Sophie Bishop, will you go to prom with me?”

“ Spence ,” Sophie rushed forward to wrap her arms around him in a large hug, hoping it was okay she got her tears on his shirt. “Of course, I will. Thank you, so much.”

“That’s what friends do for each other.” Spencer laughed a little, looking a bit sheepish as he continued, “You’ll, uh, have to show me how to dance though.”

“I will, I promise. And you know this isn’t goodbye for us, right? I’ll come visit all the time and I’ll write to you so often you’ll be annoyed with me.”

“I couldn’t be annoyed with you, Sophie.”

“You say that now, just give it a year.”

They would go to prom together the next weekend, Sophie dressed up in a gorgeous green dress that made her feel like a princess. She would spend that night pretending that Spencer had taken her to prom as more than good friends. It truly was a magical night.

NOVEMBER 5, 2011

“Sophie?” Spencer tried, speaking as softly as possible but it still sounded too loud to his ears. It seemed she agreed too because she winced as he spoke. He wanted to cry as he saw her there, looking too vulnerable in that hospital bed. “Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in Bronstead Health Hospital, located in Bronstead, Minnesota. My name is Sophie Bishop, I’m a pediatric doctor specializing in psychiatric and behavioral health. I’m 29 years old and I live in Houston, Texas with my husband, Thomas Bennington, who is a lawyer.” Sophie’s voice was calm with an eerie detached tone as she stared at her bandaged hands. “I’m not stupid.”

“Of course, you’re not. You’re one of the smartest people I know, Sophie,” Spencer was quick to reassure, sitting down in the stiff hospital chair beside her bed. He longed to reach out, to hold her hand and confirm she was really there, but he knew better after so many years on the job. “You’ve been through a lot, though. Trauma can cause temporary amnesia or disorientation. The doctors said you couldn’t remember your name earlier, that you’ve been nonverbal for three days while they tried to figure out how to contact me.”

“What, no statistics for me on trauma recovery?” Spencer wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be sick after meeting her gaze. Her eyes looked void of most emotion, so unlike the bright-spirited woman he loved talking to every day. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’ll always be here for you, you know that.”

“I do.”

They lapsed into silence, Sophie picking lightly at the bandage around her left wrist. Spencer had so many questions he wanted to ask but couldn’t figure out in what order or if she could even handle them. Talking to victims was a regular part of his job, but with her, this was too different, too hard. Maybe he should’ve let Morgan join him.

“Why wasn’t Thomas your emergency contact? Or Dana, or Hannah, or Lacy? We went to talk to them, all of them said you weren’t missing. Why?”

Sophie shrugged, though the way she began to bite her lip suggested to Spencer that she did, in fact, know why they’d all lied to him and his team. He’d promised her years ago not to profile her, but now she was a victim in their case, he had to. There was no choice if they wanted to find who did this.

“Do you know who did this to you?”

“I-” Sophie began to speak though cut herself off abruptly as if something physically kept her from talking. Tears began to form in her eyes and poured down her cheeks in sharp lines, lower lip quivering as she tried to keep quiet. “They said it’s been fourteen months.”

“Thirteen months, two weeks, and four days since I last spoke to you,” Spencer told her gently, this time reaching out to grab her hand.

“You say that, but it feels like I just spoke to you yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

Her sassy best friend and next-door neighbor, Y/N is the one knocking. Penelope was absolutely certain that it would be either them or Spencer who came to her aid for one reason or another by the end of the night. Really, she comes to think that it is her fault for falling under the delusion that perhaps she would not be woken up in this way before the sun rose... or maybe a little after if she was any better than she thought.

"I mean, I can save you the hassle if you'd like," they greet. "I am pretty sure you know this but I live there... or am I going to regret reminding you?" Y/N sasses as they point to the door directly beside the one they stand in the opening of.

Penelope's anger instantly fizzles in the midst of their joking and the prospect of gossip.

"Oh my god, spill," she instantly grabs at Y/N, capturing them with a bone crushing grasp around their upper arm and stumbling as she yanks them into her home.

"Hold on, Penny," Y/N begins to the immediate whine of protest from their overly eccentric friend. "Are- now, I don't want to make any assumptions here but I think it may not be so far a venture for me to say that you're pretty drunk right now."

"God, I hate profilers!" Garcia exclaims with a stomp of her foot to emphasize the point.

"Pen, I am not a profiler. I am an underpaid secretary at a boring firm who gets whistled at daily by sickos under the gross illusion that is the 'alpha male'. Mind you, these same creatures are supposed to be professional. If they are anything of the sort, they are professional misogynists."

"Okay, yeah, close enough," Penelope pouts.

"Garcie, are you drunk?" Y/N prompts.

"Oh, off my ass," She responds with no hesitation.

"Tell me, why does that not surprise me?"

"Look," She begins and Y/N shakes their head with a laugh as they sense one of her trademark rants about anything she finds even remotely inconvenient coming on. "You know I love you, yeah?"

Y/N nods their understanding.

"Okay, so keep that in mind when I say the rest of this. Don't look so incredulous!" Garcia adds as Y/N raises an eyebrow.

"I don't look anything, go on," They encourage.

"Okay, so yes, I had a few drinks."

"More than that, clearly..." Y/N mumbles only just audibly.

"I had a few," Garcia emphasizes, "because I love the both of you but any way this night ended, I knew either you or Reid would be by. It would either be really early or really late and if this crashed and burned, I needed to find some way to summon the will to stand here and listen to one of you. If this was a gorgeous success that I am so commonly known to be the director of, I needed to find some way to summon the will to stand here and listen to one of you." Penelope deadpans.

"Penny!"

"Look, I'm sorry, I really am but a heaven-sent angel like myself has to do what a heaven-sent angel like myself has to do."

"That is so uncharacteristically mean... or nice," They sound questioning, "I actually cannot really tell."

Garcia pouts again.

"It doesn't seem to be working too well anyway," Y/N deduces.

"Oh, trust me, it's working. I am enjoying the appearance of three stunningly dressed you's in this discussion."

"Be that as it may, I'm sober and I've been standing in the same spot five minutes. You have almost fallen twice and have been swaying continuously."

"Alright, fair point," Penelope condones, "follow me."

Leading them further inside, Garcia plops Y/N down on her sofa before following that lead and wasting no time to pounce on their inevitable story.

"So..." Garcia squints as she analyzes Y/N's face, "I see no red eyes or evidence of tidied makeup which leads me to believe that, as I am sure no one is surprised, I succeeded again."

Y/N looks down at their hands in their lap as a blush creeps quite perceptively onto their cheeks.

"What are you waiting for? No one ignores me, I said spill!"

"Okay, okay," Y/N allows.

"Penelope, you do not understand. Just talking to him... he has the most beautiful mind. I mean, I don't know if it may be too early to tell anything about... y'know but what I do know is that sitting there with him, he makes my dopamine levels go silly. I mean, he literally told me- and I don't have an eidetic memory like him or anything but I do remember this. He saw me once and the second we took our seats the first thing he said was, 'Tell me everything about you. You can go on for hours. I don't mind.'"

Garcia's face never falters in its unwavering beam.

"I mean, I- I kinda wish I had met him sooner, y'know? What a treat it would be to love him longer."

Y/N slaps their hands over their mouth as they realize what they are saying and what they are unintentionally admitting to. Penny, despite her current intoxication, does not miss this.

"I'm sorry," she says with a cheeky smirk, "repeat that last part, would you?"

"Garcie, I really think it might be true..." Y/N trails off as a tentative knock comes from the door.

"Who is it?" They whisper-yell at their best friend. Garcia simply shrugs with an indifferent face.

"Don't worry I got it," She answers before standing to open the door.

"Oh, hi!" Penelope exclaims, the additional visitor in the doorframe blocked from Y/N's view on the sofa and vise versa.

"Garcia, do you believe in love at first sight?" Spencer's voice trickles in with his telltale enthusiasm throughout.

"Oh, I dunno," Penny responds inconclusively.

"Yeah, well, neither did I. Notice the past tense because I swear that you did something of unknowable power when you set this blind date up. Garcia, I am not kidding. I am a man of science and there is no proof of the concept in the field but something happened tonight. I took one look at them and I thought, 'Sorry, brain but I think I gotta go with heart on this one.' I mean, sometimes I get so far into my head that I forget everything else exists but tonight, there was one thing that consistently existed and it was them. You know I'm a sucker for old, romantic literature but I am certainly not a poet. If I was ever to write a poem, though, they are exactly the poem I would want to write. If I ever write a novel, they will not be a chapter; they're gonna be the whole damn thing. I try to keep myself pretty contained, I do my damnedest not to overshare but I did with them. It was almost scary how easy it was. They're so comfortable, I- I just... isn't it so fucking great how people can feel like home? Oh, when they responded to an overly personal childhood story of mine with, 'What if everything you are and did go through is preparing you for what you asked for?', I thought I would die on the spot. I realized then, I think, that they are what I asked for all my life. Please tell me you can get me another date because even in a crowded room, I think I would only ever want to look at them... literally ever." He huffs so largely that Penelope thinks he gains about six inches of height as his chest expands.

"Yeah, so, Reid?" Penny starts, cringing slightly at the thought of his unknowing audience to this confession.

"Penelope, I am serious! We said goodbye an hour, 36 minutes, and," he consults his watch, "42 seconds ago and I cannot stop thinking about them. I do not want to ever do that again. I never want to say that to them again. In my experience, saying goodbye only means going away and people forget when they go away and I really cannot deal with that idea when it comes to them. Normally, I have all sorts of thoughts going frat-partying around in my head but they stilled them. I have been looking for that calm in the storm for all time, all of it. I know that this is... Damn, this is love, right? I mean, I think about them constantly already... I do it without trying. I feel like I have known them forever, I only met them today but that feels impossible. I have never once been so confused and so happy about it. There's gotta be some connection because I feel like I must have known them since before matter made any sense and I still get those damn butterflies." He continues.

"Reid, one second..." Penelope tries to no avail.

"I sat in my car for an hour and 19 minutes just squealing and pondering like an idiot before I came here but I didn't feel like an idiot. Just the thought of them was enough to make me want to drive my car and you know how much that is saying. I would drive to a beach for them and that is saying something. Honestly, pulling up here I couldn't decide until I got to your doors whether I would be knocking on yours or theirs, begging for more company. I really, really wish I could just ask them what they think of me because I am sure it will kill me either way, the absolutely overwhelming ecstasy or misery. I just need to know if they feel this, too."

Spencer finally finishes and catches on to the discomfort of his coworker and friend before him.

"What?" He asks, his face falling.

"Well, um..." Penelope glances fleetingly over her shoulder at the frozen subject of Spencer's absolutely smitten declaration.

"Oh no, they live next door!" Spencer exclaims, "Do you think they heard that?"

Before his usual self-doubt can suffocate him, Garcia takes charge.

"Spencer, you can ask them yourself 'cause... uh, well, they undoubtedly did hear every word of that and they didn't have to be next door to do so."

Penelope slowly and wordlessly steps to the side and allows Spencer indicative consent of entry. He doesn't take it, though, too completely stricken to see the quickly claimed object of his affection right in front of him.

"Hello," Spencer nervously croaks as they meet his eyes, "I missed you quite terribly."

Their expression is blank as they stare and Spencer can't stand the silence so he fills it.

"Look, Y/N. I cannot even begin to explain to you how inexplicably perfect it felt to look up across a room and see you standing there. I want that. I've spent too much time at war with myself. I need this... I need you. So, I am scared out of wits that this will be completely unrequited but you have to know that I'm saying I love you not necessarily so that I can hear it back because I cannot express how much I understand why you wouldn't love me. I get it, really, I do. My posture is lousy. I really do have the posture of an earthworm, my hair's too long, my tie is perpetually crooked, and I talk way too damn much. I just need to say it because... I am saying it because I need you to know. So..." He breathes deeply, "I love you. I know, I am freakishly early and forward but- huh?" Spencer's eyebrows bunch.

"I said that I love you," Y/N mumbles again, having been too quiet the first time for Spencer to hear over his own speech.

"You- did?" He seems baffled at the possibility.

"Spencer, I fall in love with people's passion. You have an untenable amount of that and I hope you know I mean that in the best way. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about the things you love and the way they filled up with light, I cannot explain what that did to my heart."

"Will you- will you let me add you to that list?" He ventures.

"What list?" Y/N asks.