Author's Note: So this story has been a long time coming! I've been toying with the idea for about a year, but I've kept putting it off. I'm really invested in it, so I've always said that if I was going to write it, I was going to do it right! It's set in the 'current' era, if you will. And finally it's for all the lovely readers and reviewers of Lost in London (which was my baby for such a long time), and for my lovely board friends who are just the best little community going.
New York City Serenade
Chapter One: New York City Serenade
'It's midnight in Manhattan, this is no time to get cute
It's a mad dog's promenade
So walk tall… or baby don't walk at all'
Spencer knew he was probably being unprofessional, but he couldn't help himself. Back at the station he had overheard Melissa Stanson's parents mention the service, and ever since the idea had been floating in the back of his mind. Was he overstepping a professional boundary? He didn't usually go to the memorial services for the victims in their cases, but the case was going nowhere and he found himself at a loose end for the night. Before he could stop to think about it, he'd found himself looking up directions to the church. This was a hard case, perhaps it was his brain searching for a catharsis of sorts. For whatever reason, Reid found himself slipping, shadow thin as always, through the slowly darkening streets of New York City.
Squinting through the light fog, he looked around at the street bathed in spots of orange light. Was this the place? He had memorised the map before his way here, but it was hard to know with the descending mist obscuring his vision. A clump of black-clad people hustled past him, and he followed them through an arching doorway into the slightly warmer building. A banner proclaimed it to be The Church of St Jude. The patron saint of lost causes. Trust him to know that.
The scent of incense hung heavy on the air, and to Reid it was obvious that he was very late. Probably caused by his indecision over whether or not to attend. Right, I'll just listen to this last bit, light a candle, and leave. Hopefully none of his co-workers would notice he'd gone; it was hard enough trying to explain to himself why he was here. He couldn't exactly say he'd felt drawn there for some unknown reason, he could feel their sharp sideways looks already. No, it would be better that he just kept this to himself. He nestled back into the pew, and let the priest's words wash over him in hushed, soporific tones. He stared idly at the intricate cross and the shadows it cast in the flickering candlelight. He recited bible verses that scenes in the stained glass windows depicted, tried anything and everything to avoid going over the facts of the case again. The pictures flashed through Spencer's mind, oddly distorted. Laddered tights. Blood staining cream carpets. A vase, broken in the struggle. The familiar unease stirred in his stomach… it didn't matter how many of these cases he dealt with, it never failed to affect him in some way. At least I'm not too jaded. He attempted to distract himself once more, staring at the flowers intently, giving each its Latin name. Dianthus caryophyllus, Lilium, Rosa…
A sudden jostling from the pews around him suggested that the service was over. Unfolding his spidery limbs, Reid rose to his feet and headed towards the candles, situated in an alcove towards the door. Wax dripped from the taper and stung his fingertips as he bent to light one. Reid stood for a minute watching the flames dance and frolic; it was as though they were alive. In a manner of speaking they were, more so than the women they had come here for. A deep sigh filled his lungs, the familiar regret rising. If only we'd been here sooner.
Caught up in his own head once more, he bumped into somebody as they both tried to leave through the congested entrance.
"Sorry." He mumbled to the woman he'd knocked. It was claustrophobic in the thick, perfumed air, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. Lack of food and sleep probably, he hadn't eaten since they'd landed first thing this morning; they'd been on the go since landing. He really should try and find something on the way back, he still had to try and slip past his team in the hotel, and hope they hadn't noticed he'd ever left.
"It's fine." The woman's voice was low, slightly sultry. It seemed to tug something at the back of his mind, it gave him a feeling similar to the one where you know that you were going to say something, but have forgotten exactly what. A nagging of sorts. Reid turned to glance at her, only to find that she was staring at him, open mouthed. A beat, a mere split second to take in the sharp jaw line and heavy lidded eyes, before recognition struck.
"Elle?"
