Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds :3

Summary: I don't really know what motivated to stop taking Dilaudid. Thinking about it, I finally figured out what it was. It was her. ReidxOC! Elaine Speers appears:D review!

I don't really know what motivated me to stop taking Dilaudid. I was thinking about it the other night, laying in my bed, reading a book about a kid who was struggling with an alcohol addiction. I mean, my friend Ethan in New Orleans told me that hif he could tell, my team definitely could.

He said so himself, they were the greatest minds in the world. Rossi's life experience, Emily's world knowledge, JJ's people skills, Hotch and Morgan's observation skills, and Garcia's... well, Garcia is indescribable. And Gideon... I feel like I let him down. I haven't heard from him in a while. We were exchanging letters for a few years, but he hasn't written back in a few months.

Thinking about it, I finally figured out what it was. That drove me towards fighting what I was struggling with.

I was at a coffee shop that I went to pretty much every morning before going to the MetroStop. It was a local, family owned cafe, run by an elderly couple. Their teenage grandchildren worked for them. I knew the couple on a first name basis, and every monring, the husband, George, greeted me with a loud, "Mr. FBI Agent's here!"

One particular morning, when he announced it, I smiled back at him, nodding my head slightly. I kept my hands in my pockets, and muttered a greeting. I felt exhausted, andf I was warm, making me wish that I hadn't worn the brown sweater vest over my tan button up shirt. My messenger bag hung around my shoulders and sat on my waist.

There were a few people in front of me. One of them turned around- a woman. She was shorter than me by probably six inches, but she was wearing high heels, and had long brown hair and green eyes. Her head swiveled around, eyes wide, and she looked up at me.

"You work with the FBI?" she asked, like a little kid. She was probably in her early twenties, but she was dressed up in a tight gray skirt, a whit ebutton up shirt tucked into it, and a black tie.

"Yeah," I said. "With the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

But her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and she blinked. My own eyebrows knit together. She blinked again.

"Something wrong?" I mumbled, kind of annoyed.

"FBI, huh." she murmured. "Your team must be full of geniuses."

"Miss?" the kid behind the counter said to her. She took a step forward and ordered a Latte and a blueberry muffin. After he went to get her order, she turned back to me, leaning on the counter with folded arms, and went on, "So, are they? Geniuses, I mean."

I shrugged. "I guess."

"So, behavior. That's like, reading what someone does. How their emotions are portrayed through body language, right?"

"Basically."

She stared up at me for a moment, and then said, "Maybe I could be a profiler."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What makes you think so?"

"Because, I've been talking to you for seventy five seconds," she snapped, her eyes narrow. "And I know something I bet you've never told anyone."

I know what she means immediatley, but I still egg her on, pissed off, "What's that?"

She pushed off of the counter and looked directly up at me. Her eyes softened a bit, like she was empathizing. Her voice was quiet. "My sister was on Percocet. She gave me the same look you're giving me right now for four years straight." she swallowed. I cringed. "I've known you for two minutes." she shook her head. "My sister will never be the same. Don't do that to yourself."

She turned back to the counter and paid for her order. She picked up her coffer and brown bag, and moved out of the way. I stepped towards the counter, but before ordering, she said, "Whether or not you know it, even strangers care." she gave me a sad smile. "It hurts me seeing you like this, Mr. FBI Agent. Fix yourself up, because if I noticed, your team has. And they're suffering along with you."

She smiled again, and left. I ordered my coffee, quickly paid, and ran out of the cafe. I saw her halfway down the block, and took off after her. When I get close, I yell, "Hey, wait!"

She turned around, looking irritated as I slow to a stop. Panting a bit, I started to speak, but she cut me off, "Look, I'm an attorney. I work probably as much as you do. I'm late."

"And I am too." I spoke so fast, I was almost incoherent. "But about what you said. What do you mean?"

She looked me top to bottom, grimacing. "You look like the known it all kinda guy. I bet you don't like not knowing something or losing. What you're doing to yourself is making you lose at life, and if something happened to you, everyone aorund you would lose, too. I almost lost when my sister went to rehab." she checked a watch on her wrist, and I saw a long scar that started under her thumb and went up her sleeve. "I'm late. My boss is gonna kill me." she looked up at me. "I don't know if this is getting to you in anyway, but its true." she paused. "Don't just stop taking whatever Nartcotic you're on. Make a complete transformation."

"I don't know how." I muttered, feeling hopeless. She shrugged.

"Then I can't help you. I have to go." she pointed at me as she started to turn away. "Fix yourself, Mr. FBI Agent."

She walked away, and didn't look back. I watched her walk in her high heels, and walked to go to the MetroStop to go to work. ALl day, what she said kept making its way into my thoughts.

And they're sufering along with you. Everyone around you would lose, too.

I looked around the bustling room where I sat in at my desk. Emily was laughing with Morgan and Garcia about I don't even know what. JJ walked thorugh the room, holding a manilla folder triumphantly in the air. Hotch followed her as he said we had a case. Rossi emerged from his office, asking why his computer wasn't working. Morgan chuckled and made a joke about how Rossi could work a PlayStation, but not his computer. Rossi simply rolled his eyes and asked Garcia to help him out. Hotch told him it could wait.

Was my team really suffering, too? It didn't seem like it. They weren't losing.

But they were. Hotch lost his wife, and almost lost his son. Emily had to go undercover to get awy from people who were trying to kill her. Morgan has to deal with people who do the same thing to kids that happened to him. Rossi can't seem to keep a marriage intact. JJ and Garcia are fighting to keep the horrible, gruesome pictures out of their minds. Elle got shot in her own home, and was pushed so far over the edge, she shot someone. Gideon lost. He lost a long time ago.

I wondered if Gideon just gave up. Sitting on the plane later that day, I thought about how he had ran to find what he lost. I didn't want to end up like him. At that moment, I realzied what I had to do.

Now, I've been clean for four years, but her words still hang in my mind. Was I still losing? I wanted to find her and figure it out. But not for my own selfish scorebook reasons. I desperately wanted to know whether or not I was still putting myself in danger. If I could still find everything I lost in those frightening months I was addicted to Dilaudid. I'm still struggling with the after effects, but I'm fighting.

I'm sitting at my desk, unfocused, staring at the disgusting photos of a mutilated woman. Without realizing it, I stand up and walk to Garcia's office. I knock once on the door, underneath the plague that says, Penelope Garcia, Technical Analyst, and open the door. Garcia turns around in her chair, her blonde ponytails bouncing.

"Hey, Smartypants-" she begins, but I cut her off with, "I need a name."

"What- why?"

"Someone said something to me years ago." I say, starting to pace, my arms folded. "And I Don't know her name. I need to know. Its driving me insane."

"Uhm, sure." she turns around in her chair and starts to type. "Details, please."

"She's an attorney." I ratle off. "In the DC area. Brown hair, green eyes, about five three or five four. She has a sister who was in a rebah for Percocet."

Still clicking on the keys, she says, "For the love of God, please tell me you realize how vague that is?"

"Of course I do." I mumble, still pacing. Then, I get an idea. I lean over the computer, one hand on the back of her chair, as I go on, "Sh-She-She paid with a credit card! October 19th, 2007- in the Brown Coffee Shop. Cna you pull up that days' sales?"

"Gimme a second." she whispers. A large list appears on the screen.

"A latte and a blueberry muffin." I tell her. "That's what she ordered."

Garcia is quiet for a second, still typing. Finally, she stops and says, "Reid, what did she say to you that's so life changing?"

I hesitate. "Basically... that..." I pause and stand up straight. I push my bangs off of my forehead. "Uhm, she-she said..."

"Hey," she looks up at me, her blue eyes wide. "If its puersonal, you don't have to tell me. I kinda figured when you said her sister went to rehab for Percocet."

I sigh. "Thanks."

"I think I found her, though." she turns back to the screen, and a picture flashes on the screen. Its a driver's liscence. Sure enough, its the same woman- big green eyes, curly brown hair, a freckle on her chin and left nostril. Garcia looks at me again, but I stare at the computer as she asks, "Is this her?"

I nod, swallowing. "That's her. What's her name?"

She looks. "Elaine Elizabeth Speers. She's twenty seven now."

"So, five years ago, she was twenty two." I mumble, furrowing my eyebrows. "She said she was an attorney though."

Garcia clicks on the keyboard. "Well, she graduated high school when she was 15 and got into Yale for four yeras, and then went to Harvard Law, both on scholarships."

"Where does she live?"

After a few seconds, she laughs, "Ha- guess what."

"What?"

"She lives in the same building as you do."

I groan. "You're kidding me. You mean she's probably been no less then fifty feet away from me the entire time?"

"Apartmen tnumber 2B."

"That's two floors beneath me."

"And that's why you've never seen her."

"Garcia, I love you."

"They all do, baby."

I chuckle and thank her, leaving her office. THe next day, a Saturday, at around noon, I throw on a green button up shirt, a black tie, and black pants. I get in the elevator, and get off at the second floor. My palms sweaty, I walk to the door with 2B in golden letters above a peephole, just like my door. I stand outside it for a few seconds, my fist ready to knock.

My heart is beating quickly. Finally, I knock a few times, and wait. At first, nothing happens, so I wounder if she's not home. But I hear, "Hold up!" The door unlocks, and I get nervous again. It opens.

Its her. Her hair is in two hair ties on the sides of her head. Its shorter. When I saw her five years ago, it was to her mid back. Now, it just goes to her shoulders, and she looks a lot older. She's wearing a sleeveless black shirt and gray shorts that only go to her mid thigh. She's barefoot, and her shirt is pushed up a bit, so I can see the bottom of her flat stomach. She has flour on her face, hands and shirt.

"Can Ihelp you?" she asks, leaning on the doorframe as she wipes her hands on a rage. I stammer and gape for a moment, before clearing my throat and finding my voice.

"I don't, uh..." I clear my throat again. "I don't think you remember me."

She stares for a moment, and then smiles, nodding her head. "Mr. FBI Agent." she looks me top to bottom, like she did the first time we ment, and then moves aside. "Come on in, Profiler."

I go in. She closes the door behind me. Her apartment is the exact same as mine, a living room, a kitchen/dining room, and a small hallway. She walks into the kitchen, and I follow her. She's baking something. She puts down the rag, and washes her hands, saying, "Your hair's shorter."

"So's yours." I say, finding myself smiling.

"You know, when I expected you to find me," she dries her hand on a different towel and turns around, wiping her face. She leans on the counter, smirking. "I figured it'd be alot sooner. What took you so long? You kept me waiting."

"It took a long time to, uh... get my head right. To... To fix... myself." I put my hands on my pockets. "But I think I did. I think I-I found what I lost. I had an obligation to find you next."

She nods her head, laughing. "Good to know I'm up on your VIP list."

I can't help but chuckle. "I think you're pretty much the only one on the list."

But she frowns and tilts her head, asking, "How did you find me?"

"Oh," I blush. "I, uh... I got the technical analyst at the-the BAU to search you. I tried going through your work, and then your sister, but it was too vague."

"Then what'd you do?"

I blush worse, and mumble, "I remembered tha tyou paid with a credit card and bought a Latte and blueberry muffin from the Brown Coffee Shop on October 19th, 2007."

She laughs. "So you know all my dirty little secrets. Now tell me my name."

"Elaine Elizabeth Speers, April 13th, 1985."

"And you?"

"Spencer Reid, OCtober 9th, 1981." I pause. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." she's still smiling, her arms folded.

I hesitate, swallowing. My brown eyes search her green ones. I quietly ask, "How do I know if... if I'm still losing?"

To my surprise, she stands up straight and walks towards me. She takes my hands in tight in hers, and squeezes as she speaks, "You sought me out. Granted, it was a little odd, but it was sweet. You got better. Its obvious. What do you think?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me what you do know, Spencer."

I hesitate again, my throat dry. "I... I don't know. I know that- I know that I can't focus better on my work. I know I can go out after work with friends and actually laugh and have a good time, even if I'm at the end of the joke. I know I read twenty six books in the last two weeks, and if you ask, I could recite every word of every one to you." her eyebrows raise and she giggles, smiling. "I know that..." I swallow, staring back down into her eyes. Her eyes give me confidence. "I know that I'm better."

She stands on her toes, and puts her lips against mine. When she pulls away, she's smiling wide.

"Then you win."

I don't know how to react. She cringes, and starts to say, "Should I have not- not kissed you?" she groans. "You have a girlfriend, don't you? Of course you do. Why wouldn't you?" she scoffs, like she's upset with herself, and turns away. She folds her arms over her chest. She takes a deep breath. "Alright. Reset." she turns back around, and starts to say something, but I step forward, put my hands on her face, and kiss her. She puts her hands on my wrists, kissing me back.

But she pulls my hands away, and says, laughing, "Let's try this again." she puts my hands on her hips. Then, she drapes one of her arms around my neck, and puts the other on my cheek. She slids her hand into my hair, smiling. "Do it again."

I put my forehead against hers, and watch her eyes close. My eyes shut, and I put my lips on hers. Right then, as I kiss her, I begin to realize that she's been right the entire time. I may have lost a lot. The narcotics probably took years off of my life, but being with Elaine, I feel like I never lost anything. She's so... so bright and loud and fun to be with. She makes me happy, and that's not something I've been able to say for a while.

This is the end of how I came to realize just how bad I was doing. Its also the story of how I met Elaine- who the only thing I can really call her is the love of my life, as cliche as it is. With her, she makes me feel like there's a lot ahead of me. And for the first time in probably ten years, I don't have to worry about what it is that's coming.

^_^ I love Reid3 review please!