Author's Note: Well, it's been a long time. Once upon a time I was ReidWatson and wrote a few stories about Doctor Spencer Reid and his sister Sara, and had to let them go for awhile. A few weeks ago, to my dismay, I realized I could no longer access my old account, and by extension my stories. So, after a lot of debating, I'm trying this story again. This story will serve as a sequel to The Journal of Sara Reid, and a reboot of the short lived Journal of an FBI Intern. I really hope you guys enjoy, and if any of my old readers are out there, I just want to say thank you for everything.
Doctor Spencer Reid locked the apartment door's deadbolt and dropped his coat in the hall. It was late in the evening and he had spent the last hour and a half talking to JJ. His limbs were heavy, his eyelids were drooping, and the one thing he wanted to do was collapse on his couch and sleep for six to eight hours straight.
The twenty-nine years old could have dropped onto the couch and fallen asleep very easily if there hadn't been a slight catch in his plan; there was already someone on the couch. He discovered this when said person let out a surprised yell after being sat on.
"WHAT?" Sara yelled, swinging her arms around frantically in the dark.
Spencer, who hadn't quite recovered from the shock of sitting on a person instead of the couch, stumbled backwards and landed painfully on the floor. "It's me!" He shouted back at her. There was now a sharp pain radiating up from his tailbone, which wasn't doing much to improve his mood.
"Shut up!" A muffled voice shouted from the apartment beneath them.
The two Reids were silent for a moment. Spencer sighed and heaved himself up off the floor, rubbing his back. "Nice to see you too." He said sarcastically, sitting down on the couch again; this time not on his half-sister.
"Sorry," She said sheepishly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Then, maybe when she remembered why she'd shouted in the first place, added, "You scared me!"
Spencer shook his head. "Why aren't you in bed?" He asked, looking over the mess on his coffee table.
"Because I don't have to get up early tomorrow, remember?" She answered, picking her glasses up from the table and slipping them on over her ears.
"That's right, how was the last day?"
It was mid-April, and the fifteen year old high school senior had just finished school for spring break. The two week hiatus wouldn't be much of a vacation though, as finals were right around the corner upon their return to school.
"It was alright I guess." She answered shortly. "I got a letter from Georgetown today. They're 'very excited to have me join the Georgetown family this fall!'" She said, mimicking the overly-perky voice of an infomercial salesperson. "You know the Georgetown University mascot is a bulldog?"
"What?" Spencer asked, the soreness in his back giving way to fatigue again.
"Why a bulldog though? It's so lame, Butler University's mascot is a bulldog too. They should at least have something cool, like a giraffe or kangaroo or something."
"I'm getting that you're not too excited about the acceptance letter?" Spencer said, trying to keep from falling asleep after the long day at work and visit with JJ.
Sara sighed and stood up from the couch. She stepped over to one of the many bookshelves in the apartment and went to the one place void of any books, and picked up a silver frame. She looked at it in this light of the street lamps streaming in though the curtains, her back to him. Spencer heard her clear her throat a few times.
"I'm just not interested in anything lately. And, I'm in a bad mood I guess. It's been one month today," She said quietly. She was right, it'd been one month since they'd said goodbye. One month since they'd put her in the ground.
The frame in her hands contained a photograph of four people. The farthest left was the young doctor; his hair had been longer then and gave him a more youthful appearance that matched the smile he wore perfectly. He had his arm draped around his sister's shoulders. Sara was laughing about something the photographer, Penelope, had said. Her hair was being ruffled by Emily- the now late-Emily Prentiss. Emily too, was laughing, brown eyes shining brightly, with one arm thrown carelessly around Derek Morgan's shoulders.
Spencer nodded thoughtfully, feeling that familiar ache he felt whenever Emily was mentioned. It was the same reason he visited or talked to JJ every evening after work: he missed his friend so much it hurt, and it hurt constantly.
"Yeah, I know." He said.
The two fell silent again, both minds racing with memories of their lost friend. Besides the ache in his chest whenever he thought of Emily, there was another feeling there growing steadily worse: craving. In spite of his best efforts, the craving for Dilaudid was still there.
Beginning to feel fidgety from sitting so long, Spencer stood up from the couch and pulled on Sara's shirt sleeve, breaking her out of her thoughts. "You should get to bed." He told her, heading in the direction of his own room.
Sara looked at the photo for another moment before replacing it on the shelf. "Yeah. Ok." She said, stifling a yawn as she followed her brother down the hall. "See you in the morning." She said quietly.
"Yep, goodnight," Spencer said, stopping by his door to let her pass down the hall.
"Night." She said back, slipping into her own room and shutting the door.
-x-X-x-
As soon as the sounds of Spencer getting ready for bed had died away I crept over to me bedroom door. Silently, I pushed it open and slowly began to make my way down the hall, careful to avoid the spots that squeaked. I paused outside Spencer's shut door, straining to hear any movement from within. Hearing nothing, I hurried down the remainder of hallway and into the living room, quickly locating my shoes, keys, bag, and flashlight while making as little noise as possible.
By the time I was out the apartment door and down the first flight of stairs I had relaxed again, confident that Spencer wouldn't catch me out of the house in the middle of the night. He had never caught me before, and I didn't plan on it happening now.
Late night trips on the metro no longer scared me. I attributed most of that to the Glock 17 tucked safely into my waistband whenever I went on these outings. That was one more thing Spencer didn't know.
When I returned to the surface I was on the other side of the city, a few blocks from my destination. The short stretch of city I had to walk did make me panic a little, but the bright yellow street lights reassured me that there was no one lurking nearby. Statistically speaking, there's always lurking in some shadows somewhere, but I was taking chances. The low cemetery wall wasn't much of a challenge to scale after a few weeks of practice.
"I'm on break now, not too long until exams are over, and then I'm graduated. It's uh, still April by the way. I doubt you're keeping track, probably no calendars where you are anyway. You know I was thinking earlier that if you were here we could have taken a trip to the beach if you had time while I was on break. I've never been to a real one, you know. Oh, and I got into Georgetown," I said, pulling the acceptance letter out of my bag.
"Pretty good financial package, but I don't know if I'll go or not. I've got a month to decide anyway. Derek's been telling me to go with my gut, but I'm not really feeling any of the schools. To be honest, I'm not feeling much of anything lately." I said, tracing over the letters on the grave with my fingers. The stone felt cold against my fingertips, even through the numbness in my hands from the chill in the air.
"It's still pretty cold here." I told her. "Not the same without you."
I took the last train back to Van Ness and returned to the apartment. The glimpse of myself that I caught in the mirror told me that my nose and cheeks were red, which meant my face was cold. I couldn't feel the cold though, only numbness. It was decidedly cold for April, and that bothered me more than it should have.
When the Glock 17 had been replaced in the living room drawer, my shoes and bag left in their places by the door, and the apartment locked, I returned to my room and checked the time. It was nearly two in the morning. It had now been more than one month since Emily's funeral. With that in mind I wrapped myself in my quilt, buried myself in pillows, and fell into a restless sleep.
"Man when he does not grieve, hardly exists."