By Helena Fallon
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds but I have borrowed the characters to play with a few of my own.
This is a long chapter!
The quote towards the end is taken from: 'The Adventure of the Copper Beeches' to be found in 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
William Reid was normally considered a calm person, utterly reliable in a crisis to steady others, but he had woken that morning full of anticipation. For the first time in years the confident cryptographer felt nervous at the thought of a social meeting. It was 16 years; the years had passed in a haze of guilt that was pushed forcibly in to the background so that he could concentrate upon his work. Spencer would have celebrated his 26th birthday the previous month, he would not be meeting the genius child he had left but a brilliant and valued man in his own field of expertise. William Reid acknowledged to himself that he was terrified of the very thing he had inflicted upon his own child: rejection.
He had busied himself with the usual tasks of a free weekend; he had shopped, and cooked a few things for his freezer and cookie jar. Although he had lived alone since the breakdown of his marriage, he had always loved cooking and avoided fast food and shop frozen meals. The very act of cooking made him remember how he had often cooked in his marriage, and had taught Spencer to prepare dishes with him. William looked at the kitchen counter, on the baking tray were chocolate brownies, he wondered if the man would still like the childhood favourite. It was 12:15, he decided it was best to distract himself with work and went into his study; there were always realms of e-mails to read.
Catherine had suggested going to look at the house. The house was something she had been keeping an eye on for 10 weeks now. It was in the conservation area and a large stone and brick residence of elegant proportions built around 1900. It looked in need of some loving care from the outside and she thought the price optimistic, she waited and was satisfied when it began to drop. The news from Jacob, of the merchandising contract, had prompted her to set up a viewing and was pleased that Spencer had agreed to go with her. Spencer thought it would be a distraction from thinking about the afternoon but he also knew his maternal Catherine was dreaming of this run down house as a family home. They had been all over the building from the ample cellar to the spacious attic. He had been silent for most of this but observed his companion, she was a shrewd buyer and knew a surprising amount about the costs and need for particular expertise because of the conservation area. They were now strolling back along the pleasant tree lined streets towards the apartment.
"Well, what do you think?" she suddenly asked. It had taken her about 7 minutes before she broke their companionable silence. Spencer smiled; she had given little indication of what she really thought of the house during the viewing other than remarking to Spencer about the high ceilings and general good proportion of the rooms.
"Catherine," Spencer chuckled, " I don't know why you're asking because you've already made up your mind."
He heard her sigh, but he squeezed the hand he was holding as they walked along. Spencer could feel her excitement about it and suspected that her mind had already worked out how the rooms would look.
"It's called trying to get your opinion because I'll not buy it unless you like it, and can imagine yourself living there with me," she honestly explained.
He had assumed all this but this house was a big step for them.
"It needs total renovation…new roof, new plumbing, new heating, re-wiring, but the cellar's dry and the floor boards are in good condition, some of the windows may need replacing," he replied evenly.
"Yeah, I noticed that too, but I'd take all that into the price I'd negotiate. What did you think of the garden?"
"Well, I'd use a flame thrower…" he replied mildly.
"Spencer! Didn't you see all those butterflies and hear that birdsong?" she protested.
"Your wild imagination no doubt can see a paradise beyond the overgrown vegetation, those shrubs haven't been cut in years, probably some Triffids lurking in the jungle,"
"Oh good, you like it then," she asserted as they walked into the apartment building.
"If I'm going to live there, I want to put some of my money into buying it too," Spencer said as they got to their door.
"But then the F.B.I. will want to know why you are spending so much money and I think you ought to keep your apartment and rent it out. Its in a good area and will provide an extra income to save for a rainy day."
"You don't want to officially fill in a contact form," he challenged.
"If I fill in that form they will find out about my writing. I don't use my real name for a reason, Spencer."
"Catherine, eventually Hotch is going to give me a form for you to fill in, the F.B.I. can be discrete… I'm sure you are not the only partner with a secret income, you ought to talk to Hotch about it," Spencer suggested, "I like keeping my private life private, Catherine, but you would have been treated far better than the way you were over Georgia. If you are thinking of making that a family home then you go on my contact list officially."
"I'll buy the house, you can pay for some of the repairs and when it's all ready then we'll talk about the form," she said reaching for a compromise.
"Fine, but this time I'll not live with you in that house without you being vetted officially…. Hotch would have done his own unofficial check so who knows what he has uncovered… and if we decide upon children, then we legalise this partnership," stated Spencer in a quiet determination to lay the ground rules for the next steps in their relationship. It was one of the rare moments when they began to speak of a future, and Spencer wanted the afternoon to provide answers. He hung up his green corded jacket and went into the living room, sweeping up his lute as he went, and sank into a comfortable chair.
Catherine watched him for a few moments from the doorway, so much of their future depended upon what his father would tell him that afternoon. His long delicate fingers plucked the strings as he seemed to wrap himself around the beautiful instrument, it was as if they became a single entity as he began to play Dowland's Fantasie No.1. Catherine loved him beyond anything that words could even begin to express. The gentle lute music seemed to caress their living space; the introspective instrument was the perfect complement to their personal world within these walls.
It was an uneventful and easy journey by the metro to Washington D.C. They had walked together to the Dupont Circle, where he left her at the Phillips Collection to walk a few more minutes to the exclusive address. Spencer Reid was naturally apprehensive but determined not to waste this unexpected window of opportunity. Since parting from Catherine, he had noticed how his gut began to tighten with every step and he tried to practice deep breathing to calm the rising panic; he wanted this meeting to go well. He kept feeling that he should be angry but it was half –hearted, mocking him from a corner of his memory. His abiding feeling was of hope and he was more afraid of that sentiment than any other when it came to his personal life.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Reid," the concierge greeted him as he entered the pleasant foyer, "your father is expecting you, 4th floor and to the right."
"Thank you," he managed to sound quite normal even if his body was trembling inside it's skin. He headed for the elevators towards the back of the spacious foyer.
Spencer entered the elevator with a well-dressed middle-aged Afro American couple. The man was near his own height with a military bearing who didn't even look at the panel of numbers before pressing 5. Spencer assumed the elegant woman with him was his wife. They stepped to the back of the elevator giving Spencer the space to press the 4 button. He glanced up and found that the couple gave him friendly smiles; the elevator began to move silently.
"Forgive me for my curiosity," the woman said, " but you look so very like Dr. Reid…"
Spencer felt an unexpected warmth spread through his body, he smiled, and for the first time as an adult, proudly replied, "I am his son." Spencer Reid was surprised by the feeling that accompanied this automatic response, was it so wrong to want to be known as William Reid's son, his inner self questioned.
The elevator doors softly pinged open before any other words could have been exchanged and Spencer turned to the right. The door was now only a few feet away, he noted the discrete surveillance cameras. He remembered the voice of his father, the previous evening, and the apprehension he had heard in the tone: ' he's as scared as you are' he thought and pressed the door bell.
The door swung wide, filling the artificially lit corridor with true sunlight from a window immediately opposite the doorway. Spencer's eyes settled on the man he'd not seen in 16 years, his mind swiftly processed the detail: they were of a similar height and build, not an ounce of spare flesh on his middle aged frame. The still abundant hair was long for a man of his age but of a darker brown than his own and it was greying at the temples. The skin on the gaunt long face and neck had lines of ageing on its lightly tanned surface, but it was the eyes that held each other transfixed. Identical eyes searched each other: deep brown, haunted eyes that held the secrets of life's learning, of emotional and physical pain, but there was also compassion and sensitivity indicating that the respective owners attempted to make some sense of the troubled world they lived in.
"Spencer," the father broke the silence, "Thank you for coming, it could not have been an easy decision. Please, please come in, let me take your jacket…" and the son entered a bright apartment and was shown into a spacious reception room.
This living room reflected its resident with its understated elegance. Spencer's training noted the details; there was a wall of books, two dark brown leather couches with a marble rectangular topped table between, a walnut dining table and chairs were at the far end near another door which Spencer surmised was the kitchen. There was shelving with photograph frames and objects, some he recognised and memories flooded back with a surprising intensity.
"I have always treasured your little gifts. " the father said softly, following his son's transfixed gaze, "Would you like a drink…tea, coffee?" But Spencer was not listening.
He watched as his son walked towards a shelving unit, tentatively reaching up to touch, with a slender index finger, an obviously crudely made thumb pot. Spencer remembered making this clay pot as a 5 year old and painting it scarlet and gold specially for his father's birthday; those had been happy days. He felt his father beside him, and he turned,
"We had some good times didn't we," Spencer simply stated and William fought back the tears that threatened to flow.
"Yes, we did, what happened was not your fault in any way. You were, and you are still, much loved by me and I'm sure by your Mom."
Spencer nodded, and turned back to the shelving, this time he picked up a silver framed photograph of the younger happier couple with their baby held by the woman and the man proudly standing beside her, with his arm around he waist. An informal snap that captured a moment in a garden on a summer's day.
"I've no photographs, Mum destroyed all the photographs of you after you left,"
"I have a lot, if you would like to see them, perhaps we could look at them and I can tell you about Diana and how we met… would you like that? William tentatively asked.
"Yeah, that would be good, I really just don't know anything about either of you really," replied Spencer and thought how absurd it must sound but life with his mother had not been easy. He remembered how frightened he had been of being taken from her and placed into local authority care; Spencer had coped because he saw it as the best option at that moment.
"Well, before we start would you like a drink?" he asked again, feeling that his son had given him an opening for the afternoon.
Spencer pulled himself away from his memories, and smiled, "Coffee please and can I smell brownies?"
William beamed back, "I still like to do my own cooking and well…I hoped you still liked them," he shyly confessed treading carefully, but neither man had a blueprint to follow for this afternoon.
"Yeah, I've got a sweet tooth, Catherine says its unfair because I can eat anything and not put on weight,"
"Ah, Catherine?"
"She's why I'm here, she was with me when I rang…I need to know more about Mom because I want a future with Catherine…"Spencer had not intended to mention her so soon but his emotions were too near the surface. Spencer's love for Catherine was more central to his life than he liked to admit even to himself.
"I'm glad you have someone; love is a complex emotion and you may now have the experience to understand something of the life your parents had. I'll get the coffee and cake...browse all you like, just ignore the dust. I don't have the domestic cleaning service offered here…I like to have this as my private world…only dust the beginning of every month."
Spencer smiled at the admission of bachelor living. He had noticed the dust; it had reassured him when he felt the thin layer of dust on the childish pot and seen the telltale clean print of where the photograph had stood when he had lifted it from its place. William Reid had not just put things on display for his benefit they were genuinely part of his normal world here in this bright room. It was such a contrast to his mother's world, she had liked the curtains drawn, the blinds down then no one could see in and the threatening world was shut out. For the young Spencer, it was at times a suffocating twilight world while he longed to breathe and experience the fresh bright world beyond.
The younger man explored the room further, and went back to the shelving and looked at the other photographs there, to his surprise there were even pictures of his 4 degree ceremonies. A large smooth pebble was being used as a paperweight on the writing desk by one of the three windows. He remembered finding that pebble as an eight year old, he thought the delicate light brown mottled colours where like the different tones of the desert. He rolled the pebble once more in his hands and marvelled again at its smoothness and the memory relived the joy of sharing the find with his father, who said it would make a fine paperweight. Typical of the generous spirit of the child, he gave it to his Dad who accepted saying that he would always have a use for it in his life.
William Reid busied himself in the kitchen, while strong Costa Rican coffee filtered, he arranged a tray with chunky large coffee cups and a matching milk jug. He put the chocolate brownies on a large plate, found the muscavado sugar and two small side plates. Although William enjoyed cooking, he rarely entertained but he did like to make an effort when he did have guests. The older man still could not believe that his son was in the next room nor how alike they looked. Despite the photographs he had collected over the years, the reality was still disconcerting. He only hoped that his son could find contentment and would not make the mistakes that he had done in his life. William poured the coffee into the generous cups and took the tray to the living room.
"I'll go and get some of my photo albums. I had my own copies of many of the photographs because I always had some with me on my travels, even before I left," William said as he put down the tray, " Help yourself," The father entered the hallway and disappeared but Spencer was too busy rediscovering the taste of his father's excellent cooking.
A few minutes later, William returned carrying several large albums, which he put down on the end of the couch before sitting down himself next to Spencer.
"They still taste as good as I remember," the son said and for the first time grinned. William felt his heart constrict, he never thought he would see that open joy again in his son's face in his lifetime. His own memories of the guilt of leaving rose again, but he managed to smile at Spencer's capacity to find pleasure in the simple things of life.
William took a drink of his coffee, he was thankful that his hand did not shake with the nerves that were plaguing his inner body.
"You still play your violin," Spencer said nodding towards the instrument lying on the dresser.
"Oh, yes, it helps me to think and unwind at the end of the day," the older man confided, "Do you still play yours?"
"No, Mum smashed it soon after you left," he replied with a hint of regret, "But I then took up the lute, I like playing Dowland and Bach," he added with a lighter tone.
"Oh God, I'm sorry…"
"It's OK, we can't go backwards," Spencer quickly re-assured, not wishing to destroy this fragile moment with his father, " I'm an adult now, we have to fill in the gaps but we have to accept each other as we are today," Spencer quietly stated.
William nodded, not trusting himself to speak at that moment but thought his child was wiser than his young years. He drank a little more coffee to help to compose him self enough to look at the photographs.
"Well, lets see, I have some photos of when I first met your Mom," the older man finally said reaching for the first album and resting it between them.
"Oh, she was beautiful," said Spencer in awe of the fragile, slender beauty that smiled out from the pages. Diana had been very photogenic with her pale long blond wavy hair, stunning cornflower blue eyes and pale flawless skin.
"Oh, she was, totally stunning, and she knew it. I'm sorry Spencer, but you said you wanted to know," William scrutinised he son's face, searching for any sign that he wanted to step back from this journey they were about to embark upon, "Do you really want to know the truth of our life together?"
Spencer did not flinch from the gaze, "Yes, I can't go forward without filling in these gaps," he replied seriously.
"Diana was 18 when we first met, I was 20 and had just started at Berkley on my doctorate in pure mathematics…I was instantly attracted to her, it was not just the beauty but the vivacious personality…she could light up any room she entered. It got her a lot of attention but there was a lot of freedom in those days…you know, 'flower power, free love' and Berkley had a drug scene like most campuses. Diana was a party girl and experimented with whatever was on offer. I don't want to sound self righteous but I've never been into drugs, and that includes alcohol, I like to have control over what I'm doing."
"But you went out with her," Spencer probed.
"I was attracted like a moth to a flame. She was great company, she used to call me 'Mr. Killjoy' when I wouldn't join in or tried to get her to stop. Later I was 'Mr. Reliable' when I spent the inheritance from my grandfather on re-hab; I took her 4 times to Mexico. I thought taking her out of the country would help and that way it might not show up on records here when she tried to get employment. People were ashamed of addiction then, my parents were appalled and didn't want me to have anything to do with a drug addict. Things became strained when they found out I was still seeing her and they disowned me because I was spending my inheritance on her. That's why you've never met any of my family, I was given an ultimatum, and chose your Mom."
Spencer turned the pages and saw an array of pictures, some clearly showing signs that indicated addition, "What did she take?" Spencer numbly asked.
"It started after her parents died in a plane crash, she had just started Berkley and I think she did it initially because of the emotional pain of their sudden deaths…she didn't like flying after that,"
"She still doesn't," interjected Spencer, remembering how she had complained to him because he had her flown to the safety of Quantico during the Randall Garner case.
"She would try anything; at first it was cannabis, then there was the LSD, she got into a crowd using coke but I don't think she took heroin. But the problem was the students were experimenting with their own mixes…it's a wonder any of them completed their degrees…Well some didn't but somehow Diana's brilliance got her accepted for a doctorate. It was only actually getting her away to Italy, where she did some research in Florence one Summer, that I really succeeded to break the hold the Berkley friends had on her."
"Do you think this all had something to do with her schizophrenia?" Spencer finally asked one of the questions that he needed clarification on.
"I only know what her half sister told me… Your Aunt Margaret did not want anything to do with us because she had not approved of her father's second marriage, which produced Diana. I went to her after she attempted suicide when you were about 2,"
"Suicide!" Spencer was shocked, he didn't know about this.
"Diana's doctors needed to know if there was a family history of mental illness. I found that her mother's family were a healthy bunch, and usually long livers but her brothers had been killed in the war. Her parents were tragically killed in a car crash so grandparents brought up your maternal grandmother. Margaret told me that, as far as she knew, there was no history of mental illness in her father's family but she, a doctor herself, suggested that Diana's drug problems indicated her instability. She told me that she knew about what she got up to at Berkley because the family lawyer was worried about how she was spending her inheritance like water. She had hired a private detective to find out what she was doing and knew about my attempts to get her clean. Margaret thought me a fool for staying with her so long. I have since talked to other experts in this field and they believe that the experimenting she did as a student could have been the trigger."
Spencer felt that his father was being totally honest with him. The profiler had been carefully watching for any indication of lying, but he knew that this conversation was as painful for the older man as it was for him self to hear.
"So she showed the first signs when I was 2?" Spencer prompted as they had now progressed to a second volume of photographs that showed proud parents with their new born and then charted his childhood. All indicated a happy life; he seemed to always have a broad grin in these pictures, as did his parents. He distantly thought how like the young William he now looked and wondered if his mother saw this too and perhaps found it a little confusing at times.
William sighed and was silent for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts.
"I was working for a government agency by the time you were born. I can't go into details even now, Spencer, but I am a cryptographer it's a highly prized gift but rare. The pay was, and still is, exceptionally good but it does not really compensate for the personal sacrifices you sometimes have to make. People do keep families together but ours broke under the strain of Diana's instability and the absences that my job required. You were a much wanted baby, your Mom and I were delighted with your birth and I was, and still am, very proud of you. I have never doubted Diana's love for you but I came home one day to find her high on cannabis. I was furious and we had a flaming row. You started crying and she screamed at me to take you away because she was exhausted with trying to cope with you and the work she had to prepare for her students. I put you in the car and drove to a colleague's home a few miles away. They agreed to look after you for a few days because I lied to them, saying that Diana was feeling utterly exhausted after a flu type virus.
I drove back home and found that she was taking paracetamol, fortunately she was still conscious and I managed to make her sick, I had to call the ambulance. She kept telling me all the way to the hospital that she loved you really and never wanted to send you away, but the voices were beginning to get a bit too loud in her head. The paramedics told the doctors who diagnosed a psychotic break. I don't know how long she had been hearing the voices because I had been very busy travelling all over the world with my work. If your Mom seemed a bit wrapped up in her work at times I didn't worry, you were at a college creche when she was working. I usually cooked when home and Diana did buy good meals to eat at home when I was away."
The bits were beginning to come together for Spencer. Here was a tragic story of events that his father could not control, who despite his love for his wife, she had quite probably brought about her mental illness with her wild student days. His father continued retelling the events that lead up to him leaving.
" The doctors kept an eye on her, a case worker was assigned because of you. You were identified as intellectually gifted but the educational thinking at the time was to keep you in as normal environment as possible… So you went to the local school and you don't need reminding of that. Things were fine if Diana took her medicine but there were times when she stubbornly refused, then everyday things would be neglected. She neglected to look after herself but you seemed to cope, keeping your own life ordered. You would turn up for school, they said they had no idea what was going on because you never let on something was wrong."
Spencer looked at the photographs taken in his tenth year while his father spoke; a long-haired boy stared back at the camera from behind spectacles. This child seemed to be less carefree, the smile was less open; the eyes looked warily out at the world. Then there was the last picture he remembered being taken with his father. They had gone out riding, his Dad had taught him to ride and it was still a pleasure he shared with Catherine. They had gone out with a group of others from the stables and one of them had snapped this picture of a father and son riding their favourite mounts; William on the chestnut, Jasper and he on the dappled grey, Earl. It had been a very happy day together but when they had got home, his Dad had received a phone call and he had suddenly left. The next day his Mom began to slip into one of her times of dislocation from reality. For a few days Spencer had coped, but then he had called in the doctor. Suddenly people were trying to get his Mom to take the medicine, which she was refusing, and getting angry at their insistence. Going to school was better than being at home when his mother was like this, so Spencer clung to his routine and prayed that his father would return.
"Things in the Middle East were beginning to bubble up and we had lost some good people in a crash, it was probably sabotage, and codes needed to be changed because we feared an infiltration in the Pentagon. National Security took precedence over my family. When I did get home for a few hours, I couldn't cope with the situation there and all the demands of the job where the lives of thousands depended on my skills. Diana begged me to take you, but I remembered the last time she had said that she attempted to kill herself. I knew you wouldn't be able to stay with me, even if I took you, and you would have been sent to a boarding school. My own experiences of such a school clouded my judgement because I had hated my school days. Then I thought about how you would blame yourself if you heard your Mom had killed herself…Well, you know what I did, I packed my bags and left…It has haunted me everyday since…I reasoned going back to see you would make things harder for you. But I've kept tract of you, got people to attend your graduations for me. I couldn't risk going, Diana might have made a scene," William managed to say, but the emotion took over and the tears began to fall as he sat not noticing Spencer beside him.
Spencer placed the album he had been viewing on the coffee table. He felt totally drained by the events of the past hour or so but he now had answers only an adult could understand. The impossible demands of his father's job alongside his mother's mental health had destroyed his parents' marriage. There was no other woman, no indication of another in his father's life even now, he seemed still trapped in his impossible love for a sick woman and haunted by the pain he had inflicted upon his child. He remembered a conversation, a year ago on a plane, when his mentor had told him not to make the mistake he had by letting the job destroy the relationship he had with his soul mate. Spencer was determined not to make such a mistake with his Catherine, but first he had to reach out and give his father some hope. He could not lash out at him, a younger, less experienced Spencer might have been tempted. However, Spencer had witnessed much in his work and he saw that his father was not an intentionally cruel, nor heartless, man, just one caught up in an impossible decision.
Spencer reached across to pull his father towards him, at first their was resistance from the older man but the younger said what was in his heart, "I've missed you Dad,"
The two men clung together while the years of loneliness and guilt were released with the tears, and the years melted away revealing the strong bond of love between them. William had not expected to find such compassion in his son, there was a new path to explore, perhaps they would be able to occasionally meet for a meal. Whatever, the outcome of this afternoon, William Reid treasured this moment of utter vulnerability the two men dared to share with each other.
It was some minutes before the two men could compose themselves, the strong embrace gave each other more strength and healing than any words. Sensitive to each other, they sensed the moment to part quite naturally. They sat staring at each other, both needing to blow noses, wipe eyes and generally try and steady themselves after such an emotional onslaught.
William broke the silence, "Well, I think I could do with some more coffee,"
"Yeah, good job we met here I'm normally not such a demonstrative person. Well, I am with Catherine…but that's in private," Spencer admitted.
"Well, I'm the cool headed one at work, they'd not believe I could cry," William rose picking up the cups, "Is there anything else you would like to know?" he invited.
Spencer followed him to the kitchen, and found himself talking about Catherine and her family and the team he worked with. The conversation followed with a new ease and energy as the two men picked up the threads of a long dormant connection. The time passed quickly and suddenly Spencer realised he had promised to meet up with Catherine at 5 p.m., but he also wanted to reach out to his father as a son and share his happiness.
"I've got to go and meet Catherine…I left her at the Phillips Collection. I'd like you to meet her, she'd love to see the photographs one day," he said. The father could not mistake the hope in the younger man's voice.
"I'd like that too, Spencer, perhaps we could..." began William and then the solution was before him, "Why don't we have dinner together here, I'm sure I've got enough ingredients for spaghetti bolognese, then you can show her…Go and get her, we might not have another weekend free for weeks"
Spencer grinned, "Great, I'm sure she'll agree…"
Suddenly his son was gone, and the apartment seemed unusually empty. William went to the phone,
"Clifford, its Dr. Reid, my son will be returning shortly with his girl friend. Don't worry, Dr. Catherine Fox is already known to security."
"Thank you, Sir, I will log it in when they arrive," the concierge replied.
Catherine's heart leapt when she saw Spencer hurrying towards her; it was unusual for him to be late. She knew that the meeting had gone well, he just seemed to bounce along with a lightness of spirit that had been rarely seen since Georgia. He spontaneously hugged her in the street; she laughed capturing the joy of this moment with her usually less publicly demonstrative lover.
"Dad wants to meet you, he's suggested making spaghetti bolognese for us while I show you some photos of me as a child and" he stopped and looked into her steady grey twinkling eyes, "Oh God Catherine, Mom really was an addict. I think I can believe in myself for the first time as an adult, I'll tell you some of it as we go along," he said, turning once more towards his father's apartment.
William Reid's doorbell sounded for the second time that day and he was totally taken aback by the appearance of Catherine. He had not expected his son's partner to be the total opposite of Diana: the small pocket Venus, the round open face with large dark grey eyes, the short straight fine hair with its dark auburn tinge that was cut in an unfussy classic 'bob'. She was no fragile beauty, and he immediately thought of the description of Miss Violet Hunter from the Sherlock Holmes story, 'Copper Beeches': 'She was plainly, but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a plover's egg'. But it was the warmth and rock steadiness that William sensed that made him truly appreciate his son's choice.
The evening went surprisingly well, the father enjoyed cooking the simple meal and sharing this precious time with these young people. He was still reeling inside from the fact that Spencer had wanted him to especially meet his Catherine. William felt that the evening only consolidated his good first impression of her. They wanted to keep this contact and William promised to call when he got back from his next trip in two weeks time. Catherine was adamant that William was to come and taste her cooking, even if Spencer disappeared on the day because she and Will, as he asked her to call him, had common interests in art and music.
There was only one jarring note to the evening. While Catherine went to the bathroom before leaving, William asked, "Does Diana know about Catherine?"
"No, and I have no intention of telling her. I only told Mom once about a girlfriend, I was 19. It was the first relationship that lasted a few weeks," Spencer shyly confessed, "I mentioned Holly to Mom and she changed suddenly becoming very irritated and possessive. The staff intervened when she started shouting that I wasn't allowed to see a woman without her permission." Spencer shuddered, not so much because of this memory, but it reminded him that his secrecy over Catherine had meant that she had not come to the attention of Randall Garner.
"You are wise not to tell her, no one would be good enough for you as far as she is concerned," William counselled.
"Do you like Catherine?" Spencer suddenly asked, searching his father's face for approval.
"Spencer, you are a very lucky man to have Catherine's love, just don't screw up!" he said sternly and then burst out laughing, releasing any remnants of tension from the afternoon meeting, "I think she's strong enough to cope with your work," he added, genuinely touched that Spencer would value his opinion after all these years.
Both grinned at each other, and then Catherine was there ready to go and catch the metro home.
As the young couple made their way back, hand in hand, Spencer felt a new contentment settle within him. The future now held less fear and he was determined to not be broken by the PTSD but to become the perceptive profiler Gideon believed was his destiny.