Disclaimer: see my profile.
A/n this is my Halloween offering for this year. It is set at the end of season eight. Please enjoy.
Morgan led Reid into the living area of the recently completed home on Cherry Blossom Avenue. The huge picture window looked out onto the street and framed the gorgeous sunset to the west. Plum merged into misty blue which melded into light pink and gold at the edge of the sky. The sun had dropped below the horizon, and everything blended in the spring twilight.
"Nice view," Spencer said as he dropped his messenger bag on the couch.
"Yeah, it's a great neighborhood."
Reid looked around the room. "I can't thank you enough for arranging this for me."
Morgan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It's no problem, kid."
"You're sure your friend's okay with it."
Morgan rolled his eyes and sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you, it's cool. Mark needs someone to house sit for a week until he gets back from Europe and can get this place on the market."
"He did a nice job staging it for his open house," Reid commented. "The furniture and the paint shows off this room with maximum effect. Did you know that you raise your chances of selling a home by fifty-three percent if you stage it?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Morgan said.
"Right, you do this all the time."
They stood together for a moment, and Reid's thoughts began to turn to where he'd store his week's worth of books from the library.
"Well, I'll leave you to it. I know you want to set up your temporary library." Morgan said as if reading his mind. "The power's on, and the ladies stocked your fridge. Mark said feel free to make yourself at home."
"Thanks, Derek."
"I'm just glad you're only a couple of blocks away, where I can keep an eye on you."
It was Reid's turn to roll his eyes. "I can take care of myself."
Morgan grinned and shook his head. "Right, that's why you can't stay out of trouble for five minutes at a time."
"You exaggerate," Spencer replied indignantly. "We've been talking for at least five minutes, and nothing remotely resembling trouble has happened."
Morgan smirked at him. "We'll wait and see."
"Yes, we will."
Morgan took another look around the room. "Alright, pretty boy, I'm outta here. I'll leave you to enjoy your new place. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Reid's eyebrows went up, and when he opened his mouth, Morgan covered it with his right hand. "Don't say it!"
Reid shook his head. "You don't know what I was going to say."
Morgan sighed. "I think I know you well enough to predict the smart remark you were about to make."
"I was going to say thanks again."
Morgan narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "Oh?"
"No," Reid said through a wide smile.
"One of these days."
"You keep saying that and yet, you never follow through."
Morgan shook his head. "I'm biding my time."
They laughed together, and it was like a weight lifting off Reid's shoulders. It seemed like the three months since Maeve's death had flown by and dragged by at the same time, but now that he had a new apartment, he thought he might find the strength to get on with his life. It felt good to be able to laugh with Morgan once more.
After his friend had left the house, Reid sat on the couch and stared out the window at the last of the fading sunset. It was getting dark, but he didn't notice until something in the house creaked, and he jumped. He laughed nervously and forced himself to breathe normally and let his heart rate return to normal.
"It's a new house," he reminded himself in a low voice. "The foundation's settling, nothing more than that."
Still, he rose, took out his work cell and turned it on to let the screen glow, guide him to the nearest light fixture. With the warm, golden glow illuminating the living room, he went to the big window and shut the wood slat blinds. It closed out the view of the street and other homes, but somehow it made him feel like the inside of a cocoon. He decided to get one of the books he'd brought and read for a while.
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He didn't know what time it was when he woke to realize he'd fallen asleep on the cheap but surprisingly comfortable sofa. The overhead light burned his eyes and made him squint. He blinked rapidly, sat and tried to focus on something so that he could find his way to the upstairs master bedroom. Suddenly, the house seemed too quiet for his liking. He couldn't hear anything on the street, either. The hair began to stand up on the back of his neck as the feeling of being watched crawled over his spine.
"Spencer."
The voice he heard was low, it was more like the dream of a whisper, but he jolted up and spun in a circle, trying to look everywhere at once. "Who's there?" He said in a quavering voice.
His phone rang, and he let out a terrified scream, then laughed like a disturbed mental patient in the criminally insane ward at the local asylum.
"Reid," he said answered, a bit hysterically.
"Babycakes. You okay?"
He closed his eyes and put the finger of one hand to the bridge of his nose. Garcia. She could read him like a book from twenty miles away and headed in the opposite direction. He didn't need her prying into his fears.
"Yes," he squeaked and cursed his inability to control his voice. "I'm fine."
"Then why are you squeaking and why did you answer the phone as if you'd just seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," he lied and dropped back onto the sofa. "I fell asleep on the couch, and your phone call startled me."
"Garcia, are you there?" He found himself inquiring when she went quiet.
"Yeah, I'm here, but I don't believe you."
"I'm fine," he said with more confidence because her voice and her concern for him chased away his fears.
"Are you sure, because I can keep you company? We could have a mini Doctor Who marathon and eat junk food."
"As appealing as that is, isn't it too late?"
"No, gorgeous gray matter. It's only nine pm on a Saturday night."
"Don't you have plans," he attempted distraction.
"No, and don't try to distract me. I'm worried about you, Spencer."
The use of his first name and her serious tone had him sitting up straight. "I truly am fine, Garcia. I was a little freaked out being alone in a new place, but this move is a good thing. It helps me not to think about her." His voice cracked a bit.
"Oh, babycakes, I'm so sorry I brought up sad memories."
"You didn't," he assured her after clearing his throat. "I have to learn to let her go. I'll never stop loving her, but I have to get on with my life. I can't live with the pain anymore."
"I wish I were there to give you a huge hug," Garcia said, and there were tears in her voice.
"I know, and I'm grateful you're my friend. Why don't we wait and have the Doctor Who marathon after I move into my permanent place? Then we can make a mess and not worry about someone else's home?
"Good idea," she said, and he could hear the happiness return to her voice.
"It was your idea, so it is a good one," he said.
"Don't think flattery will get you anywhere," she shot back. "I'm going to worry about you until you move into your place."
"You don't have to that. I like it here."
"I'm not sure I believe you, but I'll leave it alone for now.
They talked for another fifteen minutes about inconsequential things. He was happy when she finally said goodnight. He adored her as one of his best friends, but she was too perceptive for his good. He didn't need her showing up on his doorstep and finding out from looking at him that he was far from okay.
"I miss you so much," he said to the empty room and for a moment wished that he could hear the voice call his name again because it might be her.
He stood up and listened with all his being, but heard only silence in the house. It was the type of quiet that pressed on the eardrums like a living thing. He shook his head and shut off the light. He'd go up to his bedroom, take a shower and go to bed early for a change.
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The hot shower had helped to relax him, but he woke again at 3:38 am after six hours of restless sleep. He looked around the room with dark adapted eyes and sighed. He needed a bathroom visit, and his stomach rumbled. Maybe some of the treats Rossi, JJ, and Garcia had sent with Morgan to add to his food stores might prove interesting.
He put on his slippers and stood in the darkness that was broken only by dim light entering around the edges of the curtains at the window to his left. He flipped on the light, and once again had to wait for his eyes to adapt. At least, this time, he didn't hear a voice calling to him and felt a disappointment so large in his chest, it physically hurt.
"Why do you want to hear voices in a strange house," he asked himself irritably.
Because it might be her!
He shook his head and resolutely headed to the bathroom and then down the stairs to the kitchen. He entered using on the light from the hallway to guide him to the fridge. Inside, he located a sandwich JJ had made for him, wrapped in wax paper. It was supposed to be for his lunch the next day, but he decided to eat it with a glass of the milk that Garcia had insisted he needed to stay healthy. He'd save coffee for the morning.
He gathered up the sandwich on a paper plate and poured out a glass of milk. He took his snack out of the kitchen, and passed without noticing, a door in the wall that hadn't been there eight hours ago.
When the light from the hallway blinked out, the new door's knob turned slowly, and the door drifted open to spill brilliant white light into the kitchen. The door stood open as if waiting for something but slowly swung closed with a click that barely echoed into the room. The house seemed to release a breath it held. The foundation groaned, but this time, no one noticed.