Every true genius is bound to be naïve.
-Fiedrich Schiller
Note: I do not own Criminal Minds and/or anything canon in the Criminal Minds universe. I do not claim this is perfectly edited, though I tried. Also, I do not claim to have an unending, vast knowledge of everything in the CM universe. If something about a character, the show, anything, is incorrect... sorry. I watch the show often, but I'm only human. Some things get lost in my head. Otherwise, enjoy!
Spencer opened his eyes to something too familiar, yet not what he had last seen. A leering face was all he could see, but he could hear laughter behind the face.
"Andy," he squeaked, though his voice wasn't the same. It was higher, more child-like than he last heard it, even in his own head. "What's going on?"
The face before him – Andrew Presley – pulled away, and his full figure came into view. He was tall and tanned, with short blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore the jersey of his football team, the Rancho High School Rams. Behind him, Spencer could see members of the football team, all laughing. Others were beginning to crowd around, though not everyone was laughing.
Confused, Spencer looked down. To his horror, he found himself naked, with a rope securing him to a pole. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what was going on. "What are you doing?"
Andy didn't answer. Nobody did. They just stood there, either watching in silent horror, or laughing at the humiliation of a 12-year-old high school student.
Closing his eyes, the laughter suddenly ended. Instead of cruel high-school students, he woke to a soft face, soft and oval-shaped. Her brows were knit together in unease. "You okay?" She asked, her voice the only sound other than the soft hum of the air conditioner.
He was in a café. The girl was dressed in a Starbucks uniform, her apron dangling from her neck. She was very obviously ready to lock up, but he had yet to leave.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled, realizing he had fallen asleep whilst studying for exams. Not that he needed to, as he had memorized each textbook, but it was a good past-time.
"Not from the way your face was all screwed up. Looked like you were having a nightmare."
"Oh…" He couldn't seem to find words to explain the situation, which was quite weird, considering he always had something to say. "Sorry."
"It's fine."
"How long have I been asleep?"
"You feel asleep about an hour and a half ago." She sat down across from him, releasing her hair from the confines of a blue hair band. "I let you be since there weren't that many people coming through and it looked like you were having a bad day."
Spencer found it weird that he had fallen asleep. Never before had he dozed off in a public place, a Starbucks no less. It was kind of ironic.
"Studying for finals?" She asked, running a finger over the title of his textbook.
"Yes." He kept his answer short, mostly because he was embarrassed.
The girl pursed her lips, appearing confused. "What high school do you go to? I've never seen that book before."
"I go to CalTech."
This she could not believe. One fine eyebrow raised, a smirk playing across her face. "No way. You're, like, what? Seventeen?"
"Sixteen, actually." He moved to hide the book away in his backpack, but ended up knocking it off the table entirely. He was still a bit shaky from the dream. That memory played itself in dream forms every now and then, though he repressed it by satisfying himself in the notion that he was finishing up several doctorate degrees while the thuggish teenagers that had humiliated him were barely out of high school.
Bending over to pick it up for him, the girl noticed his socks, and again he managed to entertain her. "Diggin' the socks." Every now and again she found herself grabbing a pair of mismatched socks, but usually they could pass for mates. He apparently had no such luxury that day, as one was red and green, while the other was a bright purple.
But he ignored the comment and stood up. "Thank you for waking me up, but I really have to go." Judging by how low the sun was setting over the horizon, he deducted that it was around eight thirty.
"Okay, well see you. Have fun with your, uh… chemistry."
He began turning to leave, but stopped to get a good look at her. She was about his age, and Hispanic. She wore a relaxed expression on her face, and though at first it didn't seem that she believed he went to CalTech, the way he was acting seemed to persuade her. Apparently in her mind, all 16-year-old CalTech graduate students are awkward around a stranger, which wasn't entirely untrue in Spencer's case, despite his efforts at a social life.
"I'm Spencer, by the way." He reached out a hand.
"Angie," she responded, standing and shaking his outstretched hand.
&&&&
"I don't think so," Morgan responded, taking his coffee from the barista with a slight nod of thanks.
Spencer leaned against the wall behind his chair, his elbows resting casually on the armrests. "It's true."
"It's a television show, Reid. A television show. There's no way Star Trek is at all accurate."
"I find it amusing that you doubt me only when it comes to television, but if you ask for a statistic, it doesn't matter if I make it up off the top of my head. You'll still believe me."
"That's because you're too smart for your own good."
"You don't make any sense."
"Neither do you, my friend." Morgan grinned across the small café table, his hands wrapped around his coffee cup.
Spencer leaned his head against the bricks behind him, closing his eyes, a gentle smile still on his face. The two co-workers had only just returned from a case, and jet lag was taking its toll. Since the coffee shop wasn't too far from the office, as soon as they were allowed to leave, the two decided to grab a mocha or two before heading home.
"So," Morgan began, his grin widening the way it does when he teases the young Dr. Reid. "Any girls in the picture right now?"
It seemed that no longer how many years Spencer worked with Derek Morgan, the topic of girls always came up. Usually it was to tease, because of all the facts and details Spencer would give at work, his love life was never mentioned. Plus it was a well known fact that Morgan had no trouble getting a date when he wanted one, while Spencer rarely had the courage or opportunity to ask a girl out. Not that he really thought about it. Spencer found it tiring to be interested in a woman, and he had enough to deal with at work.
"Must you always bring this up?" Spencer mumbled, sliding his hands behind his head.
"Must you never answer?"
"Yes."
"I won't take no for an answer."
"Technically, I never said no. I said yes."
Morgan was quite for a second, his grin replaced by fake irritation. He was actually enjoying this. Reid was quite easy to tease, despite his vast intelligence. "You never answered my first question, you just followed it with another question. We can go at this all day."
Spencer opened his eyes, but did not move. "Fine. There is not a girl in my life at this time. See? I didn't say no."
"Awe."
Though he knew Morgan was joking, the young FBI agent wasn't overjoyed to be discussing the topic.
"What about you? Any women in your life?" His tone was flat. He couldn't quite tell if he was truly annoyed by the conversation, or if the stress of a 2-hour flight was making him irritable.
"Nah, not right now. Just broke up with a girl last month. She wasn't really my type, but she was nice."
The tinkling bells above the café doors jingled. Spencer's eyes moved automatically to the door. Normally his brain would register a new face and move on, and he'd still be stuck listening to Morgan talk about the weird but nice girl he dated. This time, however, something was different. He ran into old friends every now and then, and sometimes he saw people on the street he'd only met once or twice, but rarely did it stir any emotions or curiosity. This time, however, things were different.
The woman that entered the café was of average height, with well-kept blonde curls hanging past her shoulders. It took Spencer no time to recognize her as the girl he'd met in the Starbucks when he was 16, except much about her had changed, as things do when people grow older. Her hair had been black, and she had been chubbier at the time. But it was definitely Angie.
"Hey, I know her," he said, interrupting Morgan's ramble about something, though he wasn't sure what it was. He had since veered off the topic of women.
Morgan looked over his shoulder at Angie as she approached the counter, and then returned his eyes to his co-worker. "And you said there are no women in your life."
"No, no, that's not what I meant. I know her from a long time ago… but I only met her once."
Again, Morgan looked over his shoulder. "So… meet her again."
Spencer made no move. He was more interested in the fact that this person stood out to him, despite how many people he had become acquainted with over his lifetime and randomly seen again on the street, than the fact that he knew her. Not only that, but the chances of seeing her again after so many years, on the other side of the country, no less, were significantly low. The power of the universe never ceased to amaze Spencer, even if he understood quite a bit of it.
The barista behind the counter was coming to the end of his shift, as was apparent by how quickly he was trying to get Angie's order ready. As she paid and walked to the side of the counter, where the drinks were handed over, her eyes grazed over Morgan and Reid. At first, they were just another pair of people, nobody to matter herself with. After a second gears shifted in her head, and Spencer's face popped up in her head. The guy she remembered was just as thin, but much younger and much less attractive. But no, it was definitely him… but blossomed.
"Do I know you?" She cocked her head to one side. Spencer detected an accent.
"Um, yeah, I think so." He stood from his chair, taking on the tone of voice and posture he used mostly when at work, detailing statistics and facts to profile an unsub. "We met in Pasadena a while back."
"Oh, yeah." She smiled, though it was awkward and uncertain. "Yeah, yeah. You were the college kid that fell asleep. The really young college kid."
Morgan watched silently, forgetting about the quickly cooling coffee in front of him. He'd never seen Spencer talk to a girl he wasn't interviewing or working with. It was quite entertaining. The question of why he even cared hit him, but he quickly and automatically answered himself. He liked Spencer… like a big brother likes his nerdy baby brother.
"Of course. I'm surprised you remember me."
She shrugged, turning to take her finished coffee. "I have a knack for faces, I guess. Funny running into you here… in DC. What are the odds of that?"
Spencer opened his mouth to answer the question, but Morgan found his opportunity to edge his way into the conversation. "Pretty slim, I'd imagine," he said, abandoning his coffee and standing up. "I'm Derek Morgan. And you are?"
"Angie Martinez. Are you two… friends?" It was quite obvious of the implication of friends.
"You could say that. Reid and I work together."
"Oh, I see. Find yourself a nice genius academy to work at, Spencer?" She winked at him, teasing. He blushed, despite his attempts not to. This, of course, did not pass Morgan unnoticed.
"Hey, Reid, I'll see you at work, but I'm beat. Have fun." With practiced stealth, he silently exited, barely noticed.
"So how are you?" Angie asked, trying to break a long, awkward moment.
"Good, good. You?" Conversation was never something he was good at, unless he was thinking about something else. But even then, he was usually rambling without letting anybody in edgewise.
"Doing well, I guess. Just got a job out here, but mostly been living in El Paso. Did a lot of travel between the States and Mexico for a while, mostly because of family."
Ah, so that was the accent. He should have known that. Then again, he wasn't quite feeling himself. "That's nice." He sat down and motioned for her to join him, assuming it was the polite thing to do in that situation. "What job did you take?"
This time it was her turn to blush. She always thought it sounded weird in casual conversation, her new job title. It was the sort of thing most people raised an eyebrow at. Then again, this was DC. She had to get used to that. "I'm working at NCIS now. I speak Arabic, which apparently is good on a resume."
Spencer smiled. "Well, given the current situation with the Middle-East, I would assume NCIS would have great need for someone with that particular talent."
"And you? What do you do now? CIA agent?" Angie winked, brushing a strand of curly hair out of her face.
"No, not quite. FBI."
"Oh, fancy. How are things over at the Bureau? Not quite as military based as my job, I'm going to assume. Trying to figure out what FDO and FOD mean, while remembering every other acronym the government can come up with isn't easy."
"Flight Deck Officer and Foreign Object Damage."
Angie blinked. "Well then. My terrible memory has been put to shame."
"Haha. Sorry. I, uh… I remember things easily."
"I assumed as much, given that you were in college at, like, sixteen."
"Yeah… graduated high school at 12."
"You're kidding?"
"Nope."
Something clicked in her head from a short while back. "What's your last name?"
"Reid."
Ah, so that was it. She remembered reading an article on him from quite a while back. "Oh, okay. I know who you are. They printed an article on you in my high school newspaper when I was a senior."
"And you said you had a bad memory."
"I lied. I remember a lot of things. It's the only reason I got through college. I don't actually know half of what I learned, so much as I remembered how to do it. Take math, for example. Finals would come around, and I'd remember the formula, but it took some hardcore studying to actually figure out how to use it when the letters are replaced by numbers."
It was a weird conversation, and both knew it. For two people that had met only once before, they had a lot to talk about. Angie was intrigued by Dr. Reid, who was both incredibly intelligent and slightly socially awkward. It was kind of cute, really, the way he had an answer for everything. She would say something off-handedly, like "what are the odds of that?" and he would have an answer. "Statistically," he would say, "it's about twelve percent." She wasn't looking for an answer, but she suspected he usually replied similarly to most things.
Angie was spunky, Spencer found. She'd spent a lot of time traveling from work in El Paso to her grandmother, who lived in Mexico, but only about thirty minutes from the border. She was quite smart, really, though probably not above average intelligence. It didn't seem to matter, though, if she wasn't quite book-smart. She listened. That is, until something she knew about came up. Generally it was politics. The way he always had a fact ready, she had an opinion. She didn't try to pass as someone who knew more than they did, which Spencer admired. Many people he came across would spout facts with no basis in reality. He rarely had the spirit to correct them. Angie did no such thing. If she was wrong, she didn't mind being corrected.
Eventually they were kicked out. Like last time, they did not exchange numbers, or really even say goodbye. They just walked off, marveling at the way things worked. It didn't matter if statistics said one thing, or if faith said another. It was amazing to both of them how something so unlikely can happen, at the most convenient of times.
