Summary: What better way to mend a broken heart than by finding someone new? The BAU tries to get their baby genius back into tha game, but sometimes it's better to have your heart in shambles than to try and put it back together, in one piece yet as broken as it were in pieces.
Author's Ramble: Hey! Rookie writer here, so please go easy on me. Can't think of much else to say but please read and review and enjoy!
Disclaimer: On my profile.
"I'm still not sure about this." Alex immediately retorted, it simply wasn't right.
"I know Blake but it's been months. It's about time the Kid got back into the game." Morgan smiled good-naturedly.
"But still-" Alex began only to be cut off by the silent squeak of sneakers.
All eyes turned to the entrance as Spencer entered the bullpen, characteristic cup of diabetes-ensurer in hand. He arrived at his desk, the slightest curl at the tips of his lips at the sight of the folders on his desk. He was glad for the extra work though, it kept his mind of things. He slipped off his trademark messenger bag and sat down, the scratch of pen on paper the next sound heard.
The four agents turned to each other, a silent question on their minds. After a few moments later, the media liaison looked away, defeated. She rose from her seat, taking a breath before crossing the room.
"Hey Spence!" Her cheery voice broke his train on the page. She took a seat on his gray, standard desk while he looked up. "Hey JJ." Came his standard reply.
"Sorry about last night. Things… came up." JJ continued. A small grunt of annoyance came from the back of her throat. 'Things came up? Can't you think of anything better?' She silently scolded.
"It's ok. I understand." His chocolate orbs dimming with friendly understanding. 'Spence… Always understanding… Why does it always have to be you?' She had to do this. He deserved a new start.
With renewed confidence, she began again. "Thanks. So, how did last night go anyway?"
"Well, considering you guys took a rain check at the last minute," He started teasingly. "Nothing much else."
"Really?"
"Well, there was this girl…"
A low bellow signalled him to continue.
"Her date stood her up, so she was sulking and drunk at a corner of the club."
Another bellow.
"Nothing much else. I felt sorry for her so I took her home. I didn't know where she lived. I took her to her place this morning before I got here." He turned away, rummaging through his things. She heard the rustle of papers, the crash of leather on leather andd the crisp fold of paperback. Typical Spence. He produced a white card, 3x4. It smelt faintly of raspberries and margaritas. "Gave me her number."
She took the card out of his hand.
Judy Florence
Global Destiny Inc.
(02) 70-30-750
"That's-"
"You can keep it."
'Great…' She continued her unfinished sentence in her head. Another sound, this time of confusion.
"You might need health insurance for Henry, at least you know someone." He gave her a weary grin before turning his attention back to his work.
JJ muttered half- hearted, if at all, thanks and pushed herself of his desk. She threw a solemn look at the other agents and shook her head.
This familiar scene replayed itself most mornings spent at the bullpen. Another unfulfilled meeting, another girl, sad, lonely or wasted. A different agent who would casually bring it up. Yet all with the same results. Unbeknowst to the genius-in-residence, these seemingly by-chance meetings where executed not by a higher power but by a more mortal source.
Another morning, another agent. It was Blake's turn today. They would not stop until they find the right girl, the right medicine to soothe their little genius' heart and will him to move on. He deserved another chance and if Cupid or fate or whatever wouldn't give it, then they could at least try.
A familiar squeak signalled Blake's cue. But before she could rise from her desk, Reid waltzed into the little kitchenette, pancreas overworker in one pale hand, the other balled into a tight fist.
"I know what you guys are trying to do." He hissed, the contempt his voiced displayed slightly disarming. It was a rare moment indeed.
A white ball of thin cardboard flew into the air, landing Morgan's feet. It was a calling card.
"Do you think I wouldn't notice? Did I seem that pathetic?" His voice control and level. They would rather have him yelling.
"Reid, man, we just wanted to help…" Morgan began.
"We didn't mean any harm Baby," Garcia continued, fighting back tears. She never saw him so angry.
He visibly calmed down, his tight fist now a loose mass of palm and fingers. He turned a few degrees to the right, to a window. "She used to love storms."
Smokey clouds rolled in, transforming the light into a more translucent form.
"She told me how she would walk under the rain, pouring, pelting. How refreshing and cold it was. Like nothing could harm her as long as she stayed under it. It was one of the things she missed the most. The rain."
He looked down at the counter, but his gaze seemed much farther away. "She adored watermelons." His lips turned upward, and for a brief moment, genuine. "No stalker could keep her away from that." His smile took a more teasing quality before turning to look at them, his warm chocolate orbs meeting Penelope's warm ice, Derek's dark chocoalte, JJ's baby blues and Alex's clear earth.
"Kid,-"
"I know you want to help. I know you meant well." He turned his back to them, briny water piercing his sight. "Maeve wasn't just some girl of the street. She wasn't some wasted bitch from a bar. Or… well anything else for that matter." He turned to them, determination pushing him to continue. "She was… Well Maeve. It wasn't just her intellect. Or her doctorate. Or the practically endless ways we understood and connected with each other. It was the hitch in her laugh. The warm tone of her voice that just lets you know she's smiling. It was how she poured her heart into every conversation and the slight curve she starts and ends every letter and symbol due to her penmanship. It was her obscene love for watermelon aand her extreme tolerance and love of cold. It was all those tiny bits and pieces of seemingly useless, meaningless, pointless things that made her, her."
The four stood speechless, both amazed and chastened by what Reid had just said.
" I appreciate what you were trying to do. But, guys, I'd rather remember her, and what we had, and the memories we've shared, than to force myself to try again. Knowing that… it'll never be the same again."
"We just wanted you to be happy Sweet Cheeks. It was obvious how much you cared for her… loved her."
Spencer smiled, gentler, determined to make them understand. "Exactly. I… loved her. And no matter how much I miss her, how I wish she was here… Another girl won't change the fact she's gone or make it anymore bearable."
"We got a new case. Wheels up in 15." A stern voice echoed across the bullpen. All four agents and their technical analyst turned. Hotch hovered over them on the lifted platform, Rossi to his side. The solemn, stern expressions they wore were enough. They had heard.
The agents cleared out, Garcia towards her mechanical cavern, but not before giving Reid a look, a pat, a hug, some sort of gesture of their apologies and understanding.
Reid was the first to return. As he sat down, his white palm craddling a cup of crystalized glucose, salty droopltes welled at the ends of his eyes. A warm palm on either of his shoulders startled and comforted his shaking physique. He knew without turning who they were, two who have known the crevices of lost and grief and hope shattered before their very eyes as well as he does. But they rose again and lived on. Maybe one day the pain will stop, the images will fade and security will eased itself back into his life. Maybe some day he would ffind the pieces and make himself whole again like Rossi, maybe whole enough to try again and share it with another such as Hotch with Beth. But for now, at least, he was happier to be broken than mended.
Author's Ramble: So? Just a thought. I just had to get my love for the team and Reid out. Once again, rookie writer so please go easy on me. R&R. By the way, the information about Maeve WAS NOT I repeat WAS NOT real. The love for watermelons and storms, 'k. That's me.