Important A/N: The story begins between episode 22 and 23 of Season Five! Enjoy!
It is the combination of thought and love which forms the irresistible force of the law of attraction.
– Charles Hammel
Chapter 1
November 12, 2009
North Carolina (The Case)
The darkness pulsed with energy, Sabrina Mason moved with it.
She jumped in time with the beat of the music, her arms moving wildly and without inhibition. The electricity that zinged in the air made her blood sizzle; igniting a blaze in the redhead's eyes that had more to do with the adrenaline than the acid she put under her tongue hours ago.
Sabrina didn't know how long she'd been in the mass of sweaty people, moving along with the steady thrum of her heart and the rhythm of the floors pounding.
It was addictive - the feeling, the freedom, the drugs - Sabrina loved it, she relished in it. It wasn't until the beat changed, a seamless transition from hard electronic to a smoother type R&B that had her imagining the type of havoc she could reap if she had a warm body behind her to move with, that Sabrina stopped her dancing; deciding she wasn't nearly buzzed enough and made the executive decision to rectify that.
The young woman turned, tripping slightly on her heels, and shouldered her way through the group of writhing bodies surrounding her; she tried to ignore the mix of neons flashing at her and bleeding into her vision as she walked but, the weight of the colors swirling in her eyes was too oppressive, her limbs started to feel heavy, she felt sluggish… slow… hot… too hot…
Suddenly, the warmth grew, concentrating on the tops of her arm, solid planes pressed themselves on Sabrina's back, curling around her, trapping her - Sabrina didn't like it.
She wanted to protest, to tell whoever was behind her to go away, that it was too hot, too much, but her tongue was dry, her traitorous lips wouldn't move.
"Oh honey, honey," a voice, cold, nasally and unwanted, purred in her ears; icy lips brushed against her earlobe and disgust rose up in Sabrina's chest, or maybe it was bile. "You don't look so well. You know, drugs are bad for you and so is leaving your drink unattended."
Hard hips pressed against her backside, large hands clutched at her hips, forcing her lax body to sway with the bruising music. It was so loud, how had she enjoyed it minute ago?
No, no she had to go, he needed to go away… too loud...
"Why don't we get out of here, beautiful? I have some big plans for us."
That's not what Sabrina wanted; she was tired and heavy, she needed to sleep, needed to rest. Before she could attempt to convey this to the man, it would've been difficult her face felt to waxy she didn't think she could've done it, her arm twinged sharply then burned with a scorching fire that seemed to spread to the rest of her body. A pitiful noise escaped her.
"Shhhh, honey, none of that now."
The voice sounded warbled and far away, the bright lights dimmed, the pounding music faded, any energy left in Sabrina's already pliant body drained out of her - the world tilted on its axis. The black pushed down on her, and the last thing Sabrina noticed was greedy arms snaking around her waist, the whisper of a cruel promise the last thing she registered before the black consumed her…
"We're gonna have so much fun, honey."
Somewhere at the opposite side of the club, Sabrina's friend, Amelia, pushed through the crowd, making her way to the exit.
She had been looking for Sabrina for a couple of minutes now, calling her friends name and getting yelled at by the drunk patrons she got in the way of - those assholes.
Amelia sighed and made her way to the large steel doors that had a huge 'exit' sign hanging above it. Maybe her friend had become overwhelmed or sick and stepped out, at least that's what Amelia hoped. She could already feel the worry twisting her insides, the distress making her hands clench. Where was Sabrina? She couldn't find her anywhere and Amelia was really starting to panic now.
She hated being the sober friend; it was too much responsibility - she silently promised herself she wouldn't agree to any other last minute, half-assed plans again anytime soon.
"Leaving already, girl? It's still early." the security guard questioned loudly over the blare, his bald head gleaming in the clubs lights and muscled chest jutted out.
"Just looking for my friend," Amelia practically shrieked out, temple throbbing from the loudness of her voice and the music, " I'll be back."
That was a lie; she knew she wouldn't, not if she could help it.
The security guard nodded, unaware of her fib, and looking a fraction more severe than a second before. "You let me know if you can't find her."
Amelia nodded again, grateful, as he stepped aside.
A cool breeze wafted through Amelia as she left the overheated atmosphere, the chill slapped her cheeks and her body shivered at the temperature change. Amelia had gone out through the back entrance, so the parking lot was dark and empty, the only source of light coming from one flickering street lamp in the middle of the lot.
"Sabrina?" Amelia called looking around and making her way across the lot.
She decided to head towards the bushes, that seemed like the most likely place Sabrina would be in the utterly fried state she was in.
Amelia caught a bit of movement and a streak of muted red in the corner of her eye; she pivoted brushing back the strand of blonde hair that fell into her face and was ready to get the attention of the without a doubt high psychology major when her breath caught in her throat.
At the far end of the lot, a couple of yards out, a man hooded and clad in black was loading a limp, unconscious looking woman into a van. It was so dark the shapes were barely noticeable, completely bathed in shadows, but the obnoxious shade of red of her friend's hair shone - just enough - for Amelia to be able to make out the figures and the context.
Amelia never labeled herself the type of person to react well in emergency, life or death- situations. Her frozen form attested to that, yet, at that moment, it took her less than a second to figure out exactly what was occurring.
A kidnapping. Her friend was being kidnapped.
The sheer panic that had been building up her throat finally bubbled out. Amelia's scream cut through the eerie quiet of winter, leaking of desperation and tasting like acid.
"Sabrina!"
February 3rd, 2010 (four months later)
Quantico, Virginia
Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit couldn't help but notice that the man sitting in a booth with his arm slung across the shoulders of a pretty, significantly younger, blonde woman was cheating on his wife.
Spencer glanced over one more time from his table, taking a small sip of his overly sweet coffee, briefly cataloging the sandy-haired man's frantic eyes, tensed shoulders, the secluded location of the booth he chose to sit in and, his huddled position leaning into the woman as if he had something to hide - because he did have something to hide.
An affair.
Statistics state that in over one-third of marriages in the United States, one or both partners will cheat on their significant others, most likely in the time frame between their second and fourth year of marriage. Experts estimated that twenty-five percent of men and fourteen percent of women cheat in a lifetime and, once that line of infidelity is crossed, the cheater is three-hundred and thirty-six percent more likely to cheat again.
Spencer personally never understood those statistics.
Though he rarely admitted it, to others or himself, Spencer wanted what those people so carelessly took for granted. He wanted a spouse, a companion, a partner, a friend. Someone to accept him and love him despite his faults - because of his faults - like what JJ had with Will.
He couldn't imagine being lucky enough to have something like that, then throwing it away for petty reasons. How could someone claim to love another, then betray them like that? Maybe it was his romantic tendencies or naivety when it comes to relationships but, Spencer doubted that's how love and marriage worked.
He glanced over to the booth again, scowling as the man whispered something into the blonde woman's ear.
Spencer knew his bitterness didn't only stem from his morals. A part of him was jealous of the fact that not only could these people get one person to like them, to build a relationship with them but, two. Spencer couldn't even get anyone to agree to do that with him.
Not that he put too much effort into finding someone anyway - he liked to consider to himself married to his job.
Or at least, that's what he told himself.
Deciding that introspection and bitterness didn't suit him, and that he needed to get to work, Spencer drained what he had left in his mug, got to his feet, shouldered the worn messenger bag and, headed to the door; ready to make his way to the parking lot where his car was before driving to the metal fences and large collection of buildings that made up the FBI headquarters.
As usual, Spencer deftly ducked around the group's tourists littered around the area snapping pictures of the headquarters, strolling in the gray, Virginia morning and towering at least a head above everyone else.
That was probably why he didn't see her coming.
Spencer was so focused on what was at eye level to him, he hadn't even bothered to look down until something solid and warm barreled into him in a blur of black cloth and untamed brown curls.
"Oof," Spencer grunted, staggering back dangerously and, instinctively clutching at the arms of whoever ran into him.
The intertwined strangers teetered for a moment, both shocked, while they tried to regain their footing before seeming to manage to end their swaying. There was a beat of silence where all they did was hold each other - exactly twenty-four seconds Spencer registered briefly- before they were letting each other go and taking equally flustered steps back.
Spencer flushed hotly, the anxiousness he usually felt at anyone invading his personal space rose and settled at the pit of his stomach like lead, but Spencer ignored it, looking down and zeroing his attention on the flustered female in front of him.
She was quite stunning, Spencer noted with a hitch in his breath, yet not in a conventional way.
The woman was young, no more than twenty-two or three Spencer deduced, her face rounded and soft, cheekbones pronounced and dusted pink from embarrassment. She was short, with a bronze glow to her skin, brown curly hair so thick it seemed to add a few inches to her small height and long, thick lashes that seemed to deepen her big, brown eyes.
Eyes that currently glanced up at him in horror.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking and I was in a rush and - Dios," she moaned, frantic and mortified all at once, "I just totally body slammed you, I'm so sorry."
Spencer recognized the Spanish words sprinkled into her apology and the slight accent in her voice.
"No. No, it's fine. I'm - I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention - are - are you okay?" he stuttered.
It's been so long since someone that wasn't a part of his team was this close to Spencer. It unnerved him a bit and he took another small step back.
The woman didn't seem to notice.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm just - wow - I can't believe I did that. How embarrassing. What about you? You okay? I didn't hurt you, right? Please say I didn't," she blabbed, hands fluttering in Spencer's direction.
The doctor shook his head his head at her.
"I'm not hurt. Arguably, it takes at least a hit with a force of 278 newtons to cause the correct amount of pressure to bruise the human body, while it takes a concentrated hit of 3,330 newtons to fracture a bone. You weren't running at the right speed to do any actual damage and the force you accumulated as you ran wasn't concentrated on one focal point so even if you could've hurt me you wouldn't have since you ran into me with your body and not a, for example, fist. Realistically all you would've done is knock me over."
Silence stretched between the two strangers and it took Spencer a moment to realize why the woman was staring at him like that, with her glossy lips parted and doe-like eyes glazed in shock; he'd gone on one of his "rants" which, according to Morgan and Garcia, was apparently not good when it came to normal everyday interactions.
"Sorry, I- " Spencer began but, he was cut off by a sharp exhale from the woman.
"Woah," she breathed, tilting her head up curiously. Spencer fidgeted as she openly gaped at him, which was usually the response he got when he let his words get away from him but, it didn't make it any less uncomfortable. "Well, that was awesomely specific. Good to know, thanks."
"Your welcome?"
The reply came out more as a question; Spencer couldn't quite pinpoint if she was being sarcastic or not.
"I was serious," she reassured with a friendly grin, seeming to sense Spencer's unease. Her gaze shifted to the now empty coffee cup in his hand. "Wow, imagine if you hadn't finished your drink already. This could've ended much differently."
Spencer nodded, awkwardly tightening the strap on his shoulder, "between the impact and the temperature from the spilled coffee which would've been between 145 to 185 degrees I definitely would've been knocked over."
The woman's eyebrows twitched in amusement at the unnecessary information.
"Ahhh, so you're a fun fact type of guy, cool," her face morphed into a grimace once she fully processed Spencer's words, "Ugh, how mortifying would that have been? And, you look so sharp. I would've ruined your clothes."
"Uhmm, thank you."
Spencer's ears burned at the compliment, his eyes darted to his purple button down. It wasn't anything special, it was what he usually wore to wore to work, minus a cardigan because of the lack of cold in the air. Spencer found himself silently grateful that he hadn't worn one of his "grandpa sweaters" as Morgan liked to call them.
Social norms dictated that Spencer should compliment her on her appearance as well, so, he fully looked at what she was wearing; black dress pants, a white blouse, and a blazer - bland professional clothing.
Clothing she obviously didn't wear outside of a professional setting based on the crisp newness of the outfit, the multiple piercings lining her ears, the black paint on her nail, the subtle eyeliner on the inner rims of her eyes and, the bohemian style rings she sported on every other finger - those told him, regularly, she was anything but bland.
Regardless, she looked very pretty and Spencer told her as much.
"You- you look nice as well."
She flashed Spencer a smile.
"Thanks. I don't usually dress like this but, I kinda have something important to do and I want to be taken seriously, you know? Figured if I don't look like a hippie or something they're bound to hear me out. I mean, they have to I…" the woman trailed off before looking sheepishly up at the gangly man in front of her, "Sorry, I didn't mean to start oversharing. I'm just kinda nervous right now," the woman cringed, "and, I'm still oversharing. Sorry, I promise I'm not usually such a mess."
"It's fine. Anxiety is proven to make it extremely hard to control habits and behavioral desires." Spencer said, not noticing the shocked amusement fitting across the woman's expression, "Did you know research shows that your appearance strongly influences other people's perception of your financial success, authority, trustworthiness, intelligence, and suitability for hire or promotion? And, because perception is often reality, what you wear not only communicates who you are in the minds of others but also influences your level of career advancement?"
"I did not know that, though I kinda figured that's how things work. Did you know that six million years ago the ancestors of humans and the ancestors of chimpanzees reproduced like, all the time? Just think about it, smartest beings on the planet and we're historically half-apes. Wild."
Spencer blinked down at the tiny girl, admittedly shocked.
That had to be the first time someone's ever responded to his informational word vomit with some facts of their own.
"Yes, I knew that. Among living primates humans are most closely related to apes, we share a decent amount of common ancestors and have similar characteristics. What does that have to do with clothes and anxiety?"
"Absolutely nothing," she shrugged, lips twitching playfully, "I just wanted to prove I know things too."
A sort of bewildered half laugh escaped from Spencer at her blunt words and he couldn't stop the full-blown smile from blossoming on his face when the sound of her soft giggle blended in with his laughter.
"Well, consider it proven." Spencer chuckled, a bit dazed at what was happening - Spencer didn't tend to connect with people, with strangers, like this.
The 'Reid Effect' didn't usually allow it.
"Though," he continued, "It's highly probable I know more than you. Like, did you know, there is enough DNA in an average person's body to stretch from the sun to Pluto and back, seventeen times?"
"Alright smart guy I'll give you that but, consider this. Did you know, even though biological human races don't exist at the moment farther back in revolutionary history they did, like the Neanderthals and Homo Habilis's for example? There was actually an extinct homonin race nicknamed Hobbits and they were really short and hairy and looked nothing like Bilbo or Frodo."
"Yes, their scientific name is Homo Floresiensis. You read Lord of The Rings?"
Spencer couldn't help but find himself feeling at ease, not feeling awkward at all while talking to this mysteriously well-educated stranger with the easy-going attitude and ready grins. It was quite shocking.
"Yup. I love Tolkien's work and the movies were actually really good too, which never happens with film adaptations of books unless it's Harry Potter, obviously," Eva'seyes narrowed in determination,"Okay, here's another one. Did you know that Dinosaurs survived for more than 700,000 years after the earth was hit by the meteorite everyone thought killed them?"
"Yes. Did you know that you are paralyzed during your dreams? REM sleep, the stage of sleep during which dreaming occurs, is characterized by paralysis of the voluntary muscles."
"Mierda, I didn't know that. That's horrifying. On the topic of horrifying, did you know in the Sudanese Latuka tribe, when a man wants to marry a woman, he kidnaps her? Like straight up disappears into the night with her. Elderly members of his family go and ask the girl's father for her hand in marriage, and if the papá agrees, he beats the shit out of the suitor as a sign of his acceptance."
Spencer blinked at that one, "I did not know that, no."
Eva brightened up immediately, "Really?! So, I win?"
Spencer refrained from mentioning that technically he had won many times over already.
"Yes, you win," if she continued to smile at Spencer like that he wouldn't mind losing again, "Where is the Sudanese Latuka tribe located?"
"Africa."
"I'll have to do some research on that."
"Cool, if you ever need more information like that again, I got a lot more where that came from," she joked back, smiling just as wide as Spencer. "I'm Eva by the way."
"I'm Spencer."
Not Doctor, not Reid, not Agent - just Spencer. How long had it been since he'd introduced himself without a title?
"Well," the woman -Eva - said, thrusting a delicate, manicured hand forward, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Spencer."
Spencer stiffened, eyes darting to her outstretched hand.
Spencer didn't shake hands, he liked to keep his personal space just that, personal, and didn't touch anyone but his team and his mother. But, staring down at the small smiling woman with her ridiculously large eyes, unruly hair, strange accessories and natural warmth he found himself wanting to shake her hand; wanting to be normal, just this once, and not ruin any… bond that might've been forming between them
"Or, not," Eva muttered lowly at his hesitation, face falling and arm making its way back to her side.
Spencer's arm shot forward, almost without permission, and caught the retreating hand. He maneuvered his hand to clasp hers, the mixture of the heat from their touching palms and the coolness of her rings so foreign he had to fight the urge to flinch back from the sensation.
"Nice to meet you, Eva," Spencer said, giving her hand a firm shake, careful to keep eye contact and a smile in place as he did it.
It wasn't too difficult to do once he shoved down the urge to let go, there was something mesmerizing about the way she had to lift her chin to meet his gaze. Spencer even noticed a couple of specks of gold in the muted brown color of her eyes, enhanced by the dark ink on her inner lids.
He thought they looked lovely.
By the time their arms fell back to their respective sides, the disappointment that clouded Eva's expression had lifted and been replaced with the brightness Spencer was quickly starting to associate her with.
A brightness that quickly dimmed as a surge of uncertainty sparked between them. Spencer cleared his throat as they fell into silence, neither of them knowing where the conversation should go from there and staring at each other from under their lashes.
The early morning grey was slowly fading, sunshine pushed its way through the clouds, the sidewalk around them seemed to grow more lively and the sounds of traffic grew exponentially. Spencer could tell it was closer to eight now than seven, at this point he'd be late for work, yet he couldn't find it in himself to mind too much - even with the lag in conversation.
"Well," Eva chirped, tucking a few wild strands of hair behind her ear before the brewing awkward between them could settle, "I have to head out if I wanna get some coffee and make it to my meeting..."
She seemed to have come to the same conclusion.
"Right, yeah, of course. I have to go too or I'll be late for work."
Eva smirked coyly, "If we had more time I'd ask you what a know-it-all like you does for a living."
For the first time, Spencer didn't feel any sting deep in his chest from being called a know-it-all, somehow he knew from her it was said without any of the usual negative connotations.
"If we had more time I'd tell you and ask the same."
"I wonder if I'd answer," she teased back.
Spencer wondered briefly if this was what flirting felt like. The thought immediately made his temporarily forgotten insecurities rear their head, and any chance he had at continuing the banter was shot.
"Umm, right so, good luck with your meeting…"
"Yeah, thanks," was Spencer imagining the hint of disappointment in her tone? "Sorry again for, you know, physically attacking you and all."
"You didn't physically attack me. A physical attack is defined as an assault purposefully meant to harm or gravely injured. You just ran into me; it was completely harmless."
Eva moved around Spencer, preparing to join the crowd in the direction of the coffee shop but, she still lingered. Spencer took a couple of steps in the direction he knew his car was parked at, still facing her, biding his time.
"Nice to know I'm forgiven."
Her rich orbs fitted up and met Spencers, their stares locking, probing, a flurry of questions and invitations silently shared. Say something, stop me, do something, make a move.
They both felt it, the beginnings of a spark, a flicker of a blaze that could maybe grow into something brilliant and beautiful if they gave it a chance.
Yet, neither moved.
They were stuck in limbo, both excited and scared at the connection between them; excited at the possibilities, scared of rejection, torn because that specific connection could only exist - could only be cultivated - with that particular stranger across from them. A stranger - someone they barely knew - but, someone they wanted to know all the same.
It was frightening, it was exciting, it was nerve-wracking, and it was the chance Spencer had wished for just moments ago. To have the opportunity to meet someone willing to give him the time of day - but, he couldn't bring himself to do something about it.
Like magnets torn between allowing themselves to repel one another or succumbing to the pull running between them, they hovered around each other. Repelling and attracting each other simultaneously - loaded with indecision, with yearning.
Finally, it was Eva who broke the stillness they had fallen into, taking a few steps back to join the sea of people flowing like an ocean's tides around them.
She looked apologetic as she moved away.
"Bye, Spencer."
Eva, in all her tiny curvy glory, pivoted, her hair swishing and bouncing as she followed the crowd, an entity all of its own.
Watching Eva walk away from him, Spencer remembered a conversation he had ages ago with Elle. It wasn't particularly an important conversation or a memorable one, but Spencer's memory was long and he could recall every word said. They resonated through his skull now.
"Reid, I don't know how you know half of what you know, but I'm glad you do."
"Do you think what I know is why I can't get a date?"
"Have you ever asked anyone on a date?"
"No."
"Then, that's why you can't get a date."
The remark, at that moment, struck a chord in Spencer. "That's why you can't get a date."
Before Spencer could consciously make the decision, his feet were moving and he was shoving through the horde of people, ignoring the few grunts of displeasure he was met with.
"That's why you can't get a date."
"Eva!" he called, jogging up slightly to catch up to her.
At the call, Eva stopped in her tracks and turned to face Spencer, who was delighted to see how her shoulders seemed to sag in relief and how her mouth twitched as if she was fighting a smile.
"Yes?" she asked, raising a dark brow and biting the bottom of her grinning lip adorably.
"Umm... I was - I just wondered if well- … I was wondering if..." Spencer cringed, drifting off. The morning breeze and his newly cut hair did nothing to quell the heat radiating off the back of Spencer's neck and he wondered how some men, Morgan, made this seem so easy.
Eva, on the other hand, looked endeared as she beamed up at him, snickering quietly at his stutterings and obvious inexperience.
"If you could have my number?" she finished for him warmly, "You totally can, if that's what you were asking for I mean."
Spencer released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, "Yeah… I'd like that."
"Me too," she grinned before making a 'come here' motion with her hand,"I don't have a piece of paper on me. Take out your phone so I can put it in your contacts."
"Oh right," Spencer said, beginning to rummage through his pockets for his phone. For the first time, he was actually thankful for work forcing him to have one, "here."
Eva made quick work of punching the number in and saving it to his contacts, "Alrighty, there you go. Just text me when you can and I'll save your number," she glanced back to the direction she was heading before, " I really do need to go but I'll talk to you soon, right?"
"Definitely," Spencer nodded, mind already whirring to find any information he had stored on the appropriate waiting time period between texting someone after getting their number, while simultaneously saving her happy expression at his words in the forefront of his memory.
"Great! Bye again, Spencer," she said, throwing Spencer a broad grin over her shoulder as she walked away.
"Bye, Eva," he replied, turning to head toward his car, not completely positive that the encounter had actually occurred.
One thing Spencer did know for sure though was that he was going to be late.
He couldn't find it in him to care.
In the New Thought philosophy, The Law of Attraction is the belief that by focusing on positive or negative thoughts people can bring positive or negative experiences into their life.