The sounds of sirens outside her window woke Grace up with a start. She sat up in her bed, craned her neck to look out the window to her right and saw the fire truck racing down the road. Her eyes widened as she noted how far up in the sky the sun was.
"Dammit!" she swore as her eyes roved to the clock radio next to her bed. It was after ten in the morning. She realised she was still in her jeans and sweater from the previous evening.
"Dammit!" she repeated as she hurried out of bed and out to the living room. There was no sign of Spencer. She walked into the kitchen and smiled when she saw the recorked bottle of wine sitting on the countertop. On the drain rack in the sink sat their two washed wine glasses. Next to the sink was a sheet piece of paper, its edge tucked under a small votive.
She pulled the paper out and perused its contents: a hand drawn heart with small rays emanating out from its core–glowing happiness, she interpreted—and the words, 'We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.'-William Shakespeare. Under that, a simple smiley face and 'had to go to work, will call you later, Spencer.'
Grace made herself a cup of coffee and opened the refrigerator to retrieve milk. A smile crossed her face when she saw the pizza box on the top shelf. He'd even tidied after their late dinner; she realised and let out a small laugh. This was going to make for some fun conversation at Hetherington's she thought, savouring the anticipation of telling Maureen and Iris.
After she finished the coffee, Grace showered and emerged from the bathroom in just a towel. From her closet, she pulled her most treasured item of clothing; the overcoat Reid had draped on her shoulders the night they'd gone out to dinner after her first day at Hetherington's. She drew it close around her, basking in the comfort she derived from it; feeling as though his arms were around her. Grace felt the tiniest bit guilty for not returning the coat to its owner but she'd made a habit of sleeping in his coat, relishing the connection to him it afforded her. It had brought her comfort on several occasions, when she knew he was out of town on a case. Enveloping herself in his coat gave her peace of mind and made her feel like he was safe.
She allowed herself another five minutes or so with the coat and then carefully hung it back up in her closet and got dressed and ready for her lunch date.
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"I hope you don't think this is too weird," Penelope Garcia said as she shook Grace's hand after the two women had met at the coffee shop in the mall down the street from Grace's apartment.
"Not at all," Grace assured her, "I was hoping to be able to meet you. Spence speaks so highly of you. And you were the one that helped lead us to finding Diana when she was missing that day." Grace reflected on that thought for a moment, and then continued, "Thank you so much for your quick action. Thinking about tracing her personal alarm might have saved her life."
"Oh no, Grace. May I call you Grace?" Without waiting for her reply, Garcia forged on, "The alarm trace was Reid's idea, I was just the one who did it."
"A group effort to save Diana," Grace acknowledged. Garcia nodded as the two women took seats at a small table and picked up menus.
"Most of our work is a group effort," Garcia assured her.
Grace had received a telephone call from Penelope earlier in the week. The BAU's analyst had lamented that JJ and Prentiss had both met the woman who apparently owned Reid's heart, while she had only spoken briefly on the phone with Grace. And Garcia, who loved Reid more than any other male on the planet—even more so now, with Derek Morgan gone from their daily lives—wanted to know, had to know this woman better.
"I'm so glad we have a chance to meet and have lunch together. But if it's a group effort, Penelope," Grace was puzzled, "Don't you guys have a case?"
"We do. Several actually. But there's other pressing matters happening today. JJ and Alvez are out doing some background on a case. Tara's off doing some research for a project. Rossi is doing a consult with the DOJ about something. Must be really hush hush cause I don't even know what the something is. Simmons needed the day off for something personal at home. And Emily, poor Emily, is wending her way through a labyrinth of paperwork. The price she pays for being Unit Chief."
Grace's brow furrowed, "And Spence?"
The waitress arrived with water for both ladies, took their lunch orders and then disappeared.
It was Garcia's turn to look puzzled.
"He said he was going to work today," Grace elaborated.
"Yeah. Uh huh. In a matter of speaking. Did he not tell you? Oh dear," Garcia stalled, wondering whether there was some reason Reid hadn't told Grace exactly where he was. Her mind raced as she recalled the conversation with Reid and JJ wherein they'd extracted from him a promise that there'd be no more secrets. Should that extend to Grace too? Garcia wondered and then she realised Grace was speaking.
"Well, to be honest, he didn't say anything. He left me a note this morning. Drew me a smiley face and quoted Shakespeare, and wrote 'had to go to work', and that he'd call me later,'" she specified.
Garcia's heart melted at Grace's words. She made up her mind.
"The good doctor is in court today." Garcia held up her hand to forestall Grace's next question and continued, "He didn't want any of us to come with him, Grace. This was something he said he had to do on his own. Dr. Flanagan supported his stand, so we all backed off."
Grace waited patiently for Penelope to fill in the details. Garcia noticed the expectant look on Grace's face and elaborated.
"He's testifying against those two goons from Millburn. They're up on murder charges for killing Luis Delgado. Spencer was a material witness and he was bound and determined to see that Luis got justice. He's at court today, and wanted to be with Luis' family for the proceedings."
Garcia reached across the table to pat one of Grace's hands.
"I know we all wanted to be there for him, and I'm sure you do too. But he really wanted, he really had to do this himself."
Grace nodded even as tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away and looked up and noticed that Garcia was also crying. She smiled through her tears. Grace, an only child, knew at that moment that she'd found a sister in Penelope Garcia.
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"Ugh," Emily Prentiss opined as she pushed away another stack of papers and gave herself a quick neck rub. She pushed her chair back from her desk and rose, intending to restore the circulation to her legs by walking around the circumference of her office for a moment. Drawing back the open blinds, she looked out the window out over the bullpen, the collection of desks belonging to her unit members. Each was unoccupied today, as the agents all had other obligations or duties. Only David Rossi, who also had an office, was even in the building this day and Emily decided she'd see if he wanted to go for lunch—after she checked on the rest of the team, she admonished herself. Pulling her cellphone out of her pocket, she called Alvez and Jareau for their update, speaking to Alvez briefly. Next, she texted Tara Lewis for her update, and then she sent a text to Spencer Reid. Knowing he was in court, she didn't want to disturb the proceedings and figured he'd return her text when he had the opportunity. That completed, she wandered down the hallway and stuck her head in the doorway of Rossi's office.
"Lunch, Dave? I'm buying."
He looked up from his computer, smiled at her and quickly saved his work and logged off. "I'm starved," he laughed, rising from his chair to join her.
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Carmen Delgado sat in the front row behind the prosecutor's desk in the courtroom. The murder of her only child had aged her: she'd lost weight, her dark hair grayed and her formerly bright brown eyes were dull and red-rimmed, she was no longer the happy, vibrant woman she'd been before her son had died. She'd already been heartbroken by his incarceration, refusing to believe her son could've committed the crimes for which he'd been convicted. Discovering only weeks later that he'd been murdered in cold blood devastated her. And now, she sat rigid in her seat, hands folded in her lap, tissues twisted in her fingers awaiting justice for her son.
Spencer Reid sat next to Ms. Delgado, dressed today in a crisp white shirt and dark suit, the only nod to colour the subdued blue tie he wore. He reached for her hand and murmured words of comfort and reassurance to the distraught woman, promising her that Luis' death would not go unpunished.
He told her that besides wanting to support her, he was also at court as a material witness. He'd seen the murder unfold before him. His years of experience told him there was likely to be a plea deal, and he explained to Carmen that it was very possible he wouldn't even be called to testify.
The bailiff entered the courtroom and immediately, a hush fell over the assembled crowd. The legal teams took their places. Reid exchanged nods of acknowledgement with the lead prosecutor and all rose to their feet when the judge entered the room. Reid stifled a gasp when his eyes lit upon Judge Willa Frost, the same woman who had denied him bail all those months ago. He took a deep breath and glanced in Ms. Delgado's direction, and then everyone was directed to take their seats.
Judge Frost explained that the defendants would be appearing at their trial via video uplink from the Millburn Correctional Institute. The defense attorneys acknowledged this and then indicated they wished to approach the judge, with the prosecuting attorneys in attendance as well. They spoke in undertones for several minutes and Ms. Delgado turned to Reid.
"What's happening, Dr. Reid?" she whispered.
"They're probably discussing finalisation of a deal, Carmen," he told her. Squeezing her hand, he elaborated, "They'd be facing capital murder charges because they're prisoners, and Luis' death resulted from a drug distribution crime, and a conviction in either of those scenarios would mean the death penalty."
Her eyes grew wide and she tried very hard not to cry. Reid hugged her as they waited and finally, the prosecuting attorneys returned to their table, the defense lawyers spoke to Duerson and Frazier via the uplink. After consulting with their clients, the lawyers nodded at Judge Frost and she commanded the attention of the room.
"In the matter of state of Virginia versus Frazier. The charge has been reduced to murder in the second degree. How do you plead?"
Carmen Delgado looked at Spencer Reid and waited for the defendant to speak.
In a subdued voice, betraying the bravado that Frazier had always portrayed in the prison, Carmen and Spencer heard him respond,
"Guilty, Your Honour."
Fixing her stare on Duerson, Judge Frost continued, "State of Virginia versus Duerson. The charge is second-degree murder. How do you plead?"
Duerson held back sobs as he replied "Guilty, Your Honour."
In the audience, Carmen Delgado dropped her head into her hands and quietly wept. Spencer wrapped an arm around her and comforted her as the judge deferred sentencing to a future date, thanked the lawyers for their work and dismissed the assembly.
Carmen and Spencer sat in silence in the empty courtroom for a long time.
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Grace returned Garcia's hug as the women parted ways after their lunch. Penelope hurried to her car after offering Grace a ride home, which the latter declined. Grace watched as Garcia expertly wheeled her way through the mid afternoon traffic as she headed back towards the BAU's Quantico office. She waved as Garcia's car disappeared into the distance and then turned and walked the two blocks home.
Her cell phone sounded an incoming text alert just as the elevator arrived to carry Grace upstairs but she didn't hear the phone over the sound of the elevator's arrival. Once in her apartment, she spent the next hour baking cookies and cleaning her bathroom, trying to distract herself from thinking about Spencer being in court. She glanced at the wall clock in the kitchen and noticed it was just after four p.m.
"The afternoon's flown by!" she realised. Her thoughts shifted again to Spencer and the court case and she dug a hand into her pocket for her cellphone only to come up empty-handed.
For just an instant, she panicked wondering where her phone was, but almost as quickly recalled the last time she'd seen it was when she'd put it away in her purse at lunchtime. She raced to the bedroom and found her handbag on the wingchair and quickly retrieved her phone from its depths.
"Dammit!" she swore as she saw she'd missed two calls, one from Spencer and one from Hetherington's. There were several text messages as well, and she quickly read through those. 'Thank you again for meeting for lunch. Love you!' from Garcia; 'Can you trade a shift with me? I need next Tuesday night off, will trade you for next Saturday?' from Maureen, and two from Spencer 'Sorry if my phone call timing was inconvenient,' and 'If you're still speaking to me, please call me after five.'
The phone's home screen indicated it was four-fifteen p.m. Grace wondered how she'd ever last until five to return Spencer's call and as that thought occurred to her, the phone in her hand rang.
"Maureen! Hi."
"Hi Grace, hope I'm not interrupting anyone important," Maureen laughed at her own implication, "but I really need an answer about the shift switch. I called earlier but you didn't answer. You know Sandy," she referred to their nursing supervisor, "She wants to be on top of things."
"You want my Saturday shift, in exchange for me working your Tuesday night next week?" Grace pointedly ignored Maureen's opening comment, and wanted clarification about the shifts, as neither of them usually worked nights. Grace was new to the Hetherington's staff and had been told evening shifts were largely the domain of LaMarr and another male nurse, Steve.
"Yeah, Steve's already doing four nights next week and LaMarr was the reason I was scheduled in the first place. He's got an exam Wednesday morning at eight a.m."
"I have no problem with doing the Tuesday night, Maureen. You sure you want Saturday?"
"Figured you'd like the Saturday off to be with your good doctor."
Grace was happy Maureen couldn't see her blushing face as she acknowledged her friend, "Thank you, Maureen. Tuesday night for Saturday, you can tell Sandy. I have to go."
She disconnected the call and let out a deep breath. Making her way back into the kitchen, she busied herself putting the now-cooled cookies away in a cookie jar and then tidied her kitchen. Once that was completed, she decided to dust. After that chore was completed, she stole a glance and the clock and grumbled aloud when she noted that it was now four forty-five.
Grace spent a few minutes returning Garcia's text and reflecting upon her new friendship with her. It was easy to see why Spencer thought so highly of Penelope; Grace didn't think she'd ever known a more compassionate, positive person in her life. Except maybe for Spencer himself, she smiled.
Finally, the clock showed five p.m. and Grace touched Spencer's name on the iPhone's 'My Favourites' contact screen. It rang and rang and went to voicemail and Grace clicked it off without leaving a message. Disappointed, she shoved the phone into her jeans pocket and decided to do laundry instead.
An hour later, with the sheets in the dryer and the towels in the washer, Grace poured herself a glass of red wine and sat on her sofa, pulling the phone out of her pocket as she did so.
She toyed with the phone, debating with the idea of whether she should try calling him again. Rationalising, she spoke aloud, "Well he did say to call him after five." He was in court, she reminded herself. Maybe things were running late. Maybe cross-examination of a witness was taking longer than expected. Maybe the defense attorney was raking someone over the coals. "Oh, what the hell would I know about this?" she rolled her eyes.
Grace held her breath as she touched Spencer's name on the contact screen again and waited as it rang. And rang. Again, it went to voicemail and again Grace disconnected the call without leaving a message.
She heard the washing machine signal the current load was done and headed over to swap out the laundry. Taking the now dry sheets into the bedroom, she made up her bed and then sat down on it. Tears sprang to her eyes and she wiped them away angrily.
"Stupid. Don't be stupid. There's a logical explanation," she berated herself. Making her way back into the living room, she picked up her wine glass and drained it, then headed to the kitchen for a refill.
Grace fell asleep on the sofa, the sound of the Nationals' ball game still playing on her TV.
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