When not enough is All There is
Pairing: Reid/J.J.
Rating: SA for serious angst
Author: jen
He was adorable, curled up on the bench seat next to Morgan. All she could think was that they had spent too much time together on this case. He had been told to stay at the station and work with her. They exchanged glances but no words as the rest of the team left them alone. He shook his head, and then as he lowered it began to talk about the case. She stepped towards him, wanting to say a thousand things, but found herself just asking what she could do to help. He looked at her again. He looked sad, almost desperate, "Hand me that file, please," the only words he could muster.
The case had taken the team several days. Once, she thought she heard him pacing in the next hotel room, but when she slid to the edge of her bed, her body would not allow her to get any closer to the wall. As she watched him sleep next to Morgan, she was reminded of a guard dog watching its young owner. She did not dare get close to him for her fear of the dog, for her fear of Morgan's intuition. Still, it took every ounce of her energy to hold herself in her seat across the isle, and carry on a conversation with Elle. She knew it wasn't her fear of Morgan knowing, but the fear that she would never be able to touch him outside of the confines of his room, outside of their secret moments, that kept her from sleep on the plane.
A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she curled into it, hoping it was his, but finding it was Morgan's. "We're home, let's get some rest." She smiled, and pulled herself up. The bench, like the plane was now empty. 'Perhaps he avoids being here when I wake up so often, he is getting good at it,' she thought. As she left the plane, she watched him say his goodbyes to the team, then saw him slide into the backseat of a cab with Gideon, and ride away. She hurried to the cab Morgan was holding for her, and rode in silence back to the lot.
As she slid her key into the lock, she felt him approaching. The lot was empty but for their cars, he must have made some excuse to get something from the office as she did. He stood behind her for a moment, both too afraid to let their eye's meet. Afraid they would lose the courage they thought they had built up for what needed to be said. She did not turn, just lowered her keys and waited.
"J.J., I can't." The words burnt, made her want to die; instead she turned to face her executioner. Were there tears in his eyes, or were the ones in hers blurring her vision? "I can't be the man you want, I can't ask you to be the woman I need." She stood her ground, holding the tears back; wanting to scream at him that she knew he loved her, that he had to know she loved him. He slid his hand onto her shoulder, and smiled the crooked grin of a broken man. She reached for his arm, holding it in place, "Spencer," "No," he interrupted, "I should never have let my feelings involve themselves. I cannot be the man I have been." "Spencer," "J.J., I let myself fall in love with you, and I know that it's only my fault. I knew what you needed, and I allowed myself to believe you might want more. I have wanted to say…so many…I can't."
The tears fell freely now from two sets of eyes. His arm fell away, and her hands held her face, cold after the warmth of his touch as he walked away. She stood there, unable to forgive herself for not speaking up. Unable to believe he wasn't here. Where had this all gone so wrong? Once she had wanted comfort, and he had been willing. Then, she had needed him as he was the only one could comfort her, and he had been there. Now, she loved him, and he was gone. She had no idea how much time passed before she slid behind her steering wheel, before a new resolve took over her body and she slid into auto-pilot.
'The bed is cold, and sitting in this armchair, I realize I may never be able to sleep in it again. She let me walk away, which proved my hypothesis. She couldn't love me. The tears were an emotional outlet because of the physical one I had resolved to deny her. I was right, I had to be. I can not be a secret sexual partner, a physical outlet, not when I love her.' His mind raced along with his pulse. He slid his face into his hands, fighting back the tears he hated himself for shedding so easily. He walked to the bathroom, resolute to put her behind him after a hot shower. He scrubbed until his skin was raw, trying to remove all traces of her touch, her smell, her gaze from his mind. When he finally exited the shower, he walked wrapped in the towel to his room, and shook off her scent which still clung to his room. Pushing his bedroom door open he saw her crumpled next to the bed, clinging to the jacket he had discarded, crying.
Their eyes met, "I love you too." His eyes searched for truth, yearned for understanding, processed all the facts. She stared hopelessly at him, wanting him to know everything. "I heard you, before Boston, I loved you before. I wanted something.. I may have needed something.. but I have always loved you." She stood and slowly walked towards him. Her hands on his chest seemed surreal, he was certain she was a hallucination, firm not to react. But then her lips covered his own. Her mouth was warm and desperate. Her head fell to his shoulder, and the heat of her tears stung his still sensitive skin. He could not stop his arms from sliding around her waist, and he pulled her close, rememorizing the smell of her hair.
