characters: Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, mention of Prentiss, Morgan and JJ
setting: 2nd half of season 4
disclaimer: fic•tion [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination
SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;
chapter three
(1)
He cancels on her three times.
In his defense, Leighton cancels on him twice and every time it's because work interferes. Morgan once told him that the job takes up all their time, as if it was some explanation of why no one could ever catch him with the same girl twice – JJ told him that he's not Morgan, and he was just going out on one date. He doesn't really know what any of that means. All he knows is that Leighton makes him feel something, something that he hasn't felt many times before. All those other times he hadn't acted on it, and the girls were far enough away not to make him doubt his inaction. But Leighton is different. In a way, in a strange incomprehensible way, he thinks she actually understands him.
"Has anyone ever told you that you drink an inordinate amount of coffee?" she asks. She's always saying things like that; has anyone ever told you, did you know, for a guy as smart as you— He thinks that maybe he should feel insulted, because with those statements she's placing him in a clearly defined and labeled box, yet she manages to make it sound playful.
"My mom." He nods, and takes a sip from his coffee. "She thinks that's why I'm so skinny." He keeps staring into the black pool inside his mug; he doesn't know what to say. In any other situation he might start talking about the specific properties of caffeine as a psychoactive alkaloid, but he remembers a talk he once had with Morgan in a night club, something about game and taking control of a conversation. But then he remembers JJ telling him he's not Morgan, so he just stays silent.
"Maybe I could cook for you some time."
"You cook?" Reid blinks, realizing too late his question could be taken as an insult. Was that what Morgan had meant by playing nice?
"I grew up in a B&B, Reid," Leighton smiles, and sits back in her seat when the waitress brings her a basket of fries and a coke. Leighton had told him her nicotine cravings had been replaced by salt cravings. "I got moves," she adds, shrugs, and grabs a little bag of mayonnaise to spread over her fries.
He's staring at her hands quite intently as she squirts the mayonnaise all over her french fries; he's never seen anyone eat french fries with mayonnaise before. "I can't eat ketchup. Allergic, remember?" Leighton answers his unspoken thoughts, and licks some mayo off her thumb. "And—wait, is this something the great Spencer Reid doesn't know?" she asks, momentarily distracted from her fries. Is this her chance to teach him something for a change?
"Know what?" Reid frowns, almost insulted.
"French fries originated in Belgium," Leighton says. "And they're traditionally eaten with mayonnaise."
Reid smiles to himself while he steals one of her fries. "Why are they called french fries?" he asks. Unfortunately, his knowledge of Belgium only extended as far as knowing about the 1995 child molester case.
"Because during World War Two, when Americans went to Europe, the Belgian Army only spoke French," Leighton says. She can be quite knowledgeable when she needs to be.
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(2)
She never stops him talking. The rest of the team will often say 'Reid' or give him one stern look that tells him to shut up. But Leighton never does either of those things. He wonders if that's because she's just not a talker – well, neither is he, but there's a difference between when he's reciting literal passages from books, and attempting to make casual conversation – or if she actually likes what he has to say.
Right now he thinks it must be the latter, because Morgan walked away after five minutes, and Leighton has been listening to his monologue for the better part of twenty minutes, ever since they left the theatre, and are now ascending the three flights of stairs up to her apartment. When he finally finishes, concluding that the Death Star could never have been built in the nineteen-year time span George Lucas purported, she only looks at him, seems to think her answer through, and doesn't even come close to making fun of him.
"You do know that Star Wars takes place once upon a time, in a galaxy far away, right?" Leighton says. He never expected Leighton not to have seen Star Wars (because really, who hasn't seen Star Wars?), but to come up with an answer like that seriously surprises him. He also has nothing to counter that argument with. "Considering today's technology is counter-active and might just make you a fanboy, Dr Reid."
"A what?" he frowns.
"A fanboy," Leighton repeats, but realizes fast that this is another one of those popular culture terms not present in any of his books. "You know, for a guy this into Star Wars and Star Trek you don't know much about the actual culture out there." She doesn't tell him she thinks that's absolutely adorable. He's interested in the science, she can respect that.
"I don't even have email," Reid says. Leighton smiles: was that an attempt at humor? she wonders, but isn't about to question it. "How do you know so much about it?"
"My brother," Leighton says. "He's only a year older than me. He collected figurines and official merchandize when he was younger." The small age difference between her and her brother Benjamin made it easy for her to keep up. "He never misses an opportunity to recommend new things."
"In that case you might want to check out Mr Nobody?" Reid says, both of them coming to a halt in front of Leighton's door. "It's about a guy who's able to live out every possible permutation of his life, ultimately not even knowing which one is real. It's really—"
"Reid," Leighton says, not to shut him up, because she quite enjoys hearing him talk and be passionate about something. But they'd agreed not to make this night too long – they'd both gotten back from a case a few hours ago, and they could do with some sleep.
"—impressive how much science actually went into it. The director's quite—"
"Reid," Leighton presses.
Reid takes a breath and stops speaking. "What?"
Leighton takes a step closer to him slowly; he feels his whole body going fidgety and awkward and his heart starts beating faster, but he manages to stay put. Leighton grabs his tie, gently pulling him down. Reid doesn't struggle, he doesn't even think about it, but leans in, until Leighton's lips press up against his. He breathes in strong, and closes his eyes.
Leighton pulls back after only a few seconds.
It's the closest she's come to telling him to stop speaking.
"What was that for?" Reid asks, slightly stunned and staring down at Leighton, still half hunched over.
Leighton smiles. "For being a nerd," she says, and lets go of his tie, smoothing it down with one hand. It's not meant to be an insult, far from it, she quite likes nerds, and she hopes Reid knows that. Maybe she was just looking for an excuse to kiss him.
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(3)
He knows he never should have called her. Leighton had cooked for him like she said she would, but his head is still spinning from this last case in Texas, and he can't forget Adam Jackson's face. Amanda Jackson's face.
"Is something wrong?" Leighton asks, making him snap back to reality. She's cuddled up on the couch right next to him. "You've been quiet all night."
"I'm fine, it's just—" he blurts out in one breath, and frowns. "This last case—" He feels his chin tremble, so he takes another breath, attempting to gain control of his emotions. "It brought back some bad things." He knows saying that will be enough for Leighton to understand.
"I'm sorry," Leighton says softly. Reid goes quiet again. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks carefully. She doesn't want to insist too much in case he really doesn't want to talk, but she knows for herself that talking can help.
"I—" Reid frowns, but falls silent again.
"It's okay. You don't have to," Leighton says, and gets up from the couch. She grabs their plates off the coffee table and carries them to the kitchen. When she gets back Reid is still in the exact same position on the couch, staring out in front of him.
"Did you know that Dilaudid is five times stronger than morphine?" he asks. Leighton has no idea how to respond to that; she sits down slowly next to him, and lets him talk. "Tobias Hankel, he— he injected me with it when he—" She's surprised to hear him say the name at all, she knows how hard it can be to bring all that up again, to remember the trauma, to conjure it up with words rather than it unexpectedly hitting you. "He was protecting me from his father."
Leighton knows Tobias Hankel suffered from dissociative identity disorder.
"This kid today—" Reid stares down at his own hands.
"He got to you," Leighton says. She knows what it's like, to recognize something in a victim, to be able to relate to others in ways you couldn't before. She thinks that might be one of the reasons Reid and her get along so well; Leighton knows it's more than that, but it's part of it.
"I couldn't save him."
"Like Tobias?" Leighton asks, growing more confused.
"Do you still—" Reid swallows hard. "Do you still think about—that day?"
The question isn't completely unexpected, but it still manages to catch her off guard. Of course she remembers the day Nick Mumford stabbed her, and she knows that Reid remembers the days he spent with Tobias; how can anyone forget something like that? But it's more than that. There's a part of you that's never the same, that nags at you— like whenever she avoids looking at herself in the mirror, afraid she will see that scar running across her body. It's something she will always carry with her. Just because Reid's scars are invisible that doesn't mean they're any less damaging.
"Yes," is all she answers, but she's sure Reid can decipher the bigger meaning behind the one simple word.
"I tried to make it go away," Reid says hesitantly. He tries to look at Leighton but fails.
There are only two things Reid hardly ever talks about: his mother's schizophrenia and his brief drug addiction. But sometimes it's in the things people don't say. Leighton knows how that works, the reasoning behind it, the tremor you feel, but refuse to show anyone.
She wants to say something. Something meaningful. She wants to string together a sentence that will convey how she understands, how they all have ghosts that live inside them, and the only thing they can try to do is accept that there are things beyond their control. But she can't find the right words to say it. So all she does is reach over, and takes hold of Reid's hand.
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(4)
"You didn't like it?" Leighton asks, a slight incredulity in her tone. "What was wrong with it?"
"What wasn't wrong with it?" Reid asks, but most of the strength of his argument disappears when Leighton hooks her arm in his. It's raining by the time they make it out of cinema, and she walks close to him, underneath the protection of the umbrella he's holding up. "You do realize that once something is positioned inside a black hole the gravitational pull increases exponentially."
"Well, I do now.3.
"The Romulan ship should have been torn to shreds," Reid continues, because he's stopped worrying about how far he can go with these things, not when Leighton is involved. If anything, her giggling at his geek-speak (Garcia's words) only encourages him. "The Enterprise as well!" he says. "Ejecting the warp core and blowing it up wouldn't have propelled the ship out of the black hole."
"No?" Leighton frowns.
"Explosions create blast waves on Earth, because there's gravity here," Reid explains, the umbrella wobbling from left to right because he's trying to make hand gestures as well, but with one arm holding up the umbrella and the other held by Leighton, there isn't much room to move. "But there's no gravity in outer space. There's no air in outer space. An explosion wouldn't have done anything." He looks at Leighton, and she's smiling brightly. "Wh—" he feels his mouth sliding into a crooked smile. "What's wrong with sticking with the original?"
"This movie created an alternate reality," Leighton says. She actually quite enjoyed the movie. "Why not just review it on those merits? JJ Abrams reinvented Star Trek for the next generation of sci-fi lovers. Think of the children, Spencer," she jokes, and Reid finds himself smiling rather than arguing.
They continue on in the rain in silence.
He thinks she has shutting him up pretty much down to an art.
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(5)
He'd set out to look for Leighton when Emily and Morgan weren't looking; they would ask too many questions he didn't want to answer. He shouldn't need to justify himself every time he takes Leighton out, or feel the need to disclose every detail of what went on between them. Sure, his team is his family, but he's not the kind of guy to divulge such personal information on the asking. Still, he has to admit he's managed to keep most things about him and Leighton private; he wonders if that's because the team has finally realized some things should be private, or because he's able to hide from them better. Maybe it's a bit of both.
He's surprised when he doesn't find Leighton in the bullpen on the other side of the hallway. This bullpen is pretty much the mirror image of theirs, though it seems a little more crowded. He's even more confused when he finds Leighton's desk completely empty; the picture of her family is gone, there's no stack of files where there used to be one.
"Do you know where Agent Caldwell's team is?" he asks a random desk clerk walking past him.
"They're in LA working a case," the desk clerk answers.
Reid frowns to himself; Leighton had adopted the habit of texting him whenever she had to go out of town. They'd made the agreement not to make any actual dates anymore, but just see where both were at any given moment, because cancelling on each other made them feel bad. And in a way he liked it this way; his mother had called it much too casual for him, but he didn't think there was anything casual about it. Not in the way his mother meant it.
He's back on his way to his own bullpen when he sees Leighton emerging from JJ's office, carrying a large stack of files. "Hey," she says as soon as she sees him, but doesn't seem to pick up on his confusion.
"What are you—?" he asks, because he has a hard time making sense of this. It explains why Leighton didn't text him, but it doesn't explain a whole lot of other things. Didn't he just hear that her team is out of state?
"For a guy with an IQ as high as yours you're slow on realizing we have the same job," Leighton says, trying to keep her tone light, but she's pretty sure she's failing miserably. She's not sure she's up to discussing this with Reid just yet.
"Your team's in LA," he says. Is there a reason Leighton kept this from him?
"Right," Leighton says, and suddenly sets off walking. He follows her slowly, waiting for her to say something more. "I've been demoted."
"What? Why?"
Leighton takes a deep breath. "I've been replaced by an experienced agent with more potential for growth." Reid recognizes Strauss' vernacular immediately. He knows that after The Frisco Ripper was caught, the media praised Leighton as a hero, while the Director had come down on her and her team hard. He knows that the rest of her team had always blamed her for that. "I.e. I am expendable and they don't trust me."
"That's not true," he says carefully, because he knows Leighton sees herself like that and gets defensive when someone tries to tell her otherwise. He doesn't know what to say to her now. Ever since the Mumford case Leighton has felt less and less competent to do this job, but he knows she's been working twice as hard to disprove that. This demotion must have hit her hard.
"Doesn't matter." Leighton shrugs and halts in front of an office; the door is open. "I am now a desk dummy rather than a field agent," she says. She's surprised they haven't taken her gun yet. There's no need for one if she's going to be locked behind a desk all day. "I will spend my days building preliminary profiles for cases the BAU decides not to handle. Hence my visit to JJ."
Reid notices Leighton's name is on the door right next to them. "You got your own office?" he asks, also in an attempt to dodge the subject.
Leighton laughs and shakes her head, walking into the office. It looks a lot like JJ's, except smaller, but there's an equal amount of files stacked everywhere. "I'm sorry," Leighton says and rubs the back of her neck. "I shouldn't be taking this out on you."
"It's okay," Reid says, picking at the doorframe.
"Is there something you needed?" Leighton asks, sitting down behind her desk. She's not used to him following her down hallways, or him coming to see her at the office at all. Reid's a very private person. They both are.
"I got tickets for the opera tonight," Reid answers, putting his hands in his pockets.
"The opera?" Leighton's eyes go wide.
"You said it's something you've always wanted to do."
Leighton chuckles, and looks up at him. "Do you remember everything I say?" she asks.
Reid tries to contain a smile. "Most of it," he says. "So—"
"I'd love to," Leighton says. Reid nods and turns. "Hey, Spence," she calls out, Reid backtracking the two steps he'd already taken. It's the first time she calls him Spence; up until now only JJ had called him that. He can't say he dislikes hearing it from Leighton. "Thanks."
"For what?" Reid frowns.
"For being you."
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to be continued
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