The Music, Pt 2.
Now
"John Coltrane. Died of cancer, but most people think it's the booze and heroin that did him in."
Spencer looked across at his old friend Ethan. He didn't know why he called him, why he'd suddenly decided to contact someone from back then. Maybe I wanted to believe something might have been different. Maybe I can't keep doing this. "Are you trying to say something to me?"
"You look like hell."
"I'm fine."
"Reid, I'm a jazz musician in New Orleans. I know what it looks like when someone's not well. This may be the only time I can tell you something you don't already know. It may help you forget, but it won't make it go away. And if I can tell... You're surrounded by some of the best minds in the world. If you think they don't notice…" his hand trembled in the air a moment, "Well, for a genius, that's just dumb. Man, you got to let her go."
"I said I'm fine."
Ethan sat back and watched him for a long moment. "I finished the last verse you know, of that song I wrote you. Wanna hear it?"
Oh, fuck. "No, not really."
"Awww, that's too bad." Spencer watched as Ethan stepped over to the small stage area and spoke to the band. Fuck. Bastard. Why did he come here? Spencer got up and went to the bar. He traded in his small brandy for a bottle of whatever was closest and could be had for the cash in his pockets.
Spencer took his first pull on the bottle as Ethan started singing:
Baby I've been searching like everybody else
Can't say nothing different about myself
Sometimes I'm an angel
And sometimes I'm cruel
And when it comes to love
I'm just another fool
Then
After twenty years as a profiler Jason Gideon thought he would never be surprised. He'd read the background file on the man he was trying to recruit. IQ of 187, gifted and talented, college at twelve, marriage at eighteen, three doctorates by now, just barely popped on the Autistic Spectrum Disorders Scale, eidetic memory, reads 20,000 words a minute. He knew who he was here to meet, a geek, a nerd, a man-child who had never faced the world outside of academia. He knew exactly what he was here to see. Which was why he hadn't paid any attention to the man he'd seen running earlier as he got out of the cab and made his way into the housing complex, not until he heard footsteps behind him, the sound of someone breathing hard, a voice asking if he could help him.
Gideon turned and looked over the man standing there. He was tall, his brown hair worn longer than was fashionable and currently soaked in sweat, as were the old t-shirt and shorts he was wearing that all but cried out gym clothes. An ectomorph Gideon realized, not a mesomorph like Morgan. This body will burn off everything you put in it, get stronger and harder without putting on any bulk. Morgan didn't have a chance of hiding his strength under his clothing, but this guy could put on a suit and you'd never know. He looked into the stranger's eyes, or tried to. He's not quite making eye contact, Gideon realized, and his shirt is inside out and there's a cloth band under his watch. "Hi. I'm looking for Dr. Spencer Reid."
"I'm Dr. Reid, how can I help you?" Spencer looked over the older man standing in front of his door. A little nervous, he thought, but not because of me, he's just like that; hyperaware of his surroundings. Possibly PTSD, but he doesn't look like a military type. Still, there's something there; law enforcement, maybe, but…ah, yes.
"I'm Jason Gideon. I'm with the FBI Behavior Analysis Unit. I wrote to you before."
"You're persistent." Spencer sighed and walked past him to open the door to the small apartment, and looked back with the grin of a boy. "I'm sorry Agent Gideon, I can't move to DC right now. I'm going to be married by the end of the term."
Now
Yes, I'll climb a mountain
I'm gonna swim the sea
There ain't no act of God girl
Could keep you safe from me
My arms are reaching out
Out across this canyon
I'm asking you to be my true companion
True companion
True companion
Spencer leaned back against the bar as he guzzled the bottle, challenging his so-called friend to bring on his worst. That was where Gideon found him.
Then
They were walking up the steps of Sloan hall on the first day of the term when they were stopped by three elderly professors. The three gentlemen blocked their path, saying nothing, smiling gently for a long moment until the eldest, Dr. Green stepped forward. "We would like to see if it is true."
Spencer was mystified, but Gwen took a guess and lifted her hand. Spencer had had the ring made by a friend in the materials engineering department who tinkered with jewelry design as a hobby. It was a slender, hand hammered band of a pale gold, with a tiny, perfectly cut diamond mounted in the center. Dr. Green held her hand lightly so the others could see, and they all sighed in perfect contentment.
"Dr. Ryder, Dr. Reid tells us that you plan to travel to Las Vegas on your birthday, and take your vows there. Is this true?"
Gwen smiled at Dr. Green's formality. "Yes, sir, that's the plan so far."
"And this is so Dr. Reid's family may attend?"
Spencer coughed. "Um, no, I'm afraid my mother is too ill to attend the wedding."
"So you are planning to do this for the sake of expediency?"
"Yes Sir."
Dr. Green shot Spencer an offended look. "This is unacceptable." He turned back to Gwen with a gentle smile. "You must marry here. We shall make use of The Athenaeum. The courtyard there is ideal for the purpose."
Gwen turned pink at the announcement. "Oh, sir, we can't afford…."
"Nonsense, the Mathematics department shall host. We shall, as they say, pass the hat. You are both family after all." Dr. Green looked up to a figure coming up the steps behind the couple. "What is your opinion Dr. Weir?"
"Of?" Dr. Mark Weir was the new chair of the Mathematics department, recently from MIT. He was tall and dignified in a dark suit, even in the California spring. He nodded to the other professors until his eye was caught by the girl in front of him. "And this is?"
"Ah, I apologize for my manners. You know Dr. Reid, surely." Spencer nodded as Dr. Green made the introductions; they had met during the hiring process. "And this is Dr. Gwendolyn Ryder, who has recently returned to us after an unfortunate break in her studies. She is his fiancée." Dr. Green tasted the word as if it was a fine wine that met his approval. "We were discussing the Mathematics department hosting their wedding at The Athenaeum toward the end of the term; a passing of the hat, as they say."
"Dr. Ryder." He took the girl's hand and bowed over it slightly with a smile, just perfect. "I think it's a brilliant idea. Let me know what I can do to assist."
Gwen and Spencer made pleased noises, that they shouldn't, that it was too much, that really it wasn't necessary. Dr. Green hushed them. "We are old men, all of us, and what families we have are far away. Allow us to enjoy our romance by proxy. Please."
Helpless in the face of such a request and in the merriment in the eyes of the other two professors, who had yet to say a word, Gwen and Spencer looked at each other and nodded. It looked like they were having a wedding.
Now
So don't you dare and try to walk away
I've got my heart set on our wedding day
I've got this vision of a girl in white
Made my decision that it's you all right
"You know this is not helpful, right? You know you're fucking up." Jason told his friend.
The harsh alcohol burned the back of his throat, lit his belly on fire. Spencer had no idea what it would do when it hit the drug in his system. And at the moment, he really didn't care. He could see how she'd looked on that day….
Then
On her eighteenth birthday Gwen packed her bags for the last time. As of today DSS would no longer pay her room and board, and her bed was already slated to be filled by a new child by nightfall. She hugged Nadine and Frank good-bye for now, told them she'd see them at the wedding, and boarded the transport bus for the University. Once there she climbed the steps to The Athenaeum, the Greek revival style mansion that held the faculty club. The faculty had offered her one of the greatest honors they could bestow upon a guest or member.
She was staying in Albert Einstein's old room for three whole nights, including their wedding night.
It was completely silent on the second floor at that hour. She dropped her backpack and old duffle bag just inside the door and made a slow turn of the room. Her fingers drifted gently over the wood paneling, the soft velvet of the furniture, the post of the big bed. It smelled of furniture wax and potpourri and the lavender jacaranda trees blooming outside the window, clean and good.
She'd dreamed of places like this.
In the center of the bed were two large suitcases. On one of them was a note. She slid the card from the envelope and read:
Consider this my birthday and wedding gift to you. Just leave your old stuff out in the hall for disposal.
Join me for breakfast. I'll wait.
- S
Gwen opened the luggage and took a big, deep breath. She'd never seen clothing so lovely, or that felt so, so soft. The pieces were all in the gentle colors of a garden, ivory and pink, lavender and soft blues, silk and cotton and lace and some printed with flowers. She lifted one item out, and realized she was holding her first skirt, ever, and that it would be light and soft against her legs and flutter around her ankles like butterflies.
She sat on the edge of the bed where Einstein once slept, and quietly sobbed into the fine silk. He remembered. He understood. He wanted her to live outside the confines of her own mind. She loved him for that. Soul mates, she realized, this is what that means.
She tossed her duffle bag out into the hall, gathered up the soaps and such, and headed for the bath.
Now
And when I take your hand
I'll watch my heart set sail
I'll take my trembling fingers
And I'll lift up your veil
The fire reignited as he took another gulp. He could remember her, all in white, her arms full of roses. Ethan sang this song for the first dance, his wedding gift to them. It had been a perfect day. The first of day of a perfect life….
Then
Sunday morning, years later. The apartment was near silent. Spencer was sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, an open book balanced against his knees, a mug of tea at hand.
Gwen was lying on the couch, utterly entranced by the pattern of light coming through the window lace. Why didn't anyone else stop to look at such things? It's such a simple thing, but so beautiful. She reached out to run her fingers along the muscle in her husband's arm, savoring the texture of skin over muscle, the heat of the sun on her flesh, the brilliance in her eyes, filling her. "What are you reading?"
"A book by David Rossi; it's about one of the BAU's earliest cases."
"Is that one of the one's Jason suggested?" She smiled at the memory of their friend's last visit, as her eyes were caught by the shimmer of a moving branch outside, opal green in the light.
"Yeah, it is." Spencer took up the hand that was offered; brought it to his lips so he could just taste the pulse beating beneath the silken wrist, savor the scent of her mixed with the earlier scent of breakfast in the air; cinnamon, roses, vanilla, warm, open skin.
Gwen all but purred at the gentle touch, then turned to drape her other arm around his other shoulder, slow, lazy, and gentle. "You want to go, don't you?"
"I do. I think I could do something good there. I might be able to help people."
"That and you want to work with Jason. I don't blame you at all." She leaned in to kiss his shoulder through his shirt, her eyes drawn to the patterns of light dancing again. "I wonder what the light will look like on the snow."
Now
Jason looked over at the younger man; saw that his face was wet. His voice was remarkably gentle "You giving up? Want me to tell Hotch you resign?"
Spencer raised the bottle to his lips again.
Then
Usually when Spencer went in to shower and dress Gwen gave up the bedroom so he could have some privacy. But lately she'd been feeling rather odd about things, strange. The other day while he was up on a ladder changing a light bulb she'd found herself utterly entranced by the way his body moved under the thin cotton of his t-shirt and sweats. What ought to have been the foul stench of him fresh from the gym had turned into something spicy and rich, a scent she was coming to crave in the morning. And the other night while he cooked dinner she'd found herself watching his hands, the way they looked with his sleeves rolled up, how his long fingers moved when he worked. She'd felt her pulse speed up, and a heaviness in her belly and flushed so warm that he'd noticed and asked her if she felt all right.
Later that night, she'd lain in bed and stared at the moving shadows on the ceiling. She was trying to imagine how it might feel if instead of those long fingers rubbing her neck or the inside of her wrist, if instead he tried touching her in other places. She had to believe that it might feel better than when she ran her own hands over her skin. And what if, while he was kissing her, he lay on top of her, let her take his weight? And what if he tried to …..
Desire, her therapist had said; sexual awakening; her feelings finally catching up to her body and her mind. Go tell him, she'd said. Tell him what you're thinking and feeling. You already know it's safe to bring these things to him, go enjoy them with him.
Gwen gently eased the bathroom door open more than the crack that let the steam vent. He was standing at the sink, his sweat pants hanging off his hips, damp from his shower, brushing his teeth. It was the first time she'd ever seen him without his shirt, the first time she'd seen the way the light played over lines of muscle and bone. She wondered what it would feel like. Would the skin be softer for being covered so much? Would the muscles be harder than those in his arms? Her eyes traced the cut of his hips, those lines that curved over and down beneath the waistband and found herself curious and wanting very much….
Spencer looked up to see his wife standing there in her nightgown, watching him in the mirror. He bent over, spit, rinsed and asked, "What are you doing?"
"I…I think I'm having a female mammal moment. You're amazing."
'Thanks." On the one hand, it was good to know she approved. But could that possibly mean… "Um, want to do anything about it?"
"Yeah, I think I do."
Now she had his full attention. In one heartbeat she was in his arms, in the next he was gently laying her on the bed and covering her with his body. "If you want me to stop tell me," was all he could get out before she was finding his lips with hers.
It was better than she expected. Not as gentle, as lazy, but the very urgency was intoxicating. The feel of him pressing her into the featherbed was enough to make her head spin. "Okay. Don't stop." She gasped as that busy mouth found that nerve cluster just under her ear and someone poured liquid heat through her soul. It was so much that her head was buzzing; no, not her head. "What is that?"
"Campus fire alarm." She smelled of spice and roses and tasted soft and sweet and he didn't want to stop touching her at all, ever. His hand moved up her torso to cup one soft, perfect silk-covered mound that just fit his palm, a move that rewarded him with a moan and an arch of her back as she offered herself to him. "It's not this building. God." He pressed a kiss to her collar bone, and then one lower down.
If this is desire, she thought, then I want more. She wrapped her legs around his hips to anchor herself as his lips found that hard point through the silk and a wave of sunshine heat claimed her. She rode it, fingers tangling in his hair to keep him there, until it subsided and she could breathe again. Her hearing returned just in time to hear someone yelling outside….
Now
Then I'll take you home
And with wild abandon
Make love to you just like a true companion
You are my true companion
I got a true companion
True companion
It wasn't sex, he thought. She was never ready to go all the way. But it was good, what we had. It was everything I ever wanted and more, until the end.
When the years have done irreparable harm
I can see us walking slowly arm in arm
Just like the couple on the corner do
'cause girl I will always be in love with you
Ethan looked over at Spencer. This last verse had not been part of the song on their wedding day. He wanted to make sure his friend heard it now.
And when I look in your eyes
I'll still see that spark
Until the shadows fall
Until the room grows dark
Then when I leave this earth
I'll be with the angels standin'
I'll be out there waiting for my true companion
Just for my true companion
True companion
True companion
Spencer slammed the half-empty bottle onto the bar and let the last notes chase him out of the bar.
Ethan came down off the stage and went to follow but Jason Gideon was between him and the door. "That wasn't exactly helpful, you know."
"You haven't exactly been helpful either, old man. Get the fuck out of my way"
--------
Reid stood at the river and looked out of the ruin that was New Orleans. Just like everything, he thought, just like my life. He felt Ethan coming up beside him, wanted to speak, to tell him to go to hell, to ask him why he had to open up the wound Hankel taught him to close but words failed him. All he could do was throw back his head and howl out the pain.
Then he found the vials in his pocket and started flinging them into the river.
Ethan caught the last one. "Nope. Keep it until your business here is done. Then tell the old man back there that you need some time to get it together. I'll get you through the detox."
Spencer turned to look at him in shock. "Why?"
Ethan just shook his head and smiled. "Because you dumb, lucky sonofabitch, I loved her too."
------
Later that night Spencer sat in the bar listening to Ethan play lousy lounge music. He was already starting to feel the ache of the drugs leaving his bones. He looked up when Gideon sat down next to him. "How did you find me?"
"You're not all that hard to profile." Gideon looked over at the younger man, "Your friend is good."
Spencer nodded in agreement and listened a while. "I missed that plane on purpose."
"I know."
"I'm struggling." With this. With all this.
"Well, anybody who's been through what you've been through would."
"This is all I was going for. I never even considered another option." Another way out of this, Spencer thought. I never even considered that there might be such a thing.
"And now you're questioning whether or not you're strong enough to be here." Jason watched his young friend. He knew this would happen sooner or later.
"Yeah," Spencer nodded, over and over again. I am not strong enough. I do not think I can keep doing this.
"I have been playing at this job in one way or another for almost thirty years. I felt lost, I felt great. I have felt scared, sick, insane." Gideon shook his head. "I don't know. I guess the day this job stops gnawing at your soul and your hand…your hands stop feeling cold…" He shrugged, "…maybe that's the time to leave."
"I guess…I guess I just needed to needed to try to figure out if I could step away from this job." If I could give up, move on. Say good-bye.
"And?"
Spencer sighed. "I'll never miss a plane again."
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Note: Lyrics to True Companion by Marc Cohen. Some dialog from the show "Criminal Minds" episode 2:18 'Jones'. No copyright infringement intended to either party.