Spencer Reid straightened his tie and picked an imaginary lint fluff off his jacket and looked around the restaurant towards its entrance again. It was almost half an hour past the time they were supposed to meet for dinner and he hoped he wasn't being stood up. Anxiously, he took his iPhone out of his pocket and checked to see if he'd somehow missed a call or text. There was none indicated. Sighing, he put the phone away and wondered if he'd been too forward. He thought back to their walk in the park. Had he been too aggressive? He dismissed that idea as he recalled that she had leaned into him first. But he'd responded. Was that too forward? His mind raced as he tried to rationalise his actions. He moved one of the glasses at his place setting into position, and seconds later again moved it a fraction of a centimeter. While he was concentrating on that, the chair across from him moved and Grace slid into it before he could get up to hold it for her. He rose and belatedly held her chair as she sat and then retook his own seat.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, Spencer. Orientation was right on time but I went to see your mother after and I completely lost track of time. Totally my fault. Please forgive me."
She was wearing a simple but lovely blue print dress that effectively set off her blue eyes and fiery strawberry blonde hair. A stylish belted sweater, in several shades of blue, covered her arms. He smiled at her and instantly forgave her tardiness.
He wanted to ask her about her day, but his mouth didn't cooperate. Instead, he asked, "How's she doing? How was her day?"
Grace smiled. "She loved it, Spencer. I'm not sure what she did earlier in the day with Iris and Maureen, but she was smiling and laughing when I got there. And we went for a walk on the grounds. That reminds me, I'm gonna have to remember to get her a supply of peanuts. Chitter and family, version two point oh, are in the oaks just outside her window!" she enthused.
Spencer smiled but Grace noted something was off. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Her brow furrowed and her line of conversation changed abruptly. "Hey," she reached out with one hand and touched his arm, "What's wrong, Spencer?"
"Can you take off your sweater?" he asked her.
Her eyebrows rose. "I—I could but it's kind of chilly," she stammered and stalled.
"Just for a minute," he asked.
"Spencer."
"Please."
Sighing, she moved to shrug off the garment and tried not to raise her right arm as she did so. He watched intently as the sweater came off and Grace laid it over her right arm.
"Okay?"
"Can I have it please?"
"Spencer—"
"Grace, please." He reached over and took the sweater from her arm, gently, because he knew.
She sighed resignedly as he exposed her forearm. It was covered with an ugly dark bruise, the shape of fingers evident, deep purple with some yellow and lighter purple around the edges; a bruise that had clearly been there for several days. Tears sprang to her eyes. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze and saw tears forming in his eyes as well.
"My mother did that, didn't she?"
"Spencer, please."
"Grace. Don't lie to me. Don't hide this! Not from me."
"I'm sorry, Spencer. She didn't mean—"
"I know that. It doesn't make it right."
He reached out and touched the bruise, softly running his fingers along it and shook his head sadly.
"I'm so sorry she did this to you."
"Stop, Spencer. It isn't your fault. And it isn't her fault either. This kind of thing happens to nurses all the time."
"When did this happen?"
"She wanted to go for a walk. It was over a week ago."
"But you guys went for walks every day," he started, puzzled.
"Not at two-thirty in the morning," Grace replied. She held up her hand to shush him in advance and explained, "It was the middle of the night Spencer! You were finally sleeping through nights without being interrupted by nightmares. I wasn't going to let a little tussle with your mother ruin that."
"Little tussle? Look at this!" He drew a breath and calmed himself.
"Please, Spencer, it's really nothing in the grand scheme—"
"She hurt you. It was another indication that the Alzheimer's is taking hold," he realised. He changed his tone, softening a little, "It's getting worse. And it bothers me that she hurt you and you kept it from me."
Grace nodded, realising where he was coming from, "I'm sorry, Spencer. It wasn't my intention to hide her worsening condition from you, I just wanted to spare you the worry."
He rose from his seat, and moved to help her up from hers. She stood up and he helped her put the sweater back on then seated her again. After retaking his own chair, he reached out and took her hand, holding it and rubbing his thumb along the top of it.
"It's all good," he told her, then asked, "We good?"
"We're so good," she affirmed and lifting their entwined hands, she leaned in and kissed his. He waited until she lifted her face and quickly bent down to kiss her lightly.
"And?"
"You're good, I'm good. And I'm starving, let's order dinner," she smiled.
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"I really need to walk that dinner off," Grace laughed as they left the restaurant hand in hand.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Spencer confessed. It was slightly chilly although it was a clear and starry night. He had on his suit jacket but carried his longer overcoat over one arm. Grace shivered involuntarily as they walked up the street and he paused, bringing her to a stop as well. He held the overcoat out, opening it to help Grace into it and then they resumed walking, with her now snuggled in his overcoat and under his shoulder.
"So. We talked about the weather. The Smithsonian. Which Doctor was the best one, and I'm not done with that argument yet by the way. And my new job, my first day at work," she began.
He acknowledged her, "I'm happy the new job is working out for you. And I still think the fourth Doctor—" he teased, deliberately letting the words die midsentence. He held her hand just a little tighter as they crossed the street.
"Your mother is settling in wonderfully. She's already made a couple of friends. Other literature lovers. She misses you, no doubt, she mentioned you several times, to anyone who'd listen. And Iris and Maureen had her out in the courtyard today. We went for a little walk too."
"She's adapting. Mom's resilient. She's got Alzheimer's but she's not gonna let that stop her from doing things she loves. The road won't stop for her, she'll just take the next fork and go on."
"Just like you. Spencer, tell me about your day. Last night was your first night alone in your apartment since you brought your mother here from Houston. And didn't you go back to the office today too?"
He nodded, "Yes. On both accounts. I slept in my own bed for the first time since late January. It was a little weird at first, with no one else being there. No guards. No Security Detail. But it felt really good. Best night's sleep since, well, January." He released a contented sigh and continued, "And my first full day back at the office. Umm," he made a face.
"What is it?"
"I couldn't remember something."
"I don't understand?"
"I went in one day last week and spent a couple of hours mapping something out about a case. Doing the geographic profile," he began. "And that map was still all set out this morning when I was there. But I couldn't remember what my train of thought was; I don't remember what I was trying to figure out. I have an eidetic memory. And I couldn't remember what I was doing with that map."
"Aw, Spencer, that's the concussion wreaking havoc," she sympathised, bringing her free hand up and laying it against his chest.
"I want to say it's ironic, but it's actually more frustrating because," he paused for a moment to let another couple pass them on the sidewalk and then explained, "What if what I'm not remembering is the key to that case?" He covered the hand she'd put on his chest with his free hand and gave it a squeeze.
"It'll come to you, Spencer," she tried to reassure him, and then another thought occurred to her. "Clear your mind of it, and concentrate on something else. Something will trigger it and then you'll remember."
"I hope you're right. And I hope it's soon!"
They walked for another block in companionable silence and stopped at the intersection, waiting for the light to change. Grace leaned her head against him in response to him tightening his arm around her shoulder.
"Oh, I passed my firearms requalification this morning too," he remembered. "Emily reinstated me last week, and gave me back my gun, but I had to pass requal first and now that's done."
"You're set then, to go back out in the field?'
"Uh huh," he responded.
"How about emotionally, mentally, Spencer? Are you ready?" She asked the question almost reluctantly and he immediately perceived it in the tone of her voice. Reflecting for a moment himself on how difficult the past year had been, he gave her hand another squeeze and forged ahead.
"It's okay," he assured her. "I'm putting it behind me, Grace. Yeah, it was a tough year but I'd like to think I'm past that. I'm free again. I've grown. And learned a little about myself and about, well, life. Wrong and right. Friends and family. Move forward. Journey on."
"Glad to hear that."
"I'm back."
"Better than ever," she asserted.
"Everything's falling back into alignment for me," he smiled at her, "My job, my freedom, my life," he paused to emphasise that, implying that he meant her and she stopped in her tracks. She slid her free arm up around his neck and reached up to kiss him, standing on her toes to accomplish this. He dropped her hand that he'd been holding to wrap both arms around her and pull her closer against him.
"And that," he added, a little breathlessly, after she finally broke off the kiss a long moment later.
"And that," she repeated, suddenly feeling very warm under his coat and embrace.
He released her from the hug and once again took her hand, resuming their walk back towards her apartment. Grace wondered if it would be premature in their relationship to be inviting him in for coffee. Or something, she thought silently, smiling at the something that crossed her mind. She didn't want to appear too forward, too eager to accelerate their relationship. But neither did she want him to think she wasn't interested.
They reached Grace's apartment building and she took a deep breath, trying to decide whether or not to ask him in. He let go of her hand as she dug through her pocket looking for her keycard. Finding it, she swiped the access lock and Spencer pulled the door open for her.
His iPhone beeped a text alert. Their eyes met and she asked,
"Shouldn't you check that?"
He nodded his head and pulled the device from his pocket, swiped it on and read the text. It was from Prentiss. He sighed, smiled, sighed again and showed the screen to Grace.
"We have a case."
"You're being called away,"
"I am," he agreed, and discovered he was feeling the rush of anticipation and excitement he always felt when the team had a new case. It felt a little different this time, he noted, and then he realised it was not just the case that was captivating him. "I gotta go," he told her, taking her hand, "Can I call you as soon as we get back?"
"I'll be waiting for it," she promised.
He chewed his lower lip for a second as the iPhone beeped again, and then he bent down and sweetly kissed her.
"As soon as I get back," he affirmed, reluctantly letting go of her hand and disappearing into the night.
Grace stood at the apartment building entrance for a long moment watching as he retreated from view down the street. Finally, she turned and as she walked through the door towards the elevator bay, she realised she was still wearing his coat. A smile crossed her face as she buried her face in it, inhaling his scent and instantly knowing she'd be sleeping with this coat until he returned to reclaim it.
"The best way out is always through,"-Robert Frost
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