"Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes." ~Confucius
We were standing over Alice's body. Nothing would have ever prepared me for this, not the pictures, not the academy. It smelled like, death. There is nothing comparable to the smell of decaying human. This hour marked the forty ninth hour since I had slept last. My stomach lurched, and before I emptied my stomach of the little food it contained, I ran as far as I could manage away from the team.
Vomiting into a flower garden, I heard footsteps racing behind me. "Everything alright?" a concerned voice came from behind me. Shaking my head, I turned around to see Rossi.
"They just don't prepare you for that," I gasped, hoping puke wasn't in my hair. "Sorry," I murmured, fiddling around in my bag for a mirror. Thankfully, nothing vulgar stained my face.
"Agreeable," Rossi shrugged, tossing me a set of keys, he stated, "You should probably go back to the hotel to clean up or something."
"Thank you," I blushed, taking a back alley to where the SUVs were parked. Finding the one the keys belonged to, I crawled into the driver's seat. For someone so gruff on the outside, Rossi was entirely understanding with my episode.
"Rough case," Garcia claimed. Taking my place beside Reid, I nodded in agreement. There were certain parts of this case that were 'rough' in a sense, but nothing comparable to personal issues. Rubbing my temples, I didn't get any sleep whatsoever this entire case. Reaching into my bag for a certain bottle of pills, Reid batted my hand away.
"You'll never sleep if you take that now," he warned. Sighing, I crossed my arms moodily.
Rolling my eyes, I gave him a look and remarked, "Well then." Garcia and Derek stifled a generous amount of laughter. Blushing, I defensively pondered, "What are you laughing at?" Garcia and Morgan giggled even more so at the question.
"The bickering complex we have makes us relevant to that of an 'old' married couple," Spencer reddened, and I swiveled my neck to shoot a nasty look at the both of them. This resulted in more rounds of laughter from the two.
Rolling my eyes, I tossed an earphone to Reid and debated what I should say in response to that. "It isn't that bad, is it?" I asked the two.
"Whatever gets you to sleep at night," Garcia stuck her tongue out. Claiming one half of the armrest for myself, I knew I'd pass out momentarily. The normally comfortable chairs poked and prodded at all my bruises. Any position I tried resulted in major discomfort. Handing Reid my iPod, I let him control the volume and the material we listened to.
Taking down my French twist, I let my hair fall down to my collarbone. Metal ran down my back, and I quickly spun around to retrieve my switchblade I keep in the hairdo. In this process, I ripped my earphone out accidently. "Whoa," Garcia exclaimed, seeing me put the orange blade in my pocket. "I like your style 'Double O,'" she smiled, giving me the seal of approval.
"You keep a knife in your hair thingy?" Derek raised an eyebrow. Nodding my head, I retrieved the small, but sharp, two and a half inch blade, and opened it. "Stainless," he stated in consent.
"Yeah, I don't like being without a back up," I blushed, discarding it in my pocket.
Reid was simply observing from beside me. Picking my earphone back up, Spencer blabbed, "About 65% of people resist when the criminal uses a gun, but only 35% resist when there's a knife." Garcia and I exchanged worried glances. Derek stared at the young genius with a look of amazement on his face.
"I can sympathize with that, a gun would be less painful," I shrugged, "A whole lot faster." Penelope cringed and I took it as a queue to shut my mouth. Reaching over to Spencer's hand, I pressed the illuminated 'play' button.
Someone was shaking me awake, you'd think I'd be accustomed to it. Spencer was attempting to rouse me up. Once again, I had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Looking at my watch, I sighed heavily, "Only an hour!" I whined. Inhaling, I took part in my guilty pleasure. Spencer smelled like cinnamon… Warm, like your beloved sweater on a frosty evening. "Sorry," I mumbled, removing myself from his space.
"You're fine," he reassured. Reaching for my iPod, I yawned. That was the first time I had slept since Sunday night. Tossing the electronic in my bag, I ran nimble fingers through my wavy strawberry blonde tresses. Feeling the plane touch the ground, I panicked. There was no plan set in stone for Victor and I. To be quite honest, I did not want to go home. I wanted to stay airborne all night and not have to worry.
"Thank God tomorrow is Friday," Garcia expressed, "I'm going out for drinks, anyone coming with?" Throwing around the question, I shrugged my shoulders. In all honesty, it wasn't like I had anything else to do.
Raising my hand, I twiddled my fingers, "I'll go with you." Drinks actually sounded fun. Instead of dealing with my problems, and sleeping like I probably should, I'll go drown it all away in a bottle. Just like old times.
"Sure," Derek agreed. Trust me; I'm tons of fun when I'm drunk sweetheart, I commented within the confines of my mind. JJ politely declined since Henry was up waiting for her arrival. Emily decided to join our growing group, and that left Spencer. He was bouncing around the idea.
"You should go," I encouraged, trying to keep my eyes pried open. Grabbing my go-bag in one hand, I laid the large duffel in my lap. I was so ready to bounce off of this plane.
"Bars aren't really my thing, but…" he stammered.
Before he could finish his long excuse, I proposed, "Get enough drinks in you, and I bet bars are your thing." Garcia stifled a few tired laughs. Morgan nodded his head in agreement.
"But… I'll go," he emphasized. Debating it for a few seconds a large smirk covered his face, "You didn't let me finish, spaz," he poked fun at me. Frowning, I tried to keep my smile from creeping upwards. Penelope and Derek looked at each other, and then reverted their gazes towards us. They then proceeded to bolt out in laughter. Emily grinned and shook her head in a back and forth motion.
"I'm the spaz?" I stood up, stretching my limbs. Much to my surprise, I was wide awake. Flinging the strap of my duffel over my shoulder, I watched the two alpha males retreat towards the exit. They probably had priorities. I was just some tired young adult going out for drinks.
"He's checking you out," Penelope pointed in the corner subtly. He was about 6'2 dark, brown hair, tan, muscular, blue bedroom eyes, a complete package.
Mentally, I chanted, 'Bottom's up,' and downed the rest of my liquor. I was never one to drink a lot of beer, or wine for that matter. "No he's not," I glanced back to her quickly. I'm an engaged woman, and just because I'm a little bit tipsy doesn't change that.
"Yeah he is," she playfully patted my shoulder. Blushing several tones of red, I observed his actions in the corner. 'Hottie' was constantly looking at me; he was also acting loud and obnoxious like any guy my age. Spencer turned his head to survey what was happening in the corner.
"Yeah, he's checking you out," Spencer taunted. Calling the bartender over, I asked for a shot of whiskey. Tonight, I felt the need to be adventurous. Reid and Penelope gave me wary glances. Taking it all down at once, my throat erupted into flames. Coughing lightly, some tears spilled out of my eyes. Nevertheless, I felt drunk.
Penelope giggled, "I think that's enough for me tonight," she pushed her beer aside. Unlike me, she wasn't planning on calling a cab for herself. We exchanged our goodbyes and I was left sitting awkwardly beside Spencer.
Getting another two shots for myself, I passed one over to him, "Bet you can't take one." Taunting him, I tossed over the amber liquid haphazardly. Hot guy that was apparently 'checking me out' came to take a seat two stools down from me. Ignoring him, I watched Spencer stare at the bottom of the glass.
"You're right," he laughed, not one of those awkward ones either. If he took that shot, he'd be well on his way to intoxicated. Personally, I was now hit with waves of drunk-ness. "I don't think you should have another one either," he pushed the alcohol away from me. Blinking to try to see clear again, I couldn't distinguish left from right.
"I think you're right, I should probably go," I stated, attempting to sound somewhat coherent. Hopping off of the stool, I lost my footing. Thankfully I found balance again, grabbing my purse; Spencer was in my personal space.
"Look, you can't drive," he firmly stated, holding me up from falling. Shaking my head I laid a twenty up there to cover our bill, Spencer laid a ten. What a chivalrous annoyance.
"Keep it," I told the bartender as he tried to give me back my money. He walked me out of the establishment into the windy spring night. The world decided it would be fun to shake and twist all around me. "You smell good," I complimented, going off into a giggling rampage after I said it.
We walked towards some really old, pastel blue, car, "What the hell?" I stumbled as Reid opened the door for me. Crawling in, I shut it before he could. Tapping my fingers in my lap nervously, I giggled in response. Everything was so funny when I was this drunk and sleep deprived.
"You want to go home, or you want to come with me?" Spencer asked, sitting down in the driver's side. Would this old, 'hunk of junk,' even run? Then reality hit me. Shaking my head, I held it in my hands, rubbing my temples. "I mean I know I'm not the funniest guy around," he continued as he lifted his hands from the steering wheels here and there to prove points.
"Sorry, I'm just trying to think," I sighed, pulling my legs into the seat with me. My knees rested at my chest, as I laid my head on them. "Vic's going to kill me," I muttered, trying to figure out what I was going to do. "There's a hotel," I yawned, "Somewhere near Georgetown," I continued, trying to remember in my drunken haze.
"Why don't I just take you home with me?" Spencer pressed again. Turning the key in the ignition, I suspected some sort of talk radio intellectual type of program to be playing, but one of my favorite classical pieces hummed in the interior.
Shrugging my shoulders, I kicked off my high heels. "Do whatever makes you comfortable," I pressed my head against the side of the leather seat, nestling it to find a comfortable place. This is the life.
"Damn, you live in Van-Ness," I surveyed the apartment complex. In comparison to where I lived… This place was extremely classy. Opening the door for me, I made sure I rushed ahead to get the door for him. He rolled his eyes and went ahead. Faltering every other step, I staggered beside Spencer into the elevator. "Nice place," I commented, staring around the elevator.
"You are such a spaz," Spencer shook his head, pressing the number '3' button. The doors closed and we started moving up.
Rolling my eyes, I leaned up against the wall. Elevator music hummed in the speakers, "I'm not a spaz," I debated. The doors flung open and Spencer literally dragged me from the confines of the room.
"Yeah, pretty spastic," he nodded irritatingly.
Picking myself back up on my own two feet again, Spencer stopped to fumble around for his keys. It was nice to not have my nice leather shoes drag lifelessly across the carpet. Staring down at my feet, I realized my shoes were left in his ancient model car. And no, that wasn't my nice leather stiletto, that was my flesh. "Nice place," I commented as I saw the interior. The walls were white, nothing extraordinary. On the walls were countless degrees and lining the wall were bookshelves housing more thick textbooks than a college bookstore. Generic, but nice looking, leather furniture decorated the small living room.
Attached to the small living room, was a kitchen, probably small as well. "Thanks," he flushed white, throwing his bag on a chair sitting next to the door. Stepping in cautiously, I closed the door behind me before anyone saw me here. No doubts about it, Victor would kill me.
"You know, I never knew you were such a heavyweight drinker," I slurred, laying my bag under the chair.