Author's Note: The mind boggles at the sheer amount of clarified butter that one chick can make at work . . . but then, kids gotta eat, right? Yech . . . I smell like the movie theaters.
Anyways . . . Decision is made; one more chapter after this, guys. Originally, this was going to be the last one (how I love the idea of wrapping up a story on Chapter 10!) but it's been a really rough week, and when I was poking the muse, she was having none of it. It makes this chapter filler, but it's been more than a week since the last update, and I don't wanna be a hypocrite. Swearsies, the next chapter will be full of meat, and within seven days this time. I still really, really want to eek it out . . . Just a matter of sitting my bum down for more than eight minutes at a time and actually Shia Lebouff'ing it. JUST DO IT. (Plus, not gonna lie, after seeing the premiere of Heroes Reborn this weekend, I am SO wanting to write some more of my Criminal Heroes 'verse dedicated to our fallen cheerleader . . . but if that comes to fruition, it won't get in the way of finishing this fic, I promise!)
LOLz. It's past midnight. I think I'll take that as my cue to quieten, and go to bed. As always, thank you all for your wonderful readership. It means as much to me as actually writing this bloody thing. Thanks, you guys. *Smiles*
Warnings: Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide Criminal Minds spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.
Kudos: DarkJediQueen: As always, your review makes me glow - thanks for the kind words! I'm actually really loving having Elle play BAMF!BigSister to Spencer, as well, and it makes writing this go more and more smoothly, just thinking about the two of them; that being said, I hope you'll forgive her exit stage-left in this chapter . . . there's a relationship in need of mending between a certain genius and a, ah, 'douchebag' from earlier . . . But I hope you'll enjoy whatever's left of the story, too. I'm so glad you've stuck with it!
BAUProfileQueen: Oh, the enthusiasm! Ya make me wanna shout, kick my heels up and SHOUT . . . or something slightly less nerdly, LOLz. Thanks for the wonderful words - it's always nice to hear that a story garners such a reaction from a wonderful reader like yourself, m'dear . . .
TazzieLuv13: Nice analogy . . . I'll have to remember things I can describe as more limp or flimsy than a wet noodle *Grins evilly*. But I'm sorry you're missing out on Youtube - I worship the ground that some of those entertainers walk on . . . and then promptly slash the Hell out of them. Probz not a healthy addiction, but there's not much else to do in Missouri, besides Internet and school. And even though I've done some events, I severely doubt that anything I've eeked out has made it half as far as New York. *Sighs* Still, talking would be excellent - ya seem so nice! I'm on here more than is healthy, I fear . . . or, if you'd rather, we can connect on Facebook, I'll message the info over whenever . . . Thanks for the kind words and attention, though. I thrive on both. XD
Annber03: Not gonna lie, it was Elle's big speech that had me SO sweating over posting this chapter. I wrote that scene whilst watching "V For Vendetta," and part of Valerie's big speech upon her death includes the phrase, "Even if I never get to meet with you, laugh with you, cry with you, love you, or kiss you . . ." And I dunno, the feelz just overwhelmed me; it's one of my favorite movies of all time, and somehow, I could picture Elle saying it like that too. She's so much like Reid, very little implication of her inner emotions, but when they come out . .. Holy shit, it's moving. Like you said . . . Cliche-ish, but those are usually the most honest things too, eh? And yes, yes, SO MUCH YES on your analyzations of Elle; yeah, she seems liek the kind to misconstrue any movement as potentially threatening, harmful . . . She's like a cat, suspicious and strong and angry and gorgeous, always on the prowl. I think it's mostly instinctive, although we cannot deny the roughness of the poor woman's past; we all remember her harsh, if tender for HER - treatment of all of the BAU on the show. Elle's a rough one, and it's been ever so much fun to write her in this. And, yeah, she's done her part for now, and Reid has to move on . . . but he'll totally remember her forever, in his own way. I think he still does on the show, too - headcanon accepted, as you say! XD. But Reid has promises to keep, and miles to go before he sleeps . . . or something like that. I'm not sure . . . But we'll be with him to the bitter end, right? (Whole point of the fic/title, *waggles eyebrows*). But I love that you still get so much of what this is about; we're practically of the same mind. God help the world. LOLz.
MW3Addict: I'll admit, I was CRAZY nervous about bashing Gideon so much . . . I mean, I care not for the guy, but I was so scared people were going to see my portrayal of the man as unfair, or even downright slimy and wrong . . . but the reassurance means a lot to me, so thank you for that. I hate bastardizing a *semi*decent person like Gideon, but it was necessary to finalize the evolution of the relationship betwixt Elle and Spencer . . . and thus, of Spencer himself. Now, i think we've managed to open the genius's eyes to the world a little more to the ways of himself and the world, and the healing process can begin . .. starting with a little Derek Morgan, of course. And we''ll go from there. Thank you so, SO much for taking the time to leave your comments, though. I really adore that people understand what I'm trying to do . . . and that they like it, too. It makes me smile.
Sue1313: Aww, thank you so much for putting it like that! I know my portrayal of Gideon was dark, easily, but . . . maybe the man is too, a little bit. And I'd rather do 'right by him' and y'all then try to appeal to the man's fans and write him as something, someone he's just NOT. The same way I tried to draw on Elle's maternal side; the damn witch has one, even if she's sooooo comfortable pretending to be evil all the time. I think she'd be more of a comfort to Spencer after Tobias, had Elle still been around; and with regard to his mother too, for that matter. And, many apologies, but Diana isn't going to appear in this story. I'm still sticking with cannon about her being ill and withdrawing from the world, and, yeah, that's a big part of who Reid is . . . but this story is just about Spencer, and his life.
Kas3y: Hey, I didn't mean to step out of line with my response either, shug. I tend to scramble these things off on my iPod just before I post a new chapter, so I'm on that curious buzz of excitement at a new update, relief at being finished, and dreaded nerves over the response to come. Truly, I DO appreciate the suggestions, since a lot of the time, I draw inspiration from the reviews, and my stories never wind up sticking to the tracks I've laid out for them originally. And I did like yours quite bit; only problem was, as we enter the final acts of this story, i had no idea how to work it into there naturally, or well . . . and I take pride in executing my stories to the very best of my ability. So, thank you again; you're always too kind with the sage advice, and I really do hope I can find a way to use your idea in my next story . . . since that'll probably be about Spencer, too. Aren't they all? XD
Chapter Ten
I Don't Know Who You Are, But . . .
It shook Reid to his core more than he would ever admit to return to the bridge. The darkness ebbed away in front of him, and the sound of rain crashing all around lent a sinister-sounding echo to the cavernous room.
He hated the dark, the unidentifiable blackness perpetuated by the seemingly endless sounds and noises of things that went bump in the night . . . hated it even more knowing that he would be met with confrontation as soon as he arrived under.
And for a moment, just under the lips of the bridge, the young genius stood stock-still, collecting his thoughts and tugging at random strings of courage, hoping that just one of them would be enough to keep him going.
But it wasn't the ever-present chiding thoughts that scolded him to be brave, better, faster, stronger in his father's voice that inspired such heartache and resentment within him. It wasn't the gentle nudging of his mother's whispered encouragements and tokens of love skating across his neck. It wasn't the memory of his enemies, or desire for his friends. It wasn't even him.
Out of the pitch-blackness, warm fingers found their way down his arm, and tightly grasped his quivering hand.
Reid jerked, and looked over, hesitantly meeting what he was barely able to make out of Elle's eyes in the din. They glimmered, bits of light from the far-off bonfires flickering over her face, making the harsh lines and deep scowls seem somehow softer, less threatening . . .
. . . more kind.
Reid gulped, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in.
"Thank you," he breathed.
A small squeeze of his palm acknowledged his gratitude, and, more gently than she ever seemed capable of, Elle tugged them forward.
"It wasn't his responsibility – "
"Responsibility and humanity are very different, entirely related things, Derek Morgan – "
"People say things they don't mean in anger all the time, Pen, it doesn't make him – "
"An asshole? Yeah, it kinda does – "
"It does not!"
"What would you know about – "
" – at least am impartial – "
" – doesn't even exist, especially not in this case –"
It had been a cul-de-sac of whirling words, belated anger, and fistfuls of hurtful things flung around from one person to the next for over an hour.
And even if that genius kid wasn't exactly here to correct him about its improbability, Derek was pretty sure his head was going to explode with any more of this ridiculousness.
Well, at least ridiculousness that was none of their business.
"Would you all," he hissed, rubbing his temples in a futile effort to stifle the oncoming headache, "shut up?"
. . . Well, the instant quiet that followed was a bit better.
More nervous than he ever would have cared to admit, Derek peeked through his fingers, warily taking in the temperament of the crowd surrounding him.
Crowd was a relative term. In all actuality, there were only three people; Penelope, JJ, and Aaron. Of course, the number seemed far more intimidating when one took into consideration that all three were equally pissed at him right about then.
Penelope glared. "Nice talk, Der. You should have saved some of that for Spencer."
Aaron raised his eyebrow. "Garcia, that doesn't make any sense. You can't just keep tossing out cruel things and hoping one of them will stick."
"And why not?" Penelope whirled around to face him. "You didn't see the look on that kid's face, Aaron. He was crushed. Somehow or other, Derek managed to convince him to tell him something so personal, and then you," she turned back to Derek, poking a painted fingernail into his chest, "you used something very clearly painful in a vicious attack against a sweet little boy."
Derek ignored the familiar rush of guilt that twisted his stomach every time someone mentioned the Pretty Boy. "Hey, it wasn't exactly an unmitigated attack, Pen! All I was trying to do was ask the kid where he'd been – "
"Bullshit," Penelope interrupted, silencing the group with her uncharacteristic show of foul language.
Derek picked up his jaw off the floor. "What?"
"You heard me," Penelope insisted. "Bullshit. I was there, remember? You started in on the kid right from the beginning."
"He was with – !"
"Elle and Tobias? I know, Derek, I know. They're not my two favorite people in the world, either. But judging someone for the company they keep? Really? I mean, you can't tell me that you never experienced someone hating on you because you're bl– "
"That's enough," Derek hissed, eyes narrowed to slits. Instinctively, he reached out a clenched hand, as if to grab Garcia and shake the silliness out of his girlfriend, but instantly stopped himself and ran his fingers instead over his smooth-shaven head. He sucked in a huge breath, and when he next made eye-contact with Penelope, it was with far clearer vision, and a lower, calmer tone.
"I know, too, Pen. I know it's not fair, and that I shouldn't even be thinking these things, but . . ." he pressed his lips together in a thin, white line, "I don't like Tobias. And I don't trust Elle all the time. Not with someone like Reid." He swallowed. "The kid's so vulnerable. So quiet, and shrewd – and shy, fucking shy. He shouldn't be around people who could hurt him – and a lot of them can, and a lot of them probably will."
He sat down with a rush of air, and cradled his forehead between two of his fingers. After a moment, Penelope sat beside him, rubbing her hand in small circles over his shoulder.
"It's not fair," he cracked out, voice muffled and saddened.
Penelope bit her lower lip. "I know it's not, tiger. Nothing ever really is . . ."
Derek laughed, a small, bitter cough that didn't sound right in him. "Specially not for some twelve-year-old pipe-cleaner of a genius. I mean, Jesus . . ."
Penelope nodded. "You were just trying to protect him?"
"Well, someone should!" Derek snapped.
Penelope pursed her lips, watching the man she loved as he shook getting himself under control. "I know, honey. I know. And I get where you're coming from now, I swear I do."
" . . . But?" Derek mumbled.
"But, you hurt him too. Badly. You said yourself that the kid's not one to trust easily, and yet somehow, you manage to win him over with that sweet voice and that angelic smile — like you always do . . . and then, for him to see you, to hear you, throw something back on him that he confided in you, for someone he went out on a limb to trust to hurt him in the worst way possible . . . Well, Derek, face facts. You fucked things up. Badly."
"But I want to fix them," Derek insisted. "I don't want to lose the kid over this — that's how much I care, Pen."
"Then tell him that. Show him. Apologize."
Derek frowned. "How am I supposed to do that when he's been MIA all day?"
"Because he's I-A right now," a voice spoke from behind him.
Both JJ and Aaron jumped at the sudden intrusion, while Penelope just smiled at Elle's appearance. The only sign of Derek's surprise was a very slight widening of his eyes. They all turned at once to see the beautiful, if soaked, brunette standing just outside of their little circle, and unreadable smile on her face as she crossed her arms and studied them all calculatingly.
"Glad to see we were so well-missed," she drawled, folding her long legs beneath her and sitting next to Penelope.
"Where's Reid?" Derek immediately asked, searching around for her missing counterpart.
Elle raised an eyebrow. "He's fine and dandy. As am I, thanks for asking."
Derek growled. "Anderson said he went off with you. Obviously, he's not here now. And I'm not fucking playing. Where is he?"
Elle brushed her curly hair over her shoulder, the strands glistening in the firelight as she began to twist the locks into a ponytail. "Relax, papi, I didn't kill him or nothing. He's back at my tent — with Anderson, I might add — getting his things ready. I'm taking him home."
"Home?" Derek couldn't help it. His voice was incredulous.
"Yeah," Elle frowned slightly. "Home? As in, where he lives? With his mom?"
"I know what it is," Derek spat out. "What I'm wondering is — why now?"
"The storm's gettin' worse, and I don't wanna deliver him back soaked to the bone." Elle's voice was casual as she squeezed water from he damp clothes.
For a moment, Derek stared at her, trying to comprehend . . . and then he rose. "Elle — let me take him back."
The brunette raised her eyebrow at him. "What?"
"Me," Derek insisted, impatient. "Let me take him home."
"And, praytell, why would I do something like that?"
Derek sighed in frustration, running a hand over his shaven head once more. "We need to talk — bad. And if you take him home, then he's going to be gone, still thinking I meant the things I said to him."
Elle squinted. "Didn't you?"
"No." Derek shook his head desperately. "No, I didn't — I just lost my temper, got so fucking stupid — but I didn't mean to say what I did — "
"And now he's hurting because of it," Elle finished, contempt level in her voice. "Sorry, Der, no dice. Kid's been screwed with pretty bad. I'm not making him go through more before I throw him back into the lions' den."
She turned around, picking up her soaked coat, only to drop it when Derek grabbed her upper arms forcefully, and swung her around face-to-face, growling.
"Damn it, Elle, I need this. If he leaves without talking to me, then he's never going to know — !"
"Know what?" Elle spat out, jerking in his harsh grip, to no avail.
Derek leaned in, desperation glinting in his eyes. "He'll never know that I care about him."
Elle forced her head back, meeting those black eyes directly. "You care?"
The tone of incredulity wasn't missed, and Derek forced himself to swallow down any violent response before saying instead, "Yeah."
His grip on Elle suddenly vanished, and he backed away, gaze never wandering from her own. "Yeah, I do care. More than I really should, since I just fucking met the kid, but . . ." He shrugged, hopeless. "I care about him."
Elle straightened up, swiping at her arms as if to remove the handprints from her skin. She lowered her eyebrows, glaring at Derek in a manner that had made many a man before him quake.
"Really?"
Derek chewed his inner cheek. "Really. I never want to hurt him again, Elle. I want to save him from all of the hurt." He held up a hand, as if meaning to cross his heart. "I swear."
Elle's scowl deepened slightly, as she vilified the truth behind his words. Finally, she sighed a small huff of air, and spun on her heel, marching off towards her tent.
After a few seconds, she cocked her head over her shoulder, looking straight at Derek.
"Come on," she drawled.
At Elle's tent, the slender form of Spencer Reid was bent over a small case, trying to find an errant sock that had seemingly vanished over the night. Anderson stood in a corner, watching him with a slight frown upon his face.
"You're really leaving?"
Not looking up, Reid nodded. "My mother's worried about me," he said shortly, rummaging behind the makeshift pile of pillows he ha used the previous evening.
He didn't see Anderson's face as the older boy took his time in replying, "It's kinda gonna suck to lose you already. You're not half-bad, kid."
Reid stood, victorious, sock in one hand as he raised an eyebrow at Anderson. "Do you think so?"
The other boy nodded, smiling, and Reid looked away. "You're probably the first one ever."
"Second," came the reply behind him. The young genius looked up to see that Anderson had moved a step closer while he had been turned away, his eyes sympathetic — confused, but still very soft and clear.
Reid chewed his inner cheek as he stood stock-still, waiting for the next move.
Seeing his tense posture, Anderson chose instead to wisely stand his ground, only saying, "Derek cares about you, kid. He likes ya."
Reid turned up one corner of his mouth in a grim smile. "Sure."
"No, really." Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, and Reid stiffened, wary of what was coming next.
"He's not a bad guy; dude can be a bit of an asswipe when he's not thinking, and he's so stubborn that we call him our own personal jackass, but underneath all of that stupidity, there's a huge layer of caring, and heart. He's a good guy, even if it takes awhile to see all of it, ya know?"
"I think that's the only time I've eve been so simultaneously flattered and insulted, Anderson." The voice came from behind the both of them, and Reid jumped about a mile in the air before spinning around, to fine none other than Derek Morgan grinning at him with that same lethargic calm that had put him off-edge mere hours ago.
Derek continued to smile. "Who'da thunk that something like that could come from you?" he reached out, grabbing ahold of Anderson's thick hair, and running his knuckles in it, causing the younger man to squirm and try to get away.
After a second, Derek released him, saying, "Out'cha go, Anderson. I gotta talk to Reid."
The other boy obliged, and suddenly, it was just Spencer and Derek in the tent.
Reid forced his breathing to stay even. "What do you want?" He asked, for once not caring if it came out sounding rude.
Derek ignored the tone, and held his gaze. "I'm gonna walk you home, if it's all right, Pretty Boy."
"And if it's not all right?"
Derek tried to hide his grimace. "Then, kiddo, I'm gonna stand back, shut the hell up, and let Elle take you out, instead."
A look of surprise crossed Reid's features. "Wha — ?
Derek shook his head. "I'm not the smartest person ever, kid — no genius, certainly — but I know better than to force someone into doing something that they don't want to be doing. You've done nothing to deserve that, so I'm telling you now . . . choose. And whatever you say . . . I'll respect it."
Reid took a moment, studying his form and profiling every inch of Derek's face before schooling his expression into one of neutrality.
"Okay," he said simply. "Fine. I know we need to talk."
Derek raised an eyebrow. "Was that a yes?"
Reid shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Like you said . . . I'm with you."