Stepping into the Unknown
Chapter 10: Another Hotel Room

Author's Note: This takes place after Daily Morning Routine. Since this is part of my first Criminal Minds story, I don't think I am going to go into cases in detail. This will mainly be focus on what Dr. Reid's life outside of work might be like.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle, though.

He looks out the window of his hotel room, he can see the lights of the Strip in the distance. Even when he gets time off, he still ends up in hotel rooms. To his count, this year alone, he slept in a hotel bed 208 nights; 56.98% of his nights have been spent in some strange bed away from home. It didn't use to bother him, but now he can see how one could prefer a job with normal hours.

Over the last month, he wasn't able to be around as much as he would have liked. The cases just seemed to pile up, leaving barely anytime for anything else really. First, that sexual sadist case in Philly and then there was that really unpleasant moment stuck in a room with a serial killer during shift change.

He can see Michelle's face in his head when he told her about that, she looked terrified but there was still a little bit of admiration in her eyes, clinging to his every word as he explained how he was the one to defuse the situation and in that moment, he felt a little heroic.

After that they had that angel of death in Pittsburgh, and the one evening when it seemed like he actually could just go home and spend the evening with his girlfriend, Morgan had the brilliant idea that they should all go out. Since no one other than J.J. knows he's seeing someone, he had to accept; Michelle says that despite the fact she would like to be with him more often, she understand that his job gets in the way. He manages to see her the next two nights, luckily and finally makes it to a N.A. meeting. Then there's the Owen Savage case, which he's still getting over. Relating to an UnSub always makes him worry that this job has finally taken its toll on his sanity.

Now, Christmas as come and gone and he hasn't seen her in ten days. As usual, he flew here to be with his mom for the Holidays; she went up to Canada to be with her family. He told her very little about his mom and her situation, all she knows is that she lives in a long-term care facility, and he feels quite grateful that she didn't push the issue.

They exchanged gifts at the airport; they decided to opt for a small present each since they both needed to fly with them. He turns around and looks at the framed picture of them, with the Star Trek group, that currently sits on the bedside table, it's probably one of the best Christmas gifts he had in years. He hopes she's enjoying her 1930 edition of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, he found at one of the little hole-in-the-wall used bookstore he likes; he saw it there and remembered it to be her favorite novel. He checks his watch, only an hour and a half before the end of the year on the East Coast, she said she'd call at midnight, that she wants to make sure his voice is the first one she hears to begin 2008; that made him smile, and after a day at the Sanitarium with his mother, he really needed it; his mom has been going through a bad episode since he arrived.

A knock at the door surprises him. He gets up, and stretches as he walks. He looks into the peephole and his eyes widen, he removes the chain on the door and opens it wide.

"Wha-what are you... what are you doing here?"

She stands in front of him, holding two party hats and what looks like a bottle of champagne. Her short, black dress hugs her curves that, along with her mischievous smile, are enough to send his confused mind straight in the gutter. She sneaks past him and into the room, pulling her suitcase behind her.

"I can't believe you're here." He says as he closes the door, before wrapping his arms around her.

"I realized that just talking to you wasn't going to cut it," she says, her face pressed against his chest. "I decided I wanted to be able to kiss my boyfriend at midnight. So, I hopped on the first flight to Vegas I could find, and here I am."

He shakes his head a little at her impulsivity; it's definitely not something he could ever do. He enjoys just holding her like this, her small frame fitting perfectly against him. She kisses his neck, and he has to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from making a rather undignified noise; she does it on purpose, knowing very well what that does to him.

She snuggles a bit closer to him under the covers as they watch the celebrations at Time Square on TV. He knows she used to live there before coming to D.C. and asks her if she ever went to see the ball drop, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.

"Absolutely not. You couldn't pay me to go. While I was there, whenever there was a big holiday, I would just barricade myself in my apartment and try to block out the world. New York is crazy in general, but holidays are definitely the worst," she says, as she grabs the party hats from floor and places one on her head, which makes him laugh, until she wrestles him into the second one. "Come on, it's almost time!"

She gets up, and walks over to table, his eyes follow her around the room. She grabs the bottle of what turns out to be sparkling cider, which he is thankful for since one isn't supposed to drink alcohol while working on the 12 steps, she also takes the two glasses on top of the minibar; she puts everything on the bedside table before climbing back into bed. He sits up as they countdown the last few seconds of the year.

"3, 2, 1! Happy New Year!"

She pulls him in and kisses him. They break apart and she says, "this is absolutely better than a phone call!"

"I would have to agree!" He grins. "I have to say, I'm really, really glad you're here."

She serves two glasses of the sparkling cider and they toast to the start of a wonderful new year. His phone starts vibrating with texts from the team, everyone sending out their New Year wishes and he does the same; Michelle calls her family and friends, switching back and forth between French and English. She hangs from her last call and asks him: "So, what's going to be your New Year resolution?"

"Well, since only 8% of the population actually manages to achieve their resolutions during any given years, I find the odds to low to even bother making one."

"Really? I always achieve my resolution."

"I don't even have a statistic for how low the probability of that happening is."

"I have to admit, last year's resolution was to stay 5 feet 4." She laughs. "My dad always used to make the stupidest resolutions every year while I was growing up, so it kinda stuck with me."

He finds that to be excellent idea, and he decides that this year, he will make an exception and make a resolution.

"This year, I will keep my hair long." He says solemnly. "Shouldn't be too hard since I haven't had short hair since I defended my first thesis."

"Very good choice, sir. Well then, mine will be," she rests her forehead on her fist, feigning to be in deep thoughts, "to continue to be my amazing self all through the year!"

They keep talking some more, before deciding to go to sleep. As sleep claims him, he thinks to himself that is definitely going to be a happy year.