Chapter 10: The Epic of the Game

Turns out if you never lie, there's always someone mad at you.

Scott Westerfeld

Song: Stranger by Secondhand Serenade

Turn Around
Turn Around and fix your eye in my direction
So there is a connection
I can't speak
I can't make a sound to somehow capture your attention
I'm staring at perfection
Take a look at me so you can see
How beautiful you are

You call me a stranger
You say I'm a danger
But all these thoughts are leaving you tonight
I'm broke and abandoned
You are an angel
Making all my dreams come true tonight

I'm confident
But I can't pretend I wasn't terrified to meet you
I knew you could see right through me
I saw my life flash right before my very eyes
And I knew just what we'd turn into
I was hopeing that you could see
Take a look at me so you can see

I couldn't breathe without a burning pain. I couldn't feel my fingers tapping endlessly. I could see them moving but it didn't seem to register. It was like my mind wasn't inside my body. My heart hurt, but it was probably the muscles in my chest pained from my rasping breath. My toes hurt from kicking the wall in bare feet. My knuckles hurt from hitting the bed posts and Morgan's hard abs. My head hurt from crying so much. I hold nothing against JJ. It was hard to think that the lips I had kissed, the taste I had loved, the body I had held and had held me had held JJ. At the same time, I could see them kissing in my mind's eye and it was so cute it started my hyperventilating again. Pull yourself together woman! You're better than this! He can't get the best of you like this! I mentally slapped myself. When the plane landed, Morgan drove me home. He offered to stay but I needed some time alone, with just me. I changed into my PJ's and slipped on my house slippers. I had just turned on "One Republic" and drowned my sorrows in some fried vegetables and tofu with a sprinkle of oil and some basaltic vinegar. I was cleaning off my plate when the knock sounded on the door.

The flower store was the busiest he had ever seen it. Walking in, he requested the biggest bunch of black roses he could.

"That'll be one hundred dollars, sir" his eyes bugged at the price but he keyed in his pin readily. Taking the large bouquet he opened the door to his blue vintage and got in. He put his hands on the steering wheel and reflected back to the past couple of weeks. Her beauty astounded him every time she glanced his way. A small part of him still loved JJ, and he knew that it always would. But when Nikita had thrown him that first glance across the bull pen, he knew from then. Turning the key with a new conviction, he pulled out of his parking spot. What they had, it had to be more than this.

It was a hesitant knock, and before I even looked at my door camera, I knew who it was. Opening the door, I stood between the door and the doorframe, blocking his entrance.

"What do you want?" I was hostile and I saw him momentarily flinch.

"I brought you roses" he said softly, producing a huge bouquet of black roses from behind his back. I loved them, and I opened the door wider and let him in. I returned to washing my plate, a little more vigorously than before. He passed me my juice glass and I washed it too. He took it from me and wiped it up, like he had done for the plate. I put the roses into a vase I had and sat them in the middle of my small table.

Reid catalogued her house, noting her nervousness. She kept her place clean, neat and organized. It was a small apartment, but big enough for one person. She had a small kitchen, with stainless steel appliances. Her lounge room featured a big TV and an antique mahogany coffee table. She had a teak dining table big enough for two, with the roses now the centre piece. They had cost him a fortune, being close to $100. Most of her wood furniture was dark woods, with a red rug in the lounge room.

"You want a tour?" she smoothed her two sizes too big "CSI: Can't Stand Idiots" shirt and fidgeted with a strand of loose hair.

"Sure" there were signs of wealth in the house, yet she had told them she wasn't extremely wealthy. Strange. There was no need to lie to the FBI, I mean Rossi was wealthier than whole team put together. A lot of agents came from affluent backgrounds. Emily and her family were just one example.

"The kitchen, dining and lounge, obviously" she gestured around the open space. "In here" they took a few steps to the bathroom, "Is the bathroom"

She led him up cream carpeted steps to the second level. There was another bathroom and two bedrooms. "This is my work-in-progress library" she opened the door to the first room and he gasped. There must have been at least 50 huge taped-up boxes of just books. Even he didn't own that many. The first box was labelled "my books- Isabella Wright". He had heard of the author, she had released an extremely popular trilogy a few years ago. She was only 15 at the time of her first release. He had enjoyed the author's works; there was a vibrant feel to her descriptions of the various worlds her characters visited and her plotlines and characters were always spot on.

"This is impressive" he noted her guilty look.

"I splurge a lot on books. I have every genre, every kind of book you could want. Children's, Crime, horror, thrillers, fantasy…yea" She led him past the second bathroom, into the master bedroom. She had a large 4 poster fairy-tale bed, with a canopy. The duvet was a deep red, the pillows with intricate embroidery. It must have cost close to $2000 dollars. He just didn't get it. Where did the money come from?

"So, you own a very beautiful chess set I see." It was on display in the lounge room and he would die to play with it.

"Why yes I do. It's made out of chiselled glass with inlaid alabaster. Want to play?" her manner was icy, stiff.

"What about a bet?"

"What kind of bet are we talking about?"

"If I win, you actually listen to me about the JJ thing. If you win, you can kick me out."

"Fair enough, lets play."

For the next hour or so, I played chess against Spencer. We were down to the last few pieces, and I thought I had him just where I wanted him. My brain was working over-drive predicting every possible move. He lifted his delicate hand, moved his bishop and quietly pronounced the fatal words.

"Check mate."

I was stunned. How had I missed that move, it was staring me in the face. I had thought through every minor, intricate move. However, I missed the most obvious one. Typical. I huffed and he smiled triumphantly.

"Now please listen to me?" he got up, offering me his hand and we went and sat on the couch.

"So…" I wanted to rest my feet on his knees, but instead I curled them underneath me.

"When Will and JJ had a rough patch, Will took some time away, went back to the New Orleans, partied with some friends and got his head screwed back on straight. JJ was left with Henry to take care of and her job. She nearly went crazy. I helped her out, took care of her and Henry. JJ and I, we got close. One time, a few days before Will came back, the team and I were at a bar. JJ and I danced, we kissed, something nearly happened but JJ stopped me. Told me it couldn't be long term and that if Will came back there wouldn't be any choice. We kissed some more and left it at that. Will came back and there really never was any competition. I knew that, we parted on good terms. We never…y'know…did it"

I breathed out a sigh and rested my head against his shoulder, exhausted. It had been a huge day. I fell asleep, then and there, on my massive sofa in Spencer's arms.

He smiled down at his long haired beauty. There was no way he was ever going to give her up without a fight. She was too special, too important. He lay down and she sleepily adjusted, lying on top of him. He could feel her whole tiny body move softly as she breathed, and it was an amazing feeling. He needed her. He didn't have a choice and he knew he never really did. By that first glance at the BAU, he was captivated. He could never give her up. Never ever. His arm tightened around her waist and he quashed thoughts about the statistics of surviving workplace relationships. It was 6 in the morning when her phone firmly announced "it's your mum, yea its your mum! Quick, a text from your mum!" it played it 3 times. He started up, realizing she was no longer onto of him. In fact, he could hear her in the kitchen, making coffee. He picked up her phone and went to enter the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and watched as she danced to the radio while making an omelette.

"You change your mind, like a girl changes clothes, yea you PMS like a bitch I would know, and you, always think, always speak, cryptically, I should know that you're no good for me-e-e" I sang as I spun around with two coffee mugs to the espresso machine. I froze when I saw Spence watching me. Great, now my boyfriend knew I sang. "Yea your hot then your cold, your yes, then you're no, you're in, then you're out, you're up, then your down." I laughed as I sang right up to him with two mugs of steaming hot coffee. I kissed him lightly, and started to skuzzle my hot caffeinated beverage.

"You have a text from your mom by the way" he said innocently and I nearly laughed my coffee out my nose.

"It's JJ, not my mum." He looked royally confused. "I set my ringtone to say she's my mum because she's like the mother of the team"

"Oh," he laughed. "I guess you got it right there"

"I always got it right," I flirted lightly and checked my phone. "We've got a case."

His heart dropped a notch. What was it this time, beaten children, dead teenagers, tortured mothers? She almost sensed he was dreading the case.

"It's a criminal interview" she said softly, soothing his anxiety. He breathed out sharply. As long as they didn't look like her, he'd be fine.

If I know what love is, it is because of you.

Herman Hesse