Disclaimer: see my profile

A/n thanks to you all for patiently waiting for this update. I'm finally shaking off the cold that's had it's way with me for the last three weeks. Also, I've had computer problems as well. I will try to update more often.

Spencer piloted their rental car onto a quiet residential area worlds away from the bright neon and crowded casinos of the Strip.

"I grew up in this neighborhood," Spencer answered Chriscelia's unspoken question.

"I'm not sure what I expected," Chriscelia remarked. "It's dumb now, but I guess I thought of Las Vegas as all bright lights and casinos."

Spencer glanced over at her and favored her with a smile that warmed her soul to see. "I believe some people think we all work for the casinos and they house us in dormitories behind them."

Chriscelia giggled. "Now there's a visual!"

They fell silent for a few moments as Spencer guided the rental down the tree lined streets. "See that house," he pointed left. "That's where I lived until I was four."

"Is that when you moved because of the pedophile?"

"Yes."

"It's beautiful," she said as they cruised slowly past the two-story red brick home.

"I wish I could remember more about my life there," he remarked wistfully and pulled to the curb down the block. He stared out the window. "All I remember about this house is what happened to Riley Jenkins and my parent's involvement."

Chriscelia reached over and touched his hand. He gripped her fingers tight. "Let's go."

Chriscelia didn't argue as they pulled away from the curb and continued down the street. Three blocks north, Reid turned into the entrance to a city park and drifted slowly to a parking slot. Despite the sunshine and the mild temperatures, few people enjoyed the grass and the concrete walking paths that day.

"Will you walk with me?"

"Of course," Chriscelia said.

Spencer reached for her hand when they stepped from the car to the sidewalk. "There's someone I'd like you to meet. He's usually here this time of day."

"Let's go see," Chriscelia encouraged.

They strolled east and then turned right and down a small rise to a playground area. Several children made use of the equipment. Their carefree laughter blended with the bright sunlight to form an atmosphere that seemed impossible to dim, but they didn't yet now the realities of life as did the adults that watched them at their play. Spencer guided her left along another path that led to the opposite side of the park and past a fountain that wasn't in operation at the time.

At their right stood several rectangular shaped tables made from poured concrete with attached benches on either side. Three pairs of opponents faced off against each other at three of the tables. At one of the tables sat a man with a cane next to his bench.

Chriscelia followed Spencer to the man with the cane, who wore dark glasses and who played with a rotating board.

"Howard," Spencer greeted.

Howard didn't look up, but he said, "Is that you, Spencer?"

"You know it is, Howie."

"I thought I recognized you, but it's been awhile, son." Howard's large, blunt fingers moved the white rook into position near a black pawn.

"Checkmate in four," Spencer said as he studied the board.

"Isn't he amazing, young lady." Howard said to Chriscelia

"Um, yes," Chriscelia stuttered. "He is."

Chriscelia tried to see what Spencer saw, but she couldn't read the board like Spencer. She had the feeling that no one could read the board like Spencer, except for the giant of a man before her.

"Not as amazing as you, Howie."

The smiling man before them tilted his square, bald head, "Just practice, my boy. You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do."

"Sit," said Howard. "And tell me what sorrow is weighing down your soul."

Spencer sat on the opposite side of Howard with Chriscelia perched next to him. "This is Chriscelia, my girlfriend."

"I'm pleased to meet you, ma'am."

Chriscelia shook his hand. "I'm glad to know you."

Howard's smile showed off snow white teeth that gleamed from the frame of his midnight black skin. "You're the first lady friend of Spencer's I've met. That make you special."

"Howard?"

"It's true," Howard rumbled in a gravely, but pleasant voice.

"Thank you," was all Chriscelia could think of to say.

"Now," Howard continued. "Tell me what's on your mind, Spencer."

"Mom passed away last night," Spencer said bluntly as a lone tear made its way down his cheek.

Howard's hands stilled in their course. "My God, son. I'm so sorry... She was a formidable woman."

"She asked about you a few weeks ago. I think you were her favorite amateur book critic."

Howard's somber face brightened a little around his dark glasses. "She was always too generous with her praise."

"I think she found you a bit intimidating," Spencer said.

Chriscelia could she why Spencer's mother felt intimidated by Howard. Although he sat, Chriscelia could see that he probably stood several inches taller than Spencer. His denim jacket stretched over his bulky physic. His face was unlined except for laugh lines at the edges of his sunglasses and smile lines around his mouth. She thought it was an attractive face that didn't give away his true age.

"I doubt that," Howard said. "Your mother knew how to take care of herself."

"Yes, she did," Spencer agreed.

"I'm sorry for you, dear boy."

"I wish we'd had more time."

"Don't wish for more time. Remember the good things and how much Dianna loved you."

"I'm not sure I can take that advice." Spencer squeaked and wiped at his eyes.

"One day you will. For now, we play chess and talk about your good memories."

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Chriscelia sat with Spencer in the hotel suite after an hour of chess and sharing memories with Howard. "Howard's a nice man," she remarked as she sat with her head lying on Spencer's shoulder.

"Yeah. Howard always fascinated me."

"Because he's blind."

Spencer's hand halted briefly from stroking through her hair. "You picked up on that? He fools most people because he can beat anyone that challenges him to chess. They assume he sees as well as them. You noticed that he knew you were there without hearing your voice. I'll bet he smelled your perfume."

"I was floored when I realized," Chriscelia admitted. "I can't imagine playing chess without my eyes. I can't manage it with all my senses."

"He was born blind and grew up in an orphanage in St. Paul, Minnesota. One of the cooks there taught him to play."

"How does he do it?"

"I'm not sure. I think Howard can see the board and the pieces in his head."

"Like you?"

Spencer shook his head. "No, not like me. He's never seen the board or the pieces, but somehow his sense of touch maps the board in his brain. It's amazing."

"He beat you today."

Spencer grinned at Chriscelia and for the first time in twenty-four hours, the smile reached his eyes. "I didn't let him win."

"I didn't think so. You insist on winning fair, no matter who plays you. As I learned when you taught me," Chriscelia said.

"I can't give you special treatment. Fair is fair."

"Then why do you cheat at poker with your team?"

"Counting cards isn't cheating," he insisted. "Poker's different than chess."

"In what way," Chriscelia wondered.

"Because chess is serious and poker is fun."

"I see."

Spencer turned his head and kissed the top of Chriscelia's forehead. "As I told you, chess Is complicated, but I still think you can learn it and eventually become quite good."

Chriscelia shook her head. "I'm not sure if I believe you."

Spencer gathered her up into his arms. "Thank you for going out with me today. I needed to get out of this room, and I needed to see Howard."

"I know," she said into his shoulder. "You don't have to thank me, baby. I'm so worried about you."

"I'll be alright," Spencer promised her. "I just need time to adjust."

Chriscelia sat back. "Is it too early for me to say that you will adjust."

Reid shook his head. "No. It's something I know in my head," he pointed to his temple, "but need to learn in my heart."

Chriscelia kissed him. "Take your time. There no rule that says you have to feel better in a week, or a month, or a year."

Spencer nodded. "Thank you for caring so much."

"I can't help it," Chriscelia said, and a tear coursed down her cheek. "We've both lost so much in the last few months."

"Yes," Spencer agreed, "but we've gained so much more together."

Chriscelia and Spencer were quiet for a few minutes. Then Chriscelia chuckled lightly.

"What?" Spencer wanted to know.

"I was thinking about Howard's story of you playing chess with another woman in the park. Your mother said it was time to go home and you threw a tantrum."

Spencer's face went rosy pink in the cheeks. "I was four," he protested. "Kids that age are often unreasonable."

"Yes, but it was nice to know you were a typical kid," Chriscelia said.

"Of course, I was," Spencer replied.

Chriscelia smirked at the indignation in his eyes. It was such a relief to see it temper the anguish. "I'm just remarking that it's fun for me. When I think of you as a kid, I get the image of a quiet, sweet little guy, who's as well-behaved as an adult. I guess I was a bit unrealistic."

"I'm sure I had to develop the same as any child, and that includes the occasional temper tantrum."

"I'll bet they were very rare." Chriscelia guessed.

"I couldn't give into childish behavior after my dad left," Spencer said, soberly. "I had to grow up fast."

"Oh, I'm sorry I brought up bad memories," Chriscelia said and hugged him tightly.

"It's okay. They weren't all bad. My mother and I sort of lived in our own world, which I suppose a therapist would consider abnormal. Maybe it was."

"Spencer…"

"Maybe if I'd grown up in a real family –"

"Stop," Chriscelia said. "You didn't have the typical family life, but it made you who you are. You're compassionate, kind, strong and wise. I love all of those things about you."

"I could have gone the other way and become a version of Norman Bates," Spencer said.

"Don't even joke about that," Chriscelia pulled away from him. "That's not funny."

"It's true, though," Spencer said seriously.

"I don't care," Chriscelia said. "I believe we make our own way. I know you profilers see the worst in humanity. I know that most serial killers had abusive relationships with some female figure in their lives, but they choose to do evil. You had an unconventional, but healthy relationship with your mom."

Spencer studied her as she spoke. Her face was red with passion and her eyes sparkled. She was so beautiful it hurt, and she loved him. It was a miracle.

"All right, I'll stop arguing," Spencer held up his hands in surrender.

"Good," she grinned at him. "It's about time you learned not to mess with me."

Spencer hugged her again and said. "Do you know how much I love you, Celia."

"I think I have some idea."

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A few hours later, Spencer expressed a desire to have a bite to eat. Chriscelia agreed, and they decided to eat in the hotel restaurant, rather than deal with getting dressed up to go out. The restaurant was called a coffee shop but had a menu that featured classic comfort food.

"Everything looks delicious," Chriscelia said.

"Yes. I think I'm going to have some prime rib."

"I like the looks of the chicken pot pie."

They closed their menus, and soon a server brought them the drinks they'd ordered and took their entrée selections. "Good choices," she said as she gathered up the menus. "I love the prime rib. If you need anything, my name is Sarah."

"Thanks," Spencer said.

"I wonder if they truly like the food, or if they just say regardless of the selection," Chriscelia said.

Spencer smiled at her, and she grinned back. "That's a bit cynical, don't you think," he teased.

She shrugged. "Perhaps a bit. Still, it is their job to sell a product."

"True," Spencer agreed.

After a few minutes of sipping their drinks, Chriscelia said. "You never told me how you met Howard."

"My mom had a good day, and she decided we should go on a picnic. We walked to the park and had lunch. She pushed me on the swing for a while, and then I said I wanted to play chess. She took me to the chessboards and Howard was there. Mom said I went right over to him and asked for a game. I know that it must have surprised him, even blind, to hear a child's voice asking to play. As usually happened he tried to dumb it down for me until he realized that I could beat him, then it got serious. It was my mother that realized he was blind. She was flabbergasted, but I didn't care. When you're a kid, you take things more as they are, I think."

"Wow, I'll bet your mom was impressed."

Spencer got a faraway look in his eyes. "Yeah, she was. Afterward, whenever we'd play, she'd talk to him about everything. Despite how he grew up, he's amazingly well-read and intelligent."

"I think it's wonderful that you've kept up a friendship with him," Chriscelia said.

"He became a bit of a father figure to me. I couldn't imagine life without him."

Chriscelia reached for his hand when Sarah returned with their orders. "I'm glad you have him, and I'm glad you've made progress with your dad. I know you need them right now."

"I do," Spencer affirmed.

"This smells good," Chriscelia said of the food on her plate.

"It does smell delicious."

He picked up his fork and knife and from the first bite realized that he was starving. Chriscelia watched him and thought about the next steps they had to take before their next sad duty, and said a little prayer to whoever might be listening, that she'd have the strength to see Spencer through the coming dark waters of grief.