Chapter fourteen

Spencer

He was sitting in a corner of the chamber, the air was soft and warm around him. He was sitting at a table across from Helena, a chess board between them. Thankfully he was not naked; he was in his usual cords, sweater vest and shirt. He was also grateful that he wasn't wearing any of the trappings of the FBI, no heavy vest, no gun at his belt. He had conceded to the heat enough to roll up his sleeves and loosen his tie. She was also dressed, a simple t-shirt, some skirt that fanned out around her, might have been denim, her dark hair pinned tidily back at her temples. It didn't stop her from being utterly lovely, radiant.

"Why are you denying yourself?" Gideon/Llwch asked him as he sat next to him, his back to the board so Helena couldn't hear. "Can't you feel that you're finally on the right path?"

"She's a recent victim. This isn't right. Besides, I just want a friend." He looked over and realized that his former companion, with her flowing gown and copper curls, was speaking to Helena in much the same way.

"How about a lover? A companion for life?"

"How about we start as friends?" Helena's eyes met his, filled with humor and secrets shared, and her smile slowly grew.

"Bahhhh. Correct the profile. Then you'll see."

BAU Headquarters
Quantico, VA

The apple tree was up to three inches and had two sets of true leaves. He was a little afraid to go near it at this point.

Thankfully it didn't look like they were going out of town the rest of the week. He had no idea why, and didn't care. He was chalking that one up to luck and to maybe not wanting Hotch to fly until his ears had a chance to heal from their recent assault. And with all his other paperwork done he was planning on digging into Father Paul's journals, finally.

He also had an idea, but it was of the insane sort. The kind of thing that would make the entire team want to shove him out the airlock of the plane in frustration. But more and more as the day went on it was beginning to seem like the only practical solution. It seemed utterly right.

At some point after lunch Garcia appeared in the conference room where he had the journals laid out, trying to sort the correct order. "Can we talk?"

"Sure, Garcia," at this point he needed the distraction.

She sat, clearly nervous, twisting her fingers together. "Reid, have you been keeping in contact with Helena Owens?"

Spencer didn't look up, the better to control his features. "Define keeping in contact."

"You know what I mean. Hotch asked me if you'd come to me looking for survivor resources."

Oh hell. "I meant to. Why?"

"So you have been seeing her?"

"I've just been trying to help her get on her feet." That was all it was, right?

Garcia waited a moment. "You need to stop."

Oh for God's….he looked up, finally. "Why?"

"Look, Reid, I love how you can be so kind and so there for people and you want so hard to find the truth and make it right, but right now she is in so much pain and so confused and she is desperately looking for a…a knight in shining armor to ride in and make it all better and make sure it never happens again and unless you're all in and can be there for all of it all you're going to do is make it all happen all over again when it doesn't work."

He sighed. "All I'm trying to do is help her get a roof over her head and get some kind of therapeutic support. I'm not doing it myself, I know better. Besides," Spencer managed a bit of a smile, "Hotch already gave me this lecture."

"He did?" Garcia asked. At his nod she smiled a little herself, "Well, good."

"Yeah, but you're up to something, aren't you," said a familiar voice behind them.

They turned and spotted Morgan in the doorway. Spencer tried to give him his most innocent blink, the one that had worked across a thousand poker games. "What do you mean?"

"All right," Morgan shut the door behind him and came over to sit down. "I don't want this going all over the unit."

"What, you don't trust them?" Garcia asked.

Spencer turned to her. "Do you?"

There was quiet for a long moment. Then Morgan spoke up again. "Look, I am glad Emily is back, do not get me wrong. And I get what they did. I get what Hotch had to do. It was the job, I know that. If I was in his shoes I probably would have done the same thing. They are the best agents out there and I am damned glad that they have my back every time we get in the field." There was another long pause. "But…"

"But I thought we were more than agents." Garcia filled in. "I thought we were friends."

There was another long pause. From the look in Morgan's eyes Spencer made an educated guess. "Heard about CheetoBreath yet?"

"About five minutes ago, like it was no big thing." Morgan replied. "Like I said, they're the best team I ever had the privilege to work with, but right now I'd rather not have them all up in my business."

"I know what you mean." Spencer agreed. "I guess I'm not the only one with trust issues."

"Even paranoids have real enemies." Morgan replied. "Okay, you remember the Riley Jenkins case?"

"Given that my parents were conspirators, uh, yeah." Spencer said.

"Okay, so we figured that your subconscious was trying to process something out, that led us to Gary Michaels' killer. Well, sometimes I do something like that."

"Your dreams tell you things?" Garcia asked. "How come you never told me before?"

Morgan looked over at her with one of his slow smiles. "I don't always tell you everything my goddess."

"Tease."

"So what do you dream?" Spencer asked, curious now.

"Usually Gideon, of all people, telling me when we got the profile wrong, we're heading in the wrong direction. I always figured it was my head trying to sort something I didn't realize I saw or something I was picking up on from somewhere, something like that. And Gideon, father figure, I get that. But last night it was different." Morgan rocked in his chair and messed with his coffee cup a moment. "The name Llwch mean anything to you?"

Spencer just blinked as Garcia's jaw dropped. "I've been calling Gideon that in my dreams for three nights straight. Did he say anything about the blessed raven?"

Morgan was nodded, "And how we got part of the profile wrong five or six years ago; and how Myrddin was a bastard who never did listen."

"Reid's been having the same dream!" Garcia was all a flutter. "It's a sign, I'm telling you."

"I recognized the name Myrddin as the Welsh spelling of Merlin. Llwch is also a Welsh name, but we can't place it." Spencer sighed in frustration. "I've heard it before, I just can't place it."

"We think Merlin might be referring to Rossi." Garcia told Morgan.

"Those two never did get along." Morgan agreed.

"Did he tell you to find the profile we got wrong because the blessed raven was selfish, ask the Oracle a question, then take the profile and the answer to the Hunter to get the profile corrected and find out who the UnSub really is?" Spencer asked

"No, he told me you were going to do something stupid today, but that it was the right thing to do and the Oracle and I needed to help you do it." Morgan replied. "It was the only way to protect the witness because the UnSub was still out there. He said we wouldn't like it, but do it anyway." He shook his head. "Those dreams have never been wrong, but this is the first time they involved other people. Now, I don't know what all this is about but if my subconscious has Gideon telling me that there is an UnSub still out there and I've got to protect the witness then I'm listening. So, go on, spill it. What stupid stunt are you planning to pull?"

"You know, putting it that way…." Spencer sighed. It wasn't like he was going to be able to hide it forever. And they had had enough secrets and lies in the team; he did not want to contribute to the list. "Helena Owens," he admitted. "She's been so sheltered all her life; I really don't think she'll do well in a shelter. And even if the Bishop can track down her parents' life insurance money, with no papers and no credit, she's not even going to be able to get into a hotel. I…I was thinking about offering her my spare room."

Morgan nodded. "Yep, it's stupid. I don't like it."

"Yeah, that could be so bad." Garcia chimed in. "You could get in way too deep there."

"I know. I know." Spencer replied. "But I have already managed to find her ample opportunity for ongoing therapeutic support. I don't intend to be the only one there for her. I know I can't be the only one helping her, but I want to do what I can and she does need a place to stay."

Morgan sighed, noisily. "And if there is an UnSub still out there this would keep her off the grid at least a little while longer." He looked over at Garcia. "And you and I can play watchdog, make sure he doesn't get in too deep."

"Oh my love, I think the term for that is chaperone." She replied.

"Garcia!" She could not be serious. Spencer glared at her. "I would never take advantage, surely you know that."

"Oh yes, I do sweetie. I was teasing you. If that girl is safe with any man she is safe with you." Garcia patted his arm gently. "When is she getting discharged?"

Spencer checked the clock. "In about two and a half hours."

"Oh, God, that is like, no time. Does she even have anything to wear home from the hospital?"

Spencer shook his head. "As far as I know she has three books, my business card, and a voucher from the Diocese for the Good Shepherd thrift store. That's it."

"Well at least that's a fun place to shop." Garcia smiled.

"You said you have a spare room." Morgan said. "Got a bed?"

"No," Spencer admitted. "I had hoped she'd be in the hospital over the week-end, I was going to get one. You know I haven't even talked to her about it yet."

"Well you go talk to her, Garcia and I will go get a bed and some dinner. We'll meet back at your place."

Well, the poker game truth was going to come out sometime. Sigh.