Reid could hear noises faintly in the distance. Tiny dots of light danced before his eyes as his thoughts sharpened. There was a dull pain in the side of his head that throbbed more intensely as he became more lucid until it was truly quite painful.
"Spencer? Spencer!" a voice came closer laced with worry and accompanied by hurried footsteps.
There was pressure against the opposite side of his head – the unharmed side – and he tried to collate fragments of memory to piece together where he was. The pressure was solid and rough but…bouncy? It smelled clean, and rubbery, and slightly like rawhide leather and new shoes. It reminded him of the sporting goods store he had recently visited. Was that where he was now? Maybe he had knocked himself out on an overhanging basketball hoop display. No, he distinctly remembered the bright blue, meticulously vacuumed carpet underneath his work shoes. He remembered the alarmingly high ponytail of the sales assistant swinging jubilantly as she listed off the specifications and features of each of the men's sneakers mounted on a seemingly never-ending wall. Feeling overwhelmed and entirely out of place among the footwear that had names more akin to advanced weapons, he quickly settled on the first plainer looking shoe in his size that the sales assistant, Darcy – he remembered her name being, had selected within her armful of choices.
So, he wasn't at the store then. The feeling was returning to the rest of his body and he felt the familiar sting of the blister forming on his right toe from the new shoes. His thin cotton mismatched socks were probably not the best choice and he regretted not following Darcy's suggestion of a pair of thick sports socks at the counter. He filed away the reminder for next time.
"Next time?" he groaned. Not likely.
"What did he say?"
"I don't know. I think he's coming to…"
Although he understood the greater appeal of sport – the improvement of metabolic and cognition functions, prevention of mood impairments, reduction of stress subjective perception, the production and release of endorphins – he was yet to feel anything other than sore, moody, and usually humiliated and injured afterward.
"I didn't think I hit it that hard! I don't know if it was the ball or the floor that knocked him out!"
"What's his name? Spencer? Spencer. Can you open your eyes?"
The voice he recognised as the worried voice with the light footed but swift steps conversed with a voice far more authoritative and too strident to ignore.
He rolled over, so his back was flat against the gritty surface and he was lying facing upwards. Ow!
Reid opened his eyes, blinking into focus and groggily trying to move his arm to shield his eyes from the harsh sunlight beating down on him. He turned away and found himself looking at a pair of knees. He lifted his chin a fraction and squinted to make out the figure whose crisp white tennis skirt, polo shirt and visor glowed brightly in the sun making it very difficult to see anything else.
There were a few other people – also dressed brightly in matching sets of corals and baby blues – forming a concerned, curious circle a little past the woman. Someone moved in the path of the sunlight and Reid's vision become much clearer and the woman's concerned face came into view beneath her visor.
He knew that he knew who this was but he couldn't place her name or her context.
She was gripping her tennis racket in both hands with worry, keeping a watchful distance as another lady in a neat navy polo shirt and khakis with a radio clipped to the belt loop knelt beside Reid.
"Don't sit up," the lady told him. "You've hit your head."
"Where am I?" he asked, blinking in confusion.
The familiar woman in white groaned and put a hand on her forehead.
The lady muttered something into her radio before replying to him. "You're at the Sterling Teague Country Club. You were playing tennis and hit your head."
"Oooh, he's probably got a concussion!" one of the bystanders cried out excitedly. "Dazed and confused. Isn't that what the first aid instructor said? We should call an ambulance! They're might be cerebral compression. Do you remember that episode of Grey's Anatomy, Ainsley, when…"
"Oh, calm down, Vera!" the woman in white snapped.
"Well, I'm sorry, Maxine, but one should always be up to date with medical training – especially when you're on the courts. Honestly, Harrison, Maxine serves like a blacksmith! It's a wonder she hasn't knocked out more people!"
Max!
Reid shot up quickly and his vision quickly became clouded.
"Whoa!" the woman beside him said steadying him. "Take it easy. Okay gang, let's give him some space shall we?"
Once he focused again, he looked around to see some of the people were staring at him with avid car-accident interest and others were balancing their rackets in one hand, the other hand on their hips as they chatted like they were at a social event. Max took a few tentative steps forward before kneeling down on his other side.
"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"
"I'm fine!" Reid answered a little too quickly and too high-pitched. He was mortified. "I…mustn't have been drinking enough water."
"No, you knocked yourself out with your racket," the attendant revealed unhelpfully. "It was quite remarkable."
"Oh," Reid said quietly.
"Should I call an ambulance?" she asked, poised and ready to reach for her radio.
"No!" he insisted, flushing red, and for some reason – chuckling. "Haha, I'm fine. Really."
"Are you sure, Spencer?" Max's face was knitted with concern.
"Yes, absolutely. I already feel back to normal."
"If you're sure…I guess, you're the doctor after all."
"Hmm," the attendant mused. "Well, if you're sure. Max, come and find me if anything changes."
"I will, thanks Ainsley. We'll be sticking around for the rest of the afternoon so I can keep an eye on him…provided you still want to go to dinner after I nearly killed you?" she asked half-joking, and half-hesitantly to Reid.
"I'll take the risk," he smiled and already felt too far in the throes of embarrassment to protest being helped to his feet by the attendant – Ainsley – and Max.
Max led him to a seat in the shade and handed him a bottle of water. After some awkward small talk while Reid recovered from crippling humiliation and a throbbing head, he began to feel more coherent. Enough so that he convinced Max he was more than well enough to make his way unassisted to the men's shower room.
Reid felt fortunate that it was mercifully empty – likely due to the bars happy hour being in full swing – as he felt like an alien among the other members of Max's country club. When he met Max two months in that park, she did not strike him as someone belonging to such an environment but when she suggested the club as the location of their next date, she seemed quite nervous and shy which led him to conclude that it was quite a big deal for some reason for her to invite him here.
In honesty, it was refreshing finding it difficult to read someone. Max was full of surprises and every time he thought he had a good understanding of her, she would reveal a detail that would make her even more mysterious and surprising.
Although he felt like he was returning to a strange sense of stability and normalcy getting to know Max and each outing with her was certainly an adventure, he couldn't deny the exhaustion that followed. Not just mentally but physically. So much so he would sleep a solid twelve hours after and still arrive to work yawning and bedraggled that led to a lot of misunderstanding, wolf-whistling and teasing from his team.
Reid shook the thought from his head and washed the shampoo out of his hair. He winced in pain and tried to massage out the tension in his shoulders under the running water. Their last date was bushwalking through the National Park. It was drizzling slightly and Max, who had told him she loved the heat, was enjoying herself too much to be put out by it and continued to walk briskly down the leafy, damp path pointing out wildlife that she found interesting.
Reid was half thankful that his concentration was spent almost entirely on navigating the slippery path in his Converse (hence the purchase of more appropriate footwear for today's activity) so he was unable to offer trivia about each thing she observed and let his motor mouth shatter the composed demeanour he hoped he was maintaining.
He dried himself off and changed into his nicer clothes before carding his fingers through his hair to get the knots out. Reid glanced briefly in the mirror. He felt he had started to grow into his features the past few years – he looked nearly unrecognisable from the skinny, bespectacled youngster who started in the BAU, the fresh-faced 'boy-band' haired kid, or when he was still awkward and gangly and had his hair hang long and limply in a way that made his Aunt Ethel tut disapprovingly. He had been told he had become more societally appealing and attractive although he knew that appearances were subjective. Somehow, he was starting to recognise the person in the mirror less and less. Despite the lump in his throat whenever he reflected on it too long, he wasn't sure if it was necessarily a bad thing that he was finding it harder to connect with the person he used to be.
Reid waited on the balcony of the restaurant overlooking the grounds. When Max arrived, she looked bright and effortlessly beautiful as if she wasn't exerting herself to a Wimbledon-standard a mere hour ago. Reid assured her four separate times that he was fine before they ordered their food. Reid let Max order for the two of them. Max was 'a foodie' and had been opening him up to trying new things. It amazed Reid how she could flip from gourmet food to cooking chicken nuggets the next.
He made a face when she recited 'grilled ox tongue and sauce gribiche' as one of the dishes to the waiter and she shot him a 'trust me' look.
Of course, most of it was good (and he pretended for the things that were too adventurous), even with Max's protests that it wouldn't taste right without the proper wine paired. She shook her head with amusement as the waiter brought Reid another Coke and her a Pinot Noir.
"Interesting choice," she nodded. "I personally thought that Fanta would pair better with seafood."
Reid chuckled before drinking. "I'm just happy that they have Coke here."
"Of course, what would they mix with the rum? I'm a bit shocked that they didn't at least have the hospitality to provide you with a curly straw."
They talked a lot about Max's new job in art therapy. It was a pleasant subject that allowed Reid to avoid speaking of his own work which had tried since the Cat incident.
"Are you sure you don't want one drink, Spencer?" she asked
Reid swallowed a gulp of his soda. He wasn't sure that his history of recovering from a drug addiction was light enough conversation for the stage they were at. Reid knew that a healthy relationship required honesty and openness but for the moment he was enjoying feeling like a normal person, going on dates with a normal, pretty girl after their joint ordeal. Just like everyone else does. He quite liked that Max didn't know about his childhood, his mother, Tobias Hankel, the Dilaudid, his genetic makeup, the anthrax and multiple gunshot wounds, losing Gideon and…
No.
"No, thanks. Chinese takeout and an apartment full of books are the only vices I need," he chuckled nervously.
Max sighed. "Ah, I remember Chinese takeout."
"Really?" he asked dubiously. Max treated her body like a temple.
"Maintaining the temple," she would joke before she drank a suspiciously textured and coloured shake while on the case. She also regularly went to the gym, played tennis and lacrosse, ran every morning, and was the only person Reid knew who drank the recommended daily intake of water. She made Morgan look slothful.
"Yeah, for a few years I lived off Chinese takeout, greasy pizza, and the best grilled cheese in the state."
Her smile faded and she cleared her throat a little forlornly. Reid knew that she probably had her own things she wasn't ready – if ever – to share.
They fell into silence for a few minutes before the chef came out to check how their dinner went.
"They really like you here," Reid said, his shoulder still stinging from where the jolly man had clapped it joyfully.
"They've all known me since I was little," she explained, thinking back fondly. "I know it's a bit lame and a weird place to hang out. And everyone here is either a hoity toity businessperson or a retiree from Florida but…it's home to me. My parents spent more time doing business here than in their actual offices, so it's where I grew up. I know it sounds all sad and neglectful but honestly, it was the best childcare centre I could ask for. When they weren't exploiting my cuteness in networking, I got to steal golf buggies and drink mocktails and have a good forty people at any given time able to help me with my homework. I sound quite spoiled now, don't I?"
"No," Reid insisted. "It sounds like it's a very special place for you."
Max smiled sadly. "It is, now I'm a hippy dippy art therapist which doesn't quite fit, haha….so, where did you grow up?"
"Vegas," he answered carefully. "But I moved to Pasadena for college when I was a teenager."
"That's Caltech then, right?"
"Yeah, mathematics."
"Wait, a teenager?"
Dammit, he thought.
"Yeah," Reid said hesitantly. "I finished high school at 12."
"Wow! Usually I'm the overachiever on dates!" she joked.
Reid was glad she found it amusing and not too weird. Though she continued with the standard course of dinner date questions.
"Have you done much dating?" she asked. "Real dates – not ones with sociopaths. And obviously post-College since that would be a felony."
"Urrrr, no. Not a great deal. Work is…most my time. Have you?" Reid asked, trying to bounce the conversation back and forth. He remembered years ago when Alex had told him it was important to do that.
She shrugged. "Here and there when but nothing too serious in a while."
Max trailed off and looked thoughtfully out over the pretty landscape. She turned back to Reid curiously who was also looking at the view. She took another sip of her wine.
"Deep questions round – have you ever been in love before?"
"Yeah," he answered automatically while staring at the wind blowing through the trees below them. His head snapped back at her, unsure why he was telling her that. Something must have shown on his face because her face softened from curiosity to sympathy.
"She break your heart?"
His voice broke slightly. "Y-yeah."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Max winced, sensing the cracks in Reid's composure. "I went too personal, didn't I? My parents were lawyers so I'm used to hard hitting questions being an okay thing. But I didn't mean to twist the knife on anything fresh. Oh, she really did a number on you didn't she?"
Reid forced a reassuring smile that just came out grim. "Something like that."
"I'm sorry," Max said genuinely. "And you're a non-drinker too, yikes."
Reid let out a hollow sounding chuckle before taking a long drink. Max smiled wistfully as she toyed with the napkin in her lap.
"I've been in love once before too."
Reid wasn't sure if she was just trying to kindly even out his discomfort by empathising with his disclosure. She seemed more reminiscent than embarrassed or upset about the subject though, so Reid smiled encouragingly thankful to be learning more about her rather than focusing on his previous tragedies.
"High school sweethearts," Max said rolling her eyes with a smile. "Well, different high schools but…I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"It's okay!" he assured. "I…I really like hearing about your life."
Max smiled, and hesitantly chewed her lower lip. "Thanks, I…I really haven't told anybody much about…well, anything. I feel really comfortable with you."
"I'm glad," Reid said.
"It's part of the reason, well the whole reason really, why I love this place so much. And why I can't quite let it go despite the fact it's…well, quite boring," she smiled.
"Did you meet here?" he deduced.
"Yeah, it kind of sounds like a cliched mid-day movie. I was young and bit of a brat. And…Joshua…he was a very non-bratty, hardworking and super cute waiter. It seemed the perfect way to annoy my parents which was my main goal at the time."
Reid smiled at the story. It did seem the kind of happy teenage tale that makes people look back in fondness. He was too young, too unusual, and too focused to have experienced anything like that in his own years.
"Joke was on me though because I ended up falling quite hard and, well, it was the best time I can think of being here. I nearly cost him his job half a dozen times. Luckily though, he was talented enough to get himself a partial scholarship and with his ridiculous ten odd side jobs he was able to go to a better college than me. We lived together, though, in a tiny dusty apartment above a Chinese takeout. Hence, all the Chinese food…"
"What happened?" Reid asked but instantly wanted to claw the words back as Max's smile evaporated.
"Aneurysm," she smiled sadly. "Dumb, right? While every other kid is going to parties and, I don't know, stealing booze from their parents cabinets, you change old peoples tyres and read to your little brothers and sisters and work a hundred different jobs and do all your schoolwork and all you want to do in life is take photos for newspapers and take your girlfriend to Japan and pay off your parent's house and a week after your 25th birthday you pass out in a post office and die."
Max expected Reid to look shocked, but he looked deeply saddened. She continued in alarm.
"Oh god, I really went dark there didn't I? It's obviously still a thing but I'm fine now. It's been a long time and I've kissed a lot of frogs and have become far less gloomy. I really don't know why I'm telling you all this. I think I've become nervous and ordered too much wine. I didn't kill him by hitting him with a tennis ball if you're worried."
"No," he shook his head, smiling at Max's attempts at keeping it light. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she waved her hand.
"No, I really am. Thank you for telling me. He…you both…it sounds like it was really wonderful and I'm happy that I was able to hear a bit about it. I…I would always like to hear more whenever, if you ever want to talk more about him."
Max seemed touched and beamed happily reaching for Reid's hand for the first time. Despite his body panicking at the human contact, he didn't pull away. He had been so focused on deliberately not sharing anything about himself that he had forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of someone's trust and vulnerability. Despite how much he hated what had happened and wished that her partner had survived and could have lived out the rest of the lovely story she had shared, he felt lighter knowing that she had her own history and tragedies. It made him feel a little less scared at the possibility of slowly allowing himself to share parts of himself he had been burying away.
They had paid – Max very sternly demanding that she pay for half despite his insistence to do it – and decided to go for a walk since the sun was still out and Max was still sneakily keeping an eye on his possible concussion.
The white gravel was loose and wet under Reid's shoes as they walked along the lovely hedges all topiaried into fanciful shapes and animals. It reminded him of the psychiatric hospital, and he drew his attention entirely to Max's anecdote about the antics of the pageboy at a wedding she attended the previous weekend.
The vast swathes of grass stretched down to a lake dotted with architectural follies and Max sighed with weary happiness as they strolled down the winding path. Reid imagined a young Max and Joshua gleefully running hand in hand down gravelled lanes and stealing kisses in all the nooks and crannies. She looked soothed by pleasant recollections and Reid felt grateful that she liked him enough to share this special place.
As if she could read his thoughts, she chuckled to herself and turned to him. "Thank you for coming here, today. I know it's not…your thing. I don't even think it's my thing at all, but it means a lot to me. And thank you for not freaking out about my oversharing...and knocking you out."
"No, not at all," he insisted as they reached the carpark. "I had a nice time."
"Haha, you're a good sport, I'll give you that," Max chuckled smoothing down her black dress when they approached her car.
She looked up at him expectantly but of what, he wasn't sure. "I- thank you for inviting me. I had a nice time."
"As you keep saying," she smiled, still not breaking eye contact. He always struggled with this part. They hadn't kissed again since the elevator. When they had broken apart that time, he hadn't felt what he had expected to feel but chalked it up to needing more time.
"I-um. I'll see you soon then?" he enquired awkwardly. Max gave a slightly disheartened smile as she glanced toward her car.
"Sounds good," she agreed, though her words were laced with resignation. Reid yet again experienced the sinking feeling as he had before at the conclusion of their previous dates but was reassured that she, despite the undertone of disappointment that he could often detect from her, was agreeable to meeting again. "Will you be alright to drive?"
"Oh, yes. I'm fine. Definitely," he said. "But thank you. And thank you for today. It was…"
"Nice?" she finished with amusement.
"Yes," he chuckled, walking backwards to his car parked opposite hers. "I hope your work conference goes well."
"Thanks," she smiled, unfastened her clutch to take out her keys. "I'll let you know once I'm back."
"That would be ni-good. I'll talk to you then."
Max smiled at him as she opened her door and got in. He was busying himself with unlocking his own car when he heard her door open once more.
"Spencer?" she sounded hesitant as her fingers gripped the top of her car window.
"Yeah?" he spun around.
"Thank you again for listening today," she said sincerely. "And…and I hope one day I can do the same for you. When…if you decide to tell me."
"Tell you what?" Reid asked, confused.
"You know what," Max said shaking her head with a smile. "It. Whatever it is. Everyone has one."
"O-oh," Reid stammered out not quite sure how to answer but luckily Max smiled warmly and wished him a goodnight before pulling her car out.
Reid's confusion and uneasiness at the stability and status of their potential was short lived as he realised after patting down his pockets and searching his bag that he'd left his keys in the shower room.
He groaned at the trek he would have to undertake to get them. Truthfully, his head was starting to ache again along with most of his body and he was so drained he knew he would be asleep within a few minutes of getting home.
Too exhausted to appreciate the beauty of the landscape for a second time, Reid hurried back up to the building to search for his keys. After locating them under the bench in the shower room, he walked back along the carpeted corridor only to stop at one of the many pictures lining the mustard yellow walls.
The downlights shone onto a series of framed photographs that looked as though they were candid snaps of many guests and staff memories that spanned over decades. One of the pictures was from a tennis tournament eighteen years ago. A young, fresh-faced Max was easily spotted on the end of the line-up of medal-adorned adolescents and their friends. She was the only person not looking at the camera with a triumphant smile presumably from the enormous trophy the middle girl had hoisted in the air impressively. She was instead looking down, mid-laugh at the young boy lifting her up slightly in a huge hug. His messy auburn hair looked extremely out of place within the group and the look of pride and wonder and adoration on the young boy's face as he looked up at Max confirmed that this must have been Joshua.
Joshua.
A waiter with many different jobs. Scholarship recipient. Loving sibling. Hard working son. College student. Max's boyfriend. Kind and unselfish. Died in a post office at 25.
Reid struggled to place the guilt that descended upon him as he revisited the brief details Max shared about this person's life. He realised he hadn't quite understood at the time the magnitude of what she had told him. How painful it would be to unlock those precious details to share with him. How privileged he was to have a glimpse of this young, beloved person's life. He realised his guilt stemmed from him not offering her anything in return.
There was so much so deeply repressed and locked away that he knew was too precious and painful and unaddressed to even attempt to chip away at right now. Especially not right at the start of their getting to know each other properly. He had to unpack that for himself for a start. But he owed her something. Some kind of vulnerability to show that he did care, and he was grateful.
There was a smorgasbord for him to select from with varying degrees of trauma. He flipped methodically through cases where he was nearly killed, the losses in the team, his time in prison. He supposed he could share his mother's diagnosis and their story. Max was kind enough and had a general understanding of mental illnesses to presumably not be too horrified. It also seemed the kind of practical conversation one would expectedly have earlier in dating rather than springing on someone years later.
This seemingly reasonable choice did nothing to quell his guilt as he drove home. Even though this deliberation had confirmed that it would be prudent to tell her about his mother as soon as practical, it felt deceptive in that he knew now what she was asking for cryptically in the carpark and this wasn't it.
Reid sighed in exhaustion once he reached his empty apartment. He showered once more and changed into his pyjamas before settling on to the sofa to finish the book he had started that morning. A nagging sensation pulled at him which made focusing on the words too frustrating rather than relaxing. He switched on the television which he found equally as difficult to concentrate on. With a defeated sigh of acceptance, he sat up and scrolled through his contacts to find Max's number. His hands started to tremble as the phone rang three times and he immediately ran through several back up excuses in case he lost his nerve. Don't allow that to happen.
"Hello, this is Max speaking," she answered.
"Maeve," he swallowed quickly before he lost his nerve. It was still the most painful word to say.
"What?"
"That was her name."
"Spencer? What…who's name?"
"M-my…my…um…my…" he stammered. What the hell was he doing?
He considered hanging up, changing his number, and just avoiding Max's neighbourhood for the rest of his life.
"Joshua," she said, a sad smile evident in her voice.
He let out a shaky breath and quickly slammed shut the deeply locked away parts that were threatening to unravel him completely. Fortunately, Max didn't press for anything else. Reid would not even have been capable of handing over something as small as her star sign at this point. He felt selfish for it, but he couldn't do it. Not yet.
"Thank you, Spencer," Max told him gratefully, her voice gentle and kind. "Thank you for telling me that."
Reid nodded, realising too late that she couldn't hear him.
"I'll call you once I'm back to catch up again? No rackets or bats of any kind involved this time."
"Yeah, I'll look forward to talking then," he said. His teeth were chattering but there was something warm and comforting about confiding in Max. The weight in his shoulders seemed to lessen.
"Goodnight."
"Night, Max."