It was approaching midnight, but Spencer Reid was still awake lounging on his sofa in his dressing gown lazily flicking through channels until he stumbled across an appropriately mundane talk show. He hoped it would provide adequate background noise without any interesting content to keep him engaged.
He knew should be trying, or at least trying harder, to sleep considering the draining case he had just worked but horrifying images and graphic details plagued his mind whenever he attempted rest. One of the less savoury features of his near perfect memory. He took a sip of the green tea he was holding in his hands and grimaced. It wasn't entirely awful, but it certainly wasn't coffee.
Reid smiled down at the mug, the drink invoking a tiny memory like a warm glow in the corner of his mind that slowly expanded to consume the dark ones until warmth spread through his chest and he could feel himself becoming more restful.
Suddenly, his cell phone rang interrupting his pleasant train of thoughts, making him slop the yellow-green liquid down his front. He sighed deeply and scrunched up his face as he reached for it on the coffee table. Surely, they couldn't expect him to come in after being home for a mere hour after a 36-hour case with no sleep?
Not that he was getting any sleep anyway.
He didn't recognise the new number displayed on the screen. "Hello?" he mumbled, turning the television volume down.
"Oh, you sound exhausted! Sorry, I shouldn't have called so late. Sometimes I forget normal people go to bed at night-time. I've been procrastinating over calling for ages and I let it get too late. Sorry. I just don't know when to because of your erratic work schedule but you've probably just gotten back and trying to rest. I'm sorry. I'll call another time…"
"No, wait. Wait!" Reid urged before she could hang up. When he was sure he could still hear her soft breathing on the end of the line waiting for him, he smiled and formed what had come to be his favourite sentence for the better part of this year.
"Hello Maeve."
"Hi," she said breathlessly. Reid thought only Garcia could possibly rival Maeve in talking herself out of breath as she always did so when she was nervous or excited.
His elation at her call – the only welcome interruption from his thoughts of her – was short-lived as he considered the possibilities of why she would be calling out of their regular schedule. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Usually, she had the most beautiful, bright, calming voice but it sounded troubled tonight. Reid sat up concerned, pressing the phone against his ear.
"Maeve, what's wrong?"
"I don't know what I'm doing wrong, Spencer," she said in distress and he could hear her feet pacing back and forth. "I've spent every single night, all night, pouring over everything again and again. Your family tree, all your psych tests, every doctor's assessment since you were seven, your diet and lifestyle, your brain scans and blood tests. I've tried every prescription medication and subjected you to every test I can think of and they've all disproved any diagnostic theories I have. I've gotten so far into your genealogy I think you've got a claim to the throne in Denmark should a terrible tragedy happen to a couple thousand people. I woke up in a cold sweat last night and started researching planet alignment. I think I was high off cold medicine because I would never nor…oh, did you get the green tea?"
Reid smiled down into the cup like it was the most wonderful drink he'd ever sampled. "I did, thank you. I've been drinking it instead of coffee like you suggested. It's really good."
"You don't have to lie, it takes like grass," she sighed endearingly. "Maybe I'll send some Hyson Lucky Dragon tea next time. It's a bit more full-bodied than Dragonwell. Even though they're both grown in the Zhejian Province of China they – oh, sorry - I've gone off topic again. I've had some much coffee to keep awake, I can hear my heart in my ears…why am I talking to you about coffee? That's quite cruel…"
Reid felt guilt twinge in his stomach. She had lost so much sleep – and a little bit of sanity it seemed – trying to fix his headaches. He was torn between telling her the truth and spending the night talking to her.
"Now this absolutely grates me to my very core as a scientist and a rational human being so please try not to judge me or laugh at me or hang up on me but…," she took a deep, dramatic breath. "My mother got her degree from a questionable…I can only really describe it as a farm….so I unfortunately know all the potions and candles and all the rest of it and even though I've completely failed you as a doctor– I have a few new ideas on how we can fix them. Don't hang up! Before I take you completely down the rabbit hole, I know a lot of people find acupuncture or remedial massage helpful. They are more advocated for and proven even though I would rather chew off my own arm than have someone do that to me but I'm not the one suffering. I've done some cross-referencing on places near you that are decent and properly trained and won't give you hepatitis. I'll email the links to you. Another thing we can try is aromatherapy – particularly lavender oil. Urgh, if my mother could hear me now. Though I had a lot of trouble sleeping last week so I tried smelling some lavender talcum powder but I think I accidentally snorted some of it. Either way, it put me to sleep. Anyway, there's another old-fashioned remedy for headaches that's supposed to work well but…you would probably need your, um," she struggled to find the term she was searching for. "I don't know – girlfriend - to help you with that one."
"I don't have a girlfriend," Reid blurted out far too quickly and loud to pass as casual.
"Oh," she replied, mistaking his erratic response as offence. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…that was really heteronormative, I didn't mean to…"
"No, no, I'm not," Reid said hastily. "No boyfriend either."
"Oh, good, "she said sounding relieved. "No! I don't mean good as in it would be bad if you were. I'm just happy that I didn't – that you don't – well, I'm not happy that you don't have someone either way. Not-not that it's a bad thing, of course. A lot of people are happy in their own, um,…that's not to say that some don't…please feel free to rescue me from myself at any point here, Spence."
"Sorry," he laughed light-heartedly too distracted by the joy that listening to her brought to intervene. Despite the happiness, he felt slightly deflated and somewhat disappointed in himself that she had possibly been under the assumption that his heart belonged to another during their correspondence. Even trying at first to hide it from himself, he thought it was clear as day that she was the object of his affection. Maybe the unfamiliar, all encompassing, and overwhelming feelings he had toward her had caused him to imagine the relationship he thought was starting to take shape between them.
Reid cleared his throat, trying to focus back on the task of rescuing her from talking herself in circles despite it being one of his favourite things about her. "Would you be able to help me with…whatever it is?" Reid asked, having no idea what procedure a significant other could possibly do that alleviate that type of pain.
Maeve chuckled nervously and went back to chewing on something. "For the sake of ethics, we should probably try the human pincushion or playdough factory idea first, Spence."
He had no idea what she was talking about but he loved it when she said his name. He just sat there like a stupid, love-struck teenager until he heard her sigh morosely.
"Maybe its best if you reach out to someone else, Spence. I just don't know what else I can do and I…I hate that you're in pain and I can't take it away."
Reid's heart skipped a beat. He knew eventually this…whatever it had grown to be…would have to come to its natural end when he no longer experienced the headaches. She had just cured him with little more than a glance at his record and he had been trying to prolong their time together since. He didn't think there would ever be a situation in which he would wish for that agonising pain to return.
"I don't want to ask another doctor," he said, hoping he didn't sound too much like an impertinent child. "I don't want to lose you. You're the most wonderful, most caring…d-doctor I've ever had." He winced at his words that had come out far more passionately than he had intended. He had tried to overcorrect and now he felt he had labelled her profound significance in his life as nothing more than helpful medical advice.
"Thank you," she said quietly. Now she sounded a little deflated – but Reid questioned in his mind whether it was his thoughtless words or her misplaced disappointment in her abilities. "I'm not really your doctor, though, and…there's far more suited people who can properly treat-"
"You're the most accomplished geneticist of your age…" Reid scoffed. He was absolutely certain that the fact he was completely enamoured with her played no bias in his opinion of her mind and her brilliance. He could be as attracted to her as he was to Chief Strauss and he still wouldn't hold anyone else's opinion in higher regard.
"Maybe," she said, chewing away. "In research. I haven't worked in medicine for a little while – I've worked with some people in the past that may actually be helpful. I mean I could write you a 75,000 word paper on the frequency of low-level mosaicism in sporadic retinoblastoma and genotype-phenotype relationships but that would make your headaches worse if not exploding your head entirely. It may be useful in putting you to sleep though unless you find de novo mutations as captivating as I do which is quite impossible."
He went to protest but stopped when it sounded like she was on the verge of tears.
"Spencer, what if something is wrong? What if…something really is wrong with you and I've been sending you tea leaves and scented candles like an idiot instead of getting you proper help from a doctor not as apparently useless as me?"
"You're not useless, Maeve," Reid said, in near physical pain at how defeated and panicked she sounded and decided to tell her the truth. He had taken it way too far. She was hurting now. He would live in the misery of never speaking to her again than be the cause of any of her sadness. "There's something I need to tell you."
"Oh-okay," she said with concern. He heard her take a sharp intake of breath, bracing herself as if he was going to say something horrible to her. As if he were capable of doing that.
"Maeve, my headaches lately…they've…um, eased?"
"Eased?" she said slowly in confusion. Her pacing had stopped.
Reid pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath preparing for her to hang up and have them never speak again.
He was used to people he cared about leaving but he knew this would be an exquisitely personal form of torture to live out the rest of his life broken-hearted in the knowledge that the most perfect girl he could imagine would exist beyond his reach.
He'd only have himself to blame.
"I'm not sure if it was the Naratriptan you prescribed me or something else we've been trying but…they seemed to have gone...for now."
After a few minutes of silence and Reid waiting with the phone by his patiently, he heard her sniffing and holding back tears unsuccessfully. It reminded him of being shot in the leg again except the piercing pain went straight through his chest.
"Please, please don't cry," he said desperately, running his fingers through his hair and feeling flooded with self-loathing that he taken such selfish advantage of her kind heart and he had caused her to cry. He would have preferred anger and annoyance a thousand times over. "I'm so sorry, Maeve. I should've told you when they stopped. I just…"
Now he was lost for words. When his headaches had gone for a while, he was, of course, ecstatic about it but sceptical. Could this lovely, clever, helpful twenty-something year old geneticist really have fixed him on her first try? After a slew of cold and clinical specialists had been unsuccessful despite the benefit of seeing him in person for many uncomfortable sessions of questioning and poking and prodding?
He thought back to the week he had started to become hopeful that his headaches were truly gone.
It had been a long and difficult case with no happy endings or consolations. As soon as he landed, he had turned down the offer to wind down over drinks, or sodas in his case, with his teammates. All he wanted to do was go home and speak to Maeve. He would have done just about anything to see her that night. Even if she did finally say yes to seeing him, it was fairly late and very short notice. Reid didn't want the first time he saw her to be after a heavy case and an extremely long and sleepless flight where he would just want to collapse into her arms and be reminded of the purity and goodness that he was fighting for and made the work worth it.
Reid had switched the lights on in his apartment once he arrived and wasted no time loosening his tie and collapsing backwards onto his sofa. He knew he should probably shower, unpack, sort his mail, and many other things before calling her but his heart was leaping in anticipation. He had nearly been collected by a taxi in his dreamy eagerness to race into his building. The remnants of the case were quickly fading into the back of his mind as he thought of telling her how his headaches had not returned despite the enormity of the stress involved that week. She was truly astounding.
He pressed the new sequence of numbers from memory into his phone – a different number each week she called him from curiously – and waited for her voice.
When she had answered, she sounded bright and giggly like she had been in a fit of laughter right before answering the phone.
Reid, feeling a tightness in his chest, immediately felt stupid and wanted nothing more than to apologise profusely for disturbing her before throwing his phone across the room and smacking the encyclopedia lying on his coffee table against his head several times.
Of course, she would have company on a Friday night. Maeve was brilliant and funny and warm and incredibly intelligent and kind and probably extremely beautiful and…
"No, Spence, don't hang up," she said quickly, cutting off his embarrassed, mumbled apologies. "I'm sorry, is everything okay?"
"I just called to let you know…"
He heard the faint clinking of glass and music in the background. The laughter had not entirely left her voice like she was attempting to stifle her giggling. He felt his heart sink. Reid felt nearly unwell at his own audacity. He really thought she would like a phone call interrupting her Friday evening to let her know that his headaches were gone? Who did he think he was?
No wonder she had kept fabricating polite excuses when turning him down on the previous few occasions that he had felt bold enough to ask her to meet in person for various occasions.
He had been encouraged by the fact she sounded pleased each time by the idea and hadn't blatantly said no, there just had always been something in the way at the time. But now he knew she was just being kind.
"Sorry, you're busy. I'll email you later. It's really not important, I don't know why I…"
"No, no, Spence. Please don't go. Sorry, I'm being so rude," she said, immediately sounding remorseful. Great, now he had made her feel guilty and dampened her spirit. "I wasn't expecting you to call tonight. Normally I'd compose myself before I answer the phone but then I saw it was you and I just…sorry, I'm here now."
"No, really I don't want to keep you if you have plans or guests. It can wait. It's really not important."
"I'm glad you called," she sighed happily and sincerely although Reid knew of her kindness enough to not know for sure whether she was being honest. "And Arthur's a permanent house guest who takes up most of my attention so it's fair that he shares from time to time."
Reid paused in confusion.
"Arthur Conan Doyle," Maeve explained quickly, and Reid could hear her shake her head from side to side. "A stupid joke, sorry, it sounded funnier in my head. I think when you spend your nights with fictional characters it takes a toll on your ability to converse with actual people. I'm sorry you're always the unfortunate test subject in that instance."
Reid laughed lightly, feeling elated and wanting to confess he would happily converse with her every minute he had spare for the rest of his life.
"Which one are you reading tonight?" he asked leaning back into the cushion. He knew Arthur Conan Doyle was her favourite author. Whenever his mind wandered to her while he was working – which was becoming increasingly often – he always imagined her curled up somewhere warm reading one of her many Sherlock Holmes stories.
"The Dying Detective."
Reid somehow knew that the part she had found amusing was when Sherlock was pretending to be unwell to Watson. He had only read that particular book once many years ago, but he was thankful for his memory for the first time in a while and that it allowed him to recite the line that seemed to bring her such joy. "You and I, Watson, we have done our part. Shall the world, then, be overrun by oysters?"
The joke would have gone over most people's heads, but Maeve laughed - a beautiful, tinkling, carefree sound. He had heard her giggle slightly or chuckle appreciatively from time to time, but this was different.He warmed at being the one to draw that lovely sound from her - with a little credit to Arthur Conan Doyle.
"I'm sorry," she apologised again after she had recovered, and he heard her shut a book heavily with a weary sigh. "I'm not normally this loopy. I mean it's not that funny. I think I'm just sleep deprived and silly and I've had too much wine. Four glasses, I think? Well, mugs actually. I'm still unpacking and I tripped and smashed my box full of glassware so I'm drinking everything out of coffee mugs. My brother gave me a TARDIS mug when he came back from England but its square so it's challenging not to spill it everywhere. What a truly impractical shape for such a vessel. Hmm, actually its quite big. It's probably more than four glasses then. I don't even like wine but I ran out of juice and I got this bottle as a university graduation present from my Auntie but I was far too young to...
Reid listened with fascination. Maeve was usually very carefully guarded, always stopping herself when she revealed anything about herself and steered their conversations toward his life. Sometimes, she would give him something very small in an offhanded comment and he would piece it together with all the other little bits to try and formulate a picture of this girl that entranced him so.He already knew she had siblings, watched Doctor Who every night when she was little, and graduated very early like himself. He noted that she didn't like wine and had recently moved which he found curious since she had done so three times since he first spoke to her."Anyway, I don't think I called to tell you about that. Oh, wait, you called me, didn't you?" she chuckled to herself and Reid guessed that she was probably quite small in stature if four glasses – mugs – were taking this much (albeit endearing) effect on her. Unless she didn't drink often which he guessed from the frequency of their calls that she didn't."What's up? Oh….duh, of course. I mean, why else would you be calling," she chuckled nervously for some reason. "How are our headaches going?"
She would always refer to it as their headaches as if his pain burdened her also.
"They're…" Reid paused as he, for the first time, thought of the implications of his news and what it may mean.
Talking to Maeve. Writing to Maeve. It had become such an important – the most important – part of his life ever since she had made that witty, clever, contradictory comment on one of his articles all those months ago. They emailed back and forth a little enjoying the rare opportunity to engage with an intellectual equal – both assuming the other were significantly older than they were – but it was his asking for her opinion regarding his apparently incurable headaches that had sparked them to speak over the phone and, despite their trailing off for hours in letters and phone calls about anything and everything, had normally been the underlying excuse for their contact with each other.
She had been such a gift to him since. She never chastised him or even politely tolerated his spouting of facts and excited ramblings of information; she appeared to listen, understand everything, and chime in excitedly. Maeve was always apologising for her own rambling though her trait for doing the same thing as he was one of the things he loved most about her. Potentially only rivalled by her kindness and patience. He would speak so openly and freely about his mother and his concerns with her illness and his own fears about inheriting it. They often spoke about his nightmares and his recovery since his addiction to Dilaudid. She knew more about the inner parts of him than anyone and even though she was far more guarded than he, she was beginning to trust him with her own complicated parts of herself.
Whenever he heard or said something he found amusing that the team didn't understand – he wasn't disappointed anymore; he saved it up and shared it with Maeve that evening. It was the best part of his day to bring her some happiness.
But he didn't stop to think that it might all be over once his headaches had stopped and he no longer needed Maeve…medically. He still hadn't worked out how to best continue their relationship beyond this though he knew it would involve quite a lot of preparation and bravery to ask her.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt to wait a few more weeks – just to see if the headaches really were gone.
"They're giving me some trouble but it's not unbearable."
Reid felt slightly guilty at Maeve's disappointed sigh. They spoke briefly about different remedies and narcotic free pain relief options and Maeve said she was going to do some more research over the weekend about the unidentified cause.
The headaches didn't return but each time they spoke, he couldn't bring himself to risk cutting ties with her but still hadn't worked out how to express his feelings towards her.
Now, as he was brought back to reality, he was beginning to wonder how badly his selfishness had hurt her as he listened to her cry.
"Maeve, I'm sorry again, really. I can't really explain why I didn't…Don't cry. Please don't be upset."
"No, I'm not upset. I'm relieved," she sniffled with a chuckle. "I…I really thought there was something really bad happening with you that I couldn't find and it was stressing me out to think that…I'm just happy you're okay."
She seemed to have composed herself as Reid heard her brush her tears away with her sleeve against the receiver.
"Gosh, I'm sorry. I'm acting like the stereotypical naive, weepy, girlish, small-town intern from a drama show. I promise I'm an actual functioning medical professional sometimes. I've cut people open before. Without crying."
Reid sighed, relieved that she wasn't upset with him but still riddled with guilt.
"Wait - why didn't you just tell me they had stopped?" she asked curiously interrupting her own spiel on how not one of her sister's Jodi Picoult novels had made her cry as a testament to her professional stoicism.
Here it comes. He was stupid to think he could've gotten away with not having this conversation. Reid tried to think of the most shameless way out.
"I don't know. I guess I didn't want to bother you. In case it was a false alarm."
"Bother me?" Maeve repeated tersely in a tone he hadn't heard from her before. Out of all the opportunities to become frustrated – this was the one she had chosen. "We've been calling and talking about…medication and alternate therapies and…and you didn't think it necessary to tell me that the problem I've been trying tirelessly to solve for months has already been fixed for what? Weeks? Months? I researched all kind of witchcraft voodoo for you. You don't understand what that…I've never…I cheated on science – the love of my life – you let…"
"I know, Maeve," Reid agreed apologetically. "I know after everything you've done for me, I've been wasting your time and making you doubt your abilities and keeping you up all night doing all this research. I feel so…"
"That's why you think I'm upset?!" she said loudly, her tone taking on a slightly hysterical note and he could tell she had stood up now.
"Spencer. I don't care about that stuff. I have been kept up all night because I've been terrified out of my mind for you, Spence. I had no idea what was wrong with you and every time I tried to close my eyes I kept picturing some kind of horrible something swooping around your head like an ominous bat that I just couldn't find. Every minute of the day, I would be pacing around here waiting like a stupid teenager for you to call because I'd be so afraid that it would kill you or send you to hospital or you would get badly hurt at work and I would just be stuck here with no way of knowing what happened to you. Do you know what it would do to me if I lost you? Do you think I care so little for you that I would be bothered by you calling me? Like you're some kind of chore or inconvenience? I don't know what's more upsetting - that you think so little of me or so little of yourself." She took a much-needed pause for a drink before kicking off again. "More to the point, I have been dreaming about the time when you wouldn't be in pain anymore and we wouldn't have to start our conversations on such a bad-"
"Have-dinner-with-me," he blurted out barely tangible before he could stop himself.
"What?"
Reid scrunched his long, messy hair in one of his fists while he gripped the phone with the other and felt his heart hammering. He didn't mean to ask her so clumsily and during her rant about her frustrations with him, but he had realised while listening to her speak just how hopelessly head over heels he had become, and he was taken over by a rare bout of impulsivity.
"I...I would very much like to take you to dinner, Maeve."
She tutted and sighed like he had missed the point. "That's really kind of you but you don't have to do that, Spencer. Despite my temper tantrum, I'm so glad that you're better and it really was my pleasure to help. Selfishly so, it was a bit of distraction for me to work on so don't feel-"
"No," Reid said with a spark of determination and courage that became more short-lived the longer he spoke. "Not to say thank you - not that I'm not thankful for you. I am, irrevocably…but mainly, I would like to take you, I guess, as part of…the, you know, the social process where two people who…get along…meet socially for companionship, b-beyond the current…friendship, I suppose…or you know to see…to assess suitability for…p-potential…um, it doesn't have to be dinner. Any kind of social activity can, can work just fine."
Reid wondered if he'd had some kind of absent seizure as he butchered every word in one of most important sentences he thought he'd ever say.
Maeve finally answered him after her own attempts to piece together his flurry of words. "Are you…trying to ask me on a date?"
Reid let out a relieved and silly sigh. "Yes. Though, I'm not doing a very good job of it."
"No, not at all. But it was very enjoyable listening to you try."
He smiled. "You're being avoidant again."
Maeve sighed and he could hear her biting at her nails which indicated she was anxious.
Reid immediately backpedalled to attempt to salvage their friendship at least. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It was stupid, I don't know what I-"
"No, no, I want to," she said quickly, and Reid pressed the phone more closely to his ear to make sure he had heard her right. "I really do."
"But…?" he said sensing the hesitation in her voice.
She was silent for a few seconds besides her nervous chewing.
"Spence, I feel awful right now and I hope you don't get too upset with me although you would be rightful to. You have been so wonderfully open and honest with me and I really can't say how much that means to me but I…I really haven't been as honest and forthcoming back…"
"That's fine!" he said with a chuckle. "That's what this period is for. I know it's felt a bit unbalanced I mean you've seen my brain scans and my whole medical history and I would never have you feel like you needed to be as open…truly, I would be so happy with anything you wanted to start with."
"Oh, you're making this harder," she sounded distressed. "There's…there's a lot. You don't want to get involved in my life. It's…a mess right now. There's so much you don't know. If you did, you wouldn't ever-"
"I know enough about you to know how much I care for you," he said seriously. Never in a million years would he think the issue with their pursing a relationship would be Maeve not feeling good enough for him. "And messy? Maeve. You know everything about me. I have a basic grasp of social skills. My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I'm a recovering drug addict, I'm an insomniac and caffeine-dependent, my work hours are-"
"Spence, Spence," she stopped his torrent of self-flogging. "I know. We're both life-time members of the perpetually messed up baby geniuses club and that comes with…a lot of stuff. But it's a lot more than that…there's some stuff going on that's bad. Really bad. And I don't want you to be involved in it."
"Are you sick?" Reid quickly panicked as he pieced together some of the strange feelings he'd had over the course of their correspondence. She had trouble sleeping and didn't go outside or have people over. She moved around a lot and had been on an extended break from work. A hundred – no, a thousand – illnesses and diseases that could take her away from him flew across his mind and it felt like the surface had dropped from beneath him as he imagined watching helplessly as she deteriorated in front of him.
"No, no," she said quickly. "It's not that."
"You're not some kind of criminal on the run are you?" Reid joked and even though she was stressed he could detect the hint of a smile in her voice.
"Because if I were, I'm going to give up my felonious past to you," she scoffed.
"You never know. If it was a good enough reason, I might be on your side?"
"I didn't know the dodgy underbelly of genetic medicine would be of any interest to you, Agent Reid."
"So that's your 'dangerous life' then? Black market genetic research?"
"Of course not, silly," she said with a chuckle but then silence fell between them again.
"Maeve, I could talk in circles with you all night – and although I wouldn't have a problem with that, just tell me what it is. You won't scare me away."
"I'm worried about the opposite actually," she admitted quietly almost as if to herself before she took a deep, hesitant breath. "Okay, I have someone…I guess, following me."
"…following you?" he repeated in confusion.
"Okay, I guess it's a bit more serious than that," she sighed and paused thoughtfully. "Not long before we started talking, I started getting strange notes left at work from someone…I don't know who. Sometimes phone calls. Just heavy breathing and then he would hang up. At first, I didn't worry about it too much. I just thought it might have been some game between the interns. I was too little to engage in anything like that when I started out, but I know from movies they do weird stuff like that sometimes. Then it turned into emails and letters every day and they got…frustrated that I wasn't noticing them and angry I was ignoring their letters. I tried talking to my boss about it, but it was really hard. It's always been a struggle to get my coworkers to take me seriously because of my age but he's always been quite supportive and he lets me do my work. I thought he may be the best person to tell. You know I'm the only girl there so at first he dismissed it as, I don't know, admiration or a crush or something. I told him that they seemed quite angry and he thought it was just jealousy or resentment. Research can be a really toxic environment…"
Maeve had told him this before. She had been unprepared, at a very young age and with such innocent aspirations to help people, for the competitiveness and ruthlessness of the institution. He would always feel grateful for his own work family when she recounted some of the stories. He had no idea how someone could thrive in those kinds of conditions especially someone as kind and caring as her.
"…anyway I just stopped opening them or throwing them straight into the bin. It made things worse. Little things started happening. I slammed into a car because the breaks on my bike had been cut. The saline solution I was working with in the lab was replaced with some kind of acid. I had to go to hospital for chemical burns on my hands. He started sending messages to my personal email and home somehow. That's when they started becoming really bad."
"What did they say?" Reid urged, his heart thumping in panic. He could recite the book on this type of criminology and he already knew what comes next.
Maeve hesitated. "A lot of anger about me ignoring him. Not seeing him. Things like that."
"Maeve, please."
She took a shaky breath. "T-that I was going to see him. Finally notice him when he…that we're…we're going to die together. He'll kill me and then himself."
No.
Reid's mind was already running a million miles an hour. He had already come up with several viable options while she was talking. "Did you go to the police?"
"I did once," she said quietly. "My parents made me. I-I told them, well, I didn't tell them any details. They were going through a lot, but I, I just said that someone at work was giving me a hard time. Like it was high school stuff. They still pressed for me to go though. They took some of the letters and said they probably wouldn't be able to get anything but they'd try. B-but the next day…I really shouldn't be telling you this," she started to panic.
"No, Maeve, I'm right here," Reid said, desperate to keep her on the phone and to get as much information as he possible could. "It's going to be okay, just tell me what happened."
She was shaking uncontrollably now and he strained to hear her as clearly. "I had stayed at my parents house in-in my old room after…I felt something on my legs when I woke up. It was m-my parents dog. That wasn't really unusual – Murphy liked to…sometimes…" she was trying to talk through sobs and Reid felt completely powerless on the other side of the phone. He wanted to stop her words and soothe her and talk about nothing but books and science and poetry and nothing that causes her pain but at the same time he had to know everything. He had to stop this.
"My family don't even know – they just thought Murphy was getting old and…oh god, I don't know what to do if they found out. It was my fault! I knew he was angry and dangerous and I should have stayed away from my parents. I don't – I don't know how he broke in and no one heard him. He was in my bedroom while I was sleeping and I didn't hear…I didn't hear anything. He-he killed Murphy and left me a letter saying if I went to the police again he…he would make me watch my family…"
Maeve completely broke down at that point. Reid was filled with equal parts horror and rage and heartbreak. For the moment, though, he focused all his energy on her. He kept murmuring her name, soothing her through her tears. She eventually took a deep, shaky breath and started hiccupping. He would have found it endearing if he could feel anything other than anguish.
"Maeve, where are you?" he asked gently but seriously. He was already reaching for his keys. He had to go and get her and keep her safe while he fixed this.
"No," Maeve hiccupped. "No, Spence, you can't…you can't come near me. Especially you. No."
"Maeve, it's going to be okay. I won't tell anyone where you are. Please let me come and get you. I can keep you safe. I can…"
"It doesn't matter," she shook her head. "He knows where I am. He…he always does. It doesn't matter where I go. How many times I move or change my number. He's there…always. I just have to keep…keep going until he gives up. I've actually been handling it okay so far. It's…it's really not often as it used to be."
Reid was not reassured by her faint attempts at alleviating his worry. He felt nauseous and infuriated thinking about this faceless creep following Maeve wherever she went, standing over her while she slept, threatening her, fantasising about killing her, forcing her to be away from her work and her home and family. He was a profiler for goodness sake! Was he so wrapped up in his own selfish infatuation that he couldn't detect that something of this magnitude was happening to her? He couldn't believe that this beautiful girl who had fixed him and he had started to think of as a guardian angel was living alone in constant danger.
"Maeve…"
"It's okay, Spencer," Maeve tried to sound reassuring. "I know it's heavy and dramatic and just…too much. There's a lot…even without my stalker….there's so much stuff. I'm just so thankful that I got to know you at all and you wouldn't begin to know how much better you've made…everything. I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier – just talking to you means everything to me and I'm so sorry for wasting your time and just being generally a mess. You really deserve-"
"Maeve, no," Reid dismissed her absurd thought quickly. "Of course, I still want to be with you. And this, this is good. I can help you now. My team, we deal with this kind of thing all the time and we'll find him and-"
"No!" Maeve cut him off suddenly. "Spencer, I don't want you to get involved. If he ever found out about you…"
"We can handle it."
"No, I'm not letting you do that," she said seriously. "If-if we're going to make this work, you have to trust me to take care of it."
Reid exhaled in frustration at the thinly veiled ultimatum.
"Maeve, if anything happened to you-"
"I promise I will ask for help if I need it but you have to promise me you won't get involved until then. Please Spencer," she pleaded.
Reid's knuckles were white from gripping the phone too tightly. He was filled with uncharacteristic rage at this man for hurting Maeve and putting her through all this torment. She must be so lonely and scared all the time. His mind was in a battle with itself. He wanted nothing more than for her to be safe but she would only be with him if he didn't interfere. If he refused, she would probably cut off all contact with him to try to keep him safe and it would make the task even harder. He just needed more time to convince her to trust him…
"Okay," he murmured reluctantly. "But if he does anything-"
"You'll be the first to know," she said sincerely. "I promise."
They sat in silence for a minute before Reid cleared his throat.
"So, where does this leave us?"
Maeve sighed. "It'll be hard, Spence. We'll have to be careful. If we're going to do this, I'll get a prepaid sim card and change my number again. You'll have to be careful how you call. If he somehow finds my phone records, he'll see your number…"
"I'll use payphones," he suggested. "Work takes me all over the country so it'll never be the same one twice."
"Okay," Maeve said, her lightness returning. "I've got a post box at my post office under a fake name. We can send letters? I know a lot of people don't do it anymore but…I think its nice."
"That would be wonderful."
"We should probably use different names just in case.":
"This is like an Ian Fleming novel," Reid joked but immediately regretted it as she responded.
"You're right. It isn't okay. This is too much. This isn't normal-" she stressed.
"Maeve, Maeve," Reid sighed with an empty chuckle. "I was just joking. I'm not going anywhere. Why don't you pick my pseudonym?"
She thought for a moment and Reid could tell her eyes were scanning the books likely scattered in front of her. "Dr Joseph Bell?"
Reid laughed. "They're big shoes to fill."
"Do mine now."
There weren't any heroines, fictional or nonfictional that could possibly live up to Maeve in his eyes so he tried to think of someone she might like when his eyes landed on a Doctor Who DVD.
"Zoe Heriot."
Maeve chuckled softly earning a smile from Reid. He was glad she had stopped crying.
"One of the best companions, I think," he continued. "And a lot like you. She's incredibly young, she's a genius with a degree in pure mathematics, she's a librarian and astrophysicist and she has a photographic memory. Her intelligence is comparable to the Doctor himself."
"Not to mention she's completely useless in the real world and always getting into trouble because of it. A lot like me."
"We have that in common," he smiled. "Hopefully, one day we can work on it together."
"I hope so too." He was pleased to hear a little hopefulness in her voice though she sounded extremely tired.
The clock on his fireplace notified Reid that it was far later than he thought.
"Wow, look how long we've been talking."
There was a pause on the other end and Reid assumed Maeve was looking at the time in her own place.
"Oh my stars, I'm so sorry! You're probably exhausted from your case and I've been rambling on about my life story and devising secret plans like a 1920's private detective. And sleep is the most important thing for your headaches. Wow, I truly have no idea how I'm a doctor."
"Who's being silly now?" he teased lightly. "Are you going to be able to sleep okay?"
"I only nap here and there. I never feel safe sleeping for too long a time."
Reid sighed sadly and expressed his wish out loud. "I wish I could be there."
"Me too," Maeve admitted as equally sad. "But this is how it has to be…for now at least."
"I know that," he said. "I'm just happy I get to be with you in any way…even if it's like this."
"Me too," Maeve said again. They were silent for a couple of minutes, neither of them wanting to say goodbye but knowing they had to. He wandered into his bedroom and laid down with the phone still to his ear. He looked at the nightstand to his left and saw a book.
"Hey, do you have The Bell Jar?"
"Of course," she said. "It's here somewhere."
Reid heard her rummaging before making the cutest little victorious noise he'd ever heard.
"I have it!"
"Okay," Reid said. "Now take it into your bedroom."
"Alright." He heard the soft padding of her feet on carpet.
"Now get into bed."
"Dr Reid, we've only been dating for half an hour."
He chuckled. "Maeve."
"Sorry," she smiled and he heard her collapse onto pillows. "Alright, I'm here."
"Alright, why don't we both read it so even we're not together, we're doing the same thing."
Maeve whined. "That's not fair. You read so much faster than me."
"I'm much slower at recreational reading. I'll try and go even slower to keep up with you common folk."
"Very funny. What happened to intelligence comparable to the Doctor himself?"
Reid laughed. "So, lets read up to Chapter Four tonight and we can write about it tomorrow? I might be flying out so I don't know when I can call next…"
"That sounds nice. The smallest book club in the world."
"The best one though," he said fondly.
She gave a sleepy yawn. "Yeah."
"Maeve," he said gently but as seriously as he could. "Call me anytime tonight – or anytime really – if you need anything."
"I promise I will."
"Thank you," Reid said. "Thank you for telling me everything and…well, everything before and after that."
"Despite all the horrible stuff, I think this is my favourite conversation yet," Maeve said sleepily.
"Mine too," he told her.
"Goodnight, Spence."
"Goodnight, Maeve."
I hope this flashback of the beginning of Reid and Maeve's relationship works well with what people have imagined for themselves. I wrote it and posted a version of it a long time ago but I've tinkered around with it since to fit in with the idea of this AU story (and somehow made it even longer-sorry!). Please review if you like with any feedback or direction you would like to see should you be interested in continuing. Thanks again!