Chapt 4: To Each His Dulcinea

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On his way into work his thoughts were preoccupied, not with the case but with the strange young woman living a flight down from him. The invitation was sweet but with the work schedule of the BAU he doubted he'd be able to find an acceptable time for both of them and even if he could she would probably have forgotten about it- if she even meant it.

All thoughts of the mystery woman left his head as he and the rest of the team gathered and work on the case sped into full swing.

It wasn't until they were on the plane returning to D.C. that Reid's thoughts had the time to return to his neighbor. He was still at odds with himself as to what, if anything, to do about her invite. On one hand, she was a virtual stranger and he never was good with people; on the other, well that was the problem, there really wasn't a logical other hand. But she was beautiful and more than a little intriguing. Maybe that was reason enough.

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Reid had been so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to notice the intensity with which his friend and mentor, Jason Gideon, was watching him. That changed when a small patch of turbulence jostled the plane.

Gideon didn't try to disguise the fact that he had been studying his young colleague. "You want to talk about it?" was all he said.

Reid's brow wrinkled as he brought his eyebrows together and pursed his lips, not sure whether to take him up on the talk or be mad at being found out.

"You don't have to, but you know I'm always here," Gideon added, knowing it would calm Reid.

When no answer was forthcoming Gideon turned his attention to his almost forgotten book.

After a few moments, Reid broke the mutual silence, "I met a girl the other night."

Gideon allowed himself a visible smirk, "What's she like?"

Reid half chuckled as he exhaled, a boyish smile covering his face as his cheeks flushed slightly, "I have no idea."

Answering Gideon's raised eyebrow, he told him about the surreal encounter and subsequent offer of dinner. When he'd finished his tale, he ran his long fingers through his hair and stared out the plane's tiny window, "You see my problem?"

Moving from the stoic pose he'd adopted while listening to Reid, Gideon leaned forward smiling a warm yet mischievous smile, "Actually, Spencer, I don't."

That comment caused Reid to snap his head back from the window to stare at his companion with wide eyes.

Seeming oblivious to Spencer's response, Gideon continued, "Though I would suggest you find out the name of your Dulcinea."

Reid tried to force a smile, an act he wasn't very good at- his cheek muscles went the right way, so did the center of his thin lips, but the corners of his mouth never seemed to co-operate, always showing his true confusion is such situations; odd since he could pull off so many other feelings and expressions when the need arose, Hotch could testify to that.

The two men sat in silence for the rest of the trip. One lost in a book, the other lost in thought.

'Your Dulcinea' the phrase echoed in Spencer's mind; he liked the sound of it and some of the connotations- the others he tried not to think about, let alone try to analyze.

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By the time Reid finally made it home it was Wednesday, not by much but still it was Wednesday. Dropping his satchel to the floor as he entered his apartment, he made his way to the bathroom for a hot shower. Then he planned to reacquaint himself with his bed.

That night he dreamt, but not his usual nightmares. He dreamed about 'Dulcinea' and those thoughts and ideas he avoided on the plane. Dulcinea, the beautiful nameless woman he'd met just 5 days before, who seemed to think of him as some kind of guardian. Dulcinea, Alonzo Quejana's image of virtue and femininity. It was this latter aspect that put him on edge, that brought unwanted questions into his sleep-clouded mind. It wasn't a comfortable comparison for someone with the issues he had in his immediate family.

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One flight below, Reid's Dulcinea was having dreams of her own. Scattered, fragmented dreams of carousels, playgrounds, eyes filled with hate, and a voice. A concerned soothing disembodied voice; a voice that helped keep the dreams bearable.