Despite their short phone conversation after her arrival home, Reid had no contact with Riley over the next six days. Of course, he had no reason to. That didn't stop him from long moments, staring at his phone in hopes that she'd call him. Her schedule, though a bit more stable than his, was very full during the week. Not to mention, she had that parole hearing she was so worried about. Reid wanted desperately to call her, just to check if she were okay, that she didn't need anyone to unload her burden to… but he couldn't work up his nerve. Wednesday, sitting at his desk, he thought about making up an emotional, personal problem of his own and needed his therapist to unburden on, after all that's what she'd been assigned to do, but that thought was quickly diminished in his own mind.
No one, not one person, would condone this. Their consorting from Sunday's walk alone was enough to transfer Reid to another psychiatrist at the Bureau. The best thing to do was to finish the next seven weeks as professionally as possible, get done with this mandatory treatment, and get on with his life and career.
But he could hardly work with their weekly sessions. What was he going to do when the time came, when he'd never see her? Maybe here and there when the B.A.U. came in contact with another office or a victim she was assigned to, but that was it. She would still be his doctor and in charge of his case, for as long as they both worked for the F.B.I. What was he going to do after seven weeks? Tell her he was in love with her and then quit? Or ask her to quit? The farther he looked down this tunnel, the darker it got and the more veiled the answers appeared.
He thought better on his feet. Reid decided to take a long trip to the break room and grab some coffee. He wished it was unreasonably strong coffee… no one but one made it that strong.
"Yes," J.J.'s voice sounded on her cell phone. "Yes, I understand. As soon as your case arrives, I will review and determine if our unit's assistance should intervene." There was a pause as she came in to grab herself a cup of coffee, politely pushing past Reid. "I understand it's a pressing matter, sir. I apologize for the delay. Alright, thank you." She hung up, looking annoyed. "Why is it I just spent two hours on the phone with the Santa Ana Police after being up all night with a sick Henry and you look worse than I do?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Reid said. "You always look beautiful."
She stopped, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said quickly. "Why… why do you ask?"
"Because usually you spit off some useless trivia about child's illnesses or phone conversations or the importance of sleep. Are you okay?"
"It's not really useless trivia, J.J., it's information that, since it's not used on a regular, common knowledge basis, we tend to consider it…" he took a deep breath. "No, I'm not okay."
"What's going on? Is something wrong with your mom?"
"No, nothing like that." He shook his head, leaning on the counter top. "Can I confide in you?"
J.J. gave a look as if it were so obvious, he needn't even ask.
"Can we go to your office?"
"Sure," she said, leading him out the door and through the bull pen. Morgan and Emily, busy talking in the bull pen, looked over curiously, casting a look at J.J. She didn't reveal anything. Once safe inside her office, she closed the door and Reid took a seat.
"So what's going on?" She asked, sitting behind her desk. "Is this about your therapy? We all know you're not too happy about it."
"It's actually not so bad, but… yeah, this is about my therapy." He paused, taking a sip. "I think I'm in love with my therapist."
There is no exact response written for a statement like that. Reid stared at his cup for a second before looking up for J.J.'s reaction. She looked unsure about his words, like she didn't want to say the wrong thing and upset or insult him.
"Reid… um… well, you probably know more about Transference than I do, but-"
"J.J., it's not Transference." He interrupted, and his tone took her by surprise. So soft and relaxed, meaning he had thought this through himself. "I was falling for her before I even knew who she was."
"Wait." J.J. said, "If you knew Dr. Parker personally before this, then you need to be reassigned. You could get in trouble for this; you and Hotch and-"
"I saw her in the window just before my evaluation. About five weeks ago." He began, and dove into his story. It was the first time he had recounted it out loud, the first anyone had heard it before. He continued on through the last five weeks, from spitting on her carpet to dreaming about her on the plane.
However, he thought it best to leave out their last meeting. He wasn't sure how she'd react to that.
"Wow," J.J. said as he finished.
"Do you still think its Transference?" he asked, knowing full well the answer. "Because, J.J., I've been over and over this in my mind. And a part of me wants that to be the answer. I know… I know so deeply I cannot be in love with her… but I am. I've tried so hard to convince myself that it's not real. I've tried to fool myself into thinking it's just an attraction, it's an infatuation… but I can't. You know, when I first met her, it wasn't so bad and then she showed up here and she just had this… I don't know, there was something… it drove me crazy. I have never acted like this over a girl… I can't even make it make sense to myself." He pushed his hair out of his face in frustration. "Every day it gets worse. I can't sleep without dreaming about her, I can't be awake without thinking about her. Everything reminds me of her and I find myself living for Sunday afternoons. I don't know what to do, in seven weeks; it's going to get worse."
The silence sat in the room like an unwanted odor until J.J. responded with "I wish I could tell you what to do."
"Thank you," he replied. "I appreciate your listening. I wish I could talk to someone professional about this, like-"
"A therapist?" She joked.
Reid smiled. "No," he answered. "I'd probably just end up falling in love with that one, too."
After a moment, they were both laughing. Reid could hear Riley's laughter in his head; just another point that no matter what he did, she, somehow, was there to distract her.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, downing a bit more coffee.
"I wish there was some real advice I could give you. Just so you have an idea of what to do."
"I don't think it would help, anyway, J.J." he answered, standing up. "Mainly because… I don't know what I'm going to do. That's really what scares me."
About to leave, Reid opened the office door and heard, from behind him. "Reid, you're a smart kid. You don't want to do anything stupid. Promise me you'll think it through before you decide to take a big step with this."
Reid turned back to answer. "I will. And see, you knew what to say after all."
Leaving her with a smile, Reid went back to his desk.
…
Riley sat with the Fueller notes in her lap. Her legs were crossed and she sat in a slouched position, like she'd been there awhile. She had a consult with Dr. Andrews in a few minutes to discuss a few patients of his and after that, she had patients of her own all day. She knew she should be getting prepared, the trial was in less than a week, yet instead, like a teenager, she sat with her cell phone in hand, hoping against hope it would ring.
"He's not going to call you," Riley said to herself, hoping maybe the phone might prove her wrong. She didn't know if he was away this week or not, anyway. It didn't matter, the last thing he'd be thinking about was his the woman responsible for his redundant, pointless psychiatric treatment.
Yet, she couldn't stop thinking about last Sunday night. Riley had never felt anything like that, walking in Dr. Reid's… Spencer. Walking in Spencer's arms, protected from the cold.
Taking a deep breath, her eyes remained on the phone. She had almost kissed him. If had remained still for another moment, she would have. But that first snowflake distracted them both enough to take away the chance. Riley had to admit… she was grateful for it.
How would it look, a doctor kissing her patient? Spencer would have been horrified, for one thing. Kissing him on the cheek alone was enough cause for questioning. Spencer could be taken away from her, and Sunday afternoons were becoming the highlight of her week. No one like Spencer had ever come into her life before… she knew that. From the moment he spewed his coffee all over her carpet.
Riley looked at the stain and smiled; she still hadn't bothered to get the mess clean. Not that she was ever a tidy perfectionist – her bedroom alone would uphold that.
What happened on Sunday night could not happen again. They both could lose their jobs. Riley, more importantly, could lose her license. She had worked too long and hard to do that. No, this all had to end. What was she going to do in seven weeks anyway? Transfer to another department? Quit the F.B.I.? Her mother had given up a future for a man. Her mother ended up an alcoholic in an abusive relationship and Riley had been the one to pay the price. Riley would resent her mother for that for the rest of both their lives. She couldn't risk doing that to her children… or to Spencer.
"You're better than her, though," Riley said out loud, though she didn't believe a word. Her eyes turned back to her phone.
"Knock knock," Dr. Andrews said, opening her door. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
"No," she said. "Just getting ready for a trial. I need a distraction." She set the papers aside and stuck her phone deep into her bag where she wouldn't be distracted by it. "Are those the patients you need consults on?"
"Yes. Their teenagers, and you're much better with child psychology than I am." He pulled out the first subject. "Miriam Webster, age seventeen. She was assigned to me after her rape case for counseling in order to get her to testify. I thought I was making progress with her, but she's falling back into depression. Second and third are Yvonne Gilmore and Leslie Hamilton," He held up the other two files, "are connected cases. Yvonne is 20, Leslie is 19. Both were held captive for three weeks by two brothers, the last pair of victims. Yvonne was almost dead when they found her. Yvonne can't seem to be able to speak. I had her writing for awhile, but she's cut off contact completely. Leslie still seems to think she's only seven years old. She keeps 'throwing tantrums' and I can't get any information out of her."
Riley looked over the files, glad to have something to distract her from Spencer. But it wasn't working. The more she thought of them as distractions, the less she was able to concentrate on them.
"I can't tell you what it means to me that you're helping me. With everything," Dr. Andrews said. Riley looked over and could feel herself blushing. He was smiling at her. Riley had to admit, he was handsome.
"I still owe you for taking that one case from me, don't I?"
Riley shuffled in her seat uncomfortably. It was more she owed him for keeping Spencer in her life, for however brief a time. This is beyond inappropriate, this was becoming obsession. Spencer should lock her up for being a stalker. "You don't owe me a thing," she said.
"Please let me take you out to dinner." He insisted. "My treat, I'll take you anywhere you want to go."
Dr. Andrews was handsome. And he was kind, and Riley did enjoy his company. She did have a rule that she didn't date people she worked with… it was more of a guideline than a rule, normally, as she looked over him, she'd consider it. Possible even say this.
But he wasn't Spencer. This was so wrong, he was her patient. She was his doctor. She couldn't have a relationship with him. Yet, it didn't matter… Spencer was all she wanted. Other times, she would agree with If you can't be with the one you want, be with the one you're with, but not this time.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Andrews, but… I just don't date people I work with."
It was a good enough excuse. She did feel bad as he smiled, the disappointment evident, but he still seemed perfectly nice about the whole thing.
"I understand." He said, as before. "If that's what you want, I completely understand. I don't hold any grudges."
"I'm sorry. Thank you for understanding."
"You're too wonderful a woman to not be understanding."
She blushed, turning her attention to Miriam Webster.
