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A/n this one-shot takes place before Spencer joined the BAU. Please enjoy.

"What can I get you today, sweetie?

Dr. Spencer Reid jumped a little and flushed pink to his forehead when addressed by Lucinda, Ralph's best waitress. "Oh, ah, some coffee and the chicken fried lobster."

Lucinda shook her head, and her kind grey eyes studied him closely. "Honeypie," she said in a disapproving southern drawl, "you sure you want that today. You know you have a delicate stomach."

"Yes, I do, but I need it today."

"Alright, I can see something's bothering you. Can't deny my favorite customer his comfort food of choice; after all, this is Vegas."

"Thanks," Spencer murmured and went back to his book despite the noise that swam around him.

The diner, his favorite place to escape after another long day at school, and after visiting his mom, buzzed around him. It smelled of bacon, onions, fried foods, and baked goods. He could hear meat sizzling on the grill and someone chopping something on one of the old carving boards. He could almost taste the cherry pie displayed on a cut glass pedestal. An old-fashioned jukebox stood in the corner, and he sat in a booth with red upholstered seats, with black and white tiles under his feet. The lighting was bright enough to read by but soft enough to make the dining area appear friendly and comforting.

He looked out at the sunlight behind the glass of the large window to his left. It was a Sunday in early April. It was mid-afternoon, and there were few patrons in the dining room as it was after the lunch rush and an hour before the dinner crowd. It was the perfect time of day to be here, and yet Spencer had only his visit to his mother on his mind.

He turned his attention back to staring out of the window. Sunlight reflected off glass and steel around him and seemed to burn into his eyes like a laser. He blinked against the bright colors and the flashes of sunlight on the windshields of passing cars. His eyes stung, and after he wiped away a tear, he realized that a noisy motorcycle had thundered into the parking lot, the engine panting like a colossal cat come up from the bowels of the earth for the first time.

Spencer's eyes widened when the rider pulled off a helmet, and a waterfall of golden blond hair fell to the rider's shoulders. The woman wore a black leather jacket, a black tee-shirt, and tight black jeans. Her feet wore black boots, and she wore sunglasses that obscured her eyes. She walked with graceful confidence that instantly drew him in. She entered the building and removed her sunglasses, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. Her figure was curvy, she stood tall and reminded him of a picture in a book he'd read about the Valkyrie legend.

The host spoke to her and nodded. She approached the bar and sat on one of the stools. Spencer realized he was still staring at her and felt his face heat. She wasn't classically beautiful, but her tanned face had sharp angles, a long straight nose, and an expression that spoke of hard living. Her eyes had swept over him as any stranger's eyes moved over another. He couldn't see their color, but he supposed they were blue or green due to her blond hair.

He pushed his face back into the book he'd tried to read and began to eat. After several minutes he realized that someone approached the old jukebox to his left. He looked up, and it was the woman from the motorcycle. He couldn't stop watching her draw closer, and, yes, her eyes were as blue as the ocean on a clear day. She flicked her eyes over him, and he turned his head to stare out of the window while his face cooled. She was even more impressive up close, and he could smell the faint scent of lilac around her. He heard coins clatter into the jukebox, and buttons pushed. A familiar song began to play that he hadn't heard since he was a child.

Spencer could detect the woman in black swaying a little with the beat of the song as she stared at the menu of selections. He wanted to turn his head and look at her, but he controlled the urge and tried to go back to reading. He didn't realize that he was singing under his breath until Lucinda returned with his food and said. "Here's your lunch, honey."

"Thanks, Lucinda."

She reached over and patted his shoulder. "Don't inhale it; take your time. We're slow, and you can stay as long as you like."

Lucinda warmed his coffee a minute later, then left him alone with his food and his attempt to read. The taste of the chicken fried lobster took his mind off the woman in black for a few minutes, but he couldn't concentrate on his book because he kept thinking about his disastrous visit with his mother. She'd railed at him for having him committed until he couldn't take it and had fled with tears spilling over his cheeks and blinding him to the sunshine and color of the desert day. Why it bothered him so much that day was a mystery as she reacted to him that way more often than not, and he should be used to it by now. It was the last straw that day. He wondered if he could go back again.

Spencer closed his book and pushed it aside. He reached for the ticket Lucinda left for him, pulled out his wallet, and left her a generous tip before getting to his feet. His eyes swept the room and noticed that the woman in black was still there with a plate of food. Her back was to him, and he tried not to look at her as he walked across the dining room to pay the cashier, but his traitor eyes failed him. She was so intriguing, but she'd never notice, and if he tried to talk to her, she'd laugh at him or maybe smack him into oblivion. Why even think about it when he had more important things to worry about – like the directionless nature of his life?

The day outside was warm, not hot, but in a few weeks, he wouldn't be able to walk in the afternoon without a water bottle in his backpack. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hurried toward the nearest mass transit station, which was four blocks away. He tried to keep his head up and see the world around him, but he couldn't stop his mind from bouncing two ways, his mother and the woman in black from Ralph's. He'd walked three blocks when he heard the rumbling noise of a motorcycle behind him, and then it pulled alongside and stopped.

He looked over and saw the woman from the diner sitting on her idling machine and staring at him with a genuine smile on her face. She turned off the engine, and the resulting quiet startled him into stepping back from the curb. "Hello," she greeted.

"H-hi."

Why was he engaging in conversation with her? She might be dangerous.

"I saw you at the diner."

"Ah, y-yeah."

"I know you saw me."

"Yeah,"

God, why couldn't he say something intelligent? His face began to heat, and he glanced left as a couple strolled past them without looking their way. Why didn't he turn and walk away from this strange woman?

"Listen, I don't usually approach strange men, got to be careful these days, but I heard you singing that song."

"Excuse me."

"I didn't think anyone else recognized it. It's old school."

"My mother loved it," he exclaimed, then wished the concrete would open and swallow him whole. What woman wanted to hear about his mother at a first meeting?

"She has good taste."

"Yes."

"Look, I know this is going to sound – one step back from stalking, but would you like a ride?"

"Me," he squeaked.

"Yeah, you," she said and chuckled in a way that put up the hair on his arms and neck. "Despite what I said about being careful, I'm pretty good a reading people, and you seem – lost, like me and in need of a change. I'm taking off today, and I was going to go alone, but – would you like to ride with me and we'll see where the road takes us."

Spencer stared at her, thought about his mother, and the feelings he'd had for months about leaving it all behind and finding something other than school, his tiny apartment, and his mom's care.

"Yes," he said firmly.

He climbed on the back of the bike after taking the extra helmet she had in one of her saddlebags, and shyly put his arms around her waist as she started the engine. "Hold on," she said and hit the gas.

They sped toward the mountains, the high roads, and the plains. The roar of the engine drowned out his racing thoughts, and the subtle hint of perfume at the woman's neck hypnotized him as the wind raced past his face, and the sun beat down on his shoulders.

CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM

Spencer opened the door to the Sunrise Grill and led the man following him inside. They were silent until seated, and then he said. "I found this a month ago when I first arrived in DC."

Spencer watched his companion take in the burnished bronze lights that hung low over the booths, the dark wood paneling, and the forest green upholstered seats and the matching stools at the long counter.

"It's nice," said the dark-haired man with piercing eyes.

"Yeah, it is."

Once again, it was mid-afternoon, like that long ago Sunday in Las Vegas, but the shadows were long, the sky was pewter and white overhead. The warmth of the inside banished the chill of the wind. The delicious smells of grilling meat spoke to Spencer's appetite. His stomach rumbled as they waited.

They put in their orders and sipped coffee until his new acquaintance, said. "You were full of questions at the seminar, Spencer. I think if you're truly interested in profiling, I could put in a word for you. You certainly have an impressive list of credentials, and you seem to have a natural talent."

"How can you tell that from meeting me half an hour ago," Spencer wondered.

The man smiled at the young man, and Spencer nodded his head. "That was an unintelligent question, I suppose."

"I believe that you have gifts that shouldn't go to waste. What do you say?"

"I think I want to hear more before I answer you, Agent Gideon."

"Then tell me how you ended up in DC. I can see that you've been through something that has profoundly affected you."

Spencer decided not to ask again how Agent Gideon knew, and he wondered if one day he'd be able to read people so well.

"Yes, I have, " Spencer said, and his thoughts turned to Ariel, and how he'd told her after six months of riding the roads that he had to get on with his life. He remembered how she'd shrugged, dropped him off at this very café, and drove away.

"Have you ever done something on the spur of the moment and come to realize that while you were rash, that decision may have changed your life in ways you can't imagine."

Agent Gideon stared at him and slowly nodded. "More than once, my new young friend."

"That's how I came to be in DC."

"Then I won't ask for details until you're ready to share them."

Spencer nodded his thanks as their waiter brought their food. "So, tell me about profiling."

"How much time do you have," Gideon joked.

"I have nothing but time," Spencer said. "It's time for me to follow the road. I've begun to its inevitable end."

Gideon smiled as he sipped his coffee. "Where do you want to start?"

THE END