A.N. As always, thanks for the interest, follows, likes and especially your comments, which make this much more of an interesting dialogue than a prolonged monologue. Just emerging from an annual 'work crunch', so hoping the chapters will come a little more frequently from here. We're a week away from the end of filming, and an era.

Commencement

Chapter 7

Among the many things Spencer Reid pondered that night was the irony of the situation. Here they were, injured and isolated in the bowels of a collapsed building, possibly the targets of a serial killer, weakened by pain, and cold, and the lack of food and sleep….and the one thing that kept rising to prominence in his thoughts was the fact that he had just kissed a woman he'd loved for nearly fifteen years.

Just possibly, it's because she's still in my arms.

Despite his quip about being a genius, meant to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation, the two had lapsed into silence after their kiss, each lost in their own thoughts.

The awkward wonderfulness of the situation, thought Reid.

And JJ.

Not that it could or would lead to anything. Once upon a time, when they'd been new to each other, and relatively unencumbered, they'd been free to make a choice about whether they would form a relationship, and what form it might take. But then life, and circumstance, and timing, had intervened, and ultimately, the choice had been taken from them. Fate or karma or destiny ...or maybe just the happenstance of kindred souls...had allowed their bond to form, but abrogated their choice about the nature of it. And so, they had become deeply attached, in such a unique way that even Reid's expansive vocabulary couldn't quite describe it.

The kiss had done nothing to clarify what was between them, but nor had it caused confusion. It had simply confirmed something they'd both already known. That they loved each other, in the most complicated and complex ways, and were comfortable in the knowing. That, just maybe, there was an alternate life they'd not lived, yet not longed for, because what they did have between them was so affirming and precious and tender. Neither of them was about to do anything to change that now.

Which didn't mean they wouldn't treasure the memory, nor that they wouldn't revisit it, often. But they both recognized it as what it was, only moments later: a memory, added to all of those that had come before, part of that treasure they shared between them.

They lay together in silence, each reliving the moment, and very conscious of the proximity of the person with whom it had been shared. JJ pulled herself closer, resting her head on Reid's shoulder, while Reid tucked his jacket more tightly around them. When he was satisfied that he'd done his best, he leaned his head down to speak into her ear.

"Sleep," he whispered. "We're going to need our strength in a few hours. You worked hard today, and you need to rest."

She tilted her head up, her fatigue evident in her eyes, and in the fact that she didn't fight him on it.

"We'll take turns. Wake me in an hour, okay?"

"Okay."

Pushing her head down again, cradling it against him, with absolutely no intention of waking her until they had enough light to start making their way out. He smiled to himself when he felt the heaviness of sleep overcome her, pushing her more deeply against him. In the quiet that followed, he reined in his memory, and took stock of their situation once again.

At least the exchange of body heat was keeping each of them half warm. And they were hydrated. There was that.

But we're going to need to get out of here tomorrow. We're both going to need our strength, and I haven't even tested mine yet.

But he had tested his endurance. He'd been truthful with JJ when he'd told her he had no residual pain from the beams having fallen on his chest and leg.

Then. But not now.

He was familiar with the physiology. While nothing had been broken, or so he was assuming, the soft tissues of his chest and thigh had been crushed under the pressure of the heavy beams. Once the pressure had been relieved, it had been possible for the tissues to react to their injury. Damaged blood vessels had leaked their contents, damaged muscle had released its contents, and the healing process had begun, bringing along with it a great excess of fluids. He could feel the ache in both traumatized sites, and was certain there was significant swelling in both places. Ironically, he was less worried about his chest than he was about his leg, because it would be the leg that would be both gravitationally dependent, and forced to bear weight, interfering with healing.

But there's nothing to be done about it, unless I can rig some sort of crutch. I hope she was right about that one piece of debris being the right length. And then I have to hope it can hold my weight.

Once again he tried to envision what he presumed to be the layout of the building, and where they might be within it. He had a vague sense of direction based on what he could remember of the location of the sunset, but he was having trouble recalling where the parking lot, and their vehicle, might be in relation to it. Which thought made him wonder if he still had the keys in his pocket, and become irritated that he'd not thought about it before.

Maybe my concussion was worse than I thought. Or maybe…

Maybe it had been his struggle to oxygenate his blood, with the beam lying on his chest. JJ had told him about the duskiness of his lips and her fright that he hadn't been effectively exchanging air. Neither of them had a sense of how long they'd been out. They only knew that he'd been out longer, and with ill effect.

He had to hope that JJ might be able to help him orient them, before they chose a direction to move. The distance was probably not all that far, but with their injuries, and with the piles of debris between them and freedom, the distance wouldn't matter. The hardship would.

Deciding that he might at least be able to answer one question, Reid slid his arm from JJ and down toward the pocket of his trousers. He slid his hand inside, and was alarmed when he couldn't feel the familiar metal texture and shape of their vehicle key.

Maybe it's in my other pocket.

Which he couldn't reach without rousing JJ, so it would have to wait.

Thwarted, Reid leaned his head back against the debris. He was exhausted, hungry, aching, worried, frustrated, torn, in turmoil. This was to have been his last night working as a member of the BAU. He was facing the ending of his work relationships with people who had become his friends, the ending of work that had given his life definition for fifteen years, the majority of his adulthood. And all of that, only if they managed to find their way out of this mess relatively intact.

They. He and JJ. His best friend. Whom he had just kissed.

Reid's mind presented him with a cacophony of images, and recalled conversations, and cases, and shared meals, and laughter, and tears. And a kiss.

And, just possibly, an unsub, lying in wait for them.

Despite his promise to JJ, and weakened by his injuries, Reid's thoughts brought him to a breaking point. He succumbed to his exhaustion, and fell asleep.

The sun was up before either of the profilers.

JJ stirred first, her eyes gradually blinking open. It took her a moment to realize that the body warming hers wasn't that of her husband, even while she felt the comfort and familiarity of it. She tilted her head upward and called to him, in a loud whisper.

"Spence….Spence!"

Waiting, calling again, and then, finally, shaking him a little.

"Spence!"

It was the movement that did it. Reid stirred, and then startled.

"Wha…"

"Wake up! We both fell asleep."

She could tell by the look on his face that his brain was undergoing the same process of orientation that hers had. And she could tell the moment he realized, all over again, their plight.

"Oh." His head falling back.

JJ pushed off and sat beside him, taking inventory. He'd accumulated a small amount of fresh blood on his thigh, but his color was good, and he seemed to be breathing easily enough.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. You?"

She chuckled. "You don't exactly look 'fine', but I'll settle for not feeling worse than you did yesterday."

His grin was sheepish. "All right, not exactly 'fine'. My head hurts, but my leg is pretty numb, mostly from the cold, I think."

"Your leg is bleeding again. Did you see?" Drawing his attention there.

"Hmm. Maybe the belt loosened. Doesn't look like much, anyway."

Hoping his words would assure her, although he was a bit alarmed that the wound would still be bleeding at all, nearly a day after he'd incurred it.

I probably damaged a big vessel, which means it might bleed again, when I put weight on it.

Which also meant that he would definitely need to rig something to use as a crutch.

"Where did you see that piece of …..what was it? The thing you thought I could use to lean on."

JJ had to look around, initially frustrated at not remembering, then relieved to spot it again.

"There." She pointed. "It looks like a metal support of some kind. I'll go and get it."

She started to rise, but was stopped by his hand on her shoulder. "Wait."

"What?"

"You never answered my question. How are you feeling? How are your hands?"

JJ tried to shrug him off. "I probably have the same headache you have. And my hands are f.."

Her voice cutting off, as she held her palms out between them, and actually looked at them for the first time since wakening. Her makeshift bandages were largely hanging away from the cuts, which now looked angry, the tissue around them also red, and beginning to swell."

"I… I thought they just hurt because they were cut. I never even looked at them."

Reid was concerned. "Let me see your wrist." Reaching out and taking her hand and arm, turning them over for his inspection. As he studied her, JJ studied him, and saw something cloud his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. We should rinse these in some water, and bandage them again."

"Spence, what do you see? I'm a profiler, remember? I know you see something." Apprehension in her tone.

Called out on it, there was nothing he could do but tell her.

"There's a little streak going up from your hand to your forearm, just…here." Turning her wrist. "Do you see it?"

She nodded. "What does it mean?"

"It means that your cuts are infected, and the infection is spreading."

She was alarmed now. "Is it dangerous?"

He tried to assure, despite being alarmed himself. "It will be okay once we get out of here, and get you on some antibiotics."

She took it in, spent a moment galvanizing herself, and then rose with determination.

"Then let's get out of here."