Chapter 05

BAU Headquarters
Quantico, VA

"Any more kids missing?" Spencer asked as he came in the door.

They'd ended up setting up a separate work room for the missing girls case. It didn't have a catchy name yet, but it was only a matter of time. "Nope." Rossi said.

"So we've been stable at eight for five weeks."

"Yep. Eight young girls, all between the ages of eight and ten, all Caucasian, all from stable families with no major problems, all healthy, all with excellent grades, all athletic, and on and on and on. And all completely off the grid, no one can find them."

"Why?" Emily asked.

"No idea."

1653 Caton Pl.
Georgetown
Washington DC

It wasn't just that he couldn't believe that she had never seen an episode of Star Trek. Mythbusters he could understand, it was on cable and never sounded like it would appeal to a girl. Star Trek, though, that was everywhere. Spencer had been quite certain that everyone on the planet had seen at least one episode. But it wasn't just that he couldn't believe that she had never seen an episode of Star Trek. It was that it took him two months to figure that out.

Not that they were actually watching one now.

Her couch was big and overstuffed and easy to relax in, which made extensive necking sessions all the more comfortable. He could lean in and let her sink into the giant, soft arm and the pile of pillows and not have to worry about squishing her while he tasted her lips over and over, nibbled at her jaw, savored the taste of her throat and the little sounds she made when he found the nerves there. Sometimes an entire episode would slip by unwatched, and they would break for something icy to cool down, only to come back and end up doing it all over again.

This was a two-part episode. If it hadn't been, he might never have ruined everything.

It really wasn't the first time. He'd dated a couple of girls at CalTech, experimented a little, never quite managed to lost his virginity, but that would come in time. Just because he'd hit a dry spell when he moved to DC didn't mean he didn't have some kind of clue. He let his lips drift lower this time, tasted the warmth of her collarbone, the soft hollow of her throat, listened to her gentle murmur of pleasure as his hands glided over her torso. Only then, only when he honestly thought she was willing, enjoying as much as he was did he dare begin to unbutton her shirt, so he could slip his hand in and cup one perfect, lace covered breast as he stretched up to taste her lips again.

"Spencer." He heard her as if from very far away. Except she wasn't far away, but she was getting there as she held his hand, tugged it out of her clothing. "Don't."

Don't. He instantly stopped, slid his hand free. He'd never quite understood the phrase 'bucket of cold water' and how it related to sex before, but at this moment he understood quite well. He sat up as she started buttoning up her shirt again. "I'm sorry. I thought…"

"No. No, it's all right. It's not…you're fine. It's…you're fine."

An awkward silence ensued, while they pretended to watch the show while darting little glances at each other. This is pointless, he thought. Got too eager and now she'll never want to see me again. Might as well get it over with. "I should go."

"You don't have to." Her body language was as clear as his must have been. She was all pulled back into the corner, prim and stiff and straight and no longer comfortable at all. Regardless of what she was saying, he thought, she no longer wants me here.

"Yeah, I should. It's late, I have work tomorrow. I'll lock it. Don't get up." He got up and found his jacket and bag and let himself out the door. "Good night."

BAU Headquarters
Quantico, VA

"Man, you look like hell." Morgan looked up as Spencer came in, nursing a larger than usual coffee and looking like he hadn't slept. Or changed. Or much of anything other than stared at the ceiling all night long, cursing everything from the gendered society to his own personal Y chromosome. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Spencer threw himself into his chair and turned his attention to the stack of files on his desk. Nothing happened, he thought, except I pushed away the girl I happen to love because I couldn't keep my hormones in check, and I ended up being an ass. Nothing other than that.

"Right. Wanna try that again?" Spencer tried shooting Morgan the death stare but he managed to deflect it. "Don't tell me you broke up with Claire."

"I don't know for certain, but that's the most likely scenario." Spencer pulled out his phone and tried her old-fashioned land line again, but once again it was busy. It had been busy all morning long. She must have it off the hook, he thought as he glared at his cell. "Given that she's avoiding me."

"What happened?" Morgan settled into an empty chair, the better to attempt to pry the situation out of the kid, only to have JJ come out and call them in for a case. "Never mind, tell me on the plane."

While her computers chewed on the current plethora of information that the team was picking through Penelope Garcia had time to refill her coffee. And, when she got back and checked the caller ID, to answer her outside line as well. "Goddess of all things Romantic, how may I make your dreams come true today?" After all, getting Reid and Claire together was entirely her fault, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

"Hey Penny, have you seen Spencer this morning?"

"Not directly. Why, what's up lovey? You sound horrid." Garcia swore she could hear Claire drooping over the phone.

"Spencer and I kinda sorta had a fight last night. He was really upset when he left. It wasn't his fault, thought, I just wanted to find out if he had recovered enough to talk about it."

A fight? They did not have a fight. They did not fight. They discussed and debated and talked it through but in the three months they had been together she had not heard of one fight. And she would have, these things always came out at the stitch'n'bitch. Always. "Not a clue sweetie, they left for Oregon for a case an hour ago. But I will have him call you when he gets back, by then he's sure to be back to his usual nerdy self. In the mean time keep your chin up, this will work out. Good enough?"

"You really are a goddess, you know."

Garcia purred. "Yessss, I know."

1653 Caton Pl.
Georgetown
Washington DC

Spencer let the gate fall closed behind him and shuffled down toward the cottage. It had been a good case, enough to keep his mind off everything, and yet with a minimum of actual death. And the three days it took them to find the unsub had given him a chance to cool off. She wanted to see me, he thought as he headed for the cottage. She wanted to see me either to break up with me or to talk. I hope it's to talk, I really do. Maybe I can talk her out of breaking up with me.

He found Claire sitting on the rickety old porch swing, listening to the crickets and the traffic a block away in the warm and growing twilight. The greenery blocked the separate sound of the cars, she'd told him once, if you don't pay too much attention it rather sounds like the sea. She was sitting there with her legs tucked up under here, a mug of tea in her hands, clearly waiting for him. He dropped on to the far end of the swing and managed a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry."

"Spencer, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I tried to do something you didn't want to do. That was wrong of me."

"No, you didn't do anything I didn't want to do." She tipped her head and met her eyes. "I was having a very good time that night. I really was."

Okay, now he was confused. "Then why did you want me to stop?"

She looked down in to her tea mug. "Because I got scared. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize; I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know. I knew it wasn't you as soon as it happened."

He was missing a piece of this somewhere. "Then why did you get scared?"

She looked back into her tea and took a deep breath. "Remember that bad breakup I've talked about?" When he nodded she continued. "Well, I thought it was long enough to try everything again. Looks like I was wrong about some things at least."

"Oh." Oh. Of course. Idiot. "You know, one out of every six women and thirty-three men in the United States will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime." Statistics, the best way to clarity he'd found.

She blinked at this, nodded. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you're not the only one."

"Good to know."

"Also meaning it's not your fault and I will gladly wait until you're ready to try." He managed that almost smile again. "Unless you're breaking up with me because you're not ready, period."

"Breaking up with you?" She looked shocked at the idea. "I thought you would be breaking up with me."

"What?" It was his turn to be shocked. "No! Why?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Somehow we have managed to talk for months on end and never talked about what was important. I just confessed to having a pile of baggage big enough for my own cargo ship. I used to keep my therapist on speed dial for goodness sake. Are you sure you want to get involved with all that?"

"Yes." His answer was swift and sure and heartily meant. "Whatever it is we can dig through it together. Besides you, don't know the size of my pile."

"It cannot be anywhere near as big as mine. At all."

Now it was his turn to take a deep breath. "Okay, one thing. And not the big steamer trunk of a thing, the smaller, roll aboard thing." She nodded for him to continue. "I told you my mother was in a care home back in Las Vegas, remember." She nodded again. "Well, it's a hospital for...for the medically insane. She has schizophrenia."

"Oh." He could tell from the look on her face that she didn't understand why that was quite so much a big deal.

"Schizophrenia is genetic. If your mother has it you have a 40% chance of becoming schizophrenic yourself by the time you're forty. And I'm 28." He almost held her breath as he saw the understanding come in to her eyes.

She leaned down to meet his eyes again. "So what are you saying?"

"That there nearly a fifty-fifty chance that if this lasts you'll be visiting me in the asylum in about ten years or so." He listened to the crickets a long moment. "And that's not the steamer sized trunk either."

"Ah." She listened to the crickets herself a moment. "Well, if you do end up in the asylum I'll keep you in warm socks."

He chuckled. "It's not a joke."

"I was serious." She shoved him gently, "I want this to work, dammit. Even if only until one of us goes hopelessly insane. I'll take what I can get."

Spencer looked over at her. "Really?"

Claire smiled back. "Really."

"Did we just have a fight?"

"Not really, but I think we made up."

"Good." He leaned in, and kissed her.

"Good." She replied, and pulled him into her arms again.