Chapter 09

Outside First Baptist Church
Washington DC

They sat in the car, waiting for the doors to open for the meeting. What little sleep Spencer had gotten had been a healing for his soul. Still, he was exhausted and he needed to do this today. He rolled his head over and looked at the girl in the driver's seat. "Going to tell me about the gun in the bed?"

"Not if I don't have to." She was a refreshing thing to see at this hour, in one of those cotton shirts she liked so much and butter soft jeans. She looked exactly as she ought and that comforted him, despite the questions that racked through his brain.

"If it's your ex, I'll protect you." I can do that, he thought, with pleasure and a great deal of relish.

She leaned over and kissed him lightly. "You can't you know."

"I'm FBI." He protested. "The badge is good for more than decoration."

"I know." She rested her head on his chest a moment. "Just give me some time."

"All right." He held her until the doors opened. "All right."

Needles & Pins Boutique
Georgetown
Washington DC

"Ok, I need a group opinion."

It was Wednesday night, the one night of the week that Spencer and Claire never saw each other. On Wednesday's Spencer bought groceries, did laundry, went to the movies, cleaned out his car, or whatever else he needed to do back at his apartment. Because Wednesday was Stitch'n'Bitch night at the shop and he had learned to stay far, far away.

Penelope Garcia, however, was a regular. Had been for years now, and now had even more reason not to stay away. Her babies were sticking together nicely, had been for six months already, and were so clearly in love that all she had to do now was sit and coo and enjoy the show. So when Claire stepped out of the back room and asked for an opinion she was the first to look up. A moment later the other women did too, and murmured their approval.

Claire was standing there in a classic little black dress, one that fit her like a literal glove, showing off the curves without a lot of flash. A pair of not too high heels completed the outfit. Penelope got up and took a look from every angle, admitting the effect with a near-professional eye. "What's the occasion?"

"The opera. Spencer got tickets to Tristan und Isolde at the Kennedy Center." Claire managed a nervous grin. "It's our first big dress-up date, I wanted to look special. How did I do?"

"Hmmm…Hair up I think." Penelope gather up the other woman's curls, holding them in a tidy mass at the back of her head, to the appreciative nods of the other women gathered, "Red lips, not too much on the eyes. Oh, and black underwear, the lacier the better."

"Penny!" Claire turned pink around the edges at the implication.

"It's been six months, you two have to end up in bed sometime. If this doesn't do it nothing will." She turned on her heel and looked at the collection of knitted samples that adorned the walls. "You're going to need a wrap of some kind, now we just have to pick which one."

The laughing, chattering women fanned out to look at the samples, while Claire went back to change.

The Kennedy Center for the Arts
Washington DC.

Spencer paced a little outside the doors, as he waited for Claire. He'd wanted to go pick her up, maybe borrow something better than his old Volvo for the occasion. It wasn't just that it would be the first time he saw her all dressed up, Garcia having warned him that she was going to be Something Else tonight. And it wasn't just that he was introducing her to a story he'd literally first learned at his Mother's knee, that had been an integral part of his childhood, that mattered. It wasn't just that.

It was so much more.

Unfortunately a case had run him right up to the last minute, and he'd ended up having to have her meet him there. And so he paced and he fidgeted and he fondled the small box in his pocket. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he was asking too much, but at least after today he'd be ready when the time was right.

"Spencer."

He turned and smiled and sighed at the sight of her. She was gorgeous in that dress, with her hair up in some complicated way. On one level he knew that make-up was supposed to enhance attractiveness by mimicking sexual arousal, making the eyes appear to have widened with desire, the cheeks to be flushed with emotion, the lips to have been fully and thoroughly kissed. But knowing it did nothing to lessen the effect. "Wow." He leaned down and tasted wax and perfume and under the lipstick he tasted her. "You look amazing tonight."

"Thank you." She took his arm and walked into the crowded lobby beside him, waited with a charmed smile while he made sure to do all the polite things, hold the door, present her ticket, get her a playbill.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come pick you up, we just landed an hour ago. I'm glad I made it back in time." He stood there beside the doors, watching her watch the crowd, the elegance around them. The she stopped looking, and he watched all the blood drain from her face, watched her go utterly still. "Claire?" He looked in the same direction, but only saw part of the crowd there. "What's wrong?"

"Spencer, I…I have to go." When she turned back to him her eyes were full of tears and her voice was a broken whisper. "Oh, I am so sorry, love. I am so sorry."

"Wait, what is it?" He watched her look over the lobby again, the tears not falling as she turned her back to the auditorium and looked out at the night. "What's going on?"

"I love you. Don't forget that. Ever." She laid one hand on his cheek and stretched up to kiss him. "Good bye." Then she was moving, fast and nimble through the crowds and out the door.

"Claire?" Spencer stood there for a stunned moment, and then was moving himself, following her out the door and down the steps. "Claire!" But she all but ran, swift and silent before him, up to the nearest cab that was just coming empty. By the time he reached the sidewalk she was gone.

What the hell? He pulled out his phone, calling the one person who might know what to do next. What the hell?

"Talk to me." Answered the familiar voice.

"Morgan, something's not right. Claire just left me."

"Now, hold on, start at the beginning. Where are you?"

"The Kennedy Center. I was taking her to the opera tonight. We got as far as the lobby when she freaked out or something. She just took off in a cab." He was already heading for his car, all thoughts of the opera gone from his head.

"Okay, what did she say?"

"Spencer, I…I have to go. Oh, I am so sorry, love. I am so sorry. I love you.. Don't forget that. Ever. Good bye." Eidetic memory. At least Morgan ought to be used to it by now.

"Okay, that's not dumping, that's running. Any idea what set her off?" Spencer could hear him moving in the background.

"She saw something or someone in the crowd. But I have no idea who."

"Maybe that ex of hers?"

"Maybe. But I can protect her, I told her so."

"Yea, well, sometimes it takes more than telling." Spencer heard a door closing on Morgan's side of the line. "If she's running she'll go home and throw a bag together. Get over there and stop her, I'll meet you there and maybe we can sort this out.'

"All right. Thank you."

"Told you I always got your back."

1653 Caton Pl.
Georgetown
Washington DC

He parked the old Volvo in the alley, noted that the other cars there were the same other cars that always were there. Got out, making sure his credentials were in his pocket and his revolver was out of the glove box and on his hip where it belonged.

She kept a gun under her pillow for a reason after all.

The night was quiet, his footsteps loud on the brick path, the cottage was dark and when he got to it, locked. He knocked. "Claire?" Maybe he beat her here. She'd given him keys just two weeks ago, now he fished them out of his pocket, opened the door. "Claire."

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

I didn't hear the gate close behind me, he thought, just as he heard footsteps on the path. Before he could draw his weapon a strong arm grabbed him from behind and pulled him back and down. And something stung him in the neck.

Then the blackness covered him.