Three Little Words Chapter 3: Healing, a criminal minds fanfic

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Three Little Words

Chapter Three: Healing

By Ann Parker

As Reid unlocked the door to Michelle's small two-story house in McLean, three things greeted him. One, Cooter's slight bark and then wagging tail once he identified the intruder. Two, the smell of Michelle's chicken cacciatore. Three, Michelle's voice singing along, quite horribly, to an Aerosmith song. A grin crept across his face as he petted Cooter on his head before making his way to her kitchen.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're tone deaf?" he teased, placing a kiss on her neck.

"Just about everyone I know. Doesn't stop me from singing, does it?" she quipped back, turning slightly to meet his lips. "What did you bring?" she asked when they parted.

"Cheesecake and strawberries," he replied, lifting the hand that was carrying the bag. She took it from him and walked over to her fridge.

"You're just trying to make me run an extra mile in the morning, aren't you?" she teased as she stuck her head in the fridge, putting away the dessert.

"There are other ways to burn calories," he offered, earning a chuckle from her.

When she emerged from the fridge, she pointed at the cupboard, "set the table, Dr. Reid. There will be time for that later." He grinned and did as he was told while she went back to making the salad he had interrupted. After he set out their plates, silverware, glasses, and napkins, he decided to wander into her living room.

He loved roaming her house and learning new things about her. She was still much of a mystery to him. Scanning her bookshelf, his eyes landed on a photograph of her with her parents. They were one of the few things he did know about. Michelle's father was a retired army General who still lived in Texas. Her mother had been an army nurse before marrying her father, and then retired to stay home to raise their only child. That was until she died from breast cancer when Michelle was 19. She was really close with both of them, adored them. Compared to his, it had been a normal childhood, even though it wasn't typical. Being an army brat, the only child, and a girl being raised on a military base led to an interesting childhood. That was partly why she was a third degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Her father wanted her to be able to take care of herself, which she was. He remembered when he, as did the rest of his team, learned about that.

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She was standing by her car, waiting for him at the bureau's airport strip, but was on the phone with her back to them when they deboarded. Her phone call, which he later found out was with her father, was keeping her attention so she didn't hear them approach. He was about to yell out her name when Morgan gestured for him to be quiet.

Morgan, thinking it would be funny, snuck up behind her and placed a hand on her arm, trying to scare her. Before he even had time to react, or the rest of the team for that matter, she had twisted his arm, kicked his feet out from under him, flattened him out on the ground, and had the heal of her shoe at his neck. For a man that taught hand-to-hand combat, it caught him completely off guard. It also shocked the hell out of the rest of them. Once she realized whom she had knocked on the ground, she removed her foot and offered him a hand as she hung up her phone.

"Garcia told you I could kick your ass, Morgan," she laughed.

"Apparently, he forgot that information," teased JJ.

"What the hell was that?" asked Morgan, dusting off his pants.

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She had proceeded to inform them of her martial arts training and Morgan left her alone after that. Reid had a great deal of fun telling Garcia about that incident, and Morgan was still being teased about it. It was little details like that that he loved to find out about her. He also knew why she joined the FBI, her favorite color, where she went to school…things like that. Yet he still felt like there was a large part of her life, namely from her mother's death to when they met in Dallas, that he didn't know a lot about.

He continued down the shelf, when his eyes landed on a white book he hadn't noticed before. He bent down to make out the gold lettering on the side – "Our Wedding." Reid furrowed his brow as he slid the album off the shelf. It looked too new to be her parents' album. He gently opened it to see Michelle staring back at him in a beautiful white dress. She was standing next to a tall, muscular man who was wearing an army uniform.

"Spencer," she started as she walked into the room. "Dinner is —" He looked up to see her eyes land on what he was holding. "—ready." He didn't know what to say; he was still trying to process what was in his hands. He could only watch as she bent down beside him and gently took the album from him, her fingers lightly grazing the man's face before she closed it and tucked it away. She sighed and met his eyes. "Well, I see you picked our dinner conversation tonight."

Guilt washed over him when he saw the pain in her eyes. He felt like he had inadvertently broken her trust. "I —" She placed a finger on his lips, stopping him.

"Don't. It's time I told you anyway," she replied. "Now, let's go eat before it gets cold or Cooter decides to steal it." He smiled faintly; glad to see she didn't appear to be mad at him. He followed her to the dining room and they began to eat. He waited for her to speak, unsure of what to say, what to do. Finally, after a few minutes, she did.

"David and I met in the tenth grade, we were high school sweethearts. Right before my mom had passed away, he had signed up for the Army. He was following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather. He was to head off to basic training shortly after she died. That led to a spur of the moment thing where we got married," she started, picking at her half eaten food. She stared at the plate, unable or unwilling to look him in the eyes. "We were happy for the first year and a half, even when we were apart. I had just gotten into the academy to start my training and we were planning on moving here when 9/11 happened. His unit got sent to Afghanistan so I ended up moving on my own. This," she gestured to the house, "was my father's wedding gift to help us out." She stood up and took her dishes into the kitchen. He followed her with his, but kept some distance between them, giving her space. He could already tell this story wasn't going to end happily.

"Combat changed him," she continued, leaning against the counter. "He came back in October of 2002 all on edge. He wouldn't even let me touch him half the time. He couldn't sleep. His temper was short; he yelled a lot."

Reid nodded, "PTSD."

She shook her head, "see that's what I thought too. But it was so much more than that." She ran her hands through her hair and when she spoke again, he could hardly hear her. "It was over a year before I found the drugs. I still don't know when or how or why he started using." She looked up, finally meeting his eyes. This was whom she was talking about back in Dallas. This was who was too far-gone. "I tried to get him help, help like you got for yourself, but he just pushed me away." She pushed off the counter and walked over to him. He watched as she fiddled with his tie, needing something to busy her hands with, as she finished. "One day while I was at the office, Wilson – who had only been my boss for a few months at this point – called me into his office. He told me that David's CO had just called. He had found David unconscious. He had overdosed. They couldn't revive him." A lone tear escaped from her eyes and he reached up and wiped it away, caressing her cheek. No wonder she wanted to be here to help him in his recovery. She hadn't been able – allowed – to help her late husband. The fact that she wanted anything to do with him because of the connection the two men had spoke volumes to him. Without a word, he pulled her to him, trying to hug the pain away. They stood there in silence, in the middle of her kitchen, for several minutes until she pulled out of the embrace and walked back over to the dishes.

"That was a little over three years ago," she stated, putting the dishes into her dishwasher. "I went back to my maiden name a few months afterwards. His father and grandfather were legends in the army so I was frequently reminded of him if I talked to any military personnel. I'd rather they think of my as father's daughter than as David's widow," she whispered. The slamming shut of the dishwasher's door almost made him jump. She turned back to him, "I'm healing, though. You're helping me heal."

He smiled slightly, "as you are for me." Closing the distance between them once more, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Cooter chose that moment to bark, startling them both.

"Yes, Cooter, you're helping me heal too," she stated, bending down to the dog and scratching him behind the ears. "My dad got me him shortly after the funeral when I refused to move back home. I convinced Wilson to let me train him as an attack dog so I could take him on assignment with me." She grabbed a milk bone from a jar on the counter and tossed it to the dog. "He's worked out pretty well, protecting me for all men except for this FBI profiler." She looked up at him and smiled, causing Reid to smile in return.

He wrapped his arms around her waist again, "I'm sorry for forcing you to talk about this."

She met his chocolate eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Don't be. You've opened up to me; it was time for me to fully open up to you." She pulled him down to her, into another kiss. "Now, enough with the past. I'd like to think about the future from now on. Like what we could be doing in just a few minutes." He smiled as she tugged on his tie, leading him out of the kitchen. He loved her ability to switch gears like that. It was one of the things that attracted him to her back in that hotel room, although he never thought that night would have led to this. Not that he was complaining.