Chapter Sixteen
3 months later...
Derek wiped a beat of sweat off his brow and glanced across the small, dimly-lit room with a grin.
"You giving up already?" he panted, knowing his taunt would have the opposite effect on his sparring partner. True to form, Kristina bounced back with a vengeance, lightning fast punches flying left and right in a steady rhythm. The skilled hand-to-hand combat instructor blocked most of them with ease.
"Oh, is that all?" he quipped, holding up the foam targets covering his hands.
"I don't even need these."
"Derek, I swear to God..." she threatened under a mumbled breath, resuming her fighting position.
He couldn't help but laugh. She was highly competitive, and three months of experience told him she would probably spar with him all day if he let her.
"Ten more minutes, alright? I gotta shower before work."
She nodded, her hazel eyes growing darker as she motioned to the targets in his hands.
"Take off the pads, then."
He cocked his head to the side, studying her facial expressions for a brief moment.
"You sure?"
Kristina cracked a grin.
"What, are you scared?"
He chuckled, then conceded by dropping the pads to the mat.
"You're on, Twiggy. Ten minutes."
"If you last that long," she shot back, kicking the targets to the side and wiping the sweat off her face with her shirt sleeve before lunging toward him.
Derek was taken aback at first, falling to the mat when the full force of her body weight slammed into him. She had him pinned, but not for long- he rolled to the side and flipped her on her back, trapping her with both legs straddling her hips.
"Come again?" he grinned. Kristina had all but given up, grabbing the fabric of his shirt to pull herself up from the floor. She twisted in an attempt to free herself from his grasp, but he grabbed both of her arms by the wrist and pinned them above her head.
"Don't fight it...i'm bigger than you."
She finally relented, arms dramatically flopping to the floor when he loosened his grip.
"Help," she muttered feebly as he climbed off of her, "i've fallen and i can't get up."
He rolled his eyes and helped her up from the floor.
"So dramatic," he teased, grabbing a towel to pat himself dry.
Kristina reached for her water bottle and chugged half of it before replying.
"Yeah, well...you cheated."
"Did not!" he protested, flinging the towel in her direction as payback for her accusation.
"Hey, watch it," she warned him as she recoiled to dodge the sweaty towel, "i don't need your nasty all over me."
His eyebrows perked up and an impish grin spread across his face as she realized what she had said and her face scrunched up in frustration.
"Oh, whatever. Shut up."
"I didn't say anything," he shot back quickly. "See you at work?"
She pulled her gym over her shoulder and let out a deep breath.
"See you at work."
When Emily woke up, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will away the sunlight as she rolled away from the window, toward the center of the bed. Finding the other side empty, she buried her face into the pillow with a groan. She could hear Frank in the other room, and tried to use her mind-controlling powers to make him bring her a cup of coffee.
Frank popped into the bedroom moments later, with two cups of coffee in his hands and a piece of toast between his teeth. He carefully lowered himself on the mattress and Emily could feel his familiar weight return, so she propped herself up on her elbow with a sleepy grin.
"Morning," she greeted him sluggishly, squinting her eyes at the sunlight pouring through the window behind her. He handed her one of the coffee mugs and balanced the toast on his cup.
"Morning, Em. Sleep well?"
She took a sip of coffee and sat up to cross her legs before replying.
"So warm..."
He chuckled, wondering if she was talking about the steaming beverage or the fact that she had fallen asleep in his arms again last night. Their sleepovers were becoming more and more frequent and he was falling fast and hard for the beautiful woman before him.
"I would've gone to get breakfast, but you're wearing my shirt," he noted with a grin. Emily looked down at the large dark blue t-shirt she was wearing, then took another sip of coffee, holding down the mug to her lips as she replied with an impish smile.
"Oops."
He chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
"I don't mind."
Emily relaxed into his touch, leaning into his chest with both hands cupping the mug of coffee. They stayed like this for a few moments, until enough caffeine had surged through her system to realize that she had to leave for work in twenty minutes.
"Frank," she sighed regretfully, scooting off her side of the bed, "I have to go."
He nodded in understanding, responding as she disappeared into her closet.
"Do you want to come over to my place tonight? I could cook something," he paused, lips lifting into a smile as he added, "and I promise I won't burn everything this time."
He could hear her hearty muffled laughter from the inside of the closet as she responded.
"Sounds great... I should be back around seven, seven-thirty."
Emily poked her head out of the closet and tossed the dark blue shirt across the room toward him. He smiled as he caught it and pulled it over his head.
"It's a date."
Spencer swiveled in his desk chair absentmindedly, holding a warm hunter green teacup with both hands and eyeing the folder on his desk. It was a psychological consult in Dallas that requested BAU involvement. He, Hotch, and Rossi were flying to Dallas the next morning to give their opinions on the mental state of a man named Casey Langston who claimed to have no recollection of shooting a woman at point-blank range in front of at least a dozen witnesses. He had already read it, and memorized it, but something about that case really bothered him. It bothered Hotch too, and that's why the three of them were going to Dallas to see Langston in person.
"You ready for tomorrow, Doctor Reid?"
He looked up from his desk and smiled at the older, Italian man.
"Ready as I'll ever be."
"I still can't believe you're giving up coffee," he nodded incredulously toward the teacup, and Spencer brought the cup to his lips with a smile. After a few weeks of being in the BAU, Kristina had finally ripped the travel mug of coffee from his hands and handed him her cup of tea to drink instead. She told him it would help with the headaches and he knew, in theory, that it would. It was nearly impossible for him to quit coffee altogether, but Kristina Kent was nothing if not persistent. She made several cogent arguments and when those didn't work, she made even more convincing threats.
"Me either," he admitted.
"Kristina can be pretty convincing...or so i've heard," Rossi shot back with a devilish grin. Spencer set the tea down on his desk and lowered his voice.
"We're just friends, Rossi."
It was the truth. They had grown considerably close in her three months of being in the unit- in fact, he spent more of his free time with Kristina than he did with anyone else- but their relationship was more akin to intellectual soul mates than any sort of romantic spark between them. Their weekends were spent playing chess and discussing literature- he was delighted to discover she was quite a fan of 14th century poet Chaucer, and not just for The Canterbury Tales. The well-read agent revealed to him that she initially followed in her father's footsteps and majored in Literature in college, and even offered to share her small library with Spencer one night over white wine and take-out chicken tandoori.
She had only mentioned her sister once, in recalling a story from her childhood when her family traveled to Yosemite National Park over summer break. A fearful nine-year-old Kristina followed a brazen seven-year-old Bridget off the path, away from their parents, to the base of Yosemite Falls. Neither of them had anticipated the slippery rocks and the sheer force of the falls, and when Bridget fell she screeched for her sister to help her as the water soaked her to the bone. Kristina leaped into action, pulled Bridget up, and dragged her to safety. She joked that the Yosemite Falls incident was far from the last time she would have to bail her little sister out of a sticky situation.
Unbeknownst to her, Spencer had already heard a similar story from her parents. He wasn't necessarily keeping it a secret, but he wouldn't mind if Mr. and Mrs. Kent didn't divulge that he had been interviewing them for the past couple of months, talking about Kristina's childhood. He admired Professor Richard Kent and had even found himself veering wildly off-topic at the mention of 15th century literature during several phone calls. Still, he managed to paint a pretty accurate picture of Kristina Marie Kent's childhood. She was always eager to learn, and a fiercely protective big sister. She was naturally gifted, and strived for personal excellence in everything she did. Her mother added that she had always been stubborn, always determined to do things on her own. That much hadn't changed.
If Kristina knew what he had been doing behind her back, he was pretty sure she would be furious with him. He was not foolish enough to think that closure with Bridget's murder would bring her any sort of peace; he knew from experience, sometimes the truth hurt worse than the lie. But Spencer could see in her eyes, when the brunette mentioned her sister. He could he clarity in her hazel eyes, almost as though for a brief moment, Bridget was still alive. She deserved to look back fondly at her time with her sister, no matter how short the time was.
He couldn't get it out of his mind. It occupied every minute of his free time that wasn't spent with her. He could hardly sleep at night, which- coupled with his recent abandonment of his coffee habit and the sporadic, pulsing headaches- had wreaked havoc on his immune system. Hotch had noticed, though Reid tried desperately to hide it. The team's leader was able to limit his role in the field, assigning Spencer to tasks that required his attention at their makeshift headquarters during the case of the week. That's why the young doctor was surprised that Hotch had requested he join them on their consult in Dallas. He would never question the senior agent, but knew that he could expect a question or two regarding his new lifestyle habits.
"Hey Spence!"
Jennifer walked up behind him and rustled his hair playfully on her way through the bullpen. He offered a weak smile at the blonde agent.
"Morning, JJ."
"You ready for that consult?" She quizzed with a gleam in her eye. He rolled his eyes playfully, knowing she was teasing him about the amount of time he had spent at his desk reading over the case file.
"I think so."
JJ leaned against his desk, holding a hot mug of coffee that Spencer could smell from a mile away. When she realized the temptation she was causing for the younger agent, she winced.
"Sorry. But hey, you go have a blast in Dallas with mom and dad. We'll try to hold down the fort for you," she motioned at Derek, who had arrived and was grinning widely at the prospect of limited supervision at work for the rest of the week.
"Try not to burn the place down," Spencer retorted. Derek groaned.
"That was one time, man."
Kristina followed shortly after him, carrying a to-go cup of hot tea.
"What happened?"
"Morgan made popcorn for one of our movie nights and set the kitchen on fire," JJ replied quickly, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Accidentally set the kitchen on fire," he corrected her, "which wouldn't have happened if i wasn't distracted by you ladies re-enacting a scene from High School Musical."
JJ scoffed in mock offense.
"It was from Grease, thank you very much."
"Right," he chuckled, "a musical with characters who are in high school."
JJ cocked her head to the side, a challenging look in her eye as she replied.
"Morgan, don't make me smack you."
