He ended up getting a ride to the station from Rossi and getting an early start on the day. Considering how non-social Derek was with him, he really didn't want to ask him to drive him in. He looked at the photos once more, eyebrow raised.
"What is it, kid?" Rossi asked.
He took one of the images out of his case file, holding it out to him. "Yesterday, I thought our Roman numeral theory was a little far-fetched, but then I found this on the latest victim." He pointed to the stab wounds, five in fact, that spelled out 'XIV'. "The question is, how do we know the next target? It's not like we can warn every brunette woman in her mid-to-late twenties."
Rossi raised an eyebrow. "We definitely could. Have a press conference, tell everyone to remain vigilant, maybe even set a curfew. We've done it before, and this unsub only seems to take people in the middle of the night."
"The question is, would that stop him, or would it cause him to change his M.O.?"
"Unfortunately, kid, there's only one way to find out."
When the rest of the team arrived at the station, they sat around the table, coffees handy, trying to figure out the unsub's thought process. Spencer winced slightly as Hotch was talking, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Okay over there, Spence?" JJ asked, nudging his arm.
He nodded slightly, brushing it off as he saw Derek looking over at them. "It's just a little sore, I'm fine."
After Hotch and Prentiss had left to go talk to the victims' families, and Rossi and Derek were picking up the lunch orders, JJ turned to him. "What's going on?"
"Excuse me?"
"I heard from one of the officers that an agent chose to walk from the airport to the morgue, and was limping. I know Derek doesn't have a bad knee, so do you want to tell me what's really going on here?"
He chewed on his cheek. "JJ, it's nothing."
"It doesn't seem like nothing. You two are treating each other like complete strangers at work, and when you do come into contact with each other, you either blow each other off, or someone, usually Derek, makes a snide remark. What happened, did you two break up or something?"
An officer walked in, knocking on the door. "Sorry to interrupt. Agent Jareau, all the media outlets are here for the press conference."
She sighed, eyeing Spencer. "This isn't over."
"Okay?"
He watched as she walked out and leaned back in his seat, relieved.
Emily and Hotch walked into the room, Emily handing a folder to Spencer.
"What's this?" he asked, flipping through it.
"One, I asked the parents if there were any new relationships or friendships in their daughter's lives, and asked one victim's fiancé. It turns out that anybody they've come into contact with over the last year and a half is a suspect in their eyes, so I need your big old genius brain to read those physical descriptions, and hopefully compile something we can give to Garcia. And two, the second victim kept a diary, and she had tiny handwriting that would take a normal person hours upon hours to read."
He eyed the folder and looked up at her, knowing where she was going with this. "You still owe me for reading the journals in Tallahassee."
"Well, now I'll owe you double."
Rossi and Derek walked in a few minutes later, setting several bags on the table. Spencer kept his gaze on the journal, reading every single page and taking in its contents.
"Reid, food's here," Emily said, setting his tray in front of him.
He put up a finger, continuing to read through.
JJ came in, pulling off her jacket. "The press conference is done, there's a curfew for the women, and I warned them to remain alert of their surroundings. Did I miss anything?"
Hotch shook his head. "Sounds about right, what time is the curfew?"
"10:00 p.m." She sat down, grabbing her own tray. "Are we going to do anything?"
"Considering all the women were abducted within three blocks of their gyms, we're going to patrol. Dave, you take Prentiss. JJ, you come with me. Morgan, you go with Reid."
Spencer's eyes flickered up to look at Derek's facial expression. He quickly glanced over at Spencer, making brief eye contact, before nodding at Hotch and pushing his food around with his fork.
"I think I have something," Spencer started, flipping back several pages in the diary and skimming the folder for a certain page.
"Yeah," Emily said, swallowing her food, "a soggy tray of chicken caesar salad."
"Aside from that." He set the diary down, pushing it toward Hotch. "She talks about meeting someone at her gym, with baby blue eyes and light brown hair." He then turned his attention back to the folder, grabbing a page and putting it beside the book. "Our third victim's fiancé described the same type of man coming onto her when he was getting them a few drinks at the bar they went to. I know it's not much, but-"
"But it's a physical description that two of our three victims came into contact with, and gives us something to have Garcia research." He reached over, dialing Garcia's number.
"Oh for the love of God, please tell me you have something for me to do, I'm dying here."
Rossi smirked. "You've got it, kitten. I need you to research anybody in this area and the surrounding cities, age range 20's to mid-30's, light brown hair, baby blue eyes, and attractive."
"…So you want me to look at a bunch of beautiful men? I'm sorry, find me work," she joked, typing on her computer. "This could take me a while, but fret not, my doves, I will have this info to you as soon as I get it. Over and out!"
She hung up and Hotch looked over at Spencer. "Good work."
He nodded slightly, opening up his tray and picking up his fork, eating. "What time are we going to be patrolling tonight?"
"All the victims were abducted between the hours of 10:00 p.m. and midnight, so that timeframe. Then we'll go back to the hotel for a few hours to get some sleep and come back here at 8:00 a.m."
He sighed to himself, thinking of the hard, wooden floor of the hotel room he shared with Derek. He'd much rather spend several hours awake trying to get the unsub than deal with that discomfort and the awkward tension between them.
Spencer sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, watching out the window carefully. He and Derek still hadn't spoken a word to each other in well over a week. Derek didn't bring up his voicemails or text messages, but neither did he, because he knew Derek would know he went through his things. He had to admit, being stuck with Derek right now was the absolute last thing on a list of things he'd like to do, right after getting shot again. He chewed on his cheek, resting his chin in his hand and keeping his gaze outside. He wondered if the two of them could spend this entire stake out quiet, or if one of them, most likely him, would crack under the pressure.
He glanced over at the clock and saw that it was only 10:30 – the next hour and a half of his life was going to be agonizingly slow. He leaned back in his seat, sighing, looking at the streets that were practically empty. His mind was constantly nagging him to say something to Derek, anything at all that came to him. After opening his mouth to speak a few times, he came up with nothing. Defeated, he kept his gaze out the window until his phone started ringing. Reaching in his pocket, he took it out, answering, not checking the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"…Spencer? I'm sorry, Doctor Reid?"
Oh damnit. With his luck, the one person who could make this whole situation worse was on the other line. He chanced a look at Derek before biting his lip, looking around for a place to go. He saw a small opening in the park and put up his finger, closing the door and getting out, walking toward it. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. "Hi, Mason," he said, pacing back and forth, trying to keep his voice down.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing. Well, except the obvious way that I used you like a horrible, disgusting person would. I'm just… I'm on a case right now, and it's really not the best time to be talking. You really deserve an explanation and a story, and I promise, I'll give you a lengthy explanation as soon as I can."
"You really don't have to-"
He winced. Mason was more of a perfect person than he thought. "Yes, I do. I did something extremely stupid and it's not forgivable." Wiping his eyes, he chewed on his cheek. "Despite everything that happened, I'd still like to be friends, even though that's the last thing I deserve, considering."
Mason gave a deep sigh. "Is everything okay with Derek?"
Glancing over at the SUV, he shook his head. "Not by a longshot, and not for lack of effort on my part. It took you over a week to forgive me enough to give me a phone call, and I only knew you a few days. I've known him for eight years and he doesn't do so much as look in my general direction to notice me." He blinked back tears. "And I shouldn't be dumping this on you, I'm sorry. You deserve the sympathy, not me." When he was greeted with silence, he changed the subject. "Before I go, um, how did your dissertation go?"
"I'm emailing my professor every few hours asking about my grade, so I'm hoping his lack of response means he's grading. I'll let you go since you're working. Maybe we'll have some coffee when you get back?" Spencer stayed quiet and Mason laughed softly. "Just coffee this time."
"Yeah, we'll see." Swallowing, he cleared his throat. "I'll be in touch, I have to get back to work."
"Good luck."
"Yeah, thanks." He hung up, collecting himself. The one thing he didn't deserve from either of them was forgiveness, and Mason was more than willing to talk to him again. He only wished it had been this easy with Derek. He walked back to the SUV, getting in and closing the door, mumbling a sorry and keeping his gaze outside.
"Everything okay?"
He froze up, eyes widening. If it hadn't been just the two of them in the car, he'd swear those words came from somebody else. Derek's hands were gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, but those were the first words he'd spoken to him in over a week. For the first time in a long time, Spencer had no immediate answer.