And all of this life
Moves around you;
For all that you claim you're standing still,
You are moving too.
The chime of his doorbell forestalled what he might've said next, and when his head rose with an astonished snap, she was already gone. For good this time, he thought. The bell went again, more insistently, and he set the cup aside to go answer.
"Hello, my pretty young genius!" Garcia crowed through the small crack between door and jamb. "Open up and let us in!"
"Us?" he echoed blankly.
JJ's bright head appeared around Garcia's shoulder. "It's cold out here, Spence, and I'm hungry. Open up."
Wide-eyed, he closed the door to unhook the chain. Garcia and JJ. OK, he could handle them; they probably wouldn't stay long anyway.
"I brought take out from that Indian place you like," Garcia said as she plowed past him. "I hope I got enough for everyone."
"Everyone who?" he asked. They ignored him.
JJ offered him a smile and a Tupperware container. "I made cookies for Will's birthday, and I had a bunch left over. I thought you might like some."
Thoroughly nonplussed, he started to close the door behind them, but it was pushed open before he had the chance.
"I brought wine and soda," Prentiss said. "The soda's for you."
"Um…?"
"Hey, kid, what's up? Garcia told me we were havin' Indian food." Morgan stripped off his scarf and coat and hunted for a place to hang them. "Anything like a coat rack around here?"
"The, uh." He shook his head. "Just throw them on the couch, I guess."
"Reid," Rossi said with a nod as he followed Morgan through the door. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to borrow that book we were talking about last week. You remember the one."
"What…?"
Hotch's head popped through the open door. "Reid, good, you're home. I thought I'd return that movie you loaned me."
"That was six months ago, Hotch."
"Better late than never. Do I smell curry?" He rubbed his hands together and his olive eyes brightened in anticipation.
Reid watched his colleagues flood into his small, crowded apartment with a furrow of consternation across his brow. Garcia and JJ were busy in the kitchen gathering plates and utensils; Prentiss was pouring wine and soda for everyone; Rossi and Hotch were trying to figure out his book sorting system; and Morgan was plugging some contraption into his TV.
"A DVD player," he said in answer to Prentiss' questioning look. "I brought the Die Hard movies. I thought we could have a John McClane marathon."
"Die Hard," Garcia said with a wrinkled nose as she poked her head through the kitchen pass through. "I hate those. Too many explosions."
"That's what makes it art, Garcia."
"I could go for some Die Hard," Rossi said. "I can't find that book anyway."
"Jack's with Jessica," Hotch said. "Garcia, did you bring any lamb tikka masala?"
"But of course, my fearless leader. I also brought tandoori chicken, curried tofu, spice-rubbed—"
"Guys!" Reid cried.
The room went still. Six faces turned toward him.
"What are you all doing here?" he demanded.
Garcia smiled; carefully navigated the room and gave him a gentle pat on the cheek. "We came to see you, of course. We were worried."
"I'm fine. You didn't need—"
"Yeah, we did," Morgan said. "The case was weird for all of us, Reid, but we couldn't help but notice how it affected you."
"We thought it wouldn't be a bad idea if we spent some time together. Just as, you know, a family," JJ said with a gesture that encompassed the whole group.
He bit his lip; his eyes found the dead spider plant in the corner and stayed locked on it. "She never really was part of the family, was she?" he asked softly.
"She didn't try to be," Morgan said, an unexpected gentleness tingeing his voice.
"It was a bit different then," JJ said. "In her defense, things were different."
"She wasn't ready to come back," Reid said. "She shouldn't have come back yet. And then that case…."
"We couldn't make that decision for her, Reid," Hotch said. "She made her choice, then and later. These days I'd like to think we're there for each other, and something like that wouldn't happen again."
Prentiss put a cup of sweet, fizzy liquid in Reid's hand and offered him a small, sad smile. "We're here now," she said. "None of us have to be alone like that again."
He knew she wasn't talking about Elle, and he managed to meet her smile with a wavering one of his own. As though coming to a decision—or a realization—he knocked back the drink in a few swallows. "Morgan, unhook that thing; we're not watching Die Hard. Rossi, the book you want is in the third stack from the door, second one down; blue cover. Hotch, you returned that movie last month, remember? Garcia, um, after we eat, maybe you could show me how to steam milk on the espresso machine?"
She nodded, pigtails bobbing. "Sure, I—"
"I refuse to sit through any of this science nerd crap you've got around here, Reid, so unless you're hiding a stash of real movies somewhere…yippee-ki-yay," Morgan interrupted with a scowl.
Good-natured squabbling—interrupted by Rossi's exclamation as he found the book and then toppled the stack in his attempt to retrieve it—broke out in a homey, familiar cadence. Garcia tugged Reid toward the kitchen, fussing about the mess, and he found the he was smiling in spite of himself.
He paused on the way to the kitchen to nab the dead plant. Tossed it into the trashcan and felt a weight slide off him. With a relieved sigh, he stood straighter than he had in months. Elle was gone, and nothing was going to bring her back. Gideon, too. But the team—his family—was here, together, and life carried on.
The end, tada and all that. I told you this was a weird lil story, and I didn't lie. Thanks for reading, and thanks for all the lovely reviews!
Oh, and, you know, if you dug this, why not check out some of my other stuff? :D