a/n: Thank you for the kind and wonderful reviews! They make me do a happy dance. :)

This chapter is obviously entirely flashback, and I've provided dates for your reading convenience. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Before

It reminds me of the feeling where
I first looked into your eyes:
Saw the most beautiful birds
Fly straight into the sun
With their wings on fire,
And the deed was done.
-Bob Schneider, "Changing My Mind"

August 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid rarely left the safety of his Columbia University lab. He would live there if he could. His excuse was the importance of his work - they were doing very exciting things with using stem cells to treat mental illnesses, including schizophrenia - but he knew, as important as his work was, it was just an excuse.

In his lab it was quiet. He was alone except for rotating lab assistants and grad students, and they all knew his penchant for solitude and let him be. In his lab he could concentrate on tests and slides and Petri dishes. He didn't have to worry about whether his shoes matched his belt (he preferred sneakers anyway) or if his tendency to spout statistics in lieu of real conversation was boring someone.

But tonight he found himself away from the lab. David Rossi, one of Spencer's favorite fiction authors, was speaking at Columbia. He was doing a reading from his latest book with a lecture and book signing to follow. So it was that Spencer clutched his hardback copy of Lessons Learned and made the trek from his safe, comfortable lab to the buzzing, crowded lecture hall with a mixture of excitement and trepidation filling him.

He was quite early, and it didn't take him long to find a good seat. The stage was set with a chair; a small table holding a bottle of water and the book; and a mic stand. Spencer hadn't been seated long when a beautiful blond, maybe a year or two older than the young scientist, strode across the stage to check the table. She opened the water and pocketed the cap. A small frown created a crease between delicately drawn brows. She flipped open the book and marked a place. Her hair was like sunshine and silk, and Spencer found himself imagining that she smelled of fresh air and wildflowers.

He couldn't take his eyes off her slim figure, her graceful, businesslike movements. It seemed as though all the air had been sucked from the room, and all the noise and busyness had disappeared. Spencer Reid, boy genius, was spellbound.

October 2007

"Why don't you call me 'J.J.'?" she asked him as they sat down to dinner at Bubby's, a spot they'd quickly discovered they both loved.

His face scrunched. "I like your name. Did you know 'Jennifer' is the Cornish version of the name 'Guenevere'? Though, actually, 'Guenevere' is just the Norman French version of the Welsh 'Gwynhevar'."

"Really. Didn't she cheat on her husband with Sir Lancelot?"

He smiled, his hazel eyes lighting endearingly. "In later versions of the myth, mostly those created post-Christianity. In the earlier versions, she was a queen in her own right, and Arthur only attained his kingship through their marriage. She was worshipped as a symbol of fertility."

A fine brow rose. "Fertility, hmm? Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

He looked down; fiddled with his fork; blushed. "I just meant..." He looked up at her, meeting her dark blue gaze with shy hesitation. "Your name is beautiful, Jennifer. Like you."

Now it was her turn to blush. Spencer Reid was an odd character; quite a departure from the men she usually dated. She had been called beautiful before, in a variety of ways by a variety of men, but somehow coming from him it seemed...different. More sincere. She watched him across the table, enjoying the way he fidgeted, the way he looked so serious and intent. When he smiled it transformed his pensive face, and she delighted in the brightness it lent his finely-drawn features.

The silence was stretching, on the verge of becoming uncomfortable. J.J. cleared her throat; her lips lifted at the corners. "Thank you, Spence. That's sweet."

His mouth quirked. "No one's ever called me 'Spence' before."

"I'm glad I could be the first," she told him quietly.

"Me too," he murmured.

January 2008

"What's this?" he asked as she handed him the small, brightly wrapped package.

"A birthday present, silly; what does it look like? Open it." Her dark blue eyes were dancing with glee, and her lovely face was illuminated by a smile she was trying to fight.

He stared at the little box in consternation. "Jen, you didn't have to—"

"Don't be absurd. Of course I did. Now are you going to open it or stare at it? Can I start listing x-ray vision among your many attributes when I brag to my friends about you?"

He blinked at her. "You brag about me?"

Her laugh was like sugar, and it poured over him in a sweet, sparkling rain. "Of course I do! You're successful, literally a genius, and absolutely adorable. What woman wouldn't brag?"

Momentarily overcome, he just gaped at her. The only woman who'd ever bragged about him was his mother. He set the box on a nearby table with all the care and gentleness of a man handling a newborn baby and reached for her. His elegant, long-fingered hands captured her face, and he stared intently into the sea of her eyes.

"Spence, what is it?" she asked, concerned by his expression.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said quietly before his lips met hers for several long, intense heartbeats. He pulled away, grinning, and grabbed the box again. "Any hints?" he asked her.

A little breathless from the heat of his kiss, she merely shook her head. "Just open it," she laughed.

He carefully removed the paper and slid the lid off. Inside were two tickets. For a moment he thought they might be for some sporting event, but then he read the printing more carefully. "A Stephen Hawking lecture?!" he cried. "Jen, you know how I feel about Hawking's A Brief History of Time. He completely—"

She held up a hand. "I know, Spence. That's why I bought them. Now you can debate the issue with the man himself. His publisher is a client of mine; you're going to have a chance to meet Stephen Hawking."

"You...meet...what?" he stuttered, at a total loss for coherent words.

"You're welcome," she replied, grinning brilliantly.

Awed, he glanced from the woman to the tickets and back again. "Jen," he breathed, "I really do love you."

The words stopped her heart. She reached out, ran her fingers through his short curls. "Mean it?" She tried to keep her tone light, but she was sure he heard the tremor in her voice.

His eyes went soft, and his mouth curled into one of those brilliant smiles she adored. "I do," he said simply.

September 2008

She stared down at the read-out on the little stick in utter disbelief. They'd always been safe. She'd skipped her Pill maybe...twice...the entire time they'd been together, and they'd always used backup. Spence had told her once he was unsure he ever wanted kids; between his mother's schizophrenia and his own borderline autism, he felt like, genetically, he would be playing Russian roulette bringing a child into the world.

As for J.J., she was simply too busy. Her career was taking off. She'd recently landed a huge promotion at work, and now she had more high-profile clients than ever. She didn't have time for morning sickness or swollen ankles or...dirty diapers. She definitely didn't have time for maternity leave. A baby wasn't something she was looking for at the moment. It wasn't something she wanted.

She looked up at her own shell-shocked reflection in the bathroom mirror. The face that stared back at her was practically unrecognizable. Dark circles surrounded her blue eyes. Her skin was sallow, her lips cracked. She looked like a crazy woman.

And what she'd thought was the flu had turned out to be much more serious.

She pressed a small hand to her still-flat belly. "Oh, baby," she whispered, "what the hell is your daddy gonna say about this?"

January 2009

She sniffled; wiped her eyes; blew her nose. Damn hormones. She cried at the drop of a hat these days. Feeling annoyed with herself, she threw page six aside with a frustrated huff. Normally the wedding announcements were something she enjoyed, but lately...

It wasn't that she was dying to get married. Just the opposite. She was happy with the relationship she and Spence had. They were both excited about the baby. Though he'd been unsure at first, Spence had recently started buying adorable little presents; they'd decorated the nursery; picked out a name. They didn't need to get married, no matter what her mother said.

Exasperated, tired of hearing her mother's voice in her head, J.J. drummed her fingertips against the desktop. Popped two Tums to combat post-lunch, baby-induced heartburn. Rose to pace her carefully appointed office with its dazzling view of the city. She was on the verge of going stir crazy when a timely buzz on the intercom saved her.

"Yes, Candice?" she asked, trying to mask the relief in her voice.

"David Rossi is here to see you, J.J.," the assistant said. "He doesn't have an appointment."

"Send him in," she instructed. "And bring some coffee, please."

"Already brewing. You're having herbal tea."

J.J. ground her teeth. "Yes, ma'am," she replied in a voice laced heavily with irony. She clicked the intercom off just as David Rossi burst into her office without knocking.

"I'm having an existential crisis, J.J. Writer's block is destroying me, and I need to talk it through," he declared melodramatically.

She restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "Writer's block is hardly an existential crisis, Dave. Don't you have an editor to help you with these things?"

He eyed her. "My editor bores me," he replied loftily. He couldn't help but notice the red splotches on her pale face, or how swollen her eyes were. "What's wrong, J.J.?"

"Um. I'm busy and you don't have an appointment?"

He waved that away. "Since when do I need an appointment? I'm serious; you've been crying."

"You didn't knock, Dave. We've talked about that."

He turned to the door with an expression of utter incomprehension, as though he were just now noticing its existence. He blinked, but then captured her with his piercing gaze once more. "You're avoiding the question. We can do this all day; you have someplace to be, but I don't."

Her face creased in a frown. He wouldn't let it go, she knew, so with a resigned sigh she tried to come up with the right words. "I feel...lost," she decided at last.

"About the baby?"

She hesitated, considered. "Yes. No. I don't know. Dave, do you think I'll make a good mother?" It wasn't what she'd meant to say, but the words left her in a rush before she could stop them.

"Yes," he replied simply. "You'll be amazing." He stepped closer, resting his hands on her shoulders. "J.J., listen. What you're feeling is perfectly natural. My ex was the same way; she worried constantly. She must've called her mother twenty times a day."

"Really?" she asked, a glimmer of hope dawning in her stormy eyes. "I thought I was being completely neurotic."

"You are, but it's natural neurosis."

"That's not funny," she replied crossly.

"It is, a little."

"Hhmm."

The silence began easily enough, but as moments passed it grew watchful, tense. She gradually became aware of the warmth of his hands seeping through her blouse and into her skin. The air seemed charged, like static. She looked up into his intense dark eyes, but before she could form a coherent thought, his mouth was on hers.

His lips were confident, firm, but not demanding; surprisingly soft and gentle. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, and she instinctively leaned into his touch. She felt an electric current hum over her skin, and in some dim, clouded part of her mind she realized this was how he landed three wives despite his womanizing reputation.

They never knew how far things might have gone, because just as the kiss became deeper, darker, more intense, a knock on the door shattered the moment. J.J. pulled away, horror and shame flooding her in equal, scalding measures. "Oh God," she whispered, pressing a small hand against his chest to ward him off.

He felt suddenly clumsy, like an idiot kid on his first date. "J.J., I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Don't, Dave. Please. Let's just forget about it. It was a foolish mistake." She hesitated, unsure. "I should go," she managed. "I need to pick up Spence; we're going away for the weekend. I hope you work through your writer's block." She grabbed her purse and coat and hurried from the office, blowing past her surprised assistant without a word.

Once in the safety of her car, she pressed shaking hands against her face and tried to think about Spence, only Spence. She loved him. They were having a baby. He made her happy. She'd been feeling vulnerable, hormonal, and upset; one kiss meant nothing. Just a mistake, like she'd said.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, J.J. carefully backed her car out of the parking spot. She saw the truck before she turned out onto the street, but neither she nor the other driver saw the slick, deadly sheet of black ice coating the road between them. The truck hit it, slid, and J.J. watched in slow-motion terror as the lumbering, heavy vehicle careened toward her car.

I've suddenly opened the floodgates on this one. Maybe now that "Reckoning" is done I actually have leftover brain capacity for something else. :)

Let me know how you're enjoying it with a review, kind readers!