a/n: Finally an update to poor, beleaguered "Still Right Here." Thanks for hangin' in there, loyal readers! I hope you feel that your patience has been rewarded. :)
Thank you all so much for your lovely, wonderful reviews for the last chapter! I feel like this story is the red-headed stepchild of my on-going works, and an infusion of love like that is just what it needs. :D
I'm still jumping around in time, but I doubt there will be any more flashbacks. Everything is labeled for your convenience.
Enjoy!
Chapter 6: Moving On?
Baby, here we stand again
Where we've been so many times before,
Even though you looked so sure
As I was watched you walkin' out my door.
But you always walk back in like you did today…
-Jackson Browne, "Here Come Those Tears Again"
January 2010
"Look, man, I let you mope through Christmas. I let you brood threw New Year's Eve. I even let you eat frozen potpie on Thanksgiving. But we're done with that. It's been four months. You gotta snap out of it."
Spencer Reid glared across the lunch table at Derek Morgan, fellow Columbia University professor and general pain in the ass. Morgan taught criminology courses, drawing on his background as NYPD and SWAT, and he generally used the same tactics in his relationships. Spencer was tired of having his gates stormed. He just wanted to be left alone. "I'm not ready, Morgan. I really loved her."
Derek's handsome face softened in compassion. "I know that, kid. She was one in a million. But you know, there are six million people in New York City alone. That means there are five other women in this city just as fantastic as she was."
"Four other," he corrected. "You've got Penelope; she's out of the running."
White teeth flashed in his dusky face. "Right you are, young Dr. Reid. My woman's one in six million; you couldn't hope to find anyone who holds a candle to her. But I'm willing to offer my services to help you try."
He rolled his eyes. "I really don't need to be set up, Morgan."
"Yeah, Reid, you do. Look, Penelope works with this woman—"
"Penelope's in on this, too?" he demanded, aghast.
"Of course she is. She's done nothing but worry about you since…well, since the accident."
Spencer bowed his head, face scrunching. Would everything in his life now defined as either before or after the accident? Probably, he decided ruefully. Certain events left marks on everyone affected. He bore his scars; Jennifer bore hers; and their friends looked on in breathless concern.
"Her name's Austin Keller. She's cute and smart, and I really think she'd like you," Morgan was saying. He held out a Post-It with a number written on it. "Just give her a call, ok? Pen already told her all about you."
He sighed and took the slip of paper. "Great," he mumbled. "Thanks, Morgan." He pocketed it; hoped it would get put through the wash and he wouldn't have to make up an excuse for not calling cute, smart Austin Keller. Derek he could handle, but most days Penelope made him quake in his sneakers.
.....
"I'm just saying, J.J., it's been four months. Maybe you should just try to get back out there. You know, test the waters."
"I don't know, Em," she replied reluctantly. "I'm just not sure I'm ready." The two friends were having their weekly lunch, and Emily had just latched onto her favorite topic: J.J.'s love life; or, more specifically, her lack thereof.
"Honey, you're more than ready. Listen, I know you hate being set up, but there's this guy Aaron works with—"
"Emily, no!" J.J. scolded her friend. "I'm not letting you and Aaron send me on some crazy blind date. My life isn't a game show!"
"No one's saying it is. Just hear me out, ok? His name is Will LaMontagne, and he just moved here from New Orleans. He's got this accent," she grinned impishly, "let's just say if I weren't a happily married woman…"
J.J. sighed, but Emily noticed the sparkle in her best friend's dark blue eyes. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"
"Who the hell says incorrigible anymore?" she demanded rhetorically. She waved a hand to dismiss it, then, "I know you loved Spencer, sweetheart. I know you miss him. But I think you'd really like Will, and he needs someone to introduce him to the city. Aaron and I have had him over for dinner a few times, so we're not talking about a random stranger here."
The blond stabbed a tomato with her fork. Chewed restlessly. "A cute accent, you say?" she asked at last.
"Oh yeah. It's delicious!" she replied with relish.
J.J. raised a brow. "Do you want me to take him to dinner or have him for dinner?"
Emily's expression was wicked as she said, "Both, I hope. You need it." She passed her friend the business card she'd confiscated for this very purpose. "Call him, sweetie. You won't regret it."
March 2010
The first signs of spring were falling across New York. The birds were out (not just the ubiquitous pigeons – real birds) and the trees were beginning to bud. One last frost would probably claim the earliest, bravest crocuses, but the rest would survive and flourish. Spencer loved spring when he actually managed to poke his head out of his lab.
It was early evening, that time when the light hovers between day and night, the gloaming. He was on his way home to change before his date with cute, smart Austin Keller. He'd finally called her (Derek was relentless in his badgering, but it was a single call from Penelope that had tipped the scales), and they'd been right: he did like her. They'd only had a few dates due to busy schedules, but so far he'd enjoyed her company.
He unlocked his front door and stepped inside the darkened entryway, tossing his keys aside and unwinding his scarf. He held it a moment, staring, remembering when Jen had given it to him. She knew his love of scarves, and she'd fed the addiction with infusions of her good taste and penchant for high quality fabrics. This cashmere Burberry addition to his collection had instantly become one of his favorites. Sighing, he tossed the scarf over a peg and added his bag to the pile.
He was settling the brown messenger into place when he noticed something. A waft of perfume, perhaps. A different quality to the air. Or, maybe, just a familiar black Prada briefcase in its usual, but long-vacant, place in the foyer. He frowned. Ran hesitant fingers across its smooth surface as though to ensure himself of its reality. Called her name into the dim reaches of the apartment, a strange mixture of hope and dread filling his voice.
.....
"Jen?"
J.J. froze at the sound of his voice. He shouldn't be home yet. Normally he stayed at the lab until nine or ten. It was only six. She frowned; brushed her hair back; squared her shoulders. She'd just come by to get the last of her things; she was hardly trespassing. Of course she'd poked her head into the nursery…the nursery that remained unchanged since the day she'd walked out…and naturally the room, frozen in time, had captured her attention.
She hastily wiped away a tear and turned as the door opened. Offered him a wavering smile. "Spence," she said politely, "I just…I stopped by to…the rest of my stuff…" She was stammering, but the sight of him was unnerving. She hadn't planned for this.
He took in her disheveled appearance with one quick, assessing glance. "You've been crying, Jen." He reached toward her, to wipe her tears, but she flinched away. His hand hung suspended between them, a lifeline tossed into the sea, but she stepped away, refusing him.
"I'm just…surprised. You haven't changed anything."
He let his hand fall again. His face scrunched. "No, of course not. I…it felt like something we should do together. I wasn't going to just change it."
"Oh."
Her face clouded. His hands slid into his pockets. Silence reined.
"I've met someone," she said finally.
He clenched a hand, briefly, before his eyebrows rose in a semblance of nonchalance. "That's good, Jen. I'm glad. I've met someone, too."
Her eyes drifted toward him; read his body language.
"She's not you, though," he offered, lips twisting.
Now she reached out to him, her fingers brushing across his cheek like the kiss of a snowflake. He closed his eyes, savoring the brief touch, but it was over too quickly. "I'm sorry, Spence," she told him. "I never meant for this to happen."
He opened his eyes again. She was by the window, arms crossed, face twisted. "It wasn't your fault, Jen. We both…made mistakes…I wish I could've been what you needed."
"I didn't give you the chance to be," she admitted softly.
He opened his mouth to reply; closed it again. Decided it was better to remain silent.
"I kissed Dave," she said in a sudden rush.
His brow creased. "Is Dave…the someone you've met?"
"No," she said, shaking her head in impatience. She turned to him, eyes dark and imploring. "The day of the accident I kissed Dave. Or he kissed me. It doesn't matter. The point is there was a kiss, and I was upset and…I saw the truck, Spence. I don't know what happened."
He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. "I don't understand," he gasped. "Were you planning to leave me even…before…?"
"Spence, no!" She ran tense fingers through her pale hair. "I never meant for it to happen. It was just one kiss. I always loved you."
His body folded into the rocker as though his strings had been cut. "I don't…I don't understand, Jen," he repeated. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I just needed you to know it wasn't your fault. Any of it." She knelt before him, but as she reached out she hesitated, unsure. "I never meant for his to happen," she whispered again.
He watched her through hurt-glazed eyes. "I think you should go," he told her in a voice gone dead. "Leave your new address; I'll send your things to you."
She rose slowly, her face hidden from view by a fall of hair. "That's a better idea," she agreed quietly. "I really am sorry, Spence."
She disappeared into the hallway, and a few moments later he heard the front door open and close. He sat where she had so many times and just rocked. "So am I, Jen," he murmured into the silent dark. "So am I."
Eep! So very much sadness here. I needed J.J. to tell him what happened, and I didn't want him to just be all, "nah, is cool," so hence the barrage of angst.
Reviews, kind readers, make my day. :)