Sorry this took so long! I have so much homework to do!

Enjoy!

~Sins~

Still Reid's POV, BTW!

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and glanced at the caller ID: "Unknown Caller". But the only people with this number were given it, so I answered it. "Spencer Reid," I greeted, curious.

"Hey there."

The voice was feminine. Wait, I know this voice. "Jaquiline?"

"Just Jaqui, please." She sighed. "You said I could call anytime…" she trailed off, like she was thinking better of it.

"What's wrong?"

She laughed hollowly. "Just a bad dream. Sorry. I couldn't stop my fingers from dialing your number."

Glad I hadn't done more than take off my shoes and knowing the dream was more than she was telling me, I slipped my shoes back on. "Jaqui? I'll be there in five minutes, okay?"

"Look, you really don't need-"

"But I want to. And talking helps." I opened my door and was out into the hall, nearly colliding with Morgan. "Look, seriously. Give me five minutes. I'll see you."

"Okay," she finally agreed. "Thank you. See ya." Despite he protests, she seemed relieved I was coming.

"See you," I returned before hanging up. I glanced at Morgan, who was staring at me. "What?"

"Who was that?" he asked, curious.

"Jaquiline Harrison." I went to the elevator and pushed the call button, but he followed me.

"The victim from today?" Morgan was staring at me.

Where was the elevator? I wondered. "Yes. I promised her five minutes, so I've got to go." I hurried to the staircase. Running, I made it down the stairs and to the street in about two minutes. She was only about a block from the hotel, so I jogged.

Jaqui:

The dream had shaken me pretty badly. I couldn't believe I'd called him. I really didn't want him to see me like this: trembling like a leaf, red-eyed from crying. I knew I looked like hell. But he promised me five minutes. So I dried my tears and hoped my eyes would be less red when he got here, although I knew the trembling wouldn't stop.

About four and a half minutes after our phone call had ended, there was a knock at my door. I hurried to open it, pretty sure I knew who it was. But I checked through the peephole, anyway, before opening it. He was a bit winded and a bit mused, maybe from hurrying here.

"Come on in," I directed, stepping out of the way.

He looked at me for a long moment before stepping inside, closing the door behind himself, and wrapping his arms around me.

I was startled for a moment, then wrapped my arms around him, too.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his mouth by my ear.

"Not really. Come on, let's sit down before we fall down."

He broke our embrace slowly, hesitantly. "You looked like you were about to fall apart," he murmured, a blush splashing color on his cheeks.

I smiled at his awkwardness. "Well, it was one hell of a nightmare."

"Will you tell me about it?" he asked as we sat down on my couch.

I nodded. "It was about today. It started out just like this afternoon. I was home, working, and I must have gotten absorbed in my work, because I didn't notice him until he was right behind me. I whirled and screamed, but he hit me. I fell, face down in the carpet, stunned, and he lifted me onto my bed, face up.

"I didn't want to see him. I could pretend it was nothing, that it was consensual, as long as I didn't look at him. So I squeezed my eyes shut. Then the door flew open, and the team of FBI agents entered my bedroom. This was it's separation from reality. There were no other cops, and he had a gun. He shot the whole team, killing them all, and raped me anyway, while all I could see were the bodies on the floor.

"Then he left. Even though it wasn't his MO, he left me alive to stare at the faces of my would-be rescuers. All I could do was cry and cry. But no one could hear me." Tears streamed down my face. "So after waking up crying, I called you to hear your voice, to remind myself that my dream wasn't reality."

He caught one of my tears and wiped it away with his thumb. "There's nothing wrong with that." He placed his arms around me. "You feel guilty, don't you? Being the one to live while the others died?"

I nodded. "Some of them left behind lovers, husbands, children, family. I have none of that; there's no one who'd particularly miss me. So why did I live while they died?"

"That's not for us to question. You survived, so if you have nothing else to live for, live for those who didn't."

Something in the way he said it made me think. "You,too?"

"Yeah." He shook his head sadly. "Only my mind buried it. I had these terrible nightmares over and over again with no idea why."

"What a pair we are," I remarked. "Battered and scarred by a world that cares nothing for us, trying to live for those who didn't."

We sat together in silence for a few minutes.

"Let's talk about something else," I suggested. "Let me just pretend that part of today was just a bad dream." He consented to that, so I asked the first question. "What do you do? I mean, I assume you aren't a run-of-the-mill FBI agent."

"Well, I'm a part of the BAU: the Behavior Analysis Unit."

"Oh, profilers, right?"

He gave me a strange look.

I smiled. "My sister wanted to be a profiler for the longest time, but she eventually went into psychology."

He looked at me, I mean really looked at me. "What makes you so accepting? Most people look over me, look down on me, or ignore my existence."

I smiled. "My family taught me to accept everything. First, there is my older brother. He's bipolar, ADHD, antisocial, and OCD. He also has a genius- level IQ, a known learning disability, and quite an artistic talent. He fell on the more manic end of the disorder. Then there was my older sister, who's also bipolar. She fell on the more depressive end of the disorder. She has a desperate need to save the world. She also came out of the closet in high school to crawl back in it after she dropped out and got her GED. So I spent my entire high school career being avoided because they thought homosexuality was a),genetic, or b), contagious. So thank my family."

"So… you mentioned earlier that you weren't married. Ex-husband? Family? Steady boyfriend? Friends?"

"I've never been married. I have three sisters and a brother, half of which I no longer speak to. My mom still has to make sure my brother gets his pills in, and she's doing okay. I never date, mostly because I didn't have the chance in high school, the inclination in college, or the time after that. I do, however, have friends.

"I really have about four good ones. One of them frightens me with he knowledge of me." I smiled at him to soften the last statement. "What about you? Got a girlfriend that will be ticked because you comforted a stranger? Family? Friends?"

He blushed. "I don't date. I was too young in high school and college, so I didn't learn how. My parents are both alive, although I am estranged from my father. My mother is brilliant and I see her pretty often. Aside from them, my friends at the BAU are my family." His gaze met mine. "I live for my job."

"You get into criminal's heads. Is it hard to get back out?" I asked softly.

"Sometimes it can be." He shook his head. "Sometimes, I get in there and I am too stunned to work my way out."

I looked at the expression on his face and changed the subject. "So. Do you read?"

He smiled at me. "I read a lot."

"Fiction or nonfiction?"

"Mostly nonfiction and old fiction."

"Have you read 'The Lady of Shallot'?"

he nodded. "One of Tennyson's best."

"How old do you like your fiction?" I thought for a moment. "Anything written in the 1900s?"

He shook his head. "I usually prefer the classical."

"Well, if you ever become interested in fiction that young, there are several books I could recommend." I smiled. "As it is, Shakespearean tragedies sometimes make me laugh."

"Which one?"

" 'O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name'…" I quoted.

" 'Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.' " he finished. " 'Romeo and Juliet makes you laugh?"

I smiled. "Look at what happens in it. Romeo gets dumped by Roslyn, who chooses to enter a convent instead of sleeping with him. So he meets Juliet at his enemy's party and it's lust at first sight. But she won't put out, either. Unless he marries her. So he does, and they have one night together before life goes to hell in a hand basket. It all happens because a pair of teenagers are thinking with their hormones."

He laughed. "You're right, but most people seem to treasure it as a love story."

"Love is nothing like that. They wanted each other, sure. But that was nothing to base a marriage on, which they did. If they hadn't of died, they would have soon found themselves incompatible." I looked at him. "Love is about accepting the good with the bad, about finding someone you can spend the rest of your life with, someone you can call 'friend', 'lover', and 'confidant', someone you can trust."

He watched me with wide eyes.

"I'll get off my soapbox now. Sorry."

He stunned me by touching my arm. "You feel strongly about that, don't you?"

I nodded. "My parents divorced when I was four. It made me grow up quickly, and it left me with a mistrust of men for a long time. I don't ever want to do that to a child."

"Is that why you don't date much?"

"No, that's because my sister once told me: 'Never have sex with someone you can't see yourself spending the rest of your life with.' And that seems to be how the current dating game is played."

He looked puzzled, and I knew instinctively exactly where I'd lost him.

I smiled. "She meant: never have sex with anyone you don't want to have a kid with. Because there's always the chance."

He nodded, a smile pulling at his sensual lips. "How'd you know?"

"You had that blank look people sometimes get when they talk to me and something I say goes over their head." I met his gaze easily. "You're probably used to being on the receiving end of that look."

He blushed cutely and nodded, the motion knocking a bit of his hair into his face. "The role-reversal is rather refreshing, actually."

Reaching over, I smiled and tucked the hair behind his ear. "I might enjoy the other position for a change. But I'd like to think that I wouldn't give you a blank look. I'd just say, 'Slow down and explain that to me, please.'"

He touched the hair I had moved for a moment, staring at me, a darker blush burning at his cheeks.

"I'm going to make some hot tea," I told him, not able to quite believe how forward I'd been. I rose to my feet, but being the klutzy person I am, I tripped over my own feet and landed, face first, in his lap.

The second offer in the story was her offering tea, btw.

Post-Chapter discussion:

Sins: Awk-ward!

Reid: *blushes*

Jaqui: *blushes*

Sins: Oh, you two… blushing virgin fools! Get on with it already!

Jaqui: *scurries from the room*

Reid: *not sure what to do, continues blushing*

Sins: *facepalm*

XD

Please review!