Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.
"Love is friendship set on fire." – Jeremy Taylor
o o o o
4 January, 2011
"You cannot have chocolate cake for breakfast!" Calliope shouted in the general direction of Emeline's bedroom, stepping around Perses as he got in her way. "You can have oatmeal, eggs or cereal. No chocolate cake!"
"Maman! CAKE, MAMAN, CAKE!" Emeline's screech could be heard around the county and Calliope resisted the urge to bash the frying pan into her forehead in rapid succession.
"First Mammy, then Emeline, screaming, shouting, demanding things, why not, why not, why not, blah blah blah! AHH!" Calliope turned and nearly smacked into Spencer standing right behind her, holding his forehead and wincing in the bright kitchen light. "String Bean, you've got another headache?"
"Same one," he cringed, flinching as Calliope raised a hand to his head.
"Baby, you need to go to a doctor."
"I've got an appointment this morning," he admitted, glancing up to see the angry scowl flash across her face before being masked. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want to worry you if it was nothing."
"About time you go to a doctor. Something's wrong and you need to find out what. What are they doing?"
"They're doing a magnetic resonance imagining test."
"You're taking an MRI and you didn't –" Calliope thinned her lips and took a deep breath through her nose. "When were you going to tell me?"
"Uh…"
"You weren't going to tell me, were you?" Fists perched on her hips.
"Can you put down the frying pan?" Spencer took a step back sheerly out of habit.
"No. You weren't going to tell me!" Another deep breath and Calliope forcibly pulled the screech from her voice when Spencer winced at the pitch. "What if they found something? You would have told me then, right? Or would I find out from the hospital when they wheel you in for a lobotomy?"
"I highly doubt they're going to lobotomize me, Sweetheart." Spencer took another step back.
"I might," she snarled and turned her back on him, grumbling to herself as she slammed the frying pan down on the range top, nearly ripped the gas nob off the stove and grabbed the PAM from the counter. She shook the can like it was aerosol hairspray and aimed it at the pan.
The range exploded in flame and Calliope screamed. Spencer jumped forward, turning off the burner and grabbing the pot lid from the drying rack by the sink. Slamming the lid over the fire, he flung the pantry door open and snatched the baking soda, throwing the powdered contents over the flames licking out from beneath the pot lid.
"I'm sorry!" She gasped, her hand over her mouth. "I wasn't – oh my God, I can't believe I just did that!"
"You have to be more careful!" Spencer told her, holding his head again. "You can't set our house on fire!"
"I didn't mean to set our house on fire! It was an accident! And I didn't set the house on fire. I set the stove on fire."
Spencer stared at her, turned and walked away. Calliope slouched her shoulders inward with a sigh.
"I totally set the house on fire, Pers. I'm not meant to cook. It's too dangerous. Give me a frying pan and I'm a threat to national security. I'm more dangerous than Osama bin Laden. Okay… maybe not that dangerous."
"Cake, Maman!" Emeline barreled into the kitchen.
"No cake!" Calliope caught her before she reached the fridge. "We don't even have cake. C'mon. We're going to IHOP for breakfast, Princess."
"You caughted the house on fire 'gain, Maman!" Emeline giggled into Calliope's shirt, wrinkling her nose at the smell.
Calliope sighed, "Yes, Maman caught the house on fire again. Come on. Let's get dress and go get pancakes."
"Chocolate chip pancakes!"
"No! No chocolate for breakfast!" Calliope watched as Emeline ran to her bedroom at full tilt – head down, arms pumping, feet tumbling over each other. If the three year old hit a bump, she was going down like Bambi on ice. "Emeline Noël! No chocolate for breakfast!"
Letting out a soft huff, Perses looked up at Calliope, his bowl between his teeth and his tail wagging against the marble floor patiently. When she stepped towards him, Perses jumped to his feet, tail swishing furiously in excitement. Calliope ran a hand over his head while she took the bowl from his mouth and the second the bowl was on the mat next to the water bowl, Perses began inhaling his food.
"I'm going," Spencer stopped and put his messenger bag on the counter so he could tug on his blue wool pea coat. He turned his body away from Calliope so she wouldn't see his hands shaking while he tried to button the coat.
"Tell me what the doctor says."
"It's going to be a few days before I get the results for the MRI. Maybe a week," Spencer sounded exasperated, like this was something she should know and he shouldn't have to explain this to her.
"I want to know what you know, Spencer." Calliope narrowed her eyes at him when indecision flashed across his face. "Everything you know."
"I'll tell you what he says."
"Everything he says."
"Everything he says," Spencer parroted her words without much conviction. Calliope's hands shot to her waist, fury radiating off her like heat from the sun.
"You're my fiancé, Spencer Reid! We're getting married in less than a year and I need to know if something's wrong with you! You're the father of my kid! If anyone deserves to know if something's wrong with you, it's me! Damn it, Spencer! I hate when you pull this white knight, suffer-in-silence bullshit and you know it."
Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but Emeline popped up without warning and he fell silent. One look in Calliope's eyes told him the conversation wasn't over, she'd be back when little ears weren't present. So, instead, he picked his messenger bag up and slung it over his shoulder, his hands shaking just enough for Calliope to notice and thin her lips.
He closed his eyes and took a breath, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Bending his head down, he kissed her softly. "I love you, Sweetheart."
"I love you too, String Bean," Calliope snaked her arms around his waist and pressed up onto her toes to kiss him again. "I'll see you tonight."
ooo ooo ooo ooo
The high pitched whining of the machine made his head hurt worse and it took every ounce of self control he had not to raise his hands at clutch at his temples. Instead, he winced, wrinkling his face, squinching his eyes and tried not to move, tightening his fist around the white hospital gown. The damp, squished earplugs shoved into his ears did nothing to block the piercing whine.
His eyes still screwed shut, Spencer forced his mind to think of something else, anything else. His thoughts locked on the image of a daydream from a lifetime ago, the same, but different. He left his mind wander away from the whining machine and the snowy January to find it's way to his backyard in the sunny summer.
Spencer closed the door behind him and hurried down the steps off the porch to the sun-warmed grass. He stood for a minute and let the grass warm his bare feet. Happy splashing and shouted giggles came from the pool and washed over him, soothing out the rough patches in his soul. Calliope sat at her easel, set up out in the middle of the sun, with her red hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. Her pale shoulders were bare except for the thin straps of her bright pink tank top and pair of plaid orange shorts peaked out from beneath her shirt. Perses slept at her feet.
"Daddy!" A small body barreled into him, trusting Spencer to catch her as frizzy red hair sprung up in his face. Spencer planted a kiss on a freckled face and squeezed. "I missed you, Daddy!"
"I missed you too, Bailey, my pretty little girl." A second body slammed into his knees and nearly knocked him over. Spencer bent and scooped Emeline up in his other arm, giving her the same kiss he'd just bestowed upon Bailey. "Hey, Princess. Were you and Bailey good for Maman?"
"We were good, Poppy. Maman took us to the beach yesterday! It was so much fun!"
"I builded a sandcastle, Daddy!" Bailey grabbed his face in her toddler hands and turned his face to look at her. "It was eleventy-seven feet tall!"
"No, it wasn't," Emeline told her with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "It wasn't even taller than me."
"It was too! It was ninety-eleven gazillion million feet tall!"
"Okay, okay. That's enough, you two. Where these two monsters good, Mom?" Spencer bent his head and kissed Calliope lightly.
"Demons, both of them," Calliope smiled up at him.
"I knew it."
"Hey, you okay?" Prentiss looked up from her iPad when Reid walked into the round-table room, pulling his messenger bag off his shoulder as he walked.
"Yeah, why?" Reid kept his answer short and his eyes down, avoiding any light and reluctantly taking the only seat still open – the one next to Seaver.
"You're never late," Morgan watched him sit, his caterpillar eyebrows knitted together and voice concerned.
"Have we started the briefing yet?"
"Just about to."
"Than I'm not late."
"Attention intrepid BAU adventurers, the land of…"
Reid shut off the sound of García's voice. The pitch hurt his head. Instead, he spread the hardcopy photographs out in front of him and tried to focus his gaze on them. Without meaning to, Reid began rocking himself back and forth in his chair.
"All of this could have been religious?"
Reid felt Seaver's eyes on him and he answered more out of subconscious habit than an actual conscious decision to speak. "This could have specific religious meaning or it could just be part of the unsub's signature."
"Either way, his timetable's accelerating. We have a day, maybe two, before the Miami P.D. has another body on its hands."
Reid was the last to stand, letting the other's filter out ahead of him as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Calliope picked up on the first ring.
"What did the doctor say?"
"Nothing yet. The team's going to Miami. I don't know when we'll be back. I'll let you know."
"Be safe, String Bean."
"I will. I love you."
"I love you too. Wait, Eme wants to talk to you." After a few noisy moments, Emeline's voice came on the line. "Poppy?"
"Hey, Princess."
"Are you gonna miss my recital?"
"No, no, of course not, Princess. I'll be there. I promise."
"I'm the first butterfly, Poppy. I've been practicing forever."
"I know, Princess," He could hear Emeline's lip quiver through the phone and knew she was pouting pitifully, making the face that could get everything short of the Taj Mahal or the Papal Tiara from him. "I'll be there, Eme. I promise."
"Okay. Auntie Jill made my wings and they sparkle, Poppy. Me and Maman are gonna go get them today and see Baby Ben. But Maman says he's might be s'eeping and I haveta be quite. I'll be super quiet, Poppy, okay? The quietest first butterfly ever in the whole wild world."
"I'm sure you will, Princess. I love you."
"I love you too, Poppy."
Reid still stood staring at the phone, completely dismayed, when Hotch poked his head in. "Reid? You – What's wrong?"
"Emeline has her dance recital tomorrow. She's the first butterfly," Reid pocketed the phone and looked up at Hotch; his eyes narrowed against fluorescent lighting. "I promised her I'd be there. I'm going to miss her first recital."
"It's early yet," Hotch reminded him, a knowing expression on his face. "We might be back in time."
"Maybe," Reid mumbled noncommittally, thinking that the chances were none to less than none, and followed Hotch out onto the walkway slightly raised above the bullpen. Prentiss and Seaver were pulling their go bags from beneath their desks and Morgan was walking back into the bullpen with his over his shoulder.
"First Butterfly, huh?" Rossi asked, having overheard the brief conversation through his open office door.
"Her wings sparkle and everything."
"Listen up!" Rossi called over the railing and Reid winced in pain as his teammates looked towards Rossi. "We've got a recital tomorrow and sparkling butterfly's wait for no agent."
ooo ooo ooo ooo
"Maman?" Emeline stared out the window of the car, one hand closed over the edge of her purple pastel wings and the other up by her face so she could suck her thumb.
"Yeah?" Calliope glanced in the review mirror at her thoroughly distracted little girl.
"Is Poppy gonna be at my recital?" The question was mumbled around the thumb stuck in her mouth.
"What did Poppy say on the phone?"
"Poppy said he'd be at my recital. He promised." There was a pause and Emeline's forehead knotted together like she was thinking hard. "But when Poppy goes away, he's gone for a month, Maman."
"Poppy's not gone for a month when he leaves, Sweetie. A few days, maybe a week, but not a whole month." Calliope looked in the review mirror again, a sad smile on her face. "Poppy always does his best to keep his promises, doesn't he?"
Emeline nodded.
"Poppy's going to try really, really hard to be there, Eme."
"What if he's not?" Tears pricked at the child's eyes.
"I'm videotaping the entire recital and, if Poppy misses it, we can all watch it at home together. You can dance your part for him when he gets home."
"Not the same," Emeline sniffed.
"I know, Eme."
"Uncle Aaron misses Jack's games."
"I know. Uncle Aaron hates missing Jack's games as much as Poppy would hate missing your recital."
"Poppy should stay home!" Eme dropped the wings to the floor of the car and pouted, the whine in her voice threatening to become a full-out tantrum. "Need Poppy!"
"Sweetie, Poppy goes away so he can catch the bad guys and protect people. You wouldn't want Poppy to stop catching bad guys, would you?"
"Yes, so Poppy says home with Eme and Maman."
"Yes, and if Poppy stayed home with Eme and Maman, Maman would probably kill Poppy after a few weeks," Calliope mumbled the words to himself, low enough so that Emeline couldn't hear her. She turned onto Lafayette Boulevard and then made a right onto Lee Drive. Another few minutes of silent driving and Calliope pulled through the gate and onto the driveway leading up to their house.
She got Emeline unbuckled and out of her car seat, took the gauzy wings and led the little girl into the house. Once Emeline was settled at the table with a snack and Perses sat at her feet waiting for her to drop something, Calliope grabbed the phone from her purse and hit Jill's name in the contact list.
"Hey, Sis," Calliope held the phone to her ear with her shoulder. "I need your help."
ooo ooo ooo ooo
5 January 2011
Reid leaned his head back against the headrest and tried to look like he didn't have a headache. That's what he'd told Hotch, after all, that he'd faked his headache to distract the Professor Walker, but the way Hotch had looked at him said that the group leader didn't believe his lie. Right now, his head pounded and he couldn't take another aspirin for another hour.
Seaver laughed sharply at something Rossi said and Reid gripped the armrest instead of his head. His headache had intensified as the case went on and now he wanted to cry from the pain or gag everyone on the plane. Glancing down at his watch, he groaned. Emeline's recital started in twenty minutes, ten minutes before the jet would touch down in Quantico.
The chewing of Prentiss' chips rivaled the crunching of metal cars in a compactor. The pages of Hotch's book turning were like a windmill slicing through the air. The squishing of Morgan's seat as he shifted caused an avalanche in Banff.
An hour later, the wheels of his red car squealed to a stop in front of Avery's Ballet and Spencer jumped out the car, his head threatening to explode. He tried the door to the studio as it dawned on him that the lights were off. The door wouldn't open.
"Hello?" Spencer called at and noticed the neon pink sign tapped to the door in the same moment.
"Tonight's recitals have been postponed until further notice."
Sighing, Spencer got back into his car and drove home, letting himself into the gate, driving through the trees, and parking in the full driveway. The house was loud when he walked through the door and he braced himself. Emeline came barreling through the kitchen from the living room.
"Poppy!" Emeline jumped into his arms and Spencer kissed her cheek. Calliope wasn't far behind her and gave him a quick kiss herself. "My recital got'd cancelled 'cause the air was cold."
"What?" He raised his eyebrows at Calliope.
"The air conditioning wouldn't turn off," Calliope shrugged, looking at the ground. "It was set at fifty and the entire building was freezing, so they decided to push it back."
"Hey, Spencer," Steve gave him a smile as he came into the kitchen with an empty bottle. "Glad you're back."
"Yeah, me too."
Steve turned, leaving back for the living room. Spencer spotted the imprint of a washer in the back pocket of Steve's jeans. Spencer put Emeline down and pushed her towards the living room.
"Maman and I'll be there in a minute, okay, Princess. Go see Grandma and Grandpa," Spencer watched her run back in her purple leotard before turning to Calliope. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," Calliope smiled, "… permanent."
Spencer smiled at her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and touched her nose with his. "You got her recital postponed."
"Steve's really good with a wrench," Calliope told him slyly, pushing up on her toes and kissing him. Spencer felt his headache ease slightly.
"You're going to get Eme kicked out of ballet school."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
A/N:
I've been home from Indiana/Michigan/Canada for a week and God Bless Texas. But I really miss my friends already. They need to come visit me. COME VISIT ME, FRIENDS. Honestly, though, I had the best time. And I got pictures with them in our hockey jerseys. Yay!
I got my braces tightened on Thursday and it huuuuurts. IT HUUUURTS. I had to have Kraft Dinner for breakfast on Friday. Smoothies and milkshakes, yes. I ate half a bagel and lox at brunch today and it was a bad, bad idea. I wanted to kill myself. But it was so, so good. BUT IT HURT, GOOD GOD.
I need chapstick. Bye.
Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and tell me what you think, good or bad!
Love, Thalia