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Warning: See my profile and the first chapter.
Reid drove home in a bit of a daze. The skeletal trees that lined the streets went by him in a blur, as did the buildings he passed. Everything seemed to have taken on bright colors that ran together like a water color painting left out in the rain.
His car seemed to know the way home, and he got there on auto pilot without him making a conscious effort to direct it. Not the smartest thing, but he just couldn't seem to concentrate on anything other than the bombshell Emily had dropped on him.
Admittedly, he'd noticed that she wasn't acting the way he'd always come to expect from her. Ever since they'd come back from Colorado, she seemed to watch him closer and fuss over him a bit. Since it was something that his mother had done all his life, he sort of liked it now that she was in an institution and not around all the time. Not that he would ever admit it to her or anyone else on the team.
So what did that mean for his current predicament? He turned the car onto his street and debated how to come to a logical and final answer for her. He pulled his car into his reserved parking spot and shut off the ignition. His building suddenly looked like it might fall on him. His breath began to hitch in and out like he'd just run a mile at full speed. His chest hurt and he couldn't take his hands off the steering wheel.
You're having a panic attack. Calm down before you faint from hyperventilation.
Of course, telling himself to calm down, didn't work. His vision got grey at the edges and he was getting pretty dizzy when someone banged on his window. He jumped and looked out to see one of his neighbors looking in at him.
Great, now the neighbors think you're ready for the nut hatch.
He waved at her, but she didn't walk away. She looked like she wouldn't take no for an answer if he asked to be left alone, so he got out of the car and turned to face her.
"Are you alright Dr. Reid?"
She was tiny, less then five feet tall. Her hair was very dark with streaks of grey. She had it tied back in a pony tail and she was carrying a grocery bag.
"I'm fine Mrs. Turner."
"Are you sure? You look very pale."
She peered up at him out of dark brown eyes. Her mouth had laugh lines, but she was frowning.
"I'm okay… I just got dizzy. I am kind of hungry so…"
He began to walk away from her. She followed him down the sidewalk and into the building. "I just made some brownies if you like."
"No!" He winced at the abruptness of his tone and the way she continued to frown up at him. "I mean, you should save them for your husband.
She was in her fifties and her husband was an insurance salesman. They had lost their home and had to rent till he got back on his feet she always told him.
"Well, you take care. It can't be that bad."
"What's not that bad?" He asked suspiciously.
"Whatever is bothering you - it will work out for the best."
She turned and headed back out to her car, leaving him gaping at her in her wake. He went to the elevator and pushed the button to go up. He put Mrs. Turner and her motherly ways, that weren't at all like the way Emily looked out for him out of his mind.
"Stop it!" He said out loud as the elevator doors opened.
He was relieved when no one was inside the car when he got on it. The ride up to the third floor was over too fast. His brain was trying to get past the thought that the way Emily watched over him was something he liked. Now she wanted him to donate sperm so she could get pregnant.
Why doesn't she want to do it the old fashioned way?
He dropped his keys outside his door and felt his face burst into flame at the thought. Why had his brain gone there?
She was his friend and she took care of him like a mother or a sister. She obviously didn't want him in the way a woman wanted a man.
Do you think? You really are a genius!
He finally got his keys into the lock and opened the door. He went inside and shut the door. He sagged back against the door and sighed. She didn't want that kind of relationship with him. That was good, he should be happy about it. He didn't want their friendship to change. It would be too hard to work together and be lovers too.
His face got hot again at the word 'lovers,' and he decided he needed something cold to drink. He went to his kitchen and tried to not think about her request while he made a sandwich.
As he passed the radio on the counter top, he turned it on. Celine Dion was singing something about
"If you ask me, I might just change my mind and let you in forever."
He flipped the station impatiently to some hard rock. Good, David Lee Roth was singing with Van Halen about cars and girl. He couldn't take another love song.
His kitchen was small. It had yellow white tile on the floor and matching counter tops. The appliances with light yellow too. He supposed it was intended to be soothing, but at times it got on his nerves. He should buy a condo like what Emily had. At least if he owned his own place he could decorate it the way he wanted. Yeah, that would be good. He could paint his kitchen and …
Stop it! Think about Emily and her request. You told her you would think about it!
He pulled out a frying pan and set to making a fried egg sandwich for lunch. His mind stayed away from its task and everything else till the sandwich was made. He put it on a plate and poured himself a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator. More coffee was brewing on the counter for him to enjoy since the coffee Emily had brought him was watering the grass at the park.
He went to the living room and grabbed a book off his stack of unread library books. He read and at the same time thought seriously about her request. It was time to make a pros and cons list, just as she had. He admitted to himself that it had surprised him that she would do that. He expected that she'd choose him for some other random reason.
His pros list went something like this: He'd make a friend happy. Henry seemed to like him okay. He would be close enough to star in his child's life since they worked together."
His cons list went something like this: If he was a donor that meant technically, he would be a father. What if he was like his father? Morgan would tease him when he found out and eventually he would find out. He possibly had an inheritable mental condition that he couldn't, in good conscience, pass on to a child. He was tall, skinny, and he had the neck of a giraffe. What if the kid was shy like him? What if he was a genius like him and Emily decided to fast track his or her education and the kid got bullied? He couldn't watch that happen. What if Emily didn't want him in the kid's life?
The cons list was much longer than the pros. Thus, if he went about this decision in a logical and scientific manner, the answer had to be no.
If it was so easy, why was his stomach all was tied up in knots? If it was a matter of logic then he should be feeling good instead of like something was about to be missed that he needed.
The sandwich lay half eaten on the plate he'd taken from the cupboard. His glass of orange juice was forgotten. Instead, he went for his usual caffeine fix. His head was beginning to pound from the effort of trying to make up his mind.
His fingers itched to call Morgan or Garcia, but he'd made a promise to Emily. He'd make this decision on his own. He'd be an adult about it.
The coffee had got cold while he stood at the counter top thinking. He poured it out and went into the living room. He picked up another book and sat down to read, but his mind wouldn't stay still. He began to imagine what the baby might look like. Would it have Emily's hair color or his? Would it have her eyes or his? Would it be beautiful like Emily or ordinary looking like him? Did it matter? He hadn't decided what he wanted to do, so why speculate on how genetics would combine between Emily and him to form their child.
Their child… It sounds like you've made up your mind.
He told the voice to shut up and turned over. Monday was the day. He'd talk to her before they got caught in a case. For better or worse, he'd give her his decision and hope their friendship would survive.