A/N: This chapter isn't as long as the one right before, but I hope you readers enjoy it. I know how I want this fic to turn out, but I've been having a little difficulty figuring out how to write it so it will end up how I planned. The hardest part is writing Spencer's and Alsie's interactions...I don't plan on it being exactly romantic, hence why I didn't choose romance as one of the genres for this fic. (Of course that depends on what one considers romantic.)

Please tell me what you think of Alsie so far.

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My Life Had Stood

Chapter Four: Alsie's Proposal

"You certainly know how to party." The raven haired man said to the fair-haired woman in between kisses. The two of them within centimeters of the other on the packed club floor.

"Of course." The woman replied, pressing her lips once more against his. Her lips smelled and tasted of alcohol. Her eyes half-lidded from either arousal or intoxication.

The man ran his fingers through her hair throughout the kiss. His breathing quickened at the thought of what he had planned. The desire in his gray eyes ran deeper than a tryst – his brain ran straight to the rope and array of bladed instruments he had hidden in his truck.

"What do you say we head to my place and have a private party?" He purred in her ear, his eyes tracing her neckline and imagining how much he could make her bleed before she'd succumb to blood-loss.

"Sure. How about another drink first?" The woman purred back, licking her top lip seductively. Her eyes looked up at his, their cerulean hue showing nothing but desire. No fear or hesitation.

"All right." The man said, turning toward the bar. As he did so his eyes noticed the entrance and the two men in FBI labeled vests heading onto the club floor.

His expression changed swiftly to barely concealed rage. He scanned the area quickly for an escape. Making his way through the crowd, two things happened – he felt what seemed like a pinch or prick against his arm and heard a female agent's voice call out to him closer than the two men.

"Jeremy Yaegar, freeze! FBI!" JJ shouted, her service firearm pointed at the unsub. She was just a couple feet from where the man had been headed.

It was at that moment that the unsub started convulsing, collapsing onto the floor before JJ or Hotch and Rossi, who were approaching from the entrance area, could register what had happened.

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Three Weeks Later:

Spencer sipped at his coffee, his eyes currently breezing through Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. The clock across the bookstore cafe ticked slowly closer to noon. His brow furrowed as he waited.

Several days ago he'd received a voicemail from Alsie, asking to meet. It had been a short time after a case they'd just closed in New York City. One that had been both satisfying and dissatisfying.

The satisfying bit had been that they found the unsub – a sexual sadist that got off on exsanguinating his victims – before he could secure a new victim. The dissatisfying part was that somehow, right when they'd been about the arrest the unsub, an unknown party had managed to poison him. Using a fatal dose of tetrodotoxin that had been injected into the unsub's bloodstream via his arm, this assailant had murdered Jeremy Yaegar and vanished before any of them could realize what happened.

Going over the case and who would've wanted the unsub dead – including his victim's families and friends, as well as having other cases to assist on, had prevented Spencer from even considering Alsie's request.

It wasn't until yesterday night that he'd replied to her voicemail.

Spencer rubbed his eyes and placed the book on the table, having finished the final pages just as the clock's hands ticked passed 12:02. He sighed, forcing his brain away from the case and onto Alsie. He couldn't say for certain what he'd thought about Alsie, but there was something that drew him to her.

It wasn't attraction. At least not of the sort that he'd experienced before. Rossi's suggestion that maybe she reminded him of someone didn't seem far off – but Spencer resisted the idea that Alsie reminded him of Maeve.

That was completely out of the question. No one would ever come close to Maeve. And even if he ever did fall in love again, he felt sure it wouldn't be Alsie. It just didn't feel possible.

Time continued to tick by on the clock while he sipped his coffee. Though he still had no intention of romance, he did return Alsie's call and agreed to meet for lunch at this cafe. They had agreed to meet at ten to twelve; it was seventeen minutes after that now.

'Where...?' Spencer stopped his thoughts before he could dwell on the many – mostly negative – scenarios for why Alsie was late. Instead he took out a notepad and started doodling equations. He swallowed as he doodled, feeling uneasy as the echo of a headache started to creep in from the back of his head.

The clock hands had reached 12:14 before he saw Alsie approach.

"Sorry I'm late."

Spencer almost gave an ugly retort, due to the uneasiness and worry that had crept through him. He didn't however, and instead answered politely, if a bit strained.

"It's fine. I'm sure there's a reason you're twenty-four minutes and thirty-seven seconds late."

"Yeah, um..." Alsie sat down, not batting an eye at the precision of Spencer timing her tardiness. Her eyes moved from Spencer's face to the notepad in front of him. Spencer noted her jitteryness and the slight decline in focus from what she had had during their first meeting. "Does nervousness count?"

"...nervousness?" Spencer repeated, after a pause. The way Alsie tried to avoid direct eye-contact except for that first glance, as well as the way her eyes had been dilated cinching it for him.

"Yeah...what I'd wanted to ask...um..."

Spencer studied Alsie as she fumbled over what she'd wanted to say. Her eyes once again met his and he felt that same tendril of disappointment.

"...what did you take?" Spencer asked, cutting into Alsie's halting response. The petite face met his, surprised. "Your pupils are dilated, you're unable to focus...and your demeanor overall..."

"Don't." Alsie interrupted Spencer, though she made no effort to refute his observation. She also showed no signs of shame. "All right, I did take something, but I have a prescription for it. I was in so much pain this morning, I could barely get out of bed. I..." Alsie covered her face with her hands, breathing in and out slowly. "Between the pain and the drowsiness of waking up, I probably took more than my normal dosage...injections are not nearly as simple as taking a pill, but I detest pills, so..."

"No, um. It's fine." Spencer replied quickly, noticing the authenticity of Alsie's response. Her eyes strayed to the right side of her face – though covered by her hair, he had noticed scarring when they'd met before. He wondered if she had been in an accident of some sort that had caused them. "I didn't mean to...I'm just concerned..."

Alsie noticed his gaze on her scar and the question in it. She nodded tersely. "I...fell and landed on a pile of broken glass when I was younger. Ever since I've...suffered from head pain as a result."

"I'm sorry." Spencer replied, recalling his own bout with migraines years ago. It had almost reached the point where he considered using again, though thankfully he hadn't. "...have you tried other methods besides prescription narcotics to combat your headaches?"

"...nothing I've tried worked for long." Alsie replied.

"Prescription painkillers can be highly addictive. If you get in the habit of taking higher doses than prescribed..."

"...I actually haven't gotten many migraines lately – this morning was the first in months where I woke with one." Alsie rubbed her eyes, then trailed the edge of her fingers on the Dostoevsky novel Spencer had placed aside. "I didn't want to reschedule meeting you, I mean...it has been ten days since I left that voicemail. I thought you were going to ignore it like you did my texts before. Of course, those first texts were sent to you accidentally and I sent another apologizing about it, but I..."

The sound of something glass falling and breaking across the cafe caused Alsie to flinch. She pulled her hands into her lap and closed her eyes, steadying herself.

"Are you all right?" Spencer asked, concern filling his brown eyes.

"I'm fine." Alsie said, opening her eyes though she kept them downcast as she considered her next words. "Um, what I wanted to ask you. Why I called...I understand and agree that dating is out of the question. But...I thought we could feign dating? Just to stop Shelly from hounding me and trying to set me up with guys? Seeing as neither of use are interested in actual dating, there'll likely be no chance of complications arising, compared to if I asked someone else."

Spencer listened to Alsie, surprised and cautious. He briefly wondered if the narcotics in her system had anything to do with what she was proposing.

Alsie studied Spencer, her expression asking 'well?'

His first instinct was to say no, but he stalled. Instead he considered it. He thought about his team, how none of them would directly say it but each hoped he would allow himself to find someone new. They understand, especially Hotch and Rossi, that he missed Maeve and what might've been, but he knew they hoped he could move on.

If he dated someone, even if it was pretense, it could reassure them...

Spencer sighed. It would be lying to his team, something that wasn't easy to do nor something he really wanted to do...

"I'd like some time to think about it." Spencer replied before Alsie tried prompting him again for an answer. "I'll get back to you about it."

"All right. As long as I don't have to wait another ten days to hear your response." Alsie joked, grinning sheepishly. Her tenseness from earlier gone. "...do you mind if I tell Shelly that we are...Um, never-mind." She fell silent, reading the answer in Spencer's demeanor.

"Don't tell me you've already started telling her..."

"No. Actually I've avoided her asking by pretending to have a headache all week..." She gave a soft chuckle. "Most people would say it's ironic or karma that I'd get a migraine after feigning one..."

Spencer was about to reply when his phone interrupted. The number on the display Hotch's.