Zoe sat on the bed in the hotel room with her knees to her chest. She was alone, for the moment, as Reid had went to pick up something to eat for the pair of them. The other agent, someone named Tanner, was outside her door.
The firemen said she could come back tomorrow to retrieve anything, if there was anything left to salvage. She pressed her palms into her eyes. Her mother's books, her favorite childhood toys, the art her family sent them every year from Brazil. All her clothes, her books, her paper from school.
And yet, she was practically numb to the pain. Tragedy after tragedy had struck her life in such a short time, all she could do was sit there, and wait for time to heal her. Hope that time would heal her.
A few blocks away, Reid was carrying a bag of Chinese food back to the hotel, and his mind was on Zoe. How she would be acting for the next 14 or so hours, when they'd be in a confined space together. The team had reported to Zoe's house to see if there was any physical evidence that might help them on the case, but so far there wasn't any news.
When he returned to the hotel room, Zoe was leaning back on the pillows, switching through the tv channels. She looked more relaxed than when he'd left, which he took as a good sign.
"Hey," he said, setting the bag on the edge of the bed, and then sitting on the adjoining bed. "hungry?"
She shrugged, leaning forward and propping her chin on her arm.
"I should probably eat, yeah." she said, reaching inside the bag and pulling out a take-out box and a pair of chopsticks. "How do you FBI agents not weigh 300 pounds if this is what you normally eat?"
"We don't normally eat. I've seen Hotch survive at least 2 weeks on coffee and determination alone." he said, and she laughed, which surprised him.
"You seem happier than I expected." he admitted.
"It hasn't quite sunken in yet, I think. I don't want to think about it, actually. Let's talk about something else."
He took a bite of Chow Mein and slipped off his Converse. She grinned at his mismatching socks. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked.
Her nose wrinkled, and then her eyes widened. "Oh, you want to see this cool trick I learned when I was, like, 10?" she said, scooting towards the wall the right side of the bed was pushed against.
"Absolutely."
She swung her legs up, so they were pressed against the wall, sticking straight up. She scooched down, so her tail bone and bottom were also touching the wall. Then, she paused.
"We have any fortune cookies?" she asked. Spencer leaned for the bag and tossed her one, which she quickly unwrapped, and then handed Spencer her container of chow mein. "Hold this." She sat up, to place the small cookie in between the big toes of both her feet. Reid watched with awe. When she was back in her original position - laying flat on her back with her legs against the wall, she looked back at Spencer.
"Count to three." she ordered.
"Okay?" he said. "One...two...three." on three, she pushed her legs off the wall, dropping the fortune cookie towards her face. She then continued to do a backwards somersault. When she was sitting upright again, she turned to face Reid, and the cookie was in between her teeth.
Spencer stared at her, his mouth slightly open, barely smiling.
"I didn't want to put noodles on my toes." she said simply, reaching for her container.
"Now that was impressive."
"I did gymnastics for a long time." she said, by way of explanation. She took a bite of the noodles. "Okay, your turn."
"What, you want me to do some weird flip and catch food in my mouth at the same time?" he asked.
"No, I mean, what's something you can do."
"Not a lot." he said, "unless you're interested in watching me recite statistics on rape victims, or maybe working out a math problem."
She grinned, and Spencer remained impressed by her sudden bubbly mood. He guessed maybe just some people dealt with grief different than others.
"C'mon, something you learned as a kid."
"I dunno." he said, looking down at his food. "All I ever knew as a kid was, like, literature. My mom used to read to me all the time, and then I read them all the time..."
"Oh?" she said, her eyebrow perking up.
"Yeah." he said. "That's about it, as far as special talents."
"You said you had a photographic memory, didn't you?"
He sighed, nodding.
"Recite something, then. If knowing loads of eccentric, ancient poetry isn't a talent, then neither is my weird fortune cookie trick."
"Fine." he said, clearing his throat. His mind searched for a poem, and he began speaking before he could even realize how appropriate the poem was for the situation.
"She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies;" he said slowly, like his mother taught him to. Recite love poems, slowly, so your listeners can drink in all the words, and feel them with the very pieces of their soul.
"And all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes" he said, watching Zoe watch him. Their eyes met. His voice was careful, calm, practiced, like he did this everyday.
"Thus mellow'd to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies." he continued, and her eyes fell on his lips, hypnotized as they formed the syllables. He licked his bottom lip as he paused, which sent a jolt of electricity down her spine.
"One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impair'd the nameless grace..." he still stared at her, as they both sat, enraptured in the moment; her, by his voice, his mouth, his eyes, and he, by the expression on her face as she listened. "Which waves in every raven tress, or softly lightens o'er her face;"
"Where thoughts serenely sweet express, how pure, how dear their dwelling-place." he was nearly whispering now, saying each word not as though it was memorized, but instead as if each word was his own, and he was saying them to Zoe, and only Zoe.
"And on that cheek, and o'er that brow," he glanced at each part as he said them, "so soft, so calm, yet eloquent,"
"The smiles that win," he said, and she grinned "the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below," he paused, as Zoe moved off the center of the bed, to the edge, to face him, so their knees were nearly touching.
"A heart whose love is innocent."he finished, and the room fell silent. As he finished, shivers sent goosebumps all over Zoe's skin.
"I really like you, Doctor Spencer Reid." she said quietly.
He looked down for a moment, and then up at her again. "The feeling is very mutual." he replied.
A/N: Finally, I got some romance out of my system! More to come, please review!