This conversation is tagged to the episode "The Angel Maker" which includes the infinitely amusing "He's so life-like" comment.

I should note, sadly Criminal Minds and its associated story lines and characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in their world for a little while.

"The trick is that as long as you know who you are and what makes you happy, it doesn't matter how others see you." –Wendy Mass, Every Soul A Star

The chess board sits between us on a table in the park. She is focused entirely on the board, eyes sweeping back and forth across the pieces. I've already calculated what move she will make based on the available options, and her playing style. After Gideon left she took his place as my regular opponent, and between the games on the jet after cases and our semi-regular chess and coffee dates in the park, I think I finally have a handle on her playing style. I am busy considering my own moves, given the one she will make.

"Something I can do for you, Dr. Reid?" her voice startles me out of my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said: Is there something I can do for you, Dr. Reid?" she tilts her head to one side and shoots me a questioning glance.

"What? No. I'm just... We're in the middle of a game. Why do you ask?" I stutter. She has an uncanny ability to know when I want to say something. I suppose that comes with our line of work though. But Morgan hadn't noticed, and neither had Hotch or Rossi, or even JJ. Then again, maybe she's just more perceptive. Or maybe I'm just reading into it a little too much.

She chuckles and her eyes seem to laugh mischievously along with her, "Oh my, did I fluster the good doctor?"

I glare in response and look pointedly at the board.

She smiles as she lifts up a knight and makes a move she really shouldn't. I frown at her choice, and my eyes begin flying back and forth across the board, analyzing the options because that move changes everything. It really doesn't make any sense why she'd do that. She's a capable chess player, and can usually give me a run for my money. She's having an off day evidently. Plus, it doesn't fit her style.

"So, what is it?" she asks as she leans back in her chair.

"What is what?" I ask without breaking my concentration on the board.

"What you wanted to ask me."

"I didn't say I wanted to ask you anything," I reply as I move my bishop a few places. "Check."

She leans forward, moves her king and leans back in her chair again, "So you're telling me there's nothing you'd like to ask me?"

I scan the board continuously, different permutations arising with every sweep of my eyes. I look up when I feel her gaze on me. Her face is expectant.

"Yes. No. I mean yes. Well. Now that you mention it..." I trail off as my focus swings to the game once more. I move a pawn this time, "Check."

"Reid..." she prompts, making no move to relocate or protect her king. We don't play with any sort of time limit so it's not necessarily wrong, but it can be infuriating sometimes. She always says chess is not a game of speed, but of patience. I argue chess can be a game of speed, since processing and analyzing time should count for something. She laughed when I told her that, and then asked how she was able to beat me using her snail's pace. I realize I haven't moved or spoken in a few minutes and I bring my eyes up from the board to her. She still regards me with an expectant look, her eyes portraying care and a hint of worry.

"I just wonder how other people see me," I say quickly.

There is a short moment of silence as she considers what I've said, "This is about what I said on the last case, isn't it?"

I shrug in response, and she moves a rook to protect her king.

"You know I have a tremendous amount of respect for you, don't you?"

I don't say anything. I move my queen and take one of her pawns. I shouldn't have brought it up.

Her eyes narrow for a moment, and she moves her own queen, "Check."

I quickly move my king and meet her gaze which I can feel is still on me.

"Reid, I'm serious. You're a remarkable individual, with many unique talents and qualities."

My hands drop to my lap as I look down from the board and her gaze, "Am I really that bad?"

"I don't follow," she replies, her voice quiet and soft.

"You said, "He's so life-like." Am I really that..."

"Super-human?" she suggests as she moves a rook again and smiles. "Yes Dr. Reid, you are indeed superhuman when it comes to analysis and all things academic."

I move a pawn once more.

"However, you are also most definitely human in other aspects."

I raise my eyebrow in a questioning expression.

"Your emotions, your relationships, your wants, your hopes, your dreams," she trails off as she lifts her hand to grab her bishop. "And definitely when it comes to playing chess."

"What?" I respond, confused.

She grins widely and moves her bishop, "Checkmate."

I frown at the turn of events. Apparently I don't know her playing style. My mind recounts each of our moves, analyzing where I went wrong.

"Reid, don't get hung up on it."

For a moment I'm not sure what she's referring to: the chess game or how people see me.

"It doesn't matter how people see you. You know who you are, and your friends know who you are. Trust me when I say we appreciate you for you. You don't need to change to please other people or to fit into the mould of "normalcy" that's been set in society. Doing that never ends well."

As she finishes speaking, I see a flicker of something in her eyes. Recognition or empathy of some kind. I try to imagine in what capacity Emily Prentiss would ever have to worry about fitting in. I dismiss the line of thinking as it goes nowhere, and my gaze lowers to the board.

"Spencer," she says softly as she grabs my hands in hers, stopping my task of setting up the pieces for a rematch. Her use of my first name shocks me. "Look at me."

I slowly shift my eyes from our clasped hands and meet her gaze, which seems to be willing me to accept her words. I smile to let her know I get it. She lets go of my hands and stands, grabbing her purse and buttoning her coat against the slight cold setting into the early evening autumn air. She smiles and gestures for me to do the same. I grab my scarf and coat, and sling my messenger bag over my shoulder, the chess board and pieces safely tucked away inside.

"C'mon handsome, I'll make you dinner," she says wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"You can cook?!" I ask, astonished.

"What do you mean "you can cook"?!" she exclaims incredulously, stepping away and using air quotes around the phrase.

"Uhh... well..." There is no good way of escaping this for me.

"What did Morgan say?" she asks with a knowing, pointed glare.

"He said there's a reason you eat so much take-out food," I say carefully.

She considers that for a moment, and puts her arm around my shoulders again as her eyes twinkle in mischief once more, "Well you'll just have to be my witness that I can in fact cook, won't you?"

A little more light-hearted than the first installment. If you're so inclined, leave a review =)