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Disclaimer: Content may be too mature for some younger viewers! Please use your own powers of discretion!

CHAPTER FOUR

DIRTY BOOKSHELVES

Spencer stared at Sadie as the latter picked at her burger. Somehow, it looked as though she didn't care as much about it anymore. She had been rather enthusiastic when picking it out, so Spencer knew he'd hit a cord when he'd unintentionally brought up her father. Absently wondering if she was in any state to continue with their date, Spencer stood up, making Sadie look up at him,

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked politely, "I'm getting a sprite and some more fries. Apparently, you can't have enough fries" he stated. Sadie half-smiled.

"A coke please" she said, "If you don't mind" she added as he nodded and made his way towards the counter.

Spencer glanced back at their table, where Sadie sat, not really looking like the person she had been earlier that day. Spencer pulled out his phone and dialled Morgan's number, which was, luckily, on speed-dial.

"Hello, pretty boy! How's it going?" Morgan answered when he picked the phone.

"Morgan, I need your help" Spencer confided quickly and quietly, then went on to explain to him the events that had occured since the morning. Once he was done, he waited for an answer, or some advice from his good friend.

"What do I do?" Spencer asked, when Morgan remained quiet. Morgan sighed on the other side of the line.

"This sort of thing isn't in the handbook, kid" Morgan admitted, sighing loudly, "I suppose what you do is be supportive, ask if she's fine, if she wants to go somewhere else to feel better, and if there's anything you could do to make her feel better" he offered. Spencer pressed his lips together as the woman behind the counter handed him the food tray.

"Ok, thanks, Morgan, I'll do that" he said, decidedly, then hung up and took the tray, before heading back to his table. He put the tray down and pulled out his chair to sit, the words ready in his mind to speak, once he had. Instead, he noticed Sadie stand up.

"I'm awfully sorry" she mumbled, "I just need to leave now. I can't do this at the moment" she spoke fast, her accent getting the better of her as she rushed to pick up her coat and her bag. Then, with a slight nod in Spencer's direction and with no eye-contact whatsoever, she hurried out the building, Spencer's stunned eyes following her movement as he stood at his table, half crouched with his hand pulling out his chair. Spencer remained frozen by her sudden departure, without so much as a reassuring glance in his direction, which troubled him terribly. When his senses returned, Spencer sat down, staring at their half-eaten meal, the extra order of fries and their drinks untouched on the table. Suddenly, he came to the realisation that going out with Sadie, who seemed to have similar interests as him, was going to be an uphill climb, with plenty of falling boulders being tossed from the top. As he came to this conclusion, he stood, leaving the untouched food, but picking up the Sprite and Coke, and went out the building. He decided he'd tell Morgan what had happened. Morgan was a better profiler than him, after all, especially when it came to women. With the sprite half-drunk and the coke still full in his hands, he managed to call Morgan and tell him how his date had ended. Morgan was curious as to the expression Sadie had been wearing when she'd left him abruptly.

"The expression?" Spencer repeated, frowning slightly.

"Did she look spooked? Or pale, or frigid?" Morgan asked, "Was she stable enough to be left on her own, Reid?" Morgan asked sharply. Spencer stopped and thought back. Sadie's hair was all over her face. She was frowning, when she got up. She wasn't pale, seemed just angry. Her eyes were tear-filled, though none of them had slipped from her eyelids, and her lips were red, as if she'd chewed on them repeatedly. When she picked her stuff, her hands weren't trembling, rather they were purposeful and she picked up her things with ease. Her eyes were downcast throughout the ordeal, except when she glanced towards his general direction, before stopping herself from looking up at his eyes, then fleeing the scene.

"She didn't look unstable" Spencer confirmed, "Just deeply upset and hurt"

"Are you sure?" Morgan asked, his voice steely. Spencer scowled.

"Of course" he said adamantly, "I think we can leave her be for a while now"
Morgan sighed.

"Ok" he agreed, "You head home too. I'll see you in the morning" he added. Spencer responded wordlessly before the call ended. Then, Spencer finished the rest of the sprite and tossed the can in a nearby bin.

Contemplating whether to hail a taxi, or take the bus, Spencer walked down the familiar road until he stopped at D.C's biggest book-store, or so it claimed to be. Frowning and wondering if they would have a copy of Sadie's book, he stepped in and scanned through half the bookshelves, going over his favourite titles until he stopped at one he'd read several years ago, on suggestion of his mentor, The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho. The book itself had been in print since the 80's, but Spencer had found it endearing and very powerful for someone who was down in the slumps. He picked it up off the shelf, knowing exactly who needed that sort of inspiration at the moment. Then, he found one of the staff and asked if they had a book by Sadie O'Connell. The young man, who looked no older than Spencer himself, nodded and lead him to the aisle where the book was.

"It's a good book" the man suggested, "I mean, if you like that sort of dark, unreal tales" he added. Spencer nodded and thanked him. Picking up the book, he read the title and saw the cover art, which was a sketched drawing of a bookshelf beside an open window. An empty, filthy bookshelf that was gloomy all the more because the weather outside the window seemed to be in stark contrast. The title reflected what he saw in the picture, "Dirty Bookshelves." Spencer made his way to the counter and paid for both books, before making his way home. He stared at the photograph of Sadie on the back, in which she was smiling a little, her hair had been brushed and kept out of her face and her green eyes seemed to sparkle like emeralds. Spencer stopped himself, twice, from opening her book right there and reading it. He knew it would be too dark for public reading and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from trying to find Sadie right at that moment after he read it.

"Garcia did say it was based on her childhood" he mumbled to himself as he finally exited the taxi and took the elevator to his apartment on the fifth floor. Spencer hung up his coat, put down his bag and kicked off his shoes before settling down in the arm-chair and opening the book.

The stories he read were all seemingly unrelated. In fact, the description on the outside claimed it to be a collection of short-stories, rather than a novella. There were 12 such stories. Each story was numbered with an age, possibly the age Sadie had been when the story had occured. He read of her experiences as a child: abandoned by her mother at three, her older brother at five and abused by her father until she was twelve. Although he never read an account of any sort of abuse, he felt it in the undertones. Sentences like, 'it's best if I don't write of all the things he may or may not have done. After all, nothing I do will erase or modify them' were a dead give-away. Instead, he focused about the few precise memories she'd recorded. Such as, the day her brother had finally rescued her from the clutches of her dad, and when she had been treated as a feral child by her psychiatrist and the team of doctors working on her health. She gave vivid descriptions of all her experiences and painted a rather colourful picture. However, what made him stop reading was chapter eleven. It had started innocently enough with, 'It had started to snow, even though it was only the start of Winter.' However, when he realised that her father, if the man could be called that, had beaten her and slammed her against the dirty bookshelf, just because she'd plucked up the courage to ask if she could borrow a book from the library, or from the school, he realised that he needed to keep her thoughts from wandering to those sort. He stood, searching for his cellphone, before he found it in his pocket and dialled her, now familiar, number. The phone rang out without reply. She hadn't registered for voice messages, he noted as it ended abruptly. Then, he dialled again, but to no avail. After a few more attempted calls, he half-hoped he could find Garcia to locate her using her cellphone, as he pulled on his jacket and picked up his keys, bag and the books he'd bought that day. Sadie answered the phone at that moment.

"Hello?" she said, sounding like she'd been sleeping.

"Sadie?" he said urgently, "It's Spencer" he said. He didn't hear anything in response.

"Spencer" she repeated, "right" she mumbled, still groggy, "Why are you calling?" she asked, sounding utterly confused. Spencer sighed with relief. She had been sleeping, not doing anything else.

"I was just checking up on you" he admitted truthfully, "You looked a bit upset when you ran away during lunch and I was worried that something might happen, or you might be too depressed or something" he rambled.

"I'm fine" she admitted, yawning, "Can I talk to you later, though? I'm pretty busted" she admitted.

"Can I bring you dinner, or something?" he offered, "I could get take-out, whatever you feel like having? I'll bring it by your place, so you can eat and have an early night and get it out of your system" he rambled again.

"Ok, sure" she mumbled, "It's flat 110, 45, Lexington avenue, just behind the starbucks" she said, yawning four times during the course, "Bring pizza" she added, "And coke. Lots of coke"

"Ok, I'll see you there, say 6?" he asked, nodding at her willingness.

"Yup, later" she mumbled, before hanging up. Spencer sighed with relief. He had no idea his heart had been racing or that he'd been breathing heavy. Just hearing her voice had reassured him that she was alright. Sighing with relief, he sank to the floor, suddenly depleted of all his energy. He looked at the book again, and wondered, if she had had any more incidents such as the one with the dirty bookshelves. Spencer sighed heavily as he felt the strength returning to his legs again and he trusted himself to stand.

He stood up, took off his jacket again and hung it up. It was already half past four. He sat down again, resting his mind of the turmoil she had caused, then, twenty minutes later, he stood and wondered what sort of pizza she'd like as he picked up his bag and went out the door, his jacket in hand.

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