There will be mention of Malcolm Bright from the show Prodigal Son in this chapter. If you haven't seen the show, all you need to know right now is that he is a profiler who worked with the FBI, but was kicked out due to reckless behavior. He now assists the NYPD in the Homicide dept. profiling for their cases. His connection with the girls / role in the story will become more clear later on.


dark·ness

noun

1.the partial or total absence of light.

2. wickedness or evil.

Friday Night

message from Spencer*

"Hey send me the address, I'll have to meet you there. Paperwork "


It was getting late in the cabin Michelle's sister rented for her, but plenty of her friends, and colleges remained.

Several charcuterie boards peppered surfaces, and champagne flowed freely.

Max eyes the window looking for a car to pull up the pebbled drive since he messaged her, "on my way."

She had steered clear of most of Michelle's colleagues and clients all night, but Michelle's sister, Eloise, a bubbly blonde with Michelle's figure couldn't resist questioning her.

"So he's FBI? ...Sammy said he liked him," Eloise says, referring to her son.

She chatters on: "Do you think he has killed someone before, you know—- on the job? God the angst... I bet he is so hot in bed..."

Lights come up the drive way.

"I think he is here" Max says, and adds "please don't ask him that," before sliding away from Eloise to make her way to the front porch.

There he was. Hair a mess in the best way, and wearing a blue button up. She figures he must have ditched his usual tie somewhere, and his shirt was undone to reveal a white undershirt.

"Where's your gun?" Max asks playfully, his shoes crunching on the pebbles as he walks towards her.

"I left it in my locker at work," he says with a chuckle, "I was told we are being normal tonight."

"Michelle's sister will be disappointed," she says, letting him reach her.

He leans down to kiss her and she lets him.

At this point it's natural, like breathing.

They make their way just in time for Michelle to notice them. She was making her rounds around the cabin, champagne flute in hand, and some guy in tow.

"Hey!" She says, then turns to the man beside her.

"This is my colleague, Carl," Michelle says, motioning to a blond man who looks like a Ken doll, "this is Max's... Uh, neighbor, he's a profiler for the FBI with the behavioral analysis unit..." Michelle means this as a brag but the man's reaction was unimpressed.

Spencer nods to the man who narrows his eyes, "Malcom Bright, right?" he looks Spencer up and down, "the one that messed up the Gilford case for us? We had him free as a bird until your stupid profile led to... alleged... evidence against him, do you know how much money..."

Michelle's eyes widen in amusement and she looks at Max, "no, this is, Dr. Spencer Reid," she pulls the man along, continuing their rounds, "Malcom is in New York though, and he is actually helping with the NYPD..." her voice trails off as they disappear into another room.

"You two know Bright?" Spencer asks, eyes following Michelle out before meeting Max's.

"Yeah..." Max clears her throat, "Michelle worked with him on some things... do you?"

"Just by name, really. I met him a few times... before, he um—- left. He never worked a case with us, he mostly collaborated with other units." Spencer's eyes narrowed in thought, but before he could ask any other questions, Eloise made her way to them.

Spencer participated in small talk, which consisted of mostly vapid questions from Eloise, when he wasn't picking through the various meats and cheeses from the boards.

They didn't have much alone time during his time there, but they communicated throughout the night through subtle looks, leans, and touches.

When the guests start to thin, Max walks Spencer to the porch to wait on his Uber.

"Defense attorneys" Spencer says with a shutter, once they are out of earshot.

He leans forward on the wooden railing and peers into the darkness.

"Yeah, they can be a lot, but super helpful if you're ever in a pickle... I would assume." Max says, and leans beside him facing the opposite direction on her elbows.

Spencer drops his head to the ground, and let's out an exhale.

"Would this be a weird time to tell you I've been to prison?" He says, looking to her to read her reaction.

She is silent for several beats, and doesn't doesn't move, her face continuing to face forward.

Finally, she rolls her face towards his.

"For what?" She says, simply.

Her cool reaction confuses him and he shifts uncomfortably under her gaze.

"I was, uh—- framed, for murder." He answers, "I mean there is more to it, but—" his voice trails off.

"How'd you get out of it?" Max asks, her eye brows furrowing ever so slightly.

"The BAU proved I was innocent." Spencer says.

She looks him over, then shifts her weight to one elbow to face him before asking, "proved?"

"Yeah, I have this..." he rubs a hand on his brow, trying to find the words, "assassin person who is obsessed with me, and arranged the whole thing..." he peeks through his fingers at her, but her face doesn't change.

"This sounds made up, right?" He finishes.

She blinks a few times and frowns, looking down, "is this one of those things you mentioned... why you can't sleep?"

"Yeah," He exhales loudly as if he had been holding his breath, "one of the most recent ones... out of many."

When she looks at him again, his eyes are looking past her, focused on the distance behind, and he looks almost bitter.

"What?" She says.

He blinks and shakes off the expression.

"It's just, when these things happen, all you want to do is survive it, but once you do and you're out of it it's not over. You still have to survive every day, and instead of sitting here and getting to be with you, I'm having to explain to you why defense attorneys trigger me it just..." he trails off.

"Sucks," Max finishes and their eyes meet.

He looks at her, his eyes searching hers as if willing something out.

She feels a lurch in her chest as she intentionally lies to him, again, out of omission, knowing what his eyes are asking, but she is too practiced at deflection.

Instead, she raises a finger to his cheek, chewing on her lips as if forcing them shut.

Her finger travels down his face to the collar of his shirt, and she fiddles with the seams, rubbing it between her fingers.

He rolls his neck a little, causing his tight muscles and sinews to release and crack.

He stops when he is facing towards the darkened woods ahead again.

"That doesn't bother me," is all she can finally muster, lowering her hand to her side.

It doesn't bother her. Going to jail for something you didn't do sounds horrible.

Max wouldn't know about that.

He nods his head to the darkness like an old friend, then looks back at her.

"It would bother most people," he says, his face is stiff.

He may not know what I'm hiding, but he knows it's something. She thinks, reading his eyes.

Later that night

Max sits on the mattress Michelle has moved into the living room of the cabin.

She's replaying the scenario with Spencer on the porch over and over, discussing with herself the ways in which this.. thing with Spencer is becoming quite the entanglement.

Eloise is in the shower and Michelle plops down beside her, make-up scrubbed off, and a bag of hot cheetoes in hand.

"Eloise wants us to watch some movie called Suburban Gothic," Michelle says, picking up the remote and glancing at Max through the corner of her eye.

"What?" Michelle ask after a minute.

Max notes the shower sounds and says, "He's a profiler Michelle, I don't know what I think I'm doing. He knows something is up. I've let this go on too long."

"Did he say something?" Michelle asks in a low voice, turning towards her, the chip bag crinkling in her lap.

"No, he... he's starting to open up to me. I don't know if he is trying to bait me, or..."

"Or he's falling for you" Michelle says, bluntly, throwing a chip in her mouth, "I saw you two tonight. It's sickeningly cute."

Max rolls her head up and let's out a breath.

"Like I've said, I've let this go on too long." Max says after a pause.

Michelle sighs and reaches into the bag. Max hears rustling and then sees Michelle pointing a Cheeto at her from her peripherals.

"I'll regret saying this in the morning, but you are not the only person in the world who——" Max cuts her off by putting up a hand.

"I'm just saying, given his field of work I'm sure he knows people... like you, people... who have been through that, and..."

Max's eyes snap to Michelle abruptly, whatever Michelle sees in Max's face startles her enough to stop talking.

"It's not just what happened Michelle, it's me. It's what I am because of it."

Then, with venom, she finishes, "Do you really think sweet Doctor Spencer Reid of the FBI behavioral analysis unit is going to be ok with that?"

"You'd never hurt anyone on purpose," Michelle says, bravely.

"Max Brenner would never hurt anyone," Max says in an almost robotic tone.

Something in Max's eyes makes Michelle flinch and avert her gaze.

Max looks away to nothing in particular and rubs a hand over her mouth. After a couple of beats she whispers, "do you think it's more cruel to cut it off now, or wait until he figures it out?"

They hear the water turn off from the shower and they don't speak of it again that night.


"Don't worry about the darkness in my soul, it ignites me like an embered coal." -unknown