Chapter Text
“Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams” - William Butler Yeats
The comfortable, acquainted silence of your family home was the only sound you heard as you sat down at your desk. You were graduating in less than 24 hours. And yet not a single friend had written to you. No congratulations, no graduation cards, not even a ‘how are u?’ text. No friend you’d ever made ever stayed anyway.
Your mother always told you it was ‘their loss’ that they had lost you. Your father didn’t say much. He always just sat there stone-faced and let your mother do the talking. But he always made it known that his word was law in his house.
School wasn’t exactly the best source of socialization. If you counted the unsolicited texts of guys pranking you by asking you out or resetting the clock on your phone so you’d be late for your next class. If that were true you’d be one of the popular kids with nothing else to do but smoke and drink and go to college parties.
You sighed softly to yourself as you looked down at your soft, baby blue stationary. It was a gift from your aunt, who lived somewhere in Europe with a large library of ancient and historical texts she would make copies of and send to you when she got the chance. It was still unused. You had never really been one to write letters or resumes on paper. It was always digital. Texts got places way quicker than what the kids at school called ‘snail mail’.
You took in a deep sigh and picked up a pencil, sharpening it ever so slightly to give it the satisfying sharp point. Then, when you finished stalling, you finally let the pencil graphite hit the first line, and you began to write.
Hello <3
Hi, so, I hope this letter finds you well. I’m paying good money for the stamps so I should hope they get delivered to the right damn address. But anyway, you’re probably wondering who I even am. Well, my name is (Y/N) (L/N). I’m 23 years old. I’m about to graduate from college for biology. I got my doctorate this year. I’m hoping to go back for med school and become a neurologist. I wanna study human behavior, so I’m going to try and get my minor in that.
A little bit about me, right? That’s what pen pals do? They share stuff with each other and hopefully become friends? I hope we do. No matter who you may be, Mr. Spencer Reid. Yeah, I had a bit of trouble spelling your name. I know it’s supposed to be simple but I’ve seen it spelled completely different. But anywho--(Who even uses ‘Anywho’ these days?) something about me… Well I like books? Lots of them. All kinds, really. You got the Divine Comedy in Italian? I’ll read it. I’m a huge history buff. Ask me anything about ancient cultures that lived in the entire east coast. I love reading their texts and learning how they lived. It’s crazy how far we’ve come from when humans first appeared. Can you even think of having to find a way to communicate without anything to base it off of? Other than maybe grunts and growls like other animals? Nothing in the workplace would ever get done!
Well… I guess I’ll limit it to one thing about me per letter. The only other thing I think you’d probably like to know is I like poetry too. I’m leaving one of my favorites at the end of this letter by the way.
Again, I hope you agree to be my pen pal or whatever this is. Also, as clarification, I only got your address because of this website I found that spat out your address when I asked for an available pen pal. So… if you don’t want to actually do this, you might wanna take your name down from Penpalsrus.com.
Hope to hear from you!
(Y/N) (L/N)
Once you finally finish, you find your once satisfyingly sharp pencil to be a nub of what it was and your hand to be aching. But you didn’t mind it. All you truly wanted to do was get this letter mailed to a Mr. Spencer Reid, someone you hoped would be your friend. It was pretty silly though. Asking what you assumed to be a man who didn’t even know you existed to talk to a college student. He probably had either a wife or husband and kids now. Your letter would be added to the junk mail pile. But at least you tried.
“(Y/N)!!”
You jumped slightly, grabbing the paper on your desk on instinct to fold it up and hide it under something so your parents wouldn’t see. They wanted you to focus on your schooling while you were still under their roof. The instant you went out instead of spending the night studying would be the day you’d be tossed out onto the street. Not that writing a letter would be that bad, it’s just that it would take away precious time worth studying with instead of replying to some random letter.
You quickly folded the blue paper and slid it into the white envelope with the proper mailing address written neatly on the face side. You decided against licking the seal of the envelope and just folded it into the slot before hiding it under your small utensil filing cabinet. You let out a sigh as you heard your bedroom door knob turning, reminding you of the lack of privacy you had in your family home.
“(Y/N), we brought back home some dinner. Come on down and eat sweetheart. Your father just got home from work.” Your mother reminded before letting your door stand open and began heading back downstairs. You sighed at the closeness that you had almost been caught. You hated hiding things from her especially. But she was glued to your father’s hip and whatever she heard went straight to your father. No matter how personal. Even when you told her about when you’d gotten your first period.
You picked up the letter and put the stamp where it should be. You then slid the envelope into your back pocket, ready to take it out to the mailbox when your father inevitably asked you to go out and lock the chicken shed and mow the lawn as he did everyday.
---
Spencer kept checking his watch as he waited by the check in counter for his mother to come greet him as she had been doing the past few visits. The team had just finished a case in Las Vegas, so he wanted to come see her. Apparently the doctors had been saying she was doing better. She’d asked to see him in a multitude of her recent letters, so he decided he’d oblige.
His foot tapped nervously against the tile as he looked around, a new book in his hands he wanted to give his mother.
After a few more idle minutes of just listening to the surroundings of the facility, he began to tap against the book’s hard cover. He tapped the beginnings of Fur Elise as his eyes scanned the building for his mother’s frame and or her figure.
He began recalling pi in his head as he waited, trying to pass the time. He managed to reach at least 975 digits in when he heard one of the nurses call for him.
“Dr. Reid? She’s ready to see you.” A tall and dark-haired male nurse called. Spencer adjusted his messenger bag and nodded as he made his way into the main common room. He walked into the well-lit room and very easily found his mother talking with another patient.
“I never thought it would work, Gladys. I mean, I put his name in there years ago I think. Yet no letter ever came. Why now?” Diana spoke to the woman on her right. The woman seemed to be too busy in her macrame to listen to what his mother had been talking about.
Spencer approached and made his way to his mother’s side, waving to her in greeting. She smiled as she saw him, something mischievous behind her eyes. “Spencer you’re not going to believe this.” She says, pulling a letter from the coffee table in front of her.
Spencer raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Well good morning to you too mom.” He smiled at her as he took a seat to her left. “What’s so unique about that letter that I won’t believe?” he asks with his smile turning to a half smirk.
Diana smiled at Spencer before she turned it over and handed it to him. “It’s for you. It got delivered at our old apartment a few days ago. I forgot that when you were younger, I think I put your name in some pen pal system. They’d send your address to someone, and they’d mail you a letter. Since you never got one I thought I’d just lost 5$ and shrugged it off. But I guess our address got lost in the system for over a decade. Maybe while they shifted everything to virtual.” Diana expressed delightfully, scoffing at her last sentence.
Spencer sighed as he was handed the letter. It seemed like something his mother would have done as he was growing up. She had been worried about his lack of friends. But this was probably some 6 year old who had to do this for a project or something. He didn’t need all of that childish writing to decipher while he had to decipher serial killer’s messages.
“Mom… I thank you for the opportunity, but don’t you think I’m a little old, for a pen pal? This is probably a small child, who can barely recite their multiplication tables.” Spencer explained slowly, trying not to offend his mother for trying to do what any mother would to help their son.
Diana shook her head. “That’s what you’d think, but I had one of my nurses look her up. She’s 23 and she’s in college. Just finished her doctorate for biology. IQ of 147. I think you both would get along great. You just turned 28. Maybe you should start looking into girls. Or men. I don’t really care which.” Diana raised a mischievous eyebrow as she nudged Spencer’s arm.
Spencer couldn’t help but blush as his mother brought up dating. He hadn’t even considered the idea for a few years, not since he met Lyla and even then, dating wasn’t really in the cards for him.
“Mom… she doesn’t even know I exist-” Spencer was trying to think of some way to let his mother down easy. He didn’t care if this woman was 5 years younger than him or that she wasn't a 6 year old obsessed with some mindless colorful cartoon. He had a job to do. And it didn’t involve him writing to a random stranger who didn’t mean anything to him.
“Spencer, please. Just try it. Write her back a letter telling her you don’t wanna be her pen pal at least so you don’t keep her hopes up.” Diana pleaded, putting a hand on her son’s shoulder. “At least read it for god’s sake.”
Spencer sighed at the interruption, but he didn’t argue. If his mother was pushing something this much, it had to be worth it to try. He looked at the return address scrawled on the left corner of the envelope. The handwriting was unique, giving him an idea of what he’d be met with when he opened it. The name written was a printed (Y/N) (L/N).
He flipped the letter and opened the envelope carefully. He was surprised to find it unsealed. He found it slightly amusing for someone to be so annoyed with the stale taste of the envelope seal that they’d instead choose to stuff it into the envelope itself.
He pulled the flap back and pulled out a folded letter on light blue stationary. He tilted his head in interest, unfolding the paper and beginning to read the very light handwriting that was on each line. Just from observing the handwriting he could tell she was nervous of something, perhaps someone. He could also tell that the writer was unable to fulfill her social need due to the bullying she received. Not only did the text say this, but the way the graphite was pushed into the paper was a key indicator.
As his eyes finished the letter in half a second, he decided to read it over a bit slower so maybe he could analyze it just a bit more. He finally pulled the letter away from his face after a few more minutes, thoroughly convinced you truly weren’t a six year old trying to get an A.
“So?” Diana asked, her head tilted slightly towards her son and her body angled there as well.
“Well I’ll have to reply when I get back to Quantico. I don’t want to take up my time with you, but… I think it might be nice, having someone I can talk to.” Spencer conceded, sighing softly as he gave into his mother’s wishes. It couldn’t be that bad. He’d just have an extra letter to write each week. To a miss (Y/N) (L/N).
----
Spencer’s shoulder loosened and his body untensed as he dropped his go-bag onto his couch, deciding to deal with it in the morning. He yawns softly, grateful for his day off in the morning. He hobbled through the apartment to his bathroom, groggily grabbing his toothbrush. He then began idly brushing his teeth as he tried not to give into sleep.
He let his mind wander. He thought about the case, the details he hadn’t forgotten. He thought about the team and the endless outings they invited him to. He thought about his mother, and how she’d obsessed over the recent book she’d finished. Then his mind traveled to the letter. The blue stationary with the quaintest of handwriting. The name that was printed on the top upper left of the envelope he had put into his messenger bag without a second thought.
He spat into the sink and faced his own reflection as he recalled what his mother had asked him to do. He breathed in and out tiredly, before he wiped his face and exited the bathroom. He wandered back into the living room and pulled out the envelope. He carried it back into his room and put it in his nightstand before he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.
Hello,
You don’t have to worry, I found it alright. However my address has changed since my mother put my name in this system. It’s pleasant to know I’m not talking to a child. At the very least an uneducated child. Though I’m sure you are not that. Given the doctorate in biology at 23.
Also, I am not a Mr. I’m usually addressed as Dr. Spencer Reid. I have an IQ of 187 and have three PHDs and three BAs. One of which happens to be biology. Perhaps I can help you. It will be good practice.
I like to read as well. I have piles of books lying around my apartment. I’ve read them all at least 10 times. I can read 22,000 words per minute, so it’s honestly not that much of a feat for me. However, I do enjoy reading the classics. I usually prefer them to the more modern written works. My favorite seems to be Sir Arthur Doyle. Have you heard of him? Reading in another language adds an extra layer of difficulty. I may need to try that myself.
History is a fascinating topic, especially when delving into human behavior. Deciphering the scientific reasons behind why we make the choices we do and how we got to this point. It is quite interesting. I study human behavior on a daily basis. It’s my job. Do you work? Or are you focusing on schooling?
I hope to hear back from you, (Y/N). Perhaps I can suggest a book or two to you, if you haven’t read them already. I’ll include a list at the end of my closing that you should look into.
Regards,
Dr. Spencer Reid
Spencer folded the letter up and slid it into the envelope, deciding to place it into the mailbox in the morning once he’d gotten enough sleep. He got up from his desk and climbed into bed. As he began to try to doze off, he recalled the snippet of a poem that had been printed at the end of (Y/N)’s letter.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
-Edgar Allan Poe