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The hardest cases are the ones that you can’t solve. The ones that are left open-ended, with no solution. You’ve done everything you can; you delivered the profile, set up a geographical profile, and consoled families when their relatives turned up dead.
You sit on the plane, your eyes glazed over as you’re lost in your thoughts. If only I’d double-checked the profile, we might’ve found something new, you think to yourself. It’s my fault.
“Hey,” a voice says from behind. You look up, eyes a little bleary, to see none other than Spencer, or ‘Boy Genius’ as Morgan fondly refers to him.
“Hi,” you reply, shuffling over a little to make room for the genius. Spencer gives a smile and takes a seat on the loveseat next to you. Immediately, he pulls out a book, Ray Bradbury’s 'Something Wicked This Way Comes’, and loses himself in it. Oh, how you envy him. He can just push the case from his mind and focus on something else completely.
“What’s eating you up, kid?” Morgan asks, noticing how your eyes are glazed over, lost in thought. 'Kid’ is a nickname Derek came up with when you first joined. You’re the youngest in the BAU, two years under Spencer. Your head snaps up.
“Hmm?”
“What’s troubling you? I know that look,” Derek repeats.
You sigh. “It’s just…that guy’s still out there. So many families are destroyed and torn apart, and we can’t help them,” you explain, playing with your fingers. Morgan lets out a deep sigh.
“It’s what the job is. Put some music on, distract yourself, and try and get some rest. You’ll feel better for it.”
You nod and Morgan turns away, putting his headphones back on. “Easy for you to say,” you grumble. Spencer looks up from his book and nudges you slightly.
“Do you want to play chess?” He asks. You shake your head.
“Listen, I love you, but we’re not playing chess again,” you reply with a small smirk on his face.
You and Spencer have been going out for a few years now, and when you got a job at the BAU, Hotch had to drag you both into his office to lay some 'ground rules’ and explain that Strauss can’t find out as it’s seen as fraternising. He definitely lives up to the role of the team’s mum.
The last time you played chess, you ended up flipping the board in frustration and the pieces flew everywhere. Three are still missing.
Spencer gives a small smile removes a hand from his book to lace with yours. You find comfort in this, though it’s not enough to stop your racing thoughts.
We’ve just left some kids for dead. Shit.
“Don’t,” Spencer says. You look up at him and quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t let it eat you up. C'mere.” He removes his hand from yours and places his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “It’s okay.”
“Is it?” You ask. “That murderer is still out there.”
“They’ll get him,” Spencer reassures you, his partner. “They always do. They’ll use the profile and find him in a week.”
You smile. “Is that calculated from one of your statistics?” You tease. Spencer rolls his eyes and smiles.
“Absolutely.”
You share a laugh before you nuzzles yourself into Spencer’s side again. “Hey, Spence?”
“Hmm?”
“Can you read to me, please?”
Spencer nods, and you get comfy.
“From the beginning?” He asks. You shake your head.
“From wherever you are. It doesn’t have to make sense to me,” you reassure your boyfriend. Spencer clears his throat.
“What was there in that old man he had seen through a tent flap late this afternoon, seated in a chair with the words MR ELECTRICO bannered over him, power webbing and crawling on his flesh like green lizards?” Spencer starts, and you close your eyes, listening to your boyfriend’s words. “All, all, all of it. And now, these books. This. He touched Physiognomonie. The secrets of the individual’s character as found in his face. Were Jim and Will, then, featured all angelic, pure, half-innocent, peering up through the sidewalk at marching terror? Did the boys represent the ideal for your Woman, Man, or Child of Excellent Bearing, Colour, Balance, and Summer Disposition?”
You yawn, feeling sleep cloud your mind at Spencer’s rhythmic voice. He always knows the right pace to use to send you straight to sleep. This isn’t the first time you’ve requested this.
“Conversely…Charles Halloway turned a page…”
Spencer stops reading, listening to your light snores and heavy breathing. He gives a smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and leans down to your backpack. He pulls out a blanket, one you bring when the team are out of Virginia for a case, and drapes it over both of you.
“Sleep well, my dear.”