CLANDESTINE : Spencer Reid

23

One of the things I had realized I didn't like about living in this country, on this continent, is the vacation days. Per my contract, my vacation days depend on how many years I've worked here. This year, I get fifteen vacation days, which is pretty high in the US. If I were in Québec, I'd get twelve days, but they also have more paid holidays so it works out pretty evenly. If I were still in France, I'd get thirty days. It feels pretty brutal.

Five of those fifteen days I take in May. I do the things I need to do then. Cleaning gets done, planning for Bastien's next birthday, and I return to my neglected work as a research assistant. I go to some tourists spots, including a spy museum. Maybe I'd like to be in a heist movie. Garcia could be the woman behind the computer. At least, much of me has returned.

I'm back before Memorial Day. People are back in the office and a bit chatty, and I actually make progress that first day even though Morgan keeps pestering me. Now, I'm starting not to mind his incessant questions and quips. Actually, I find myself smiling.

Over lunch, Emily takes me shooting. I haven't practiced in a while, but Hotch seems to approve since I froze a bit in New Orleans. If I keep up at it, maybe I'll be better when it's time to recertify in the fall. I'm not anywhere near bad enough that I will lose my gun, but it would be nice to be better than not horrid.

Then, Hotch passes out invitations to a Memorial Day barbeque at his place. His wife is excited to host it and has invited a bunch of neighbours, and it's clear that Hotch doesn't like them all that much. He doesn't have to tell me that my attendance is not required but it is strongly encouraged. It might be nice to have some burgers and corn or whatever else he serves.

"So long as there isn't a case, of course," Hotch smiles at us. I swear I haven't seen him actually move his lips that way before.

"Do any of us need to bring anything?" Morgan asks, "I don't mind getting a little cooking in."

"We aren't supplying drinks, but we will have a cooler aside for you all," Hotch offers.

My eyes go to Reid. He's nodding along. I haven't asked him about his detox, which is perfectly fine with me because I didn't want to know about it in the first place. He looks better. His skin has a flush that is healthy, his sleeves are cuffed so he isn't freezing anymore, and he actually looks like he's listening. That's where I notice it the most. His eyes aren't glossy, there aren't bags under them, and he narrows them in when he thinks. I didn't see him do that for months. He's stopped wearing his glasses, which is a shame because they suited him. Now, I notice him squint os much more than before, and that can't be good for his eyes.

The rest of the week seems to fly by. I feel like I'm getting work done. The weather is already warmer, and I'm starting to wish I was back at university where I could wear a tank top without feeling like I'm not dressed appropriately for the office. I want to go to the beach already.

Then, it is Friday, and I am bidding the others farewell. I make sure to grab everything I need for the barbeque on Sunday from the stores since I know they will all be closing. I spend most of the weekend working on my research project with the windows open and soft music coming from Estelle's radio. I'm ready to move apartments now and get a nicer view. It's definitely okay.

On Sunday afternoon, I head over to Hotch's house. His invitation has his address, and the place isn't too complicated to travel to visit. I tell myself to show up forty-five minutes after the arrival time. Being alone with Hotch and his neighbours doesn't sound pleasant, and Reid explained to me that he always shows up half an hour late to be fashionable. At least then I know I won't be alone.