CLANDESTINE : Spencer Reid

22

In May, Estelle's meals fill me. I don't even have the energy to get groceries in the second week. While my work on the seasonality of serial killings isn't all that conclusive, many other crimes do increase in the summer. It's mostly about opportunity rather than the psychological effect of the heat. Summers mean vacationing families and open windows. It's not quite summer yet, but it certainly doesn't feel much like spring before. I'm starting to think spring is a myth. There is summer, and there is fall, albeit only briefly, and then winter lasts forever. It snows one week and then people can open their pools the next.

The team is out for half the first week in May and then half the second. I'm left in the office alone repeatedly. Without coworkers to distract me, I should be getting more work done. From Morgan, who keeps leaning over to comment on the photos of my siblings and me and swooning over a different one each time, to Reid, who laughs and smiles more in one day than he did in the weeks after his abduction, my days in the office are hectic with them around. Alone though, I feel like I stare at my computer screen for hours. The text cursor pulse through the screen. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. My fingers graze the keys but do not press them.

On the second Monday of May, when I am in the bullpen alone, I get a phone call. It's Bastien, not work, so I ignore it. No one is around to tell me I shouldn't take the call. Jane Hillier and the other administrative assistants are behind a different door. Garcia is too. The Section Chief and the other stations in ViCAP are housed elsewhere.

I should be with ViCAP. As far as I understand, my position is located within the BAU to help them compile data after their trips and to navigate SPSS for the profilers. However, no one needs to ask for my help. Garcia is clever enough that she could access the statistics I can and probably just as quickly. It's all wrong.

At noon, Bastien calls again. I'm in the breakroom, the mug Reid bought for me in my hands. The coffee isn't helping my stomach ache. It's probably the frozen food. I haven't bought groceries this week.

I pick up the phone, "hey."

"What, too important now to answer my calls?" Bastien chuckles through the line.

"I'm working," I roll my eyes. I feel myself pause. "Aren't you on assignment?"

"They have me in DC for a few days," Bastien answers. "Want to grab dinner? I haven't seen the inside of your place yet either."

There's no use telling him that my lease came up last month and Estelle and I are considering a change in place. Now that the first year is up, we've switched to a month-to-month. We want somewhere a bit nicer. It'll mean we'll move further from her college, but she's more than happy to do so for an actual dining room table. We've already discussed plans where I will pay the difference in rent and she'll pick up the slack from cleaning. She already cooks for me enough anyway that I don't mind. My job this summer is supposed to be looking for a neighbourhood or building and sending in applications so Estelle can sign the lease through email. She trusts me to get the work done. She shouldn't.

"I'm pretty busy with work," I tell him.

"Oh come on, I'm in the country just this week," I can imagine his face. Bastien's phone held in place by his cheek and his shoulder pushing it together, a smile on his face but his head shaking. He could probably use his hands, but he's always fiddling with something or on the move. "Please? We can shit talk Caro's wedding plans."

I sigh, "Bastien-"

"Look, I've got a higher security clearance than you. I don't mind showing up to your work. I won't even tell you which day either. I know how you love surprises."