Clueless

Beethoven

"What are you listening to?" Reid settled into the seat beside Rowan. She looked up from the files, slightly shocked that he had chosen to sit beside her.
There were plenty of empty seats between people he knew and was comfortable with. She noticed the other's glances as well.
"Beethoven." She answered, trying to cover up her moment of surprise. She was almost never surprised.
"Beethoven? That's a bit too thoughtless for me." He shrugged his shoulders and flicked his hair behind his ear nervously.
"Thoughtless? You find the epitome of change in classical music thoughtless?" She asked, her voice sounding like he had committed some atrocious crime.
"I'm more a fan of Franz Liszt." Rowan raised an eyebrow.
"Liszt? I find his work a bit too complicated. He was trying to prove something and his melodies got jammed together to prove he could compose and he could play." This ensued a quietly discussed argument over classical composers and their works.
"How long do you give it?" Morgan asked Prentiss. Both were watching the other's muted argument.The agents considered for a moment before J.J. answered.
"Knowing Reid? Don't hold your breath." She sat beside Prentiss and opened the case files. The trio continued to place bets on how long it would take for the dynamic duo to fall hopelessly in love with one another's ramblings.
Each began to learn bits and pieces about each other.
Reid's mother was institutionalized when he was eighteen for severe schizophrenia. His father left when he was little. Rowan's mother died during childbirth of her little sister, who survived. Rowan graduated from high school when she was fourteen and got her doctorate before she turned eighteen. She worked for the CIA until she requested a job change and put her resume into the BAU's system.
"Reid, Rowan, I need you two to go to the morgue to check and see if there is anything you can glean off the bodies." Hotchner instructed them. There was a silent nod and Rowan didn't know whether to feel relieved- she was with Reid- or to be nervous- she was with Reid.
Hotch listed off where the other agents needed to be as the jet touched down onto the asphalt.
"Are you okay with the morgue?" Reid asked worriedly. Ever since they had been assigned the morgue, she had been acting strange.

It had nothing to do with her assignment to the morgue. The paralysis, the choking of the victims, the southern roots... it was all beginning to remind her of her own dark nightmares.
She didn't know what to think herself: her sense of foreboding was back and worse than before.
"Dead bodies don't scare me. I wouldn't have chosen this lifestyle if I did." She informed him, a bit too forcefully for him to believe she was alright. He didn't press her, instead trying to distract her from her worry.
"What do you like to read?" He asked.
"Everything. Anything I can get my hands on. My dad would take me to the grocery store and leave me in the book section. I would read six books before he came back to get me." She smiled faintly at the memory. "What about you?"
"My mom used to read me things from her literature class." He admitted.
"My mom read Emily Dickinson to me when I was trying to go to sleep. I used to get these nightmares, these awful drems that would keep me awake for days." There was a moment of silence as she started the car. Talking to Reid was a comfort, someone who she could tell everything to and didn't have to worry about them judging.
"I used to get nightmares, too. Of the cases- the victims." He seemed to be opening up to her, as well. Rowan gave a nod and they lapsed into a stiff silence. He was a little startled when she spoke again.
"I lied to you." She admitted. He looked at her strangely, not certain when that would have happened.
"When?"
"My father never took me to the store." She left it at that, not being able to look at the puppy-dog eyes doctor.
"You must be an exceptional liar. I can normally understand people by their voices and motions. I- I wouldn't have been able to tell you were lying." He wanted desperately to delve deeper into the mystery that was Roanoke Reaves but knew just from the few hours he had contact with her that she would block anyone who came close. Something happened to her that she wasn't telling him.
"Roanoke was the lost colony as the American colonists were settling. All that was ever found of them was a single word carved into a tree. It's a strange name."
Rowan almost looked amused. "My mother was a history teacher. I'm lucky I didn't get named Aphrodite."
"It would have fit well." As Rowan realized he compared her to the embodiment of the Greek goddess of beauty, the ears covered by her mass of blond hair turned pink.
As he realized he had just given a major compliment, he began to feel it too. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and cleared his throat.
She cleared her throat and continued. "If we're on the subject of names, Spencer Reid, your name translates into 'keeper of provisions'. What provisions do you supply for this team?" Spencer began to blush, realized this girl was equally adept in knowledge as he.
"If we are what our name suggests, does that mean you're going to go missing?" He said lightly.
"You never know." She shrugged.
"Don't. It's nice to have you around. I mean, you- we- it's nice having a fresh face." The two met eyes and Rowan quickly turned her attention back to the road. The rest of the ride was in silence.