The Unknown Subject [Spencer Reid x OC]

XXIII

God I need a drink.

That's saying something because I normally never drink, but the last couple of months have made me reconsider. If it wasn't for Finn I probably would've gone down a much darker rabbit hole, but there's only so much the little guy can help with. It's been a few days since I met with Ivy, and I cannot stop thinking about it. Of course I haven't truly forgotten what she's done and how many people she's hurt, but seeing her again made me come close to pushing past it completely. I tried not to look at her the same way I used to, but it's so hard not to. I would never admit it out loud, but I missed her, or I guess the version of her she was around me. The way her nose scrunches a little when she laughs, the way her hair falls over her shoulders, and the way her eyes still light up when she sees me, as if nothing has changed and no time has passed. Even just hearing her voice again almost made me crumble to me knees.

See, this is why I need a drink. Desperately.

I can't believe I'm letting myself think like this after everything that has happened. After everything that she's done. Apart of me try's to justify it, telling me the people she hurt were doing much worse to the people around them, that she was doing the world and the victims families a favour. The logical part of me though, and the FBI agent part too, knows that no matter how justified murder may seem, it's still murder. Regardless of if they deserved it, they were still lives that were taken, lives that should've gone through the justice system instead of dying at the hands of a vigilante and ex-hitman. This is what occupies my mind almost 24/7, I can't focus and I can barely do my job.

Somehow I've now found myself at the local bar. Guess I got distracted by internal conflict yet again.

Like I said, I don't normally drink, so I'm not quite sure what to get. If I'm being honest I don't care much what I get. Finn is with Garcia for the night so I don't have to worry about taking care of him in the morning with a hangover.

I sit down at a seat at the bar, which is mostly empty anyways, not that it's surprising because it's still early. In an hour or so it will probably be packed. Eventually the bartender makes his way over to me, simultaneously cleaning a glass with a rag.

He sets down the glass and throws the towel over his shoulder, "Anything I can do for you, sir?"

I set my bag on the chair next to me, "Yeah, actually. Can you get me something strong?"

The man chuckles a bit, "Anyway you could be more specific?"

"I don't drink that often so I don't really know what to get, have any recommendations?"

He nods and leans on the bar a bit, "If you want something straight and not too complex it'd recommend an Old Fashioned or a Gin and Tonic. If you want a bit more flavour though I love a White Russian."

Yeah. I've had enough Russian for a while, thanks.

"You know what, I'll just get a few vodka shots please."