The Keeping of Words | Spencer Reid

37| Every Mistake

"Ah, the little lady's gonna be a lawyer soon isn't she?"

"Provided all goes well on the bar exam," Reid said. "DC's pass rate is only at forty-four percent." Though he had total faith she would be a part of that forty-four percent.

Morgan leaned back in the chair. From outside the conference room, voices could be heard. Footsteps and echoes of a life less defined by constant travel and cases. What was it like, to stay in one place for a job? For the depths of utter depravity to be a rare occurrence and not an accepted normalcy?

"I remember those days," Morgan sighed. "Law school was hell. I passed of course, but I never did end up taking the bar. Decided to be a cop instead. It worked out pretty well for me. Tell Bianca I wish her luck."

"I will." Pushing their home lives aside, they got back to work, retracing patterns and victimology, bouncing theories and ideas off of each other. They made a good pair, Morgan's pragmatic approach countering his statistics and hypotheses. While they butted heads from time to time, their friendship was a strong one. Neither had grown up with a brother, and both had lacked a father in their youth; that brother-like relationship they had meant more than either would let on. It was part of what made them so effective. With over ten years spent on the same team, they understood how to work together.

It wasn't long before Hotch came in, telling them to turn in for the night and pick up the next morning, after they'd all had a chance to sleep. Bags and files were collected, and the team drove to the hotel, accompanied by the silence a dead-end case often brought.

Standing beside Derek in the elevator, Reid shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Things with you and Savannah - they're good?"

"They're really good," he answered, smiling at the mere mention of her name.

Reid considered this, mulling over what that small smile meant. "Like she's-the-one good?"

Morgan blanched. "Woah, woah, it's a little early for that, don't you think? I mean, it's only been a year and a half."

They stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway. "In that year and a half, you've gotten pretty close. You live together – in a house that you renovated. You spend every moment you can with her. That's serious, isn't it?"

Morgan pulled his bag up a little higher on his shoulder. "It's more serious than anything else I've been involved in. And yeah, I think that's a good thing."

Fingers wrapped around the key card, Reid hesitated. "I think she's really good for you." It felt awkward to say, but he wanted to bring it up. Morgan was someone important in his life, and Savannah was clearly important to his best friend. Over the years he'd watched Derek accumulate more numbers than he knew what to do with, go out with a string of women – never the same one twice. Then suddenly, Savannah Hayes came along and totally changed the equation.

He introduced the team to her, brought her to several events. He treated her differently, looked at her differently. Spoke of her with a fondness, a near reverence that his voice had never held. His mom used to say that women knew when a guy was ready to settle down. Maybe that had something to do with it. He was finally ready to be in a serious relationship with someone.

A grin spread across Morgan's face. "She's changed me," he admitted. "In the very best of ways. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go call her. G'night, Reid."

"Night." Doors shut. Quiet at last. Often times their budget forced them to share rooms, but every now and then there was a blissful break in routine, and they were able to afford individual rooms. Everyone needed privacy at some point, and they all had their own coping mechanisms while on a case. Sometimes that meant working out, taking a long shower, getting lost in a movie or a book. For Rossi, it might involve a cigar or fine scotch. More often than not, privacy meant having space to phone the people they loved. That was the best way to cope.