I'm one with the Force and the Force is with me."
"He's praying for the door to open."
"It bothers him because he knows it's possible."
Reid reached over to grab the remote, pausing the movie. The characters of Rogue One froze in place on the screen.
"Why'd you stop it?"
"Because you're falling asleep," he said. Bianca sat sideways on the sofa, her back to the armrest, leaning into it. A thick blanket lay over her, which she'd pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were closed, but the expression on her face was peaceful.
"I'm still listening," she protested, voice soft. "I like this bit. It's spiritual. If you think about it, may the Force be with you is kind of a blessing, you know."
He chuckled lightly, but set a hand on her arm, his thumb moving in gentle strokes over her skin. "Are you feeling okay, B?"
A nod from her. "Yeah. Just tired."
Even so, he worried about her. "Are you sure? Have you been eating enough? You're not stressed out about anything?"
"I'm okay," she said. Eyes slowly opening, she looked up at him with a gentle smile. "I'm eating. I'm resting. And despite everything, I'm actually not as stressed as I thought I would be."
"What do you mean?"
Bianca offered a half-shrug, shifting on the couch so she could sit up more. "I mean, I know Scratch is still out there and there's still going to be a trial. And things are crazy with work as things keep changing in the world. I think it's just because you're home now." With one hand, she touched the locket around her neck, the same one he'd given her two Christmases ago. "Not that it's a good thing, you being suspended. But when you were gone, I was constantly scared something might happen to you. That one day I would say goodbye and never see you again. When you were home, there was always this knowledge in the back of my mind that at any minute you could get called away. So even though the future is so up in the air right now, it's just nice to have you here. To know that when I come home, you'll be here. That I don't have to be afraid of losing you right now."
She grabbed his hand, fingers intertwining with his and giving a quick squeeze. "Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," he said. And it did. That same knowledge had hung over him every second they had, though they always tried not to acknowledge it. It was like trying to grasp fistfuls of rainwater, hold to as much as he could, make every second with her count before a phone call would whisk him away to another part of the country. It made every moment with her more special, made him cherish all the little things that they couldn't afford to take for granted – waking up late on the weekends, having meals together, going grocery shopping.
At the same time, it was terrifying. There had been many an occasion in the field when he genuinely thought he might die. In those moments, several questions would flash through his mind. Who would tell his mother? How would the team react? What would happen to Bianca? It never failed to astound him how much he managed to think of her in those brief flashes. A scenario would play out in his mind sometimes. Garcia or Rossi, or maybe JJ, knocking on the door of their little house. Bianca would answer and their expression would say everything. She would break down. He couldn't bear to imagine beyond that. There had been a time in his life when he thought it wouldn't matter to anyone if he died, that the world would carry on without so much as blinking. But he couldn't forget her reaction when he'd overdosed. Her panicked pleas, begging him not to leave her. How she'd cried at his bedside when he finally woke up,
He couldn't bear the thought of hurting her. In Milburn, he had often wondered what would happen if he died there, or if he never got out. What legacy would he leave? What would he leave behind on this earth? What would Bianca be left with? Their child. An ailing mother-in-law. Mountains of questions and a broken promise. Bianca was one of the strongest people knew, but everyone had a breaking point.
He wouldn't let it come to that. Reid gripped her hand a little tighter, causing the corners of her mouth to turn a little more upwards. That smile always made his heart swell. Those brown eyes, so warm, shining in the light of their living room lamp, he could spend forever getting lost in her gaze. A single look from her could make him feel everything. What happened after death was something he wasn't sure about, but he knew he wasn't ready to face the prospect of going without hearing her laugh or falling asleep beside her.
"Is it weird that I'm going to miss this part of our life?" she asked. "Not all of the chaos, just... you and me, together. Being able to go through everything and knowing we can just fall perfectly into place at the end of the day."
Though she had come a long way from the terror that had paralyzed her when she first told him she was pregnant, there were still worries; moments of panic when she'd first started to show, small doubts that bubbled up in questions like that from time to time.
"Not weird at all. But we'll always have each other. Maybe that space is going to grow a little, but we-" he paused, grabbing both of her hands and splaying their fingers out like a fan so that they lined up, fingertip to fingertip, before closing them again and holding tight "- are always going to fit together. Perfectly."
That was one thing he would never doubt. Things might change, their world might shift, but everything they had endured together he couldn't imagine anything changing their love for each other. They would always find each other. Always bring each other back from the edge of fear or out of the overwhelming dark.
Bianca leaned back into the couch once more, sighing contentedly. She closed her eyes once more.
"You want me to turn off the movie?" he asked. "We can go to bed if you want."
"No, it's okay. I won't fall asleep."
Her assurance wasn't convincing. "I can always carry you upstairs," he offered. At that, she groaned and shrugged off the blanket, standing from the couch. "What? Do you not trust me to?"
"No, it's not that," she laughed. "But if I'm gonna end up on bedrest, I'm going to use the stairs as much as I can before then." It was true, lying still all day would drive her crazy.
Reid grabbed the remote to switch off the movie, then stood up to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Come on, then. Let's go to bed." They walked up the stairs together, one step at a time. There was a newfound peace in knowing that they could fall asleep without worrying that tomorrow might take him away.
[ || ]
Things were changing, little by little, as they began to make space in their lives for the impending arrival. The little green nursery had taken the place of what was once their library, with books being relocated to other parts of the house. Spencer made another perfect model of the solar system, and when they made trips to the bookstore they deliberately browsed the children's section, slowly building a bookshelf full of things like Roald Dahl stories, fairy tales, and Dr. Seuss.
There was exhaustion and impatience, and the growing curve of her abdomen. He worried over her, fretting as though she might break under the strain of carrying a child. Constantly he was asking her if she needed something, or offering to do things for her. She wanted to assure him that everything was okay, that she could handle this, for now. Those fears and those doubts still lived in her chest, and at times it became all too overwhelming. Just as Spencer had promised, he was there by side. It wasn't quite what they had anticipated, but they were making things work.
Bianca had to adjust her position in bed, no longer able to cuddle close to him at night. He would still hold her, his arm draped over her shoulders or his hand resting on her stomach. The movements of an unborn child used to freak him out, and they still did somewhat, but lately he'd come to understand it as a sign that their baby was still alive, that it existed and that they love they shared had really created something.
For the next few months, her doctor had ordered partial bed rest. She was growing weak, and they wanted to ensure the baby carried as close to term as possible. Not running was hard enough, but lying down for hours at a time was driving her mad. Spencer was always finding some new way to pass the time together, whether it was books or films or board games. He would do grocery shopping in the morning before his curfew so she could save her energy to cook, something she found herself more determined to do as it was one of the few activities she could perform without too much exhaustion. When he was away, Bianca wrote, to him and to their child, poems that she intended to save for them someday.
Sometimes she would talk out loud, wondering if it was true that a baby could hear and recognize their mother's voice before birth. It must've been, because Spencer had told her so. She talked because despite the fact that she was still scared, still anxious, she didn't want to blame the child for those feelings. Even now, she wanted to let them know that they were loved, and they were wanted. She had to make sure that she was capable of practicing kindness still, empathy and compassion and selflessness, especially towards something – someone - she had never expected.
Was she talking to her daughter? Her son? They didn't want to know the baby's gender until it was born, didn't want to make plans or assumptions based on something so simplistic. What would the child be like? Would they have Spencer's smarts, his ability to learn anything in a single day? Would they like writing as much as she did? There were so many things she wanted to know, and even if she was uncertain, that curiosity fostered a small sense of anticipation.
"We really should make a list of names," she said, as they put together a go-bag for the hospital. She insisted they had plenty of time to do so, but Spencer wanted to be prepared. "How do we know it'll fit them?"
Spencer was trying to fold some of her oversized sweatshirts and pajama pants into perfect squares. "I guess we have to wait and see. We can always choose a nickname later on. Like how Jennifer is more of a JJ, or Eva feels right for Aoibhegréine."
"Mm, you're right. And I suppose there's always middle names too." They had tossed around a few names they both liked. Arthur, Atticus, Ethan, Oliver. Maria, Elizabeth, Luna, Amelia. Syllables that carried potential, words that could hold entire personalities. They would whisper them out loud sometimes, as if speaking too loudly would cast some kind of spell.
Bianca glanced at the stack of books he'd made on their bed. "That's a lot of reading, you've got there. Are we really going to pack all of those?"
With mini-bottles of shampoo in hand, he turned to her. "You never know. Labor can take eight or twelve hours – even longer! There are many reports of women who were in labor for over 48 hours."
She buried her head in her hands. "Ugh, please don't remind me." They'd just started going to Lamaze classes and some of the veteran mothers made it sound awful enough. One even said she'd been in labor for three days with her first child.
"Sorry," he said, grimacing. "I mean – that's, uh, pretty unlikely."
Bianca rested both hands on her growing bump. In the beginning, it had been so hard to fathom that her body housed another human being. It was much easier to believe now that she could feel them move, but it was still difficult to imagine what it would be like when they entered the world. When they were living in the nursery down the hall, able to crawl and cry and exist on their own. At times she wanted to rush things along, get the exhaustion and anxiety of pregnancy over with, and meet this baby. Then there were moments when she felt so utterly unprepared that she wished she could pause time entirely, prevent the day from coming where she would actually have to face being a parent. Until that day came, she couldn't make any mistakes.
"One thing is for sure," she said.
"What's that?"
"If it's a boy, we're not naming them after our fathers."
"Oh, god no," he laughed. Spencer neatly folded a blanket into the go-bag. He reached for the next book in the stack and paused, looking at it with fondness. That fondness grew into a smile when he turned to her, and she could make out the cover – To Kill a Mockingbird. "We're going to be better parents than them. Much better."
[ || ]
They were sitting on the bed together, reading. She was curled up sideways in Spencer's lap, her head on his chest and her arms slung around his waist while he made his way through another chapter of Ulysses.
"Oh!" Her exclamation caused him to pause, setting the book down on the blankets.
"Everything okay?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
She nodded, placing her hand over her stomach. "Just the baby, that's all." The palm of his hand rested next to hers, long fingers stretching out to feel the same kicking that had startled her.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to bring a smile to his face. That smile quickly turned to concern as he asked, "Does it ever hurt?"
"No, not really. Usually it just surprises me."
Worry was still etched on his face as he ran his hands gently up and down her torso. "You're doing so good," he said. "Only a few more weeks."
Not long left at all, just under ten weeks now. Which reminded her - "I've been meaning to ask – what do you want to do about godparents?"
"I was thinking a little about that," he admitted. "Would – would it be okay if we made... Morgan their godfather? I mean, he's always been like an older brother to me. He even named his son after me. I feel like it kind of makes sense."
She nodded in agreement. "I think that would be perfect." There was little justification needed, Morgan was practically family to begin with.
"Do you want to make Eva their godmother?" he offered.
"As much as I love her, Eva's not often in the States." It was something she'd been considering. Since neither of them had siblings they were close with, she was hoping their godparents would function as extended family. Eva was one of her dearest friends, and there were several people she loved who would happily take on that duty, but one name kept coming to the forefront of her mind. "There are plenty of people I'm close to who leave near us who would be wonderful, but I think there's someone who would it mean a great deal to."
"Who's that?"
Bianca smiled, lacing her fingers through his. "Alex Blake. I think she already sees you like a son, honestly. And well, this baby won't exactly have any biological grandparents who are able to visit, since your mom is so far away. I think it would mean more to Alex than to anyone else I can think of."
Blake had lost her son when Ethan was very young, and she'd always been a good friend of his. It was a small invitation to really be a part of his family, and Spencer found he wanted that very much.
"You would be okay with that?" he asked.
"Absolutely. Eva, Tanvi and my other friends, will still be a great 'aunts' and 'uncles' to them. But I think this would really mean a lot to Alex."
It was agreed upon, and Bianca picked up the copy of Ulysses for him again, waiting to start where they'd left off, but it was clear there was something else distracting him.
"Do you think they'll like me?" he asked.
Confused, she stared up at him. "What do you mean?"
"The baby," he clarified. His face was pink and he looked down, searching for the right words to explain the feeling. "It just seems... so much more real now. I just want to be a good dad."
Being liked didn't come easy for him. It took a lot of work, to fit in, to belong. For much of his life, being loved had been an unfamiliar sensation. There had always been his mother though, but he'd practically raised himself. Reid had always been able to rely on himself, but soon enough there would be somebody who would have to rely on him for everything.
She laughed, touching his cheek tenderly. "Hey now, I'm supposed to be the one who worries, not you." More seriously she added, "I have complete faith you, my love. You're already so good with children. You'll be the world's best father in no time. Making blanket forts, generating great costume ideas for Halloween and decorating dozens of Christmas cookies – and probably eating half of them. You'll teach them how to memorize the Periodic Table and how to solve mysteries with psychology and geography, and you'll draw all sorts of funny pictures for them. And they'll love you, so much."
It was easy to get caught up in that picture. Sounds of unfamiliar, lighthearted laughter in the hallways. Small hands to hold each of theirs during walks in the park. Children's books and lullabies and someone new to dote on.
"They'll love you, too."
If her faith in him was steadfast, Bianca's faith in herself was far less certain. She looked down, sighing. "I just never imagined I would be a mom, you know? Now I'm trying to reconcile that. I don't know how to be a good parent."
"You know how to love," he replied. "It's what you do best. You'll be there, and you'll listen, and you'll manage to make them smile on even the worst of days. I have no doubt you'll tell the best bedtime stories. You'll be great."
"Tell me about them," she whispered.
Wrapping his arms around her, he shifted so that he could rest his chin on her shoulder, his breath against her ear. "They're roughly the size of a cabbage," he said. "Their eyesight is developing, but it's only about 20/400. They can't see more than a few inches in front of them – much like me when I've forgotten my contacts. And they're getting stronger, almost strong enough to grasp a finger."
"Only the size of a cabbage? I feel huge."
"A large cabbage," he conceded. "You look beautiful."
Just a few more weeks. A few more weeks, and everything would change.
[ || ]
The phone rang on the other line. Once, twice, three times as he paced back and forth in the kitchen. Finally – "Hello?"
"Hi, Alex. It's Reid."
"It's good to hear from you." Her voice sounded pleasantly surprised over the phone. "How are you? It's been a while."
"It has," he agreed. Blake was busy with her classes, he was busy with the BAU, and the two didn't talk near as often as he would've liked. "I'm doing good. Uh, great, actually. That is - there's something I wanted to ask you about." Nervous, why was he so nervous? It was just a question. A simple request.
"What is it?"
"Um, I know that we only worked together for two years, but I've always felt close with you. And even though you're not with the BAU anymore, you're still like family." Alex was silent, waiting to see where he was going with this. Why were the most important questions always the hardest to get out? "I was wondering if you would want to really be a part of our family."
"I'm afraid I don't understand. Could you be a little more concise?"
There he was, tripping over words again. He wanted this to go well, desperately wanted her to say yes. What if she didn't? What if she didn't think their bond was that strong? "How would you feel about being a godmother?"
"That depends... to whom?" she asked.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing desperately that he could just do this face to face and save himself the humiliation of stumbling over the phone. For some reason he thought his request would've made sense by this point. Then again, Alex did always say that she saw little point to exposition, that people should be more direct. It was a sentiment he typically shared, but when he was nervous all the rambling began. "To my child. Bianca's and mine, I mean. We're having a baby. Well, she is, technically? But it's mine, so uh-" Now he was stating the obvious. Who else's child would it have been? It was so much easier to give the news to his team in person, he'd been able to speak clearly then.
"I'm sorry, I'm just talking in circles. Let me try that again. I'm going to be a dad. And we would really like for you to be the child's godmother. If you want to, that is."
"Reid, of course! And congratulations! When did you find out?" Blake sounded ecstatic for him.
"Uh, a few months ago. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, things have just been so... hectic lately." Most of the team's communication with her had been warnings about Scratch and other escaped killers, as well as a few brief updates on how exactly he'd ended up in jail.
"No need to apologize. I understand. I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit more." Alex was one of those people whose voices rang with authenticity. She didn't waste sentiments that weren't genuine, and to know she wanted to see him made him happy. "Do you know what you're having yet?"
"We decided to just wait, and let it be surprise." Although the pregnancy in itself had been a surprise.
"Well, when should I be expecting this godchild then?" She sounded proud already, and he found himself grinning. Yes, this had been a good choice.
"Sometime in the summer. Early July if all goes well."
"Wonderful. I'm so happy for both of you. And Reid?"
"Yeah?"
Her voice softened. "This kid is going to be the luckiest child in the world to have you for a father." Through the phone, he could practically see her smile, that soft expression she'd given him a few times, when his heart had suggested that this was what it would be like to talk with a mother.
"Thank you, Alex."
[ || ]
His mother wasn't at the nursing home. Earlier that morning, he had heard her, shouting for him. At first, he was so sure it was a hallucination. He'd just woken up and when he looked outside there was nothing.
Then, as he'd been painting upstairs, he'd heard it again. Reid ran across the hall to their bedroom, overlooking the lawn. It was evening now, but there she was outside the window, in her housecoat. Without thinking, he threw open the window to call to her. No sooner had he done so did another woman appear, stepping out from the door of a dark van. She stared, waved, smirked. Winding her arm around Diana's shoulders in a strangely possessive way. Who was she? He knew her. He knew her from somewhere... sometime...
A gunshot, a high school bathroom, a near-relapse. Vaughn. Lindsey Vaughn. That wasn't right, this wasn't right, Cassie was supposed to be with her.
"Hey!" he shouted.
Lindsey looked right at him. "Come on Diana," she said. "Time to go."
Time to go. Time to go, time to go. Spencer. Time to go.
That was her. She was the woman he'd seen, who he'd remembered during Tara's cognitive interview. And she had his mother.
By the time he got down the stairs and out the front door, they were gone. So was the van. He could get in his car, try to chase after them, but it was nearly 6 PM. The GPS monitor would alert law enforcement he was breaking curfew and if he got arrested again, who would find his mom?
A panicked phone call was placed to Emily who told him to calm down, implied he'd seen something that wasn't real. "You're not even listening to me!" he shouted. "I know what I saw, all right? Find Lindsey! Find Lindsey, and find a way for me to get out past curfew!" After furiously hanging up the phone, another thought struck him, fear as electric as lightning. He dialed another number.
"Spencer, hey. I'm just finishing up some paperwork at the office but I sh-"
He cut in. "Bianca, listen to me very carefully. Don't panic. But don't leave your office, okay? I can't explain right now, but I need you to stay where you are. Can you do that?"
"Y-yeah. Yeah, I can." No sooner had he gotten off the phone with her did Emily call back.
"We called the nursing home. A nurse named Carol Atkinson was seen on security footage leaving with her. It looks like Lindsey Vaughn. I've got a meeting set up with Judge Frost, we'll be at your house to pick you up in fifteen minutes," she said.
"Good," he breathed. "Just one more thing – Bianca's still at work. Have someone pick her up and take her back the BAU, please. I don't know what's going on but I can't lose her, too."
[ || ]
The judge cleared the charges. Prints Garcia had found were enough to tie Lindsey back to the crime scene and prove his innocence. Lindsey who had been renting an apartment nearby under a fake name. Lindsey who was somehow tied to the one woman who wanted to hurt him more than anything.
Cat Adams.
The same woman he now found himself face to face with in the Mount Pleasant Women's Correctional Facility.
"Spencie." She tilted her head, smirking at him. He felt the bile rise in his throat.
"Where's my mother?" he demanded.
"I missed you."
"What did you and Lindsey do to her?"
"Stop it. You don't get to walk in here and hiss at me like I'm the criminal. We're going to do this my way," she insisted. Her way apparently involved several rapid fire questions about prison, how he kept himself busy and sane through it. All leading up to her inviting him to see the place she went to keep herself from going crazy. "Come here," she said. Seeing no other option, he leaned in.
"No touching," said JJ from the corner, her voice ice and steel. At least he had her there. If he was alone in this room, Reid wasn't sure he could control himself.
Cat glared at her. "Close your eyes. And when you open them, I want you to look at me like I'm the first woman you saw after being trapped in prison. I want you to look at me the way you look at that short-haired lawyer. You know the one? Brown eyes. Not very tall. What's her name again?" Her voice took on a lulling affect, making it plain that she knew exactly what her name was.
Hands became fists and he had to force himself to exhale through gritted teeth. "Leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with this."
The sound she made was akin to amusement, but laughter had never sounded so cruel. "Oh, but she has everything to do with it. It was going to be her, actually. That I took." The blood in his veins, boiling with rage, suddenly ran cold. "Lindsey waited outside her office. But guess who turned up with her? Your little bodyguard. Derek Morgan. The same one who helped you trick me at the restaurant."
Thank god for Morgan. They had planned to meet at her office early in the morning so she could go over draft grant proposals for his organization. Damian's Place, he was going to call it. If they had chosen another day, if he hadn't arrived at the same time... no, he couldn't afford to think about what-ifs now. Bianca was safe at the BAU with his team.
"I could've tried another day, but to be honest... I was getting tired of waiting. It's awful boring in prison, Spencie. You must remember. So let me make things interesting. Let me show you where I go."
Reid searched her eyes for any clue as to what she wanted. This was all one grand ploy, a power play, an act in which Cat was simultaneously star and director. "Why should I do anything you say?"
Cat flashed that cutting smirk once more. "Because," she said, inching closer to him. "If you don't, you'll never see your mother again. And if that's not enough? Well, I haven't forgotten the job that brought us together. You wanted me to kill your pregnant wife. Of course, you didn't have a pregnant wife then. But wait!" Her eyes lit up. "You do now!" Of all the cases he had expected would someday come back to haunt him, all the things he'd said, he never once thought that would be it. It had been so small, so irrelevant. Now, that lie was his reality. The last time he went up against Cat, he'd felt all but invincible. Suddenly, he had everything to lose.
"I can still finish that job, Spencie. Anytime I want. So, close. Your. Eyes."
He did exactly as she asked.