Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers.

Author's Note: This piece is the one that spawned two other pieces (that have been published) and three others that take place further down the timeline. That's part of what took so long to get it finished, by the way. Luna ran away with the plot.

Dedication: To Jetainia, whose very presence reminds me that I should be working on this series instead of being distracted by other projects.

Series Note(s): This fic take place within the continuum of The Quiet Calm. While care has been taken so that this story can stand on its own, reading the preceding fics will increase one's understanding and enjoyment of things. Since this series is being written out of order, I recommend going by the series order given on my profile.
Song Recommendation(s): "Never Let Me Go" by Florence and the Machine
Timeline Reference(s): Post-Deathly Hallows (No Epilogue); S01Ep05 (Broken Mirror); S01Ep06 (L.D.S.K.); roughly November 2005

Challenge Competition Block:
Stacked with: Not Commonwealth; Sky's the Limit; Terms of Service; By Any Other Name; Fem Power Challenge
Representations: Spencer Reid; Asexuality/QPR; Law Enforcement/Library Sciences; Dursleys; Luna Lovegood
Bonus Challenges: Second Verse (Not a Lamp); Second Verse (Ladylike – Scary); Second Verse (Zucchini Bread); Second Verse (Odd Feathers); Second Verse (Wabi Sabi); Second Verse (Nontraditional); Second Verse (Middle Name); Second Verse (Tomorrow's Shade); Second Verse (Unwanted Advice); Second Verse (Asexuality); Second Verse (Lock & Key)
Word Count: 5479

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Arms of the Ocean
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"In case of dissension, never dare to judge till you've heard the other side." – Euripides
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The date with JJ did not go well.

It was an odd experience. While he understood that the founding principle of the tickets was a shared activity geared towards JJ's enjoyment, Spencer had expected to enjoy it as well. Normally when Gideon arranged outings, Spencer enjoyed them or at least learned from them. All he learned from the game was football had a breathtaking scope of personality types among its fans and that there was absolutely no chance of a romantic relationship with JJ.

But at least she had fun, even if she did suggest something ridiculously illogical when Spencer had mentioned Harry when JJ had asked about friends outside the team. Spencer did care a great deal for Harry, but there was absolutely no way that affection could be considered something like love. JJ just didn't understand; that was all. They mutually agreed to declare the date top secret and a bust. They were probably closer for having tried, though.

The failure still left him feeling grumbly, especially as Morgan and Greenaway danced around each other while Morgan also danced around any woman who seemed interested in even a single encounter. Spencer pointedly did not think of how he knew that the scent of bergamot lingered around Harry because of his preference for Earl Grey in the mornings despite the breadth of his tea collection. JJ was wrong about his friendship with the other man. Friends just noticed things like that occasionally.

The team is pulled into a kidnapping case in Connecticut before Spencer had an opportunity to laugh about it with Harry. Kidnapping for ransom cases were never the best, but this time the unsub was one of their own. When Gideon pushed, the kidnapper bit back viciously. Even knowing it wasn't true exactly, listening to one of his parents' fears spill from a stranger's mouth stung. It made him thankful that he kept his mother's condition hidden, even from Garcia's sneaky fingers. He ignored how his mind floated the definition of paranoid vigilance before pointing out how easily it could turn into paranoid delusion.

He just as carefully ignored any talk of psychic connections and how Morgan had laughed at the mere suggestion of them being anything other than wistful thinking. It wouldn't do anyone any good to point out how the ability to read microexpressions and to control one's own could create a mimicry of mental communication. Spencer had been accused of reading minds many times over the years because he could read people that way. Most of his conversations with Harry involved silent exchanges of microtells, which had led to a rumor that he refused to acknowledge about them dating.

Which they weren't, because that would be silly. They just had dinner a couple of times a week and met to play chess while discussing, well, everything because neither of them had a single area of focus for their research. They were just friends. They hadn't even known each other that long.

Harry had a visitor when Spencer returned, but he was still more than willing to lend a sympathetic ear over tea and food. The woman was slightly taller than Harry, despite spending most of her time barefoot. Spencer didn't miss that Harry had turned the temperature up to compensate. She wore brightly colored clothes that would have fit well in a hippy commune—all handkerchief skirts and poet-shirts, billowy bohemian. She moved with the same cat-like grace which Harry often did, but she would add twists and flourishes that made even simple things like cooking look like a dance. Combined with the bright colors of her clothes, the intricate motions caught his attention, forcing his brain to store each observation like a snapshot.

Luna was as much artwork as the tattoos on her skin, but more readily witnessed than those elusive patterns of sigils.

Luna didn't offer her hand when Harry introduced her. Instead, she had pressed her right fist into the palm of her left hand before briefly bowing. Then she had gone back to fixing tea in a far more intricate ritual than Harry typically used, though nothing like the Shinto method suggested by her greeting. It took Spencer longer than it probably should to recognize the Cretan style, even considering that he had only read about it. Luna's smile turned smug as she placed a fragrant mug before both Harry and him.

She cooked the meal that night, gesturing threateningly with a wooden spoon at Harry who was trying to keep things clean as she worked. Harry accepted the whack she gave his shoulder with it, ducking his head sheepishly while looking up at her through his eyelashes. She pulled Harry close enough to touch their foreheads by a loose grip on the back of his neck before shooing him to sit next to Spencer. Harry went without complaint or one of his sassy quips. He was grinning when he bumped his shoulder against Spencer's. Harry was openly affectionate, reflecting back Luna's mixture of disregard and respect for personal boundaries, and truly relaxed for the first time in months.

Spencer was not jealous. He had absolutely no reason to be. They were just friends.

Harry never made Spencer feel as if he was an intrusion on his time with Luna, despite travel from another country being financially limiting for many people. Harry made sure to include activities that were interesting for both his visitor and Spencer, none of which were sports or even included other people outside the three of them. They spent hours discussing obscure topics ranging from physics to literature, sometimes all at once. It was truly relaxing to not need to stop and explain everything for once and to have the few times it was necessary to be appreciated as well as understood the first time.

It was difficult to imagine that there were not just one but two other people like him in the world.

He was still thankful that Harry didn't pick up Luna's habit of calling him Pen, even if Spencer secretly loved the nickname. It soothed the not jealousy a bit to have something unique from the blonde for himself.

Luna had a way of moving around—a way of seeming to disappear even while being watched, similar to how Harry often seemed smaller than he already was. She also had a habit of staring off into space while looking lost, only to jolt back to herself and practically sprint out of whatever room she was in. Spencer decided to say nothing of the odd behavior even as he tried to figure out the triggers for the incidents.

Spencer knew that the mentally-whispered explanation of visions was beyond ridiculous. Sudden inspiration was far more logical.

Harry never explained much about his connection to Luna beyond 'close school friend', but the expression he wore as he watched her move around his kitchen said a lot about the potential of exploring JJ's idea about how Spencer felt about Harry. The way that neither of them had any hesitancy about reaching for each other said even more, despite that none of their touching moved outside of the platonic range while in Spencer's presence. One would have to be blind not to see how much they meant to each other.

Spencer's traitorous mind ran the probability of ever having a chance anyway.

The odds were not in his favor. Not that Spencer would ever bet against the house. He did grow up in Vegas and was banned from every casino in three counties. Mathematics made gambling ridiculously easy. It also told him when something was a guaranteed loss.

He was not jealous; they were just friends and hadn't even known each other that long.

Spencer resolved to stay friends, no matter what, because he's selfish and could no more cut Harry out of his life than he could cut off a limb even if that would be wiser if JJ's declaration had any merit. His mind gave him terms like maladaptive and unhealthy coping mechanism, but it felt nice to let Harry do the things he insisted upon like the food and sensory distractions, things he had clearly learned from Luna. Spencer knew that it had been helping Harry as well, even if it wasn't always perfect, even if there were still holes and gaps where nothing Spencer could think of would fit.

However, Luna's presence filled those spaces, at least enough of them that Harry had less problems letting people close to him. She pushed into both of their personal bubbles, so openly affectionate that a person just had to respond. (Spencer was not so blind that he couldn't see how like Garcia Luna acted. The two women would either get along fabulously or they would hate each other with a passion usually reserved for arch enemies. Spencer wasn't certain which outcome worried him more.) Harry adapted to the behavior of those around him as always and while he clearly tried to restrict the touching to Luna, more often than not the openness just spilled over to Spencer. (It didn't bother him nearly as much as it did when Morgan or Garcia did it. It was just another item on the growing list of things Spencer was trying not to examine that too closely.) Her laughter soothed the often too large silences when it didn't matter how much Spencer spoke or how quickly.

Luna would ply them both with cookies and food and tea. She would shoo them into showers and baths and the heated portion of Harry's indoor pool. It didn't take long for Spencer to realize that Luna had to be the friend who made the claim about hot water's curative properties. Spencer suspected that the blonde knew about the underlying cause of Harry's reflexive behaviors and compulsive habit of feeding people. Spencer had promised that he wasn't going to pry, however, so he swallowed the desire to ask even when it was just the two of them. Harry would tell him when he was ready, and Luna probably agree with whatever Harry wanted.

Luna reminded him so much of his mother before she succumbed to the schizophrenia, a whirlwind of perfect serenity. She was intelligent and witty, clearly on the same level as both Spencer and Harry despite her declared lack of formal education—Spencer still didn't know exactly what she did when she wasn't hanging out around Harry's bungalow. He had asked exactly once and had only gotten a toothy grin in reply before the blonde had sashayed from the room. She was beautiful and ethereal, like a real life fairy sneaking into the city from a sidhe.

In his more fanciable moments, Spencer resented the implication that she would steal Harry away.

This was not some dramatic romance movie, and none of them were melodramatic middle-schoolers.

Harry was not an object that someone could steal.

Spencer had no claim beyond friendship anyway.

He was not jealous.

Then three weeks and five days after her arrival and the day after he killed Dowd, Spencer rounded the top of the stairs leading to his apartment to see Luna sitting cross-legged on the hallway floor with her back propped against his door. She looked up at him with eyes that were both sharp and blank. Unlike the jewel-like hues that colored the billowy folds of her normal outfits, her comfortable but form-fitting shirt and pants were muted earth tones, perfect for blending into a backdrop of foliage. Instead of a shirt with full sleeves, she had on a tank top that revealed several tattoos on both arms and across her cleavage and clavicles, the most prominent of which was a tri-colored band of symbols coiling around her left arm from wrist to shoulder. The waist-long hair she had always worn loose had been gathered into the protective control of a deceptively small bun. Instead of the easily removed ballet flats she had been favoring the few times shoes had been required, dark leather boots encased her feet and legs. She rose as he approached, her silvery-lavender eyes never leaving his face.

There was no bag in sight, but Spencer didn't need one to know she was leaving just as suddenly as she had arrived. His surprise did not come from her sudden departure, but by the fact that he was not surprised. At some point she had become linked in his mind with the lore about fairies far more than he had realized. He shoved aside the logical portion of himself that was terrified of ending up in Bennington with his mother. He had to say something to his guest instead of just staring at her.

"Harry knows I can never stay long," she said softly. "Just as he knows that I would never leave him forever. My mother named me aptly, as did yours, I think."

"The moon is predictable." Spencer bit back the accusation he wanted to throw at the woman. Harry had been in Virginia for months and never once had he mentioned anyone from his old life even calling. He may have been a bit jealous of how happy Luna's presence made Harry, but knowing that the only person who had bothered to follow the librarian was once more leaving him? Spencer didn't have to imagine how much that would hurt. He could remember. Harry didn't deserve that. No one did, but especially not Harry.

"But are whirlwinds?" Her words were still soft and her expression held only sympathy. Her lips quirked into the gentle smile she often gave Harry. "It's not telepathy if I'm making a guess. Harry once mentioned that since I started leaving on my trips, dealing with my return is often like dealing with a whirlwind. You remind me of him, of how he was when we first met. I am glad that he found you, Spencer Reid. He's been alone for too long."

"You could stay," Spencer reminded her, despite the false taste of the words. Luna arched one pale brow at him, a silent challenge that made his mind pick up speed and whirl. Unable to stop it, the flow of information began tumbling from his mouth. "Harry's happier with you here. You both move in synchronized movements no matter what you're doing—probably because you trained together, though you don't have as much combat training as Harry does, even if you do have more actual combat experience. There's a sympathetic connection between you both from the shared elements of your childhoods but they're not what most people expect them to be, not just similar school experiences like how you both try to play it off as. Neither of you have ever pointed that out to anyone and no one has ever called you on it either. Your other friends care for Harry very deeply, despite the fact that I suspect that they haven't reached out to him even once since he moved, and it's probably fair to say that they would be willing to die for him."

"But?" Luna prompted without the defensive posturing he had been expecting when he realized that he was analyzing her to her face. A great deal of his problems with his social network stemmed from doing just that but the blonde before him was reacting so much like Harry that Spencer was half-expecting a cup of tea to be pushed at him. He trembled briefly before saying the last part, the part that would likely cool her apparent affection for him. That Cheshire grin from when he had asked what she did for a living haunted him more than he cared to admit.

"But you would kill for him."

"Yes, I would," Luna acknowledged. The words were given as easily as anything else she had said, without any hint of hesitation or restraint. If there was a single word to describe her, Spencer would have said blunt because Luna somehow had even less social graces than Spencer himself and often saw no reason to put up any kind of a front. It was refreshing. It was also terrifying, especially when she thought to posture like she was doing now. Her gentle smile had become a polite sneer full of glinting teeth, more aligned with a protective snarl than anything contemptuous. "I would take any measure to protect him, and his enemies are my own. Harry and I both learned the price of thinking that a fallen enemy incapable of rising again, of believing the system would be just. They love him, that is true, but some lessons are only wrought in blood, and thankfully, they've been spared that. I still cannot stay, Spencer."

"Why?" He whined the question, childish and ashamed of that. This was beginning to feel like he was watching his father leave again. All he could think about was the vision in his head of Harry going as quiet and disconnected as his mother had been in the immediate wake of that. Spencer didn't think he could survive seeing someone else he loved like that, no matter how short a time he had known Harry.

"Because seeking out the hidden spaces and their secrets is how I deal with the Noticing," she answered without judgement or censure, just painfully, brutally blunt. "I cannot stand the quietness of a library like Harry and my methods of hunting monsters does not mesh well with others like yours do. So, I go into the wild expanses and seek out the hidden spaces and what secrets they hold. I hunt what monsters I happen upon. I bring back my memories of them and I give to them the one person I trust above all others to be sorted. I stay as long as I can, because he saved so many people but there has never before been someone to save him. Leaving hurts every time, Pen, because I know that Harry is alone even in a room full of his found-family."

"You really can't stay," Spencer realized with startling insight, "but you also cannot stay away."

"Harry should never be alone. People are his greatest strength even as they are his greatest weakness. Hermione calls it his 'saving people' thing and curses it the same breath. She's brilliant, and has earned the epithet Harry gave her when we were sixteen several times over, but she has consistently not understood how much Harry needs to do it, and underestimated how deep each lost soul cuts him. Has he mentioned his blood-family at all?"

"He's said that he has no direct blood relatives, but—" Spencer hesitated for a beat before realizing Luna would understand the source of his knowledge and certainty. "—he was holding something back. He doesn't lie—deflect, yes, and downplay, but he never actively lies."

"No, he doesn't," Luna agreed. Her smile was brilliant. "He'll play with the words and the phrasing and the implied understanding of things, but you are correct that Harry will not lie unless he absolutely has to. Lying is something that he must not do." There was a strange emphasis to the phrasing of that last bit that Spencer didn't fully understand. He didn't miss that the phrasing matched the strange scarring on the back of Harry's right hand—on the back of Harry's dominant hand. As his stomach did a sickening swoop, Luna continued in her blunt way. "Direct is probably his sidestep, since his parents are dead and he has no children or siblings. His aunt and cousin are still alive, and since he grew up in their house, they would count as immediate. But direct would allow him to not mention them. That is his preference. As if by pretending they don't exist, he can ignore the wounds they gave him, ignore their crimes."

Luna looked almost feral in her anger over what Spencer knew had to be confirmation of his conclusions about Harry's childhood. He was running through his observations again, letting each one fall into place. Harry's eyes had focused on Spencer's wrists right before that first offer of takeout. His wrists had always been knobby, but prominent metacarpals was a common sign of short-term starvation. Coupled with Harry's jokes about being told about the necessity of food and Harry's insistence upon feeding Spencer as a means of comforting him, it stood to reason that heavy food restriction was a key factor in his abuse. Harry never expected reciprocation of the things he gave—in any form—while overcompensating for anything given to him. That included any form of physical contact, which Spencer had picked up on already. Harry never challenged Spencer's hesitancy over touch, but every time he reached out, Harry not only accepted the contact but leaned into it. He never hesitated with Luna who never hesitated to demonstrate her affection physically.

Spencer felt a little feral himself at the implications of just how starved for love and affection Harry must be, and just sick with the recognition of his own failure to mediate it.

For all the problems he had ever had taking care of his mother, all the times she had lashed out in madness only to not remember once lucid, Spencer had known that his mother loved him above all other things. Diana had always encouraged him to explore his limits and then push past them, to shine as brightly as he could. Every hurt she had ever given him could be blamed on her simply not being in her right mind. If Harry wasn't claiming either of his blood relatives and making it seem like they didn't even exist, the chances of the same excuse being applicable were not favorable. Those odds died completely if Luna would call their actions criminal. Spencer did note that Luna, dangerous and secretive Luna, was confident about the status of Harry's aunt and cousin, as if she was keeping track of them and waiting for…something before striking.

"He wasn't always going to be a librarian," Luna said, dragging his attention back to her. Her own gaze seemed unfocused, like she was remembering something. She sounded distant as well. "Even with everything that happened while we were at school, he was still willing to chase after monsters. He was good at it. You know what Harry would be able to bring to any scene, of course, because it's much like what you bring."

"The Noticing," Spencer commented, using Luna's term for the near-instant awareness and analysis of details that all three of them shared. It was a simple name, but that was like Luna. She gave simple names for a lot of things, almost like she was avoiding a specific system of jargon. Luna acknowledged his comment with a single nod before continuing.

"He was in training, still in the academy, but he was helping out on cases under a senior agent. He was great, of course. No one wanted to mess with Harry. He was the best, specifically recruited because he was the best. Harry always tries to save everyone—" Her eyes were shimmering with tears as she choked on the words. Spencer remembered what she had said about how Harry felt about every person he failed to 'saved'. He had a feeling that he knew where this explanation was going. Luna managed to get herself composed enough to continue in an even voice.

"There was a case, right before he resigned. A little girl had gone missing—dark hair, green eyes, small but determined." She paused when Spencer closed his eyes at the description that might as well have been Harry. Even now, Harry was shorter than average for a man and lithe instead of bulky in his strength. This was probably worse than what he was expecting. "Turns out, she had only run away from her father. They found her, battered from her father's care but safe with her mother. It was clearly not a good environment, but the law was also clear. They returned her to her father and arrested her mother. Harry did everything he could within the system, which is a lot because he's Harry. I know that you don't understand exactly what that means, but just understand that it's true. They found her body on her mother's doorstep, but despite knowing that her father was to blame, there was nothing they could do against him. The system isn't always just.

"Harry stopped chasing monsters and started chasing information—research. He always did love to read, even if he hid it from so many."

"Why are you telling me this, Luna?"

"You're wrong about how often they contact him and why they limit that contact. Again, not telepathy. It's the end of November now and I helped settle Harry just after the solstice. I understand what you must be thinking, what you are thinking by the look in your eyes since I've arrived. We knew when Harry left that we all had a program to follow, that things were going to be difficult for a while, especially given who Harry is. As much as we love him, we all understand that there are more important things."

"Oh, god," Spencer said as he recognized the language the blonde was using. He braced his hand against the wall. His mind ran through the tiny details surrounding Harry—the stories that seemed carefully edited, the sheer lack of surnames in them, how very few pictures Harry had, the suddenness of Harry moving to another country. There were things that didn't fit, but overall a lot of things did—one of the things that didn't fit was the blonde staring at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Someone connected with your office has accessed Harry's background report. They didn't go any further than that, thankfully, didn't find anything that would tip off the wrong people. We still needed to check on him."

"Can I at least say goodbye to him before you move him?" Spencer didn't hold much hope of it. He knew how the Program worked, how quickly they removed compromised participants. He still had to ask, because this wasn't just random participant. It was Harry.

"You misunderstand me, Spencer." Luna looked like she was trying not to laugh. "Harry's special, as you know, precious. No one can make him do something that he does not wish to do, even when it would be safer for him. Especially when our reasoning is to make him safer. Harry is not leaving with me. We used a lot of the same protocols to hide his move, but, well, actually using the full program? Harry wouldn't have allowed that if he knew." She gave him a toothy grin, predatorily pleased about something. Spencer should have been afraid, but he was only comforted by it instead. Well, as much as one be comforted knowing that a predator had its gaze on a different prey. "Harry does not do well alone. I was pleased to see that he was not, even more so to see how important you were to him already. Harry's heart is an ocean but so few fish who swim there deserve the waters of it."

She swayed suddenly, ending up leaning heavily against the wall next to Spencer's hand. Immediately, his free hand came up to steady her. She jerked away with a whimper. He stilled, poised to catch her if she looked about to fall again but refusing to intrude past the boundary she was setting. They stayed like that for several silent moments, Luna trying to steady herself as Spencer weighed his knowledge against possible resolutions.

Considering that she had felt his hand before it touched her while her eyes were closed, Spencer just knew that the issue had to stem from the sensory awareness becoming overwhelming. He knew from personal experience that could make even simple things seem overly abrasive. Continued exposure to fresh sensory details would just exasperate the symptoms. Being around people was always harder than simply being in new environments, which Harry's house clearly wasn't if she's the one who helped him move. But to get from Harry's to here, she would have gone through half of Washington during the hours of peak foot traffic. Harry had been so careful to keep her away from people. Luna had just admitted to spending most of her time isolated from people in general, and she had just spent the past bit exchanging micro-communications with him.

"Right," he declared as he came to a decision. "I know you were going to leave, and that you probably don't want to be touched, but you need to come inside and I'm going to insist that you stay at least for a few hours. You're very intimidating but I'm surprisingly scrappy and I'm not above attempting to bribe you with leftover cookies."

"Just like Harry," Luna muttered. "I bet you've even figured out how I like my tea."

"You like the fennel-mint blend Harry makes," Spencer replied instantly. "The one with hawthorn berries, not the one with oranges. He avoids all his blends with citrus when preparing tea for you. He even avoids his preferred morning blend." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Allergy to citrus?"

"Exactly like Harry," she replied with a weak smile. "Will you recite Shakespeare to me as well?"

"I prefer Chaucer actually—or Malory. My mother was partial to both of them."

"What about Cervantes?"

"Why am I not surprised that you enjoy tales of the Mad Knight?"

"Are you pretending to know my mind, Spencer Reid?"

"That's a riddle I won't try for," he quipped. Luna seemed to have regained her balance, but he still wasn't comfortable just letting her leave. Even if he was, if she left and something happened, what would that do to Harry? "Harry made the cookies." She opened one eye to look at him. "So, you know, they're edible. They're Harry's cookies. He makes them and keeps them on hand. Sometimes, he sends a batch home with me."

"Entire batches?" Luna asked, both eyes open now and examining him. Her expression was carefully neutral. This time, she reached for him, ignoring how Spencer flinched back to avoid her touch. Her hands gripped his forearms tightly. She pulled his arms up to look at his wrists. Her tongue clucked against her teeth, making him flinched again. When she continued, her tone was coaxingly soft without a trace of judgement. "Exactly how often are they the only thing you can keep down? They were never meant to be long term replacements for meals."

"We're still in the hallway," he reminded her.

"Yes, and I'll be fine once I leave here," she replied. "Now answer the question so I have all the pieces to work the puzzle. I still need to leave, but I should be able to rework the recipe while I'm gone."

"It's fine," Spencer said. "It's just a few times a week, mostly after intense cases."

"Let me guess: you only half-use the Noticing, if you use it at all." Luna sighed deeply before reaching out to cup his face. In a habit he hadn't even noticed forming, Spencer leaned into the light touch. "You and Harry deserve each other. I'll still tweak the recipe before passing it on, because honestly, it could use it, but you've got to stop fighting yourself, pretty Penny. It's a battle that's not meant to be won. You'd be better off finding ways to channel it."

"It hurts," he whispered in return. Luna shifted a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down so that their foreheads touched. He sighed as all the stress of the previous night evaporated. He hadn't even noticed how much there was, caught up as he was in the lack of guilt over killing Dowd. "It burns and won't stop. It's better to not let it spark in the first place."

"It's still burning, Pen. The difference is you're not minding the flame." She released him as she took a step back. "Go to Harry, when it hurts. He'll be able to help."

"Because he's an ocean?" Spencer asked, only half in jest. Luna's smile was as brilliant as the moon for which she was named. But she didn't speak another word as she walked away. She just wiggled her fingers at him as she disappeared down the stairs.

Spencer looked at his still-locked apartment door for a long moment. He replayed his conversation with Luna. He thought about how happy Harry had been these past few weeks, just because she had been there. He thought about how his mother had been after his father had left for the last time. He thought about how tired he was from wrapping up the last case.

He was halfway to campus before he thought to call Harry to ask if he wanted Chinese or Indian.

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An Ending
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