"Happiness held is the seed; Happiness shared is the flower." – John Harrigan

It was a nice spring day, or about as nice as you could get with summer but a week away. It wasn't too hot, nor too cold. It was just one of those days that you could lay sprawled out on the emerald green grass, feeling the sun on your skin with your eyes closed.

And Mireille Li must have seemed so odd in that vast park alone. Surrounded by a mix of couples on a picnic and groups of shouting children kicking around a soccer ball. As she mixed the watercolors on her little palette, running her brush across the textured paper, she was glad that her day off was on such a nice day.

The flowers were in full bloom. And set against the backdrop of the glittering pond, it made for the perfect little scene to draw out. It seemed so unrealistically that she minded. She had to make the most use of her off days after all, with how busy the wedding business got in the spring. It was pleasant to unwind at the end of the week, considering how she ran almost entirely on coffee and pure willpower most of the time.

Leaning against the trunk of the tree providing her shade, Mireille drowned out all the chattering noises of the busy park around her. Color matching to the pretty pink blossoms she had made the subject of her painting as they slowly wavered in the breeze.

She hadn't noticed how much time had passed, really. How many people came and left as she continued to dabble away on the textured paper in her lap. She had to get the shading just right after all.

"Miss Mireille-!"

Snapping back into reality, Mireille nearly dropped her brush as she jolted up. Quickly looking around, a dark flash hit the corner of her eye. Turning her head around, she noticed one Doctor Spencer Reid standing beside her. Well dressed in his neatly pressed, dull colored clothes as always. His hands in his pockets, and that ever-so-charming smile on his face.

"Fancy running into you here," he chuckled, leaning against the trunk of the tree.

"Spencer!" she exclaimed, setting her brush down. "I'm starting to think that these run-ins are less and less coincidental."

She laughed, watching his face turn from amused to slightly concerned.

"I assure you Miss Mireille- they're purely co-"

"I'm messing with you," she said with a smile, before letting out one last chuckle. "D.C. isn't that big."

Spencer's face went from concerned, to perplexed, to a relieved smile in the matter of seconds. He motioned towards the empty area by his feet.

"May I sit?"

"Go ahead."

"You have quite the focus, you know that Miss Mireille? I must have been standing here calling your name for at least a minute or more."

"Spencer, you can call me Mireille."

"Oh!" he replied, his eyebrows raised as if he had just been startled. "Of course! Well, Mireille…"

"How long have you been working on that painting?"

"A couple of hours, maybe."

She tapped the back end of her brush to her chin, gazing mindlessly up at an overly-fluffy white cloud above, drifting lazily across the blue sky. She looked back down at the paper before her. She wasn't satisfied with it. It seemed so- flat- compared to the world before her.

"Well it looks wonderful so far. You have quite the unique style."

"No, not really."

" So what are you doing out here on a nice day like this?"

"It's my day off, so I thought I'd go for a walk. During cases I don't get out much. So it's nice to be able to have some outdoor leisure time."

"It's always good to get fresh air. Too much indoor time makes you a little stir-crazy eventually."

"Actually when people are isolated, they tend to feel more paranoid. Sensing danger around every corner. When we're around other people, we sort of 'reality test' our paranoia. According to the Social Baseline Theory, our brains expect regular access to social relationships, and can experience stress when deprived. Which could explain the concept of 'stir-crazy.'"

"That makes a scary amount of sense."

"Doesn't it?"

"So what happens, say, if someone were to have regular interactions. But not with people they're necessarily close to. Like- say all their close relationships lived pretty far away. How would they feel?"

"Well, during the Industrial Revolution people began migrating from close-knit communities that they've grown up in their entire lives to big cities for work. Scientifically, no matter how many connections you have, you can still feel lonely if they lack any real intimacy."

Spencer paused. He was info-dumping again. Looking over to Mireille, watching her expression to see if she was only smiling and nodding out of respect as so many did. But upon looking at her, he realized she was closely listening. Having set her brushes and palette down on the grass beside her, she seemed to be hanging on to his every word.

"When you're away from those close-knit communities, no matter how many bonds you form outside of it, you tend to feel isolated because our brains are programmed to desire those close connections."

"Close connections…" she echoed quietly.

"The way our world progressed made it possible for people to survive outside of those tight networks so crucial for early survival. But because our brains are still hard wired the way they were ten-thousand years ago, it's made loneliness pandemic of sorts in the modern world."

"So how do you fix it?"

"Fix?"

"Yeah. Feeling… Isolated. Lonely."

Spencer looked at Mireille, who seemed to have a bit of a mindless expression on her face. With a slow blink, she seemed to snap back into reality.

"Not- not that I'm lonely or anything! I'm just curious about the science of it, that's all!"

A lie, obviously. Spencer would never say that to her face, though. He could only smile and nod in response.

"Studies have shown that changing maladaptive thinking is likely the most effective method of treating loneliness."

"What do you mean?"

"When people are chronically lonely, they become increasingly sensitive to the negative actions of those around them. This creates a type of negative feedback loop that causes already lonely people to continue to self isolate."

"I see…"

"So if this lonely person just pauses before they tell themselves that people hate them, they can approach new relationships. Relationships that are likely the kind that they need. Emotionally intimate and close knit."

Before Mireille could even respond, Spencer felt something cold touch his shoulder.

"Did you feel that?"

Spencer spun around, holding his palm facing upwards as if he was looking to catch something. He readjusted himself, now sitting straight up away from the slanted trunk of the tree. Looking up, he noticed that clouds had seemed to suddenly gather like a blanket in the once clear sky.

"Feel what?" Mireille asked, watching the doctor look up.

"It felt like a rain droplet."

"Can't say I- huh!"

Mireille placed her hand on her head, having just felt a cold drop land there. Before she could even say anything, the droplets began to come lightly in quick succession. The droplets became heavier and heavier, pouring from the skies.

"There's more," Spencer noted with the same sort of tone you'd use to make simple smalltalk with a cashier, reaching into his bag.

Mireille, however, was less calm.

"Where did the rain come from?!" she exclaimed, quickly pulling her belongings together.

"There was an eighty-seven percent chance of precipitation this morning."

"Here- take these-"

Mireille quickly placed an unsteady stack of supplies in Spencer's hands as she quickly shoved various items into a large brown satchel.

"Huh-"

"I have to pack all my stuff quickly before it gets soaked!"

Spencer could only watch. Standing up, he pulled a collapsed black umbrella from his bag. Quickly unwrapping it and pushing it open, he held it over the florist's head. She paused, noticing the sudden lack of rain falling on her skin. She glanced up at the doctor, who couldn't help but smile.

Mireille couldn't help but feel awkward around the doctor. She was still embarrassed that she hit him the first time they met- while he was on duty nonetheless! Not to mention he seemed to continuously startle her every time they ran into one another.

She quietly hoped he wasn't annoyed at her. First for asking all those ridiculous questions and now lending her his umbrella because she was too foolish to check the weather.

"I can't believe it just started to pour. I didn't even get to finish my painting."

She sighed, tightening her grip on her damp bag as the two of them waited to cross the busy intersection. Looking down at her feet, she watched the streams of water in the gutters quickly pour into the sewers below.

"Chin up, Mireille." Spencer placed his hands in his coat pocket as he held the dark umbrella over the two of them. Slightly tilting it as the wind moved the rain in all sorts of directions. "Where are you headed next?"

"The station."

"I'll walk with you then."

"Today was so clear too…" Mireille muttered, reaching out her hand to feel the drops pouring from the sky. "I didn't even think to bring an umbrella."

"It's a good thing I always keep one around," Spencer replied in attempted reassurance.

Though she opened her mouth to respond, no words came out of it. Instead, her lips pressed back together into a tight O shape. Squinting her eyes in suspicion. Just as he was about to ask what was on her mind, she spoke.

"Why are you walking so far away?" she huffed. "You're getting wet! Come on-"

Grabbing the sleeve of his coat, she pulled him back underneath the umbrella.

"Pardon me, Mireille. But I'm a bit squeamish around close contact. Germs- and all that."

"You know what germs are even worse? Germs from if getting sick because you're soaking wet. Come on. Besides, it's your umbrella. If anybody should be getting wet it's me."

"You know… I actually really like the rain. There's something about it that's so… relaxing. I feel calm. Safe, even."

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, a soft smile creeping up onto her face. Opening her eyes again, she flashed a big brain. Clapping her hands together.

"Plus, rain is great for my flowers!"

"You know, some theories state that people like the rain because it makes their problems seem insignificant. The rain reminds them that there are forces bigger than they are, so their problems seem so little in comparison. Oh! And the smell of rain that people find so relaxing- it's called petrichor. When rain hits a porous surface, it releases bubbles with aerosols and other components like bacteria which creates petrichors distinct smell! Some evolutionary theorists believe that people enjoy the smell of petrichor because our ancestors relied on the rain to bring fresh water."

"The smell of rain-" Mireille felt herself relax, since when had she been so tense? "It brings back a super-specific memory for me."

"Is that so?"

"I was sixteen. I was at Luna Park on Coney Island with my friends after school. I'm from New York, y'know. I remember it was on a Friday. We were on the boardwalk when it started pouring all of the sudden." She made an exaggerated hand motion, as if to mimic rain falling from the sky. "We ran up and down the beach barefoot. It smelled so strongly of rain. Or, I guess as you say, petrichor."

"Well the sense of smell is closely linked to memory. More so than our other senses."

The two walked in relative silence. Though it was unlike the uncomfortable silences that she had grown accustomed to. The air around them filled with the sound of the pouring rain pattering upon the empty sidewalk and their footsteps against the wet pavement.

Mireille hadn't even realized how close the two were under the small umbrella. She could feel the warmth from his body in her cheeks, or maybe she was just flushed. She could even hear her heart pound in her ears as she glanced down at her boots, hoping he wouldn't notice her pink cheeks.

"By the way, that night…"

"Hm?"

She had spoken without thinking first. As if speaking was the only way to salvage her dignity at blushing at something so silly. And yet, she couldn't seem to stop talking.

"The night we ran into each other at the store. Something was bothering you-" she twiddled her thumbs- "Did you ever… I guess, for a lack of a better word, 'solve' whatever was bothering you?"

Spencer was silent for a moment, as Mireille made a mental note to kick herself later.

"... Yes. I did."

"Good. I'm glad."

As they turned the corner, they stopped just before the station entrance. He turned towards her and smiled.

"Here's the station."

"Thank you for walking with me."

Silence.

"Well, goodbye then," he said, turning away.

As he turned to walk away, she recalled that he lived only a few blocks away from her. By all logic, they would use the same station to return home from their location.

"You're not headed home?" she couldn't help but let slip.

"Hm? Oh no-" he waved his free hand in the air- "I have nothing to eat at home. So I'm going to find some Indian food."

"Do you mind if I join?" Mireille wanted to cover her mouth as soon as she said that. She wondered if she made her little "crush" on him obvious. "I'm starving. Plus, I know a good place nearby."

"Sure." Spencer smiled, waving her over. "Come on."