A Week Earlier

"So, Pretty Boy, what's her name?" Morgan had asked the second that Reid walked back into the bullpen on Thursday morning.

Reid looked down and smiled, shyly.

"Does it have something to do with the pretty girl named Cassidy who's life we just saved?" JJ quipped.

Reid held his hands up in surrender.

"Profiling me isn't fair." Reid pouted.

"You do it to us all the time, Spence." JJ scoffed.

He shrugged and sat at his desk. "Her name is Cassidy, and she'll be visiting in about a week now."

"No kidding, so soon?" JJ asked, one of her eyebrows arched. Morgan looked pleased, smiling giddily from his desk.

"It's about time." He laughed.

"Yeah, I know it's fast, but I don't know what it is. It's something I can't figure out. Like, it just feels right, but I don't know why."

"'Why' doesn't always apply in life. Especially in matters of the heart." Morgan said thoughtfully. JJ looked at him, laughing.

"So very wise, all of a sudden, Derek?" she questioned.

"Hey, y'know, I have had my fair share of relationships, I'm entitled to give him a little advice."
"What's this I hear? My Prince of the Pythagorean has a wom-aan?" Garcia asked as she walked into the room, toting a clipboard and laptop.

Spencer shot Morgan a look, his brow furrowed.

"It's really early, and I don't kn-" he began, but then Morgan cut him off

"You do know, you're just reluctant to admit it, because it's not how it's supposed to be done, right?"

Spencer was silent.

"It's the gut feeling that makes you so good at what you do."

The three other agents watched the doctor as he tried to work this out in his mind. After a moment he smiled.

"Do you guys want to meet her?"

A week later

He was expecting some teasing, a laugh, or at the very least a raised eyebrow. Instead, she launched herself at one of his stacked, crowded bookshelves, and tugged a copy from a pile.

"You have a first edition Sartre?" she whispered in awe. She flipped open the front cover. "And it's signed?" her voice went to a high-pitched hysterical squeal.

"How did you pinpoint that book directly?" Spencer asked.

"Are you kidding me? I could see that book a mile away, in the dark, in the rain. He's my favorite. They only published like 10,000 of these, this is amazing."

"A teacher gave it to me in a college philosophy class. He knew Sarte personally, before he died."

"And Simone de Beauvoir is practically my hero. This is amazing:" she gently replaced the book, and continued looking at his books. "And I know you're worried about the apartment." She commented briskly. "You shouldn't be. It doesn't bother me, really, Spencer."

"I know it's just…I know where everything is."

"It's organized chaos. That's how I was before I had a roommate. My room at home is still as crazy as it always been. I'd kill my sister if she screws it up."

"What's your sister like?"

"She's alright. She was always cooler than I was, even though she's younger, but she had a really bad attitude when she was in her early high school years. She'd get invited to all sorts of parties and had lots of boyfriends. I mean, I'm not saying that's bad, but she just acted like a spoiled brat most of the time. She's graduating in a couple months." She grabbed another book and held it up. "Hawkings? How predictable!" She flipped it open. It was well-worn, highlighted, and dog eared. "How many times have you read this?"

"A few dozen, I don't know."

She looked at him in awe, grinning stupidly. "You're really a genius. Like legitimately. You're incredible."

"My coworkers typically call me irritating."

"No, it's amazing." She said, turning to look at one of the bulletin boards, and then spinning in a full circle, taking it all in. "Despite the lack of light, it's really nice." She motioned to the closed curtains.

"Oh!" he rushed to the window. "Force of habit. My mother never liked the light in, said it disturbed her, and I'm not home too much so I never really bother opening them." The pinkish, orange light of evening filled the room.

The view was nicer than she expected. In the twilight, rosy sunset, the city sparkled and reflected into his apartment.

She fell against the back of his couch and looked out.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked her. She nodded, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. The flight seemed pretty long."

"You want some tea? I'll make some tea."

Cassidy fell asleep curled up on Reid's couch. She'd asked him to read to her, but the comforting lull of his voice put her right to sleep.

Reid didn't realize she was slumbering until the light in the apartment completely disappeared, and he had to stand to flick on the the lamp. She was hugging one of the pillows, breathing deeply, completely at peace. Her eyelids flickered from some hidden dream. Reid found a throw blanket folded on the end of the couch, and unraveled it, tucking it around her. She smiled in her sleep, and burrowed underneath the blanket.

Reid grinned at her sleeping form, how content she looked. He took the book he'd been reading aloud, Faulkner, and went to his room to finish it up.

In the early morning, around 3 in the morning, Cassidy was awoken suddenly by a shout. She sat upright, looking around. She realized where she was quickly, and smiled at the blanket wrapped around her. There was another noise, from Spencer's room, a groan.

She scurried towards the doorway, where the door stood ajar, and peeked in. She searched on the wall for a switch, and then the bedroom was flooded with light. She knew what was happening when she saw Spencer thrashing in bed.

She rushed to his bedside, kneeling down beside it. "Spencer?" she whispered.

His eyes were shut tight, and he seemed to be struggling with an invisible force. She reached for his wrists and grasped them, and his entire body tensed. His eyes then shot open, and she saw tears on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." she said in a panicked voice.

"No it's fine..." he said, slightly bleary eyed. "Just a nightmare." he explained "I get them sometimes."

She ran her fingers through his mussed hair. "What was it about?" she asked.

"I don't know. I can't remember, I never do."

She wrapped her arms around his neck suddenly, hugging him close. After a moment of surprise, he put his arms around her waist and squeezed, breathing in the warm smell of her. So long he'd felt so terribly alone, this touch felt like warm sunshine after two years of rain. He felt a tug in his chest, stronger emotion than he was used to.

"It's okay, you're okay now." she said gently, and then carefully kissed away his tears. She pulled away, readjusting his frumpled clothes.

"You like taking care of people don't you?" he asked after a long moment. She smiled and looked down.

"Yeah, I do. But you took care of me. It's the least I can do." she said "Plus, it looks like you need it."

"You too." His long fingers brushed one of the new scars on her arm, and then her collarbone. "How's your stomach?" he asked. She smiled, looking embarrassed.

"Not very pretty." she lifted her shirt slightly to show him. Stitches still crossed her stomach, the wound was pretty healed, however. Still red and dark, but not bad. "It'll never go away, huh?"

"That's okay." he shrugged.

"I've never been a fan of scars."

He gave her a playful smile, and then grabbed her at her waist, and lifted her over himself and onto the bed next to him.

"You're stronger than you look, Dr. Reid." she laughed.

"Don't worry about that scar." he said, and then leaned down, brushing his lips against her smooth skin right below the scar. "I'm a doctor."