FIC: No Place Like Home (Elle, Reid, Gen)
Title: No Place Like Home
Author: darkhawkhealer
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters: Elle Greenaway, Spencer Reid
Rating: G
Word Count: 1733
Spoilers: Uh. Everything through The Bogeyman.
Summary: Spencer Reid is just full of surprises.
Note: Second in the Elle Series
It's not actually that surprising, Spencer showing up at her door. The helpless look in his eyes is. It breaks her heart and has her opening her arms to him. He moves into them carefully, mindful of her still-healing body.
"You heard, huh?"
He nods, reaching out to touch her hair. "Any way I can talk you into staying?"
Elle shakes her head, helpless and hurting inside. "I can't."
He nods again. "What are you going to do?"
Her laugh is bitter and slightly hysterical as she sinks onto her couch and looks around. "You know, I'm not quite sure."
Spencer crouches down in front of her and catches her hand, tugging gently. "Come on," he coaxes. "Let's go for a ride."
Elle looks around for her jacket and keys. "Where are we going?"
"For a ride." He repeats, ushering her out and taking her keys to lock the door. "There are some things I want to talk to you about."
She's surprised when they get onto the Interstate. Spencer takes one hand off the wheel to hold hers as they drive. With as close as their friendship has grown, Elle still finds it odd when Spencer willingly reaches out to touch her. Odd, but also incredibly comforting, so she doesn't tease him about being touchy-feely, or even driving one-handed. Sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window and taking in the passing scenery, it's easy to zone out and lose track of time, which explains why she jumps when Spencer's voice cuts over the quiet music.
"Do you remember when you first joined the BAU, and you bought me lunch?"
Her brow furrows for a moment before she remembers. "You forgot your wallet, borrowed some money."
The grin he shoots her is full of remembered mischief. "I asked for ten dollars; you handed me a twenty and told me I was skinny enough that I should have two meals."
The affection was audible, even as she stares at his reflection in the window. "And it still didn't do you any good, look at you."
Spencer smiles again, before turning serious. "I didn't forget my wallet."
"What?"
"That day," he clarifies. "I didn't forget my wallet. I just wanted a stake."
Silence reigns in a car for a few moments as she tries to make sense of that. "I'm confused again."
"You know I'm good with numbers, right?"
"All those doctorates may have tipped me off, yes."
"And you know I grew up in Vegas?"
Now she has a strong suspicion of where he's going with this.
"Spencer." Elle turns to face him fully. "What did you do with the twenty dollars I gave you, and why is this important to me?"
"I put it in my pocket, bought my lunch with my own money, and that night I walked into a casino."
"With twenty bucks."
"With twenty bucks," he confirms.
Her mind whirls, but she waits, trusting that he'll explain the convoluted kind of logic that usually only make sense to him.
"Did you know that at one point my mom was so sick she wouldn't work, and we were in danger of not being able to eat? I was fourteen when I got into gambling. It started out as a statistical math exercise. I was too young to go to the casinos, which is good, because it gave me a chance to get really good at it before I went up against the House. There were plenty of very illegal, very lucrative games all over town, I just needed to get into them.
"So I started playing against all of the jocks and the guys in the fraternities. Of course, they never told anyone they got fleeced by a fourteen year old. It was too embarrassing. I got into some of the better pool and poker games in town, the ones that weren't held in casinos. I started saving money, and as I got older, I started splitting it up, sinking some of it into the stock market, having a friend buy up a few pieces of real estate for me, just diversifying it.
"I was determined to never be at the point where I where I would wonder what was going to happen to me financially."
"Okay," she says, resettling in her seat. "I'm following you so far."
"Remind me to tell you the story of how Gideon recruited me at some point," he says absently. "When I got to the BAU I had no idea how long I was going to last, whether it was for me or if I was going to just give it all up. The only reason I decided to stay was because I got emotionally invested in my team. Garcia was awesome, Hotch was larger than life and Jason was encouraging. When I decided I was going to stay, and I realized why, I knew I didn't ever want anybody I cared about to have to worry about finances in a crisis."
Spencer flips on the turn signal and takes the next exit, driving them to a well-kept neighborhood.
"So because I never wanted any of my team to have to worry about money if things went south," he continues, "I started a few emergency accounts."
"Emergency accounts," she repeats.
"Major catastrophe, drop everything and walk away from the FBI, death and dismemberment kind of emergency accounts."
Elle knows. She knows, but refuses to acknowledge where this is going. "How much? For whom? Why?"
"I already told you why. I worry about you all, and I want to make sure everybody is safe. For the team." Spencer rolls up to a light and turns to face her, hazel eyes serious. "Garcia, Morgan, JJ, Hotch. You."
"You're the reason my hospital stay was so unreasonably smooth," she realizes, sitting back.
"I am," he acknowledges. "I walked into that casino with twenty dollars of your money, and I walked out with eight thousand, twenty dollars."
"Eight thousand for you to start your emergency fund," Elle begins.
"And twenty to return to you," he confirms.
Spencer pulls into a driveway and turns off the car, pulling the key from the ignition. Elle looks around, taking in the big bay windows and cheery flower beds on either side of the front door. It's a quiet, middle-class neighborhood, with comfortably beautiful homes lining the street.
He opens the door, but she doesn't move. "Do I want to know where we are?" she asks quietly.
Spencer fidgets, finally nervous. "I'd like for you to hear me out," he answers, "But if you want me to take you back, I'll understand."
Elle bites her lip and looked around again, before reaching for the door handle and getting out.
"Every emergency fund is set up the same way mine are. There are stocks and bonds, silent partnerships in small businesses, and real estate." Spencer pulls out a set of keys as they stand in front of the door. "This house is attached to the account in your name. I wanted to help you in Ohio, and I couldn't manage it. I'd like to help you now."
The conversation stops for a few minutes as they step through the door and begin to look around. The house is functional, and furnished with the basics. There's a sofa set in the living room, and bedroom set in the master bedroom and a table in the dining room, all of which coordinates with everything else.
"Please tell me you didn't decorate yourself."
It's not the reaction he's expecting, and he turns to look at her, a little bit surprised. "I didn't. I know some desperate college students."
"Oh, good," Elle's laugh has an almost desperate quality to it. "I'm positive I wouldn't have been able to handle your unrecognized decorating prowess on top of everything else!"
Spencer huffs, lips quirking up at the corners. "If I decorated, you'd have lava lamps and fish tanks."
Elle sits down on the sofa and looks around again. "So what is this place?"
"Well," he replies, sitting gingerly next to her. "If you want it, it's your new home."
Silence reigns for a few moments as she digests that. "And if I don't?"
He shrugs, "Then it becomes rental property and the proceeds get funneled back into an account."
Elle looks around again, craning to see out the window. "Where are we, anyway?"
Spencer smiles faintly. "About fifteen minutes north of Baltimore. Close enough for me to come bother you all the time," he teases.
It really is a beautiful house. Two bedrooms, though the second has been set up as an office; wood floors in the kitchen, natural lighting in every room, including skylights in both bathrooms.
"This place must have cost you a fortune," she says.
He shrugs again. "Not really. The skylights in the kitchen and bathrooms are new, the carpeting was this really ugly shag thing, the whole place had to be repainted and that wall had about three square feet of dart holes in it. Like I said, I know a lot of college students. They make for cheap labor."
Elle looks around again, this time with a hint of longing. "What would I do here?"
"Write a book," he suggests. Showing her his hands. He has nothing. "Read a book. Work at the flower shop down the corner. Teach art to third graders. Talk to a counselor. Become a counselor. Open a bar. Heal. Become whole again, in a place where you don't have any bad memories, or anything holding you back.
"You have some time to figure it out. You don't really have to work for a while unless you'd like to. Maybe just work on piecing yourself back together first."
Brown eyes fill with tears and her head bows as she wipes them away. Elle sniffles and looks up at him. "I'm going to hug you now," she warns, respectful of his reticence with touch.
Spencer blinks, and opens his arms, catching her as she all but falls into them. Arms wrap tight around her, and he rests his head on top of hers, while her tears get soaked up by his shirt. "Shh," he says, helpless. "It'll be alright."
Elle laughs and pulls back just far enough to look at him, wiping impatiently at her eyes.
"You know, I think it will be."
Author: darkhawkhealer
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters: Elle Greenaway, Spencer Reid
Rating: G
Word Count: 1733
Spoilers: Uh. Everything through The Bogeyman.
Summary: Spencer Reid is just full of surprises.
Note: Second in the Elle Series
It's not actually that surprising, Spencer showing up at her door. The helpless look in his eyes is. It breaks her heart and has her opening her arms to him. He moves into them carefully, mindful of her still-healing body.
"You heard, huh?"
He nods, reaching out to touch her hair. "Any way I can talk you into staying?"
Elle shakes her head, helpless and hurting inside. "I can't."
He nods again. "What are you going to do?"
Her laugh is bitter and slightly hysterical as she sinks onto her couch and looks around. "You know, I'm not quite sure."
Spencer crouches down in front of her and catches her hand, tugging gently. "Come on," he coaxes. "Let's go for a ride."
Elle looks around for her jacket and keys. "Where are we going?"
"For a ride." He repeats, ushering her out and taking her keys to lock the door. "There are some things I want to talk to you about."
She's surprised when they get onto the Interstate. Spencer takes one hand off the wheel to hold hers as they drive. With as close as their friendship has grown, Elle still finds it odd when Spencer willingly reaches out to touch her. Odd, but also incredibly comforting, so she doesn't tease him about being touchy-feely, or even driving one-handed. Sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window and taking in the passing scenery, it's easy to zone out and lose track of time, which explains why she jumps when Spencer's voice cuts over the quiet music.
"Do you remember when you first joined the BAU, and you bought me lunch?"
Her brow furrows for a moment before she remembers. "You forgot your wallet, borrowed some money."
The grin he shoots her is full of remembered mischief. "I asked for ten dollars; you handed me a twenty and told me I was skinny enough that I should have two meals."
The affection was audible, even as she stares at his reflection in the window. "And it still didn't do you any good, look at you."
Spencer smiles again, before turning serious. "I didn't forget my wallet."
"What?"
"That day," he clarifies. "I didn't forget my wallet. I just wanted a stake."
Silence reigns in a car for a few moments as she tries to make sense of that. "I'm confused again."
"You know I'm good with numbers, right?"
"All those doctorates may have tipped me off, yes."
"And you know I grew up in Vegas?"
Now she has a strong suspicion of where he's going with this.
"Spencer." Elle turns to face him fully. "What did you do with the twenty dollars I gave you, and why is this important to me?"
"I put it in my pocket, bought my lunch with my own money, and that night I walked into a casino."
"With twenty bucks."
"With twenty bucks," he confirms.
Her mind whirls, but she waits, trusting that he'll explain the convoluted kind of logic that usually only make sense to him.
"Did you know that at one point my mom was so sick she wouldn't work, and we were in danger of not being able to eat? I was fourteen when I got into gambling. It started out as a statistical math exercise. I was too young to go to the casinos, which is good, because it gave me a chance to get really good at it before I went up against the House. There were plenty of very illegal, very lucrative games all over town, I just needed to get into them.
"So I started playing against all of the jocks and the guys in the fraternities. Of course, they never told anyone they got fleeced by a fourteen year old. It was too embarrassing. I got into some of the better pool and poker games in town, the ones that weren't held in casinos. I started saving money, and as I got older, I started splitting it up, sinking some of it into the stock market, having a friend buy up a few pieces of real estate for me, just diversifying it.
"I was determined to never be at the point where I where I would wonder what was going to happen to me financially."
"Okay," she says, resettling in her seat. "I'm following you so far."
"Remind me to tell you the story of how Gideon recruited me at some point," he says absently. "When I got to the BAU I had no idea how long I was going to last, whether it was for me or if I was going to just give it all up. The only reason I decided to stay was because I got emotionally invested in my team. Garcia was awesome, Hotch was larger than life and Jason was encouraging. When I decided I was going to stay, and I realized why, I knew I didn't ever want anybody I cared about to have to worry about finances in a crisis."
Spencer flips on the turn signal and takes the next exit, driving them to a well-kept neighborhood.
"So because I never wanted any of my team to have to worry about money if things went south," he continues, "I started a few emergency accounts."
"Emergency accounts," she repeats.
"Major catastrophe, drop everything and walk away from the FBI, death and dismemberment kind of emergency accounts."
Elle knows. She knows, but refuses to acknowledge where this is going. "How much? For whom? Why?"
"I already told you why. I worry about you all, and I want to make sure everybody is safe. For the team." Spencer rolls up to a light and turns to face her, hazel eyes serious. "Garcia, Morgan, JJ, Hotch. You."
"You're the reason my hospital stay was so unreasonably smooth," she realizes, sitting back.
"I am," he acknowledges. "I walked into that casino with twenty dollars of your money, and I walked out with eight thousand, twenty dollars."
"Eight thousand for you to start your emergency fund," Elle begins.
"And twenty to return to you," he confirms.
Spencer pulls into a driveway and turns off the car, pulling the key from the ignition. Elle looks around, taking in the big bay windows and cheery flower beds on either side of the front door. It's a quiet, middle-class neighborhood, with comfortably beautiful homes lining the street.
He opens the door, but she doesn't move. "Do I want to know where we are?" she asks quietly.
Spencer fidgets, finally nervous. "I'd like for you to hear me out," he answers, "But if you want me to take you back, I'll understand."
Elle bites her lip and looked around again, before reaching for the door handle and getting out.
"Every emergency fund is set up the same way mine are. There are stocks and bonds, silent partnerships in small businesses, and real estate." Spencer pulls out a set of keys as they stand in front of the door. "This house is attached to the account in your name. I wanted to help you in Ohio, and I couldn't manage it. I'd like to help you now."
The conversation stops for a few minutes as they step through the door and begin to look around. The house is functional, and furnished with the basics. There's a sofa set in the living room, and bedroom set in the master bedroom and a table in the dining room, all of which coordinates with everything else.
"Please tell me you didn't decorate yourself."
It's not the reaction he's expecting, and he turns to look at her, a little bit surprised. "I didn't. I know some desperate college students."
"Oh, good," Elle's laugh has an almost desperate quality to it. "I'm positive I wouldn't have been able to handle your unrecognized decorating prowess on top of everything else!"
Spencer huffs, lips quirking up at the corners. "If I decorated, you'd have lava lamps and fish tanks."
Elle sits down on the sofa and looks around again. "So what is this place?"
"Well," he replies, sitting gingerly next to her. "If you want it, it's your new home."
Silence reigns for a few moments as she digests that. "And if I don't?"
He shrugs, "Then it becomes rental property and the proceeds get funneled back into an account."
Elle looks around again, craning to see out the window. "Where are we, anyway?"
Spencer smiles faintly. "About fifteen minutes north of Baltimore. Close enough for me to come bother you all the time," he teases.
It really is a beautiful house. Two bedrooms, though the second has been set up as an office; wood floors in the kitchen, natural lighting in every room, including skylights in both bathrooms.
"This place must have cost you a fortune," she says.
He shrugs again. "Not really. The skylights in the kitchen and bathrooms are new, the carpeting was this really ugly shag thing, the whole place had to be repainted and that wall had about three square feet of dart holes in it. Like I said, I know a lot of college students. They make for cheap labor."
Elle looks around again, this time with a hint of longing. "What would I do here?"
"Write a book," he suggests. Showing her his hands. He has nothing. "Read a book. Work at the flower shop down the corner. Teach art to third graders. Talk to a counselor. Become a counselor. Open a bar. Heal. Become whole again, in a place where you don't have any bad memories, or anything holding you back.
"You have some time to figure it out. You don't really have to work for a while unless you'd like to. Maybe just work on piecing yourself back together first."
Brown eyes fill with tears and her head bows as she wipes them away. Elle sniffles and looks up at him. "I'm going to hug you now," she warns, respectful of his reticence with touch.
Spencer blinks, and opens his arms, catching her as she all but falls into them. Arms wrap tight around her, and he rests his head on top of hers, while her tears get soaked up by his shirt. "Shh," he says, helpless. "It'll be alright."
Elle laughs and pulls back just far enough to look at him, wiping impatiently at her eyes.
"You know, I think it will be."