Paranoia - s.reid

Girl's Gotta Do What She's Gotta Do

Liz stared at the bright flashing numbers on the clock that rested on Spencer's bedside table. 3:51am. She'd turned off the AC completely, somehow the room was still cold enough to send shivers down her body. Deep down, she knew it wasn't the temperature. It was the absence of the pair of arms that would be wrapped around her at night, his chest pressed right up against her back. The warmth from Spencer's body had been banished from their bedroom.

Her eyes were in such a trance, watching each minute passed, waiting for morning to come in a miserable state of numbness. She didn't hear the small knock on her door, or see the little girl standing at her doorway. "Mommy?"

She hadn't heard Diana call her 'mommy' in so long. "Yeah, baby?"

"Can I sleep in here with you? Until dad comes home?"

Diana was, obviously, much more advanced than others her age. Other children would've asked to sleep in their parent's room because they were afraid, but she didn't. She thought of it as her father away on a really long case, trying her best and pretty much succeeding to adjust with the rare occasion of realization. She knew her mother wasn't the same. For so many years she'd watched her parents grow together, she remembered them in their best times, overcoming their worst. She wanted to help her mother through the devastation of being away from her life partner of 12 years. "Of course." Liz lifted the covers, smiling when she slid underneath them. "Bad dream?" She wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, just like Spencer would've done to her.

Diana shrugged. "I hope one day, someone loves me as much as dad loves you."

"I'm sure they will, sweetheart."

"Can you teach me self defense?" 

Liz had stopped stroking the girl's hair, furrowing her eyebrows at the question. "Are you sure? Do you want someone else to teach you?"

"I'm sure I want you to teach me."

"Okay, then. I'll see what I can do."

Due to Liz obviously being his wife and lawyer, Garcia had excluded her from the visitation chart, claiming she should be free to see Spencer whenever she wanted. She was, however, welcome to send letters to him along with the rest of the team. She'd rather have the children write letters to him that write one herself, knowing it was just hurt her more.

Her heart dropped when she found out the DC jail had been overcrowded, and he'd been moved to Millburn Correctional Facility. There's one person in Millburn, one guaranteed to get Spencer in trouble. A certain Marceau Boucher.

Dear dad,

Truth be told, I never thought I was as good at writing as you and mom said I was.

How are you?

Everything is fine here. I've been reading all of mom's old law textbooks trying to help her, Mr. Specter, Mr. Ross and Ms. Zane get you out. Grandma's fine, Lyle paints a lot of flowers for her. She really likes it, you should see some of his paintings. They're really beautiful. 

Margie's gotten her hands on the really old piano that's been sitting in the storage room. Mom promised she'd get it out and tune it for her soon. Alex wants to join the minor league soccer division. He's really good. I, for one, quit soccer and chose to take extra biology. I find the brain more interesting than the grass. It's quite comical how he looks exactly like you, but his skill set is completely different. Mom used to joke about how you had no coordination. Mom doesn't joke as much anymore, not since you were taken away.

I've been trying to help her. I realize that for over a decade, she's had you to be there for her, so I think this is the universe telling me that until you come back, which you will, it's my turn.