switchblade faith//spencer reid

8

you guys i'm so sorry this took so long. i love you all dearly, and i'm trying to keep up, but i've been having a lot of writer's block recently so i'm sorry for the lack of activity. hope you're all doing well. i've already got a head start on the next chapter, so it shouldn't take as long. 

my feet slam into the pavement at a rate that makes me wonder if my heart can take it. I can feel the air in my lungs, stinging, and the way it never seems like enough. I can't stop. my arms are pumping and my legs burn. 

I'm sure I look like a mess right now, exhausted and sweaty as I make my way up the biggest hill by my apartment. I haven't been running in a while, and this incline is even more daunting than it was before. 

I use the momentum I've built from before now and force myself up. every breath rips through me violently until I'm sure that if I stop running, I'll collapse. but I keep pushing, know it'll be worth it. 

I hated running until college. just absolutely despised the thought of getting outside and forcing myself to move quickly. the older I get, though, the more refreshing it's gotten. it helped me escape from midterms, from the pressure that constantly seemed to mount with every passing day. sometimes it feels like all of it keeps piling on, and it's never going to stop. 

of course, that's not really the way to look at life. I've had things to balance out the work, friends to call and ways to let out the hammering violence that always seem to fill the spaces between my ribs. running clears my head when nothing else does.  

once I get to the top, I bend over and rest my palms on my knees so that I can relax. I can hear my heart beating in my ears and can feel my pulse thudding against my throat. it's good, though. I needed to do this again. to get exercise. 

I resist the urge to lay down flat on the pavement. DC isn't really a good place to do that; everyone around me is on a morning stroll with their partner or they're out for a jog themselves. I pass several enthusiastic-looking dogs out for a walk. the sheer number of people around me should make me feel normal. 

it doesn't. 

I straighten and stretch out my muscles, wincing at the way my calves feel if I move them funny. I don't want to get called in today, but that's naive. there will always be another case because there will always be people we need to stop. maybe I'm just not jaded enough to not care. I like to think that's a good thing, though. 

...

when I head into the office a couple hours later, there's a to-go cup of coffee resting on my desk. I smile to myself, set my bag down and shrug off my coat, then peek over the divider to see Spencer with a case file open and an identical to-go cup a couple inches away. 

"is this your doing?" I refer to the coffee. he nods and smiles at me, seemingly not in the mood to talk. 

"thanks, Reid."  

sitting down to do some work, I sneak a peek at him. Spencer is acting different from last weekend. more shy. I'm not really sure the reason, unless he just felt particularly outgoing at the party and is now back to his default self.

we get a case before the hour is up, and then my mind is occupied by the details. 

jet rides, though now a familiar routine, are probably my favorite part of the job. I don't feel totally unproductive, but I still have time to unwind and talk to people on our way. Emily and I have gotten much closer within the past few weeks and sometimes she tells me stories about her old job that keep me on the edge of my seat. 

there's something so mysterious about her that I just appreciate; she's like a cool older cousin to me. and she's great at making fun of Morgan, which is something that I've found enjoyable as well. sometimes he needs to be knocked down a peg-- she's the woman to do it.