The Keeping of Words | Spencer Reid

37| Every Mistake

Over the last two weeks their living room transformed into a miniature law library. The shift was gradual at first, a few books here or there, a notebook every now and then. Now that finals were approaching, Bianca had set for herself a fortress of notes. Books and textbooks were sorted by subject, notebooks full of class notes rested atop the stacks in their respective subjects, her laptop was front and center, and her bar exam prep books were off in their own corner. When she wasn't in class or at home, she was meeting for study groups and reviewing material with her friends.

Miles away in Wisconsin, Reid glanced at his watch, knowing exactly what she would be doing. 4:30 PM: balancing a textbook on one knee, note paper on the other; a cup of strong coffee in hand. He just hoped that by the time he called her that evening, she would be willing to spare an hour or two to talk.

The majority of his day had been devoted to reading and analyzing Bare Reflections, a popular erotic novel he desperately wanted to erase from memory. Did people really read such things? The grammar was disappointing, the characters lacking. In his opinion, the relationship seemed rather abusive. While statistically couples engaging in BDSM had healthy relationships and took care of their partners, something about that particular characterization of it was drawing out the worst in their unsub.

When the sheer ugliness of a case filled his head, he turned to Bianca. Time and time again he could rely on her to listen to him, and replace negativity with brighter things. She was the hope in his day and her words always soothed him. It would give him great peace of mind too to know that she was alright, to make sure she wasn't having nightmares or forgetting to take care of herself. Right now though, she needed space to work and to study. He needed to give her that.

When he was home, he tried to be as helpful as possible. Assistance meant quizzing her when she asked, bringing her blankets when study sessions ran late into the night, and making sure she was eating enough. Eventually he would find an excuse to pull her away from the couch and to their bed, with varying degrees of success. Sleep deprivation wouldn't do her any good, and dreaming beside her was the one bit of selfishness he allowed himself.

As her finals approached, the apartment became more tense. Stress seemed to visibly pile up alongside her textbooks, and she withdrew into a world of legal jargon and case studies. Combined with the ongoing family trouble, it made him nervous to leave her there alone. Too many things were being subtracted from their world, he was more than ready for the scales to tip in favor of something good. Life, that great balancing act.

In spite of the gloomy statistics he compiled, he wanted to believe that the good eventually balanced out the bad. That for every serial killer, there was an agent to stop them, a victim to be saved. For every tyrant, someone willing to bring them to justice. Heavy and light. For every case laced with despair and inherently disheartening, there was a way to push back at the pessimism.

"How's the reading coming, Pretty Boy?" Morgan sat down at the other end of the table, sliding a cup of coffee towards him.

He took it gratefully, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "It's done, but I wish I'd never started."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, Savannah's sister was reading that when the family came over for the holidays. Me, I don't go near that chick lit stuff with a ten-foot-pole."

"The only books being read in our apartment right now are law-related." It was a rare moment when he caught Bianca sitting on the couch with something else – a short collection of Billy Collins, Mary Oliver. She would ask him to tell her stories, read poems out loud for her after hours of studying, but refused to let herself get invested in a novel.