sorry for the late update! i've been distracted and had trouble writing this chapter, but alas, it is finally here!

songs: "the greatest" by billie eilish and "clean (taylor's version)" by taylor swift

s p e n c e r

It's been twenty-seven days since I met Rossi's niece, Juniper Williams. She worked a case with us, sent her condolences to Hotch, had lunch with me, and had run into me several times. By the second time we ran into one another, I realized why I think she's pretty. Her face is within golden ratios. Her eyes are a pretty green-hazel color, contrasting with her sandy blonde hair. She likes to wear her hair back in some sort of neat tied back hair style, usually a bun. Not messy in any way, but rather, tightly wound into a ballerina-styled bun at the nape of her neck.

She's so meticulous.

I did some of my own research after the first time we met. She was homeschooled her entire life until starting high school when she was thirteen, just two years before graduating and starting on her first bachelor's. I found out she was actually adopted by Rossi's sister and her husband, but that obviously didn't mean anything to her or him. Neither mentioned it. Her file notated a name change, but I couldn't access it. I would've asked Garcia to look into it for me, but I knew if I asked her, she'd be totally suspicious.

I also found out that Juniper graduated from the academy before me. Not too long before me, though, because Hotch apparently put a bid for her to be a member of the BAU. But she didn't get it, and the position was given to me.

I'm guilty. I met Gideon in college and he practically recruited me. I never knew I had competition for my position, and what's worse is that she is just as intelligent as me. There must have been something that tipped her out of the position, but I can't possibly think of an idea.

The days that I'm not actively out with the team working on cases became so much easier. Juniper is exceedingly entertaining, often joking with me that I am too uptight. She's interested in the books I read and often asks me about my education. She's interested in pursuing her doctorate, so randomly, throughout the day, she texts me asking questions. Her curiosity is insatiable.

Last week, she told me that it was impossible to send me articles she thought might interest me since my phone is so old. That night after work, I bought a new phone. Begrudgingly, I had to ask Garcia to help me navigate it at first, but now I'm doing great. Juniper sends me articles and texts almost daily to share and gather knowledge.

I really enjoy talking to her.

I know the team has noticed my change in behavior, but I'm not trying to hide it. No one ever listens to me like Juniper does. She's so patient, and when I'm finally done with my talking, it's her turn to spend a lifetime educating me. She has a higher level of education than me in regard to her degree in psychology, so I enjoy hearing her perspective on behavior. She specializes in criminal psychology, but she avidly denies any interest in the BAU. She's such an interesting person. She applied to the BAU and was an ideal candidate for the position, but she didn't receive it and now has no interest in my unit. Was she bitter about not receiving the position? Did she know that I had been given the position instead of her?

My thoughts are called back to work when Garcia slams her hand down on my desk. I look up at her, startled. "Hello, Garcia," I say, leaning back into my chair.

"And where might your thoughts be, Spencer?" Garcia asks, sitting on my desk.

"Garcia!" I exclaim, trying to shoo her off my desk. "I'm just thinking about one of my cases." I'm thankful she's not a profiler and cannot read me like the others can. "Just rethinking the profile. I need to perfect it." It's not a complete lie, but it's not entirely the truth.

"You sure you're not thinking about a certain someone?" Garcia prods. "Have you met someone? You're always on that new phone of yours. I thought you were a technophobe." She accuses.

"I am not a technophobe!" I say defensively. "I just prefer paper. And I got a new phone because my mom asked me to!" She seems satisfied, but she stays at my desk. "Do you need something, Garcia?"

"Oh, yes! Will you be going out with all of us this Friday? After work?" She asks as she gives me her puppy dog eyes. Her face drops as I remain silent. "Oh, come on! You have to! You always stay home!" Garcia pouts.

I give her a look. "That's because I like staying home reading."

"You just don't want to go out with us," Garcia says, a fake sadness dripping through her words. "You'd rather go out with Rossi's niece."

Annoyed, I reply, "I haven't talked to her since six days after Haley's funeral." It's a lie, but I don't want anyone to know that we talk a lot. Rossi hasn't let on that he knows anything, however, I'm inclined to think that Juniper might not be telling Rossi anything either. "Garcia, please. I'm starting 'The Principles of Psychology' by William James. You know, some people actually consider his book the first psychology textbook."

Garcia gives me her own annoyed look. "Spencer Reid, you cannot just stay home every Friday night reading!"

"Yeah, pretty boy!" Morgan says, coming up behind me, clapping his hands on my shoulders, shaking me around.  "Come on, maybe you'll meet someone to become your pretty girl."

My heart spasms in my chest. I don't want or need a girlfriend. With my job, I'm not sure I could hold a good, or even decent, relationship. I want to think that I'd be able to make time for a relationship, to be able to keep one alive and well. I want to think that I'd be a good partner because I know so much about bad behaviors. But a small part of me knows that no one wants to be with someone who used to be an addict. Plus, my work schedule can be terrible. It's a miracle that JJ and Will can make it work so well, though they do have a baby together, so they have to.

"Morgan, Garcia, I do not want to go out Friday Night. I like my books," I try to get them off my back, but I can tell it's not working. "Can I please just do my work, now?"

"Okay," Garcia draws out. "Whatever you say." Her and Morgan go back to his desk, chatting more than Hotch would prefer. But Hotch isn't here. Jack's sick from what he said in an email this morning, so Morgan's in charge.

Prentiss looks up at me from her desk. "Wanna tell me what your new phone's about, Reid? You know I can keep a secret better than Morgan or Penelope. Regardless, if you tell Penny, she'll tell Morgan or JJ. Morgan will openly tease you and everyone will know after that. Rossi would probably tell Hotch, not that Hotch would really care as long as it doesn't affect work. And besides, you know only JJ and I would tease you privately. We can keep a secret. So tell me, what's going on?"

I glance back at Morgan's desk and then at JJ and Rossi's offices. "Do you want to run out for coffee?"

Prentiss' eyes flicker behind me. "Yeah, let's go." We stand together, pulling on our coats. I grab my scarf as she says, "Reid and I are stepping out for coffee. Anyone want anything?"

Garcia's eyes light up. "Oo, oo! Are you going to Starbucks?" Prentiss and I nod; it's the only place that won't judge us for how much espresso we drink in a single drink. "Then, can I have a venti salted caramel mocha, with three shots of espresso, seven pumps of toffee nut syrup, and six pumps of mocha sauce? Oh, and --"

"And two packets of salt. Yes, Garcia." I say, finishing her thought with a smile.

"Thanks," she says with a grin.

"Can I just get a black coffee and one cream?" Morgan asks.

"I'm getting you something better," Prentiss says, disgusted with his plain order. He asks that everytime one of us gets coffee, but he never gets that in the end. Prentiss and I came up with our own absurd order for him. A venti white chocolate mocha with four shots of espresso, eight pumps of white chocolate mocha sauce, three pumps of caramel syrup, and six pumps of vanilla syrup. The barista looked at us like we were insane the first time we ordered that, but laughed when we explained that it was for our friend who never gave a fun order. "I'll go ask Rossi if he wants anything."

"Not with his fancy coffee machine and coffee bar in his office. You know how he is." Garcia says, laughing as Morgan walks her back to her office. "See you later, my pretties!"

Prentiss and I separate as I walk to JJ's office and she walks into Rossi's. I knock at JJ's door. "Hey," I say, walking in. "Emily and I are going to get coffee. Do you want anything?"

JJ looks up from a file in her hand. "Oh, I'm alright. You two be safe."

"Okay, we'll be back soon." I stop by my desk again, making sure I have my phone. I've become entirely too dependent on this damn thing and it bothers me. But I like talking with Juniper whenever possible. And that bothers me too. I look up and find Prentiss staring at me, her arms crossed over her chest and her weight leaned on one leg. "What?" I ask defensively.

"Come on, let's go." She says plainly. We make small talk in the elevator, but she tries to bring up my phone. "Just tell me, Reid."

"Not here." We're rounding the corner, about to leave the building when we nearly run over two agents. "I'm sorry!" I say before I see who they are.

"Oh, it's fine." It's Juniper. "Agent Prentiss, Dr. Reid! How are you guys?"

I fumble to get out the words. "I'm okay, how are you?" I notice the agitated looking man next to her. "Who is this?"

"Agent Marcus Grahams, ITU. You guys are those BAU agents. Must be nice getting to work in the most desired unit in the bureau." He doesn't try to hide his jealousy.

"Grahams!" Juniper scolds, equally matching his tone in disdain. "We should be going, nice seeing both of you." She gives Prentiss and I a smile before ushering her colleague along. I catch as she glances back at me before both of us look away quickly.

"Nice seeing you, Williams!" Prentiss calls after her and I do the same. "I think you might have been able to get away with denying it before, but now that I've seen how you act around her? I know. You like her, don't you?" Prentiss jabs me in the ribs with her elbow.

"Shut up," I mutter as we get into her car. "I do not."

"Oh, yes, you do. There's no denying it, Reid. We're profilers."

"Hey! We agreed to not profile each other!" I say defensively, pointing a finger at her.

She starts the car. "Alright, alright. But you asked me if I wanted to go get coffee. Figured you'd tell me." She looks over her shoulder, reversing her car out of its spot.

I sigh, sinking into the seat. I regret this already. "Okay, fine. I got the phone because Juniper and I have been texting. We send each other articles and talk about psychology."

"That's all you two talk about?" Prentiss asks, surprised.

"Yeah," I nod. "We can talk for hours. Sometimes, I do all the talking and sometimes, she does all the talking. Emily, no one ever listens to me like she does. Everyone thinks I'm crazy for how much I know, but she knows just as much as me." I don't realize I'm smiling until my eyes meet Prentiss' and she's giving me a knowing look. "What?"

"Reid . . . don't be stupid. You like her. You could barely get out a word when you saw her and you're checking your phone like crazy. Your face even got a little red." Prentiss says gently. "It's okay if you like her, you know."

I shake my head. "I couldn't, though. This job . . . I mean, not even Hotch could make his marriage work. Rossi's been married and divorced three times. You've even said that dating doesn't really work with this job. JJ's talked about how hard it can be with her and Will. This job is a relationship destroyer." I argue. Really, I just worry about my little experience and how I would not be a good boyfriend, for many reasons. "Besides, she's an agent."

"Doesn't stop Penelope from seeing Kevin. Reid, I won't tell you what to do, but if you don't want to be with her, don't do this. I know what it's like to be a girl with a crush. She may or may not have feelings for you already, but, Reid, if you show her constant attention like she does you, she will." Prentiss sighs. "She's definitely into you, too. I mean, she sends you articles? She sends you things that she thinks will interest you. Does it interest you?"

"Yes," I begrudgingly answer, wishing I could sink further into the seat. "You can't tell anyone, Emily. I'm not exactly sure how close she and Rossi are and I'm just not really sure about anything right now. Like, I spend so much time talking to her, texting her, emailing her, and when I'm not doing that, I'm thinking about her. It's so stupid because I've only known her for a couple days, but she just interests me so much. I've never met someone like me."

Prentiss laughs. "You know, there's nothing wrong with liking her." She laughs again. "Rossi might not like it, Morgan will probably tease you, and Garcia will definitely attempt to set you up with a date."

"How would you feel about it? Do you think I'd change?"

She shakes her head. We pass by the closest deli shop to Starbucks, telling me we'll be there in three minutes if traffic stays moderate. "I think you'd change in a good way. Relationships can bring out the best or worst in people, you and I both know that. We've seen so much of the bad with our job, but you could never become that. I know you . . . You fear a lot when it comes to your family history of schizophrenia, but if you keep worrying about a 'what if,' you may miss out on what's in front of you now. Juniper Williams seems like a good person. She's an agent, she's smart, there's nothing crazy going on with her. No Juniper-versions of Foyet, no terrible background, no crazy."

"As far as we know," I snip back quickly. It's true. Hotch's family was targeted by Foyet, so any bureau agent's family could be targeted by any single person. The BAU is more at risk than most other units due to our assistance in cases. Another reason I dread the day I decide to finally settle.

Prentiss and I spend the next minute and thirty-nine seconds in silence until she pulls the car into the parking lot. She's aggressive as she parks the car and seems hurried as she jumps out. I follow after her quickly.

Prentiss takes out her pocket size notebook, containing all of the coffee orders. Hotch and Rossi share a page, both having the easiest orders out of all of us. She skips right past their page, moving onto Morgan's. Her and I both let out a laugh before she begins to read it off.

"I'm sorry, let me recap this. You want a venti white chocolate mocha with four shots of espresso, eight pumps of white chocolate mocha sauce, three pumps of caramel syrup, and six pumps of vanilla syrup? I'm not supposed to do this, but is there any way, for your health, that I can convince you to modify this drink?" The barista, whose name is Parker, asks. Her genuine concern is nice, but Prentiss and I crave the high that comes from seeing Morgan hopped up on so much sugar and espresso that his hands will violently shake by the end of the work day. It's just too entertaining.

I grin. "Yes, it's for an annoying coworker. Don't worry though, he's a friend."

"It's just too fun to see his reaction every time." Prentiss says, reading my thoughts.

Parker breaks out into a smile, then is unable to contain her laughter. "Oh my gosh. I've had customers come in with crazy drinks because they don't know it's crazy, but this is next level. Definitely going down in the store's 'book of crazy drinks.' Is there anything else I can get you guys?" Placing the cup from her hands on the counter next to her.

Prentiss huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, we've got three more. Oh, and the name for the order is 'Emily,' but on the next one can you write 'Penny' with a heart next to it? It's for our sweetest coworker and she believes in all of the good things." Prentiss continues reading off her list and my thoughts wander off.

I hate to admit, but I definitely needed to talk to someone about Juniper. Prentiss is always a good person to talk to about stuff like this. She's good at making me think about sensitive topics from another perspective.

I know that I'm attracted to Juniper and the thought of becoming more interested in her terrifies me. Prentiss is right about my fear of inheriting schizophrenia from my mom. And she's right about me worrying about all the 'what ifs,' even if I won't tell her that. There's two possibilities that terrify me regarding schizophrenia. One, I could one day suffer from a schizophrenic break and hurt the people around me. It doesn't happen to everyone, but I wouldn't be myself and I could somehow come to the conclusion that Dilaudid is the answer again. Two, I could one day go on to pass the schizophrenic gene onto my children. I have a ten percent risk of developing schizophrenia at some point in myself, and the percentage drops to three percent for any children I may have.

But a chance is not zero and it will never be zero.

Prentiss and I don't talk on the way back to the office. Her and I drink our coffees in the peace of her driving. We have to hold onto ours the whole drive because I don't want to hold a cup holder on my lap with Morgan and Garcia's drinks. The barista, Parker, followed through on Prentiss' request and drew two hearts around a cursive script of "Penny." Garcia will be thoroughly happy to see that.

We don't run into Juniper like we did when we left, which makes me feel somewhat disappointed. Her smile is beautiful.

Two nights later, I'm sitting in my living room, reading the seventh book of the day. My phone sits on the coffee table, on top of a stack of books. It's been silent and I worry that Juniper has finally grown tired of listening to me talk. It's Thursday night and I've been in Virginia the whole week, so I'm hoping that I won't be called out of town for the weekend. I love the Saturday farmer's market and would hate to miss it again. My phone begins to ring and I flinch. Juniper is calling me. My heart drops and I think I may die, but I answer anyway.

"Hi!" She says, her voice cheerful. "Is it too late to talk?"

I'm thankful she can't see the huge smile that crosses my face. "No, not at all. How are you this evening?" I abandon my book, my eyes flickering to the page. Page 328. I quickly close the book, putting it on the coffee table with the others.

"I'm alright." There's a chorus of cats meowing in the background and then Juniper groans. "I'm sorry, my cats are absolutely livid. I couldn't buy them their wet food mixture today due to heavy traffic and needing gas, so they only got dry food tonight. Let's just say, my cats are spoiled. They might be a little annoying for the time being. Anyway, how are you? I noticed your team's been in town almost the whole week? It's been a while since that's happened, right?"

I laugh. "Yeah. I'm certainly not upset about it. It just means no one's invited us to go investigate their crimes. That, or there's not a pressing enough case. Not that I want to go away on a case, but it's almost boring staying in Virginia. Going to new places gives me more to learn about."

There's a loud meow and then the sound of something hard, like plastic, hitting tile. "Damn it, Cinny. Sorry, Cinnamon knocked over a gift for a coworker. She announced a couple weeks ago she's having a baby, so I bought a gift for her as a congratulations. I'm supposed to be attending the gender reveal party on Sunday, but it seems that my cats do not want me to give her this gift. Hold on, I have to pick all this up." I can hear her in the background, shuffling in what sounds like house shoes as she cleans up. She gasps and there's another thud. "Fuck, Socks!" I can hear her picking up her phone. "Hey, sorry, my cats can be such menaces. I'm giving them a can of tuna now. I'm not sure I can handle this behavior all night." She laughs. Her voice is heavenly. "Anyway, is there any place you've never been, but what to go?"

I'm silent for a second. "I think . . . Well, I've never been to Maine. Or any of the New England area, actually. But I've heard that the winters in Maine are beautiful."

"It is." She simply replies.

Surprised, I ask, "You've been?"

"Yeah, when I was little. It's been a while since I've been in Maine, but it was the most peaceful place I'd ever been."

My curiosity gets the better of me and I ask about the state's most famous kidnapping. "Were you there during the Rylie Clark kidnapping?"

She's silent for a minute. "I was." There's a hitch in her throat. "Everyone in the area does. It was a nightmare."

I sense that she doesn't want to talk about it. She would've been around the same age as the girl that was kidnapped. Being a child living in the same area as a kidnapped child can be stressful and scary.

From what I know about the case, Rylie Clark was kidnapped after her parents and siblings were murdered in the house with her. Local police and the FBI think she may have been held for a day or two in her abductor's house before being sold to a human trafficking ring prevalent in the New England area. The case remains unsolved, but, from what I know, Clark was found eventually before going into WITSEC and disappearing from all paper trails. I only know about the WITSEC thing from what's taught in the profiling program the FBI requires all their profilers to take.

I clear my throat. "Anyway, is there somewhere you'd love to go that you've never been to?"

"Truthfully, I want to go gambling in Vegas. With my memory, I think I'd be great at poker. I've never played, so I'd have to learn first, but I think I would enjoy playing dumb. That's the common stereotype for blondes, you know. Everyone just thinks that I'm stupid because I'm blonde. It's really fun to prove them wrong, but sometimes, I wish I wasn't the smartest person in the room. Maybe that's why I like talking to you. Neither of us is necessarily smarter than the other, we're just equals. But yeah, Vegas so I can gamble."

"Careful," I warn. "If you're too good, they might ban you. I'm banned from every casino in Vegas. Unfortunately for everyone else, I have an excellent card counting ability, and also unfortunately for me, that ability has gotten me banned from said casinos." I explain.

She laughs. "What? Do they have a picture of you posted at the front of every casino? Does it say something along the lines of 'Do not allow entrance, too good at cards?' Oh! You should teach me how to play poker." She suggests. "My uncle's a good poker player, but my dad all but forbade him from teaching me. Something about not wanting me to be the family gambler." I can see the smirk forming on her lips.

I smile too. "I learned in college. Very quickly, I was banned from playing with the other students, too. But I would be happy to teach you. Everyone in my unit knows how to play and don't really enjoy playing with me. Hotch says I cheat, but I think he walks away from his cards too often. What time do you go to work tomorrow, Juniper?" I ask.

"Oh, I actually don't work every other Friday. It's my day off tomorrow. And call me 'June.' It's what my family calls me, but if I had any friends, that's what they'd call me too."

"Am I not your friend?" I ask slowly. Has this woman considered me an acquaintance the entire time we've been hanging out, texting, and calling?

"What?" The word is inherently a question, but her voice makes it sound like an exclamation. "No, you are my friend. Why do you think I talk to you so much? I talk to you more than I talk to my mom. Besides, I would never tell you about my addiction if I thought you weren't trustworthy. Thank you for telling me about yours, by the way. Makes me feel . . . less alone."

My heart beats faster and my palms feel sweaty. "Well, uh," I stammer, trying to gather my thoughts. She scrambles my thoughts so easily and I'm sure she doesn't even know it. "I really like talking to you, too. What do you plan on doing for your day off?"

She huffs. "I'll most likely sleep for half the day. Then, around five, I'll be driving to the airport to pick up my parents." I open my mouth to ask a question. "And before you ask, they will be flying into Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport." I open my mouth again. "And, because I know you'll ask, my parents will be staying until Tuesday. I have approved leave. I'll be back to work on Wednesday, as long as they don't bring me sickness."

"Wait, when we first met you said that you get sick easily. Exactly how easy is it for you to get sick? And when was the last time you were sick?" I ask.

She hums. "Well, I'm sick six or seven times a year on average. My first year of college I was sick four times with food poisoning, twice with the stomach flu, once with the flu, I got bronchitis right around Thanksgiving, and finally, a month after getting bronchitis, had the most terrible case of pneumonia ever. Well, not literally, but you know. I thought I was going to die, I was so sick. The antibiotics for pneumonia were awful, too."

"Six or seven times? On average? You were sick nine separate times in your first year of college? How did you manage?" I ask. Before I even realize it, my smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. I try to relax the muscles in my cheeks to no avail.

"Yes, yes, and yes. As far as managing, I decided that I would keep physical contact with others minimal. I regularly sanitize my desk, my car, and I have the cleanest apartment ever, aside from the constant cat hair. I've been a lot better in the last couple years. Most of the time, I just get a cold that lingers. What about you? Morgan called you a germaphobe." She says, her poking fun tone so easy to hear. God, I like listening to her talk so much.

I struggle to find the words to explain that I really do hate germs. I want to stay something smart, but I truly can't think when I'm talking to June. Finally, I settle on something. "I just hate germs."

"So you are a germaphobe," she says teasingly. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"What's your middle name?"

"Oh, I don't tell anyone that." I tell her.

She laughs. "And why would that be?"

I laugh too. "I don't like telling people. It's bad. What's your middle name?" I already know it from looking at her file. It's Rose.

"Nuh-uh. If I don't get to know yours, then you don't get to know mine." June says, her tone definitive but challenging. She's baiting me and it's working.

I take the bait. "Walter. My full name is Spencer Walter Reid. I was bullied in high school, so I promised myself I would only ever tell my wife what my middle name was. But only after we got married, because by then she'd definitely love me despite my name." I'm half-joking, but I'm not sure if she'll receive my tone the way I intend. June giggles. "Are you laughing at me?" I ask.

"No!" She says quickly, but she continues to giggle. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm not laughing at you, I'm only laughing because I was expecting something like Cornelius or Hunter. Walter is in the same genre of Cornelius, but it's just a classic name. Very old-timey, but it's not terrible. I wouldn't personally name my child Walter, but that's because I already have a whole list of baby names I like."

"Oh?" I say, surprised. "You have baby names already picked out?" My heart drops as my thoughts run in every direction. "Do you have a boyfriend or a serious contender for a relationship?"

"No!" She says quickly. It gives me a shred of hope and that feeling terrifies me. There's no way I'm feeling this way. "I do not have a boyfriend. I assure you, I would not talk to someone like I do you if I had a boyfriend or a serious contender lined up. Anyway, you told me your middle name, so you are owed mine. It's Rose. Juniper Rose Williams."

"Did you know that the birth flower for the month of June is a rose?" I ask.

I can't tell if she's telling me that she's interested in me or not. She didn't say "I would not talk to you if I had a boyfriend." She said "I would not talk to someone like I do you." My heart is in my throat.

She giggles. "I did, actually. My birthday is on April thirteenth. I'll be twenty-four in four months." For a while, we joke back and forth. I try to make her tell me about her baby name list, but she won't budge. Her cats knock over one of their bowls and she sighs. "Oh my gosh."

"Are you cats annoying you that much?" I ask her.

"It's not that, Spence. It's five o'clock in the morning. We stayed up all night." She states. "I kept you up all night and you have work today. I am so sorry."

I look behind me, finding that the clock reads just past five. "It's alright. I'm addicted to drinking coffee so I'll just have to drink a bunch today. I should probably let you sleep for half the day until you have to go to the airport."

"Yeah," she says slowly. "Hey, Spence?"

She's called me "Spence" twice now. JJ is the only person to have ever called me that before, and normally I would say that I don't want to be called that. That I like my full name, not Walter, but I cannot deny June that privilege.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"I . . . I really like our talks. I really, really do and I hope that you know that." Her tone is sincere.

My smile, which now seems to be permanently fixed on my lips when I talk to June, widens and my cheeks begin to hurt again. "I feel the same way."

"Well, I should get some sleep. Maybe you can close your eyes for an hour?" She suggests.

I'm almost disappointed that we have to get off the phone. I wish I could spend forever talking to her. She's so funny and intelligent. I greatly enjoy her company, whether that be in person, which I'd prefer, or over the phone. "Yeah, I should try that. You'll sleep well? And get your cats their wet food while you're out tomorrow?"

She breathes out in a way that I know she's smiling wide. "Yes, I will. Sleep well, Spencer. Try to close your eyes for a little bit."

"I will try. For you, June. Good night, or morning. Sleep well."

"Bye." She whispers into the phone.

"Bye," I say with the same quietness to my voice. My eyes are heavy immediately and I do not attempt to move from my couch. It feels as if my eyes are closed for only a few minutes when my phone rings with several messages from Hotch and JJ. There's another case and we need to leave immediately.

I sigh. I spent the whole night on the phone with Juniper and now, with no sleep, I will go into work. What is this woman doing to me? What am I to do if this becomes my life? Late nights talking to Juniper and early mornings for work, a job that will call me away for what could be hours or days or weeks away from home? She will ruin me at this rate, but I am quickly coming to adore her.

I think I want to meet these mischievous cats of hers. It will not be today, but it will be soon if I can help it.

For now, I focus on getting ready for work. It's going to be a long day.