CHAPTER THREE
MINDS THAT THINK ALIKE .
❪ virginia : 2006 ❫

LYDIA'S PAPER CUP BURNED THE PALMS OF HER HANDS, A WELCOMED SENSATION AGAINST THE COLD THAT WAS NUMBING HER FINGERTIPS. The actual coffee itself was only lukewarm at best now— a result of her alarm clock once again running out of batteries and failing to wake her up. Spencer knocking on her door was what had finally brought her out of her slumber, and when she'd answered it with a bed head that clearly said she wasn't work ready, he'd merely offered her an amused smile and told her to meet him outside the station while he got the drinks. A saint, really.

She'd only known him about half a year now, the same amount of time she'd been at the BAU, and he'd been more than a life saver when it came to making her feel welcome. After his initial reservations, of course. It had taken her a moment to break past his introversion, but once she'd gotten him talking about War and Peace (which she had read, thank you very much) he hadn't stopped since.

"Busy today." He observed, throwing the words over his shoulder as they weaved through the morning rush hour of the tube station. There wasn't enough room to walk side by side just yet, but he was carrying on their conversation anyway.

Lydia snorted slightly, "You think it's busy everyday."

"It is busy everyday." He craned his neck to look at her, subsequently bumping into someone and stuttering an apology. She tried to hide her amusement.

"Careful, it's busy." She teased, falling into step besides him as they started up the stairs.

He sent her a halfhearted glare, which lived on his features for all of two seconds before he launched into the statistics of Virginia's population and their work shift patterns. Even after months of being around him everyday, she still wasn't over the awe of just how much information was packed into his head. They were halfway up the steps when a boy stopped them— more Spencer than her, because he said his name more like a fact than a question; "You're Dr.Reid."

He didn't look like he could be older than twenty, hands gripping the rucksack on his shoulder like a lifeline. He was timid, a soft spoken voice and flickering eyes.

Spencer looked confused, "Do I... know you?"

"N-no, I just know what you do."

Spencer's brows furrowed further and, as he slowly dragged out an "okay?" while turning to leave, Lydia almost snorted at his awkward dismissal. Anyone else would question further, but he looked like he wanted to get out of the situation as fast as possible. The boy persisted, however, "Look, I saw you at George Town afew weeks ago, you gave a lecture on sexual sadism."

That seemed to ease Spencer, who gained a pleased expression at the mention of his academics. He nodded his head, giving a self-deprecating smile, "I'm not much of a public speaker."

"I-I don't know, you seemed cool." The boy's gaze flickered between him and the floor, and Lydia smiled quietly at the display. She knew validation like this meant a lot to Spencer.

"You look a little young to go to George Town." He said, no longer in a rush to get away.

"I'm a junior at northwest high school."

"And you just go to lectures on anger exhortation for fun?" He said it half in jest, half in genuine approval.

"I don't have a lot of friends."

The expression on Spencer's face once again threatened to elicit a laugh from Lydia. He asked, "So, you're interested in profiling?"

"Yeah, I mean, I read a lot, true crime— like graphic novels, mostly. They're all on, like, whether or not evil exists, nature vs. nurture. So I figured it'd be smart to hear it from an expert... So you said a lot of them kill prostitutes?"

Lydia looked up from where she'd been studying her coffee cup in a feigned attempt to give them privacy. That was an oddly specific question.

Spencer nodded, "Number one serial killer target, actually."

"Is that for sex or because they think they're dirty and need to be punished?" His eye contact with Spencer lingered for a few more seconds, as if he was attempting to gauge the man's reaction to his words. Like a child who had stolen a cookie from the jar trying to see if their parents had picked up on it.

A cold feeling washed over her, as if someone had injected shards of ice into her bloodstream. There was innocent curiosity, and then there was... well, the non-innocent kind. She could see Spencer register it too, because instead of responding he asked a question of his own, "Were you waiting here for me?"

"What would it mean if they were stabbing someone and cutting off their hair?"

Deflection. Lydia began to take mental notes— the colour of his hair, the clothes he was wearing, how dark circles rimmed his eyes. The boy was shifting on his feet, a clear sign of how anxious he was. Lydia couldn't tell if it was because of the conversation or something else.

She was willing to bet it was something else.

"I've... I've never heard of a case like that," Spencer was quick on his feet, somehow managing to shove aside his own anxiety about who was possibly standing before them, "Do you want to come to the BAU with me, maybe talk to some of my other team members?"

He posed it as an innocent question, one academic merely helping out another. Lydia saw his true intention, and it seemed like the boy did too. He began to head back down the stairs, "I've got to get to school."

"Give me your name and your number and I'll call you—" Spencer began to follow him, but he'd already disappeared into the crowd. He glanced at her helplessly, and she wordlessly nodded, a silent agreement to get to the BAU as quickly as possible.

Spencer had tried to hastily sketch the boy, but after a minute of watching him struggle to get the eyes right Lydia had taken over. She'd done a sketch artist class for extra credit in college— her childhood interest in drawing making it an easy way to gain extra points. As they stepped off the elevator, JJ offered them a greeting which went unacknowledged. He questioned, "Who's your contact in the DC police?"

"Victor Barnes," She followed behind them, "Why, do you need me to speak to him?"

Spencer didn't respond, merely picked up the phone and asked for the man JJ had mentioned. Gideon walked towards them, noting their tense expressions. As Spencer spoke on the phone, she offered up a brief explanation, "This kid stopped Reid on our way to work, asking weird questions about the murder of prostitutes— specifically ones who were stabbed and had their hair cut."

Just as she finished explaining, Spencer asked if there were any recent murders matching that M.O. He was quiet for a moment before he said, "When was the most recent victim?"

Dread filled her, any doubt that the boy at the station was just a teenager with slightly gruesome interests had now vanished. He finished up the phone call, "I'll explain when I see you, I'll meet you in a half hour."

"What's going on?" Gideon's arms folded over his dark dress shirt, his neutral voice veiling any concern.

"I think we may have a serial killer," He answered, brows furrowed, "And I think I just let him get away."

⭈

After a brief trip with Morgan and Emily to speak with some possible witnesses, afew girls managed to identify the sketch with someone they'd seen out a few times. Allegedly, the boy they'd seen at the station had been hanging around the streets but never actually engaged in any sexual activity with the prostitutes himself. He'd just watch, they'd said.

In a way, she thought that it perhaps made him seem even more likely to have committed the crimes. After all, there wouldn't be much gratification in just watching— there had to be some sort of act. Some sort of purpose behind going out of his way to observe sex workers. If he wasn't engaging in actual sex with them, it could indicate a level of disgust, in turn, motivating the violence to kill. Yet, he was a teenaged boy, so they also couldn't rule out the simple possibility that he was exploring his sexual desires through observation.

Either way, the mere confirmation he'd been in the area of the killings wasn't enough to declare him guilty, and it also hadn't brought them much closer to uncovering his identity. When she'd arrived back at the BAU, she'd found Spencer and Garcia in her bat cave attempting to figure out that information.

"This is impossible." Spencer gave an exasperated sigh, and Lydia raised a brow at his clear display of frustration that normally wasn't so easy to draw out.

Garcia scoffed, "Says you."

"There's nothing in the juvenile offender records." He defended, his voice cracking slightly.

"So you think like a high school kid."

He refuted, "I was twelve and I hadn't been through puberty in high school."

"Okay," Garcia blinked, "Reset. We think like a highschool student, you think like a profiler."

Lydia admitted slightly sheepishly, "I went to a private school from fourth grade to graduation, I'm not exactly the picture of an average highschool experience, either."

"Reset the reset, I think like a highschool student, you guys think like the profilers." She waved a hand, "He said he was a junior, the first rule when speaking to an authority figure, lie and say you're older. He's probably... a sophomore."

Lydia nodded— she tended to stick to the rules in school, but the urge to break them had certainly crossed her mind more than once. Her obsession with proving herself grades wise had left little time for things like lying to authority figures, but she had a dorm mate who would tell her millions of stories about doing just that.

"Okay..." Spencer said contemplatively, "He was wearing a coat that was lambs wool but it didn't look vintage, it looked brand new, like it had been tailored to him. Which means money... which means...."

"Private school," Lydia said dryly, "Guess I'm back on the side of tapping into his mindset."

She placed a hand on the back of Garcia's chair, thinking for a moment. She remembers an incident of meeting one of her Grandmother's friend's grandson's— he'd been talking about the school he went to which was in the same state, but a different district. She hadn't heard of it before. "He said he went to northwest high, it's unlikely he'd know the name of a highschool if he didn't at least attend another one close to the area of it."

Spencer nodded, "Pull up the district for northwest high, see if there are any private schools."

Gracia typed for a second before nodding, "Three."

They needed to narrow it down further. Spencer said, "What about ones that offer electives at George Town?"

"One; Morton School."

He nodded, pleased, "Pull up the Sophomore class."

An array of teenage faces were displayed on the screen, and it only took a few moments of scrolling before a familiar one popped up, "Wait, wait. Stop."

Spencer pointed to a boy in the middle, and Garcia brought up his personal information, "Nathan Harris."

Spencer's mouth hung open like he couldn't quite believe it, "We got him."

She offered him a relieved smile, "Let's go tell Gideon."

⭈

Lydia stayed behind as a small team was sent out to bring Nathan in, and upon Gideon's request, she was preparing to sit in on his psychological interview.

"Is it a good idea? For me to be in there?" Lydia said apprehensively, "I just think he'd be far more comfortable without a woman present, I don't think we'll get much from him otherwise."

He gave her a knowing look, "Trust me on this. Plus, I need you to monitor his micro expression while I focus on talking to him. You might pick up on something I miss."

Lydia sent him a one of reluctant agreement, and he pushed open the door into the office Nathan was waiting in. There was already a bearded man in the corner, watching silently as the younger boy's eyes darted between him and the floor. His gaze flickered up to her and Gideon, and his anxiousness seemed to increase.

"My names Gideon, this is agent Baylor," He gestured to her as they took their seats, and she offered up a small smile to placate his nerves. It didn't seem to work— which she anticipated.

"You were with Dr.Reid at the station," He said, "You're friends?"

Lydia nodded, "We are."

"So, he must trust you then?"

She momentarily wondered what it was about Spencer that Nathan gravitated towards— yes, they were both timid in nature and appeared to have some shared academic interests, but Spencer clearly hadn't shared in his darker fantasies. Why did he go to Spencer, specifically, for help? "I think he does," She answered honestly, knowing he'd really been looking for the assurance that he could trust her too. It seemed to be enough to calm the boy slightly. "You're okay with answering some questions for us?"

He nodded, ducking into himself slightly. He couldn't hold her gaze for longer than a few seconds at a time, and she ruled it out as an indicator of lying— it seemed to simply be a part of his mannerisms. Perhaps nervousness, too, but that was natural for any form of questioning whether guilty or not.

"So, I don't wet the bed or start fires..."

Gideon's mouth lifted up at the side humorously, "I see you've read Dr.Harris warning signs of psychopathy."

"Yeah... is that wrong?"

"No, it's healthy. You're intellectually curious, you want to understand how you're feeling." Gideon's voice was calming, assuring, "Tell me what worries you."

"Just been, um, thinking about stuff."

"About hurting women?"

His eyes briefly flickered to Lydia, and he looked more uncomfortable with her now— like he'd forgotten about her connection to Spencer and she was back to being a complete stranger he couldn't seem to humanise. Yet, strangely, he didn't look like he held resentment towards her. More like shame. He looked back to Gideon as he admitted, "Yeah."

"Have you ever hurt anyone?"

He glanced upwards, like he was recalling a memory, "I killed a bird once. I know that's on the list, it's one of the signs."

Gideon showed no sign of disgust, "Why did you kill the bird?"

"Cause I was sad."

"How'd you feel afterwards?"

His brows were woven, like he was fighting against it, "Better."

"Why?"

He seems to struggle internally, "I don't know. Cause it was dead and I was still alive."

Gideon nodded, "Is that why you want to hurt women? To feel better?"

"I don't know..." He whispered.

"Have you ever seen a woman naked?"

Lydia looked down at her notebook, making it look like she wasn't paying too much attention to the conversation so that he felt less insecure about discussing it. There was a pause.

"Don't worry about them," Gideon said, then added, "No offence."

The man in the corner of the room responded with a "Non taken." She remained quiet, like she hadn't heard Gideon speak, like she hadn't been listening intently enough to hear him. She wrote things down to look busy.

"Afew years ago at my moms med school, her students get cadavers."

She could see Gideon's fingers moving against his brow in the corner of her eye, "So, how'd that make you feel?"

"Good. Excited." She chanced a glance up, and he trembled slightly, "It's sick."

"Perfectly natural for a boy to feel excited if he sees a naked body, even a cadaver." Gideon said dismissively, like it wasn't something to worry about.

"Yeah, but now that's the only part that I think about."

Lydia's pen paused over her paper for a brief second, then she went back to writing so he wouldn't pick up on her change in demeanour.

Gideon persevered, "Which part?"

He swallowed, "Them being dead."

"So when you watch the prostitutes you don't imagine having sex with them?"

"No, I think about cutting them."

He was startlingly honest— it was making her believe in his innocence a little more, because despite the unlikely hood of all the evidence of an actual serial killer also happening to align with a lot of the impulses he was describing, it didn't make sense for him to be so forthcoming with his mentality if he was guilty.

"Why?"

"I don't know... maybe to look inside. Or sometimes I think about feeling their blood in my hands and letting it flow through my fingers."

He was painting a vivid image, but it wasn't exactly an unusual one for people with similar impulses to conjure up. Nathan was speaking with shame, an understanding that the things he craved was wrong. She wondered if it was the violence that did it, or if that was only a means to an end. Was it simply the fact of them being dead, of being completely malleable to his control, that he desired?

"Does it ever make you climax just by thinking of that?"

He didn't directly answer, merely gave the smallest incline of his head, "I know I'm crazy."

Gideon didn't blink, "Did I say that?"

"No, but what do you call pictures in your head that you can't make go away?"

The silence lingered for afew seconds before Gideon gave his answer, then began to wrap up the interview with some more assuring words to Nathan. When they exited the office, the man gave her an exhausted look. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, "We'll debrief it in afew minutes, I need a break."

Lydia nodded, a sigh dragging from her lips as she headed towards the desks, Spencer already perched against his and watching her like he had been waiting on her return this whole time.

"What do you think?" His knuckles covered his mouth.

"I don't know," She murmured, "It's kind of fascinating... the impulses he's talking about are consistent with a psychopathic state of mind but if he's being genuine about the fear... that's a guilty conscience. It's a clear conflict. Being able to feign guilt isn't unheard of, but at the same time... I'm struggling to see any tells which indicate he's not being genuine."

Spencer was watching her with an almost hopeful expression, and she let out a small sigh, "There's a lot we don't understand about the human mind yet, it's not black and white, we can't apply the same theories to everyone so... it's not impossible that he'd be able to still feel all these other human emotions that aren't consistent with psychopathy. But... if he didn't do this, didn't kill all those people," She shook her head with furrowed brows, "I think he will, eventually. Impulses like the ones he's having, they aren't quite. They're loud and take over everything else. Even the conscience."

She could tell it wasn't what he wanted to hear. His head ducked slightly, staring down at his hands in silence. Lydia watched him for a moment, observing his dejected state with furrowed brows.

"Can I ask you something?" She said finally.

He hummed, looking at her with an expression that attempted to appear impassive. The way he chewed on his lip, however, was a give away that he was anything but.

"What is it about Nathan? What's making you feel responsible for him?" She didn't pose her question with any judgement, mere genuine curiosity. Over the last few months they'd been on a fair few cases together, and she'd never seen him so emotionally invested— especially with a supposed perpetrator.

Spencer blinked, searching her features for a moment as if he was looking for any sign she would scrutinise him. When he didn't seem to find any, he relented, "I remember what it was like being a kid and having a brain that worked a hundred miles ahead of everyone else. It was... scary. Lonely. I never had... I never had the kind of thoughts he's talking about, but I feel like I understand him. And he wants help, I believe that. I believe that whatever it is that's going on with him, he's trying to fight it. Shouldn't we... shouldn't we help people who need it? Even if... you know..."

"Of course we should," She said softly, "And we are, you are. I bet no one's shown him the level of empathy you have in a long time. Maybe not even ever. He's been stuck in his head alone for god knows how long, and you're giving him an outlet. Whatever happens here, whether we find out he did this or not, he'll get the help that he needs. Gideon's already talking to his mom about what sort of resources we can get involved for him."

Spencer said quietly, "I always struggle with that... the empathy side of the job."

"You're doing fine at it now." She offered him a reassuring smile, "Sometimes we can relate to things, and other times we can't. I think that's what makes a team work— some cases will resonate with one of us more than it will the rest, and while that person can provide empathy and personal insight, the rest of us can have a more detached and critical viewpoint. It helps us cover all bases."

He stared at her for a moment, then his shoulders relaxed from their hunched state. He looked back to his hands, nodding, before his gaze returned to her. "Thank you." His quiet words were followed by that slightly awkward smile of his.

⭈

Lydia spent the rest of her day at her desk, running over the profile and seeing if there was anything she could think of that could help to narrow it down. She managed a few more suggestions to Hotch before JJ did a press release, and it wasn't long before the domino effect took place. With the inside knowledge of other women who had possibly come in contact with the killer, alongside a female politician who matched the identified characteristics with someone she knew, the team had apprehended the killer.

It wasn't Nathan, and thankfully, Gideon had arranged for him to get the treatment he needed.

Lydia nudged Spencer's foot with her own— it was after hours, and they were the only ones remaining in the bullpen. Hotch was situated in his office with paper work, Garcia still somewhere in the building. He was reclined in his chair, shoes against her desk, staring at the ceiling. "Hey," She said, "You okay?"

He hummed, "Yeah, just..." His brows weaved, "Long day."

She watched him quietly, "You worried about Nathan?"

Spencer was silent for a moment before he nodded, "He's just a kid, and he's scared. I wish I could... help more."

"I think you helped him more today than anyone else has in a long time." She sat up to look at him better, and he lowered his gaze from the ceiling to her, "You could have walked away from him earlier, and he would have been completely alone in all those thoughts he's got going on. Because of you, he's getting help. There's going to be a whole support system around him now, and maybe he won't feel better for a long time yet, but he'll get there. You've done everything you could."

While it didn't fully alleviate the tension from him, Spencer offered her a grateful smile. "I know, I just..."

"I know." She said empathetically. Even when you've done everything you possibly can, there will always be a side of you that wishes you could rewrite the very fabric of logic and reverse all the negatives that are still left lingering. But that wasn't logical, and sometimes you just had to live with the anxieties until they didn't feel so heavy anymore.

Their attention cut to the click of Garcia's heels as she strode towards them, purpose in her step.

"Come on," She hit both of them with her scarf, "Us three, we're hitting the town."

Lydia let out a snort, "The town?"

"No offence Garcia, but I don't think I'd make the best company right now."

Spencer's attempt at declining her offer went ignored— apparently it wasn't an optional affair. "Oh, no. Up. Up. Do not make me hurt you."

Lydia didn't try to hide her laughter as she swooped down to pick up her bag. Garcia couldn't hurt a fly. Spencer reluctantly pulled his feet off of her desk, a small smile playing on his lips. No one could say no to Garcia.

The three of them made their way out of the building— Garcia was insisting on driving, wanting to show off her new car she had dubbed Esther. Spencer's phone rang just as she opened her door. "What?" He spoke with a shaky voice, "Uh... stay— stay where you are, I'm calling an ambulance."

⭈

Spencer's hands shook as he moved a towel between them, numbly attempting to clean away the blood stains. "Hey." She said quietly, taking it from him to do it herself— he let her, brows furrowed while his gaze remained on the crimson stains. Lydia had always thought that the shade of blood was the most vivid colour in existence, demanding to be seen in the loudest of ways. It was a physical embodiment of the harshest emotions, like all bad things were tied to the sight of it. She didn't like that side of the job— not that anybody did, really, but her stomach for such sights hadn't come easily. "You saved his life, you know? Paramedics said he wouldn't have made it without you."

Spencer swallowed, "He wanted me to let him die."

"No," She shook her head slightly, "He didn't want to hurt people, and suicide is the only option he knew to make sure he didn't. I don't think Nathan wanted to die, Spencer, he wouldn't have tried to get help if he did. I think the thoughts just became too much, and he needed a way to silence them that would be quick."

"What if... what if I've put more people at risk in the future?"

"You haven't, because he was wrong," She said softly, "There are other options. They'll give him the help he needs in hospital, and they won't let him go until he's no longer a danger to the public. You saved a life today, Spencer, but that doesn't mean that you're now accountable for what he does with it."

He watched her for a moment, then nodded. His hands were as clean as they could get for now, and when he took the towel back so he could discard it, he offered her a tired but grateful smile. "Thank you."

She offered him a smile back, "Are you ready to go home? Morgan said he'd drop us off at our apartments."

He nodded tiredly, the weight of the last few days heavy on his shoulders. She nudged his shoulder slightly, hoping to give him something else to focus on so he didn't fall back into the hurricane of thoughts in his head, "So, I finally managed to finish Star Trek."

His head snapped towards her, "What? But I've been trying to get you to watch it with me for weeks, I wanted to be able to point out how the—"

Lydia listened to him talk, an amused smile on her features. The tail lights of Derek's SUV flickered as he unlocked it, and they got in the back seat behind the older man and Garcia. There was a sense of belonging in moments like this, when the cases had wrapped up and they were riding the melancholy of making the streets that little bit safer. It settled something inside of her— the idea that she was finally gaining some sort of clarity over her own future. She could see herself doing this in the long run, and it was the clearest picture of what was to come she'd ever been able to have.

It felt safe. Secure. Settled. She had been wanting that ever since she was eight years old, when she was ripped from the care of her father to live with her grandparents.

Finally, she was getting there.

HEY! I hope you enjoyed this first look at Spencer and Lydia's friendship before it all went down hill. I think it'll add a little more weight to their present day storyline, and I can't wait to give you more content from their before days <3 Feel free to let me know what you think, I welcome all opinions but please do be respectful! Thank you so much for reading!

( this chapter centred around the episode "sex, birth, death" 02x11 )