CHAPTER SIX
AFTER .
❪ virginia : present day ❫

        LYDIA'S FINGERTIPS HOVERED OVER THE SEND BUTTON. There was something stopping her— as she sat crossed legged on her couch, years and years of work staring back at her in the form of a computer screen. She'd been quiet about getting her PhD— when she'd started almost four years ago, Hotch was the only one she'd told about it. The older man was basically a mind reader anyway, but she figured it would be helpful to explain to her boss why she may be slightly more stressed at times than normal. Then when he left, she'd told Emily.

But the rest of the team didn't know. Sometimes, Lydia had a silly, unfounded, sense that she needed to prove herself. What to, she wasn't really sure, but it had always been that way with her. Maybe it was all that time in boarding school where the only approval she gained was through academic success— years and years of seeking some sort of validation, barely met after endless nights fawning over textbooks in her dorm room. She had always put herself at expense because she thought that was how things were supposed to be. Pushing yourself to breaking point and not stopping when it was reached. Tearing her ACL after forcing herself through out-of-hours training for the school volleyball team, making herself sick with anxiety over test scores, going days without sleep to cram in more studying, ignoring her social-exhaustion to keep up with the popular girl facade. Head girl. Team captain. Straight A's.

When she was placed in her grandparents' care, her world was morphed into something she didn't entirely know how to navigate. They hadn't been apart of her life before— and for a while, she believed that she had to earn their love through being the poster girl for perfection. They were all golf clubs, fancy dinners and grand jewellery. At first, it seemed to her like they were all about appearance. But as time became her teacher, she really did realise that they'd already loved her all along. They didn't always know how to show it, but by the time Lydia had figured out that she didn't need to prove herself to them, she already became her own worst critic. That was harder to reverse than anything else.

By the age of eighteen, her mental health was a battlefield that she was wholly unprepared for. After spending so long clawing her way back from rock bottom— Lydia wasn't prepared to let herself fall back into those old ways. If she didn't tell anyone, she couldn't let them down. And the thing is— back then, Lydia didn't let people down. She killed herself to make sure that that didn't happen. And maybe now she was older she wouldn't feel the need to succumb to those pressures, but she wasn't willing to risk it. Balancing work and studying would be enough without that.

And now, her dissertation was finished. But most importantly, she hadn't had to sacrifice her mental health and well-being for it. She had, well, enjoyed it. And that was one of the biggest victories of her lifetime.

It almost felt too easy. Like something was bound to come up, go wrong. But that was the self-sabotage talking, and it was time to stop listening to it. Just as she was about to press send, her phone began to ring. Seeing the name on her screen, she pressed accept and brought it up to her ear, "Hey, Pen."

"Hey angel cakes, how are you?"

Lydia paused. "Why does your voice sound weird?"

"What?" There was exaggerated outrage in her tone, "My voice doesn't sound weird!"

"Yes it does. It's gone all high pitched. You want something."

"Wha— that's—"

"Pen." Lydia cut her off, smirking slightly to herself, "What's up?"

There was silence for a second as if she was bracing herself, then she launched into a speech, "Okay, so I know how you said that you didn't want to go see Spencer because you don't think he'll want to see you but, it turns out, everyone has obligations today they can't get out of so he won't have a visitor and he'll be all alone and without—"

"Penelope." She interrupted the spiel, more so for Garcia's benefit than her own. It sounded like she was about to run out of air. "You want me to go?"

"Well, yes." Garcia answered, and even though it wasn't a face-to-face call, she could practically see the wince on her face, "I know it's a big ask. But i really think he'd be happy to see you—"

"I don't know about that—"

It was Garcia's turn to interrupt, "Your names on his visitation list, Angel. Only he can decide who goes on it. If he didn't want you there, he wouldn't have put you down."

She paused. "Oh."

Garcia was quiet for a moment before she said, "Don't you think it's time? I-I know it's complicated, I know you're still hurt. But Honey, I've never seen two people love each other the way that you and boy wonder did. I'm not saying you need to get things back to how they were, but I just... I can't help but think you'd both be a lot happier if you were friends again."

She thought about him sitting in a prison cell. Being told he didn't have any visitors. It stalled her breath. "Okay. Okay, i'll go."

She could sense the surprise even through the phone, "Oh! Great! That was— wow— okay. Fantastic. I—"

Lydia shook her head in muted amusement, changing the subject, "When's his visiting hours?"

There was still an air of disbelief to her voice, "Between two and three."

"Alright. I'll be there."

After afew more exchanges, they hung up the call. And before she left for the prison; Lydia pressed send on her dissertation.

─ ∘°❉°∘ ─

Fluorescent lights taunted her overhead, glowing relentlessly against white walls and the sheet of glass in front of her. Her fingernails drummed against the desk, eyes boring into the empty seat at the opposite side. There were knots in her stomach, twisting and tangling over and over. 

Lydia doesn't remember the last time she had been so nervous. A brief alarm rang out and suddenly there was commotion at the doorway, a line of men dressed in grey filing into the room. She sees him. The nerves disappear, instantaneously replaced by a need to find out about his well-being.

When he saw her, he started, freezing for a moment before he began to move in quicker steps than before. Eyes never leaving her, he lowered himself into the plastic chair.

"Hey." Lydia thought she'd have trouble looking him in the eye— but in reality, her gaze couldn't be ripped from him even if she tried. She was assessing, as if she could see through his skin and into his soul, searching for any signs of how he was holding up.

"Hi," He said gently, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah, I know...sorry. Everyone has other obligations they can't get out of. I wasn't going to..." She played with the chain links of her bracelet absentmindedly, "I know I'm probably not who you wanted to see, but I didn't want you to have no one coming in today."

"Hey," Spencer's brows creased, and somehow she'd forgotten how soft his voice was when he wasn't in a rush to spill out facts, "I'll always be happy to see you."

She blinked at him. Sometimes this thing between them blurred in her mind— tangles of rights and wrongs, a haze of actions and hurts. Lydia doesn't know where the guilt that lives within her comes from, it was him who hadn't been there when she'd needed him the most. Yet, there was a part of her that knew he had been hurting too— that it wasn't a competition, and maybe she could have tried harder to be understanding of that. To be the one who pulled them together instead of apart.

"How are you doing?" She asked, and it wasn't until then that she realised just how much she'd been needing to know his answer. Not second hand from one of the team members, but from his own lips. God, looking at him was making her realise just how anxious she'd actually been over his well-being these last few weeks. The whole team had been giving her updates, and she'd feigned the level of concern a co-worker would have rather than a best friend. In reality, she'd clung to their words, hoped and prayed they'd keep her informed without her having to ask.

"I'm... I'm okay." He bobbed his head, and she knew it was a lie.

"Spencer..."

He'd been avoiding her gaze when he'd answered, but met it at the sound of his name. His lips trembled slightly. It broke her heart. "It's... it's a lot."

"I bet," She murmured, empathetically, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Spencer shrugged slightly, "I put myself in this situation..."

"Doesn't mean you deserve it." She said sincerely, "You were helping your mom, all this other stuff— the charges against you; you're not at fault for those. You may have put yourself in Mexico, but that doesn't make you guilty for everything that happened there."

His eyes were welling up, and it took everything in her to not reach across and take his hand like she would have done years ago. "I didn't get to thank you for coming to Mexico. I know it was your day off, a-and even if it wasn't, you didn't have to come all that way."

"Don't thank me." She shook her head, "Doesn't matter what happened, Spencer. I'll always help in whatever way I can."

"I'm glad..." He looked almost apprehensive, "I'm glad it was you who came."

Something about his words felt like dangerous territory, and suddenly it flooded over her, crushing and consuming. The funeral. The lack of him. It flashed through her mind like blinking lights— blinding her momentarily.

Lydia nodded stiffly, swallowed. She had to change the subject to something safe. "Henry wanted me to tell you he won that spelling bee."

She could see he was slightly dismayed by her deflection, but his eyes lit up at the mention of his godson nevertheless. "That's great. Really great, tell him I'm proud of him."

"He already knows," Lydia managed a small smile, "But it'll tell him."

"Thank you."

Hearing about his Godson's seemed to brighten him, so she continued, "They love you— those kids. I mean, you know that, but... I don't think you understand how much. They always talk about you."

Spencer blinked, as if surprised by the admittance, "They're the same way with you. They... they still ask when we'll babysit together again."

So quickly they were back to toeing the line. She drew in a breath, "I don't think we should... I don't think now is the time to talk about this."

"Lydia..."

"No, this is..." She shook her head, "This is about you, not... us."

It wasn't the time. It wasn't the place.

"There may not be a better time to talk about this," He argued anyway, "I could be in here for life, Lydia. I'd hate to think that I never—"

"Stop that," She said firmly, "You are not going down for this, you hear me? I— we — won't let that happen. It may take a few weeks, months even, but we'll get you out. None of us will stop until then."

He swallowed, clenched his jaw, averted his gaze. "I still can't remember what happened."

"That doesn't matter," She leant forwards, urging his eyes back to hers, "You didn't do it. I believe that more than anything, Spencer. The memories may come back, they may not, but that doesn't change the fact that you don't deserve to go down for a crime you didn't commit."

He stared at her, eyes ablaze with conflict. She stared back, unwaveringly, and said, "When you get out, we'll talk about it." She nodded, and despite the way her head was screaming at her to not say it, "A real conversation. I promise."

It seemed to mollify him enough, and he nodded. They were quite for a beat, the silence making her long for those days when they would easily talk for hours about nonsensical things. It caught her off guard, how easily the emotion slipped over her without getting tangled and snagged on the years disconnect. It was an endless ache in her chest.

"Tell me about you," His voice was hopeful, warm, but something in his eyes harboured doubt— like he was afraid she'd deny him, "Please."

Lydia paused. There was one thing that came to mind, and it surprised her how much she wanted to talk to him about it. Years ago, she would tell him everything. He would be the first person she would want to go to when she had news. And for some reason, in that moment, it was like nothing had changed in that regard. "I sent in my dissertation today." She said, almost shyly, "For my Psychology PhD."

Spencer blinked for a moment before his eyes lit up, a grin stretching his features— and god dammit did her heart flip in her chest at the sight of it. "That's amazing, Lydia. I didn't even know—"

"No one did," She explained, not wanting him to think she'd purposefully left him out, "You're actually the first one i've told. I figured I'd wait until everything was finalised, graded and what-not before announcing it." 

"Wow," He shook his head, "That's really... fantastic. What made you finally go for it?"

"Well, I had an idea that I've really believed in for a while and I just... I couldn't think of any more excuses to stop myself. Valid ones, anyways. I just thought that if I kept on blaming my lack of action on work and the time not being right then I would end up looking back on my life and regretting all the things that I didn't do. I don't want to have regrets."

And yet, she still had many. But one thing at a time. He was staring at her in wonderment. His approval had always made her feel electric.

"Dr. Lydia Baylor." Spencer mused, his gaze appraising her fondly. It warmed her.

She smiled sheepishly, "Who would have thought, huh?"

"I would have." He said earnestly, "I did."

When she tried to take another breath, it momentarily stalled in her throat. No matter how much time passed, no matter what person she met, it would always be Spencer Reid who held her whole attention in the palm of his hand. He was, and would always be, the one she wanted to come home to at the end of the day. How brutally complicated it was that that one memory was still holding her captive — it was like swallowing sugar and glass, all at once.

"Really," He said quietly, "I- I'm not trying to overstep, it's just... I know how much this meant to you. How hard it was for you to believe in yourself enough to take this step. And it probably doesn't mean a lot to you now but... I'm proud of you."

Lydia blinked away the stinging in her eyes, "You're not overstepping, Spence. Of course that means something to me."

They watched each other for a moment, "There's something else I haven't thanked you for. The letter. Lydia, I ... I haven't had many— or any— good moments in here, but reading your words, it's the best i've felt since before Mexico. Maybe even longer than that."

The words spilled out before she had a chance to think about them, "I missed talking to you."

She blinked in surprise, and his lips parted slightly, like he was afraid to shatter glass if he spoke— glass that was so, unbelievably, valuable to him. He should feel like a stranger, but truthfully, he hadn't been a stranger to her since the moment she joined the BAU. Time didn't seem to want to change that. Or, more so, it couldn't even if it wanted to.

"I missed it more."

Some uncontrollable part of her went to respond, but before she could get it out, a voice intervened.

"Visiting hours are over." One of the guards announced, "Inmates, return to your cells."

Her heart sank, Spencer's face telling her that he wished he could stay. Wished for anything other than the day that was waiting for him behind that door.

"Lydia?" He said, almost pleadingly, "Will you come visit me again?"

Her heart skipped. She nodded, "Yeah. Promise."

His shoulders slumped in relief, and it seemed as though he had to physically force himself to walk away, gaze on her until a guard ushered him out of the visitors room. Hearing about Spencer in prison had been enough to make her feel sick, but actually seeing it was a whole new level of despair.

It pained her that she couldn't do anything in that moment to help him.

AUTHORS NOTE!

ahhh i do believe this is spencer and lydia's first interaction in a present day chapter ( save for mexico, but you know, one of them was rather high during those events. ) i'm sooo excited to dive into the reason 🤭🤭🤭 let me know if you have any guesses yet!

i've also made a million manpis of lydia with the team so i think i'll drop one at the end of each chapter. a page from lydia's scrapbooks, if you will. starting with my absolute favourite :

they all have this framed in their respective houses btw ( it's canon! they told me so! )

— love, mads.