Rhapsody, Chapter One - Prelude
pairing: spencer reid x pianist!reader
summary: after a truly awful case, spencer and the team relax by attending a concert at the kennedy center. little does spencer know that the night's program will change the trajectory of his life.
w.c.: 1.8k
a/n: this is just the beginning - they don't even meet in this one. maybe a bit of a slow start, but i thought this special first encounter deserved its moment.
masterlist
~
It's the happiest coincidence that their paths cross. Spencer is not a socializer, and tends to head straight home after work. He prefers to relax in silence and the comfort of a good book, unlike his teammates who like to go out to drink and socialize. However, this is a rare occasion when his teammates - notably Penelope - have ganged up on him.
Spencer supposes the distraction of their company is beneficial, even though he's tired to his very bones. The case they've just finished was a rough one. It had hit all of them hard, and JJ, Emily, and Derek had jumped at the opportunity to go out that Garcia brought up when they got back.
"I know you're all tired and deserve your rest, but I've gotten a set of tickets to a concert at the Kenney Center," Garcia announces, fanning her face dramatically with the cardstock tickets. "Tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. I think we need a nice dinner and some relaxing music."
"God, I haven't been to a concert in ages," JJ sighs. "Who's playing?"
"I don't exactly know," Garcia admits. "It's a classical concert."
Spencer, who has already tuned out of the conversation, tunes back in abruptly, perking up with interest. "What's the program?" he asks.
Garcia squints at the small print on the tickets. "Something Rachmaninoff, apparently," she says. "I don't know enough about classical music to know much more than that. The Kennedy Center produces fantastic concerts, though, so I figure it can't be bad."
"Did you know that Rachmaninoff had a handspan of an octave and a half?" Spencer asks excitedly. "That's highly improbable, even for a male musician. His compositions, especially for the piano, reflect that. Another famous pianist with a similar reach was Franz Liszt."
"Okay, so I assume Spencer is going," Emily laughs.
"I think it sounds very nice," Spencer defends. "Especially depending what's programmed for the rest of the concert."
Penelope blinks in surprise, then breaks into a grin. "That wasn't nearly as hard as I thought it would be," she says. "Everyone, be ready at five to head for dinner?"
"I can pick everyone up," Derek offers. He elbows Spencer. "We don't need you getting lost on the subway in your fancy concert clothes again."
"It was one time," Spencer grumbles. "I take the metro daily and it's never a problem!"
~
The next evening, Spencer is dressed nicely in a suit with a purple tie - one of his favorites, a gift from his mother - when his doorbell buzzes. He grabs his wallet, phone, and keys, and answers the door.
Penelope is standing outside, wearing a bright blue dress. "Spence, you look fantastic! Ready to go?"
"Thanks, Penelope, you look great too. Yes, I'm ready." He steps into the hallway, locking his apartment door behind him.
"We haven't gotten either of the other girls yet. They're both getting ready at Emily's," Penelope explains as Spencer holds the building's main door open for her. "JJ thought it would be easier without the boys getting underfoot."
"I bet they're getting so big," Spencer says fondly. "I haven't seen them in awhile. I'll have to visit soon."
"Isn't Henry's birthday coming up? I'm sure JJ is planning something for that."
Derek is waiting in the parking lot, his SUV running. Penelope hops in the front seat, and Spencer takes the seat behind her, capitulating on the extra leg room he knows he'll find behind her seat.
"Hey, Pretty Boy," Derek exclaims. "Ready for a night of dinner and dancing on the town?"
"You don't dance at a classical music concert," Spencer explains patiently. "You sit and you listen, and you enjoy the performance."
"Doesn't sound as much fun as a pop concert," Derek says as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"That's because your idea of good music is a singular repeating four-chord progression with constant driving percussion. Once you hear Rachmaninoff, your whole life will change."
Derek rolls his eyes. "Okay, Mozart," he scoffs, but Spencer can hear the lightness in his friend's tone.
Penelope has already texted Emily and JJ that they're close, because the final two are waiting in the parking lot outside Emily's building when Derek pulls up. They both look lovely, JJ in a lavender tea-length dress and Emily in burgundy. They hurry to the car, giggling at something Emily must have said.
They enjoy dinner at a nice Italian restaurant, although they remark that Rossi's cooking is much better.
"That's because he can cook authentic Italian cuisine," Spencer points out. "Establishments like this serve an Americanized version of Italian dishes, and their ingredients are not traditionally sourced."
"Also, Rossi knows how to host," JJ adds. "The food is only one part of the experience."
"And he has an excellent wine collection," Emily says pointedly, swirling her own glass. "This isn't bad - it goes nicely with the meal - but once you've had something at Rossi's, everything else is ruined forever."
A short drive later, the team is mounting the steps of the Kennedy Center. Garcia rummages in her purse for the tickets, handing them out before they reach the front doors.
"I've never actually been here," JJ says, craning her head to look at the ceiling as they reach the entrance. "It's beautiful."
"I've been, but not for awhile," Emily says. "I think the last time I was here was in college."
Spencer doesn't mention that he comes here at least twice a year, depending on his schedule and the concert offerings. As a major artistic institution, the Kennedy Center attracts world-renowned musical artists, and Spencer comes whenever he can. He doesn't feel like attracting his team's teasing right now, so he keeps his thoughts to himself.
They have decent seats, midway back on the right on the orchestra level. The hall is relatively full, and there's a buzz of conversation around them, layering over the pleasant cacophony of orchestral instruments onstage as the musicians warm up.
Tuning out the chatter of his teammates, Spencer glances through his program, feeling his anticipation build. The first piece isn't just any Rachmaninoff, it's the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Spencer has never heard it live, but it's one of the first recordings he can remember his mother playing for him as a child. The second half of the concert is Dvorak's New World Symphony, another of Spencer's favorites.
He doesn't recognize the piano soloist's name. According to her biography in the program, she's still a student at the National Academy for the Arts, and won this debut with the symphony through a competition.
"Did you know that Rachmaninoff is quoting the Italian violinist Paganini for the initial melody of this work?" he asks Emily, who's sitting next to him. "Paganini was thought to have sold his soul to the devil since his violin technique was so advanced for the time. Paganini's piece was a set of incredibly difficult violin variations, and Rachmaninoff turned the same melody into a set of variations for solo piano and orchestra."
Emily's face wrinkles in thought. "I think I've heard a bit of this one before," she says. "One of the famous parts?"
"You'll recognize the main melody," Spencer tells her. "And the twelfth variation is especially well-known and beloved for its beauty and lyricism. But the whole work is incredible, and a lot of fun to listen to."
Emily grins, and gives Spencer's arm an excited squeeze where it's resting on the armrest between their seats. "Well, I'm looking forward to it."
Spencer's glad he's sitting next to Emily. With her international upbringing and time spent abroad, she's more familiar with classical arts and literature than the rest of their friends.
He also makes a mental note to mention this concert in his next letter to his mother. He knows she'll appreciate the programming.
Finally, the lights dim, and the noise in the hall begins to settle. The audience breaks into applause as the concertmaster enters the stage, bowing before turning to the orchestra. A breath of silence, and then the oboe's sweet tone rings out a tuning note - a sound that never fails to send a shiver of anticipation down Spencer's spine. The tuning note swells as the rest of the orchestra takes it, fractaling out in waves of overlapping sound before it dwindles away and the concertmaster takes her seat.
The audience begins to applaud again as the soloist and the conductor appear. The orchestra stands to welcome them, and the soloist shakes both the conductor and the concertmaster's hands before moving to the piano.
Spencer is surprised how young she appears. She looks tiny next to the piano, dressed in a sleeveless full black gown. The fabric has a subtle shimmer under the stage lights. Her hair is pinned off her neck into an effortlessly easy-looking arrangement of curls, and he catches the flash of tasteful diamond jewelry at her earlobes and neck.
It's especially surprising to Spencer because he knows a lot of the difficulty of Rachmaninoff's music lies in the sheer range for which the composer wrote. Statistically speaking, handspan is usually proportional to heigh, and he's very interest to see how this young woman handles the challenge.
A charged, expectant silence settles over the hall as the pianist settles on the bench and the conductor picks up his baton. A soundless, ferocious preparatory breath, and the orchestra breaks into music.
From the first chords, the young pianist shows complete mastery of the instrument and the music. It draws Spencer in instantly, how she almost disappears within the sound, her fingers flying effortlessly over the keys. He's amazed at the volume she can coax from the giant instrument.
Time melts away, and only the music remains. It's sparklingly clear, a wonderful intellectual debate between the piano and the orchestra, building and resolving over and over again through each variation.
And finally, the music melts to the glorious richness of the twelfth variation. Spencer is dimly away of tears streaming down his face at the sheer beauty of the sound surrounding him, but also because of the pianist creating it - she has given herself completely over to the music, her eyes closed in perfect bliss as her fingers float across the keyboard. There's a sensitivity and almost sadness within the sweet melody - Paganini's initial melody turned upside-down, Spencer distantly remembers - and something within it calls his own heart to crack in sympathy in time with the rolling arpeggios.
And then a swirl of sound, the variations building slowly to their final peak, and a crashing crescendo to the end. The final chord - just the piano - rings out into the hall, dying into a long moment of stunned silence before the audience jumps to its feet in wild applause.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur for Spencer. He can't even remember to share the fun fact that Dvorak spent a summer in the tiny town of Spillville, Iowa while he composed his New World Symphony and several other famous works. He sleeps deeply and restfully that night. None of his usual nightmares or waking terrors haunt him. Instead, when he opens his eyes in the morning, he has a distant memory of the twelfth variation spinning through his dreams and echoing in his subconscious, easing all into rest and peace.
chapter two
