The Discography of a Love Story | a Criminal Minds fanfic | Rating: mature
AO3
Genre: romance / fix-it / relationship
"Love may not be ordinary, but it can be found at common places. It doesn't have to be epical you see, it doesn't have anything to do with the moon or the stars, or always have to be a matter of life and death. Love, my dear readers, is dumb luck"
TDOALS Summary: When a 14 year old Spencer Reid joined a extension program project - that could also be easily called summer camp for restless minds - he did not expect that between math problems and numbers he would meet the love of his life.
The story contemplates the stages of being in love with someone in a lifetime, how many faces of the beloved one could met, and yet fall each time. Inspired by music, we will spot our characters relationship through their lives, nurturing a bond that poets may call them twin flames, too tied within time and space to be a coincidence. It's about growing up, it's about love, it's about healing and, above all, it's about hope.
"There it is: the star instead of a heart. Here he goes, trying his best to avoid her death at all cost, as if he got anything to do with the matter. It was her death threat after all. And if she got anything to choose into this mess, it would be on how she would pass through it. But no, of course not. The hero must intervene, as he always has to. Cause he has to prove himself everyday, cause he has to carry the weight of the world on his scrawny arms and carry it to a safer and tender place. Cause, no matter how Spencer denies it - and believe me he does - he's still the frightened child that daddy has left and he has to proof his toughness over and over, faking he doesn't feel deeply about everything on a pinnacle of intellectualism where he hides his kind, gentle, caring version to the most cruel face of this wicked world just so he could go on with this fantasy of being the hero and make some sort of sense out of this mess."
"[...] his known traces becoming more prominent as time went by, as he grew confidence because he knows himself better enough to be comfortable in his own skin. And yet, the dark brown curls were still there, even with his hair short cut, together with those aged hazel eyes from someone who have seen endured centuries, but so inviting for looking close to discover it has bits of gold inside, as his eyes were a door for his bright soul."
"There, she let her hair loose, her posture and expressions were easy, and, even when her clothes and jewelry did look expensive, it didn't look like she had put much thought into it. You see, her natural confidence still made her look like she was above everyone else, yet there she had space for vulnerability too - and Spencer figured that the same way he noticed a lifetime long ago: by staring at her eyes, the dark pity that always felt like home to him."
"[...] he couldn't help not noticing how everything looked just right: the fit long sleeve blouse, the well-ironed trousers, the hair style surgically elaborated, the red lipstick without a tip of stain, all perfectly balanced on a t-strap platform even though she's already tall. Like an interior design catalog, all set up to be admired but from afar, any detail carefully thought to show control, so different from the wild girl he once fell in love with - no, that now was Dr. Crawley, the famous mathematician and engineer who wrote and taught and spread science across the globe with NGOs being a UN ambassador. All Spencer knew from her was what he read in articles and her biography behind her books."
Well If I get edgy, I want you to know / I never mean to take it out on you / Life has its problems, I get more than my share / But there's one thing that I would never do' / Cause I love you / Oh, now don't you know I'm human I got my faults just like anyone / And sometimes I lie awake, alone, regretting / Some foolish thing, some sinful thing I've done / I'm just a soul whose intentions are good / Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
- I'm sorry, you want me to do what? - she dramatically inquired, holding the precious coffee she was needing.
- To clear of whatever he has on us and not shut down his systems - Hotch repeated, but Amber's incredulous face made him explain - I cannot guarantee his impression, and if he knows we're on him he's likely to disappear and prepare again. For that, I want you to erase whatever information he has. - Hotch hesitated, as if remembering a detail - please.
Amber breathed heavily.
- Sure.
You might be wondering, of course, if our other genius doctor was aware of her presence - yes, yes he was. At some point, Garcia mentioned her name and an awkward silence between them two stated he was hearing right.
As we already know, he's not a fan of secrets being held from him - but I know him very well, and although his distrust might be painful, his reasons were greater still. Spencer knew she had her motives, especially if Strauss asked her to, and could never think of anything hateful towards Amber. So in the tiny moment after Hotch left Garcia's room and before he followed, their eyes met on a promise.
I never knew daylight could be so violent / a revelation in the light of day / you can't choose what stays and what fades away / and I'd do anything to make you stay / ... / would you leave me if I told you what I've done? / And would you leave me if I told you what I've become? / Cause it's so easy to sing it to a crowd / but it's so hard, my love to say it to you out loud
They sat in silence until the water started to bubble noises, and Amber stand up, asking him if he wants sugar or honey. He blinks, answering sugar. She sat again, and they keep quiet for some time, drinking their tea, until she asks:
- What happened to Tobias?
Feeling like he was about to cry, he answered, with a bittering voice: - I shot him.
- I'm sorry - Spencer blinks, staring at her finally. Of all the things he remembers, she is still honest to the bone, he did not need to look at her to attest her truthfulness. But he did, and found no lie on her.
The shock was due to the understanding, with no judgements or questions of his facts. Because he has been like this before he met Gideon, because Amber knows that to his core he's shining golden to make a day of the darkest nights, and years apart wouldn't make her forget what was his true nature - he's a hero. And he would sacrifice himself over and over, and lose everything over and over, just because he believes this world needs a tomorrow. If I was a bit of a poet and not realistic, I could say that no one better than the other half of your soul knows you - but this isn't a Greek myth. Soulmates are not born, they're created in familiarity, in trust, in knowing the other.
Alex's question had only one answer, after all. It's her. It has always been her.
Começaria tudo outra vez / se preciso fosse, meu amor / a chama em meu peito / ainda queima, saiba / nada foi em vão / ... / Veja meu bem / a orquestra nos espera / p or favor! / mais uma vez, recomeçar
- Which song you want me to play? - he asked, and she didn’t even hesitate to answer:
- Which one you want me to listen to.
Spencer could play anything actually, some song he remembers was her favourite, even the jazz they used to dance to when they lived together. He reconsider, however, to something even more personal - something Amber didn’t listen to, something she didn’t know and that he could recall were one of the moments he so wished to have his best friend back to tell her the story of a little boy of Louisiana that communicate through music, how it broke his heart to watch how things ended for his family, and how everytime he sat on the piano he feel like himself, leaving for the melody to spell. As Spencer never learned the whole song, he decided to invent a little, put on some more notes it made sense for him, so as for the music that last no more than a minute has now more than three minutes long and he manage to tie an ending for it. He didn't glance at her when it ended, blinking as if he just woke up.
- You wrote that? - she asks, and he denied with a nod.
- Partially. The main notes - his fingers danced again with the keys forming the few notes the kid taught him - I learned from a little boy whose parents got kidnapped. He was the only witness, but he had severe autism, and so he didn't talk.
Amber leaned her head, studying his posture. She slide to his side, sitting on the bench, and her fingers imitate his by producing the same notes. Spencer looked at her hand for few moments before his own follows her, and so a duet repeated the same melody, connecting them on a peaceful song. But even a good one has to end, and when it did, she turned to say:
- I'm sorry.
- For what?
- The kid. I can't image what you have to witness too
There's all those places we used to go / And I suspect you already know / but that place on memory lane you liked still looks the same, but something about it's changed / I'm not sure if I should show you what I've found / has it gone for good? / Or is it coming back around?
-You think I look too different?
His first instinct was to say yes, due the previous meetings with her, when she was aware of every detail as a matter of great importance. But then again, Amber has always cared about how she looks - not how she's perceived, which is quite unlike - and to feel powerful, one has to look powerful. There, she let her hair loose, her posture and expressions were easy, and, even when her clothes and jewelry did look expensive, it didn't look like she had put much thought into it. You see, her natural confidence still made her look like she was above everyone else, yet there she had space for vulnerability too - and Spencer figured that the same way he noticed a lifetime long ago: by staring at her eyes, the dark pity that always felt like home to him.
- Not at all - he grins, as it is stronger than him to look neutral when staring at her - you think I have?
- I don't think so - she shook her head negatively, grinning too for the same reason.
I'll help you carry the load / I'll carry you in my arms / we walk through the ash / and the charred remains of our country / keep an eye on my back / I'll keep an eye on the road
Not drawing a word, Amber pointed to the spot next to her with her head, offering the left ear of her phones when he accommodated himself. Spencer did not recognize the song, so he figured it was probably one from this century. He did catch the lyric "I'm trying hard to hide your soul from things it's not meant to see", which he found suitable. Three songs after, when they have disappeared into the melodies, he turned to say:
- Happy birthday, Eliza.
She scoffed and he grinned, inside a private joke only they could understand.
As the last person to blame him for a need for revenge, she chooses to take a long sip from her coffee, pointing:
- You haven’t changed at all.
He grins, watching the extra sugar rounding on the black liquid. I have aged centuries. Then leaned casually in front of the closet, staring at her.
- Neither have you - a heavy silence took the room as they both stare at the other, in a stupid context, a childish competition to figure if they still can read the other as perfectly as they did.
- Still continuing to refuse help even in complete distress. - And you, - she returned, dry as he did - still want to be the hero.
- That’s the reason then?
Amber considered she didn’t lie once during their little conversation, yet she thought that no amount of emotion could be sufficient to show the truth in her words when she confessed in a whisper:
- I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.
I think I've seen this film before / and I didn't like the ending / You're not my homeland anymore / So what am I defending now? / You were my town / now I'm in exile, seein' you out / ... / I think I've seen this film before / And I didn't like the ending / I'm not your problem anymore / so who am I offending now?
There it is: the star instead of a heart. Here he goes, trying his best to avoid her death at all cost, as if he got anything to do with the matter. It was her death threat after all. And if she got anything to choose into this mess, it would be on how she would pass through it. But no, of course not. The hero must intervene, as he always has to. Cause he has to prove himself everyday, cause he has to carry the weight of the world on his scrawny arms and carry it to a safer and tender place. Cause, no matter how Spencer denies it - and believe me he does - he's still the frightened child that daddy has left and he has to proof his toughness over and over, faking he doesn't feel deeply about everything on a pinnacle of intellectualism where he hides his kind, gentle, caring version of him to the most cruel face of this wicked world just so he could go on with this fantasy of being the hero and make some sort of sense out of this mess. Amber understood this completely. She not seldom sees it in the mirror. But that's her death, and if he ever respected her, if he still recognised her as a kin, he would certainly know better than anyone she had to do it alone. So when agent Hotchner walked in their direction, her first request was to get Reid out of the case, or as far from the field as possible.
- I believe our previous personal relationship would affect the efficiency of the strategies, not to mention unprofessional - was her excuse, as being stared in disbelief by Spencer.
I know who I am when I'm alone / I'm something else when I see you / you don't understand, you should never know / how easy you are to need / don't let me in with no intention to keep me / Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me / honey , don't feed me, I will come back / I've known the warmth of your doorways / through the cold, I'll find my way back to you
It Will Come Back by Hozier, 2014
- Still, - she continues - it was a smart move to use the rumor.
- How do you know it was me?
- Now I do - Amber admitted, smirking as she typically did, and if it wasn't for their context Spencer would be lost staring at her beautiful, beautiful face.
Because, you see, I have always been an enemy of the phrase "you cannot be friends with someone who has seen your soul" - that's bullshit, your friends know you that deep too. I found a better way is to say "you cannot be strangers with someone who has seen your soul" - cause no matter how Spencer denies it, he was right in how to call Amber's attention, and she was right in knowing it had to be him.
There is certainly a nostalgic tenderness in watching a glimpse of your own past - a childhood photo, the house you grew up in and, the most unsettling, someone you used to know. One is filled with memories, as if it happened the day before, as if one could still map the house with the palm of their hands, as if you two talked only yesterday in between sheets. It always brings up questions - am I still the child of this photo? Am I still the teen from this house? Am I still the one that you once loved so?
However, I may reconsider the last part. I've considered it too superficial. Once you get deep into nostalgia you find that people hold a power that objects don't - people can break your heart when they turn into a memory, and it can be reciprocal. It's a nasty job, after all - undo someone's out of your blood. It can take a lifetime and never heal correctly. So the question pounds to something as is your heart's still broken? Does the injury still hurt? Does it haunt you like it does to me?
Yes, yes, yes.
would you consider a part two to morgan calling spencer because he thinks hank might be autistic? i love your writing 💚
Part 1
Hank waves from his spot behind Derek's legs, hiding from all the people in the airport but still wanting to say hi to his uncle. "hi," his voice is so tiny that spencer kneels down to be on his level.
"hi," Spencer waves back, "remember me?"
he nods, "you're daddy's best friend."
Spencer smiles, "I am, you can call me uncle Spencer."
"that's my middle name," he smiles.
"I know," Spencer mirrors his excitement. "I brought you something."
"really?"
"you didn't need to do that, Spencer," Derek scolds him slightly.
"it's nothing," Spencer explains as he reaches into his satchel. "this was my first book about engines, this will teach you all about how your trucks work."
"no way!" Hank takes it in his hands and does a little jump, squealing slightly with his excitement.
"say thank you," Derek nudges him.
"thank you," Hank smiles, flipping through the book and not making eye contact.
when spencer stands again, Derek pulls him in for a hug, "nice to see you."
"I've missed you," Spencer admits. "Hanks a mini-you."
"Savannah said people are going to think he's mine and yours when we get lunch," he teases, "speaking of, Hank, where should we go?"
he shrugs, too into his book. "he's really picky," Derek explains, "he won't eat anything with texture? like shrimp, orange slices, celery," Derek lists a few things.
"Same," Spencer admits. "do you have to cut the tags out of his shirts?"
Derek nods, "yeah... and he can't sleep with tags on his pillows or blankets."
spencer presses his lips together and nods, "and what fabrics make him itchy and pull them off?"
"How did you know?"
Spencer laughs, "cause I have the same issues. I'm sensitive to everything, I'm sure he can even hear every conversation happening and he is listening even when you think he isn't?"
"yeah..." Derek thinks back. "and he doesn't like crowded places cause he gets overwhelmed."
"cause he can hear every conversation happening," Spencer confirms.
"I do," Hank agrees, listening in. "that lady over there lost her bag," he points to a lady on the other side of the airport on the phone, "she's sad."
"Okay, let's get out of here," Derek picks him up then, "I'm sorry I didn't know all the talking hurt your ears?"
he shrugs, "it's normal."
"it's our normal," Spencer adds.
they get Hank situated in his car seat, putting spencers bags in the back, they head off to lunch. Spencer turns around a few times to see him, flipping through the book carefully and taking in everything on each page. "do you like it?"
he nods, "this is fascinating."
"you know, I'm an engineer," Spencer shares with him, watching his face light up.
"really?"
he nods, but Derek cuts in, "your uncle Spencer is the smartest man in the whole world."
Spencer blushes at the compliment, "thanks, you know Hank, I'm mostly smart because I have something called autism spectrum disorder 1."
"what's that?"
"It just means I experience the world in a special way, I feel things really intensely the way you do. do you know what your five senses are?"
he nods, "seeing, hearing, taste, touch and smell."
"exactly," spencer smiles, "well I feel those more intensely, like how you can hear everything happening, and how you don't like the way things feel when they touch you?"
"dad?" Hank changes topics.
"Yeah, buddy?"
"is autism a spencer thing?"
they both laugh, "no," Derek answers him. "no, but it's pretty cool that both of you have the same name and similar brains."
"I want to be an engineer too," Hank announces with a smile. "can you help me do that, uncle Spence?"
"of course, I can," he smiles back, "I'm here for whatever you need."
since canon doesn't give us much and yet more than most characters infancy my theory is that Diana tried her best to keep on treatment, especially after William left. Sure, Spencer did had to remind her and she had crisis then and now, but she did tried her best to be the mom she needed to be. Or else, psychologically speaking, Spencer's personality wouldn't much make sense - children with absent fathers and mentally ill mothers usually grow to be less empathetic. Having a mentally ill mother did make him a type of "control freak" cause he couldn't predict when she was going to have a crisis and he needed to feel secure so he do has troubles in verbalising emotions and usually keep them inside, not to mention it often come out as an explosion after being kept for too long. But kindness, love and empathy are taught, and I do think diana is responsable for that.
Spencer also mentions some aunts and uncles so I think that, after he gone to college, her family took care of her the best they could, but without her child constantly presence she had more and more crisis until he had no choice but to take her on a specialised mental facility. First was in Vegas to keep her close to other family members, but after when her health decayed he thought selfish or something else that it would be better to keep her close to him.
Considering Alzheimer is a degenerative disease, even if she was around long enough to see her grandkids, she would've be too weak to even acknowledge who they are. Nevertheless, his son, whom she taught to be kind, and gentle, and soft, talked about her with his kids, passing her goodness and strength for them too.
The Discography of a Love Story | a Criminal Minds fanfic | Rating: mature
AO3
Genre: romance / fix-it / relationship
"Love may not be ordinary, but it can be found at common places. It doesn't have to be epical you see, it doesn't have anything to do with the moon or the stars, or always have to be a matter of life and death. Love, my dear readers, is dumb luck"
TDOALS Summary: When a 14 year old Spencer Reid joined a extension program project - that could also be easily called summer camp for restless minds - he did not expect that between math problems and numbers he would meet the love of his life.
The story contemplates the stages of being in love with someone in a lifetime, how many faces of the beloved one could met, and yet fall each time. Inspired by music, we will spot our characters relationship through their lives, nurturing a bond that poets may call them twin flames, too tied within time and space to be a coincidence. It's about growing up, it's about love, it's about healing and, above all, it's about hope.
The Discography of a Love Story | a Criminal Minds fanfic | Rating: mature
AO3
Genre: romance / fix-it / relationship
"Love may not be ordinary, but it can be found at common places. It doesn't have to be epical you see, it doesn't have anything to do with the moon or the stars, or always have to be a matter of life and death. Love, my dear readers, is dumb luck"
TDOALS Summary: When a 14 year old Spencer Reid joined a extension program project - that could also be easily called summer camp for restless minds - he did not expect that between math problems and numbers he would meet the love of his life.
The story contemplates the stages of being in love with someone in a lifetime, how many faces of the beloved one could met, and yet fall each time. Inspired by music, we will spot our characters relationship through their lives, nurturing a bond that poets may call them twin flames, too tied within time and space to be a coincidence. It's about growing up, it's about love, it's about healing and, above all, it's about hope.
