A Friend

Stephie

There's nothing quite like walking into the office and feeling a dozen pairs of eyes on you. It's like being on display, a specimen under scrutiny. The weeks I spent away from the team felt like an eternity, and the mandated therapy sessions only made it worse. Hotch wouldn't clear me for duty until I got the green light from the shrink, and now, here I am, back at the BAU, pretending everything is fine.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I walk toward my desk. The bullpen is buzzing with activity, but it feels like all of it stops the moment I enter. Hotch glances up from his office, his gaze lingering on me for a beat longer than usual before he returns to his paperwork. I know he's watching, waiting to see how I'll handle being back. Everyone is.

I spot Spencer at his desk, hunched over something with intense focus. His lanky frame is bent close to the surface, and he hasn't noticed me yet. A small pang of disappointment tugs at my chest, but I push it down. We didn't exactly part on good terms, and it's not like I expected a warm welcome. Still, it stings more than I'd like to admit.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice coming out more casual than I feel.

Spencer doesn't even look up, his fingers working delicately at whatever contraption he's constructing. "Rocket?" he says, almost like he's questioning it himself.

At the mention of a rocket, Garcia's head snaps up, her curiosity piqued. She bounces over, practically glowing with excitement. "Did you say rocket?" she asks, leaning over Spencer's shoulder, her bright eyes darting between him and the project. I can't resist joining them, sidling up to the other side of Spencer's desk to get a better look.

"What's going on over here?" JJ's voice chimes in as she walks over, completing our little circle. She crosses her arms and leans in, her usual warm smile playing on her lips.

Spencer doesn't answer, his brow furrowing in concentration. The four of us stand there, waiting for something to happen, but the contraption just sits there, motionless.

"Nothing's happening..." I glance at JJ, who nods in agreement, a bemused look on her face.

"Shh! Watch!" Spencer shushes us, waving his hands like he's shooing away flies. I roll my eyes, just about ready to give up, when suddenly, the device whirs to life. With a tiny hiss, the "rocket" shoots into the air, causing all of us to jump back in surprise.

The timing couldn't have been worse. Just as the rocket reaches its peak, a woman with dark hair walks into the bullpen, and the rocket lands squarely on her head. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle my laughter, but it's no use. Spencer turns beet red, his embarrassment palpable.

"I'm so sorry, Emily," he stammers, offering her an awkward smile.

Emily? I blink in surprise. So, this is the famous Emily Prentiss—Elle's replacement. I hadn't expected to meet her like this.

She looks up at the ceiling, then back at us, clearly bewildered. "What was that?" she asks, rubbing the spot where the rocket hit her.

"Don't you recognize a rocket when you see one?" Garcia chirps, her grin wide as she sidles up next to Emily.

"I...I was merely demonstrating a physics law," Spencer mumbles, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I-I didn't mean to hit you..."

Emily raises an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued despite the odd introduction. "Oh, show me," she says, her tone laced with genuine interest as she steps closer to join the group. We lock eyes for a brief moment, and I can see the curiosity in her gaze, but neither of us says a word.

"Turn around, please," Spencer instructs us, his hands fluttering nervously as he tries to hide what he's doing.

"Turn around?" Emily echoes, glancing at us for confirmation.

"Yeah, he's not gonna show you how it's done," I say, shaking my head with a smirk. Old habits die hard—I can't help the sarcasm that slips into my voice.

She nods, bemused but willing to play along. "A magician doesn't reveal his secrets," Spencer mutters as he fiddles with the rocket again, his concentration absolute.

"I thought you said it was physics?" Emily questions, her head tilting slightly.

"Physics...magic..." Spencer's voice trails off, the distinction apparently not as important to him as the experiment itself.

Garcia pats Emily's arm with a knowing smile. "Trust me, it will not do you any good to argue with him."

I chuckle at Garcia's comment as we all turn around, staring at the wall behind us like obedient children. The anticipation in the air is almost tangible, and despite myself, I feel a flicker of excitement.

"Alright, alright, turn back and observe," Spencer announces, his voice filled with the same boyish enthusiasm I remember so well. We all turn just in time to see the rocket launch again, this time zooming across the bullpen.

Our collective gaze follows its trajectory, and then there's a collective intake of breath as the rocket lands right in front of Hotch, who is just stepping out of his office.

"Oh shit," I mutter under my breath, instinctively backing away even though my desk is only a few feet from Spencer's. The others quickly disperse, pretending to be busy with files or papers as Hotch picks up the rocket, his expression unreadable.

"Physics magic?" he asks, his tone flat but with a hint of something—amusement, maybe? He turns his gaze to Spencer, who looks like he's about to melt into the floor.

"Yes, sir..." Spencer manages, his voice small.

Hotch walks over and places the rocket back on Spencer's desk. "Reid, we talked about this," he says, but there's a softness in his tone, almost like he's holding back a smile.

"I'm sorry, sir," Spencer apologizes, his shoulders slumping with relief as Hotch turns away. JJ's laugh slips out behind me, and I glance back to see her and Garcia poorly hiding their amusement.

"Really starting to get some distance on those," Hotch remarks over his shoulder, and I swear I see a flicker of a smile before he heads back to his office.

"So he does have a sense of humor," Emily says, her voice tinged with surprise as she looks at Hotch's retreating figure.

"Sometimes," Spencer replies, the tension finally easing from his frame.

Emily scans the room, her gaze landing on the empty desks before settling on me. "Where's Morgan?" she asks, a slight frown creasing her brow. It finally clicks in my head—she doesn't just know Spencer; she's his new teammate.

"In Chicago," I say, slipping back into my seat next to Spencer's desk. "He goes there every year for his mother's birthday."

Emily's expression softens with understanding, and then she turns back to me, holding out her hand. "You must be Stepheni?"

I take her hand, shaking it firmly. "Stephie," I correct with a smile. "Nice to meet you." Spencer looks uncomfortable, like he's waiting for something bad to happen.

She returns the smile, and for a moment, I let myself relax. But as I pull my hand back, I remind myself of the promise I made before walking in today—we're co-workers. Spencer and I are just co-workers, separating work and my personal life, one step at a time. We're co-workers. That's all.

I glance over at Spencer, who is now meticulously disassembling his rocket, a faint blush still lingering on his cheeks. As the team slowly returns to their tasks, I feel a strange mix of emotions—relief, anxiety, maybe even a touch of hope. It just feels good to be back.

"Is she good?" I can't help but lean over and ask Spencer, I remember my therapist telling me to treat him like a co-worker, not someone I hate. This is what co-workers do, they gossip.

"She's alright, she speaks Arabic, helped us solve a case, her first case." He says shoving the rocket supplies into a desk drawer. "Do you like her?"

"I don't know her yet," I shrug and Spencer nods, he's waiting to ask me something.

"Uh," There it is. Spencer hesitates, his fingers lingering on the edge of the desk drawer as if stalling for time. His eyes flicker over to me, and I can see the uncertainty in them, a mix of caution and something else—maybe regret. He clears his throat, the sound barely audible above the hum of the bullpen.

"Uh," he starts again, and I can tell he's struggling to find the right words. It's been like this between us ever since the argument, the breakup that wasn't quite a breakup. We've been dancing around each other, careful to avoid anything that might reopen old wounds. But I can feel it coming, the question he's been holding back.

Finally, he turns to face me fully, his expression soft but serious. "Are you... okay?" His words are simple, but the weight behind them is anything but. He's not just asking about my return to the BAU; he's asking about everything—about us, about how I've been since we last spoke, since everything fell apart.

I swallow hard, the question catching me off guard. I wasn't prepared for this, for him to ask something so straightforward yet loaded with meaning. But then again, Spencer has always been like that—able to cut through the noise and get to the heart of things, even when he doesn't mean to.

"I'm managing," I reply, trying to keep my voice even. "The therapy helped, and I think... I think I'm ready to be back." It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. I'm not sure if I'll ever be completely ready, not after everything that's happened. But I know I can't stay away forever, and this place, this team—it's all I have.

Spencer nods slowly, absorbing my words. "That's good," he says softly, his gaze searching mine. Hes holding back? I know Hotch told him how it is, how it has to be. How whatever happened between us is to be dropped, and we are to be co-workers.

"Stephie... if you ever need to talk, about anything... I'm here. Even if it's just as co-workers." The last part is almost an afterthought, like he's reminding himself of the boundaries we've set.

The offer is kind, more than I deserve after how things ended between us. I know he's trying to make things easier, to bridge the gap without crossing any lines. But it's hard, so hard, to keep everything compartmentalized when the past is still so fresh in my mind.

"Thank you, Spencer," I say, meaning it. "I'll keep that in mind." I want to say more, to let him know that I miss him, that I'm sorry for everything. But I can't, not here, not now. We both need to move forward, and that means keeping things professional.

Before either of us can say more, Emily walks over, breaking the tension with her easy smile. "So, what are we doing for lunch?" she asks, her tone light and conversational as if she's oblivious to the undercurrent between Spencer and me.

I force a smile, grateful for the distraction. "I was just about to ask the same thing," I reply, standing up from my chair. "Any suggestions?"

Spencer looks relieved at the change in topic, and I can see the tension ease from his shoulders. "There's a new sandwich place that just opened up nearby," he offers, rising to his feet as well. "It's supposed to be good."

"Sounds perfect," Emily says, glancing between the two of us with a curious look, like she's picking up on something but isn't sure what. "You coming, Stephie?"

"Yeah, I'll join you," I agree, grabbing my bag from under the desk.

As we head toward the elevators, I steal a glance at Spencer. He catches my eye, and for a brief moment, we share a look that says everything we can't. It's a silent understanding, a truce of sorts. We're still figuring things out, but for now, we'll take it one step at a time. Just co-workers, I remind myself. That's all.

The elevator doors close with a soft ding, and the three of us descend in silence. I can feel Emily's gaze flickering between Spencer and me, curiosity practically radiating off her. I've barely known her five minutes, but it's clear she's perceptive, sharp—someone who's used to reading between the lines. It's no wonder the team brought her on board.

She shifts slightly, and I brace myself, sensing the question before it even leaves her lips. "It's not my business, and you don't have to say anything," Emily begins, her tone careful, almost apologetic. "But, I can't help but ask what that was?"

Spencer and I exchange a quick glance, and I can see the hesitation in his eyes, the silent question of whether or not to answer. He's always been private, especially when it comes to personal matters, and I'm no different. But there's something about Emily's demeanor—she's not prying for gossip, just trying to understand. I like her.

I take a breath, deciding to step in. "It's... complicated," I admit, my voice measured as I try to find the right words. "Spencer and I... we used to be close. Very close. But things happened, and now... well, now we're just trying to find our footing again."

Emily nods slowly, absorbing my words without interrupting. Her expression is thoughtful, but not judgmental. "I get it," she says softly. "Sometimes the lines between personal and professional get blurred, especially in a job like this."

Her understanding catches me off guard, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. It's not that I expected her to judge, but there's always that fear of being misunderstood, of someone not getting just how complicated things can be.

Spencer shifts beside me, clearing his throat softly. "We're working through it," he adds, his voice calm and steady. "But we're focused on the job, first and foremost."

Emily smiles, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you're both here. The team's better when we're all on the same page. Plus, I hear you're pretty smart yourself, Stephie." She pauses, her gaze flitting between us again. "But if you ever need someone to talk to... well, I'm a pretty good listener."

It's a simple offer, but it means more than she probably realizes. "Thanks, Emily," I say, feeling a genuine smile tug at my lips. "I'll keep that in mind."

The elevator dings again as we reach the ground floor, and the doors slide open. Emily steps out first, giving Spencer and me a moment alone. He lingers behind, his hand brushing against mine briefly—a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it says so much.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

I nod, squeezing his hand lightly before pulling away. "I'm getting there, Spence. We both are."

Fuck. I didn't mean to call him that. Maybe he won't notice?

He doesn't say anything, just gives me a small nod before we step out of the elevator together.Emily is waiting for us just outside the building, looking down the street as if she's scouting out the lunch spots. "Ready to find that sandwich place?" she asks, turning to us with a smile.

"Absolutely," I reply, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. For the first time in a long while, things feel... manageable. There's still a lot to figure out, but at least now, I don't feel like I'm facing it alone.

As we walk down the street, side by side, I glance at Spencer again. He catches my eye, and for a moment, there's a shared understanding between us. We've been through a lot, but maybe, just maybe, we'll find a way forward—together, even if it's just as co-workers.

I hate this.

After our lunch break, I barely get a second to breathe before Hotch is calling me into his office. The sound of his voice, calm and authoritative as always, sends a shiver down my spine. I can't help but wonder if he's finally going to address the elephant in the room—whatever that may be. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter in my stomach, and head to his office.

The bullpen is busy as I make my way through, agents moving in all directions, phones ringing, the hum of voices mixing with the rustle of papers. Spencer is back at his desk, deep in thought, but I catch him glancing at me as I pass by. I give him a tight-lipped smile, trying to mask my anxiety, but the look in his eyes tells me he sees right through it.

I reach Hotch's door and knock lightly before stepping inside. The room is dimly lit, the blinds partially closed, casting long shadows across the floor. Hotch is seated behind his desk, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Stephie, take a seat," he says, motioning to the chair in front of him. I do as he asks, trying to hide my nerves. The last time I was in this office, it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.

"I won't keep you long," Hotch begins, leaning forward slightly. "I wanted to check in, see how you're doing now that you're back."

The question is simple enough, but the way he asks it makes me feel like he's looking for something more than a surface-level answer. I take a moment to gather my thoughts before responding.

"I'm doing better," I say, choosing my words carefully. "It's been... an adjustment, but I'm ready to be back. Ready to work."

Hotch nods, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm glad to hear that. But I also need to know if you're truly ready, Stephie. This job is demanding, and I need every member of this team to be at their best. Physically, mentally, and emotionally."

His words hit harder than I expected, a reminder of the weight this job carries, and the toll it can take. I swallow, forcing myself to meet his gaze head-on. "I'm ready, Hotch. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

There's a beat of silence, and then Hotch leans back in his chair, his expression softening just a fraction. "I trust you, Stephie. But if at any point you feel like you're struggling, I need you to come to me. We can't afford to have anything less than full focus, especially with what we're dealing with now."

I nod, appreciating his straightforwardness, even if it feels like a lot of pressure. "I understand."

He studies me for a moment longer before shifting gears. "I also wanted to talk to you about the situation with Spencer."

My heart skips a beat at the mention of his name, and I can't hide the surprise that flashes across my face. "What about it?"

Hotch's gaze is steady, unreadable. "I've noticed the tension between you two over the past few months. Whatever was going on, was affecting the team dynamic. I need you both to be able to work together without any personal issues getting in the way."

I open my mouth to respond, but Hotch holds up a hand, stopping me. "I'm not asking for details, Stephie. That's not my place. But I need to know that you're both able to handle this professionally. Can you do that?"

I nod quickly, too quickly, eager to reassure him. "Yes, of course. We're both professionals. We can handle it."

Hotch regards me for a moment longer, as if weighing my words. Then he gives a single, sharp nod. "Good. I'm counting on you both."

He stands, signaling the end of the conversation, and I follow suit. As I turn to leave, he speaks again, his voice softer this time. "And Stephie... if you need to talk, about anything, my door is always open."

I pause, surprised by the offer, and for a moment, I consider taking him up on it. But I know I'm not ready to have that conversation—not yet. "Thank you, Hotch," I say instead, offering him a small smile before leaving his office.

Back in the bullpen, the familiar sounds of the BAU surround me, but they do little to ease the turmoil inside my head. Spencer is still at his desk, now engrossed in a file, and I take a moment to study him. There's so much I want to say to him, so much that's been left unsaid, but now's not the time.

I make my way to my desk, trying to push the conversation with Hotch out of my mind. There's work to be done, and I need to focus. But as I sit down, I can't help but feel the weight of everything that's happened—the secrets, the tension, the unresolved feelings.

We're co-workers, I remind myself. Just co-workers.

But as I glance over at Spencer, I know it's not that simple. It never was.

The day drags on, and by the time I'm finally able to leave, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. As I step out of the building, the cool evening air hits my face, a welcome relief from the stuffy office. I take a deep breath, letting the fresh air clear my head.

But even as I walk to my car, I can't shake the feeling that things are far from over. Whatever is going on between me and Spencer, whatever is lurking beneath the surface, it's not going to go away on its own. And I'm not sure if I can keep pretending that it doesn't matter. Apparently, my job at stake just isn't enough to keep me away.