*Everyone has a Story*

(Amelia's P.O.V)

The sky was dark when we emerged from the FBI building. It was drizzling. I glanced as Spencer, hurrying along after me as the rain lashed in his face.

By the time we reached my car, my hair was plastered to my scalp and my jacket felt considerably heavier on my shoulders. I shrugged it off and threw it into the back seat before starting up the engine.

"So, uh, where are we going exactly?" His voice went slightly higher on the latter word and I grinned as I drove onto the crowded street.

"That, Dr. Reid, is a surprise."

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Please, call me Spencer," he said softly.

"Okay, Spencer," I chuckled, pulling to a halt at the traffic lights.

I drummed my fingers on the wheel, noticing Spencer fidgeting awkwardly in his seat.

"You okay?"

He nodded distractedly; probably thinking of what to say to me.

"What do you think of the job so far?" His head didn't move; his gaze remained glued to the dashboard.

"It's... okay. I know that the paperwork is only a small part of it. We'll probably get a case soon."

"On average, only one percent of all murders committed in a given year are serial murders."

I nodded. He certainly did know his statistics. "So, Spencer. People tell me you're the genius of the group."

He seemed to sigh at this and I wondered if I had offended him in some way. "I suppose so," he murmured.

"You can read 20,000 words per minute. You've an eidetic memory. What else?"

He looked at me in surprise. "How'd you-"

"Not that hard to figure out. You've got a hell of a lot of knowledge in there."

He chuckled. "Okay. Well, uh, I have an IQ of 187. I, erm, hold doctorate degrees in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering. Oh, and Bachelor degrees in Psychology and Sociology. I think that's... oh, and I'm currently studying for a Bachelors degree in P-philosophy." He stuttered to an end and lapsed into silence.

"Wow," I breathed, not sure what else to say. "I'm impressed."

He glanced up at me skeptically. But there was a hopeful glint in his eye. "Really?"

My smile widened and I nodded as I pulled up outside my favourite coffee shop. His face instantly lit up.

"You go here, too?"

"Only recently, yeah."

I hopped out of the car and followed Reid inside. It was practically empty. George, the manager, was scrubbing furiously at a coffee stain on the worktop. He glanced up as the door opened, something unrecognisable passing through his features.

"Oh, hi Amelia. And Spencer..."

I smiled and urged Spencer to take a seat. He shook his head defiantly.

"I'm not letting you pay!"

"I spilt coffee all over you! I have to pay!" I protested, already at the counter. He glared at me and I grinned triumphantly.

"I take it I'll get the usual for both of you?" His voice seemed oddly strangled, but I brushed it off.

I nodded. "Please."

I tapped my fingers on the worktop rhythmically; old habit. About five minutes later, he slid two cups of steaming coffee over the worktop and I handed over a bill. He seemed slightly distracted, almost panicky.

I shrugged it off and took the coffee over to Reid, who was fingering one of the buttons on his vest.

"You okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed absentmindedly, his gaze occasionally flickering to George. Something was off here.

He grabbed the coffee and leaned forward. "It usually takes him a minute and thirty-four seconds to make my coffee. Double it and it takes around three minutes to make two," he mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear. "He took almost five. His fingers are trembling-"

I cut him off, seeing where this was headed. "His gaze is distant, almost distracted. He keeps scrubbing at the same place on the table; a dark stain. It's practically empty. What's going on here?"

He looked at me, impressed, and then leaned back, fingering the rim of his cup. He took a sip, then pulled a face of disgust. "And he only put two sugars in mine."

I sipped mine. Too sweet.

"Sorry," I muttered, switching cups.

Something was still definitely up. Almost in unison, Reid and I hopped out of our seats and confronted George.

He looked at us nervously.

"What's the story, George?" Spencer demanded in a cool voice.

He gulped multiple times, his eye twitching. "W-what are you on about?"

"Come on, George," I urged. "Everyone has a story."

*Duh-duh-duuuuh! What d'you think happened? 'cause I have no clue. I wasn't even planning on writing this, so I gotta figure it out, fast. Haha. I honestly didn't mean for this part to be so long; I got a bit carried away. Hope you liked the chapter, anyway. Thanks for reading! Please vote and comment... For Reid. Oh, wonderful, genius, adorable Reid.*