F O R T Y

SCOUT SMILED AS her fingers traced the cover of the book in her hand.

Seeing as the white pages were stained yellow, it was tattered and old. But it didn't matter to her. It didn't matter that the words were fading or that the spine was broken.

What mattered was who the book came from; that being, the man sitting next to her with his always messy brown locks, sharp facial features, and soft chocolate colored eyes.

"Do you like it?" Spencer asked, his nervous smile bringing an ache to her heart.

"I love it, thank you." Giving him a quick peck on the cheek while grabbing hold of his calloused hand.

She stared back at the book. To be honest, Scout had never heard of the title beforehand. And she never was much of a reader ( certainly not to the extent of Spencer ) but her smile didn't falter for even a second.

The couple sat outside on the street curb, blocks away from Rossi's home as they had wandered with no destination. It wasn't as chilly of a night for February but the occasional gust of wind made her skin form into goosebumps.

"I know who you are, Scout Wiley." Spencer tucked a strand of her blowing hair behind her ear.

She scoffed, "I mean, I would hope so since we are sleeping together."

"Will you just -" He rolled his eyes and tried to suppress his chuckles, "Could you just - let me - you know - finish?"

Scout snickered behind her hand and tauntingly bowed, signaling for him to continue.

"I know who you are. And I know just how incompatible we are on paper. I mean, sometimes we can be so different that it feels like my brain has to take a step back and process everything that is happening around us. And the whole time I'm thinking, 'this girl actually wants to be with me, I just listed off the counties of the world and she's still here; she hasn't run away,' and it scares me that some day you just might."

Her smile softened, brown eyes melting into his, "I won't. Who you are and how you act are the reasons that I'm still around. You didn't just hook me with with those sweater vests and cardigans, or even that tacky ultraviolet scarf you think matches with everything you wear."

"And frankly Spencer, your dripping good looks won't last forever. Maybe mine will, but I can already see some Einstein wrinkles on your forehead."

"So," He smirked and nuzzled his face into the crevice between her neck and shoulder. "You think I'm dripping with good looks?"

"Don't push it."

"You love it."

Scout shook her head and chuckled, looking down at the book she held in her hand, "So, I'm guessing that there's a story behind this book, isn't there?"

"You ever heard of it before?"

"The Little Prince, can't say I have."

He took the book and opened it to the first page where inked writing had been scrawled.

"All men have stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems. But all these stars are silent. You alone will have stars as no one else has them. In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars will be laughing when you look at the sky at night. You, only you, will have stars that can laugh."

"And when your sorrow is comforted, time soothes all sorrows; you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure. And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky. Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!' And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you."

"That's beautiful."

"I stole this book from my local bookstore when I was 7 years old. We didn't have that much money when I was growing up so I would have to check out all of the books I read. But I felt this pain in my chest every time I had to give them back. I wanted to keep them for myself and read them whenever I wanted. So when my bookstore had this strange looking book hidden in the backroom, I took it."

Spencer chuckled, "I remember everyone was freaking when they found out the book was gone. They kept asking where it was and couldn't find it. By then, I figured it was too late to give it back so I just took out home. A few years later, I figured out why the book was so important."

He flipped a few pages over and pointed his finger to the stamp on the page. With eyebrows scrunched, Scout read the words and froze as the realization donned on her.

"That's a first edition book, Spencer."

Chuckling, he nodded and bit down on his bottom lip, handing the book back to Scout but she pushed it away.

"I can't take this."

"I'm giving it to you."

"Well, I'm giving it back."

"No take-backs." Spencer chuckled.

Scout rolled her eyes, "You really think that's gonna work on me, Doc?"

"It better because whatever cash value this book had, dropped several figures when I wrote in it."

"What the-" She snatched the book from his hands and stared, reading that words that had been written in Spencer's familiar scrawl.

"I used to write love poems, to remind myself what love should feel like. But my tongue has forgotten how to quiver, shake like it had been acknowledged. My voice, forgotten how it's crescendo rang through the air, never desirable but always required. I forgot how to write love poems, the phrases aren't as simple as they were, a metaphor, a simile, a smitten ache in my throat. I tried to play the piano with my eyelashes yesterday but my mind told my hands to play instead."

"My feet no longer lingered in the shopping isle, but stomped and rang, pointed in the same direction as a compass. I refuse to write love poems, my pen is out of ink and my notebooks have been filled. No longer is there a need to prove nature that my emotions are just as clear as its reflection. I will never write love poems again."

"The trees will still dance while I am asleep, water moving without a care, world still rotating beneath my feet, carelessly and with a purpose. Perhaps I will learn to write poems that aren't about love, or perhaps, love will write a poem about me."

Scout glanced up at him, noticing that he was looking at moon shining down on them, "You wrote this?"

"Surprised?"

"I guess I never knew that Spencer Reid was so lyrically gifted. I thought facts and statistics were all that you're passionate about."

He cocked his brow and smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist, "For a moment there, I thought you were smart, love. You've got to learn to keep sometimes."

With a goofy smile plastered on her lips, Scout drove humming to whatever song that was playing in the radio and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. It felt like true bliss and happiness. Her whole body was lightweight, like she was floating around in space.

The streets were quiet, empty from being so late at night. Trees shook gently from the February winds and the air was high in heat, a nice change compared to the usual coldness Virginia rarely strayed away from.

Looking in her rear view mirror, her eyes landed on the old book Spencer gave her. The giddiness of their past conversations playing again in her mind. After the pair walked back to Rossi's house, the remnants of the party had been cleaned up and put away. The team said their goodbye's, wishing last happy birthdays to Scout, and went their way home.

Spencer, who gave her one final kiss and a tight hug, pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, 'I love you.'

Scout's eyes narrowed as she turned the street onto a commercial neighborhood, noticing how poorly lit the roads were. She groaned, as a sudden commercial came on the radio and went to change it.

When she glanced up, a sudden figure appeared in the middle of the road, standing still and straight.

Her foot slammed on the brakes.

"Oh my God," She mumbled, brushing her hair out of her face that had flown forward from the instant change of speed.

Hands tightly gripping the wheel from the adrenaline, the knock on her passenger side window made her jump. As Scout looked up, her brown eyes widened like plates when they landed on the familiar figure.

She swallowed hard and unlocked the door.

"The hell is wrong with you, kid?" The person spat in a harsh tone and got inside the car.

Her nostrils flared. Xander, whose piercing cold eyes and lean muscles, were stiff and ready to attack her at any moment. She knew this look well. It was the same one she had memorized from her youth after hours and hours of training with him.

"What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with me?! You were the one standing in the middle of the road like some kind of freak! I - I could've run you over, I could've killed you."

Xander rolled his eyes, "You can't kill me even if you tried."

Her mouth dropped to argue, but immediately snapped shut.

"Drive." He pointed towards the road.

"What? Where?"

"Kid, just drive. Go to your place."

Scout bit down on her bottom lip but did as he said. She watched him carefully, noticing how he grabbed a pack of cigarettes that was stuffed in his pocket, plucking one and sticking it between his teeth. The sound of a match being lit made her eye twich from the annoyance.

"No smoking in my car," She mumbled, knowing that he wouldn't listen to her, "I don't want it to reek of cancer in here."

"If I recall correctly, I paid for this car, didn't I?" He said hoarsely, the cigarette blocking his words.

She sharply inhaled and rolled down his window. However, Xander was correct. He did, in fact, buy the car for Scout when she began her work in the mailroom at Quantico. He said riding to work by the bus would be impractical and she certainly didn't argue.

He even let her pick out her dream car, a faded beige 1968 Volkswagen Beetle.

The two sat in silence as she continued to drive until they had reached her home. She quickly parked the car and followed him as he shuffled inside, turning on all the lights.

"Harper, wheel your ass out here!" He yelled, slamming the front door shut.

Scout narrowed her eyes, "Again, I repeat, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's all this racket about?" Her mother came out from her bedroom and into the living room where they stood, looking very groggy like she was about to fall asleep at any second.

"Tell me, kid, why have you been ignoring all my calls and texts this night?"

She shrugged, "I turned my phone off. Not such a big deal, really. Why? Wanted to wish me a happy birthday?"

"Scout." Harper snapped at her daughter, the same tone that JJ would normally use.

Xander chuckled and leaned against the door frame, "Right, happy birthday, kid. But you really don't want to test me tonight. I've already got too many people breathing down my neck because of that little stunt you pulled tonight. And I'm not in the mood for your sarcastic comments."

"What?" Harper's brows rose suddenly, the panic covering her voice. "Xander, what's going on?"

"She has a tracker in her car. We can see where she was tonight, the whole night. You were at David Rossi's home, weren't you?"

Scout's mouth gapped, "Y - Yeah. What about it? It was just a birthday get-together. The BAU wanted to surprise me."

"Shit." Her mother whispered.

"Why didn't you pick up your phone?!" Xander screamed, red in the face like he was panicking.

"Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down! She has a mission, one mission. And he's starting to get impatient and threatening me!" Xander pulled out a gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at Scout, "She has to learn that this mission is too important, this has been building up years!"

Harper raised her hands to cover her mouth but Scout stood still, eyeing him down through the barrel of the gun.

"Stop this! Stop this right now!"

The brown haired girl sneered, "What are you going to do? You gonna kill me? You're gonna shoot me right here in front of her? Kill me when I still have a mission to do?"

"You've been doing a real shit job at it!"

"Xander! Don't you dare!" Her mom threatened, "Don't you dare or I'll tell her the truth! I'll tell her everything!"

Scout's eyes snapped at Harper, "Tell me what?"

"Harper, now's not the time to be playing around!" He practically growled in a deep voice.

"Tell me what?"

"Then get out! Get out of my home! Get away from my daughter! " Harper yelled, tears brimming at the rims of her eyes and ready to spill over.

"You wouldn't dare."

Scout quickly snapped at how the pair was ignoring her and snatched the gun out of his hands after being distracted from Haper's yelling, the same way he had taught her all those times before. The irony, she was going to be Xander's reckoning.

"You have no right to be here, you were never meant to be here!" Scout pointed the gun at the dead center of his face.

Xander stiffened.

"But he does." Harper mumbled, barely an octave above a whisper and the three stood still in silence.

She froze and looked towards her mother, the sight of her in her wheelchair, gripping the handle and hot tears staining her face. It was a scary sight, one she never knew could haunt her so much.

"What do you mean?"

She let out a shaky breath and leaned back in her chair, "He's your uncle. Your father and Xander - they were brothers."

Scout glanced at the man and a wash of pain fell on top of her chest, her wrists gave out when her eyes met his and she knew that it wasn't a lie. For some odd reason, he too looked like he was in pain. Like the truth being said a loud was more agonizing than a gunshot.

"Kid -" He said in a breathy tone.

She shook her head, "No, no. You're wrong - he's not - it can't -"

Xander walked closer to her but as much as we wanted to move away from him, she couldn't. Her feet were practically glued to the ground. Scout looked at her mother with begging eyes but only received a nod in response.

He gently grasped the gun from her frail hands and took it back, eyes never leaving hers.

Scout jumped at the sudden touch of his hands against her skin and gasped. She could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips and could hear the constant thumping in her ears. Studying the look on his face, her shoulders slumped when she realized how similar he looked compared to her.

It wasn't a lie.

"Scout -"

And feeling like she knew nothing, Scout bolted out the front door.

The wave of nausea overcame her as she ran, knees buckling with each step against the concrete. Cold sweats peaked at her hairline and whatever warmth of an usual February night was gone. Instead, her body shivered like her body was shutting down.

Scout ran and ran, till her stomach contorted and her body weakened like a dizzying sensation. Her legs gave out and she landed on knees and hands, dry heaving until the contents of her stomach was completely pushed out of her system.

She stared at her vomit with quick breaths and her eyes widened; feeling another, different kind of emotion that she had never felt before, one she never thought she would have.

Scout swallowed the lump starting to form in her throat, letting out a frustrated whimper, like a quiet wail. 

"Shit."

• END OF ACT TWO •

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
NUMB has reached 100k reads!

I am freaking out and as a gift to you, my lovely readers, this is the end of act two. I hope you are still enjoying this book and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear your theories. Act three will be up soon! Thank you!

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