Learning To Let Go

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

Author’s Note: Okay, this should be the last chapter where Reid’s sexuality is the main point. Thanks for those who have stood by the story, even though slash is not your particular cup of tea. I apologize if this chapter gets OOC. The phone numbers included in this chapter are just me choosing random numbers and have nothing to do with anything. As always, please by civil if you feel you need to flame and please review if you have the time. Thanks for sticking with me for so long!


Why?

It was the only word that Reid could think to ask as the telephone on the night stand began to rang, jerking him out of the pleasantly deep sleep he’d been in. As if his evening hadn’t been hard enough already, now the telephone was ringing at –he half-opened his eyes to look at the clock- three forty-nine in the morning. He almost felt like crying and debated for a moment whether he wanted to pick up at all. It wasn’t his cell phone, after all, but the house phone. Then, again, where was his cell phone? He held back a groan, not wanting to wake Lance, when he remembered that it was still in his bag, which was still sitting by the front door. He had almost worked himself up to grabbing it when Lance removed the arm that had been wrapped around his waist, assuming he was still asleep, and picked up the phone.

“Hello?” His voice was sleep-fogged and Reid felt the guilt grab him. Not only was Lance exhausted from the evening they’d just had together, but he had just gotten back from England and the time difference was probably killing him. Yet, he was the one to answer the phone. Reid rolled over and set a hand to his chest, looking at his lover as he rubbed his face and listened to the person on the other end of the line. A smile ghosted over his handsome features briefly as he ran a finger down Reid’s cheek.

“Yeah, thanks, JJ. Yeah, it’s good to be home. No, he must have left it in his bag. I kind of surprised him.” Then, his voice got quiet and sad, “Yeah, he told me. I don’t . . . I’m still trying to process a little, I think. I know.” Reid could see that he was fighting back tears and linked fingers with his free hand, holding tight. “Just a second. It’s JJ, babe.”

Lance handed over the phone and laid back down even as Spence sat up. He didn’t go back to sleep, didn’t close his eyes again. He had waited until the end of these telephone calls for as long as he and Spence had been together. It wouldn’t change now. He simply kept his hand linked with Spence’s, placed his now free hand to his partner’s back and listened as the man he loved quickly agreed to be at the office as soon as possible in that efficient, business-like tone that Lance had come to love so much. He didn’t even say that he had to go in as he hung up the phone and looked down at Lance in the bed. He didn’t have to say it. They both knew it already. He’d known what he was getting into when Spence had told him that he was an FBI agent. It didn’t make it any easier, though. Especially now when all he wanted to do was forget what Spence had told him earlier, wrap him tightly in his arms, and never let go. He felt the emotion catch in his chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to swallow, and let go of Spence’s hand, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to unless he did it now. Spence smiled at him, leaned over, and placed a kiss to his temple, his jaw, his lips, then lay down for a moment and wrapped his arms around him.

“Don’t say it’s going to be okay, Spence. Don’t even try. Just say you love me and you’ll call whenever you guys get to where you’re going,” Lance tried not to cling as he wrapped his own arms around Spencer’s thin form and pressed a kiss to the soft hair.

“I love you. I’ll call when we land,” Spencer intoned obediently, then looked into Lance’s eyes, “I’m putting you on my contact list today. I want everyone to know about us.”

Lance couldn’t help the laugh that managed to make its way up from his belly, “Finally! You . . . you’re finally gonna . . . It’s about time . . .” He could feel the shift when the laughter went from good-natured to hysterical and then into tears. He couldn’t stop it. What was more, he didn’t think he wanted to. So he allowed it to happen, allowed himself to cling as he pressed his face into Spence’s neck, and sobbed. How was he supposed to live without him when Spencer was what he lived for? How could God decide to take someone so beautiful out of the world? How could he let him go now when their time together had become so precious?

Reid rode the wave of Lance’s emotions, biting back tears of his own. He had cried so much the past week and he was sure he would be crying a lot more in the near future. It was a little bit of a role reversal, since he was the one dying, but he had to be strong for Lance right now. Lance was an artist, an actor, his life was getting people to believe emotions that weren’t his own, emotions he had to feel in a role that wasn’t real, so his real emotions were always that much stronger. He’d been quiet, accepting, earlier in the evening, holding Reid tightly, asking him what they could do, what Reid wanted to do. He’d just stroked Reid’s hair and whispered, “Okay,” when Reid told him that he just wanted to live for as long as he could. Then, he’d said he loved him, taken him into their room, and they’d made love, never taking their eyes from each other’s and tumbling off the edge together before falling asleep in each other’s arms. Perhaps it was a good thing that they had another case so soon. Now Lance could work through all of his emotions, rage and blame included, and not feel guilty just because Reid was around. He would call Lance’s best friend in New York, another performer, from the plane and have her come over. Lance would need someone, but it would have to be someone he trusted completely.

As soon as Lance’s sobs turned to quiet sniffles, Reid kissed his forehead and pulled away. Lance didn’t say anything as he dressed, but Reid could feel the steady, mournful gaze on his back as he pulled on a pair of loose jeans, went to the closet, and pulled out a striped button down that Lance had bought him months ago and he had never worn. He heard Lance chuckle when he didn’t bother to tuck it in and rolled up the sleeves to the elbows.

“Now you get a little bit of fashion sense.”

“Just for you,” Reid chuckled back, before slipping into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and running a comb through his hair. When he got back out Lance was sitting on the corner of the bed, holding out his ready bag, freshly packed. Reid didn’t even bother to check it, just threw the last of his stuff in and leaned over to kiss Lance a final time before leaving.

“We’re going to be okay,” he whispered, “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Lance whispered back, smoothing Reid’s collar because it was something to do with his hands, “Don’t forget your coat and if you’re coming out to your team do it with style.”

“Oh? In what manner?”

“Put the picture of you and me I put in the bag on your desk before you leave. I add style to anything.”

“That you do.” It was so easy, so simple, for both of them to slip into their normal flirtatious banter.

“Now go,” Reid was grateful for the attempted smile, “Before I strip you, toss you back on the bed, and have my wicked way with you.”

“Promises, promises.”

He couldn’t help the smile as he left Lance getting comfortable in the bed again, but it fell when, as he was pulling on his coat, he heard the muffled sobs coming from the bedroom. Tears filled his own eyes. It took all of his strength not to go back to the bedroom and lay with Lance again. So, he steeled himself and walked out of the apartment, locking the door firmly behind him. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when he saw JJ’s SUV in front of the building and waiting when he got downstairs. They were both silent as he simply climbed in and buckled up. They were silent until he dug through his ready bag and pulled out the framed picture Lance had included in his things.

He smiled. It was one of his favorites. He and Lance were backstage after one of Lance’s shows, surrounded by set pieces of the eighteen century. Lance had an arm around his waist and his head was resting on Lance’s shoulder. They were both laughing. He couldn’t remember the joke one of Lance’s co-stars had said to make them laugh anymore, but it didn’t matter. What mattered is that they both looked happy and from their body language you could tell that they were very much a couple in love. JJ glanced over at the picture and smiled.

“Where’s that going?”

“On my desk. And Lance is going on my emergency contact form.”

“Good,” JJ’s voice took on a lower, softer tone, “Speaking of Lance . . .” She let it trail and he picked it up again right away.

“We’re going to be okay,” he said for the second time since waking up.

“Good.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. They were silent for the rest of the ride. She took his hand when they were in the elevator and gave it an encouraging squeeze. He was a little nervous, so he squeezed back and held until the elevator doors opened. She gave him an encouraging smile, and then dropped his hand as they stepped out onto their floor and saw the rest of the team. Hotch and Gideon were in their offices with the doors and shades open. Emily, Morgan and Garcia were all at Morgan’s desk, laughing at some joke or other. Reid started for his desk, stopped for a moment, considered, and then turned to head for Hotch’s office.

“Reid,” Hotch looked up from his paperwork only long enough to see who was at his office door, then back down. Even though his clothing was, as always, impeccable, he looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. Then again, they probably all looked exhausted, Reid thought, rubbing sweaty palms on his pants nervously. Their last case had been completed not even twelve hours ago. He looked back up when Reid stepped inside the office and cleared his throat, “What can I do for you?”

“I . . . uh . . . I need to add someone to my emergency contact list. Needs to be put at the top of the list, actually. Soon as possible.” He winced inwardly at how awkward he sounded even to himself.

“That’s fine. Give me the information now and I’ll take care of it along official lines as soon as we get back.”

God, please don’t let him be disgusted, he couldn’t help the thought before clearing his throat again and starting, “Uh, right. The name is Lancelot Gregory Archer. Born January twenty-second nineteen-eighty-two. Cellular number: 638-719-5428. Home number is the 652-384-7651.”

“384-76 . . . Reid, that’s your home number.” Hotch looked a little confused for a moment, then understanding dawned in his eyes.

Reid simply carried on, “Relation to agent: life partner.”

It was hard. Harder than he thought it was going to be when Hotch just sat there, looking at him. He would not be ashamed of his relationship with Lance. He couldn’t be. He loved Lance and if the others had a problem with it, it was just that. Their problem. He would quit the team and write papers for academic journals until his time was up if he had to. But, he would be miserable. He knew that without having to think about it. It was so hard because his team was his family, the only real family he’d ever known. Coming out to them was like coming out to his brothers and sisters. And this was the first test. The oldest brother, the brother he had the least in common with but whom he loved and respected so much it almost hurt. From Hotch he could get a gauge on how the others, and everyone’s father figure, would react. The family scenario was the closest he could think of. But, he thought it fit. It would break his heart if they could accept everything about him but this. Then, again, Lance would never make him choose, so why should they? He resisted the urge to fist his hands in his hair in the frustration of his circling thoughts. Trying to hide his fear, he just gazed calmly back at Hotch.

They looked at each other for a moment, neither of them moving, Reid not even daring to breathe before Hotch nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in what couldn’t quite be called a smile though the soft acceptance reached his eyes, and looked back down at his paperwork again, “Okay. Round table room in ten. Get yourself a cup of coffee.” And that was all he needed. Reid let go of the breath he’d been holding and stepped out of the office, his knees feeling a little weak with relief. One down.

He took the few steps to Gideon’s office with care. Gideon would be easier. He had told him that he thought of him as a son. Fathers loved their sons unconditionally, didn’t they? Real fathers, anyway. He stepped into the office and cleared his throat just as he’d done with Hotch. Gideon looked up from the file he was reading and smiled the welcoming smile that seemed to just happen naturally when it was with people he trusted, namely his team and no one else. The smile faltered a little when he saw the nervousness in Reid’s eyes, but he never looked away. He kept his eyes locked with Reid’s until Reid couldn’t take it anymore and he simply set the picture he’d been gripping in his hand since the car ride on Gideon’s desk. Only then did Gideon look away, to look down at the picture. He took his glasses off and studied it for a minute. Reid could see his gaze flitting back and forth between the two prominent figures of the photo, putting together what it all meant. When he looked back up there was a smile on his face. He stood, walked around the desk, and handed Reid the framed picture. He set a hand to his shoulder, squeezed once, and then let go to go back to the file he had set down.

“Should have told us sooner,” he commented, not unkindly, as he sat back down and put his glasses back on.

“Should have,” Reid shrugged, relieved his voice came out in normal pitch.

“The others are going to want to meet him as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“Well, so Garcia and Prentiss can grill him and Morgan can give him a hard time. They’ll have to make the judgment on their own. They’re very protective, especially now. One question, though. He knows?”

“He knows.” Reid confirmed, then repeated the phrase again, unsure if he was trying to convince Gideon or himself, “We’re going to be okay.”

“Good. Eight minutes.” Then he went back to reading.

“Reid, my man, looking stylish today,” Morgan called out as he came out of Gideon’s office, “What’s up with that?”

It got easier every time, he decided. It should be easiest now. Shouldn’t it? He felt his breath hitch again as he walked down the few stairs and to his desk. Maybe it wasn’t getting easier. But, he tried to appear confident as he set the framed picture on his desk and looked expectantly at the others, laughing again from something Prentiss had just said, probably about his state of dress. Garcia caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, taking up the picture. She looked at it for a moment, then smiled at him mistily.

“He’s cute,” she decided, “When do I meet him?”

Morgan took the picture from her hands and he and Emily stared at it for a moment, looked at each other, looked at Reid, then back down at the picture. Reid wrung his hands. Garcia saw the nervous reaction and took one of his hands in both of her own to stop it. She gave him an encouraging smile and made motions for him to talk. To fill them in. Reid cleared his throat and it sounded so loud in his ears that he almost took a step back. Garcia didn’t let him, keeping a firm grip on his hand and whispering encouragement.

Reid cleared his throat again and began, “Uh . . . his name is Lance. We’ve been together for almost two years. He’s . . . uh . . . he stars in musicals on Broadway. He just got back from London. He knows. And . . . uh . . . he’s sticking,” he felt the confidence that comes with certainty and made sure his next statement was strong, “I love him and he loves me.”

“Reid, I never thought . . . I mean . . . you hid it so well . . . I just . . . why didn’t you tell us about this sooner?” Emily stammered. This was a question he could answer, something he had thought about for months. This question was easy.

“At first, I was confused myself. I wasn’t sure if it was going to last. It was so new, something I’d never really considered. Then, after a while, I wanted to keep him to myself. We know so much about each other, everything really. I wanted something that was just mine. Then, I was worried about what you guys would say. What you would think. You’re the most important people in the world to me and . . .”

“Okay,” Morgan interrupted, holding up a hand, “Now you’re starting to piss me off. Did you think it would change anything? Did you think we would think less of you?”

“A lot of people don’t think highly of . . .”

“We’re not a lot of people, Reid! We’re your team. We’ve seen you at your best and at your worst. Why the Hell would you think this would change anything?”

“I . . . I just . . .”

“You . . . you just what?” Morgan took a step toward Reid.

“Okay!” Emily stepped between them and held up her hands, “Morgan, calm down. You’re being an asshole. And, Reid, don’t you ever hide something like this from us again. That’s no way to show that you trust your team mates,” she paused for a moment, looking for a way to diffuse tempers, then on sudden inspiration added, “You butthead.” Garcia snorted, trying to hold back a laugh. At Garcia’s snort Reid had to struggle not to laugh as well. Emily smiled widely.

Morgan, getting ready to turn his anger to her, paused, then laughed, “You butthead?”

She shrugged, “Only word I could think of at the moment.” That did Garcia and Reid in and soon they were laughing as hard as they could, laughing long and loud. The kind of laugh people can’t help but join in. Soon all four of them were laughing, leaning on the desks and fighting to remain upright. They calmed immediately when Hotch called for them in the round table room, a condition of their training and professionalism. Garcia gave him a big hug and whispered that she loved him before moving toward the room. She looked pointedly at Morgan, then motioned to Emily that they should walk ahead. Emily smiled at Reid, nodding, giving her acceptance before following Garcia. Morgan grabbed Reid’s elbow to stop him from walking away.

“I’m still pissed, man,” he said lowly, “But probably not for the reason you think. So you’re gay. So what? Could have guessed that. But, to keep something like this from us . . . from me. Two years, Reid? I thought we were buddies.”

“We are,” Reid assured him, “That’s why it was hard. I was afraid of losing that. You don’t know what it’s like to grow up on the outside of everything. Then, to finally meet people who accept you, who like you for yourself only to find out that no matter what, you’re still different. I never had buddies growing up, Morgan. You were my first. I couldn’t . . . I didn’t want to lose it. It means too much.”

“Reid, no matter what you do, we’re always buddies. But, I can understand feeling isolated like that. You’re just lucking you’re dying, genius. Any of my other buddies I would have pounded on for keeping something like this from me,” he paused for a moment, slung his arm around Reid’s neck, then began walking toward the conference room, pausing to set the photo on Reid’s desk.

“Pounded on?” Reid half laughed at the jokes. Lucky he was dying. Sure. At least Morgan had the heart to joke about it. That meant he wasn’t going to treat Reid like glass for the remainder of his life. That, in itself was something to be grateful for, “You would have pounded on me?”

“We all have different ways of expressing our love,” Morgan grinned and rubbed a fist over Reid’s hair, causing him to pull away on a laugh, “So, you got any more heart-attack worthy surprises you’re planning on springing on us any time soon? ‘Cause I just don’t know if we can keep taking all these shocks. It’s just not good for our health.”

“No,” Reid smiled, “No more. Fresh out. Unless you count the fact that I’ll be dressing better from now on. It helps when your boyfriend is extremely fashion forward.”

“God help us,” Morgan groaned, “Dude, that is heart attack worthy, Mr. Cords and Sweater Vests.”

Reid shrugged and held his hands up, “Sorry. Nothing I can do. Lance has probably burned all the old stuff by now anyway. He hated it. He only let me keep it to keep you guys fooled.”

“It worked,” Emily laughed, catching the last part of the conversation as they all sat, “No self-respecting gay man I know wears sweater vests.”

It felt good to laugh with all of them as if his sexuality had never been an issue. Reid looked around the table as JJ started her briefing on the child kidnapping that had just been called in. So, it was just as easy as that. If he’d known he would have told them long ago. No, he shook his head, he probably wouldn’t have. Dying had a way of making it sort of urgent that those he loved knew exactly who he was. No more hiding, no more half-truths. He leaned back in his chair. It was all in place now, every part of his heart. Too bad it had taken him so long. He felt the headache intensifying as the meeting wore on, the ever constant reminder that he was not long for the world. Not anymore. The thought wouldn’t have scared him a year ago. But now . . . God, he wished he had more time.