Make It out Alive

"Go home, Hotch, it's Christmas Eve, go see Jack and Haley. Tell them Merry Christmas for me," I told my boss, shooing him out of the bullpin.

"Don't stay too late, Bry, thanks. Merry Christmas," he said, waving and walking out.

Someone put their hands over my eyes. I smiled. "Spence, don't you know that's a bad idea when the woman you do it to carries a gun?" I turned around and put my arms around his neck. He placed his hands on my hips.

"Statistically, members of law enforcement would go for mace before going for a firearm while in the office," he told me, putting his forehead on mine.

I closed the distance between us and kissed him softly. "Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure," he said, kissing me once more.

"I think-"

"Go home, you guys, it's Christmas Eve, stop hanging out in the office," JJ interrupted, waving.

"Merry Christmas, JJ," Spence and I called in unison.

"How about we take the offer and go home?" I asked with a laugh.

"Sure," he laughed. "Why don't you leave your car here and go home with me?"

"Deal," I responded, giving him another quick kiss. He took my hand and twirled me with a silly smile. I giggled, smiling at him.

Hand in hand we walked out to the parking lot where a light snow had fallen. I smiled, feeling more carefree than I had in awhile. Snow flakes continued to fall, and I caught one on my tongue.

Spencer's car had a light covering of snow, which he brushed off before getting in. The half an hour ride was a little longer than usual, and we sat in a comfortable silence, holding hands as he drove.

He parked in front of his condo and opened the car door for me, leading me to his door. I almost slipped on the few steps, but he held onto me tight. I smiled gratefully at him.

Inside his house, it smelled like old books and coffee with a hint of vanilla, just like he did. I followed him into the living room, where a tiny artifical tree was set up with a few ornaments. I smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Spence," I told him as he wrapped his long arms around me. I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas," he replied, kissing me.

I nuzzled his shoulder. "Wanna watch a typical Christmas Eve movie?"

"Sounds lovely. You find one, I'll be right back," he said, kissing me once more.

He went into the kitchen while I sat on the couch and flipped through channels and channels of movies. I smiled as Miracle on 34th started. Spence came in a moment later with two mugs. He sat down next to me and gave me one.

I raised a brow, but took a sip. I closed my eyes happily, letting the warmth from the beverage spread through my body. "Coffee with... Egg nog and...."

"Cinnamon," he told me, draping his arm around me.

"Yum, good combination," I complimented, taking another sip.

We sat in silence, watching the movie. I rested my head on his shoulder. The lights on the tree and the TV filled the room with a soft glow.

During comercials, I kissed his neck, nuzzled his shoulder, and played with his hair. It felt normal, it felt right.

After the movie, I yawned and streched. "I'm exhausted." I stood and took my mug into the kitchen, where I rinsed it, as I did, I looked out the window. In the few hours I had been here, the snow had pounded the street, covering the world in white.

"Looks like you're not going home tonight," he said, coming up behind me.

"Hope you have something I can wear tonight," I told him, chuckling.

"Uh, I have some t-shirts," he said, suddenly becoming the awkward guy I first met.

I smiled, both to myself and at him. "Spence, it's just me, relax."

"Right, of course," he replied hastily.

I pressed my lips to his. "Just let me borrow a pair of boxers and a t-shirt?"

"Always," he told me. He went up the stairs and came down a few moments later, already changed into a t-shirt and a pair of cotton pajama pants that looked like they swallowed his torso, hanging onto his hips just barely.

My lips turned up slightly. He handed me a neatly folded pile, a gray t-shirt and a pair of blue boxers. "Thanks," I said, kissing him before going into the bathroom. In the harsh florecent light, I stood nude, accessing myself in the mirror.

In my street cop days I was tan, lean, muscled, a bruise here or there was normal. Now I was pale, looked tired, and under my eyes were puffy, grayish. I didn't look like a teenager anymore, but I looked like a tired thirty year old. But when I turned and looked over my shoulder, tears filled my eyes.

The scars were bad, covering nearly every inch of my back side. I looked at my left leg, and shuddered. The scar was still thick and white. It divided the back of my calf in half, continuing up my thigh, twisting around my hip, across my back, stopping just before the nape of my neck. The only gift from my father.

I put on the t-shirt and boxers. Placing my hand on the doorknob, I took a steadying breath. He needed to know. I had to be ready to tell him. I was scared, and as I exhaled, it was shuddering.

I took a step out and with every step, I felt worries boil up. "You're a monster," the girls told me as we changed in gym. "Ugly," the guys said when they saw me. Tears rolled down my face, flowing down my neck.

I sat down on the couch next to Spencer, who had turned on another Christmas movie. I put my head on his chest. He looked down at me, and kissed my head. Tears fell harder, soaking through his shirt.

"Why are you crying?" he asked me.

"I'm a monster," I whispered.

"No, Polly, no. Talk to me, what's wrong?" He gently pulled my face up to look him in the eye.

I shook my head. "I have to show you." I leaned over and turned on a lamp. I stood and pulled the shirt over my back, putting my back to him. I heard his intake of breath.

I felt his fingers trace my scar. He stopped at the waist line of the boxers, and continued down my thigh. He encouraged me to turn, I pulled my shirt down and did turn to find him kneeling down before me, his eyes warm and full of love.

"You're beautiful," he told me, sincerity ringing in his voice.

I shook my head, my hair shaking down to the tips. "Spence, please."

"What? What do you want me to say? Do you want me to lie? Do you want me to call you a monster? You're a good profiler, Polly, tell me that I'm lying. I wouldn't," he said fervently. He stood up and enveloped me in his arms. I fell into him, allowing him to comfort me.

He led me to his bedroom, a simple queen bed with bookshelves on three walls. All were filled and even overflowing with books. I ran a finger over their spines. "So many books."

He smiled, pulling back a worn quilt and getting in bed. I got on the other side, scooting next to him. I turned onto my stomach, and he opened his arms to me. I went willingly, wrapping my arms around him, tangling our legs together.

"Polly?"

"Mmm?"

"Thanks for trusting me."

I streched up to kiss him. For a moment, I lost myself in the kiss, my mind blank except for the sensation of Spencer Reid.