2 | GREEN LIGHT. [SPENCER REID]

FIVE.

FIVE ; HELP.

QUINN SLEPT POORLY throughout the night. Her train of thought conducted it's own path, traveling at a speed that she simply could not keep up with. Her eyes opened and closed in uneven intervals, the red numbers on the clock beside her seeming to tick by slowly as the London rain fell outside.

It felt as if every time her gaze met the ceiling, she had a new worry. Kyle. The Horsemen. The BAU team. The genius on her couch.

He'd changed since she had seen him last. His hair had gotten longer. He slouched a bit more, as if he had the weight of the weight of the world upon his shoulders. The spark of light she had often seen in his eyes had faded to cloud the pain he undoubtedly felt. It hadn't been completely extinguished, but it took a bit more effort to ignite the flame she had known so well.

Quinn lifted her head from her pillow, positioning herself against her headboard. She pulled her knees against her chest, releasing a heavy sigh as she did so. There was a soft crack of thunder, the clouds resting peacefully soon-there-after. There was no movement, no sound. There was peace in every area except in her mind.

Why would Kyle come back now? Why now? What was so significant that he had to return two years later?

She found herself leaving her bed a moment later. Her feet padded against the floor of her apartment as she quietly opened her bedroom door, careful not to wake the presumably sleeping doctor. Her eyes scanned over his figure as she walked by, smiling softly as she saw him fast asleep, features relaxed, the corner of his lips quirked upward the slightest amount.

Spencer had plagued her most recent thoughts. She knew that he didn't despise her. He had hated what she'd done, but not her. She knew that he had been torn apart by what had happened. Finding out that she was alive had shaken him. She understood.

Quinn also knew that whatever she had felt for Spencer two years ago had returned. It was rearing it's head in the ugliest of ways. The feeling churned her stomach as she opened her cupboard, pulling a glass down from the shelf.

What she didn't know however, was whether or not he felt the same way. He may not have hated her, but that didn't mean that he shared the feelings that she did.

Thunder shook the small apartment, the sound surprising Quinn so severely that she dropped the glass in her hand. She swore quietly, grimacing as she heard Spencer shoot up from the sofa.

"Quinn?" he asked, his panic hiding the sleep in his voice. "Quinn, where are you?"

"I'm in here," she muttered, flicking on the light switch beside her, looking at the shattered glass splayed across the floor in distaste.