EAD-Pen Pals

Title: Untitled
Fandom: Criminal Minds, X-Men,
Year: Season 7 (Starts in January 2012)
Category: Crossover,
Ratings: R
Pairings: Spencer Reid/Remy LeBeau,
Spoilers: All Seasons
Summary: As a way to connect with anyone, Spencer picks a random PO Box in New York to send a letter to. He writes that he is looking for a friend to just talk with. Someone he can tell anything to and has no illusions to burst. The man who gets the letter is in need of a friend like that as well. They find a wonderful connection with each other as the letters progress.
Notes: In an undetermined X-Men universe, basically, I made my own with X-Men characters.
Warnings: None

Spencer looked at the letter in his hand. It was all handwritten just like the letters he sent to his mother. The contents of this letter though was more open than anything he had ever told anyone ever in his life. A last ditch effort in his life to grab something that would make him happy, Spencer had decided to randomly send a letter to a post office box. A mathematical equation had landed him in North Salem, New York. Another equation had given him the number of one hundred and eight so he had addressed the letter to PO Box 108 North Salem, New York 10560. The return PO Box was the closest to Quantico and he’d used computer skills that few knew he had to make sure it couldn’t be traced to him, just in case. He was desperate, not stupid.

A rub down with a rag had removed prints from the actual letter and he’d used gloves when folding it up and sealing it. He’d used a self sealing envelope so that his saliva wasn’t on it as well. There was so much in the letter that could harm him but writing it had been cathartic and even now as he stood at the mail drop, he felt better for just making up his mind to send it.

Before he could second guess himself for the near hundredth time, Spencer released the letter and let it fall into the box. He sighed and let a smile grace his face.

Hello Friend,

I know that you don’t know me but my name is Spencer. I am not going to tell you my last name but I hope that we can be friends anyway. I am writing this letter to you in hopes of becoming friends with you.

To let you know a little more about myself. I turned thirty a few months ago. I have a PhD in Mathematics. I am not going to be sharing where I work but I work for the government. I will also share that I do solve murder cases and work more hours than I don’t.

When I celebrated my birthday a few months ago, I did so with no one around me. I got a rare phone call from my sick mother and it made my day but those who I consider my family, did not notice. My family is my team. I have known most of them for over seven years, the rest for over five. Finally, just two days ago the team remembered and they did throw a party but it left a sour taste in my mouth when none of them commented on the fact that they had missed it by close to four months.

It was then that I figured out that I needed someone else in my life. I am horrible at making friends, hence this letter. I hope that you reply to me. If you choose not to I will understand, this is little unorthodox but then I am an unorthodox man.

Your New Friend, Hopefully
Spencer

XxXxXxX

Remy grabbed his mail out of his box with barely a look at it. It was his most personal box and only family and close friends had the address for it. He slipped the letters into a pocket on his coat and then looked at the small box inside. It was from his tante. He’d make sure and open it as soon as he got to the school. A smile for the young girl working behind to the counter and then he was gone. His car was parked down the street in front of the small bistro he was going to eat his breakfast at. He’d been up and out of the school before most were even awake. Some days that was best.

The waitress was one who knew him well and barely batted an eye at his flirting, just smiled and got him coffee before putting his order in. Pulling out his letters, Remy started going through them. The final one wasn’t from anyone he knew. It was from a PO Box in Quantico, Virginia. He didn’t know anybody in Quantico. It was handwritten, Remy found out when he opened up the envelope. It was neat, like someone who had hand-written a lot of letters. That was rare in the current technological age. Remy set the other letters aside and started to read. He could feel the heartache in the letter and could understand the want of anyone out there that one could count as a friend. He tucked the letter inside his coat, put back in the envelope and in a more protected pocket. He let his mind wander over what he wanted to do.

Breakfast was eaten with little care to paying attention. His mind was on the letter. By the time he was done eating, Remy had made up his mind. He found a store that sold unlined paper and goods pens to write back to his new friend.

Dear Spencer,

Bonjour, my name is Remy. I understand wanting to keep things private for a while. We barely know each other and with you working for the government well, I can understand not wanting certain information to get into unsavory hands. I see from your address that you at least pass through Quantico on a regular basis. That’s at least on the same coast as me.

You shared information with me and I feel I should do the same. I am thirty three and have a Masters in Art History. My job requires me to log a lot of hours as well but not all of it is active like I am sure that yours is. I work at a private school. I am the art teacher.

Je suis désolé on your friends missing your birthday. I’m happy that you reached out to someone and happy that it was me. You and me will get to know each other and become proper amis. I hope you are able to write back soon.

Your Ami,
Remy

 

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