Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. I do, however, own the character Alaska Michaels, she's a figment of my imagination. This story will reference Season 3, episode called "Scared to Death" quite a bit later on.

Everyone spends their Friday night a different way. Whether it's going to the movies, illegal parties, finding a one night stand, or cuddling in bed with the significant other. Usually, going out to a club with the team isn't something Spencer Reid would choose to do on a Friday night. Nothing personal against his co workers; he just isn't one for tight spaces, alcohol, and blaring music that has nonsensical lyrics. But that night, Spencer let Morgan convince him that he could use some fun. He just refuses to spend that particular night alone with a book he's read over twenty times.

"C'mon, Pretty Boy, I'll even hook you up with an equally pretty girl," Derek Morgan had teased.
The thought was an appealing one, though Spencer knew his friend couldn't keep that bargain. Reid's constant rambling and overly logical thinking keeps the "babes" from batting an eye at him.

With that type of a mindset, you can probably imagine the immense surprise when a girl came up to Spencer, a huge smile lighting up her delicate face. Morgan not only got a girl to talk to him, but she's a beautiful one too. It's the careless kind of beauty- her hair is in ruffled waves and her eyes sparkle with an inner glow that can't be replicated.

"Hi there," she grins.

"H-hi." He coughs. He offers his hand for her to shake, something out of the ordinary for the young genius. Shaking hands spreads bacteria like nothing else, and it's actually quite disgusting. It's just as he's telling himself that her bacteria is most likely the good kind, that she takes the seat across from him at his tiny table. They're in the corner of the room, a type of spot that's perfect for observation, which was the whole purpose of Spencer taking the table. "I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Alaska." She states with a dip of her head. He cocks his head to the side and nods, his brain running a million miles an hour thinking through book characters that may have inspired this creative alias.
Noticing the man's speculation, Alaska laughs.

"That really is my name," she promises. Of course Reid doesn't believe her, but he keeps that opinion to himself.

"Are you going to buy me a drink or what?" the beauty asks, biting her lip. Spencer mentally scolds himself for blanking out when this girl is obviously waiting for him to make a move.

"Yeah, of course. A drink." Reid gets up and heads towards the bar, only to stop, turn back to her and ask, "w-what can I get you?"

She laughs and slides down off her chair, walking with him. Her hand moves to rest gently on his arm. She's pretty tall, he notices, her head stops at his chin. She's what most would deem as pale, but it's not the awkwardly geeky pale like himself, it's the porcelain kind. The type to scream beauty in every inch of creamy skin.

"Two rum and cokes," Alaska tells the bartender, "but feel free to go generous on the rum."

Spencer is quite relieved that she ordered for them- he knows nothing about different beverages.

"So, Spencer. What do you do for a living?" She asks. The question is so innocent that he feels guilt for the way his eyes subconsciously looked down to observe her tight, black dress. His hands are a bit jittery as he reaches down to hold onto his drink that the bartender slid over.

"I have three doctorates, two degrees, and work for the FBI in the Behavior Analysis Unit. We're profilers who catch criminals. Our success rate has jumped to 92%, which is beyond most people's expectations, considering how it used to be a measly 85."

Alaska picks up her drink and sips, staring at him for a moment. His brain screams at him for revealing so much. She's a stranger, after all. And besides that, he probably just scared her off. Why didn't he just say he was a cop or something?

Alaska sets the alcoholic beverage down and smirks. "Beauty and brains. How did I get so lucky?" Ignoring the flushed tinge that's growing in his cheeks, Spencer asks her the same question.

"I have one doctorate. In engineering, to be exact. I'm currently unemployed, because I just quit my job. In case you're curious, being a profiler and all, it was because my dick of a boss decided to proposition me with some completely inappropriate terms. I don't find fucking my boss very ideal."

"A girl with brains, beauty, and morals. How did I get so lucky?" Reid taunts. He enjoys the laugh she gives. It's a very appeasing sound.

"We're both doctors. How weird is that?"

"Weird, Dr. Alaska… um,-"

"Michaels. It's Alaska Michaels. You're officially…"

"Dr. Spencer Reid. My doctorates are in chemistry, engineering, and mathematics."

He can see her do the math in her head. Alaska raises an eyebrow. "When did you graduate?"

"When I was twelve."

She scoffs."I graduated at sixteen. I believe all your achievements just hurt my relevance, Dr. Reid."

Spencer shakes his head. "Not possible. Your presence still screams relevancy." They both smile as they sip their drinks. When Spencer sees her eyeing the dance floor, he internally sighs, taking the hint she probably didn't even realize she was dropping. He can't dance, not in the slightest. But she's too pretty to be stuck here at the bar, so Spencer mans up. "Care to dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Alaska laughs. They discard their empty glasses and he lets her lead the way. His eyes catch Morgan sitting at his old table, and the older man is smirking, shaking his head, sending Reid a thumbs up. If Reid had been close enough to hear what Morgan has to say at the sight of Alaska, he'd no doubtfully blush beet red.

"Damn, didn't know the kid had game."