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An intake of breath, Lydia considering her choice of words carefully. The last thing she wanted was to push him AWAY or reject him entirely. Honestly, she hadn’t even thought about romance since ending things with Stiles, instead diving headlong into her studies when she was in college and even now with her trying to find balance in her normal life and the CHAOS of the supernatural she was still wrapped up in. Her fingers running along his, her thoughts scattered into chaos when there was usually order. Funny considering back in high school, she had had quite a number of romances along the way but most every one of them ended in complete TRAGEDY. It was a cycle she sought to break now, spare herself the HEARTACHE.

❝       BUT———,       ❞    And there it was, spilling from her tongue and crushed between ivory teeth, eyes moving down to their hands instead. She didn’t want to see his face, not after uttering that SINGLE word he had asked her not to.    ❝       ——— It’s WAY more dangerous than just some serial killer. Trust me on that. When that guy kidnapped me, when you found me, I kept reminding myself that even that wasn’t the worst thing I’ve been through. It’s how I stayed strong and even came BACK from that so I wasn’t just a victim.      ❞     Strangled, clawed, shot, throat nearly slit, TORTURED by people seeking her powers. In the following days after being freed, she realised the more human darkness was fare more manageable than anything supernatural.

But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just the danger of it all. Lydia had come to terms with what she was YEARS ago but that didn’t stop some thoughts from entering her genius mind. Thoughts of what others would think, of how utterly insane she looked to others or even SUSPICIOUS when it came to how many bodies she had found and alerted to over the years.    ❝       And there are other things about me. Things you probably wouldn’t LIKE about me. I’ve been called CRAZY more times than I can count. Even I thought I was for a long time.     ❞     Hallucinations, voices, why wouldn’t she think that?

          He listened. From his usual attempts to fill conversations with facts that he read up on that he found interesting and he thought that others might to, Spencer didn’t say much as Lydia tired to explain herself. She’s different, and he liked that. She’s as different as the other women he worked with, but she’s different in her own kind of way. After meeting in the basement of the serial killer, Spencer wanted to make sure she was at least going to be okay. He checked up on her, called her every now and then, and he liked their conversations. 

She listened to him, because she liked him. 

But, her world was so different from his. He caught killers that were the real monsters in almost everyone’s mind. He didn’t know that she saw the true monsters that hide underneath children’s beds. He didn’t know that she heard the terrors of death that crept into her ears and would make her scream. Spencer didn’t have the slightest clue as to what Lydia’s life was like, and maybe he’d never find out. But, he would like to try and see if they could work. 

          ❝ YOU MEAN STILL A GRUMPY OLD MAN? ❞  she was only joking, even if it were true most of the time.  but joel had his reasons for being the way he was.  they all did actually.  she liked joel, that attitude of his was a big part of the reason they were alive.  he worried constantly, wanted to stick to the plans and that was a good thing.  sometimes though risks had to be taken, quick thinking needed to be made and that’s where tess came in.  ❝ what was he like before?  you know, before  EVERYTHING.  was he always like he is now? ❞  the only thing she knew about joel when he was quote unquote  YOUNG  was that he had a daughter, and he lost her.  everything else was a mystery.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 !  ——   turning into one of those things sounded like the worst way to spend eternity,  a rotting corpse doomed to forever roam the earth until it can no more due to the pass of time,  that of course as one’s soul remained trapped within,   the mere thought was enough to make her skin grow goosebumps     ❛     is this how you greet people all the time ?  you scold them as you clean their wounds ?     ❜      she teases,  teeth sink into her lower lip as she reluctantly sees her hand getting close to the laceration     ❛    i’m not going to turn and eat you up if that’s what you’re scared of   ❜    

         a smile,   lasts for a second of two      ❛    and i can’t say for sure    ❜     she admits     ❛    i found a group of hunters,    i was outnumbered and had to jump off of a window    ❜     shoulders shrug,  jaw clenches.

            MALCOLM MAY BE WHAT SOME WOULD call a genius, still debatable, but one certainly lives well within Spencer Reid.  The facts that he can spew at the drop of a hat is simply amazing. As effortless as the breeze that passes through his hair these facts spit from Spencer’s lips. His own demeanor though isn’t as vocal as the other’s for he’s much too observant and leaves it to being much more physical. Malcolm works in the senses relying on speaking so much to get what he needs. Though he does appreciate the information.”How fascinating. Makes you truly wonder how much we don’t know that we think we do.” 

“–I guess that’s still fun,” Tohru laughed nervously, glad that Kisa was having fun at least. “Group projects are a lot of fun, but I can see why they would be hard.” Tohru smiled kindly, reaching out to pet Kisa’s hair down. She felt protective of Kisa, wanted to make sure that she was actually having fun at school now instead of being bullied.

“You’re always welcome here…” She said quietly, her expression softening. “No matter what happens at school. Okay?”

         It   was   a   soft   gesture,   hand   against   her   soft   hair.   But,   she   almost   purred   with   delight   as   Tohru   started   to   rub   her   figures   through   Kisa’s   hair.   She   leaned   into   it,   looking   up   at   Tohru   as   she   did.   There   was   an   expression   change   as   Kisa   could   tell   Tohru   was   thinking   about   when   she   went   through   her   weeks   of   not   speaking.   But,   it   was   thanks   to   Tohru,   she   could   find   her   voice. 

The shackle removed, revealing a bloody and bruised ankle from all of her attempts at breaking free, of metal cutting her skin to the point of becoming RAW. But it was a relief to not feel that cold iron around her skin, the first sign of being truly FREE of the nightmare. Lydia had experienced near death before. Flesh clawed at, shot, experimentation, but each one came with its own price as this one would. At least there was nothing supernatural this time, only the darkest parts of humanity that had stepped into her own little world, a world she had tried to craft outside of what she had known in the past where werewolves and werecoyotes and all sorts of creatures lived. But she was free now, she wouldn’t be another victim to that man, another STATISTIC in the books of violent death.

LIAR, she wanted to say though Lydia understood the reasoning deep down. Police, FBI, all of them, they had to rely on evidence and the instinct of a BANSHEE was hardly that to a world that was unaware of things that went bump in the dark. So she bit her tongue until metaphorical blood would spill. Given how many times she had tried to warn people only to be ignored, it should have come as no SURPRISE that the police would do the same. And still she tried, tried to HELP people rather than find their corpses later on as she did so often even after leaving Beacon Hills.

Her hands trembled as they reached out to grasp his, bloodied and cold as ice where she found his to be far warmer. Freedom. Up those steps and out of here, it was actually within her grasp at last. Much like all the other times before, Lydia was adament that this time would not DESTROY her and rather give her something to build upon.  Assurances the team would catch him found her way to her ears but it was a distant mumble, MUFFLED by the static built up in her ears. Whispers, voices, cries, back again as she pulled herself up and leaned on the man for support. Telling her, telling her what the DEAD already knew. They weren’t going to catch him, not like they had planned, not like they probably hoped anyways but there would be no more victims at his hand.

❝     You aren’t going to catch him,     ❞     The words were said in a daze, hazel eyes trailing away from him to the camera mounted in the corner. He knew. He already knew his game was up. He had known the moment the agent, this Spencer Reid, had entered the basement, maybe when they had first entered the building if there were other cameras. But there were those whispers, communicating what Lydia shouldn’t know yet. Shotgun, twenty gauge bullet, right in his chair in his living room.   ❝      ——— He’s already DEAD.     ❞     A man who took the life of so many and yet when faced with his own crimes, couldn’t even handle it. When she was in a bitter state, she’d realise how COWARDLY it was.

        He gripped her cold, bloodied hands. His eyes were focused on her and trying to help her stand. He couldn’t exactly understand what she’d been through, he could relate though. That wasn’t the time, now, to relate to one’s current trauma as it was still unfolding before his eyes. He kept every case separate from one another, but continued to see eye to eye with every victim so that they were human and not the word victim. He didn’t feel like a victim, so why should they? 

One arm slipped around to hold her while the other pulled her arm over his shoulder. He wanted her to lean on him as much as she could, he might’ve offered to carry her if he had more upper body strength. If it came down to it, he would carry her, and then ask Morgan if he could help with Spencer’s lack of strength if multiple areas. Spencer wasn’t much of a climber, nor was he one that went one on one with the unsubs when they felt cornered. That was always Morgan’s or Hotchner’s or JJ’s or literally anyone else on his team except for Garcia. He never felt the need for the sake of strength while his mind was more powerful than his arms. 

The moment she said those words, he looked at her. His confusion overcame him as he heard over the intercoms of what Lydia had already confirmed. The unsub was dead, far above the basement floor. They were by the stairs when it happened and he exhaled, glancing away and toward their destination.     ❝    You’re    right,    they    just    found    his    body,     ❞     he tried to keep his voice as soothing as he could. They reached the first step and he looked at her again.     ❝     Do    you    want    me    to    carry    you?    Although    I    don’t    have    much    arm    strength,    I    can    attempt    to    carry    you    up    the    stairs.    Or    I    can    call    one    of    the    other    agents    to    come    or    we    can    wait    until    the    paramedics    come    down    and    they    can    escort    you    up    on    the    gurney.     ❞     The thought of him offering to carry her counted, right?