val 𑣲⋆｡˚

——-

Everything went dark as the blood rushed to your face and ears. You weren’t sure what happened, but Spencer’s arms were around you, keeping you steady. Nothing felt real as his words kept ringing in your head. You just looked at him helplessly.

“We’re gonna figure this out, y/n. The team is already on it. For now, Hotch wants you at the office so we can go over everything.”

You just nod silently; words were just too much. 

“Do you need anything before we go?” He said softly and rubbed your arms.

You just buried yourself in his chest and let the comfort of his hug engulf you. Once you were ready, the two of you headed to the office in the car Hotch sent over. You felt completely detached as the world passed you by; the only thing keeping you steady was Reid’s hand in yours. You felt like a shell of yourself entering the round room, Penelope rushing to hug you and everyone exclaiming how glad they were that you were alright. But none of it felt real. It couldn’t be real. That is until Garcia showed the crime scene evidence. 

“Y/n, you don’t have to look at these if you’re not comfortable with it-” Hotch began. 

You held your hand up. “No, I need to see these. I need to help,” you said softly, breaking your silence. 

Spencer wasn’t holding back when he said the victim looked like you. It was almost uncanny from the way she was dressed, to her hair, and even her body type. It’s like somebody copy-and-pasted you. The only difference was the deep strangulation marks on her neck, which made you short of breath. 

“There were signs of assault as well,” Garcia said softly.

The room went still as you felt eyes shifting to you. But none of that mattered as you looked at the girl in the photos. The guilt was unbearable. How dare you be the reason she was killed? 

“Was there any physical evidence left from the unsub?” you ask. 

“No, whoever this person is, they're skilled.” Rossi sighed.

You take a deep sigh, trying to fight back tears. You feel a hand on your shoulder, and JJ gestures for you to come and talk to her. You follow the blonde into the hallway, noticing the folder under her arm. 

“Y/n, I need you to look at these pictures and tell me if you recognize anything, okay.” She says and hands you the file. 

You nod and open it slowly, not sure what you were going to see. It was close-ups of the victim's clothes they were familiar with, too familiar. It wasn’t until the picture of the socks that you knew. They were the funny socks that Garcia had given you for Christmas. The victim was wearing your clothes. You felt vomit rise in the back of your throat as you looked up at JJ. Your face was all she needed to know, and she looked back into the room at Hotch and nodded. This made you snap. You raced back into the round room and threw the file on the table. 

“I knew it! I knew something was happening. But none of you fucking believed me!”

“Y/n-” JJ calls after you. 

“No cause now look what happened. Finding out this sick fuck was in my apartment. Taking my clothes. Killing these girls because they look like me. This didn’t have to happen. It shouldn’t be happening. But no, I was being paranoid.” You yell and tears boil over. 

You looked around the room, and it was clear nobody knew what to say. So you turned away and walked out the door, ignoring Spencer’s attempts to stop you. You headed straight to your office to cry in peace. 

——————-

Round room. 

“She’s right. We should’ve taken her more seriously,” Spencer said, irritated. 

“We didn’t have much to go off of, Reid,” Emily replied. 

“Look, none of that is important anymore. What’s important now is finding this unsub before they kill again. Or goes after their main object of attraction. JJ and Rossi go to y/n apartment and look for any traces. Morgan and I will go back to the movie theater where the body was found. Then follow her routine, pay attention to where the unsub might have been watching from. Reid and Prentiss, you stay here working on victimology. Prentiss do a cognitive interview on y/n to see if she remembers anything else useful. Garcia pull any camera footage from her routes. We have no time to waste.” Hotch says sternly. Making the team immediately disperse and follow orders.

————-

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the gentle knock on the door stopped your tears. 

“Come in,” you say, sniffing. 

You watch as Emily steps in and shuts the door behind her. She casts you an apologetic look and comes over to hug you. Then hands you a tissue to dry your eyes. You take a shaky breath, not knowing what she’s gonna say.

“Y/n think you’d be up for a cognitive interview?”

“I already told Spencer everything I remember Em, and it wasn’t enough.”

“I know, but I still want to do everything in my power to figure out who this guy is and get his ass. Anything you can tell me anything at all will be helpful.”

“Okay.” 

“Alright. I want you to close your eyes and take some deep breaths. I know it’s hard, but try to clear your mind, okay?” She said softly. So you put your hand on your chest, forcing yourself to focus on the rise and fall. 

“Now I want you to take me back to yesterday. What was the first thing you did when you left the office?” 

The scene started playing in your mind. “I got into my car and drove to the movies.”

“Tell me more about that; try to focus on the smells or sounds of the theater.”

“I got my ticket from the front window from a teenage boy. I picked the new Disney movie. I needed something lighthearted. When I walked inside, it smelled of popcorn and made me hungry, so I got some. Then I showed my tickets to the guy and headed back. There were people around me, but I can’t remember anyone weird. When I got to the theater, I took a seat and watched the previews. I was a bit early, but a lady came and sat next to me. We talked for a little bit, and I was enjoying myself. Then the movie started. I left and got dinner at the deli down the road.” You say while speaking, sneaking a peak at Emily. You didn’t think this was helping and felt yourself growing frustrated.

“You’re doing great, y/n. Can you tell me more about the people around you at the theater?” 

“Uh sure? The lady I was talking to was sitting on my left, and she was a ginger and her name was Hannah. She was in a band T-shirt that I complimented her on, and that’s how we got talking. I was mainly focused on her, but I know some guy was to my right. I didn't notice anyone weird walking into the theater.”

“Stalkers like this usually look like any other guy. He would’ve kept a low profile and been in casual clothes. But this guy would’ve done anything to try and talk to you. Maybe offer you something. Go out of his way to compliment you. Anything to get an interaction, no matter how small. Really try and think y/n.” 

You sat there for a minute trying to search your brain for anything you missed. When suddenly it hit you. Your eyes snapped open to Emily. 

“The man next to me. Emily, the man.” You say, eyes brimming with tears. 

“Y/n, it’s okay, tell me.”

“He was sitting next to me, and during the movie he spilled his popcorn all over me. He was apologetic, and when I said it’s alright, it’s like he just lit up. He was so happy I thought it was uncanny. Given the nature of the day, I shrugged it off and went back to the movie.  But when walking out, he held the door for me. I think he might have been at the restaurant too.” 

You closed your eyes again, trying to remember what he fully looked like. Then it was like it clicked. He was across the street the day you almost got hit by the car. He’s been sitting outside of the coffee shop in the mornings. On a park bench when you take your runs. He had reeked of peppermint at the movies. The realization made you reach for your trash can, and you proceeded to vomit as Emily held your hair. She tried to soothe you by rubbing your back and saying it’s alright. 

“He’s been everywhere, everywhere, Em,” you cry. 

She searches your face as you try and get the words out, fighting against your dry heaving. 

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed, but he’s blended in so well. He’s been at my coffee shops, runs, dinners, everywhere. I’m starting to remember him from months ago. But I can’t remember when I met him. Who knows how long he’s been following me. Why me, Em? Why?” 

“I don’t know, y/n. But you remembering all this is what’s gonna help us catch him. You did such a good job. I need to go tell the team this. Will you be alright?” 

“Yeah, but let me go with you. I’m no good just sitting here crying. I want to help. I need to.” You say softly.

You leave your office slowly and make a detour to clean yourself up in the bathroom. When you exit, Spencer is waiting for you. You engulf him immediately in a hug. 

“Emily filled me in. You did a great job. Do you need anything?” 

“Just to catch this guy.” You say grimly. 

“We will.” 

———

You spent hours in the round room pouring over details. Even sitting with sketching artists to get a composite. When Hotch and Morgan got back from the crime scene, they noted that the unsub would have to keep his victims for an extended period to craft them to look like you, suggesting a secondary location. Your apartment showed little forensic evidence, but Rossi found an entry point in the bathroom window you tend to leave open after you shower. Which made you feel like an idiot. Did you let this all happen? Other than that, there wasn’t much to go on. Garcia pulled various footage confirming he has indeed been following you for months. But he was smart, keeping his head down or face covered with a hat. It was infuriating how meticulous this guy was. Sure, you had an idea now of who he was, but not enough. You spent the next few hours going over everything, growing increasingly frustrated. The day eventually caught up to you as you fell asleep at your desk. Your mind unable to deal with this anymore.

——

You felt someone gently shake your shoulder and looked up to see Reid with a grim face. The same face he had on this morning. You grimaced, knowing what he was about to say next. He just nodded, and you felt sick once more. But this time there were two bodies. They had been found in the alley behind the coffee shop, still looking like you holding a New Yorker. But this time the cover had stopped ignoring me y/n written all over it. The previous body had been ID, but you simply weren’t strong enough to alert the family, leaving that with JJ, feeling increasingly guilty. You weren’t sure what to do anymore. The unsub was clearly accelerating, and you kept wondering what that meant for you. Hours later, you were still left pacing back and forth, sipping on your fifth cup of coffee, empty food cartons on the table. Everyone was silent, all trying to do something to help. When your phone began to ring. You peered over to the words UNKNOWN. Your breath hitched as you looked at your team. 

“Garcia?” Hotch asked. 

“Ready, sir.” She said while furiously typing away. 

You knew what was going to happen next. It’s up to you to talk to the unsub and gather as much information as possible. These types of conversations were second nature to you at this point; you trained victims' families constantly to have these difficult conversations. They’d never bothered you until now when it was your safety on the line. You walked over slowly and sat down, staring at the ringing phone. You looked up at Hotch for confirmation and got a nod. You answered the call. 

Silence entered the room, and you looked anxiously at Reid sitting across from you. Then back at Hotch, who gave you the look to speak. 

“Hello,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. 

A deep breath breaks over the speakers. “Your voice is even sweeter than I remember, y/n,” he snarled. 

His voice made you shiver. 

“And might I know who I’m talking to?” 

“Why, Cher, you hurt me. You know me. You should know me.” His accent was clear but something you couldn’t place.

Your mind went blank for a moment. You didn’t know what to do or say. You felt so incredibly overwhelmed. Emily caught this and pressed mute. 

“You’re doing good, y/n. Be apologetic and ask about the first time you met. Guys like this live for the memory and validation.” You nod and watch as she clicks unmute.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I do know you. We saw each other just the other day at the movies, right?” 

“See, you’re so beautiful and smart. Just what I need, Cher.” 

“Hm, I'm just having trouble remembering the first time we met. Could you remind me, please?”

You could practically hear him grin. “Well, I know you’re with that little team of yours, aren’t you, darling?” 

Your head snapped up to Reid and the others. Hotch took a moment, and you could see the gears turning in his head. 

“Now, usually I’m a private man, Cher, but for you just this once I’ll tell you. But you have to do something for me.”

“And what would that be?” 

“Who’s your favorite team member and why y/n?” He asked. “Answer that, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.” 

Hotch nodded to give you the go-ahead. You glanced at Spencer, who was biting the inside of his cheek. Why would the unsub want to know this? 

“Um, if I had to pick it’d be JJ. She was the first one who truly made me feel at home here at the BAU.” 

“Now this won’t work, Cher, if you lie to me. But I guess that was true when we met. So I’ll give it to you this time. But don’t expect me to be this nice from here on out.” 

He took a deep breath. “You showed me kindness when nobody else did. That’s when I knew you were the only woman for me. And I promise Cher I’ll be seeing you real soon.” Then the line went dead.

“Garcia, please tell me you have something,” Morgan pleaded. 

“No, he used a pay phone downtown. I sent squads out there, but he can be long gone into those crowds at this hour.” She said, defeated. 

You pause for a second before looking up to lock eyes with Reid. 

“The accent.” You both say at the same time. 

“Certain words in his dialect suggest a Louisiana Cajun accent, such as Cher. We should look into any cases that have happened in southern Louisiana over the past two years.” Reid commented. 

“Showing him kindness… What if this happened during one of our cases following the hurricane? Y/n was working closely with news outlets at the time. We should check there to see if this guy maybe was a reporter with a bad rep or someone who was impacted and maybe wasn’t given the time of day.” Rossi suggested.

“Emily and JJ go pull the files, and we’ll start from there,” Hotch instructed. 

You all spent the next few hours pouring over cases while you searched your memory for anyone who fit the bill. But those cases were such taxing times. You all had talked to countless people in the wake of events and tried your hardest to offer support. As the hours passed, you became exhausted and were quickly losing hope. You hadn’t slept besides the quick desk nap, and the team knew you needed sleep. Hotch told you to sleep here, but Spencer offered his apartment, which you eagerly accepted. Hotch was hesitant but assigned agents to survey the building. Reid would join you there later after he finished. 

———-

Reid's cozy apartment was a dream compared to the round room. You tried to take the night easy, making your favorite food, putting on a comfort movie, then ending the night with a relaxing shower. You didn’t have much in the way of clothes, so you headed out to steal Spencer’s. As you finished changing, you heard the front door click and called out a hello to Spencer. 

“Hello y/n.”

The foreign voice sent goose bumps to every inch of your skin. You were completely defenseless, only in an oversized FBI shirt and shorts. You looked around the room for anything close but came up with nothing. So you sprinted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. With shaky hands, you locked the door and put your body weight against it. Spencer had nothing in the way of weapons in his bathroom unless you wanted to beat the unsub with a toilet brush. You didn’t hear anything from the other side of the door as you tried to force yourself to calm down. Your field training seemed to be going a mile a minute in your head. There were no exit points from his bathroom. Your best bet would be to fight your way out. If you could just get past him to the living room, you could grab the gun stashed in your bag. Or just run as fast as you could out the front door. Any option would be better than this one. 

“Come on, out y/n. I don’t want to hurt you.” He said while rattling the door handle.

You tried to take a deep breath through the growing cry trying to escape your lips. You felt him begin to kick the door. Your body weight was not doing much of anything against the thin wood. You screamed as his foot went through the bottom panel. Fuck. The door flung open as he threw his body weight against it. You jumped back and turned to see him grinning in the doorway. You had no other option; you had to put up a fight or die trying. He took a step forward, and you rushed him. You used every sort of field training to attack him. He doubled over as you placed a rather nasty kick to his balls, and you took the opportunity to run, trying to head to the living room. But he was fast and strong, grabbing your arm, pulling you to him. Panic rose in your chest, and you realized just how strong he was. You didn’t know if he was holding back before as his grip increased despite your frantic fighting. You were unsure if you were gonna make it out and were determined to leave as much of his DNA as possible. So you scratched and pulled his hair. But it proved futile as he pinned you to his chest. 

“Now, Cher, you can do this the easy or hard way. If you stop fighting me now, then we can leave, and nobody else gets hurt.”

You don’t listen and keep screaming and kicking. 

“Fine, the hard way.” He sighs as his hands slither up to your neck. “We either go now, and I promise nobody gets hurt. Or we can wait for your handsome doctor friend to get back and let you watch as I kill him. You decide y/n.” 

You knew he was being serious and saw the gun tucked into his boots. If Spencer were to walk in here, he would be shot dead. You can’t let that happen. You won’t let it. 

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t hurt him.” You say through the tears. 

“Good choice. I promise y/n…” and that’s when it all went dark. 

———-

The front door silently opened. Spencer had seen the fallen guards in the hallway and knew you were in danger. His gun drawn, he entered slowly through the door. He surveyed the room, but you were already long gone. The only thing on the ground was a rag and strands of hair. 

——-

You woke up drowsy and tied to a chair. You blinked slowly, taking in the cold atmosphere and smells of the foreign place. It smelled like wet paint and oil. Everything was still blurry as you frantically looked around. You could only make out a few things, from a workbench to a large door. As your eyes focused, you realized you were in a garage. This must be the second location. Your brain instantly kicked into high gear, and you desperately fought against the restraints around your arms and legs. You looked around at the dingy room for any other clues. To your left was a whole wall dedicated to you. Hundreds of photos of you ranging from sitting in your living room to hanging out with the team. Vomit rose in your throat, but you forced it down. Everything else in the room showed it was clearly a dedicated space for the crafting of women into you. You saw makeup and clothes stacked neatly on a table. But nothing made you more unsettled than the two cameras in the corner of the room. Beeping ominously at you. 

“HELLO. ANYONE HELP?” you scream while still trying to fight. 

You heard a door click and footsteps from behind you. When the man came into view. He smiled down at you, and for the first time you really took him in. He was an average-looking Southern man. But under the surface, it was much more sinister. His grin showed a rotted smile, and his face looked sickly.

 “Good morning, Cher. Don’t you look radiant.”

You glared at him. “What, not talkative this morning! I thought you would be seeing how nice I was to spare your little Dr.”

“Don’t-“ you spat. 

“Why, Dr a sore spot, honey.” He says while bending down in front of you, making you recoil. 

“I’ve watched as you’ve desperately fought for his attention. Eager for his love, weren’t you, darling? But I’m afraid the doctor never quite saw you in that way.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes. “But don’t worry, you’ll never have to feel like that with me, y/n. I’ll make you feel special. Make you feel more loved than he ever could, sugar.” He said, then rubbed his thumb across your bare knee. Making you desperately try to kick him away. But it was no use, and he shook his head while he stood up.

“It’s clear to me you just need some time to adjust. But don’t worry, I won’t let you forget anything this time, y/n. See, I’m recording this all, and when you come around we’ll watch it all together. Watch us fall in love. It’s even live-streamed for everyone to watch just how powerful our love is. Isn’t that nice, sugar.” 

A small amount of hope entered your system knowing Garcia would be scouring the internet for you. So you nod slowly in response.

“Good. I’ll go grab you some food.” He says, then disappears behind you. 

A significant amount of time has passed before he returns with a tray of soup. It truly felt like days as your exhaustion weighed you down. You watch as he pulls a chair up and quickly eats his own bowl. Then eagerly fed you on your own. At first you were hesitant, but you needed him to gain some kinda trust with you. 

“Thank you, it was very good….” You say, then say.  “You know I still don’t know your name. Will you please tell me so I can properly thank you?” You say softly.

He gives you a soft smile. “It’s Noah, sugar.”

“That’s a very nice name. Thank you for the soup, Noah.”

He smiles, then stands, making you anxious about his next move. He walks slowly over to the workbench, inspecting something out of your eyesight. 

“Noah, could you please tell me how we met? I want to remember. Please help me remember.” You beg. 

He turns and walks back over to you. You could tell he was a bit pissed at your lack of memory. He reaches into his back pocket and unfolds a paper, shoving it into your face. The headline reads. 

ALIENS IN THE STORM! 

That’s when it all came back to you. 

——-

After the storm, the team investigated the Jack the Ripper copycat case. It was one of your first cases with the BAU, training closely under JJ. She had allowed you to talk to a small group of press while she went off to explore a lead with the head detective on the case. The little conference was easy as you gave the profile out and explained the tip line. But the questioning was when shit hit the fan. The reporters, understandably, always wanted more than you could give. But one voice was louder than the rest. 

“What do you say about the evidence of aliens in the storm? Causing the destruction, carrying out the murders! Has the FBI looked into that?”

“Why I-” you begin.

“Shut up, crank,” one reporter yelled.

“I know what I saw; there were aliens, I swear,” the conspiracy guy shouted back. 

“Fuck off,” someone yells and shoves the guy hard to the point he falls to the ground. 

“Hey!” You shout and rush to help the man. 

You could tell life hadn’t been easy for him recently. His clothes were tattered, and he looked exhausted. You felt bad for him, knowing his supernatural claims were probably coming from a place of trying to handle the trauma he endured. 

“Sir, are you alright?” you ask and offer him a hand up. 

“Been better,” he says while grabbing your hand and slowly standing. 

“I’m very sorry for the behavior of others here that shouldn’t have happened.” 

“Thank you, Cher,” he says with a small smile. 

“Here, why don’t I have one of my colleagues get a report of your experience in the storm, and we’ll make sure to check if it lines up with our findings,” you say, gently placing your hand on his back to guide him away from the crowd. 

“Thank you for being the first person to show me any sort of kindness during this whole ordeal. The city and its people are hurting, yet people speak to us like we’re below them and undeserving.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that we all deserve to feel seen and heard, especially during challenging times. I can assure you that my colleagues will listen.” You say.

He smiles again, and you hand him off to a police officer. Refocusing your attention onto the reporters who now probably thought you were as crazy as him. 

—-

Of course you would be stalked and kidnapped by a deranged conspiracy theorist. And this was all happening simply because you were being kind. You looked up at him in complete and utter disgust. 

“Fuck you,” you say, then spit in his face. 

This earned you a stark slap on the face that left your ears ringing. 

“That is not the kind-hearted woman I fell in love with. If she doesn’t come back, we’re gonna have a problem, Cher.” He says grimly. 

You chuckle in return; you know you shouldn’t, but you were too exhausted and fed up to care at this point. But he just slaps you again, making you go silent. The image of the crime scene photos flashes in your mind, and you know you have to control yourself if you want to make it out of here alive. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on coming up with a strategy. You know he had an idealized version of you in his head that is important to play into but also will be impossible to satisfy. You watch as he paces back and forth in frustration. You know you need to find a way to be that girl while trying to have him give up information. So you take another deep breath and put on a fake smile. 

“You’re right, Noah. I'm not being very nice. I’m very sorry. Do you think we could start over?” you ask sweetly. 

He stops in his tracks and whips his head to look at you, a sick smile toying from his lips. He walks slowly back over and sits back down in the chair. You do your best to try and look friendly and comfortable despite your current situation. 

“You know that was a special day for me too! It was one of the first times my team trusted me to handle something by myself. Meeting you was the cherry on top,”

“Really!?!”

“Yes, you helped me feel confident in my abilities to handle a crowd like that,” you say softly, knowing there was some truth in that.

“That was such a wonderful day together,” he says and returns his hand to your knee. “You know, after they took my statement, I tried to find you again and thank you ... but you were busy with him.” His grip is tightening. He goes quiet for a while, his grip not letting you up, making you bite your cheek in discomfort. 

“Who Noah?”

He looks up at you with a strange, broken look. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You felt your eyes go big; you couldn’t help it when it came to mentioning him. He stood up in a rage and flipped the chair. Making you jump and stifle a scream. 

“HE STOLE YOU FROM ME. FROM THE MOMENT YOU HELPED ME, CHER, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINE. BUT YOU HAD TO GO OFF AND LOVE HIM. A MAN WHO COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT YOU, CHER.”

“Noah, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t love him.” You say, trying to calm him down. 

“LIAR,”

“Please Noah-“

He comes back over and collapses to his knees, putting both hands tightly on your legs. 

“Then tell me you don’t love him.” 

You take a shaky breath. “I don’t love him.” Your voice came out uneasy. You knew it sounded like a lie despite your best efforts. Because all you could think about was Spencer. Imagining him saving you. Or simply being back in his arms on the couch. The mere thought of him was giving you hope. You knew you loved him and had loved him for many years now. Maybe Noah was right; maybe you even loved him in the early days. Despite being faced with death, you were only focusing on the thought of Spencer. A lie like this could never sound true. You didn’t want to, but tears started falling from your eyes. 

“I told you this wouldn’t work if you lied to me.” He says his whole demeanor is changing. He was grabbing so tight you knew there would be bruises. He stands up and slaps you again and again. The ring on his finger leaves cuts. You were dizzy and disoriented, trying to focus on the memory of Spencer. But he keeps slapping you until you're in and out of consciousness.

“TELL ME THE TRUTH,” He shouts and grabs your face. 

“I’m sorry. I love him. I love Spencer Reid,” you say, sobbing. 

You close your eyes tightly from pain, the room spinning. You never wanted to say it aloud like this. This was supposed to be a magical moment between the two of you, not this hellhole. You slowly opened them to see him completely defeated. 

“Noah, I'm sorry. I know you’re someone I will fall in love with, and we can forget all about him. I promise.” 

“Really, Cher,” he says like a little kid being promised a new toy. 

“Yes, Noah, I promise, but I need you to help me. I can’t fall in love with you like this.” You say and gesture to your tied hands. 

“I knew it, y/n. I knew this would be worth it. You know I moved here for you. Made sure to move right down the road from you.” This made your eyes flick to the camera, begging for help. “Then I made sure to follow your every move. To be able to see your perfection up close,” he says, then reaches up to wipe away your tears. 

“I appreciate all the effort you’ve taken. It shows how much you truly care. This garage-“ Your eyes flickered up. “It is so beautiful and welcoming for me. You’ve done a great job, Noah. Thank you.” You say with a broken smile. 

“I know I had to use the rest of my money to rent it, but it was all worth it to get you to notice me back!” 

This truly was a secondary location, not even located at his house. Making this a whole hell of a lot harder to find. You gave him a second to see if he’d say anything else while trying to plan what else you could say to get information. 

“Thank you.” You pause before taking a leap of faith. “Noah, what will my last name be when we get married?” 

He lights up like a Christmas tree. “Mrs. Y/n Broussard!” He says excitedly. This makes you crack a genuine smile because you just knew the team was watching this, and now they had his name, face, and idea of the location. But then his eyes flick to his watch, and he jumps up.

“Wait, Noah! Where are you going? Please don’t leave me here,” you say desperately. 

“I have to get to work. I’ll be back, I promise.” 

“No, no, no, Noah, please stay with me. I’m so lonely without you. I’ve spent so much time without you; I can’t take any more,” you plead, trying to buy into this delusion. 

He slows and comes back over and places his hand on the back of your head, then strokes your hair.

“You really want me to stay,” he asks softly.

“Please, please stay. You don’t need a job. I have enough money for the both of us. What’s mine is yours, right?” You say, trying to keep it together.

“You’re right, y/n. How about tomorrow we run away together. Start over fresh, and most importantly be together. I’d really like that. Cher, would you?”

Defeated, you nod in response. You look once more at the camera, sending a desperate plea that they find you. 

“Let me pack up here; then I’ll grab us some food,” he says, still stroking your hair. You nod slowly again and feel him walk away. You watch from the corner of your eye as he heads over to the bench and packs your stolen clothes away into bags. 

“Noah, tell me more about you. I wanna know it all. Please baby-” the last part making you feel utterly disgusted. You throw your head back, trying to keep your composure. 

“Yes, Cher. Well, you know I’m from Louisiana; we met there, of course. And that I was a reporter for my own small independent paper. You know I tried to get a job at a news station here, but those idiots stuck me in janitorial.” He says with a shake of his head. 

“I’m sorry. I know those stations are the worst. Which one was it?” you say with fake sweetness, still looking up at the ceiling.

“The one you work with all the time. Channel 8.” He says casually.

Great, even more places he probably watched you from. But a small smile tugged on your lips as you realized how much information he was giving up. He kept going on for a bit, saying some useful stuff and some not. If the team was watching, you were sure they had enough information. You knew they’d find you soon. But what if they weren’t watching? What if Garcia hadn't found it? Or if he lied and this wasn’t even being live-streamed. If they had no clue where you were or how to save you. That tomorrow he’d be taking you somewhere far away where the team may never find you. Anxiety grew in your stomach, and you put your head to your chest, trying to hide your sobs. You didn’t know how long it had been till you heard his boot steps come back over. He then lifted your chin to look at him. 

“What’s wrong, y/n?” he asks like your tears are the most bizarre thing in the world. 

“My wrists hurt, Noah. The rope burns. Could you please take them off?” you plead.

He looks at you, processing your words, then slowly nods. He walks behind you and places his hands on your shoulders. 

“Promise me you’ll keep being good,” he says softly.

“I promise.” 

He removes a hand to reach in his pocket. You hear a click, assuming some sort of pocket knife, and feel it as he heads towards your hands. He fully cuts you out and helps you to stand since your whole body is weak. You sigh in relief to feel your restraints off and are about to step out of his grasp when-

“FBI OPEN UP!”  Bangs sound from every door of the garage. 

You laugh in relief, but he pins you to his chest, and his knife quickly finds your throat as the door gets busted open and Derek Morgan rushes into the room, followed by SWAT and your other team members. 

“PUT THE KNIFE DOWN,” Morgan shouts, quickly coming in front of you with a gun aimed at Noah’s head.

You look at everyone helplessly as they surround the man above you. From the corner of your eye, you see Spencer approaching. Multiple people are shouting at Noah at this point, but his grip doesn’t waver. But then Spencer comes fully into view and steps next to Morgan. You lock eyes with him and a sob of relief rips from your throat. You feel Noah’s grip increasing and the knife coming dangerously closer to your neck. 

“Noah, put the knife down. You don’t want to hurt her.” Spencer says evenly, making Noah grumble.

“You love her, right, Noah?” Hotch adds.

“Of course I love her!” Noah shouts.

“But she doesn’t love you, Noah…she loves me. You said so yourself.” Spencer continues. 

“STOP-“

“She’ll never love you as she loves you. She’ll always be mine. Isn’t that right, y/n”

You know Noah looks down at you as his grip loosens up. You begin to speak, but Spencer interrupts you. 

“It doesn’t even matter that I don’t love her. Unlike you, I don’t even have to do anything, and she still loves me.” Spencer says snarkily. 

“STOP THAT'S NOT TRUE.” The hand with his knife had drooped down near your chest. You looked at the limp hand and, without thinking, you bit down as hard as you could. You tasted blood as he shouted, and the knife clambered to the floor. His other arm's grip around you loose and you force yourself free. Prentiss caught you as you threw your body towards her. The next part was a blur. Noah went rushing for Spencer, and without thinking, you grabbed Emily’s gun she had put back on her hip, aimed it at Noah, and pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening as he hit the floor. You instantly dropped the gun and fell back. Everything was going fuzzy. 

You weren’t quite sure what happened next. Someone pulled you up, and another checked Noah’s pulse. Confirming he was alive but in critical condition. They cuffed him and called for ems. They rushed you out to the ambulance, the blood of sunlight making your eyes burn, and everything went dark. 

——

You woke up in a foreign bed and to the sound of a beeping monitor. A hand was in yours, and you looked down to see Spencer dozing off, head on the bed.

“Spence,” You say hoarsely. 

His head whips up and looks at you. 

“DOCTOR SHE’S AWAKE!” He calls. 

“Spencer, Spencer, I’m alright,” you say, giving him a soft squeeze to the hand.

“Y/n, I was so worried about you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened. I’m sorry we couldn’t find you sooner. I never wanted you to be in this situation. It killed me to see you like that. To lie to him like that…” He said, crying.

“It’s not your fault, Spencer. You found me, that's all that matters.” 

He gave you a broken, small smile. He raised and buried himself into you, your weak arms coming to hold him. He pulled back and gave you a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“I love you y/n”

“I know.” 

The door opened to the dr and some other team members. Reid quickly pulled away and watched you closely as you got examined. You were okay, just suffering from extreme exhaustion, dehydration, and starvation. Having to stay in the hospital for recovery and monitoring. But Spencer stayed by your side the whole time, and the team visited constantly. Leaving your hospital room looking like a mini flower shop. The events that transpired didn’t fully hit you until you looked into the mirror. Deep bruises and cuts filled your cheeks and legs. You looked like hell. But it brought you comfort in knowing he could never hurt you again.

—-

It was a few days later, and Spencer was helping you leave the hospital. When you got in the car, he asked where you wanted to go, knowing you wouldn’t want to return home. You stared blankly for a moment, then down at the deep bruises scattered around your legs. 

“Take me back to the garage where he kept me.” 

“Y/n, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he started.

“I don’t give a damn; take me there.” You said sternly. 

Spencer knew you well enough to know nothing would change your mind. So he put the car into gear and drove. It was a little bit out of the city in a secluded spot. The garage was tucked at the edge of the property, away from the house. Spencer informed you that some old man rented it out to Noah while he was off vacationing in Florida for the winter. Figures. Your skin felt like it was crawling as he parked in front of the door. You immediately rushed out of the car, giving Spencer barely any time to follow you. You went around back to the door and flung it open. 

The sights and smells brought everything back. Everything had been marked for evidence, and it was clear they took stuff for processing, but enough remained to bring you right back in the moment. You slowly entered the room and walked towards the chair. You placed your hands on the wood as Spencer gently came behind you. You then noticed the dried blood on the floor.

The rage resurfaced in your chest. Your grip on the chair got tighter as you fixated on the spot. Eyes spilling tears, you forced yourself to look up, and your eyes caught the wall of pictures of you. You walked over there and began examining them. Feeling completely and utterly mortified at the sight. Realizing truly how he reached into every corner of your life and violated it. Trying to take it for his own. But he is gone now.