skull.

"Mom..."

You looked in the mirror, meeting your son's worried eyes.

"What's up, Bug?" You smiled softly before turning to him and crouching down to his level."What if they don't like me?" he asked, playing with the hem of his shirt.

"You are an amazing, bright, and kind eight-year-old boy. Why wouldn't they like you?" you asked gently, taking his hands in yours and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

"Dad already doesn't like me," he mumbled.

That broke your heart in two.

You never had the best relationship with his dad, Evan, but you'd tried hard to maintain the relationship between Theo and him. Eventually, the contact became less and less frequent, fading away completely a year ago when he started "his proper family." Now it was just birthday cards in the mail and occasional child support around Christmas and the beginning of the school year.

Theo had a half-sister he didn't know existed because you didn't want to hurt him even more.

"I'm sure that's not true, baby," you said softly, wrapping him in a hug.

"I love you so, so much, Bug. And I know Spencer loves you too. That's important, right? And he loves his friends. Do you think he would be friends with people who wouldn't notice what an amazing young man you are?"

Theo thought about it for a moment.

"No," he said eventually, though you still saw the doubt in his eyes.

"Exactly. He wouldn't. So how about we get you dressed in a nice shirt, pick up the cookies we made after school, and wait for Spencer? He should be here any minute."

You glanced at the clock above the bathroom door.

"Okay."

Theo kissed your cheek before grabbing your hand and leading you to his room.

You let him pick his favorite baby-blue button-down shirt with a Pokémon pattern on it, dark jeans, and Converse sneakers before packing two trays of space-shaped cookies into a container. The two of you had gone overboard with rocket, star, planet, and moon shapes.

At exactly 5:30, a soft knock sounded at the door before Spencer let himself in.

"Hi, guys! You ready to go?" he called from the hallway as you appeared.

"Almost ready."

You hurried over to kiss him hello, smiling as you wrapped your arms around him.

"Theo had a hard moment," you said quietly. "He got scared your team won't like him. He said... he said they might not like him because his dad doesn't. I don't know what to do, Spence."

You rested your forehead against his chest and closed your eyes for a moment.

"You want me to talk to him?" he asked softly, resting his cheek on top of your head.

"No, no. It's not your job to raise him and solve all the dad-not-present-related drama. I got this. I just needed—"

He stopped you right there, tilting your head up so you could see him. There was care in his eyes and a soft, reassuring smile on his lips.

"Hey, baby, stop. I love you, and I love your son. And if you let me help raise him in any way, it would be my honor."

You exhaled a shaky breath before nodding once.

"Alright," you whispered, unable to break eye contact. "Thank you, Spencer. I love you too. And I'm sure he does too."

He squeezed your hips reassuringly before stepping back.

"I'm gonna talk to him, and then we can go. Will you take the cookies out to the car in the meantime?"

Spencer knocked on Theo's partially open door and peeked inside.

"Hey, buddy." He smiled softly as he walked into the room. "Can I sit with you?"

"Yeah."

Reid sat down beside him, casually brushing his arm against Theo's in reassurance.

"Your mom told me you were worried about meeting my friends," he began, watching as Theo bit his lip and looked down.

"I also know they'll be thrilled to meet you."

He reached over and wrapped his fingers around Theo's small hand.

"You sure?" Theo looked up at him, still worried. "I don't want them to dislike me, 'cause then you'd dislike me, and you'd leave, and I don't want you to leave like Dad."

Tears filled his eyes as the fear of being abandoned again tightened in his chest.

"Heeey, don't cry, T."

Spencer immediately knelt in front of him and gently stroked his cheek with his thumb.

"I'm not going to leave you, okay? Never. I love you too much to do that. I'd miss you too much."

His heart broke just as yours had a few moments earlier.

"And I know my friends will love you too. Because they're my family. And you're my family. You and your mama. Sometimes the family we choose is more important than the one we're born into. And that's okay.

"I know you miss your dad, but I also know it's his loss that he walked out of your life. Because he won't get the pleasure of watching you grow up and do amazing things. And I'm freaking grateful that you let me witness it."

Theo stared at him for a moment, unable to put his feelings into words.

Instead, he leaned forward and threw himself into Spencer's arms, burying his face in his shirt.

Reid hugged him tightly, one arm around his back and the other in his hair.

"I love you too," Theo whispered into Spencer's neck.

"I know, buddy."

You arrived at the huge Rossi house ten minutes late. Spencer had called ahead to warn everyone about Theo's worries.

Theo walked between you and Spencer, holding both your hands when the door opened to reveal a bright blonde woman.

"Here's the big guy I've heard so much about! And the beautiful woman! Oh my God, I'm so happy to meet you! This genius boy was so secretive about you two that I wasn't sure you actually existed!"

"Y/N, Theo, meet Penelope Garcia. Pen, this is my girlfriend, Y/N, and my boy, Theo."

You saw the spark in Theo's eyes when Spencer called him his.

Penelope hugged you tightly before crouching down to give Theo the same warm welcome.

The rest followed. Hugs were exchanged, and then everyone was ushered to the table.

"I love your shirt!" Michael grinned at Theo, his missing tooth and mischievous smile on full display.

"Thank you! It's Charmander, my favorite!"

The conversation was easy, the food was delicious, and when Spencer brought out the cookies you'd made, everyone was over the moon.

"Theo, you baked these?" JJ asked, smiling as your son sat with her two boys on the couch.

"Yes! I helped Mama shape and decorate them, and she let me mix the eggs!"

He sounded so proud that you couldn't help smiling.

You looked over at Spencer as the boys started talking about space because apparently every boy that age wanted to be an astronaut. He smiled back, wrapping an arm around you so you could lean against him and enjoy the easy, pleasant evening with the people who were his family.

You watched Theo holding Morgan's hand as they searched for the best board game to play and couldn't help smiling when he hesitantly asked if he could call him Uncle, like Spencer had suggested.

Derek's eyes lit up immediately.

"Of course you can!"

He picked Theo up because apparently hugging his new nephew was necessary to make the arrangement official.

You stood in the doorway leading to the patio, wine glass in hand, watching Spencer perform magic tricks for the boys.

You sensed someone approaching but couldn't take your eyes off them.

"You're good for him," JJ said softly as she stepped beside you, her own glass in hand.

"I don't know why, but I could tell he was happier these last few months. Calmer. Checking his phone more. Now I know why."

She smiled and rubbed your arm gently.

"And I'm happy he found someone steady in his life."

Then she added quietly, "Just please don't break his heart."

You shook your head.

"How could I purposely break his heart when it would mean destroying three hearts in the process?"

You looked back at the boys just as Theo launched himself into Spencer's arms, laughing loudly.

Later, the boys were asleep on the couch, a tangle of limbs and soft breaths, while a video game still blinked on the television.

You and JJ collected abandoned devices while Will picked Henry up, leaving JJ to carry the younger boy.

You bent down to lift Theo when you felt a warm hand on your back.

"I've got him."

Spencer smiled and kissed the top of your head, so you simply watched as he carefully lifted your son into his arms before saying quiet goodbyes to the team.

You helped him with the door and buckled Theo into his car seat before climbing into the passenger seat.

"Thank you for today," you said, looking over at Spencer.

He didn't reply immediately. Instead, he leaned over and kissed you sweetly.

"Thank you for being here with me today. It's nice to finally share them with you. They already love you and Theo."

You smiled.

"I love them too. Let's go home, Spence."

"Yeah," he said softly. "Home."

You mesmerized him then, and you kept doing it every single day since he had basically moved into your little house.

Their latest victim was a teacher here and your coworker, so he was extra motivated to solve it as quickly as he could. You weren’t exactly friends with Aubrey, the murdered woman, but you weren’t enemies either.

“Looks like you’ve been here before,” Emily smiled as he confidently took a turn and walked up the stairs.

“I saw the map,” he mumbled as he stopped right at the door.

The truth was, he had picked up you and Theo so many times in the last few months that he could draw a map with his eyes closed. He knew your classroom was on the ground floor, second door to the left, and Theo’s was on the other side of the hall. But he would come up here for his French lessons every Tuesday.

The conversation with the principal was short but successful, giving them a few new leads that needed to be studied.

Spencer was about to thank his lucky stars that he hadn’t crossed paths with you yet, even though he desperately wanted to make sure you were okay, when they heard the loud ring and the hall suddenly filled with kids.

He looked around carefully as Derek and Hotch joined them after talking to some of the other teachers.

“Mr. Henderson said the victim was nervous the last few days. Extra jumpy. She had a note on her windshield a few days ago, but they assumed it was just a student prank,” Emily said quietly, looking around. The last thing she wanted was for some barely-teenager to overhear them.

Spencer opened his mouth to add his thoughts when a little body ran right into him and wrapped tiny arms around his waist.

“Spence! Hi! Are you here to pick me up? Mom said you’d be busy, but you’re here!”

Big blue eyes looked up at him hopefully as Spencer put an arm around the boy, exhaling nervously. At least he knew your son was safe.

“Hey, buddy. No, I’m here for work, I’m sorry. But I’ll try to pick you up from soccer practice tomorrow. How does that sound?” he asked, smiling at him while holding him steady against his body.

Hotch stilled, looking between his agent and the child. Morgan’s jaw dropped slightly, and Emily’s expression became a mix of shock and confusion.

“Alright...” Theo sighed, looking around the hall. “Mom said she’d be here soon. She doesn’t want me taking the bus today.”

“I’m sure she planned something fun for the two of you then,” Spencer nodded, smiling down at him, trying to cheer him up a little.

Reid knew how much Theo loved taking the bus with his friends after school.

“Can I call you tonight? Mom wasn’t sure. She said you might be too busy.”

“You can always call me, buddy. I’ll be waiting for your call,” Spencer smiled warmly just as you approached them.

Reid looked at you with those puppy eyes, immediately noticing the nervousness in your expression and the way you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Hi, baby. Is everything alright?”

You looked at him and then at the three other agents, biting your lip uncertainly.

“Hi. Yes, everything’s fine.”

“We’re here for a case,” Spencer explained softly. “You have nothing to worry about. We’re just talking to some people who worked with Aubrey.”

He wrapped his other arm around you and kissed your forehead. You relaxed instantly at the gesture, melting slightly into his side.

“Baby? Buddy? What are we missing here, Reid?” Derek’s voice cut through the air as he stared at the two of you dumbfounded.

Hotch seemed to shake off the initial shock, but Emily’s eyes bounced back and forth between the three of you.

Spencer sighed as he looked up at them with a shy smile, refusing to let go of either of you.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N, and her son, Theo. Guys, this is Emily, Derek, and Hotch.”

“Girlfriend? Son?” Derek blinked at him before you could properly introduce yourself.

“Yeah. For a few months now,” you confirmed with a smile.

Theo bounced excitedly between the two of you, thrilled that he finally got to meet Spencer’s coworkers.

“Seven months, three days, and fourteen hours officially,” Spencer corrected.

You giggled at his response and shook your head before focusing back on the three agents.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I guess the secret’s out.”

This was definitely not how you expected to meet his friends.

You had planned on inviting them over once you finished your backyard garden and hosting a barbecue, not running into them after a full day of classes in the middle of a busy school hallway. You probably had marker stains on your shirt and glitter on your cheek from the art projects you did with the first graders.

Theo, on the other hand, looked mesmerized as he took in the guns peeking out from their belts.

“Woooow, are you cool agents like Spence? You chase bad guys?”

You couldn’t help but smile softly at your son.

“Yes, sweetie, these are Spencer’s friends, and they’re working right now, so we’re going to say goodbye and let them do their jobs, okay?”

You took Theo’s backpack and threw it over your shoulder.

Spencer immediately took it from you, shaking his head.

“I’ll carry it to your car. See you guys in a minute?” he asked, waiting for a nod from Hotch before he started walking away with one arm around you and his other hand wrapped around Theo’s smaller one.

“Hope to properly meet you soon,” you called over your shoulder with a smile before turning back toward where Spencer was leading you.

“Alright, I knew he’d been different these last few months, but who would’ve thought our Spencer would be a stepdad in the making?” Emily asked as she watched the three of you walk away.

“Alright, man, what the fuck?” Derek looked at Spencer, clearly hurt by the secret family his friend had kept hidden from them.

“I know, I know. But I’m not sorry,” Spencer admitted. “I needed to make sure it was going to work out before I introduced you guys. And I was planning to. At the FBI family picnic next month.”

“I get that. But for half a year? A woman with a son? Are you sure, brother? Those are big shoes to fill.”

He studied Spencer carefully, noticing how protective his posture had become, like he was physically ready to shield you and Theo from any criticism.

“I love her,” Spencer said simply. “And I love Theo. I just... needed them to be mine for a little while before I shared them with anyone. And yes, Morgan, I’m sure. They walked into my life accidentally, and since then, I can’t imagine my life without either of them.”

His voice softened with affection as he spoke about you and Theo.

“So... now that the secret’s out, are you bringing her to Rossi’s on Friday?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, I guess so. If she wants to. I need to tell JJ too. Maybe she can bring the boys so Theo has someone to play with.”

“I’m guessing she already knows by now. Morgan made Garcia run a background check on your girl,” Emily teased.

Reid looked at his friend in horror.

“You did not.”

“Oh, but I did,” Morgan grinned. “And I like what I learned about Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

He opened the door to the black SUV so they could head back to the office.

“Or maybe I should say future Mrs. Reid?”

When he proposed the idea, everyone quickly agreed. No officer would have to fill the position, they wouldn’t have to wait for an applicant, and they could trust you would get the job done correctly. Now what they didn’t imagine happening is the Chief of police suddenly not knowing how to behave.

The first few weeks, Leon checked up on you to make sure everything was going smoothly while you were being trained. You adjusted rather quickly. He’d stay by the desk, flirt with you for a couple minutes, and return to his office.

Then the following months, the visits became more frequent. He’d start dropping by multiple times throughout the day, and stayed longer than he was supposed to. He loved having you working at the station. He could see you and talk to you any time he wanted.

And although it was sweet, it threw off the function of the second floor where the officers really needed him to be. They took matters into their own hands and limited him to one daily visit.

That ended up backfiring as soon as the rule was implemented. They saw him heading downstairs, and made a note he was taking his daily visit. So, they minded their business and went back to working.

Hours passed, someone was on the phone to speak with him. The officer tried to ring him, but he wasn’t picking up. Unusual for him. She stood up from her desk and quickly rushed to his office, just to not see Leon there at all.

The man had the entire floor looking for him because the call was important. The bathroom, the library, the archive room, the weapons room. They were practically seething when they found him sitting behind the receptionist desk with you.

All he said was, “You said one visit, not that I had to come back.”

They didn’t blame you since you were actually getting your work done.

They were honestly debating whether or not they should enforce the whole no dating in the workplace rule again. But it didn’t make sense considering you two were married and so were Captains Chris and Jill Redfield of S.T.A.R.S.

So they found the only other solution.

The following work week, Leon got banned from the first floor.

He took it to the heart. He watched you from the second floor like some Victorian yearner until he got sent back to his office by one of his lieutenants.

He tried to sneak past them on several occasions. Sometimes it worked. Other times?

“Chief! Don’t you go down those stairs!”

Leon huffed. He was so close this time. He’d made it halfway down. He glared at the officer standing at the top of stairs. You were at the reception desk, going through mail the station received. He wanted to use the excuse that he was going to pick something up, but they’d just say they would bring it to him. He reluctantly turned around and went right back up.

He passed the sign holder by the stairs made for him that said, “Lunch is at 1PM. Shift ends at 6PM.”

It got bad enough that they assigned someone to keep an eye on him.

The new rookie that joined was so confused why they told him not to allow Chief Kennedy on the first floor under any circumstances besides lunchtime and when it was time to go. Plus, they didn’t even go into detail as to why the Chief was banned from the first floor. They said it so ominously, as if the world would end if he made it down there.

Technically, it was an easy task. His office door was always shut, no matter what. If it ever opened, the loud creaking would alert the rookie and he’d tell his superior the first floor was off limits.

Today, Leon opened his office door cautiously. His officers were overwhelmed at their desks, especially the rookie who was stuck babysitting him. Paperwork was due at the end of the week. Everyone was trying to get it done so they wouldn’t have to stay late on a Friday night.

Perfect. He slipped out unnoticed. He left the door at a crack. If he closed it now, it might catch their attention and he refused to lose this golden opportunity. He kept his body against the wall, heading in the direction of the stairs.

You were making copies of forms. While the printer did the task for you, you swiveled your chair to the computer again to check on an email. Just as you were doing that, there came your husband rushing down the stairs. Leon made it to the bottom step and walked across the lobby towards the reception desk.

Oh great. What was he planning now? Your hand hovered over the phone, ready to call one of the lieutenants. But you didn’t since your husband wasn’t staring directly at you, rather the staircase on your right. He dug his hand in the pocket of his pants and pulled out a slip of paper.

Leon carefully slid it across the counter, and continued walking without looking at you.

The paper was folded in half. You raised a brow. He was probably asking you to meet him in the filing room again. You grabbed the paper and opened it.

“What the…” You muttered.

Do you like me?

Two options. One box said yes, and the other box said yes. You furrowed your brows.

You looked to your right. Leon was leaning against the stair railing. He drew a heart in the air with his pointer fingers and then winked at you. Your eyes followed as he went up to the second floor.

Reminder: File a complaint.

You clicked your pen. Underneath the two boxes, you drew a third one. Right beside it you wrote, “No”, and checked it.

“Is he here?” You glanced up. The rookie was out of air after running down a flight of stairs. Poor boy was carrying the fate of the world on his shoulders and he refused to let it end. That or he thought he might get fired for not keeping Chief Kennedy in check.

It must've been the meds kicking in, lulled you to a nap, blunted your senses to this syrupy haze. The pain in your lower belly has dulled to a tolerable, constant ache rather than something sharp and crippling. When you sit up, the crocheted blanket—handmade and gifted by Penelope a few years ago—slips from your shoulders and pools over your waist.

Meanwhile, pandemonium seems to happening in your kitchen.

You can hear your daughter giggling wildly. Spencer's groans are muffled, and a suffocating, smoky scent finally wafts to the living room and reaches you from your position on the couch.

You squint at the clock on the far end of the room and huff when it stays blurry. And then, footsteps, light and quick, followed by a delighted gasp.

"Mommy wakey!" she announces loudly—probably for her father's sake.

Beatrice.

Your daughter hurls herself on your lap before you even see her, but your arms band around her tiny form in reflex. A soft oof leaves your lips from the impact. Somehow, some part of you still expects her to weigh the same as she did when she was still a crawling baby. Like the way she's growing hasn't registered completely, or perhaps it's the speed at which she's growing that's throwing you off.

She used to be so tiny.

Now, you're convinced she would have knocked your glasses off, had you been wearing them.

"Hi, honeybee," you press your nose into her halo of rumbled curls, the exact same texture as Spencer's. She smells like smoke and baby powder, "What have you been up to?"

"Cooking!" she says proudly, her hands resting on your chest. Right over your heart, which feels close to bursting when her face scrunches seriously, an expression that doesn't seem to fit her chubby-cheeked loveliness. "Mommy feel better?"

"Yes, mommy feels better now, thank you."

"No more blood?"

You wince, remembering her panic earlier when you'd bled through your dress after lunch. Her only conscious experiences with blood have so far been limited to skinned knees, so Beatrice had thought you'd gotten a scrape on your butt somehow.

"Well, there's still some blood. But mommy's better."

"Daddy says you—you peeing blood."

You have to bite your lip to stifle a laugh. "Did he now?"

"Yes," your daughter nods gravely, settling herself on your lap. She places a sticky hand to your cheek in a vaguely reassuring way. It's a gesture she'd learned from watching Spencer. "Daddy says you peeing blood and I have to be good so you rest."

Maybe it's her matter-of-fact tone, or the way the words stumble from her lips in her clear, lightly lisping voice, but your mouth finally curls into a grin. You tuck her to your chest so you can have a moment to silently giggle without her thinking she's being laughed at, and reach forward for your glasses.

They're sitting neatly on the coffee table, folded and completely free of any stains. Spencer must have cleaned them when you fell asleep, just as he'd covered you in the blanket.

"What else has daddy said?" you ask, slipping your glasses on.

The world sharpens into focus. The bookshelves lining the sage walls, now home to multiple children's books and framed pictures—you and Spencer had moved your joint collection in the newly refurbished basement not long after Beatrice had been born. There's a TV that rarely gets used, and an open chest of toys.

In the heart of it all, you and your daughter, on the couch, perfectly content.

"It's every… every month. And it hurt." Beatrice says, brows furrowing in focus as she recalls her own version of Spencer's explanation.

"I pee blood every month, huh?"

"I did not say you pee blood!" comes Spencer's flustered voice. He pads from the kitchen with his own glasses so low on his nose you're afraid they'll slip right off. Sweat gleams from his forehead, beading down his temples.

"Did too!" Beatrice exclaims.

You laugh, reaching a hand out to him. "It's okay, it's a pretty close approximation."

Spencer is pink as he holds your outstretched palm, though you're not sure if it's from the stress or from embarrassment. He settles on the couch beside you, tucking your hand to his chest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't really expect her to start asking about that and had to improvise."

Of course, neither of you had anticipated it. Beatrice is a little too young to be having the talk, but she's also… Beatrice. Daughter of two professors who, at their core, have lived for the pursuit of knowledge their whole lives. If anything, it's naive on you and Spencer's part to have been unprepared for this.

You're still grinning, holding Beatrice to your chest with one arm, cheek resting on the crown of her head. "You didn't expect our daughter, with our combined genes, to start asking questions?"

"You're right," Spencer admits with a sheepish laugh, "She's got the curious instincts of researchers and scholars."

"Exactly. This won't be the first she pursues a topic through rigorous questioning, right Bea?"

Beatrice nods, even though she looks a little lost from the adult conversation.

You smile and kiss her brow. "You're a smart girl, Bea."

She giggles, tickled by the compliment. "Like you?"

Spencer's free hand ruffles her hair. "Exactly. Smart, just like mommy."

The words land somewhere unexpectedly tender. It would've been so easy to claim that for himself; he's the genius between the two of you, after all. But he doesn't. Didn't even insert himself and say like mommy and daddy, which would have been objectively true.

You look up with the softest exhale, eyes misting. He grins, lifts your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles. A soft, warm look settles on his face, as reassuring as it is loving.

"You're feeling better now? Do you need more meds?" he asks, casual and sweet and perfect, as if he hadn't just undone you only moments ago.

"No, no, I'm all right." you scoot closer to him. Spencer lets go of your hand to wrap an arm over your shoulder, tugging you gently until you're tucked to his side. On your lap, Beatrice yawns and blinks at the two of you.

For a moment, it's silent. A perfect snapshot of peace. Your chest tightens a little more, some invisible force strangling your throat.

"You could've woken me up, you know, to help with dinner." you murmur.

"I can handle it."

Your brows raise, head tilting up so you can pin him with an incredulous glare. "It still smells burnt in here, Spence."

"It's not that bad."

"Really? What are we having, then? Char with a side of chicken?"

"Daddy burn the oven." Beatrice supplies seriously.

Spencer shakes with laughter. "No, the chicken just burned inside the oven, honeybee."

Beatrice pouts as she considers, dimples on her cheeks deepening. She's got your coloring, but the most noticeable features are Spencer's—messy curls, massive hazel eyes, a collection of dimples exactly in the same spots as his.

"But dinner," you say with a groan, "I'll go see—"

"You don't have to cook, darling," he interrupts, his arm around you tightening to prevent you from moving, "I've already ordered takeout. Lo mein for you, of course."

You swear you've lost the ability to breathe. It never quite settles, this realization that he knows you to the bone. Well enough to anticipate your needs, to provide without being asked. That he'll keep doing them without expectation or prompting.

"And extra wontons!" Beatrice adds enthusiastically, "because mommy likes them, even when she says she don't."

Oh. Now there's two of them.

You don't think the twisting in your chest will ever stop, but at least now you know it's not a bad feeling. It never was, even in those early days, before Beatrice, before building a life together.

You recognize it for what it is now.

You laugh. It's a thin, watery sound. Spencer pulls you even closer, warm lips pressed to your temple.

"You stay right here," he whispers, nosing a line down your cheek, "With us."

"Only if we keep getting snuggles."

Spencer squeezes his arms around the two of you playfully in response, tight enough that Beatrice is overcome with giggles, not loosening until you wheeze a laugh yourself.

In his arms, with your daughter in your lap, the period cramps feel like a distant memory.

x

Your car slows down on a desolate road in the middle of nowhere. You curse and slam the back of your head into the headrest. You knew you should have gotten gas when you were at the station. You thought you’d have enough to reach the next one. Guess not. You take out your phone and curse again when you see there are no bars.

Of course, this would fucking happen to you.

Tears prick your eyes, but you try your best not to let them fall. All you can hear is your dad’s voice in your head, lecturing you on why you shouldn’t have let yourself get in this situation. Then you hear him yell at you to leave the house and not to come back. So, that’s what you did. You left a year ago and haven’t contacted your parents since.

You miss them every fucking day, but you’re scared to go home. You’re scared to face your dad’s angry words. Would they turn you away? Would they ignore you? Or would they welcome you with open arms?

He yelled at you in a fit of anger, so you’re not sure if he meant them or not. He’s taught you some valuable lessons in life, but when you fucked up badly, he got so pissed that you’d get yourself in that situation in the first place. Your mom tried to calm him down, but it was no use.

He said to leave, so you did.

If he could see you now, smoke would certainly come from his ears.

Okay, you have two options: you can either walk to the nearest gas station to buy enough gas to get you there, or you can walk far enough to get some bars to call for help. Either way, you have to walk. There is no way you’re spending the night in the middle of an empty road for anyone to come and attack you.

You grab your coat, your phone, and your wallet before leaving the car. You lock it and start walking in the direction you were heading. You’re too far to turn back to the last gas station you were at, so the only way to go is forward.

As you walk, you’re constantly checking your phone for bars.

You walk for what seems like hours when you see it. Not a gas station. A house. A farmhouse. Through the moonlight, you can see the tall building in the distance. You’re not sure how far you’ve got to walk, so maybe there is someone there to help you. Maybe they’ll have a can of gas you can use.

With your dad’s voice screaming in your head not to go there, you walk in that direction. There is no paved driveway, but there is a dirt trail that’s been used by cars so often that there is a clear path through the woods.

The closer you get, the clearer it is that this place might be abandoned. All the lights are off inside the house, and there are no cars anywhere in sight. Still, that doesn’t mean anyone isn’t home.

The house is two stories with a wrap-around porch, but the wood seems a bit rotten with the way it’s crumbling. As you climb the porch steps, you think the wood is going to break apart with the way it’s groaning under your weight.

“This is so stupid,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m gonna get killed here, and no one will ever find my body.”

You knock on the door and wait for someone to answer. One, two, three seconds pass before you knock again. No answer. You’re about to leave when you hear voices drift through the wind. They’re not coming from inside. It’s more like they’re coming from around the house. Maybe there are people here.

You leave the porch and follow the sound of voices to the very tall barn in the back of the property. The door is slightly ajar, and the sounds of voices get stronger with every step.

This is a very bad idea. It might be, but what other choice do you have? You don’t know how long you’d be walking, and you might have been worse off if you kept walking. You push the door open and step inside, seeing four specific things that make your blood run cold.

One, there are guns and other weapons on almost every table inside the barn.

Two, there are drugs tightly packed into wrapped rectangles stacked in the back.

Three, on one table, looks to be a homemade device with wires sticking out of it. You know a bomb when you see one. Your dad works in the bomb department on his SWAT team.

Four, five angry men stare you down with deadly looks on their faces.

You should have kept walking. This place is abandoned for a reason, and now you know why. For five seconds, nothing is said between you and the men. It takes a second to process what’s happening before you turn tail and sprint away from the barn.

“Get her!” one of the men yells.

That causes you to push faster into the dense woods on either side of the dirt trail. Branches whip at your skin, tearing at it as if the trees want to keep you there. The sound of multiple footsteps storms behind you, but you don’t dare look back. You keep your gaze purely on the ground before you, so you don’t trip over logs or rocks in your path. You absolutely hate when a woman is running in a movie and always trips over something, like they can’t fucking run.

You don’t actively run anymore, but you used to run track in high school.

Just when you think you’re about to get to the road, arms wrap around your waist. You scream in terror as you fall to the ground. Whoever grabbed you falls heavily on top of you, causing the air in your lungs to whoosh out of you quickly.

“Got you,” the man sneers in your ear.

The last thing you see is a rock flying toward your head, and the last thing you feel is that same rock smashing against your skull.

When you come to, you hear multiple voices asking you if you’re okay. What happened? Where am I? It takes you a moment to remember what you walked in on. Running through the woods. Getting caught. Getting knocked out.

Your eyes shoot open in a panic, and you see several people standing over you with concerned looks on their faces. What? What is happening? A small crowd is forming around you. None of these people looks like the men you encountered last night. Plus, the sun is shining high in the sky. Wherever you are, you’re not at that farmhouse.

“Are you okay?” a woman asks.

“Um…” Your throat is scratchy and dry. You need water. “Where am I?”

“Washington D.C.” D.C.? How the hell did you make it here? What is happening?! “Here, let me help you up.”

Two hands grab yours, and you’re hauled off the ground to your feet. Your head is pounding from where you were hit, but you don’t feel pain anywhere else. What did those guys do to you? You look down and see a huge coat draped over your shoulders. You weren't wearing this last night.

The coat is so big that it slips off your shoulders, revealing what’s underneath. Two seconds pass before panic erupts around you. People are screaming. They’re running. No, they’re running away from you. People are on the phone as they run and scream in a panic.

A soft beeping noise sounds, and you look down to see one of your worst nightmares come to life. The bomb that the men were making? It’s strapped to your chest with a red countdown in the middle of it. T-minus one hour.

“Oh, God,” you mutter in horror.

What happens next happens in a blur. The entire area is blocked off in minutes. Police come storming the area where you are, staying behind their cars with their guns raised. You hold your very shaky hands up in surrender with tears streaming down your face.

“Please, don’t shoot!” you beg. “This isn’t my fault! I don’t know what’s happening!”

No one approaches you. You have no idea how to turn the bomb off or if it’ll even go off. These guys could have made a real bomb to hurt as many people as they could, or they could have made a fake to instill as much fear as they could. You don’t want to stick around to see which fate is yours.

“Please believe me,” you cry. “I had nothing to do with this!”

The police don’t come near you, but that doesn’t mean they sit back and do nothing. Ten minutes later, the FBI shows up along with the SWAT team. If your dad is here, you’d be absolutely mortified. He’d be so disappointed in you. Even news reporters are setting up along the perimeter to report the situation.

“What do we know?” Hotch asks the chief of police.

“We got a call about a woman with a bomb strapped to her chest. We don’t know more than that. None of our men have gone in, but there is a timer. Fifty minutes left.”

Spencer Reid steps through the crowd to get a better look at you. He raises his binoculars to get a better look at you, and what he sees is… someone who could not have done this. You’re shaking like a leaf, trying hard to stay still. Tears are rolling down your cheeks with no hints of stopping. Your chest is moving rapidly, a clear sign of panicking. There is more to the story than what is known.

“Hotch, let me go in there,” Spencer says. “Let me talk to her.”

“Take a SWAT member with you.”

Spencer waits for one of the SWAT members before walking slowly toward you.

You’re having a heart attack. You’re going to die. You’re not going to get to grow older and fall in love. You’re only twenty-nine. There are things you still need to do. This isn’t happening. My parents are going to be so disappointed in me. I want to go home. I want my mom and dad. You can’t control your breathing even if you try. You’re going to pass out soon if you don’t calm down.

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks when he’s close enough. You can’t focus on anything right now. Blood is pumping so hard in your ears, it’s hard to hear anything else. Tears are making your vision blurry, so you can’t focus on the two people walking up to you. I’m gonna die. I’m going to die, and my parents don’t even know what’s going on. “Hey, focus on me. I need you to calm down. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you answer while hiccupping and stuttering.

“I’m Spencer Reid with the FBI. Y/N, can you take a deep breath for me?” The SWAT member walks closer and inspects the bomb more closely. “Don’t focus on him. Keep your eyes on me.” You snap your eyes back to him. “Take a deep breath.”

For the next minute, you try to control your breathing enough to get a sentence out. “I didn’t have anything to do with this. I swear! I don’t know how to take this off or how to stop the timer. Please help me!”

“I believe you, but I’m going to need you to calm down. This won’t work if you’re panicking. I know this is scary, but keep taking deep breaths for me.”

You take several deep but shaky breaths. “You believe me?”

“Yes. Can you tell me what happened?”

“My car ran out of gas last night. I decided to walk to the next gas station, and I came across this farmhouse. I thought someone there would be able to help me.” You look down and see there are now forty-two minutes left. “Oh, God. I’m gonna die.”

Spencer steps as close as he can and grabs the sides of your face so he can tilt your head up. “Just focus on me, okay? Keep going. What happened when you got to the farmhouse?”

“Um, I heard voices from the barn and decided to walk over there. There were five men inside with guns and weapons and drugs and a bomb on the table. This one. I ran as fast as I could to get away, but they got to me. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here. Spencer, please get this off me,” you plead.

“We’re working on that.” He looks at the SWAT member. “How’s it looking?”

“Definitely homemade. The lock looks complicated, as does the setup. I can either work on getting it off her, or I can work on disabling it.”

“Unlock it!” you cry. “Get it off me!”

“Disable it,” Spencer says to the man. “Do whatever you have to do to disable it.”

The man nods and turns back to the bomb.

“Spencer, I need this off me.”

“Y/N, this will mean nothing if it explodes with it off you. We need you to be as still as you can, okay? Can you tell me more about what happened last night?”

Spencer works hard to keep your focus on what happened last night instead of the bomb on your chest. You tell him exactly what happened as best as you can, and he’s right there to bring your focus back when it wavers. Once Spencer gets enough of the story, he tries to leave you.

“No! Spencer! Don’t leave me, please,” you beg.

“I’m just going right over there. I’m not leaving.”

You grab his hand and grip it tightly. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to die alone.”

“You’re not going to die.” He can see the desperation in your eyes and the panic that will surely follow. “I’ll stay right here. I won’t leave.”

He can see the slight relief sag in your shoulders. Whatever will help you stay calm. He turns around and presses his finger to the comms in his ear. “Hotch, I need you over here.”

Hotch breaks apart from the team and walks over to you. “What’s going on?”

“The unsubs we’ve been looking for did this to her.”

“Are you sure?”

Spencer tells him exactly what you told him. “We profiled that there’d be a team involved with drugs and weapons hiding out not far from here. Five of them exactly. It’s not a coincidence.” Spencer looks at you. “Where is that farmhouse?”

You stutter, “I don’t know. Up north, I think. I don’t really remember those details.”

“I’ll get Garcia on it. Stay with her.”

Hotch is already walking away, dialing who you presume to be Garcia on the phone. The minutes count down too quickly for you, and before you know it, twenty minutes have gone by with no progress. The SWAT member has been close enough to you for long enough for you to understand that he is panicking. He’s trying not to let it show, but you can see it.

“God, my dad is gonna kill me,” you cry.

“What do you mean?” Spencer asks.

He hasn't left your side, and he hasn’t let go of your hand. Half of his team and a handful of SWAT members left the area, so Spencer thinks they may have found out where the unsubs are hiding out. Maybe in that farmhouse.

“I haven’t been home in a year. I fucked up, and my dad yelled at me to go, so I did.”

“What did you do?

“I got into a car knowing the driver was high on drugs. We were just around the corner, so I didn’t think it would have been a big deal. When I was in the car, we didn't get into an accident, but after I left… My friend wrapped his car around a tree. He was DOA. My dad found out and yelled at me for being irresponsible. I know I was, but in that moment… He told me to leave, so I did, and I haven’t been back since.” Tears roll down your cheeks. “God, I was so mean to him. He must hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Spencer says softly.

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t, but from what you just told me, he was worried about you getting hurt. Rightfully so. I’m sure whatever he said was because of his anger, not his true feelings.”

“I’m gonna die here, and he doesn’t even know,” you cry and start shaking.

“I need you to stay still,” the SWAT member says.

Spencer grabs the sides of your face, and he wipes your tears away. “You’re not going to die. We’re going to get this off you, and you’re going to get to see your dad again.”

“You don’t know that,” you cry.

“No, I don’t,” he whispers. “But if I don’t have faith, then I don’t have anything. Don’t give up on me.”

The SWAT member starts sweating when the timer gets down to ten minutes. His hand actually starts shaking when it gets down to five minutes. Spencer has been trying to keep you distracted by asking you questions about yourself, but you lost focus when you caught a glimpse of the timer.

“Martha and Stuart Jameson. 830 Charleston Street, Richmond, Virginia. 804-555-0191.” Spencer looks at you. “Please call my parents and tell them that I’m sorry and I love them so much.”

Spencer stares deep into your eyes. “Tell them yourself.”

Spencer doesn’t want you watching the timer, but you can’t help but stare at them. They seem to move faster than time should, but maybe that’s your growing panic.

Four minutes.

Three.

Two and a half.

Thirty seconds.

“Spencer, you need to go. Get out of here. Please. You shouldn’t have to die because of my mistake.”

“I’m not leaving you. How are you doing?” Spencer asks the SWAT member.

“I’ve almost got it…”

Ten.

Nine.

“Spencer, go!”

Eight.

Seven.

“I’m not leaving you.”

Six.

Five.

Four.

The timer stops, and the SWAT member falls back onto his heels with a relieved sigh. “I got it.”

Getting the damn bomb off you doesn’t take nearly as long as stopping it from going on, so the second it’s off you, you collapse to the ground. Spencer catches you before you can hit the ground, and he lowers to the ground with you in his arms. You’re shaking like a leaf, crying hard into his chest.

The SWAT member carefully brings the bomb away from you to a container that can hold bombs in it. They will need to disable it when they can get to a safe spot.

“You’re okay. It’s over. You’re safe now,” Spencer whispers to you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you sob.

“Listen, when you’re ready, we’re going to the station where you can give a formal statement, and then I’m going to take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper.

You black out most of the time you’re at the station to give your statement. You have no idea if those men will be caught, but that’s not your problem anymore. All you want is to go home.

Spencer stays true to his word and drives you to your parents' house in Richmond. Spencer doesn’t go with you but stays in the car while you walk up the steps to the front door. Before you can reach it, the door flings open, and your mom comes rushing out with tears rolling down her cheeks.

You slam into her chest and hug her while crying, and she says something to you that Spencer can’t hear. Your dad walks out of the house, and you pull away from your mom to look at him. No words needed. He holds his arms out, and you run into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Spencer smiles at the small reunion. He called them before dropping you off, so they knew you were on your way over. He knows you’re going to be okay. You peer over your shoulder at Spencer just as he drives away. You wonder if you’re ever going to see Spencer again. You hope so. He saved your life in more ways than one.

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