#unsub

As soon as the exams were done and it turned out you were completely fine (very inaccurately, by the way), the head doctor responsible for you warned that the FBI was there, asking if you were ready to talk. Since you had nothing to do but to mourn the past events, you told him yes.

The room was empty for less than 10 seconds, because right then you heard a knock and then three agents walked in. Two women, and a man. You examined their faces as the beautiful blonde introduced them.

“Hi, we’re with the B.A.U. You can call me JJ,” she pointed to the brunette behind her “This is SSA Emily Prentiss and he’s is Doctor…”

Your eyes followed her fingers, widening at the size of the man you’ve been crushing for the past months. He’s a customer at the library you work at, and you bonded by your mutual interest in mythology. You were aware he worked at the FBI, since he always stopped by at ungodly hours, sat on one of the empty tables (usually all of them), ordered two coffees (one for you, always) and told you all the interesting details of his last case.

“Spencer!” you interrupted, relief falling over you from seeing one familiar face.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, his big brown eyes scanning you. You hated that you didn’t know how you looked, hoping it wasn’t too messed up.

“I’ve been better.” you managed, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Do you remember you got here?”

You pressed your lips together “Not really. I’m sorry.”

Spencer gave you a weak smile, his cheeks blushed “I found you. The lights were still on so I thought you were there. That’s when I found you.” his face had an apology all over it “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” 

Not being ready to face the emotional repercussions of what just happened, you chose to ignore the last bit. “You came to visit me?”

Somehow he got even shyer, nodding towards the table close to the widow. That’s when you first saw it: a water glass with a bouquet full of lilies and baby breaths, wrapped in what seemed to be a journal. It was roughly done, wrapped with a shoelace, with crossword puzzles all over the paper. You realized he did it for you.

“Perfect timing, right?” he joked, his tone as self-deprecating as his expression.

“Spencer…” you cooed, your heart aching on your chest. It was all you ever wanted, but now that pretty dream of yours turned into a nightmare.

“We’re here to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind.” JJ chimed in, seemingly embarrassed to ruin the moment but also wanting to get this over with “It will be quick, anything you say will be helpful.” she promised, apologetic.

You nodded, sitting up properly. Emily and JJ started asking you about last night: what you were doing there, time wise, what your ex was doing there, did you fight often, if you remembered hearing anything or noticing something weird. There wasn’t much you could do, but you answered all of the questions to the best of your ability. Spencer stayed there, explaining the procedure and the nature of the questions, calming you down immediately. His presence was comforting, it took the darkness of it all (if that was even possible).

“That was very helpful.” Emily thanked, smiling warmly at you “Do you mind doing a cognitive? Sometimes your subconscious picks up on more than you realize, and every little detail can help us build the profile to catch who did this to you.”

Spencer chimed in, explaining how it was done and the reasoning behind it, calming your nerves. You thanked him with a nod, agreeing to help.

You closed your eyes.

“Okay, walk us through that night. The last customer left, what time was it?” you heard JJ’s calming voice. You rested your head back on the pillow and sighed, rewatching the scene unfolding in your mind.

“It was almost nine. I remember looking at the clock and thinking I had fifteen minutes to waste before my snack time. I always have a snack at nine. The library was empty, so I picked up my phone to see if there were any texts.” you start to shake a little, remembering how it all happened “And then there were over thirty texts from him, from my ex. I started to read them, but halfway through it he barged in.”

“You saw him walking in? Was he alone?” JJ asked.

“No. I didn’t see him, you can’t see the front door from the cashier, I was there. I heard the bell ringing, and his footsteps. And he started yelling. I didn’t hear anyone else. He found me and started yelling.”

“Do you remember what he was yelling about?” you frowned.

“He started accusing me of being with someone else. He tried to grab my phone from me, I tucked it into the vault under the counter before he could reach it. I explained that I was alone, I was working. We had a fight because he always tried to control me, like we’re still together. But we’re not. For over a year now.” you explain, your voice raising.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’m right here. We’re right here. Me, Agent Prentiss, Doct… Spencer.” her voice coached you, and your breathing slowly returned to normal.

“How long did it go on?” Emily asked when you assured you were ready to keep going.

“I don’t know. Probably an hour, or more. I managed to calm him down, but then when I told him there wasn’t going back, he freaked out.”

“Wait. What wasn’t going back?” JJ asked.

“Us. Me and him. He insists that we get back together, and everytime I’m not in a screaming match with him he thinks I’m giving up and we’re back together.”

“Okay, now we need you to walk us through what happened when he got shot. Can you do that?” you gulped at Emily’s words.

“Y-yeah. I think I can.”

“Perfect. Remember, we’re here. Where were you then?”

“We were close to a shelf. We were sitting on one of the tables, the one closer to the counter. He stood up and started throwing things around. Books, chairs, whatever he could reach. I tried to stop him. I know better than to get physical with him, but he did that before and it cost me my two last jobs. I couldn’t let it happen to him either, so I just grabbed him. We started to shove each other, until he shoved me so hard that I stumbled on the chair. I didn’t fall, but it hurt.”

“So those bruises on your shoulders, arms and lower back are from him? Your ex?” JJ asked, her voice showing confused.

“Yes. At least for what I can remember. Then he advanced towards me again, but before he could do anything… he got shot. Straight to the heart.”

“Wait, can we go back for a second? Did you hear or see anything weird before the shot? He was walking towards you, but did you notice the pattern? Maybe a light switching off or on, a sound…”

“Yes. He was angry, his face was red. But then he saw something, it was behind me I think. He looked annoyed, and then scared. It was too fast, I barely noticed the change. I was too focused on stepping back, I only realized he wasn’t looking at me because he stopped on his track.”

“The look on his face…”

You started shaking your head, tears falling down your closed eyes. You didn’t want to remember it, his expression. Bare, naked fear. Red eyes widened, it was a fraction of a second, but you saw it. Everything happened so fast.

“Did you see the look on his face? This is very important. Do you think he recognized the person who shot him?” JJ kept going, her voice urgent. Your body was shaking completely.

“No, he didn’t. It didn’t look like it.”

“Okay, we’re almost there. You’re doing great.” Spencer acknowledged it, his voice soothing your nerves. You breathed deeply between cries, trying to steady yourself.

“After he was shot, do you remember anything?” Emily tried, her voice close to you.

“No, I… I watched him fall, the blood… Everywhere. I felt it splashing on me. I stumbled back, I couldn’t see anything. So many tears.” and it clicked to you right then.

The memories came rushing to your mind, it was too fast. You didn’t see anything, you only listened to your own sobbings, and footsteps behind you. You didn’t register them at first, but then you felt it.

The smell. The scent. That one perfume you know so well. Its strong scent, woody and spicy. You recognized it – him – from his scent alone. You didn’t even need to see him. The bell rang, that perfume filled your nostrils and without a beat, four seconds later, he was there, greeting you with a warm smile and a shy wave.

Your eyes shot open, wide, you stared at your hands.

“What? Did you remember something?” JJ insisted.

“No, no. I couldn’t see, and immediately after I couldn’t breathe. It smelled sweet, I tried to fight it but I couldn’t. I can’t…”

“Okay, that’s perfect. You did great.”

“Yes, thank you!” JJ added, both girls with sorrow smiles on their faces “Now get some rest, okay? Spence, we’ll wait for you outside.”

“Thanks.” he said, nodding. Emily and JJ walked out of the room, not before squeezing your hand in empathy.

Even after they left, you didn’t tear your gaze away from your blanket. You felt his eyes on you, Spencer was on your right, a little further back on the room. He had his arms crossed by his chest, his lean torso leaning against the widows. His gaze pierced you, and you wanted to look at him. To see his expression. Did he realize you recognized him? Did he realize you lied? Why did you, in the first place?

You were still trying to wrap your head around it when he moved. He walked closer, his steps deliberated and slow. You should’ve yelled, should’ve called someone. Should’ve pressed that damn red button on your left. But you didn’t. 

Instead you closed your eyes and let the addictive scene of his perfume invade your nostrils, the very same one you smelled last night before you passed out on his arms. You should’ve told them: you know he did it. Even if you didn’t feel it, his perfume. He touched you with care, with passion. He held your waist, only applying enough pressure to keep you from moving away from his grip, holding the handkerchief against your mouth and nose. He cared, you could feel it. You could feel it those past few months, you could feel it last night, you could feel it now.

Spencer stopped right on your side, closer to you than he had been since he got there. He leaned in, you could feel his presence close to you.

You thought he would finish the job right there, maybe a gun, maybe your pillow, maybe another drug. He was smart, he could pull something off. You also thought he would explain himself, deny it all or even ask you to lie for him.

Although in all honesty, he didn’t have to. Because you did it all by yourself. You willingly become an accessory to murder, and there wasn’t turning back. Of course, you could explain it. You could call the cops — hell, you could call the FBI — and say that you didn’t want to say anything because he made you nervous. You would get yourself out of this mess. But you wouldn’t. Deep down you knew, you made your decision. You chose your side.

And he knew it too, because before he left the room with an evil smirk and his hands in his pockets, he whispered only one thing to you — as if you weren’t completely alone in a room with a killer — kissing your forehead afterwards like it was nothing.

“Good girl.”

You adjusted the mask over your mouth, eyes narrowing through the faint slit in your hood. Rage simmered under your skin, but you kept it contained, shoved deep where it needed to stay. You weren’t here to indulge in anger. You were here to bring them down.

Your ear piece vibrated against your ear before you heard a voice finally cut through.

"Remember. Left door. Be completely ready, we're not exactly sure what we're dealing with, Agent." Hotch murmured, sounding slightly out of breath. "I'm connecting you to Agent Reid and Agent Prentiss."

You pressed your back tighter against the wall, the cool bite of concrete seeping through your tactical gear. The weight of the knives at your thigh and the Glock at your hip was familiar, grounding.

The faint crackle of static brushed against your ear before Spencer's voice, clear and precise, slipped into the comm.

"Thermal imaging shows two heat signatures inside. The one closest to the door is pacing — heightened adrenaline, based on their movement pattern. Be careful, sweetheart."

You almost smiled at the soft edge in his voice, the way he couldn't quite scrub the worry out, even masked under the clinical facts. The pet name, too.

"Copy," you whispered, adjusting your grip on the weapon, boots silent against the ground. You shifted your stance, ready to breach.

"Remember," Spencer added, a little quicker this time, "the floorboards are unstable. Avoid the northwest corner."

You breathed out slowly, steadying yourself. "I’ve got this," you murmured, barely moving your lips.

A beat of silence. Then, softer than before: "I know you do."

The world narrowed to the rush of blood in your ears, the slight hum of Spencer's connection, the door handle cool beneath your glove. With a fluid movement, you breached — low, fast, controlled — slipping into the darkness with the ghostlike precision that had once made you the team’s most dangerous weapon. All Spencer, Hotch, and Prentiss heard was a groan. A crack. The clear misfire of a gun into the air, most likely the unsub. Some gurgling. And then silence for about 30 to 45 seconds. Following that, the sound of your boots on the concrete floor until they finally spotted you leaving the warehouse, your gloves glistening with a slight tint of blood.

In front of you, your fingers twisted around his arm, was the primary unsub. His face was twisted in pain, his eyes watery. His ankle was clearly broken — he couldn't put weight on it. His wrists were securely cuffed behind him.

"Where's the other one?" Hotch muttered, still watching you as you dragged the scummy man from the warehouse, a scowl on your face.

"Incapacitated, most likely. The thermal imaging showed us through his body language that he was the more aggressive perpetrator," Spencer explained. "He probably rushed her. You know how she operates. It didn't go well for him, it's safe to assume."

Hotch nodded once, almost to himself, and started toward you with long strides. Spencer’s voice, still in your ear, stayed low and steady:

"Are you okay?"

You tightened your grip on the unsub’s arm, yanking him forward when he tried to stumble back. “I’m fine,” you muttered under your breath, only loud enough for Spencer to catch through the comms.

The unsub groaned, letting a weak complaint fall from his lips.

"This isn't over, man. You'll wish you hadn't done this."

You raised an eyebrow under your mask, a snide smirk pulling at your lips.

"Man?" You questioned.

Shoving the man at Hotch, who caught him with strong arms, you pulled your gloves off, revealing manicured fingers with a glittering wedding ring. Next, you yanked your mask off

The man's eyes widened. You definitely weren't a man.

Your simmering e/c eyes narrowed as you leaned into the unsub's disgusting face.

"It would be unfair to let another man put you in prison to rot. This is a job for a woman." You hissed.

Through your earpiece, you heard it — just barely — Spencer's breath catching. Like even after everything, after years together, he still got a little starstruck when he saw you like this.

The unsub flinched back instinctively, his bravado crumbling to ash under the weight of your gaze. You watched the realization dawn in his greasy, fearful eyes — the slow, sickening understanding that the person who had taken him down, who had bested him so completely, wasn’t some towering agent he could excuse away.

It was you. A woman. And he had no power here. No ability to cause fear.

You straightened slowly, tugging off your hood and letting your hair fall free around your shoulders. Your skin glistened faintly with sweat, a testament to the fight, but your face was calm. Colder than death.

Hotch yanked the man back roughly, giving you the room you deserved — and the unsub the bruises he deserved.

"Take him," Hotch ordered curtly to the backup agents swarming the scene. His sharp gaze slid back to you, giving the briefest, almost imperceptible nod of respect before turning away.

The second unsub was found not long after, crumpled in a heap behind a set of rusted crates. Unconscious, but alive — just. A shallow, rasping breath, a broken arm, and a knife wound expertly placed between muscle and bone, enough pain to make moving impossible, but not enough to kill. You knew exactly where to cut.

"Secondary secure," Morgan called out, cuffing him with a harsh snap. "Remind me never to piss you off, kid."

Your hair stuck to your forehead with sweat, but your face was calm, cold. A mirror of what you had been trained to be — and what you had become all on your own.

Spencer caught up to you outside the warehouse, his Kevlar vest still tight across his chest, his weapon lowered but his body tense. His eyes scanned you immediately, flickering from your face to your arms to your gear, checking for blood that wasn’t the enemy’s.

When he saw none, his shoulders dropped a fraction, his hand brushing against your wrist in a fleeting, secret touch.

"You’re incredible," he whispered, too quiet for anyone but you to hear.

You gave him a crooked smile, exhaustion setting into your bones now that the adrenaline was bleeding out.

There were many nights like this. For years and years, your training had allowed you to be the BAU's muscle, their door kicker, their enforcer. You were lethal, especially when it came to the death or terrorization of women.

Eventually, though, your heart longed for more. You longed for a family. You wanted to be a mother, a homemaker, a wife more than a weapon.

After years of service for the FBI, you resigned. You paid your respects to the BAU and moved on.

After a year of working a desk job, you were pregnant. You were absolutely ecstatic. The night you'd taken the test, Spencer came home from work, tired and drained. But when he saw you standing in the doorway with the positive pregnancy test, he was immediately revived. He scooped you up into a tight hug, lifting you up and kissing you passionately.

You were finally going to become parents.

You genuinely couldn't have been happier.

Nine months later, you gave birth to a daughter. Aubrey Diana Reid.

She was beautiful. Spencer had bawled when he finally got to hold her, her little hand curling around his finger. He was instantly in love.

One year after Aubrey, you were pregnant again, as if things could get any better. Spencer was so excited he couldn't even fathom it. Aubrey was already a gift, her brown eyes and dark curly hair making her identical to her father. Another child? The two of you must've been dreaming.

You gave birth to a baby boy, Owen Spencer Reid.

In the early years of their lives, Aubrey and Owen had always been incredibly close, despite their very different personalities. Aubrey, with her sharp mind and a tendency to dissect everything around her, was a natural mimic of Spencer. Her eyes were full of curiosity, much like his, always asking questions about the world, the people around her, and how things worked. Spencer often found himself getting lost in deep explanations for her, the same way he had as a child. She took after him in more ways than one — academically brilliant, book smart, and a touch socially awkward. Yet, her confidence was undeniable, especially when it came to a subject she was passionate about.

She thrived in science and literature, following in Spencer's footsteps, but there was a subtle fierceness to her. She had a protective streak a mile wide, especially when it came to Owen. Aubrey didn't back down from a challenge, much like Spencer when it came to his work — a mixture of intellect and unrelenting focus.

Owen, on the other hand, was a different creature entirely. He was more like you — fiercely independent, with a bit of a rebellious streak. While Aubrey spent hours studying or quietly reading in her room, Owen preferred hands-on activities, much to your delight and sometimes your frustration. He didn’t always see the point of sitting in a classroom when the world was waiting for him to go out and explore it. He had an adventurous side, always running headfirst into trouble, sometimes without thinking, but there was an undeniable charm about him, much like you when you were his age. You often found yourself reminding him of your own youthful stubbornness and the consequences of diving in without a plan.

Spencer, being who he was, often provided the balance. He would sit down with Owen, using his usual calm and logical explanations to help him see the bigger picture, while you took on the role of the "bad cop," keeping him grounded in reality. That dynamic kept their personalities in check, but there were moments when the differences between Aubrey and Owen really showed. Aubrey was the planner, the one who thought before acting, while Owen often jumped straight into things — a mix of your energy and his father’s ability to talk his way out of sticky situations.

By the time they reached their teens, both kids had found their paths. Aubrey was excelling in school, leading science clubs, and even talking about possibly pursuing a career similar to Spencer’s, though she was leaning more toward teaching or research. Owen, on the other hand, had a natural talent for sports and was known to sneak into local competitions or push his physical limits when he wasn’t causing trouble.

Family dinners were a mix of debates, laughter, and the usual chaos, but underneath it all, there was an overwhelming sense of pride. Watching Aubrey and Owen grow, with all the knowledge they absorbed and the experiences they lived through, reminded you of just how far they’d come — how much they’d learned from both you and Spencer.

As Aubrey turned 16 and Owen 15, you saw glimpses of the people they would become. Aubrey, with Spencer’s brilliance and your tenacity, had the world at her feet. Owen, with your drive and Spencer’s charisma, was ready to take on whatever came his way — though you often had to remind him to slow down and think things through first.

In a quiet moment one evening, you caught Spencer looking at the two of them with a soft smile, eyes glimmering with pride. You shared a look, knowing that, while you may have been the one to step away from the FBI, your family — your children — had been raised to carry on both your legacies in their own way.

You'd successfully kept your past from their discovery for 16 years. In the eyes of your children, you were ever gentle, yet strict. You couldn't hurt a fly, but you could run a household. They could push the limits, as you were soft with your babies, but when they got a specific look, they knew the leniency was over.

Long story short, you were the stricter parent.

Every year that passed, you forgot more and more about what you were hiding from the kids. Your life was peaceful, happy.

Until one fall evening.

Aubrey had gone to a birthday party with her friends. According to her, it was just two blocks away, there would be no drinking, and she wouldn't be walking alone at night — she had her friend Lily with her. Not to mention, ever overprotective (similarly to his father) Owen walked her there and back.

In fact, that was the only way Spencer allowed her to walk.

That evening, as the house settled into the familiar rhythm of a quiet night, you were curled up on the couch, your eyes flicking between the book in your hands and the soft glow of the TV. Spencer had just finished his latest case, and though the fatigue was evident in his posture, his mind was always alert. His gaze occasionally flicked to the clock, to the door, as if checking the time and waiting for Aubrey’s return.

You yawned, closing your book.

Spencer's brown eyes fell onto you, a warm smile curling onto his lips.

"Tired, baby?"

You smiled softly, stretching as you set the book aside. "Yeah, a little. It’s been a long day."

Spencer nodded, his smile widening as he shifted closer on the couch, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was comforting, familiar, a gesture you both had come to cherish in the quiet moments.

"I know," he said, his voice low and soothing. "But the house feels empty without the kids running around, doesn’t it?" He glanced toward the clock again, his brows knitting slightly as he checked the time. "Aubrey should be back soon."

You followed his gaze, a soft sense of unease creeping up on you. "She’ll be fine. Owen's with her, after all."

Spencer nodded again, though the flicker of concern in his eyes never fully dissipated. "I know. It’s just hard to let go, even when I know she’s capable."

You chuckled lightly, resting your head on his shoulder. "She’s more than capable, Spencer. She’s got you in her blood."

His chest rumbled with a low laugh, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. "I guess she does," he admitted. "Just... can’t help but worry. She’s still our little girl."

You settled deeper into his side, taking comfort in his closeness. "I know. But she’s strong, and so is Owen. They’ve got each other, just like we had each other when we were their age."

Spencer sighed, his arm wrapping around you more securely. "True. And I’m proud of them. Both of them." He glanced back toward the door. "I just wish they didn’t have to grow up so fast."

You nodded, tracing small circles on his arm. "They’re not little anymore. But they’re still ours."

The quiet comfort of the moment settled over you both, and for a brief moment, you let yourself bask in the peacefulness, the warmth of the family you had built together. The thought of the kids growing up, stepping into their own lives, was bittersweet. You knew the future would come with its challenges, but you also knew they would face it with strength — the same strength that had been passed down through you and Spencer.

You had just started to doze, but then, the phone rang. You jolted awake, a sense of anxiety immediately coming over you. The contact "Aub" lit up your screen.

You and Spencer made tense eye contact. She hardly ever called, especially if she was with friends.

Immediately, you grabbed the phone, answering.

"Hi, sweetheart. What's up?" You answered, now wide awake.

You heard Aubrey's heavy breathing through the phone. You immediately tensed.

"Mom," She said, her voice a whisper, laced with fear. "I'm scared." She rushed out.

You felt your heart drop at the sound of her voice — strained, panicked. Spencer was already beside you, his expression hardening as he read the concern on your face. His hand found yours, a silent promise that you weren't alone in this.

"Aubrey?" you said softly, trying to calm your racing heart. "Sweetheart, what’s going on? Are you hurt? Where are you?"

You could hear her breathing shallowly, her words coming in quick bursts. "We were on our way back... from the party, and... and there was a man. He came out of nowhere. Following us. We— we ran, but I don’t know if he knows where we went." She paused, and you could hear her trying to steady herself. "Mom, I... I don't know what to do."

You exchanged a quick glance with Spencer. He was already moving toward the door, his hand on the edge of the knob, but you knew he was waiting for you to speak first. You needed to keep her calm.

"Aubrey, listen to me," you said, your voice firm yet soothing. "You're okay, you're safe. I need you to tell me exactly where you are, and I’ll come get you. I’m on my way, okay? Stay on the phone with me."

Spencer didn’t wait for further instructions. He was already pulling on his jacket, his movements sharp and deliberate. The calm before the storm had evaporated in an instant.

"I’m just two blocks away from the house," Aubrey said, her voice trembling, though she was clearly trying to sound composed. "I don’t think he followed, but I— I’m not sure."

You could feel your protective instincts flare to life. "You’re not alone, right?" you asked, needing the reassurance.

"I have Owen and Lily," she replied, her voice wavering just slightly. "They're-- they're staying with me."

Relief flooded you for a moment at the mention of Owen, but the anxiety remained. There was still something about the situation that felt off — the fact that Aubrey was even calling in the first place made it clear that this wasn’t something she’d take lightly. The way she had said "I'm scared" sent a cold shiver down your spine.

"Good," you said, keeping your voice as steady as you could. "Just stay close to him, and don’t leave the spot you’re at. We’re on our way, baby."

Spencer was already halfway to the door, keys in hand. You followed suit, grabbing your own jacket. "We’ll be there in five minutes, okay? Stay on the phone with me until we get there."

Aubrey let out a small, shaky breath. "Okay... okay, Mom. I’ll... I’ll wait for you."

Before she could say anything else, you heard a faint noise in the background, a voice you didn’t quite recognize — low and gruff, but too distant to make out clearly. Aubrey’s breath hitched again, and in that moment, you knew the fear in her voice wasn’t just from the man. Something else was wrong.

You moved quicker, your heart thundering in your chest. "Aubrey, stay with Owen. We’re almost there," you urged, your voice sharpening with every second.

But as you turned to head out the door, you heard her voice again, just barely above a whisper, almost drowned out by the distance between you.

"Mom... he’s still out there."

A cold wave of dread swept over you.

Without wasting another second, Spencer opened the door, and you both rushed out into the night, your footsteps rapid as your mind raced. Something had just shifted — something wasn’t right, and you could feel it deep in your bones.

And for the first time in sixteen years, you couldn’t hide from what was waiting in the shadows.

You felt it sink into your bones. The adrenaline you'd once had, the bulletproof vest, the gloves, the crack of bones, the sound of gunfire. Your fists squeezed together as Spencer went 30 over the speed limit, racing to the park Aubrey said they were hiding in.

You could feel Spencer's eyes on you every few seconds.

The car hummed with tension, the tires skimming the asphalt as Spencer’s hands gripped the wheel with a familiar intensity. The glow of the streetlights flickered past, casting fleeting shadows across his face. Every few seconds, his gaze would flick to you, and you could see the worry in his eyes — the same look he gave you when you’d worked cases together, when something dangerous was always lurking just ahead.

But this was different.

This wasn’t some cold case. This was your daughter.

And you knew exactly how dangerous this could be.

Your mind flashed back to everything you had kept buried for so long — the world of shadows, of criminals, of threats, of danger. The world that you thought you had left behind. You’d tried so hard to shield your family from it, to make sure they were safe, far from the chaos of your past. But now, in this moment, you could feel the threads pulling you back into it, into the place you thought you’d left for good.

Your fists tightened, nails digging into your palms, and you couldn't stop the wave of memories rushing at you. The feel of a gun’s cold weight in your hand, the thrill of a pursuit, the focus of a high-stakes situation. It had all become so second nature once, so automatic. But now, it was something foreign — and terrifying. The last thing you wanted was to drag Spencer back into that world, to risk what you had built, to risk them.

But Aubrey was in danger. Aubrey was your priority.

You swallowed hard, trying to ground yourself. The fear gnawed at you, but the instinct to protect kicked in, and with it came an almost involuntary calm.

“We’re almost there,” Spencer said, voice tight, but you could hear the focus in it.

You nodded, but you couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts. What if something had happened? What if they hadn’t made it to the park safely? What if the man had already found them? The world felt suddenly too small, too suffocating.

Spencer glanced at you again, his jaw set, eyes hard with concern. “You okay?”

You gave him a tight, almost imperceptible nod. “I’m fine. Just... just get us there, Spence.”

He didn’t need to hear any more. The way you said it — the edge in your voice — was enough for him. You could tell, in the way his knuckles whitened on the wheel, that he was pushing himself to go even faster, to get to them in time.

You glanced out the window, watching as the park finally came into view. You could see the shadow of the trees in the distance, a dark outline against the dim glow of the surrounding streetlights. There was no sign of them yet, no movement.

You didn’t even wait for Spencer to pull the car fully to a stop before you were out, your feet hitting the ground hard.

You were silent, running through the park. You didn't want to call out and reveal the position of the kids — your decade with the FBI gave you enough skill to find them.

You didn't have to search long, unfortunately. You heard a scream, undeniably your daughter's. Your blood ran cold, Spencer hot on your heels as you followed the sound.

When you reached the area, the scene you saw was enough to make the full transition into who you were before.

Everything went silent. There was a ringing in your ears. Aubrey, screaming on the ground with a man in ragged clothes perched above her. A knife in hand. Owen, a bruised eye, crouching behind a tree — clearly having tried his luck protecting his sister. Lily, hiding behind a park shrub, crying softly.

Your body moved on instinct, the years of training flooding back like muscle memory. The ringing in your ears faded as the world sharpened — everything slowing down around you, the adrenaline and focus taking over. Spencer's presence at your back was a reassurance, but this was your fight now.

You didn’t hesitate. Your eyes locked on the man, the glint of the knife reflecting the dim light. Aubrey's cry was still echoing in your mind, but it was drowned out by the pounding of your heart, by the pull of your muscles working with precision, as if your body knew what it had to do.

“Get away from her,” you growled, taking a step forward, your voice steady, cold.

The man, clearly startled, whipped his head around, the blade still hovering dangerously close to Aubrey’s throat. But there was no hesitation on your end. You knew what you had to do.

You lunged.

The first move was fluid, calculated, as you closed the distance between you and the man. His knife slashed through the air, but you dodged, narrowly missing the sharp edge. Your palm connected with his wrist in a swift motion, the crack of bone echoing through the park as you disarmed him with a force that surprised even you.

The knife fell to the ground with a sharp clatter.

His wide eyes locked with yours in shock, as if he hadn’t expected you to be this skilled. His next move was an instinctual, desperate grab for your throat — but you were already two steps ahead.

You spun, grabbing his arm, twisting it behind his back, leveraging your body weight and speed to slam him face-first into the ground. The impact reverberated through your limbs, but you didn’t stop. Your hand was around his neck before he could move, pinning him down as your knee dug into his back, the pressure enough to keep him there.

For a moment, the world seemed frozen. The sound of Aubrey’s ragged breathing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the sniffles of Lily hiding — it all blurred together, background noise to the chaos of the moment.

Spencer was there now, pulling the knife away from the man’s reach, his eyes scanning the scene quickly. “Call the police,” you said, your voice grim but steady, protective instinct kicking in. “We need backup.”

You didn’t let your hold on the man waver. Your hand was tight around his neck, and you could feel the pulse of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You wanted to keep him there, make sure he couldn’t hurt anyone again, but your gaze flicked to Aubrey and Owen — seeing them safe was all that mattered now.

Slowly, you released the man’s neck, pushing him off to the side. Spencer was already pulling out his phone, dialing the authorities. The sense of control you had been holding onto began to slip away as the reality of the situation hit you.

You turned to Aubrey first, crouching down in front of her. Her eyes were wide with shock, her breathing still erratic.

“You okay?” you asked gently, your voice soothing despite the tension in your chest.

Aubrey nodded, though her eyes were filled with a mix of fear and awe. “Mom... what... who are you?”

The question hung in the air like a weight you weren’t prepared for. You declined to answer.

“I’m someone who will always protect you,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “No matter what.”

Spencer was standing beside you now, his expression unreadable, but there was no hiding the concern in his eyes. He could see the questions in Aubrey's mind, the unspoken confusion that was settling in.

“It’s okay,” Spencer said, placing a reassuring hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. “We’ll explain everything when we’re safe. You’re alright. That’s what matters now.”

But the weight of the situation was far from over. You could feel the sharp edge of fear creeping in again. You had just revealed something to them that you had kept hidden for years. The calm, gentle life you had worked so hard to build — the one you had shielded them from — had shattered in an instant.

Your past, your skills, your training... they were now part of their reality. And you knew things could never go back to the way they were before.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder, and you stepped back, pulling Aubrey into a tight hug. “We’re okay. You’re safe.”

Owen stepped forward, his eyes wide but full of relief. He reached for Aubrey’s hand, his grip tight. “I told you I’d protect you.”

You could see the pride in his eyes, the same protective instinct that had run through Spencer’s veins. For a moment, you let yourself bask in that small comfort. You’d done it. You’d protected them. And for tonight, that was enough.

But you knew the questions were coming. And soon, you'd have to face what you’d been hiding from them all these years.

The police arrived, but you stayed silent, letting Spencer handle the situation. You had done your part. Now, you just had to keep them safe — no matter what.

You went home that night, returning Lily to her parents and bringing your children home. Spencer held your hand tightly.

It was silent in the house. Tense. Full of unanswered questions.

With no words, refusing to address it, you gave Aubrey and Owen ice and medicine for their bumps and bruises. You made them change their dirty, mud covered clothes. You made them tomato soup with grilled cheese.

You did just about anything to distract yourself from the elephant in the room. But Aubrey? She wasn't going to let it go.

Aubrey had been unusually quiet at first, sitting at the table with her soup, her eyes scanning you as though trying to piece together the woman she’d seen fight a man off her brother just hours ago. But after a while, it became clear that she wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

“You’re not telling me something,” Aubrey said quietly, breaking the silence. She had been watching you from across the kitchen, the weight of her gaze heavy. “I know something’s wrong. What was that? Who are you?”

You froze for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and then you forced yourself to swallow, keeping your face neutral. But inside, the panic was already setting in. You couldn't look at her, not yet.

“Aubrey, I told you, we’ll talk about it later,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Owen, sitting beside his sister, cast a glance between the two of you, his brow furrowing as the tension became more palpable. Aubrey’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward, her voice cutting through the thick air.

“No. Now. I’m not stupid, Mom. I saw it. You — you did something. And it’s not the first time either, is it? You’re not the person I thought you were.”

Your stomach twisted as her words hit you, sharp and accusing, but you held your ground. “Aubrey, please. It’s complicated. Just eat your soup and—”

“No! You’re not going to dodge me, Mom.” Her voice rose, frustration lining every word. “You can’t just— that isn’t normal. What was all that back there? You fought him. And you were so— I don’t know— so calm. It was like you knew exactly what to do! Who are you?!”

The questioning kept coming, one after the other, no space to breathe in between.

You could feel the pressure mounting in your chest, the questions swirling, and a storm was building in your mind, a flood of emotion you couldn’t contain anymore. Your eyes were burning as you stood up abruptly from the table, knocking your chair back in the process. The force of your anger had been building, and it finally burst.

“Enough, Aubrey!” you snapped, your voice sharp, and for the first time in years, you let the edge of your old self spill through. You didn’t care about being gentle.

You took a step back, your breath coming fast, chest rising and falling as the weight of your words hung in the air. Aubrey’s mouth opened, but you cut her off before she could speak.

“Stop!” you shouted, a wave of frustration spilling over. “Stop asking questions. I’m your mother. And I will do anything to protect you. That's all you need to know."

Without another word, you turned on your heel, storming out of the kitchen, leaving a stunned Aubrey in your wake.

You heard the sound of Owen’s voice behind you, calling for you, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stay.

You made it to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, and the second the lock clicked into place, you collapsed onto the bed, your head buried in your hands. The tears you hadn’t allowed yourself to shed, the weight you hadn’t let yourself feel, finally broke free.

But just as quickly, the door creaked open. Spencer stepped inside, his presence immediately calming but heavy with the understanding that you were teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t control anymore.

You didn’t look up at him, still too ashamed of the storm you had just unleashed on your daughter. The silence between you both was thick, but it didn’t need words. Spencer knew.

“Let me talk to her,” he said quietly. “I’ll explain. I know you didn’t want them to know this, but they deserve to hear it, especially after the night they had.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion pull at your bones, the guilt gnawing at your insides.

Spencer sat down beside you, rubbing a hand over your back. "It's okay," he murmured softly. "We’ll get through this together."

You took a shuddering breath, your heart aching. “I just… I didn’t want them to see me like this. To see that part of me. I just wanted to protect them from the things I’ve done, the things I’ve become…”

“I know,” Spencer whispered. “But we’re both here, and we’ll handle it. You’re still the same person. And they need to know that, too.”

You nodded again, wiping away the last of the tears as you looked up at him, eyes tired but filled with love. “Thank you. For always being here. For them.”

He kissed your forehead gently. “Always.”

You both knew this was just the beginning of a conversation that would change everything. But for now, you let Spencer go to talk to the kids, trusting him to bridge the gap between the past you were trying to bury and the family you’d fought so hard to build.

The house was eerily quiet when Spencer sat down with Aubrey and Owen. They were both sitting on the couch, eyes still wide with the aftermath of what had happened, the tension from earlier thick in the air. They hadn't said much since the confrontation — only whispers exchanged between them and glances that held more questions than answers.

Spencer knew it was time to do this, but his heart ached at the thought of having to explain a part of their mother’s past that he’d kept hidden for so long. A part of you that no one, not even Aubrey and Owen, had ever known about.

He cleared his throat, looking between them, before speaking gently, but with the weight of authority only a parent could have. "Aubrey, Owen... there’s something your mother and I need to explain to you. It’s not easy, and it’s not something she’s wanted you to know. But after what happened tonight, you deserve to hear it. All of it."

Aubrey, sitting up a little straighter, looked at him with a mix of curiosity and fear. "What do you mean, Dad? What happened tonight? What’s going on with Mom?"

Spencer glanced at her and then at Owen, who had a bruised eye but remained unusually still, his gaze serious. He could see that they were both holding back the storm of questions they wanted to ask, but they were waiting for him to start, to give them something.

"Your mom..." Spencer hesitated, his heart heavy. "She’s been through a lot before you two were born. A lot of things that she’s kept from you, kept from both of you, to protect you. I think it’s time you knew the truth. So, here it is."

He paused again, trying to choose his words carefully. He wasn’t sure how they would react, but he had to be honest, for all their sakes.

"Your mother used to be part of the FBI, just like me," he said, his voice low but steady. "A special agent. She was really good at what she did. But that life... it’s dangerous. It changes you."

Aubrey’s eyes narrowed, and Owen shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his father's words settling over them.

"What do you mean by 'dangerous'?" Aubrey asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Did she… kill people? Was she a killer?"

Spencer shook his head quickly, his gaze softening. "No. It wasn’t like that. She did things to protect people. But there were risks, and it wasn’t always clean. She didn’t have a choice sometimes. She had to make hard decisions, ones that I couldn’t protect her from."

Owen frowned, trying to process the information. "So, she was like… a cop? Or something else?"

"More than that," Spencer replied quietly. "She worked undercover. She tracked down criminals, got close to dangerous people. And sometimes, she had to fight her way out of situations. She was trained to handle threats, both physical and mental. But she left that all behind when you both were born. She walked away from it. For you. For us."

Aubrey’s eyes searched his face, confusion and fear mixing in her expression. "But why didn’t you ever tell us? Why didn’t Mom?"

Spencer sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Because she wanted to protect you. Protect us. From the things she had to do, from the people she had to face. She didn’t want you to know that side of her life. She wanted you to know her as your mom. Not someone who could fight, who could kill when necessary. She wanted to be your mother, not a stranger from her past."

"But… why did she freak out tonight?" Owen asked quietly. "Why did she get so angry?"

Spencer’s throat tightened, but he pushed through. "Tonight... Tonight, your mother had to step back into that part of her life. That side of her that she thought she could leave behind. She did what she had to do to protect you, Aubrey, to protect both of you. And when she saw you in danger, everything inside her came back. The instincts, the training... it all came rushing back."

Aubrey’s face twisted with understanding, but there was still something she needed to know. "And you... you let her do that? You knew what she was, what she used to do?"

Spencer nodded slowly, his voice thick with emotion. "I knew. But I loved her. I knew the risks, and I loved her anyway. And I always supported her. Because when she walked away from that life, she walked toward us. Toward this family."

There was silence for a moment as the weight of Spencer’s words hung in the air. The kids looked at each other, trying to piece together everything they had just heard, their minds spinning with new information. Spencer let the silence stretch, giving them time to absorb it.

Finally, Aubrey spoke up again, her voice small, but thoughtful. "So... Mom used to be like... a secret agent?"

Spencer nodded, his eyes softening. "Yes. But she’s also the person who loves you both more than anything in the world. She’s still your mom. She’s still the person who tucks you in at night and makes you breakfast. That’s who she wants you to know. But you can’t ignore the past. It’s always going to be a part of her, a part of our family."

Aubrey’s gaze softened, her voice trembling with emotion. "I just... I don’t want her to be angry at me. I don’t want her to be mad."

"She’s not mad at you," Spencer said firmly. "She’s scared. She’s scared for you, and she’s scared of the past catching up to her. But she’ll talk to you. When she’s ready."

Owen, who had been quiet the whole time, spoke up then. "Do you think she’ll be okay? After all of this? After... what happened?"

Spencer’s eyes flicked to the door of the bedroom where you were, the faint sound of muffled sobs slipping through. "We’ll be okay. We’re a family. And we’ll face whatever comes, together."

The kids were quiet again, each of them lost in their thoughts. It was a lot to take in. A lot to process. Spencer could see the storm brewing in their minds — questions without answers, fear of the unknown. But one thing was certain: they weren’t angry with you. They were just scared. Scared of the things they didn’t understand, of the secrets they didn’t know about you.

And Spencer thought, deep down, that with time, they would come to understand. He thought wrong. The understanding was almost immediate.

Spencer sat in silence for a moment, letting the quiet settle in. He could see the shift in the kids’ expressions. The tension that had gripped them was starting to fade, replaced by something else entirely. Aubrey and Owen were no longer frozen in confusion; instead, they were processing everything with a curiosity that bordered on awe.

Aubrey’s eyes sparkled slightly as she broke the silence. "So, like... Mom actually fought that guy. With her hands. That’s... that’s actually kind of awesome." She looked at Owen, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Like, she took him down all by herself!"

Owen nodded eagerly, his previously quiet demeanor gone. "Yeah! She was like, bam! One punch, and that guy was down. I didn’t even see her move. She was so fast, like a ninja or something." He added, his hands mimicking the swiftness of your movements. "I want to learn how to do that. Imagine how cool that would be."

Aubrey turned to Spencer, her eyes wide with admiration. "Dad, did you know she could do that? Like, before you told us all this? She’s a total badass." She leaned forward, her enthusiasm growing. "I bet she’s like, unstoppable."

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine despite the heaviness of the evening. His kids were taking this all in stride far better than he expected. It wasn’t quite the reaction he had anticipated, but it was a relief.

"I’ve seen it, yeah," Spencer said, chuckling softly. "Your mom’s always been capable of handling herself. I don’t think she’s ever fully realized just how... impressive it all is." He glanced at the bedroom door, then back at his kids, his smile widening. "But I don’t think she’d want you to think that part of her life is something to look up to. It’s dangerous. What she did, what she had to do... it wasn’t easy."

Aubrey shook her head, her grin not fading in the slightest. "I don’t know, Dad. I think it’s pretty cool. I mean, imagine having a mom who can totally kick some bad guy’s butt. It’s like... I don’t know, it makes her seem like a superhero or something."

Owen jumped in, his voice bubbling with excitement. "Yeah! I bet she’s got all sorts of crazy tricks up her sleeve. Like, she could probably disarm a whole bunch of people and still look cool doing it. I wonder what other stuff she’s done. What if she’s done some spy stuff too? That’d be awesome."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, laughing again. "I think you two might be getting a little carried away here. Your mom’s not exactly... James Bond material. She’d probably rather you forget all about her past life."

Aubrey crossed her arms, a playful smirk on her face. "Maybe. You never know when we might start asking more questions about how many bad guys she’s taken down." She grinned. "Maybe we can ask her to teach us a thing or two."

Spencer’s heart lightened as he saw the shift in his kids' attitudes. The tension, the fear, the unknown — it was starting to fade, replaced by a sense of pride and a new understanding of their mother. They were finding ways to admire you, even from a distance. It felt like a step toward healing, even if it was just the beginning.

"You know," Spencer said, standing up and brushing a hand through his hair, "if you really want to learn, you’d probably need to be in tip-top shape, just like your mom was. She trained hard for everything she did."

Aubrey raised her eyebrows, a playful challenge in her tone. "I’m in. You think we could set up some training sessions? I bet Owen would love it."

Owen grinned, nodding quickly. "Yeah! Let’s do it, Dad. Teach us some moves! We could totally take down anyone who messes with us."

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. "I’m not sure your mom would go for that, but we’ll see." He paused for a moment, then added with a smile, "But just so you know, she didn’t get those skills by practicing on her own. It’s a lot harder than you think."

Aubrey leaned back on the couch, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, that’s a challenge we’re willing to take. We’re totally up for it."

Spencer looked at them, a mixture of amusement and pride on his face. His kids were resilient, stronger than he gave them credit for. Maybe, just maybe, they'd come to understand the complexities of the past in their own time. But for now, it was good to see that they were finding humor, pride, and curiosity in what had been a very difficult conversation.

"Alright," Spencer said, grinning as he walked toward the door. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we can talk more about training... if your mom's up for it." He paused, adding with a wink, "But maybe don’t push her too hard on that one."

Aubrey laughed as she and Owen exchanged a look. "We’ll go easy, Dad. Promise."

As Spencer left the room, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. It wasn’t the conversation he had expected, but it was one he could live with. At least they weren’t afraid anymore.

The next day, of course, the kids didn't keep their word about being easy on you. They bombarded you with questions, comments, and jokes, but.. Surprisingly to you, they weren't scared.

They thought you were incredible.

The morning after everything went down, you were hoping for a quiet, calm day — a little time to recover, to heal from the intensity of the night before. But, of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

You expected silence, avoidance, and fear from the kids.

You were in the kitchen, making your usual cup of coffee when you heard the sounds of Owen and Aubrey in the other room, laughing louder than usual. You raised an eyebrow as you filled your mug, already suspecting that Spencer had something to do with their newfound enthusiasm.

You stepped into the living room just in time to hear Owen, completely serious, say, "So, Mom, if we were to get into a fight, like a real one, would you just knock the other person out with a single punch?"

Aubrey chimed in, her voice filled with admiration. "Yeah! Or what if you had to take down a whole group of bad guys? Could you do that too? I bet you’d have some crazy moves to pull out."

You stood there for a moment, frozen, coffee mug in hand, blinking at them in disbelief. Then, your gaze moved to Spencer, who was sitting on the couch, a grin on his face like he was watching some sort of comedy show unfold.

"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me," you muttered under your breath.

Spencer looked up at you, his grin only growing wider. "What? I’m just telling them the truth. They asked, I answered."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you walked into the room. "So, what, now you’re trying to make me out to be some kind of superhero?" You shot him a playful glare. "You know I didn’t want them thinking I’m some kind of action movie character."

Aubrey leaned forward, wide-eyed, clearly not backing down. "But, Mom, you're amazing! We didn’t know you could do stuff like that. It’s like you’re a ninja or something!"

Owen nodded eagerly. "Yeah, you just took that guy down like it was nothing. Do you have any other moves like that? Can you show us?"

You stared at them, your amusement growing but hiding behind your mock annoyance. "I don't know... maybe I should have kept the ‘secret agent’ thing to myself, huh?" You shot Spencer a look. "Now look what you’ve done."

Spencer raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I just told them the truth. You're amazing, and they’re proud of you. What's wrong with that?"

You smirked, your eyes narrowing playfully. "You're really pushing your luck, aren’t you? You're turning my children into little action movie fans."

"Don’t act like you don’t love it," Spencer teased, his tone light, clearly enjoying the way this was unfolding. "They’re just inspired by you."

Aubrey grinned, clearly not seeing the problem. "Well, we think it’s awesome. I mean, you could probably take down anyone who messes with us, right?"

You leaned down and poked her forehead. "First of all, I do not want you kids going around starting fights thinking I’ll bail you out. And second, I'm not some kind of superhero."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "But you are pretty awesome."

You sighed dramatically, then glanced at Spencer, who was still lounging on the couch, looking way too pleased with himself. "You’re encouraging them!" you said, your tone mock-exasperated.

He held up his hands innocently. "I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. "I bet you are. Next thing I know, you’ll have them signing up for some kind of ‘Mom's Action Hero Training Camp,’" you said, the sarcasm dripping from your words.

"That sounds great!" Aubrey said, practically bouncing in her seat. "Can we start today?"

You groaned, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. "You two are impossible."

Spencer chuckled, finally getting up from the couch and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. "Hey, it’s not like they’re wrong. You’re one of a kind, and luckily, I married you."

You shot him a side-eye, still a little irritated, but the warmth of his embrace softened the edge of your annoyance.

"Maybe they'll slowly forget what you told them."

"Never," Spencer said, kissing the top of your head. "But if you want, I can help you with some training... I could probably teach them some moves too."

You pushed him away lightly with a smirk. "You’re a shithead, you know that?" But deep down, you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

As you made your way back to the kitchen to finish your coffee, the kids continued to chatter excitedly about their “action movie ideas,” with Spencer chuckling and nodding along. And despite your mock annoyance, you had to admit—there was something nice about hearing them talk like that. At least they weren’t scared of you anymore. They thought you were brave, unstoppable.