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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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Untouchable Ch 32: Finale

Warnings: mentions of family tension, swearing

Ch 31 | Series Masterlist

A/N: Only like... three weeks late. my bad. But I figured if I was going o end one of my longest fanfics ever, it shouldn’t be on such a dull note, so I did some revamping!

~ ~ ~

Lydia had warned Spencer of the reaction he was going to get when he walked into the office that morning for a case. She knew the team pretty well, if she did say so herself. And she was totally right, but Spencer would never tell her that, nor would anyone get the chance, as the whole conversation was upstaged by a completely different topic.

Stepping into the conference room just a little bit late, JJ and Garcia saw Spencer in the door and stopped their briefing distractedly.

“Well, hello,” JJ teased, causing everyone to turn around and check out whatever had caught her off guard.

Spencer’s old (and in Lydia’s opinion, annoyingly long) hair was gone, being replaced by a shaggy and much shorter style.

He shot everyone a tight smile, sitting down quickly as if that might make them go back to the briefing, but everyone took another second to stare at his head and wonder if they missed something. I mean, why suddenly change your hairstyle if not due to some sort of emotional turmoil?

“What, did you join a boyband?” Hotch said, almost jokingly, but his voice was slightly too stern.

Morgan gave up his facade and let his chuckles loose, the rest of the team breaking out into smiles as well.

“No,” Spencer responded. “I was trying something out, since Lydia wants my hair short for the wedding.”

That shut them up fast.

“You popped the question?! Reid, man, you gotta tell us these things!” Morgan exclaimed, his eyes wide.

“We thought it’d be funny to follow our lying routine and wait a few weeks to mention it,” Reid replied with a shrug.

That’s when the rest of the team seemed to catch on, JJ especially freaking out over the news. “Weeks??!? Spencer, how could you? You got engaged and just failed to mention it?”

“Tell us everything!” Emily interrupted. “Did you get down on a knee?”

“Guys-” Hotch tried to get them on track, but it was no use.

“I can have her come in when we get back to show off the ring,” Spencer offered.

“How much did you spend on it?” Rossi asked, more out of curiosity than concern.

“Where will you guys have the wedding?” Garcia chimed in, rushing around the table to pull Spencer into a hug from behind his chair. “Here in DC? Or in a destination spot?”

“Team!” Hotch demanded. “We need to be briefed and get on the jet as soon as possible.”

Everyone was serious from then on. Or, at least, they were all holding their questions until the jet. None of them even noticed or heard Hotch lean over and whisper a quick “congratulations” to the genius, but it felt fitting for the unit chief to be the first of the team to say it.

~ ~ ~

“You aren’t allowed to take Spencer wedding dress shopping!” JJ teased as the four girls headed to their first stop of the day.

“Wait, you were planning on bringing Reid?” Penelope laughed, light filtering through her newly dyed, red hair.

“Well, I was, until Jayje told me it was forbidden or something,” Lydia replied, trying to keep up while also answering work emails on her phone. “I thought the whole ‘seeing the wedding dress before the wedding’ was just a dumb superstition.”

“Oh no, it is,” Emily assured her. “But it’s pretty damn funny that you think Reid would be any help in picking out clothes.”

Lydia shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s his wedding day, too. I think we should both have a say in what it looks like.”

“Not the dress,” Garcia insisted. “The dress is all you. Spencer has no choice but to love you in whatever you wear.”

“And he will,” Emily said. “He’s so far gone.”

“Well… we both are,” Lydia shrugged.

~ ~ ~

“Beck, I’ll be there in 6 hours,” Lydia insisted, leaning up against Spencer uncomfortably in the airport chairs. “You can panic about the dress and the flowers-”

“You should care more! I mean, you’re getting married in a week.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows, likely being able to hear his future sister-in-law on the other end. Lydia rolled her eyes in explanation. “Well, what did Sonia say about the dress?”

“She said she’ll just wear something from her closet.”

“Then let her,” Lydia sighed. “She can wear jeans if that’s what she’s comfortable in! You know, my coworker’s son is planning to come as Captain America. It’s not going to ruin the-”

“But she’s the mother of the bride! The mothers and fathers are always dressed up!”

“Remind me when you’re getting married that I don’t want to be your maid of honor,” Lydia joked. “I think I can easily go my whole life without planning another wedding.”

“Sonia said she didn’t count as mother of the bride,” Rebecca continued, ignoring her comment. “I told her that she was crazy-”

“Tell Sonia that she is definitely my mom for the day,” Lydia insisted. “And also tell her that as my mother, I give her free reign over the outfit.”

“I’m just pissed,” Beck hissed over the line. “That dress is sooner to fit little Katie than it is to fit her.”

Lydia nodded, shifting herself away from Spencer to lean forward, her elbows on her knees. “Yeah, um… What’s the situation with Dad, by the way?”

“He’s definitely coming,” Beck reassured her. “He’s super proud of you. But I think he’s a little upset that you don’t want him to walk you down the aisle.”

“I didn’t expect him to be happy,” Lydia admitted.

“I know… But I think he understands. And I know he won’t start anything on your big day. But he might want to talk to you when you land in California.”

Lydia huffed, only continuing when Spencer began rubbing light circles into her back. “Okay. Will he be with you to pick me up?”

“Nah. It’ll just be Sonia and I. Give Spencer a warning about Sonia’s hugs, by the way. She’s never actually seen him in person and she plans to suffocate him.”

“Duly noted. I’ll see you when I land?”

“Yep! Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Setting her phone in her lap, Lydia went right back to her spot in her fiancé’s side.

“Dress and flowers?” Spencer asked.

“Sonia’s dress doesn’t fit,” Lydia shrugged. “Like, is tiny, doesn’t fit. And according to Beck, that’s a big deal. Then, the florist was asking about changing some of the flowers for the table settings and she flipped her shit-”

“No kidding,” Spencer agreed. “She was really set on a full green and white bouquet.”

“I’m so scared for her wedding.”

Spencer gave her a look. “Oh, come on. You have to realize that if this were her wedding, you’d be just like this.”

“What?” Lydia exclaimed.

“Rebecca would not care at all if this were her wedding and someone accidentally brought red roses instead of white,” he laughed. “She cares because it’s your wedding. And she loves you. So, the roses have to be white. No matter what it takes.”

“Well,” Lydia snapped, “I wouldn’t freak out on a poor florist just because of some misunderstanding-”

“But you would pay extra,” he argued. “And you’d pick them up from a warehouse in a different state. In fact, you’d probably go out and pick them yourself if that was the only option.”

Lydia opted to say, “I’m ignoring that comment.”

“Because you know I’m right,” he gloated.

“I hate profilers.”

He chuckled, pulling her closer into his side. “I know you do.”

“So, how’s your mom?” she asked, wanting to move away from the topic of her family. “Does she still have a ride to San Francisco?”

“Yes,” Spencer reassured her. “My dad will be driving her to California on Wednesday and then taking her back to the hospital Saturday morning. I’m not sure why he thought an eight hour drive with his ex-wife would be a good idea…”

“They’re in the same boat,” Lydia replied. “I know that it sounds… painful, but they are so excited to see you get married, they don’t mind the journey. And your dad knows that it wouldn’t be the same if your mom wasn’t there. He’ll make sure she gets there okay, for your sake.”

The two of them spent the rest of their time waiting patiently for the boarding call for their flight. Occasionally, one would lean over to the other to make guesses about why those around them were flying to SF or to comment on a kid’s cute suitcase, but they were mostly content to just sit in silence.

~ ~ ~

“How exhausted are you?” Emily whispered, before giving her friend a spin.

Lydia chuckled, as she came back around and rested her hands on the woman’s shoulders. “Very. But don’t get me wrong, I would give anything for this day not to end.”

“I’m happy for you,” she said. “I can’t imagine a more perfect duo.”

Across the room, Spencer was dancing with his mom. As he caught Lydia’s eye, his smile deepened and he gave her a wink.

“He was so serious when we first met, I don’t think I could have ever imagined falling for someone like that.”

“Excuse me, ladies.” Lydia and Emily slowed their sway to look at Hotch and a very cute Jack, who was, as promised, dressed like Captain America, at his feet. “Might we cut in and dance with Dr. Ambers?”

Emily nodded, waving goodbye to Jack before stepping off the dance floor.

Lydia and Hotch each grabbed one of the tiny superhero’s hands, before resting the other arm over each other, like they normally would if they were dancing.

“I’m so glad you two could make it,” Lydia told the Hotchner’s. “Have you ever been to California before, Jack?”

He shook his head, his cheeks swelling with a grin.

“How fun! Are you guys going to see more of San Francisco before you leave tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan,” Hotch answered. “Hey, buddy, you wanna tell Dr. Ambers what you said to me about her dress?”

Lydia raised an eyebrow at the blond boy, who was beginning to blush. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you, Jack! I think it’s really pretty, too.”

“Alright Jack, dad’s gonna talk to Dr. Ambers, so why don’t you sit with Ms. Garcia again.”

“Okay,” the boy said and let go of their hands. “Bye!”

“Good talk or bad talk?” Lydia asked once the boy was gone.

“Good,” he assured her. “I just haven’t gotten the chance to congratulate you in person. And you’ve already had a dance with Morgan, Garcia, and Prentiss, so I was feeling a bit jealous. So was Jack. He was asking about his turn to dance with you. I guess dancing with his dad isn’t as fun.”

“He’ll grow out of it,” Lydia promised. “But I happen to know you well enough to know that you’re lying to me, Hotch.”

“Lying?” His face was calm, as though he already knew what she was implying, but asked out of courtesy.

“You did not send your son away so that you could congratulate me privately. You still haven’t told me why you wanted to talk.”

“An honorary profiler, through and through. Brilliant since the day we met.”

Lydia froze in her swaying movement. “Excessive complementing is not your style, Hotch. Is the Bureau firing me?”

This made him stop as well, his eyebrows knitting together. “And just when I was saying you were brilliant. No, the Bureau has nothing against your marriage. If that were the case, I would have warned you before the wedding.”

“I had thought that, too,” Lydia admitted. “But I was never sure if you or Garcia told the Bureau. Spencer says that when he reminded Garcia to put it on my record, she was acting strange.”

“I was unaware of that,” Hotch chuckled. “I shall have to check with Garcia myself.”

“So, if I’m not being fired, what is it?”

“I have somewhat of a favor to ask.”

“And that is?”

“With JJ’s promotion to the DoD, there’s a vacant spot on the team. Garcia is attempting to take on the responsibility of both a technical analyst and a liaison.”

Lydia couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Are you asking me to leave my job at the university to become the liaison at the BAU? I have tenure, Hotch. Not to mention, no experience in public relations. I can understand that Garcia needs help, but I am-”

“I understand, but that’s not exactly where I was going with this. Garcia and I have already discussed splitting the role. The issue is that in order to take on the job of a media liaison, I won’t have much time at all to do field work. JJ had her credentials to work as a profiler, and yet she still rarely did crime scene investigations or actual profile building because she was needed elsewhere.”

“So, you need... a profiler?” Lydia stammered.

“We can discuss profiling later,” he assured her. “What I need is Dr. Ambers back. Full time. And this includes the office work again. Next time I call a briefing I need you to be in the bullpen, not at a university.”

Lydia involuntarily glanced at her new husband, who had made his way off the dance floor and was seated with Morgan. “Hotch, we were just discussing how the Bureau might not even know Spencer and I are married. Do you honestly think they’d be okay with making me an employee given my background?”

“I would like to remind you that I was a lawyer for a long time,” he joked. “I can hold an argument. But even so, your background just proves how irreplaceable you are, Lydia. No one could turn you away. But you’re right. I can’t offer tenure to you.”

A grin broke out across her face. “When do you need your answer?”

“One week.”

She nodded and stepped away. “Thank you for the dance, Hotch. I will consider your offer.”

“Thank you, Lydia.”

~ ~ ~

“I didn’t think it was possible to dance with every person at your wedding,” Sonia teased as she sat with Lydia outside the empty venue.

“I wish I had danced with everyone,” the bride argued. “It would excuse my exhaustion.”

“It’s a miracle you aren’t dead.”

“I can see it now: Danced to Death on Her Wedding Night.”

“What’s going on now?” Spencer asked as he stepped out beside them. “My parents just left. The only ones left are Beck, Katie, and Adam.”

“And they’re waiting on me,” Sonia reasoned. “Best be going.”

She pulled both of them into a tight hug before wandering back towards the front of the location.

“Do you need help standing up?” Spencer asked, seeing Lydia sway with exhaustion.

“Must I?”

He offered a hand to her, pulling her into him, despite his own aching feet. “Yes, you must. But think of it this way. The sooner we get going, the sooner you can pass out at the hotel.

She hummed in response. “...oh, there was something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Which is?”

“What do you think of me being a profiler?” she mumbled.

“A-Are you serious?”

Lydia looked up, afraid of what she might see, but Spencer’s eyes betrayed no distress. “I don’t think many girls can say they were offered a full time position at the FBI at their wedding. Would you help me pass the classes?”

“Absolutely,” he responded, with no hesitation. “Of course.”

“Working together once more. What could go wrong?”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

#criminal minds #cm fanfiction #cm #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds oc #cm fanfic #cm oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #untouchable #untouchable ch32 #lydia ambers

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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OMG HI EVERYONE SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING!

So, I went to post the last chapter of Untouchable last night and as I was looking over it, I decided I wasn’t satisfied and wanted to rework some things before posting.

It will be up soon, I promise!

#update

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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#meme #that’s just me #I can’t help it

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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Untouchable Ch 31: 100 (S5E9)

Warnings: death, injury, mentions of funeral

Ch 30 | Ch 32 | Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry about the late update! LAST CHAPTER NEXT WEEK!!! It’s kind of short, so expect sort of a final wrap up next friday, not a full chapter.

~ ~ ~

Lydia mindlessly spun her father’s ring around her finger until the skin turned red and raw. She hadn’t seen any of the team since she showed up to Quantico that morning and it felt… bare. Her mind was empty, a strange occurrence for her. She wanted to let it drift somewhere more pleasant than there and then, but if she had any thought at all, it was flashes of the scene from yesterday.

So, she spun her ring and stared at the floor and waited.

“They’re ready for you,” Anderson informed her.

He likely thought she didn’t hear him when she didn’t look up, but she was just taking the moment to prepare. Slow breaths.

As she stood, JJ stepped out into the hallway and gave her a reassuring nod, before going back to her office.

Lydia glanced back at her retreating figure, as if it might tell her what JJ was thinking. She wanted to know how it had gone, how long JJ had been in there, how in depth she had to explain… But sadly, Lydia couldn’t know that from staring at the back of her blonde head.

Chief Strauss waited at the door as Lydia walked into the interview room, her face stern. “Have a seat.”

Lydia did as she was told, walking around to the side of the table with the single chair and trying to look as composed as possible.

Once the door was closed, Strauss stepped forward and turned on the recording device in the center of the table, not sitting down across from her just yet. “Please state your name and rank for the record.”

“Dr. Lydia Ambers, forensic contractor for the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia.”

“And how long have you been working for the BAU?”

“Four years.”

“And have you worked under Agent Hotchner that entire time?”

She tried not to let the question slip her up too much. “No, ma’am, for the past 3 months I’ve been reporting to Agent Morgan.”

“Derek Morgan, the acting Unit Chief of the BAU, because Aaron Hotchner’s ability to lead was compromised.”

Lydia was pretty sure that Strauss did not need to say that for the record, but was trying to get a rise out of her. “Agent Hotchner stepped down from his position after his family went into protective custody, yes,” she said, gently.

She refused to let Strauss twist any of her words around on her. Lydia was trained in interrogation techniques. She could not be fooled so easily.

“How would you describe Agent Hotchner’s recent behavior?”

“To be honest, ma’am, I haven’t seen much of SSA Hotchner since he stepped down. I’ve only worked one case with the BAU under Agent Morgan, but I did not see much of a difference in Agent Hotchner during that time.”

“You mean he was still acting like your boss?”

“No ma’am, I mean he was dedicated to the job.”

A pause. “When were you called into the Bureau yesterday?”

“At around 10am, I got a call from Spencer when-”

Fuck. Dr. Reid.

“You mean SSA Spencer Reid,” she clarified. “Would you explain your relationship with Dr. Reid for the record?”

Now she really had to step lightly. “Dr. Reid and I have been in a romantic relationship for two years now.” A lie, but it was the amount of time Hotch had listed in the system and it was most likely what Spence would say as well.

“And has your relationship ever hindered your ability to do your job?”

“Not to my knowledge, ma’am. If it had, I imagine Agent Hotchner wouldn’t let me keep working with him.”

Strauss grimaced and finally sat across from Lydia at the table. “Please continue your recount of the day.”

Right. “I got a call from Dr. Reid about the Foyet case at around 10, yesterday morning. I immediately headed to the office and met up with the team in the conference room. In our most recent case in Hampton, Virginia, we had visited inmate Carl Arnold, who’d been receiving letters from George Foyet. These letters were mailed from Fredericksburg and Westminster, meaning he was still in the DC area and they believed they could find him based on the prescriptions he was taking. Tapazole, specifically, as he could not substitute it for any other medication, therefore he had to be one of the people within the DC area who needed a prescription for it. A quick anagram of his title, The Reaper, and we found someone in Arlington named Peter Rhea, which we believed to be the alias he was under.”

“So, the team called for a SWAT unit to enter Foyet’s potential apartment,” Strauss picked up for her. “But you didn’t go in.”

“Not for a while, no. The team determined that if Foyet was not in the apartment when they entered, it might tip him off that they knew of his secret identity and he might run, making it impossible to catch him again. So, Agent Morgan decided to send an FBI agent undercover to see if anyone was home, and if not, to put a camera underneath the door so that they could look for proof that it was Foyet’s apartment. The camera showed that a meal had been left on the counter, uneaten, and the mail had been dropped on the floor, indicating he’d left in a hurry. So, they went in.”

“And what did you find?”

“His laptop was the main discovery. Our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, hacked in and found that when we ran a check on the name Peter Rhea, an alarm went off, which is what caused him to leave. And he’d been attempting to delete files of surveillance footage of Sam Kassmeyer, the US Marshal in charge of Haley and Jack Hotchner.”

“Do you believe Agent Hotchner was acting agitated or unreasonable?”

“No, ma’am,” Lydia snapped.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Agent Hotchner’s concern for his family was a completely reasonable and healthy response. He never asked anything of us that we weren’t already willing to do and he did his job just as I’d expect him to do on any other day.

“Following our discovery, Agent Hotchner called Marshal Kassmeyer, who failed to pick up. He left a message, saying that we were on our way and warning him of the danger to Jack and Haley.

“Upon arrival, we found Marshal Kassmeyer on the floor of his home, badly beaten with a missing finger and a few gunshot wounds. We called for an ambulance immediately and Agent Hotchner attempted to get some sort of explanation from him, but in the state he was in, it was far too difficult, so when the paramedics arrived, Agent Hotchner went with them, to see him off to the hospital and to continue to get an idea of what had happened earlier that day.”

“And what exactly did he find out?”

Lydia tried not to glare at Strauss. This was hard on her. The later the day got, the more exhausted she became of it all. And Lydia absolutely hated to feel like she was being interrogated.

“Kassmeyer didn’t give anything up. But Foyet found his phone and contacted Haley through it. He told her that Kassmeyer was dead, as well as Agent Hotchner, and that in order to protect herself and her son, she needed to ditch her phone and meet him at a separate location. That location being-”

“Agent Hotchner’s old residence,” Strauss finished.

“Yes.”

“And how did the team come to this conclusion?”

“The profile on the Reaper has been solid since his return from his ten year hiatus. After a fairly quick discussion between the team members, it was pretty obvious where he would take Haley and Jack.”

“A discussion that SSA Hotchner wasn’t present for, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. After Kassmeyer was admitted to the hospital, Agent Hotchner had a car brought to him and he drove to Foyet. We were right on his tail, hoping to reach his house before anything happened to Haley or Jack, but we were too late. When we reached the scene, both Haley Hotchner and George Foyet were dead.”

~ ~ ~

“How was your interrogation?” Lydia asked Emily quietly.

The two women were against one of the walls of the conference room, watching JJ, Spencer, and Rossi entertain Jack Hotchner while Hotch gave his statement.

The older woman rolled her eyes. “Strauss is persistent, I’ll give her that.”

Lydia nodded. “I don’t want to think about how badly she’s tearing into Hotch right now. At least there are others there to keep her in line.”

“Hotch doesn’t exactly look good without her help. He was extremely emotionally involved and there were no other witnesses to Haley or Foyet’s death.”

“But there was no debate over Haley’s death,” Lydia argued. “We all… heard it.”

Emily shrugged. “Strauss was pretty harsh in there. I think she can make the whole team sound like unreliable narrators.”

“And what happens then? Hotch loses his wife and his job all at once?”

“Let’s hope not…”

Her voice dropped even more as Hotch’s entrance to the conference room caught everyone’s attention. He didn’t say anything, but Jack jumped up when he saw his father and ran into his arms.

He looked like crap. His nose was swollen and the bags under his eyes were a deep purple. His stare was vacant, even as he clung to his son. But he was through the worst of it now, Lydia liked to think.

Spencer stood up and made his way towards Lydia once Emily left, still depending heavily on a cane after being shot in the leg. “You ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Let’s just make sure Hotch doesn’t need anything else.”

“I don’t think there’s much we can give him,” Spencer admitted. “I wish there was.”

~ ~ ~

“I want you to know that I can’t lose you,” Spencer said a few weeks later, having just gotten back from work.

The situation was laying heavily on everyone. The team was still tiptoeing around Hotch despite his okay to go back to work and Haley’s funeral was an unfortunately unsatisfactory affair, after everyone was called away on another case.

Lydia imagined Spencer was exhausted, so a declaration wasn’t out of character, but it didn’t stop the small smile pulling at her lips. “A sweet thought, Spence,” she said, patting the couch beside her for him to sit.

However, he kept going. “I know you’re worried about everyone. I know you see this as a reminder to hold onto the things we have. And you have me, totally and completely. But there’s something else, unrelated to all of this… I think we could use some joy in our lives right now.”

“Something else?”

Lydia wasn’t even sure if she had the mental capacity to process his words, but Spencer made it pretty obvious when he stepped up beside the couch and got down on one knee.

“I needed to prove my devotion to you at one point or another.”

Lydia blinked at him, deafly. Once… twice… Then, a giggle escaped her lips. “Are we getting married, Spence?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he joked. “You haven’t said yes yet.”

“Wh-Yes! A hundred times yes!” Without even looking at the ring in his hand, she swung her arms around his neck, almost tackling him to the ground. “Jesus, to be honest, you could have just left the ring on the coffee table with a note and gone to work. I wouldn’t think you’d need an answer.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to say that I know you well enough to assume you’d say yes, you never fail to surprise me. I imagine some day I’ll find out you’re leading an elaborate secret life where you’re a hitman for the mafia.”

“I wish. Imagine the excitement of pretending to teach at a university while you hunt unsubs just like me! That would be some heist to pull off.” Finally, she let go of her boyfriend and looked down at the elegant metal band encased in a velvety black box. “Gosh, it’s beautiful, Spence. You really didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did.” He slid the ring gently onto her finger as he spoke. “Good thing you’re not an unsub. It would make you being my fiancée much more awkward.”

Lydia’s hands reached up to her cheeks to hide her embarrassment, but there wasn’t much she could do to cover the pink. “Fiancée. That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Don’t get too used to it. I plan to change that title to wife as soon as I have the opportunity.” Spencer leaned in, landing one kiss before more questions flooded Lydia’s mind.

“How will we tell the team?”

The mischievous smirk that crossed Spencer’s face led Lydia to believe he’d been planning for that for a long time. “I’m hoping there’s some brilliant opportunity to drop it into conversation. Leave them doubting they heard correctly.”

“I’m so ready for that.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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Untouchable Ch 30: Faceless, Nameless (S5E1)

Warnings: anger/aggression, injury, swearing

Ch 29 | Ch 31

~ ~ ~

Around 7AM, Lydia got up for her morning class and was almost startled to see Spencer in bed beside her. He was practically comatose, so she left him be. He had just been working a case between Detroit, Michigan and Canada the past few days and clearly it had been rough, as he hadn’t told her he was on his way back. The team probably got back early that morning and he’d gone straight to sleep.

She went about her morning routine more carefully than normal, because with Spencer’s luck, he’d have to jump right back into work later today.

And lo and behold, she was right.

Lydia rushed into their bedroom at the sound of a phone going off, wanting to silence it before Spencer woke up, but by the time she’d opened the door, he’d already hit the answer button.

“JJ?... No, it’s fine, where?... Sure, yeah, I’m on my way.”

As soon as he'd dropped his phone, he groaned, throwing his head back.

“Another one?” she asked gently. “How much sleep did you get?”

“Around 4 hours. JJ says that the police need us immediately.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, albeit a bit in vain. He was already getting up and grabbing his things.

“I know. Hopefully it’s short.” As he passed on his way out, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you. Talk to you this afternoon.”

“Don’t work yourself to death,” she teased.

~ ~ ~

A local surgeon, it seems, had been hiding his son after getting a threat on his son’s life. The unsub had made the promise to kill one person a day until the son was given up and he was holding up his end of the deal. Two dead, shot in the chest, with the letter’s LC as a signature. The case was extremely time sensitive.

Spencer was with the surgeon, Dr. Barton, helping him go through all the surgeries he’d performed within the last 6 months, but there were hundreds of medical charts for them to shift through. If Spencer could do this on his own, he could have finished them within a few hours, but knowing these people’s medical information wouldn’t help their case. Dr. Barton needed to tell them about threats he’d gotten, hard decisions he had to make, and interactions he had involving the cases and that meant Spencer was unfortunately only able to pull cases he thought were important.

Dr. Barton’s son, who’d been in the house for two days, had snuck out to go to school that morning, so Morgan, Rossi, and JJ were there to protect him and Prentiss was headed to Hotch’s apartment, because he hadn’t been answering his phone all morning and they needed the extra eyes.

Seeing Emily’s number pop up on his screen, Spencer breathed a sigh of relief to think she was on her way back. “Hey.”

“Reid, Hotch is missing.”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“He’s not here, there’s blood-”

“What-what are you talking about?” he stumbled. It was the most out of left field response he would have expected from Emily at this time.

“What’s going on?” Dr. Barton demanded, but Spencer was too busy listening to Emily to answer.

“I’ve got Garcia putting an APB out on him and there are FBI techs on their way-”

“Is this about Jeffrey?” Dr. Barton tried again.

Spencer pulled the phone away from his mouth. “No, no, it’s unrelated.”

“We only have a few hours left here.”

“I’m really sorry, I have to take this phone call, okay?”

“What could be more important than my son right now?!”

“I assure you this will take one second. Please, I promise.”

Dr. Barton simply huffed and stormed off.

“I’m sorry, Prentiss. What were you saying?”

“There’s a huge hole in the wall. Probably a .44, but there’s no blood or tissue spray around it.”

“Any idea how he got out?”

“If he was shot, there are no drag marks, but a body could have been wrapped in something.”

A body. Not Hotch’s body. “And Bureau techs are on the way?”

“Any second.”

“Okay, call Lydia. She should be done with her last class in… 15 minutes. She’ll help you build a profile.”

“How’s Dr. Barton?”

Spencer glanced over at the pacing father. “It’s a huge list of cases to go through with him.”

“Okay. Don’t worry about here. I’ll call Lydia and we’ll figure this out. Just stay focused.”

“Alright, you too.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia didn’t bother pulling out her badge, simply walking straight into Hotch’s apartment and past one of the concerned crime scene techs.

“Ma’am, ma’am, you can’t-”

“Prentiss,” she called, brushing him off. “What are we looking at?”

“She’s with me,” Emily told the poor guy, waving him away. “Everyone else is working the Dr. Barton case,” she began. “You, Reid, and Garcia are the only people I’ve told. The rest don’t need the distraction.”

“Got it. What did you find?”

Emily turned around and walked Lydia through the scene. “Hotch comes home this morning, drops his keys here, briefcase here, walks to the kitchen.”

Lydia could see where the trail ended for Emily. Clearly there was a scuffle, as there was broken glass on the floor, a gunshot through one of the walls, and blood behind the living room couch.

Lydia walked around a few times, picking up everything she could before telling Emily her theory.

“So, Hotch walks into the kitchen. Obviously, the unsub was hiding farther back in the apartment, because Hotch got this far without a struggle. Probably…” she glanced at the bottle of whiskey. “...poured himself a drink and was standing in the doorway when the other presence became known to him. Hotch moves-”

Lydia froze, stopping in the door from the kitchen to the living room.

“No,” she mumbled. “No, that’s not right. We assumed the shot was a misfire. If Hotch was standing here, it would have gone right over his shoulder. But the killer had another weapon on him, because there’s no other bullet scars in the walls, floors, furniture, nothing. If the blood didn’t come from a gun, I think he was stabbed. Did we check if Hotch was missing any knives?”

Emily shook her head. “No, there’s nothing out of place from what I can tell.”

“Only something like a bullet or stabbing wound would produce that much blood,” Lydia reasoned. “If the unsub didn’t take one of Hotch’s, he came prepared with the knife, which makes the bullet hole in the wall intentional. Maybe to get Hotch’s attention.”

“I don’t follow.”

“If he had a gun, why bring a knife?” Lydia explained. “Perhaps the plan wasn’t to kill, but to injure. You tend to have a lot more control over a stabbing. You can render Hotch incapable of fighting back or have him lose consciousness, but not kill him. So the gun was purely to have control over the situation. He shot over Hotch’s shoulder to scare him.”

“This unsub is confident,” Emily gathered. “He was lying in wait for Hotch and stayed even after seeing Hotch put his gun on the counter. So he likely already knew Hotch was FBI.”

“Makes sense, but why not just kill him? If it was personal, why take him?”

“Hotch makes a lot of enemies-”

“We all do,” Lydia corrected.

“Maybe he wanted to make the pain or fear last longer? But in the end, with all the cases he works, any number of details could be significant to this unsub.”

Lydia nodded. “Frustrating, but true. So, our guy fires a shot and Hotch smashes his whiskey glass over the guys head, trying to get a chance to reach for his gun, but he doesn’t get it. Unsub knocks him backwards, back into the living room. Maybe Hotch hits his head, maybe he struggles some more and the unsub hits him a few times, but Hotch isn’t at his best. He’s lying on the floor when he gets stabbed.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. The blood only pools like this underneath a still body. If he was standing, we would have seen splatter patterns from the height between the wound and the floor. And there would be multiple pools as a result of his swaying, even if he wasn’t walking around.”

“Okay, so we know generally how the scene played out. Anything else?”

Lydia sighed. “Not from me, no. I don’t have my gloves or evidence bags and we already have crime scene techs here to search physical evidence. I don’t imagine I’ll be much help.”

“You’re already a lot of help,” Emily promised. “We know we’re looking at an organized unsub. Someone who knows Hotch, or at the very least, knows of him. He’s cocky, arrogant.”

“Alright.” The two locked eyes. “Where do we go from here?”

~ ~ ~

“Talk to us, Garcia,” Emily answered her phone, setting it on speaker and holding it between her and Lydia.

“Okay, I- I called hospitals to see if Hotch had gotten himself admitted to an emergency room.”

“And?”

“He’s not listed as a patient, but someone dropped a john doe off at St. Sebastian Hospital, and that someone’s name was FBI Agent Derek Morgan.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Emily said.

“I know. D-do you think they got their credentials mixed up?”

The women were silent for a minute and then Emily’s face dropped.

“What is it, Em?” Lydia prodded.

“The reaper.”

“That case from March?” Lydia asked. She hadn’t been on it, but supposedly it wasn’t the usual find the unsub, stop the murder, type cases. Spencer said George Foyet had stopped killing for 10 years, before miraculously showing back up to taunt the FBI. He’d gone so far as to stab himself multiple times to fake his death and he’d escaped imprisonment not a few days after the BAU found him.

“Foyet took Morgan’s creds,” Emily explained.

“Why would he drop him off at the ER?”

“What hospital did you say again?” Lydia interrupted.

“St. Sebastian Hospital.”

“Let’s go.”

Emily nodded. “Garcia, I’ll call you with an update when we get there.”

~ ~ ~

Hotch had been stabbed 9 times in the abdomen, but was miraculously still alive. No arteries had been hit, so they just had to wait for anesthesia to wear off and for him to wake up.

Lydia was skimming through some of the emails she’d gotten from students and didn’t notice Emily pick up Hotch’s medical chart, read it, and rush over to his doctor.

“LC on the unsub’s note,” Emily was saying into her phone when she walked back in, catching Lydia’s attention. “It stands for ‘living children’... It’s administrative. It’s when they’re afraid a patient’s gonna go on life support and they don’t have a DNR order… Reid?”

Lydia could gather that Emily had seen the initials on Hotch’s medical chart, but seeing as she didn’t know the details of the case Spencer was working, she was lost on the rest.

Emily was silent, nodding distantly as if her mind was somewhere else. Lydia watched her, trying to see if she could pick up more of what was going on on the other end of the conversation, but it took almost a full minute for anything to happen.

The gunshot on the other side of the phone was loud enough for Lydia to hear it without the phone being on speaker or even remotely near her.

“Reid?!” Emily hissed. Lydia jumped up, trying to get closer and figure out what was going on. “Answer me! Reid?!!”

After another minute of silence, Emily took the phone away from her ear and hung up, typing in another number.

“What’s going on?” Lydia demanded. “Is Spencer okay?”

Emily put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder and put the phone up to her ear, not having time to answer her question. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss from the FBI. I need police and an ambulance to 120 Kensington Road, McLean, Virginia. Shots fired. Federal agent possibly down.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-

~ ~ ~

“No one else is there?!” Lydia demanded.

“They’re with Jeffrey at the school,” Emily tried to explain. “We’d assumed Jeffrey was the target, so we sent most of the team there to ensure all the kids were safe. But they’re on their way there now. Please, just sit down for a-”

“Emily, the last thing I want to do is sit down and think about what this means, okay? You said you only heard one gunshot, yes?”

She nodded.

“So, maybe Spencer didn’t get shot. Perhaps he dropped his phone when he heard the sound and ran to help Dr. Barton. I mean, if the unsub hit Spencer, he would have kept shooting until he hit his target, yeah?”

Emily was clearly not convinced. There were plenty of reasons the unsub might not have kept shooting after hitting the wrong person, but she didn’t voice them outloud. There was no point. Lydia already knew them all.

“How long will it take the rest of the team to get to Dr. Barton’s house?”

“Not too long,” Emily admitted.

“Someone would have called me if Spencer got hurt, yeah? Like Morgan or Rossi, they would let me know if Spencer had gotten shot?”

“I don’t know.” Emily was getting exasperated. She was anxious too, but there was nothing either of them could do for the moment. If Spencer had been shot, an ambulance would get there much faster than they could. The only option was to wait.

“I’m gonna go outside,” Lydia said, before slipping out of the room and towards the exit of the emergency room.

Her arms shook with unused energy and she had to do something physical before she went into a full blown panic attack. She hadn’t felt the need to take out her anxieties with her fists in a while, but it was better than nothing. Finding a quiet, secluded spot outside, she made a few punches through the air, but it wasn’t enough. Before she could think any better of it, one of her arms went flying towards the wall of the hospital, the outside of her fist smacking against it and causing a gasp of pain to escape her mouth.

She cradled her hand for a minute or two and was just beginning to feel the compulsion to do it again when her phone dinged in her pocket.

Emily: Spencer’s okay. Got shot in the leg and is being brought here to get patched up. Team says he’s totally fine.

Thank god.

~ ~ ~

Lydia tried her best to look annoyed while approaching Spencer’s bed, but he gave her a tired smile and she lost her glare to a giggle.

“Should I dramatically start with ‘Wait, did I get shot?’”

Lydia smacked the side of his head, causing locks of his hair to fall across his eyes. “I’m pretty sure my bullet removal surgery in my abdomen was more complicated than the stitches you just got through the thigh. I was on all sorts of pain killers. Don’t make fun of me.”

He sent her a challenging look, but it became serious all too fast. “Catch me up on Hotch.”

Lydia had been keeping up with Emily since Spencer arrived at the hospital, so she relayed all the information she knew. “Foyet stabbed him, got Haley’s address from Hotch’s address book, then dropped Hotch off here. So, the team rushed to Haley’s house, to find her and Jack. They’re on their way here to say goodbye to Hotch and then, they’re going to be put into protective custody.”

“Poor Hotch,” Spence sighed. “He won’t be able to see his son again until we catch Foyet.”

“You guys will get him,” she reassured. “He’s just one guy against the smartest group of people I know… Now, catch me up on what happened to you.”

“Right,” he mumbled. “Um, the unsub’s name was Patrick Meyers. His son died in a car accident and was admitted to a hospital and declared brain dead. Meyers was threatening Dr. Barton’s son, Jeffrey, because he wanted us to send our forces to protect Jeffrey and leave Dr. Barton unprotected. Emily was the one who helped me figure it out. Meyers left the initials LC at the end of his notes, standing for living child. He was warning Barton that he was going to leave Jeffrey without a father. But when we came to that conclusion, I realized that Barton had walked out the front door and I rushed out to stop him. I dropped my phone, tackled Barton to the ground, and surprise-” he gestured to his left leg “-I got hit.”

Lydia nodded. “Went right through. Doctor says you’re going to be on crutches for a little while.”

“Now when people see us walking together, they’re going to pity us both. You’ve got your limp and I’ll be dragging my left leg behind me like a garbage bag-”

“Oh, you’re so right!” she laughed. “What a pair of outcasts we’ll look like. Although I think that when most people see the look in my eyes, they stop pitying me.”

“Why’s that?”

“A student told me the other day that I’m the most terrifying person he’d ever met. I asked if that meant he didn’t like the class and he was like ‘nah, I like it a lot, but every time you mention that you work with the FBI, I remember everything I’ve done wrong in my life and panic that you’re going to interrogate me one day.’ It was the weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Spencer chuckled. “I’m with him. Whenever Hotch sends you into the interrogation room, I feel bad for the poor suspect.”

“When I interrogated Jonny McHale, he punched me! And there were four other people in the room!”

“Once I went to interview a murderer with Hotch as part of a study the BAU was doing and while we were there, Hotch tried to get into a fist fight with him.”

“No!” Lydia cried. “There’s no way!”

“Hotch is generally unpredictable, but when he’s agitated, I have to wonder how he got a job with the Bureau.”

“Ahem.”

The couple’s heads swerved around to find JJ standing in the door.

“Hey, Jayje,” Lydia greeted embarrassedly. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in with Spencer, before I went home. It’s been a long day.”

“No kidding,” he agreed. “I’m fine, though. I have to be on crutches for a while, but kicking down doors was Morgan’s job anyway.”

Lydia felt like a child for laughing at his words. But she’d long for those moments of innocence in the upcoming months.

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 29: Amplification (S4E24)

Warnings: swearing (a lot of it), illness, hospitals

Ch 28 | Ch 30

~ ~ ~

“I’m picking you up from work. Now.”

Lydia sighed, glad that it was her break and she wasn’t in the middle of teaching class. But then again… Spencer already knew that. “Just once I’d like to get a case and be told ‘you can drop by when you’re done with what you’re working on.’ No worries. Sending out emails now.”

“Sorry. It’s local, if that helps.”

Lydia’s eyebrows knit together suspiciously. “Local? Local cases are never my cases. If it were, I probably would have heard something, right?”

“I don’t know anything about the case,” he admitted. “Hotch called and he said he needed everyone now, you included.”

Lydia shut her laptop, already stuffing it into her work bag. “I’ll meet you out front.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia had stuffed herself into the back of the elevator with Spence, Morgan, and Prentiss, so when the doors opened, she didn’t immediately see what made the three of them stop.

“What’s the army doing here?” Morgan said.

Lydia stepped to the side to get a better look at the crowd of people rushing through the BAU office.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily muttered.

Spencer was the first to set off for the conference room, Lydia joining him immediately if only to get away from the insane amount of people in the bullpen.

Inside were Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and a woman.

“Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC.”

“Hello,” Emily said.

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Reid inquired, but Hotch stopped him.

“We need to get started.”

JJ cleared her throat, ready to take over the briefing. Lydia could tell it was going to be a quick summary, with no slides, few files to share, and no time to sit down.

“Last night, 25 people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2pm yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It’s now just past 7am the next day, we have 12 dead.”

Looking over her boyfriend’s shoulder, Lydia could see large welts across the victims faces and necks. Purple rings lined the deads’ eyes.

“Lung failure and black lesions,” Morgan read aloud. “Anthrax?”

Spencer shook his head. “Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.”

“This strain does,” Dr. Kimura admitted.

Lydia’s eyes shot to their expert. She could see why Hotch felt the need to bring her in, but a new strain of anthrax was far out of her comfort zone, especially in a time when people were dying quickly. This would take a team of people in a lab running trial after trial to find a cure. These poor people were doomed.

Lydia wouldn’t know anything about the strain, she could only come up with a vague idea about what sort of background a person would need to create this, and there were so many people already involved in whatever this was.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets?” Prentiss inquired. “Airports, malls, trains?”

“There’s a media blackout,” Hotch replied.

“We’re not telling the public?”

“We’d have a mass exodus,” Morgan explained.

“Psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack.”

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did it might go underground or destroy their samples.”

“Or,” Emily tried to argue, “if they wanted attention and didn’t get it, they might attack again. Doesn’t the public have a right to know that?”

“If there is another attack, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet,” Hotch assured her. “Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can.”

“What do we know about this strain?” Lydia interrupted, grabbing the files from Spencer to get a closer look.

Dr. Kimura answered, “the spores are weaponized, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odorless and invisible.”

“A sophisticated strain,” Rossi reasoned. “Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

Lydia nodded.

“These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours.”

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Dr. Kimura warned. “It’s the lungs. We don’t know how to combat the toxins once they’re inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all.”

“Reid, Ambers, go to the hospital with Dr. Kimura. Reid will interview victims. Ambers, I want you in the lab updating us on blood tests and toxicology reports.”

They nodded, Spencer throwing his satchel over his shoulder.

“Morgan and Prentiss, there’s a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There’s cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

Dr. Kimura grabbed a tray of pills from a desk along the side of the room. “We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something.”

Lydia picked up a plastic cup with two pills inside and glanced around. Everyone hesitated, knowing that for the rest of this case, they’d be risking a lot. This wasn’t chasing down bad guys with guns, but rather with immunity. Their kevlar vests wouldn’t protect them from the air.

“Jin dan,” Rossi said, raising his cup. “May you live 100 years.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer was fidgeting in the passenger seat of the car as they drove to Walter Reed hospital with Dr. Kimura. “What did you tell your students, Lydia?”

She shrugged. “What I normally do. Just that I was called into work by the FBI. They don’t normally ask where I’m headed or why. It’s strange. For the first time since I became a professor, I’m worried about them.”

“I guess you’re right,” he mumbled. “This is going to affect everyone in the DC area.”

“I mean, what would a cure for this even look like? The only person who has any idea how it differs from normal anthrax is our unsub. He’s got to have some kind of antidote, right?”

“Let’s hope he does,” Spencer replied. “For now, building the profile is Hotch and Rossi’s doing. Our job is to find out what we can about the victims and their symptoms.”

~ ~ ~

“How many more have died since this morning?”

“Five,” Spencer admitted. “We’re up to 17 dead.”

“It’s no good,” she sighed, having stepped out of the lab momentarily to call him. “The drug combinations are useless. We don’t know anymore about this strain than they did this morning.”

“Dr. Kimura says the strain duplicates every 30-45 minutes, poisoning the lungs and causing organ failure.”

“Extreme bacterial amplification,” she replied. “That’s insane.”

“I’m thinking whoever created this had to have gone through the trouble of testing it.”

“That would make sense, but who’s to say the park wasn’t his test run?”

“It’s too risky. Human tests are done on a much smaller scale. What do you know about illnesses that have similar symptoms to anthrax poisoning?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “I’ll talk to Garcia and do some digging about weird medical deaths in the area.”

“Thanks.”

~ ~ ~

“Tell me you got something good, Spice.”

“I rarely find myself giving out good news, Sugar,” Garcia admitted. “However, I did find some strange deaths for you. Two days ago, three people in the Baltimore area checked into 3 different ERs, slipping into comas and dying within 3 hours. The COD on all three was meningitis, but they were never tested for anthrax. Is that what you were looking for?”

“Possibly. The respiratory problems would be similar, but the lesions would have definitely signalled to the doctors it was something else. You said they died within 3 hours?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s fast. They likely had to have inhaled a high concentration of anthrax if that were the case. But, it would also make it harder to identify. See if those three were in the same place that day and contact Hotch.”

“On it.”

~ ~ ~

“Lydia?”

She huffed. “What’s up, Derek?”

“Don’t get pissy on me,” he teased.

“All I’ve done all day is answer calls and get told once an hour that someone else has died. My mood has limits.”

“I’m pulling you from the hospital. We’re going to the house of a Dr. Lawrence Nichols. Fits our profile.”

“Great.” As she spoke she slipped out of the hospital lab and towards the elevator. “What’s this profile?”

“Fanatical,” he summarized. “Dr. Nichols got booted from Fort Detrick after the Amerithrax case. He was afraid of anthrax being weaponized against the US and was preaching stronger protection from the government.”

“If he was against anthrax, what makes you think he’d use it?”

“A warning. He was told that we couldn’t spend billions of dollars to fight against an attack that may never happen. This is his way of saying, ‘You should have listened to me. Now it’s too late.’”

“Got it. I’ll meet you outside Walter Reed.”

“Good.”

Hanging up, she sent a quick message to Spencer to let him know she was leaving the hospital, then made a break for the front entrance.

~ ~ ~

“It’s quaint,” Lydia said, stepping out of the SUV and waiting for Morgan to walk around the car and join her.

The Nichols house had cute rose bushes around the front and all the windows had white trim. Classic suburban look.

“Nicer than a hospital, I bet.”

She huffed. “I cannot thank you enough for getting me out of there. I don’t know how Reid is able to talk to these people, knowing that they’re doomed.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Morgan countered. “To make sure they aren’t doomed.”

A team in protective gear had arrived before them to search the house. There was no one there, luckily enough, as Nichols was supposedly at work. And the team had yet to notify them of any contamination, but until they were certain, she and Morgan had to stay outside.

The two of them wandered towards the backyard, looking at all the greenery and sweeping for anything suspicious, but frankly, if Nichols was harboring anthrax, he would have kept it at his lab. As soon as the team inside was done, all she and Morgan had to do was the usual profiling stuff. Does this man have a motive to commit mass murder and all that jazz.

Lydia was so caught up in the difference between the well trimmed front lawn to the overgrown backyard that she didn’t hear Morgan’s cell start ringing, nor did she take notice of the fact that he stopped walking to answer it.

There was a small stone fountain, which was completely dry, in front of a decaying garage in the back. The shed was designed exactly like the house, but its paint was faded and chipping and the plants clung to it like it had been long abandoned in the weeds.

It didn’t look like anyone had been in there for years, and yet all the doors and windows were open.

As she crept towards the sliding glass door along the side, her hand went to the gun at her belt. He should be at work, but frankly, unsubs were never where you expected them to be. So, to be careful, she unclipped her weapon and kept a hand on it as she leaned inside.

“Hello? Dr. Nichols? It’s the FBI!”

Nothing…

Hesitantly, she stepped inside and didn’t take a moment to realize how bad of an idea that was. Directly across from the door was clearly a work desk, and yet, she didn’t take into consideration that he might have worked on his toxins at his house.

And so, as she stepped around the corner to find Dr. Nichols’s body with a shattered tube of white powder on the floor, it took her a moment to process what this meant.

Powder… anthrax… deadly. The AC was on, meaning the toxin was circulating the air and she had most certainly been exposed.

Deadly.

Her hand shot up to her mouth, quickly covering it with the fabric of her shirt to filter out some of the powder from the air. Funny enough, the dead body was the furthest thing from her mind. Her next plan of action was to cover the broken pieces of glass so that whatever powder was left on the floor wouldn’t be swept up into the air. She could worry about the AC in a second.

“Ambers?”

Fuck, Morgan.

She couldn’t let him inside. It was too dangerous. But if she left, the BAU might never get the chance to search the lab before the rest of the infected died. It would take too long to clear the garage. No, she had to stay, even if it meant increasing the concentration in her lungs.

Flipping around, she shut the sliding door, locking it just as Morgan appeared.

“Ambers!”

“Get back!” she insisted, looking around wildly for the closest open window to shut, one hand still holding her shirt over her face. “Get out of here!”

“What are you doing?! What’s wrong?”

He rushed over to the window with her, but wasn’t fast enough. “Don’t! STAY AWAY, MORGAN!”

“Tell me what’s going on!”

“I’VE BEEN EXPOSED!”

His face and Lydia’s heart both dropped at the same time.

What had she done?

“Morgan,” she started, trying to keep her mind off of her death sentence, “I need you to tell the team that Nichols is dead.”

“He’s what?!”

“He’s been murdered,” she explained, stepping away from the window so that he could see the body behind her. “Blunt force trauma to the head. I have to stop the anthrax circulation in the room and then I can start to profile what happened.”

“What? No! Lydia, you have to get out of there so we can take you to the hospital!”

“Derek, Dr. Kimura said the only thing they can do at the hospital is give me morphine! If we wait for a team to clear the room before we profile, those people at the hospital will die. I might die. If I stay here, maybe I can find a cure.”

“I don’t like this, Lydia,” he grumbled. “Think about Spencer-”

“I am! We’ve seen what this toxin does to people. I have a few hours before I become incapable of doing my job. My chances of surviving increase tremendously if I spend those hours doing work. Trust me. I can do nothing from the hospital.”

He nervously gave her a once over, as if he’d be able to see how bad it was, before pulling out his cell and stepping away from the garage.

~ ~ ~

By the time Hotch got there, Lydia had turned off the AC unit, found a lab mask to cover her face, and given Morgan a rundown on the state of Nichols’s body. There was no way he was responsible for the attack at the part, because he had been dead for at least 2 days. The fact that he had anthrax here likely meant someone had murdered him to take his samples.

“Ambers,” Hotch answered his phone from across the backyard, looking at her through the window.

“Does Spencer know yet?” she demanded.

“Yes. He’s on his way now.”

“How did he take it?”

“How do you expect, Lydia?” Morgan hissed, clearly listening in on the conversation.

“I didn’t mean to do this,” she argued, glancing around the room. “But I’m going to stay and look for a cure, or at the very least, some more information on this strain and I’ll try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols.”

Hotch took over once more. “Okay, we’re going to get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother. I’m already infected. I’ve stopped the airflow for now, so my condition won’t get worse. I need to spend my time working the case.”

“Alright. What do you see?”

“He has cages stacked against the back wall, filled with dead animals,” she began, getting into work mode. “He struggled before he died. Um… there’s some oddly empty spots on shelves, which leads me to believe the murderer robbed him as well. Nothing personal in here, clearly it was only meant to be a workshop or lab of sorts. There are two desks. One is a mess but the other totally organized…”

“Two different work spaces?” It was Derek’s voice again.

“Yeah, um…” She started to flip through a journal on one of the desks and paused. “I think our unsub was working here with Nichols. These look like research notes. Stuff that Nichols would already know, considering he has a doctorate.” She ran back to the cluttered desk to look over some loose papers. “Yep. Two clearly different sets of handwriting. Maybe he took on a protege?”

“Ambers, Morgan is going to stay with you and help profile Nichols. I’m going to go back to the BAU and try to figure out who this protege might be.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hotch,” she said, hearing the edge in his voice. He didn’t want to leave her here. “I feel fine. I’m good at this stuff. If there’s a cure, I’ll find it.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia prepared herself for the worst as Spencer grew closer. Reckless together. That was her promise. Getting herself into this situation was exactly what he was talking about after the Colorado case. But she really hadn’t meant to end up here. She felt like there was no better way after being exposed. She was being as careful as she could. But their last fight hadn’t been good.

She was listing excuses in her mind. Building up a strong argument for when he got here and inevitably lost his shit on her.

It was almost ironic that their last fight had been about her putting up walls between them and now, she was quite literally locking him out. But as she had promised to be careful, he had promised not to rush in to save her. And that included walking into a building of toxic air.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket and she took several deep breaths before looking at the caller ID.

Spencer was here.

“Hey, love,” she said softly, not wanting to look outside and see him there. With Morgan. Probably pissed as hell.

But he matched her tone perfectly: gentle and concerned. “Lydia, how are you feeling?”

Her breath caught on all the things she was planning to say when he yelled at her. She wasn’t sure where to go with that response. “The… um… The fever’s kicking in. I’m unnaturally warm. But I’ve been super careful to lower my exposure, I promise! I didn’t mean to-”

“I know, honey. I know. Stay calm. Keep working. You’re gonna be alright.”

God, she never really knew with him, did she? Of course he wasn’t happy she was there, but he kept his promise. He was trusting her. And for the first time today, she didn’t feel like she had to convince everyone that everything was normal. They both knew her odds were unfortunately low at the moment and they weren’t going to spend this time arguing.

“Dr. Kimura came with me. She’s suiting up to come in with the decon team.”

“Good.”

There was a long pause, before he said, “Lydia, come to the window.”

She originally had thought she was avoiding his gaze because she had expected him to be angry, but stepping up to the glass and seeing him at the edge of the lawn, as close as the CDC would allow him to get, brought a new meaning to the word guilt.

She didn’t just break her promise of being with him when the bad things happened. There was a chance that in a few hours, a few painful, painful hours, she might leave him. She might die. And Spencer… he didn’t deserve that.

“Lydia,” he began, looking her over carefully. “I love you so, so much, you hear me?”

She nodded, feeling tears begin to well up in the back of her throat.

“You keep fighting in there, alright? Fight and fight until we find a cure.”

“I know,” she gulped. “I know. I- I- I-”

She froze as a violent chill ran up her spine, causing her to lose her train of thought. Spencer's face broke momentarily, giving away his fear and anguish.

“I’m sorry. I… love you, too, Spence,” she finally forced out. “More than you will ever know.”

“Hopefully in an hour you’ll be out of there and you can try to tell me.”

“Of course,” she smiled, halfheartedly. “I will.”

She had to hang up the call as she heard the decon team start to file in.

She turned around to find Dr. Kimura approaching her directly. “Dr. Ambers.”

“Dr. Kimura,” she smiled, trying to hide how nauseous she was beginning to feel. “You look nice.”

She glanced down at the red and grey suit she wore and laughed along. “I haven’t been in this outfit in a while.”

“How are the patients doing?” she asked, before mentally kicking herself. She didn’t want to know how many more had died. She didn’t need that weighing her down.

Luckily, Dr. Kimura seemed to think the same. “Let's worry about you.”

“I feel fine,” she deflected. “I don’t think I’ve inhaled that much.”

“I see you’re being careful,” she noted with a nod to Lydia’s mask, “but if you feel any pain, I can give you something.”

“Oh, I don’t think giving me morphine is a good idea.”

Dr. Kimura raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Are you sure? Some pain medication might make you feel more comfortable.”

Lydia shook her head quickly. “Don’t worry. In my line of work, you learn to focus despite your discomfort.”

Dr. Kimura still looked hesitant to let go of the subject.

“I feel fine,” she tried again. “I should work at the task at hand.”

“Ok. Tell me how I can help.”

Thank god. She could get back on track. Between Morgan, Hotch, Spence, and Dr. Kimura, she would never find the cure. Everyone would be too busy worrying about her condition.

“The team believes that there’s a cure for this strain within this lab,” she explained. “Our profile for Nichols says he’s secretive, and likely, he’s paranoid. So he would be protective of the cure. Probably hid it from his partner. Look for something totally unsuspicious.”

“Alright…” Dr. Kimura hesitated, knowing that those instructions were too broad. But Lydia didn’t have anything else. Her profiling skills didn’t go as far as the others. And she didn’t have the same information on Nichols or the partner that the others might be getting from Quantico.

Her phone rang sharply and she almost jumped at the vibrations in her pocket.

Fuck, she was succumbing quickly. Disoriented, panicked, nauseous.

“Hello?” she asked, trying not to cough violently after saying it. Her throat was starting to dry.

“How’s it going in there, kiddo?” Morgan replied.

“I’ve seen better days,” she admitted, hoarsely.

“Well, you’ve got me, Reid, and Garcia.”

“Hey, Sugar.”

Lydia couldn’t stop herself from smiling and was almost through the word “Spice” when the coughing fit finally took over.

“Lydia, stick with me. Listen, Rossi and Prentiss don’t think the partner is a coworker. Can you tell us anything else about him?”

God, she was hot. She wiped her brow and tried to run her fingers through the tangled, sweaty mess that was her hair. “I don’t… I’m not sure. I looked through all the drawers, but I can’t-”

“Come on now, kiddo. I know you’re not thinking straight, but the Lydia I know would not stop looking.”

All she wanted to do was sleep. She didn’t care if Morgan called her lazy. She didn’t care if it wasn’t like her to quit. But then she remembered all those people at the hospital who were dying. They needed a break in the case. Now. She had to at least try to give that to them.

“Alright,” she mumbled, headed straight for the partner’s desk. “We think this partner is more like a protege, right? He clearly doesn’t know as much about the chemistry of anthrax than Nichols would. So maybe he was one of Nichols’s students?”

“Nichols stopped teaching ages ago. Any of his students would likely be far more advanced now than what you described from the partner’s notes.”

She flipped through everything she had left on the desk from her last search through the doors. “You’re right. These look more like my freshman year of college notes. Basics…” A large huff escaped her lips as she desperately attempted to swallow more air. Could you drown in your own sweat? “Wait, wait- I’m looking at something here. My best guess is it’s a thesis and based on the marks in red along the sides, Nichols has been correcting it. So maybe, not one of his students, but a local PhD student, looking for help on their thesis about anthrax?”

“I can look up local PhD students,” Garcia cut in.

“Yeah, check the sciences,” Morgan told her. “Biochemistry, microbi-”

“No, wait-” Lydia cut in through another coughing fit. “A science PhD student wouldn’t have all these other notes. It’s the only part that doesn’t line up with…” She trailed off, trying to skim what he had written, but it was so hard to concentrate.

“Lydia?”

Spencer… finally.

“Lydia, you’re almost done. We’re so close to getting you out of there. Is there anything else you can tell us about this student?”

She closed her eyes, soaking in his voice, without really considering what he was asking of her. “Okay...okay…” Eyes open again, she turned the thesis back to the opening page, a table of contents. “The chapters are on setting up mobile emergencies-” She fumbled for her words. “Emergency rooms. That’s not… Science students don’t care about city preparedness.”

“Garcia, check with students in the social studies,” Spence ordered. “Public policy, urban planning. And cross check those with-”

“-Former employees and customers with grievances at the bookstore,” she finished for him. “Hot to trot. There’s a Chad Brown, school of public policy at U of M. Matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front.”

“That’s gotta be him,” Morgan said

“Totally. He’s been in the doctoral program on and off for five years. Nix on a steady job. Was slapped with a restraining order from his former girlfriend and has been arrested and released twice at protest rallies in DC. I’ll tell Hotch.”

Garcia spoke so fast that by the time Lydia had put Brown’s thesis down, she had already dropped off the call.

“You did good, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” she rasped.

“Now it’s time for you to get the hell out of there,” Spencer demanded.

It wasn’t a cure, but Lydia was feeling so sick, she didn’t care. She’d done her best. Maybe it really was time to hit the hospital and succumb to the morphine.

“Yeah. Bye.”

She started to move towards the exit, knowing that they would have to decontaminate her before getting her into the ambulance, but was stopped on her way.

“Dr. Ambers!” Dr. Kimura called. “You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn’t suspect. What about Nichols’s inhaler?”

...smart.

Very smart.

“Bag it as evidence,” she ordered. “I have to hope this is it. But I can’t stay.”

The older woman nodded, likely seeing the sway as Lydia stood before her, or the sweat slipping down her neck. “Let’s get you to the hospital and I’ll have this sent to your lab.”

“Thank you,” Lydia said, smiling through the pain.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day was a blur. Lydia had small snippets of memory: the moment Derek left to help the rest of the team, having the get hosed down and changed into a hospital gown outside of Nichols’s house, Spencer promising to meet her at the hospital. But after the fog cleared up from her mind she was positive that those would disappear as well.

She let her eyes crack open and swallowed a groan. Her nose was burning and itchy from the plastic tubes connecting her to a breathing machine and her voice was practically gone. She didn’t want to open her eyes fully because at the moment, her head was a dull ache, but she was sure the lights would cause a full blown migraine.

Spencer was holding onto her left hand with his right, his own left arm a makeshift pillow underneath his head.

On the opposite side of the room, Derek and Penelope were leaning against a wall, talking quietly. Morgan had a red Jell-O cup in his hand.

“You know, Derek,” she mumbled, softly, “I think hospital Jell-O is meant for the patients.”

They both looked over at her smiles spreading across their faces.

“Hey, kiddo,” Morgan said, matching her vocal level to not wake Spencer. “Hey doc,” he directed outside the room. “Look who’s back.”

Dr. Kimura wandered in next, standing at the edge of Lydia’s bed to speak to her. “Hey, Dr. Ambers. How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” she asked, glancing between her friends and the doctor.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Morgan prefaced. “And we got Brown. It’s over.”

“And the other patients? Did any of them…?”

“The four who were still alive are on the mend,” Garcia finally said, anxious to spread joy after the day she’d had. “You were right, Lydia. You saved them.”

“I didn’t-”

“Uh-uh,” Morgan interrupted. “I will have none of that. You put a lot on the line to find that cure. To find Brown. We all got a happy ending after what you did. Bask in it for a minute.”

She rolled her eyes teasingly and turned to check in on her boyfriend once more. He was still peacefully sleeping across his elbow, his long hair shielding his eyes from her.

“He was very worried for you,” Dr. Kimura told her.

“I was worried about him,” was all Lydia said, gently squeezing his hand.

“How long do you think you two are going to do this back and forth thing?” Morgan teased. “One of you is always worried about the other.”

“When we lose our impulse control,” Lydia replied, but stopped, thinking of something better. “When we lose our hearts.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 28: Memoriam (S4E7)

Warnings: mentions of murder and sexual assault to children, discussion of nightmares

Ch 27 | Ch 29

~ ~ ~

“I had another nightmare,” was the first thing Spencer said when Lydia answered his call the next morning.

They’d had a discussion the night before about what was going on. As Spencer had put it, ‘it didn’t seem like that much of a deal until it affected his work’. Lydia was one to talk about not communicating, so she listened quietly and told him they could try to sort it out more when he got back. He told her he was staying with his mom for that night, which was honestly nice for her to hear. Lydia understood Spencer’s mixed feelings about visiting his mother, so she was glad he was going to get some time that was peaceful.

But now, he was calling her at 5 AM Vegas time, likely from his mom’s room in the hospital. Whatever was going on could not be put off until he got back. “What happened?”

“Same basement, same washer, same shoes and pants, everything. But there was someone standing over the body this time.”

“And did you recognize them?”

There was hesitance on the line. Fear felt like it was a string between their cellphones.

“Yeah, I… Lydia, I think my dad killed Riley Jenkins.”

Fuck. “Spencer, are you…” She cut herself off. Of course he wasn’t sure. But he wouldn’t have told her if he wasn’t fairly suspicious too. “What makes you think so?”

“He was standing over Riley’s body! Something happened to make my mind show me this. My subconscious is trying to tell me something!”

“Okay… That’s okay. How do we fix this?”

“I need to stay in Las Vegas. I just… I have to figure this out.”

“I’ll grab the next flight out,” Lydia replied, matter-of-factly.

“Lydia, you have class-”

“You haven’t spoken to your father in 17 years and you’re going to accuse him of sexually assaulting and stabbing a child? No, sir. Not alone you won’t. My classes will deal. They always do.”

“What if I don’t figure this out? I can’t call you away for some pointless endeavor-”

“Spencer, stop. I’m coming. This is just like any other case. We can’t guarantee we’ll solve it. But isn’t the potential of bringing a murderer to justice worth it?”

“I… Are you sure?”

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“...thank you.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia rushed through the airport and hopped into a cab, heading straight for the hotel. She was crazy worried about Reid. There was no way to process the idea of someone you love being a murderer. She hoped it wasn’t true, but she didn’t know what would be easier for Spencer to accept. He tried to play it off, but Lydia knew he harbored an anger for the man. It could cloud his judgement.

She gave the hotel room door a solid knock, hoping Spencer would be back from the police department by now to let her in. He had warned her he was going to pick up as much information on the Riley Jenkins case that morning and meet her at his room.

“Hey,” he breathed, upon seeing her face on the other side of the door.

“Hey. Where do we start?” she began stepping inside with him and stopping short to see other people inside. “Rossi, Morgan. I thought you two would be on your way back to DC by now?”

“We didn’t want pretty boy to have to deal with this alone. But it looks like he was already on top of that.”

She gave Morgan a wide smile. “This isn’t exactly my forte. I’m mostly emotional support, so any help Spence can get would be great.”

“You aren’t just emotional support,” Spencer said, already opening the manilla folders he’d collected from the station. “I have a very important job for you.”

“Which is?”

“Interviewing the suspect, of course.”

~ ~ ~

“Riley was six at the time. His father, Lou Jenkins, was supposed to pick him up from T-Ball practice at four. But he got delayed at work, prompting Riley to walk three blocks home. When his mother got home in the early evening, she found him dead in the basement.”

“This sounds like the opening to a word problem,” Lydia muttered, just low enough that Spencer couldn’t hear it.

“So, the offender came to the house after the boy arrived home,” Rossi said.

“Or picked him up on the way there.”

“Coaxes Riley into the basement,” Morgan continued, “when he sexually assaults him.”

“The boy's mouth was taped shut,” Rossi added.

“Symbolic. The unsub fears Riley will talk, panics, weighs his options…”

“Decides to make certain he’ll never talk,” Morgan finished.

Spencer nodded.

Riley had been stabbed 9 times according to the file Lydia had in front of her. The knife belonged to the family’s fishing gear, which was conveniently in the basement.

“So,” Spencer began again, “the unsub’s a white male in his late 20s to early 30s.”

“Means we’re looking for a man in his 50s.”

Morgan confirmed their speculations. “He likely knew the boy. Maybe been to his house.”

“Neighbor,” Rossi suggested.

Lydia had been quiet this whole time. Profiling wasn’t something you picked up just by watching. The theory behind it was complex. But Spencer, at least… Spencer, she knew.

“Spence, what is it?”

His eyebrows were knit together with concentration, flipping between two pages in his hands. Rossi and Morgan looked up from their own files and noticed how stressed he looked.

“My family lived less than a half mile from the Jenkins’,” he admitted.

“You think your dad knew the boy?”

Spencer glanced at Rossi, then began rubbing his temples in thought. “I don’t know. My memory’s lack of recall just reinforces how little I knew about him.”

“Reid, I don’t need to tell you that this signature was need-based and sexual in nature. The man we’re looking for is a pedophile.” With those words, the older man leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “So, I’ll ask you again. Are you sure you want to go down this road?”

Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes. Learning your father was a pedophile might unlock some memories that Spencer’s subconscious was trying desperately to hide from him. Most people wouldn’t want to remember that.

But Spencer was Spencer. Lydia couldn’t be one to fault him for that. She’d be desperate to know the same. But then again, she was well aware that she wasn’t the gold standard for self care. So his determination, while not shocking, was disappointing.

…also a part of her was just praying that she wouldn’t have to come head to head with Spencer’s dad.

~ ~ ~

“What did you get, Morgan?” Rossi asked as he picked up the phone. He and Lydia were on their way back from the police station after thoroughly questioning the lead detective on the case. Sadly, they didn’t get much. He was basically recounting what they’d read in the case file.

Morgan, on the other hand, had gone with Spencer to visit his mom and Riley Jenkins’s father. “William Reid works at a law firm in Summerlin. Meet us there.”

“We’re ready to confront him?” Lydia said from the driver’s seat.

“Riley was on the Little League team that William coached. So far, he fits the profile.”

“What did Mr. Jenkins say?”

“He doesn’t think it was him.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” Rossi finished.

As they pulled up to their next red light, Lydia dropped her head onto the steering wheel.

“You seem excited… Green light.”

She sent Rossi a glare and kept driving. “I know how this looks for him. He’s far too emotionally invested. But Spence is brilliant. I don’t doubt that something happened. But then again, if he’s wrong, his father’s first impression of me will be me accusing him of being a pedophile.”

“Do you honestly care what William Reid thinks of you?”

She considered it for a moment. “No… I don’t think so. But what’s ‘too far’ in a situation like this?”

“I think the best you can do for Reid today is be on his side and keep him grounded. He might find out a lot about himself that he doesn’t want to know.”

Lydia nodded, pulling onto the 95. “I’ll always be on his side.”

~ ~ ~

“Can I help you?” the receptionist on Mr. Reid’s floor asked as the four of them entered the office.

“Yeah…” Spencer began, but immediately the rest of his response died in his throat.

It scared Lydia to watch him. His tongue darted around his bottom lip and his eyes dropped to the carpet, trying to find the words. There was no way he was ready to have a civil conversation with his father. Lydia reached down and grabbed his hand to reassure him, but it didn’t look like he felt it, his mouth still open to express his silence.

Rossi took over for him. “We’d like to speak with William Reid.”

“Is he expecting you?” The woman took a moment to tear her eyes from Spence’s unsure face.

Rossi flashed his badge at her. “I don’t think so.”

“He’s in a meeting right now. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Rossi nodded and she walked off, leaving the four of them in a line in front of the main desk.

“You okay?” Morgan asked quietly.

Spencer looked at him with wide eyes and Lydia could hear his uneven breaths. “Yeah… No-- Yeah-- I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

His hand fell out of hers as he scurried down one of the hallways and out of sight.

“Well, shit,” Lydia mumbled.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Morgan admitted.

Rossi shrugged. “Seventeen years is a long time to go between visits.”

“Not long enough. The kid’s still angry.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”

“Are you going to be able to run point on this?” Morgan turned on Lydia.

“One of us has got to be level-headed,” she said, not turning away from where Spencer disappeared. “I think I can manage it for a day.”

“You from the FBI?” a new voice said, catching all of their attention.

William Reid was a gangly man, like his son, with a pointed nose. Lydia opened her mouth first, wanting to assert control as soon as possible. “Yes, sir. Mr. Reid, I’m Lydia Ambers and these are agents Rossi and Morgan.”

Rossi showed off his badge again, being the only person to have it on hand.

“This wouldn’t be about the city council investigation, would it?” he joked.

“No, this is a personal matter, sir,” she replied, not letting herself hesitate for a minute. “It concerns your son.”

“My son?” His face faltered. “Did something happen?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Spencer sounded winded as he rounded the corner and joined them once again. Lydia stared him down, trying to silently ask if he was okay, but his eyes never left his father. “Hello, dad.”

~ ~ ~

William pulled them into his office to have a private discussion. Lydia immediately took the seat opposite him. As she suspected, Spencer didn’t want to sit, so Rossi sat beside her and Morgan hovered behind them.

“You don’t look like me anymore,” William started, looking at his son to his left. “You used to. Everybody said so.”

“They say some people look like their dogs, too. It’s attributed to prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples, also. They unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they’ve been around their whole life. So it kind of-- kind of makes sense that I wouldn’t really look like you. I haven’t seen you in twenty years.”

That shut him up. Clearly he felt guilty for ignoring his son for the majority of his life.

...but not guilty enough to fix it.

“Mr. Reid, we’re currently investigating a case we believe you were involved in many years ago. Do you remember a kid by the name of Riley Jenkins?”

The man looked between his son and Lydia. “Of course.”

“I’ve been having dreams about him for a really long time,” Spencer explained. “But recently, the dream changed. I saw his killer and he was you.”

William raised an eyebrow, then calmly said, “Interesting dream.”

“You don’t seem all that surprised,” Morgan noted.

“I stopped being surprised by Spencer’s mind a long time ago.” He tried once more to keep the air light, but Lydia could see the nervousness in his features. At least, he knew where this was going.

“Mr. Reid, you are now on the suspect list for the death of Riley Jenkins.”

“I’m sorry?” he demanded.

“After Spencer looked into his dream, he got the perspective of some uninvolved parties, who agree that you fit parts of the suspect’s profile. It is, as you know, our job to investigate all reasonable theories.”

“You’re not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins?”

“We didn’t say that,” Spencer responded.

“Good, ‘cause that’s absurd.”

“We’d just like permission to look through your computer,” Morgan continued. “Access your records.”

“And what would you be looking for exactly?” Lydia waited for one of her coworkers to answer, but none of them did. “You want access to my files?” His eyes locked onto Spencer’s. “Get a warrant.”

~ ~ ~

“We can’t get a warrant,” Spencer told Garcia as he and Lydia walked back to his hotel room. “We have to go under the radar on this one.”

“You want me to hack your father’s network?” Lydia could hear Garcia say over the line. “You sure about this?”

“I really would wish people would stop asking me that.”

He shut his phone quickly and Lydia was about to say something about the others being concerned for him when he opened the door and they both saw a small, flat package in the doorway.

“‘You’re looking at the wrong guy,’” Spencer read off the front of the folder.

Inside was a file on a man named Gary Brendan Michaels.

“I’ll tell Morgan and Rossi to meet us in the lobby again,” Lydia told him.

~ ~ ~

“Was the envelope dropped off at the front desk first?” Rossi asked as he and Morgan surveyed the mugshots in front of them.

“Nope, it went straight to my room.”

“So they knew what room you were in.”

“I do have to admit, the timing of this is a little suspicious,” Derek stated.

“Yeah. An hour after I see my father, we’re handed another suspect?”

“You think you knew this guy?”

Spencer had told her that he could have sworn this man had played chess with him as a child, but he seemed hesitant to admit it to Rossi. “I don’t know. I-I think so, but I’m not sure. I- No- I don’t know.”

“Exposed himself to a minor. That’s a precursor to molestation.”

“And murder,” Morgan agreed. “We should take a closer look at this guy.”

Seconds later, Derek’s phone went off and he reached down and put it on speaker.

“Yeah, talk to me, baby girl.”

“I’m not interrupting boy time at Crazy Horse Too, am I?”

“I’m right here, Garcia,” Lydia announced.

“Sweetheart! No one told me you were headed to Vegas.”

“Well, it wasn’t for the strip clubs, I can tell you that.”

Lydia could hear the smile in Garcia’s voice as she moved on. “Reid, we’ve been all up in your father’s business.”

“What did you find?” he asked, softly. Lydia would have reached out to hold his hand again, but he instinctively crossed his arms.

“Well, let me tell you first what I did not find. No kiddie porn, no memberships to illicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history.”

“What about his finances?”

The voice that answered belonged to Hotch. “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we can find.”

“Well,” Prentiss interrupted, “he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago, but I think we could overlook that.”

“How many people can you fit into your batcave, Garcia?” Lydia joked.

“Just the two, Sugar.”

“He’s smart,” Spencer said, pulling them back on track. “Is it possible he kept things under the table?”

“Well, of course,” Hotch argued. “But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”

“We can tell you other things about him, if you wanna know.”

Spencer nodded, before realizing Emily couldn’t see him. “I’m listening,” he swallowed.

“He’s a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money, but he doesn’t spend a lot of it. He has a modest house. He drives a hybrid. He doesn’t travel much. He stays away from the casinos. Um, and according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

Hotch picked up from there. “He appears to spend most of his free time alone, he goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favorite author is-”

“Isaac Asimov,” Spencer answered for him. “I remember that one.”

“He does have one other major interest,” Garcia continued. “On his home computer, he’s archived, like, a kajillion things on one common subject.”

“What?”

“You, kiddo. He’s got, like, everything that’s been published online. Every article you’ve been quoted in, pieces you’ve written for behavioral science journals, he even has a copy of your dissertation.”

“He’s keeping tabs on you,” Rossi noted. “That’s saying something.”

“Yeah, that he googled me,” Spencer snapped. “That makes up for everything. I’m gonna get some air.”

Both men looked at Lydia as her boyfriend stormed off into the casino.

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s give him a minute to cool down, shall we?”

“I thought we were giving him good news,” Garcia sighed, disappointed.

“What else can we do?” Hotch asked.

“Look up a name for us, if you would,” Morgan said into his phone. “Gary Brendan Michaels.”

“You like this Gary guy for the Riley murder?”

“Somebody does.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia was lucky that Spencer didn’t exactly blend in with the casino scenery. She made a beeline for the poker games and got a glimpse of his back at a 5-card draw machine. When she got over there, a woman with a martini glass was leaning over his shoulder, talking to him.

Lydia wasn’t the jealous type, seeing as this was Spencer she was dating, so she found it funny that he’d attracted a prostitute in the 5 minutes she’d been gone.

“...if you employ optimal strategy and always draw for the royal flush, you can push those odds to 2%.”

“Hm,” she nodded, intrigued. “Smart and handsome.”

Lydia saw his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, probably just now realizing who he was talking to, so she decided to step in on his behalf. “Sorry, honey. He’s a bit too clueless to be a good target.”

“Lydia!” Spencer exclaimed. The woman looked between them and gracefully walked off to find someone else. “I wasn’t-”

She laughed. “I got you, Spence. We’ve got more important things to worry about. How are you feeling?”

“Something’s wrong,” he argued. “I can’t just ignore the signs my brain is sending me.”

“We’re not ignoring them. But there are so many ways to interpret a dream. Don’t you think our first job should be finding out what happened to Riley? Your dad doesn’t fit the profile of a pedophile, but he could still be involved. I promise you, Spencer, you’re not going crazy. Just keep trusting your gut and we’ll get somewhere.”

A small smile pulled at his lips as he considered this. “I don’t tell you I love you enough.”

“Don’t worry-” She leaned down and gave him a peck on the lips. “-I know.”

“You two are annoyingly perfect for each other,” Derek said, appearing with Rossi. “So, what’s our next move?”

“Getting out of this casino, for one,” Lydia grumbled. “The overpowering smell of smoke is making my head hurt.”

Rossi nodded. “Reminder of all the people victim to cigarettes.”

“You know,” Spencer began, following the rest of the group back to the lobby, “recently, there’s been a lot of success in…”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what had just grabbed Spencer’s attention. She knew he wouldn’t have stopped his tangent willingly. “What?”

“Hypnosis.”

~ ~ ~

“What did the detective say?” Lydia asked as Spencer hopped back into the car.

“We get 24 hours to question him.”

“And Morgan?” she continued, noticing he had not followed Spence out of the police station.

“He’s talking to Garcia about Gary Michaels.”

Lydia took a breath. “You… didn’t want to learn more about Michaels before taking in your dad?”

“You don’t think I can be objective either,” he huffed.

“You were never going to be able to be objective on this,” she argued. “That’s what we’re here for. To help you keep an open mind.”

“I saw him burning bloody clothes!” Spencer finally shouted.

He’d repeated those same words multiple times after his visit to the hypnotherapist. The woman had warned him that his memory could be distorted by the case, but Spencer was certain this had happened.

“Okay.” Lydia’s voice was much softer now, though she wasn’t sure if it was an attempt to comfort him or if she was genuinely startled by his reaction. “Then I want you to listen to one more thing before we take your father into custody. Watching your father go to prison, even if you are pissed at him, isn’t as cathartic as you think.”

“If he did something, he deserves to be brought to justice,” Spencer snapped, though he was much tamer now.

Lydia was glad to see Morgan climbing into the backseat, seeing as she couldn’t find much to respond to that. “Gary Michaels disappeared soon after the Riley murder. Luckily, we’ve got some DNA that Garcia’s running through ViCAP to see if he’s offended under a different name.”

“Good,” Lydia replied.

Spencer shot her a glare. “Let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia dressed up slightly to interrogate William Reid. As Morgan had told her, they wanted him on his toes, so she needed to look like a strong authority figure.

...which she wasn’t.

“Mr. Reid, good to see you again.”

“Where’s my son?” he demanded.

“Dr. Reid is busy at the moment. We consider accusing a family member of murder as a conflict of interest.”

“This isn’t an FBI case and the normal rules don’t apply,” he argued. “I want to speak to my son.”

“Mr. Reid, your son has come forward as witness to you burning bloody clothing soon after the Riley murder. Do you deny this event happening?”

“I want council.”

Lydia could feel the word ‘fuck’ burning behind her eyelids. Lawyers getting involved was… difficult to say the least.

Luckily, she didn’t have to deal with that. As she opened her mouth, the door clicked open behind her.

“It’s a simple question,” Spencer said. “How did the blood get on the clothes?”

“I told you, I’m not going to talk without council.”

“If you don’t have anything to hide, you don’t need a lawyer.” Lydia could feel Spencer leaning threateningly above her.

“Spencer, please. I’m not stupid… I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“I’m not stupid either.”

Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, Lydia left him to his questioning and joined Rossi and Morgan behind the glass.

“Good try,” Derek told her. “This is too personal for them, there was no way they weren’t going to confront each other.”

“I just want to help him, Derek.”

“I know, kiddo.”

“Like you said, I do have special talents,” Spencer was saying across the glass. “And one of them is being able to tell when somebody’s hiding something.”

“You’re angry that I left. And you have a right to be.”

“You want to make it up to me? Tell me the truth.”

Lydia knew from his face and his silence that William was considering it. “I didn’t kill that boy… But I know who did.”

“Gary Michaels?”

His demeanor dropped immediately. “How’d you know that?”

“William Reid knows about Michaels?” Lydia murmured.

“So does Detective Hyde,” Rossi informed her. “We’re pretty sure he’s the one who put that file underneath Reid’s door.”

“Great.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “We love a reliable justice system.”

~ ~ ~

“How’s Spencer?”

“We’re on our way back from California,” was all Morgan said. It was possible that Spencer was with him, but Lydia figured Derek just didn’t want to answer the question. “There was a fingerprint on Gary Michaels glasses that didn’t belong to him.”

Hotch had called to let them know that Gary Michaels’s DNA had been identified on a body found 7 years ago just across the state line. He’d been beaten to death with a blunt object. So the boys went to speak to the California detectives. And now Spencer was convinced that his father had murdered Michaels instead of Riley.

“Let me know what they find.”

“We’ll likely be back at the Fountain View before then.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby, then.”

“Oh! And I just got word that JJ has gone into labor.”

Lydia blinked at the news, trying to do some quick math in her head. “Really? She wasn’t due for like… two to three weeks, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she was surprised, too. But the whole team is at the hospital.”

“Let’s wrap this up soon then, shall we?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer’s leg bounced at an unbelievably fast rate. Lydia could tell he hadn’t even noticed it.

When Derek’s phone began ringing, he looked at the name, then to Spencer. Last chance to go back. To not know if his father was a murderer.

Spencer chose the truth.

“Yeah, this is Agent Morgan… You did?... You’re 100% certain?... Ok. Thank you.” Spencer stood up, his fingers slipping from Lydia’s grasp, his eyes begging for answers. “We’re going to have to get an arrest warrant.”

Lydia’s heart leapt to her throat. It was a painful feeling. She hoped that Spencer felt vindicated, for his own sake, but there was no way this wouldn’t haunt him for years to come.

“It was a match?”

“Yeah,” Morgan breathed. “But it wasn’t your dad.”

~ ~ ~

Lou Jenkins looked up at her curiously as Lydia entered the interrogation room. Spencer followed him in, but didn’t say anything for a while.

“Mr. Jenkins, I am sorry for your son's death. Such traumatic news cannot be easy to recover from.”

“You didn’t bring me here to talk about my son.”

“I imagine the two situations are related.”

He glared at her. “Get on with it.”

“Did you kill Gary Michaels?” she asked, softly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He raped and murdered my son.”

“What proof did you have of that claim, Mr. Jenkins?”

“He admitted it to me.”

“When? Did he approach you-?”

“No. No, he admitted it after accusation.”

Lydia swallowed. “Mr. Jenkins,” she hesitated, “you were threatening to kill him. It is possible that he admitted to something he didn’t do out of fear. What made you approach him in the first place?”

“He approached another kid in the neighborhood.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was told by a concerned party.”

“Who? Another parent?”

Lou crossed his arms. “That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

Lydia tried to consider his motivations. He was clearly not telling them something. But what was the harm in naming the person who came forward unless they were a party to the murder?

“Who was it?” Spencer demanded before she could speak her own mind.

“I told you, that’s all I’m going to say on the-”

“Who was it?” he tried again, more forcefully.

Lydia looked up at her boyfriend, trying to calm him, but his attention was driven away from the both of them as Detective Hyde walked in. “Agent Reid?”

He spun around, pointing at the man threateningly. “Do not interfere with this interrogation, detective! This is not your case anymore.”

Lydia unconsciously reached forward and put her hand up against Spencer’s back, watching him lose his patience. He was angry. No one would give him what he needed so desperately to know. Until his mother stepped around the detective.

“Spencer, it was me,” she told him nervously.

Lydia leaned forward to see Will Reid standing beside her as well. She’d never seen Spencer’s parents together, and understandably, he was a bit surprised to see it as well. His eyes flitted from them, to the detective, to Lou, to her.

He was overwhelmed. His eyes read to her like a book of the truth that had been haunting him for years. His desperation had been growing. But if only it had been his father, he could have been relieved by the news. He didn’t want to consider his mom a murderer.

Silently, he reached around to grab the palm she had placed on his back, gave it a quick squeeze between both of his hands, and followed his parents out of the room.

~ ~ ~

By the time Lydia had gotten a signed confession from Lou, Spencer had come back. He explained to her his mother’s story. How she’d gone to Lou after she saw the way Gary Michaels was looking at him. How, after identifying Michaels, Lou followed him home and killed him. And how his mother had walked onto the scene and, horrified, slipped in Michaels’s blood.

Lou and William had agreed to keep Diana out of it, if Lou ever got caught. They didn’t want her implicated for something she had no capacity to prevent. And upon learning what had happened, William immediately set to burning Diana’s soiled clothing, a scene that poor Spencer had happened upon, which caused unrest in his mind for many years following.

“I’m so sorry if this is not how you planned this trip to go-”

“Spencer!” she laughed. “We solved the case! That’s all that needed to happen. The family drama I could have done without, yeah? Are you satisfied with your truth?”

He thought about it only momentarily. “Very. It had been weighing on me for quite some time.”

“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to try and get into your dad’s good graces, because we could use a rich family member between us.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but still couldn’t hide his smile as she skipped away towards where his parents were still speaking.

Morgan, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to throw Spencer a huge ‘I-told-you-so’, approached him, but couldn’t formulate the words before Spencer said something so out of character and… frankly, just exciting, that Derek was stunned into silence.

“I’m going to marry that girl.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 27: The Instincts (S4E6)

Warnings: kidnapping, murder of children, nightmares

Ch 26 | Ch 28

~ ~ ~

It took a few weeks of just talking. About anything and everything with each other. But Spencer was finally certain that Lydia was his other half.

They were just so similar. It was eerie to him, because ever since he’d met her he’d thought she was everything he wasn’t: outgoing, brave, and impulsive. But in all the ways that mattered, they were exactly the same. Ambitious and moral and smart. And all his fears and anxieties couldn’t keep him from loving that about her. The good and the bad. They were perfectly matched in their passion and their stubbornness.

Eventually, Spencer had to leave for yet another case and it turned out to be far more difficult than he had foreseen. Upon boarding the jet, he’d fallen asleep, which was unusual enough as was. But he was woken up from a very strange nightmare by Rossi, who was concerned about him mumbling in his sleep.

He had almost forgotten entirely about his dream by that evening. The case they were working was a child abductor case. The unsub had kidnapped a 5-year-old boy and called the parents to torment them once or twice, before suffocating the child seven days later. They had just taken another boy, by the name of Michael Bridges.

Hotch had ordered Reid and Morgan to stay with the family that night in case they received another phone call. So Spencer and his coworker were drifting off on the couches downstairs when something caught his eye.

There was a door in the hallway parallel to the stairs. He could have sworn that hadn’t been there when they arrived, but nonetheless, he felt compelled to go check it out.

Quietly getting up, he walked over and found that the new discovery led down to a basement. As he stepped down, he reached for his gun, a sinking feeling coming over him.

The basement was for the most part empty. Directly across from the entrance was a washer and dryer, their bright white color standing out against the beige walls. And just peeking out behind the washer were two tiny feet with jeans and black tennis shoes on.

Spencer approached, but stopped short before he could see any more of the body. At the sound of footsteps, he turned and found Morgan and Rossi behind him. He didn’t for a moment question why Rossi was there.

“We couldn’t find any evidence of forced entry.”

“Why would that matter?” Spencer asked. Something was wrong. Everything about this was insanely familiar. He’d been here before. Seen this before.

“‘Cause it means he most likely knew his attacker,” Morgan argued, but at that point, Spencer had stopped listening.

There were strange lumps forming on his chest. Ripping open the front of his button down, he was horrified to find multiple leeches attached to his torso.

“Get them off me!” he shrieked. “Morgan, get them off me! Morgan!”

“Reid!” Morgan’s voice was fainter than he remembered. Morgan was right behind him, wasn’t he? “Reid! Wake up! It’s Morgan.”

Spencer’s eyes flew open and found himself back on the couch of the Bridges home, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. Morgan had turned on a nearby lamp and was hovering over him, concern filling his face.

It was the same dream he’d had on the jet. The only difference was the first time he’d woken up trying to get JJ’s unborn baby off the scene and this time, he’d woken up while covered in leeches. Reid didn’t believe in dream analysis… but why did it change?

“What the hell’s going on?” Mr. Bridges demanded, him and his wife rushing down the stairs.

“Sir, ma’am,” Morgan addressed, “everything’s okay.”

“You wake us up screaming and you think everything’s okay?”

“Look, I understand we startled you and I’m sorry for that.”

“You’re the FBI!”

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re right,” he stuttered. “You’re right. I’m, just, I’m really sorry.”

Morgan watched him for a moment, seeing his shoulders shudder up and down as he caught his breath. Then he turned back to the couple. “Sir, please, go back upstairs and try to get some rest. It was just a misunderstanding. Everything is fine, I promise you that.”

Mr. Bridges stormed off in a huff, but his wife stuck around for a moment, shuffling her feet on the steps. “Are you okay?”

“It was a dream,” he said, then gulped. “I’m really sorry.”

“Was it about Michael?”

Spencer didn’t know. He hadn’t seen any more than a small pair of black sneakers. But for her sake, he shook his head.

“I’ve been afraid to close my eyes,” she continued. “I’m scared I’ll see him die.”

He opened his mouth. The words ‘Don’t worry’ died in his throat. They weren’t true. He didn’t believe them. The chances of finding Michael were so slim. So he stood there with his mouth hanging open.

“Ma’am, I know it’s hard,” Morgan interrupted, softly. “But I need you to go upstairs and try to get some sleep…” Her eyes never left Spencer. “Please. I am sorry for the disturbance.”

Finally, she turned on her heel and left, turning off the hall light as she went.

“I’m making everything worse,” Spencer sighed.

“Reid… these cases get to all of us.”

“I’m losing it in their living room. And I’m dreaming- I’m dreaming about dead kids and being covered in leeches.”

“What the hell is scaring you?”

It took a few moments for Spencer to phrase his feelings into a coherent thought. “This boy’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

~ ~ ~

The next day was the funeral for the first boy who’d been kidnapped. With the amount of remorse the unsub showed with his body, they figured it was likely they’d be at the funeral to show respect to the child they’d killed.

Hotch wanted Michael’s parents there as well. It was possible they’d recognize the unsub or even just be able to tell if someone was watching them. And the unsub… The unsub would definitely by watching.

After getting changed into dark clothing, Spencer went upstairs to look around Michael’s room again.

“Hey kid,” Morgan called, appearing in the door not moments later. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“You know, they’re right. Odds are we’ll catch the unsub when he dumps the body or when he tries to snatch another kid.”

“I know the odds, Reid.”

It was so negative. Spencer wasn’t normally a pessimist, but the whole situation was bullshit. It was his job to save this kid. Why couldn’t he just… just save him? “It’s weird. Some things never go away.” He stepped away from his friend to pick up something off Michael’s desk to show him. “When I was a kid, every boy I knew had piles of dinosaur toys.”

He set down the green tyrannosaurus where he found it.

“Not you?” Morgan asked knowingly.

“I had books and notebooks. My mom filled hundreds of them with poems by W.S. Erwin and songs by Bob Dylan. She liked it when I memorized them. She was convinced that they were watching us and writing songs about our lives.”

Where are you going with this? he asked himself. What is bothering you so much that you’re sitting here tossing around a six-year-old’s dinosaurs?

“Basements are the first part of a house to be built, right?” he blurted out. “So, if you’re having a recurring dream about a basement, kinda speaks to the core fundamentals of who you are as a person.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in dream analysis?”

“Freud’s been discredited, but Jung still has his merits… My dream? The dead boy? I’ve been having different versions of it since I was a little kid.”

“Hey.” Morgan made a few steps closer to him. “Have you talked to Lydia about this?”

“Why would I talk to Lydia about this?”

“Because you trust her,” Morgan insisted. “You love her a lot and I have the feeling she might be able to talk you through some of this. You know, no one would think less of you if you took a little time off to talk with her and get your head together.”

Spencer knit his eyebrows together. How would that help? It was a stupid dream anyway, wasn’t it? “I just want to find this boy,” he insisted, then stepped around Morgan and headed downstairs towards the car.

~ ~ ~

As Hotch handed the young Michael Bridges off to his family, Morgan was frustrated to see Spencer standing apart from the group, clearly lost in his own thoughts. This is what he wanted. They found Michael alive.

He wondered if it was a mistake to show him the Riley Jenkins case. Riley Jenkins had died at six, when Spencer was four, and many of the case details lined up to Spencer’s dreams: he was found in his basement, behind a washing machine, and lived in Las Vegas, very close to where Spencer lived.

“You know, this is about as good a day as we’re gonna get on this job.”

“I know,” Spencer mumbled.

“And yet you’re still thinking about a boy you’re not even sure if you really knew.”

His grimace didn’t reassure Morgan in his statement. “When I was four, my mother had a sense that I was in danger.”

“Reid, your mother wasn’t well.”

“I know facts about the case,” he argued.

“Reid, you’ve got a photographic memory. Odds are, you saw the story-- he was just a kid like you-- and it caught your imagination.”

“I don’t really think that you believe that.”

Profilers. He should know better than to lie to Reid. “You want to know what I really believe?” he mended. “I believe you could have done anything in this world with your life, and you chose to do this job. Your man Carl Jung says our unconscious is the key to our life’s pursuits.”

It took Spencer a moment to confirm that what Morgan said was correct. “Yeah… Yeah.”

“So, for whatever reason, that case was stuck in your brain all these years, and it not only led you to this career choice but to the same city where your mother lives, and for us to have the opportunity to save this child.”

It finally seemed like he was breaking through. Spencer gave him the smallest smile. But Derek knew that he wasn’t going to really get through to him. That’s why he had a backup plan.

“Like I said, this is probably as good a day as we’re gonna get, man. Enjoy your moment.”

Hotch appeared from around Morgan’s shoulder to join their group and Spencer seemed to think of something. “Hey, Hotch? Do you think it would be possible to wait until tomorrow to return home?”

Hotch looked down as if contemplating, then turned to Morgan. “Do you think you could find something to do in Vegas for the night?”

Derek didn’t try to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. Hotch knew that no one on the team would argue about a night off in Vegas. Especially not him. So the two of them wandered off, but as they left, Derek could tell Spencer was still thinking about Riley Jenkins.

Alright, plan B then…

Hotch gave him a questioning look as he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number, but Morgan didn’t care. The whole team could listen for all he cared, if it meant Spencer got out of this slump.

“Hello?”

“Lydia? When was the last time you spoke with Spencer?”

“Uh… he sent me a goodnight text last night? But that’s been our only communication while he’s been in Vegas. Why?”

“I think you should give him a call and ask about his nightmares.”

“He hasn’t told me about any nightmares…”

“I know. But he’s woken up shouting twice on this case so far. He told me about it, but I just can’t seem to help.”

“How do you propose I bring it up to him?”

“You can tell him I told you. He’s gonna know I interfered either way.”

“Okay… Thanks, Derek.”

“Good luck, kiddo.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 26: Reckless

Warnings: arguing, description of injuries, family disagreements

Ch 25 | Ch 27

~ ~ ~

Sitting on the jet, Lydia was really feeling the fatigue set in. The whole team huddled as far away from her and Spencer as possible, trying to give them space to talk.

And that immediately set off alarms in her head.

She hadn’t seen Spencer while she was hurting. Had something happened? She would have simply thought they wanted to let her rest, but they kept glancing over at her. Nervously.

“Hey. Honey…?”

She glanced at him, realizing that his thoughts were far from here and now.

“Spencer,” she said more forcefully. “I need you to listen to me. What happened to me was not your fault. Okay? I made that choice.”

“It’s funny…” He still wasn’t looking at her and suddenly Lydia realized she had yet to look at the wounds across her face. “Your dad actually said something to me when he was visiting.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “My dad got you alone?”

“He said, ‘Be careful with my daughter. I’m glad to see the two of you so happy, but in the end, Lydia’s been untouchable since her mother died. You can’t reach her. Not really.’”

The ache in her upper body disappeared, replaced by red, hot anger. “What an ass! He wants to rebuild our relationship so bad and then he-” She groaned. “He said basically the same thing to me. He was like ‘a boyfriend doesn’t seem like you. You’re too closed off.’ The hell does he know. He’s been in prison for 7 years.”

“He’s right though.”

“Excuse me?!”

For the first time in the whole flight, he looked her in the eyes. “I love you so much, Lydia. And I think you love me. But when it comes down to it, you don’t trust me.”

What the hell? “Of course I trust you-”

“I think it’s partly my fault,” he murmured. “I need to open myself up a bit more and show you how much I’d do for you. But that’s a two way street, you know. If you close yourself off, I’ll never get through to you. And I know how stubborn you are. You’ll keep refusing to open up to me until you don’t know anything else.”

“Suddenly you believe my father more than me? I’m not hiding anything from you, Spencer!” She hated snapping at him, but her father was a sore subject for her. Always had been. The fact that Spencer had been hiding a conversation with him for months was scary to her. She didn’t have faith in her father to look after her interests anymore.

“This is the second time you’ve done something dangerous without telling anyone and barely come out the other side! The shot you took in New York is barely healed and you’re throwing yourselves at unsubs again, still unarmed and unvested. You act like this self-sacrificial stuff is the only way, but it’s not. It’s why we work in a team. You aren’t talking to me.”

He could have punched her in the gut, bruised abdomen and all, and it probably would have hurt less. Why were they still on different pages?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He simply shrugged, once again staring off into the distance. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

~ ~ ~

They barely talked for two days.

Lydia was once again in recovery mode, trying to rebuild some of the muscle in the stomach, but this event had set her back another couple of weeks in terms of bullet wound recovery. Ughhhh…

And her face was… purple, for starters. She was scared to leave the house in fear that kids would see her and scream. And it concerned her that the swelling wasn’t going down, although she’d been told it wouldn’t go away for at least a week. It felt unnatural for her face to be so… puffy.

She was poking it gently in the mirror one afternoon, trying to determine if the sensitivity had gone down when she heard Spencer get back from work.

She noticed that he was shuffling around the apartment and found it curious, seeing as the past few days, he had gone from the front door straight to the couch.

“Lydia?” She heard faintly.

“I’m in the bathroom,” she called back, leaning out the door as he walked into their attached bedroom.

“Hey… How are you feeling?”

She raised an eyebrow, suspiciously. “You’re acting weird. What’s this about?”

He sighed and threw his satchel onto the bed beside him, groaning in frustration. “I don’t know why I try easing into these tough conversations. You always see right through me.”

“It’s your own fault if I’m good at reading people. I learned from the best.” She stepped over to him. “Is this about our argument?”

“I don’t like avoiding each other,” he admitted. “Especially not when I know you’re hurting.”

“I’m not hurting,” she argued.

“Fine,” he hissed. “Then, I’m hurting. And I want to talk to you about it and I can’t, cause we’re not talking.”

“You’re hurting?” Suddenly, her fear of starting another argument drifted away and her concerns rose. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” he began, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m really in love with this girl and I wanna be with her all the time, but I worry that I won’t be able to. I’m scared of losing her. So I feel like I should distance myself so that I don’t get hurt. What should I do?”

“Are you thinking about breaking up?” she asked, her voice low.

She had been afraid of this since getting off the jet and seeing the way he was dodging her attention. But she wanted him to be happy, so she wasn’t going to fight for him to stay if that’s what he wanted.

“No… Not yet. But I feel like we’ve been here before and if this argument didn’t work last time…”

She took a deep breath, exhaling a shaky relief that he didn’t plan on kicking her out. “I guess the real question, then, is how do we get through situations like this without always having this fight?”

“I’m always going to worry for you, Lydia,” he argued, repeating his words from when they decided to try dating again. “I love you too much to not want to do anything! But it’s like the Owen Savage case. We had guns on us, but at least we were together. I’m upset, because recently you run into danger and then you throw a wall up between us and you’re alone!”

“I wasn’t alone, Spence. Prentiss was there.”

“Fine! Then I was alone!” He was getting fed up and ran his fingers through his hair violently. “You realize that every time you’re in danger, Hotch makes me sit out. I’m helpless, useless, afraid-“

“Okay,” she interrupted, softly. “You’re right, I would hate that.”

“I don’t want to keep feeling that way! I know that you aren’t doing it intentionally, but we… our relationship can’t survive this way.”

“...okay…” she said again. “I can… there’s a way to fix this. And I’ll do everything I can. But in the end, Spencer, sometimes things will happen and I won’t be next to you. Can we please just… will you trust me to look out for myself until I can get to you again?”

He bit down on his bottom lip, standing up to her level. “I didn’t mean to say-“

“I know. But you’re right, I’m not throwing up walls between us because I don’t want you with me.” She huffed, putting her thoughts together as she spoke them aloud. “After my mom died, every time things got hard, I hurt other people. When Cyrus accused me of being a fed, I figured it was me or Emily.”

“That’s Emily’s decision, too-”

“I know!” She interrupted again. “But Spencer, I’ve been doing this for years. Dealing with things on my own. I am good at it. If something happens, you need to trust that I’ll come out the other end. And then, Hotch and I will trust that you’ll do the smart thing. I’ll trust you not to rush into a hostage situation that could easily get you and dozens of innocent people hurt.”

“I just wanted… I couldn’t deal with us being alone again. I couldn’t-“ As he finished, he looked right into her eyes and his voice broke off, the first of a sea of tears streaming down his face.

He dropped his head down so that she wouldn’t be able to see them as well, but unfortunately for him, he was too tall to evade her line of sight and she immediately stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his back and letting him cry into her hair.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out or bear Cyrus’s anger alone. It was a dumb mistake to play into what he wanted. But I thought it was the only way to protect Emily at the time.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. I’m sorry for fighting over this.”

She shook her head quickly. “We’ve needed to talk about this for a while. I’m glad we did. We’re a bit too similar-“

“You mean, reckless?”

“-when others are in trouble,” she continued, trying to be a bit gentler with her wording.

“So, what you’re saying is, we need to be reckless together?”

“Reckless together,” she agreed with a giggle.

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

#criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds oc #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm oc #spencer reif fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #untouchable #untouchable ch26 #lydia ambers

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 25: Minimal Loss (S4E3)

[TW!!] Warnings: (This is the same content as found in the episode, so if you’ve seen it, don’t worry too much, but I find this one to deal with multiple sensitive topics at once, and I don’t gloss over it all, like I often do, so be careful) mentions of rape and pedophilia, depictions of torture, cults, murder-suicide

Ch 24 | Ch 26

A/N: Okay, so I’m four days late on posting this, but this is quite possibly the longest chapter I’ve posted, so hopefully that makes up for it?

~ ~ ~

Lydia’s family stayed for about a week, attached to Lydia at the hip the whole time. She loved her sister dearly and was glad to have some time with her father, but she could barely breathe by the time she was taking them to the airport. As she explained to Spencer, she was merely frustrated they didn’t give her any heads up.

Luckily, they left before her teaching schedule came back into full swing at the university. It was nice to get back into her routine and see some of her students and coworkers who were worried about her. She didn’t realize how close she’d gotten to the people there until the letters, phone calls, emails, and gifts started flooding in, telling her to take it easy and get back soon.

And then, in October, Hotch finally gave her a call for a case.

It was small, but she wanted to get out of her apartment so bad.

Hotch was sending Lydia and Prentiss to Colorado where there was a claim against a separation church leader raping young girls.

Spencer wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear Lydia was leaving, but the whole thing was fairly straight-forward: interview the kids, determine what they could about the cult itself, then see if there was reason to shut them down. Hotch knew that there wasn’t going to be any extraneous activity, so it was a perfect start to reintroducing Lydia to the field. Not to mention, she was very perceptive and a master manipulator.

“Tell us about the 911 call,” she said as she flipped through a file on the people of the church.

Emily was in the front seat with Nancy Lunde, from Child Protective Services. She was the head of the case and had the most prior knowledge on the group itself. “I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus.”

“Benjamin Cyrus,” Lydia mumbled, flipping to his page. “No criminal record. No record at all, really. I doubt it’s a real name. Correct me if I’m wrong, Emily, but Cyrus is a biblical name. A monarch. I’m seeing some subtle messages in there.”

“It translates to ‘sun’ in persian,” Emily agreed. “What else do you know about him?”

Lunde shook her head. “It’s rumored that he’s practicing polygamy and forced marriages,” she said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Any idea who the caller is?”

“Uh, Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits, but… we can’t be sure. So I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn’t easy.”

“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI,” Emily explained and Lydia got to work on their covers. She took their guns, holsters, and badges, hiding them in the door of the car and handed Emily two fake IDs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.”

The Bureau had made them brand new drivers licences and CPS badges with Colorado addresses to complete their cover stories.

All too soon, they were approaching the front gate. The sign read ‘Liberty Church Ranch’ with a large cross beside it.

It was hot outside and Lydia could feel the dust coating her nose and throat as she exited the car, approaching a set of stairs leading up to the church.

“I’m looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus?” Lunde called to a figure on the steps.

“You found him.”

Cyrus wore a light flannel and jeans, with reading glasses perched on his nose and a book in his lap. Lydia had to hold herself back from calling him out on framing the scene. Oh, look how kind and relaxed we are. Our leader sits outside and reads books all day blahblahblahbl-

Open mind, Lydia.

“I’m Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

He got up and approached the three of them. “‘Savages they call us. ‘Cause our manners differ from theirs.’”

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus,” the red-headed woman huffed.

“Actually, that’s Benjamin Franklin,” he sneered.

Nancy ignored this, and began introducing them. “Emily Prentiss, Lydia Ambers. They’re child victim interview experts.”

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called child victim interview expert?” Cyrus wondered.

“We wish we didn’t have to be here,” Emily said.

“So do we. But you are welcome, nonetheless. The children are in the school as I indicated.”

“Thank you.”

Lydia nodded and followed Emily off to the school building.

~ ~ ~

Jessica Evanson was not the kid they were looking for. Lydia could tell the moment she walked into the interview room. She was completely calm, the perfect child. Her hair was neatly brushed back, her polo shirt well ironed, and her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Her mother, Kathy, stood beside her, petting her hair gently, as if to reassure her, but Jessica clearly didn’t need it. She wasn’t intimidated by their presence at all.

“We go to school. We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect God demands.”

Emily sat across from her, conducting the interview, and Lydia stood beside her.

“But you’ve never been off of the ranch?” Emily asked.

“I brought Jessie here when she was two,” Kathy explained.

Jessica clearly was not having any of this. “You’ve talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours?”

“We devote ourselves to God,” Kathy continued. “That doesn’t mean we’re not devoted to our children.”

“We are not here because of your religious beliefs,” Emily reasoned.

“Why are you here?” Jessica demanded.

She was starting to become hostile. She grew up in a cult that taught her to hate outsiders, so Lydia couldn’t blame her for her behavior. But her mother was clearly a peacemaker, so where did she learn it from? It wasn’t defiance from her family, because that would put her against the group, not for it.

“We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”

“You’re talking about Cyrus,” she responded, almost immediately.

“What makes you say that?” Emily asked.

Her mother immediately became defensive, trying to get her daughter to be quiet, but Jessica was still determined to make a point.

“Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?”

Lydia’s eyes shot open. His what?

“You are married to Cyrus?” Emily spoke slowly, as if worried that the question would escalate the situation, but Jessica stayed proper in stance, if not in tongue.

“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It’s an honor to bear his children.”

It took everything in Lydia not to look disgusted by the thought and keep the interview going. “Jessica, you aren’t old enough to get married without parental consent.”

Emily nodded at the mother. “She gave consent.”

Before anyone could continue, a loud sound from outside got their attention. There was some yelling and suddenly Cyrus and a few other men were rushing in, machine guns in hand.

Lydia let her shock show on her face. Not just that they had the weapons, but that they would carry them around a school where CPS workers were present.

“Get up!” Cyrus demanded, turning on her and Emily. “Get up! Move!”

On the other side of the room, Nancy was entertaining the other kids. “What’s going on?” she asked softly.

“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter,” Cyrus began and a man walked around Emily and started to pat her down for weapons.

They were both unarmed, but Lydia was starting to regret that. These men were clearly threatened by their presence. What the hell had happened?

Another man walked around to check her and unceremoniously smacked her in the side, causing her to wince involuntarily. Cyrus clearly noticed this, but said nothing, continuing on with his point.

“Is there anything you want to tell me? About a raid, maybe?”

She and Emily exchanged a concerned look. A raid? They weren’t prepared for that. They had checked in with the state before joining child services to the ranch, there shouldn’t have been a raid on this church.

Luckily for them, Cyrus took their concern for fear and nodded. “They don’t know,” he determined. “Bring them along.”

A man grabbed Lydia’s arm and dragged her across the room, where another armed man was opening a hatch in the wall. A tunnel. A few guards went first, then they started ushering the people in. Women with their kids, Nancy, Emily, and Lydia all surrounded by machine guns, leaping into a dark hole underneath the church.

The passage underneath the buildings was too thin to walk side by side, so the guards let them go on by themselves.

“What’s going on?” Nancy whispered to the two FBI members ahead of her.

“We’re not sure yet,” Emily hissed. “Just stay calm.”

As they reached a large opening directly underneath the chapel, they could hear gunfire from above ground.

Prentiss pulled Lydia aside, trying to get as far away from the crowd as possible. “If this escalates, Cyrus is going to put this place on lockdown. The FBI is going to be in charge of negotiations as long as we’re inside. Do you know the Critical Incident Response Group handbook?”

Lydia shook her head quickly. God, it would be helpful if Spencer were here. He probably knew that book front and back. Lydia didn’t know what she was doing.

“Okay.” Emily fumbled, trying to determine what was important for Lydia to know before they had to revert back to their covers. “CIRG will bug all the windows and anything else they can get to. So, anything you need them to know, find a way to say it out loud. Keep the inside members talking. We won’t be able to know what the team already knows so tell them everything. If there are blinds on a window, they might be blocking the sound, so try and get them out of the way before speaking.”

“Best hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lydia argued, but the sound of the gunfire overhead was diminishing her hopes of getting out any time soon. She just hoped Spencer didn’t know what was going on.

At the sound of Cyrus’s voice, the two girls stepped away from one another, trying to blend in with the crowd.

“Alright! Move quietly! Quickly, go to the left! Everybody stay together!” he ordered, pushing his way through the room. “Children, listen to your parents. Have faith.”

“Where did these guns come from?” Emily whispered hurriedly and Lydia glanced around her to see what she was looking at.

Wooden crates lined the walls, each labelled as bullets or magazines. Leaning into the corners were more machine guns. Buckets of them.

“I thought Garcia checked with the state police to see if they were involved in…” Lydia trailed off, not sure how to frame the inquiry, but luckily Emily was on the same page.

“Someone lied to us. You don’t just lose track of these weapons, not when you’re already watching this group.”

“At least the raid is unrelated to the FBI,” Lydia reasoned. “Our cover is still intact. But you’re right… someone from the Colorado government just ruined their career. Once we’re back in Quantico, Hotch is going to lose his shit.”

Lunde approached the two of them once more. “This is ridiculous,” she sneered.

“It’s okay,” Emily tried again. “Just calm down.”

Cyrus continued to reassure his followers, telling them that God would look out for them as long as they stayed calm.

Once he had disappeared, Nancy was arguing with them once more. “It’s the state police. I’m an officer of the state.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do right now.”

“I can talk to him.”

“No!” Emily rushed after her but Nancy was already halfway through the crowd of people. “You can’t. It’s dangerous. Nancy, stop!”

The woman rushed out of the room and before the two of them could follow, one of the guards blocked their way. The other went after Nancy, but she was booking it back up to the ground level of the chapel.

Shit. This was starting to look… bad.

She stood next to Emily at the front of the group, anxiously waiting for the battle to cease, but the hail of bullets above them never slowed. After a minute or two, Cyrus came stumbling back down the stairs.

“Do not fear! We are on the side of the righteous.”

Behind him was the guard that went after Nancy, but no Nancy herself.

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked him.

“It wasn’t us.”

“What?!” Lydia screeched, then quickly lowered her voice, seeing the attention she had attracted. “You can’t shoot it out with the cops! You have children here!”

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus argued back.

Emily was clearly distraught watching him reload his gun, then take off with the rest of the men to the roof.

“The BAU is coming,” she whispered.

~ ~ ~

“Reid!”

JJ’s voice reached Spencer from the center of the bullpen and he looked up from his email curiously. “Hm?”

Her eyes were on the TV she was in the process of starting up and he noticed that Morgan was also looking up at it intently. It lit up in the middle of a news report.

“...a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado child services-”

Colorado… that’s where Lydia and Prentiss were…

“-has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Separtarian Sect.”

Spencer jumped up, joining Morgan and JJ in the middle of the room, his mind still not coming to terms with what was happening.

“JJ,” Morgan breathed, standing up, his eyes not leaving the TV, “That’s not the ranch where Prentiss and Ambers-”

“They’re still inside,” she said, softly.

Spencer’s legs almost gave out underneath him.

“HOTCH!” Morgan screamed.

The unit chief was rushing out a moment later to see what was going on, but Spencer didn’t pay him any attention. His eyes were glued to the screen in front of him. Where’s Lydia? Where’s Lydia? Where’s Lydia???

“...While no one knows for sure how many people are inside, it is believed that at least three of the child service members are still trapped within the compound.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer sat on the couch of the jet, his head in his hands, listening intently to the ongoing news report on Morgan’s laptop.

“...turned deadly when the Colorado state police officers tried to serve a warrant. Colorado Attorney General Jim Wells says the reclusive cult has been the subject of a 6-month weapons investigation.”

“Six months,” Morgan repeated. “We didn’t check?”

“No. We checked,” JJ argued. “I had ATF call Wells. He told ATF there were no pending state investigations. He lied.”

“Why?” Rossi demanded.

“Wells is challenging the governor in the next election. He thought that ATF was about to poach his big election-launching weapons bust,” JJ explained. “Now, it’s clear he didn’t know there were FBI agents there. He just thought the best time to serve a state warrant was when the kids were safe inside the school being interviewed.”

“Agent,” Spencer corrected quietly, his head finally lifting from his own grasp.

“What was that?” JJ asked.

“There aren’t ‘FBI agents’ in there. There’s only one.”

It seemed to slip everyone’s mind that Lydia wasn’t an agent. They looked around nervously, noticing the edge in Spencer’s voice as he corrected them. Hotch was the first one to speak up.

“Ambers may not be an agent, but she’s not a civilian, Reid. She can look out for herself.”

“The FBI only worries about their own,” Spencer hissed.

“She is one of our own,” Morgan fired back. “We’re going to get her out of there, just like Prentiss.”

“Just like all of the hostages,” Hotch continued.

Not wanting to argue more, Spencer nodded at him, then jumped up from his seat and walked to the back of the plane, unable to listen to any more. The media wouldn’t be able to tell him what he wanted to know, anyway.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ called as she approached him at the refreshment table. “I know you’re worried about Lydia, but we need your help on this case. You gotta stay focused, okay?”

“JJ, she’s in the middle of a deadly standoff and she’s still recovering from getting shot last May. Injured tissue takes months to repair itself and it’s going to take even longer for her to regain abdominal strength.”

“I’m sure that she’s safe inside the church with the other hostages.”

“Even if that’s true, I-” He shook his head. “I always seem to be away from her when she needs me most. When that bomb went off in Annandale, when Sonia had a stroke, when Frank got her… Why does it always feel like I can’t reach her?”

JJ sighed, contemplating his question. “I don’t know, Spence. I wish I did.”

~ ~ ~

Once the police had fallen back, Cyrus brought the two of them into a seperate room. Clearly he wasn’t sure how to deal with outsiders being barricaded in with his people. As him and his men tried to assess the damage done to the church and get people back inside, Emily was prepping Lydia for the worst.

“Don’t antagonize them,” she tried to reason. “I know you’re not a fan, but we need to know everything we can. They won’t tell you anything if they don’t think they can trust you.”

“There are two ways to find things out, Em.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was sprinkled with annoyance. Emily knew that Lydia tended to be very blunt. She didn’t need to worry about Cyrus killing Lydia when she was supposed to be helping the team get these people out.

“You keep Cyrus’s favor. But someone here doesn’t believe him, or else we wouldn’t have gotten that phone call. They’re going to seek us out.”

It wasn’t a terrible plan, she realized. One of them learn from the higher ups, the other speak to the underdogs. “You want to play two different sides?”

Lydia nodded. “For the time being.”

“Okay. That means we have to distance ourselves, though. Act unfamiliar with one another.”

“Brief me faster, then.”

She was on top of it from that point on. “The hostage negotiator’s job is to slowly get the women and children out. They want as few innocent people inside when they raid. But if they think anyone inside is in danger, they’ll come in, no matter what. We can speak to them through the mics on the windows, but they have no way of talking to us. So if we need to know anything, they’ll tell us through other means. Look out for signs from them. They’ll be listening to our every word…”

~ ~ ~

Hotch had put Rossi in charge of being the lead negotiator, in the hopes that he was both objective enough to not be blinded by his care for Prentiss and Ambers, but also knew them well enough to predict how they’d react while still inside.

Frankly, Spencer wasn’t sure he could do either. He hoped that Lydia would play it safe, but a part of him knew that she was just too impulsive.

The entire team gathered around as Rossi made his first call to the church, waiting to find out what happened to their friends.

“You killed my mommy and daddy. Are you going to kill me too?”

A kid. A little girl had answered the phone. It wasn’t surprising that Cyrus had set something like this up, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

“No one is going to kill you, honey,” Rossi said calmly.

Then, there was a shift. A new voice. “This is Benjamin Cyrus. Who am I talking to?”

“David Rossi. I’m an FBI agent. We sent the state police away. There’s just us and the local sheriff. All we wanna do is resolve this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“Then leave us alone.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin. One of the police bled out on the way to the hospital. So let’s just stop this before things get worse. Please, just put down your guns and come out.”

“We’re believers, Dave. We believe God says what he means and means what he says. His laws don’t depend on what state you live in.”

“I have no issue with your beliefs.”

“You don’t, but the state does.”

This was taking too long. Spencer needed to make sure they were okay. He needed to make sure Lydia was okay.

“I can’t answer for other people.”

“Oh, God will answer for everyone in the final battle I’ve foreseen.”

“That’s why I’m here. To make sure that this is not that battle.”

“We shall see.”

“Now, the three child service workers...”

“One of them is dead.”

Everyone’s heads shot up. Dead. Dead…

“It wasn’t us.”

Rossi leaned away from the phone, trying to take in a deep breath before continuing. “I need a name to inform the family.”

“Her name was Nancy Lunde.”

The relief between them was almost a solid entity, letting their eyelids hang heavy as they realized neither of their friends had died. But someone had.

“Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded. I promise you they’ll be well taken care of.”

“With enough supplies we can tend to our own.”

“Okay. I need a few hours to put it together. I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

With news that supplies was coming, Cyrus hung up the phone and the rest of the team was left to ponder what to do now.

~ ~ ~

Lydia and Emily didn’t know much about their situation until the next morning. Everyone was assembled in the chapel to pray. Cyrus had sent the two of them to the end of a row of chairs, trapped in by the wall. Not that there was any point in running anyway. There were men at all exits, guns at the ready.

A soft knocking came from the church entrance and to Lydia’s surprise, Cyrus opened the door. It was difficult to see at first, with all the armed men surrounding him, but after a moment of discussion, Lydia was able to make out Rossi walking through the front door, a box of bandages in his arms.

Despite everything Emily had told her, Lydia could feel a twist in her heart. The BAU was right outside. Spencer was here.

Dear lord, he was never going to let her leave their apartment again.

Lydia reminded herself to steady her facial expressions. Cyrus had no suspicions of their connection to the FBI yet and she wasn’t about to give him any. She silently prayed that whatever Rossi was bringing in was bugged, so that she wouldn’t have to make sure all the important dialogue happened by a window.

They took his supplies, patted him down, and then Cyrus walked him down the center isle. Lydia couldn’t make out much of their conversation, but it seemed like Rossi was trying to convince Cyrus to let some people go.

Their discussion took all of about 30 seconds, then Cyrus was ushering him back out the door. With Rossi gone, Cyrus started giving instructions to his right hand man, Cole, then indicated for Lydia and Emily to get up.

The two of them exchanged a look before standing and walking to the back of the chapel.

“We’re going to have communion,” Cyrus informed them. “Feel free to stand and watch for the time being.”

They nodded politely, noticing Cole at the front with a jug of wine and stacks of plastic cups. A few of the men went around, passing them out while Cyrus poured each person a sip of wine.

“We are celebrating,” he announced. “Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with Him.”

“Look at Jessica’s body language,” Emily whispered. “The way she looks at him.”

Lydia nodded. “She literally worships him. There’s no way she made that 911 call.”

“Trust in God with all your heart. Lean not on your own understandings. Trust in mine.”

As Cyrus kept talking, Kathy stood up and walked over to the row her daughter was sitting in, leaning over her and speaking quietly. Jessica tried multiple times to nod and turn her attention back to Cyrus, but her mother kept talking.

“Look at how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter,” Emily continued. “She’s inserted herself between them.”

“Acknowledge Him in all things and He will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him and I will guide our way.”

Everyone lifted their cups together and followed Cyrus in raising it to their mouths. Men, women, and children alike drank the entirety of their share and watched him intently.

“We will be with him soon. We have drank the poison together.”

Lydia was almost too distracted by the audience's reactions to comprehend what this meant. Some seemed completely calm, maybe even relieved. While others gasped or looked around wildly. It was easy to see a line between the diehard believers and the… less-so believers.

“Mothers… Fathers… Children… Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil. For thou art with us. And God will wipe the tears from their eyes, and there will be no more death nor sorrow nor crying. And there will be no more pain. For all of the former things have passed away.”

Some families grouped together, mothers holding tight to their kids. A few of the loners cried silently while the rest nodded to Cyrus in admiration. It was a wild array of people he’d collected.

“What do we do?” Emily hissed.

Lydia blinked, beginning to realize that the team was probably thinking the same thing. They wanted to save these people. If the bugs were working, they could hear Cyrus announce their imminent death.

“I don’t think he’s telling the truth,” Lydia admitted, looking Emily in the eyes.

She looked frantic. Her instinct to help was kicking in, but there was no way for her to act on it. “What makes you so sure?”

“Look at Cole.” She nodded up to the stage. “He’s writing in a notebook. I think Cyrus told him to make note of the people who had a bad reaction to the news.”

Emily’s gaze followed that of Lydia’s. At that point, both Cole and Cyrus were scanning the crowd. “They’re writing down the names of the people who are crying,” Emily realized.

“It’s a loyalty list,” Lydia finished out. “He wants to know who will follow him to the end.”

“Be still.” Cyrus’s voice broke through their conversation just in time to confirm their theories. “There was no poison. Instead a test of faith. Because your adversary, the Devil, walketh about as a roaring lion! Choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother’s keeper.”

“What’s he going to do with those that the Devil has devoured?” Lydia asked slowly, but Emily shook her head, not ready to consider it yet.

~ ~ ~

“You exhausted yet?” Emily asked jokingly as the two of them lay up against the stone walls of the basement. Cyrus had brought the two of them back down there a few hours ago and left them on their own.

“You’ll excuse me if I didn't get much sleep last night,” Lydia shot back. “A cement bomb shelter isn’t exactly my idea of comfort.”

“No kidding.” She was on the opposite wall, one leg propped up on the wooden bench she had taken. “You should try to get some sleep now. We don’t know how long we’ll be here. I’d rather have you well rested when the raid starts.”

“I would try, but-”

They swiftly stopped their discussion as the sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Cyrus was at the door and he looked pissed.

“Ambers. Stand up.”

Her and Emily shared a curious look, but she did as he said and got up from her bench.

“Lift up your shirt,” he ordered.

“What the hell?” she demanded, but Cyrus had already stepped between her and Emily, reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up above her waist. “Hey! what are you-?”

“That’s what I thought,” he grumbled. “Child interviewers don’t often get shot, do they?”

Lydia glanced down nervously at the bullet wound on her side. She had seen the weird look he gave her when his men had searched her and hit it painfully, but she never would have thought it would lead to blowing her cover.

“I don’t know why you…”

Dropping the front of her shirt, he reached up and grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back painfully. “We just got word that there was an undercover FBI agent in our midst. Care to explain that?”

Lydia hissed through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

“You’re not CPS, are you?”

His grip was getting stronger by the minute. She didn’t like the idea of blowing her cover, but he already knew it was one of them. Might as well let him think it was only her.

“No. You were right,” she admitted. “I work for the FBI.”

Now, Lydia didn’t expect him to thank her for her honesty and let her go, but it still came as a shock when he walked off, while still holding her hair. Her feet were immediately yanked out from underneath her, not prepared enough to steady herself, but Cyrus just kept going, not deterred in the slightest by her weight.

Lydia groaned, her hands wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure, but it did very little. Luckily he didn’t take her very far, throwing her down on the ground inside a nearby supply closet.

“I told you not to put me in this position!”

She moved to look up at him, but he was faster, swinging an arm up to her chin and knocking her down onto her back. Upon her next attempt to stand, she received a swift kick in the stomach.

“Ugh.” Her left side lit on fire in an instant and she stayed on the ground, her arms and legs wrapping protectively around her abdomen.

“Get up!” Cyrus sneered.

He reached for one of her arms and pulled her to her feet. Lydia flinched away from him as he threw an arm above his head and brought it down against the side of her face. There was a mirror on the wall behind her which shattered as her right arm moved to steady herself.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.” As he said this, he held her still against the broken mirror so that she could see herself.

It wasn’t until she physically saw the blood dripping from her nose that she could taste its warmth on the edges of her mouth. The temple that he hit was tinged pink, but from the way it ached, Lydia knew it would be a dark purple by evening. And her right arm, which was still lodged in the remaining pieces of the mirror was staining the white sleeve of her shirt.

She shrieked as he threw her backwards again, running into the shelf of canned goods against the opposite wall.

The BAU is listening, she remembered. And Emily said that if they thought someone was in danger, they’d begin the raid.

They needed to prepare. They hadn’t gotten any of the children out yet. If the team could hear her and decided to come in prematurely, a lot of people would die. Lydia wasn’t about to let that happen.

There was a window towards the back of the closet she was in. She could only hope that Spencer was listening.

“Careful.” Her voice was shaky and unconvincing, but she made sure Cyrus saw the anger in her eyes. This message wasn’t for him. “Hit me too hard and everyone will see the bruises on your knuckles.”

“No one is going to care,” he replied calmly. “You came here to shut us down! I’m protecting them!”

“From me?” Her laugh came out almost maniacal with her bruised stomach and battered jaw. “I’m fine! I got bruises on my knuckles too! I can take it!”

“Pride comes before the fall.”

His next blow sent her into the metal shelf again, this time her skull ricocheting against one of the sides and knocking her to the floor. She was just able to see a few drops of blood land on the ground below her, though she couldn’t identify where exactly on her face they came from, before her arms shakily gave out and her cheek hit the cold cement.

She prayed silently to whoever may be listening that Spencer understood. She really hoped she didn’t face all that torment in vain.

~ ~ ~

“We’ve got audio!” Morgan called from across their tent set up.

Spencer ran as fast as he could to the panel controlling the microphone feedback, throwing on a set of headphones.

Hotch hadn’t let him do anything for the past day, claiming he was the most emotionally involved in the situation. And although he couldn’t argue with that fact, it killed him to sit and listen. Lydia was right there. She was in the building just over that hill. And he wasn’t allowed to see her, talk to her, call her, save her.

When the fact that an FBI agent was in the church hit the news, Spencer felt an anchor drop to the bottom of his stomach. She wasn’t even an agent. There was nothing to suggest Cyrus would target her. But his instincts screamed that Emily wouldn’t be the one in danger.

And unfortunately, he was right. When he set those headphones over his ears, he immediately recognized Lydia’s voice. She was moaning in pain.

“We gotta go in,” Hotch said, but Rossi stopped him from throwing off his headphones.

“We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.”

“Get up!” Cyrus’s words were followed by a crashing noise, like glass shattering.

Please be okay. Please don’t let it be as bad as it sounds.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.”

There was more struggling over the line and Spencer threw off his headphones, unable to bear it any more. She was in pain. He knew this would happen.

“How could you let this happen?” he demanded of Hotch. “We have to go in! She’s not-”

“Sh! Sh!” Rossi hissed, one hand over his earpiece, the other between the unit chief and the boy.

Both looked at him confused, but he just kept listening silently.

“Everyone will see the bruises on your knuckles,” he finally recited. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Spencer didn’t answer, but put his headphones back on swiftly.

“-protecting them!”

“From me?” Lydia’s laugh sounded more like a wail over the mic. “I’m fine! I got bruises on my knuckles too! I can take it!”

“She’s antagonizing him!” Morgan exclaimed, frustratedly.

“She’s not talking to him,” Rossi argued.

“Pride comes before the fall.”

There was one more grunt, then the line went quiet. When Spencer finally breathed in again, all eyes were on him.

“She gets bruises on her knuckles when she lets off steam on a case,” he explained quietly. “I always worry for her, but she says she’d rather hurt her hands for a little bit then do something rash or detrimental on a case.”

“So what she’s saying is-”

“Don’t come in,” he finished begrudgingly. “She’s telling us not to go in.”

~ ~ ~

Cole had to basically carry her to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Every breath was agony for her lungs and a violent sting for her nose and mouth. And she figured it was psychosomatic, but her bullet wound hurt as if she’d just been shot yet again.

Who would have thought this whole hostage thing could get ten times worse?

Cole tied her arms to the sides of the bed, though frankly, she didn’t think she’d have the abdominal strength to sit back up anyway. And she didn’t want to try.

Kathy Evanson came by with a washcloth to clean the blood away from her nose, mouth, and temple. She tried to warn Lydia against lying to Cyrus, to which Lydia snapped back, “Do you speak from personal experience?”

Kathy didn’t say another word before standing up and leaving. It was a clear sign that she was hiding something and Lydia could only hope Emily caught onto that too. ‘Cause Lydia… she wasn’t going anywhere fast.

Downstairs, Cyrus had pulled Emily into his office, using some of his only medical supplies to disinfect the tiny abrasions in his hand from his fight with Lydia.

“Did you know she was FBI?” he demanded, as Cole shut the door behind the three of them.

Emily quickly shook her head, but her heart was in her stomach with fear for Lydia. Lydia was strong. She could take a lot. But she was also far too defiant to make this easy on herself. Emily silently wished she’d been smart.

“Nancy told me the woman was a child abuse interview expert from Denver.” Emily hated to put the blame on someone else, but Cyrus couldn’t hurt Nancy anymore. Nancy was gone. Lydia was still here and if Emily made her sound worse, it could fuel Cyrus’s anger towards her. “In the 4 years I worked with her, Nancy had never lied to me before.”

“As far as you know,” Cyrus replied. “Their law says that a 15-year-old girl is a child. Fifty years ago, that same law said a 14-year-old was an adult. Have children changed so much in 50 years?”

No, but people have, Emily thought. It was frustrating. Hotch had chosen Lydia because she was so good at acting calm. At least… in the workplace. She could have any unsub they met trust her entirely, or keep them constantly on their toes. Now, Emily could act, but she couldn’t do that.

If anyone’s cover should have been blown, it should have been hers. Emily knew more about CIRG protocols. She could diffuse a situation. Acting like she wasn’t totally disgusted by Cyrus’s morals was not in her skill set.

“I think it’s a matter of trust. People have stopped believing that kids can make good decisions, they’ve stopped believing in selfless acts, and they stopped putting their trust and faith into God.”

Her appeal seemed to work. Cyrus looked intrigued. She hoped it would hold long enough to make a good argument in her favor. Now was the perfect time to build up Cyrus’s trust with the FBI, because he had brought in the medical supplies Rossi had given them. There was absolutely no way that the BAU wasn’t listening.

“On your next call, you should test them. Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn’t a liar.”

“How would you suggest I do that?”

“Ask for the identity of the FBI agent.”

Cole looked unamused. “No. We already know her identity.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but Cyrus beat her to it. “They don’t know that.”

“Yeah. But the FBI would never tell us.”

“They keep asking you to release people,” Emily argued. “Tell them you’ll release a kid and you won’t harm the agent. If they really care about the children, they’ll have to tell you.”

“You’re trying to get us to release a child!” Cole accused.

“It’s one kid! If they don’t hold up on their end of the deal, then you know they can’t be trusted!”

“She has a point,” Cyrus conceded much to Emily’s relief. “What is it, Christopher?”

Emily glanced over her shoulder to find Cole pacing the room.

“Some people have been talking about… leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Cyrus glanced at his hands. “Wake the baby. Let’s let them meet the orphan that they’ve made.”

~ ~ ~

Cole held onto Lydia’s shoulder’s firmly as he led her back to the chapel. She’d been dozing for most of the day, unable to move from her bed, so her ability to process the situation was hazy.

Cyrus had everyone gathered in the pews. “It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So, when I call out your name, please stand.”

Cole left her leaning up against one of the back walls as he went to usher the last of the people in and that’s when Lydia noticed Emily eyeing her, slowly creeping closer and closer while still looking as if she was listening to Cyrus.

“He looks pissed,” Lydia whispered to her when she was close enough. “He’s choosing the people who failed the loyalty test.”

“I’m so sorry,” was all Emily could say.

“Em, I’m okay,” she snapped, more forcefully than she meant. She knew she wasn’t okay. “You need to stay focused and tell me what to do. What does this mean?”

Emily cleared her throat quietly. “He’s releasing these people, because he knows it’s over. He’s getting rid of any possible threat to his mass suicide plan. I’ll try and figure out when it is and get word to the team. Be ready. There’s going to be a raid tonight.”

~ ~ ~

“Drugging the food’s not an option because of the children,” Hotch was saying as they passed around tubs of fried chicken. “We have to go in.”

“Best time to hit ‘em is when they’re least mentally prepared,” Rossi added.

“3 AM.” All eyes turned on Reid. “Biorhythms are at their low point then.”

“Reid, I told you to stay with JJ,” Hotch argued, already on his way to lead Spencer out of the room, but he stood firm.

“Please let me help. I can’t just sit here and pray that she’s going to walk back out of there. I need to do something.”

There was a moment of silent tension between the two of them. Hotch didn’t want him to go. Technically, he shouldn’t let him go. But he didn’t have the time to argue, and Spencer would no doubt be helpful when it came to setting up this plan.

“The plan depends on Ambers and Prentiss separating the diehards from the followers,” Hotch continued, turning back to the group.

“And delaying Cyrus’s diehards from reacting to our assault,” Morgan said.

“No, that’s not my main concern. Ambers and Prentiss know what they need to do. I don’t know how to tell them when we’re coming. This whole thing hinges on them being ready for us at 3 AM.”

“Reid? What the hell are you doing?”

Hotch and Rossi followed Morgan’s gaze to the young genius who was covering the top of one of the food trays with red sharpie.

When he stepped back, the tray read, ‘New owners! New hours! Open ‘til 3 AM!’ The time was underlined multiple times.

“They’ll recognize my writing,” he promised. “Just write this on a few different plates so that there’s a better chance they’re near someone with a sign.”

“Let’s just hope it’s that easy,” Morgan grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Lydia watched curiously as Emily slipped into her room and carefully shut the door. She wasn’t sure how Emily had gotten away from Cyrus’s men, but she was positive something big was happening, else she wouldn’t have taken such a risk.

“3 AM,” she said, reaching the bed and helping Lydia sit up. “We need to get all the women and children down to the basement before 3.”

Lydia had no clue what time it was, only that the sky was completely dark and their time frame was getting shorter. “Find Kathy,” she told Emily. “I’m pretty sure she made that 911 call.”

“Pretty sure?”

“She’s hiding something,” Lydia admitted. “But no, I’m not positive that that’s it.”

The unease was more than a little scary, but there wasn’t much else for them to do. These people wouldn’t trust her or Emily. The only way to save them was to find someone they trusted.

“Stay here. I’ll be back for you before 3.”

“Don’t get caught.”

~ ~ ~

“They’re setting the place to blow up,” Kathy said as she ran into Lydia’s room.

Lydia’s heart fell. “Where’s Emily?” she demanded.

“I told Jessie that Cyrus wanted the two of them to gather the women and children. She’s leading them to the basement now,” she explained, untying the ropes on Lydia’s wrists.

Oh, thank god. Lydia thought for sure when Emily didn’t come back that she’d been caught.

“It’s 2:45. We’ve got to hurry.”

Kathy pulled Lydia along by her arm, Lydia’s other hand wrapped around her waist. Her entire torso burned as she ran down the stairs towards the basement. Almost out. This was almost over.

The sound of gunfire was muted through the walls and Lydia didn’t have time to place where it was coming from.

Get out. Get out.

As they were reaching the door, Lydia could see Emily leading the group into the basement.

“Let’s go! This way!”

“Let’s go, kids!”

“This building’s going to blow up!”

There was shouting in all directions. Lydia’s legs barely held her steady as she ran alongside Kathy. The only thing that was keeping her from passing out was Spencer. He was just outside. She needed to see him.

“Lydia!” She looked up as she passed through the door frame and found herself face to face with Morgan. She didn’t have time to open her mouth before he had pulled her into his shoulder. “I’m going to kill Cyrus.”

“You don’t have long,” she said, almost jokingly, but the timing was badly placed. Not a moment later, the ground and walls began to shake and a deafening sound filled the basement.

Everyone still inside hit the floor, protecting their heads from possible falling debris, but the ceiling was solid. Lydia had been through earthquakes before, and she’d survived an explosion, but this was somehow worse than both. She felt so claustrophobic she didn’t even try to breathe, out of fear she’d find herself unable too. For many seconds, she stayed on the floor, unable to tell if the rumbling had stopped.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” She didn’t realize it was Emily who was talking until Morgan and Rossi were helping her off the ground. “That was the explosives. If Cyrus planned a second round, the basement might crumble too.”

The four of them made a run for the secret door in the school, Lydia now holding onto Rossi for support, so that Derek could lead the group and make sure the rest of the kids got out.

“How’s Spencer?” she asked as they climbed back into the school building.

“I imagine Hotch has got at least seven guys holding him down right now to keep him from running into the rubble to find you. How are you?”

Lydia didn’t want to answer that. Not only was she in a lot of physical pain, but after that explosion went off above her, her heart rate had been soaring.

Everyone’s eyes were on the smoking ruble that was the chapel, amazed by the destruction. Many kids were crying and women were no doubt waiting to see if their husbands had survived. Rossi kept pulling Lydia along, not letting her stop to watch. They walked through the barricade of armed men with ease.

“Lydia! Lydia!”

It was Spencer. He was looking for her. Lydia tried to yell back, but Rossi could tell she didn’t have it in her.

“I’ve got her, Reid!”

Not too long after, she saw her boyfriend pushing through the crowd, his eyes looking around frantically.

When their eyes met, it was like Lydia’s whole world muted to a dull roar. Three days. Three days she’d been trapped in that building, trying to reach the team and getting the shit kicked out of her. Three days she’d been quiet, accepting Cyrus’s blows. All to see him again.

She wanted to run to him, but she just didn’t have it in her. Luckily, he was eager enough for the both of them.

His arms were so tight around her that she felt like all her ribs would break at once and her nose was so deep in the side of his neck that the bruises burned. She couldn’t care less.

He pulled away all too fast and she was about to protest, when she realized why. As she looked up at him, a breeze hit her cheeks, making the wet trails going down her face apparent. She took in shuddering breaths.

She was crying.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say, the back of her hand reaching to wipe them away, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like they were gone. “Sorry, I can’t-”

Before she could finish, he leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her in front of the whole team. In front of everyone. He’d never done that before. PDA was a very rare thing for him. But all her shock died on her lips, suffocating between his own.

“I love you,” he whispered, barely moving an inch away. “I love you so very much. You don’t need to apologize for your tears.”

Such kind and affirming words should have quelled her tears, but she just sobbed harder. “I love you too. Please don’t ever leave me.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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Give me an OC along with a number and I’ll answer with a song or two that sums up their relationship between or feelings towards:

Their best friend

A friend

An acquaintance

A teacher or mentor

Their parent(s)/guardian(s)

Their sibling(s)

Their cousin(s)

Someone who has changed their life

A rival

Their worst enemy

Their love interest

A crush

Their child(ren)

An ex

A neighbor of theirs

A powerful authority, ruler, or deity (Assuming there is one)

(Feel free to add more!)

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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Want me to gush about my OCs?

Send me a “🖊+an OC“ and I will talk about that OC! It can be a headcanon, a fun fact, a small paragraph of backstory- anything!

Alternatively, send in just a “🖊“ and I will talk about any one of my OCs at random!

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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Alexa Carpenter Moodboard

“I love you, Shuri. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry that I can’t seem to stop running from my problems. I’ll miss you. I hope you miss me too... eventually.”

#oc #oc info #ocappreciation #original character #ocapp #Moodboard #aesthetic #black panther #mcu #marvel #marvel oc #shuri #mcu oc #Alexa carpenter

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

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Untouchable Ch 24: Recovery

Warnings: family tension, vague details of injuries, hospital

Ch 23 | Ch 25

~ ~ ~

In hindsight, it was probably the stupidest thing she could have said at the time. Spencer was never going to let her live this down. But at the same time, it had been a few years since she’d last awoken in a hospital bed and she was out of practice in gracefully waking up from a surgery. So, really could anyone blame her when she cracked her eyes open slowly, looked at the two men discussing something serious in her room, and said:

“Wait. Did I get shot?”

Morgan smirked. He was standing by the door, watching her try to blink away the massive headache she had. Spencer, who was facing him before she’d said anything, turned so fast she was pretty sure she could hear a whistling sound.

“Yes, you got shot!” he shouted, his expression a mix of rage and tears. He rushed up to her right side. “What the hell, Lydia?! Running to a bomb? Taking off your vest and gun?! Are you crazy?”

She was barely able to register his anger or relief. She was, frankly, worried about falling asleep again as he spoke to her. “Hold on. That hurts. I don’t actually… I can’t really remember…”

“Reid has been really worried about you,” Morgan said calmly and approached the opposite side of her bed.

“Morgan.” She smiled through her crumbling, shot voice. “You didn’t blow up.”

“No, kiddo. But I regret taking your vest from you. Looks like you could have used it more than me.”

“I don’t regret giving it to you,” she reassured him. “If I’d been wearing it, he probably would have shot me in the face instead.”

“It was reckless, Lydia,” Spencer continued. “Do you know how scared I was when I realized you had run down to the basement? Hotch and Rossi had to hold me back from running down there myself. And then, to hear Emily screaming my name. I knew something had happened. It was the most terrif-”

He stopped, suddenly, as Lydia’s hand landed on top of his own.

“Love, I’m so tired. Why don’t we save this argument for when I can yell at you, too, okay?”

And just like that, Spencer’s face softened and he leaned down, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Okay. Get some rest. I’ll plan my arguments for later.”

“No amount of planning will save you from the wrath of Lydia,” she mumbled, already half asleep. “I always win…”

She shut her eyes, her head falling to the side, but right before she succumbed to darkness once more, she faintly heard Morgan’s voice float over her head.

“I don’t care how angry you are. You picked a good one, Spencer. No argument is worth losing her.”

~ ~ ~

“I can’t imagine how empty the jet feels,” Lydia said as she strapped herself into the passenger seat of the SUV and Spencer pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

The explosion had messed up Hotch’s ears pretty bad. The doctors didn’t want him flying for a little while, because the pressure could be bad for his eardrums. So Morgan had agreed to drive him back to Quantico. And Spencer had agreed to take her.

She’d been hit in the lower left side of her abdomen. In all honesty, she was extremely lucky. The bullet had hit basically nothing but muscle and fat. But not being able to so much as lean forward was starting to be a real pain in the ass.

“Alright. So, what happened to that argument we were going to have?”

“You want to start off a three hour car ride with a fight?” he asked. “What if it’s really bad and you can’t stand to be near me?”

“Spence, I’d be shocked if you were able to say something to me that would make me not want to be near you.”

“And why is that?”

Lydia felt a small smile creeping onto her face. “I always seem to be missing you. Even when I shouldn’t be.”

“I constantly miss you, too,” he admitted. “I called my mom the other day and she said to me, ‘Do you spend any time away from Lydia?’ because I kept talking about you. I don’t even realize it.”

It was weird for Lydia. It almost made her nervous to see how dependent she’d become on one person. But she couldn’t push him away. Every attempt to keep a healthy distance between the two of them only brought her closer. And despite her mind’s protests, the rest of her liked being closer.

“How long until 2 years?”

“43 days.”

“Wow,” she murmured. “Almost two years I’ve called you my boyfriend and I still sometimes panic when I’m talking to you, because I’m worried you’re going to figure out how I feel about you.”

“Really?” he chuckled. “And here I was, embarrassed to admit that I’ve been counting down the days for the past two months.”

“If we wanted this car ride to be an argument, we’re doing a poor job of it.” She giggled slightly, before hissing and throwing her head back against the seat. “Son of a bitch. Penelope didn’t warn me that you can’t so much as breathe after getting shot.”

“Have you told your family yet?”

Lydia froze. “I… uh-”

“You can’t just act like you forgot. I know you’re avoiding it.”

“Is that terrible? I mean, they live across the country, do they really have to know?”

“Yes,” he replied, bluntly. “Secrets you aren’t actively lying about are still secrets. And on top of that, I need other people to worry about your health these coming weeks because I can’t do it alone.”

“Alright. For your sake, I’ll call them when I get home.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You do realize there’s no way I’m dropping you off at your apartment when we get back, right?”

“Spencer-”

“You were clutching my arm the whole walk to the car! You can’t live alone right now!”

“You’re so frustrating!” she retaliated. “I can look after myself.”

“You know that’s a lie!” She punched him on the arm, playfully upset. “We said we were going to fight earlier, but we couldn’t, and now you want to argue over living arrangements? What? Is my apartment that horrible?”

“No! But I don’t want you to have to care for me like a child.”

“That’s funny. ‘Cause I really want to care for you.”

She wanted to argue more, but the words died in her throat. As much as she hated to admit it, he was strangely perfect for her. They were both equally met in their arguments. And today, she didn’t care if he won. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, having him around, just in case.

“Don’t you find it strange, that we’re stuck on a three hour car ride, and we’re sitting here arguing about whether or not I should tell my family that I almost died?”

“No? Why do you ask?”

“It’s not really what normal couples do.”

There was that sparkle in his eyes again. The one of genuine happiness. The one he had when he was ranting about Doctor Who or Sherlock Holmes. The one he had when she told him she loved him. That sparkle.

“If I recall correctly, you’re the one who said, ‘I don’t think anything about our relationship is or will ever be normal’,” he teased.

And he always remembered correctly.

~ ~ ~

Lydia reached for the wrap around her side and hissed suddenly with the effort, waking up Spencer. As he rolled toward her, she shut her eyes embarrassedly.

“You need more ice,” he said, knowingly, already on his way out of the room.

He was clearly exhausted and didn’t deserve this. If Lydia had known how helpless she would be after leaving the hospital, she wouldn’t have agreed to come… And instead would have suffered painfully in her own bed.

He gave her a countdown before turning the lights on in the room and came back with a new ice pack and clean bandages. Lydia tried to sit up and help him unwrap her side, but as she lifted her head, she was hit with a wave of nausea, and dropped her head back onto her pillow, hands covering her mouth.

“Are you feeling sick?” he asked, looking over to the bottles at her bedside. “You’ve been eating before taking your medication, right?”

Lydia made a sound of agreement, although it wasn’t entirely true. Eating just about anything was hard, so if she could get in three bites before downing a pain reliever, she was lucky.

Yanking away the tape, Spencer unwrapped her abdomen and used the now-soaked, old ice pack to clear the wound a bit. Lydia tried not to whimper at the sting, but even so, he could still see her face contorted with discomfort.

Spencer on the other hand looked extremely focused. He was careful in his movements, not sparing a word or look he didn’t have to.

Once more, Lydia felt guilty for interrupting his sleep. He was acting quickly, trying to get this over with so that he could get back to sleep. She was a nuisance to him.

Laying the newer ice pack onto her hip, Spencer grabbed the old bandages and left her so that he could toss them out.

A tear slipped down her cheek once he was gone, but Lydia couldn’t tell whether it was from pain or frustration. She just wished the worst of this could be over. She hated problems she couldn’t face by herself.

Spencer was still quiet when he came back in. He shut off the light and carefully crawled into bed beside her, not sending so much as a look in her direction. Lydia prayed that he would be able to drift off easily after this.

And then, he said something that spooked her into complete awareness:

“Do you want to move in together?”

...He was thinking about this now?!

Lydia was sitting here worried that he hated her for intruding on his apartment and waking him up with her whining and he was thinking about… living together?

Shifting her head to his side, she noticed he was fully facing her, his right arm propping up his tired head. He didn’t even look nervous to hear her answer, just waiting patiently.

“You just spent… a full day waiting on me, hand and foot, like I’m a child,” she reasoned. “And you still want to move in with me?”

He chuckled. “Do you plan to be in this much pain for the rest of your life? Because then I’d be worried about waiting on you. But seriously, we were basically living together before, when I was going through my addiction recovery and now that we’re here I’ve been thinking… well, why not? You know?”

“Whose apartment would we stay in?”

“Mine,” he said, forwardly.

Lydia decided to mess with him a bit, saying, “But we’ve made so many sentimental memories at mine. What if I don’t want to say goodbye?”

“That’s fine, too!” he amended. “I just thought… mine is closer to your campus and has easy access to the metro. Also, it’s bigger. But if you want to-”

“No.” Lydia’s voice was completely even as she spoke, finally taking in the offer as an actual suggestion. “You’re right. Your place makes more sense. And I like it. I can’t imagine trying to transport all your books into my apartment.”

“Yeah?” He smiled at her and she did the same. “Great. Let’s do it.”

He turned back onto his back, clearly thinking the conversation was over, but she had come to realize something as they were speaking and wanted to make sure she didn’t lose her nerve by waiting.

“You know, Spence, we haven’t really been treating our relationship like a… long-term thing.”

“Two years,” he shrugged. “Doesn’t that already qualify us as long-term?”

“Well, when we started, we were both under the impression that our little crushes would never become anything,” she admitted. “That’s the whole reason we didn’t tell the team. But after all this time… we’re moving in together… I see us having a future together.”

Something about saying those words out loud was terrifying. She thought she knew and understood Spencer really well as this point, but maybe he didn’t want that. And she’d been so caught up in their time together, she hadn’t even realized that they’d never talked about their futures.

When he didn’t say anything, she gulped. “Do you think we’re going to get married?”

Feeling his body tense up next to her filled Lydia with immediate regret.

“Now?”

“No,” she reassured him. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of statistics to tell me why that’s a bad idea and frankly, I’m not interested in getting married now. But in a few years, can you see us getting married?”

She turned to look up at the ceiling, holding her breath in anticipation.

“Yes.”

Relief and something warm spread through her chest, her eyes fluttering closed peacefully, like they would during a soft kiss.

“I didn’t want to scare you, but I think about us getting married all the time.” His voice jumped with spikes of nervousness, but Lydia had finally relaxed and was willing to listen. “I mean, I know that on average, people wait about 3.5 years before getting engaged and don’t get married until 4.9 years into their relationship. And I know that longer relationships lead to stronger marriages, but I love you so much that sometimes I want to get married as soon as possible.”

Lydia giggled. “Let’s try the whole living together thing first. But I’m glad that we’re on the same page. I, uh, I really want to marry you one day.”

Spencer’s warm fingers found their way into Lydia’s palm and then interlinked with her own. “Good.”

Lydia smiled once more, squeezing his hand gently. “Where would we have it? Both our families are on the west coast, but the team is here.”

“The team can travel,” he argued, also gazing at the ceiling and imagining the day with her. “Better than my mother can, anyway.”

“And Sonia,” Lydia agreed. “Taking the twins all the way to Virginia would probably be a huge pain in the ass.”

“What time of year?” he asked.

“I don’t really care. I guess it depends whether the venue would be indoor or outdoor.”

“I like the outdoors,” he determined. “Fresh air, open space-”

“Easier to run,” she joked.

He chuckled. “Definitely. That’s my most important consideration. Are you going to take my name?”

Lydia blinked.

“I don’t… I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“You don’t have to. I like Lydia Ambers. Not to mention, that’s what your PhD says and those are hard to change.”

“Lydia Ambers,” she mumbled. “Lydia… Reid. I’m not sure what to think.”

“We’d have two Dr. Reid’s on the team,” he continued.

“But do you like the sound of it?” she asked. “Lydia Reid?”

He sighed. “I don’t think I’m used to it.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “I love your name, Spencer, but it feels… wrong.”

He rubbed circles into the back of her hand comfortingly. “Dr. Spencer Reid and Dr. Lydia Ambers. That’s all I want.”

“I really, really love that.”

She watched him curiously as he sat up and leaned over her to give her a kiss. “And I love you. But seriously, you need to get some sleep. And I have work tomorrow.”

“Thanks for not letting me go home like this.”

“Thanks for letting me take care of you,” he smirked. “Next time you need a new bandage, just wake me up.”

“Yes, doctor.”

~ ~ ~

After about a month of rest, Lydia had gone back to her apartment and thrown all of her things into a few boxes to bring to Spencer’s. The first few days were strange. Getting used to seeing someone all the time changed a lot about your relationship. Even just basic things, like the fact that you greet one another less. Lydia kept having to catch herself before she said hello to Spencer after walking into the kitchen from the bedroom.

But the adjustment period was over quickly and by the time Lydia was teaching in a class again, her and Spencer maneuvered each other’s lifestyles effortlessly.

“You scare me so much,” Spencer mumbled over his mouthful of food one morning, almost so distorted that Lydia couldn’t understand him.

“I scare you? How’s that?”

“Well,” he started, swallowing another bite of the morning’s waffles, “I’ve never felt this way before about someone and so when Morgan found out we were moving in together and told me it was a big deal, I was terrified. Like, genuinely so scared that we wouldn’t like living together. But I love sharing this apartment with you. And all this time together has really got me thinking about how much power you have over me.”

Lydia shook her head, still not seeing where this conversation was going. The two of them had their legs tangled together on Spencer’s couch… or rather, their couch. Lydia had made some waffles for the morning, knowing that Spencer had a few hours before he had to go into work, and threw on the television for them.

“Don’t leave me hanging, Spence,” she finally said. “How much power do I have over you?”

“You have the ability to make me so, infinitely happy, that I don’t think I could stop smiling if I got shot right then and there,” he admitted. “But then, you have the power to take it all away. And you wouldn’t just be taking my happiness. You’d be taking everything: my excitement, my curiosity, my intelligence, my passion. If something actually happened to you, I’d be a shadow of myself, only capable of misery.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and sat up so they could be face to face. “You’re being a tad bit dramatic.”

“I’m really not,” he said in all seriousness. “You got shot and my only thought was, ‘If she dies, I might as well die, too.’”

“Never,” she insisted, tone just as dire. “Don’t tell me that. If you so much as believe my wishes still exist after death, you’ll take care of yourself, yeah? No matter what.”

He leaned forward to kiss her, but after a second, she pulled away, looking into his eyes and insisting on an answer.

“Only if you promise me the same,” he sighed. “And promise me that if I die anytime soon, you’ll look out for my mom.”

Lydia nodded and he pulled her back into the kiss, moving the plate in her hands out of the way so he could move in closer, but they were both interrupted by a knock at the door.

He pulled away again, frustratedly, and got up, leaving her slouched on the couch, gazing out the window at the solid color sky. She figured she’d keep staring until whoever was outside left and then her and her boyfriend could get back to their morning, but it didn’t end up working out like that.

“Hello…?” Spencer asked as he creaked the door open the tiniest amount.

“Oh my goodness, you must be Spencer!” Lydia’s body jolted up, one of her elbows cracking with the force she used to catapult off the couch. “I thought you’d be at work by now, I’m sorry. Is Lydia home?”

Before he could answer, Lydia yanked the door from his grip and came face to face with her sister. “What the hell are you-?”

She cut herself off only when the presence behind Beck became apparent to her. Her father was in DC, as well.

Lydia had given her new address to Sonia, knowing how Sonia liked to send her things every once in a while, like Christmas or birthday gifts. But had Sonia actually given her father her address so that he and Beck could pay her a visit?

“Lydia!” Beck squealed, pulling her sister into a hug, which Lydia accepted before she could register it. “How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?”

“No,” she assured her sister, leaving her hands on her shoulders as she released her grip. “Did you two come all the way to DC because I got shot?”

“Of course!” Beck giggled. “No one in the family’s ever been shot before. It’s scary. Also, you haven’t seen dad since his release. Oo! Can I see your wound?”

Lydia could see Spencer blinking rapidly in her peripheral vision, trying to keep up with Beck’s rapid and chaotic speech. Lydia just shook her head.

“Why didn’t you warn me you were coming?”

“Warn?” she demanded. “Bad word choice there. We didn’t tell you we were coming because we wanted to surprise you. And I’m glad, because if you knew, you would have told Spencer to run for the hills, wouldn’t you?”

Lydia honestly couldn’t argue with that. But it would have been for Spencer’s sake, not hers! He was probably so stressed at the moment. They weren’t exactly used to having invaders.

“Right, sorry. It’s nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m Beck, Lydia’s sister.”

“Uh, you too,” he stuttered. There was a pause and he looked at Lydia with the utmost amount of fear in his eyes. Then, he remembered his manners. “S-sorry! Please, come in. I’ll clear off the table.”

He rushed off to grab their breakfast plates and Beck offered to help. Lydia was certain the last thing he wanted was to spend more time with her sister, but she was glad to get rid of the two of them and speak to her father for a moment.

“Please be careful with him,” she said, automatically. “Spencer’s not very socially confident.”

“I didn’t realize you were living with anyone,” her father admitted.

“I’m shocked that Beck didn’t spill. Spencer and I have been dating for a solid two years at this point.”

Her father didn’t push the subject further and she was glad, though frankly, she didn’t care what he thought of the matter. She hadn’t considered him a guardian since his arrest, and therefore, he had no right to be protective.

“You’re wearing my ring.”

Lydia looked down, seeing the metal circle on her right hand and realizing that he had never seen her in it before. She wasn’t able to take it with her on visits, so he might not even realize that she still had it.

“Yeah… I’ve worn it almost everyday since you gave it to me. The day of your trial.”

He nodded, but he seemed to be too lost in thought to really acknowledge how sweet it was. “I guess… I’m just surprised. I really thought that after I left you’d closed yourself off from everybody. Having a boyfriend, wearing my ring… it doesn’t really sound like you.”

“To be fair,” she snapped. “You did leave me at an extremely influential part of my life. There’s no way you could have predicted how I’d come out the other end.”

She turned before he could retaliate and joined Spencer and Beck in the kitchen.

“Actually, microwaves were created by accident, just like post-it notes and teflon. The energy found in a microwave was originally used for radar systems in World War II, but while this one guy, Dr. Percy Spencer, was conducting experiments he had a candy bar in his pocket and it-”

“Spencer,” Lydia interrupted softly, “how did we end up talking about microwaves?”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, turning back to Beck. “Was I rambling? I’m told I tend to babble.”

Lydia was worried her sister was going to make him self conscious with her response, but instead, she found Beck sporting a wide grin, looking up at him curiously.

“Don’t apologize! I can see why Lydia likes you.”

He cleared his throat nervously, as if she might change her mind about him. “Uh… really?”

“Of course! Are you available for the day? Dad and I were going to take Lydia out to lunch!”

He glanced at Lydia, as if he expected her to answer for him. “Well, I actually have… Sorry, I have to go into work in about an hour.”

“That’s alright!” she responded cheerfully. “We’re staying in DC for a few days. Hopefully we’ll see you again?”

“...sure!” he stuttered.

“Great!” Lydia interrupted. Her sister wanted her to show them DC? She’d happily do it, just so long as they got out of Spencer’s hair. “I will go put some shoes on and we can go.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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