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punkshort · 3 months

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i know who you are | 1. the beginning

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.

Series Masterlist

Pain.

That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.

Then you smelled it.

The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.

You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.

You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?

Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.

You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.

The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.

Maybe you were dying.

Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.

"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.

"Jesse! Get her water!"

You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.

"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.

"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.

Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.

Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.

"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?

"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.

"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"

The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.

"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.

"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.

"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."

"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!

"First day of what?"

"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.

"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.

"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.

"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.

Then you saw the bodies.

Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.

"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.

"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.

"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.

"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."

"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."

"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.

"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.

You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.

So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.

"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.

You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.

"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.

"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?

"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.

"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.

"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"

"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."

"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.

You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.

"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.

"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.

You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.

At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.

This didn't seem right.

"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.

"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.

"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.

"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.

"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.

"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."

"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.

"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.

"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.

"Are we... together?" you asked him.

Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.

"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."

You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.

Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.

Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.

After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.

"Cordy- what?"

"Cordyceps," he repeated.

"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.

"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.

"How much is 'some'?"

"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.

"Ten years?!"

He nodded.

"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"

"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."

Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.

"That's the last day you remember?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.

Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.

"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.

Ten years.

Ten whole years, just... gone.

What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?

The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.

You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.

The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.

His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.

Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.

Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.

"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.

Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.

"It's too soon to say-"

"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.

"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.

"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.

You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.

His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't come near me."

He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?

"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.

"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.

"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.

The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.

"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.

You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.

"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.

"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.

"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"

Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.

"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.

"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"

"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.

"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.

"I don't want to go home with him."

Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's your home, too," he said.

"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"

Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.

"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."

You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.

"How long have I known him?" you asked.

"Five years."

You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.

"And how long have you known him?"

"All my life."

Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.

"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.

To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.

You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.

His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.

You still weren't sure who he was.

You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.

You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.

Well, second first impression.

Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.

"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.

The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.

"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.

The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.

You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.

"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.

"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.

"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.

"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.

"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.

"Sorry," you whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"

You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.

"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.

"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.

"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"

"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.

"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.

Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.

The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.

Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?

But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.

You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.

"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"

Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.

"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.

"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.

"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.

"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.

"Ellie?"

He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.

"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.

"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.

"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.

"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"

"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."

"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.

"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"

"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.

"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.

"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.

"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.

"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.

"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."

"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.

"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."

"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.

"You don't live here?" you asked her.

"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.

"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.

"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"

"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.

"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.

It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.

"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.

You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.

"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.

"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."

You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.

"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"

"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."

You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.

"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.

"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.

Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.

"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.

"I kept a journal?"

"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.

You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.

"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"

Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.

"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."

He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.

"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"

"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.

"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."

"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.

"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"

"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."

"And there's no cure?"

Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.

"No, there's no cure," he finally said.

You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.

"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.

"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.

"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.

"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."

Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.

"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.

Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.

"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.

"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."

Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."

"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.

"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.

"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.

"You sound pretty confident," you replied.

"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."

Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.

"Okay."

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Text

Careful - Chapter Six (Finale)

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Six: That's What You Get

That’s what you get when you let your heart win.

Summary:

Spencer finally confronts the man who has been threatening you, and even if things don't go according to plan, he finds the strength to overcome - to protect you and your son.

Even if he's unsure about what comes next, he knows one thing - he's never been happier.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Smut, Angst, and Fluff.

Word Count: 10,400

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Warning - this chapter has not been edited. Thanks to this lovely anon, I have been motivated to post this chapter as soon as possible, and so I am posting it without editing it to get it off my plate. It may not be as good or as thoughtful as the other chapters because it's not edited... but I'm not even sure I care.

Detailed warnings below the cut and author's notes at the very end of the fic.

Warnings: (this list may not be as detailed or complete as other chapters because usually I write the warnings list while editing, and I have not edited this chapter, so I do apologise if I have accidentally left out some warnings. this is all from memory and I'm pretty sure this is everything); typical Criminal Minds warnings - mentions of murder and killing, the UnSub attacks Spencer and the reader; descriptions of physical violence (mostly done to Spencer because the reader gets away); the UnSub and Spencer get into a physical fight; mentions of Spencer having injuries from the UnSub's attack; Sebastian is completely unharmed; mentions of Emily being drugged in the form of a (fictional) knock-out gas; mentions of the anxiety and bad emotions that this kind of attack can cause; Spencer and the reader have sex - unprotected p in v sex; mentions of potential body insecurity after giving birth; breeding kink; mentions of pregnancy - and I believe that's it.

...

“Go upstairs, get Sebastian, take him in your room and lock the door. Call JJ or any contact in his phone labeled BAU. Call until they pick up and tell them that we need back up here. No matter what happens or what you hear, do not open the door for anybody. Got it?”

The words had barely penetrated your ears, your heart thumping so hard in your chest that you could barely process it.

Go upstairs. Get Sebastian. Call JJ.

You clutched Spencer’s phone tight in your hand, knowing that it was imperative not to lose it, not to drop it along the way.

Spencer moved toward the source of the noise, toward your office door, yielding the kitchen knife in hand as his weapon and you slid off the counter on shaking legs as you ran toward the stairs. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the office door burst open - it opened in the direction to smack Spencer in the face; clearly, the man had heard him approaching and opened the door with the intention to hit him with it. You heard Spencer grunt in pain and you saw blood.

The door had hit him the face, maybe broken his nose.

You paused on the bottom stare.

“Spencer-!”

“The good doctor won’t be your problem anymore.” The man growled, emerging from the darkness of your office.

He was wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt, partially obscuring his face, and you froze in fear as he stalked down the hallway toward you. Heavy boots stomping across the floor as a dizzy Spencer tried to recover from the injury.

“Go!” Spencer choked out, his mouth filling with blood as it leaked from his nose.

You screamed at your legs to move, and you stumbled upward, crawling up the stairs on your hands at knees.

You let out a scream when you felt a strange, gloved hand on your hip - another hand desperately gripping onto the waistband of your pants, as though trying to pull you backwards by the fabric.

“Spencer!”

You screamed out his name on instinct, no other word coming to your lips when you were terrified - thinking of no one else who could save you when your limbs collapsed, shaking from terror.

Suddenly then, the foreign hands of a monster were gone from you.

“Go!” Spencer screamed again, his voice slightly muffled. You heard a thump, but couldn’t look behind you. You could only guess that it was Spencer wrestling the man away from you - keeping you out of danger. “Go, Y/N!”

You forced your limbs to work, and you pushed yourself up, panting out anxious breaths as you climbed up the stairs, your heart nearly racing out of your chest as you escaped the man who had been intending to kill you.

…

Meanwhile, at the police station, JJ walked into the conference room nursing another cup of coffee.

“Hey, did you send someone over to watch over the house?” She asked Hotch.

“I sent Prentiss over with one of the locals.” Hotch nodded.

This calmed JJ a bit. She knew that Prentiss was good. Even if she didn’t know you, she was protective. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you on her watch.

Hotch then became absorbed in a file he was reading and JJ became distracted when Morgan spoke to her.

“Can you believe that pretty boy might actually be a dad?” He posed, slumping back in his chair with a tired huff.

“Might be?” JJ asked, wondering what he meant.

“Well…” Morgan turned the chair toward her, and he gave a distinct, stiff expression - one of dubious uncertainty.

JJ raised her brows back in return.

“Do you really think that she would lie to Spencer about this?” JJ pressed.

“Well… I don’t know. I just can’t imagine Reid makin’ the home-run in order to have a kid.” Morgan shrugged.

JJ let out a dry laugh.

“Come on, get serious.” She sighed. “I mean… I did consider that too.” She said. “But he told me that they definitely…” She finished off this thought with a simple expression to explain what she meant, and Morgan grinned and laughed.

“Oh, my man.” He said, clearly proud of the idea of Spencer having enough sex to produce a child. “I can’t believe playboy had a girlfriend and didn’t tell me.”

“I think he was embarrassed.” JJ shrugged. “Like… back then we all considered him a baby. And he didn’t wanna disappoint us, or have us make fun of him.”

Morgan nodded. “Good point.” He sipped his own coffee. “Well… now he’s stuck payin’ child support cause he didn’t come to Uncle Morgan for The Talk and he didn’t know how to use a condom.”

JJ giggled and shook her head.

“You know what Spencer actually said to me?” JJ posed.

Morgan hummed in reply, now curious.

“He said that he would be disappointed if he found out that the kid wasn’t his.” She told him, remarking on the earlier conversation that she had with Reid.

Morgan chuckled. “Well, what does that look like to you?” He said, picking up one of the stalker photos that the UnSub had sent of you and your son. Clearly, he was saying that by looks alone - it was very likely Spencer’s kid.

“Tiny Spencer.” JJ chuckled.

“I would say it’s pretty safe to confirm that the kid is his.” Morgan shrugged.

JJ nodded, and then he added on:

“He’s probably gonna come in here and tell us how many germs are on preschool toys, and the likelihood of falling down in a playground accident.” Morgan remarked, making a joke about Spencer’s traits passing on to his son (not yet knowing how true it actually was).

JJ let out a bright laugh. “Oh my god.”

…

Spencer was nearly blinded with pain when the UnSub shoved the door back into his face, and he tried his best to use sheer force of will to power through it.

He couldn’t let a simple little injury get in the way. He had to protect you now. He had to protect his son.

He heard you scream and when he looked over, that man had his filthy hands all over you, clearly trying to pull you down the stairs toward him.

“Spencer!” You called out desperately, clearly looking for his help.

“Go!” Spencer yelled at you, encouraging you to get away.

Spencer ran over to the stairs and without hesitation, grabbed the man by the back of his sweatshirt, hauling him off you with a strength he didn’t know he had, and looping his arm around the man’s shoulder in order to raise the hand wielding the kitchen knife - he stabbed blindly and landed a shallow blow between the UnSub’s ribs, causing him to grunt and stumble backwards onto Spencer, knocking them both over - making Spencer hit the ground hard on his back with the man’s weight falling on top of him.

“Go, Y/N!” He yelled, wheezing past the pain of the fall as he pushed the man off him, tightly keeping his grip on the knife, pulling it out of the wound as he moved, knowing that it would do the most damage to leave the cut gaping and bleeding freely - hoping that the man would pass out from blood loss.

Spencer heard thumping as you ran up the stairs, and he hoped that the UnSub wouldn’t chase you - he was still dizzy from having his head knocked around twice in the past five minutes, and suddenly, the knife was snatched out of his hand as the man rose to his feet, somehow so lively and energetic after just being stabbed.

“How kind of you, Doctor Reid.” The man grinned down at him, whipping the hood off his head, revealing a menacing, cold smile on a terribly average face. He pressed a boot into the middle of Spencer’s chest, making him cough and sputter as the air was pressed out of him by pressure on his sternum. “You brought me the knife that I’m going to kill your whore with.”

Those words somehow gave Spencer all the power he needed. Pure, unbridled rage fueling him - the thought that he had failed you all those years ago, that he had been the monster in your life and he needed to rise up and defeat the monster for you now.

He reached up and dug his fingers into a tender nerve in the man’s calf, something he knew simply from studying human anatomy in books, and the muscles in his leg went limp - Spencer then used his grip to pull the man’s leg forward, knocking his whole body off-kilter and sending him falling onto his back. Spencer climbed on top of him and delivered a weak punch before he was flipped over again - when the UnSub raised the knife toward him, Spencer instinctively put up his arm and felt something slice through his flesh, but the pain didn’t register with the adrenaline pumping through his body.

He jabbed two sharp fingers into the man’s windpipe, leaving him gasping while he got up and ran toward the kitchen - in honesty, looking for more tools to harm the man with. A frying pan, perhaps. He only made it partway through the living room before the UnSub caught up to him, and pinned him against one of the large bookshelves that you had bracketing the television - when Spencer felt the sharp blade of the knife ghosting against his throat, he instinctively went stalk still.

“There ya go.” The man whispered. “Gentle now.”

“Fuck you.” Spencer rasped out in reply, struggling for a moment against the hold - he felt the blade just barely bite at his skin, not yet cutting - and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get very far.

“Stop struggling, Doctor.” The man mocked him, fisting the front of his shirt, forcing him to be still. Spencer’s heart thumped in his chest, and though there was an undertone of fear, rage was the headliner still as it pulsed through him. “I’m gonna tell you how this is gonna go.”

Spencer remained silent, allowing himself more time to think as the man rambled on.

“I’m gonna take this knife, and I’m gonna stab it right through your spine, severing your spinal cord. So you won’t be able to move. You won’t be able to run, or fight. You won’t be able to do a damn thing to save her.” The man explained with vervant, graphic joy. “And I’m gonna prop you up right over there-” He motioned to one of the living room chairs with a single finger. “So that you can watch while I fuck your bitch. With my cock and with my knife. And you can beg, and you can cry the whole time. Right up until I slit her pretty throat. And I’ll probably even leave you alive. So that you can just… live with the knowledge that you’re a pathetic little worm who couldn’t save her. And then, I think I’m gonna take your kid with me when I leave.” He chuckled. “I’ll raise him up good, so that he can come back and finish off Daddy when he gets older.”

He reached up and slapped Spencer on the cheek - just a tap, just enough to humiliate him along with the words.

“Does that sound like a plan, Doctor?”

Spencer let out an enraged huff. Like a bull rearing up to charge.

If he wanted to play - then Spencer could play.

Especially because the pathology was all too clear now.

“I get it now.” Spencer let out the words casually. “You know, we thought that because you were targeting single mothers, you had been neglected by your mother in childhood and you were taking out an inherent rage that you had toward women ever since. But it all makes sense now.” He chucked.

The UnSub looked at him with intrigue in his eyes, and didn’t speak, so clearly he wanted to know what it was that Spencer had to say - he was too curious by the breakdown of his own mind that Spencer was going to give him.

Spencer took an uninterested glance up at the ceiling, making the man wait more for him to continue speaking, and then he saw it. His way to truly gain the upper hand.

Sebastian’s Halloween candy bucket was balanced right on the edge of the shelf above his head. It would be the perfect surprise.

“You hated your father for abandoning you.” Spencer concluded, looking back at the man with a purely smug expression. “So now you feel a need to play Daddy to get some kind of personal fulfillment - to supposedly be the man that your father never was. And you feel an intense rage toward any man who supposedly abandoned their own child in return - which is what you think I’ve done.”

Spencer grinned.

“But I’ll give you a little newsflash. You’ll never be a good father, and you’ll never get anywhere near my son.”

Spencer then bumped himself backwards into the shelf, knocking the candy bucket down onto the UnSub’s head - it wasn’t heavy, but the plastic hitting him, along with the sudden rain of candy made him jolt with the surprise, causing him to jump backward, finally removing the knife from Spencer’s throat.

This gave Spencer the chance to tackle him.

…

When you raced to the top of the stairs and got to Sebastian’s room, he was peeking nervously through a crack in the door at you.

“Mommy?” He asked anxiously. “What’s that noise?”

“Come here.” You reached your arms out to him and he ran to you, clearly understanding that it was urgent.

You hugged him tightly and took him down the hall, and you heard another crash from downstairs. Sebastian whimpered and hugged you back tightly.

‘No matter what happens or what you hear, do not open the door for anybody.’

Spencer’s instructions had been very clear, but - you couldn’t leave him alone. You couldn’t leave him to go through hell by himself. Not this time.

You knew exactly what you needed to do.

You took Sebastian into your room and locked the door, just as Spencer had said, and then you took him over to your closet and set him down inside.

“Mommy, what’s happening?” Sebastian asked, his voice clearly verging on tears.

“Seb, you have to listen very carefully.” You told him, gently grabbing both sides of his face, still holding the phone, forcing his attention toward you.

Unfortunately, none of the parenting books you had read described how to talk to a child about a situation like this, so you went with your gut. You tried to speak in a calm voice so as not to alarm him, but you wanted to speak honestly and stress the seriousness of the situation.

“There is a bad man in the house.” You said, firmly. “If the bad man finds you, he could hurt you. So you have to hide in the closet, okay?”

“Okay.” Sebastian said, his voice small and frightened. Your gut twisted knowing that he was afraid - but you were going to do everything in your power to keep him from getting hurt.

“Spencer is trying to make the bad man go away. But I have to go help him.” You added on. “I’m going to dial a number on the phone. And you’re gonna talk to my friend JJ. And you’re gonna tell her that we need her to come and help. Okay?”

Sebastian was smart. You trusted him to do it.

You flipped open the phone and found JJ’s contact among the most recent, and selected it.

“If no one answers then you hit this button.” You told Sebastian, showing him the ‘redial’ button. “Okay?”

He nodded.

“Okay, here. Take the phone and go in there.” You pointed for him to go further back into the large closet, and you grabbed a teddy bear off your bed that he had there from a few nights before and passed it in to him. “We can’t turn on the light because you’re hiding, okay?” You told him.

He looked up at you with those big eyes, and you saw nothing but Spencer.

“I’m brave.” He told you with certainty.

You felt as though you were stabbed in the chest as you closed the closest door, leaving him there. You heard another loud bang from downstairs, which caused you to move with more urgency - you had a large bookshelf, filled to the brim with books, beside the closet, and usually, it wouldn’t be something that you’d be able to move even an inch without help (or without unloading it, taking away the books first). But you moved to the side and pushed - and pushed with all your might, making it scrape across the floor until it was fully covering the closet door.

Hearing more indiscernible shouts coming from downstairs, you moved with renewed determination toward your side table, ripping it open and grabbing the lockbox, putting in the code and grabbing your gun.

When you made it to the bottom of the stairs on shaking legs, the sight before you utterly shocked you.

…

JJ didn’t think anything of it when her phone rang.

The team was currently split up - Prentiss was at the end of your block, sitting in an unmarked car with one of the local police officers, looking out for anything suspicious as they watched over your house. And the rest of the team was following up on something - a few hours after the UnSub had sent the letter containing pictures of you, and the pictures of JJ and Reid at your doorstep, he had sent another letter.

It was a set of photographs of a woman dead on her kitchen floor - a completely different woman, murdered, with the white carnations in a halo around her head, clearly killed by him. On the back of one of the photos it said ‘you lose’.

The team panicked, thinking that he had picked another target because there had been too much police attention on you, but when they found out who the woman was, they realized that she had been murdered months ago - she was one of his first. It had just been another distraction to keep their attention off you.

“Reid, hey-” JJ greeted, thinking that it was just Spencer calling to check in.

“Hello?”

She was shocked to hear a small, young voice on the other end.

“Hey there.” She called back gently, instantly switching into ‘mom mode’. It took her only a moment to put it together - whose voice it was. “You must be Sebastian.”

“My name is Sebastian.” He confirmed. “Are you Mommy’s friend JJ?”

“Yes, I’m JJ.” She said. “Did you take Daddy’s phone?”

She didn’t even consider it a slip-up - she didn��t think for a second that you and Spencer hadn’t yet told him that Spencer was his father.

She thought that Sebastian had taken Spencer’s phone and was pressing buttons out of curiosity, and had simply dialed the last number that was in the call history by accident.

“Mommy gave me the phone.” Sebastian told her. “She said to call for help. There’s a bad man in the house.”

JJ’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. Her throat clenched up, and all at once, she felt an intense urgency.

“Oh, okay.” She said, trying not to sound too panicked - trying not to alert Sebastian to her feelings, knowing she had to keep him calm. “Where are you, buddy?”

She walked swiftly toward the conference room, knowing that she had to get Hotch to call Prentiss. She had no clue how the UnSub got into the house past Prentiss’s watchful eyes, but they had to get in there and help - now.

“I’m hiding in the closet.” Sebastian told her. “Mommy told me too.”

“That’s good.” JJ replied. “You stay there. I’m sending my friends to help you. My friend Emily is gonna come and get you, okay?”

JJ waved Hotch down and he came to stand in front of her.

She clasped her hand over the end of her phone before she spoke to him in a low, urgent voice.

“I’ve got Y/N’s kid on the phone, he says that the UnSub is in the house. Get Prentiss in there now.” She told him.

Hotch nodded and ran off to grab a landline off the hook in order to call them.

“Is Mommy gonna get hurt?” He asked softly, clearly afraid of this possibility.

JJ’s throat clenched tighter.

“It’s gonna be okay.” She said, making a promise that she hoped she could keep. “I’ll stay on the phone with you until my friends get there, okay?”

“I’m scared.” Sebastian whimpered.

“She’s not picking up.” Hotch told JJ. “We’ve gotta go.”

…

About ten feet down from your house, in a perfect spot to view the front door, Prentiss and the local officer - a man named Bleu - were parked in an inconspicuous, FBI owned vehicle. One of the back windows was broken, and in the backseat was a canister letting out a dangerous vapor - one that knocked them both unconscious within seconds (an item that was typically used for military purposes).

An annoying, digital chirping rang through the car as both of their phones chimed off, going unanswered as chaos continued inside the house.

…

You were shocked to see Spencer in the middle of the floor, straddling the unknown man - beating him to death.

Spencer looked crazed, blood dripping down his face from his nose, a look of pure, homicidal rage in his eyes as he held the man by the front of his shirt, lifting his fist and committing blow after blow to his now very mangled face. There was a large gash on Spencer’s forearm from the fight, and the kitchen knife had been flung across the floor, but now, it seemed that the man was entirely defenseless as Spencer laid into him out of pure spite.

The man was laying in a pool of his own blood, dripping from some wound you couldn’t see through the darkness - Spencer had done quite a number on him, and while you knew that you should have felt scared, all you felt was a flare of pride at his protectiveness and that lust from before dangerously creeping back in.

“You think that you can just come into this house? Come into his house where my son and my wife sleep?” Spencer screamed, using the front of the man’s shirt to lift him up limply to scream even closer to his face. “Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?”

My wife.

He was taking ownership over you, protecting you.

Because that emotional dam had just burst, and he was still so fragile, all of that love he had felt for you was molding into rage, and hatred toward this man.

How dare he try to hurt you.

He tossed another punch, and the man laughed.

He was so badly beaten - you didn’t think that he was still conscious, let alone capable of speech.

“You - you feel like a man, yet?” The man mocked him. “You keep-” He choked, sputtering on his own blood. “You keep playin’ at it, Daddy. Maybe one day you’ll be what she n-needs.”

“He doesn’t have to play.” You said, cocking the gun and raising it toward the man. “He’s more of a man and a better father than you could ever be.”

Spencer raised his hand to deliver another hit, and you spoke up again.

“Spencer.” You said his name firmly, causing his muscles to freeze up. “It’s time to cuff him now. Your son is upstairs waiting for you.”

You knew it was a choice for him. He could have easily let those darker instincts get a hold of him again - he could have given in to the urge to beat the man to death simply for thinking of hurting you.

But you didn’t want that. Not because you thought the man deserved to live, but because you didn’t want a murderer for a future husband.

Spencer stood up, walking over to you.

“I have zip ties in my bag.” He told you, motioning over toward it.

He took the gun from you, and when the man made a sluggish, concussed move for the knife, Spencer kicked him hard in the gut.

“Don’t move!” He screamed. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

He let out another harsh, breathless laugh.

“You - you let the bitch rule your life.” He continued to mock Spencer. “Talk about spineless and dickless, and-”

Spencer kicked him again.

You handed Spencer the zip ties and took back the gun, keeping it trained on the man as Spencer secured him.

“I can assure you that he’s definitely not dickless.” You felt the need to add on.

Spencer rolled his eyes at this, but you caught him suppressing a grin.

You jumped when you heard a loud bang - someone knocking on the front door.

“FBI! We have you surrounded!” A man’s voice, someone you didn’t recognize, screamed out.

Spencer was quick to respond, his knee digging into the man’s back as he tightened the zip ties.

“Hotch, we’ve got him down!” Spencer yelled back, apparently knowing the man’s name. “You don’t have to charge in, Y/N is gonna open the door!”

Spencer nodded toward you, and you lowered the gun, still shaking as you moved to unlock the door. You opened it to find a stern faced man holding a gun, but the moment that he saw you - tear streaked, shaking, your clothes ruffled and your general appearance shaken - his expression instantly softened and he lowered his gun down to his side.

“Miss, are you alright?” He asked, stepping in, looking around before he gave you a quick up-and-down glance, clearly inspecting you for injuries.

“I’m fine.” You quickly blurted out. “Spencer’s in there.” You motioned back into the living room and then several people flooded into the house, and when you saw JJ again, you let out a sob of relief, and upon instinct, she pulled you into a tight hug.

You clutched onto her tightly and she hugged you right back.

After a moment, a bit too soon for you considering how shaken up you were feeling, she pulled away and held you by the shoulders.

“Where’s Sebastian?” She asked you urgently.

You grabbed her hand and turned to race up the stairs - while behind you, Spencer and Morgan hoisted the man off the ground and walked him outside to the squad car waiting to take him into holding - though he would likely need some medical attention along the way. While Hotch directed everyone around the house - the CSI team needed to collect evidence, making sure the scene was secure. And Rossi was outside making sure that Emily got into the ambulance okay as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

“This isn’t over!”

Naturally, the man was still in the mood to taunt.

“One of these days, when-”

“Shut it, scumbag.” Morgan ordered, shoving the man forward. “You lost. Get over it.”

Spencer put his hand on the man’s head to ease him into the squad car, and then when he leaned in to fasten the seatbelt, he couldn’t hold back.

“See, the most wonderful part of all this is,” He whispered lowly to the man. “Tonight, when I’m in bed with my beautiful wife,” He pressed. “When I’m balls deep inside of her perfect pussy - I’m not gonna be thinking of you. Not even for a second.”

The man had a stern, sour scowl on his face. Spencer had truly won.

He rose up and slammed the door, giving a knock on the hood of the car to let the driver know to take the man away.

“Holy shit, pretty boy, what happened to your arm?” Morgan asked, letting out a low whistle of shock as he reached for Spencer’s wrist to further inspect the injury.

“Knife.” Spencer mumbled, quickly snatching his arm back.

He didn’t need to be herded into an ambulance right now - he needed to check on his son.

Spencer quickly moved back toward the house, and Morgan naturally followed him.

“A knife?!” He replied, clearly shocked. “You were stabbed?!”

“I wasn’t stabbed.” Spencer spoke the words in a jolt over his shoulder, still charging forward, up the stairs. “It was more of a slash. It’s just a cut. It’s minor.”

“‘It’s just a cut. It’s minor.’” Morgan repeated, mocking Spencer in a childish, whiny voice as he followed him up the stairs. “The man becomes a father and thinks he’s the Terminator all of a sudden.”

Spencer passed Sebastian’s bedroom and glanced in, and didn’t see anyone - he heard a commotion of voice coming from the bedroom and rushed toward the sounds.

He was surprised to see you and JJ standing on either side of a very large bookshelf, struggling to move it. The sight immediately confused him.

“How the hell did you move this thing by yourself?” JJ grunted out, trying to push it backward with her whole body while you pulled on it.

“What are you guys doing?” Spencer asked.

“Sebastian is behind here.” You informed them, breathless from the effort of trying to move it without the hellish adrenaline rush pumping through you. “I moved it to hide him, in case-” You unintentionally huffed out another sob just thinking about what could have happened.

Spencer rushed to pull you into his arms, and you collapsed against his hold.

Somewhere muffled behind the thickness of the bookcase, there came:

“Mommy, get me out of here!”

You sobbed harder, thinking you had made a mistake, and JJ spoke up.

“We’re coming, buddy! It’s okay!”

“It’s just a bookcase.” Morgan chuckled.

He stepped forward, expecting that he would be able to move it with ease.

JJ stepped out of his way and Morgan put his shoulder against the side of the bookshelf, giving a shove. When it didn’t move after a moment, a look of intense shock fell over his face, and he looked at you in awe.

“You moved this thing all by yourself?” Morgan gaped at you. “Damn, woman!”

“Women have been known to lift cars off their children in life-threatening situations.” Spencer remarked, moving toward the bookcase and grabbing some of the books off it. “We have to take the books off.” He said to Morgan, incredibly snarky.

“Take the books off.” JJ sighed. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

Being stupid from urgency - is what you wanted to say.

But instead, you helped them unload the bookcase and place the books onto your bed, and when it was nearly empty, Spencer and Morgan managed to push it out of the way with ease.

You rushed to open the closet door and Sebastian rushed out to see you as you fell to your knees, crumbling in front of him as the worry and anxiety and adrenaline crashed, causing your whole body to become weak and tired in an instant.

“Mommy!”

You held him tight in your arms as you sobbed and Spencer looked on with warmth in his heart and sadness in his eyes, feeling like he didn’t deserve to intrude on the moment.

“Get over there, man.” Morgan told him quietly, giving him a nudge. “But when you come downstairs, you’re gettin’ your ass in that ambulance.”

Spencer felt a tired weakness growing within him, and he couldn’t help but to walk forward and settle onto his knees beside you and Sebastian, huddled together in a tight hug, clutching onto each other. He put a protective hand on each of you, and leaned in, giving you a kiss on the forehead - and he couldn’t resist the urge to plant a gentle kiss on the top of Sebastian’s head as well.

You managed to pry a shaking hand off of Sebastian, who still cuddled into your chest, and turn to Spencer, putting that hand on his shoulder - you leaned in then and kissed him on the mouth - sweet, gentle, loving.

“Thank you.” You told, nearly breathless from tears. “You saved us. You protected us. I-”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Spencer told me. “You know that I would do anything for both of you.” He declared, his voice beginning to shake as the emotions of it all truly hit him.

“You got a boo-boo,” Sebastian said, his voice tired as he motioned to the blood still dripping from Spencer’s nose.

The boy had finally unburied himself from your chest to look at Spencer, and clearly took great concern in the fact that he was hurt.

“Oh, I’m okay, bud.” Spencer insisted, reaching up to wipe it.

“Oh my god, Spencer, your arm!” You gasped - with Sebastian bringing attention to his injuries, you finally realized the full extent. His nose was bruising from being hit by the door, he had several scratches and bruises in other places, his knuckles were horribly bruises and bloodied from punching that man so many times, and most distractingly, there was a large gash on his arm - looking like a cut from a knife. “Spence, you have to get that checked out.”

“I will.” He assured you. He couldn’t say no to you.

He sighed and got up - knowing that he couldn’t delay his trip to the ambulance for too much longer.

“Did you get the bad man?” Sebastian asked, looking up at Spencer with large, expectant eyes.

“He did.” You assured him with a kiss on the forehead. “He got the bad man. He made sure that nobody was gonna hurt us.”

With this realization, Sebastian tore out of your arms and ran toward Spencer, and Spencer instinctively leaned down again, picking him up to pull him into a hug. He feared getting blood on him - but that thought passed as soon as he felt the comfort of having his son tight in his arms.

“You should stay forever.” Sebastian told him, intentionally quieter so that you might not hear. “No bad man could get us if you’re here.”

Spencer felt a large lump rise up in his throat.

“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. Ever.” He told him, giving him another tight squeeze before he put him down. “Go with your mom. I have to go get my… my boo-boo checked. Okay?”

Sebastian nodded and ran back to you, and Spencer went to leave, before pausing.

“You should probably get some things together. I doubt that you’re gonna be able to stay here tonight, and the CSI teams are gonna be coming in and out. They’ll probably pay for you to have a hotel room.” He informed you.

“Will you stay with us?” You asked, your throat edging with anxiety once again. “Spence - I - I can’t sleep alone.”

There was no way he could deny you.

“Of course.”

…

Spencer went to the hospital, and you were taken to the police station for questioning. Not that you had done anything wrong, of course - the team just thought that you could fill in a few more details for them while Spencer (forcefully) got checked out. (And of course, he rushed to check up on Emily the minute that the doctors were done with him.)

After running the suspect’s fingerprints, they were able to show you a mugshot, and you let out a horrified sob as you finally identified him.

He was your neighbor. A man who had been living across the street from you for the last two months, at least. He had helped you carry in groceries before - he had seemed so friendly. You hadn’t recognized him laying on your living room floor in the dark, beaten and bloodied. But it was most definitely him.

After a thorough search of your house and the house across from yours - one he had apparently been subletting from a retired couple who were off traveling, seeing the world during their golden years - crime scene techs turned up several important things.

More than a dozen bugs. Microphones that he had planted everywhere in your home - apparently, he had broken in some time when you had been gone, and planted microphones in your house plants, your cupboards, your bedroom, and Sebastian’s bedroom. Which would explain the large notebook he had, detailing every single conversation that you and Spencer had since the moment that he had arrived - explaining all of the information that he knew about you and Spencer. There was also a large telescope, set up, pointed directly at your house. And a camera - and a large wall with far more pictures of you.

There were also five other notebooks, and a scrapbook with photographs of his other victims. The back page of each of those books detailed where their orphaned children were, how they were doing since he had killed their mothers.

Just as you were peaking in anxiety, Spencer returned from the hospital and stopped the interrogation. It was time for you and Sebastian to get some rest - some real rest.

Spencer needed eleven stitches, and a splint for his nose. All in all - he had a concussion, severely fucked up knuckles, and two bruised ribs.

That didn’t stop him from carrying his son to bed after he had fallen asleep in the back of one of the bureau’s SUVs.

…

Spencer helped you into your hotel room, with you carrying the small overnight bags that you had packed for you and Sebastian and Spencer carrying Sebastian in his arms as he slept. Even with Spencer bruised and slightly battered, it was a peaceful, welcome sight. It looked like something that should have happened a thousand times before - the boy fit perfectly into his arms, that head of curls resting perfectly under his chin while Spencer supported him with an arm under his bum, and walked over to the nightstand, using his free hand to turn on the gentle yellow light of a lamp while you put down the bags and closed and locked the door behind you.

Spencer began clumsily peeling back the covers with one hand and you rushed over to help him - rearranging the pillows and peeling back the covers so that he could place Sebastian gently in the bed. Once he did, you grabbed a blanket that belonged to him that you had brought from home and put that on him before Spencer pulled up the covers, and you handed him the plush toy that Spencer had bought him to put beside him.

He stirred slightly, but for the most part - he was so exhausted that he didn’t move or wake up.

Spencer took a moment to watch him and you didn’t disrupt.

You knew this was a moment you had missed - many parents watched over their newborn sleeping in the crib days after bringing them home from the hospital, and this was that moment for the both of you now.

After a prolonged silence, Spencer cleared his throat and stepped away - you expected him to go toward the bathroom to freshen up before bed or something like that, but instead:

“This door goes to my room.” He said, keeping his voice quiet so as to not wake Sebastian, motioning to a door that you were just now realizing was there - clearly adjoining the rooms for people who knew each other but didn’t want to sleep in the same room. And it had a lock on it for the sake of privacy. “Just knock if you need anything.”

This made your insides crash with disappointment. You thought that you had made yourself pretty clear when you said - ‘I can’t sleep alone’.

You and Spencer were supposed to be sleeping in the same bed. He was supposed to stay right there with you; even if that man who had intended to kill you was in police custody, you still had that feeling of anxiety looming over you. You still needed Spencer nearby to make you feel safe. A giant wall separating the two of you just wasn’t going to do that.

“Separate rooms?” You squeaked out.

“Yeah.” He replied. “I thought it would make you feel more comfortable.”

More comfortable.

Against your better instincts, you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Spencer gave you a smile, and then, his body stuttering awkwardly, he leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said quietly.

“Goodnight, Spence.”

He moved across the room and unlocked the door and moved into his own room, and when he closed it behind him, you heard the click of the lock on the other side - him putting up a very clear barrier between the two of you.

Somehow, after everything the two of you had talked about - he still didn’t get it.

You glanced at Sebastian, who was in a deep sleep, and then looked over at the door.

You knew that he would be fine on his own for a little while. He would likely sleep well for the next few hours, and if he woke up and yelled out for you, you would hear him. So you walked up to the door, and after hesitating for a fraction for a second - you knocked.

…

Spencer answered the door.

“Can I come in?”

Naturally, he looked past you to Sebastian’s sleeping body.

“He’ll be fine on his own for a little while.” You told him, already knowing what he was thinking. “I just wanted to talk. Ya know - grown-up time.”

Secretly, deep down, you were hoping for the double entendre to actually pay off this time.

“Just a few minutes.” Spencer replied. “Then you need to get some rest.”

You wanted to scoff at this. But you knew that it was out of caring.

“How’s the arm doing?” You asked as Spencer gently closed the door behind you.

“Ten stitches, no big deal.” He replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No big deal?” You scoffed. “I remember a time when you used to freak out and cry over a paper cut, Spence.” You giggled gently. “You used to make me kiss it and put a band-aid on it for you.”

Mentally, you were brought back to the nights when you and Spencer would have ‘reading dates’. You would each bring a book for the other person, something you thought the other person would like or something you were excited for them to read, and then you would sit curled up under a large blanket on Spencer’s couch, both reading in tandem, only breaking the peaceful silence to discuss a particular interesting passage or to compliment the other person’s choice in some way.

This was a time when something like a paper cut was the most dangerous threat to your lives.

Oh, how times change.

“Maybe it was just an excuse to get a kiss from you.” Spencer said, all cheek - he looked at you through his lashes as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, having already shed his tie and his top buttons - and the full power of those schoolgirl butterflies would have been ignited by this look, if not for-

“Your knuckles.” You gasped, suddenly spotting the bright red abrasions, the obnoxious bruising that was starting to form on his dominant hand.

“Oh, ah - I’m fine.” Spencer lied, moving the hand in front of his own eyes to look, suddenly realizing how bad it was for himself.

Upon instinct, you stepped forward, and took his hand into the gentle grasp of your own. Without a word, operating entirely on the ghost of your own need - you lifted that hand up to your lips, and kissed across this knuckles, feather-light - a silent ‘thank you’ for all he had done for you. A moment of gratitude for his service in defeating the monster who had entered your home.

When you caught his eye again, you saw nothing but pure lust swimming there.

He pulled you into his lap, and the kiss - it was nothing but pure, burning fire.

…

Spencer kissed along your stomach, from one hip to the other - he stopped along the way to draw gentle, appreciative licks along the stretch marks.

“No cesarean scar.” He noted, mumbling against your skin.

“I had him naturally.” You noted. “So… things might be a bit of a mess down there.” You chuckled awkwardly, still feeling self conscious.

It was one of the reasons you hadn’t brought anyone into your bed since the break-up with Spencer. You had been self conscious of your postpartum body. You had heard horror stories from other mothers that you interacted with at daycare or the park (especially the married ones) about how their husbands just didn’t see them the same way after giving birth, about how all the romance and sex fizzled out after they had their child, and how any other children in the marriage were thanks to porn or toys ‘getting their husbands going’.

You really didn’t need to bring a man into your bed just to laugh at you. Inviting someone into an intimate moment just to have them mock you - that would have broken you. You couldn’t risk a relapse of your eating disorder because of it - not when Sebastian needed you strong and healthy.

“Hmm, no.” Spencer said, fully confident.

He pulled away slightly, taking a glance down at your glistening cunt, and for good measure, his inquiring eyes making you feel naked as he inspected you, giving you the urge to close your legs - he ran his fingers along the needy, slightly swollen lips of your pussy as you puffed up with blood in anticipation of him, and he dipped his fingertips inside, making you moan.

“Your pussy is still fucking perfect.” He told you. “Just how I left it. You can’t even tell I put a baby in here.”

He wanted to add on: ‘Seems like I should change that.’ - But he didn’t want to push his luck.

That got you - and your legs involuntarily flinched, your thighs closing around his hand, causing him to give a cocky smirk.

“How long were you in labor for?” He asked, suddenly curious.

You found it to be a bit of an odd question to ask, especially while his fingers - two of them - ventured deeper into your wet hole.

But you indulged him nonetheless.

“Sixteen hours.” You told him. “No pain medication.”

You had been more afraid of the needle for the epidural than facing the pain. (You probably would have been brave enough to get it with Spencer there holding your hand, but… oh well.)

Later on, Spencer would get you to recount every moment of the pregnancy, and the labor of the delivery to him in detail. As much of it as you could remember - because he couldn’t be there for it, and he wanted as much of it as possible in mind. And again, you would indulge him - because you thought that he deserved to take in as much of what he had missed as possible.

“Fuck.” He sighed, in awe of you. He ran his free hand up your body, over your stomach, the place where his son had once grown and taken nourishment from your body as he developed, appreciating every inch of you as he moved to grab your breast. “You are a fucking warrior, aren’t you?”

The pure passion behind his words in that moment made you even wetter.

Spencer expelled every single one of your insecurities - he didn’t find you less attractive because your body wasn’t like it used to be. He found you even more grand and alluring. He found you more impressive, more beautiful than ever.

…

Not much later, Spencer’s cock was deep inside of you.

Neither of you had even thought of a condom - you couldn’t have been expecting this interaction, not for a moment, so neither of you had one in waiting. You had been off your birth control for months - you weren’t dating, and you found that the side effects weren’t agreeing with you, so you simply stopped taking the pill.

So as Spencer’s hips clashed against your inner thighs while you laid on your back in the middle of that hotel bed, both of you could only think of one beautifully selfish thing.

“Please, please, please!” You chanted, not daring to speak it aloud, but begging him for it, hoping that he would get the message from such few words.

He drove his cock into you with an even deeper urgency, whining deep in his chest as your perfect cunt dripping around him in hot waves, and whether it was your body writing him love letters or your mouth delivering him that sacred message in code, there was only one possible thought thumping between his ears.

“Let - let me,” He choked out brokenly. “Let me give you another one.” He grunted out, tonguing along your breast, feeling so beautifully bathed in the heat coming off your body. “Please! Oh, please let me put another baby in you!”

How could this not be the perfect victory?

“Yes!” You gasped out, locking your legs behind his back, causing a straining pain against your ribs where you had landed so hard on the stairs - but not daring to let him go, not letting him pull out. Not letting him have second thoughts. “Please! Oh god, yes!”

That was all Spencer needed.

He choked a groan into your chest and a moment later he was cumming deep inside of you - flooding the both of you with epic satisfaction, and the underlying comfort that you would be tied together forever. The comfort that no one was leaving this time.

…

You only rested for a moment after Spencer pulled out of you. Then, you were reaching for your clothes, knowing that Sebastian was in the other room - and he couldn’t wake up alone.

After you pulled on your shirt, you reached behind you and slapped Spencer’s bare thigh, making him jump slightly.

“Get some PJs.” You told him. “I told you, I’m not sleeping alone.”

Spencer grinned to himself.

He couldn’t help but to lay back and watch your bareness in the low light as you got up off the bed, searching for your underwear. He would get up in a minute. The soreness was truly setting into his body now - he needed a minute to truly motivate himself into getting up.

“I do have to ask,” He said, his voice low. “Why Sebastian?”

You chuckled at this.

“Please tell me it’s not because of that lobster from that movie you liked as a kid,” He added on.

“Okay, if you’re talking about The Little Mermaid, he’s a crab.” You replied, slightly snarky, glancing over your shoulder at him as you stepped into your underwear. “And no, that’s just a coincidence. Sebastian’s name comes from… our first date.” You corrected him. “I kept thinking about the music… the way you looked at me. And I didn’t want my son to be named Johann - it didn’t seem to suit him.”

Spencer imagined you sitting in the hospital, staring at the wrinkly newborn, wondering what his name would be with Joy of Man’s Desiring running through your mind.

…

Spencer spent a peaceful night with his son.

When Emily was released from the hospital, the team packed up to go home on the jet, and Spencer got clearance for you and Sebastian to go with them - you couldn’t stay in the home that was still technically a crime scene, and you would rather stay in Spencer’s cramped apartment for a few weeks while everything was being sorted out than be apart again.

During that jet ride, Morgan called Spencer ‘Daddy’, as a joke - and when you looked at Sebastian wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights, he lit up like a Christmas tree and then loudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen (which turned out to be everyone on the flight, someone who happened to be in the hangar, Penelope - who had rushed to meet Sebastian, the cab driver on the ride home, and the take out delivery person later that night) - that he was going to sleepover at his Daddy’s house. And he was very excited about it.

It was a tentative start - but you were a family now.

…

SIX MONTHS LATER

Spencer was still adjusting to his ‘new life’ - in the best way possible.

On the days he could, he took his paperwork home with him, and tore out of the office at the speed of sound, rushing to get home to you and his son as fast as he could - eager to spend as much time with the both of you as possible. On this particular day, he was able to shove a handful of files into his bag to be attended to after you and Sebastian were asleep, rushing out in time to pick up Sebastian from his new babysitter.

Sebastian went to the babysitter four days a week, giving you time to relax and attend to your work, and three days a week he had a tutor who came to the house to work with him independently. Other days, Spencer would work with him to teach him subjects that he was interested in - they would plan special outings to invest more time into learning the subjects that he wanted to know. They spent a lot of time at the natural history museum - some of the employees there were starting to know them by name (especially people who worked at the dinosaur exhibits).

When Spencer arrived at the babysitter’s house, Sebastian and the babysitter, Alex, were waiting for him eagerly by the fence while the other two children who had yet to be picked up played in the fenced-off front yard. Having Sebastian run into his arms and hug him so tightly when he knelt down to receive that hug - it was still by far, one of the best parts of his day. It felt like something that awakened his soul - something that gave him more energy than coffee ever could.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, buddy.” Spencer grinned. “How are you doing? What did you do today?”

“Today we made crafts and we played Simon Says - who is Simon anyway? Is that game named after Simon Barere? Did he get a game after him because he played the piano so good? Oh and-”

“Hey, hey, take a breath.” Spencer chuckled, amused by how fast Sebastian was speaking - so excited to tell Spencer about everything he had done that his words were fusing into one long syllable.

“I missed you.” Sebastian smiled.

Spencer gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you too.”

Spencer raised to his full height and took Sebastian’s backpack from Alex, who then drew his attention to a piece of large white craft paper - seemingly the art activity from the day.

“He drew this,” Alex’s expression was half-amused, half-concerned.

Spencer quickly knew why. “Oh… well. I’ll show his mother.” He chuckled.

Spencer packed Sebastian into the car, buckling him into his carseat, and with Seb shouting at him through the rearview mirror, he got the full rundown of the day on their drive home. He was content and gleeful by the time his key was turning the lock to the front door - Sebastian running in through the gap when he barely had the door open with his hands full, screaming at the top of his lungs, looking for you.

“Mommy! Mommy?! We’re home!”

“I’m in here, Seb!”

You were calling from a room near the back of the house - what would be your and Spencer’s shared office. A room that was still packed full of boxes - deemed unimportant and low priority to unpack from the move.

“What are you doing?” Spencer hollered back, kicking the front door closed and dropping everything on a side table near the front door - temporarily forgetting about the picture that Sebastian had drawn in favor of seeking you out.

He was displeased to find you among the sea of boxes, your arms full with a heavy one as you heaved it aside.

“I, just - I was looking for something.” You grunted out.

Sebastian was already diving into one of the open boxes behind you - seemingly looking for something to interest him among the sea of books that you and Spencer had combined there.

Spencer rushed to take the box from you, not faring much better with it himself (Morgan had helped him move most of these - filled with books, into the room in the first place) - but he heaved it onto the top of another pile and then quickly moved to cradle a hand across your stomach, a bitterly protective mood coming over him.

You were four months along in your pregnancy, and Spencer was already of the belief that the growing resident in your stomach meant you had to be coddled to the utmost degree.

“Come on, you shouldn’t be lifting anything.” He chastised you sharply.

“I’m fine,” You replied. “When I was pregnant with Seb I did yoga and spin classes right up until I gave birth. This is nothing.”

“Yeah, but that’s exercise. You don’t need to strain yourself lifting heavy boxes, you-”

Spencer’s words were cut off when Sebastian spoke up, opening up a new line of conversation.

“Can I have this?” He asked brightly.

You turned to see him holding up a very thick book. You grabbed it from him gently, wanting to make sure it wasn’t one of Spencer’s books about murder cases or true crime - The American Guide to Constellations. You gave a soft smile.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You said, giving it back to him.

He cheered excitedly and ran off with the book, likely taking it to the large arm chair in the living room to read.

You reached out, going to grab another box to move it - and Spencer put his arm on top of the box, shoving it down.

“Excuse me,” You said sharply, glaring at him.

“What is so important?” He asked.

“I’ll tell you when I find it.” You replied.

He locked his jaw and stared you down, clearly waiting for a real answer.

“Look… those crime scene techs were tearing up my place, and… the move was so sudden… I just wanna make sure I didn’t lose it. And if I did lose it, I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

“Why would you disappoint me?” He asked.

“Just help me move this box.” You grunted back.

Spencer sighed, as usual - acquiescing to your wishes.

He struggled with the box you had motioned to, and while he found a place to put it, you opened up the box underneath it and sighed with relief when you pulled out a familiar looking shoebox - you struggled past a few objects inside. Old movie tickets, tickets stubs from the orchestra that you had kept, and Spencer looked over your shoulder with careful eyes for a moment, realization coming into his mind.

It was a time capsule of your relationship. Love letters he had written to you and left in books he had borrowed from you, a bowtie he had worn on a date and forgotten at your place after a particularly epic romp, a picture that he had drawn for you on a napkin while waiting for your food to arrive at a restaurant. And then -

“I really need to get this framed.” You noted, taking the certificate for the star he had gotten you out of the bottom of the box.

He felt it surge through him, just as fresh as he had felt it that night - that epic passion, that love for you, threatening to swallow him whole. Except now, he had it all. He had the house, the family he had been planning that whole time.

His life truly felt complete.

He couldn’t help it when he reached out and gently grasped your chin, pulling you in for a kiss, which you eagerly returned.

“Mommy, I made you a picture!” Sebastian called out, appearing in the doorway now, brandishing the drawing he had made - a lucky reminder of what Spencer had intended to show you.

You place down the certificate in the shoebox, hopefully to remember to bring it to some place to get it framed later - and you bent down at the waist to see what Sebastian had as crossed the room toward you.

“Oh, let me have a look.” You said, smiling at him.

As you took the picture, your face got that same expression - partly amused, partly confused as you took in the bizarre photo. Spencer watched over your shoulder, looking at the picture again.

It was an almost typical child-like drawing. Very colorful, crayons - a view of the new house, with stick figures labeled ‘Daddy, Me, and Mommy’ - except the one depicting you had a very round stomach, a long line clearly meant to be an umbilical cord spiraling out to a very alien-like realistic fetus that was labeled ‘Baby’. The two of you had been showing Sebastian baby-rearing books to get him mentally prepared for having a sibling, because you knew that he was smart enough to know and understand the (age appropriate) basics of pregnancy, and he understood eagerly that the baby in your belly would eventually be his new sibling.

And apparently - that translated to drawing it.

“Oh wow.” You said, trying to hide your shock at your son’s very intelligent, bizarre drawing. “Very beautiful.”

“I hope the baby likes my picture.” Sebastian said, smiling up at you.

“I’m sure the baby will love all your pictures.” You told him, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“You’re gonna be a great big brother,” Spencer told him. “And good big brothers wash their hands so they can help with dinner,”

Sebastian nodded at this, and ran off toward the bathroom - clearly wanting to comply with this task.

“Maybe I should get this one framed too.” You chuckled as you stood up to your full height.

Spencer let out a laugh too. “I think it’s good. It shows he has a good comprehension of everything we’ve been telling him. And he’s excited to have a sibling. He doesn’t have any underlying jealousy, or-”

You were hit with a sudden wave of nausea. “Do you think he’s in the downstairs bathroom?”

You didn’t wait for an answer before you rushed out of the room. Spencer placed the star certificate in with his files, reminding himself to have it framed for you after work the next day, and then he went to the kitchen to wash up and start dinner. Soon, Sebastian joined him, eager to help wash vegetables and help stir pots while you were otherwise occupied.

Even though you currently had your head in a toilet - things in life were definitely looking up.

THE END

...

A/N: I want everyone to know that I have been feeling incredibly conflicted about this story. The original 'production' (so to speak) of this fic was disrupted by something in my personal life that left me feeling really emotional distraught, so the ending was kind of fucked from the start.

If you know me well or if you've been following me for a long time, you know that most of my multichapter fics are fics that were intended to be oneshots. Those fics are usually written within a one month period and then they are edited and posted the next month, so that way I don't lose momentum on a fic. If I don't do it that way, then I end up losing interest in a fic or getting Stage Fright and getting protective over a story when people actually see it. And if I get Stage Fright, it makes me want to just stop writing a story or delete it, even if people are enjoying reading it - I get very self conscious of a story I once enjoyed and was once really passionate about.

This fic was intended to be written within one month, but because that was disrupted, the ending was left unfinished. I kept convincing myself that I was going to do the full ending that I had plotted out - but when the more pivotal parts of the story began to unfold, I got Stage Fright, and I became far too protective of this story. Between several comments I have gotten (not just from one person); comments that have scared me back into my creative shell with this story in particular. And me believing that what happens in this particular chapter is not going to go over well because it's not a very cathartic, satisfying climax (it's meant to be an emotionally healing moment for the characters, not a cheering section moment for the audience) - and my own mental hang-ups, the original ending I had planned just will not come to fruition. And that ending did involve showing off more of Spencer's personal relationships, and a lot more fan service - like Sebastian meeting other members of the team for the first time. So anyway - have this shitty, rushed ending, because I just need this story off my plate, because it's not fun for me anymore!!!

Anyway - comment and reblog if you want, but I totally understand if this is not worthy of that lmao. I do not regard this as one of my better stories, not by far. (This would have been better off as a 20k oneshot, easily forgotten and finished in a few days.)

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dad!spencer reid

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