#while reid tries to make himself good enough for gideon to stick around

[frankiebirds]

this scene makes me need to lay down. goddddd.

sometimes i get the sense that reid is more attached to gideon than gideon is to reid. obviously they both serve as surrogates for the family member each is estranged from (gideon is estranged from his son and reid is estranged from his dad) but.

you know. reid clings to gideon, not physically but emotionally, and i think a lot of his wellbeing at the start of the series relies on gideon's presence. gideon almost certainly knows the most about reid out of anyone on the team—i don't think canon ever says that reid has told gideon about diana, but i would imagine he has—and i think reid feels understood by him in a way he doesn't by other people, even compared to the rest of the team who (mostly) try their best. i think he also tends to try to be as good and deserving as possible of gideon's presence, since he definitely at least partially feels like his father left because he wasn't good enough.

on the flipside, while gideon definitely sees reid as a son, he's...not the best dad. i think we see him repeating a lot of the mistakes that drove a wedge between him and stephen with reid, and i think that had mandy patinkin stayed on, we would have gotten a larger parallel there. he holds him at arms length, trying not to get too close, although he definitely cares about him more than he lets on and the mask slips sometimes, like this moment and on the plane after ldsk.

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze part.2 — Spencer Reid

Gif by @ssadrreid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.1 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I was very happy with the return you guys had in the first part💖. I hope you guys like.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️ Couple:Spencer Reid / Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Spencer straightened his tie for the hundredth time in front of the mirror, in several unsuccessful attempts to exhibit his best that day. It was funny and ironic how, after so many years wearing dress shirts and a tie, the universe seemed to handpick that day to do - no matter how much Spencer tried to fix it - his tie looked weird. The fabric was too far to the left, or too far to the right, or too wrinkled in the folds. No matter how much he undid the knot or changed his tie, still looked strange.

What a nightmare.

Reid was barely able to sleep with the notion that he would see you today, his body being whipped assiduously by unsettling waves of euphoria, his mind whizzing like a propellant, anxiety screaming in his mind and sending his sleep for miles away. That morning, the world seemed to be more stuffy, hot and torrid, and for a second, Reid felt himself under the heat of Egypt instead of autumn in Washington.

He could feel his heart speeding up with the steps of the clocks, his breath running away from his lungs, a thousand and one speeches being revised in his head to try to lessen the likelihood of speaking some bullshit near you. Because he couldn't ruin that chance.

Spencer knew he was not the type of guy to have dates whit women like you every day. In fact, Laila had been the only stunning woman who had looked at him a second time. But, well, to be honest, he knew that all that affection she had directed him had been side effects of the transfer. He had been her hero and it clouded people's rationality. And, to his disquiet and to the dread of his insecurity, you were above the beauty of Laila on stratospheric levels.

To make matters worse, the damn tie wasn't good! God, he was screwed.

Spencer gave up on that impossible mission, settling for and conforming to what the tie looked like after the twentieth attempt. He wanted you to see him as a handsome person, a man worth wasting time with, not a boy who only served to be your friend. You were beautiful on so many levels that... well, Reid wanted you to be attracted to him, too, to simplify.

He stepped away from the mirror and slung his work bag over his shoulder, trying to control the pounding of his own heart.

On the way to work, trying hard to avoid thinking about what him looked like in that damned imperfect tie, Reid wondered, for a moment, if you too were under the same emotions. Did you change your clothes several times because you also felt anxious too? Could it be that, like him hands, yours also trembled? Or, if he was lucky, was your heart beating as hard as him?

He hoped that was yes.

As soon as he entered the BAU headquarters, with anxiety as his chaperone, Spencer sat at his own table while pouring a “Good morning” to his colleagues.

“Arrived early.” Derek narrowed his eyes at him, in that suspicious look.

"I am never late." He was quick to hit and that caused his friend to raise an eyebrow.

"But you never be anxious to get here earlier."

Sometimes Spencer hated that his friends were profiles.

“I just like my job.” Reid started to unpack things of bag, trying to avoid the look of Derek who was still burning his back.

“Oh, I'm sure you like.” The double meaning in his friend's tone did not go unnoticed by Spencer, but he did not want to delve into the truths of that argument, much less think about it.

Emily and JJ arrived after a few minutes, with Garcia following behind and making their point that she was not to blame for buying those pairs of shoes, since they were practically begging her to take them. Normally, Reid did not look at the glass door whenever he heard someone approaching, or had a strong desire to see Gideon pass through them as well.

But that day... that day, seeing Gideon meant seeing you. And seeing you meant that you would go through that door. And going through that door meant that Spencer would see you come in. That was enough to make his gaze turn to those doors from minute to minute.

But time passed. Fifteen minutes flew by, then twenty, then thirty. Anxiety increased and now his agitated heart was tuned to his right leg, which did not stop quietly, shaking from top to bottom assiduously.

“What do you look for at the door so much, Reid?”

Prentiss asked the last question that Reid would like to answer, and that caught Derek’s attention, who, as expected, laughed amusingly and sank further into the chair, a sly, playful smile on his lips.

“Oh, he is expecting a member of the Gideon family.”

Spencer swore and, in that moment, he was never so jealous of ostriches for being able to stick their heads underground. If he were one of them, he would definitely do it.

“I'm not expecting Y/n.” he said, whit voice higher and thin than usual.

“But I didn't say it was Y/n.” Derek laughed and Spencer felt his cheeks go red.

This time he gave up hitting back, his let out a bad mood murmur and turned forward, forcing himself not to look at the door anymore. From that moment on, Spencer focused on focusing on the pile of reports in front of him, forcing his brain to disconnect from the things around him and concentrate on matters that demand his all attention.

The hours went by, faster this time, the case-free day was being used to finish late reports and giving the team time to recover the nerves and breath of the last case.

After noon, Gideon still hadn't arrived and Spencer started to feel slightly fearful. He was about to take his phone out of his pocket and dial Jason when JJ appeared, handing over more piles of reports to they that required to be finished today.

Derek gave a loud curse of annoyance, muttering something and back to writing again. Emily was used to the paperwork bureaucracy, but from the bittersweet and dissatisfied look on her face, Spencer knew that no one there shared the same delight him had with paperwork. He also knew that Morgan was exhausted because he had remodeled a property yesterday and was barely could to sleep, and Prentiss felt overwhelmed because she was dealing with problems with her mother and with the bureaucracy policy that Strauss pressed against her.

Then Spencer looked at the file stack itself. There was a lot of paperwork, but the amount of reports he would finish in two minutes was three times what his friends would finish in an hour. He leaned forward, looking over the table to see Emily and focusing Derek better in his field of vision.

“Do you guys want to give some reports? I finish faster anyway”

They agreed without hesitating or pretending modesty. Reid laughed, saying that his friends would owe him one, and went back to work.

After that, when Spencer finished the reports and lifted his head from the paperwork, the light in the world had dimmed to a dark blue hue, streaked by small, bright stars.

The breeze coming in through the large glass windows was fresh and invigorating, the scent of the night's wonderful promises was reminiscent of your perfume. And then he realized that neither you nor Gideon showed up all day. Something about him withered, the euphoria diminished until it became as small as the stars outside. The clock struck seven at night when Spencer got up and put his things away, millions of feelings buzzing in chest.

The unsettling sense of concern began to take place than had previously to been emotions of anxiety and excitement, and he pondered whether to ask Hotch about Gideon or to call himself. Reid looked around, looking under his colleagues, who were packing up to go home, and going up to Aaron's office. He could still see his figure under the marble table, the light from the room underscoring the serious and concentrated expression he directed to the documents. The air in that room looked different, maybe more dense, maybe more serious. But Spencer knew it was best to let Hotch do his own thing.

He ran the tip of his tongue over the corner of lips, reaching into his pocket and reaching for his cell phone.

“Hey, Reid." he turned toward Morgan, that signaled them to go to the elevator.

“Did you speak to Gideon today? Or did you hear Hotch say something about it?” The question came after he reached Derek, both of them walking out the glass door.

"Is it Gideon you're worried about or... his daughter?” He laughs shamelessly, pressing the elevator button.

Spencer stumbles over the words when says: “Wh-What? No. I'm just worried about him. It has nothing to do with… ”

As soon as the sentence was about to end, the elevator doors open. Instead of the usual void or presence of someone from the FBI, Spencer felt catatonic when he saw the female figure inside.

You.

In a burst, like a strong wind that blows and pushes things away, Spencer was struck by all the feelings and sensations that had been bubbling in his stomach all day. Euphoria, anxiety, insecurity and... animation. Suddenly, he was worried again about how he would look, what he would say, if he was presentable enough for you to look at him with... Well, Spencer didn't know how he wanted you to look at him, but he wished it were something that guarantee your affection.

He wanted to be something that excited you, that made your heart race. Just like his was now.

"Y/n...” He did not recognize his own voice. The intonation.

"Hey." You smiled genuinely, and it was able to make Reid's heart beat so fast that he feared you could hear. “I'm sorry I didn't show up and neither did my dad.”

“No problem at all.” He was sincere “Did something happen? Are you two okay? ”

The concern in Reid's voice was so palpable that you losing your breath. God, that man couldn't be real.

“I just remembered that Garcia is call me." Morgan tried to swallow a big smile “It was good to see you, Y/n.”

“Me too, Morgan.” You gave him a hand gesture that, for Reid, was lovely.

Spencer put his arm in the elevator door, preventing it from closing.

“Will you want to leave?” Always as solicitous as a gentleman.

“Oh no.” Now it was your cheeks that were softly red. “I came to see you actually.”

If nothing that had happened before was not enough to steal Spencer's breath, your sentence completed the mission. He put himself in an elevator, pressing a button and letting the doors close.

"I was going to bring my dad today, but ... well” You laughed “To put it succinctly, my dad has a list of things he wants to do before he dies, and one of them was rollerblading”

You and Spencer laughed. Half because he would have laughed at anything you said to see your smile, and half because he couldn't see Gideon having such a list. But he liked it. The feeling of knowing that Jason was having fun, enjoying life, not letting that job rip off all of his humanity, was comforting, joyful.

“Why do I feel this is not going to end well?" He joked too and you laughed.

“Because it doesn't end.” Your fingers ran through your hair “We ended up going to a place that had this, before he have work today, and he ended up twisting his ankle when he fell.”

You tried to no laught, because it was not something to play with, but after the fright passed and your father and you were entangled, they both burst out laughing. And now, reliving that, you didn't remember the hurt itself, but how great the fun between the two of you had been.

“He is fine?" But Spencer had a worried flash in his eyes.

“Oh, yes, the doctor said there was nothing much. He just needs to get some rest.” You smiled “I was going to call, but one thing led to another and when I saw it, it was too late to call. So I thought about coming in person.”

Spencer was known to have a photographic memory and a very high IQ, but at that moment, if then asked what you had just said, he would need a moment to remember. For the only thing he was concentrating on at that moment was the certainty that your smile could light up the whole of Washington. How your eyes held the stars' syntax and how the energy that emanated from you was... cheerful.

He realized that you were a cheerful person, outgoing and with an innate ease of making friends. You had that special touch that made people and the universe orbit around you. And Spencer knew it was one of the planets captured by your gravity.

"It is very sweet of you to come here to tell me that.” He smiled, but then realized what he had just said “N-not that you owe me any explanation! I just-I think it's cool that you worried and…n-not that I waited for you but… not th-that I didn't expect you too and...” Spencer stopped talking, giving up trying to find the right words to get him out of the mess he got himself into.

At times like this, Reid was used to people just dropping an embarrassed nod and leaving, or ignoring the avalanche of things he said. But as soon as the tone of your laughter echoed through the elevator and snaked through him body like a wave of energy, Reid looked at you more closely. You didn't give that embarrassed look, nor did you look sorry for him. You laughed lovingly and touched his arm.

"I was also looking forward to seeing you.” You summed up all of him thoughts in one sentence and freed him from all fears.

"Serious?" But disbelief was still present.

The elevator door opened and the two of you got out, walking to the exit of the building and being greeted by the cool, comforting breeze of the night.

“Yea.” You said as if it were obvious, “What do you think about going to a movie? It's not too late. ”

If Spencer had been told a few weeks ago that in a few days he would be on a date with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he would have scoffed. He would have thought it was a joke with a background of evil. Going out with girls was not on the list of things Spencer did regularly, but he was thanking any confusion or mistake the Universe had made to accidentally placed you with him.

To be honest, with you on his side, with you with him, Spencer felt like he had won in life. That all those years of school and university, when he only saw beautiful girls from afar and dreamed of what it would be like to have one this girls interest in him, had dissipated into the air. Dissolved in the breeze like smoke. During all the hours of film, the joyful and ecstatic conversations you both had after, Spencer could feel the connection in the air. Naturally, kind of magical.

Did he know you two days or two decades ago?

You told all of your adventures, all of stories, and listened carefully to every ramble and phrase Reid had to say. He felt, for the first time, completely important. As if everything he had to say was valuable as a diamond, rare as a tropical treasure.

He felt comfortable, relaxed, cheerful.

And when, at the end of the night while the two of you were walking along the lively and vibrant streets of DC, you took his hand and intertwined yours fingers, Spencer never felt so alive.

He had been born twenty-four years, but only now did he really feel what it was like to be alive.

tagged: @gublersuvula @peculiarinsomniac

[spencers-renaissance]

tell me how to balance my coins

Summary: When Spencer falls down the stairs one morning he decides not to tell anyone, his insecurities about not being enough winning out. Too bad insecurities don't matter when they end up trekking through miles of barren land on a search and rescue mission, and his injuries finally become too much. The team knows exactly how to make it better.

Tags: hurt!spencer, whump, hurt/comfort, hiding medical issues, insecurity, angst with a happy ending, fluff, team as family TW: self-esteem issues

Pairing: GEN / Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Set in S1 but there's no Gideon because he didn't really fit the plot, so it's just the five other field agents here. This entire fic was inspired by this post by @i-write-whump so credit goes to them for the premise! Title from this poem by Zahraa Surtee <3

Maybe it’s embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. Spencer runs headfirst into dangerous situations every day, puts his life on the line repeatedly and escapes unscathed more often than not, but his nemesis this time is the single flight of stairs in his apartment building he descends each morning.

He’s later than he usually is, and already feeling a little flustered from both his toaster and coffee machine breaking, leaving him with a cup of instant coffee and an overripe banana from breakfast, which only makes the situation worse. As if lying sprawled out in a public stairwell wasn’t bad enough. He gingerly pulls himself up, catching a glimpse of a “Caution: Wet Floor” sign he somehow missed, and winces as pain floods his body.

His ankle is screaming at him, throbbing and burning, and for a moment Spencer has to close his eyes against the gut-wrenching pain of a twisted ankle flaring up his calf. A couple of thankfully undisturbed minutes later, the pain eases enough for him to open his eyes and inspect the damage. It’s already swelling slightly, and he’s certain he’ll be covered in bruises by tonight if the aching of his entire body is anything to go by.

For a brief moment he considers calling Derek or Penelope or someone else on his team; maybe even calling in sick, but he quickly pushes that thought away. It’s not embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. It’s a good cover story to keep him from addressing the real reason, but it isn’t the truth.

The truth is that the only time he ever feels valuable is when he’s contributing to a case. That cruel voice in the back of his head will waste no time in piping up, telling him how worthless he is, what a burden his friends see him as, how insignificant he is to the team if he doesn’t suck it up and head into work.

Fighting back the tears burning hot behind his eyes with ardent determination, he drags himself up by the stair handrail until he’s upright. His ribs ache and his ankle burns something fierce, but he compartmentalises it, breathing deeply and taking a few tentative steps, one at a time until he’s limping towards the train station.

The moment he walks into the bullpen, JJ grabs his elbow. “You’re just in time, Spence,” she says, marching towards the briefing room with a pace Spencer can’t quite keep up with. “We have a new case. Rural Kentucky.”

Everyone’s already seated at the round table, and no matter how much he tries to disguise his limp, putting far too much weight on his battered ankle, he can’t get it past a room full of profilers.

“Hey, pretty boy, you alright? You’re limping.” Derek’s tone is light, carrying the cadence of joking banter, but he can see the concern in his eyes, and that’s just unacceptable. He can’t have people worrying about him: he’s not worth their pitied looks or vapid attempts at comfort, especially not when they have a far more important case to be focusing on.

He slips into a seat, and manages to conceal a wince at the movement of his ankle swinging forward. “Oh, uh, I just stubbed my toe pretty hard on the way in.” It’s not convincing even to his own ears, but luckily it’s enough of a time-sensitive case for JJ to barrel on regardless, drawing everyone’s worried glances away from him and towards the board full of grizzly crime scene photos.

Even though he’s been on the team for close to three years now, he still feels like the new kid. Elle is newer than him, but she’s still far more confident in her place on the team than he is. He suspects that’s probably because someone like Elle doesn’t have trouble fitting in anywhere. It’s never been quite that easy for Spencer.

Pushing his insecurities aside like he always has to do in these meetings, he reads the case file thoroughly before offering his own contributions. The unsub is snatching young women from bars and clubs and holding them for weeks before leaving them to succumb to the elements in the rural countryside of Kentucky. With a missing woman and the expected deadline for the unsub dumping her fast approaching, they don’t waste any time in boarding the jet and flying the short way to West Kentucky.

It’s a short enough flight that there’s no time for personal conversation — no time for Derek (or anyone else for that matter) to confront him about his blatant lie and obvious injury — since they spend the whole journey discussing the case. Thankfully, throwing himself head first into theories and hypotheses keeps his mind off the pain a bit, but he can’t fully keep it from bothering him.

He’s just thankful that he has enough experience in disguising his true emotions that no-one’s attention is drawn to him by poorly hidden winces.

They dive straight into the investigation when they arrive at the sheriff’s station, everyone laser focused on finding Marissa Williams. By mid-afternoon, though, Spencer’s gritting his teeth as he forces himself to persevere through the pain despite it increasing incrementally every hour, and he curses himself for not being able to dedicate 100% of himself to the case. If he can’t help everyone find this woman, then what is he good for? His stomach twists at the thought.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on, Spence?” Derek asks him as it approaches 4pm, cornering him at the coffee machine.

Spencer looks around as subtly as he can for an escape, but he quickly succumbs to his fate. “I’m fine, Derek,” he promises. It’s so far from the truth he wants to cry.

The concern in Derek’s eyes only intensifies at that. “Seriously? You’ve been quiet this whole case, I catch you wincing when you think no-one’s looking, and you’re still limping. A stubbed toe wouldn’t do that, kid, and you know it.”

He sighs, knowing the jig is up. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Derek.” He’s not sure it’s the truth, but it’s close enough to it that it doesn’t bring burning tears to the backs of his eyes.

Derek’s about to say something when JJ calls out for him. They both turn to look at her, Spencer feeling relief flood his chest, while Derek’s expression quickly morphs into one of frustration, sighing heavily as he curls his hands into tight fists.

“This isn’t over,” he says, levelling him with a serious look before walking back over to JJ, leaving Spencer to stir his bitter coffee in peace. It definitely doesn’t make him want to cry.

They finally get a break in the case at nightfall, a call on the tip line combined with their profile leading them to a secluded wooded area down by a small river. Knowing there’s nothing more for them to do at the office, Hotch gathers them all up, insisting they join the search party to find the poor, beaten woman currently suffering exposure, awaiting their rescue.

Spencer’s heart sinks as everyone gathers their equipment, and he’s almost relieved when Derek speaks up.

“Reid can’t go,” he insists to Hotch, only barely in earshot of Spencer. If he doesn’t go out in the rescue party, then he’s still served his purpose hasn’t he? He helped with the profile that narrowed down the area she’s likely to be in, he worked the case until this point, he can rest and still be worth something. Right?

Besides, it’s not exactly like he can don the heavy walking boots everyone else is pulling on. If he goes out, he’ll have to wear the same loafers that have been squeezing his swelling joint all day, and that’s hardly going to work. Hotch will let him stay back, and for once, he’ll accept the rest he’s offered.

His hope is quickly dashed. “We need all the manpower we can get,” Hotch says, clearly distracted in the same way he has been throughout the entire case. Spencer likes his boss but he has a tendency to wear blinkers when on a job, not noticing anything that doesn’t pertain to the ultimate solution. “He’ll be fine.”

Derek sighs again, clearly frustrated.

“I’ll be fine,” he says as Derek comes over to sit with him, not sure who he’s trying to convince. His ankle is still burning in pain. The last time he checked it, it was bruised and swollen, tender to the touch. It’s nothing short of a nasty sprain.

“You stick close to me, Spencer. I mean it.”

He can’t help the small smile that crosses his face, genuine happiness warming his heart at the concerned protectiveness of his friend. “Sure, Derek,” he says softly.

The pleasant temperature of the mid-Spring day drops to almost freezing as the sun sets, the moon and stars taking over the clear night sky. Even Spencer’s thickest coat isn’t enough to keep him from practically vibrating with the force of his shivers as they trek across the miles of terrain, staying as quiet as possible to listen for anything that could indicate their victim’s whereabouts. They’re spread out a little, but for the most part they all walk reasonably close together, the beams of their torches criss-crossing as they fight their way through the windy countryside.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple of hours into the search and rescue mission that a call crackles over the radio, telling them that Marissa had been found, beaten and weak but alive. Spencer can’t even bring himself to feel any kind of victory or relief, nothing being able to penetrate the haze of pain he’s in. Everyone else chatters happily enough as they converge back together for his silence to go mostly unnoticed.

His obscurity doesn’t last long, though.

“Are you ever gonna tell us what happened to your foot, Spence?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow at Spencer’s heavy limping and Derek’s worried hovering. By the second mile of their walk, Spencer had given up trying to hide the limp, instead focusing on gritting his teeth and breathing through the pain as it flares up his leg.

She’s clearly voicing what everyone else is thinking, judging by their worried expressions. Part of him wants to give in and tell the team, but the part that wants to continue to hide his embarrassment away, the part riddled with fear and insecurity wins out. He stubbornly shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. In the kind of terrible timing so emblematic of the life of Spencer Reid, in the short second he has his eyes closed he manages to stumble into a small divot in the ground, and he trips, twisting his ankle all over again as he falls down.

His vision whites out, the pain suddenly all-consuming, punching nausea through his stomach and he can’t help the cry he lets escape as he lays helplessly in the grass.

“Spencer!”

Derek crouches next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he checks him over frantically, and Spencer can’t help but lean up into it, craving the kind of comfort he can only get from his best friend. Hotch joins them quickly as JJ and Elle stand close enough to offer support without crowding him.

“That’s it, Spencer,” Hotch says firmly, blinkers well and truly off by now, “you need to tell us what’s going on.”

As the blinding pain slowly fades into something minutely more bearable, Spencer forces his eyes open to face the team. “I fell down the stairs this morning,” he finally admits, sullen and teary. “Pretty sure I sprained my ankle.”

Hotch wastes no time in gently rolling his trouser leg up, exposing his ruined loafers and the bruised, swollen joint to the torches of his teammates. Derek audibly winces as he positions himself behind Spencer, supporting his back as his tired, aching body starts to collapse.

Hotch levels him with a stern glare after he finishes his tender inspection of his ankle. “Spencer, it was incredibly irresponsible to hide something like this. You not only put yourself in danger, but you put the rest of the team at risk, too—”

He doesn’t get any further in his lecture before the tears he’s been holding back all day, finally spill over and a dry, sudden sob, his bruised and aching rib cage heaving as he starts to unravel at the seams. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Softening immediately, Hotch puts his leg down gently and shuffles closer, taking Spencer’s hand in his. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry for yelling,” he says soothingly, watching as Spencer presses closer into Derek’s hold. “You’re not in trouble, I’m just worried about you, Spencer. Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?”

He squeezes his eyes closed again: it’s as much dignity as he can hope for when his face is crumpling and he’s sobbing on the cold, hard ground as it nears midnight. “I just… I just wanted to be worth something.” It’s an admission he’ll regret later, he already knows that, but he’s so so tired and all he wants is the comfort that only his team can provide.

Derek pulls him into an even tighter hug before anyone can react, holding him against his chest fiercely while his hand plays gently with his hair. “Spencer, you are worth something whether you’re injured or fully intact, you hear me? We’d love you with a broken leg, with a bad case of the flu, if you quit the team tomorrow and decided to never work again. But most importantly, we love you now, kid. No matter what. Nothing can change that, alright?”

“He’s right, Spence,” JJ says softly, sinking to the ground along with Elle. “I know you think we only tolerate you because of your brain and what you bring to the table on a case, but you’re so much more than that. We love your nerdy rambles and your awkward waves and the way you love so openly and protectively, no matter how many times you’ve been hurt before. We love everything about you, Spencer.”

“Yeah, if you’re hurt, Reid, we wanna know,” Elle chimes in, sounding a little hesitant as the one who’s known him the shortest amount of time, but firm in what she’s saying nonetheless. “I know I haven’t been on the team that long but this is a group of people that watches out for one another, that supports each other, that builds everyone up leaving no person behind. That includes you, Spencer Reid, even when you don’t feel like it.”

“Everyone is right, Spencer,” Hotch says softly, still holding his cold and shaking hand protectively in his gloved one. “I’m just sad that you still prioritise your work over your own health. You are not this job. You are an incredibly talented and multi-faceted person that oftentimes needs a little TLC, and until you’re willing and able to do that for yourself, we’ll be here to do it for you, okay?”

Tears are streaming down his face as he nods, feeling warmer than he has all day despite the cold dark night they’ve found themselves in. The strangest part about it all is that he’s actually starting to believe them. It’s not like they haven’t all said similar things before, but hearing them all vehemently corroborating each other’s stories, hearing it all laid out in front of him as they promise him with earnest expressions that they’re telling the truth is doing something to shift the leaden weight of insecurity and low self-esteem that presses on his chest each and every day.

“Now, come on,” Derek says. “Let’s get back to base and I’ll go with you to the hospital to get you checked out, make sure it’s nothing more than a sprain.”

He shifts behind Spencer, using his already firm hold on his waist to help gently pull him up to a standing position, taking most of his weight as Spencer whimpers at the pain that swiftly reignites at the movement.

Derek turns around and bends at the knees slightly as Spencer leans on Hotch, before looking over his shoulder, his signature grin returning. “Hop on, pretty boy.”

“What— Derek! I’m way too heavy!”

Everyone immediately breaks out in amused laughter, even Hotch chuckling fondly.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Come on, Spencer, you’ve gotta weigh what, like, 140lbs? 150? You can’t exactly walk on that ankle anymore and it’s the only way we’re getting back without calling for a search and rescue team of our own.”

“Reid, I’m pretty sure I could give you a piggy-back ride,” Elle points out, raising her eyebrows. “Just let him carry you back.”

Let us take care of you is implicit enough in everyone’s words and expressions that it doesn’t really need to be said, but Spencer hears it anyway.

Hotch helps him up onto Derek’s back and they begin the long trek towards the search and rescue base, and Spencer’s never appreciated the easy banter they all share more. Hotch is visibly relaxed with the case solved and his youngest team member soon to be taken care of, so he joins in with the conversation, his light and happy expression that he only ever wears around his family or the team on rare days and nights off, replacing his focused frown.

Spencer clings on tightly to Derek and presses his face into the space between his neck and his shoulder, closing his eyes as he listens to the conversation, the vibration of Derek’s laugh and the shameless flirting between Elle and JJ taking his mind off the pain that throbs in his ankle with each step Derek takes.

When they finally get back to base, they all gather round the ambulance that’s been designated to take Spencer and Derek to the hospital.

JJ steps forward to give him a hug first. “Love you, Spence. Let us know what they say, okay?”

Hotch surprises him by stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug as well, forgoing the macho pats on the back for a short but close embrace that feels fatherly enough for tears to prick the back of Spencer’s eyes. “We all love you, Spencer. Remember that okay. And actually listen to what the doctors tell you. Morgan, you’re my eyes and ears.”

“Well now I want a hug, too,” Elle says dramatically, squeezing him in a tight embrace for just a moment before stepping back, lining up with JJ and Hotch to present a united front of people on his side.

“We’ll see you both in the morning,” Hotch says as the paramedic starts prepping for the journey, moving Spencer onto the gurney and rolling him in.

“Hope they don’t keep you too long!” JJ calls just as the doors close, making them both chuckle.

Derek takes his hand in both of his, staying out of the paramedic’s way as she quickly places a line of mild painkillers before sitting back, knowing that there’s not anything more she can do for Spencer until they get to the hospital.

Derek must see the anxious look on Spencer’s face, because he’s quick to reach a hand out and brush his cheek gently. “Hey, I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not gonna leave you on your own, okay? You’ll be alright, pretty boy, you’re gonna be just fine. I promise.”

And on the flight home the next morning he realises that Derek’s promise was kept. He’s fitted out with a crutch and a temporary wrapping around his ankle, resting comfortably with his head in Derek’s lap while his foot sits elevated on a pile of cushions carefully built by JJ, surrounded by people who swear up and down that they love him while proving it to him in a thousand little ways, and he’s really not sure it gets any more alright than that.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @jellejareau @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic-not-stupid (taglist form)

[writethelifeyouwant]

Pretty Boy

Pairing: Sam Winchester (SPN) x Spencer Reid (CM)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.2k

Tags: implied one night stand, college bar, questionable decision making, flashbacks, Stanford!Sam, virgin!Spencer, making out, grinding, back alley blow jobs

Created for: @spnkinkbingo - TedTalk!Sam | @there-must-be-a-lock 3,500 followers / 30th birthday celebration - Sam x Spencer

Summary: When Spencer comes across a viral TedTalk, he's stunned to see he recognises the speaker.

When he gets into the bullpen that morning Spencer goes through his usual routine. His messenger bag and scarf are dropped onto the desk, jacket slung over the back of his chair, and mug filled with coffee that – thankfully – smells fresh. He holds the warm ceramic tight between his hands, letting his fingers re-acclimate themselves to blood circulation after his walk in from the bus station, while his computer flickers to life and his inbox loads.

After years of resisting the advent of modern technology, Garcia had gotten fed up with him and set up his work email address with a few things to tempt him into reading his emails. Every day he comes in to cute pictures of baby animals - courtesy of the chain between Garcia, JJ and Emily - as well as newsletters from medical journals, physics journals, and psychological studies. Spencer opens today’s email from the TED conference series and sips his coffee while he waits for the embedded videos to load. Last week there had been a really interesting keynote on educational psychology, and he hopes there is something equally as stimulating today.

The headline under the video isn’t particularly enthralling, Top Federal Lawyer Shares How To Win - In the courtroom and in life, but Spencer nearly spits out his coffee when the video thumbnail loads and he recognises the speaker.

Sam Winchester. So he’d gotten into law school then. More than that, he was now one of the top Federal Attorneys in the country, according to the bio in the email. God, he’s young to have that job, he’s only two years younger than Spencer. Even Hotch hadn’t made it that far up the legal ladder by 35. He remembers Sam as intelligent, charismatic, intuitive – all skills that would have gotten him far if he shook the right hands along the way, but still – Spencer is quietly impressed.

“Hey, Pretty Boy!” Spencer hears Morgan’s voice distantly but he’s caught up in memories now.

“Pretty Boy!”

Spencer looks up from his drink and turns towards the sound of his nickname, about to tell Morgan to stop calling him that for the millionth time when he hears another voice shout back.

“Dude, can you just stop? I told you not to call me that!”

Spencer and Morgan both look puzzedly at the stranger who’d just told Morgan off. He has bright hazel eyes, and soft looking, light brown hair and – yeah, Spencer can see why someone might call this guy ‘Pretty Boy’.

“Oh, sorry,” Pretty Boy blushes and shakes his fringe in front of his eyes. “I thought you were Brady. I keep telling the idiot to stop calling me that.”

“I keep telling this one the same thing,” Spencer jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Morgan, shocked for a moment that he’d actually spoken. He wasn’t very good at speaking with strangers in bars.

Morgan claps his hand over his chest in mock hurt, expression teasing. “C’mon man, you know I’m only messin’ with you,” Morgan laughs and ruffles Spencer’s hair. “He is pretty though, in’t he?” he whispers conspiratorially at the other Pretty Boy and Spencer shoves Morgan off him.

“You’re lucky I don’t have my gun on me,” he threatens and Morgan holds up his hands in surrender.

“What like you could hit me?” And before Spencer has the chance to retort, Morgan’s dashed off, back to the table where Gideon is sipping a beer and reading through an open case file.

“So, you usually bring a gun on nights out?” Spencer takes a moment to realise the stranger is talking to him again.

“Oh I, uh,” Spencer stutters under the his open, curious gaze. “It’s not, um, I’m an FBI agent,” his voice shoots up at the end making it sound more like a question than a statement. “So it’s not, you know, illegal for me to–”

“Hey, it’s fine,” the stranger laughs and scootches one bar stool closer to Spencer. “I know who you are, actually,” he admits, ducking behind his hair again. “I was in the careers talk earlier.”

“Oh,” Spencer relaxes a little now he doesn’t have to explain himself but then tenses up again remembering how awkward he’d been during the presentation, and not really wanting to relive that experience if this guy was about to make fun of him for it.

“I uh, I’m Sam,” Pretty Boy – Sam – sticks his hand out, and Spencer shakes it, a little perplexed as to why this guy is still talking to him. “I’m uh, guessing I should call you Dr. Reid rather than Pretty Boy, huh?” Sam tries to break the tension with a joke and Spencer realises he’s still holding Sam’s hand, the skin soft and warm under his, and he’s staring pretty intensely at the guy.

“Um, Spencer,” he manages to choke out as he snatches back his hand and tucks his hair behind his ear.

“It’s nice to meet you Spencer,” Sam smiles, genuinely, but with some kind of intensity behind it that Spencer can’t place.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sam,” Spencer tries the name out on his tongue and decides he likes it.

“I really liked the presentation earlier,” Sam says, taking a sip from the beer bottle he has in front of him.

“Are you thinking about joining the FBI?” Spencer asks, circling his fingers around his own glass to give them something to do, to keep them from creeping back along the bar towards where Sam’s are now resting.

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, turning on his stool to face Spencer a little more head on, and giving him a small smile. “I’m pre-law right now, but I thought it would be cool to hear about, I guess.”

“Law is nice,” Spencer nods. “We get a lot of people transferring in from law backgrounds.”

“Did you like the Academy?” Spencer grimaces at Sam’s question before he can help himself. “Oh, maybe not then,” Sam laughs.

“No,” Spencer rushes to explain himself. “I just, when I was there I was still really young, and y’know, people pushed me around a little. I mean, look at me,” Spencer gestures up and down his scrawny body.

“I am looking,” Sam breathes, eyes following Spencer’s hand and dragging across his form. Spencer freezes. Did Sam just… flirt with him? He has no idea what to do with that. He decides to carry on with his previous train of thought instead.

“With a guy like you... you wouldn’t have that problem,” Spencer finishes, feeling himself blush a bit in embarrassment at the lame conclusion. He was not doing a great job at selling the Academy.

“Whaddya mean? A guy like me?” Sam pushes with a knowing grin, that same intensity in his gaze, eyes still roaming over Spencer.

“Well, you, y’know,” Spencer waves his hand in Sam’s direction, hoping that will get his point across, but Sam just sits there smirking at him, waiting. “You’re all tall and, a-and,” his eyes catch on Sam’s shoulders, which are broad, and nicely displayed beneath a t-shirt that’s stretched just a little over the muscles there, “s-strong looking, I guess?” Spencer cringes. God he sounds like an idiot. “I bet you could throw around someone like me, easy,” he shrugs. Sam is still smirking at him, and Spencer takes another drink, trying to cool down the burning in his cheeks.

“You wanna find out?” Sam takes a casual sip of his beer, eyeing Spencer the whole time.

“Find out what?” Spencer’s brows draw together, not following. Sam grins and hops off his barstool, closing in on Spencer’s personal space. Most people might look threatening, doing something like that, but Sam just looks… happy. Carefree, almost – and excited.

“Just how easily I could throw you around,” Sam is still speaking pretty loudly to be heard above the noise of the bar, but he’s pressed himself close up against Spencer’s side and leaned in like he’s whispering in his ear. The feeling of Sam’s breath on his neck is enough to make Spencer shiver, and coupled with the words themselves, Spencer thinks he might just fall off his chair.

Sam pulls back to look Spencer in the eye, and Spencer finally understands what that darkness behind Sam’s irises is – desire, attraction, hunger. Sam’s eyes flick down to where Spencer is licking his lips, a bad nervous habit of his. That desire clouds Sam’s expression even more and he starts to lean down, eyes still fixed on Spencer’s mouth, and a split second before it’s too late, Spencer reaches out and places his hands on Sam’s chest, stopping him short.

“Sorry, I just...” Spencer glances nervously back at Gideon and Morgan who are, thankfully, engrossed in conversation and not paying him any attention. He looks back at Sam and sees the understanding flit across his face.

“Follow me,” Sam checks around them and then reaches up and grabs Spencer’s hand. Spencer makes a small noise of shocked protest but Sam ignores it, leading them around the bar and out a door in the far corner.

They emerge into an ally, dark and shaded from the street lights, and Sam immediately pushes Spencer’s back against the door they just came out of. Spencer stares at him nervously, but doesn’t pull away. This is nothing he’s ever done before. This is what Morgan does, picking people up in bars and slinking off somewhere private to do god knows what. This isn’t Spencer. But Sam’s still looking at him with those bright, beautiful, hungry eyes and Spencer feels something stir in the pit of his stomach that he hasn’t felt for a long time. And as nervous as it makes him, he lets himself admit that he wants this too.

Sam moves closer in, pressing his front against Spencer’s, and he feels solid. Yeah, this guy might be pretty but he could absolutely throw Spencer around if he wanted to. He feels himself shudder against Sam and the fronts of their hips skate against each other, sending a jolt of want to the pit of Spencer’s stomach.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice is low and soft, and it brings Spencer’s attention back to Sam’s face, which is only inches away now. “Is this okay?” Spencer nods, pleadingly, and Sam smiles. Sam’s hand comes up to his face and Spencer leans into it. His eyes slip closed as he relishes the warmth, this is more human contact than he’s had in months. And he doesn’t see it coming because his eyes are shut but then Sam’s lips are on his and wow – they feel amazing.

Spencer’s kissed people before but he’s never been kissed like this. Like he’s being devoured. Like he’s everything Sam could possibly want. And Sam is certainly everything Spencer could want. He pushes his hands up into Sam’s hair and pulls him in tighter. Sam moans against him and wedges their thighs together and Spencer swears that when he tugs on Sam’s hair again he can actually feel the twitch in Sam’s pants in response.

Sam is getting harder by the second and Spencer can feel Sam coaxing the same reaction out of his body. He juts his hips forward experimentally and the answering groan from Sam matches his own. Fuck, that feels good. And Sam feels big. Jesus Christ, Spencer doesn’t know how it’s possible for a guy to feel that big through that many layers of clothing and he can’t stop himself imagining how big he would be if he wasn’t trapped behind those jeans.

Sam grinds their hips together again and ducks his head to nip at Spencer’s neck, sucking a spot into the skin that’s visible above his collar.

“Oh my god,” Spencer whines, and he feels Sam grin against his throat, lips twitching in a smile.

“That feel good?” Sam murmurs against his skin, and when he ruts their cocks against each other again Spencer thinks he might die.

“God, yes,” Spencer pulls Sam’s lips back to his and kisses him hard and messy. Sam’s hands drag down Spencer’s chest and rub over his cock and Spencer’s breath actually chokes off in his throat.

“How far do you want this to go?” Sam asks against his lips, not wanting to break the kiss.

“I– I want…” Spencer knows what he wants but he’s scared to ask for it. He’s never done this before. The making out with a stranger in a dark ally part, or the more than ‘kissing and accidentally coming in your pants’ part. He doesn’t want to do that. What he wants is to drop to his knees and get Sam’s cock in his mouth. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to say it, so he goes for the next best thing.

Spencer drops to his knees with a thud, and looks up at Sam – panting, waiting.

“Fuck yes,” Sam moans and tears into his jeans, fists his cock out of his boxers and – yeah, he’s big. Shit, Spencer gulps, genuinely salivating at the thought of getting that between his lips. “This what you want?” Sam strokes himself in front of Spencer’s face and he can only nod, fascinated, not taking his eyes off the shiny red tip that is just begging to be sucked. “Alright Pretty Boy, let’s see what you got.”

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[brywrites]

Flight Risk (Bonus)

You know I can’t leave well enough alone and I just couldn’t resist writing about that scene in the series finale in the context of this story. Spoilers for the finale below, of course! Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. 

Bonus Part: In which a profiler protects a pilot and a pilot loses something important. Five years later.

(Series Masterlist) ( Next )

_________________________________________________

“We’re gonna have to make a trade,” Rossi declares. Every head in the room turns to him.

“What kind of trade?” Luke asks.

“Lynch wants to make a clean getaway,” Rossi says. The words hang heavy in the air. Nervous glances are traded across the roundtable as they begin to understand exactly what this means.

“No,” Reid says. “No, we can’t.”

“If we play the cards right, maybe we won’t have to,” Rossi counters.

“Maybe?” he shouts. “I’m not going to risk my wife flying a psychopathic killer across the country in the hopes that maybe we’ve profiled Lynch correctly!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice but he can’t help it. He won’t allow this.

“Hey,” Rossi snaps back. “Right now that psychopathic killer is holding my wife hostage, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Reid signs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.” But still – it’s Y/N. He cannot lose her, not after everything they’ve been through, not when he’s let himself believe for so long that he can keep her safe. Not now, especially not now. “But I don’t want her on that jet with him. And I don’t want Arthur or Martin or Fikayo or any of the BAU pilots on that jet. They’re part of her team, and I won’t do that to her.”

The tension in the room is palpable as he and Rossi stare each other down. They’ve never argued like this before, and Reid hates it but he won’t back down.

“There might be another way,” Emily offers. “We can get a few of the Corps pilots on standby. They’ll have the training to take Lynch out if needed. We tell him they won’t leave U.S. airspace and we go from there. I’ll even have one of them bring the jet out. Y/N doesn’t even need to know.” Right now, Y/N is safe at home, maybe even asleep by now. He tries not to think of how she’d react if she knew that they were about to pawn Geff off to a serial killer. They’ve always treated it as their jet, but while it may fall under their department, they merely use it as a means to an end. Y/N is the captain, if Geff belongs to anyone he belongs to her.

But he knows that if Y/N were the one being held hostage, he’d do whatever it took to get her back. “Okay,” he says.

---

As it turns out, Lynch knows how to fly a plane. He’s taken Rossi as collateral, and Geff is prepared for takeoff. “Prentiss, come on, you said we needed a great plan,” Matt says through gritted teeth.

“And we have one,” she says. “There are things none of you know about that jet.” But Reid kows precisely what she’s talking about, because Y/N knows all of Geff’s secrets. There are hidden compartments Gideon commissioned, and one of them happens to hold a gun. He only hopes it’s enough to stop Lynch and save Rossi. Maybe they can still pull it off and save the day and the jet can return to the hangar without so much as a scratch.

A gunshot rings out through the darkness and they hold their breath – but then it’s two and then three and then Rossi is tumbling down the jet stairs. Prentiss and Matt rush over to grab him off the ground and pull him to safety while the rest of them keep their weapons trained on the cockpit. A smug grin peeks out at them and it makes Reid furious. That monster shouldn’t be sitting there in her seat, on her plane.

As they try to gauge Rossi’s status, Reid fires towards Lynch. Every shot just ricochets, the plane that has kept them safe protecting the man who wants to destroy them. The engines of the jet roar to life. Geff is starting down the runway. Reid and the rest of the team take off running. They shoot at the plane, some aiming for the cockpit, others aiming for the body of the jet.

“Fire at the fuel tank!” Prentiss yells. And so they do, hoping to ensure that Lynch can’t get off the ground. The fuel begins to leak from the tanks, an acidic smell rising in the air as it trails behind the jet.

“Get back!” JJ shouts. “Take cover!” They all do so without hesitation. Reid barely has time to look over his shoulder and see JJ fire the flare gun. This wasn’t part of the plan. The trail of fuel alights in a terrifying blaze and Reid realizes exactly what is about to happen. He can’t help but stare at it one last time – at Geff, the name his beloved pilot has always insisted on calling the jet. The jet that has carried his team to hell and back again. The plane that led him to the greatest love in his life. It’s just a plane, he tries to tell himself. But he knows it’s much more than that.

The explosion is loud and bright and violent. As he ducks he can see the aircraft break into pieces from the force. And when he looks up, it is nothing but a frightening field of flames with a barely intact metal tail sticking out from the fire. The team stands there, staring at the wreckage in a somber silence. The jet meant something to all of them. It only feels right to mourn its passing quietly.

But then it hits him. “Y/N is going to kill me,” Reid says. Luke is the first to laugh, and soon the whole team is chuckling, shaking their heads. It breaks the tension hanging over them.

“Yeah good luck with that,” Luke says, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’m serious!” Reid squeaks. “How am I supposed to tell her we killed her plane?”

“That’s rough buddy,” Matt says, clapping him on the shoulder. This sends JJ and Luke into further laughter. The smell of kerosene is strong, and it’s time to go. They get Rossi and Krystal and pack into the SUVs, leaving the burning past behind them.

---

Love is a safe place to land, and there’s nowhere he wants to touch down more than in her embrace. When he gets home, he finds Y/N still awake in their bed, rereading Peter Pan. “Oh thank goodness you’re home,” she says. He sits down beside her and she throws her arms around him. “I was so worried about you. What happened? Is everyone okay?”

He kisses the top of her forehead. “Lynch is dead,” he tells her. “And we’re all safe.”

“I’m so glad.” He keeps his hold on her though, and she pulls back, her eyebrows knit together. “Something’s bothering you though,” she says. “What is it?”

He sighs and she weaves her fingers through his, holding tight. “It was a hard case,” he admits. “And I was so scared that something might happen to you. But um… there was something that we didn’t plan for.” She blinks at him, waiting for him to continue. “Lynch was trying to escape first. He took Krystall hostage and threatened to hurt her if we didn’t make a trade.”

“What kind of trade?”

“He uh… he wanted Geff?” The word comes out like a question as his voice betrays his anxiety.

“No.” A single syllable of disbelief.

“We – we had to bring the jet to him. But we couldn’t let him get away, so we had to improvise?”

Her expression changes. She stares at him as though he’s told her an awful joke or made some sort of outrageous claim. As if she is desperately waiting for him to tell her it’s all made up. When doesn’t say anything, she narrows her eyes. “Spencer Reid, what did you to my plane?”

“Angel,” he says, dropping his voice to as gentle a tone as he can muster. He doesn’t want to hurt her but there’s no way around this. “I promise I tried everything. But we didn’t have a choice. He took Rossi hostage and then forced him down the stairs by shooting him. If we didn’t stop him, who knows what he would have done.” He pauses and squeezes her hand. “We tried to shoot out the fuel tanks but we weren’t fast enough. The leaking fuel made a trail though and JJ found a flare gun and… um, we kind of blew up the jet.”

“You what?” she gasps.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Geff is gone? You blew him up? Spencer, that was my plane! My plane!” She begins to cry and he hugs her close. At first she resists him, but after a moment she leans against his chest. He rests his head in the crook of her shoulder, breathing in the fresh smell of her perfume in the hopes it will erase the scent of burning kerosene. “I’m sorry,” she says, sniffling. “I know I’m being silly. I would rather have Rossi okay, and I’m glad he’s safe. I just… Geff meant a lot to me, you know?”

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

“It’s like saying goodbye to a dear friend. Oh and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye!” she cries. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

He pulls away to smile at her, running a soothing hand through her hair. “It’s a little too early for that. I think you’re just grieving something very important to you. A captain and her jet share a special bond,” he assures her, parroting back a phrase she and Arthur have said many a time. But he believes it. That jet has been an extension of herself for nearly four years. “But maybe this will be a new chapter. A new era, a new jet… and in seven months, a new member of our family.”

Y/N wipes her eyes, nodding. “Yeah. A new chapter.” She gives him a slight smile. Amelia leaps onto the bed between them, nudging her head against Y/N’s arm and purring, as if to reassure her that all will be well. She smiles and strokes the cat’s soft fur. “I’m grateful though, you know?” she says. “That that plane brought us together. And so much has happened since then.”

And so it has. True to his word, Arthur retired the day after Christmas that year, and she was promoted to captain. Fikayo was hired as her co-pilot, and instantly fit in with the BAU team. Y/N, and that first conversation they had together, completely altered the relationship between the pilots and profilers. Suddenly their worlds didn’t seem so separate anymore. Yeeqin and Saoirse got married in the most wonderfully non-traditional celebration that involved fireworks, a wall of donuts, and neon-colored gnomes. He moved in with Y/N, and soon enough their was a proposal and a wedding of their own, one attended by profilers and pilots alike where he nearly tripped over her feet as they swayed to Birdy and when she kissed him he could’ve sworn he was floating. There were dozens of cases, being framed for murder, a cult, and more. A new house and new team members and a baby on the way and a million stories and kisses and flights between it all.

Y/N reaches a hand up to caress his cheek and that smile of hers still manages to melt his heart every single time. He leans in to kiss her as sweetly as he did after their first real date and as deeply as she did the time she managed to pull from him exactly how he felt about her uniform. Eventually Amelia meows in indignation at the lack of attention she is receiving, and he pulls away to placate her by rubbing her ears.

“So I think you owe me a plane, Doctor,” Y/N teases.

“On a government salary?” he laughs. “That might take a while. But I’ll put in enough overtime to buy you a whole fleet if that would make you happy.”

Through it all, they’re happy. Reid is happy. So incredibly over the moon happy every single day that they’re together. They lie down in bed and he holds her close and whispers promises of the jet of her dreams and he can feel her laughter against his chest.

If he had to do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat, so long as it means being here by her side. A profiler and his beloved pilot. The future stretching out before them like the infinite horizon.

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Fourteen) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Talk about murder. Kidnapping.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 7783

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 22. Right after part thirteen.

Everyone was already on the jet and waiting for me when I stepped on. Gideon, Morgan, Emily, and Reid were all sitting at the four seats around the table, leaving me with one of the nearby single seats or the edge of the couch. I stuffed my go back in the overhead bin and took a seat on the edge of the couch. Morgan handed me an official case file for the sixty-three missing homeless people in Kansas City. I opened the file to take a look. They had transcribed everything Detective McGee gave them for the file, and Garcia had also added whatever she could, despite the fact that there wasn’t much documented in our system. They had been working on the case while I was gone, so they already had an idea of what the profile of the Unsub was.

Morgan ran me through everything they already knew. Our Unsub was what we liked to call a “housecleaner”, which meant that this kind of Unsub viewed himself as a hero who was cleaning the streets of the “filth”, which in this case was the homeless. It made sense that this was their first step in the profile since sixty-three people had gone missing, and the only link in victimology was the fact that they were all homeless. He wasn’t delusional enough to not conceptualize that murder is still bad, but he figured that his murders were excusable because he was helping the world by ridding it of “filth”. Because he has a housecleaner’s superiority complex, he was likely an unpleasant man who left everyone he met with a bad feeling about him, but they weren’t sure why. That makes him a loner, and he blames the world for that. So rather than take on a friend or partner, he likely has someone who is subservient to him to help him with these kidnappings and murders.

According to Detective McGee’s reports, he started noticing the disappearances about a year ago, which meant that the stressor likely happened around that time— no more than three months prior to the disappearances. Since he was a loner and he was a dislikable person, it was fair to assume that the stressor was losing someone who was important to him and loved him no matter who he was, which led us to believe that it was a family member who had passed away. Spencer brought up that the Unsubs likely didn’t have any jobs because of how frequent the disappearances were occurring.

“Sounds like I missed all the fun,” I laughed. They had practically done the whole case on their own while I was gone. All that was left to do was to get onto the ground and find the guy who matched the description.

When we landed in Kansas City, we headed directly to the precinct to meet up with Hotch, JJ, and the detective. Gideon was the first to ask how they managed to convince the Chief of Police to give us the case, and Hotch admitted to us that McGee had gone over their heads with this and come straight to us, so they weren’t exactly inclined to give us the case, but JJ found out that a note that was sent to McGee from the Unsub after he had been rewarded for cleaning up the streets was from Kansas City, Missouri, it became a federal case the second it crossed state lines. 

“This is Chief Wright,” Hotch introduced us to the police chief who was less than happy to see us in his precinct. “We’re going to be working closely with him. This is still his jurisdiction.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Do you have somewhere for us to set up?” he asked Wright. The police chief nodded. “Good. We’ll set up in there after we give the profile.”

“The profile?” Wright inquired.

“We’ve been working on it all morning,” Reid answered without thinking.

Hotch eyed Spencer with a stern look that said: “Some things are better unspoken.” Hotch turned back to the police chief with a faux friendly smile to throw Wright off. “We’d like to give it as soon as possible.”

Wright nodded warily, “Right… Sure… Let me gather everyone up.” He headed off.

Hotch moved closer to the team as we huddled up to talk with him. “Reid, I want you and Gideon to give the profile. We’re all going to head out afterwards to talk to the locals, see if they know anything about these disappearances. Maybe one of them can identify our Unsub or tell us where to find him. It’ll be dark by the time we get out there, so we’ll all team up. JJ, you’ll go with McGee, I’ll go with Wright, Gideon with Reid, Morgan, Emily, and Y/N will go together. Sound good?”

Everyone nodded again as the entire precinct started to gather up for our profile. We faced them as they got situated in their seats. Gideon and Reid stepped forward and began to tell every detail of the profile that they had told me on the flight. None of the department seemed to have any questions or comments of any use afterwards, so they were dismissed. Wright and McGee came over to ask if the plan was still to go downtown and question people on the streets, and Hotch nodded. Those who lived on the streets were our most likely witnesses, even if they didn’t realize it.

Hotch told everyone to change into warm clothes for the night and gear up. After the team split off, Hotch grabbed my hand and led me towards the break room in the back of the precinct. 

“Hey, how did it go with Haley? I know that you were a little worried.”

I smacked his arm playfully. He knew I was worried this whole time and he was acting like it wasn’t a big deal, and it made me feel stupid about it. “It went fine,” I admitted. “Jack’s mad at us because he wanted to spend the night at our house and he wanted to get ice cream with me, but I tried to tell him that there was nothing we could do.”

“We’ll make it up to him when we get back.”

“That’s what I said, but he kept pouting.” I smiled, “He crossed his arms and frowned like you always do. It was cute.”

“I don’t frown.”

“Yes, you do. All the time,” I laughed. “It’s okay, though, ‘cause I get to see you smile everyday, and that's a good enough reason for me to stick around.”

He raised a brow and smirked as he decided to play along, “Was that in question?”

I shook my head, “No. I’d never do that to Jack.”

Hotch finally let out a chuckle. “I see how it is.” I smiled up at him playfully. “You’ll stay with Morgan and Emily tonight, right? No wandering off on your own?”

“I’m not a baby, Hotch. I’ll be fine.”

He squinted, “You have a bad habit of doing things your way. I don’t need this Unsub taking you if he sees the chance.”

I patted his chest, “I’ll be good, big guy. Thanks for being worried, though.”

“Hey,” he caught my attention with his earnest tone. “I love you. A lot.”

He raised his brows shortly to make his words more sincere. I believed him. He never had to tell me more than once to make it stick in my head, but he always wanted to tell me. He was obsessed with saying it whenever he could because he was never sure when it would end up being the last time, considering our field of work. It was like how often I felt the urge to return the favor by telling him or telling Jack every chance I could get. I never knew when the last time I would be able to see Jack would be, so I had to make every second count. 

When everyone was ready and waiting for us outside of the break room, I managed to steal a moment to kiss him and tell him that I love him, too, before we headed out. Each pair, or in my case, group, took their own car since we were all starting on separate sides of downtown and we were going to work our way towards the middle, where we would all meet up to review what we had learned.

Morgan, Emily, and I started on the South side of downtown. where there were more homeless camps than stragglers and prostitutes. We found a few communities building shelters under bridges and outside of abandoned builds, and we asked each and every person we came across if they recognized our Unsub’s profile or if they had seen anything suspicious at all. While they all insisted that there was nothing out of the ordinary, the worrisome part was that they all said that they hadn’t heard about any disappearances. They knew of people who had moved away, but not gone missing. Those of them who told us that they knew of people who moved away were given a list of names by Emily to see if they could identify any of the victims, but to no such luck. It was like these victims didn’t even exist between the missing files and the fact that no one in the area knew of them.

While walking North, we came across an injured and alone woman, pushing a cart full of her belongings along in front of her as she limped. We were asking anybody and everybody for their help, this woman was simply no exception. Morgan approached her with a kind smile and she smiled back at him. He had an inviting, homely face that when lit up with a smile, it was contagious to everyone else.

“How are you doing this fine evening, ma’am?” he asked her as she stopped pushing her cart.

“I’m fine,” she answered.

“We’re with the FBI and we’re investigating some disappearances that have been happening in this area. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Go for it, handsome.”

Emily and I both smiled at the ground. Morgan was just that kind of guy. He was attractive, smart, funny, and embarrassingly kind. He had this playboy type attitude that he liked to flaunt around a lot, but underneath all of that was a man who just wanted to do right by everyone he ever met. This woman looked so sad and alone, yet she took an immediate liking to Morgan— not in a creepy way, but in a way that reminded me of how a grandmother would treat their grandson; and Morgan was more than willing to oblige this woman by playing along.

“What’s your name darling?”

“Mona.”

“Mona,” he smiled. “I love that name. It suits you. Well, Ms. Mona, have you seen anyone suspicious around here recently? Maybe some unfamiliar, out of place faces?”

Mona shook her head, “There’s unfamiliar faces everywhere on the streets. You see a lot of the same people all the time, but people come and go as their life takes turns going up and down.”

“Have you noticed that anyone you recognized a lot is suddenly gone?”

Mona shook her head again. “Like I said, people come and go as they please. One day they might be under the bridges, the next they’ll be working in some restaurant. Life happens.”

“Alright, well, thank you for your help. Can I maybe take you somewhere? Like a shelter, perhaps?”

Mona scoffed and scrunched up her nose in disgust, “Have you ever seen one of them shelters? I have better luck on the street than in there.”

“Okay, okay,” he pulled his hands out of his coat pockets and threw them up in surrender, “You just be careful out there, Mona. We need more beautiful faces like you out in the world.”

Mona blushed and hid her face in the collar of her shirt. She thanked him for his kind words before pushing her cart off again and continuing on her way through the streets at night. We watched her walk on and I hoped to myself that she would be alright and she wouldn’t end up as one of the next victims. She was a good woman— a kind woman. She didn’t look like she could hurt a fly. We needed more people like her in the world.

Emily chuckled. “You’re a good guy,” she complimented Morgan.

It boosted his ego tenfold and he smiled over at us, his playboy act returning just for show. “Oh, I know.”

“I think you’re just an asshole who has a thing for older women,” I bit back a laugh.

Morgan’s smile brightened at my playful jab. “Says the one dating our boss.”

“Ooh,” Emily sighed, “burn…”

“Is that for me calling you a tool earlier?” I interrogated, walking past to keep heading North.

He nodded, “It sure is.”

Both of them caught up with me and we continued on a few more blocks before we ended up finding Hotch and Wright walking towards us from the North. We regrouped with them as we waited for JJ, McGee, Gideon, and Reid to find us on their paths from the West and East. Morgan asked if Hotch and Wright found anything of use, and they shook their heads. No one had seen anything out of the ordinary and no one even knew that these people were missing. Emily admitted that we had the same luck.

“We saw JJ and McGee about a block back and they said the same thing,” Hotch told us. “It’s just weird. You’d think that if the Unsub were out here, he’d stick out like a sore thumb because of his superiority complex, but all of these people seem… quiet and humble. Most of them even seem extroverted once you start talking with them.”

“And our Unsub is definitely an introvert?” I checked.

Hotch shrugged.

“You were adamant on our guy being an introvert, but being extremely memorable… yet no one seems to have any idea of who we’re talking about,” Wright said with an accusatory tone towards Hotch.

“So, then, riddle me this, Chief Wright, what do you think happened to those sixty-three missing people?”

“I still don’t think anything happened to them, Agent Hotchner. I think that this is all a waste of my time, your time, and the people’s tax dollars.”

“Ah, right. You think that they all just got jobs and houses. Maybe they found rainbows and unicorns as well.”

“Hotch,” I hissed a warning. Their tones and conversation were incredibly rude. It wasn’t going to help anything if they were just going to keep fighting amongst each other.

Emily changed the topic first, “What we should really be asking ourselves here is how did the Unsub get sixty-three or more street smart people off the streets without being seen?”

“It would need to be someone trustworthy, under the radar. He’s here all the time, but not enough for people to know him by name or to know enough about him to think that he’s an unlikable person.”

“Then it’s definitely not someone from the streets,” Morgan added. “Someone who would go undetected by bystanders and the street community alike.” He looked down the road, towards the direction where Mona had started walking off. “Someone like… Captain Wright, does your Social Services Department patrol around at night?”

Wright furrowed his brows and shook his head, “No, they have to be called, and then—”

Morgan jumped onto his toes and started running back towards Mona’s direction. We all turned to see what he was doing while Hotch ran after him. Morgan had spotted Mona at the end of the road, just in front of an alleyway, walking with a man who had driven up in a Social Serves van. The driver was taking Mona’s cart from her calmly and helped her put it into the back of her van. It looked fairly innocent, but with what Wright had just disclosed about Social Services not being out that time of night, we realized that something was wrong. Well started chasing after Morgan and Hotch.

“Mona!” Morgan called out desperately. “Mona, wait! Do not get in that van!” He slowed his pace down as he approached her and the driver of the van. “What are you doing?” he asked curiously, putting a hand on Mona’s shoulder.

“He's gonna drive me to the park,” she answered.

The driver was already getting back in the car and trying to start the engine. Morgan walked over to the window. The rest of us slowed down now as we caught up to them. Morgan leaned against the car, peeking his head in through the window, “Hey, what’s going on, my man?”

“I should go,” the driver said nervously, turning the engine over and it started to rumble.

“Sir, do you have a city employee I.D.?” Hotch asked the driver.

“Look, I really don’t have time for this.”

“Yes, you do. I.D. Now, please,” he demanded with a gruff tone that I knew all too well.

The driver hesitated for a moment, his eyes still on the steering wheel that he had a tight grip on. Morgan kept his hands on the car and his head in the window— a tactic to try to intimidate the man. I looked at the banner on the side of the van, and realized that it was entirely fake. It didn’t look at all real if you knew what the real thing looked like. But to anyone on the streets, like Mona, it probably looked legit. Next thing I knew, the banner was speeding out of my field of view as the driver stepped on the gas. The car sped forward with Morgan still hanging on to make sure that he wouldn’t get away. I called out Morgan’s name as we all ran after the car. The driver was racing down the alleyway towards a dead end, which he soon realized, but with Morgan fighting with him for control of the van, he was unable to stop in time before they collided with the wall. 

“Morgan!” I cried his name out again as I grabbed his jacket and pulled him out of the window. He jumped onto his feet and thanked me before yanking the front car door open and pulled the driver out. “Don’t do that ever again,” I scolded Morgan while he pushed the driver up against the side of the van and arrested him. 

Morgan recited the driver’s rights as he slapped the handcuffs on him. Hotch called Gideon and JJ to let them know that their groups needed to meet us back at the precinct as soon as possible. The car that Emily, Morgan, and I brought was the closest. Hotch hopped in the car with us and the suspect since he wanted to lead the interrogation when we would arrive at the precinct. I sat up front with Morgan, as usual, while Emily and Hotch sat on either side of the handcuffed suspect.

I watched the suspect through the mirrors on the outside of the cars and the rearview one on the ceiling between Morgan and I. He didn’t look at all like a killer. He looked scared, but not innocent. We had caught him trying to take someone while posing as a city official, so he knew that he was neck deep in trouble, but he wasn’t our Unsub. Earlier, however, the team had mentioned that our Unsub could possibly have a subservient partner who was helping him, and that certainly passed through my mind as a possibility a few times. Hotch was likely going to proceed with the investigation with such an accusation to see if we were right, in turn also proving a point to Chief Wright. 

At the station, JJ and McGee were already waiting for us since they had been the closest. Morgan and Emily took the suspect into the interrogation room, meanwhile Hotch, JJ, McGee, and I stayed in the mirror room just outside of it to talk about how we were going to proceed. McGee asked us if we thought that this was our Unsub, but Hotch denied the claim, and as I suspected, he assumed that this man was the subservient Unsub who was helping the dominant by kidnapping the victims. McGee asked what that meant for our investigation— and specifically this interrogation, and we told him that this guy was going to tell us exactly where to find our real Unsub, if he really was who we thought he was. It was entirely possible that this guy was just some other random creep who had been taking people off the streets, but that was a whole other can of worms to open if it got to that point. 

“Detective, I want you to go in with me,” Hotch said to McGee.

“Wha— What… Me? Are you sure?”

Hotch nodded as a response to him just as Morgan and Emily came out of the interrogation room. “Morgan, call Garcia and see if we can find anything on this guy.” Morgan took his orders and headed out to go call her. “Y/N, if this guy ends up not responding to the good cop, bad cop routine, be ready to go in.” I nodded. “McGee, when we go in there, let me do all the talking. I’m going to ignore you— I won’t even look at you. I need to show this guy that I share the same alpha, dominant personality as the other Unsub in order to get him to tell us anything.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Y/N’s going to go in. If he doesn’t respond to a male dominant type, then he’s likely scared of the opposite. A woman. It doesn’t matter if they’re stern with him, because their physique and demeanor will throw him off. We’ll worry about one thing at a time, though.”

The door to the room opened up again and Morgan stepped back in. “Garcia couldn’t find much on this guy. His driver’s license is legit, so his name is Steven Foster. But there are no employment records, tax records, no credit cards, no bank accounts, nothing. This guy’s practically a ghost.”

“That’s likely the point,” Hotch added. “The dominant probably told him that the best way to keep both of them safe is to leave no paper trail.”

“Wait,” McGee cut in. “If this guy is so devoted to the other Unsub, then why does he look so scared?”

“He’s the only one who knows what the Unsub is truly capable of,” Emily responded. “He’s the only one alive who can tell us who the Unsub is and what horrible atrocities he has committed. He knows better than anyone what the dominant could do if he found out that he was caught by the police.”

“We can use that to our advantage,” Hotch explained.

The door opened again and Wright, Reid, Gideon, and JJ all walked in. Gideon and Hotch nodded knowingly to each other. Hotch took that as his signal and waved McGee over with him towards the other door that led into the interrogation room. The second Hotch stepped into the room, Steven leapt out of his chair and tried to power pose on Hotch, of all people.

“It’s about damn time!” Steven exclaimed with faux anger that was trying to cover up his anxiety. “What am I doing here, anyways? I didn’t do anything! I mean, what’s the charges? Hm? Do you even have any? What did I even do? Offer to help an old lady get to the park? Is that even illegal? No, I don’t think so!” He chuckled to himself, “I see, you’re going to try to charge me with the collision, even though it was the other cop’s fault! The black guy! You know!”

His incessant yelling wasn’t at all intimidating. In fact, it only showed just how fragile he was and how quick he was to unravel in front of Hotch’s glare and spine-chilling silence. I recognized Steven’s attempts to find a talking point for Hotch to respond to because it was what I would have done if Hotch was like that towards me. Even if everyone else didn’t realize it, this was more than just putting on an alpha personality for show and for the interrogation; this was Hotch’s exact dominant personality. Every time I was in Steven’s shoes, I was practically bouncing off the walls with anxiety because Hotch always got quiet when he slid into his dominant role. He liked to wait and see me squirm and dig myself into holes that I couldn’t climb out of because he would ultimately use those against me later. That was exactly what he was doing with Steven… and I pitied him for what would come next.

“He jumped into my van! He crashed the car, not me! I didn’t do anything! There were witnesses! They’ll testify!”

“Sit. Down,” Hotch commanded sternly.

Steven did as he was told immediately. God, it was so ironic to me that the rest of the team watching had no idea just how common this was for Hotch, but I knew… I knew exactly just how terrified Steven was of possibly crossing Hotch again now. Steven’s obedience also meant that Hotch was going to get through. He didn’t need me to go in, and he didn’t even need McGee there anymore to prove his dominance in the room. Hotch had already won and Steven didn’t even know it yet.

“I’ve been standing on the other side of that glass, thinking about what to do with you, Steven,” Hotch said as he sat down across from Steven. A shiver ran down my spine in response to Hotch’s low volume. “And this morning, I decided that I’m going to save your life. You’re going to tell me where my killer is. You’re going to give me an address. And you’re going to tell me how to get inside without raising an alarm. You’re going to draw me a map, if I need one. You will do whatever it takes to help me.” Steven started rocking back and forth as panic set in again. “You’re going to do all of this because he has never been nice to you. He is going to hurt you if we don’t find him and we let you go while he is still out there. He’s going to kill you unless you help us lock him away. Do you understand? He doesn’t care about you. He told you to not get caught by the authorities, and you disobeyed him, which means that there will be severe punishment. You don’t want that, do you, Steven, so don’t give him the satisfaction. Tell me where he is.”

Steven shook his head, “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.”

“No… You don’t understand… I can’t. My family has always worked for his family. It’s all I know…” He choked back a worried sob. “His father died last year, leaving him everything— the money, the place, the—” he stopped himself short before he could admit more about their operation. “He’s the last one… He’s going to hurt me so bad…”

“Not if you tell us how we can put him away.”

Steven looked down at his fidgeting hands in his lap. He gulped while thinking long and hard about what he was going to do. Like I said, Hotch had already won after he made his first command. It was only a matter of time before Steven would give in. With the truth of Steven’s possible punishment staring him in the face, he had no choice but to help us or go back to his partner and be slaughtered like the other victims likely had been.

“Holcombe,” he whispered. “His name is… Charles… Holcombe…”

Morgan was already on his phone, calling Garcia for information on the name we were given, Emily went to call the SWAT team for back up, JJ went to go handle the press conference that would come shortly after the arrest, but Gideon, Reid, and I all stayed to watch the rest of the interrogation.

“He owns the old meatpacking plant.”

Reid left to go tell Morgan that detail and to find out where the meatpacking plant was located. It was just me and Gideon now.

“He has her there.”

“Who does he have?” Hotch interrogated.

He shook his head again, “I don’t know her name. I picked her up yesterday. The sun’s coming up… If she isn’t dead yet, she will be soon. The kill room is on the third floor in the East wing. You can enter through the first floor, North side door.”

Hotch pushed his chair out and stormed out of the interrogation room with McGee following close behind. Gideon and I left the mirror room just behind them and we headed towards the boardroom where our team had set up shop. Morgan and Reid already had their vests on, and Morgan was just getting off the phone with Garcia when she gave him the address we needed to find Charles Holcombe.

Morgan tossed my vest at me and I started strapping it to my torso. I tied my hair back out of my face as the entire team— Hotch, Gideon, Morgan, Emily, Reid, JJ, me, Wright, and McGee— all headed outside for the black SUVs just out in front of the precinct. All ten of us fit into two separate cars. Hotch drove one with McGee, Wright, and Gideon, Morgan drove the other with me, Emily, Reid, and JJ. We raced down the highway with the lights and sirens on. The meatpacking plant was only about ten minutes away, but with traffic moving out of our way and Morgan speeding over ninety miles per hour, we would make it in half that.

When we arrived at the building, Morgan and Hotch parked the cars on the North side of the building, since that was how Steven told us we would get into the building. The SWAT team pulled up just behind us, jumping out of their truck before it could even come to a full stop. Hotch told them to lead the way towards the third floor in the East wing. He opened the front door for them, using a crowbar in order to pry it open. They all filed into the building with their much larger weapons, compared to ours. As I ran in behind Morgan and Hotch, I nearly tripped when I trampled over a couple of pairs of shoes lined up in the hallway. I raised a brow as I caught my footing. It looked like the shoes were almost leading the way to the door… but there were so many of them… way more than sixty-three pairs… and there were kids sized ones, too… I tried to ignore the thought as I stepped around them and followed the team further into the building. We took a few interesting turns on our route to a staircase which held us to the third floor, and from there, we continued heading East.

When we found traces of blood on the floor, the SWAT team slowed down to approach each corner with caution. On the walls, I started to notice that he had painted labels— or directions, if you will— on each corner to help him keep track of where he was and where he was going, which only made it easier for us to find him, because all we had to do was follow the corners that read “KILL ROOM”. Then, when we heard movement and talking down the hall, the leader of the SWAT team called us all forward so that we could proceed with the negotiations and arrest. Our entire time moved up and waited for Hotch’s signal to run around the corner with our weapons raised. When we did, we saw Holcombe at the end of the hall, wearing a full hazmat suit, turning a stretcher into a nearby room labeled as the “KILL ROOM” with big, red letters, presumably done in blood.

“Charles Holcombe!” Hotch called out, taking careful steps forward. “FBI!”

Holcombe looked up from the girl on the stretcher in front of him to Hotch and the rest of the team who was approaching him with hostility. “No!” he cried when he realized that he had finally been caught. He let go of the stretcher and picked up a large machete knife that had been laying beside the woman. He raised it like he was going to slash it down on her neck.

“Don’t do it!” I warned him, still approaching behind Hotch and Morgan.

“Charles Holcombe, you’re under arrest for the murder of sixty-three people,” McGee quivered as he spoke with courage.

“Just let me do my job!” Holcombe yelled again.

When he started lowering his hand and knife back down towards his next victim, Hotch tried warning him again to not do anything stupid, but he couldn’t take the chance that this guy would kill the woman, so both him and Morgan started firing since they had the cleanest shots. Holcombe fell away from the stretcher, dropping the knife, and landing on his back on the floor.

I pushed past Hotch and Morgan once they were done firing, and I ran over to the woman to make sure that she was alright. Hotch followed me over, Morgan and Reid went to check on Holcombe, and Emily pulled out her phone to call an ambulance. The woman looked up at me with tears in her eyes and blood pulsing out of multiple different wounds around her body. I cooed her quietly as Hotch and I both started working on releasing her hands from the restraints keeping her on the stretcher.

“His face…” she cried.

Hotch thought she said, “My face,” so he responded with, “You’ve got some cuts, but you’re going to be okay.”

She shook her head, “No, his face. I want to see his face. Please.”

Hotch froze for a moment before telling Morgan to pull the mask off of Holcombe’s face for the woman to see. Hotch and I carefully propped her head up as Morgan did as he was told. When Holcombe’s face was revealed, she started laughing hysterically to herself, likely from the shock.

“I won,” she laughed with relief. “I won…”

I eyed Hotch through my eyelashes so as to not make it obvious that we were sharing a worried glance over this woman. He decided to take the initiative to keep talking to her to calm her down. “You’re going to be okay. There’s an ambulance outside. You’re safe. Just try not to move until the EMTs come in.”

She stopped laughing slowly and took in a painful, wheezing breath, “Can you have someone check on my baby, please? I left her with my mom for the night, but I didn’t get home on time… I just want to make sure my baby’s alright…”

“What’s your name?” I asked her. If I had her name, I could call Garcia and get an address for her mother.

“Maggie. Maggie Flores.”

“I’ll find your daughter, Maggie. She’ll meet us at the hospital, okay?”

She nodded and thanked me. I gave Hotch another look before I stepped back, grabbed my phone from my pocket, and dialed Garcia’s number at the office. I asked her to look for a Maggie Flores in Kansas City, and I needed an address for her mother. Garcia was on it faster than the speed of light. She gave me an address and a phone number to call Sarah Flores, Maggie’s mother. I hung up with Garcia and called Mrs. Flores at her home address. She picked up after the second ring as though she had been sitting next to the phone, waiting for her daughter to call. I told her my name and that I was with the FBI, and that we had just found her daughter. I told her that we were going to be taking her to the hospital, but she looked alright besides a few scrapes and bruises. Mrs. Flores, understandably, started crying on the other end of the call. I asked the EMTs running past me which hospital they would be taking her to, and I relayed that information to Mrs. Flores on the phone. She told me that she would grab her granddaughter and they would hurry to meet us there.

When I got off of the phone with Mrs. Flores, the EMTs had already put Maggie on one of their stretchers and they started pushing her towards the exit. Hotch still stood where I left him, the rest of the team gathering up with him. As I approached, I heard Wright apologizing to both McGee and Hotch for not believing them. Without McGee, those sixty-three— or more people— wouldn’t have found justice, and that mother would have been dead. McGee did the right thing by coming to us with the case.

JJ told Hotch that she was going to head back to the station with Gideon and Reid to prep for the press conference which would conclude this case, and then they would start packing up so that we could go home. I started walking backwards, toe to heel, as I headed for the stairs where they were taking Maggie. Hotch asked where I was going, and I told him that I was going to ride with Maggie to the hospital to make sure that she was alright. I spun around on my heel to start walking forward. I called back to him that he could pick me up from the hospital whenever we were ready to head back to Virginia. I knew that he was probably less than pleased with me going off on my own, but like he said himself… I had a tendency of doing things my way.

Maggie thanked me for keeping her company in the ambulance as I sat down on the bench beside her and took her hand. I comforted her and told her that her family would be meeting us at the hospital. She was going to be alright.

When we arrived at the hospital, they took her to a room and locked me out while they made sure that she was okay. I sat just outside of the room, bouncing my knee as I waited for something to happen. A few minutes later, I found that an older woman and a toddler were running towards me. I stood from my seat in the hallway to greet them. Mrs. Flores looked visibly distraught while trying to see into her daughter’s hospital room, while the little girl looked so confused about why she was there. After the nurse came out of the room to tell us about Maggie’s status, Mrs. Flores took her granddaughter into the room and I stayed in the hallway to give them privacy.

I sat back down and continued to bounce my knee. All there was left to do now was wait for Hotch to pick me up when the team was ready to head home. I wasn’t entirely sure why I decided to quickly go with Maggie to the hospital. I think I attributed it towards how she asked us to check on her daughter before she even asked about herself. I wanted to find her daughter for her, and I wanted to see them reunite. I could only hope that if I were to ever be in Maggie’s position, someone would show me the same courtesies… Maybe that was why I went… 

Hotch called to tell me that he was waiting in the car outside. I told him that I would be right out, but before I went downstairs, I went back into Maggie’s room to tell her goodbye. She was curled up on her hospital bed with her daughter in her arms, both of them content and half asleep. I whispered to tell her that I needed to return to Virginia, but that I was happy that she was safe. She thanked me again for saving her life and reuniting her with her daughter. All I could do was smile and nod before quietly taking my leave. I didn’t know what else there was to say to her when I didn’t even fully understand it all myself.

In the car, Hotch asked if I was alright. I stared at his cheek for a moment while he kept his focus on the road, then I hummed a “yes” and took one of his hands from the steering wheel and intertwined my fingers with his. My mind was still lost in thought, thinking about how Maggie was holding her daughter close and how I wanted nothing more than to hold Hotch and Jack like that forever. My heart was pounding in my chest, too, and I wasn’t sure if it was left over anxiety from the events at the meatpacking plant, or if it was from Hotch’s electric touch, or the desperation I felt for getting back home to see Jack. We had only been away for a day, but that was a day longer than I wanted in the first place, and I was sure that Hotch felt the same way.

Hotch’s hand untangled itself from mine before he put his palm against my cheek. I tucked into his touch and sighed lightly as he brought me back down to Earth. “We’re going to see him soon,” he reassured me.

He knew that things weren’t okay and that I just wanted to get home to be with him and Jack more than anything else in the world. Jack wasn’t even my own, and yet my heart ached every time I was away from him… It was the oddest feeling. I knew that he wasn’t mine, and I knew that he never would be. I knew that there was always a possibility that Hotch and I wouldn’t be forever, and if that day were to ever come, I would have no right to stick around in Jack’s life. I knew that I would never be his mother even though I so desperately wanted to be. I knew that whatever pain I felt while being away from Jack was nowhere near the pain Hotch felt because they were flesh and blood. Hotch had helped bring that precious kid into this world, and he was the best father anyone could ask for. I had never seen anyone so devoted to their son like Hotch was. Therefore, I knew that despite how much I was hurting, it could never compare, yet Hotch always went the extra mile to comfort me— and maybe that was because it helped to comfort himself, too…

Before we had even gotten on the jet in Kansas City, Hotch called Haley to let her know that we were done with our case and we were flying home. She told Jack while she was still on the phone that he was going to be staying at our house for the next few days, so he needed to go get ready. I could hear him jumping with excitement in the background before running up to his room to grab his school stuff and the toys he wanted to bring to our house. He didn’t have to worry about clothes, toiletries, or anything of the sort because Hotch’s home was still his home, but Jack liked to carry his favorite toys between houses.

Back in Virginia, Hotch and I hurried from the jet to our car before anyone could stop us. Neither of us even thought to go back inside the office for our paperwork. It could wait, but seeing Jack couldn’t. As we pulled up to Haley’s house, we could see Jack peeking through the blinds in the front window to watch for us. When he spotted us, he ran from the window, and before Hotch and I could even get out of the car, Haley was already opening the door and Jack was running out towards us. Haley watched from her door as Jack jumped into Hotch’s arms and hugged his dad’s neck as tightly as he could.

Hotch winged his arms around Jack and squeezed back, “Hey, buddy.”

“Are we going to get ice cream, daddy?”

Hotch chuckled while sending me a glance that said: “This is all your fault, you know?” I smiled back and shrugged. He always liked to tell me that I was the cool one, so I wanted to give him the chance to be the cool dad for once. “Yeah. Just like we promised we would.” Hotch leaned down and set Jack back on his feet, “Go tell your mom goodbye first.” Jack spun around and hurried back to hug his mom. Hotch walked over to where I was standing on the sidewalk and he threw his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close, “You’re paying.”

I let out a chuckle, “Touche.”

He kissed my temple while he was still smiling ear to ear. “I love you.”

“I love him more,” I poked his side and escaped from under his arm. Hotch’s jaw fell agape playfully. I looked at him with wide eyes, “Is it too late to say I’m sorry?”

He nodded, “Oh, yeah.”

Shit.

I bit my lip and winked at him before helping Jack into the car. Hotch watched me with a smile as he got back into the car and turned the radio on for Jack. I asked him as I buckled him in what flavor of ice cream he was going to get, and when he told me “every flavor!”, Hotch laughed from the front seat.

“How about we just start with one flavor?” I asked Jack. He nodded reluctantly. “Attaboy.” I closed his car door and sat up front with Hotch. “Hey, you,” I poked his side again before he could put the car in drive. He looked at me and raised a brow. “I love you.”

He squinted, “I don’t easily forget, Greenaway. You’ll have to try harder than that.” He set the gearshift to drive, looked back at the road, and put his foot on the gas. I stared at him with bright, soft, admiration-filled eyes until I caught his attention again. He rolled his eyes at me and shook his head while smiling, “Stop it.”  I didn’t look away. He sighed.  “I love you, too,” he gave in.

I grinned to myself and sat back in my seat. I realized something in that moment: I was the happiest I had ever been.