guys iâm all for the remmick fics, but as a white individual myself, kkk leader daughter!reader like are you absolutely kidding me?? not only is it just distasteful but it makes no sense narratively either.
another point to make is a âreaderâ fic is purposefully written so that a reader can insert themselves, descriptive words like âpaleâ just donât work.
there are so many ways around it, donât say âhe runs his fingers over her pale skin,â say something like âsoftâ skin instead, or even just skin, you know?
you can write a white character, but make them an original character then, donât make it as a reader insert, and donât make them part of the klan, like WHAT?
guys i am going to continue between your eyes but omg iâm busier than iâve ever been in my life because iâm graduating uni in may and i had to move houses and just everything is happening all at once
Summary: When you accompany your husband to an interrogation, the last thing you expect is to learn that the woman who ruined your lives has gotten what you've always wanted: a baby.
Words: 3,7k.
Warnings & Tags: mentions of infertility, pregnancy loss, jail, hospital, therapy. reader and spencer are married yey. angst WITHOUT a happy ending. cat adams is warning all by herself. again, so much angst. spoilers for s12 e22 ("red light"). english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).
Note: This is incredibly sad and one of the first parts of me trying to clean up my drafts (I literally cried reading this last night, love it so much).
âWeâre pregnant.â
They were the words you had always dreamed of hearing, the words you had imagined sharing with your husband countless times in the quiet moments of your life. The dream of a family. The idea of motherhood. You had fought so hard against the crushing reality of your biological struggles. Every test, every disappointment, every doctorâs visit had carved deeper into your soul. But you had always held onto hope, clinging to the belief that one day, it would happen. You and Spencer would have a family. He would be a good father, and you would be a good mother.
But nowâŠnow those words came not from your lips, not from the man you loved with all your heart, but from the mouth of the woman who had shattered your world, who ruined everything good and pulled you two apart for months. Cat Adams. It was her. Again.
You couldnât breathe.
Your body was frozen, rooted to the spot just outside the interrogation room. You and JJ stood in the dim hallway, watching through the glass, but it felt like you were miles away, like you had been pulled into some parallel universe where nothing in your life made sense. The world had tilted. Your thoughts tangled in a whirlwind of confusion, disbelief, and a deep, aching sorrow you couldnât yet name.
You wanted to shout. You wanted to scream. You wanted to run into that room and demand the truth from her. How could heâhow could sheâsay something like that? You wanted to storm in there and tell Cat that she was lying, that she was trying to manipulate him, that this couldnât possibly be real. It was a very low blow, so unfair and cowardly even for someone like her.
But you were paralyzed. Your chest ached with a heaviness that felt like it would suffocate you. You couldnât tear your gaze away from Spencerâs face as his expression slowly morphed into something you didnât recognize. He lookedâŠlost. His brow furrowed, his lips parted as if to say something, but the words never came. His body language screamed confusion, disbelief, and a deep, gnawing fear. He was in shock, and you couldnât blame him. The revelation was something you knew he had been wanting for years but not in this way.
âThere must be an explanation,â Jennifer whispered beside you, her voice low but urgent, trying to cut through the suffocating tension. Her hand brushed against your arm, grounding you for a moment.
An explanation. Of course, there had to be one. Your husband would neverâŠHe couldnâtâŠBut the sharp edge of pain and guilt gnawed at the edges of your mind, insidious and cruel. This moment was supposed to be yours, only yours.
Your mind raced, desperate to calm and find a way to rationalize what you had just heard. Cat was a master manipulator, a pathological liar who thrived on twisting the truth to suit her twisted games. This had to be another one of her ploys, another cruel trick designed to break Spencer. But was more, was a lower hint for you too. You were always the collateral damage, but this time it was hurting like hell.
Suddenly the guard of the prison entered, a folder clutched in her hands, her expression grim. She approached agent Jareau, handing her the medical records as if they were a death sentence for you. And the worst part was how your friend hesitated before opening them, glancing at you for a split second, her lips pressed into a thin line. The pity can be seen even for a blind person.
You didnât need to see the contents of the folder to know the truth, to feel it inside. Jenniferâs sharp intake of breath told you everything. She flipped through the pages quickly, her frown deepening with every word she read. Finally, she looked up, meeting your eyes with an expression that was equal parts anger and more pity.
âSheâs pregnant,â JJ confirmed, her voice low and reluctant. âThree monthsâŠit makes sense.â
The words made your knees weak. You reached out, gripping the edge of the table in front of you for support, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and torn your heart out, leaving behind a hollow, aching void devouring each of your other organs.
Inside the interrogation room, Spencer was still frozen. His hands rested on the table, trembling slightly, as he stared at Adams with wide, disbelieving eyes. âNo,â he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of the single word. âThatâsâŠthatâs impossible. I would neverââ
He would never cheat you. He would never touch or even think of another woman. He loved you like it was his life purpose since he met you.
âBut you did,â Cat interrupted, her tone calm and smug, as though she had already won. She leaned back in her chair, resting her hands on her stomach with a sense of triumph that made you want to scream. âYou were so sweet that night. So trusting. But then again, I made it easy for you, didnât I? You thought it was her. You thought Lindsay was your wife.â
Your breath caught, the implication of her words crashing over you like a tidal wave and making you want to scream. You felt JJâs hand on your arm, grounding you, but it wasnât enough to stop the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.
She continued, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. âI mean, you didnât even question it. And you, so desperate for a family, so desperate for her, fell for it. You let her in. And when the time was rightâŠâ Cat leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms smugly. âWell, you did what needed to be done. Now, here we are. Youâre finally going to be a daddy.â
Finally. Finally. Finally.
Spencerâs head whipped violently, his fists slamming onto the table with a force that seemed to shake the very air around you. His voice cracked with disbelief, raw and desperate. âNo,â he said again, but this time, it was louder, like he was trying to make the world believe it too, trying to make you hear it, feel it. âYouâre lying.â
The woman didnât flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, her eyes glittering with cruel amusement, as if savoring every painful second. âWhatâs the matter? Not quite the picture you had in your head when you imagined your happy little family?â Her words sliced through the silence, her mockery dripping with venom. âI mean, letâs be honestâshe was never going to give you a baby, was she? Not after what happened before.â
Before.
The word reverberated in your mind, jagged and relentless. You didnât need to hear anything else. The floodgates opened and started to bleed again.
The sterile scent of the hospital room hit you like a tidal wave, the cold, mechanical hum of machines echoing in your ears. You could still feel the weight of the doctorâs words pressing down on you, the cruel finality of them. Your body, it seemed, was incapable of carrying life. The crushing reality hit harder than you could ever have prepared for. Spencerâs face had been pale, his lips trembling as he squeezed your hand, his own sorrow mirrored in your tears.
âWeâll get through this, love,â he had whispered, his voice trembling but determined. âItâs okay. Weâll find a way. Itâs okay.â
But now, as you stood there in the present, surrounded by the fallout of broken dreams, that promise felt like an empty echo in the vast, aching space between you. Nothing was okay. Absolutely nothing was ever to be okay again.
Cat had come for what you could never give him, and now she was twisting the knife, ensuring you bled with every word that left her mouth. She wanted you to drown in the aftermath, wanted you to suffer, to feel like youâd been erased. As if you hadn't suffered enough, as if you weren't yet broken and traumatized enough.
You stumbled into the hallway, your legs giving way beneath you as if the very foundation of your existence had crumbled. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick, suffocating. Tears burned your eyes, spilling unchecked as years of grief poured from a place you thought had long since healed. JJ was behind you, her movements steady but soft as she followed.
âCome here. Sit down for a second,â she urged, her voice gentle but firm, like a lifeline thrown to someone drowning. She wanted to pull you in, to cradle you, but you couldnât even hold yourself together.
You shook your head, your breath coming in shallow gasps, each one too short, too sharp. âIâI canât. I canât breathe.â You pressed your hands against the cool wall, your palms slick with sweat, desperate for some grounding, for something solid to stop the world from spinning out of control.
Please, just make it stop.
She placed a firm but soothing hand on your shoulder, guiding you to a nearby bench. âJust sit for a moment. Take a deep breath. Youâre not alone, okay? Iâm right here.â
Her words were kind, but they only made the ache in your chest burn hotter. You dropped your head into your hands, unable to hold it in anymore. âItâs not fair. She has everything,â you choked out without even thinking. âEverything I wanted. She took it. Sheââ Your voice faltered, the lump in your throat making it impossible to finish the sentence.
So, why'd it cost a woman like her anything? Was she going to give a better life to a baby than you could? Had you ever been such a bad person? Was that it?
Jennifer sat down beside you, not saying a word, just letting you find the strength to speak when you were ready.
When you finally did, your voice was broken. âYou knowâŠwhen Spencer and I moved in together, we picked the biggest house,â you said, the words spilling out in a torrent you couldnât stop. âNot because we needed it, or because we wanted to live some fancy, luxury lifeâbut because we were planning for the future. We talked about kids. We talked about filling that house with the chaos of family. We even set up a roomâŠâ Your voice faltered again, the memory of that room too painful to bear. âWe called it the nursery.â
JJâs expression softened, her eyes growing distant with empathy. Sheâd heard Reid talk about your dreams countless timesâhow heâd ask her for suggestions about baby names, recommendations for things he should know about raising kids, and everything to be a good husband and father at the same time.
âWe bought baby clothes,â you whispered, your voice cracking again. âI still do it sometimes when I see something cute. Tiny little onesies, hats, socksâŠHe always said we needed to be ready. That weâd want those things when the time came. And so we kept them, in a drawer, neatly folded. Waiting.â
God, you were so tired of always waiting.
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. âDo you know how many times I opened that drawer? How many times have I picked up those tiny clothes and imagined what it would feel like to hold our baby in them? To see Spencer cradling them, smiling the way only he can when heâs happy? Every time I see him with your kids, I want to see that for the rest of my life.â
Her hand covered yours, her grip warm and steady.
âAnd now Cat has that,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âShe gets to have a baby. She gets to take away the one thing Iâve been holding onto, the dream that kept me going afterâŠafter the loss.â
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of what youâd never spoken about, what youâd kept buried ever since you walked out of that sterile hospital room. You had never talked about that day, not reallyânot since it happened. Not until now. Only in therapy, where the walls were thick, where no one could see you break, could you admit the rawness of it.
âI keep thinking about our house,â you continued, your voice distant and lost in memories. âHow weâd sit up late at night, dreaming about how weâd decorate the nursery. We even picked names. Spencer wanted to name a boy after a scientistâhe was obsessed with that idea. And I always thought, for a girlâŠweâd name her after his mom.â
JJ smiled faintly, though sadness lingered in her eyes. âYou two still can do it and be the best parents in the world; donât let her ruin everything.â
Having a good mom tell you that you were going to be a good mom was as filling as it was raw.
You shook your head, tears falling without restraint. You didnât try to stop them. âHow can I face him again? How can I look at him and not feel like I failed him? Like my body failed him, failed us, over and over again?â
Her voice was unwavering, strong, and full of conviction. âYou didnât fail him. Youâve never failed him, or yourself. This isnât your fault. Spencer loves you. Youâre going to get through this, together. And CatâŠCat didnât win, okay?â
You wanted to believe her. You needed to believe her. But the suffocating weight of everything made it hard to see the truth. The face of the woman who had torn apart everything you thought youâd have was still vivid in your mind, her words echoing like a funeral bell.
âShe said I couldnât give him what he wanted,â you murmured, your voice cracking. âWhat if sheâs right? What ifââ What if your husband stopped loving you? What if he starts to hate you for not being enough? Can he?
âNo,â she cut you off, her voice sharp but compassionate. âDonât do that. Donât let her poison your mind like that. He chose you. Not her, not anyone else. You. And thisâŠthis nightmare? It wasnât his choice, and it wasnât yours. But youâre going to get through it.â She knew what she was talking about.
JJâs arm wrapped around you, pulling you close, her warmth enveloping you as the sobs you had been holding back finally broke free. She didnât say anything more, just held you tightly, her presence a steady anchor in the storm. The sound of your sobs, the harsh, guttural sounds of a heart breaking, filled the hallway, but in her arms, you felt a small fragment of peace.
âI donât know how to handle this,â you whispered into her shoulder, your voice trembling.
âYou donât have to handle it all right now,â she said softly. âJust breathe. Iâm here, and I understand you, okay? Itâs okay.â
For a moment, you let yourself collapse into the comfort she offered, letting the peace of her presence block out the memory of Catâs cruel face, her words slicing into your soul. But that fleeting peace was shattered as hurried footsteps echoed down the hall, and then, just as suddenly, Spencer stood there with medical papers strewn on the floor and an agitated look.
His face was pale and a little sweaty, his fists clenched as if he wanted to throw the table in front of him away, and as soon as he saw you, everything stopped; he watched you with concern, and his breath caught in his throat. âAre you okay, love? IâI came as soon as I could, Iâm sorry.â His voice was soft, almost a plea, as he took a tentative step closer.
You straightened, quickly wiping at your face, trying to pull yourself together. But the moment your eyes met his, the dam broke all over again.
Your husband moved to sit beside you, his hands reaching out but stopping just short of touching you, as though he was afraid he might hurt you more. âHear me, whatever she said in thereâitâs a lie. It has to be. Sheâs trying to get into our heads.â
JJ left quietly, her steps fading as she walked away, leaving the two of you alone. The silence between you and Spencer was suffocating, thick with the unspoken words, the weight of everything you were both feeling. You couldnât look at him, not yet. Not when you knew the depth of his concern, the love in his eyes that you felt you didnât deserve. Not when you felt like everything was unraveling and you had no way of holding it all together.
The moment his gaze softened, you felt itâa crack in the walls you had been desperately trying to keep intact. But you couldnâtâcouldnât carry it anymore, couldnât wear that mask any longer. It was like trying to keep the ocean contained in a single glass jar.
You shook your head, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. âIâm fine,â you whispered, your voice thin and fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering. But even to your own ears, the words felt hollow. They sounded like a lie, and you hated yourself for saying them. âI just need to go home. Iâm so tired. I canâtâŠI canât do this anymore.â
His eyes searched yours, as though hoping he could find the answers to your pain somewhere in the depths of your soul. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his face flexing as he fought to understand, to fix it, but you knew he couldnât. No one could. Not with this.
âYou donât have to go alone,â he said, his voice gentle but insistent, the kind of voice that pulled at your heart, that made you want to reach out and hold on to him. âLet me be there for you. Please.â
You flinched inwardly, the urge to push him away overwhelming. If he touched you now, you feared youâd crumble entirely. âNo,â you said, your voice cutting through the fragile silence that had fallen between you. The word hung in the air, sharp, like a weapon you didnât want to wield. But you had to. You had to. âI just need to be by myself for a moment.â
His expression shifted, hurt flashing across his face. He blinked, his lips parting as if he wanted to say somethingâanythingâto make it better. But what could he say? He couldnât take away the hurt, couldnât undo the mess that had built up over the last few months. The raw, searing weight of grief and longing, of losing something youâd never even gotten to hold, hung between you like a thick fog.
He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. âPlease, Spencer,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âI justâŠI need time. Please.â
He recoiled slightly, but then he nodded. Slowly. His gaze softened with an ache that matched your own, but there was also something else thereâsomething deep and unwavering. Love. Love that hurt, love that clung to you even as you tried to push it away.
âI love you,â he said, his voice quiet but firm. âI love you so much. And whatever happens, whatever she said or doneâŠit doesnât change that. Nothing will change that. You and meâweâll get through this.â
The words pierced you, not in the way you wanted, not in the way that would have given you comfort. Instead, they felt like a reminder of everything you had lost, everything you might never have. You look at your ring, trying to hold on to the meaning.
âI need to go,â you whispered, your hand trembling as you touched his arm, just briefly. It wasnât a comfort; it was a goodbye. You didnât want him to see you like this. You didnât want to drag him down with you, even though you knew heâd follow you into hell if you asked. But you couldnât let him. Not now.
Spencer hesitated, as if he might argue, but then he just sighed softly, nodding again, his face pale with worry. âOkay. But you know Iâm here, right? If you change your mindâif you need meâŠâ His voice trailed off, and he gave you a look of such pure concern that it almost broke you. Almost.
You nodded without meeting his eyes, wiping at your cheeks quickly before giving him a quick hug and walking away, each step a little heavier than the last. You couldnât even look back.
The door of your car slammed shut behind you with a finality that sent a shiver down your spine. For a long moment, you sat there, the engine still off, staring straight ahead as the weight of everything settled over you like an oppressive storm cloud. You wanted to breathe, to take in the air, but it felt too thick, too heavy.
Finally, your hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white from the tension. You pressed your forehead against the wheel, trying to still the trembling that was slowly overtaking your body. And then, just like that, the dam broke. It wasnât a sob at first. It was a sharp intake of breathâa gasp that felt like it was being ripped from you. And then came the tears, hot and fast, flowing down your face without mercy. Your chest ached as the sobs wracked your body, each one pulling something from you that you couldnât even name. The quiet of the car only made the pain more acute, the isolation more unbearable.
The tears didnât stopâthey couldnât. You cried for the dream youâd lost, the dream youâd clung to for so long, the dream you had built with him. You cried for the tiny clothes, the nursery, the baby names youâd never get to say. You cried for Spencer, for all the ways you felt like you were failing him. For all the ways you felt like you were breaking him, too.
Your sobs grew louder, more desperate, until your chest felt like it might collapse in on itself. There was nothing left to hold onto, no one to fix this, no way out.
And as the tears kept falling, as the sorrow consumed you, all you could do was let it happen. To sink into the ache, to let it wash over you, until you were nothing but an empty shell of the person you once were.
hey hey, so my last day of uni for the year was today, as well as tfotj finale soooo, i want to thank you all for being patient with me and chapter two will be out soon!
I just loved your story about The Day of the Jackal, and I really need it so much. Please continue đ„č
I will be continuing! Iâm currently in the middle of my last few weeks of uni for the year, so itâs a bit hectic. But please trust that Iâm writing during every bit of free time that I have!
I should hopefully have a new chapter out by monday night.
WARNING: this fanfiction will contain mature scenes, violence, and coarse language.
word count: 1.6k, a short set-up chapter. enjoy!
if you enjoy this fanfiction, please don't forget to interact.
CHAPTER ONE: ONE SHOT, ONE KILL.
Grace McCarron loved the smell of coffee. Especially in the early mornings when the sun hadnât risen and the streets were still wet with last nightâs rain. It irked her though, how people could be so loud at such an early hour. Couldnât people just be quiet? Talk at a normal volume, it was only the hour of six.Â
The blondeâs fingers rap against the counter in a steady rhythm. Her expression reads neutral as she watches the customers enjoying their breakfasts, discussing work projects and gossip. It was all so mundane, every word they said was capable of drawing a yawn from her lips. Nobody is interesting this morning.
With a sigh, Grace reaches under the counter for the remote, flicking on the television in the corner. Her head tilts, blue eyes sparkling with intense focus at the headline written across the lower third of the screen.Â
Manfred Fest assassinated.
Graceâs eyes narrow, something interesting. Her attention is only being drawn away by the sound of a customer waiting to order. A young woman, brunette, sheâd be mid-twenties.Â
âItâs horrible isnât it?â The woman says.
âIâm on the fence,â Grace admits. âWhat can I get for you?â
âA latte, please⊠You donât think itâs bad?â
âThat a fascist offended somebody and got himself killed? Not really.â Grace presses the coffee, clicking it into the machine before foaming the milk. With practised expertise, she fills a takeaway cup with the espresso and milk, creating lines of art on the top.Â
âI donât know much about foreign politics,â the woman taps her card.
âTake it from me, be glad he wonât be the new German Chancellor.â
Graceâs attention is brought back to the screen as the customer walks away with her latte. A single sniper shot from a distance of over three kilometres. Impressive. More than. The corners of her lips tilt into a small grin, leaning back onto the counter with crossed arms, she watches the news report.
It had started raining again, like it usually did in London. The sound of tires driving over the slick roads was comforting to Grace. Red brake lights reflected in the puddles by the footpath, headlights and street lamps casting a warm hue despite the darkening sky. She loved the rain, the sound of it pattering against whatever surface. However, it did make it hard to get a decent line of sight. Her lips quirked slightly, a lover of challenge. One blue eye closed, a glint of thrill in the other as it stared through the scope of a personalised sniper rifle.Â
Sleeping with the blinds open, Grace could never understand it, but it certainly helped her in this case. The target laid across his bed, his thumb scrolling across the screen of his phone. The lights in his apartment were on, everything visible. He was so stupidly vulnerable. She couldâve shot six times over by now, but would there be any fun in that? Her finger taps against the trigger as she recalls the deviance of the sleazy man. The world would be better off without him.
BANG. One shot, one kill.
Grace pulls her head back from the sniper, standing up, she starts to pack down the rifle. Her eyes donât leave the window of the now-deceased target as she unscrews the barrel, packing it all into a case. She hurries downstairs, unlocking her car and driving off swiftly. Chances are nobody would find him until morning, but it is still safer to get away as quickly as possible.
The internet cafe was practically dead at this hour, a lone stranger or two. It had started to rain outside again, Grace could hear it on the roof, see it on the windows. It was also a Wednesday, unlikely that it would be busy. She plugs a USB into one of the many PCs, accessing Dark Core.
Access Chatroom:
Username: xxxfOxTROT22971x$
Password: ************
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___ job complete.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___he will not bother you anymore.
FPOxENT779X___thank you.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___yes.
CRTVDSTRYR*1908 one new message.
CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Big admirers of your work. Have project we think will interest you. Superlative remuneration.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i donât work for money.
CRTVDSTRYR*1908___What do you work for?
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___enforcement of consequence.
CRTVDSTRYR*1908___There is a man who needs to face consequences.
CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Canât talk here.
CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Will you meet in person?
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___where?
Grace sits back in her seat, her finger traces her bottom lip as she waits for a response. This was an odd one, but they seem insistent. For them to know of her work, they had to have communication with sources she had helped in the past.
CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Will make a transfer of good will. Location attached.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___tomorrow morning.
Logout.
A sum of $10,000 has been transferred to your account.
A transfer message has been left.
Grace shuts down the computer, taking out the USB, she packs it into her handbag. Her lips quirk as she exits the internet cafe. Something new, something interesting, a potential challenge. This calls for a stop at that delicious dessert bar down the road from her apartment, a nice meringue or maybe some ice cream would do.
For once the sun was out in London, albeit only slightly, but it did still make Grace look less ridiculous for wearing a cap and sunglasses. She notices a woman sitting on the park bench, must be her. Her black coat flutters behind her in the wind as she sits beside the other woman.
âWho are you?â Grace asks.
âIrish?â The woman responds with a question.
âAnd youâre American.â
âYes.â
âWhy am I here?â Grace leans back against the park bench, crossing her legs. âWhat did he do? Was it assault, did he hurt the kidsâŠ?â
âUlle Dag Charles.â
âUDC⊠the River man?âÂ
âYes,â She answers.
âI donât see how exposing the rich is a crime,â Grace grins. âPlease donât tell me youâve wasted my time.â
âIf he releases River, itâs not just the rich who fall. All secret networks will be exposed, youâll be discovered.â The woman turns to face Grace, trying to get a look at her expression. She quickly realises itâs impossible with the cap and the darkly tinted glasses. âYouâll go to prison for a long time.â
âIf thatâs the case, hidden networks of paedophiles, rapists⊠it will all be exposed. You think theyâll go after little old me?â
âI think even after exposing the rich, theyâll still have the power, and theyâll still be protected.â
âYouâre very insistent,â Grace observes. âWhy me?â
âBecause you always get the job done.â
Sighing, Grace looks up at the cloudy sky, the sun peaking out slightly. She sucks in a breath of the fresh park air before responding. âThis job is a bit harder than the othersâŠâ
âWhich is why weâve hired a second⊠professional, such as yourself.â
âFirst, you ask me to eliminate a man for wanting to expose the rich, and now you tell me Iâd have to work with another person?â
There is a silence that passes momentarily between the two women as they stare each other down.
âRiver is good for nobody. You will go to prison.â
âNo, I wonât.â Grace smirks knowingly. âWho is the other person?â
âHe is one of the best, alongside yourself.â
âWho is he?â
âI donât know his identityâŠâ She answers. âHe took out Fest.â
âAh.â Graceâs lips immediately quick upwards, a grin taking over her expression. She stands up, hands in pockets, she stares down at the woman still sitting. âAnd what do they call you?â
âZina.â
âZina⊠I donât kill innocent men. Give me one good reason to take this job, and not because of River.â
â...â The American woman sits there contemplating for a moment, her mind working a million miles an hour. âYou donât have to take the shot. We need you to⊠babysit.â
Grace lets out a loud chuckle, âbabysit?â
âIt seems our other hire is caught up in a few⊠troubles after the fest situation. We need you to ensure he gets the job done, and if he fails to, you step in and finish it.â
âWell⊠letâs hope he doesnât fail.â
âIs that a yes to the job?â Zina sits up straight.
âHe is aware, I assume?â
âHe will be made aware.â
âGet me in contact,â Grace turns around and walks away, her coat once again billowing behind her.
It was another early morning, three days after Graceâs meeting with Zina. She sat behind the counter at the cafe, it was a very quiet morning. A Sunday morning, not many were up and about. She opened her laptop, plugging in her USB.
Access Chatroom:
Username: xxxfOxTROT22971x$
Password: ************
**&525marTinGuerrE^$___who are you?
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___should i not be asking you?
**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i do not need babysitting.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___ah.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___the other âprofessionalâ
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___nice shot.
**&525marTinGuerrE^$___refuse the job.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i donât think i will.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i get bored sometimes.
**&525marTinGuerrE^$___then stay out of the way.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i do the job iâm hired for.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___donât get into trouble, and i wonât have to step in and clean it up.
**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i donât need anybody to clean up.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___a little birdy told me otherwise.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i am not the enemy.
**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i donât work in teams.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___there is a first time for everything.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___iâm not here to steal your job.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___iâm here to cover your ass so you can get it done.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___you said you donât work in teams, that means you have no connections.
xxxfOxTROT22971x$___you will fuck up, you will go to jail.
**&525marTinGuerrE^$___Munich.
**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i will send the hotel details.
sorry about the delay on chapter 1 of my jackal fanfiction, the bottom of my laptop has popped open and iâve been trying to get it fixed, so i havenât been touching it in fear of breaking it more, should be up shortly!
It had started raining again, like it usually did in London. The sound of tires driving over the slick roads was comforting to Grace. Red brake lights reflected in the puddles by the footpath, headlights and street lamps casting a warm hue despite the darkening sky. She loved the rain, the sound of it pattering against whatever surface. However, it did make it hard to get a decent line of sight. Her lips quirked slightly, a lover of challenge. One blue eye closed, a glint of thrill in the other as it stared through the scope of a personalised sniper rifle.Â
Sleeping with the blinds open, Grace could never understand it, but it certainly helped her in this case. The target laid across his bed, his thumb scrolling across the screen of his phone. The lights in his apartment were on, everything visible. He was so stupidly vulnerable. She couldâve shot six times over by now, but would there be any fun in that? Her finger taps against the trigger as she recalls the deviance of the sleazy man. The world would be better off without him.
Summary: Spencer misses an important date and ends up paying the consequences
Trope:Angst
w.c: 4.2k
a/n: this is one of the many many requests of @lavonee (her exact request was: maybe spencer misses an important date/anniversary because of jj and reader is finally fed up being second place to her) trying my best to address all of them. Not proofread.
Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! đ
masterlist
The hazy dim light of each candle on the white linen covered table gave the restaurant an orange hue. Various aromas of meat, wine, and complimentary cheese wafted through the enclosed space. Sensual tones of the saxophone lightly played on the speakers perfectly weave through each muted conversations between loved onesâcouples and families. The high-end restaurant basked in good food and great company.Â
Everything was perfect.
Every costumer joyous and warm from the delicious wine.Â
All except for one, alone by the corner booth, phone pressed to your ear and eyes scanning for the tall, lithe form of the date for the night.
Beep. Beep. Beâ
You grimaced at the busy line tone that answered you, again. Hands gripping the draped linen, trying your best not to tap your newly manicured fingers on the tableâtrying to blend into the background, unsuccessfully.Â
You stuck out like a sore thumb. All dressed up with no partner or food on the table, just a glass of once chilled wineâcondensation all around it like tears of abandonment and longing.Â
The same waitress who escorted you to the tableâ15 minutes ago, approached with a perfectly rehearsed smile.
âMaâam, are we ready to order?â
You sighed. âActually, my boyfriend isnât here yetââ
She bit her lip, nodding, before quickly averting her eyes to the queued up line outside the premise.
Right. It was a Friday night and every adult in the vicinity wanted a night out to unwind and start their weekend on the right foot.
You tightly smiled, the embarrassment of tonight painting your cheeks a deep maroon, unnoticed through the flickering of the orange candlelight. ââyou know what, I think Iâd just have a slice of your chocolate cake to go. Yeah, Iâm sorry about holding up the table.â
The waitress nodded, understanding washing on her face. âThatâs alright. Iâll have your order packed and ready to go.â
âThanks,â you murmured as you watched her leave.Â
Tonight was suppose to be special.Â
You dressed up in the same white with purple printed flower midi length dress, styled your hair effortlessly, and spritzed on your favorite perfume that smelled like a luscious garden after a rainy night.
Everything was just like how it was two weeks agoâincluding your boyfriend of three years, Spencer Reid, not showing up for the date.
You didnât even know why you bothered. Why his promise of being here tonight made you feel giddy and trusting. Why his commitment on having do-over for the actual anniversary dinner that he missed two weeks ago made you think it was going to end differently and why you gave him another chanceâ
Another chance to let you down.
Another crack in your belief that you were important.
Another heartache to soothe.
Another let down.Â
When you first entered the relationship, you understood the gravity of his work. How his career will always come first and how unpredictable it all may be.
That partâaccepting those facts, were easy. You were always one to be tolerant and understanding ever since childhood, labeled as the easy kidâthe independent, the self-sufficient. Mixed in with your highly demanding career as a doctor, you got itâthe patience and consideration of a saint.
A martyr, your good friend once bluntly said.Â
But what good was being a martyr when the person youâre killing yourself for didnât notice?
It didnât matter at first. Missed messages, missed calls, missed dates were just a work of rotten timing from both ends. Sometimes it was you having to run to the hospital for an emergency surgery and sometimes it was him having to catch a plane to a latest serial killer case.
The tandem of both independent and busy people in the relationship worked, love blossomed regardless.
What made it different was, there was three of you in the relationship.
The third party being an intense platonic, as he once defended, connection with Her.
You felt it for the first time during a get together with his found family. Your set of eyes trained to read in between the lines for the truth patients unwittingly hide from their doctor. It was a skill that you honed and never hated, up until that moment.
The stolen glances when the other wasnât looking.
The emotion veiled between the eyes.
The unsaid words that seemed to spill from the silence.
Never mind that there were two presences in the vicinity that could have their life altered in any minute from the secrets long hidden in vaults. It was as if you and her husband were considered ornaments, pieces of a possible aftermath not worth saving.Â
You knew of their pastâSpencer admitting to having a crush on her during his early days with the team, asking her out on a baseball game date, and her recent admission during a case.
Everything was water under the bridge, your boyfriend assured you. But the thing was, water had a way of overflowing from confinement, turning deadly, and ravaging what once was an idyllic garden that bloomed from your affection.Â
Now as you pay for the tab and collect your things, you felt the tides that destroyed the solace inside of you well up to your eyesâwanting the release youâre fighting to keep at bay.
A fight youâre bound to lose.
You whispered a thank you to the waitress, soft and quiet that you were unsure if she even heard it but that was the best you could do, the sobs closing your vocal chords and threatening to escape, making you a spectacleâleaving the restaurant alone, with a boxed cake on hand.
What a sad sight.
You fumbled with the phone again, hands shaking as you insert the key on the ignition.
Beep. Beep. Beâ
Nothing.Â
What even was the point of all of this, you wondered. All this emotion, love, that was once sweet and heavenly now all felt rotten, puss oozing from its pores and flies exalting for a feast.Â
Slowly backing your black 4-door sedan out of the parking lot, you pondered if this was the endâdid you have any more left to give? Or was this just a bump on the road for the your future selves to learn and heartily laugh about?Â
âââ
The rattling of your keys as you dropped it on the ceramic plate across the main door disrupted the silent, empty apartment.
A small smile graced your face as you remembered spontaneously booking a ceramic wheel class with Spencer in tow. His initial worries about getting under the nails dirty and the bacteria that could be collected from any stranger that used the items before the both of you swept away with your giggles and assurances to double up on vitamins.Â
There was a wide grin on his face then, accepting defeat from the sight of your enthusiasm and glee.Â
It was one of your greatest memory with Spencer and when the glazed pottery came from the mailâyours, a wonky blue green plate and his, an uneven moss green bowl, you had him promise to take you again.
A promise that never came to fruition.
You sighed, eyes tracking the rented space you never quite moved in to. The walls painted this dark green color, reflecting the somber mood you frequently found yourself in and the shelves filled to the brim with books you never dream of reading.
in hindsight, maybe your subconscious was telling you something. Why you never agreed to Spencerâs casual asking of you to live with him. Why you were adamant of keeping your own apartment regardless of the nights you spent outside of it.
This place became your pseudo-home, comfortable but never quite permanent.Â
The distant murmur of a car being parked on the street had you clambering up from your defeated, slouched position on the leather couch. In your gut, you knew who it was.
You spotted them exiting the SUV.
The two figures that make the relationship threeâa sideshow for everyone to see.
Spencer and JJ.Â
They talked for a bit, probably saying pleasantries of goodbyes, before she leaned in for a hug. One that he reciprocated, patting her back as he went.Â
They looked like a couple and if you were in your right state of mind, youâd chalk the exchange up to nothing but you werenâtâyou were wounded and unsure of your standing ever since you exited the restaurant.
Were you his first still?
Or were you just second place?Â
They were questions you never wanted no, needed, to be addressed but it seemed like tonight was the night of reckoning.
As you watched Spencer enter the apartment, the smile on his face from spotting you slowly become a furrow between his brows, you fidgetedâpulling the coat tighter to your body, the one you never hung on the back of the doorâready to bolt.
âLove, Iâm so sorry I missed our reservationââ
He went in for a kiss on your glossy lips.Â
A simple act that you didnât have the energy to accept, you turned your head to the side. His lips catching your cheek instead.
âItâs fine,â you sardonically replied. âIt wasnât like I was waiting for you for half an hour to show up. Itâs fine, Spencer.âÂ
His brow twitched.Â
âIt sounds like itâs not fine. Why donât you tell me what you really feel? We promised to openly communicate, didnât we?â
You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air. âI said itâs fine, Spencer. Why donât you give it a rest?â
âYou look beautiful,â his calloused fingers gently caressing your hair. âIâm sorry I didnât show. Itâs just that JJ and the teaââ
Your last thread of reason snapped clean from hearing her name.
âItâs always going to be like this, isnât it? Me coming after her?â
âLove.â
âDonât touch meâdonât call me that,â you pushed his hands away, tucking the escaped tendrils behind your ears.Â
His own, raking the wavy brown hair you loved, in frustration. You could tell, with how his hands opened and closed, that he was itching to touch you, comfort you.Â
âHer? You mean, JJ? Sheâs a friend. Just a friend.âÂ
âAnd if this friend wasnât married with kids, would you still be here with me now?â
Silence.Â
There, you said it.
âWhatâyes, yes of course. Why would you ask that? Why would you doubt it? Doubt me?â
Your gut twisted inside of you. It was inconceivable for someone like Spencer to lie, wasnât it? He was a good guy, one of the best. But all the hidden resentment in your heartâa pile you werenât even aware of, no longer wanted to be silenced. It no longer wanted to be pushed to the side for optimism and denial.Â
âI donât know, Spencer. Maybe itâs the way you look at herââ voice raising up an octave. Youâve lost control, verbally dumping out everything. âDo you think I donât see it? You look at her with this, this nostalgia andâand this emotion that I canât compare toânever seen it when you look at me! Or maybe, maybe itâs because you drop everything for her? Including me?â
âAre you talking about when Henry got sick?â his hands finding a home on his hips. âI thought you understoodâyou of all, should have.â
Your laughter turned into a sob. âI doâI did, until you dropped me of unceremoniously back here, in this apartment, just so you could rush out to her home. Like I was some kind of secret, you didnât want to bring around her. Like I was some sort of disease, you didnât want her catching. Didnât you think I would be of great help? A licensed medical doctor?â
âI wasnât thinking straightâI thought you, you shouldnât be exposed to the type of flu Henry contracted. You could have gotten sick too and could have passed it on to your other patients.â
âItâs my job to take care of the sick, donât you think I take measures for my own health? Spencer, please, for once just be honest with me.â
He tilted his head. âHonest about what?â
âIf itâs her you really want and if Iâm just a passable substitute to settle down with.â
You could see his eyes blazing with suchâdisgust? Anger? You didnât know what emotion it was before it was snuffed out, leaving his expression blank and almost sad. It was a look you were familiar with, his profiler look.
âI donât need you profiling me and my insecurities, Spencer. I just want the truth. The God-honest truth.âÂ
âI love you. I canât imagine a life without youâI wonât imagine it. Isnât that enough?â
Your hands drop to your side.
âI donât know. Is it?â
The distance created by the silence between you and Spencer was vast. Youâve never felt quite alone and isolated in the relationship until this moment. Was this it, then? The end to your once dreamed of happy ever after?Â
âIâm sorry I missed the dinner. Why donât you let me make it up to you? We can book the same restaurant for next week andââ
âYou canât just make up for a make up anniversary dinner, thatâs not how it works in real life, Spencer. And besides, I donât want to see the same pitying looks the workers there give me when they realize my date is again, and again, a no-show.â
He sighed, slowly invading your space. The arms that once felt like home to you, circling your waist, now felt foreign. You never imagined youâd get here but then again, who did?Â
Your hands clasped his button down before loosening its grip. Taking in one more whiff of his cedar-wood and mint perfume, you pushed him away. Stepping backwards from his presence and all he had to offer.
âItâs late. Weâre both tiredââ
He nervously smiled. Intertwining his fingers with yours and started to walk backwards to the direction of the bedroom. âYeah, we can talk about it in the morning once you feel better.â
You wiggled your hand free.
âActually, I think I have to go.â
Spencer paused, panic coloring his face. âThatâsâthatâs not what I meant, love. Anything but that. Please, please I love you and Iâm sorry.â
âMe too, Spence. Me too.âÂ
You slowly gathered your things, sans the chocolate cake left opened and untouched on the coffee table.Â
âHappy anniversary, I need space to think this all throughâto think us through.â
He stood still, blocking your way, trying to wrap his head around the direction this was going to. The inevitable downfall of him and you. It was a car crash no one could no longer escape from.Â
âPlease, let me fix this. I can do it, justâtell me how. Do you want me to limit my time spent with JJ? I-I can try, just please, donât leave me.â
It wasnât a promise, you noted. With how many broken promises there were between the span of your relationship, you wondered if that was a conscious choice of wording from him. It sounded hopeful, gleaming with oath even. But they were just words at the end of the day, packaged pretty for you to swallow.
âI need time, Spencer. Iâm not breaking up with you, I just need space,â you placed a kiss on his cheek, wet from tears. âCan you give me that, love?â
He choked a sob.Â
âPromise me youâll be back. Promise me.â
You tightly smiled, making your way back to the door. The unanswered plea hanging in the air like a blade, waiting to slash down between youâwaiting to sever the connection that was once shiny and new.Â
Shakily removing the spare key of the apartment from your chain, you chanced one last look at his hunched formâsobs emitting from his sweet lips and acid rain spilling down his cherub cheeks, regretting that this might be your last memory of Spencer Reid.
You didnât know if youâd be back.Â
If the thought of being second place will ever go away.
But the sinking feeling in your gut tells you the truthâthat this is it.
In which an elusive assassin finds his match in a barista by day, trained killer by night. They become entangled, playing a game of cat and mouse with an MI6 officer as the clock works against them.
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