⋆☾⋆ for your eyes only ⋆☾⋆
angst with a happy ending & hurt/comfort
wc: 8.4k (pls still read ik it's long but pls)
tw: stalking, kidnapping, sexual assault mentioned, violence, etc.
from this request
Having always desired love, she was active on dating websites and apps before her relationship with Spencer began. Work always came first, but she really wanted someone to support and for them to support her: a life partner. She was doubtful that these apps would help her find her person, but she had heard enough success stories to give it a try.
She went on a handful of mundane dates. They were so unremarkable that they started to blur together in her memories. There was only one man she agreed to see for a second date, and she wasn’t even sure why she did. He wasn’t particularly riveting; he talked about himself the entire time, and he didn’t ask her any questions about herself. He was a little too confident, bordering on arrogance. Confusingly, she left the date more perplexed about who he was than she felt when she was just messaging him. He talked a lot about his work, something in the tech industry, but was vague about the specific details. “Security reasons,” he said. It was an understandable excuse, one that she had used in reference to her own job before.
Something about him intrigued her, though. She hoped that he was just nervous for their first date and that he would be more charismatic and open during the second one. Trusting her gut, she figured there was a reason he was the only date that lingered in her mind.
Their second date went much like the first. He paid slightly more attention to the details she shared about her life, but he still didn’t make any inquiries. Every fact she shared was followed by a sharp nod that reminded her of a job interview. It was like he was filing it all away for later. She chose to interpret it as hopefulness for a future with her.
The drive home was uncomfortable. He blared bizarre music and kept a hand unsettlingly high on her thigh. Driving a sports car, he sped and drove aggressively, thinking it would impress her. By the time they pulled into her lot, her stomach felt like she had just gotten off a wooden roller coaster.
When she pushed the door open, he attempted to invite himself inside for ‘coffee’, but was clearly insinuating he was interested in other activities with her. She made an excuse that she was tired and had to be at work early in the morning, and he surprisingly took it well. “Good luck at your new job.” So he was listening to me, she thought. “I had a nice time tonight.”
Thanking him and agreeing out of courtesy, she waved goodbye and made her way inside. Feeling genuinely tired and eager for her first day with the BAU, she immediately got ready for sleep and collapsed onto her bed. She didn’t look out her window, or she would've seen that his car remained in the parking lot for an additional thirty minutes after dropping her off.
A year later, she and Spencer have been seeing each other in secret for six months. Not out of embarrassment or shame, but out of pragmatism. Keeping their relationship private felt like the responsible choice, one that would protect the BAU as a whole. Just in case things ended poorly, they wanted to prevent unnecessary tension and drama at the job they valued so much. The work had brought them together, after all, and they were both fiercely passionate and protective over it.
Her dating app era is long behind her; she barely even thinks about it anymore. When she does, she laughs at herself for thinking it was a reliable way to find her forever person. Yes, she knew some people who had found fulfilling relationships that way, but ultimately, they were the exception, not the rule, for online dating.
Evan, the one man she saw twice, continued to message her for three weeks following their last date. As nice as it was to be sought-after, as time passed, all she remembered was how uneasy she felt around him. Ultimately, she texted him that she wasn’t really in a place for anything right now, that she needed to focus on herself and her new job, and thanked him for the dates. She added that she was sure he’d find someone great who’d be a better fit for him, then she went on with her life.
She skimmed his response, “Understood. That’s admirable of you. Hope to see you around,” while she was standing on the front lawn of a random house in Wisconsin, investigating a crime scene.
Before she could think anything of the message, Spencer approached her from behind, “So, what do you think about the victim’s husband?” which startled her, making her heart lurch in her chest.
She turned to face him with a hand on her sternum, “Jeez, you scared me, Dr. Reid!”
His eyebrows furrowed in concern and atonement, “I’m sorry, Agent.” Eyes following her phone as she put it back in her pocket, wondering if something was going on. He brushed it off as her being distracted and immersed in whatever she was looking at, and led her into the house.
He didn’t particularly care about her thoughts regarding the victim’s husband. Wait, that sounds bad. He absolutely was interested in her thoughts and opinions, but he mostly just wanted to talk to her; he was mostly interested in her. She had already impressed him with her professional insights.
After that, Spencer noticed that she got progressively jumpier and warier. The job is hard on everyone, especially at first, so he figured she was having trouble leaving the work at work. When exhaustion was prevalent under her eyes, he assumed the cases were visiting her in the middle of the night. When they started going on dates, her head was on a swivel no matter where they went. He felt inadequate because he wasn’t bringing her the same peace she brought him.
One night, he was walking her home, and she pointed out a dark car that was driving past them. “I don’t know how common that make and model is, but I swear I see it everywhere these days.”
Sharing the statistical commonality of people near D.C. who drove Toyota Tundras, he hoped that would subdue her worries. She nodded and laughed it off, “You’re right, it’s probably just a coincidence.”
As her relationship with Spencer progressed, her paranoia only increased. She told herself she was just anxious about keeping their romance private.
When she would come home after work and see her book on the coffee table instead of on her nightstand, where she could’ve sworn she left it, she chalks it up to being tired and misremembering. Same for when she went to open her blinds one morning and saw the slats were tilted in the opposite direction that’s recommended for privacy, she must’ve not paid close enough attention the night before.
When her phone started playing a weird song on its own, she thought about how right Spencer is about technology being unreliable. Same for when a text from Spencer got marked as read without her ever opening it.
She asks Spencer if he went by her apartment when she smells a distinct masculine cologne. He tells her no and asks her why, but she’s afraid of sounding crazy, so she brushes him off.
She asks him if he took a picture on her phone –a dark, blurry thing where nothing can be deciphered– and he tells her no. They both attribute it to being an accidental photo she must have taken.
He starts getting scared when she tells him she’s been so forgetful lately, his mind barraged with memories of his mother’s bad days. Then, he feels guilty for projecting Diana’s illness onto her. To make up for it, he reassures her that she’s still adjusting to the BAU and gently suggests that she prioritize her sleep.
This is when she starts to sleep over at Spencer’s apartment more consistently. Instead of driving her home in the earliest hours of the morning, he encourages her to just spend the night. That way, she can get more hours of rest. They both notice her decreased stress levels on the days following a sleepover.
At first, she would borrow something of his to sleep in and would stop by her apartment before work to change, not wanting to draw attention to herself by wearing the same clothes two days in a row. Soon, Spencer cleared a drawer and a section of his closet for her. It was only practical, he said. So she could sleep an extra thirty minutes in the mornings.
Her most frequented coffee shop becomes the one around the corner from his apartment. She’s texting him, see you at home <3 messages. The takeout apps on her phone have all defaulted to his address instead of hers.
One morning, she and Spencer walk out of his building, gloved hands intertwined. They’re laughing and leaning into each other's bodies, the cold air causing their breath to tangle. Spencer opens her car door for her and leans down to give her a tender kiss before she climbs in. She immediately turns the key in the ignition to get the heat blasting in the car.
“See you soon,” he tells her, before softly shutting her door for her. After drawing a little heart on the frosted glass window, he adorably waves, then turns to head to his own car.
She hears the little beep beep of his horn as he drives past her, and she honks hers back, smiling at his unintentional charm. This has become their morning routine; they offset their arrival and departures from work to avoid attracting attention.
Fiddling with her radio and heat controls, she doesn’t notice a dark truck pull in right behind her, perpendicular to her car, blocking her in. As she sets her hand on the gearshift to reverse, she glances up to her rearview mirror and spots the vehicle.
“Are you kidding me…” She mutters, annoyed that someone would park their car in the middle of the parking lot like this. Maybe they just pulled over to look up directions real quick? she thinks.
As the minutes tick by, she gets more and more worried about being late for work, so she pops open her door to step out and see what’s going on. As she stands and turns to approach the vehicle, she sees a man standing by her back tire; the sight of him makes her jump – she didn’t even see him step out of his snow-covered truck.
She recognizes him from somewhere, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. The hood of his jacket is falling slightly over his eyes, and his mouth is pressed into a firm, straight line.
“Wait, Evan? Is that you?” She feels slightly relieved that she won’t have to converse with a total stranger.
He doesn’t respond, but he takes a few steps toward her.
“Um, you’re kind of blocking me in? And I have to be at work in twenty minutes.”
Still, no response.
As he steps closer and closer to her, she gets more and more frantic. She tries to step backward, but her back collides with her open door, and he’s too close for her to sidestep him. Her breathing and heart rate increase with each passing second.
Just as she looks down and sees a rag in his gloved hand, he’s bringing it up to her face and wrapping his other arm around her body. The last thing she remembers is the sound of her own muffled screaming and her flailing legs attempting to kick him away.
Spencer walks through the glass doors of the BAU with a faint smile on his face, something that has become a norm for him as she’s been spending more and more nights at his apartment. He wants to tell her that he loves her soon, has wanted to for a while, but he’s unsure about when to do it. It should be special and romantic, that’s what she deserves.
He follows his exact routine as he settles into his desk to work. Follows the worn carpet path to his corner of the bullpen, drapes his satchel and coat over the back of his chair, turns on the computer monitor, then makes his way to the break room for coffee. After pouring two cups, one for him and one for her, he sets hers on her desk and drops into his seat. Any second now, she’ll step into the office.
His head perks up at each ding of the elevator and at each whoosh of the doors opening, a crease deepening between his eyebrows when none of them precede her arrival. She should be here by now. Maybe she got stuck in traffic? Or got unlucky with red lights?
“Where’s your girl?” Derek cheekily asks.
Spencer shrugs and tilts his head downward to hide the flush on his cheeks caused by his teasing. Everyone knows that they have a strong friendship, and Derek likes to make light of Spencer’s crush on her.
“She’s not my– She must be running late.”
Derek hums and shrugs in response before heading off to badger Penelope.
Spencer opens a manila folder and attempts to immerse himself in it, but as the minutes tick by, he grows increasingly confused. He sends her a text: Are you okay? and curses himself for not upgrading his phone to one that shows whether the message was delivered.
Ten minutes pass before he tries to call her. It goes straight to voicemail.
That sends a jolt to his heart. That’s never happened before. Even if she’s busy, she’ll pick up and quickly tell him so. He can’t even enjoy the sound of her voice saying I can’t come to the phone right now…
He mentally replays the memory of walking her to her car less than an hour ago. It didn’t sound like anything was wrong with it when she cranked the engine. Soft snowflakes descended around them, getting caught in her hair and eyelashes. A few people were sitting in their snow-covered parked vehicles, waiting for them to heat up: a couple of sedans, an SUV, a truck. He thinks about the heart he drew on her window – his indirect way of telling her he loves her.
Shaking his head at himself, he focuses his gaze on his computer screen. She’ll be here any minute.
Ten more minutes pass.
“She still not here?” Derek comes back to Spencer’s desk.
He shakes his head, no.
Derek frowns. “That’s not like her.”
“No, it’s not.” Spencer agrees, before picking up his phone again to call her … again.
Straight to voicemail. I can’t come to the … is as far as he listens to before he hangs up.
“No answer?” Derek inquires.
Spencer shook his head again.
“Must be some really bad traffic on 95, maybe a pile-up?”
Spencer sends him an incredulous look, “Don’t say that. I don’t want to think about her in a pile-up on the Interstate.”
“I didn’t mean–”
“I know you didn’t, but still.”
“Right, sorry, man…” Derek walks away again, this time to his desk.
Rubbing at his temples, Spencer glances over at the mug of coffee he left on her desk thirty minutes ago. There’s no more steam curling out the top of it.
He sees Hotch and JJ pass by, and hears the former query, “...And how late is she?”
Spencer picks up his phone again, presses the number 3 for speed dial, I can’t come–
He hangs up and dials again, I can’t–
One more time, he thinks. I ca–
Slamming his flip-phone shut, he bolts up from his chair, beelining for Penelope’s office. He trips twice and completely ignores Emily’s “Whoa, where’s the fire?”
He pushes Penelope’s door open without knocking, startling her and causing her to choke on her Chobani.
“Knocking is not only appreciated, but enc–”
“You need to track her phone.” He spits out.
“What? Who? Why?” She stammers. Asking who was unnecessary, she just feels frazzled by Spencer’s intensity.
“Now!” He demanded, while gesturing toward the computer.
Penelope jolts at his raised voice; he’s never spoken to her that way before. Spinning in her chair, she types as fast as she can with Spencer looming over her shoulder.
“Okay, her last ping was…” She trails off.
“Was?” He insists.
“By your apartment. 6:37 am.” She slowly looks up at him.
Spencer’s heart drops into his stomach. “That was almost an hour and a half ago.”
“Yes.” She nods.
“Well, find something more recent!” He squeaks.
“Spencer, you know that I can’t. I can hack into any nearby cameras, but it’ll take me a second.”
He turns to head back through the door, “I’m going to find her,” then runs back to his desk. Grabbing his bag and hastily tossing it over his shoulder, he makes it halfway to the glass doors before Hotch steps in front of him.
“Reid, where are you going?”
With eyes wide and full of terror, “I need to find her– Something’s wrong– I’ll call once I get there.” He shoulders past his boss and sprints to the stairwell. Waiting for the elevator would be a waste of time.
When he gets to his car, his heart is pounding, his eyes are glistening, and his hands tremble as he tries to shove his keys in the ignition.
“Reid!” Derek shouts, jogging up to his car. “You can’t drive like this, let me take you.”
Spencer reluctantly agrees and stumbles out of the car.
The two men scurry to Derek’s car and ride together in silence. Spencer’s leg is bouncing on its own accord, and he tries to call her two more times. He knows his attempts are in vain since her phone has been off for over an hour, but he can’t stop himself from trying. It’s a compulsion.
Finally, Derek breaks the silence, “So… what was she doing at your place at six am?”
Spencer blurts, “She slept over.”
“Hm,” Derek hums inquisitively, “Does she do that often?”
“Sometimes… Yes.” Spencer falters.
Derek hesitates, sensing that there’s more going on here, but not knowing how to approach it with Spencer so on edge. “We all want her to be okay, you know? She’s a friend to all of us.”
“Mhm,” Spencer half-heartedly agrees, perking up in his seat as his apartment building comes into view.
Her car is still parked in the lot. Derek asks, “Is that her–”
“Yes.” Spencer feels like he might throw up.
As Derek pulls into a space a few spots over, Spencer unlocks his door and has his feet on the pavement before they’ve come to a complete stop.
Derek calls after him, “Jesus– Reid!” But Spencer is already circling her car, taking in the scene like the profiler he is, relying entirely on instinct. A choked sob falls out of his mouth when he sees her phone – completely smashed – on the ground next to her door. He’s clenching his hands by his sides to stop himself from picking it up, knowing that this is a crime scene that can’t be tampered with. He wants to pick it up, to try to turn it on, even though it’s futile.
The driver-side door is wide open, her keys are still in the ignition, and the radio is softly playing top hits. There are overlapping footprints in the slush adjacent to her car. Spencer recognizes some of them as his own.
He lowers himself to the curb and drops his head in his hands. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t see–
“Spencer! Look at me!” Derek is crouching in front of him and grips his forearm. Spencer lifts his head, keeping his fingers over his mouth. Germs are the absolute last thing on his mind at the moment.
“We need you to pull yourself together. She needs you to pull yourself together.” He asserts.
Spencer nods, but the words sound muffled underneath his pounding heartbeat and scattered breathing.
“Breathe, man, in and out.” Derek tries to guide him, but his breaths are choppy and uneven. It feels like he can’t get air to the bottom of his lungs.
“Good, keep trying. Hotch is on his way, okay?”
Spencer’s pretty sure he nods again, but he’s not positive. When Hotch arrives, he’s going to have to tell his boss that two of his agents have been seeing each other for half the year. This was never something he was supposed to do alone; they had planned on informing the team together. He hopes that she’ll understand the circumstances and won’t feel betrayed by him telling everyone without her. That is, if she’s still–
No, don’t think like that.
As Hotch’s dark SUV pulls into the parking lot, Spencer rises from the curb, brushing dirt and gravel off his slacks with trembling hands. Derek remains by his side, close, but not too close to crowd him.
Hotch barely looks at Spencer as he steps out of the vehicle. JJ and Emily clamber out of the backseat and follow his trail. Eyes flicking over the scene with practiced precision, his expression remains flat as he dials Penelope.
“What’s the progress on that security footage?”
Spencer can just barely hear the tinny sound of her voice, but he can’t make out any of the words she’s saying.
“We need to get in those cameras, Garcia.” He orders sternly. Spencer slowly approaches, needing to be informed. Derek was right; he needs to be here for her. Hotch hesitates before putting the call on speaker.
“--so somehow they’re all offline. Like every single one on that side of the building. I’m working on the closest traffic camera, now.”
“What do you mean they’re offline?” Spencer inquired.
“The last available footage I can grab is from yesterday at four pm. Someone must have disabled the feed.”
Spencer goes still. “So, this was planned.”
“Seems like it, this definitely wasn’t a crime of opportunity – it was organized,” Emily states.
“She was targeted,” JJ whispers.
Spencer bolts to a line of bushes that border the building, keels over them, and dry heaves. He feels dizzy, like a tornado is tearing through his brain. His meticulous organizational system has been ripped to shreds. The file cabinets have been turned over and emptied, papers flying everywhere. Fragments dart in front of his eyes, an amalgamation of profiling facts and memories with her.
“Spencer?” Emily approaches him from behind, placing a hand on his back.
He appreciates the sentiment of her touch, he really does, but it acts as an overcurrent to his buzzing veins. Shaking her off of him, he storms back over to Hotch.
“What did she find?” He demands, crossing his arms over his chest, digging his nails into his bicep.
Penelope’s voice crackles through the phone, “I’m pulling the footage from the traffic camera a mile east, but the quality is really low, and the snow isn’t helping. The lens is partially obstructed, and each car is coated. As much as I love things that sparkle, this–”
“Penelope,” Spencer warns her.
“Right, yes, I’m sorry… I’m parsing through the footage with a fine-tooth comb, I promise. It doesn’t help that it’s rush hour, there are hundreds of cars passing through between five am and seven am, and I don’t really know what I’m looking for… ” Penelope fretted.
“Spencer, would anyone want to do this to her?” JJ gently asks.
“No!” He attested, “She’s the best person I know. Nobody would ever want to hurt her.” His voice shrinks as he continued.
“Has she mentioned anything strange occurring lately? Anything at all?” Emily openly implores the team.
Spencer is suddenly overrun with memories of his girlfriend’s anxiety over the last year. The seemingly small moments that they both pushed aside and blamed on the stress of her accommodating life in the BAU. Her strange questions, her exhaustion, her skittish behavior, all flash before his eyes in a supercut. He thought that period of her life was over – she had become progressively calm and relaxed with each night she spent in his bed.
His heart aches as he replays the memory of that morning. The way her laugh rang in his ears, the weight of her body against his, the brush of her lips. I should have kissed her longer, deeper, better. I should have told her that I love her when it first crossed my mind. I shouldn’t have let her laugh off and avoid the things that were bothering her. I should have been a better boyfriend.
With furrowed brows, he recounts her moments of ostensible paranoia. Looking backwards, he recounts what he knows. Her forgetfulness – joking that she was so scatterbrained lately. The things she thought he was doing, like taking random photos on her phone and visiting her apartment when she wasn’t there. Complaining about items of hers going missing – books, clothes, a journal. “I keep getting these emails about someone trying to log into my social media accounts.” They both thought her thermostat was broken with the way it seemed to change temperature on its own.
The truck.
“A Toyota Tundra. Dark. Gray or Black.” Spencer lamented with a face as pale as a ghost.
“Okay, that definitely narrows it down…” Penelope’s voice fades away as he re-enters his mind.
He tries to pinpoint when her jumpiness began, and finds himself on the grass lawn in Wisconsin. It pains him to think about how he knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to be intrusive by asking. They hadn’t even known each other for a month at that point; how was he supposed to inquire about what was on her phone?
“...and then it turns on Old Triangle, but there’s a half-mile section on that road without any cameras, so that’s where I lose it.” Penelope deplores.
Spencer yanks at his hair, “We’re losing time, Garcia, you need to find it!”
“I know! I know! I’m sorry!” She fretted, high-pitched and full of stress.
“Reid, take a walk.” Hotch orders.
“What? No!”
“Unless you have any more information to detail, take a lap and calm down.” His boss looks at him expectantly, like he’s aware of more than he’s letting on.
Spencer swallows –hard– and glances around at his team. They’re all looking at him anticipatorily.
The longer his silence stretches, and his feet remain glued to the pavement, the team begin meeting each other’s eyes with confusion.
“Reid?” Derek probes.
He deeply sighs and closes his eyes, “Penelope?”
His heart is hammering against his ribcage.
“Yes?” Her voice is timid and small.
“Can you find her text records?”
“I– I mean, of course I can, it does feel a little wrong and invasive–”
“February 7th of last year, I think she was messaging someone who made her uncomfortable.” His team gives him stunned looks at how long ago that date was.
“O– Okay, on it. It’ll take me a moment to parse through almost a year of messages–” They can hear her frantic typing through the speakerphone.
“Just do it – quickly,” Spencer feels guilty for how abrasive he’s being to her, so he adds on a, “Please.”
This is worse than just telling his friends what’s been going on between him and the newest agent. Penelope is scrolling through all of his girlfriend’s personal messages, including the ones between him and her. Texts littered with heart emojis. Texts that they sent to each other in the middle of the workday. Suggestive messages that nobody else should ever be privy to.
He can’t just stand there and wait for Penelope to find the needed information, so he announces, “I’m going to take that walk now. Call me when she finds out who it was,” without making any eye contact.
Turning on his heel, he starts trudging across the parking lot. His weary steps are not due to the thin layer of snow covering the asphalt, but to the deep remorse he’s carrying on his shoulders. She knew something was wrong.
JJ watches his back as he walks, hands deep in his pockets. “Spencer, wait!”
He halts, but doesn’t turn around. As she meets his side, he begins plodding again.
“Hey, that’s really good that you remembered her behavior that day, I mean, of course you did, but it’ll definitely help us find her.”
“I hope so.” He mutters.
“We barely knew her then, so I definitely didn’t notice anything was wrong.”
Spencer doesn’t reply.
“There was a moment there where I was worried about her, though. She seemed a little stressed, but I figured she was still acclimating to the job.”
“I did too.” He says, irritatedly.
He can feel her concerned gaze on the side of his face. “You don’t think someone’s been watching her that whole time, do you? Surely one of us would’ve noticed–”
“Is this supposed to be helpful, JJ? Because it’s not.” He stops walking and turns to face her. “I’ve spent the last two hours realizing that the woman I love was being stalked, and I explained away every single warning sign. So unless you have something productive to say about the case, please, just leave me alone.”
Her jaw falls open at his admission, and she flinches at his acerbic tone. “Spencer, I–”
She’s interrupted by Derek jogging towards them, “We have an address, let’s go!”
1.5 hours ago
Her eyes flutter open, and she immediately emits a muffled, pained groan. Head pounding, lips and throat adjacent to sandpaper, she can’t move her arms or legs. There’s duct tape stuck to her mouth, holding it closed. With a stiff neck, she looks around the room. Dark gray brick walls. A singular light bulb sways above her head. On one side of her, the wall is lined with utility shelves, and the other contains a wooden staircase.
As her tired eyes continue darting around the room, they eventually land on her own body. She’s been changed into a dress, one that used to reside in her closet. The same one she wore on her first date with Evan. She can feel that she’s barefoot; her ankles are secured to the chair legs with more tape. Her arms are bound behind the chair, also with tape around her wrists.
As she takes in the inventory of her surroundings, her pulse rises higher and higher. Trying to break out of the constraints is futile – the tape is too strong, and she’s too weak. She tries to scream, but it’s stifled by the seal on her mouth.
For a moment, the only sounds in her ears are her own shaken breathing, her pounding heartbeat, and the squeak of the light swinging.
Then, she hears a creak above her. The floorboards shift underneath someone’s weight. His weight. She writhes around in her chair and yanks on the restraints, but her attempts are futile. Her breathing becomes more and more erratic as he gets closer and closer to the basement door.
The doorknob at the top of the stairs turns; she can barely hear it, then the door swings open. Light from the house upstairs floods through the door, obstructed by Evan’s body standing in the doorway. Whimpering as he descends the stairs, she continues her attempts to separate her taped extremities.
Holding a glass of water, he approaches her calmly, “Oh, good, you’re awake.”
He crouches in front of her as she jerks and thrashes in the chair, scraping the legs on the floor.
“Hey, don’t do that.” He scolds her softly. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
She looks at him incredulously and attempts to yell at him through the tape, but it’s muffled and useless.
He winces as if he’s seeing the bindings for the first time, “I didn’t want to have to use the tape, I’m sorry… You were just so defiant in the parking lot, I had to!”
His gaze falls to the rapid rising and falling of her chest, exposed by the low-cut dress he’s put her in. Tears well in her eyes as he licks his lips while staring.
Returning his ogling to her face, “Don’t cry…” he reaches to swipe a tear from her cheek. As she turns her face to avoid his touch, he grips her jaw, “Now, don’t be like that. You’re being ungrateful. I saved you.”
Looking at him bewilderedly, she attempts to scream through the tape again while shaking her head in his hold.
Tsking at her, “Once you calm down, you’ll see that this is better for you. That man –Doctor Reid– wasn’t right for you.”
“I was going to give you this water, but you clearly aren’t ready for me to remove the tape.” He rises from his crouched position. “I’ll be back.”
After setting the glass of water on the floor next to her feet, he turns and begins ascending the stairs. He turns around to look at her as he reaches the top, “Oh, and you could use some rest. That’s what the Doctor recommended, right?”
He flicks off the light and laughs at her protesting screams, before slamming the door.
More tears descend her face as she attempts to make out shapes in the complete darkness. Blinking repeatedly, she hopes it’ll help her eyes adjust to the lack of light, but it’s a pointless effort.
The pain from the tape stretching her skin seems to be intensified in the dark. She’s hyperaware of the cold concrete under her feet and the stiff metal of the chair under her body. The dress is too tight, and it scratches her skin with every inhale.
Her eyes keep attempting to find shapes in the dark. In the instinctive way that’s innately learned in infancy, impossible to suppress. She can’t stop it, and it gets worse each time she blinks. It’s so dark, she questions if the color she’s blanketed in is actually black.
Squeezing her eyes shut exacerbates the confusion. She squeezes them until she sees stars, then opens them, hoping to find a change in the room. In return, she’s met with static.
Sound becomes her only proof that she’s still where he left her. Every so often, the house pops as it settles. Vaguely, she can make out the scuffle of Evan’s feet through the floor above her.
Her heartbeat thuds in her eardrum, and her choppy breaths create a cacophony of terror.
She tries to shift her chair to find the glass of water, not that she has any way to pick it up, but as a reference point for her orientation. More tears and pained groans escape her as she attempts to move. Any adrenaline that was coursing through her when she first woke up has completely worn off and left her bare and exposed. Her foot knocks the glass over, shattering it and sending shards all over the floor. With no way of knowing where the pieces are, the ball of her foot lands on a fragment.
In an attempt to soothe her ragged throat, she tries to swallow, but her mouth is too dry to do so. Striving to generate spit is useless; she’s too dehydrated, and it only strains the tape on her mouth.
There’s no way of knowing how much time has passed. It could’ve been minutes or hours since he encompassed her in darkness.
Thinking about Spencer is bittersweet. She tries to calm herself by recalling their shared memories, but so many of them have been tainted by the knowledge that Evan was watching them the entire time. She misses him. She wants to go home – the shared home they’ve made in his apartment. She hopes he’s not too scared by her disappearance.
In place of recounting memories, she imagines a new one. One where they’d leave work, waving goodnight to their team, with his hand on the small of her back. He’d wrap an arm around her shoulders as they descended in the elevator, kissing her cheek as he pressed the ground floor button. Pulling her into his side, where she fits like a puzzle piece, he asks her what she wants for dinner. She does what she always does, shrugs, and smiles up at him with a “I don’t know…” that neither of them believes.
They climb into the same vehicle; he opens her door for her and kisses her sweetly as she settles in, before jogging around to the driver’s seat. Immediately after starting the engine, he intertwines his fingers with hers over her thigh. He even buckles himself in with one hand, so he doesn’t have to let her go.
With a CD playing that alternates between her favorite songs and his, he gazes over at her with that soft look in his eyes, knowingly saying, “Chinese?” She giggles and nods, pulling his arm even closer to her body and wrapping her other hand around it. She watches him as he reverses out of the parking space and takes in how the sun's setting rays highlight his hair with golden streaks. As he squeezes her hand and absentmindedly runs his thumb over her knuckles, she feels happy, safe, warm–
Her fantasy is interrupted by the creak of the basement door and the harsh cascade of light bleeding down the stairs. It’s so jarring that she has to close her eyes at the brightness. It burns.
She freezes as Evan descends the stairs this time. In fear of being left in the darkness again, she remains as still as possible.
He smiles at the change, “There she is.”
She glances down at his hand and sees a fresh cup of water. Looking around the room, she wonders how he knew that she needed a new one. She doesn’t see any cameras.
Pulling up a chair across from her, he settles into it, “I knew that would help you calm down. I know you so well.”
She remains immobile.
He reaches toward her face, and her slight flinch is involuntary. “You’ll stay quiet if I take this off, won’t you?”
She eagerly nods.
As he slowly peels the tape off, she whines in pain. Each atom within her skin stings sharply as it separates from the adhesive. It’s excruciating.
The first breath of air she takes in through her mouth feels like inhaling fire.
He lifts the glass to her lips, “Slowly, sweetheart.”
She chokes on the lukewarm water at the term of endearment that only Spencer has ever called her. It doesn’t belong here: in this room or coming out of his mouth. The water dribbles down her mouth, and his grubby fingers wipe it away.
“You’re where you belong now – with me.”
She slowly nods in feigned agreement.
His tone is sickly sweet, “I’ll take care of you properly,” before quickly turning sour, “Unlike that pathetic excuse for a man you’ve been calling a boyfriend.”
With tensed shoulders, “He’s a good man, Evan.”
He raises his voice, “He’ll never be as good as me!” and harshly places the cup of water on the floor next to him. “I have a better-paying job with more stability and safety! That’s what you want for your future children, right? A man who you can depend on? A man who isn’t ashamed of your relationship?”
“He’s not— We’re not ashamed.” She tries to maintain a soft and even tone with him.
He doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s said anything, “I know everything about you! I know the first song you play when you get in the car. I know that you set five alarms each morning, but you’re always up by the third one. I know that you didn’t like those granola bars you bought last month…”
Her eyebrows crease in confusion. Obviously, he’s been watching her, but how does he know all of this?
“What? They were in your trash.” He says flatly with a wave of his hand.
“I know that when you buy cookie dough, you tell yourself you’ll bake it, just to end up eating the entire package raw. I know that you sleep better with your thermostat 2 degrees lower than what you set it to. I know that you talk to yourself when you’re looking for something. That one floorboard near your bedroom creaks. You pace when you’re on the phone. You were worried about dating that man because he’s so kind, you don’t know how to handle it.”
Her eyes widen more and more with each fact he presents. A chill crawls up her spine. She can barely feel her fingers and toes, and it’s not due to the tape bindings.
He mistakes her horror for amazement and impressiveness. “See! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, and show you. I played our song on your phone, I took that picture, I fixed your thermostat every night.”
Her stomach churns, and bile rises in her throat.
“You kept ignoring me. I was just trying to show you how much I care.”
Feeling completely separate from her body, she hears the monotone sound of her own voice muttering, “I’m sorry.” With eyes glazed, she can’t make them focus. The basement is blurry and muted.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I made mistakes too… Remember that day in August? When you cried in your car for twenty minutes before going inside your apartment? I’m sorry that I didn’t come and comfort you.” He smiles sadly.
“It’s okay.” She whispers.
“I thought you knew I was helping you, though. Didn’t you see my truck all over town?”
“I- I thought you drove a Mustang?” She says dumbly.
“I got us a more practical vehicle so we could start our family.” He coos, before his expression twists, “That clunker the Doctor drives isn’t suitable for children, you know that.”
Nausea swirls in her stomach. This man carries no shame or embarrassment for what he’s done. He genuinely thinks that he’s saving her from a life she didn’t want. That Spencer is the wrong man for her and that he’s the only right option. He thinks that he is an option, even after everything he’s done.
“Speaking of, we’ve wasted so much time, sweetheart. You only have two more days left of this month’s ovulation.”
Her chest heaves, and her eyes widen at his implication. Shaking her head, she blurts, “No!”
Recoiling at her denial, “No?” His eyes darken, and he rises from his chair to hover over her, fists clenching at his sides.
Terrified of being left in the dark again, or worse, she pleads, “Shouldn’t we wait for that?”
“Wait for what?” He questions through clenched teeth.
She glances around frantically, trying to think of anything that could appease him. He wants commitment, permanence, “Um… until we’re married?”
His lips rise into a smile, and his shoulders relax. Shaking his head, he laughs, “That Doctor was right about one thing, you do have insightful ideas.”
Remaining stoic, she tries not to react to the mentions of Spencer. Evan doesn’t deserve to talk about him.
Suddenly, a thud penetrates through the ceiling. She and Evan perk their heads upward to the source of the noise.
“What was that?” She asks quietly.
He doesn’t respond.
Rumbles span throughout the floor above them – footsteps. Pulse leaping, she turns her gaze to his expression.
With a clenched jaw, he turns to her and spits out, “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” She insists while shaking her head profusely.
As the treading gets closer and closer to the basement door, he slowly approaches the bottom of the stairs.
The door bursts open, and Evan flinches at the intrusion.
A relieved smile graces her face at the sound of Derek’s voice, “FBI!”
Derek descends the stairs, gun-drawn, and Evan walks backward toward the wall. Like two planets in a solar system, they maintain a consistent gap between them.
“Evan Nelson! Don’t move!”
The rest of the team follows behind Derek, with Spencer descending the stairs last. They all have their guns pointed at Evan. Tears descend her cheeks, and her bottom lip trembles at the sight of her disheveled boyfriend. His clothes are uncharacteristically wrinkled, and his hair is a ruffled mess. She can tell he’s been running his fingers through it and pulling on it, and she hates when he hurts himself like that.
Evan’s about to be backed into the corner when he shifts his path and heads for her chair. Wrapping an arm around her chest, he yanks a knife from his pocket and holds it to her throat.
Heart rate spiking, she keeps her eyes on Spencer as he slowly climbs down the stairs. His shoulders sag, and he sees the shape of her name leave his lips.
For the first time that day, Evan’s confident tone falters into one full of fear, “Back up! Don’t come any closer!”
Derek’s voice remains a practiced calm, “We can’t do that, Evan. You need to put the knife down and let her go,” but she can hear a smidge of unease.
Evan only tightens his grip on her, and she can feel small droplets of blood trickle down her neck. She can’t look away from Spencer, no matter how painful it is to watch his reaction to the scene in front of him. Tears descend her and sting the wound he’s creating.
“If I can’t have her, no one can!”
Hotch speaks evenly, “Evan, you never had her. You only went on two dates with her.”
“She’s mine! She’s been mine for a year! I’ve had her longer than that little Doctor!” His voice echoes in the basement as his volume increases.
Spencer takes one step forward. Hotch warns him, “Reid, don’t.”
His eyes never leave her face as he speaks. He doesn’t look at Evan or the knife or anything other than her glistening, beautiful eyes. “Evan,” he forces his voice to remain even and controlled, “You don’t want to do this.”
Evan emits a sharp, choked laugh, “You don’t know what we want.”
Emily speaks up, “Evan, it’s over. Drop the knife and step away from her.”
“It’s not over until I say it’s over!” He increases the pressure of the blade, and a whimper escapes her.
He leans down next to her ear, “Tell them that you want to be with me,” his chapped lips scrape her earlobe, making her shiver, “Then, maybe, I’ll put the knife down.”
She closes her eyes and whispers, “Okay.”
“Look at them while you say it.”
Shifting her eyes to Emily, she can’t look at Spencer while she says it, “I want to be with Evan.” Her breath hitches and her voice trembles.
“Good. Now tell him that you don’t love him.” He grips her jaw to force her to look at Spencer. “Tell him that I love you more than he ever could.”
She sobs brokenly and whispers, “Please, no.”
His grip on her body tightens, “Do it!”
She takes a few deep breaths and lands her eyes on each member of her team, before they land on Spencer. They all know she has to say it if she wants to live, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Spencer’s heart breaks as her eyes fill with grief and sorrow. “I… I don’t love you.”
“And?” Evan prompts.
Her cheeks flood with even more tears, “Evan loves me more…” she hiccups, “...than you ever could.”
A singular teardrop falls from Spencer’s eye before he quickly brushes it away and re-orients his gun at Evan.
With a smirk, Evan slowly loosens his hold on her, dropping the knife to the floor, and raises his arms in surrender. Derek is on the man in a flash, twisting his arms behind his back and shoving him into the brick wall.
She doesn’t feel real. She feels like a ghost as everything moves in slow motion around her. Faintly, she knows that Derek is yelling at Evan. In her periphery, he and Hotch escort him up the staircase. Emily and JJ cut her free of the duct tape, and one of them presses a cloth against her injured neck. Distantly, she knows that it hurts, but there’s a disconnect between her brain and her nerves. The women whisper kind things in her ear as they tend to her.
Spencer is frozen on the last step. The love of his life is bloody and bruised. His eyes flicker from her raw ankles to her wrists, to her neck, and to her tear-stained face. As the seconds pass, he feels foolish and deficient as he watches the scene.
A raspy, broken, “Spence?” breaks him out of his stupor. He’s drawn to her side like a bee to honey.
His tears flow freely now, “I’m here, baby.” Afraid of hurting her, he doesn’t know if he can touch her. His hands hesitantly hover over her body. Emily remains on one side, maintaining pressure on her neck, and JJ pushes away the broken glass pieces around her feet with her boot. Is there any room for him? Will his presence just crowd and overwhelm her?
She makes the decision for him by collapsing against his body with a choked sob.
“I’m so sorry– I didn’t want to say it– I’m so so sorry.”
“I know.” He consoles, immediately. Raising one hand to the back of her head and the other gently around her shoulders, he reassures her, “I know, sweetheart, it’s okay, I know.”
She was afraid of how it would make her feel to hear the term coming out of his lips after Evan tried to ruin it for her, but there was no need. Hearing it fills her with warmth and comfort. The world feels right again with Spencer by her side.
Eventually, Emily and JJ give them some privacy. Emily encourages her to keep the cloth on her neck before they ascend the staircase.
Clutching his shirt in her hands stings her sore wrists, but she doesn’t care. She needs him.
He whispers in her ear, “I’m here, you’re okay now, I’m right here.”
They bawl in each other’s arms until medical personnel descend the staircase. As they arrive, she pulls back from his body and sees droplets of her smeared blood on the stomach of his shirt.
She mutters, “I got you dirty, I’m sorry,” as she looks up at him.
He pulls her closer to him, “I’m not worried about that, don’t be sorry.”
Before the paramedics load her onto a stretcher, Spencer tugs off his cardigan to drape it over her exposed shoulders. As she pulls it against her body, he leans down and presses his lips to her forehead.
Grabbing his hand, she pleads, “Please don’t go.”
He soothingly runs his thumb against her, “I’m not going anywhere.”
if u guys liked this i have some ideas for a part two/epilogue/aftermath story that discusses her healing journey and how spencer tries to help her through it, lmk if u would like to read that :)
