#52 with Reid pls
Prompt: “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.”
It was supposed to be simple, but then again, taking down a suspect is never easy. You should have suspected complications, expected something—everything to go wrong. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel optimistic, as if it was somehow etched into your DNA. This was a tough case to bear, let alone stomach, the unsub being a ritualistic serial killer, who enjoyed torturing his victims’ extensively before letting them succumb to death. You and your team had tracked him down to New York, one of the busiest cities in the country. After nearly a week and a half of searching, you also figured out his alias; however, in that time span he was able to murder at least two more innocent victims. Optimism was your only defense in this dark line of work, the only way you were able to stay above the dreadful things you saw on a daily basis. You saw the worst in humankind, every single day, trying to stop the seemingly incessant cycle of evil. And while your work seemed to be in vain, you knew that every single life you saved was a small victory in itself.
As soon as Derek had parked the car, you had already jumped out of the back; your gun was drawn and your vest was on. You to Hotch, as he gestured for you, Morgan, and Spencer to take the back, while JJ, Prentiss and him take the front. With Spencer by your side, and Derek following closely behind the two of you, the three of you approached the back door of the house. By the time you reached the backdoor, you could see the worry etched across Spencer’s face. You would think that after an abundance of situations like these, it would somehow get easier, but you knew that would never be the case. Too many times have you seen situations like these end up vastly different from the previous times. On one hand, no more innocent civilians could be harmed, the unsub surrendering without much of a fight. On the other hand, sometimes the only way the unsub believes he/she is getting out of the situation is by committing suicide or suicide; those situations never ended well. You could emphasize with Spencer’s worry, but you believed sometimes he worried a bit too much. Flashing him a small yet reassuring smile, you nodded at Derek and then proceeded to kick the back door open.
The house was dark and quiet, which you could tell was not a good sign. With your finger lingering on the trigger of your gun, you crept easily around the house—making sure to keep your eye out for the unsub. Faintly you could hear voices speaking in the livingroom, and after opening a few doors, you found yourself faced with the suspect. The scene was typical of a hostage situation, the woman’s hands were bound with rope, her mouth gagged, and she was on her knees in the center of the room. The unsub had the gun pointed towards her head, his eyes trained on the agents in front of him. So far he has not spotted the three of you; instead, only taking note of Hotch, JJ, and Prentiss who stood in front of him. This gave you the element of surprise, a necessity which could ultimately determine if everyone walks out alive. You could hear Hotch attempting to negotiate with unsub, Garrett Peterson, but you knew his attempts would be difficult. He was profiled to be sadistic, getting off on the idea of torturing and mutilating his victims; however, he was also highly intelligent, meaning he was far too smart to fall for just any old trick.
“If you just put down the gun, we can talk this out,” Hotch’s voice was soothing yet stern, part of the reasons why he was one of the best at hostage negotiation.
Garrett seemed to chuckle haughtily, his eyes stone cold. “Tell me, Aaron Hotchner, do you honestly believe I’m an imbecile? You’re the distraction, aren’t you, the agents behind me are backup just in case your plan goes south,” he paused, “I want them in front of me, now.”
You knew you shouldn’t comply with his orders, he was a sadistic and ritualistic serial killer, there was no way he was going disrupt his ritual in order to add another person to his name. But you wanted him alive, death was a blessing considering the atrocious acts he’s committed, and you wanted him to rot in maximum security prison for his crimes. Leading the charge, you kept your gun pointed at his chest, before slowly moving to stand in front of him–Reid on your right and Morgan on your left. Hotch, JJ, and Prentiss moved accordingly, making sure to keep their guns trained on the unsub.
“You, the one in the middle, what’s your name?”
There was this unsettling twinkle inside his eyes, which sent shivers down your spine. He was an attractive type of man, a trait he used to his advantage, luring his victims with his charm and good looks. If you were an ordinary civilian you would have probably fell victim to his antics, becoming another body in sadistic scheme. You wanted to rely on your gut instinct, which was telling you that was devolving, every single second wasted only further caused him to rationalize his choices–stick to his ritual or become a martyr. And you were willing to assume that he was leaning towards the latter.
“Her name is [Y/N],” Reid’s voice cut through the silence, his hands tightening on the handle of the gun. There was his protectiveness showing through, and as chivalrous as his actions were, they sometimes got on your nerves. This special treatment seemed to be reserved for only you, since he did not act this way around any other members of the team. His intentions were only to protect you; however, at times it got on your nerves. It was as if he thought you couldn’t protect yourself, which was far from the truth, and as much as you admired him and appreciated his protectiveness–you were deadly without anyone’s help.
As soon as those words left his mouth, the unsub’s steely gaze left your eyes and shifted toward your colleague. Your heart skipped a beat, worst case scenarios running through your head. But he soon looked away, his charming smile overcoming his unpleasant gaze.
“Take off your vest.”
His cold voice infiltrated your ears, as you attempted to keep your hands from trembling on your gun. There was no way to ignore his orders, as it was your job to put the civilian’s lives above your own–even if it meant sacrificing your life for theirs. This time he was the one who underestimated you, believing you were that foolish to blindly comply with his orders. Instead you wanted something in return for your cooperation.
“I will, only if you let go of Julia Harrison. Let me take her place.”
That is how you ended up on your knees, with a gun pointed at your chest. You were trained not to show fear, but internally you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the way you die, on your knees and by the hand of a psychopath. Glancing up, you were met with Reid’s dark eyes, those chocolate eyes that you had fallen in love with since you first saw them. In that moment, you had made up your mind, the determination in your eyes was easily perceived by Reid’s wide eyes. They pleaded with you, begged you not to, but all you could do was give him a sad and sincere smile. Before Garrett could register what was happening, you had turned around and kicked him in the groin and before any of your teammates or the officers could place him in handcuffs he shot you.
You couldn’t remember much after that, everything becoming a blur. There was commotion all around you, distant voices calling out to you; yet, you couldn’t see clearly. You could distantly remember a blob that you could only assume was Reid, but you weren’t sure. Then, it all went black.
The beeping of a machine is what you heard first, and the first thing you could remember was hearing distinct mumbling next to you. The next thing you can remember is the pain that radiated across your body. Memories of what happened came rushing back to you, and like before you were vaguely aware of a presence sitting beside you. Yet, you couldn’t open your eyes. Without opening your eyes you knew exactly who was sitting at your bedside, gripping your hand tightly, and talking to you.
“I know the doctor said that you were going to be okay, but there was significant trauma to your lung. You’ve been in a coma for a week now and I can’t help but think that you’re never going to wake up again. You’re my best friend, and I don’t even know what I would do without you. Who else would spend their entire weekend with me watching Doctor Who, or would spend hours listening to me ramble about quantum physics or the Theory of General Relativity? Every single moment that I spend with you, I feel a rush of endorphins and serotonin, these feelings, chemicals and emotions are things I haven’t felt in a long time. I didn’t think I could possibly feel this way again, not since Maeve, and yet, here I am. I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death, so please [Y/N], wake up. I can’t think of my life and what I would be like without you,” Spencer’s voice cracked slightly at the end, and you could feel something drip onto your hand. You wanted so badly just to touch him, kiss him, tell him that you were going to be just fine; but, you couldn’t move, nor could you see his beautiful chocolate eyes. Instead, all you could do was muster up as much strength as you had and softly squeeze his hand, praying that it was enough for him to hold onto hope.
You could only await the day when you could finally wake from this coma and kiss those pink lips that wanted to for so long.