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almostwisegalaxy · 16 days ago

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Silent Hostility

Part 2

Part 3

Part4

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Reader has a shy character in this story

Age gaps : Spencer 37- 38 Reader : twenties

Post prison Reid. Season 13. But let's imagine that the team is Always the same as in the seasons marked, with : Derek Morgan, Aaron hotcher...

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The atmosphere in the BAU offices was the same as usual: agents moving back and forth, stacks of files piling up on desks, and the constant background noise of professional conversations. Spencer Reid usually kept his head down, absorbed in a scientific article or a pile of reports.

But today, something—someone—disrupted the ordinary flow of his day.

Y/N had just arrived.

A new recruit specializing in behavioral criminology. Young, far too young to be here in the eyes of some. And yet, her upright posture and sharp gaze spoke of a confidence far different from the polite smile she wore.

Spencer watched from the corner of his eye as she greeted Hotch and Prentiss with impeccable professionalism. She was elegant, composed, and he immediately noticed how some colleagues looked at her—with that mix of doubt and misplaced interest.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t look away for an entirely different reason.

Something was off.

Not with her directly, no. But in the way she carried herself, a subtlety almost imperceptible to an untrained eye. Her smile was perfectly controlled, her gestures measured, but there was tension in her fingers when she shook hands, a microsecond of hesitation before making eye contact.

A duality that captivated him.

He didn’t realize it at first, but he had stood up. He approached.

— Y/N, right?

She turned to him, and the moment their eyes met, Spencer felt a cold shiver creep into the air.

— Doctor Spencer Reid, he introduced himself, suddenly uncomfortable without knowing why.

She stared at him for a moment, her smile fading ever so slightly, as if something about him had just struck her straight in the heart. Then, she regained her composure and nodded.

— Nice to meet you, Doctor Reid.

A neutral response. Too neutral.

He felt a strange discomfort without being able to pinpoint its source. It was as if, in just a few seconds, she had erased him from her mind, like an annoying background noise.

— If you ever need help with—

— I can handle myself just fine, thanks.

The tone wasn’t overtly aggressive, but there was a sharp firmness, an invisible wall she had just put up between them.

Spencer froze. He didn’t understand.

The others had received smiles and polite exchanges. But with him, it was different.

It was cold.

And he had no idea why.

With time, Reid realized this wasn’t a passing awkwardness. It wasn’t just a misunderstanding.

Y/N hated him.

Oh, not openly. In front of the team, she was impeccable. Professional. But in the shadows, away from prying eyes, it was a different story.

Every time they were alone, the air grew heavier.

Once, as he was about to enter the break room, she walked out at the same moment. Their eyes met, and he immediately saw the change in her expression. A barely perceptible tension.

She walked past him without a word. As if he didn’t exist.

Another time, he tried to talk to her about a profile they were working on together.

— Y/N, I reviewed the latest data and—

— Look, Reid, she cut him off with a sigh, irritated. I know you love the sound of your own voice, but I’m not in the mood.

A knife to the chest would have hurt less.

He stood frozen, unable to respond.

She didn’t even look at him.

She despised him.

And he had no idea what he had done to deserve it.

Spencer Reid was a man of logic. He understood human behavior better than most. But this particular case eluded him.

Why?

Why her?

Why such visceral rejection?

He tried not to think about it. He tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. But the truth was, he had never been able to stand not understanding something.

So he watched her. Discreetly, of course. Just enough to catch those fleeting emotions she let slip when she thought no one was looking.

He saw the way her jaw tensed after a polite smile.

He noticed the stiffness in her shoulders when a man got too close.

He noted that, sometimes, she almost seemed… afraid.

But never around him.

No. She didn’t fear him.

She hated him.

And he would never know why.

---

Y/N knew Reid was watching her.

She could feel it before even seeing him. It wasn’t an intrusive gaze, nor was it ill-intentioned. But it was there. A persistent presence in her field of vision, an invisible weight on her skin.

She would have preferred if he despised her in return.

But no. He kept trying, clumsily, to break the barrier she had built between them.

And she kept reinforcing it.

That day, she was finalizing a report in an empty conference room when the door opened.

She didn’t need to look up to know it was him.

— Are you looking for someone? she asked bluntly, her tone sharp.

Reid hesitated for a second before stepping inside completely.

— No. I just wanted to… talk about the suspect’s profile.

She exhaled softly through her nose.

— We already discussed the profile with Hotch.

— Yes, but I noticed something that might be relevant.

She closed her laptop slowly and finally turned to him.

— Do you really want to do this now, Reid?

He blinked, visibly caught off guard.

— I… I don’t understand.

— Exactly. You don’t understand. So stop trying.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Spencer opened his mouth, closed it, then did what he always did when he was nervous—he started talking too fast.

— I’m sorry if I said or did something that offended you. That wasn’t my intention. Statistically speaking, first impressions can be biased by external factors—

— Reid.

She had just cut him off.

He stopped.

Her gaze was burning. Not with anger, but with something deeper. Something he couldn’t define.

She stood up slowly, took her file under her arm, and stepped closer to him.

— There’s nothing to understand, okay? Nothing to analyze, nothing to dissect.

She was so close now that he could see the faint tremble of her eyelashes, the barely perceptible tension in her fingers around the file.

— So stop.

She walked past him and left the room without another word.

Spencer remained still, his heart beating a little too fast, his thoughts in chaos.

He still didn’t understand.

But what he did know was that this woman was beginning to consume his mind.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Reid tried to ignore the effect Y/N had on him. But it wasn’t just a matter of attraction. It wasn’t her smile he wanted to understand. It was that silent pain hiding beneath the surface.

But she wouldn’t let him get close.

Worse, she seemed to close herself off even more when he was around.

Until that night.

They were returning from a grueling case in Dallas, one of those cases that leaves a mark on the soul.

On the plane ride back, the team was half-asleep. Y/N, however, sat with her arms crossed, staring into nothing.

Reid hesitated, then sat across from her.

She didn’t react immediately, but he saw her shoulders tense ever so slightly.

— Can I? he asked softly.

She raised an eyebrow.

— Since when do you ask permission to sit?

— Since I realized you’d probably prefer me on the other side of the plane.

She said nothing.

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, she sighed, exhausted.

— Why do you keep pushing, Reid?

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Because he didn’t know.

Because she fascinated him as much as she pushed him away.

Because he sensed, deep down, that beneath her disdain, there was something else.

— You’re a mystery, he finally admitted, honest.

She let out a bitter laugh.

— Do you think everyone is a puzzle to be solved?

— Not everyone.

Just her.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment. Then she stood up and went to sit elsewhere.

Spencer watched her empty seat, unable to understand why his chest felt so tight.

But he knew one thing.

He wouldn’t be able to ignore her.

And he wouldn’t be able to let her go.

---

Y/N knew how to adapt. It was a necessity, a survival instinct she had perfected over the years.

She knew when to smile. She knew how to joke, how to adjust her tone to seem warm without being too familiar, to keep her distance without appearing cold.

Within the team, she was well-liked.

Derek Morgan had immediately taken her under his wing. He liked ambitious young recruits, the ones with fire in their veins and iron willpower. With him, Y/N allowed herself to be a little lighter, to exchange playful banter and feigned arrogance.

— You really insist on running every morning before a field day? he asked one day, watching her tie her laces.

— I mostly insist on not running out of breath behind you, she replied, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed and patted her shoulder.

With Hotch, she was impeccable. Respectful, disciplined. She knew he was testing her, observing how she handled pressure, and she had no intention of giving him any reason to doubt her.

JJ, on the other hand, was gentle and maternal, which made Y/N uncomfortable for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. But she appreciated her, and they worked well together.

Emily Prentiss was perhaps the one she felt closest to. Not that they talked much, but there was a silent understanding between them, an unspoken recognition of wounds they never named.

And then there was Penelope Garcia.

Penelope was a whirlwind of bright colors and exuberant cheerfulness, everything Y/N was not. And yet, Garcia had immediately taken her under her wing, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

— My sweet star, you’re far too serious, she declared in the first week. We’re going to have to work on that.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

— I’m fine, Garcia.

— That’s what every little broken heart says before I save them with cookies and a personalized playlist.

Y/N had laughed despite herself.

Garcia had that gift, the ability to make the air feel lighter, to erase shadows without even realizing it.

So Y/N let her. She accepted the sudden hugs, the affectionate nicknames, the sincere gestures. Because, in some way, it was nice.

It was a friendship she had never known before.

But with Spencer, it was a completely different story.

Y/N always felt when he was there.

He didn’t talk much when they were in a group, but she felt his gaze.

It wasn’t oppressive. It wasn’t perverse or domineering like others had been before him.

No. His gaze was a suspended question.

And she refused to answer it.

One evening, as she was leaving the office late, she heard footsteps behind her in the hallway.

She tensed, breath short. But when she turned around, it was only Reid.

He stopped immediately when he saw her expression.

— Sorry, he murmured.

She looked away, jaw clenched.

— Don’t follow me.

— I’m not following you, he simply replied.

She laughed, a joyless laugh.

— Of course.

He remained still, and she felt her anger boil.

— Why do you do this, Reid? she whispered.

— Do what?

— Staring. Insisting.

He blinked, genuinely lost.

— Because you haunt me.

Silence fell like a heavy weight.

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest. A deep fear. A vertigo.

She took a step back.

— Stop this.

— Stop what?

— Trying to understand me.

He said nothing.

Because he couldn’t. Because he didn’t understand.

And she would never let him.

---

Months passed.

Y/N was integrating well into the team. She was no longer just the "new recruit"; she was a respected profiler whose intuition and keen observation made a difference in the field. Even Hotch, who was sparing with compliments, had implied that she belonged among them.

And yet, something in her remained on edge.

She laughed with Morgan, exchanged knowing looks with Prentiss, accepted Garcia’s suffocating hugs without flinching. But it was just a mask, a dance she had mastered to perfection.

There was only one person who refused to dance with her.

Spencer Reid.

He still watched her with that intensity, that silent obsession she hated as much as she feared. He didn’t understand her. He never would.

And yet, he remained.

Watching.

Searching.

Trying to uncover a secret she would never reveal.

But life at the BAU wasn’t just about the quiet tension between them. There were also moments of lightness, absurd instances that made their work bearable.

Like the day Rossi got locked in his own office.

Garcia had tampered with the lock to prove a security system could be bypassed, and she had accidentally trapped their veteran inside.

— Garcia, open this door immediately! Rossi thundered, furious.

— Oh my God, I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die! Garcia kept repeating, frantically tapping at her keyboard.

Y/N and Morgan were in tears from laughter.

Reid, on the other hand, leaned towards her, a smirk on his lips.

— Technically, he could survive for days with the snacks he hides in his bottom drawer.

She shot him a dark look, but deep down, she had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling.

Then there was the case of the kitten in the office.

Garcia had found a stray cat near the FBI building and had secretly brought it into her office.

— Just for one night! she pleaded.

Except the cat escaped and caused chaos throughout the floor.

Hotch caught Y/N and Garcia trying to lure the animal with a piece of turkey stolen from Reid’s sandwich.

— Don’t tell me there’s a cat in here…

— There’s a cat in here, Reid confirmed, turning a page in his book, unbothered.

— It has a white paw! Y/N added enthusiastically, earning an incredulous look from Hotch.

In the end, it was Prentiss who caught the creature with a dexterity that suggested past experience in animal rescue.

— I don’t even want to know, Hotch concluded before walking away.

Reid watched as Y/N gently stroked the cat’s head.

— You like it.

— Who wouldn’t?

— You don’t usually let yourself be swayed so easily.

She lifted her head towards him, her smile slowly fading.

— Maybe I’m more complicated than you think.

He said nothing.

Because he already knew.

That night, Reid couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind refusing to grant him rest.

Y/N.

She occupied his every thought.

He wanted to understand why. Why her, why this hostility that didn’t feel like simple dislike?

He could analyze a criminal in minutes, dissect a lie with clinical precision. But with her… he couldn’t.

She hated him. He felt it in her gaze, in the tension of her jaw when he spoke.

And yet, sometimes, there was something else. A crack.

One evening, as they were finishing a report late at a café near the FBI, she had slightly dozed off, resting her head on her hand.

Reid had wanted to wake her, but he stopped.

She looked… peaceful.

But also terribly fragile.

And something in him tightened.

He knew she was hiding something.

And he knew he would never find out what.

It was unbearable.

He ran a hand over his face and sat on the edge of his bed, his heart pounding too hard.

She haunted him.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Y/N felt that obsession too.

She saw it in the way Reid looked at her, in how he kept trying to talk to her despite her cold responses.

But what she couldn’t understand… was why she didn’t push him away more violently.

She was used to keeping men at a distance. To shutting them down with a sharp smile or a biting remark.

But with him, it was different.

He was patient. Too patient.

And that scared her.

One night, after a grueling mission, she found herself in Garcia’s office.

— You want to talk about it, my sweet star?

Y/N tensed.

— Talk about what?

— About whatever’s eating at you.

She wanted to lie. To say she was fine.

But Garcia was a magician, able to see beyond masks.

— It’s Reid, isn’t it?

Y/N’s head snapped up, shocked.

— What?

— You’re mad at him. But not for what he’s done. For what he is.

Silence fell, heavy.

Garcia took her hands, her gaze soft but piercing.

— I don’t know what you’ve been through, Y/N. But I do know you’re stronger than whatever haunts you.

Y/N felt something crack inside her.

But she said nothing.

Because she couldn’t.

Because some wounds weren’t meant to be shared.

A few days later, Reid tried to talk to her again.

And she snapped.

They were alone in a conference room when he said something. She didn’t even remember what.

But it was too much.

— What do you want, Reid?!

He stepped back, startled by the violence in her voice.

— I just want to understand…

— There’s nothing to understand!

Her heart was pounding. She hated him. She despised him.

Because he reminded her too much of…

No.

She wasn’t allowed to think about that.

She shot him one last glare before storming out.

But Reid remained frozen, a cold shiver running down his spine.

Because for the first time, he had seen something other than anger in her eyes.

He had seen fear.

And that changed everything.

---

Spencer Reid didn’t know what to do anymore. Y/N hated him, that was obvious. But that night, as he returned home, he realized it wasn’t the contempt that haunted him. It wasn’t even her anger. It was her fear. Because he had seen it. Just for a fraction of a second, before she slammed the door. And it had turned his stomach upside down. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how to recognize the signs of trauma. He carried the scars himself. Y/N was hiding something. Something enormous. Something that, in one way or another, was connected to him. But he didn’t know what. And he never would. Because if one thing was clear, it was that she would rather see him disappear than talk to him. So why couldn’t he stop holding on to her? Why did he feel this irrational, senseless need to understand her, to fix her? He sat on his couch, head in his hands. He felt... lost. And that was a sensation he hated.

The next day, Y/N tried not to think about him. She buried herself in work, flipping through files, studying criminal profiles with an intensity bordering on obsession. But even there, in the relative calm of the BAU headquarters, she could feel him. Spencer Reid. Sitting at his desk, silent, but always present. Like a shadow behind her. Like a ghost she couldn’t exorcise. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Don’t think. Don’t feel. She could do it. She had to do it. She was going to make it. Until Garcia burst into the room like a colorful tornado.

"Okay, everyone, mandatory coffee break!"

Morgan looked up from his screen, amused.

"We’re in the middle of work, Garcia."

"Correction: you’re in the middle of work. I’m in the middle of an emotional disaster because my baby cat refused to eat his kibble this morning, and I need a pick-me-up."

Prentiss chuckled.

"Poor Garcia."

"You don’t understand, my children. This is an existential crisis."

Y/N smiled slightly, grabbing her coffee cup. But as she stood up to follow the others, her eyes met Reid’s. And there, just for a fraction of a second, she saw something in his eyes. Something sad. Something unbearable. She looked away, fists clenched. And left the room without a word.

The tension between them had become a problem. Y/N felt it. Reid knew it. And everyone could see it. It was Hotch who finally broke the silence. One evening, after a particularly exhausting day, he called Y/N into his office.

"Sit down."

She obeyed, sitting up straight. He studied her for a moment, fingers intertwined under his chin.

"I’ve noticed you have a problem with Reid."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"No, sir."

"Don’t lie."

She gritted her teeth. Hotch sighed, lowering his voice slightly.

"Listen, I’m not going to force you to talk about it. But let me be clear: we’re a team. And a team that doesn’t function well is a team that puts lives at risk."

Y/N lowered her gaze.

"I understand."

"Then find a way to fix it."

She nodded and left, her heart pounding.

She could have ignored Hotch’s warning. She could have kept pretending nothing was wrong. But that night, as she was leaving the office, she found Reid in the parking lot. Sitting on the hood of his car, staring into space. He looked... tired. Exhausted. As if this silent war between them had drained all his energy. She should have left. She should have pretended she didn’t see him. But her feet carried her toward him before she even realized it.

"Why are you still here?"

He lifted his head.

"I could ask you the same question."

She crossed her arms.

"Seriously, Reid. What do you want?"

He hesitated. Then sighed.

"I want you to stop hating me."

The shock was brutal. She took a step back, breath caught.

"I don’t..."

"Yes, you do. I know you do. But I don’t know why."

She closed her eyes, feeling panic rise. No. Not now. Not like this. She took a deep breath, trying to regain control. Then, slowly, she lifted her head.

"It’s better this way, Reid."

"Better for who?"

She didn’t answer. Because she couldn’t. She turned away, walking away quickly. But this time, Reid didn’t let her go.

"Wait."

She stopped.

"I don’t know what I did to deserve this."

His voice was shaky. Sincere.

"But if you think that will stop me from worrying about you... then you don’t know me as well as you think."

Y/N felt a burning in her throat. A dull pain in her chest. She said nothing. She didn’t turn around. She walked away into the night, knowing full well that this was a battle she wouldn’t be able to run from forever. Because Spencer Reid wouldn’t let go. And a part of her no longer knew if she wanted him to give up... or to keep fighting.

---

2:37 AM. Y/N’s phone vibrated insistently on her nightstand, pulling her from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes, still groggy, and reached for the device.

HOTCH: URGENT. EVERYONE TO HQ. IMMEDIATELY.

She groaned, sitting up, her vision still blurry.

“Shit…”

Without thinking, she threw on a large black coat over her silk pajamas and hastily tied her hair into a messy ponytail. She neither had the energy nor the patience to get properly dressed.

Arriving in front of the FBI building, she realized she wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Garcia was just stepping out of a taxi, her oversized orange coat poorly buttoned, revealing pink unicorn-patterned pajamas. Her glasses were askew, and she clutched a cup of coffee like her life depended on it.

When she spotted Y/N, she squinted behind her colorful lenses.

"You also decided fashion was overrated?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Garcia from head to toe.

"I think we just revolutionized the FBI’s dress code."

Garcia smirked and hooked her arm through Y/N’s as they entered the building.

"Remind me why we do this job again?"

"My memory fails me at this hour."

As they stepped into the briefing room, they found the rest of the team, all visibly exhausted. Morgan had his head resting on the table, Prentiss was yawning over her file, and even Rossi seemed to be battling sleep.

But it was Reid who caught Y/N’s attention.

Already awake. Already fully dressed. Already focused.

He sat upright, a coffee cup in hand, flipping through files as if he had never gone to bed. When he briefly looked up at her, she felt his gaze linger a second too long.

She frowned.

"What?" she snapped.

Reid blinked and immediately looked away, clearly caught in the act.

"Nothing."

She rolled her eyes and sat as far from him as possible.

That’s when Hotch entered the room.

The Ohio monster case was beginning.

Hotch turned on the main screen, and faces appeared. Women. Children. Broken families.

Y/N’s stomach twisted as she saw the photos of them before they vanished.

They were smiling. Laughing.

And now…

"Eight mothers. Eight children," Hotch began gravely. "All disappeared under similar circumstances."

He pointed to a series of images on the whiteboard.

"The MO is always the same. He takes the mother first. Leaves the children alone for two days, then comes back for them."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Y/N already felt nausea rising.

"Then he forces them to make a choice."

Morgan leaned on the table, jaw clenched.

"What kind of choice?"

JJ briefly closed her eyes before answering.

"Either the mother kills her own children… or he rapes her in front of them."

The silence was deafening.

Garcia immediately looked away, gripping her coffee cup until her fingers turned white. Prentiss closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Rossi let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

But it was Y/N’s expression that caught Reid’s attention.

She didn’t react.

She remained still, eyes locked on the screen, her face eerily blank.

Too blank.

Reid furrowed his brows slightly.

He knew that kind of silence.

He knew that kind of look.

It was the look of someone trying to lock everything deep inside.

Hotch shattered the frozen atmosphere with a firm tone.

"He films everything and sends the videos to the fathers."

Y/N finally looked away, clenching her fists under the table.

This man…

This monster…

She wanted to destroy him.

"We leave for Ohio immediately," Hotch announced.

No one objected.

They all knew every minute counted.

And that the horror was only beginning.

They arrived in Ohio at dawn, greeted by a sheriff with exhausted eyes.

"Agent Hotchner."

Hotch shook his hand.

"Tell me what we know."

The sheriff gestured for them to follow him to his office, where an entire wall was covered with photos and reports.

Y/N felt an invisible weight pressing on her shoulders as she looked at the images of the missing mothers.

These women.

These children.

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the cold rage building inside her.

Then she felt a gaze.

She turned slightly.

Reid.

Again.

He was watching her, brows slightly furrowed, as if trying to figure something out.

She clenched her jaw.

"Got a problem, Reid?" she murmured coldly.

He hesitated.

Then, softly:

"This is affecting you more than other cases."

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

She hated this.

She hated how observant he was.

"You think you know everything, huh?" she snapped. "Well, let me tell you something: you don’t know shit about me. So stop looking at me like you’ve cracked my damn secret."

She shot him one last dark look before walking away.

Reid remained still, troubled.

He didn’t understand why, but he knew one thing:

This case was awakening something in her.

Something she didn’t want to face.

And that, more than anything else, deeply worried him.

---

The team settled into the conference room of the local police station, their files scattered across the large wooden table. The sheriff had provided all available information, but the case was a nightmare. Eight mothers. Eight children. Eight broken families. And no trace of the killer.

Hotch stood up and studied the photos pinned to the whiteboard.

"We know he targets single mothers. All between 28 and 35 years old, all with one or two young children. He watches them for a while before attacking."

"How does he choose his victims?" Prentiss asked, arms crossed.

Rossi tapped on the report in front of him.

"They all have jobs that require a lot of public interaction. Teachers, waitresses, nurses, social workers…" He paused. "He wants women who seem approachable. Easy to engage with."

Y/N spoke for the first time.

"Which means he inserts himself into their lives long before taking them."

All eyes turned to her.

She pointed at the photos.

"Look at these women. They’re all smiling in these pictures. They look happy, social. This guy doesn’t go after isolated or vulnerable women. He wants the strong ones."

Morgan slowly nodded.

"Because he wants to break them."

Silence.

Reid was watching Y/N closely.

His gaze was cold, analytical, but filled with something else.

He knew that tone. He could tell when someone was speaking from their heart.

She wasn’t just profiling the killer.

She understood him.

And that unsettled him.

Hotch brought the discussion back on track.

"Garcia, check if any of the victims reported a suspicious individual in their surroundings before the abduction."

"Already digging, boss."

She typed furiously on her keyboard, her glasses slipping down her nose.

"But so far, nothing."

Y/N ran a hand over her face, frustrated.

"We’re missing something…"

Reid, who had remained silent until now, murmured,

"There has to be a connection."

He stood up, walked to the board, and stared at the victims' photos.

A detail. A clue.

And suddenly, something clicked.

"The schools."

Everyone turned to him.

"Look." He pointed at the children. "They all attended local public schools."

Prentiss frowned.

"You think he’s scouting them there?"

Reid nodded.

"It’s an easy way to observe them without drawing attention. He could be posing as a parent, a school employee, a delivery worker…"

Hotch processed the information quickly.

"We’ll start there. Garcia, get us a list of staff and frequent visitors at the schools these kids attended."

"Consider it done."

The investigation had taken a new turn.

And for the first time in hours…

They had a lead.

A few hours later, Garcia called them back.

"I might have something."

Her voice was tense.

"All these schools have one thing in common."

"What is it?" Hotch asked.

"A man."

She pulled up a photo on the screen.

A plain, forgettable face. A man in his forties, short brown hair, discreet glasses.

"His name is William Harrow," Garcia explained. "Maintenance worker. He does repairs in several schools in the area."

Y/N stared at the photo, a cold shiver running down her spine.

"Does he have a record?" Morgan asked.

"Nothing major. Just an old harassment complaint, dismissed."

Reid frowned.

"It’s too perfect. A job that gives him access to school buildings, an unremarkable appearance…"

Y/N murmured almost to herself,

"And the ability to disappear under the radar."

Hotch made an immediate decision.

"We’re paying him a visit."

The team arrived at Harrow’s listed address. A small house on the outskirts of town, with an unkempt yard and closed shutters.

Morgan and Prentiss positioned themselves at the back while Hotch, Y/N, and Reid knocked on the door.

Silence.

Then…

Footsteps.

The door opened slightly.

A man appeared in the doorway, eyes tired, wary.

"Yes?"

Hotch showed his badge.

"FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions."

William Harrow didn’t flinch.

"About what?"

Y/N studied him carefully.

His posture. His gaze. Every micro-expression.

And something in his eyes unsettled her.

Reid, beside her, noticed her shift in demeanor.

"It’s about the schools where you work. The missing children."

Harrow raised an eyebrow.

"I don’t see how that concerns me."

His tone was calm. Too calm.

Y/N clenched her fists slightly.

"Can we come in?" Hotch asked.

A long silence.

Then Harrow opened the door wider.

"Be my guest."

Y/N’s instincts screamed.

Something was off.

And she knew this was just the beginning.

---

The inside of William Harrow’s house was clean. Too clean. Not a single personal photo. No children’s toys. Nothing that showed a trace of life. Y/N let her gaze sweep across the main room while Hotch and Reid asked the usual questions.

"You work at several schools, correct?" Hotch asked.

"Yes," Harrow replied, sitting calmly on his couch.

Reid observed his body language with an almost unsettling intensity.

"Have you ever had any contact with the children’s mothers?"

A slight smile appeared on Harrow’s face.

"I exchange polite words, like everyone does."

Y/N said nothing.

She studied.

Every blink. Every hand movement.

And her instincts screamed that he was lying.

But she couldn’t prove it.

Hotch continued, "Where were you during the last disappearances?"

"At home."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"No one."

Harrow was still smiling.

Reid and Y/N exchanged a glance.

No alarm. No involuntary slip.

He wasn’t playing the outraged suspect.

He wasn’t trying to appear innocent either.

He was waiting.

As if he knew they wouldn’t find anything.

And he was right.

After an hour of questioning and a legal search of the house, the team had no choice but to leave.

Nothing.

No physical evidence. No misstep in his answers.

Just an intuition that wasn’t enough to arrest him.

Morgan, who had been waiting outside, whistled when he saw their expressions.

"So?"

Hotch shook his head.

"Nothing useful."

Morgan grumbled.

"This guy is guilty. I can feel it."

Y/N, arms crossed, was still staring at the house behind them.

"So can I."

But it wasn’t enough.

They needed proof.

In the car, silence stretched.

Then Reid murmured, almost pensively, "He wants to frustrate us."

Y/N turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

Reid tapped his fingers against his thigh, thinking out loud.

"He was perfectly calm. He didn’t try to deny anything outright. He let us do our job… Because he knew we had nothing on him."

Y/N clenched her fists.

"That means he’s going to do it again."

Hotch took a deep breath.

"Yes. And the next victim may already be chosen."

The silence that followed was heavier than ever.

They had to stop him.

Before it was too late.

---

The sun was beginning to set over the small town in Ohio as Morgan and Y/N made their way to a run-down garage on the outskirts. It was where William Harrow had applied for a second job a few months earlier before mysteriously disappearing off the radar.

"You think we’ll find anything here?" Y/N asked as she stepped out of the car.

Morgan shrugged, eyes fixed on the building’s entrance.

"Anything he doesn’t want us to find."

They ducked under the partially open metal shutter and stepped into the dusty workshop. Cars in various states of repair, scattered tools, the smell of oil and metal…

A man in his fifties, wearing grease-stained overalls, looked up at them.

"Need a hand?"

Morgan stepped forward and flashed his badge.

"FBI. We’re investigating a suspect who may have worked here. William Harrow."

The man frowned.

"Harrow? Yeah, he applied a few months back. But he never showed up for work."

Y/N exchanged a look with Morgan.

"Why not?"

"No idea," the man replied, wiping his hands on a rag. "Seemed serious at first, then he just… vanished. No call, no excuse. Never heard from him again."

Morgan nodded, but before he could ask another question…

A voice interrupted them.

"You’re looking for Harrow?"

A chill ran down Y/N’s spine.

She knew that voice.

Slowly, she turned.

And she saw William Harrow.

Standing near the exit, dressed in jeans and a light shirt, as if he had been expecting them.

"You and your team sure are persistent," he said with a polite smile.

Y/N immediately felt his gaze on her.

Too intense. Too deliberate.

Morgan crossed his arms, ready to step in at the first sign of trouble.

"What are you doing here, Harrow?"

The man shrugged.

"I applied for a job here. Wanted to see if it was still available. But it seems like you’re more interested in me than the position."

His tone was light, but Y/N sensed the darkness beneath his words.

Harrow turned his gaze to her.

And he stared.

For too long.

As if he recognized her.

As if he knew something she didn’t.

"You, on the other hand…" he murmured.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

She forced herself not to look away.

"What about me?"

Harrow tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

"We’ve met before, haven’t we?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

No.

That was impossible.

She had never seen this man before.

Never.

And yet…

Why did his words feel like they carried a hidden truth?

Morgan, sensing the tension, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We should go."

Y/N didn’t respond immediately.

She stood there, facing Harrow, trying to read in his eyes what he was insinuating.

Then, slowly, she stepped back.

"Yeah. Let’s go."

But as she walked out of the garage, she still felt the weight of Harrow’s gaze on her.

And for the first time since this case began…

She felt afraid.

They had barely returned to the police station when the phone rang.

Hotch answered immediately.

"Hotchner."

Y/N and Morgan, still shaken from their encounter with Harrow, exchanged a glance.

But as they saw Hotch’s expression harden, Y/N knew before he even spoke.

Another woman had disappeared.

"He just took another mother," Hotch said as he hung up.

A cold silence fell over the room.

"When?" Rossi asked, already on his feet.

"About three hours ago," Hotch replied. "A neighbor noticed the front door was open, the lights were on, but no one was answering."

JJ rubbed her forehead.

"Which means we have…"

"Two days before he takes the children," Reid finished.

Y/N tensed.

Two days.

The countdown had begun.

They rushed to the scene immediately.

The victim’s home—Sarah Mitchell—was exactly as they had imagined.

A broken home in the dead of night.

The door slightly open.

No signs of struggle.

And a six-year-old boy curled up on his bed, too young to understand that his mother might never come back.

Y/N felt anger boil inside her.

She stared at the scattered toys on the floor, the school bag still sitting by the door.

A child waiting for his mother to wake him up in the morning.

But tomorrow morning, she wouldn’t be there.

Morgan clenched his jaw beside her.

"We have to find him."

"Yeah."

Reid, meanwhile, was staring at the floor.

Then he murmured, "He’s accelerating his cycle."

Y/N turned to him.

"What?"

Reid looked up, his mind racing.

"He’s been waiting weeks between abductions," he explained. "But now… he just took a woman while we were on his trail."

"He feels threatened," Hotch added.

"Or he wants to provoke us," Rossi said.

Y/N felt an invisible weight press down on her chest.

Two days.

They only had two days to stop the inevitable.

So she turned to Hotch.

"We don’t have time to wait. We need to take Harrow down now."

Hotch slowly nodded.

"Then let’s do it."

And they set off.

Towards the man who was already waiting for them.

---

The local precinct was heavy with tension that night. Fatigue and urgency made the air nearly unbreathable. Every officer on-site knew they were racing against time. With JJ absent, Y/N had been sent to speak with Matthew Mitchell, the ex-husband of the missing woman.

He sat in a small interrogation room, hands trembling, eyes bloodshot. The moment Y/N entered, he shot to his feet, desperate.

"Did you find her?!"

Y/N briefly closed her eyes before answering.

"Not yet."

He collapsed back onto the chair.

"Oh my God…" he murmured.

His entire body looked on the verge of breaking. He rubbed his face with shaking hands, as if trying to erase reality. Then, in a broken, desperate voice, he began to ramble.

"I’m nothing without her… Nothing."

Y/N remained still. She knew this pain. That abyss. That gaping void that swallowed everything.

He shook his head, eyes wet with tears.

"I heard what that psycho does to women… I don’t want her to go through that. I’d rather she be…"

He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Y/N swallowed.

He meant, I’d rather she be dead than suffer that.

She couldn’t blame him.

"She’s strong," she said softly.

"But not strong enough." He met her eyes. "No one is."

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine.

He was right.

No one could ever be prepared to face what Harrow did to his victims.

And she had to stop him.

After the interview with Matthew, Y/N returned to the briefing room where the team was combing through every detail of the case.

Something nagged at her.

A feeling, a blurry thought lodged in the back of her mind.

Then, suddenly, it clicked.

"He has a daughter," she blurted out.

All eyes turned to her.

"What?" Rossi asked.

"Harrow. He has a daughter."

Spencer Reid frowned.

"But… we’ve investigated his family. He has no known children."

Y/N shook her head.

"Not officially. But look at the pattern." She scrolled through the case files on the computer. "He manages to lure children without a single direct witness. No signs of forced entry, no apparent threats."

Morgan caught on immediately.

"He doesn’t need to force them… He’s using someone they trust."

Y/N nodded.

"A teenage girl. She wouldn’t raise suspicion."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Then Hotch said the words they were all dreading.

"Where is young Mitchell?"

A chill ran through Y/N.

He was under supervision. Here, at the station.

But…

Why did she suddenly have a terrible feeling?

Then, she heard it.

A barely audible sound.

A muffled "Mommy."

She didn’t think.

She ran.

She tore down the hallway, the others right behind her.

She slammed open the door to the room where the little boy was supposed to be.

But he was gone.

Only an open window let in the cold night air.

Y/N felt her world tilt.

"NO."

She looked everywhere, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs.

His small backpack was still there.

His stuffed animal lay on the floor.

But he… he was missing.

"Shit…" Morgan muttered as he reached her.

Y/N froze, her breath caught in her throat.

She was the one who had heard the cry.

She should have run faster.

Reid stepped inside, his horrified gaze fixed on the window.

He knew what this meant.

They had just lost their only hope of finding Sarah Mitchell alive.

Y/N pressed against the wall, fingers trembling.

She had failed.

She felt anger, frustration, and most of all…

Fear.

Reid slowly approached her.

He wasn’t good at comforting people.

But he understood what she was feeling.

Softly, he murmured,

"This isn’t your fault."

But Y/N didn’t look at him.

Because deep down…

She wasn’t sure he was right.

Next part...

..................................................................................

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lizzyk137 · 1 year ago

Text

The Technical Analyst and the Boy Genius: Spencer x Reader

Summary: You finally get your dream job working as a technical analyst for the BAU, but one team member isn't happy you're there. Warnings: Angst, talk of death, guns, shootings, stomach wounds

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Five years. It took you five years to make it where you are today. Five years of no sleep, constant anxiety and a need to get where you want to be.

You worked your butt off in school to get your many degrees, but your hidden passion was computer work. Getting into the many cracks that was hidden and searching for answers or for what was in the unknown. It was what made you so useful to the FBI.

Throughout your five years of working for the FBI, you had been with multiple units as a technical analyst, helping your coworkers save the day on different missions. It brought you more joy than you would have thought it did when you stepped into the FBI building all those years ago.

Within that time, you've joined your teams on and off the field helping, and you struggled with what you liked better, field work or office work. Either way, you were helping. So, when you got the offer to transfer to the FBI's BAU, though you were sad to leave your team, you jumped at the chance to work with the group that was your end goal. And that was because of one person.

Penelope.

You both had only met a handful of times, your schedules always opposite of each other and your work bringing you to different locations didn't help either. But she was your mentor and her word was gospel. It had started your first year at the FBI, you had hacked into her computers just for fun and since then you were best friends. And now you were finally getting to work right were you wanted to be.

"Oh my god, oh my god, it's you! It's really you!" Penn gasped out once she saw you make your way through the double doors of the BAU's bull pen. She squished you into a hug, disregarding the fact you had a huge box in your hand.

You laughed in her embrace and your free hand circled her back. "I know it feels like a dream!"

You stood there chatting for a second before a smooth masculine voice came from behind Penn. "I heard we were getting a new partner in crime, I didn't think she'd be this beautiful." He stopped besides Penelope before saying to her, "Not as beautiful as you, baby girl."

You smiled at the exchange between the two. You had done your research on the team, Penn suppling you with random lists she made of each member to help you get to know them better. "You must be Derek Morgan, it's a pleasure to meet you." You said, stretching out your one good hand to shake.

"You know me?" Derek chuckled, as he shook your hand.

"I've done my research." You winked at him before laughing.

"See, she'll fit right in." Penn said before grabbing your hand and introducing you to everyone.

Two weeks had flown by since you started working besides Penn. It was awkward at first getting to know the team and how each one worked, but you didn't mind. It was the awkward bits that made it fun. You had managed to nail down how everyone worked and what they expected, except for Spencer. He was upset at you randomly, bickering at the things you said or just wanting the news from Penelope. Rossi told you it was because he didn't like change, and not to take it personally. But as the days went by, it was starting to, not matter how hard you were telling yourself to power through.

It wasn't until a case that required you specifically was when he started acting differently.

It was a strange case, the UnSub would implant a virus into large computer server farms, where he would kill his victims by using flashing lights and noises through their computers to send them into a deathly seizure. The only way to rid this virus was to remove the discs that were implanted in person while also blocking it remotely from getting to people. It was a two-person job, and Hotch decided it was best to fly you out with them since you were cleared for field work.

Spencer wasn't thrilled and he made it known, Hotch sending him looks to shut him up when he started. You didn't mind when he wasn't besides you, you could ignore it like you used to when you had similar thoughts from people on your old teams, but when Hotch paired you two together with Derek that's when it started to annoy you and it just got worse as the day went on.

"Do you ever shut up?" You asked him that night at the police station. Everyone was trying to figure where the UnSub would strike next, but all Spencer could do was dismiss everything you'd say.

The room grew silent when you finally snapped. Derek and Emily biting their lips to stop from smiling because you finally stuck up for yourself.

"I don't care if you're a genius. You don't know computers like I do. If I were the UnSub, I would strike here. It's a huge server farm with plenty of rooms full of servers to sneak this virus in. He's gone with all smaller farms before and has been building his way up. He's cocky, and he isn't going to stop until he hits the biggest farms." Spencer stood quiet, watching you as you took a deep breath in before you tilted your head at him. "Oh, and did I forget to mention, I have several degrees in Psychology and Criminal Justice along with degrees in almost every field on computer work?"

The room broke out into chuckles, Spencer remaining silent. Rossi gave you a pat on the back with a small wink. "I think you finally broke him. Good job."

The next day, you were once again paired up with Spencer, this time alone. He was quiet as you drove and didn't say a word until you were at the farm when he grabbed you and whispered to be quiet.

You looked at him shocked, he wasn't one for physical touch, especially to new people and you knew it wouldn't happen with you with how much he disliked you. He pointed at the hallway that upon inspection had droplets of blood going down it. Spencer drew his weapon and stepped in front of you as you both headed down the hall to find a security guard leaning against the wall bleeding from several gunshot wounds.

Spencer called for an ambulance and back up before saying, "I'm Doctor Reid with the FBI, what happened?""

The man struggled to sit up so he could talk. You helped him up, pressing your sweater against his wounds. "A man came in, shot me and headed to our main server room. I tried to lock down the doors before he could get in, but he shot the control booth and shot me again."

You looked up at the control panel in the small room next to you. Spencer replaced your hands on the man's stomach and nodded for you to take a look. The panel was beyond fixing, the only way into the server room was to unlock it by hacking into the lock on the door. You looked back Spencer who was holding the man up as he reassured him help was on the way.

"The only way to open the room is accessing the panel box on the door. We're going to have get to the main room." Spencer nodded and helped looked at the security guard next to him.

"Tell me how to do it, you stay here with him."

"It's not something you can just figure out, it's something I need to do."

"No, Y/L/N. It's too dangerous, you're just an office worker."

You sent him an annoyed look. "I'm more qualified than you think I am."

"You may think you're qualified, but they didn't give you a gun. So, tell me what to do."

You looked at him and sighed. There was no way he could unlock the access panel in time to stop the UnSub and arguing back and forth was stalling you both. You could either give him the information and hope he figures it out or break away from Spencer and do it yourself.

In no way did you want credit or glory in taking down an UnSub, you just wanted to stop him. You didn't want him to take more lives than he already had, and this server farm was huge, and he could easily kill hundreds if he wanted too. Wasting time was ideal in this situation. You could have your badge taken away or be removed from the team, but you knew you had to try. So, you did the opposite of what the boy genius was telling you to do, and that was to sprint out of the control room, Spencer screaming for you to come back as you headed to the main server room.

You looked at the control panel on the side wall, pulling the frame off of it before plugging in your phone to it and taking over the controls. Your brain felt like it was on fire with how hard you were trying to find the specific number pattern to help your phone out. Once you figured it out you could easily hack into main control system and open the door. But you still had the UnSub to think about. He already shot up the security guard which he hasn't done before. So, you had to figure he was by the door, gun ready for you to come in. You were a few seconds away to opening up the door when an angry Spencer came running your way, his face red with anger.

You didn't have time to think, you just did. You launched yourself at Spencer, knocking him over as the door opened and bullets flew towards you.

Spencer was stunned with your body draped over his, your sweet perfume mixing with his woodsy scent. He watched you quickly get up, somehow dodging the few bullets that was shot at you before knocking the gun out of the UnSub's hand with a roundhouse kick before swiftly taking him the ground, his face smooshed into the ground. You looked like an angel and his brain couldn't comprehend what just happened.

The sound of footsteps heading his way and JJ leaning down to check on him brought Spencer back to reality. You single handedly stopped an UnSub with a roundhouse kick while saving his life a few seconds earlier.

Hotch quickly took over from you and handcuffed the UnSub. "Go, I got this."

You nodded and looked at the hundreds of servers in front of you, analyzing which ones could contain the virus. The team watched you as you figured which ones had it and how many there were. The rest of the day was spent disarming the virus, Spencer following you around as you went holding onto whatever you gave him.

"Hey, Y/N." Spencer's voice came from behind you as you made your way to the plane's stairs.

You turned aorund to find him staring at you, nervousness written all over his face. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat. "Um, I just wanted to thank you for back at the server farm. You knew what needed to be done, and you were able to stop the virus before it could take another life. So good job back there."

A smile crept onto your face at how nervous he was to thank you. "No problem. I have anti-terrorist training from one of the old units I worked with. We profile and anticipate their next moves so it was pretty similar."

"You were a field agent?" He asked, as he made his way up the stairs behind you.

"Yeah, I worked on and off the field in my old units. It helps me from going stir crazy." You laughed and took a seat on the couch, Spencer joining you.

"Wow, and the karate?"

"Oh, I was a gymnast and did karate growing up."

The rest of the plane ride you spent talking with Spencer about your old units and your interests.

Emily looked over at Rossi and Derek before nodding over to the two of you. "Looks like they're going to be inseparable soon."

"Looks like you and Penelope have some competition." Rossi chuckled.

"Baby girl and I are going to have to step it up."

JJ tuned around in her seat to join the conversation. "Looks like Spence is already pretty comfortable."

The team looked over to see your head on Spencer's shoulder and his on rest on the top of yours, sleep finally catching up to you two.

Hotch sighed at the two of you. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to watch them too."

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