#but after my second town's hospital closed aside from the E.R. i always had to be transferred there

[arctic-hands]

(I say this as a psychotic bipolar who has spent time in the psych ward) I'm baffled as to how grippy socks came to exclusively refer to the psych ward experience when they pass out the socks in every ward of the hospital. I have ninety-nine pairs (lying) and only one pair comes from a psychiatric hospitalization, the rest come from countless ER trips that often lead to multi-day admittances for various chronic physical ailments

[stunudo]

That Got Away: A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction Part 10

Inspired by: Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away”

Union Pulse’s “Better Days”

Featuring: Spencer Reid x Reader   Setting: Season 4   Rating:  Teen

A/N:  My poor characters! xoxo Stu    Warnings: Violence

I do not own the characters from the show, images or lyrics.

Part 1  Part 8 Part 9

“Finally, you have caught on, Dr. Reid.” Miriam Y/L/N responded over the line. “Now, if you look to the monitor on your right, you will find the thorn in my side. You will also see my “errand girl” as you called her.”

Spencer spun in the security desk’s chair, watching the basement room that was holding Y/N. Another woman had enter the stonewalled room, she was practically prancing toward Y/N. Spencer could see his lover’s mouth speaking to the unsub, the recognition blatant on her features. His stomach felt like it was digesting itself. “Now that you lost JJ, you don’t need to threaten Y/N. Miriam?” Spencer started. “I will come quietly.”

“Oh, I know you will, Dr. Reid.” Miriam mused. “No, this is for your team. They need to learn that deals should not be disrespected.”

The mail carrier unsub approached Y/N, slapping her across her already bruised face. The devilish woman grabbed Y/N’s hair, pulling her up so her eyes peered into the camera hidden high in the rafters. The woman’s dark hair and cruel eyes shone back at the BAU, a clear, “Say Cheese!” on her lips. Spencer swallowed. The unsub wrenched Y/N right arm behind her back, shoving her back to the floor.

JJ ground her teeth and pushed against the barrier above the ladder. The grating of stone on metal muted the sounds of her strained breathing, the mechanical whirling and the distant chatter. It was the size and shape of a man hole cover, but JJ could tell it wasn’t leading to the street.

With an extra boost of effort, she lifted and slid the capstone aside. A rubber mat shifted with the stone, masking it from view. Her strong arms pulled her body over the threshold, on to the next floor. She was in a service closet, only 16 square feet of floor space. JJ tried the rectangular door handle, it was graciously unlocked. Upon exiting, she knew exactly where she was. She stared at the central elevators, just off the hotel lobby. She was free!

She ran to the concierge desk to get to a phone to call somebody down. Once she reached the desk, she heard Emily’s voice.

“Yeah, Morgan, the leader of the team is the aunt. Apparently, the plane ticket purchased for tomorrow was part of their ruse.”

“Emily!” JJ called, stumbling around the desk toward her friend. Prentiss caught JJ as she spun in surprise.

“Morgan, JJs here. I’ve got her.”

By now I've seen what I had not before Love's just like any drug, you need more and more It starts with a rush, then it slows to a drag

And before too long we all just pack our bags

“But it’s so unfair!” Y/N whined into the phone. “Sir-sir, please say you’ll write to me, like last year, but all the mushy stuff this time.”

He could hear she was holding back tears by making absurdly obvious requests. Spencer was oddly quiet on his end of the line. He was cooking dinner, while his mom was holed up in her room. Luckily the phone cord gave him enough length to pivot around the kitchen.

“Was he angry with you, Y/N? Did he yell at you? Because I never wanted you to get in trouble.” Spencer clarified, overthinking and assuming her experience of the conversation with Dr. Y/L/N must have been worse than his; more punishment and threatening than slight shame and gentle authority.

“No, he was serious, but he wasn’t mad at all.” Y/N pouted. “He was civil and logical, it was infuriating.”

Spencer actually laughed, “Yes, well leave it to Graham to be to the point. And naturally your temper was ignited instead of sound counterarguments.” His fondness for their family was only hindered by this impending parting. His understanding of their personalities and small family unit an enthralling account of the social interactionist perspective. Also, a warped mirror image of his own small family. While Y/N had stability and authority with her father, Spencer had uncertainty and a reverse care giving scenario with his mother.

“When can I see you?” Spencer whispered, knowing this was shortening their rattling conversation.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, “He took my keys, so I can’t drive the Volkswagen, just pack it up. I don’t think it is a good idea for you to come over, though I want you, here, I mean.” She was rambling and oversharing, Spencer could picture the embarrassment on her face.

“Alright, call me when he gets back,” Spencer sighed. “I will try to stop over tonight, but my mom gets worse as the day goes on.”

“Sir-sir, just come, okay?” She was sniffling audibly now.

“I will do my best.” Spencer vowed. “Later, Y/N/N.”

“Bye, mon chevalier.”

The force with which your face hit the floor, blurred your vision. You knew a concussion was in store, but were not sure if Michelle was done with you yet. After a few minutes laying there and taking the beating, you decided to try and fight back. Though you had absolutely no idea how to fight. Swinging wildly, you punched her in the stomach. She easily dodged your obvious attack, palming your forehead and pushing you back to the cold ground.

The vertigo was sending waves of nausea through your dehydrated body. You tried to stand, but leaned back on to the wall in temporary defeat. You attempted to calm your breathing to fight back against the bile. Your heart rate accelerated as it anticipated another attack.

“Why?” You gasped. “Why are you helping her, Michelle?!”

There stood your old friend: all five feet eight inches of tri- athletic muscle and pure mental instability. You hadn’t seen her in at least seven years, but by the way her mouth curled at your question; she wasn’t having one of her “good” days.

But in another life I would be your girl We'd keep all our promises Be us against the world

You had called Spencer three times. The phone kept ringing and after your second message on their generic machine, you had given up. He had warned you that his mom was bad at night. You knew he had way more to deal with than just your leaving town. Your mind knew all these clear and sound explanations. Yet all hope of a romantic send off from your first love was vanishing like the Athena Parthenos.

You moped through a few games of Backgammon with your dad. You finished the laundry you had started after your tantrum the night before. You forced yourself to go through the motions of preparations, but your mind always settled on a bony boy who had too many thoughts in his head.

You fell asleep with the windows open, just in case he thought to sneak into the yard and be all Leo as Romeo romantic. Spencer probably hadn’t seen the seminal Baz Luhrman adaptation, but your love-laced heart still could dream.

You were woken by the smell of sausages on the griddle. Breakfast was in progress and morning had arrived. No Spencer. No sad goodbye. Just no.

Spencer was completely focused on the ordeal that her aunt was putting Y/N through. The younger female unsub was beating her, leaving her staggering around the small box of cement they held her inside. His brown eyes were scrunched, his hand flitting between his neck and his chin as he held the phone to his ear determinedly.

“Miriam, that is enough. We are all very much aware what you two are capable of.” Spencer’s voice cracked as his tone leveled. “Where shall I meet you?”

Hotch stood in front of the panel of screens, blocking Spencer from view of the cells. One empty, one very occupied. “Out of the question, Reid.”

“Dr. Reid, I believe Agent Jareau can show you the way down. No weapons. No tricks and no wires. Understood young man?” Miriam barked her conditions haughtily.

“You forget we don’t have JJ,” Spencer spat back, closing his eyes in annoyance.

“No, Dr. Reid, Agent Prentiss is coddling her as we speak.” Miriam tutted. “I’ll be seeing you shortly.”

Like any love song, he won't soon forget He just might take his time paying off the debt

Spencer was asleep between two cushion-less hospital chairs. His mother had a violent episode the night before and had managed to mangle his bike into some bushes. The E.R. doctors had let him stay with her as her injuries were minor. They held her for observation, awaiting her doctor’s evaluation that morning.

When the morning nurse came in to check on Diana, Spence awoke, falling all over himself and on to the floor. After gracelessly standing, he listened as the nurse quietly soothed Diana’s alarm at Spencer’s fall. “I’m fine Mom,” Spencer’s eyes held hers. He scratched the back of his head when he noticed the clock on the wall. 8:23am. Y/N was already gone. He had missed her.

Spencer sat down and cried in frustration. His life never felt more unfair than it did that sunny morning in August.

The entire team had retreated to the conference room where Derek had been assigned to much of the day. Hotch had Detective Chang manning the security desk and Y/N’s prison footage. The evidence boards were up and thorough, considering Morgan’s limited access to the previous boards held at Pasadena PD. JJ was guzzling water and refusing paramedics. Rossi had already ordered room service to be delivered for the whole team. The idea of a last meal crossed through Spencer’s mind, but his confidence in himself and the team remained intact.

“JJ, where were you being held?” Hotch began once the chaos of her return had subsided.

JJ sighed, “Literally below ground. I climbed up into the custodian’s closet across from the main elevators. I am guessing whoever set this up knows the building or the surrounding ones better than we do.”

“The Unsub is Miriam Y/L/N, Y/N’s aunt.” Spencer confided in his resilient friend.

“What?!” JJ balked, “I tackled the aunt? What does she have against Y/N? And you for that matter?”

“We still don’t know.” Rossi admitted, walking to the evidence boards. “We still have no Kurt Hansen. The mail-lady is also muscle as Reid and Hotch witnessed her rough up Y/N just now. Miriam Y/L/N is a wealthy, sixty-year-old, retired teacher. What pushed them to commit murder and a double kidnapping?”

Spencer crossed the room to his messenger bag, rifling through his notes from the station. He paused as his fingers caressed the soft lace of Y/N’s panties. In his rush to get her into the shower that morning he had forgotten them in her hiding spot. Her mischievousness made him ache for her, a hollowness encased his chest.

Spencer cleared his throat, returning to the case. “I believe the other woman is Michelle Braxton. She was contacted about the funeral shortly after Miriam was, as they were in the same area code.”

“So who is she, Reid?” Morgan held his hands apart waiting for the explanation.

“She grew up next door to Y/N’s aunt and the two of them became close the summer of ‘99″ Spencer explained.

“Wasn’t Y/N in Pasadena that summer,” Morgan verified. “With you?”

Spencer shook his head at Morgan, exasperated. “It doesn’t matter why she was in San Francisco, it just matters that Michelle Braxton had all the markers for a resentful stalker, then. Just imagine what she is capable of, now.”

“If the kids goes down there, we have nothing they want. They have all the cards.” Rossi looks to Hotch.

“That’s why I am not giving him clearance to go.” Hotch agreed.

“Hotch, I am not going to stand here and watch them torture Y/N.” Spencer’s voice raised. “Not when I can do something about it.”

The room reeked of tension and testosterone. Emily’s concerned face floated its gaze from one team member to the other. “JJ, is there any other way we can get SWAT down there?”

“Not without the unsubs hearing them coming, besides there was only one way in and no doorknob on this side of the door. Breaking it down would give them plenty notice.”

“There has to be another way in though,” Rossi countered. “Didn’t Garcia say Kurt Hansen used a luggage trolley to move JJ and Y/N from the penthouse?”

Morgan nodded. “There has to be elevator access.”

Part 11

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