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criminal-mids · 1 month ago

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#23 - The Magician

Prompt: Under a Spell

Sickie: Prentiss

Caretaker: Reid

Word Count: 2,373

(A/N: Disclaimer: I have no knowledge of planes, farming, or magic.)

The previous day’s incursion had been successful, but not everyone had come out unscathed. Emily's wrist and fingers ache, numb from the painkillers, but somehow stinging all the same. The unsub, Roger Morrow’s, chosen weapons were chains. The monster of a man grew up in a travelling circus, one of those outdated freak shows, and he worked the long metal links like extensions of his body, and he’d pulled them tight around her. If she hadn't thrown her arms out, the metal would’ve found a place around her neck. Thankfully she was only the diversion, the soft entry. Hotch, Morgan and the local policemen had quickly subdued Morrow. He may have been huge, but with so many, she and the victims were safe again.

Now all that’s left is the huge bruise, beginning to bloom purple across her forearm. She tugs her sleeve down groaning, but it won’t go completely over the thick brace. Not a break, just a sprain. A miracle, the paramedic had told her. She had to agree as she watched forensics lift the heavy accoutrements of torture into what had to be the biggest evidence bad she’d ever seen in her few years at the B.A.U. But sprains take longer to heal than breaks.

She sighs. With her shooting hand out of commission, she was assigned to stay at the station and work the geographical profile with Reid. It isn’t that she dislikes him, the opposite actually. His sense of humour may be what some consider odd, but after doing this job long enough one’s humour gets warped enough to where some of his jokes are actually rather funny.

But he’s a genius. Geographical profiles are his thing. And sitting here, watching him flip between case files, sketching red and blue lines on the provided map, muttering so quickly to himself that Emily can barely catch a word, she feels useless.

What is she doing here? She isn’t helping? Couldn’t she at least be doing something out in the field? Staking out the crime scene in case the unsub returns?

But, she laments, that wouldn’t be much help either. With her hand, she could hardly arrest him. Hotch would never let her out into the field alone with an impairment like this, temporary as it may be.

“ -to Emily”

“Huh?” She looks up, startled.

“I said: Earth to Emily.” Reid waves a sweater-pawed hand gently in front of her face, but she’s still too distracted to smile.

“Oh, uh, yes.”

“You spaced out. And you keep looking at your arm. Is it hurting? You mentioned you took medication right before we left and it’s been almost nine hours. I can grab your medication from your bag if you need it.” Spencer starts to reach across the desk to where Emily’s small cross body sits, but she puts her uninjured hand out to stop him.

“Ah, sorry. I’m fine. Let’s just finish this.”

She shakes her head as she says “Let’s.”

‘Why’d I say that? It isn’t like I’m doing much or anything.’

Spencer cocks his head, eyes like a curious animal. He looks a little hurt. “Emily, what’s- did I do something to you that I’m unaware of? I can be quiet if you want. But according to several scientific studies and my personal observations, talking things over helps people to arrive at conclusions faster.”

“What?” Now Emily is confused. “Of course, you can talk. I don’t mind at all. Why would I?”

“Oh. You were staring at me, kind of glaring actually.” He looks back down at the map in front of him, embarrassed at the thought that he’s made something out of nothing. He knows he should be used to the glares by now. He knows he’s different. Negative reactions are only natural.

But Emily understands now. “No, I wasn’t mad, not at you anyway. I-” She hesitates.

‘Should I really be talking about this? We have a case to solve. It’s no big deal . . . but I don’t want Spencer to think I’m mad at him.’ Is how she justifies it, even though she doesn’t need to justify it at all.

“I- I just feel . . . useless. I’m not doing anything. And I heard you tell Morgan that you focus better alone, anyway.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything, but his expression speaks volumes. His brows pull together in confusion, head tilted again as if even with B.A.s in Psychology and Sociology, he can’t comprehend how she could feel that way. The looks make Emily feel warm, and forgiven for a non-existent wrong.

“I mean, I know I’m not useless, but that's my point. I feel like I’m being wasted, by not being in the field. I know why Hotch did it, of course, but I can't help feeling like I should be doing more. I know I could be. I owe it to the Taylors who are probably sitting at home right now, feeling just like me, only they can’t do anything and I can. I signed up for this and it’s frustrating to not be able to do it.”

Reid’s face shifts into understanding. He nods thoughtfully, and says, after a moment, “You’re not useless. I only told Morgan that so he’d stop pacing. It’s like he can never stop moving, not completely anyway, like a giant atom, kind of funny. And most of the time, I function better with some background stimuli, uh, but what I mean is you are doing something. In fact I was just about to ask you what you thought about the unsub being an agricultural pilot.”

“Like a crop duster?”

“Yeah. All the dump sites are fields, which does make sense since there’s nothing much else around, but the sites are so far apart almost any other vehicle would be impractical, so far apart, and with so little vehicle traffic he’s bound to be noticed. Forensics found no tyre tracks at any of the scenes. Think about it, a crop duster could land and take off without too much suspicion.”

“But aren’t most one-seaters?” Emily asks, having to grit her teeth by the end of the sentence.

‘I think Spencer was right about the medication wearing off.’

“Yes, but not all of them. But I don’t think our unsub is using the seats anyway. He wouldn’t have to. Though the term “crop duster” would suggest, well, dust, many fertilisers today are liquids. Planes designed for aerial fertiliser application have hoppers with a capacity of up to 800 gallons to 4,000 pounds. That’s more than enough for a body, several in fact if the hopper is empty. He simply loads his victims into it, flies to the dump site, lands dumps the body and takes off again.”

“Reid, you are a genius. I’ll have Garcia check registrations and licences in the area, and hangers too.” In her excitement, she forgets her pain, until she fumbles for her phone.

“I’ll do it.” Reid offers, pulling out his own mobile.

“Yeah.” Emily tries to remember his earlier encouragement, but it doesn’t help much. So she just watches Reid instead.

“ . . . If he’s been transporting bodies, he won’t have been able to carry a full load of fertiliser, so look for agricultural pilots who’ve been missing quotas. There will most likely be a history of complaints for other things as well. . . . Yeah, thanks, Garcia.”

—

The team is assembled, giving the refined profile and setting up the bust . . . while Emily sits in the corner.

She watches them gear up to leave when suddenly Reid pulls Hotch aside.

“Hey, um, Hotch. You have more than enough men, and I don’t think I’d be of too much help for this, could I stay behind and get a head start on paperwork? I’ll be right by the phone if you need me, of course, but, you know. Trying to fix my sleep schedule a little. Mom always nags me about the coffee.” His laugh is a little forced.

Hotch glances over at Emily, pressing her eyes closed in discomfort. He’s a prosecutor turned profiler, Reid’s lies are transparent, but it's true. They don’t exactly need him.

“Alright. Set a good example for Morgan, will you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Reid watches rhythm go then gets to work.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. He does want a jump start on paperwork, but first: Emily.

“Does anyone have a deck of cards?”

—

It’s easy to procure what he needs, a standard deck, a sharpie and sticky notes. It’s not much, but he can work a few simple tricks. Last he grabs crips from the vending machine, a paper cut of water, and the bottle of pills from Emily’s bag.

Making his voice as soft as possible he rouses her, “Hey, Emily.”

She isn’t asleep (how could she be with her arm stinging?), but she’s pretty dazed, so she wakes with surprise.

“Oh, Spencer. Hey.”

“I brought you your pills.” He gestures to the extra chair he dragged over.

She sits up at the thought of relief and smiles when she sees what sits on the chair. Her stomach grumbles.

“Here, so you don’t have to take them on an empty stomach.” He hands her the packet of jalapeño crisps.

“Mmm, my favourite. You’re an angel, Spencer.”

He blushes, “Hardly. I’m just observant.”

Emily gives an exhausted eyebrow wiggle. “I’ve noticed.”

They laugh. It’s way too funny for some reason. Maybe it’s the shoddy flickering fluorescent lights of this tiny police station in the middle of East Bumble-fuck that must have been passed over for every budget increase in the last decade. Or maybe it’s the night air coming in through the cracked windows. (The aircon broke months ago, they were told). Or maybe they’re both just loopy from lack of sleep.

When they stop laughing, Emily starts in on her snack or tries to.

“Argh, stupid wrist.”

“Ah, sorry, Allow me, ma’am,” Spencer says with a sort of half bow because he’s sitting, all dramatically debonair.

Emily lets him, mostly because she’s tired and hungry and in pain, but also because his charm isn’t false at all. He might not always be put together, but there’s something adorably nerdy about him impossible to ignore.

“Why thank you, sir.”

“Of course.” He bows again, handing it back.

They fall once again into laughter, better this time because Emily is starving and her mouth waters at the smell of the crisps.

Emily eats quickly. Securing the packet between her lap and her brace and stuffing crisps in her mouth faster than she would have thought possible with her non-dominant hand.

She swallows the pill easily. Now all she has to do is wait for it to kick in. She lays her head back against the cool wall, closing her eyes.

‘Ugh, now I’m just in pain and can’t see.�� Sighing, she reopens them. When she does, Spencer is closer than before.

“Wanna see a magic trick?” He offers.

She nods.

“But first, I need this.”

With a flourish, he unties Emily’s silk scarf from her neck.

Her skin tingles with the sudden absence, feeling the breeze from the open window (or maybe the feeling is just from where his hand had brushed her collar).

The vanishing trick is simple, but no less magical. She giggles.

‘Oh, that must be the pills kicking in. I haven’t had coffee in a while, they must be making me drowsy.’

For his next trick, he shuffles the deck and fans ten cards face down. “Pick a card, any card!”

She obliges, choosing the one right in the middle. Wondering if she’s playing right into the trick but not caring all that much.

Even though she knew what was coming, she’s no less surprised when the exact card she picked and hadn’t shown him appeared in Spencer’s hand.

—

Several tricks later, Emily is about ready to pass out.

Spencer glances at the clock. He hadn’t meant to lie to Hotch. He did intend on starting his paperwork, but more time had passed than he realised.

He smiles at Emily’s near-sleeping form. He hates to wake her but . . .

“Hey, Em, I’ve got to at least do a little paperwork and you shouldn’t sleep here, you’ll hurt your neck.”

Emily mumbles something that sounds like “Let me be useless in peace.”

“No, come one. I can’t carry you.”

“Fine.”

Without opening her eyes, she stands, trusting Spencer to guide her. They walk to the bench in the miserable precinct’s waiting area. She’s out nearly as soon as she lays down, barely feeling Spencer place his cardigan under her head.

“‘Night, Emily.”

But he waits until he’s sure she’s comfortable before putting away the cards and sitting down at the small table with his files.

—

Reid is just finishing the write-up of his geographical profile.

“Oh, you’re back. How did it go?” He asks Morgan.

“We got him without too much resistance.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Emily?”

“Sleeping.”

Morgan nods, staring in Emily’s direction, but Reid stops him, “Don’t wake her, please.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow but decides not to question it. “We leave as soon as we’re packed.” He informs Reid.

“Yeah.”

“Reid, get over here.”

Reid hurries over to Morgan.

“What do you need?”

“Can you wake the bear?” Morgan asks, tone mostly teasing but also slightly wary.

Reid frowns. “She’s not going to attack you, you know. She’s in no condition.”

Morgan shrugs, already walking off. “I gotta help Rossi.”

Reid shakes his head. He walks off as well. But only to gather Emily’s bag.

He kneels to Emily’s level, tucking a stray strand of hair back into place. The motion sends Emily’s eyes fluttering open. She shifts quickly but clumsily up, trying to grab his hand.

“Hey, easy. It’s just me.” He reassures her, placing her scarf back around her neck.

She rubs it between her fingers, blinking as she calms down, “Oh, Spencer.”

“We’re about to leave. Hotch and JJ are finishing things here and Morgan and Rossi are picking up our stuff. I got your bag.”

“Thanks. I am so ready to be home.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, you two, come on,” Morgan calls.

“Coming,” Spencer shouts back, then turns to Emily, helping her up and hooking an arm around her waist. “Come on, let’s go home.”

(A/N: This turned out way less platonic than I intended, but hey, why not? Also, what is Emily and Spencer’s ship name? I’ve searched but can’t find it. So far I’ve thought of Remily, or Prencer. Lol Also, for anyone wondering, the switches from surname to given name were intentional.)

---

Based on some of the meanings of the Magician tarot card

Manifesting: The ability to make dreams come true

Healing: The ability to fix or improve something that's broken or not going well

Tapping into potential: Using one's talents, capabilities, and resources to succeed, especially when there's a need to transform something

#criminal minds #criminal minds sickfic #sicktember #sicktember 2024 #sicktember day 23 #spencer reid #emily prentiss #sickie!emily #caretaker!Spencer #sickie!prentiss #caretaker!reid #emily prentiss whump #hurt/comfort #spencer x emily #emily x spencer #reid x prentiss #prentiss x reid

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rynbutt · 8 months ago

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safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore.

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly.

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were.

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom.

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile.

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand.

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour.

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos.

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied.

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around.

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team.

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh.

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone.

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat.

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth.

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again.

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house.

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard.

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house.

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car.

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child.

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this.

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that.

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers.

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him.

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator.

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression.

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.”

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway.

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile.

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

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