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wrinkledparchment · 2 years ago

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the absence of everything (iii)

Summary: Based on 1x22 | 2x1 - After your trip to Vegas was rudely interrupted by a suspicious manila envelope being delivered to your hotel room, you and Spencer have to cut your vacation short to go back to Quantico. Although you and Spencer try to resume your professional relationship after sharing a bed, Spencer realizes just how much you mean to him, and can finally put a name on what he feels, once and for all.

Word Count: 6,030 words

Author’s Note: So... I’ve been gone for so long but this series is probably the main thing I still receive praise for in my notes. I’m currently focusing more on writing for HL but I’ve had this in my drafts forever and I decided to feed you guys!! I hope you like it... upon rereading it, some of my favorite fluffy lines I’ve ever written are in here. How did I manage that.

Content Warnings: Your general criminal minds ish, death, stuff like that. Some fluff content for you guys!!

Series Taglist: @liviasaugusta @l0ve-0f-my-life @imsuperawkward @nxstalgicnxbxdy @marciscaspar @april-14-blog @sweetreid @essenceproxima @sammypotato67 @idkanymore-05 @slep-slop @squirrellover1967 @irjuejjsaa @yomama-umbridge @holybatflapexpert @rosignoelle @ladyravenclaw @yours-truly-r @spenciepoo338 @masieofthevalley @throughparisallthroughrome @afuckingshituniverse @ladyravenclaw @irjuejjsaa @danandphilfan6 @yasminwashere @mayempress @kys-things

the abscence of everything: i | ii | . . .

“It is me. I am his madness. For years he’s been looking for something to put his madness into. And he found me.” – John Fowles, The Collector

. . .

The coffee table in your Vegas hotel room had cluttered manila envelopes, the key and note given to Spencer, and a piece of missing evidence from your father’s murder scene. Rage bubbled in your stomach, so as Spencer called Gideon on the hotel room phone, quickly putting it on speaker, you paced around, unable to stop seeing your dad’s case files and his dead, mutilated body over and over again.

“Gideon, [Name] and I both got a package, I got a key and a note reading ‘She will die unless you save her, Doctor Reid. Call Gideon. He knows.’ She got two binded pieces of paper from a book her father was binding and repairing when he died.”

Gideon finally let out a sigh, “Yeah, I got a Nellie Fox baseball card from 1963 and a head in a box. Everyone on the team got something, but Elle was hit hard. She was framed for murder in Montego Bay, Hotch and Morgan went down to get her released and bring her back to Quantico.”

You walked closer to the phone and stopped chewing on your nails, rage bubbling inside your chest. “Gideon, whoever the hell this was had access to missing evidence from my father’s murder investigation. Meaning, this son of a bitch is the guy who robbed and killed my father. This is personal.”

“Don’t worry, [Name]. We’re going to find him. Get on the closest flight back here and Garcia will tell you where we are, we’re going to get this guy as soon as we can.” Right after he finished, Gideon hung up, leaving you and Spencer to race to get to the airport in time.

You left your rental car at the airport kiosk, signing it out and rushing after Spencer to get on the flight back home. It was all a blur, blended together to create your perfect disaster. You were stressed, overworked, and ill-prepared. This was the case you’d joined for—to find your father’s murderer and lock the bastard up.

You’d searched and searched and searched, and the criminal found you. Just as you’d eased out of work mode, just as something besides work and murder and blood filled your mind, he stole you away. Because of course he did. Because he was looking.

Spencer was a mess, but not for the same reason. You were obviously under duress, but you were so scattered that he felt like he couldn’t do anything. He did his best, carrying your bags for you, getting you iced chai while waiting for boarding. When you did get on the plane, he immediately lifted the armrest between you back, and pulling out Dante’ Inferno, handing his leather-bound copy over to you.

Your fingers ran over the spine of the book, feeling the indents where the title was, the smooth texture everywhere else. Fine craftsmanship, it must’ve been from a passionate, talented individual bookstore owner with a knowledge of binding. It reminded you of yourself, the care and attention devoted in the craft.

“You’ve got a fine copy here, Spence,” you smiled, as much as you could. “My dad would’ve loved it.”

“Do you think you can still bind books well?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“I’ll never forget.”

He nodded, smiling something bittersweet, “We’ll find your dad’s old book. And you’re going to fix it.” You smiled again, a little more genuine, and flicked open Spencer’s copy of Dante’s Inferno.

“I’ve got supplies in a closet somewhere,” you recalled, voice soft and quiet in case it suddenly broke. You didn’t want to cry, and you shouldn’t, not here, but it was becoming harder to not be vulnerable with Spencer. “I dream about him every night.”

Reid nods, moving his hand to rest on your knee, moving his thumb gently, allowing you to continue. “I’ve been waiting for a lead, since before I was even in the FBI academy. I’ve been waiting for 8 years and now that I’ve finally got it… just when I was happy, too.” You pause for a minute, letting one tear roll down your face but holding the rest in. “I see his body everywhere I go, can’t stop remembering how the blood felt on my hands, how lifeless he looked. I miss him, even after all this time, and now that I’ve finally got a chance to figure out who did it, I don’t want to.”

Spencer pulled you closer, looking out the small window to see the bright blue sky and all the clouds. Your breathing was still erratic, your heart still broken. And he hated how in the moment you needed him most, he couldn’t figure out what to say. “I’m here,” he murmured, over and over again until he was sure you knew what he meant.

. . .

Even though Garcia’s explanation was rushed, you vaguely understood what was happening. She refused to look you in the eye, too, possibly because Gideon had told the team about what you’d found and how it was connected to you personally. It didn’t matter though, because you’d just pulled up to a possible unsub’s apartment.

The alleyway in which all the cars were parked was also crowded by other FBI members, all unguarded, meaning the unsub wasn’t there. The local police, and an extra car were also there, you assumed some sort of medical examiner, and there was probably a body.

You and Reid were authorized to enter after flashing your badges, and neither of you were asked to put on vests. Walking in, the both of you grabbed gloves, Spencer just holding them while you slid them on and followed him over to the crime scene.

It wasn’t overly graphic, compared to other things you’ve seen, but it was traditional to become emotionally numb in the job. No matter what, someone had died here, an ‘unrepentant bad man’ or not. The bed, and with it, the man named Frank Giles, was lying in the center of the room, a sword plunged into his chest and sticking upright.

Elle, Hotch, Morgan and Gideon all stood in the room, Hotch reading something written on the sword out loud to the rest of the team. “To learn of what should next be done, leave the blade til’ the hour be none.”

Spencer stepped closer, watching as Hotch asked Elle to step back. “The bed’s in the middle of the room,” Hotch began, Morgan interrupting for a second, “And maybe the light from here casts a shadow and points to something.”

Derek quickly began explaining his theory, “Well midnight is 00:00 hours in 24-hour time. Would that be none?” Hotch dismissed this quickly, stating that there would be no shadow at midnight, until Reid finally spoke up.

“3pm.” Everyone turned to him first, then you, then back to him. Obviously, Gideon did tell everyone that this was connected to your father’s death. And surprisingly, you looked very calm for someone about to embark on their quite literal personal case, the one you’d joined for. “Hey guys, Garcia told us where to find you.”

Hotch nodded at you, barely acknowledging how personal of a situation this was for you, but quickly dismissed it, listening to Spencer talk about medieval terms for hours of the day, then asking for lighting equipment so he could replicate the 3pm sun.

While people walked in and out with various standing lights, Gideon finally walked up to you. You turned to him, offering a quick nod and smile before quickly dropping it when he mentioned your dad. “You know you can’t let your past affect this case,” he states, and you nod. “It’s obviously personal, and I know this person is targeting you, but you can’t allow yourself to make mistakes because of your past with the unsub.”

Sighing, you agreed with Gideon, instead moving next to the shadow as Reid adjusted it, and you knocked on the wall until you heard a hollow sound, ripping away the wallpaper without need for Hotch’s command. Underneath all the wallpaper was a box, and you immediately grabbed it.

Reid stopped you, “Are we sure it’s safe?”

Hotch quickly dismissed him and allowed you to examine it. You played with the lock for only a few seconds before looking back up at Reid. “Give me the key.” Without hesitation, he handed it over and you shoved it in, and to nobody’s surprise, it fit perfectly. You lifted the lid, and familiar music had began to play, one that Reid had played for you during the classical music quiz.

“Forellenquintett,” you and Reid murmured in unison, the rest of the team looking up at each other before shrugging it off. Reid reached inside to grab the note from the music box, reading it out loud to the rest of the team.

Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight.

Elle scoffed, walking off, “Well, that was worth it.”

Gideon ignored her, speaking right afterwards. “The lid. Little tab right under the lock.”

You quickly fiddled with it, revealing a CD and a lock of hair that nearly perfectly matched yours. You hummed under your breath in disapproval and disgust, Derek and Elle working together to put the lock of hair in an evidence back and grab the CD for review.

After heading back to the table room, you and Reid sat next to each other, which was your usual spot. For some reason the team seemed to eye the both of you, suspicious about what had happened in Vegas and why you two were still together when you should’ve left before that.

You carefully watched the TV after someone slid in the CD. A dimly lit desk with cluttered items all around it, and a very large throne behind it. A man wobbled into frame, clearly injured by something, which the team noted.

“I assure you, you’ll all understand in the end why it must be this way. You might even thank me. You know now you’re on a quest; a young girl’s life depends on the successful completion of it. As you can see, she’s quite beautiful . . . and in distress.”

You clenched your fists when you saw the girl come into frame, screaming at the camera, begging for something. You wondered if everyone on the team recognized just how much, even from the little they all saw, how she looked like you.

“Now please listen closely for there is one rule, and this rule must be followed. The one rule is only the members of your team may participate in the quest.” He began to list your names, and displayed pictures of each of you in the video, you and Reid in the same frame taken during one of the previous cases. “A quest must be completed in a proper way, or it isn’t a quest, is it? That’s it. One rule. Simple.

“Now, you will be receiving an item soon that will hold the final clue you’ll need to finish the quest. You will find you also need a book which has inspired many an adventure like mine. Believe me when I tell you, I truly hope to see you all soon. It will mean a successful end to this adventure for all of us, but especially [Name].”

With that, the clip was over and all that was left was static. Reid had tensed after he’d mentioned you by name, and it didn’t fly over the heads of any of your coworkers either. The unsub knows you so well, doesn’t he? Pictures of you and Reid together, knowledge of just how to tick you off, and additionally, he knows what happened to your father the last night he was alive and is plunging that knife of knowledge right into your heart and twisting it. Involving all your coworkers in it, making it clear that all of this, it’s all for you.

You were the subject of madness, the main target of all of this. You were the ‘protagonist’, he was the villain, and everyone else—the dead, your coworkers, the girl he’d kidnapped—were all side characters in the story. But Reid, standing right next to you in the picture while everyone else was photographed individually, that said something to you. He knew about whatever was happening between the two of you, so much so that it was terrifying because he probably knew better than either of you.

Suddenly, the team was active. “This guy’s got pictures of us?” Elle exclaims.

Reid fiddled with the pen in his hand, “What do we do now?”

Hotch eyed you, noting how tense you seemed when only just minutes ago, even with a dead body in front of you, you were eerily calm. “The lock of hair’s being analyzed for DNA. There might be something on file.” JJ walked out, vowing to figure out who the girl is. Hotch nodded, “Let’s get the clues up on the board. Maybe we can make some sense of something.”

Elle immediately objected, “Wait, we’re going to play this guy’s game?”

Reid sighed, glancing at you for a few moments, “Do we have a choice?”

Everybody stayed silent, Spencer’s words lingering in the air while Gideon and Hotch went to a different room. You began quietly pinning the clues in the evidence bags to the board, not saying a single word to anybody else in the room. Elle found the soft crumple of the evidence bags relaxing, eyes closing softly until Hotch interrupted her nap and sent Anderson to take her home.

Soon enough, yet another piece of evidence, a list of number sets in a strict pattern, though it may not seem like it without a keen eye. Just as Spencer opened his mouth, you beat him to the punch. “Sets of numbers, page number, line number, word number. It’s a cipher based on a book which he expects us to know.”

Derek stares back at you, Spencer’s mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sure, you were quicker sometimes than he was, but you seemed so rigid, it was odd to them. “Yeah but what book?”

“Well, this ‘quest’ is clearly meant to be personal to you, [Name],” Derek proposed, “Meaning this is a book he expects you to know.” Spencer sighed, walking over to grab the ripped pages the unsub had sent you and examines them, reading the words hoping he’d remember reading this book at some point but he doesn’t.

“Dante’s Inferno?” Reid questioned, even though he obviously knew it wasn’t.

“Both of us would recognize it. Whatever book my dad was fixing that night, it was that book. Specifically, a first edition. Let’s see… that was eight years ago. Do you think memory recall would work?”

Elle and Derek simply stood off to the side while you and Reid debated each other, glancing at each other occasionally. Yet, the body language was the same as it always was, and maybe what had changed was the way Elle and Derek read the situation.

“When you got there, the book was gone; how would you know which one he was supposed to be working on?” Spencer rebutted.

“I was closing, I must’ve—” you stammered, “I must’ve known what book he was working on, I have to!” Soon, you were pacing around the room, muttering things underneath your breath and attempting to retrace your steps from 8 years ago that also occurred across the country.

Derek set his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place and stopping your pacing. “Okay, [Name], calm down, we can always try memory recall, and if not, the clues should be in the evidence—this guy is meticulous, I’m sure he’s accounted for this.”

Suddenly, Gideon walked back into the room, looking at the four of you. Spencer was still staring at the evidence board, Hotch leaning back in his chair, and Derek and you standing in the middle of the room. “[Name], you don’t have to relive that memory if it’s not necessary. How would we proceed if we didn’t have all these clues? What’s the first thing we’d look at?”

“Victimology,” you swallowed, both thankful and displeased that Gideon was looking out for your wellbeing. Everybody was watching you so closely, especially because this was a personal case to you, as if they expected you to break down at any moment.

“And we have a victim, Rebecca Bryant. Hotch and I will follow the mailman lead. Derek, take JJ and find out everything you can about Rebecca. Reid, [Name], stay here and find the book. If anybody can do it, it’s you two.”

Everyone else left the room, Reid and you staying. Sure, Gideon didn’t want you to relive the worst moments of your entire life, but you were so close. So you shut the door to the roundtable room and turned back to Reid. “I want to do memory recall.”

. . .

The chair you were sitting on was soft and sturdy, so you let yourself lean back, and you closed your eyes. You breathed, waiting for Reid to begin. You tried to calm yourself, enough to the point where your anger flooded away and all you could do was think. See your memories in a clear light.

“I’m going to try and calm down first, can you guide me?”

Spencer nodded, breathing along with you. “What is your favorite memory?”

You focused in on the word, smiling; favorite. You could hear Spencer’s giddy laugh echoing in your ears, bright city lights clouding your vision. The hood of your black rental car from Vegas reflected them, the smaller model of the Eiffel tower standing tall, neon signs and main strip casino windows. The cool, night breeze in your hair. You could still feel Reid’s lingering presence in the passenger’s seat, the way he looked at you with those doe-y, hazel eyes. His pupils were inflated, shrinking again when he turned away to change the stereo.

You could feel the pain in your toe when you stubbed it on the hotel bedframe, you could feel the newly replaced bedsheets of the hotel against your legs, and you could see Spencer standing over you, smiling so widely when you laughed. The way his warm skin felt against yours, how gentle he was with his arms around you.

You imagined the pool water as he splashed it back at you, the water droplets against his skin and the way he slicked back his wet hair. His laugh and shy smile after you told him he still looked like a rat when he was wet. The understanding look when he listened to your struggles with the BAU, your life story, the interest in your past and your hobbies.

After all the memories you’d made yesterday had flashed through your head in a matter of seconds, you registered what it meant. When you thought of happy, you thought of him. Some of your favorite moments in life were with him, being around him, watching him. Him, him, him. This feeling—it was consuming you, and it felt so delightful. You wanted it to devour you, and you let it.

“Yesterday,” you whispered after a minute of reliving the best day of your life. You didn’t open your eyes, but you could hear Reid shift in his chair and you smiled, assuming he was blushing. Profiler or not, he knew what that meant.

He sighed, “Are you ready to go back?” You nodded. “It was eight years ago. How old were you?”

“I was sixteen, and about to graduate high school.” You still remember how frustrated and overwhelmed you were. The night before you discovered your dad, you had the closing shift along with a massive pile of homework and colleges to apply to. You sat behind the wooden counter, combing through your homework as fast as you could, eager for your father to come and take an overnight shift in working with the books.

“What time was it?”

“It was five minutes until the clock struck 11,” you said, which was the beginning of your father’s shift at the bookstore. You were packing up your homework and college applications back into your bookbag, noting on a stray piece of paper all the leftover homework and applications you had to pour over in the morning. You were so tired, but you wanted to thank your father for taking the shift tonight and letting you rest.

“My father is coming in,” you tell Spencer, reliving the last moment you saw him alive. The door rang, signaling his entrance. His hair and shoulders were wet from the rain outside, something you didn’t remember about the scene until now. He smiled, asking you how your day went.

“Okay, sweetpea,” he had begun, “are you ready to go home?” You nodded to him, but not before helping him with his bags. He looked at you, smiling while you followed him down to the book storage, an icy cold basement.

You watched, setting out his materials for him while he brought out the book, which was partially bound but tattered still, especially the cover, and you had to take a double take, pausing and hearing Reid’s voice. You weren’t listening, but rather going through the evidence in your head.

JJ’s butterfly, Reid’s key, and a lock of hair all on top of a piece of bloodied parchment. You could see the dainty, cursive letters, shocked as to how you’d not remember the cover when you worked at a bookstore. You gasped, nearly crying as you remembered the last thing you’d seen your father doing alive.

You tried to shake it all out of your head, the unsub wanted to get to you. This quest was curated for you and him, a chess game, and you needed to have a level head to win. Sitting straight up, your eyes shot open and you and Reid shared a glance, him smiling proudly. You handled yourself so well.

“The Collector, by John Fawkes,” you stated, rushing over to the board where all the evidence was pinned. You took off the butterfly, the lock of hair, the key and the bloodied paper and set them in front of Reid.

“These are all on the first edition front cover, a bloodied piece of paper as a background, the key, the lock of hair and the butterfly all on top. Not only do they have a personal significance to us, but to the book. I should’ve known sooner,” you berated yourself, explaining quickly before walking off, ready to call the nearest library for their first edition copy of The Collector.

. . .

Reid, Garcia, and you had all stood around, them solving the cipher and writing the message on the board. Elle had been sent home earlier, so you were a team member short, but you were closer than you’d ever been on solving your dad’s murder. So close you could almost imagine him, smiling down at you and telling you that you were doing a good job. That’s all the encouragement you needed.

Hotch had berated Anderson for only dropping Elle off rather than staying at her house, stating that the unsub had all of your personal information. You begged Hotch to let you go to her house and stay, but he said he had needed you too much because of your connection to the case.

Instead, you watched as Reid and Garcia went over the cipher with the librarian. You walked away from the team when Hotch called you. “Yes sir?”

“Elle was shot at her house, I’m at the hospital now, I need you and Reid to keep working on those clues. I’ll update you when she’s out of surgery.”

Your stomach twisted, wondering why in all hell the unsub took Elle. This was your quest, the team were all there to aid you. Why would he hurt Elle instead of you? Instead of your family or someone you were close to? You nearly cried out as you broke into tears—this team, the BAU, is your family. And you’ve brought all of them into danger just by being here.

When you walked back into the room, you’d discovered that Reid had called his mom to be flown into Quantico by the federal agents there, and that you’d be meeting his mom for the first time. She was involved in this case now too, and you wondered if you should stick around after this. If all of this, if Elle’s shooting was your fault.

. . .

You leaned against Reid’s desk as he fiddled with the evidence bag that the poem was in. “Your mom’s safe,” you said, “agents just picked her up and she’s flying over here now. Garcia told me.”

Reid didn’t even dare to meet your gaze, staring at the poem still. “I forgot she always used to read me this poem,” he started. “And I realized that nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collects butterflies except for me. People tell me their secrets all the time, and I think it’s because they know I don’t have anyone to betray them to… except for my mother. I tell her pretty much everything in my letters. Did you know that I write her everyday?”

You smiled, leaning forward, “I did, Reid. And I know that you feel guilty about not seeing her two days ago. That you write all of those letters to make up for the fact that you think you don’t visit her enough.”

He looked up at you, a clear question in his eyes. How do you know?

“Reid, during my memory recall, when you asked what my favorite memory was… I’ve been alive for twenty-four years, and out of any memory—the ones with my best friend, the good days here, my childhood—I chose Las Vegas. Not because of the beautiful city lights, or the fancy car, but because you were there with me, just us.

“I told you about my father not because you don’t have anyone to betray me to, but because I want you to know. Because I trust you whole-heartedly, and if anybody in this world should know me best, it’s you.”

Spencer finally held his eye contact with you, swallowing hard. You let your words hang in the air before putting your hand on his shoulder and squeezing, allowing it to linger there for a few seconds before walking back to Garcia’s lair, wanting to soak up all the information she might have.

You heard the signature ‘beep’ of Garcia hanging up on someone, and shut her door gently before striding over to her desk. “What’s going on so far?”

She didn’t lift up her eyes to look at you, typing furiously on her computer, “I’m searching for Rebecca Bryant’s biological family, turns out she was adopted by the Bryant family and her real last name is Garner.”

Penelope filled you in further on the details, actively working to unseal her adoption papers and find out what happened to the original family; after all, the victimology is the first thing you look at.

Could you consider yourself a victim? He’d been taunting and tormenting you and your entire team, he was most likely the man who had killed your father, or at least knew what happened or was involved somehow. Your father had been murdered prior to Rebecca’s disappearance, and you considered why this man would have been involved with your father’s murder and Rebecca’s disappearance.

Were you actually a target?

You went to sit back at your desk, looking at your old piece of parchment paper with your favorite canto of Dante’s Inferno written in cursive, the fifth, the canto of Francesca. The most famous line written in bold and in the original Italian, “Amor, ch’a nullo amato amar perdona,” or “Love, that excempts no beloved from loving in return.”

The bullpen was a shuffle of people, other agents you didn’t interact with that much, that didn’t come with you on cases, and tons of other people rushing around, going through files, making phone calls. Spencer strided over from the small kitchenette to sit at his desk, which was connected to yours, sitting across from you with a small wall of transparent glass in between.

He smiled at you, a warm, small smile that frequently was exchanged between the two of you. Sometime in between your talk at his desk and the hour or so you went without seeing each other, there was a microscopic layer of tension between you, beginning right where your desks separated.

The shuffling of the bullpen dulled the ache of the tension, and so did your eyes slowly closing to rest for just a few minutes as Reid spent his time half-dozing off while reading a printed out version of The Collector. Reid finally broke this silence when your head began to tilt to the side as you fell into a tiny cat nap. He called for you, with no response, so he got out of his chair and poked you in the forearm.

You wiggled a bit in your sleep, shifting around trying to find some semblance of comfort in your uncomfortable office chair. He takes a moment to stare just for a bit at your face. Looking at your eyes gently closed, your face peaceful even in this painful position, his mind fogged with the soft midnight laughter you traded with each other in the Vegas hotel room. He imagined the weight of your head on his chest, your arm laid over his stomach, your face and warm breath against the crook of his neck.

He realized quickly the words that came along with the happy memories made along with you. The constricting yet freeing feeling stuck in his throat and squeezed around his heart, the sort of euphoria you associate with the warm feeling of sun on your skin and driving a convertible along the coast. That beautiful, powerful, devouring feeling of knowing that someone has you. You’re theirs, completely and utterly.

The feeling of pure joy when you stop daydreaming and start remembering memories instead. When the words to describe this feeling escape you because all you can think about is that one, special person who has altered the course of your life forever. When you can no longer write romance because none of the words you put onto a page can do this feeling--this love--justice.

He was in love with you. He felt it in everywhere he looked, everything he did, and every moment he lived.

Spencer took a quick look around the office, and gently prodded at your sleeping form again until you open your eyes just a little, squinting against the bright lights of the bullpen. He held out his hand, which you, in your sleepy, half-awake state, took with no hesitation as he guided you into the conference room and turned off most of the lights.

He showed you to the couch, sitting on the far end, leaving you room to lay down and take the rest of it while the two of you rested and waited for Spencer’s mother to arrive. The crown of your head was just barely touching the side of his thigh, and eventually, moving and wiggling around in your sleep made you lay your head straight in his lap.

He felt the sudden movement and then the weight, and stared down at your side profile, admiring the way the dim lights highlighted your face perfectly. He brushed hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, and he swear he saw a ghost of a smile on your face. He fell asleep, fingers still intertwined and resting in your hair.

Spencer dreamt of city lights and midnight laughter and Vegas hotel rooms. He dreamt of walking up behind you while you made pancakes in the morning and piling kisses all along the side of your neck and face, arms wrapped around your waist and the way your body would be decorated in stripes by the morning sun.

He was woken up by the distribution of weight changing, your head shifting to stare up at him, hair surrounding your face in a pile on his lap. The sleepy smile that graces your face twists his stomach into knots and melts his heart.

You seem to not mind the fact that your head had wound up in his lap, and instead, you muttered a small, sleepy, single word. “Coffee?”

He almost laughed, just stunned by how natural the domesticity and comfortability between you two felt. Like the wall that had built between you--separating your pinkies from intertwining, separating your fates from inexplicably linking--had suddenly vanished. There was a mutual understanding there--you make me feel safe, you make me happy, you are mine.

He slid out from underneath your head, turning around just before he reached the exit to look at you, splayed across the couch comfortably, the dim 5:00 am moonlight gleaming through the windows, and your eyes, shining even brighter back at him with a giant smile on your face.

In the small kitchenette, he tidies himself up as much as possible, fussing with his hair while coffee brewed, and just as he finished pouring the both of you a cup, a group of FBI agents gathered around the entrance with a blonde, tall and pale woman that was Spencer’s mother.

“That’s why you’re so skinny, you know,” Spencer’s mother, Diana Reid stated only a few seconds after walking into the bullpen. Spencer turned his head, setting down the pot of coffee. His mother’s eyes were sunken just a bit, dark circles underneath, worry lines accenting her face. “Too much coffee.”

Her frame was cramped up, shoulders tightened and her body looking even more frail by the minute. Her short pixie cut looked untamed, and Spencer wondered how stressed she had been. He knows that she hates planes, and the government, and basically anything else where somebody might be watching her.

Schizophrenia tends to do that to a person. Even the smartest people get unlucky, get ill in a time where there isn’t much help or refuse it themselves. Spencer lives every day wondering about his mother’s happiness and well-being, but knows she is taken care of in her facility. He writes her everyday, and thinks about his childhood memories, about his father and mother and how he wanted a relationship that was nearly the opposite of that.

They loved each other at one point. Enough to have him and raise him together for a few years, and all he can think about is how much he would love and cherish his wife, his children with her, and how no matter what got in the way, he couldn’t see himself ever letting go.

All these thoughts, worry for his mother, himself, his future, his children float through his head and pass by in a few seconds. The next few seconds consist of you, whether his mother would approve of you and just how much she might adore you for seeing you make her son so happy.

Finally coming back to reality, he nodded at the FBI agents who had brought her here. “Thanks a lot guys, I’ve got her.” Walking forward, he looks at the horrified look on his mother’s face, eyebrows raised and hand coming to cover her mouth, glancing around the FBI bullpen, clearly unnerved by where she was.

Once the FBI agents have disappeared around the corner of the hallway into the bullpen and Spencer takes a few more steps towards her, she lets her hand drop from her face. “You know I’m terrified of flying,” she states, shaking her head for emphasis.

Spencer gives a small, fake smile. “I know mom, I’m sorry.”

Spencer glances over his mom’s shoulder, seeing you come out of the roundtable room and begin walking over to where he and his mom were standing. Still obviously upset, his mom continues, “Well then why did you have those fascists arrest me?”

He can hear your footsteps echoing throughout the mostly quiet bullpen, and he tries to calm his mom down before you arrive here, to introduce yourself.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid slow burn best friends to lovers au 20k #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gender neutral!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #bau #bau x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader

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stahlop · 2 years ago

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Once Upon a Time 4x03 “Rocky Road” Review

Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10 1x11 1x12 1x13 1x14 1x15 1x16 1x17 1x18 1x19 1x20 1x21 1x22 2x01 2x02 2x03 2x04 2x05 2x06 2x07 2x08 2x09 2x10 2x11 2x12 2x13 2x14 2x15 2x16 2x17 2x18 2x19 2x20 2x21 2x22 3x01 3x02 3x03 3x04 3x05 3x06 3x07 3x08 3x09 3x10 3x11 3x12 3x13 3x14 3x15 3x16 3x17 3x18 3x19 3x20 3x21 3x22 4x01 4x02

So the ice cream lady is apparently the Snow Queen and she’s cursed Marian to become frozen! And she’s also, apparently, Elsa’s aunt and was trapped in the urn before Elsa was. Interesting that Elsa’s mother never thought to tell her scared daughter that ice powers run in the family! And Emma finally pushes past some of her trust issues with Hook!

Summary: Marian becomes frozen and True Love’s Kiss doesn’t work when Robin tries to save her. Hook resorts to blackmail to find out who else has powers like Elsa. In the past, Elsa and Kristoff fight Hans and his brothers and end up discovering a long-lost relative.

Opening: Any Given Sundae

New Characters:

Will Scarlet: He’s apparently an outcast from the Merry Men. How he’s come to be in Storybrooke is a mystery. He’s a thief and will always be a thief. The most helpful thing he does is show Emma and David that the ice cream shop doesn’t use anything to keep the ice cream cold. (For those that don’t know, Will was a favorite on the spin-off Once Upon a Time in Wonderland)

Character Observations:

The Snow Queen: She doesn’t have a name in Arendelle or Storybrooke yet, but Emma refers to her as the Snow Queen, so that’s what we’re going with. In Arendelle, she is revealed to have been trapped in the urn Hans was going to use to trap Elsa. Instead, the Snow Queen freezes Hans and scares his brothers away. She is revealed to be Elsa’s mother’s sister.

In Storybrooke, she is determined to make people think that Elsa is behind all the freezing mayhem that is going on. She does some kind of magic to Marian’s ice cream cone which eventually makes her frozen. She attempts to kill Hook in order to make it look like Elsa did it. Luckily, Emma comes and saves him. But the Snow Queen clearly knows Emma somehow, even if she doesn’t remember. Elsa also doesn’t remember her, but the Snow Queen tells her the Rock Trolls took her memories like they did with Anna when she was younger. She eventually disappears. We later see her talking to Gold. He offers to help her, which she rejects. He also warns her about Emma remembering her.

Regina: How the hell did she run a kingdom when she is terrible at subterfuge? She attempts to hook Henry in by buying him comic books and then makes obvious comments about how the storybook doesn’t have an author. Henry sees through her immediately. She goes on about finding the author and getting her happy ending. Henry, instead of telling her that’s not how this works, tells her it’s her best idea yet. Oy vey! Meanwhile, Marian has been frozen and Robin asks for her help to reverse whatever curse has been put upon her. It’s interesting that she automatically blames Elsa, when she, herself, has been unjustly accused of magical things happening in Storybrooke that ended up being other people (Cora in The Cricket Game). She claims she’s trying to change, but she still jumps to conclusions at the first chance she gets. Elsa says only an act of true love can save Marian, so Robin kisses her, which doesn’t work. David claims the ice is acting as a barrier like when Frederick was turned to gold in What Happened to Frederick, but Robin later tells Regina it didn’t work because he’s in love with someone else. Regina takes it with grace, since he and Marian are technically still married. They decide to take Marian’s heart so she’s not frozen completely, and Regina can work on reversing the curse.

Emma: Her magic is acting wonky, but she won’t admit it. Regina calls her out on it when she goes to try and figure out what caused the freezing spell on Marian. Emma thinks she’s still mad about her bringing Marian back in the first place. Which, she’s not wrong, but also, neither is Regina. Hook wants to go with her, but she tells him to take Elsa to the sheriff’s station to protect her from the townspeople who think she’s responsible for Marian. Hook doesn’t want to leave Emma, but she gets angry and asks him to just listen to her for once. At Robin’s tent, Emma comes across former Merry Man, Will Scarlet. He runs when he finds out she’s the sheriff, but is taken down by David. Will gives them information about the ice cream shop’s ice cream still being frozen hours after the blackout happened. Will attempts to pick the lock of the ice cream shop to show them, but Emma gets impatient and does it for him, much to David’s surprise. They discover that Will was telling the truth when they see the back room is frozen. And also Will takes off and steals money from the till. Emma wants to go after him, but David says they have more important things to do concerning Marian and she can go after Will another time. Emma expresses self-doubt about her abilities, but David tries to lift her spirits. Emma and David arrive to the Snow Queen trying to kill Hook. The Snow Queen taunts Emma that her magic isn’t stronger than hers, but Emma knocks her back with a blast of magic and manages to magic David and Hook out of the way of the falling icicles. After the Snow Queen disappears, Emma tells David and Hook that the way the Snow Queen said her name sounded familiar, like she’d heard it before. Hook offers to help look for her lair, but Emma gets pissed at him for not following her directions and almost getting himself killed. Emma talks to Elsa who is upset that the Snow Queen told her that Anna put her in the urn. Emma thinks they’re all pawns for something bigger, since Emma brought Elsa there accidentally, but the Snow Queen was already there. Emma doesn’t think the curse brought her to Storybrooke. Emma runs into Hook outside of Granny’s and she’s not happy with his shenanigans. He accuses her of not trusting him, but Emma tells him the truth. She does trust him, but she’s afraid he’s going to get himself killed since every other guy she’s been with is dead. Hook promises her he’s a survivor and they start kissing in the middle of the street!

Hook: He certainly does not like being told what to do, which gets him in trouble with Emma, but not for the reasons he thinks. We start with him, Emma, and Elsa questioning Gold about how Elsa and the urn ended up in his vault. He claims not to know. Hook isn’t buying his BS about turning over a new leaf for a second. Even when Belle compels him to tell the truth with the dagger, you can tell he’s not buying it. Emma, Elsa, and Hook go to the mayor’s office when Marian has been frozen. Emma goes to look for whomever is responsible and Hook wants to go with her. He’s very upset when she asks him to take Elsa to the sheriff’s station instead. Immediately, Hook and Elsa decide not to follow Emma’s orders and take the investigation into their own hands. By going to Gold’s shop and blackmailing him. Can I just say how much this pains me to see Hook stooping so low when he’s trying to prove to Emma how trustworthy he is? To secretly go to Gold and blackmail him because he knows Belle doesn’t have the real dagger to get what he wants is the opposite of everything he’s trying to prove to Emma. I mean, I know it does help them find out where the ice cream lady/Snow Queen is, but using a way that harkens back to his villainous days is not the way to go about it. Sigh. Gold changes a piece of Marian’s frozen hair into snowflakes that leads Hook and Elsa to the Snow Queen. Hook attempts to call Emma, but she doesn’t answer and has to leave a message (the crux of which is, why did she get him a phone if she never answers it, lol). When Hook and Elsa attempt to leave to go find Emma (since she’s not answering the phone), Hook’s feet are frozen by the Snow Queen. Luckily, Emma saves him before the Snow Queen’s plan to kill him takes place. Later that night, Hook is drinking at Granny’s and Emma’s still pissed at him. He accuses her of not trusting him, but she says she does trust him. She’s just afraid of him getting killed. He tells her he’s a survivor before kissing her. And, this is the first time Hook has initiated a kiss with Emma, she’s initiated it every other time. Hot! Hot! Hot!

Elsa and Kristoff: In Arendelle, Elsa is freaking out over Anna. Kristoff is trying to calm her down by relaying all of Anna’s heroic feats, but Elsa is stressing big time. She then gets a report that Hans has an army and is heading towards Arendelle. Kristoff wants to go see what’s up, but Elsa won’t let him, using his status as Anna’s groom as her reasoning. He goes out anyway and overhears Hans telling his brothers about a magical urn. Kristoff reports back to Elsa that it can contain magical beings like her. He wants to bring some soldiers to go destroy the urn. Elsa wants to avoid war. She suggests just she and Kristoff go. Elsa almost walks herself off a cliff while she and Kristoff have a heart to heart. They get to the cave with the urn and Elsa goes to destroy it, but then some runes show up on it, and she’s trying to decipher them when Hans and his brothers enter. Elsa fights off two of them with her ice powers, and Kristoff dispatches another with a sword, but then Hans gets the drop on Kristoff and threatens to make Anna a widow if Elsa doesn’t hand over the urn (and Kristoff, with a sword to his neck, still makes a joke that he and Anna aren’t married so she wouldn’t technically be a widow). Elsa ends up giving Hans the urn, despite Kristoff’s protests. Hans continues to be the worst person ever by telling Elsa that she doesn’t belong anywhere so he’s going to put her in the urn like she doesn’t exist, which plays on all of Elsa’s magic insecurities. But surprise, surprise, when he opens the urn to put her inside, the Snow Queen comes out instead. And she freezes Hans and his brothers run off. Elsa is in heaven meeting someone who has ice powers like herself. They compare stories about making snowmen come to life and building ice castles. The Snow Queen sees the painting of Elsa’s parents and lets her know Elsa’s mother was her sister, making her Elsa’s aunt. Elsa is understandably confused as her mother never mentioned a sister. Elsa lets her know her mother was lost at sea and it’s just her and Anna now. She tells her how scared she is that Anna is missing, and the Snow Queen promises she’ll help her find her, because that is what family does.

In Storybrooke, Elsa is accused of using her powers to freeze Marian. Emma wants her and Hook to stay at the sheriff’s station, but they go looking for whomever actually froze Marian. They eventually find the Snow Queen in the woods. The Snow Queen wants the town to turn against Elsa and she doesn’t understand why. She tells Elsa the Rock Trolls stole her memories of when they met in Arendelle, but doesn’t say why. She also tells Elsa that Anna put her in the urn. Elsa is adamant that Anna would never do that.

Mary Margaret: She attempts to have a ‘fireside chat’ as the mayor to go over items in the town (complete with baby Neal in her arms), but all anyone wants to talk about is Elsa.Things go south quickly when Marian starts literally turning to ice. After the meeting, Mary Margaret gets some unsolicited advice from Archie about needing to let things go, meaning she doesn’t need to have baby Neal with her constantly and she’ll be better if they aren’t attached at the hip. Mary Margaret is obviously afraid she’ll miss something if she isn’t there with him constantly because of missing out on Emma growing up.

Questions:

Why isn’t Emma’s lie detector blaring when Gold says he’s decided to turn over a new leaf? Or when he says he’s given Belle the dagger? There should be sirens going off in her head.

Exactly how far away is Misthaven from Arendelle? With all the magic going on in the Enchanted Forest, how have they not heard of it in Arendelle?

Since the Snow Queen acknowledges Elsa is queen, why didn’t she realize her sister would have to be dead for that to happen? She seems genuinely shocked when Elsa tells her.

How did Elsa’s urn end up in Gold’s vault? Did the Snow Queen give it to Rumple since we know they know each other?

Have Gold and the Snow Queen been talking since the curse broke? How does he know that she knew Emma once? Does that mean the Snow Queen has been out of Storybrooke?

Observations:

This is the most casual we’ve ever seen Regina. Her hair is in a messy ponytail and she’s wearing a t-shirt and vest!

Emma looks amazing in this episode also. She’s letting her freckles shine through, and she just looks cute as a button.

The two comic books we see Regina get Henry are Thor and ShenLu.

Regina and Henry decide their search for the author will be called Operation Mongoose.

Hook tells Gold that he could have Belle summon him with the dagger and when he didn’t appear she’d have proof the dagger isn’t real. We’ve seen plenty of times when all someone had to do is say Rumpelstiltskin's name (even in other realms) and he’d appear.

The cage that Kristoff puts his torch in is already lit when he and Elsa enter the cave. Then he lights it again. Or there is another cage already lit, which should be a red flag that someone is already in the cave.

Hook now has a cell phone and it has an ‘Emma’ button.

Once Upon a Time Firsts:

Magic can change form but never be destroyed.

So, we find out a little bit more about the Snow Queen, but not what her end goal is yet. She is obviously very bitter about something having to do with her magic and people fearing it, and she doesn’t seem to care if people are okay with it like they are in Storybrooke. I am not happy about Hook blackmailing Gold as it just goes against everything he’s worked so hard to put in his past. But Emma and Hook seem to be getting on the right path for being together despite that! Yay!

Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.

@searchingwardrobes @thisonesatellite @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @laschatzi @profdanglaisstuff @mariakov81 @lfh1226-linda

#once upon a time #once upon a time review #once upon a time rewatch #once upon a time 4x03 #once upon a time rocky road

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