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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 21

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

-------------------

As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved.

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her.

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift.

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth.

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now.

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need.

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue.

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now.

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning.

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them.

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons.

Mulder just gives her a look.

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room.

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open?

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

-------------------------

The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him.

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak.

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out.

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive.

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose.

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets.

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness.

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.”

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary.

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm.

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly.

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

----------------------

Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night.

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning.

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old.

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him.

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it.

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.”

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?”

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly.

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

------------------------

Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask.

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open.

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in.

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly.

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.”

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips.

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.”

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this.

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls.

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies.

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies.

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

---------------------------

Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain.

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother’s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him.

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him.

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

#sincerely hope i did the lone gunmen justice lol #also i feel like this chapter is...a normal episode amount of angsty instead of the slow paper cut of the last chapter #the x-files #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine #eww this looks weird w/the tumblr update!!#read it on ao3 lol

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hurting-fictional-people · 4 years

Text

Abduction

Meet Kiara and Blake, the OCs I created just to have faces and some kind of a story for the whump scenarios I create in my head ;)

You can find their future here

CW: stalking, kidnapping, whumper pov, noncon touching, gun and knife mention, just general creepiness, drugging mention, death threats

She was nothing like he had expected.

The description he’d been given was fitting enough – red hair, medium height, lithe figure –, but left out all the important things. He couldn’t see her face clearly from the rooftop of the building across her street – she really shouldn’t live next to a building that offered such an unobstructed view of her living room and kitchen –, but he could see her.

She was baking something. She had the money to hire as many chefs as she wanted to cook her anything she could ever dream of, and still, she was wearing a polka dot apron and had her hands buried deep in a bowl full of some kind of paste. He knew she had a small confectionery business, but never stopped to consider that she might be the one who actually did the baking.

That was not what he expected from a rich girl with a bank account almost the size of his own. Not the medium-sized apartment, not the lazily tied up hair, and definitely not the simplicity she emanated. Especially because simplicity usually bored him to death, but in her it made him intrigued. Curious. Made him want to see what laid underneath that serenity she radiated even from so many meters away.

He was supposed to shoot as soon as he laid his eyes on her. That was the job: get your eyes on the girl, shoot, leave. Leave her body for her girlfriend to find. He knew what he had to do, yet he’d been watching the girl bake for at least two hours now.

At first, he waited because he wanted to see what she was baking and if it would be any good. Now that she put it in the oven, he was waiting because he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She was… dancing. Fluid, carefree movements, spinning around her kitchen, jumping up and down, rolling her head from side to side, front to back, like the music he couldn’t hear from there was pulling the strings and she was just letting her body go with it.

I want to be the one pulling the strings.

The assassin shook his head at the thought. No. He was there to kill the girl. But, well, he could at least enjoy the view until the time came, right? He had the entire day to get the job done, and even though sitting on cold cement with nowhere to lean on was pretty uncomfortable, weirdly, he wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else. Apart from inside her apartment, that is.

She went on dancing, completely oblivious of the man watching her every move with hunger in his eyes. He liked it, her innocence.

When she stopped, panting but with a smile so big he could see it from there, he was surprised to find himself upset. Firstly, because he truly liked her dancing, but mostly because he wanted to see that smile. The creases it would form near her eyes, the droplets of sweat that probably covered her face, find out if she had dimples. He wanted to see it all.

She entered a room he couldn’t see into, but before he could get too restless, she showed up again wearing denim shorts, an oversized shirt, and wet hair. Fuck, he wanted to have seen her taking that shower.

The girl bent down to take whatever it was she baked from the oven and stood up holding a tray with what was obviously a chocolate cake. The assassin wet his lips, suddenly hungry, even though he hated chocolate.

He had been sent a few pictures of her – leaving the market, reading by her window, kissing her girlfriend. The assassin knew she was gorgeous, knew what she looked like, but suddenly he had the overwhelming need to see her. See the exact color of her eyes, uncover each little expression, find out if her voice was silvery or smoky, what it sounded like when she screamed. When she begged. What she looked like when she was in pain. Would she shut her eyes and hide away the hurt? Would she spit and thrash? Would she submit, hoping it would make it end sooner? Oh, how he wanted to find out.

The sun rose in the sky, then went down. She cooked some vegetables for lunch, read a book, watched tv, baked another cake, this one a lot bigger, clearly for a client. Ate the one she baked sooner. All the while, he watched her. His back hurt and his stomach growled, but he never moved, too fascinated to look away.

He wanted to meet her. Talk to her. He couldn’t kill her before he had a chance to do it. The assassin had never felt like this before, so utterly captivated he couldn’t bring himself to just finish the job.

He would do what he went there to do, probably, but after an entire day watching her, he would not kill her in such an impersonal way. If he was going to go through with it, he wanted to feel the life leaving her body, hold her while she whined and cried, whispering soothing lies till the life left her eyes. He wanted her, even if it was just for a little bit.

And he always got what he wanted. Even if he had to take it himself.

“Hey baby,” Kiara said, holding her cell phone between her shoulder and her ear while she gave the cake the finishing touches. “What time do you get here?”

“Maybe in an hour?” Amelia answered, sounding annoyed. “I can’t wait to see you, Kie, my day was terrible.”

“Wait a second”, she said, letting the phone slide to her hand to put it on speaker mode. Time to put the cake in the fridge. “I’m back. What happened?”

“Well, neither my boss nor my clients got particularly happy when I quit, so I had to spend the entire day solving problems and talking to people. I’m gonna need a big, nice chocolate cake when I get there to make me feel better”

Kiara laughed while she took the dishes to the sink. “You’re a lucky girl, babe. Or maybe I’m a really good girlfriend”.

“Have I already told you how much I love you?” Amelia crooned, suddenly in a much better mood. Kiara laughed even louder. “I might be there in thirty minutes then”.

“Oh, hold on, I think I heard someone knocking on the door,” Kiara said, already cleaning her hands on the dishcloth.

“It’s okay, I have to call another client before leaving anyway”, Amy sighed. “See you in a bit, babe,” she said before ending the call.

Kiara smiled at the phone. It was so Amelia to say goodbye and not wait for an answer. She chuckled as she strode to the door. She wasn’t waiting for anyone other than Amelia, but her downstairs neighbor had the bad habit of knocking to complain about her making too much noise even when she didn’t. She took a deep breath as she opened the door.

“Hey Mr. Williams, I – “

She halted. The person standing there was most definitely not Mr. Williams.

A tall, handsome man smirked at her, looking her up and down in a way that made her furrow her brows and close the door a little, till all she could see was his face.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Hello,” he said in a husky voice that would’ve been attractive if it wasn’t accompanied by a wolfish grin. “Are you Kiara?”

“Who’s asking?”

He laughed then, and it changed his whole face. His’s angular features softened as he chuckled, his green eyes gleamed. Even his body language changed as he leaned against the doorframe. He didn’t seem that much older than her. Maybe 27, 28 years old. Silky dark hair, a gray shirt that hugged his large biceps, expansive looking trousers. Still, she kept her hand tight on the door handle, feet apart as Amelia had taught her.

“I’m Blake,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t offer any more answers.

“Why are you looking for Kiara?” she knew better than to tell a stranger who she was, even if he knew that was her apartment.

“I’m a friend of her girlfriend” Blake stated, those grass-colored eyes piercing into her uncomfortably “Amelia said I could come here if I needed something.”

“Well, Amelia never mentioned someone called Blake” she replied, narrowing her eyes.

Blake only smiled again, triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Kiara.”

Shit. She hadn’t had the intention of admitting who she was. Kiara clenched her teeth and raised her chin higher, looking him up and down the way he did with her.

“So, why are you at my door, Blake?”

“My car broke a couple of blocks from here, and Amelia had said I could come over if I ever needed anything,” he said, biting on his lip “But I get it. She has never mentioned me, and I can see you wouldn’t be comfortable letting me in. Could you at least lend me your phone so I can call a friend to come and pick me up? My battery died.”

Kiara pursed her lips, looked at him again. She couldn’t remember Amelia mentioning someone named Blake, but she sometimes tuned out when she was baking and her girlfriend was talking. She might have mentioned him before, and Kiara just wasn’t paying attention. Besides, she was at her home and Amy would be there in a few minutes.

Sighing, Kiara took a step back as she opened the door. “Come in, you can wait here for your friend. Amelia will be here soon.”

Not very subtle, she thought to herself, but at least he knew they wouldn’t be alone for long.

Blake’s eyes sparkled as he walked in, looking around at her apartment. If was full of plants, everything in earthy colors. She was pretty proud of it, since she had thrifted most of the furniture and painted it herself.

While he called his friend, Kiara politely turned around and placed the chocolate cake on the table, as well as two plates. Once he’d finished the call, she pointed at the cake “I baked it today. Want a bite?”

She had never seen someone so eager to eat something she’d baked but decided to see it as a compliment instead of recognizing the hint of wariness that sparkled in her chest.

“So, where do you know Amelia from?” she asked, in between bites.

“I work at a company in the same area as hers,” he said, leaning back on the chair “The cake is heavenly, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said with a slight grin. “You are from a rival company then, is that what you’re saying?”

“It is” Blake smirked. “Heard she quit recently.”

“Yeah, she is planning on moving in with me and said that her job took way too much of her time.”

He raised both eyebrows but said nothing in response. Kiara cleared her throat and took the plates to the sink, desperate for something to do with her hands. Blake had this penetrating gaze that left her unnerved.

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” he asked suddenly.

“Not at all, It’s the door to the right.”

As soon as he closed the door, she grabbed her phone and texted Amelia.

hey, blake’s here. and since when do you offer my house to your friends?? jk, you can do it whenever you want. i’d just like a heads up next time

“I didn’t know you wear eyeglasses,” Blake said as he came back, holding her glasses. Kiara furrowed her brow. She must have left them in the bathroom again.

“Yeah, I’m nearsighted.”

He hummed, staring at the object. Kiara blinked, taken aback by his behavior. Who the fuck grabbed the glasses of someone they barely knew from their bathroom and proceeded on scrutinizing them?

“Um… If you could give them back” she asked, extending her hand.

“It fits you” Blake declared, looking up at her “Wearing glasses. It fits the peaceful vibe.”

“Well, I don’t need to wear them often, so…” she babbled, taking it from his hands with a grimace. Weird man.

“I made you uncomfortable” he stated. She just stared at him. Yes, he had, be he also hadn’t apologized for it. Blake watched her just as intensely as she watched him before finally turning around and walking across the living room, examining the books she kept on the center table, her furry rug, the green couch. “When did you say Amelia was coming, again?”

“In a few minutes” she answered, baffled. He walked around as if that was his house, and it was starting to piss her off. “I’ll ask her.”

She went back to her cell, annoyed, and found that there were several messages from Amy already waiting for her.

What? Who’s Blake?

I’ve never offered your house to anyone

Wait.

Kiara, please tell me you’re not talking about Blake Thorne

Kiara??????

“Hey, I know it’s kind of a weird question, but what’s your surname?” Kiara asked, fear already clawing at her stomach. “It’s just that Amy knows more than one Blake and is asking which one you are” she finished with a weak smile she hoped he thought was just friendly.

“It’s Thorne” he crooned, smirking.

She nodded, as innocently as she could, as she typed with slightly trembling fingers.

he said that’s his name. who’s blake thorne? you’re scaring me

The answer came immediately.

Fuck. Can you leave discreetly?

I don’t think so, Kiara typed, her heart already pounding, Amy what’s going on??

I’ll be there in 5. He’s dangerous, Kie, stay as far away from him as you can

Kiara bit her lip and took a deep breath. She didn’t know who the fuck that guy was or why he was dangerous, but now that she had confirmation, she could almost feel the wrongness emanating from him.

“Is everything okay?” Blake asked, standing right in front of her. Kiara jumped and let out a startled shriek.

“Fuck, you scared me,” she said, taking a step back “You walk very quietly.”

“It’s a part of the job,” he shrugged, his eyes piercing into her yet again. As if he could see the fear she was trying so hard to conceal.

“Walking like a ghost is a part of working with finances?”

Blake grinned, amused. “I guess it is.”

She wanted to ask him what the hell did that mean, but it might sound too suspicious. Kiara straightened her shoulders and smiled placidly “Would you like another slice of cake?”

“Thank you, sunshine, but I’m good.”

“Sunshine?” Blake only shrugged again. She clenched her teeth and backed away till she was right next to the cutlery drawer “Well, I think I do.”

Trying to move as calmly as she could, Kiara grabbed the biggest knife she could find.

“Did Amelia recognize my last name?” he asked, a dangerous glint to his eyes.

“She did” Kiara replied, fighting to keep her voice from faltering “Said she would be here any time now, Amy can’t wait to see you.”

Her eyes met Blake’s, and in the instant they stared at each other, she saw it. He knew she was bluffing as well as she knew he wasn’t who he claimed to be. Kiara clenched the knife and lifted it between them.

“Do you have the habit of threatening all your guests with a knife or am I just that special?” Even though his words should sound worried, he smiled, looking utterly entertained.

“Stay away from me” she hissed.

“Did your girlfriend even tell you who I am?”

“She didn’t have to tell me you’re an asshole for me to know it. You have this jerk vibe going on.”

Blake chuckled and took a step closer. Kiara stepped back, raising the knife. “I’ll stab you if I have to. Don’t come any closer.” He didn’t even blink at the threat.

“Do you even know how to use that knife, Kiara? I’m betting you’re more likely to cut yourself than me”

“We’ll find it out if you don’t stay the fuck away” she bellowed.

Amelia had taught her the basics of self-defense, but she had no doubts that the guy could take her down with a flick of his fingers.

Kiara didn’t have time to do anything before he pounced on her. One moment he was casually walking towards her, the next he was way too close, and she felt the ground being swiped from under her feet. Her back hit the floor with a loud thud and a sharp pain, but Kiara didn’t hesitate to blindly swing the knife towards him. Blood surfaced from a cut to his bicep, and she struck again. This time, though, Blake grabbed her wrist and smashed it against the ground with all his strength. Kiara whimpered through gritted teeth but didn’t let go.

Blake snarled, lifted her wrist, and slammed it on the floor again, then once more. And it hurt. On the fourth time, there was nothing she could do but let go. It wasn’t even a conscious choice. Her fingers simply opened against her will.

She wasn’t completely out of weapons, though. Taking a deep breath, Kiara opened her mouth to scream as loudly as she could. However, before any sound left her throat, Blake’s other hand grabbed her cheeks and pressed with so much force she was sure it would leave bruises. Startled, she hesitated.

“Scream and I kill you right now,” he whispered. Kiara didn’t want to, but she believed him. She could see the truth of his words written in his eyes.

She thrashed under his weight, but Blake was too big, too strong, and when she dug her fingertips into the cut she’d given him, he squeezed her injured wrist and stole all of the air from her lungs. Something wrapped around her neck and squeezed, and the world went black.

“… away from her!” someone shouted. It made her heart quicken, and a low whine escaped her lips.

A burst of low laughter followed the voice that made her heart pound. It always did, that silky voice, but now it was strained, scared.

“Take a step closer and I slit her throat”. That voice sent a chill down her spine, made her force her eyes open.

“What do you want?” Amelia. That was definitely Amelia.

Kiara opened her eyes to a blurry world at first, only shapes and colors. She had to blink a few times for it to make sense. She was in her apartment. Amy was standing by the door, holding a gun.

Holding a gun?

Kiara’s head snapped up.

It took her a moment to remember what had happened. What was happening. Blake. She could still feel his hands pressing some point of her neck that made her pass out, even though they weren’t there anymore. Amelia. The knife. Her wrist, which she didn’t know how badly was injured, only that the adrenalin already pumping through her system numbed the pain a bit.

“Amy” she moaned, trying to get to her girlfriend. She couldn’t, though. Some kind of fabric was keeping her wrists bound together behind her back, besides the large arm wrapped around her, holding her still. Looking down, she found herself sitting on Blake’s lap. “What… let me go!”

“Hush, Kiara,” he said, tightening his hold around her “The adults are talking.”

“What do you want, Blake?” Amelia gritted through clenched teeth. She glanced at Kiara, fear badly hidden in her eyes, before returning her gaze to Blake.

“You know, your boss was not pleased when you quit,” he said. Kiara jerked in his grip, but suddenly she felt something sharp pressing against her throat and froze. “Move and I’ll slit your throat,” he hissed. “Now, back to business. Your leaving left many clients quite troubled. You should’ve known better, Amelia. You don’t just quit in our line of work”

“Why are you here?” Amy grit out angrily, but her eyes flicked to Kiara again, pleading, alarmed, as if she already knew the answer.

“You know why. I came here to kill your girlfriend.” A frightened whimper escaped Kiara’s throat and her entire body stiffened. “They paid me a whole lot of money for it. Someone truly wants you to hurt.”

“Please” Kiara whispered, her throat touching the cold metal of the knife as the word left her trembling lips.

Blake’s chest vibrated against her back in a silent chuckle. “Say that again.”

“Please” she repeated, straining to control her hitching breaths “Please, please, d-don’t kill me.”

The knife touched her neck again, and Kiara leaned back to get away from its sharp point, pressing her back against the man’s chest. He held her tighter but didn’t close the distance she put between her neck and the knife.

“I was going to do it” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear. “But you know, you are way too interesting for me to kill like that, little Kiara. I might just let you live.”

She shuddered, hope and dread mixing inside of her. In front of her, Amelia’s grasp on the gun tightened, but she didn’t dare to move.

“I think I’m going to keep you” Blake announced, his lips brushing her temple. A tear trailed down her cheek.

She was so terrified she could barely think, but amidst all the terror, at least she could look at Amelia. The girl who held her entire heart, who she loved so fiercely. It broke her heart, though, to see her golden skin pale and her brown eyes wide with fear.

“Please, Blake” her girlfriend choked out, looking somewhere above Kiara’s head “I’ll do anything. Just let her go.”

“Do you know what Amelia’s line of work actually is, Kiara?” Blake asked as if she hadn’t said anything.

She could only stare at Amelia, confused, searching for answers in eyes that wouldn’t look into hers.

“Amy?” she called in a quivering, confused voice.

She had never seen her girlfriend like that. Amelia was always so sure of everything, so strong, even when she was sad or angry, she was never that hopeless. But this time, when their gazes met, there was only sorrow inside the eyes of the woman she loved.

“I’m so sorry, Kie” Amelia breathed “I wish I could’ve told you, but it wasn’t safe. I wanted to keep you away from… this.”

She would have shaken her head if there wasn’t a knife to her throat. “I don’t understand.”

“She kills people for a living,” Blake said, cheerfully. “That’s her actual job. Was, at least. Amelia here thought she could just quit and never look back.”

Kiara’s heart missed a beat, too stunned to do anything other than stare at Amelia with wide, baffled eyes.

Deny it, she pleaded silently, tell me he is lying.

But she didn’t. That stunning woman who Kiara had sworn so many times to love eternally, just pursed her lips and looked away. Even Kiara’s tears dried at that. How – how could that be true?

“I’m sorry, baby,” Amelia said, glancing at her, not nearly for enough time for Kiara to reorganize her thoughts before her girlfriend looked back at the man holding her still “I’ll pay you double whatever it is you were offered for her, and then we’ll disappear. They’ll never know you didn’t finish the job.”

He sighed, his warm breath tickling Kiara’s neck. “It’s a nice proposition. But I’ll have to pass it. I’ve found something far more precious than money I already have.”

Kiara winced as he rubbed his chin against her hair.

“Blake –“ Amelia started, but he was already standing up, lifting Kiara along with him.

“Put the gun on the ground” he ordered, pressing the knife to Kiara’s throat till it nicked the skin and a drop of blood trailed down. Amelia stared deep into Kiara’s eyes for a moment before dropping the weapon. “Good girl”, Blake mocked.

Kiara stared at Amelia, the pain of the betrayal even bigger than the fear. She hoped she could see it in her eyes, the one thought repeating over and over inside her head. You lied to me. They were still staring at each other when something shifted behind Kiara and she felt a prick on her neck. The world swayed, someone shouted, and suddenly, there was nothing at all.

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

I hope you post your c & c Christmas fic! I am having a horrible Christmas alone bc of covid 19 and could use a little cheering up.

I’m so sorry you had a horrible Christmas alone, anon! And I know this is a few days late and a few dollars short, but I hope the first scene (and it’s a doozy of a scene at 3k words haha) from it helps?

I’m trying to finish the fic now, so fingers crossed I have it all up by tomorrow. It’s ended up being really long, haha, so hopefully people still want a monster Christmas fic four days after Christmas! 😊

“No.”

And damn, if Rio doesn’t pop an eyebrow at that.

“No?”

The question is enough to make Jane’s bottom lip wobble as she rocks in her galoshes, the sound of her wet socks squelching inside them making somethin’ in Rio’s head twitch, because shit – he’d tried to get her out of them at the back door. Tried to pick her up and cart her upstairs to the tub, ready to wash the snow Kenny had shoved down the back of her parka off, but she hadn’t wanted that neither. Had been content to dart beneath his arm the second he’d lugged Marcus up with his other; even more content to leave a trail of sludgy footprints behind her through the kitchen like she wanted him to follow, and he hadn’t exactly.

Or y’know, he had until she’d dashed past him again and he’d gotten a hand into the hood of her jacket.

“So you don’t want to get in there with him, huh?” Rio asks now, jerking his head back to where Marcus is already sprawled out in the tub, fuckin’ blissed out, his skinny arms slung over the rim and his body submerged in the steamy, sudsy water ‘til he looks like some eight-year-old mafia don. It’d make Rio grin – does – until he meets Jane’s look again, her bottom lip still wobbling as she furiously shakes her head, her rabbit beanie slipping down her icy wet hair.

Rio frowns.

“You ain’t cold?”

And shit, he knows she is.

Knows it because the second he’d pulled up to Glenvale Elementary School today to pick ‘em up, she’d been cold. A last-day-of-school snowball fight havin’ ballooned out until the faculty were left frantically trying to dry off forty shivering kids, and whatever, Rio had thought. It was good for them. Work hard, play hard gotta start somewhere, and he’d plucked Jane and Marcus’ tooth-chattering selves out of the fray and blast the car heaters the whole way home, but the second they’d tumbled out of the car, Kenny had thrown a snowball himself, and a fresh fight had begun.

And okay, maybe he should’ve stopped it sooner than he did, but he had Mick on call and the last drops to organise before the holidays, because apparently people buyin’ up supplies of prescription drugs as gifts for sick family members is a straight up thing (and call Rio Father Christmas, because damn if he ain’t deliverin’ on the fuckin’ miracle. Ain’t even price gouging, although that’s more because Elizabeth had turned a particular shade of purple at the prospect and he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he’d bloated prices, but - - damn, it would’ve put at least two of the kids through college.)

Point is, maybe he meant to pull ‘em in after half an hour, but by the time he finally got back outside it’d been close to two full hours and the kids were all red-nosed and tremblin’, their clothes soaked through, the evening just starting to yawn above them to swallow the last of the light whole.

“No,” Jane repeats now, sullen this time, and Rio feels his nostrils flare in irritation as he stares back down at her. At least the room is warm enough, he thinks, watching the steam curl the ends of her wet hair, the ebb of the heating warping the air as it pours from the floor vents. The kids’ bathroom is one of the rooms they’ve refit over the last year – a pet project of Elizabeth’s that Rio had found himself involved in, mostly because he almost got as much of a thrill out of inventing organisational systems as she did. The big, low white tub set back against the wall with polka dotted wallpaper above it, gold light fittings and a long, deep blue vanity that had as much storage as they could ever need. Still – it didn’t stop one of Emma’s bikini’d Barbie’s and a fuckin’ deluge of rubber sea animals from taking up space around the room.

“I’m a grown up,” Jane adds, sniffing wetly, pulling his attention back, and Rio’s second eyebrow raises to meet his first. “Grown ups don’t have baths with boys.”

“Om has baths with daddy,” Marcus says helpfully from the tub, and Rio gestures back at him, taking in the way Jane just huffs out a breath and stomps her little foot against the white honeycomb tiles and it figures, Rio thinks, that one of Elizabeth’s kids would end up with the fuckin’ stubborn powerball in that genetic lottery.

Figures it’d be Jane too.

“That’s different, they have to share everything because they’re a mommy and an od.”

At least the others ain’t this stubborn, he reminds himself, scrubbing a hand back over his head. At least he’d been able to pile ‘em up with towels and sweats and direct them to the downstairs bathroom while he handled Jane and Marcus, but then again - -

He trains his ears to hear ‘em – Emma and Danny’s giggles sounding through the floor beneath his feet, loud even over the downpour of the shower, and then:

The flush of a toilet.

Kenny screams.

Right.

Lotta other balls in that genetic lottery too though, huh?

He exhales sharply.

“A’ight,” he says, looking back down at Jane’s pink little face. “You don’t gotta share a bath since you’re all grown, but you can’t stay in your wet clothes.”

And it’s weird then – the look that Jane levels him with. Somethin’ too hard in the set to her mouth and too open in her wide green eyes, and Rio’s frown deepens, brow furrowing, because there’s somethin’ in that look that tells him this ain’t entirely just about stubbornness, when suddenly Marcus chimes in from the tub.

“Soup.”

And shit, no, they’re havin’ pizza for dinner – Rio’s already ordered it – but before he can say as much, Jane’s nose is wrinkling up and she’s rolling those too wide eyes and that hard set to her mouth is softening, and huh, Rio thinks. They ain’t talking about dinner either.

“Soup doesn’t have bubbles, Marcus.”

“This one does!” he tells her easily, and Rio turns to watch his son glide his hands through the bathwater, catching soapsuds, a too-innocent grin on his face. “It’s an alien soup. Like - - like from Neptune. I got abducted! I’m gonna get eaten! Help me, Officer Janey!!”

With that, he slides down into the water, flails his skinny legs up above the surface, fake yelling, and Rio huffs, exasperated as water spills over the top of the tub, but can’t quite hide the twitch at his lips when he sees Jane’s look tear – the urge to play too already warring on her face as she steps closer.

“No, Marcus! We can play later, not - - ”

“Help!! Hel - - blergh.”

Marcus splutters around a mouthful of soapsuds, and Rio does roll his eyes this time, grabbing a washcloth from the sink to wipe his son’s face.

“You gonna help him, Officer Janey?” he asks, glancing back from Marcus and they can all see Jane’s resolve weakening. She shifts her weight, puffs out her cheeks, and then, just like that, she caves.

“Okay, Sir Marcus, I’ll get you home for Christmas.”

And thank fuck for that, Rio thinks, keeping his expression carefully in check as Marcus grins in delight, squirming back up the side of the tub to make room for her. It only takes a minute for her to peel off her jacket, leaking freezing water everywhere in the process, and Rio edges forwards, starting to help her when his cell phone buzzes in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls it out, checks the number, and hooks it under his ear as he crouches down beside Jane.

“’ey,” he says, and immediately he’s met with a wave of sound from the chaos of the mall – the tinny, tinkling melodies of Christmas songs and the thrum of shoppers, the distant sounds of static announcements and the too-close bray of Annie’s laugh, but it’s Elizabeth who replies, her voice clear and clean as a bell.

“Hi. Did we decide on the flatware set for your sister in the end? They’ve got one on sale here at this cute little kitchen place, and - - ”

Rio sighs, annoyance sparking at the fraying edges of his patience. He lifts up Jane’s leg as she dangles herself over the edge of the tub, pulling off one of her galoshes, and then the other, cringing when her soaked pink socks settle back on the floor, leaving a smear of dirty water on the tiles.

“We decided no, mami,” he tells Elizabeth over the line, pulling off Jane’s socks in one rough motion as Jane makes a grab for a rubber fish. “We already got her the - - ”

“Towels, I know, but she didn’t have enough forks for us when we were there last week, and if that’s going to be a regular thing now, I really think we should get her the extra flatware set.”

And shit, Rio thinks, moving to kneel so he can peel off Jane’s sopping wet sweater and shirt as she kicks off her jeans and undies, it figures.

It figures because Elizabeth’s been pressed about Carmen’s place since Carmen and Matt finally separated back in August, splittin’ up their assets and sellin’ the house. It had been a long time comin’, and Rio couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased about it – after all, him and Carmen hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but shit, she was his sister and she was a boss bitch, and Matt had always been the sort of belly crawlin’ fuck who’d soured at any woman who was more of one than him.

Anyway, it didn’t take all that much to figure out that Elizabeth was watchin’ Carmen’s marriage dissolve and her new life as a single mom with the sort of projecting fixation that - - shit - - just dredged up baggage.

Still, it was kind of fuckin’ funny too to watch Elizabeth try to help Carmen in the way she wouldn’t let anyone do for her back when she finally called it with her own dumbass ex.

“Yeah, those towels weren’t cheap,” Rio says into the phone, standing up and grabbing Jane underneath her icy arms to swing her into the hot water beside Marcus, letting her eyes slip shut briefly when Jane kicks a fresh wave of hot water onto the floor of the bathroom.

“Neither is cooking dinner for seven extra people.”

Grabbing his cell properly now that Jane’s in the tub, Rio drops his free arm down, grabbing Jane and Marcus’ wet clothes off the floor and striding out of the room, down the stairs and beelining for the laundry. He grins, pleased, when he sees Emma’s already put her own snow clothes in the washing machine, even if she’s managed to spill washing powder all over the floor in the process of it.

“One thing,” he sing-songs over the bustle of the mall behind Elizabeth’s voice. “Everyone’s gettin’ one thing. If you want to get Carmen the flatware set, that’s two things.”

And he can’t even see her, but he can feel Elizabeth bristle down the line.

“I might not be as quick with the books as you, but I do know basic math, thank you.”

Which - - shit, not what he meant. He grabs a rag out of the laundry cabinet, dropping down to wipe up the powder.

“Nah, you ain’t hearin’ me. I know you, Elizabeth. You get Carmen two things, you gettin’ everyone two things – Aida, my mom, your sister, your friend – we ain’t doin’ that this year. We decided that.”

Vaguely he can hear her sister laugh over the line again, and then Ruby say:

What about…

“No, I think she has one of those already,” Elizabeth replies, and Rio sighs, tossing the rag into the washing machine with the kids’ clothes. Vaguely, he can hear footsteps down the hall behind him, Jane and Marcus still playing in the tub, the shower a few rooms up, and he still has some business calls to make tonight, and damn, weren’t they going to figure out which presents were from Santa and which were from them later too? He checks his watch and frowns.

“Elizabeth, what time you comin’ home?”

“Soon,” she tells him quickly, then, to one of the others: “No, that’s too much.”

Suddenly, a cold little hand grabs his wrist, and Rio glances down to see Emma clutching at it, already decked out in her pink fleecy sweats and rainbow fuzzy unicorn slippers, which’d be fine if her hair wasn’t hanging wet, soaking into the back of her dressing gown. He frowns, pushes his cell between his shoulder and head again to pull a hair elastic off his wrist and tie her hair back up off her neck.

“Od, can we watch Frozen tonight?”

And Rio briefly blanches at that, but grunts in affirmation, letting her go only for Emma to come back and cling to his hand again, splaying his fingers so she can fit her own between his. He blinks down at her curiously, picking up his cell again with his other hand, because damn, it ain’t like she’s never held his hand before – she’s always been a touchy kid – but he figured she’d be out of sight the second he told her she could put Frozen on. Like she’s seen the look on his face, she squeezes his hand and sidles closer until she’s practically on top of his leg, and so Rio crouches down instead, lugging her up and carrying her out of the laundry and over to the living room, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she clings to his side.

“Annie, stop it,” Elizabeth says, annoyance growing in her tone, and Rio rolls his eyes, depositing Emma on the couch, and okay, maybe the kid’s just tired, he thinks, watching as she nestles back in the cushions, her big blue eyes only half-lidded.

He flicks on the TV while Elizabeth babbles to Annie and Ruby in his ear, like she’s half-forgotten to hang-up, and he’s about to do it himself instead when he hears the name Dean pop outta Annie’s mouth, which - -

Fuck that.

His jaw tightens, loosens, tightens again.

“Thought we weren’t doin’ all of that this year,” he hums, tryin’ to keep his voice light as he loads up Frozen on Disney+ and grabs one of the blankets to toss over Emma, because wasn’t that dumbass ex of hers off in Nevada this year with his new girl’s family?

“What?”

And sure, play dumb, baby, Rio thinks, striding out of the room as Emma wriggles down in the blanket. He heads back towards the corridor, hearing Jane squeal somewhere upstairs and Marcus laugh as he moves towards the downstairs bathroom.

“Thought we had the place and everyone in it to ourselves.”

“We do,” she tells him quickly, and he can hear her moving herself, walkin’ maybe – her sister’s voice getting further away.

“We ain’t changin’ plans.”

Because fuck – they’re a week out from Christmas, and they had shit on lock this year. Had decided on that together too after the whole mess of last year with Elizabeth having to do the six hour round trip to take the kids to South Haven after Dean’s car had broken down (fuckin’ allegedly, Rio thinks with a snort, because he could smell that bullshit a mile away).

“The plan isn’t changing,” she promises, raising her voice a little to be heard over the roaring opening chords of Last Christmas. “We’re still hosting everyone, and the kids are staying with us, it’s just - - something’s just come up which is - - I mean. It’s really not anything you need to worry about. I’ll tell you when I get home.”

Exhaling harshly, Rio scrubs a hand back over his head again, and shit – if this means Dean’s comin’ again - -

He pauses, distracted suddenly by the sight of Danny bouncing from foot-to-foot outside the bathroom, shaking with cold in his parka and beanie, melted snow dripping from his hair, waiting still for his turn in the bathroom. With a grunt of irritation, Rio strides up the hall, banging heavily on the door only to hear a strained in a minute from Kenny through the crack, and Jesus, Rio thinks.

Teenagers.

He covers the mouthpiece of the phone, glancing down at Danny who just shifts his weight again, snow-pale except for his bright red nose as he stares up at him.

“Use our bathroom,” he tells him, jerking his head upstairs towards his and Elizabeth’s en suite and Danny blinks owlishly back at him, shivering still, and Rio jerks his head in instruction again because it’d be just his luck to have to cart the kid to hospital for hypothermia again.

“Is everything okay there?” Elizabeth asks as someone says is this all today, ma’am?

“Fine,” Rio says shortly, and then, just to annoy her: “I’ll tell you when you get home, yeah?”

And it works, if her huff is anything to go by, and then when he hears cash or card? his lip curls.

“Elizabeth, don’t get the flatware set.”

The last thing he hears before she hangs up is the ring of the cash register.

#there's a lot going on it which you can probably tell from this excerpt haha #it ended up being a bit plot heavy #and a bit angsty #but still v christmas-y #and of course with a nice big hea #the center and circumference #fic asks #my fic #welcome to my ama #Anonymous

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ginnyzero · 5 years

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Writing Breathable Moments: How

Yesterday, I touched on “Ma” or the breathable moments in a book or a movie where the characters take a step back to look each other in the eyes, to sigh, or to appreciate the scenery. The importance of breathable moments in the story depends on the goal of the writer and the type of story. In many writers' or readers' minds, the breathable moments would be considered fluff and unnecessary.

So, how do you write ‘quiet’ moments into the story? Where do they go?

Where you put in the breathable moments can depend on the pacing of your story and upon what is happening in your story. You might need someone who knows you and your vision for the book to read it and tell you where they think the book is too slow or too fast or too broken up and the scene kills the tension of the book. Editors and Beta Readers are great. They’re there to help you with this type of thing.

But we can still talk about common places for breathable moments and what types of stories they go into.

In High Fantasy, talking about history or relaying a tale or describing the scenery are considered moments of breathing. They are integral to the genre as it’s generally defined by works like Lord of the Rings (and the knock off Sword of Shannara.) These scenes are expected and can be placed just about anywhere the plot/setting justifies them. If you love chewing the scenery or have stories within stories you want to tell, High Fantasy may be your genre.

In Science Fiction, especially older science fiction, the breathable moments come through explaining the science and the technology. This is very much in hard science fiction. In political science fiction, there is lots of explaining and going on about the different factions and who is doing what like in the Honor Harrington series. (I skipped those bits.) This turns up in political fantasy too, see Game of Thrones.

In an action or adventure tale, a breathing moment is the pause between the gunfights. It can be an important conversation between two characters that define the theme of the book/movie. This is the scene between Mickey Rourke and Sylvester Stallone in the Expendables. It can be something funny or romantic or Luke Skywalker staring off into the binary sunset with a swell of music. In an action movie, the breathable moment is a reward or a bit of sweet to offset the heart pumping or dark action that the watcher/reader has just been through or is about to go through.

Some action stories like Thrillers (and some action books) leave these moments to the end of the book as a replacement for a Happy Ever After. Everyone is shown for that moment to be okay and having a good time. In thriller type story, the pacing is supposed to be continuously amped up so your breathable moments come at the beginning and at the end where things are all right or over or as good as they can be. To put this pause in a thriller during the rising and falling action would miss the point of the entire genre. There are many urban fantasy books that treat their stories no matter what they actually are like thrillers.

In a mystery story or in a heist story, things don’t get solved all at once. There are characters that interact with each other regularly. For instance, any crime solving story usually has a coroner. And depending on the story, your coroner might be the best friend or the strange young kid who happens to play polka as a one man band. If you’ve got a bunch of cops, they tend to have drinks and throw parties for each other and talk about their families. If you’re a private eye, you go to a bar, you get a sandwich and a beer, you describe the bar. That’s a breathable moment. In the Cat Who series, breathable moments were Quill playing with his cats, describing his houses, going for his bicycle ride, talking with his girlfriend and listening to the radio.

A romance story unless it’s being mixed with another genre, is usually one long breathable moment from beginning to end in a comedy of errors, misunderstandings and miscommunications. Because Romance, unlike other genres, the conflict comes from the sole question of “Why Can’t These Characters Be Together Now?” The Characters themselves, usually, instead of outside forces, are keeping them apart. It’s when other genres like Historical, Fantasy, Mystery and whatever that gets mixed in with romance that it becomes more plot based than character based and the breathable moments are sliced away for sword fights and abductions.

Western movies and to an extent books are another genre that relies on breathable moments. (And most of it not at all historically accurate.) If you watch a Western Movie and think it’s the slowest thing on earth because you’ve got long shots of the prairie and Tom Selleck making ironic one liners to other cowboys as they ride horses into the sunset, then you know it’s a very scenery chewing type of genre. Until you get to the train robbery or the bandits or the shoot out in the middle of the street near the very end and then it’s over. I remember one western where one of the plot points was a cook playing a prank on the cowboys. I mean, I love Quigley Down Under (Tom Selleck and Alan Rickman), but it’s not your typical “western.”

Whether or not the breathable moments are something that you spread around like jam or sprinkle like salt really depends on your writing style, your goals for your story and your goals as a writer. Breathing moments, if you want to be traditionally published, may not be to your betterment. Not that you can’t get published with breathable moments, Anne Bishop, Tolkien, David Weber, there are plenty of authors that have been published with those types of novels. They’re just rarer than the authors who write 80K to 110K words of plot fast paced action.

(Remember, it’s cheaper in the long run to publish smaller stories.)

Breathing moments like traveling, interacting with pets, doing a hobby, having a party, eating with friends or family, sibling interactions, shopping, getting coffee and the other small moments of life like pausing to appreciate the roses or the scenery and putting them into your story is up to you. Where you put them depends on the genre and pacing of your story and if they are significant pauses, dragging the story down or dead spots will depend on the structure of the story and you’ll learn the differences through practice and reading.

Your story. You decide.

#writing advice #writing tips #writing tumblr #writer tumblr #writrblr #breathable moments #writing breathable moments

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orbemnews · 3 years

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'We picked up a scent down there': Search for missing 11-year-old continues into day five On Friday, the search for 11-year-old Ryan Larsen entered its fifth day.The Nebraska State Patrol issued an Endangered Missing Advisory for the La Vista boy after he walked out of La Vista West Elementary on Monday around noon.Authorities say Larsen has autism. He’s described as being 5 feet, 8 inches tall, around 125 pounds, with brown hair and hazel eyes. Ryan was last seen wearing a black jacket, blue jeans, an Old Navy shirt and had a polka-dotted umbrella.If you have any information on his location, call 911.Latest DevelopmentsFriday evening:Numerous law enforcement agencies are continuing to search for Ryan Larsen, who has not been seen since Monday, May 17.According to a news release La Vista police, teams from the following joined the search for Ryan at Walnut Creek Recreation Area: Sarpy County Search & RescueNebraska State PatrolOmaha Fire & RescueYutanDes MoinesThe above agencies have stepped in to offer divers, boats, high-tech equipment and tracking K9s, according to the news release.A police K9 picked up a scent at Walnut Creek Recreation Area, but it is too early to determine if the scent is animal, human, or something else.According to police, crews began searching at Walnut Creek Recreation Area because Ryan and his family visited it. Police said Ryan previously wandered off while visiting the recreation area.Crews will be searching both land and water at Walnut Creek Recreation Area until they either find him at the recreation area or officials can rule out that he is there, police said. Officials are asking that the public find an alternate path or recreation area to use as crews continue to search the area. La Vista police uses the See It, Say, It, Send It app to gather tips. For information about the app, go to https://www.seeandsend.info.(Friday afternoon)At 3 p.m., La Vista police reiterated that the search continues to be focused on the Walnut Creek area. They said this is because it’s an area Larsen has run to before. An Omaha dive team is searching the water. They are using sonar technology to search the water as well. La Vista Police Chief Bob Lausten said there is no information to indicate there is anyone in the water, officials are just checking all the boxes.Matt Sutter, with Nebraska State Patrol, warned that the Endangered Missing Advisory for Larsen will be expiring soon, but that is only because these must expire after 72 hours. La Vista police said this does not mean search efforts will diminish. Lausten said that La Vista police have a relationship with Larsen. He said multiple officers knew him personally. “Ryan had brought us Christmas gifts at Christmas so there’s a relationship that we have, you know with him specifically, and it cuts, it cuts deep,” he said. He said there will be a focus on mental health for the officers.”These guys or gals are working their tails off on this. Sleep? What is sleep? They don’t even care about sleep, they’re there, they’re running, they’re doing everything that they need to do,” he said. Lausten said he is worried that Larsen has become stuck somewhere where he was hiding. He said that officials will notify the public as soon as possible if Ryan is found. FULL PRESS CONFERENCE BELOW:(Friday morning)There were no new sightings on Larsen as of Friday morning. Authorities were guarding the entrance to Walnut Creek Recreation Area. Lausten told KETV that the area is “one of the best leads they have” in the search for Larsen. “We know there have been cases, our FBI partners have told us, they’ve had missing kids with autism that have been out for seven days and they’ve been found alive and everything has been okay,” Lausten said. Lausten said the search stretching into next week is a real possibility. La Vista police said they do not need any more volunteers, but asked that people consider donating to the Salvation Army or the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children.(Thursday evening)Officers went door to door to hand out flyers as the search continues for a fourth night. Law enforcement leaders say this is not the first time Ryan has wandered off, but they say he’s never been gone this long.Thursday evening, a police officer who said he has known Ryan for two years spoke with KETV NewsWatch 7’s Abbie Petersen.According to officer Stuart Nadgwick, Ryan had a lifesaver bracelet to track him up until February.Nadgwick fights back tears as he talks about Ryan.”Ryan is a good kid. He has gotten to know a lot of officers from our department. At Christmastime he will make ornaments for the department and then bring them to the department. He has a big heart,” Nadgwick said.Nadgwick met Ryan when the child became a member of Project Lifesaver, a program designed for those who have a risk of wandering.According to Nadgwick, over the course of those two years, Ryan wandered multiple times.”A majority of the times that Ryan had wandered, he was located in a relatively short distance where he had wandered from,” Nadgwick explained.He added that Ryan has multiple triggers that make him wander.This has happened from his apartment, a park and even school before. He likes to hide behind things, like trees, but when approached, made himself available.Now having him gone this long is heartbreaking for everyone.”Over the course of those two years, you get a friend with him. We’re talking about a 11-year-old boy who has challenges brought on by disabilities,” Nadgwick added.The good that Nadgwick has seen in Ryan outweighs any negative situations he’s been in with Larsen.”He is a good kid. He is a good kid and I know there are a lot of people worrying for him right now and if he has the ability, then it’s time to come home,” Nadgwick said.He also said that at this point, Ryan has to be cold, wet and hungry. Police want to get him home safely. Anyone who sees Ryan is urged to call 911.(Wednesday evening)As of Wednesday night, the FBI and representatives from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children were also at the scene to help with the search.”We’re pulling in all the resources that we can,” Lausten said. “They’ve had cases before even with kids with autism have left and they’ve been found. … With the experts that we have, we have a pretty good idea of what we’re doing here and what we need to do.”The City of La Vista announced Wednesday afternoon they did not need any more volunteers. They said there had been no sightings and asked the entire Omaha metro to be on the lookout for Larsen.Larsen had searched ‘how to hide from police’La Vista Police Capt. Jeremy Kinsey said detectives are working with the family and searched their computer. Kinsey said they found searches Larsen made regarding, “hiding from the police,” “hiding underground” and “how to avoid being spotted.”Kinsey said Larsen is very “high functioning,” has a history of running away and history of hiding.”He likes to hide in the weirdest spots,” he said. “He could very well be watching us right now, laughing at us.”He said Larsen has a history of not liking to be spoken to, especially by strangers. Kinsey said there is no reason to believe Larsen has been abducted or that anything suspicious is going on.”He’s playing the ultimate game of hide and seek on us now and he’s winning,” he said.Kinsey asked that people be kind on social media and not bombard officers with speculation.“I promise you we’ve thought of checking trash cans and parked cars,” he said.”There’s no playbook for an 11-year-old autistic that likes to hide and runs away,” said La Vista Police Chief Bob Lausten.How Larsen walked away from schoolAnnette Eyman with Papillion La Vista Schools says he was transitioning from one room to another classroom and a teacher noticed within about 5 minutes he was gone.There are no surveillance cameras on any of the elementary schools in the Papillion – La Vista School District, so checking cameras was not an option, she said. They believe he walked out of one of the school doors.”They immediately began to search the building to see where he was and then notified Ryan’s mom and the police immediately,” Eyman said. “I cant think of anything more heartbreaking as a parent or a staff member than having to look for a child.”Other informationLast sighting: Officials said Larsen walked out of school around noon Monday. A nearby business provided police with surveillance video that showed him in the area around 2 p.m. There have been no other credible sightings of the boy since.Manhole search: Around noon Tuesday, crews were zeroed in on a manhole where they had heard noises, but officials said Larsen was not inside.Info for volunteers: Officials said volunteers should search ditches and tall grass, believing he is likely tired and wanting to lay down. Officials stated that volunteers should not approach Larsen if they see him, instead they should call 911 and follow him at a safe distance. La Vista Police Capt. Jeremy Kinsey urged volunteers not to go on anyone’s private property for their own safety.”I don’t want you to be bitten by anyone’s dog, or have some knucklehead with a gun come out threatening you,” he said.He also asked people to continue to obey traffic laws. LA VISTA, Neb. — On Friday, the search for 11-year-old Ryan Larsen entered its fifth day. The Nebraska State Patrol issued an Endangered Missing Advisory for the La Vista boy after he walked out of La Vista West Elementary on Monday around noon. Authorities say Larsen has autism. He’s described as being 5 feet, 8 inches tall, around 125 pounds, with brown hair and hazel eyes. Ryan was last seen wearing a black jacket, blue jeans, an Old Navy shirt and had a polka-dotted umbrella. If you have any information on his location, call 911. Latest Developments Friday evening: Numerous law enforcement agencies are continuing to search for Ryan Larsen, who has not been seen since Monday, May 17. According to a news release La Vista police, teams from the following joined the search for Ryan at Walnut Creek Recreation Area: Sarpy County Search & Rescue Nebraska State Patrol Omaha Fire & Rescue Yutan Des Moines The above agencies have stepped in to offer divers, boats, high-tech equipment and tracking K9s, according to the news release. A police K9 picked up a scent at Walnut Creek Recreation Area, but it is too early to determine if the scent is animal, human, or something else. According to police, crews began searching at Walnut Creek Recreation Area because Ryan and his family visited it. Police said Ryan previously wandered off while visiting the recreation area. Crews will be searching both land and water at Walnut Creek Recreation Area until they either find him at the recreation area or officials can rule out that he is there, police said. Officials are asking that the public find an alternate path or recreation area to use as crews continue to search the area. La Vista police uses the See It, Say, It, Send It app to gather tips. For information about the app, go to https://www.seeandsend.info. (Friday afternoon) At 3 p.m., La Vista police reiterated that the search continues to be focused on the Walnut Creek area. They said this is because it’s an area Larsen has run to before. An Omaha dive team is searching the water. They are using sonar technology to search the water as well. La Vista Police Chief Bob Lausten said there is no information to indicate there is anyone in the water, officials are just checking all the boxes. Matt Sutter, with Nebraska State Patrol, warned that the Endangered Missing Advisory for Larsen will be expiring soon, but that is only because these must expire after 72 hours. La Vista police said this does not mean search efforts will diminish. Lausten said that La Vista police have a relationship with Larsen. He said multiple officers knew him personally. “Ryan had brought us Christmas gifts at Christmas so there’s a relationship that we have, you know with him specifically, and it cuts, it cuts deep,” he said. He said there will be a focus on mental health for the officers. “These guys or gals are working their tails off on this. Sleep? What is sleep? They don’t even care about sleep, they’re there, they’re running, they’re doing everything that they need to do,” he said. Lausten said he is worried that Larsen has become stuck somewhere where he was hiding. He said that officials will notify the public as soon as possible if Ryan is found. FULL PRESS CONFERENCE BELOW: (Friday morning) There were no new sightings on Larsen as of Friday morning. Authorities were guarding the entrance to Walnut Creek Recreation Area. Lausten told KETV that the area is “one of the best leads they have” in the search for Larsen. “We know there have been cases, our FBI partners have told us, they’ve had missing kids with autism that have been out for seven days and they’ve been found alive and everything has been okay,” Lausten said. Lausten said the search stretching into next week is a real possibility. La Vista police said they do not need any more volunteers, but asked that people consider donating to the Salvation Army or the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children. This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site. (2 of 3) Consider a donation to the @salarmyomaha which continues to support our officers with food and water as they search for Ryan. They have been a huge help – please consider now helping them. https://t.co/MTornApQLL – click the red ‘Donate Locally’ button. — La Vista Police (@lavistapolice) May 21, 2021 (Thursday evening) Officers went door to door to hand out flyers as the search continues for a fourth night. Law enforcement leaders say this is not the first time Ryan has wandered off, but they say he’s never been gone this long. Thursday evening, a police officer who said he has known Ryan for two years spoke with KETV NewsWatch 7’s Abbie Petersen. According to officer Stuart Nadgwick, Ryan had a lifesaver bracelet to track him up until February. Nadgwick fights back tears as he talks about Ryan. “Ryan is a good kid. He has gotten to know a lot of officers from our department. At Christmastime he will make ornaments for the department and then bring them to the department. He has a big heart,” Nadgwick said. Nadgwick met Ryan when the child became a member of Project Lifesaver, a program designed for those who have a risk of wandering. According to Nadgwick, over the course of those two years, Ryan wandered multiple times. “A majority of the times that Ryan had wandered, he was located in a relatively short distance where he had wandered from,” Nadgwick explained. He added that Ryan has multiple triggers that make him wander. This has happened from his apartment, a park and even school before. He likes to hide behind things, like trees, but when approached, made himself available. Now having him gone this long is heartbreaking for everyone. “Over the course of those two years, you get a friend with him. We’re talking about a 11-year-old boy who has challenges brought on by disabilities,” Nadgwick added. The good that Nadgwick has seen in Ryan outweighs any negative situations he’s been in with Larsen. “He is a good kid. He is a good kid and I know there are a lot of people worrying for him right now and if he has the ability, then it’s time to come home,” Nadgwick said. He also said that at this point, Ryan has to be cold, wet and hungry. Police want to get him home safely. Anyone who sees Ryan is urged to call 911. (Wednesday evening) As of Wednesday night, the FBI and representatives from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children were also at the scene to help with the search. “We’re pulling in all the resources that we can,” Lausten said. “They’ve had cases before even with kids with autism have left and they’ve been found. … With the experts that we have, we have a pretty good idea of what we’re doing here and what we need to do.” The City of La Vista announced Wednesday afternoon they did not need any more volunteers. They said there had been no sightings and asked the entire Omaha metro to be on the lookout for Larsen. Larsen had searched ‘how to hide from police’ La Vista Police Capt. Jeremy Kinsey said detectives are working with the family and searched their computer. Kinsey said they found searches Larsen made regarding, “hiding from the police,” “hiding underground” and “how to avoid being spotted.” Kinsey said Larsen is very “high functioning,” has a history of running away and history of hiding. “He likes to hide in the weirdest spots,” he said. “He could very well be watching us right now, laughing at us.” He said Larsen has a history of not liking to be spoken to, especially by strangers. Kinsey said there is no reason to believe Larsen has been abducted or that anything suspicious is going on. “He’s playing the ultimate game of hide and seek on us now and he’s winning,” he said. Kinsey asked that people be kind on social media and not bombard officers with speculation. “I promise you we’ve thought of checking trash cans and parked cars,” he said. “There’s no playbook for an 11-year-old autistic that likes to hide and runs away,” said La Vista Police Chief Bob Lausten. How Larsen walked away from school Annette Eyman with Papillion La Vista Schools says he was transitioning from one room to another classroom and a teacher noticed within about 5 minutes he was gone. There are no surveillance cameras on any of the elementary schools in the Papillion – La Vista School District, so checking cameras was not an option, she said. They believe he walked out of one of the school doors. “They immediately began to search the building to see where he was and then notified Ryan’s mom and the police immediately,” Eyman said. “I cant think of anything more heartbreaking as a parent or a staff member than having to look for a child.” Other information Last sighting: Officials said Larsen walked out of school around noon Monday. A nearby business provided police with surveillance video that showed him in the area around 2 p.m. There have been no other credible sightings of the boy since. Manhole search: Around noon Tuesday, crews were zeroed in on a manhole where they had heard noises, but officials said Larsen was not inside. Info for volunteers: Officials said volunteers should search ditches and tall grass, believing he is likely tired and wanting to lay down. Officials stated that volunteers should not approach Larsen if they see him, instead they should call 911 and follow him at a safe distance. La Vista Police Capt. Jeremy Kinsey urged volunteers not to go on anyone’s private property for their own safety. “I don’t want you to be bitten by anyone’s dog, or have some knucklehead with a gun come out threatening you,” he said. He also asked people to continue to obey traffic laws. Source link Orbem News #11yearold #continues #Day #Missing #picked #scent #Search

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