#was her autopsy report ever released

[boricuacherry-blog]

Cathy White's death was discovered 48 hours after Beyoncé announced her pregnancy with Jay-Z in 2011.

[clearlydiamondz]

Loyalty to Royalty

Erik!Stevens x OC

Part Eight

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Princess Imani was the black sheep of her family, never really fitting the female royal type. When an arranged marriage between Prince   N'Jadaka and her is set up, she tries her hardest to get away... but she just can’t.

- - - - - - - - - -

"We as a nation continue to mourn a great loss. We are still in the works of pinpointing how the King and his Step Daughter were killed. The Royal Family are still waiting for the autopsy-"

The TV screen was shut off before Imani turned around to see who the intruder was. She saw that it was Erik before she sighed closing her eyes. "I didn't mean to interrupt your program, but the councils are waiting for you," Erik said walking into the living room, where she was.

For the last few days after she was medically released on the watch of both Nakia and Shuri, everyone thought it would be much safer for her to stay in Wakanda. Not being seen in the public eye since the death of her father, there were news outlets all over the world wondering where she could be.

Some tiktokers speculated that she was the one who killed so she could get the throne faster. Some other conspiracy theories thought that all of the Kambaho family was murdered. It was in her best interest not to leave the palace until the councils knew who she was and what she was capable of.

"You are fine," she whispered standing up. She wiped her dress off as he walked in front of her with a tilt of her head. "Do I look okay?" she asked him as he grabbed her hands brought them up to her lips and kissed her knuckles.

"Gorgeous.. but that ain't nothing different." he joked as she laughed lightly looking down at her feet. "Listen-" he lifted her head by the chin to make him look at her. "I don't care what happens in there. I will always be beside you.." he whispered to her. She smiled at him, almost tearing up. She threw her head back to prevent the tears from falling.

"I'm trying so hard not to cry," she whispered as he laughed. He placed a kiss on her forehead before placing a kiss on her lips.

"Let's do this." We walked to the throne room where the councils from both countries sat. The talked amongst each other until the two of us walked through the door. T'Challa stood up bowing at the two of us before the councils followed through.

"Your majesty." They said in unison, as Imani cringed. She would not be getting used to that at all.

"I have invited the soon-to-be queen and king because they will be sharing some interesting news," T'Challa replied sitting down.

"And that is?" The council member, Jean asked with a tilt of her head.

"We did a toxin screen report on the King when he passed away." she started.

"I thought he died of natural causes?" M'Baku asked.

"The night that the palace was attacked, I don't believe that they were trying to attack Amarah... I believe that they were trying to attack me. The screen reported that there were traces of cyanide in his body before he died." I replied. The council room broke out into conversation before one of the council members for Kambaho spoke up.

"Why are we just finding out about this now?" Council member, Zakariah asked. "This should have been known from the moment the King passed away."

"I understand- but circumstances enabled me to do so. I too was poisoned." I stated. Ramonda gasped as everyone shook their heads in disbelief.

"Impossible. You wouldn't be standing here to tell your story if this was true!"

"The night of the helicopter crash that took her mother, it also took her life," T'Challa said standing up as the room got quiet. "She was coding, Nakia and Shuri were trying to bring her to life but she wasn't coming to. In a fit of desperation, I allowed the two to give her the herb to revive her." T'Challa admitted.

The room ripped up into an uproar as the two sides started to argue with them. "This is the most foolish thing you could have ever done!" the merchant tribe elder exclaimed in anger.

"Kambaho now has a black panther?" Jean asked as the elders gasped at his statement.

"You guys will never have such power as the black panther!" one of their elders exclaimed. "Don't ever let that name come out of your mouth!"

Imani looked around the room, feeling a tad bit overstimulated. They were yelling across the room at each other while others were trying to plead their case. At that moment, she realized that there was little time to argue with each other and had enough.

"Enough!" she yelled. Her voice echoed across the room as everyone present turned to look at her. "I apologize if you seem betrayed that your King decided to save my life, but we have bigger fish to fry here!" she snapped. She walked closer to the middle before saying, "The Americans worked with Oshana and killed my father and killed her daughter. Their blood will not go down in vain no matter how you feel about me!"

"Princess, how do you know it was the Americans?" M'Baku asked curiously.

"The night the palace was attacked, I heard American accents," she said. "Look, they are becoming bold with their attacks. One way or another, they'll become a little too bold and it might affect Wakanda."" she finished off. The council members of both countries looked at each other before saying,

"Your majesty what do you need us to do."

"I have a proposition," Erik said. "Shuri and scientists back in Kambaho are expanding the barrier to protect also Kambaho citizens. I expect that they will be expecting this, in an attempt to get the American soldiers back." He finished.

"Well, this wasn't approved by us?" An elder of the border tribe said.

"Doesn't matter. I approved it. And plus, with these two about to be married, it is in our alliance to keep each other safe... correct?" T"Challa said. The elder said nothing as she kissed her teeth looking away.

"I know that this is bad...and I am willing to try to make amends for what happened, but right now our countries need each other more than ever. I have already lost everything I have known." she pleaded with them. The council members once again looked at each other.

"And plus, we have probably the world's strongest and smarter rulers. Physically and mentally. We are a force to be reckoned with as one." Ramonda suggested.

"I'm sure their military knows that we have them but aren't going to publicly announce how they received them considering that they were caught red-handed in an assassination and an assassination attempt of the new queen. This can buy us some time." Okoye replied as Imani raised her eyebrow in confusion.

"Time for?"

"Well your majesty, your wedding."

____________________________________________

"I already have to plan two funerals, now I have to plan a wedding?" Imani ranted walking around her room back in Kambaho. The two of them had just gotten out of the shower and were preparing to head to bed. A busy day awaited them with conferences about the King's and Amarah's death.

"Well you know you don't have to do this all alone right?" Erik asked her sitting at the edge of her bed. "I'm here, and I'm sure T'Challa and Auntie Ramonda do not have any problem helping you out.

"I know it's just-" she put her hands over her face and sighed. "-Usually I'm so great with this kind of thing. I know how I want it, I know what to say, I know what to do but my mind is just-" she paused trying to find the word but it never came out.

"To be fair, usually you aren't doing these things in the midst of the death of your father," he said as a matter of fact. "Look, it seems like you are spiraling-"

"You think I am spiraling?" she asked him crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's not what I meant. What I'm saying is-" he stood up grabbing her hands. "You have a lot of emotions going on, and you think that you have to do it all. Because if you don't you think it'll all go too shit." Erik said.

As much as she hated it, he read her to complete filth. That's exactly how it was. The fact that her father passed away, without her being queen left her country without a proper leader in the midst of all this chaos. It seemed like it was a directed attack and to add on top of all that, she was still grieving.

"You're right... I'm sorry if I was a little snappy," she told him as he smiled at her.

"Here, I'll make a few phone calls tomorrow. They can start planning everything but nothing gets done unless you approve it." he grabbed her face as she nodded.

"Okay.. perfect. That sounds perfect." she smiled at him. He kissed her on the lips then pulled away. He then traced his thumb on the bottom of her lips.

____________________________________________

She couldn't fall asleep. With Erik beside her sleeping peacefully, she envied him. Her mind was running a thousand miles a minute with no end goal in mind. Overwhelmed, she threw the blankets over her body and walked out. She walked around the palace before stopping at a portrait of her father, mother, and her a few years ago.

She remembered arguing with her father the night that Oshana and Amarah moved in that they needed to keep it. Oshana hated the portrait and wanted a new one with just her father, Amarah, and Oshana. That proposition got nipped right in its side.

Her mind begins racing to the death of her father. Though after the death of her mother, they weren't as close, it was still her father. The one who trained her for the day to become queen. And it wasn't fair to either one of them that he wouldn't be able to see her. Anger filled her emotions, but just as quick as it came it went away. She knew that she couldn't kill the soldiers down stairs, or even totrue them.. but she had something else in mind.

Imani found herself on the outside of the one-way glass, looking at the soldiers who were tied up inside. No clothes on and in just their underwear, they seemed so helpless. There were about six of them who were caught. After much research, she found out that they were trained Navy Seals who were on a blackout operation.

"Good evening, I just came here to take the soldiers on a tour of the castle." she smiled at them. They looked at her confused before saying,

"Your majesty, are you sure? They seem-"

"Just open the door please and thank you," she told them. Hesitantly, they opened the door for her as the lights kicked on. The soldiers groaned in agony as she stood in the middle of the room as they looked at me in shock.

"Good evening soldiers. I hope I didn't have you guys in here for too long. I was in my grieving period." she smiled at them as they stared at her and said nothing. "Awe I apologize, I hope my guards have been kind to you. They have been feeding you correct?" she asked them. Again nothing.

Tilting her head to the side they had yet to say nothing. Grabbing the remote to the electrical handcuffs before she said, "I"'m going to release you from your strains. Please don't try anything stupid. There are about thirty Dora Milaje soldiers around this premises, and also three very super beings who can break your leg bones within a matter of seconds. So please.. don't try anything stupid." she begged them. She unlocked the controls before some of them fell over having to be stuck in that position all week.

"So I actually-" she walked to the doorway before grabbing a bin. "Grabbed you guys some clothes. I know the cold here is brutal, especially being under the structure so I grabbed you guys some clothes. Please." she opened the chest. They all looked at her, still not moving as she sighed. She looked up and saw one of the soldiers who name was Richard Brady.

"Mr.Brady is it?" she asked him. He looked confused, almost shocked that she knew his name. "See I took the time to get to know who each and every one of you sitting here. What you do when you aren't stationed, where you go on Sundays for church," she stated while taking the clothes out of the bin and placing them out. "But on a more intimate level... I know every single one of you guys has a wife and children waiting for them to get back too. Taylor, Jannette, Maria, Isabella..." she trailed off naming off the names of their wives.

"You touch my fucking wife I'll gut you!" Richard snapped at her as she sighed shaking her head, then chuckled.

"Mr.Brandy, I don't think I mentioned ever killing your wife and kids... I don't even think I ever mentioned killing you," she said. "With that being said, I'll give you guys a few minutes to get dressed. Show you guys around the castle." she turned around to give them their privacy before standing back outside. She looked at them slowly stood up and walked to the bin where they had clothes.

"Are we really going to listen to this nut job?" Micheal, one of the seals, asked confused about why they were standing up.

"Firstly, it's cold as hell in here. And two, that nut job just so happened to list of my wife's name first!?" Kyle whispered and yelled back.

"At this point, the worst thing they can do is kill us," Richard mumbled slipping on the pants. Imani couldn't help but to smirk to herself, as she saw the men give in to her demands.

"Let the Wakandian security know I am moving with the soldiers," she said patting the guards on the back of their shoulders.

As they exited the cellar, the guards followed behind them as she turned around. "You don't have to follow me," she told them. She looked at them waving her hands.

"You can leave," she responded to them as they looked at each other.

"Your majesty, w-we can't leave you alone with them," she replied.

"I think I can take it from here," Okoye replied standing in the doorway. She was in her full gear, holding her spear. Imani looked at her confused.

"Do you sleep in that?" she asked her as Okoye shrugged.

"Usually I don't. But when colonizers who are amid...well colonizing, I tend to," she replied fake smiling at the soldiers. Imani chuckled at the joke before shaking her head.

"I am actually taking these soldiers a look around the palace. I'm sure they know the inside and out of this place due to my dear stepmother, but I want them to see it in person," she said as Okoye raised her eyebrow at her.

"Of course... but why?"

"Why not?" Imani shrugged her shoulders. "Follow me," she told the soldiers as she walked passed Okoye.

Imani showed the soldiers the historical palace, showing them different artifacts and paintings that hang around. She stopped at the family portrait. It was a painting of her father, mother, and her when she was eleven years old.

"Mani!" she looked to her right and saw Erik and a few guards running towards her grabbing her arm. "Is everything alright? I heard that they had escaped?" he turned to look at them as she shook her head.

"No... I was just taking them on a tour." she smiled at him. Erik looked at the soldiers before looking back at her.

"Why though?" he asked her, confusion written all over her face.

"Why not?" she responded as she did with Okoye. Before Erik could respond, Micheal snapped.

"This crazy ass bitch, go put in her a fucking psych ward." Erik looked back at the soldiers before walking over towards him.

"She might want to spare your life but I don't mind putting a fucking knife through your eye." He reached in the band of his sweatpants grabbed a dagger and put it to the poor man's neck.

'Wait.. that was kind of sexy.. ' Imani thought but shook her head at the nasty thoughts.

"Woah their jaguar.. the last thing we need is American blood on our hands." Okoye stopped him with her spear. Erik's stare didn't stop as he said,

"Speak to her like that again, I'll send your body parts to your wife bitch ass nigga."

"What kind of sick joke is this? Huh? Y-You take us on a tour of this place before you kill us?" Micheal asked. Okoye couldn't help but scoff.

"My goodness... for a navy seal you are quite scared of death." Okoye teased them. It fell silent before Imani decided to cut the tension.

"This is the last portrait painted of my family before the death of my mother. She was taken away from me.." Imani said staring up at the picture. "And my father who was... well you know the story. You guys have a major role in that story." Imani mentioned looking back at the soldiers.

It was silent again before she turned around. "To answer your question Micheal.. no I am not going kill you." she turned around looking at them. Micheal was shocked that she knew him by name. "Trust me, I was. I was going to make it slow and painful. But then, in my revenge plan, I have seen this portrait." she looked back at it again.

"I know each of you guys have children and wives of your own, and to be quite fair I had a long thought. I cannot put them through the pain that I had to face. I wouldn't be able to live." she put her hands in front of her staring at them before saying,

"These are the hands of a queen, a ruler of her country, a leader of her people. The hands of the silver leopard., who saves and protects her country. The hands that spare. Hands that will only kill to protect what is her's. My hands will always have a place in history." she said before grabbing Michael's hands.

"These... are the hands of a murderer. The hands of evil. The hands that are owned by your government to make them do their dirty work. Who has no issue with you dying, and giving you a few gunshots to prove their grievances." she dropped his hands in disgust, wiping it on her gown.

"I'm sure that when we hand you guys over to the Americans, they'll throw you a parade, give you a purple heart, maybe even sing a little song for you if you're lucky." she chuckled. "But in the midst of your celebration, while you're hugging your family. While you receiving your purple hearts and trophies and whatnot, it's because of me. You didn't fight to stay alive. You are America's bitch. You.. are not brave by taking my father from me and attempting to kill me. You. Are. Not. Brave."

The entire room fell silent as the soldiers looked at her, puzzled and embarrassed. She cleared her throat before smiling at them. "So this is how it's going to go. You will continue your visit here in Kambaho under extreme supervision. We will release you back to your command once I am queen and I make my announcement. No one will cause harm to you or your loved ones." she responded back with a smile.

"Though I did say I won't kill you, please don't make me change my mind. You guys did try to kill me so I won't hesitate to have you killed." she then looked back at Erik grabbed his hand and looked to the guards. "You can take them back to the cell. Give them some food, blankets, and some proper bedding, please. When I return them to the Americans, I need them in good condition."

Erik was more than thrown off by her actions. He honestly didn't know whether to fear or admire the princess. As the two walked back to the room she stopped before turning back around.

"I hope I didn't offend you. I know you were a seal yourself," she responded, feeling a tad bit guilty on her tangent. He chuckled before kissing her on the lips before saying,

"Nope, honestly I think I admire you. If it was me, they would've been killed already," he said with a chuckle.

"Eh, that's the easy way out," she said continuing to walk to their room. After entering the room and shutting the door, he couldn't help but ask her,

"Why didn't you kill them?" he asked her sitting on the bed.

"I couldn't. They are only doing what they are instructed to, if I do want to kill someone it would be either Oshana or the people who instructed them," she responded with a shrug. "Plus, if I sat there and tortured them what real harm could I do? They are trained to receive that sort of pain.. and physical wounds can heal with time," she replied getting back into bed.

"Psychological wounds though? Those are what cause real harm. They'll never receive a reward within their years of service without remembering what was told to them." she replied settling into the bed and underneath her covers.

"And let's be honest, they don't seem like the type who believes in therapy." He chuckled before cuddling into her.

There was a silence before she broke it. "After the funerals, I will tell the world the truth," she whispered. Erik looked at her, a tad bit shocked before saying,

"Are you sure you want to do this? Now?" he asked her as she turned her body to look at him.

"I need to do this. With the barrier and everything that we need to have ready in order for us to become rulers, I believe I need to," she admitted to him.

"Aye.. this is a good decision. But do be warned... with everything that's happening.. the spotlight is going to be on us... for a while." he warned her as she nodded, with a smirk.

"That is what I want."

_____________________________________________________

"Yesterday, my father and step-sister were laid to rest with the ancestors and spirits of our loved ones," Imani spoke into the mic and looked at the cameras of the plentiful news stations. A broadcast that was being shown all over the world.

"It is hard, I will not say it is easy. To sit here after saying my final goodbyes, but truthfully... I have an odd feeling that this isn't our last of time being with each other. This is what gives me the courage to come here and tell you what I do now." she looked over the crowd of people.

"You guys may wonder why the Wakanda barrier may have reached our motherland. Rumors and speculations indicated that it was because of the transitioning of powers, that my fiance and I needed the protection. But in all honesty, it wasn't because of the protection of ours, but for the people of Kambaho. My father., did not die of natural causes. My father was killed right along with my step-sister," she replied. Questions and comments filled the air as gasps were heard.

She continued to tell the people of Kambaho the truth about the death of her father. Even going into description about the whereabouts of Oshana, and her part in the death. However, she did leave out crucial information about the attack on the palace. Erik and her decided that to keep America in the blind, not announcing their attack would most likely give them a chance to play make-up.

If America wasn't being blamed, how could they come and defend themselves?

"Not only was our King poisoned with Cynanide, but I was also a target. However, due to my current condition, I was able to survive the poisoning." Confusion and questions filled the answer once again knowing that the princess was poisoned. Clearing the questions, she then spoke again.

"A few years ago, when Queen Kamila and I were in a terrible accident that resulted in the death of our Queen and my mother. I, as well was on the brink of death. The King of Wakanda, T'Challa made the hard decision to break a Wakiandian law and saved me using the Heart-Shaped Herb that grants the Black Panther and The Golden Jaguar, their abilities." she confessed.

''With these found abilities, I have taken it upon myself to protect those under my leadership, taking on the accomplice of the White Leopard.""

Though she could hear the chaos that ensured, it only tuned out in her head, hearing it faded as her heartbeat increased. She stepped from the mic as she examined the crowd of reporters, asking questions about the status of their new Queen and future King.

''With that being said, I understand my country for centuries has had a huge hand in the passing of the crown to your future leaders. But under the circumstances of what we are as a country, and who we deem as threats to our security, the sooner that we have rule is the sooner I can guarantee each of your safety. For the time being, to protect our future, the events of our wedding and our crowning will only be in quarters, where you as a nation can see it from the comfort of your own homes. Only to ensure ours, but more importantly your and your families' safety and security." she said. She continued her speech, promising her country that she would find out who was working with Oshana.

___________________________________________

Like clockwork, she sat in her father's office watching the different news stations around the world break the news of what just happened a few hours ago. Like always, there were supporters of the princess and her true identity, while there were some who didn't.

She had more positive feedback from both the country of Kambaho and Wakanda, more than she thought initially. She was glad that her country took it well, especially with her main problem being how they would feel about the princess keeping it from them so long.

As she sat in her father’s office, she couldn’t help but feel an ick as she sat in the palace. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded her of the past, a past that she no longer was in. Without her father and mother, it didn’t just feel like home.

She heard a knock on the door before she muted the television. "Come in!" she yelled through the door. Erik stood there with a plate of food as he placed it in front of her. "The chefs said that this should bring you out of your dump." she looked at it to see Dumpling Soup of all things as she chuckled.

She and her mother took a trip to China for a few weeks when she was younger and fell in love with Dumpling soup. It was to the point where that's what everyone had for like three weeks straight until her father finally had enough.

Erik turned around seeing the news, and before he could say anything, she grabbed the remote turning it off. ''You know I can't help it." she sighed before taking a sip of the soup. She stood up before going over to her father's liquor cabinet.

"Alright, I know the old man has some good liquor stashed away, and ooh- here we go." she grabbed the Barrique de Ponciano Porfidio, the expensive tequila that he got from Mexico a few months back. She grabbed two shot glasses before putting them on the desk and pouring them a shot. Tapping the table, they threw back the shot before humming.

"Oh.. that's smooth," he said looking at the shot glass. "Well, you can have it." she handed it to him as he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are you sure?" he asked. “This is worth like… thousands.” She nodded her head before walking to the cabinet. She poured herself a glass of whiskey as he followed behind her.

“Erik..” she called his name.

“Hm..” she turned around to look at him. “I don’t wanna be here.” she whispered.

“We can always go back to Wakanda.” He told her grabbing her glass as she shook her head.

“No I’m talking about long term. I don’t want to stay in this place.” She said looking around. “This place is no longer my home. Without my mother and my father, it’s just the place that’s filled with bad memories.” She confessed to him.

He listened to her as she gave more reason to her not wanting to stay in the main palace. He couldn’t help but notice how her plans now mentioned him. He knew deep down inside, that after the death of her father and as the new Queen, she could have easily broken their agreement and not gone with the marriage. T’Challa would be more than okay with it.

“And I know my mother and father have property on the boarders that we could possibly look at.” She finished. He didn’t say anything, he was deep in his thoughts, with her noticing it.

“What are you thinking?” She asked him, as he looked down at her.

“Nothing important.” He kissed her forehead before saying, “I wouldn’t expect you to want to stay here after everything. Let me know when you wanna get everything situated.” He smiled at her as she smiled back.

The two of them exited the office, making her way to her room. The two of them started to get ready for bed. Erik sat in a chair as she sat at her vanity table preparing to go to bed. “Ya know.. I was lying earlier.” He said looking at her as she looked at him through the mirror.

“About what?” She asked curiously.

“When I said that I wasn’t thinking of anything. I actually was.” He said leaning back in the chair.

“Go on…”

“I remember how you felt when we first met. About the entire… arranged marriage stuff.” He started off, standing up. “You know that because your father passed, you can become queen without the marriage.” He said walking towards her as she followed his gaze.

“Huh, didn’t think about that.” She said with a shrug. “Are you interested in creating an agreement that voids the first agreement.” she said, seeming unbothered. But quite honestly, she was pissed.

Sure, she really wasn’t up with the arranged marriage. But after these last few months, Erik deemed himself more than capable of being a King. More of the fact, she hated to admit but she did develop deep feelings for him.

Erik noticed the shift in her attitude as he smirked. “What you making that face for, huh?” He asked bending down to whisper in her ear. “Did I say that I wanted to void it?” He asked her as she bit her lip. She shook her head as he placed a kiss on her exposed shoulder. “Oh aight then.” He chuckled standing back straight. She rolled her eyes before standing up. He grabbed her waist pulling her into his chest, before lifting her chin.

“I only mentioned it because you were so worried about it when I met you. I just don’t want you to regret this in the future.” He whispered to her looking at her in the eyes.

“I mean… I’m not going to lie. When I was on medical watch, I did have that thought. Only because I knew you had your goals and what not in mind so I didn’t say anything. Honestly if you didn’t say anything, my mouth would’ve been shut.” She confessed to him.

How could she not remember this rule? When she found her father arranged a marriage for her, she made a list of things that could let her become queen. All it came down to was her father dying, or her overthrowing the crown.

“So.. you do wanna marry me?” He smirked at her as she playfully rolled my eyes. “Nah, don’t be all mean now. You do wanna be my wife.” He teased her.

“I do like you… a lot may I add.” She started as he chuckled. “I can run this country on my own, that’s a fact. But after this past year I came to the realization that I can’t let my prejudice and pride get in the way of me helping and protecting my people. Two rulers are always better than one. You are intelligent, kind, and brave and that’s what a ruler needs to be. And if it takes me marrying you to ensure that our country prosper, then so be it.” She finished as he smiled at her.

“I can respect it.”

“And plus… the sex is too amazing not to marry.”

__________________________________________

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____________________________________________

[divnydoodles]

“Scapegoat” (Story told through the Incubus Maine News Gazette)

(Warning for literary descriptions of violence, death, and injury)

~~~

“2 Bodies Found In The Harmony Arcadia; Owner Claims “Killer Robot” Is To Blame”

On April 22nd, 1994, The body of 25 year old [REDACTED] and 34 year old [REDACTED] were uncovered within the Harmony Arcadia. The victims were found tangled in an axial fan of the main ventilation system, recovered by unsuspecting maintenance workers. An autopsy revealed the cause of death to be blood loss and asphyxiation; [REDACTED] suffered blunt force trauma to his skull and chest, while [REDACTED] had visible fractures on her neck and clavicle from strangulation. The case was ruled almost instantly as a murder.

Police noted long, abnormal rows of shallow bruises and lacerations on both parties, wrapping around the limbs and torsos in a “spiral” pattern. Closer examination confirmed the wounds were sliced with metal coils, such as those represented on the Henry Security puppets (the Arcadia’s robotic security devision made to replace human security guards.)

Forensic investigators came to a definitive conclusion that the puppets were somehow used in the murders, and received verification from Arthur Greywhinder—the founder and creator of the Harmony Arcadia— in his police interview.

He confirmed that the puppets are programmed to only ever act on the commands of their artificially intelligent leader, the Commander Henry. Every action they make is result of its own explicit instructions, which provided a compelling lead to a deeper investigation. According to investigators, the Commander wasn’t able to be brought in for questioning; it verbally invoked its “fifth amendment right to remain silent” before the interrogators had the chance to speak with it one-on-one.

Only when security camera footage was accessed did law enforcement unfold the hidden story. Video logs reported that on the night [REDACTED] went missing, the Commander intentionally disabled all cameras in the Arcadia until the next morning. The same was said for [REDACTED], whose car would never be moved from the mall parking lot. It remains unclear whether or not the Commander itself was behind the assault, or if it sent the other security puppets to attack the victims, but its unmistakable involvement was enough to convince authorities to take action.

On April 30th, after the video footage was released, Commander was officially handed over as evidence to the Incubus Maine police department. First-hand police accounts reveal that the puppet violently resisted the arrest, regarding that it took six officers to restrain the machine and move it outside of the building.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” one injured officer told reporters. “You know, you wake up, have breakfast, go to work like usual, and the next minute you’re expected to take down a killing machine with a couple of your partners. Like c’mon now… I just barely got my shoes on. It’s too early for this…”

Greywhinder spoke with press that afternoon concerning the murders. He suggested that faulty wiring must have been the initial cause of the robot’s malfunction, but later doubled down on his first assertion, claiming instead that:

“…The Commander Artificial Intelligence grew sentient, and became filled with a bitter hatred for humanity…”

He continued:

“…What was once created to protect the Arcadia became its greatest threat… I believe I speak for all of us when I say no one could have predicted these horrific acts at the hands of our trusted ally. Given the subject matter, I fully understand the public scrutiny. A case as this one feels all too familiar…”

As of writing, the investigation is still underway. Greywhinder himself declared in his speech that Commander will be disassembled on May the 8th by authorities, and that the security puppets will be temporarily discontinued to avoid the risk of anymore attacks.

“…There comes a time in every man’s life where he has to put his foot down in the event of a liability. You do what you have to in order to protect your family. The Commander—in this situation— is a rabid dog. A once beloved pet, reduced to nothing but a raving, sputtering mess of an animal. It’s best for all of us that he’s swiftly put down before he gets the chance to infect anyone else…”

Ultimately, a trial will not be held for the android, nor was a confession ever recorded. The Commander was last seen in its final moments being transported away from the mall in a police vehicle. The Arcadia has agreed to make investments towards more human security guards, and the families of the deceased will be awarded with financial compensation.

—Journalist I.F. of the Incubus Maine News Gazette

~~~

[killed-by-choice]

“Georgia Roe,” 27 (USA 1975)

In 1975, a 27-year-old who was later given the name “Georgia” after her state underwent an abortion at 10 weeks pregnant.

Georgia’s medical history was noted in a later case report. At the age of 8, she had surgery for severe pectus excavatum. Her heart had stopped for 20 minutes, but circulation was maintained and she had no further issues noted until age 20, when possible cardiac enlargement and/or pulmonary edema was noted. A brief course of treatment relieved her and she was noted to have been living a “normal life”.

But at the age of 27, she underwent a hysterectomy abortion (removing the uterus with the fetus still inside) at 10 weeks pregnant.

It is possible that Georgia thought that the abortion would preserve her health. At some point after having three uneventful and healthy births, she had started experiencing pelvic pain, which was identified as chronic cervicitis. At the time of the abortion, she’d had a class 3 Pap smear* and a cervical biopsy showed atypical squamous metaplasia**.

It is also possible that she had the abortion because she just didn’t want another child. She had already given birth to three babies, each one born full-term with no complications from the pregnancy or birth. The reason for the abortion remains unknown.

In the recovery room, Georgia had an occasionally irregular heartbeat and ST depression was noted. Another EKG 2 days later showed "possibly a little more" ST depression. Despite this, the hospital released her after 5 days and did not have her see a doctor for a follow-up.

Georgia’s family members reported that in her last few weeks alive, she suffered from continuous vaginal bleeding. Despite her alarming symptoms and her medical history, Georgia still was not given any follow-up medical treatment.

5 weeks after the abortion, Georgia was in her car on the way to a relative’s funeral. When she got out of the car, she suddenly collapsed and died.

A doctor who had occasionally seen Georgia during her life but had not seen or treated her at any point after the abortion listed her cause of death as “coronary occlusion”, but no autopsy was ever performed.

Georgia was 1 out of 10 known deaths in the state of Georgia to happen to a client who had recently had a legal abortion in 1975. Due to a voluntary and largely ineffective reporting system, it is unknown how many more cases go unreported.

* The now-obsolete class system for papanicolaou smear testing marked the results as a class 3. This means that abnormal cells were detected, but it doesn’t confirm the presence of a dangerous problem and cells marked as class 3 will sometimes become normal again without any treatment at all. The biopsy may have been ordered after the results came back.

** Atypical squamous metaplasia can be precancerous or fully benign. It can come from a virus, hormonal conditions, polyps, menopause and more. It does not necessarily mean that the patient has or will develop cancer, but follow-up testing is usually in order.

[lorem-text]

Good evening, Night Owls.

Midnight draws on into these first hours that some would call morning, but we know better, dear listeners. We know that a new day does not necessarily mean a new dawn, and in the end, a new Night is often far more intriguing as daylight grows ever more distant...

On tonight’s news, I don’t think there is a single Angelino who hasn’t heard a story or two about the infamous Queen Mary, docked forevermore at Long Beach, just 26 miles off from Downtown. The hotel has been shut down temporarily since 2020, but another chapter was added to the ship’s grim story a mere few days ago.

Late on the night of the 28th, Matthew Donovan and his fiance Theresa Garcia were out on a midnight stroll, walking the length of the ship from the pier. Now, the beginning of winter is not the best time to walk by Long Beach. The high humidity in the area makes the frigid cold even more unforgiving, and as tourists the couple were surprised by the drop in temperature. Matthew suggested returning back to their hotel for the night, or at least fetch some coats and continue their walk elsewhere-- but Theresa stopped him. According to Matthew, she grabbed his arm, looked right at the Queen Mary, and said,

“We can get some coats there.”

Believing it to be a joke, Matthew laughed and said that they would have more luck back at the hotel than some abandoned ghost ship, but Theresa insisted.

“Don’t you hear it? There’s a band playing, maybe they rented one of the halls. They could have heating on.”

But Matthew could not hear any music. He assumed it was some joke going too far, and tried to pull Theresa along to return to their hotel room.

That is when she shook of his hold and with a cold determination ran to the edge of the pier and jumped over, into the freezing cold waters. Shocked, Matthew jumped in after his fiance in an attempt to save her-- but in the darkness of the cold sea enveloping him he couldn’t find her. Matthew returned to the shore where he called local authorities, and thirty minutes later a full-on investigation had started along Long Beach for Theresa Garcia.

Her body was found several hours later, on the morning of the 29th, washed up ashore far outside of the rocky barrier around the port where she had jumped in.

According to the autopsy report for which was released at noon of the 29th, Theresa Garcia likely suffered from a psychotic break, which resulted in her erratic behaviour. Upon falling in the freezing water, she fell into a cold shock response which left her incapable of swimming, and drowned. A tragic story, but a common one in any populated area near water.

Authorities have made no further comments at the time.

However, according to some eye witnesses who were on the scene when the body was found, Theresa’s eyes had been removed from their sockets, her throat had been slashed bleeding into a shallow pool of blood, and her face was frozen into a contorted expression of pure horror.

Could that be the truth? Perhaps an exaggeration fueled by the shock of seeing Theresa’s bloated, drowned body? Or even malicious embellishment to make an interesting story out of a horrible tragedy?

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

ANITA COBBY

ANITA COBBY

            Anita Cobby, 26, was a nurse who lived and worked in Sydney, Australia. On 2 February 1986 she was abducted from the street by a group of men, who gang raped her and then murdered her.

            When she arrived to Blacktown station, she went to ring her father to pick her up but the phones were vandalised and didn’t work and there were no taxis. It was a hot daylight savings night and so Cobby decided to walk home. A group of young men in a stolen vehicle drove up to her, grabbed her and forced her into the vehicle. They told her to remove her clothing, punched her, broke her nose and cheekbones and forced her to do the unspeakable to them. They stole her money to pay for more petrol and then drove her to a secluded paddock, gang raped her repeatedly, and continued to physically abuse her. John Travers, concerned that she would be able to identify them chose to kill her.

            Cobby never arrived home to her parents and her sister. That night her father was sitting on his bed before midnight and looked out the window, where he saw one of the clouds ‘turned into the most evil face I could ever imagine.’ He later learned this was around the same time his daughter had been murdered. After her family had reported Cobby missing, her body was discovered in the paddock by a farmer. Her father had to go to Westmead Hospital morgue to identify her body.

 Radio host John Laws read out on live air her autopsy report, which detailed what the men had done to her. This generated such anger and fear from the public. The police got a tip about the men involved, and they were arrested  regarding the stolen vehicle. Many of her killers had criminal records, including violence, animal cruelty, and rape.

            The police questioned the men, who all initially denied their involvement in Cobby’s murder. Whilst in custody a female friend visited Michael Murdoch who was able to attain a secret recording of his confession, his excuse was ‘we were all drunk’ and ‘she’d fucking seen all of us’. All five men showed no remorse, were found guilty and got a life sentence, their files marked ‘never to be released’.

#anitacobby #johnlaws

[andrewpoet]

Injustice Justice:

They slid through the shadows, unseen and unheard,

Fueled by darkness, spirits corrupt, hearts blurred.

Their laughter hollow, echoing with sin,

Faces void of remorse, grins stretched thin.

A twisted thrill coursed in their veins,

Two men, bound by cruelty, numb to pain.

Eyes as cold as steel, sharp as knives,

Living as shadows, empty of lives.

She was just a target, prey for the night,

Caught in their web, stripped of light.

They moved like vultures, silent and near,

Their whispers sliced through the heavy air.

Nothing human left in their gaze,

Each word a dagger, cold and crazed.

The streetlamp flickered as they drew near,

Unfeeling, unhearing her cries of fear.

Bound by no laws, by nothing right,

Souls devoured by darkness and spite.

They caught her unaware, trembling alone,

A queen lost in the dark, dethroned.

Ruthless hands, cold grips and force,

They dragged her down a merciless course.

No name, no past, only a victim’s face,

Her life to them was an empty space.

They tore her apart, reduced her to pain,

Breaking her spirit in a relentless reign.

To them, this was nothing but a twisted game,

Fueled by greed, devoid of shame.

The world around them fell to hush,

Nothing there to stop their sick rush.

Every blow, every strike, a mark unseen,

Left on her body, a scarred scene.

And when they left, they took nothing but pride,

Leaving behind their sins, a terror untied.

Satisfied, they walked away as ghosts,

In the shadows, they’d forever boast.

She stumbled alone, the night pressing in,

Bruises bearing witness to the violence within.

Her voice cracked, but no one heard,

The world too cold to heed her word.

Through the streets she wandered, eyes wide with dread,

Haunted by the demons they left in her head.

“Help me,” she whispered, to the void’s disdain,

But every soul turned away from her pain.

In her eyes, the fear, the horror engraved,

A silent plea for someone to save.

Her steps faltered, hope faded to ash,

A soul reduced, a life now trashed.

She thought of her family, but her shame was too raw,

How could she tell them what she saw?

So she carried the weight, heavy as lead,

Every step dragging, as her spirit bled.

Her friends turned away, eyes cast down,

Her truth erased, in a judgmental town.

The walls closed in, too tall to climb,

Leaving her trapped in an endless mime.

She reached out to strangers, to blank, empty eyes,

Searching for someone who’d hear her cries.

But to them, she was trouble, a tale they’d dismiss,

An inconvenience, lost in a social abyss.

Her heart felt the weight of the silence around,

In each rejection, her spirit drowned.

Her voice grew quiet, a whisper at most,

A shadow of the woman she was, a ghost.

“Why won’t they listen? Why can’t they see?”

A question screamed into eternity.

Her mind clouded, hope replaced by despair,

A final plunge in the thickened air.

With her last breath, she cursed the night,

The pain, the betrayal, the lack of light.

And as she fell, she knew no peace,

Just a hollow, a void, a hateful release.

The sirens blared as they reached the scene,

A silent witness to horrors unseen.

Yellow tape fluttered in the morning breeze,

Marking the space where pain doesn’t ease.

They entered the room, where silence screamed,

A place broken, robbed of what it dreamed.

Her form lay still, cold as stone,

A woman gone, a soul alone.

In every bruise, in each fractured bone,

They saw a story no one should own.

They took notes, checked the clock, wrote it down,

But inside, they felt the weight of the town.

Every detail painted a picture grim,

A life stripped bare, left on a whim.

The air was thick, sorrow hung in place,

They knew they couldn’t erase this trace.

The report on the table, cold facts aligned,

But the truth was in the heartbreak, intertwined.

They’d seen violence, they’d seen rage,

But this was a tragedy, a silenced page.

The autopsy showed the signs of the crime,

An ending marked by pain and time.

They wondered if justice would ever come,

Or if this was just a requiem.

To them, it was a story too often told,

A cycle repeating, a tale too old.

In that room, a solemn vow they made,

To give voice to those who fade.

A tear fell, unnoticed, but real,

A silent pact, a raw ordeal.

They saw her pain, her story carved deep,

And knew it was one they’d forever keep.

For every victim left in despair,

They pledged to fight, to always care.

Her voice won’t die, her story won’t fade,

She’ll live on in every vow we’ve made.

For every woman afraid to speak,

We’ll stand up strong, defend the weak.

This isn’t a song to relive her pain,

It’s a call to ensure it won’t happen again.

To lift those silenced, to let them rise,

To show we’re here, to hear their cries.

For too long, their stories denied,

Left in the dark, dismissed, cast aside.

But we’re here to bring them out of the night,

To fight with them, to make it right.

For every sister who felt alone,

This anthem’s theirs; we won’t condone

A world that turns away from screams,

Or ignores the terror haunting their dreams.

We’re not here to glamorize pain or fear,

But to make sure every voice is clear.

This is for those too hurt to shout,

Who feel trapped in, with no way out.

With every word, we push for change,

For a world where strength has broader range.

For healing, for justice, for reclaiming grace,

So every woman feels a safer place.

And if you listen close, you’ll hear the plea—

It’s a promise to stand by the broken and free.

This is not for the darkness, not for shame,

But to light the way, to reclaim her name.

So hear us now, let the message be clear,

This fight’s for them—we’re right here.

No more silence, no more fear,

Together in strength, year by year.

Let the broken be healed, the unheard speak,

We’re here to empower, to make the world seek

Justice and light, and to fiercely defend,

With love, with truth, until the end.

[ur-blxxdy-valentine]

Right? I've heard it's really yummy :3 Yea I did! I've gotten in quite a few fights before but I never got in trouble and ya the kid deserved it. Right? I feel bad for him :( same with this female russian school shooter.... I forgot her name but hers was really sad too :( Yea he had a list of his favorite music online and even had a Spotify playlist haha. It's really nice bc alot of the music he listened to is some I listen to. Kinda, was my dad until he went to bed but all good now ^-^ but sadly there's not much info on him released. Russia doesn't like releasing info on their school shooters yet willingly leaked and posted Vladi's autopsy pictures and autopsy reports, along with his death pictures which (holy shit wow- ;-;) I know he had a Facebook account and I plan on stalking his past accounts because why not haha. And when I know enough Russian (which will be years from now) or if I can find a medium who speaks Russian and English I can try summoning his spirit and talk to him!!!!! I think the reason why I like him so much and his case is because I relate to him and two damn his body count and the amount of destruction he caused was amazing. Sorry ranting- I wanna talk to you about you and stuff not some boy- 🫠

The alcohol is making me want to be so honest right now and it's killing me from the inside out....... imma just be blunt- can I like know everything about you dove..... please- it's stupid and silly but I somehow have a crush on you and find you so enticing and mysterious and I like it and it's dragging me to you more- I hope it's not too strong....... I can cut back if you'd like-

— ❤️‍🔥

aaah sorry for the late reply i was trying to make caramel !! took me three tries but i think i did it right finally (o^^o) wow how did you find autopsy reports? i didn’t know they ever released those to the public ! it’s honestly so interesting to have someone you can do so much like modern research on from their own creations like accounts and stuff. hehe sorry i like learning about new thingssss i don’t really get asked about myself (･ω･`〃)

oh? hmm i’ll go through the basics of me! i like baking (obviously) i like dying my hair a lot but currently it’s dark brown with blonde strands :) my favourite animal is whale sharks! i love true crime, horror movies, and rpg horror games. i spend most of my time listening to music and day dreaming honestly dndjjdnf and i think that’s it

i can’t stop someone from crushing on me, but i definitely encourage you not to. i’m not someone to have a crush on if that makes sense ahhhdbfbbfhf

but i am so so honoured (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

[college-girl199328]

Melissa Chatzimanolakis’ brother Anthony died while awaiting trial at an Ontario jail late last month, marking one of the latest amongst an increasing number of inmate deaths in recent years – but Melissa says she’s refusing to let him become “a sad statistic.”

“We did everything together,” Melissa told CTV News Toronto in an interview over the phone Thursday. “He was a happy, loving, caring person.”

Anthony Chatzimanolakis, 30, died at Toronto South Detention Centre in Etobicoke on March 25, the Ministry of the Solicitor General confirmed Thursday. He was awaiting trial at the bail hearing scheduled for April 14 – "just two weeks from when he died," Melissa said.

Paramedics were called to the jail that day after staff found an inmate unresponsive and in medical distress to provide further details as “several investigations are underway.”

The family has said that initial investigations and autopsies performed on Anthony suggest he may have died of a drug overdose, including a coroner’s report and toxicology results, which could still be up to nine months away.

Growing up, Melissa said she and Anthony were inseparable. “We were only 10 months apart,” Melissa said. “My brother and I have been side-by-side our whole lives.” That changed last September when Anthony was arrested after being accused of vehicle theft, carrying an unlicensed, loaded firearm, and harassment. The charges had not been proven in court, and he had not been convicted.

“Although my brother made some bad decisions, he had a good heart,” Melissa said. “He would take the shirt off to give it to somebody in need in his pocket for you to go eat.”

Since Anthony was jailed, Melissa said she’d at least once a week. Although she physically travelled to the jail for the visitations, her time with Anthony was still required to be conducted virtually.

He often spoke of the pain he was in, suffering complications from a 2019 motorcycle crash was scheduled to receive surgery in November 2022 procedure was cancelled, and the family was not provided with a clear plan for Anthony’s healthcare past that point, she said.

“He felt like he was being ignored.” Now, what exactly happened to her brother. “We have no answers,” Melissa said here with a million things running through our heads, and we happened to him.”

Melissa said because “unfortunately, [it] is not unique. This happens a lot – more than people even know – and not spoken about,” said. A report released in January by the coroner’s office said deaths in Ontario jails have “risen dramatically” in recent years.

From 2014 to 2021, 186 people died in custody, with 19 deaths in 2014, 25 in 2019 and 46 in 2021. By far, the most common cause of death is accidental overdose, according to the data. The report found that illicit drugs are currently making their way into correctional facilities at an “alarming pace,” brought in by people being brought into custody, visitors, lawyers, drones and said.

“There needs to be more accountability,” Melissa said. “To ensure that proper checks are being done to prevent illicit drugs from being available inside these facilities.”

The report also specifically identified the number of individuals incarcerated on remand – a term for inmates awaiting trial, sentencing or other proceedings – contributing to the rising number of inmate deaths.

Anthony’s death pushed for “swift action” on bail reform meant to keep “violent offenders off the streets.” Several recent high-profile violent crimes committed by offenders were released on undertakings.

“It’s not an exaggeration to say that people are now dying because of the failures of our justice system,” Premier Doug Ford said at Queen’s Park Monday. Two days later, the province tabled a motion calling the federal government to take immediate action on “meaningful” bail reform.

Almost 70 percent of people jailed in Ontario are on remand. That is “ever-increasing,” the province says, and experts have cautioned against measures that continue to balloon it.

To die in a Canadian correctional facility is “unlawful and unjust,” Melissa said, but far from unheard of. “Many men and women die in correctional facilities in Ontario – however, they don’t have families to mourn them and to question their deaths – they just simply disappear and become a sad statistic,” she said.

“Anthony is not that,” she said, and to prove it, she said she’ll continue sharing her brother’s story and seeking justice. “I could have been prevented if things had been done differently.”

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Quick rant for funsies

Officially Natalie Wood drowned accidentally in the 80s. That was the original cause of death on the original autopsy report but the autopsy was completely fudged. In 2011 the cause of death was changed to "drowning and other unknown circumstances" or whatever. The TRUTH. is that she was killed by her husband Robert Wagner. She was drunk, they were on a boat with Christopher Walken, he was probably flirting with Natalie, Robert Wagner was abusive already so it doesn't matter, there was a fight between them, she ended up in the water, he released the dinghy to make it look like she tried to leave and fell out and drowned (but the dinghy had never been turned on....) (she was deathly afraid of water and drowning so she wouldn't have taken herself in the dinghy anyway), he got the captain of the boat and Christopher Walken to go with his story, it's been 40+ years, he was named a person of interest but not a suspect and there will probably never be enough concrete evidence to convict him now since it's been so long but if the police had done their job in the first place he would've been caught bc its very obvious, he's like 90 years old so he's gonna die and take it to his grave

I don't know if he killed her and threw her body in the water or if he pushed her in and she actually did drown (bc the autopsy DIDN'T DO ANYTHING) but regardless he killed her. Also. She had married him when she was young, then divorced him, then REMARRIED HIM even tho she was scared of him, her sister asked her why and she said "better to stay with the devil you know than the devil you don't" which HAUNTS ME, she didn't even WANT to go on the boat trip in the first place bc SHE WAS TERRIFIED OF WATER, and it's the most random thing ever that Christopher Walken was just. There. And is wrapped up in it 😭 I don't think he saw anything but I think he suspects but is too nervous to say anything. Unless maybe he's talked to the police privately. But again none of it matters bc Robert Wagner is gonna die and there's not gonna be a strong enough case at this point anyway. GOD IT MAKES ME ANGRY ❤️

Wanna know another random thing I have way too much info on stored in my brain. Another thing I could rant about for hours unprompted. Ask me about Natalie Wood. Ask me how Natalie Wood died.

[writteninthegarden]

Body in Autopsy. Copy That.

18+ Minors, please DNI.

NCIS Fic-Jimmy Palmer x Female Reader

Summary: Reader and Jimmy are dating. Reader previously interned at NCIS, but now teaches at FLETC. Reader comes down to Autopsy to meet Jimmy for lunch, but first shoots her shot for an afternoon delight. Things start to get steamy until they hear a noise in autopsy…

A/N: This one started as just a saucy WIP, but now I might want to do a couple parts for this case I seemingly cooked up.

Word Count: 1776

Warnings/Content: NSFW (mild), A lot of dirty talk that ends up getting interrupted, language, threat scare in autopsy, DiNozzo in a bad mood, cliff hanger ending

You walked into Autopsy as you adjusted your NCIS visitor badge. Jimmy was reading over what looked like a report while he sat on a stool. You’d guessed correctly that Ducky might step away for a lunch break around this time.

“Hey handsome” you called over to Jimmy as you made your way over to where he sat.

He tried to give you a serious look but couldn’t hide the grin appearing on his face.

“Hey, you.” He met your hand that came to rest on his shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“Figured I’d stop over a little early for lunch. I’m not up to anything.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Hmm, I think my phone would say otherwise.”

“What’s the matter with your phone?” You had to admit you were enjoying this.

“Just the saucy texts I keep getting during work. Do you know how difficult it is to hide a hard on in scrubs?”

“Sorry, I don’t know…but you can show me.” You moved efficiently and made it to the waistband on his scrub bottoms before he stilled your hand.

“Behave yourself.” You knew he likely didn’t mean it in a commanding way, but damn that was kind of hot.

“Unfair” you whispered in his ear. “You told me about your hard on and now I’m really horny.”

“Baby…we really can’t.” He released an exasperated sigh.

“I know, but…” You moved to whisper in his other ear. “I need you. I can’t stop thinking about you taking me from behind. Like the other night when you grabbed my ponytail…mhmm” you moaned.

“Fuck, you’re killing me…we definitely can’t down here. I don’t know any spots that aren’t badge access now.”

“How about the unisex bathroom?” You lightly ran your fingers over his chest.

“Near the interrogation rooms?”

“Yeah, I figured the one near MTAC would be too ballsy. Is anyone being interrogated currently?”

“Possibly?”

Just then you heard a noise but couldn’t pinpoint what it was. You didn’t pay it much mind.

“So, should we head towards interrogation?”

“Wait, is that you?”

“Mhmm, it will be me…taking care of you, handsome.” You draped your arms around his shoulders and neck.

Thunk.

You locked eyes with Jimmy. As you heard the strange noise behind you once again he looked shocked.

“Wha-” you started to say, but he put his hand over your mouth.

“I just want to keep kissing you.” He didn’t kiss you or remove his hand. Instead, he motioned towards the hallway with his head and silently mouthed “no talking.” You nodded.

He removed his hand from your mouth and grabbed your hand instead. Quickly, he ran over to the desk to grab his cell phone and slid it in his pocket. Jimmy didn’t let go of your hand, but made sure you walked in front of him. Once you were in the hallway, he directed you to an alcove out of sight.

“Jimmy, what the hell was that noise” you whispered, unsure how far voices carried down here.

“Promise me you’ll stay quiet and not freak out if I tell you?”

“Yes. Just tell me already.”

“Okay, I’m not positive, but I think that noise is coming from the body bag.” Your eyes went as wide as a cartoon character. “I thought I saw it move when we heard the last noise.” Make that your eyes and jaw that were now wide as a cartoon character.

“Jimmy, what the fuck?” you asked as quietly as you could manage. “This is the shit nightmares are made of. You’d better not be screwing with me. I swear to god we’ll never have sex ever again. No offense, but isn’t that something you check when you bring a body in?” Granted, your whispered tone probably didn’t make the no sex threat sound all that serious.

“That they’re actually deceased? Yes. That one came to us though, so I haven’t seen it. Dr. Mallard must’ve received it. Y/N, I need your help.” He put his hands on your shoulders. “Find Gibbs. Get him down here or anyone from MCRT. I’m going to check what info we know about the body in there. As fast as you can, okay?”

Instead of answering, you frantically kissed him. “I’ll be right back. Be careful, babe.”

You threw open the stairwell door and booked it up the stairs to avoid waiting for the elevator. As you climbed you tried to call Gibbs, but he didn’t pick up. You came barreling out of the stairwell and scanned the office as fast as you could. As luck would have it, Tony was the first familiar face you spotted. In an effort to avoid causing a panic yet, you settled for speed walking to his desk.

“Tony! Where is Gibbs?”

“Hey, Y/N! Jeez, you spend more time here than at your actual job most days. Umm, is everything okay?”

“No, there’s a situation. Where is Gibbs?”

“Getting coffee if I had to guess. What’s going on? Let’s walk and talk.” Tony led you out of the bullpen, likely to avoid creating a scene.

“It’s autopsy, Tony” you said with a gasp. “There’s a body in autopsy.” You hadn’t realized how winded you were until you tried to explain. Shit. You might be on the verge of a panic attack.

“Wow” Tony chuckled. “I’m not sure how we manage around here without you around to make brilliant deductions like that.”

“Tony…this isn’t a joke. The body is-”

“Okay, body in autopsy. Copy that.”

“No, there isn’t, DiNozzo” Gibbs chimed in as he walked off the elevator.

“Gibbs! Oh, thank god!” You grabbed Gibbs’ upper arm and pulled him back into the elevator. Well, he let you pull him rather. You rapidly hit the level for autopsy, but as soon as the doors closed Gibbs reached over you to turn off the elevator.

“Y/L/N, what the hell is going on?” His tone was sharp, but he wasn’t yelling yet.

“Palmer has a body in autopsy that Ducky must’ve received earlier. I was down there to meet Jimmy for lunch and we started hearing noises. Jimmy thought the noises came from INSIDE the body bag. He told me to come get you and that’s all I know.”

With lightning speed Gibbs flipped the elevator back on and did some trick with the buttons so it would travel directly to autopsy.

“L/N, listen to me. When we get down there, I need you to get Palmer out of there. I’m going to need space to get a technician in there to scan the bag. I’ll tell DiNozzo who we need dispatched.”

Gibbs exited the elevator first and instructed you to wait outside of autopsy. “Ah, shit. L/N, call Vance. Tell him there’s a situation and I have it handled for now.”

“Anything else? Somehow I imagine he’ll have questions…like do we need to evacuate the building??”

“Not until I know more. Stay right there until I send Palmer out to you.”

“Okay.” Under your breath you continued to say, “let me just call the Director with no info and make him really angry.”

As you hung up the phone, Jimmy came out to find you. Once he was close enough, he instantly pulled you into him and hugged you tightly. You wrapped your arms around him and he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Are you okay, sweet girl?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you though?” You leaned back to be able to meet his eyes.

“I’m okay…better now that you’re back here. Good news so far is it’s not a bomb!”

“How do you know? The bomb squad isn’t here yet.”

“We didn’t want to waste any time considering we were already in there and how many people are in this building. So, we used the x-ray. It can’t pick up any chemicals, but it showed there is some sort of small animal that hitched a ride with the deceased…who we also know is deceased, but I need a faster computer to pull up more about the body. Come with me upstairs.”

That was easy enough, you thought to yourself. You went up to the bull pen and Jimmy logged on the spare computer beside McGee’s desk. You pulled over Tony’s chair and sat down.

A few minutes later Tony came by. “Palmer, sit rep for Gibbs? Y/N, by all means make yourself at home…” Tony added sarcastically.

“Projecting it to the screen now. I found the paperwork from when the body was delivered here, but neither Dr. Mallard nor I received it.”

“What are you talking about, Palmer?” Tony pointed to the screen. “Ducky signed it.”

“That’s not Dr. Mallard’s signature. It’s close, but the lowercase A’s and D’s aren’t right.”

“So we have a bogey body with some sort of woodland creature or wildlife desperately trying to escape.”

“My guess is a squirrel or something of a similar size” Jimmy added.

“Okay, that helps animal control, but I can’t put a BOLO out on Rocky the squirrel. Bigger questions-who forged Ducky’s signature and why?”

“We also should let animal control capture the critter.” You hopped out of your seat and leaned over Jimmy, taking over the keyboard.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We won’t put you on squirrel duty. Now, back to the case…” Tony scolded.

“I meant in case it’s rabid, DiNozzo” you fired right back. “Meanwhile, stand by I’m pulling the security footage from when the body was dropped off.”

Jimmy swiveled his chair and guided you to his lap so you didn’t have to hover. Somehow you knew Tony would have a comment. He always did.

“Enough canoodling over there, Gremlins. This is a professional work environment.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize. Up yours, DiNozzo. Professionally, of course.” You and Tony had history from your time interning with MCRT years ago. You figured if he could dish it out you should be able to as well.

“Y/L/N! My office. Now.”

Shit. Well, preferably you wouldn’t get caught dishing it out by Director Vance…while also sitting on Jimmy’s lap in the squad room. Great.

“Director Vance, I am incredibly sorry” you started, trying to buy yourself time while the camera footage loaded.

“And yet you’re not moving. Let’s go.”

Damn, he sounded livid. You accepted this would likely be your last time receiving a visitor badge.

“Sorry, Director. Aha! I got it. Sir, Director Vance! I have a positive ID from the security cams of the person who snuck the body in today. Running it against the employee ID photos just to be sure.”

The computer dinged. “Oh, fuck…not again” you heard Jimmy say under his breath.

The ID matched to Agent Lee.

[boldlyvoid]

Hypothetically | Chapter 16-20

summary: Reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

A/N: Set between seasons 4 and 6, not following canon. all original crimes based on real-life stories.

Warnings 18+: Murderers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Blood, Guns, mentions of autopsy, Fluff, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, bed-sharing, Riding, Unprotected Sex, Virgin Reader, Case of the Week, original crimes, Food mention, Smut, Oral Sex, Light BDSM, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, obgyn appointments and info, Home Invasion, Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Pedophilia mention, non-con oral (male receiving), Pregnant Sex, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Homophobia, conversion therapy

Word Count: 10k

chapter 16

It was 7 am when they got the call. Y/N had barely gotten any sleep that night, Spencer was adamant that laying on the left side helps maximize blood flow. Meaning she faced the wall all night with him happily cuddled into her back. She hated it.

Between peeing 100 times a day and the constant heartburn, she couldn’t really pick the worst part about creating a human.

It fuckin’ sucked and no one thought to warn her.

She dragged herself out of bed, trying her best to do her morning routine with only one eye open. Spencer, on the other hand, seemed to bounce out of bed like he slept 12 hours. Dancing around the kitchen as he poured his coffee and took a smoothie out of the fridge for Y/N.

He fed the cat, changed the litter and even took out the garbage by the time she pulled herself from the bathroom and to her closet.

Her jeans didn’t fit, she let herself take a minute to cry out of frustration in the closet before she looked for anything presentable. The only pants she could get into were a pair of leggings, and at that point, she didn’t care anymore. She was probably going to stay back with Penelope anyway.

She threw on an FBI sweater to hide her bump from the rest of her co-workers, grabbed the rest of her shit and followed Spencer to the car. Getting in the passenger seat and immediately closing her eyes again.

“Wake me up when we’re at Quantico,” she told him. Leaning against the window, ignoring the world.

Maternity parking was the only bonus, she only had to walk 4 feet from her car to the elevator. She felt lazy, but she was allowed to.

“Hopefully,” Spencer finally spoke to her as they entered the elevator. “At the end of this week, your energy should return as your placenta is done developing. You’re the most tired right now because your organs are working 3 times harder than they’re used to.”

“I’m tired because I had nothing to cuddle with all night, but thanks for the insight,” she tried her best to be cheery.

The door dinged, opening to the rest of the team standing in the entryway. “What’s up?” Y/N asked them.

“Hotch got a call, we’ve got a weird one coming in, he’s in his office talking to someone right now,” Morgan said. He looked just as tired as Y/N.

“Are we going in?” She asked, walking past them and towards the bullpen.

She rushed through the room and waddled up the stairs, searching for a chair before she actually passed out. Everyone followed her soon after, patting her back as they walked around the table to their seats.

“Over the past few months 6 feet have washed up on different beaches along the coast of Maine,” Penelope started explaining the case while Hotch was still on the phone in his office.

“6 feet belonging to 6 different people, all incredibly hard to identify. Interpol, Europol, the RCMP and the FBI have all been in communication with each other as no one knows where the feet washed in from. International Water laws prohibit just one of us from taking jurisdiction until we identify the nationality of the victims.”

“How are we going to Identify the feet?” Prentiss asked.

“We’re currently running the DNA against missing persons along the east coast as well as anyone who recently travelled to North America by boat, so far we don’t have any matches. We do know all 6 feet are white so hopefully, hopefully,” Garcia repeated for extra magic help, “this isn’t a refugee transport gone wrong.”

“We’ve been seeing an increase of boating accidents from Syrian refugees recently,” Spencer added. “The wars in the middle east are continuing to push people from their homes in mass numbers, meaning a lot of the boats are overpacked and capsize mid extraction.”

“So we’re probably looking at someone from North America who is using their own boat to sail out and release victims,” Y/N added. “Do we have the ME reports on the 6 feet?”

“Oh, yeah,” Garcia said, flipping through papers and handing them to her.

She read it over carefully, trying to see through her new blurred vision. Another wonderful pregnancy symptom. “Normally when feet wash up on shore, they’re in shoes. If a body is lost in a boating accident or drowning, the rubber soles will always want to float to the surface. When a body is decaying in water long enough the bones will separate, and when the ankle bone goes, the feet float to the surface,” Y/N explained.

“How do you just know that?” Rossi asked.

“In Nevada, we had a lot of drownings in a man-made lake, people would get stuck at the bottom on tree roots. And every year a few feet would wash up,” she added. “I only explained that because it says in the ME report that the feet were cut with a sharp blade, all clean cuts with no shoes or socks. So someone is cutting these bodies up and bringing them out to sea, probably to use as bait for a big catch.”

“It’s weird to me that the feet are the only parts washing up?” JJ’s face was absolutely puzzled as she flipped through the files.

“Not really,” Y/N argued, “I’m more concerned with why he’d even cut the feet, to begin with. With most shark attacks they go for full limbs, if I was the unsub and I was cutting the body up for bait, I wouldn’t make the pieces so small. There isn’t enough blood or flesh on feet to entice a large fish or shark to take it.”

Rossi was tapping his fingers against the table, “Do you think he wants us to find the feet?”

“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t look good.”

Then, Hotch finally walked in. “Which 3 of you want to travel to Maine to take a look at all the findings?” Prentiss, Morgan and Rossi raised their hands, “alright, meet me on the runway in 20. The rest of you, find a way to identify the feet.”

—

She sat at her desk most of the morning, munching on a bag of animal crackers to keep her nausea at bay. JJ brought her a cold ginger ale around 11, rubbing her back for a bit while she flipped through files.

She had a doctor’s appointment during lunch that day, so she headed downtown to give blood in the hour she was permitted. Knowing that she could be late and no one would really care.

She waited in Dr. Korrapati’s room patiently, looking at her arm as she rested it on the table. Her veins were more prominent now than they had ever been in her life. JJ insured her that they would go back down but it did make her a little self-conscious.

“Hey mama,” Dr. Korrapati cheered as she walked into the room. “How are we feeling?”

“Good, tired but good.”

“Work kicking your butt?” She asked as she prepped her arm for the blood draw. “Or just the baby?”

“Having a hard time finding a comfortable sleeping position, I’m probably going to get one of those long pillow things to help,” she rambled to take her mind off what was going on with her arm.

For someone who looked at dead bodies as her job, seeing her own blood freaked her out. Dr. Korrapati noticed she was a little stressed, “how about when I’m done here we take a look at your little person?”

That piqued her interest, she sat completely still and looked away as the nicest doctor she could’ve asked for, got the test over and done with, in record-breaking time.

“Do you have any other symptoms that are bothering you?” She asked as she wrote the exact tests down in her paperwork.

“Yeah,” she struggled with the sleeve of her shirt as she tucked her arm back in. “The nausea is driving me nuts, I’m living on animal crackers and ginger ale.”

“If you eat small meals every few hours it should settle it out,” she explained. “But if it is really bothering you we can give you some anti-nausea medication.”

“I tried that, everyone keeps bringing me snacks and trying to take care of me but I don’t want anything because I’m so tired,” she ranted as she climbed onto the exam table.

“Have you tried sleeping on the other side of the bed?” She asked.

“no, why?”

Dr. Korrapati laughed, “you sleep on the left side of the bed right?”

“Yeah?” She questioned, wondering how an OB could profile so well.

“So I'm assuming your smart and overprotective boyfriend has advised you to lay on your left side like he told JJ?” She smiled. “And because you sleep on the left side of the bed already, that means you’re not cuddled into him. He’s the big spoon now and you hate it.”

It was like a lightbulb went off in her head, “oh my god?”

They laughed at the fact it was so obvious and she never clued in. “It happens all the time, you’re so in a routine that you don’t realize you can just switch sides and it’ll work.”

“You’re so smart!”

“Ready to hear and see this baby of yours?” She asked, waiting for Y/N to raise her shirt and lower her leggings to expose her lower stomach.

“Can we?”

“Yep,” she nodded, “you’re in week 9, so you’re exiting the embryo stage and moving towards the fetal stage. We’ll be able to see the fetus and hear the heartbeat.”

“Can I record it for Spencer?” She asked, not wanting him to miss it.

“I’ll do you one better and put it on a disk for you.”

Just like that, she was smothering her stomach in warm jelly. Spreading it around with the ultrasound wand before she began to search for them. Pressing in slightly on her right side, she heard her own heartbeat whooshing. The closer she got to the centre, the more they heard the second.

Her baby’s heartbeat was strong. She saw them on the monitor, they had changed from being a jellybean to actually looking like a person. 4 strong limbs were stretching and moving, growing faster than she thought possible.

“That’s insane?” She was in such awe of it, “when will I feel the kicking and stuff?”

“In a few more months, they’re only the size of a green olive. You’ll probably feel it around Christmas?” She guessed. “You’ll be 16 weeks around then.”

“Wow okay,” she was just astounded by the magic of growing a child, she felt like absolute shit but it all made sense at that moment. In just a week, muscles and limbs formed and her baby grew the ability to self-soothe in the womb. Growing 10 fingers and toes that they already knew how to put in their mouth.

She cleaned the gel off Y/N’s stomach and began exporting the files for her. “So, I will call you when the results are in, and I can just email you guys a copy and go over it with you on the phone when you’re free? I know your job is unpredictable?”

“That would be perfect, thank you. We’re working on an international case right now so for all I know I’ll be in Ireland next week,” She laughed.

“Of course, take care of yourself make sure you’re taking all the vitamins and having 8 cups of clear fluids a day, you have to stay hydrated.” Dr. Korrapati handed her the disk in a sleeve as well as her contact card.

“Yes ma’am, I can’t wait to hear from you,” she smiled before leaving the office.

—

Y/N walked back into the BAU around 1:15, wandering down the hall to Penelope’s office to get a rundown of what she missed.

Spencer and JJ had the same idea, all turning towards the door as Y/N walked in, “hey.”

“How was it?” Spencer asked softly, beckoning her to his lap.

She sat down on him softly, “I got a DVD copy of the ultrasound.” She waved the disk around. “But, we can’t watch it until I get a rundown on what we know so far.”

“I hate how professional you are sometimes,” Penelope huffed. “Luckily, it is very important.”

“We matched a tattoo on one of the feet to a missing person’s case in Nova Scotia. So we focused our efforts on missing person’s cases who fit the same features and backgrounds as her,” JJ explained.

“Okay cool, who was she?”

“Andrea Carlton, 18. She was hitchhiking, apparently wanting to run away to meet her boyfriend in Newfoundland. I traced her transactions before she disappeared and it looks like she bought a ferry ticket, however, there are no reports of her ever getting on it,” Penelope added. “So I’ve looked into other people from Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick and Newfoundland, who went missing hitchhiking or after booking a ferry ticket.”

“Smart, how many matches did we get?”

“5,” She laughed.

“You’re kidding?”

They all shook their heads, “nope. And we were able to match all the feet to them.”

Y/N handed the ultrasound video over to Penelope. “Your reward.”

She snatched it from her hands so fast, taking it out of the packaging and shoving it in her CD port. Loading the file within seconds.

She watched Spencer’s face the whole time. Already having seen the footage herself, knowing the real show would be his reaction.

He was so mesmerized, his eyes blown up in awe as tears welled. His grip on her leg was more intense, he was squeezing along to the beat of the baby’s heart, absentmindedly. He shook his head in disbelief, that was his baby in there.

The phone rang before they could really talk about it, Hotch requesting the team hop on a plane and meet them in Nova Scotia. The RCMP and the FBI have taken sole jurisdiction over the case.

Y/N was able to convince him that it would be best if they get some sleep before they go. He agreed, telling them he expected to see them in Canada at 10 am sharp.

“Before we go home tonight can you cross-reference freelance charter boats or fishermen in the area the day each victim missed a ferry? Someone desperate to get a ride might be willing to hop in a boat with anyone going where they are,” Y/N suggested to Garcia.

“I’ll run it in the background, you two go home and get some rest so my god-baby can get big and strong!” She hugged her lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/N and Spencer didn’t need to be told twice, practically running to their car. She let out the deepest sigh ever once she had her seatbelt on, so excited to go home.

Spencer drove them home, getting used to it as she got more pregnant. Soon she’d be too big to drive at all let alone stay awake the whole time.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked as they cleared the security check.

“Good, Dr. Korrapati is going to email us the results when they’re in and go over them with us on the phone. I told her we’d probably end up going out of the country soon,” Y/N recalled the day.

“The ultrasound was so cool,” he gushed.

“Yeah,” She smiled. Reaching to hold his hand on the centre console. “She also suggested we switch sides of the bed so that we can still cuddle while I’m on my left side.”

“She’s a genius.”

“that’s what I said!” She laughed, “literally how dumb are we?”

“187 till I become a dad and then I’m an idiot,” he smiled back at her quickly. “I’m glad you had a good day. Now we can go eat and get a full night’s rest.”

She let out another deep breath, “I can’t wait to cuddle.”

—

Garcia was waiting for them at the elevator the next morning. “Patrick Timmins.”

“Who?” Y/N asked, fully awake and ready to go, just confused by the ambush.

“I ran the perimeters that you asked for and I found a freelance fisherman slash charter service run by a guy named Patrick Timmins,” Garcia explained. “The townspeople call him Patty Tims, they think he’s fine and lovely according to his Yelp page but his criminal record tells a different story.”

“Really? I thought that was such a long shot!” Y/N was cheery from the extra sleep she got with Dr. Korrapati’s advice.

“The plane is ready when you guys are, I have all the updated info in this as well as some snacks for the plane,” she handed Spencer a cloth bag.

“What would I do without you? My pretty penny,” she kissed her friend on the cheek.

“If it means I get some sugar from you, I’ll do anything,” Garcia flirted with her in the absence of Morgan. “Go get on your plane, I will see you when you return my loves.”

They landed in Nova Scotia around 10 am like Hotch had requested. Bypassing customs and driving directly to the RCMP headquarters. They needed to come up with a plan, they had no idea how to find a man who travels by boat and lives at sea.

“We could always send undercover’s out in the areas he’s picked up before, have them dress as hitchhikers, miss the ferries and wait and see who tries to pick you up. Everyone will have a team watching and police boats on standby?” Morgan was theorizing as Spencer, Y/N and JJ walked in.

“We have report’s that he’s in the bay, if we’re going to do this we need to do it now,” An RCMP officer she hadn’t met yet announced to the room. “Who here is comfortable posing as a vic?”

JJ raised her hand, “get me some dirty clothes and I can be ready in 5.”

They raided the lost and found, they filled a backpack with random things and tried their best to dirty her fingernails and hair. She looked like she had been travelling without a proper place to stay for a while.

They managed to hide a wire on her, prepping what she was going to say if she was in danger and they needed to move in. Hiding a gun and a knife in her socks in case she needed them later.

They drove her down to the bay dropping her off 1 kilometre away, letting her walk into town while they parked closer to watch with binoculars. They planned it for her to arrive as the ferry pulled out of the bay.

She ran down the dock, trying to catch the ferry. Putting on the best performance of: “fuck, I missed the boat!” That they had ever seen.

“She’s going to win an Oscar,” Morgan whispered in the back of the surveillance van, trying to make Y/N laugh.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” They heard over the wire, trying to identify the source of the voice. The man was standing on his boat, hanging over the edge to get JJ’s attention.

“I missed the ferry, do you know when it’ll be back?” She played dumb. “I promised my mom I’d be back tonight and now I won’t be.”

“I can give you a ride, for a price,” the man suggested. “Names, Patty Tims.”

Hotch turned around from the front seat and motioned for Y/N and Morgan to head out quietly without making a scene. Listening in their headsets as JJ replied. “How much?”

They hid around the corner of the ticket booth, watching as the undercover officers walked around the civilians.

“Just a simple photo, I like to put a face to the stories I run across. Come on up,” he motioned for her to get on the boat.

She walked closer to him, “I don’t know sir, I should probably wait for the ferry.” She smiled.

“No,” he ground his teeth together and clenched his jaw, reaching for her.

She grabbed his arm and flipped him, getting into the boat and pushing him to the ground. She cuffed him by the time Morgan and Y/N could board. “What the fuck is this?” He struggled in her grasp.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of 6 people,” JJ replied, about to tell him his rights.

“Only 6?” He laughed.

JJ shoved him into the floor harder, reading him his rights before lifting him to his feet and shoving him off the boat and into RCMP custody.

Y/N lifted her hand up to high five JJ, pulling her into a half hug as they walked back to the surveillance van.

She never had a sister before, JJ was probably the only woman in her life that she felt this close to. It was mostly to do with the fact she’s always been so wonderful to Spencer. She helped him feel loved before Y/N, and that was important to her.

“Can we search the boat? Or are we still waiting on the warrant?” Y/N just wanted to check with Hotch before she barged onto the boat. Not wanting to jeopardize what they’re allowed to enter into evidence.

“We got it, you can start looking,” Hotch said, handing her a pair of gloves and a handful of evidence bags.

JJ went with her. They walked in together, noticing that he wasn’t lying about wanting a photo to go with the story. Below the deck, the entire wall was filled with Polaroids of terrified people moments before their deaths.

They bagged them all into evidence, dreading having to put them all into the system and match them to missing person’s reports. Delivering the news that someone’s loved one was gone for good was never fun.

Telling 58 families that their loved one was dead was a nightmare.

chapter 17

She’s a little confused when she wakes up to the sound of geese honking. Rolling away from Spencer’s embrace and immediately being blinded by the sunlight in the room. She sat up in a small panic.

She had forgotten that they stayed the night at the new house.

The large windows in the bedroom faced the water. She could see the sun’s reflection on the lake as it stretched over the house from the east. It was absolutely stunning. She could get used to waking up early with a screaming baby if this was the view.

Then she remembered it was the day they got their test results, she bounced a little as she reached for her phone to check her messages.

“Morning bunny,” Spencer’s groggy morning voice startled her a little.

“Bunny?” She questioned, never hearing him call her any form of nickname before.

He reached out of her, wrapping his arms around her growing belly, resting his head in her lap. “Have you ever noticed you hop a little bit when you get excited?”

“Yeah, it’s called Asperger’s,” she smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s honestly better than bugs bunny though, just don’t throw carrots at me okay?” She laughed to herself as she recalled the childhood trauma.

It was a little funny, looking back now.

“Never, you’re my bunny. I love my bunny.”

He was so soft in the mornings. Snuggling in against her skin as he slowly woke up. He stretched and yawned a bit, making the cutest little sounds as he did so.

She kept her fingers in his hair, twirling the ends every once and a while. Mostly running her nails along his scalp, soothing that big beautiful brain of his that she loved so much.

“We find out what the sex is today,” she reminded him.

He lifted up her shirt to expose her belly. Kissing the skin as she laid back against the pillows.

“What’s going on in there today?” She asked softly.

“They’re the size of a prune,” he mused. “speaking of, as you enter the fetus stage this week you’re going to get constipated.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “thanks that’s exactly what I wanted to know!”

“Right now the fetal development is focusing primarily on the bones, tummy and teeth,” he explained with the largest smile on his face.

“There we go.”

He hovered over her, brushing the hair from her face so he could look at her, “You look so beautiful right now.”

He said that as if he wasn’t blocking the sun from her view, perfectly casting a halo glow around him. She placed her hand on his cheek, “I love you.”

He leaned in and kissed her, pressing his body softly against her’s. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses. Covering her face and neck with small pecks, making her laugh as he covered her body in kisses.

The phone rang on Spencer’s night table causing him to press his forehead against her hip, letting out a deep sigh. Y/N reached over and picked it up. “Doctor Spencer Reid’s phone,” she answered. “He can't come to the phone right now, can I take a message?”

“Funny,” Penelope replied.

“We have a case,” Morgan added.

“What time do we need to be on the plane by?” She asked.

“Uh, it’s 7:46 now, so you’ve got an hour, tops?” Penelope guessed, “why?”

“I said he was busy. I’ll see you later.” She hung up.

“You did not just do that?” He looked absolutely horrified, his whole face turning pink.

“They could either think you got some, or you could actually get some?” She teased. “We have an hour.”

—

“All 3 Vic’s had been strangled and raped before they were wrapped in plastic and released into the river,” Garcia explained to the team over the laptop as they travelled through the sky. “Washing away all of the unsub’s DNA, however, they did find carpet fragments under the victim’s finger-“

“Like the ’84 Oklahoma Child Murders,” Y/N cut her off.

“What?” Garcia asked.

“Oklahoma 1981 to 1984. Local black children between the age of approximately 6 and 17 were being abducted, raped and murdered. Their bodies were mostly discovered in wooded areas and along the edges of the river, never submerged. The BAU worked the case, only ever being able to solve the last 2 murders before the Oklahoma governor, I think, kicked you off the case, right? They cared more about the money going towards the investigation than the black children going missing,” She explained.

“Gideon and I tried,” Rossi said. Still very bothered by the ending. “We wanted to catch the guy, the last 2 murders were so different from the others and yet the local cops considered it the same guy. Much like this new unsub, he raped young men before strangling them and dropping them in the river. All the way down to the carpet fibres.”

“It ended up being a local man named Oscar Pope, they caught him dumping an older male victim at a police checkpoint. They matched carpet fibres at his house to the 2 rivers Vic’s, but none of the children,” Prentiss cut in. “This has to be a copycat right?”

“We don’t know that,” Y/N added. “The BAU was working the angle that a local boy who knew the majority of the victims was in on it. Um, Daryl Livingston, he was in foster care at the time. He was the 7th boy to go missing and then every one of his friends was found dead after that. However, his body was never found. They suspected that he formed a bond with his captor and offered to bring him, other boys, if he let him live.”

“Any chance that this unsub could be the same kid, using Pope’s tactic to get our attention back on him?” Morgan asked.

“I was about to say that too,” JJ cut in. “they might’ve even been a team back then as well. That would explain why the murders stopped when Pope was caught but they still never found that boy.”

“That’s possible. They concluded that the last victim Pope dropped into the river was a long-time, secret boyfriend of his who found out what he was doing to the children. His MO changed when he didn’t want people to tie the murders together,” Spencer provided the extra information. “Only backfiring when local cops patrolling the river heard a splash.”

“Garcia, can you see if any of the Vic’s have any relation, contact or even geographical coincidences with the original murders?” Rossi asked. “If this is a victim continuing Pope’s work we need to find out who knew him.”

“Sir, Oscar Pope is still alive in a local correctional facility,” Garcia added. “I’m going to run background checks on all contact he’s had in his entirety at the prison, it might take a while but I’ll get it.”

“Garcia, I can go to the facility and just read everything they have there. It might not be all digital yet,” Reid offered.

“Good idea, take Y/N with you. You two bounce ideas off each other better than the rest of us,” Hotch agreed. “Morgan and Rossi join the search teams at the rivers. JJ and Prentiss, we’ll set up communication with the locals and go through old case files.”

“Reid’s good at bouncing somethin’ off her, alright,” Morgan teased him. “You were on speaker this morning.”

Spencer turned bright red once again, burying his face into the table as everyone laughed, reaching across the aisle to give Y/N high fives.

—

Being in a prison was always weird for her.

Having to hand in her gun just to read papers in a dusty office made her uncomfortable. She understood the protocol and she knew the guards would keep them safe, but knowing she was near men she helped put away, that scared her slightly.

“I’m not finding anything,” Spencer sighed. “There was a flood 2 years ago that destroyed most of the files near the ground. Including the Pope documents.”

“We can always just go ask him?” Y/N suggested, “he’s in D cell, he’s behind bars. We can just talk to him from the hallway unofficially. Pretend we’re here for someone else. I’ll say I never thought he really did those murders and gain his trust, see what happens.”

“I don’t like it but, I think we have to,” he agreed. Opening the office door for her to lead the way, “after you.”

Spencer felt very protective, she could tell. He was never pushy or controlling with her, but for some reason, he was now manhandling her. Making sure she walked on the inside of the hallways, closer to the brick walls so that no one could get her through the bars.

“So Doctor Reid,” she picked up the conversation as they hit the D block. “I was reading the book you lent me about engineering.”

“Oh,” he tried to play along. “How did you like it?”

“It was good,” she replied while trying to look at each inmate she passed. “I loved page 187— oh my gosh?” She stopped at Pope’s cell.

“You’re Oscar Pope?” She pointed at him.

“and you’re?” The old man questioned her. “A fed?”

“We’re here for something political, nothing to concern yourself with,” she lied, getting closer to the bars, whispering. “I just want you to know I never thought you did all 16 of the child murders back in the day.”

“Thank you,” he was suddenly enthusiastic. “Now why can’t all the fed’s be as smart as you?”

She laughed, tapping his arm through the bars. “How are you doing? Is there anything I can get you while I’m here?”

“Phone privileges!” He answered quickly, “the mail’s taking forever and I’ve got people to talk to before I croak in here.”

“I’m sure you do sir,” she smiled at him. “I’ll pull some strings, you have a good day!”

“You too, beautiful!”

Spencer placed his hand on her hip and led her away from the bars, she waved as they walked away.

“Agent Y/L/N,” a voice stopped her at the end of the hall.

She turned to see a man sitting cross-legged on the cell floor. His orange jumpsuit gathered around his waist as he sat in an undershirt. She glanced over his body, stopping at his face. She’d know those eyes anywhere.

“Didn’t I say only good boys get to talk to me, Bitch?” She snapped at him.

“Congratulations on the little one.” He replied. Laughing as Spencer placed his hand over her small stomach and led her out of the room, through the big metal doors.

“Keep walking with me,” Spencer insisted. “Or I will turn around and I will kill him.”

She huffed and continued down a narrow hallway with him. “We need to call Hotch.”

“Yeah,” he flipped his phone open and hit the speed dial.

“Reid?” She heard Hotch answer.

“We couldn’t get any of his information from forms, they all had water damage so Y/N and I walked past Pope’s cell and struck up a conversation,” He explained.

“And?”

“She got on his good side, pretending that she could get him a favour while she’s here for political reasons. He said he’s desperate to make a phone call today.”

“I’m on my way, get Garcia to prep paperwork to allow us a meeting with him now,” Hotch instructed, hanging up.

Y/N dialled Garcia on her phone. “How’s it going love birds?”

“Not good,” she replied. “We need you to get the paperwork going to allow us to sit down with Oscar Pope today. And we’re going to need to tear through his cell.”

“Oh, damn okay,” She replied. “Ask him about Cody Kollins.”

“Who?” Spencer asked as his phone rang again. He flipped it open, “we’ve got Garcia here too.” Putting it on speaker.

“Morgan and Rossi just intercepted a man dropping a body in the river,” Hotch confirmed. “I need you to rush that paperwork.”

“Sir, what was the man’s name?” Garcia asked.

“Cody Kollins.”

They sighed at each other, “let’s do this.”

—

Y/N watched him through the mirror. She could see him fidgeting. He was frustrated. He was exhibiting the exact same behaviour as he was when he was caught the first time.

“Every time we one-up him, he breaks down,” she whispered to Spencer. “Even in his interrogation tapes, he was like this. When they found the single patch of carpet left in his closet and were able to match the fibres, he lost it. He likes to play it cool and under control, he wrote the story and he wants us to stick to it.”

“How upset do you think he’d be if we went in there and told him we actually caught the original killer and he’s going to be released pending DNA testing?” Spencer suggested.

She tilted her head, biting her lip as she thought. “I think he’d be violent.”

“Sit here,” he said as he walked into the interview room.

She hated having to just watch. It helped that Pope was cuffed to the table, and the table was drilled into the concrete floor, Spencer wouldn’t get hurt. The guards are right behind the door. It’s fine.

“Sorry for the abrupt interrogation, I promise this isn’t what you think,” Spencer smiled softly. “We have reason to believe that the original killer has returned, the state is running the DNA now.”

Y/N watched as Pope’s right eye started to twitch, his finger on his leg was tapping at an odd rhythm as Spencer talked.

“The second we can prove you had no hand in any of the killing’s we’ll issue a pardon and your discharge papers will be filled out,” Spencer finished his sentence and moved to open the door once more.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he hissed. His voice was completely different than it was when they were speaking in D block.

“Why?” Spencer asked, easily playing the innocent and stupid role.

“You think some crazy-obsessed, fuck toy of mine whose doing half-assed attempts at my signature, is the real killer!!!” Pope spat his confession out. Literally covering the table in spit as he became more feral. Shaking violently.

Spencer walked right out of the room. Y/N watched as Pope smacked the table, tugging violently at the cuffs, scratching himself all up. The guards had to run in and hold him down, shooting a sedative into his neck.

“Jesus,” she whispered. Taking her phone out of her pocket to call Garcia, when she noticed the voicemail notification in the bottom corner. She ignored it, calling her friend instead.

“Hey,” Penelope answered quickly. “So turns out we were right, who would have thought, Cody Kollins is actually Daryl Livingston.”

“We just got a confession from Pope,” Y/N shared her news. “They had to sedate him so we’re going to come back to the station. Wait until tomorrow to interview him again.”

“Yeah, sounds good, Hotch and Morgan are in with Livingston right now,” she updated them. “Make sure to eat something when you get there.”

“Yes mom,” she teased, hanging up and smiling.

Spencer put his hand out in an invitation to hold it. She interlocked their fingers and followed him back to the filing room, gathering their things before exiting the prison.

She sat on the passenger side of the SUV, she and Spencer just sat there and took a few deep breaths. Processing everything the exact same way, quietly and on their own.

She cut the awkward silencer by taking out her phone and playing the voicemail. Putting it on speaker.

“Hi Y/N, this is Doctor Korrapati calling. I’ve emailed you your results. The gender is at the bottom, under the little read more button, in case you wanted it to be a surprise. Call the office and let us know when you’re free to go over the results and we’ll book you in, as far as I can tell everything looks good, so don’t feel the need to rush. Take care!”

Spencer looked over at her with a soft smile on his face, reaching out for her hand once more. Holding her hand with both of his now, “do you want to do this?”

“I’m ready if you are?”

He nodded, watching her contently as she opened her email up, finding the right one and scrolling to the bottom. Her heart fluttered a little as she looked at the read more option.

She took a deep breath and clicked on it.

Chromosomal sex: XY

“Well?” Spencer asked softly.

“I’d really love to tell you,” she bit her lip trying not to laugh, “but I don’t remember what this means?”

He laughed, shaking his head as he looked at the screen. He blinked with glossy eyes as he read it, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he cried softly.

It had to be a girl, she knew he wanted one. She convinced herself in that millisecond that it was a girl.

He reached over and placed his hand flat against her belly. “Hi Matthew,” he said softly.

“You’re kidding?” She couldn’t stop herself from crying.

Spencer wrapped her up in a hug, the two of them happily crying into each other. She wasn’t sure if she was giggling or sobbing, she just knew she was shaking in Spencer’s arms with happiness that this was her little family.

He kissed all over her one cheek as he held her close. “I love you so much,” he reminded her.

She pulled back, wiping her tears off on her shirt sleeve, laughing at the serendipity of it all. “I love you too, dad.”

“I have to drive, don’t make me cry again,” he laughed, wiping his own tears before tucking his ever-growing hair behind his ears.

“Let’s go.”

—

Y/N sat beside JJ in the break room of the police station, salad bowl in her lap, shovelling the dressing-covered leaves in her mouth.

They weren’t tasked with anything until Hotch and Morgan attempted to get some info out of the unsub. “Were you crying earlier?” She asked.

“A little,” Y/N smiled at her. “We’re having a boy,” she whispered.

“Oh my god!” JJ whispered back at her, reaching out for her arm and shaking her a little. “I have a feeling your little guy will be bigger than Henry was so he’ll fit into all Henry’s summer stuff when he’s born!”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!” She confirmed. “By the time he grows out of everything I might have a second boy and we can rotate it around again,” she laughed. “This is going to be so fun.”

“Matthew and Henry are going to be best friends,” Y/N smiled.

“Matthew,” she repeated. “That’s a nice name, I like it.”

“My brother’s name is Levi, I thought it was a nice way to keep a family name in my baby’s life, and his middle name is going to be Gideon,” she spoiled it for Spencer.

JJ looked a little emotional, “sorry it’s just so surreal thinking about me and Spencer having kids who are friends.”

Y/N moved her dinner out of the way and hugged her then, holding her tightly. “You better not be pregnant too,” she whispered in her ear. Not wanting to give it away if she was.

JJ just laughed, rocking Y/N back and forth in her embrace, not answering. “Right?” Y/N asked again.

“We’re trying, so who knows,” JJ replied.

“Shut up?” Y/N pulled back and stared into her eyes to see if she was telling the truth or not. “Holy shit? Since when?”

“Honestly, I think the night we celebrated Canadian thanksgiving,” she laughed. “You and Spencer got us talking about babies, and you got Henry to sleep through the night, so this is technically your fault.”

“JJ,” Y/N started to cry, “I’m so happy for you.”

“They’ll only be a few months apart, so they’ll be best friends too,” JJ smiled. “This is going to be really fun.”

chapter 18

For Christmas this year, Y/N just wanted to be fully moved into their new home before they had to leave for Vegas. Spencer followed through with the present. Inviting the entire team over for drinks if they promised to stop by Y/N’s apartment and bring a few boxes to the new house. It was basically just free labour.

She spent the night nesting while her friends drank in her kitchen. They understood why she was nervous, she was going to tell her parents about the baby and the engagement, and the house, in 3 days.

It was all going to be a lot.

She was 16 weeks along as of Christmas Eve. Waking up the morning of their flight to a weird twitching sensation in her gut, like butterflies or a muscle twitch but right where the baby would be.

“Spence,” she shook him awake. “Spencer.”

“What’s wrong?” He sat right up, squinting at her as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“It’s like, I don’t know how to explain it?” She worried.

Spencer placed his hand on her belly feeling the slight flitter. “He’s kicking.”

Spencer’s early morning smile was the best, he tackled her back against the pillow and dug his face into the crook of her neck. “That’s my baby in there.”

“I wouldn’t have known,” she laughed, wrapping her arms and legs around him. “We have to go to the airport soon.”

“I know,” he mumbled into her neck.

“If you get up now, we can go get breakfast before we have to board?” She enticed him, “we can get sprinkle donuts for the flight.”

“Okay,” he said as she freed him from her grip. “Are you nervous?”

“I know they’ll be happy, just not ready for them to ask why I didn’t say anything sooner,” She explained. “I’ve been really distant since I got the job, I’m really excited to spend time with them this weekend.”

“Same,” Spencer smiled. “Come on you two.”

They took a 9 am flight one-way to Las Vegas. Y/N slept most of the ride, spending the last 45 minutes just snuggled into Spencer’s shoulder as he watched a documentary on some form of science or math. She couldn’t hear what it was about, all she saw was a man writing out numbers on a chalkboard.

She ran her hand over her belly lightly. There was no way she could walk into her mother’s house in a few minutes and just pretend it wasn’t there. It was there. So were the 5 pounds of baby weight on her hips and the swelling in her face and knuckles.

She was pretty quiet during landing and baggage claim. Thinking in her head what she was going to say to everyone, how she would explain it. She sat in a cab beside Spencer, absentmindedly following him through the airport they’ve both been through at least 20 times.

It was a short trip to her parent’s house. Spencer traced little shapes into her leg with his finger to distract her. A flower, a 4D cube, the words I love you. It was sweet, non verbal comfort was very important to her.

When they arrived, she stayed in the cab to pay while Spencer got their bags out. Taking as long as possible so she could avoid it a little longer.

Biting the bullet, she took a deep breath and walked out into her parent’s front yard. Taking the handle of her suitcase and dragging it up the walkway.

She walked right into her house, her parents and brothers all standing up from the living room and rushing into the entryway. She was wrapped up in 7 hugs within a matter of seconds.

“You look so different,” her mom said as she pulled back from her hug. Holding her arms as she examined her, “what did you do?”

“I got pregnant,” she replied, scrunching her face as she waited for their response.

She could’ve sworn she went deaf at that moment, reaching down to cover her bump as everyone cheered and jumped around her. She was pulled into a group hug before she could process anything. Laughing awkwardly at the whole experience.

“Be quiet, he can hear this week!” She laughed.

“He?” Her father inquired.

She looked back at Spencer, smiling at him. “It’s a boy,” Spencer confirmed.

“Holy shit!” Her brothers cheered, high-fiving each other. “When are you due?” Harrison asked.

“June,” she smiled. “3 days after mom’s birthday, see I do remember it.”

“Come sit,” her mom insisted, pushing everyone out of the way and dragging her to the couch. “Put your feet up, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N insisted. “You’re almost worse than my co-workers.”

“Are they taking good care of you?” Her father asked.

She waited for Spencer to join her on the couch, they had all been so excited about her they forgot he was there. “Yeah. Um, we have a lot to tell you,” She explained, holding Spencer’s hand for comfort.

“I asked Y/N to marry me,” Spencer announced. “I am so in love with her, this baby is a dream come true and I’m very excited to become a part of your family.”

Her mom cried, tossing her hand over her eyes as she sobbed. “Mom,” she was so overwhelmed with everything she started to cry too.

“You’re a wonderful man Spencer,” her father interjected. “It’s an honour to have you.”

Spencer smiled and nodded towards him, silently thanking him for the approval.

“So, it’s kind of insane how it all happened. It wasn’t intended, but we love him so much already,” Y/N glowed as she spoke. “Are we going to tell people the name yet?”

Spencer nodded, “we can.” He smiled down at her with such wonderment, the moment she had been scared of for 16 weeks turning out to be the best time she’s had with her whole family in one room.

“His name is Matthew Gideon Reid,” Y/N smiled. “After my favourite brother, no offence Harry, and Spencer’s mentor.”

Levi was her more emotional brother. He was her best friend growing up. The 5 year age difference gave them the time to grow up separately but still find common interests to bring them together. They were the closest in the family before she moved to Virginia full time it became hard to keep up with him as much.

Now they were both parents, their kids only having a 3 year age difference. Meaning next year there would be 2 little ones at Christmas.

“That’s a lovely name,” Levi smiled. “Thank you.”

“It’s whatever, don’t expect our kids to have your name either,” Harrison replied as he held his wife close, pretending he was a little offended.

“We also got a house,” she added to change the topic, “Jason Gideon, he kinda gave us his place in Virginia.”

“You’re kidding me?” Debbie gasped. “For free?”

She laughed, “it’s complicated.”

“I grew up without a father, and Gideon neglected his son for his work at the BAU,” Spencer chimed in. “We bonded, and he wanted his house to be used for good. He specifically asked for us to fill it with love and laughter. We’ve just finished moving into it. You can visit any time!” He panicked and rambled by the end.

“I don’t know if you know this,” her mom tried to joke with them. “But there’s this thing called a phone, where you can call your mother and tell her these things.”

“I wanted to!” she hurried the words out. “But I’m still working in the field, I was weary with who really knew besides the team. It’s my only weakness on the job.”

“I get it,” Debbie smiled. “Honestly, I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thanks, mom,” Y/N choked back tears. “Sorry,” she laughed. “Pregnant things, y’know.”

—

Visiting hours at the nursing home changed during the holidays. Spencer and Y/N were permitted to enter anytime between 8 am and 10 pm, giving them lots of time to spend the afternoon with Y/N’s parents before visiting her.

They borrowed her dad’s truck, driving to the nursing home with a special gift for Diana. Spencer had spent the last 2 weeks making a scrapbook page about Matthew for her, he knew how much her book meant to her and he wanted to add to it.

Her mom’s co-workers all stared at them as they walked in hand in hand. Her bump on show under the T-Shirt she chose to wear.

Diana was in her room, then walked down the long hallway to her suite. Knocking lightly on the door, waiting for her to greet them.

The door swung open, “Spencer!” She cheered. Hugging him tight in her arms.

“Hi mom,” he held her just as tight. Knowing he was a mama’s boy always made Y/N’s heart flutter.

She pulled back and looked at Y/N, “you look so nice!”

“Thank you,” she smiled. Stepping in close to give her a hug as well.

Diana welcomed them into her room, closing the door behind them. Y/N took a seat on the couch while Spencer looked around at the new things she had on display.

“I made you something,” he said softly, taking off his bag and pulling the pressed cardboard out of the protective sleeve. “here.”

She held it in her hands, looking at the ultrasound photo they got a few weeks ago at the anatomy scan. “What is this Spencer?”

“You’re going to be a grandmother,” he explained. Watching her run her fingers over the words on the paper. She was in shock, she had nothing to say. She just looked at the photo.

She quietly walked over to Y/N and sat beside her, “may I?” She asked, holding her hand up.

Y/N leaned back a little, “absolutely.”

Diana placed her hand on the bump lightly. “I was so worried I wouldn’t get to really experience this one day,” she whispered. Trying her best not to cry. “Thank you.”

Y/N cried, not realizing how special this must be for them. She was so focused on her family that she forgot that this was going to change Diana’s whole world. She now had 2 boys to love unconditionally.

“His name is Matthew?” Diana asked, running her hand over the bump softly.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiled. “He’s due in June. If you can, you can fly out and stay with us for a little?”

“I’d love to,” Diana replied. “I have enough points for a trip, and I’ve been feeling really good on my medication.”

“If your doctors clear it all, Debbie and you can fly in together,” Spencer confirmed.

“Wow,” Diana smiled like Spencer. Wide thin lips, straight white teeth, big rosy cheeks and glistening eyes. She hoped Matthew inherited it too. “This is my best Christmas yet.”

—

Y/N woke up Christmas morning with Spencer cuddled into her side in her childhood bedroom. She slipped out of his grasp and sat in her windowsill instead.

She pulled her knees to her chest as best as she could now that she was pregnant, looking at the lone swing across the street that swayed in the December morning breeze.

It should be 8 am back at Quantico, her parents must have let them sleep in while they opened presents. She could see Chloe in the front yard trying out her new car. Levi smiled as he pushed her down the road, Lizzie filming the whole thing on her phone.

Her whole life was so different from the last time she really sat on the windowsill in her bedroom. Back then she was about to move to Virginia, graduating college in Nevada and getting into the training program at the academy. Harrison was already there at Fort Meade, she was about to move into his house with his wife for the first semester before settling into DC. Levi and Lizzie had just started dating, Chloe wasn’t even conceived yet. And she had no idea when she’d run into Spencer.

She rubbed her hand over her belly as a tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn’t wait for the day that she was pushing her own child on that swing across the street. The day she and Spencer tell him about the love story that bubbled between two kids with books who looked at each other for years before they fell in love.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, removing her from the moment she allowed herself to have.

She wiped the tear from her cheek, “they’re happy tears. Go back to sleep.”

“Come cuddle?” He pouted, his big puppy dog eyes drawing her back to the bed.

She snuggled into him, running her fingers against his bare chest as she watched him breathe. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” he kissed the top of her head.

“When I was 17, I had my appendix out.” She rolled over and laid back, showing him the 3-inch scar on the right side of her stomach. “It was pretty bad, they said I would have died if my mom waited 15 more minutes to get me to the hospital. They had to fix parts of my stomach and intestines that were eaten by the ruptured appendix bile.”

“I had no idea,” he whispered, running his finger along the scar. “I always thought that was just a scratch.”

She shook her head lightly. “It was December 5th, ’98. They uh,” she took a deep breath before resuming. “They put me on a drug called Dilaudid, they told my mom it was a non-addictive version of morphine and that I’d be fine but, I kinda got addicted to the pill version when they let me out,” she scrunched her face as she told him. Not wanting his opinion of her to change.

“You’re kidding?” He asked, a chuckle fell past his lips as he sat up. “In my second year at the BAU I was kidnapped by a man with dissociative identity disorder and he drugged me.”

“Dilaudid?” She asked, sitting up too and shaking her head in disbelief.

He laughed at how absurd it was, “yeah.”

“I moved to Benadryl for the sleepy and calm effect after I couldn’t get any more refills and didn’t want to admit I had a problem, and weed in college” she added. “but I haven’t even taken a Tylenol in the last 5 years now.”

“I had a small problem with it after everything, but I’m also clean now,” Spencer smiled at her. “Why did you want me to know?”

“Because I don’t want to take any drugs when I deliver the baby, even if I beg for them I don’t want them to give in. I talked to Dr. Korrapati about it but I wanted you to know too,” she explained. “Being in here all night got me thinking about a lot.”

He wrapped his arms around her and tackled her back against the pillows. “I love you,” was all he said.

“I love you too?”

“Seriously,” his voice was so soft and low. “I’ll never stop.”

chapter 19

She woke up to the feeling of hair tickling her face. She swatted at her face to try and get it to stop before opening her eyes. She blinked into the early morning sunlight, only to Spencer looking down at her, his hair long enough to tickle her skin.

“You were snoring,” he whispers down to her. “Also, Happy Birthday.”

She smiled, pulling him down and into a hug. “Thank you.”

Every morning with Spencer for the last 10 months had been special. Something about the warmth of his body against hers, and the sunlight bouncing around their new bedroom made this morning her favourite.

It was so calm on the water. She could see the snow settling on the ice as the sun made it glisten like diamonds. The birds had all but disappeared for the winter, the stillness in the world was lovely. It was like time stopped with Spencer laying in her arms.

“What do you think Penelope has planned at work today?” She asked him softly, playing with his incredibly long hair. It was almost longer than hers now.

“She told me to bring you in after 8.”

“So does that mean you have to distract me for a little while, Doctor Reid?” She teased him.

He pushed himself up, leaning on his arm as he hovered over her. “Any requests?”

She spread her arms and legs out like a starfish. “Have at ‘er,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as Spencer just shook his head.

He dipped down to her belly, blowing a raspberry onto her protruding bump. “Good morning to you too little dude,” he whispered against her skin. “Go back to sleep.”

She shoved him lightly, not able to stop herself from smiling, “he is asleep, leave him alone.”

It was the best morning ever.

Every time she thinks that she’s reached peak happiness she discovers another level. It felt like every time he touched her, she wanted to describe it as the best she’s ever felt.

When they finally got dressed and made their way downstairs for the morning, she found it incredibly odd that he wasn��t asking her what she wanted for breakfast, like he did every morning. Very concerned that she had all her meals and then some.

She fed the cat, picking him up and giving him a little snuggle after he finished his breakfast. “You are getting so big and chunky buddy, I might have to change your food timer.”

He meowed at her, sounding really pissed, making her laugh. “Fine but when you can't climb all the stairs in this house it’s your fault.” She placed him back on the ground and watched him wander into the sunlight. Plopping onto the hardwood and stretching out. Just living the life.

“Ready to go?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, are we stopping for breakfast?” She asked, the second trimester making her hungrier than ever before.

“Penelope has it covered,” He said, placing his hand on her back as he leads her to the foyer.

“Oh this’ll be good,” she smiled, putting her shoes on before arming the alarm and heading outside.

Spencer locked their beautiful green front door, it was colder out than they had expected. He held her hand as she shivered slightly, they walked down the 3 steps together, Spencer not wanting her to fall if it happened to be icy.

Seat heaters were a blessing from god. The car was freezing when they first got in, the heater barely kicked in by the time they reached Quantico. Living 10 minutes away now was really nice.

Up the elevator they went, she was basically bouncing with excitement. “See?” Spencer nudged her with his shoulder. “Bunny.”

“Shut up,” she smiled as the door dinged before opening.

They walked into the bullpen to find it empty. She took off her coat and placed her bag on her desk before slowly walking up the small set of stairs and heading towards the briefing room.

All her co-workers were sitting around the table waiting for her and the boy wonder to arrive. Strawberry cheesecake danishes sat on a tray on the table, a strawberry milkshake in front of Y/N‘s regular spot.

“Happy Birthday!” They cheered as she walked in.

“You guys!?” She was so flattered. Never in her life has she been thrown a party by someone who wasn’t her mother. “Thank you.”

“Sit, sit,” Penelope insisted. Placing a danish on a napkin and putting it on her spot on the table. “I know you can’t have ice coffee right now, I thought a milkshake was the next best thing.”

“I seriously love you, come here,” she pulled Penelope into a hug, kissing her right on the mouth as everyone cheered.

“See that?” Penelope blushed. “Kisses are how I should be thanked around here.”

“HR already hates us,” Hotch made everyone laugh, “don’t push it.”

They all ate breakfast together, sharing stories from their weekend. They decided to spend New Years’ apart, everyone taking time to themselves for the first time ever.

“Where did you go, Prentiss?” Morgan inquired.

“Sin to Win weekend in Atlantic City,” she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Oh my god?” Y/N looked at her with absolute astonishment.

“What’s that?” Morgan and Spencer asked at the same time.

“Nothing.” Emily and Y/N replied in unison. Making a look at each other that screamed: ‘tell anyone and I’ll hurt you.’

Like a saviour, the fax machine in the briefing room turned on, spitting out 15 sheets of paper in a few minutes. Penelope cleaned off the table while Hotch ran everything over.

“Last night a family in Boston had their home burned down with them inside it,” Hotch explained.

“How is that something for us to look into?” Rossi asked.

“Because the unsub broke in and turned the water off and tampered with the gas system, causing CO2 to render them unconscious. He stabbed the father to death in the bed before laying gasoline all over the floors and lighting the house on fire.”

“Damn,” Y/N whispered under her breath. “That is personal.”

“I’d say,” Hotch agreed.

“Who was the family?” JJ asked.

Garcia looked through the sheets of paper spewed across the table. “Thomas Greenway, 61. His wife Alison 43. And 2 children aged 8 and 12.”

“We need to head to Boston,” Hotch announced. “I’ll call about prepping the plane. Y/N you can stay here with Garcia if you’d like, your insight will aid her search greatly.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind,” she smiled at Garcia. “Good luck out there.”

“Wheels up in 30.”

Everyone sighed before standing up. Spencer leaned in and kissed Y/N softly before standing up. “I’ll see you later.”

“Come home to me safely Doctor Reid.”

He smiled down at her, fixing his shirt before he left with Morgan.

“I hate to see him go, but I love watching him leave,” She said softly towards Penelope, making her laugh in the process.

“Come on mama, let’s go to my office,” Garcia said, putting her arm out for Y/N, the two of them skipping down the hallway with their arms linked as the team filled the elevator.

Y/N sat in Garcia’s office and immediately put her feet up, still drinking her milkshake as she flipped through the case files. “Can I suggest possibly the dumbest thing ever?”

She laughed, “shoot.”

“So, homeboy here breaks in and knocks out a family with co2 poisoning, just to stab the father to death and light the house on fire.” She ran it down once more, “What if we just search mothers stabbed before dying in a fire and just see if this is some traumatized kid, at this point that’s what they all end up being.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Garcia said, typing away as she added the parameters. “It’s like you can see the fucking future?”

Y/N threw her head back in a laugh, “did you get something? Seriously?”

“Adele Hollis was found dead in a burning apartment building in Boston in 1978. ME reports say she was already dead from co2 poisoning before she was stabbed 6 times in the chest. The whole apartment complex went up in flames after the unsub doused the bed in gasoline and lit her up.”

“Well fuck,” Y/N replied. “Does she have children?”

“Yes, her son Cameron was at school when it happened. He was 8, he moved in with his step-dad shortly after, they ruled him out and never found the guy,” Garcia added.

Y/N leaned across the desk and dialled Hotch, the plane hadn’t even left yet. “I think I found the unsub?”

“How?” Hotch asked.

“I jokingly asked Garcia to search and see if there are any men whose mothers died in a fire after being stabbed cause we deal with sooo many traumatized kids, and we found one,” she laughed at just how insane it sounded.

“Video in and give us a rundown.” Hotch hung up. Ever the conversationalist.

Garcia and Y/N squeezed into the same frame seeing everyone gathered in the little plane seats. She gave them the basic rundown of her findings, watching them all shake their heads at the fact she solved the case already.

“Have the local PD issue a warrant and bring him in. Can you check and see if he knows the victims?” Hotch asked.

“On it sir,” she smiled, clicking away.

“How did you do that so fast?” Morgan has to ask, “it’s not human.”

She laughed again, “If I’ve learned anything in the last 10 months it’s that traumatized little boys can fuck up a lot of people’s lives.”

“Preach,” Rossi added.

“Um, guys,” Garcia’s tone changed. “Cameron Hollis’s birth father is the father who was stabbed in this case.”

“You’re shitting me?” Y/N couldn’t believe it. “Do they have any kind of relationship?”

“His father is on the birth certificate but it looks like Adele left him when Cameron was 3, after some domestic disputes that had the cops at their door. She was remarried when he was 6, it doesn’t look like they ever really talked,” Garcia explained while continuing to dig.

Y/N watched through the monitor as the team gripped their seats, the plane was taking off now. They would be in Boston with this guy in just a few hours.

“Thanks, Lady Wonder,” Morgan winked at the camera for Y/N before leaning in and turning the monitor off.

She sat back and put her feet up once more. “Best birthday ever.”

—

They had Cameron Hollis in custody with a full confession before 5 pm that day. Everyone was beyond thankful that they would be back home with their families shortly.

Y/N had said goodbye to Penelope shortly after, driving home to have some alone time. Rossi would drive Spencer home, they lived close enough now that they could all carpool if they wanted.

She had never been in their new house all alone before. She took the time to just walk around and admire everything, being thankful that her life ended up like this. Not taking a second of it for granted.

She sat down on her bed finally, taking her phone out and calling JJ.

“Hello bestie,” she answered.

Y/N smiled, “Hey, do you think Will could find a babysitter tonight?”

“Probably, why?”

“Tell him to drop Henry off and head to my place. I’m going to have pizza delivered and you can come here with Spencer when you land,” Y/N offered. “Have a date night with us.”

“That would be amazing, I’ll call Will right now. See you later,” JJ sounded happy. It made her smile.

“See you.” She hung up, laying back against her bed softly.

She changed quickly before heading downstairs, wearing a pair of leggings and an academy t-shirt. She was getting too big for almost everything she owned now.

She placed an order for a few pizzas to arrive at 8:30. Next, making sure she had more beer in the fridge, for the nights when Will wandered over with JJ. They had visited almost every weekend since she and Spencer moved in.

That’s when she saw him.

chapter 20

Previously...

The dream was always the same:

A man would get into their home, he knew their schedule, he knew when she’d be alone.

He’d get in without any trouble and he never made a sound. She wouldn’t even know he was in the room until she felt the cold metal gun press against her face, as shaking hands instructed her to tie her own behind her back.

He’d always use her supplies. Duck tape, shoelaces, scarves. Anything at his disposal that he didn’t have to bring with him. Almost as if he didn’t fully choose her to be his victim until the very last minute.

He assaulted her all for what felt like hours, stopping occasionally to cry in the bathroom or eat a snack in their kitchen. And he always showered at the end. Sometimes, he’d wrap her up in a housecoat, put her sheets in the wash and sincerely advised her to invest in a better lock for the sliding door.

Then he was gone.

Slipping into the night, on his way to become someone else’s nightmare...

There was a man in her yard, he was dressed in all black, with a backpack wrapped around his shoulders and a ski mask on his face.

He couldn’t see her from where she was in the kitchen, but she could see him. She ducked to the floor and crawled towards the stairs, booking it up the steps and grabbing her gun. She made sure it was loaded, grabbing a second clip from her nightstand and tucking it into her pocket. Then she detonated the alarm system from the remote on Spencer’s bedside table.

She crawled into her closet, making herself look like a pile of clothes.

And she waited.

She felt a little insane, she tried to convince herself that it could be anyone from a neighbour to a lost person from the trail. For all she knew, it was someone from the academy lost in the woods.

She tried to calm her breathing, calling Will with her cell phone. “Hey, JJ just filled me in-“

“There is someone in my backyard in all black with a backpack, how fast can you get here?” She panicked in a whisper.

“Fuck, okay, I just dropped Henry off at the sitter. I’ll be right over, stay put and I will call you when I’m there,” his southern accent came out more when he was stressed.

“Okay, thank you,” she hung up and took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds in her house.

She remembered what the house sounded like that morning. The stillness, the quiet peacefulness of her and Spencer in the bed only 12 feet away from where she was now hiding.

She remembered the way the floors creaked as it popped and settled with the heat, how the tree outside would sometimes tap the window, the sound of snow tumbling off their roof. Passing cars on the main road kicking up gravel, the odd bird singing in the cold breeze, her own heartbeat in her ears.

Then she heard the alarm turn off with its overly happy welcome home chime. Only knowing one man would be able to disarm her alarm system without a code, and he was in the air right now.

“Open,” she heard the alarm’s voice as the door opened.

Footsteps travelled along the hardwood floor in wet shoes. She listened to the sound of the wet rubber on hardwood explore the first floor.

There were 2 people in her house, splitting up as one went to the kitchen and one went up the stairs.

She aimed her gun at the doorway, aiming to shoot anyone who walked through the door in the leg. Not wanting to kill anyone who she knew that might’ve gotten in for a different reason, unannounced.

In the rare happenstance that this wasn’t her worst nightmare coming true.

Her hands were shaking as she kept the gun pointed for what felt like hours, just waiting for him to find her. The door handle started to turn slowly, she heard the sound of the old metal grinding ever so slowly.

The first thing she saw were his eyes, yet again. The same eyes that haunted her dreams, the eyes every woman she spoke to for 2 years remembered from behind the ski mask.

Fuck Wichita, he was her own personal nightmare. He had been for a while. Those eyes, big and black all the way around, not a single glimpse of colour or life or hope. Every single dream came flooding back as she saw him in her doorway, the same aura of death, destruction, loneliness and despair from all those months ago was now filling the most special place in her home.

He still hadn’t seen her in the closet, looking around the room carefully as she watched him. Waiting for him to get closer, and closer to where she was. Finally peeling back the wooden closet door.

“Surprise, bitch,” She said before aiming higher and shooting him between the eyes, knocking him down.

She stood and stepped out of the closet, “Travis fucking Johnson,” she shook her head as she looked at the man bleeding on her bedroom floor. Taking his pulse to ensure that he was dead.

She couldn’t hear anything for a second, trying her best to zone in on the sound of someone tiptoeing in her kitchen, “WHO ELSE IS IN MY HOUSE?” She screamed.

Suddenly she could hear the sound of a car on the gravel and then a door slamming. She stepped into the hallway, gun pointed, looking over the railing towards the front door.

“Y/N?!” Will yelled. Gun pointed as he entered her house.

“I’ve got one down, I think there’s another in the kitchen,” she replied.

“On it.”

Y/N looked down the hall, none of the upstairs rooms were open, every door exactly how it looked when she ran up the stairs. She headed down the steps when 2 shots were fired.

She quickly ran to the kitchen to see another man on her floor behind the counter, his feet the only thing she could see as he laid there, dead. Will was standing over him, taking his pulse.

“He’s gone,” Will confirmed.

Y/N finally let herself panic, shaking as she tried to catch her breath, pulling out a chair from the counter and sitting down. Her adrenalin was running wild in her bloodstream, she didn’t even know how to speak let alone think about what had just happened.

“Y/N,” Will’s soft voice brought her back to reality. He was right beside her, wrapping his big strong arms around her to try and calm her down. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“Who was it?” Is all she asks him.

“I have no idea, who was upstairs?” Will asked.

“Travis Johnson, from my first case with the BAU,” she calmed down a bit, breaking away from the hug to get off the chair.

She walked around the counter island, looking down to find another man she knew, bleeding on her brand new hardwood floors. “Oh my god,” she felt sick at the sight.

He smelled the same, stale and rotten. The same look on his face even as he slipped into eternal damnation. Empty as when he was alive, pure evil down to his core. Dead to match how he felt inside as he did those awful things to undeserving mothers.

The second worst man she’s ever come in contact with.

The Winnemucca Womb Raider.

She backed up into Will, he held her close so she didn’t drop to the floor, helping her back into the chair. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah,” she felt herself starting to cry. “How? They were both in prison?”

“We need to call the police,” Will said softly before taking his phone out.

“911 what’s your emergency?” She could hear the muffled woman’s voice as he pressed his phone to his ear.

“This is Detective William LaMontagne Jr. Two men just broke into my friend’s home and tried to kill her,” he explained the situation, making her shutter.

She watched as he talked to the woman, suddenly not able to hear anything as her body slipped into shock. She was completely numb. In the last 10 months she hadn’t fired a single shot on the job, and yet on her birthday, the one time she's alone, she has to kill someone in her own home.

The place where she was supposed to feel safe and happy. Where her new life with Spencer and Matthew was supposed to start. They promised Gideon love and laughter, having that dream stripped from them when Pure Evil stepped over the threshold.

It was just like the dream, the last one she had before Spencer wrapped himself around her, calming her down.

This time he wasn’t here, he didn’t even know that this had happened, he wasn’t always going to be there to save her. She pulled herself back into the moment, calming herself like she had all those years before him.

She wasn’t a damsel in distress, he knew that.

A man walked into her home, the one time he knew she’d be alone and vulnerable.

That was the only part of the dream that matched.

Unlike her dream, she wasn’t a victim. Not in this house. Not in her space. Not ever.

The sound of the sirens echoed in her ears finally, she turned to the commotion of officers running into her new house. Will walked them through it all, telling them who Y/N was and that this was her home. How she saw a man in her yard and hid before killing him upstairs.

“Ma’am?” A stranger in a uniform tried to get her attention. “Ma’am, can you come with me?”

She nodded, standing up and finding support in the man’s arms. He wrapped her up in a silver blanket before he led her outside and into an ambulance. She had her vitals taken and an oxygen mask placed on her to help her calm down.

“Is the baby okay?” She asked the EMT, pulling the mask off her face so he’d hear her.

“Yes,” he smiled. “Strong heartbeat, no signs of distress but you need to relax so we can keep it that way.”

Will climbed into the ambulance then, taking her hand in his, “hey doll, are you okay?”

She nodded, “just a little shook up.”

“I called Spencer,” he said softly. “They’re 30 minutes from landing, then him and the team are on their way. No one told the team about the prison break in Oklahoma, they didn’t even think to connect them back to you.”

She sighed, “two cases in 2 different states, where the offenders ended up going to a 3rd state to meet and do time together and bond over the women who put them away. Makes sense.”

“You put them both away?” He asked.

She nodded again. “I basically made it my life goal to get Travis Johnson, he’s the reason I have this job, he’s the reason I’m pregnant right now,” her words trailed off into whispers. “I saw him in November, he congratulated me when he saw the bump.”

“Who was the other guy?”

“The Winnemucca womb raider, he would kill pregnant women by strangling them before removing their wombs,” she looked at him, horrified. “They wanted to kill us...”

She wrapped her arms around her own stomach, she had almost forgotten to worry about him. To even think that she was more than just one person at the moment.

They weren’t after her, they were after the most important thing to her. Her son, her baby boy. Like all the mothers before her, like their own. They wanted her to suffer, for her son to be spared a future worse than death in their opinion.

All the images from the cases came flying back as she blinked faster and faster. Strangled women, removed wombs, thanking God for a second that Spencer was the one to see the recovered organs in his trailer. A sick feeling bubbled in her body, a chill ran deep in her bones.

Then everything went black.

—

The first thing she remembers when she gained consciousness again was that Spencer was furious. She could see him and Hotch in a heated conversation from inside the ambulance, she tried her best to wake up and zone in on what was going on.

It was too dark for her to read their lips, but he was angry.

JJ was sitting beside her now, holding her hand. “Hey, bestie.”

“Did the cat get out?” She doesn’t know why that’s the first thing she asks, “the door was left open, did he get out?” Still in shock, still trying to understand everything.

JJ shushed her, petting her hair as she leaned in close, hugging her softly. “He was in the laundry room, Will said he made sure to find him when you were getting checked out.”

“Good,” she nodded along as she listened. “I’m so overwhelmed.”

JJ let out an awkward laugh, “I can imagine.”

“I’m also starting to fall in love with your husband,” she found her sense of humour then. “He has perfect timing.”

JJ laughed a little harder, causing Spencer’s focus to shift to the ambulance. Y/N watched him run towards it and jump in.

“Y/N, oh my god,” Spencer wrapped his arms around her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m safe, the baby’s healthy,” she assured him.

He kissed her all over her face, making her giggle when he wouldn’t stop, repeating kisses all over her face, her ears and her neck. She could hear JJ also laughing as she watched with Hotch just outside.

He finally stopped to catch his breath, hugging her again with his face in her neck. “I love you,” she reminded him.

“You love me?” He pulled back, “I love you so fucking much, I am never leaving you alone again.”

“Spencer,” she laughed, “I think I handled it pretty well.”

He huffed and shook his head, “you shouldn’t have had to handle this in the first fucking place! It’s not that fucking hard for someone to call the god damn FBI and say hey two psychopaths that your genius new girl put behind bars, fucking escaped!”

She finally knew what Hotch meant when he said Spencer’s anger scared him. She looked at him like he was a whole different person, “Spence, baby, I know. It’s okay, I’m fine see?”

She placed her hands on his cheeks as she looked into his beautiful hazel eyes, watching his pupils change size as he focused on her. Love and life behind them, true happiness clouded by horror at the thought of losing the love of his life.

He was what a true man was supposed to be, a real genuine person with love and kindness, and empathy. Her soulmate, her Spencer.

“We can’t control everything, that’s what you told me. We handle what’s in front of us, and we do it well,” she smiled as she reminded him.

Spencer started to cry, pulling her in close. “I can’t lose you.”

She cried at the sound of his voice, his heart shattering as he cried in her arms, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Terrified on a level she’s never seen in him before.

She rubbed his back as she held him, rocking him lightly as she shushed him absentmindedly. Soothing him as if her life depended on it, it broke her heart to see him this broken about the idea of losing her. She loved him so much it made her heart physically ache in her chest as she held him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, whispering against his hair. “I’ll kill a million men if it means coming home to you.”

He laughed in the middle of his cries, she could feel him smile softly as he sniffled against her shirt. “Promise?” He asked as he pulled back to look at her.

She wiped the tears from his cheeks, his beautiful eyelashes clumped together in the wetness. He was so sweet, she couldn’t help kissing him quickly, “promise.”

—

Hotch insisted they head to the BAU with the rest of the team while he handled the crime scene and the forensic clean-up, knowing on a personal level what it was like to clean Evil’s blood out of your bedroom carpet.

Y/N was sitting in the car waiting to leave when she saw Will coming out of her house with 3 pizzas. “I forgot I ordered those,” she gasped at the sight.

“You should’ve seen the look on the delivery guy’s face,” JJ laughed.

It was really bizarre having a pizza party in Rossi’s office after shooting someone in her home. Everyone was trying to be as chipper as possible to try and take the tension off the situation, but Y/N was pretty quiet.

Morgan got everyone to settle down before closing the office door, sitting close to her and Spencer. “Everyone in this room has either been shot, in danger, held hostage or worse,” he offered her some support.

“If you want to share anything, express any feeling or just tell us to fuck off, you can,” his words were soft, she watched him with soft eyes as he spoke.

“The only thing I can think of is that fate is fucked up,” she replied, the honesty slipping off her tongue like it was made of butter.

“You have the floor,” he insisted that she continue.

“I moved into a tiny apartment, farther away from my job, because I needed somewhere to live, and I found Spencer in the hallway. Spencer led me to you, and you guys helped me find Travis Johnson, my personal nightmare case of 2 years,” she explained like they never knew that. “But it’s so much more than that now.”

“We ran into Travis at the prison in Oklahoma a few months ago,” Spencer added. “He noticed that she was pregnant and congratulated her.”

“But the thing that’s fucking me up the most is that, and sorry TMI,” she warned them before continuing. “but we conceived the baby in Kansas when we caught the VICAP counsellor, only a few towns over from where we arrested Travis. Then we ran into him on a different case in Oklahoma, and he happened to be in the same prison as a man from New Mexico I put away for killing pregnant women. Something about this all lines up so perfectly... I hate that I find it so interesting.”

“That is kind of insane,” Morgan agreed. “I think it just means you and Spencer are being pulled together by something with bigger plans than you realize. And you’re a good shot, so thankfully you have nothing to worry about now.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

She held Spencer’s hand, looking down at the ring on her finger that meant she was his forever. As much as she hated the idea of a man owning a woman, she loved the idea that Spencer was her person forever.

They were tied together in a way no one would understand, she loved him deeper than she ever thought possible.

Everything happened for a reason. Her reason just so happened to be Fate wanting her to spend the rest of her life, Happily with Doctor Spencer Reid.

—

She woke up around noon the next day, Spencer was sitting up beside her reading a book when she finally clued into where she was. They had spent the night at Rossi’s house while the forensic cleanup team handled her kitchen and bedroom.

“Good morning,” she smiled up at him, stretching against the sheets as she fully woke up.

He put his book down and joined her, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her neck softly.

“Good morning,” he replied finally. She loved his voice when he hadn’t spoken yet. His vocal cords yearning to be used.

She smiled against his skin, holding him against her chest as she breathed him in. Her safety, her cosmic soulmate.

Everything just felt better in the world when they were pressed this close to each other. This was how they were meant to be.

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

She rolled him onto his back, snuggling into his chest and lifting a leg over him so the baby wasn’t squished. “Good, I’m excited to go back home later.”

“You’re not scared,” his fingers ran through her hair as she felt his breath on her face.

“No,” she shook her head against him. “Yesterday could’ve been a lot worse, but I’m trained to think on my feet and the danger is gone now. I’m never going to let myself be a victim in my own home.”

“I love you,” he reminded her. “And after yesterday-“

“I want to get married soon too,” she cut him off, getting up and sitting on his hips. She ran her hands over his chest as she looked down at his beautiful, still puffy, morning face.

He beamed up at her, “I feel it too, I want to make it official. I want to shout it from the rooftops that the love of my life chose me too.”

She nodded softly, “and we agreed that in April this year we’d go to Vegas, and we’d do it. I think we still should, I just want to plan it a little.”

“Of course,” he agreed, squeezing her thighs in his excitement. “Come here.”

She held his face in her hands as she leaned down, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip as she looked at him ever so softly. “I love you,” she said before kissing him.

His hands wandered over her back, holding her into the kiss. Breathing in deep through his nose, kissing her as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.

Spencer was desperate to love her, and she was desperate to be loved by him.

She broke the kiss to just look at him, moving his hair back and pressing her forehead against his. “The park across the street from my parents house,” she whispered.

“Mhmm.”

“I want to get married there, I want to start the rest of my life in the spot where I first really fell in love with you,” she explained, her lips close enough to him that the words could have stuck to his skin.

“I think I can pull some strings and get us a permit by April,” He smiled against her lips, “what day are we thinking?”

“The 23rd, 1 year exactly,” she said before Spencer pulled her back into another kiss, this time it’s soft and delicate. “Until forever,” she whispered against his lips.

“You need to promise me one thing,” he added. Feeling her nod as she kissed down his neck. “I know you said you’re fine, but the second you’re not I need you to tell me.”

“Okay,” she agreed, sitting back up as she straddled his hips. “You have to do the same, I can’t handle you crying in my arms like that again, it really broke my heart.”

He held his pinky out to her, she smiled as she wrapped her own around his. Both leaning in to kiss the other's knuckle, a small tradition Y/N adored.

—

They were back at their house by 5 pm. Hotch had ensured that everything was completely cleaned and there was 0 evidence that a crime had even taken place on the property. Penelope on the other hand had taken it upon herself to break into their alarm system and reset it for them shortly after everyone left.

They changed the code, closed the door and sighed at the beautiful home that felt a little different now. “I think I want to paint,” she announced.

“Yeah?” Spencer laughed at the suddenness.

“It’s too blah, y’know? I see what they were doing with the whites and beige for all the light. But, I’m thinking green in here to flow with the cabinets in the kitchen,” she walked through the foyer as she imagined the colours that would look good. “Like an olive or forest, maybe even jade. It’ll look nice with the dark wood.”

“That would be nice,” Spencer agreed. “Make it feel more like the old apartment.”

“Exactly,” she smiled. “I miss the clutter and the intimacy of the last place, and I know you miss the look of books everywhere.”

“I’m still alphabetizing them in my office,” he added. “I’d like to paint in there as well, I’ve been looking at antique chairs and couches for my reading.”

“Hotch is going to make us take 2 weeks off again,” Y/N looked at him with excitement. “We can put all our energy into this place now.”

“Let’s make it ours,” He agreed.

“Wanna go to the hardware store and look at paint samples?” She hopped with excitement, grabbing his arm and tugging on him.

He laughed, pulling her into his chest. “Sure, bunny,” he pressed his cheek to the top of her head as he held her. “What about Matthew’s room?”

“Oh, me and Penelope have it all planned, all the stuff is being delivered next month. She kinda went a little nuts,” Y/N laughed.

“He’s going to be one loved little boy,” Spencer chuckled. “Come on, let’s go.”

[richincolor]

New Releases

We'll be watching for these new books this week. What is catching your attention?

How to Live Without You by Sarah Everett Clarion Books

In this heart-wrenching, coming-of-age story about family, grief, and second chances, seventeen-year-old Emmy returns home for the summer to uncover the truth behind her sister Rose’s disappearance—only to learn that Rose had many secrets, ones that have Emmy questioning herself and the sister Emmy thought she knew. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Perfect Score by Angelica Monai (A.M. Ellis) Scholastic Inc.

In the world of Hunt A Killer, players help PI Michelle Gray solve murders through a variety of games using clues from autopsy reports to police records, and more.

Now, Hunt A Killer is making the leap to the page in this YA mystery series! Follow an original character as she investigates a brand-new case. Can she solve the crime before the killer strikes again? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Once Upon a K-Prom by Kat Cho Disney

Elena Soo has always felt overshadowed. Whether by her more successful older sisters, her more popular twin brother, or her more outgoing best friend, everyone except Elena seems to know exactly who they are and what they want. But she is certain about one thing – she has no interest in going to prom. While the rest of the school is giddy over corsages and dresses, Elena would rather spend her time working to save the local community center, the one place that’s always made her feel like she belonged.

So when international K-pop superstar Robbie Choi shows up at her house to ask her to prom, Elena is more confused than ever. Because the one person who always accepted Elena as she is? Her childhood best friend, Robbie Choi. And the one thing she maybe, possibly, secretly wants more than anything? For the two of them to keep the promise they made each other as kids: to go to prom together. But that was seven years ago, and with this new K-pop persona, pink hair, and stylish clothes, Robbie is nothing like the sweet, goofy boy she remembers. The boy she shared all her secrets with. The boy she used to love.

Besides, prom with a guy who comes with hordes of screaming fans, online haters, and relentless paparazzi is the last thing Elena wants – even if she can’t stop thinking about Robbie’s smile…right? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School by Sonora Reyes Balzer & Bray

Seventeen-year-old Yamilet Flores prefers drawing attention for her killer eyeliner, not for being the new kid at a mostly white, very rich, Catholic school. But at least here no one knows she’s gay, and Yami intends to keep it that way. After being outed by her crush and ex-best friend, she could use the fresh start.

At Slayton Catholic, Yami has new priorities: make her mom proud, keep her brother out of trouble, and most importantly, don’t fall in love. Granted, she’s never been great at any of those things, but that’s a problem for Future Yami.

The thing is, it’s hard to fake being straight when Bo, the only openly queer girl at school, is so annoyingly perfect. And smart. And talented. And cute. Either way, Yami isn’t going to make the same mistake again. If word got back to her mom, she could face a lot worse than rejection. So she’ll have to start asking, WWSGD: What would a straight girl do?

Told in a captivating voice that is by turns hilarious, vulnerable, and searingly honest, The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School explores the joys and heartaches of living your full truth out loud. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

[bella-rose29]

SOBBING

GENUINELY CRYING

I’M GOING OUT LATER HOW DO I DO THAT NOW

(a warning that I have written a LOT of reactions under the cut, and also spoilers to everyone that should go read it if they haven't yet because OH MY GOODNESS GO READ IT)

(y/n) sat curled up on one of the library’s armchairs, nose buried in one of the aged books. compared to (y/n) sat curled up on her chair, newspaper laid out before her. 😭 <- my actual face rn

Lockwood rolled his eyes, dog-earing a page before closing the magazine and setting it down atop the already massive pile. His head tilted as he looked over at her, face cast in that same golden-orange hue that basked the room. He looked positively ethereal. gyfuytvdtyrfjbtvdyhtrjyk of course he does, he's a pretty boy

“Have you ever considered joining a gossip circle?” NO BC LOCKWOOD WOULD FIT RIGHT IN OMG

His smile would have buckled her knees had she been standing. it does have that effect I can confirm

her neighbour had come to drop off some food she had baked for her. ok but let's just take a moment to appreciate the neighbour bc that's someone who is an angel incarnate I'm sure of it

The autopsy reports had not been released to the public, but Lockwood’s charm and (y/n)’s bare-faced insistence managed to garner them the second-last piece to the puzzle. omg what a great team we make 😊

If DEPRAC found out they had weaselled their way into getting their hands on it, there would be trouble. of course this is happening slightly illegally, it's Lockwood and Co what else was I expecting?

He only smiled, more reassuring than anything else, and reached over, squeezing her hand. Sparks coursed through her veins at the touch, and she looked up at him, melting at the way he looked at her.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

a song (y/n) recognised as one her mother used to listen to while she still lived at home. (y/n)’s parents had often done the same. omg obSESSED with how there's a history of getting sympathetic towards Visitors and now there's links between reader and Fearne??? idk how else to word it but I LOVE this

His hands were on her face, warm and calloused. “You okay?” he asked gently. “Need any water?” I need water for multiple reasons

Bitter and pungent and poisonous. Dahlia. HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I AM OBSESSED??? because the English student in me is analysing this wayyy too much but omg the juxtaposition of the first three words and then Dahlia??? when dahlia flowers are known for their beauty and not actually having much of a scent at all??? AAAAAAAAAAAA

Her eyes could focus only on the shape of Fearne Watson’s ghost and not Lockwood, who she would much rather have been looking at. I agree I would much rather be looking at him

eyes uncharacteristically wild. omg he's losing his cool bc he's scared about losing the person he loves OMG

sometimes she doubted if he truly had a heart, despite the way she so often saw him looking at her.  TAKE MY MONEY. TAKE MY HEART. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“Have you found the source?” he asked, his voice cool. She wasn’t sure when the last time he had used that tone on her was. Then came the angry breathing Lockwood so often resorted to when he could not bear to speak to George or Lucy when they had particularly annoyed him. But never had he done it because of (y/n). Never. He had raised his voice just so slightly, but, even still, it took her by shock. He slipped his rapier into his belt, pocketing his salt bombs, and stared angrily at her in a way he never had before. 😭 <- my actual face again

(y/n) didn’t notice how cold her hand felt until the chill was gone, replaced by the weight of a silver net. THE WAY I HAD TO NOT SCREAM BECAUSE I WAS IN PUBLIC

“She didn’t deserve to die.” “And neither do we!” Oh so now he decides to not have a death wish??? my man is so down bad omg

The fifth time? Well, I suppose that, along with every other time you’ve pulled this, was because of my feelings for you. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

With a breath that constricted her chest, she clenched her fists. Pain flared up through her right hand and, when she looked down, she had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t making up the blue tinge her skin had taken on. once again I had to not scream because people would have thought I was being strange but internally it was like that scene from inside out where all the emotions are just running around with an alarm blaring

His touch made her shiver. PAIRED WITH She did not want to feel his hands on her skin. Not anymore. WHY. I FEEL LIKE FEARNE RIGHT NOW. I HAVE PASSED AWAY. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US (but also keep going bc I am now obsessed with your writing)

She flicked through the newspaper, filling in crosswords and drawing devil horns on the heads of the Fittes agents that had made it into the paper. that is absolutely something I would do omg

She didn't miss the way Lockwood looked over at her at the announcement of the source's destination. I don't have the words to describe my thoughts on this but I have thoughts and it made me cry a bit more (I wasn't in public at that point so I could do that)

Lockwood looked as he always did, with that charming smile that, despite (y/n)’s anger, had a horrible flutter arising in her stomach, His long jacket blew back just so in the breeze, and his hair brushed his forehead softly. (y/n), on the other hand, looked far sterner than she had ever seen herself, her hand still a faint shade of blue, her eyes wan. Anybody who had seen their pictures in the news before that point likely knew that that was the end of their business together at Lockwood and Co. They were stood about two feet apart. this whole paragraph made me cry more than I already was

Former partner, she thought with a lump in her throat. And, well, always did not seem so true anymore. 🥺😭😭😭

“Always.” A smile curved her lips, and she squeezed his hand back. “Always.” This case, and Fearne Watson's murder, would not have been solved without her. Always. Perhaps always was only for fairytales. I am crying again literally an hour after reading this for the first time because of these quotes and your writing and literally everything about this

“Tastes very floral. It’s not jasmine, is it?” I don't know if this was intentional but I just looked up jasmine properties and it's the opposite of hemlock, like it literally is used to treat severe pain and the fact that hemlock causes severe pain and- (again idk if that was intentional but if it wasn't then that's worked out beautifully for you op)

the calm before the storm

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ in which circumstances pull two souls apart

pairing: anthony lockwood x (fem) reader

a/n: the angst queen is back. no apologies. i was craving writing another luke castellan fic, but decided it was about time i came back to the hyperfixation that began about this time last year (happy one year lockwood and co!!) so surprise!!! i'm not sorry for this, just so you know. enjoy!

warnings: canon typical violence, descriptions of murder, angst (as always)

words: 4.7K

taglist: @irisesforyoureyes @neewtmas @wellgoslowly @waitingforthesunrise @oblivious-idiot @jesslockwood @magicandmaybe @gotlostinfiction @ettadear @locklylemybeloved @aayeroace @mischiefmanaged71 @mirrorballdickinson @ikeasupremacy

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

01. the calm

There was a certain kind of peace when it came to 35 Portland Row at night.

The way the fire flickered, casting the library in a golden-orange glow and filling it with cosy warmth. How the kitchen always smelled like whatever wonderful meal George had made earlier in the day. The sound of the crackling fire and pages brushing against each other and creaky floorboards. They all compiled together to make it feel like home.

(y/n) sat curled up on one of the library’s armchairs, nose buried in one of the aged books. A steaming cup of tea sat on the coffee table beside a pile of senseless magazines - Lockwood’s guilty pleasure. He was thumbing his way through one just at that moment, and the cover - an edited photo of Penelope Fittes and Steve Rotwell with a big, bold-lettered caption “Inside the minds of the most treasured people in Britain!” - told her everything she needed to know. 

“That stuff is going to rot your brain,” she murmured, turning the page of her book. “I don’t know how you can stand reading that gossip.”

Lockwood, still looking at the magazine before him, shot her a sideways grin. “You just don’t appreciate today’s culture.”

A laugh bubbled from her lips. “I appreciate it plenty when I’m not under threat of death from ghosts. I mean, seriously. How many times can you read about what colour dress Penelope Fittes wore to a gala, or the stupid things all those snotty old rich people keep saying?”

“You have to admit, they’re a little bit funny.”

“It’s funny how stupid the things they say are.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes, dog-earing a page before closing the magazine and setting it down atop the already massive pile. His head tilted as he looked over at her, face cast in that same golden-orange hue that basked the room. He looked positively ethereal.

“I have read plenty of books, too, you know,” he said, still smiling. “I just don’t find them as interesting.”

Raising an eyebrow, (y/n) slipped her tattered bookmark between the pages of her book, balancing it on the arm of her chair. She twisted slightly so that she could look at him in the other armchair.

“Have you ever considered joining a gossip circle?” she asked. “You know, the kind where all those old women meet up in a cafe and have a little blether about their drama? You’d fit right in. Have half of them charmed within minutes.”

His smile changed, then, shifting into the exact kind she had imagined him using to get into a little gossip session. “You think so?”

She snorted, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. “Without a doubt. You’d have them convinced that, because Penelope wore a green dress to a gala and Steve Rotwell had a green tie, there is some kind of secret relationship between them. Secretly married, or some bosh like that.”

“Well,” Lockwood drawled, “just as well one of us has the skill of charm. If it were you doing interviews, we’d have no clients.”

She swept his magazine off the table and thwacked his arm with it. “If there was no one here to keep you alive, there’d be no business.”

He laughed then, and the sound was like music to her ears. If it was something she could bottle, she’d have a thousand vials of it collected. She could listen to him laugh all day, especially if she was the reason for such a beautiful sound.

With a playful kind of annoyance, she tossed the magazine back on the table. She might have imagined it, but Lockwood watched the movement with eagle-like attention, as if studying every move she made. Every face she pulled. The thought had her heart pounding a little faster.

“I wouldn’t be surprised by that idea, by the way.”

“What?” (y/n) tilted her head. “You being dead without me to save your ass? It’s a proven statement.”

Once more, he rolled his eyes. His smile would have buckled her knees had she been standing. “No. Penelope and Steve being secretly married. I’m going to cop that idea now. Just in case it’s true.”

“As long as I get the credit.”

“Always.”

02. before

“Another murder? Lockwood, do you ever think of broadening your horizons?”

Lockwood grinned, spreading out a few pages from different newspapers in front of him. “We seem to specialise in them. How many murdered ghosts have we successfully contained? Besides, the murderer of this one is unknown. I thought it’d be a fun challenge to see if we could figure out the perpetrator.”

“We have extremely different definitions of fun,” (y/n) grumbled, flipping open a folder full of dated documents. “Don’t you fancy something less… brutal? Someone who died of old age, maybe?”

“Boring,” he said, drawing out the vowels. “We’re Lockwood and Co! How else do we get in the papers without something like a murder?”

She watched the way his eyes seemed to gleam with a strange sort of joy and shook her head, holding back a smile. They most definitely had different definitions of fun. 

“Maybe we can bake some really nice cakes,” she suggested. “Donate money to help stop homelessness? End world hunger?”

His smile then was so beautiful that it stole the breath from her lungs. “While those are wonderful suggestions - I do particularly like the thought of cakes - I think we can do much better by getting rid of some ghosts. Now! What have you found?”

They went on like that for a few more hours, passing taunts back and forth while noting down any points of interest from their research. Really, it would have been more beneficial to have George researching with them - he made sense of all the big, fancy words and mixed-up dates - but he was researching his own case with Lucy. 

It was an interesting case, that much she had to give to Lockwood. A woman, named Fearne Watson, who had been killed in her home a mere four years prior, whose body was not found for another two days when her neighbour had come to drop off some food she had baked for her. Police had flooded the scene and all of the journalists from popular news sources managed to squeeze their way in, getting all the details they could wring out of anybody, including the poor neighbour. (y/n) could remember seeing a glimpse of it on the news, sitting in her mother’s living room, waiting for her father to come home from work. The body had been sealed in one of those black body bags. There was caution tape everywhere, tape that journalists and paparazzi seemed to ignore.

Her family had been interviewed, each of them grieving harder than the last. It was hard to read their heartfelt words. Her sister, who had practically raised her during their childhood while their single mother worked multiple jobs, was by far the most emotional. It was even worse seeing photos of her attendance at the funeral - her pure devastation at a private memorial being disrupted by paparazzi.

What had seemed like at least half of London’s population had ganged up on the press, after that. Some smaller companies were thrown out of business.

The biggest mystery of it all had been the murderer. Whoever had committed it had covered their tracks well: nobody had seen anyone in the home with the victim - though they had not been paying much attention, therefore it had been partially investigated - nor had they seen anybody leave. No weapon was left behind, which was no matter because, as it was later revealed, Fearne had not been killed with a weapon.

The autopsy reports had not been released to the public, but Lockwood’s charm and (y/n)’s bare-faced insistence managed to garner them the second-last piece to the puzzle. 

“Hemlock poisoning,” (y/n) murmured. “What year are we in? 1623? Don’t people usually use, what, paracetamol nowadays?”

Lockwood’s eyes flitted over the document, trying to absorb as much information as possible. If DEPRAC found out they had weaselled their way into getting their hands on it, there would be trouble. They had a very limited amount of time with it.

“Would’ve been a painful death, I imagine,” he said. “It’s a paralytic - says here she died from suffocation. Her respiratory system was paralysed after her muscles seized, also paralysed.”

She shuddered, taking the sheet of paper when he offered it to her. It wasn’t long before she had to pass it back, insanely disturbed.

“You sure know how to pick a belter of a case,” she mumbled. “Next time, take George with you.”

He only smiled, more reassuring than anything else, and reached over, squeezing her hand. Sparks coursed through her veins at the touch, and she looked up at him, melting at the way he looked at her. 

“We’ll be okay,” he promised. “We have each other.”

A smile curved her lips, and she squeezed his hand back. “Always.”

03. the storm

The chains were heavy in her hands, cold enough that the skin of her fingers and palms were beginning to hurt. The house itself was not cold quite yet, but iron had that effect.

Lockwood stared down at his thermometer before nodding. (y/n), gratefully, began laying down the chains in a circle, closing the ends in on each other. Lockwood set a lantern down in the centre but didn’t turn it on just yet.

“Eight degrees,” he said. “You ready?”

She pursed her lips, nodding. 

“No sympathising with visitors this time,” he added, and while there was a smile curling his lips, she could feel the seriousness in his statement. She did have a history of it.

The house’s living room was large enough to fit two three-seater sofas, as well as a dining table tucked under the back window with six chairs. The walls were a dingy shade of beige. A large patterned rug, red as blood, covered a good portion of the dark wood floor. With a thumping heart, she knelt down and lifted up a small corner of the rug.

She took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow its beating. Nothing good would come from being in a panic. The slight tremor in her hands ceased. She was a well-versed agent, this was nothing! She had helped solve the mystery of Combe Carey Hall. She had solved dozens upon dozens of cases. One more murder was nothing.

But, as she pressed her hand flat against part of the floor, stained slightly darker than the rest, it became clear that she was wrong.

Time seemed to swell around her, spinning and spinning until she was crouched in a brighter version of the house. A version without the big rug and the dining table beneath the window. The walls were a beautiful shade of duck-egg blue. Photos hung in simple white frames, plants were dotted around the room in pots shaped like cats and hedgehogs and dinosaurs.

Music played softly, a song (y/n) recognised as one her mother used to listen to while she still lived at home. Someone was humming along.

A woman swept into view, one she recognised from the newspapers that did not do her beauty justice.

Fearne Watson’s auburn hair was swept over her shoulder in loose waves, glowing like fire in the sunlight. She had blue eyes that were ever-smiling, and her freckled cheeks were rosy. She was no older than twenty-five.

Another voice could be heard, feminine and soft. She was singing along to the song while Fearne mimicked the instruments. (y/n)’s parents had often done the same.

The second woman came into view, and (y/n) couldn’t help but smile. Her sister, Dahlia, brushed over, gently taking Fearne’s hands in hers. They spun for a few moments, dancing along to the song. When it ended, they laughed and laughed, sipping from delicate teacups.

“Mm! What kind of tea is this?” Fearne asked, smiling. “Tastes very floral. It’s not jasmine, is it?”

Dahlia smiled, too, watching her sister with soft eyes. “Something like that.”

A terrible feeling began to settle in (y/n)’s bones. The thoughts building in the back of her mind began to come to fruition, and as she watched, she could feel her blood running cold. There was a terrible, nauseous lump in her throat. The police had thought nobody had been home with Fearne.

Fearne’s hand brushed her throat lightly. There was a faint sheen on her brow. “Did you add parsley to this? It’s got a bit of a weird taste.”

Her sister merely shook her head. She had not drank any of her tea.

“Dal, this - this doesn’t taste right.”

Dahlia tilted her head just so slightly. She did not seem concerned. “Oh?”

It was then that it began. The drawn-out death.

Fearne’s skin took on a pale tint, coated in a layer of sweat. The teacup dropped from her hand, smashing on the hardwood floor. Dahlia swept it up, disposing of it in the bin beside the sofa. She watched her sister closely, bright eyes narrowed as Fearne’s limbs took on a rigid look. She slumped on the sofa, panic flaring in her eyes.

She was struggling to speak, lips coated in her own saliva. She managed one word. “Why?”

Dahlia did not respond to her question. “Hemlock tastes very similar to parsley,” she murmured, standing as her sister began shaking, trying to suck in as much air as she could. “It was a shame things ended like this.”

The question, Why? hung in the air, unanswered. But the glaring look in Dahlia’s eyes revealed truer feelings than she had expressed in interviews. She resented her sister. Wholly and irrevocably. Why exactly she hated her was left a mystery hidden by a cruel smile.

(y/n) was torn from the vision as Fearne’s face began to turn purple, her lungs failing. She was saved from the horror of watching her die.

Lockwood was crouched in front of her when the present world began to melt back around her, his copper-and-caramel eyes taking the place of the sofa Fearne’s body had slumped upon.

His hands were on her face, warm and calloused. “You okay?” he asked gently. “Need any water?”

She shook her head, goosebumps rising across the skin of her arms. “It was her sister.”

“What?” Lockwood frowned, hands slipping from her cheeks to rest on the skin between her shoulders and neck. His touch made her shiver. “The newspapers -”

“They got it wrong,” she said. There was a bitter taste in her mouth. “She - she put hemlock in their tea. She murdered her own sister. She lied to the journalists. I can’t even begin to understand -”

Her voice fell flat. In some space in the back of her mind, she was vaguely aware of Lockwood speaking, trying to draw her attention back to him, but all she could focus on were the whispers. The glow.

A few feet behind Lockwood, there was a faint shimmer in the air, akin to how heat shimmered above pavements in summer. But this was all wrong. This was the dead end of winter. This was inside a house, where that kind of heat didn’t appear anywhere but the oven. This shimmer was glowing.

At first, it was no more than that - a shimmer - but the features soon developed. Long auburn hair. Freckled cheeks. Down-turned eyes and a wide nose bridge. 

“Fearne…”

Lockwood’s hands were on her face again, trying to get her to look at him. “What? (y/n), talk to me.”

Dahlia, said the apparition with such spite that (y/n) could taste it. Bitter and pungent and poisonous. Dahlia.

She sounded out the name as if speaking to a child and teaching them syllables. Her very voice, strained of air and yet still, somehow, melodic, had her frozen on the spot.

“Fearne,” she uttered again. She could not move.

Perhaps had she not felt such sympathy for their visitor's circumstance, she would not have found herself ghost-locked. Perhaps she would have been standing already, rapier in one hand and a salt bomb in the other, prepared to hold her off whilst Lockwood found her source. Or, no, really it would be the other way around - Lockwood would never let her fight a ghost on her own, his pride and needless urge to protect were a killer. So maybe she would have been searching for that source by now. Maybe she would have found it already.

But it felt as though her joints had locked up, preventing her from moving at all. Her eyes could focus only on the shape of Fearne Watson’s ghost and not Lockwood, who she would much rather have been looking at.

He seemed to realise then what was happening, standing as he spun around to face the ghost. His rapier was drawn in mere seconds, angled towards her purple, glowing face. Her teeth were bared in some gruesome excuse of a smile that creased her tear-stained cheeks.

“(y/n).” His voice was steely as he looked ahead at the ghost, hiding any of the fear she wasn’t entirely sure he ever felt so as to not empower the ghost. “I need you to find the source. Snap out of it.”

She couldn’t, not when Fearne’s voice whispered in her ears so painfully, so full of betrayal. Her sister’s name over and over and over again, tear-filled and sickening. All (y/n) wanted to do was wrap her arms around Fearne and promise her that things would be okay, that she would take her story back to the news with the revelation of her killer. Even if it was just her word against the world’s, supported by no evidence but her Talent, she would do it.

Then, Lockwood threw a salt bomb at Fearne’s face, dissolving her spectral form for a moment.

He turned back to (y/n), eyes uncharacteristically wild. “(y/n), go!”

And she did. She was on her feet again, heart thumping in her chest as Lockwood turned to follow the moving glow of Fearne Watson, slashing at her with his rapier whenever she came too close.

(y/n) grappled for anything that could be a source, feeling them in her hands for any signs. Ice cold. Traces of memories that she would be able to see or hear. Most were fruitless, just ghastly-looking vases and pretentious photo frames. What on earth would be the source if somebody else was living here now?

A thought came to the forefront of her mind, driving her back to the blood-red rug. She folded the corner over itself again and again until she reached somewhere near the middle, cringing at the wailing noises that came from the visitor. Salt exploded in the air, tangling in her hair and melting on her lips. With the miasma she had misunderstood as fear and sympathy, it was a horrible taste.

The dark floor was stained darker in one spot, splotchy and strangely shaped, exactly where the teacup had fallen in the vision. Fearne howled when (y/n)’s fingers brushed it.

“Hurry!” Lockwood called, twisting his rapier in ways far too complicated for (y/n) to ever attempt. “I know what you’re thinking!”

And he likely did. She was unsure as to why Lockwood expected any different from her - to not feel even the slightest bit bad for these ghosts. Some had died so brutally, so heartbreakingly, that sometimes she doubted if he truly had a heart, despite the way she so often saw him looking at her. 

This poor woman had been killed by her sister for nothing more than existing. She had died horribly, unable to move or breathe as her sister watched her struggle, ignoring the hemlock tea stain on the floor beneath her feet. She had remained at the site of her murder for years, with no escape from the memories of her death.

How could she not feel bad? How could she not wish for something more for ghosts like Fearne, more than a fight and another violent end, surrounded by the flames of the Fittes Furnaces?

The wailing disappeared for a moment, and all she could hear was Lockwood panting behind her. And the whispers. The whispers from the floorboard.

“Have you found the source?” he asked, his voice cool. She wasn’t sure when the last time he had used that tone on her was.

His answer was a resounding yes.

Fearne’s glowing apparition appeared in front of (y/n)’s face, her haunting smile and glassy eyes like a hand around her heart.

Dahlia, she murmured. A tear slipped down her purple cheek as one of her hands slowly reached upwards, towards (y/n)’s cheek. Her other hand neared the site of the source, from which she had just appeared. Dahlia.

(y/n) didn’t notice how cold her hand felt until the chill was gone, replaced by the weight of a silver net. All noise felt as though it had been sucked out of the room, replaced by a heavy silence.

Then came the angry breathing Lockwood so often resorted to when he could not bear to speak to George or Lucy when they had particularly annoyed him. But never had he done it because of (y/n). Never.

She turned her head, slipping her hand out from beneath the net, and met Lockwood’s gaze. His brows were drawn close over his shadowed eyes, lips curved downwards as his shoulders rose and fell with each deep, steadying breath he tried to take.

“We get rid of ghosts,” he said, voice tight. “We aren’t paid to sympathise with them.”

(y/n) stood slowly. “They deserve more than this.”

“They are ghosts.” His words were clipped now. “They deserve nothing.”

“She didn’t deserve to die.”

“And neither do we!”

He had raised his voice just so slightly, but, even still, it took her by shock. He slipped his rapier into his belt, pocketing his salt bombs, and stared angrily at her in a way he never had before.

“I let you off the first time something like this happened,” he said, “because you were new. I wanted to see how you worked, see how you processed these things. The second time, well, that was different - the ghost had no intention of doing anything but sitting sadly in a corner. The fifth time? Well, I suppose that, along with every other time you’ve pulled this, was because of my feelings for you. But you’ve put both of us at risk today, again. I won’t have it.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “What? So you want me to go around with no feelings whatsoever and just get rid of all of these ghosts?”

He threw his arms into the air, exasperated. “Yes! That’s what I pay you to do!”

“Well, I won’t do it.” (y/n) bit the inside of her cheek. “Without the emotion, I wouldn’t be able to find the sources the way I do. I’m not going to be some emotionless paramount of an agent like you. And if you don’t want me to work that way, then I won’t. I'd rather leave than do that.”

“Then go.”

The words hung in the air, and (y/n) found herself immediately regretting hers. But Lockwood's certainty in his, they had her dead-set. If he was so blasé about her threat of leaving Lockwood and Co after all they had been through, all she had felt for him, then she would go.

She didn’t want to work in any way but hers. She had perfected her technique, used it on every case to support her findings. Sure, she sympathised with many of the ghosts; how could she not, when many were late children or murdered women or family members taken too soon? Telling her not to work that way, to not use the pain felt by the victims to help her bring them peace, was like trying to cut a piece out of her body. She’d kick and scream and stop it at any cost.

With a breath that constricted her chest, she clenched her fists. Pain flared up through her right hand and, when she looked down, she had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t making up the blue tinge her skin had taken on.

Lockwood seemed to notice it at that very moment, eyes widening as he stepped forward. His voice softened as he said, “(y/n), let me see -”

Taking a step back, she clutched her hand to her chest. “No.”

She said it with more force than she has ever used with him. It shocked her almost as much as it did him. 

With her good hand shaking, she turned and strode out of the living room into the kitchen, where their kits were stashed.

DEPRAC’s main goal was to protect and provide for the agents that fought off visitors across the whole of Britain, and they had recently managed to get legislation approved for agents to carry adrenaline shots with them to cases. Far too many agents, most of them being barely teenagers, had died waiting for ambulances to provide the shots after being ghost-touched, especially when working in remote areas. DEPRAC wanted to reduce fatalities as much as possible.

So she reached into Lockwood’s bag - legislation had only been approved with the compromise that supervisors or business owners carried adrenaline shots with them, rather than allowing other agents to have possession of them - and pulled out the box containing the shot.

Lockwood was at her side in a second, reaching over to help her out, seeing her struggle with only one hand, but she turned away from him. She hoped he hadn’t seen the tears clouding her eyes before she had moved.

“(y/n),” he murmured.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.”

And, so, she stabbed the needle into her arm, administering the adrenaline despite the rules surrounding even that part of the legislation. She did not want to feel his hands on her skin. Not anymore.

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

(y/n) sat curled up on her chair, newspaper laid out before her. 

Her last case with Lockwood and Co had made it into the news, page eight, much to Lockwood’s likely chagrin. That was a guess, though. She supposed she wouldn’t know anymore.

Light flooded in through her window, illuminating the walls of her childhood home. She had not wanted to return, but what choice had she had? Getting a flat in London was almost impossible.

Her parents had taken her back with open arms, happy to have their little girl back, but they fell into old habits quickly. It seemed that the years she had spent living in 35 Portland Row had left them to store some passive aggressive comments ready for her return. Everything she did elicited some kind of comment.

She flicked through the newspaper, filling in crosswords and drawing devil horns on the heads of the Fittes agents that had made it into the paper.

Page eight, though she hated it, held her attention. After the effects of ghost-touch began to fade away, Lockwood had called the police and DEPRAC regarding the case, informing both of their findings. Though no evidence had been found to prove their claim, paragons of each big agency with the talent of Touch were brought in the DEPRAC van. Every single one confirmed her story.

The police disappeared shortly after, alerting higher ups and figuring out a strategy. Dahlia Watson still lived in London.

The floorboard was pried from the house, wrapped tightly in a silver net and taken by a DEPRAC officer en route to the Fittes Furnaces. She didn't miss the way Lockwood looked over at her at the announcement of the source's destination.

Journalists appeared shortly after, shouting their questions and writing down every move (y/n) and Lockwood made in their frustrating notepads as if their silence was condemnation. DEPRAC officers managed to shoo them off, but not before they snapped pictures of the two walking out of the house.

Lockwood looked as he always did, with that charming smile that, despite (y/n)’s anger, had a horrible flutter arising in her stomach, His long jacket blew back just so in the breeze, and his hair brushed his forehead softly. (y/n), on the other hand, looked far sterner than she had ever seen herself, her hand still a faint shade of blue, her eyes wan. Anybody who had seen their pictures in the news before that point likely knew that that was the end of their business together at Lockwood and Co. They were stood about two feet apart.

She should have left it there, left her remorse and fury mixing terribly in her chest, but she didn’t.

Her eyes caught onto the final sentence, and she felt rather sick. “I give full credit of the discovery to my partner, (y/n) (l/n), (pictured left). This case, and Fearne Watson's murder, would not have been solved without her. Always.”

Former partner, she thought with a lump in her throat. And, well, always did not seem so true anymore.

She tore the page from the paper, ignoring the bewildered look on her mother’s face. With bleary eyes, she crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the fire.

Perhaps always was only for fairytales.

[conradscrime]

The Burger Chef Murders

July 26, 2021

On November 17, 1978 between 11pm and 12am, four Burger Chef employees in Speedway, Indiana disappeared. Jayne Friedt who was 20 and the assistant manager, Daniel Davis, 16, Mark Flemmonds, 16, and Ruth Ellen Shelton, 18 were all found on Sunday, November 19, 1978. 

The night of November 17, another Burger Chef employee had come by the restaurant around 12am to visit the four employees but found the place empty, the money safe opened and the back door was left ajar. When police arrived, they found two empty currency bags and an empty roll of adhesive tape next to the open safe.

At first the police did not take the case very seriously because they found no signs of a struggle and only $581 had been reported as missing. This is approximately $2,300 in today’s time and police believed that the employees had taken the money to go out partying. There was more than 100 dollars in coins left in the registers. 

Jayne and Ruth Ellen’s purses and jackets had been left in the shop, though police went with the petty theft theory, and since they didn’t believe there was any reason to be alarmed or any foul play was involved the burger shop was cleaned early the next morning, on November 18. The burger shop re-opened the next day as normal and no photographs of the scene were ever taken, leading to be a huge mistake. 

No one heard from Jayne, Daniel, Mark or Ruth Ellen the next day, and Jayne’s car was found partially locked in town. People began to grow concerned and many started to believe that the four must of been abducted Friday night while closing the shop, most likely getting attacked while they removed trash bags out the back door. 

On November 19, 1978, Jayne, Daniel, Mark and Ruth Ellen’s bodies were found over 20 miles away In the woods of Johnson County. Daniel and Ruth Ellen had been shot execution-style multiple times with a .38 caliber firearm, and had been found laying side by side facedown just off a gravel path. Jayne had been stabbed twice in the chest and was found nearby. The handle of the knife had broken off and was missing, the blade was later recovered during the autopsy. Mark had been bludgeoned, possibly with a chain, and had died from choking on his own blood. He was found the furthest away from the others, about 75 yards away and was closest to the main road. He was found laying on his back near a creek. All four employees had been found still wearing their Burger Chef uniforms. 

Where Mark was found struck some people as odd, as he was found very far away from the others. It is also suspected that he may have run into something, possibly a tree trunk. Many believe that Mark escaped or had broken free from the killers and had begun to run away, but had run into a tree trunk, knocking him unconscious where he had fallen down a hill which resulted in him choking on his own blood.

Police found money and watches on the victims, leading them to believe that robbery may not have been the sole motive for the murders. The most popular theory is that the four were kidnapped during a botched robbery, and maybe one of them had recognized the perpetrators. Mark Flemmonds was covering another employee’s shift that night and was not initially scheduled to work. Investigators believe that he possibly recognized the killers, since they had not planned on him being there that night. 

A 16 year old witness came forward and said they saw two suspicious looking men in a car outside the Burger Chef just before closing on November 17. Both of the men were white and in their 30′s. One of them had a beard, the other was clean shaven with light coloured hair. 

Later in 1978, a man in a bar in Greenwood supposedly bragged that he had been involved in the murders. Police questioned him, but he passed a polygraph test and police had no other grounds to charge him. This man provided them with the names of the others, which he said belonged to a fast-food robbery gang and who investigators believe could be involved in the Burger Chef murders. 

While following leads, police saw a man who looked very similar to the “bearded man” described from the witness. The man was asked to be in a line up but he had shaved his beard which he apparently had always had for the past 5 years the night before he was to appear in the line up. A neighbour of this man, who had been named as a suspect from the Greenwood man, went to prison for some strong-armed robberies he committed with a shotgun. Another man, also named by the Greenwood man, went to prison for other armed robberies of fast food restaurants. However, there was no confessions and no physical evidence so the police could not formally arrest anyone. 

Investigators followed many leads in many different states but were not able to find any promising leads. They also were never able to find the firearm, the handle of the knife or the chain used in the murders. None of the supposed perpetrators made confessions, however, the son of the bearded man claimed his father had confessed to having been involved in the murders before he died. 

The Greenwood suspect and the bearded man had died from suicide and a heart attack, which one of the investigators noticed happened close after the release of the armed robber named by the Greenwood suspect. 

In 1981, Jayne’s brother James was investigated after he was arrested for unrelated drug charges, but was soon cleared. 

In 1984 Detective Mel Willsey received a call from an inmate at the Pendleton Correctional Facility named Donald Forrester who was serving 95 years for rape. Forrester claimed he was involved in the Burger Chef murders and was willing to confess to avoid being transferred to an extremely violent Indiana state prison. 

Forrester indeed had been living in the Speedway area when the murders took place and was not incarcerated at the time. Forrester admitted to shooting Daniel and Ruth Ellen and also led the police to the crime scene in the woods where he accurately described the location and position of the bodies when they were found. He also had knowledge of the broken knife handle which had not been widely known to the public. 

Forrester claimed that Jayne’s brother James owed money on a drug deal, so he and three others had gone to the Burger Chef restaurant to threaten Jayne. Supposedly Mark intervened to protect Jayne and a fight broke outside the restaurant where Mark fell and hit his head on the bumper of a car. They thought Mark was either dead or dying so Forrester and his accomplices decided to abduct and kill the other employees to eliminate them as witnesses.

Forrester gave police the names of the three other men who had killed Mark and Jayne and led them to a spot where he claimed he threw the gun into a river. The river was searched thoroughly and no weapon was ever found. Forrester’s ex wife was also interviewed and she claimed that days after the Burger Chef murders, Forrester had driven her to a wooded area where he left her in the car and got out to retrieve several firearm shell casings from the ground. He then drove them back home and flushed the casings down the toilet. 

Investigators got a search warrant to search the septic tank of the house, which was now owned by someone else. During the search, several spent .38 caliber shell casings were found. Soon after, someone within the Sheriff’s office leaked details of Forrester’s cooperation and he suddenly recanted his confession, saying he was coerced into confessing. Forrester was never charged and died in prison from cancer in 2006 at the age of 55. 

Burger Chef offered a reward of $25,000 to anyone who could capture the murderers or provide information about their whereabouts. The police spent thousands of hours investigating this case but have never found enough physical evidence to link anyone to it. The case is still opened and remains unsolved 42 years later.

In the summer of 2018, a few months shy of the 40th anniversary of the murders, the community and friends and family of the victims raised money to plant four red oak trees in the victims’ honour. Each tree has a plaque with a short biography of Jayne, Daniel, Mark and Ruth Ellen. With the extra funds raised there is now a marble bench added and dedicated to their family and friends. On November 10, 2018, just one week before the 40th anniversary, a small dedication ceremony for family and friends was held at the memorial site at Leonard Park in Speedway, Indiana.

Police are looking into the possibility of DNA analysis and tracing with the evidence that they do have, which gives hope in the future for this case to be solved.

[n7inky-fanfics]

The Line of Duty pt. 1

Hazel Shepard shuffles out of the shuttle and into the cargo bay of the Normandy, her head hung low and her arms hanging weakly. As she passes the threshold of the shuttle, her helmet falls from her fingertips and lands on the floor. Heads turn at the sound just in time to see her drop to her knees. James Vega races to her side, shouting "Oh shit, Shepard!" He grips her shoulders tightly, trying to get her to respond. She goes limp in his arms. That's when he notices the blood staining half her face and her neck. "Get Chakwas!" He lays her on the ground gently and applies pressure to the large gash on her head.

Dr. Chakwas arrives with an assistant and a gurney. Soon, they are rushing Shepard to the med bay. James stands in place, staring at his hands. They're covered in Shepard's blood. Steve walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

As they pass, it becomes hard to ignore the crew's chattering. "I know she's usually pale, but I don't think she was ever that pale."

"Yeah, she looked almost gray."

"Must have been a hell of a thing to get Shepard."

After they reach the bathroom and get James cleaned up, Steve says "You're the XO. Do you want to call Major Alenko?"

The thought of calling Kaidan makes James sick to his stomach. How the hell is he going to explain all this? He doesn't even know where Corporal Wilson and Private Grange are, but if Shepard came back without them the answer is probably not one he wants to hear. Whatever happened down there took out two of the crew and... and Shepard. "No, not yet. Not until we have more to tell him."

A scouting party returns several hours after Shepard's arrival with the bodies of Wilson and Grange. The bodies are stored in the med bay. They won't be released properly until questions are answered. Analysis of everyone's armor reveals that their medical supplies were compromised and their weapons were tampered with. Around this time, Dr. Chakwas emerges from the med bay to inform James that Shepard will survive her wounds and is recovering. She advises James to hold off on questioning the Commander.

Three more hours after the bodies were recovered, Dr. Chakwas adds two autopsies and a medical report to the mission file. The autopsies confirm that both soldiers died of gunshot wounds. The medical report reads as follows.

"Commander Shepard sustained blunt force trauma to the head, likely from the butt of a gun. Her helmet was likely off at the time. One bullet was lodged in her right thigh. Bruising to the front of her body suggest she took many bullets before her shields and armor failed. The bullet was successfully removed and superficial wounds have been treated with medi-gel. The Commander also showed signs of overuse of biotic abilities. There was no sign of treatment in the field."

With more complete information, James decides it is time to call Major Alenko. He makes his way to the communications room and opens the comm link to the SSV London. The Major answers almost immediately.

"Major Alenko." Even through the distortion of the hologram, James can see the man tense at his tone. This is obviously not a personal call between friends.

Kaidan clasps his hands behind his back and settled into a neutral and professional expression. "Lieutenant Vega. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

James clears his throat and finds himself suddenly thankful for the Alliance template for notice of injury. "I am contacting you as an Alliance representative to inform you that your spouse, Commander Hazel Shepard, was injured-"

"Drop the routine, Vega. How bad is it?" Kaidan supports himself on the railing in front of him and leans forward, as if he is fighting back the urge to vomit. James has been doing the same thing since the call began.

"She was the only one to come back. She took the butt of a gun to the head and a bullet to the thigh. She lost a lot of blood before getting back. There was evidence to suggest that the shore party's medical supplies and weapons were sabotaged. Shepard drove herself back to the ship. She should recover. I haven't talked to her yet- giving her time to rest, first."

Kaidan relaxes slightly. "Have her call me as soon as she can."

"Of course."

"And James?"

"Yes, Kaidan?"

"Thank you for calling."