Spencer’s messenger bag lay only a few feet away. He couldn’t see it yet, not when his attacker pressed his head against his ear and pushed it into the ground. His eyes squeezed shut at the impact, but they fluttered open when his buttons started to pop open. He let out a small yelp, and a knife was pressed up against his throat. “Let out another sound, and I’ll cut your throat,” the girl whispered, leaning over him. Her black hair brushed against his exposed chest, and he, repulsed at the sensation, struggled to escape her grip. “Baby, pull down his pants,” she said, sitting up with her legs wrapped around each side of Spencer.
The man did as he was told and yanked them down. Spencer kicked at him, writhing to buck the strong girl off of him. He didn’t have much leeway for struggle, though, since there was a petty knife touching his adam’s apple.
Once his legs became exposed to the cold air, the man leaned in to steal a kiss from the girl. They made out, not leaving any room for air. Spencer took this as a chance to look for his bag. He spotted it a little ways away from his head. He turned back to look at the couple.
Her eyes were shut as she leaned into the kiss. She was out of breath, but the stoic man stared back at her. He had bruises around his neck. “Prepare yourself,” the woman said, and Spencer’s eyes widened. His chest hitched, but he had some relief when he figured out that she was speaking to her boyfriend.
The boyfriend glumly ripped off his own pants and started to finger himself.
Realizing the man was castrated, Spencer started to profile the couple. This man was as much as a victim as Spencer. “I wanna see you ride him, baby,” she murmured, grabbing Spencer’s chin. “You’re going to make it good for him. If you don’t…” She traced the knife along his arm.
When the man sunk down on Spencer’s dick, he started to cry. He didn’t move, but the man did, rising up and down. He shut his eyes, but he opened them when a sharp pain rose in his leg. The woman was carving into his leg. “Fuck him,” she ordered, digging it in. She seemed to be writing something. Spencer could feel an ‘S,’ but he’s not sure what followed. He was too distracted from the pain.
He wanted to cry out, but he knew it’d only make things worse for him. The empathy he had for the man on top of him was astounding. This doesn’t even feel good for him. He just rises up and down, all because the woman told him to. “Anna,” the man says. “I’m done with him.”
“Hell you are,” she hisses. “Doesn’t it feel good?” She pulled out a gun and pressed it to her boyfriend’s temple. “You need a little bit of excitement, don’t you?” She flicked off the safety, and he whimpered. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”
She pulled him off after a while and dropped him in front of her. Still pressing the gun against his head, she guided him down.
After the weight had been lifted off of him, he started to crawl away. He reached for his bag. Anna noticed his movement and grinned. “I took your phone,” she said, pulling it out and waving it. “What’s he reaching for?” She stopped her gaze when a hit of pleasure sent her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Good boy, good boy. Don’t stop.”
Meanwhile, Spencer sneakily grabs the gun in his bag. “I’ll shoot you if you stop,” Anna says, and she hears a gun click.
“Get off of him,” he demanded. “And put the gun down.”
The man covered Anna with his body unwillingly. She hit behind him and aimed at her boyfriend. “I’ll kill him if you don’t put yours down.” She inched forward. “I’ll do it.”
“Put it down,” he repeated.
She was unrelentless. “I’ll kill him,” she says again.
Spencer softens, knowing she’s not bluffing, and he lowers his gun. She grinned, and she snatched it from her hand. She throws it to her boyfriend and straddles Spencer.
The boyfriend stands and picks up his bag. “He’s an FBI agent,” he spoke, mumbling to himself. “A fed, Anna.” He drops Spencer’s badge on the ground.
“He’s not going to tell anyone, though, are you?” she murmurs, moaning. “No, you won’t. Because you’re a good boy.” She touches his chest, and a tear rolls down his face.
Spencer tensed up suddenly, and Anna notices it. She turns to see a gun pointed at her head. “Baby, what are you doing?”
“I can’t do it anymore,” he whispered. “I’m done with your shit!”
“No one has to die,” Spencer spoke up, coughing. “No one--” A gunshot rings, and the girl topples over. Spencer gags, pushing her off. Once the dead woman slips off his dick, he struggles to his feet. “You didn’t have to kill her.”
“She would’ve killed you. She always does,” he replied simply.
“What made you save me?” he asked, blinking.
“I like Edgar Allen Poe,” he said, and Reid doesn’t have to look to see that his book had fell out of his bag. “What’s your name?”
“You saw my badge,” Spencer said, but he still answers him. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”
“Mark,” he introduces, reaching out to shake his hand. “We should get you to a hospital.”
“No,” Spencer said, thinking of the alert system Garcia has set up. If his name is listed as a patient, she’ll know. “I’ll be fine. I can stitch myself up.”
He pulled out his phone and calls 911, reports the body, waits with Mark for the ambulance and police car to come, and oh, god, how thankful Spencer is that they’re not in Virginia.
Spencer’s face softens. “Yeah, my flight leaves soon. I can’t be here for the questioning. Leave me out of this.”
“It’s gonna scar,” he said.
Spencer bit his lip. “I’ll stitch it good.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Mark said, tapping his head. He turned to an officer at his desk, asks for a paper and pen, and he scribbles his phone number. “Call me when it hurts.” Spencer took the paper and carefully tucked it in his pocket.
“Take care, Mark,” Spencer said. “Thanks.” He left the PD, then. After eight hours of questioning from the police, he was exhausted. He walked out of the station.
Reaching the end of the parking lot, Spencer sunk to his knees and vomited.
Spencer didn’t sleep when he got home. He didn’t sleep on the plane or in his own home. The first thing he did was fall into his shower and scrub at his skin where Anna had touched him. He scrubbed at it until his skin turned red.
He cleaned the scars Anna left on him.
He stepped out of his shower and continued to scrub at his skin. He stopped in front of his mirror. Staring at his naked reflection, Spencer finally saw what Anna had cut into his skin.
The word “SLUT” angrily stared back at him. He didn’t cry as he stitched himself up. He shoved a rag in his mouth to keep himself from screaming.
He didn’t sleep that night. He lay on his back and scratched where the big, bad woman had touched him. He didn’t let himself cry.
When he walked into work the next morning, he had already engulfed quite a few cups of coffee. He walked in with a large, 32 ounce cup. “Someone had a wild vacation,” Morgan grinned as Reid waddled in. He slammed his cup down on his desk. “How was she?”
Spencer stiffened, and Morgan lit up. “Oh my god, did you get laid?” he said, slapping him on the back. “Pretty Boy got game!”
Spencer took a sip from his coffee and ignored Morgan. “I went to visit my mother in Nevada,” he said simply, keeping his eyes down.
“A Vegas girl? Nice,” Morgan said. “She keep you up all night?”
“No,” Spencer growled. “I’ve just been having trouble sleeping the past few nights.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “You mean…” He trailed off. “Same lady twice? Or, or, or, two Vegas girls?”
Spencer drank from his coffee and tried to ignore Morgan. He was doing everything he could not to break down and cry. “You did two of them,” Morgan said, aghast. “Take it easy on the coffee, man. You’re gonna have the shits.”
Morgan started to walk away when he ran into JJ. “How was your weekend?” Morgan had asked, and JJ grinned when she told him about his trip with Will and Henry. She asked him about his, and Morgan grinned slyly. “Spencer had a good trip to Vegas. You should ask him about it.”
Spencer stands up suddenly and starts to run off. “Spence?” JJ called, concerned, but Spencer doesn’t stop. “What’s wrong with him?”
“The shits,” Morgan answered. “Eh, we can tease him about it later.”
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Spencer pushed into a stall before falling to his knees and puking into the toilet. He inhaled greedily, trying to avoid hyperventilating. He heard a creek of the door opening, and Spencer quickly grabbed his stall door and locked it.
“Hey, Reid, we got a case,” Morgan called. “Five minutes.”
With a toothbrush snaked from his go-bag, Spencer scrubbed the acid taste from his mouth.
Their next case was of a serial rapist.
Spencer couldn’t let it affect his work, so he tried to swallow down the rising vomit, but the pictures reminded him so vividly of what happened to him. It stung, and he couldn’t help but let his breathing increase rapidly.
“Are you excited to be going back home?” JJ asked a little bit after the jet had taken off.
“Not really, I was just there,” Reid said, biting his lip. How coincidental was that he was taken right back where his torment had begun.
Reid sat in the back of the jet, like he always does when he wants to be left alone. When he’s needed, he’ll move closer to throw in his input to the profile, and then he’ll inch back after they finish. His team leaves him be, until Reid fishes into his pocket and pulls out the number Mark had given him. He considers calling him.
“You gonna call her?” Morgan asked, taking a bite out of his beef jerky.
Reid furrowed his eyebrows together. “I-I dunno,” he stuttered. “Maybe, I guess…”
Morgan grins and gives him a comforting pat. “Get some, kid.”
“...” Reid shifts uncomfortably.
He doesn’t call Mark.
When they reach the PD, an officer greets them instantly. “We just found another victim a few minutes ago,” she informed them, leading them to a SUV. “I’m Captain Delarose. A pleasure to meet you all.”
Morgan and Reid split to go with Delarose to the first crime scene, Hotch and JJ stay at the station, and Rossi and Emily head towards the most recent.
“There was a note left this time,” she says, picking up the bag in her gloved hand. She passes the note over to Rossi.
I did this for you, my gorgeous G-man.
“This is the unsub’s fifth murder, and they only now left a note?” Emily questioned over his shoulder.
Reid had just returned to the station. He stared at the board of past victims, all looking very similar to himself. He wants to write it off as a coincidence, but he can’t shake it.
On the other side of this state, Reid was raped. His file is written up somewhere, but it’s not up for consideration.
This unsub has been moving in a jagged line, ending up in the north of Nevada. They have four other victims along the way, but Reid and Mark’s case wasn’t considered link. But he knew better.
It was all too similar. If he had spoken now, they’d know. He couldn’t say anything, but people were dying.
“What did he write?”
Emily and Rossi had just entered the room. Emily dropped a file of pictures from the scene. Spencer read the note and shivered.
“He?” Hotch asked, closing his file.
Reid nods. “This unsub is a castrated man,” he says. He opened his mouth to explain, but the familiar taste started to build up so he gulped.
“That’s not we profiled,” Emily says in slight protest, but Reid is unrelentless.
“Knock knock,” the officer said, a bit too chipper. “I just got a call from LVPD. There’s a victim we missed. His name is Markus Holt. He shares the same victimology--”
“It’s him,” Spencer says, deciding that this is happening and if he continues to shut his mouth. “That’s our unsub.”
He picks up his phone. “Garcia, I need you to get an address for me.” Reid runs out of the room, bringing his vest with him.
“Holt is the only one that was left alive,” Reid said in explanation in the car. “It’s him.”
“Reid,” Morgan says, and Reid flinches when he grabs his shoulder. “Did you know him?”
Reid brushes his hand off of his shoulder. “No,” he lied, looking away. “I’ve never met him.”
Hotch cleared his throat. “Morgan meant if you had known about the case. Afterall, you were in the city at the same time,” he clarified, and Red blushed.
“I didn’t hear about it until now,” Reid said, cringing at how bad of a liar he was.
This was all going to go down south.
Armed with bulletproof vests and their guns, the BAU team kicked down the door to his house and searched.
Markus was found with a boy bound at his feet. “You made it, baby!” His face lights up.
Reid cringes. “Hotch, listen to me,” he said, turning to him. “I need to do this by myself.”
“Reid, I’m not going to--”
“You have to,” Reid says. “You can’t… You guys can’t be in here with me. Delarose.” After her name was called, she ran to his side. “I got this, Hotch.”
He left after Delarose convinced him. The two had this handled, seeing as Markus hadn’t even aimed a gun at them.
He kept it pointed to the boy at his feet.
“I knew you’d figure it out. I knew you’d come right back to me,” he said, having a completely different demeanor since the last time Reid had saw him.
“You told me your name,” he said. “It was easy.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed, “But I wanted you to find me. We can be together now.”
Delarose chose to butt in. “Let the boy go.”
“I missed you,” Markus says, ignoring her.
“Let him go,” Reid repeats for Delarose, and he does.
“I didn’t want him anyways,” he said. “You were the only one I never got to properly fuck.”
Reid’s hands shook as he aimed at him. “Why did you even save me?” His dry throat made him cough.
“I wanted to see if you’d come crawling back to me,” he mused. “And you did.”
“No,” he said. “I was so sure you were a victim.”
“I was,” Mark said. “You were so gorgeous…”
“Put the gun down, Mark,” Reid gritted his teeth. “Then we can be together.” He hated this. He hated this. He hated this.
“Come here, baby,” he whispered, letting Reid sit on his lap. Reid reached around him, pressing his head into his neck, and handcuffed him suddenly. He bit down.
Hearing the scream, Hotch and Rossi rushed in. Reid pulled away with blood in his mouth. The man openly sobbed. “I love you, baby. I love you. Don’t leave--”
Reid stopped walking when Hotch stepped in front of him. “Reid,” he started, but Reid cut him off.
“No, Hotch,” he said. “Leave this out of your report.”
Reid walks past them all. He doesn’t see them again that night.
Reid holes up inside his hotel room, after making some excuse about a stomach pain.
Hotch is abnormally quiet at the dinner. Rossi and Hotch sit at the bar, sharing worried looks. “Markus was a rape victim of a woman named Anna. She was killed by the same bullets of Reid’s gun. They never found the murder weapon.”
“They were working together until he shot her,” Rossi figured, downing his drink. “Meaning, Markus wasn’t the victim…”
Reid was curled up on the floor of the hotel bathroom. His shaking fingers gripped the sides of the toilet bowl. There was a knock at his door. “Reid, you got the shits again?”
He lets out a muffled sob. He staggered to his feet and opened the door. “Man, you look like shit.”
“Get out,” Reid growled. “Get out!”
Morgan doesn’t budge. “What’s up with you?” Reid shoves him.
“Leave me alone.”
“You got a girl over?” Morgan teases, not taking it seriously. He’s grinning until he notices the blood on his thigh. “Reid? What happened?”
“Get out,” he said again. When Morgan refused to move again, Spencer started to leave. He was out the door and in the hallway when he grabbed his wrist. Spencer froze and slapped it away. “Let go of me!”
“Talk to me,” he demanded.
Spencer wriggled out of his grip. The more Morgan pushed, the more Spencer wanted to cry.
Hotch appeared suddenly, followed by Rossi. JJ had peeked out of her room at the commotion. “Spence?”
Hotch stepped forward. “Morgan, let him go,” he said softly. “Reid, we know what happened.” Morgan let go of his hand. “Everyone, get some rest.”
Hotch sent them away. Only Morgan, Hotch, and Reid remained in the hallway. “Morgan,” Rossi called, and he pulled him away.
“Hotch, I don’t know what you think what happened,” Reid started, and Hotch shook his head.
“Talk to Morgan. He’ll understand, Reid,” is all Hotch says.
Reid doesn’t talk about it.
But they all know. They’re profilers. It’s not that hard. Rossi and Hotch had already known, and when they notice the way Reid shrinks away from everyone’s touch and the fact Reid had known the unsub and lied about it, the rest figure it out.
A few weeks later
The team’s together out for dinner. They had just landed, and they were all starving.
Reid didn’t touch his food. “Every cell in our body is destroyed and replaced every seven years,” Reid says suddenly, the first time he had spoken that night.
Reid had been withdrawn lately. They all knew about what Mark had done to him, but he never came out and said it. He didn’t have to.
He’d been quieter too, so the moment he speaks, everyone looks at him.
“One day I’ll have a body he never touched.”