My Wonder (Spencer Reid X Reader) - The Connection

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Connection

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Connection Word Count: 2494 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a history in American law enforcement Warnings: drug addiction, self-depracation, crying, minor fluff if you squint. Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of the six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your first real connection.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4  | Part 5 | Part 6

It became a casual thing, for you to comment on how wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid was. Every day in the office, whenever you travelled to cases, even out in the field, sometimes in not-so-great situations. 

It was only ever once, but you always managed to find something to say, 'You are a wonder, Dr Reid,' to him. Sometimes it was his full name, sometimes just doctor. Sometimes, he was just Spencer. Apart from JJ, you were the only one who ever really called him by his first name. Oddly enough for him, he liked it when he was just Spencer, not the Boy Genius or freak or computer.

But the next time you told him that and it meant something to him was ten months after he ended his drug addiction.

He sat at his desk in the bullpen finishing some paperwork, or at least attempting to. They'd just gotten back from a long and exhausting case and his brain (the very thing he knew he could always rely on) refused to coordinate with his hands and eyes. The information he wished to write out felt jammed at his fingers tips, appeared blurry in his vision.

'Gosh,' he breathed out, leaning back in his seat defeated as he rubbed at his tired eyes. No doubt black bags sagged beneath them. 

It had been a long, exhausting case. The team had gone to Dallas to find a serial killer who'd been leaving a trail of dead doctors and pharmacists over the span of months which had suddenly turned into weeks, then days once his team joined the case. 

The unsub had spiralled, devolved so to say, alluding to a psychotic break. But when they'd found him, he was not the malicious, sadistic person they'd first expected. Spencer was the first on the scene and had instead found a young man in his early twenties, not much younger than himself. All he'd wanted was some off-market narcotic that took away the pain from the physical abuse he received from his father.

And while Spencer's trauma was not the same, he couldn't help but see the parallels. When he'd looked the young man in the eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. All he saw was himself, drowning in his own trauma, his own fear, his own pain. 

Spencer scoped the bullpen, suddenly noticing the silence. Not a single person was left. He then looked at his watch - half past ten. He hadn't noticed people leaving whatsoever. Not surprising considering his current state, his current condition.

Spencer slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, a sudden urge coursing through him to do so. Slowly again, almost hesitantly, he pulled it open and leafed through the many spare manilla folders that sat oddly in there until he reached the bottom.

It was just one vial, but just the mere sight of it sent relief rushing through Spencer. Dilaudid. He gently cradled it up to his eyes, admiring how the glass doors of the entrance became obscured as he looked through the transparent but murky liquid. After this case, what he wouldn't give to have a needle right now. Just one hit-

'Well, if it isn't Dr. Spencer Reid burning the midnight oil.'

Spencer almost dropped the vial as he scrambled to shove it deep into his pant pocket just as you appeared out of nowhere from the conference room.

'Sorry,' you said, an apologetic smile already on your lips. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'It's okay,' he replied as casually as possible. It was one thing to nearly be caught out by your colleague that you had an illegal narcotic you used to have an addiction for in your hand, but another when that colleague is one you've admired since the day you met. 'I was lost in thought, anyways.'

'Well just as well then. I can only imagine how depthless your brain must go with all that knowledge crammed in there.' You walked down the stairs to the floor of the bullpen and walked to him. You were still in your clothes from the past twenty-four hours, and your light makeup looked like it was lifting off your face like a second skin. Even your unrelenting smile seemed to sag with exhaustion.

Spencer straightened up in his seat, suddenly concerned. 'You okay, (Y/N)? You look-'

'Like trash?' you finished as you pulled up a chair of your own and sat in front of him. 'I have no doubt.'

Spencer looked behind her back into the conference room, his eyebrows furrowing when he spotted stacks of folders and loose paperwork spread across the table. 'That all yours?'

You looked back to the mess of words and paper you'd just escaped and sighed dramatically. 'Oh, yeah. Seems like the longer the case, the more paperwork you have to do. Poor trees.'

'Yeah...' Spencer found it odd how much paperwork you had to get through. Even he didn't have that much to get through. But before he could question you about it, your soft voice filled the damning void that surrounded him.

'How are you feeling, you know, after this case?'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Don't give me that,' you say, your smile now replaced by a seriousness Spencer only saw on you when you were making an arrest or in really dire situations. You've worked together for almost three years now, he knew all the faces you pulled, all of your likes and dislikes, how you liked your coffee only after you've completed one task for the day to prove you can survive without it but choose not to. 

He knows you, so it should not be surprising that you know him just as well.

'The moment we found out the unsub's objective, you've been a little... off.'

'Well, it shouldn't be surprising considering that was me just ten months ago,' he said matter-of-factly, pulling back into his shell, putting up his guard. 'I mean, if Hotch hadn't have found out about it, that could've been me-'

'No it wouldn't have.'

Spencer scoffed, but not in a demeaning manner. He just didn't believe you for a moment because he could see the facts, the statistics, in his head. 'Over 45% percent of addicts relapse at least twice. This is without the intervention or support by health care clinics and families and friends, and this case just proved that. So, yes, it could've been-'

'But it wasn't,' you intervened again, your voice echoing like soft thunder through the empty office. It gave you presence, forcing Spencer to look at you, like really look at you, and face what you were about to say.

'You had help and support from people that care about you, Spence,' you continued, sitting forward in your seat. 'And I don't care about the statistics, you're not one of them. You're your own person and you can determine where you add value in life, not by some... statistically-informed percentage prediction... thing.'

That drew a laugh out him, the quiet but sudden sound surprising him slightly. 'Stastically-informed percentage prediction, huh?'

'Shut up,' you grumbled and playfully punched his shoulder. When you both calmed down, you continued. 'When I realised who we were looking for, for a moment I kind of got scared.'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow 'Scared?'

You nodded. 'The truth is that... when you were kidnapped and... you had to endure all that pain alone... I was terrified. We all were. Even when we found you, I was terrified. Because I knew you would never be the same, and not that it's your problem, but I knew in that moment that I would never forgive myself for not finding you sooner. For not going with you and JJ to the farm.'

Tears welled up in your eyes and Spencer immediately leant forward. To do what, he didn't know, he just needed you to know he was there for you, like you always were for him.

'I'm sorry,' you mutter, blinking the tears away before they could fall. 'Your trauma is not my own. I have no right to express my guilt.'

'There's nothing to feel guilty for,' he said, reaching out slowly with his hands, the ones that slightly shook as he laid them on your own. 

To his relief, you smiled. It wasn't full, but it was there. 'You're a horrible liar, Spencer Reid.' That brought some laughter out of you both, lightening the suffocating air of the office. 

'But even when we found out about you and the dilaudid,' you continued, pulling yourself together, if only to let Spencer know your true thoughts. 'I wasn't even mad.'

A large lump formed in Spencer's throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it along with the threat of tears that burned behind his amber eyes. 'You... You weren't?' 

It was the mixture of surprise and hope that pulled at your heart, that made you feel obligated to keep speaking. 'Why should I have been? I was not the one who was tortured mentally and physically by a split-personality murderer; and who also witnesses the darkest, most ugliest aspects of humanity every single day of his life. It was not my place to judge how you hold onto your own humanity.'

Your eyes until then had never left his, but they flickered downwards then, and Spencer froze at where your gaze landed. 

It only lasted a moment before your eyes returned to his, and it startled him the lack of sympathy he finds there, but instead warmth. 'It is still not my place to judge,' you said, twisting your hands so they could clasp his fully. 'All I know is that... you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. So much stronger than me, JJ, Pen, Emily - heck, I'd say you're even stronger than Derek. But not Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi, though. Then again, no one is.'

You both chuckled at that, and all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate at the sound. So light and airy, it was what he imagined heaven sounded like. 

'The point is,' you continued, giving his hands a squeeze, 'you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded and conflicted within himself. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. And a great urge to suddenly engulf you in a hug started itching his limbs, which was weird because he didn't care much physical affection, or affection in general. But before he could decide what he wanted to do, you decided for him.

You gave his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing up. The absence of your touch left him cold as he followed you as you went back into the conference room to pack up. Surprisingly it didn't take you long until you came back out, your coat and bag in hand.

'Don't stay up too long, now,' you said as you passed him by, your smile so radiant it was almost as if you weren't crying just a few minutes before. 'We've got a long day ahead.'

As soon as the elevator door closed on you, he pulled out the vial of dilaudid and stared it down. It was like it was taunting him, sitting idly, innocently, in his palm, as if it knew he desperately wanted it, needed it.

'...you are stronger than you give yourself credit for... you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

For some reason, though, he suddenly didn't need it. The fire, the urge, the want and reliance for it - he was suddenly weightless with clarity, if only for a moment.

Spencer chucked the vial in the dumpster outside the office when he left. It was hard, but he did it. He knew he wasn't cured, that there was still a long road ahead. But it was a start.

The next day when he came into the office, Derek was the first to comment on his haggard appearance.

'Seriously man,' he said, trailing Spencer out of the break room, 'you look like a ghoul. Did you sleep at all last night.'

'I was here late last night doing paperwork,' he explained, sitting himself and his coffee down at his desk. 'You should go see (y/n), she probably looks a little worse for wear herself from staying late last night, too.'

'Oh, she stayed late too, did she?'

'It's not like that,' Spencer insisted, swatting at Derek pathetically. 'She had a mountain of paperwork to finish of her own.'

'Y/N?' Emily said as she walked by with JJ, identical coffees in their hands. 'She finished her paperwork at about the same time I did.'

'Yeah, we were walking out together before she turned back into the office. Said she had to talk with Hotch,' JJ said.

'I remember that,' Spencer added. 'You guys said goodnight to me on your way out.' Not that he had responded, he suddenly recalled, a pang of guilt punching his gut.

'Who had to talk with me?' The man himself suddenly walked by, stopping at the congregated group upon hearing his name.

'Y/n,' Emily answered. 'Last night.'

'Oh, yes. She, uh, asked if there was anymore paperwork to do.'

'Why would she do that when she was done?' JJ asked. 

'I don't know,' Hotch said, making his way towards his office, 'but who am I to turn away someone who wants to do paperwork for free? Now, briefing in ten minutes.'

As the others dispersed back to their desks, Spencer didn't know how to feel about this new information. It didn't help the matter when you finally dragged yourself into the office, dark circles peaking out from under your thin layer of foundation. But as you sat at your desk, eyes drooping as you logged onto your laptop, he knew just what to do.

It took you a second to register the cup of coffee being held in front of your dazed eyes, and another to realise who was holding it.

'Late night?' Spencer asked, a coy smile on his lips.

Despite your exhaustion, you managed to grab the cup without spilling any of the precious caffeine that would help you through the day. 'Yeah,' you decided to play dumb, answering as enthusiastically as possible. 'Paperwork, you know. Never-ending.'

Spencer hummed, contemplating his next words carefully. 'Well, I hope giving up your sleep was worth it, then.'

'I'd like to think it was.'

The way you didn't hesitate to answer struck a chord of truth in him that left him dumbfounded once more. Twice in under twenty-four hours? That had to be a new record for him.

But instead of freezing up, he managed an honest smile as he clanked his coffee cup with your own. 'Well... it is certainly most appreciated.'

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Three

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Three Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3173 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Spencer stared hard at the map of Manhattan that was pinned to the board, eyes flickering between each location the bodies were found at. He'd circled them, hoping to visualise some sort of map or pattern between the kill spots, but nothing emerged to his despair.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. The team had gone to their hotel soon after his outburst at Holt, but he'd been back in since around six o'clock. He checked his wristwatch. Quarter-to-eight it read.

'You're in early.'

Spencer swivelled around at the sound of Hotch entering the room, the rest of team following closely behind. JJ held two coffees in hand, walking around the big table in the middle of the room to hand one to him. He didnt know how JJ knew he needed the caffeine, but he smiled gratefully nonetheless and took the hot brew from her hands.

'Yeah,' he said after a deep sip, scrunching his nose slightly at the slight bitter taste he detected. It was sweet, but not sweet enough. 'I... couldn't sleep.'

How could he, when his whole world had been turned upside down in the span of a couple of hours? You were risking your life - had been for eleven months already. He wanted this case to be over, and sleeping in his uncomfortable hotel bed while you were constantly looking over your shoulder was not going to help make that happen.

The way his friends looked at him now only confirmed that he looked a little worse for wear. But before anyone could comment, Hotch intervened.

'Where are we on the unsub's comfort zone, Reid?' Hotch asked, looking at the map over Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer was grateful for the change in topic, and turned around to point at the map with one hand, the other still cradling his coffee. 'I marked out where each body was found in relation to their establishment,' he explained, pointing at each marked spot for emphasis. 'Unfortunately, they range from up to downtown, even the Upper Eastside to SoHo. Geography doesn't seem to be a factor in the killings. What does seem to be a factor, however, is that all the other girls, like Roxy, were killed either outside or not far from where they worked.'

'That could speak to the unsub wanting to deliver a message,' JJ suggested. 'If the unsub is someone who has been double-crossed by these girls or the establishments, maybe their deaths are a warning.'

'Penelope said she couldn't find anything on these girls prior to their employment,' Kate said, reading a text off her phone no doubt from the technical analyst herself. 'Y/N's intel was correct. These girls were like ghosts, but like, before they had a life.'

'They had to have come from somewhere,' Rossi said. 'They couldn't have just... invented these girls.'

'No...' Derek trailed off, hand reaching for his jean pocket. '...but they can be reinvented.'

'What do you mean?' JJ asked, but Spencer's brain worked faster than Derek's mouth.

'From the initial notes from each body find, we know all girls were quite loyal and involved with the establishment's business,' Spencer answered, feeling reinvigorated suddenly. Or maybe that was just the coffee. 'They would've had to have been isolated for a few years prior to their re-emergence back into society to be that conditioned to their owner's orders.'

'Most of these girls were around seventeen and eighteen when they started working,' Kate said. 'That's when girls usually establish their independence from families.'

'But these girls have stayed as they've entered their twenties,' Hotch noted.

'Which means they would've been taken away from society before they could figure out how to be independent.' Derek's finger pressed a speed dial button - the first person on Derek Morgan's list for all things knowledgeable.

'Greetings my love,' Penelope greeted, her perkiness like another shot of espresso in Spencer's system. 'Did you see my good morning text with all my notes - and by all of them, I mean nothing - on the girls' history? Sent with love.'

'We did, baby girl,' he answered. 'But we might have a new lead to go on and we need your help.'

'You've rubbed the lamp, and as the genie I am now at your command. What do you need to know?'

'See if you can find any missing child records from over the last decade, particularly girls,' Derek said.

'They might not be made by parents, per say,' Spencer quickly added. 'The seller is choosing girls he knows people won't look too hard for. They'll be low-risk victims, so look up any mysterious disappearances from homeless communities and even unofficial orphanages and shelters in the New York state.'

'Boy Wonder, you certainly live up to your name,' Penelope quipped, the soft pattering of her frantic typing filling the room for a moment before she stopped. 'Aha! There have been over fifty girls who've gone missing over the past decade that fit those perimeters. I almost missed some of them because they weren't officially reported, but they popped up in local newspaper adverts noting certain kids in their community had been missing for a while. I've just sent a list of places they all went missing from to your phones.'

Another flurry of fingers flying over her keyboard and she spoke again. 'And if you look at your tablets, you will find the picture a young girl, aged twelve, gone missing from a trip to an aquarium with her orphanage. A Missy Wright. She had a record for running away and hiding, so when she wasn't found after twenty four hours, police disbanded the search party and declared her a runaway. But does she look familiar at all to you?'

Spencer looked over JJ's shoulder as she looked at her own tablet, seeing the similarities before anyone else did. 'That's Roxy Vega,' he said.

'I'm running out of gold stars to give you, Boy Wonder,' Penelope quipped. 'I'll try and find more pictures of the dead girls and match them with any of the missing girls on my list.'

'Thank you mama, you're best,' Derek said.

'I know, sugar,' Penelope replied before ending the call promptly.

'Let's go talk to those establishments, particularly Roxy's old orphanage,' Hotch announced. 'Let's cover as many as we can by splitting up. Spencer and JJ, Derek and Kate, and Dave you're with me.'

Kate squinted at her phone, eyebrows furrowing in distress. 'There are over thirty addresses here. And they're spread all over the New York state. This could take days.'

'I'll get local police as well as Holt's team to help,' Hotch replied. 'We find out who these girls were before they were abducted, we find out how the unsub finds them.'

'Then we can find him,' Rossi added with an assertive nod. 'All right then, let's get going. We're burning daylight.'

Spencer downed the rest of his coffee then grabbed his satchel and suit jacket and scrambled after his team. Before he left, he turned back to the board, to the marked map and the pictures of the managers and the mutilated girls. Girls who died as different people to who they were born as.

We will find you, he silently vowed, and followed his team out the door.

~~~

The pounding music of the Pit replicated the consistent thuds in your head as you walked your way around the floor.

Three glasses of single malt whiskey balanced precariously on your tray as you made your way through the crowd of gentlemen and girls enjoying themselves. It was a fine art, one you had perfected over the eleven months you'd been undercover.

You tried not to crinkle your nose in disgust as you passed by a certain lecherous man getting handsy with one of the girls, Lavender.

She was younger than you, a pretty little thing who started around the same time as you did. You'd come to the assumption she was also one of the girls who'd been taken as a a child and reinvented, as she always dodged any questions you asked about her life before... working.

And maybe she just didn't know the answers or she just really valued her privacy as a girl in her late teens did. But the way she would always always redirect the subject or blatantly not answer didn't sit right with you.

Lavender's eyes met yours briefly, and you saw the defeat and disgust she felt as she let the man's hands grip her curvaceous hips. It was a silent cry for help - you'd seen the same look in the other girls' eyes before. Not just at the Chateau, either. At all the establishments you'd wheedled your way into.

You wanted nothing more than to slug the bastard who had to be forty years Lavender's senior, and shame him for defacing an innocent like her. For going behind his wife's back because God forbid she age like human beings do. You saw the ring tan wrapping his ring finger. That was an easy spot after being in the workplace as you long as you had. Or maybe that was just your profiler background giving you an upper hand.

Before you could do anything, however, Lavender was dragged back into a conversation with the lech, forcing a fake smile to crinkle her beautiful features. And you still had three drinks to deliver.

'There you go, boys,' you drawled out, slapping on a flirtatious smile as you placed the three glasses onto the small round table between the three occupied chairs.

'Why thank you, sweetheart,' one said, flashing your smile back at you in return. 'I've been looking forward to this all night.'

'Why don't you sit down with us,' another one said, patting his lap as he took a sip from his glass, never losing eye contact with you.

You repressed the shudder that instinctively rattled your bones, and instead you waved a hand carelessly. 'No, no. I can't. I'm on bar shift tonight, boys. I mean, who else is going to get you your drinks?'

'I'm sure someone else could cover for ya, sweetheart,' the third man suggested, hand reaching out to graze your hips. 'Come on, just ten minutes won't hurt anyone.'

Bile rose up in your throat at his touch, how it sent an uncomfortable chill through you despite the heat inside the Pit. But you were Serena Vanderguff, and this was not your first rodeo.

You gracefully yet pointedly slapped his hand away from you, laughing boisterously like you hadn't purposefully done that. 'Oh, you boys have such a wild sense of humour. But be honest... you couldn't afford ten minutes of this.'

You swayed your hips as you walked away, knowing full well they were staring after you. Wolf whistles followed your movements but none of them came after you thankfully, no doubt because they set their sights on some other poor victims.

You approached the bar and placed your tray on it, leaning on it with a sigh.

'Tell me about it,' a velvety voice said. The voice belonged to a gorgeous woman with charcoal skin, chocolate eyes, and multicoloured braids who was wiping glasses before putting them back behind the bar to use for another round of drinks. 'But I'm sad to say, but the night is still young.'

'You got that right, Ajani,' you murmured, rubbing around your eyes to avoid messing up your eye makeup. It was a little bright and bold for your taste, but it didn't matter what you liked.

It hadn't mattered for a while now.

'Hey,' Ajani said, grabbing your attention. 'Madame was looking for you in her office.'

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'For me? What for?'

Ajani shrugged, throwing the hand towel she'd been using over her shoulder. 'She didn't say what exactly, just that she wanted to see you now. Don't worry, I'll get Becky to cover for ten.'

You nodded, then cautiously turned over my shoulder to the door to the side of the stage that read OFFICE. It wasn't unusual for you to be called in to her office as of late. It was exactly what you wanted. But it didn't mean you weren't any less terrified whenever you entered, the endless possibilities of why you were in there driving you crazy.

The door opened to reveal Madame Lacroix sitting at her desk, a drink in hand, and two other men sitting in the two chairs on the other side of it. Two men, you were terrified to notice, you recognised as managers of your previous workplaces: Alfred Royalton of the Charming Times brothel, and Melton Jones from Guilty Pleasure. Their quiet murmurings silenced as soon as you came into view, their piercing gazes freezing you in the doorway.

'You wanted to see me, Madame?' you said as perkily as you could, hoping to cover your fear up slightly.

Madame Lacroix's red lips split in an award-winning smile as she waved you inside with her free hand. 'Yes, Serena. I was! How lovely of you to join us. Come in, come in!'

You quickly scurried in and closed the door behind you, happy to find reprieve in the much quieter room compared to the Pit. But that reprieve didn't last long, as you met your old bosses' curious gazes.

'You remember Alfred and Melton, Serena?' Madame Lacroix prompted after an awkward moment of silence.

'Yes,' you answered. 'It's great to see you both. You're looking well.'

'And so are you, dear Serena,' Alfred said, walking over and embracing you in an awkward hug as he tried to not spill his drink. As an older gentlemen, he seemed more like a fatherly figure to the girls in his employment. But from what you knew about the business he and the others in the room were involved in, he came off as a creepy pedophile. 'I'm so glad to see Madame Lacroix treating you so well. You know you are always welcome back at the old haunt.'

'If she's going back to anyone, it's me,' Melton said, the certainty in his words matching the intensity of his eyes. They raked you up and down, and again you repressed a shiver from the disgusting feeling it gave you to be watched like a piece of meat. Melton Jones couldn't be older than thirty-five, and was the son of one of the biggest CEO's in Eco-energy products and research.

You could only imagine what his big-time mother would think if she knew what her son was really into.

'Tough luck, boys. She's mine now,' Madame Lacroix interrupted the fight, getting up from her seat to walk around her desk and sling an arm around your shoulders. 'But why don't we get into what we really want to talk about? Have a seat, my dear.'

You didn't have much of a choice as Madame Lacroix guided you to sit in her own desk chair before joining the men on the other side. They all looked at you expectantly, but their smiles were more alarming than reassuring.

'Um... what did you want to see me for, Madame?' you asked after a moment of silence.

Madame didn't respond right away, placing her glass of wine down first on the desk. 'You are a special girl, Serena. Very special indeed.'

You raised a quizzical brow. 'How so?'

'You've impressed us,' Alfred answered, looking around at his peers. 'Your ability to keep secrets and do things without being asked has attributed to this. It's one of the reasons we've had to share you around so much and in such little time. If I had any say, you would've never left Charming Times!'

'You've done our stocktake,' Melton continued, those snake eyes of his never leaving yours. 'Kept certain... shipments under wraps. Picked up exclusive clientele that has done wonders for our business. You're like our own little personal lucky charm.'

You recounted all the times you'd hidden the secret load of drugs that were snuck into customer's drinks and food to get them so delirious they didn't realise how much money they were spending. All the times you sat in on meetings with the managers about who to target the next night, and all the shady receipts of shipments with unknown contents in them you hadn't be told about yet.

All the the illegal and dangerous deals that you'd told your Organised Crime unit about behind your managers' backs.

'That is why we would like to reward you, my dear,' Madame Lacroix said, a smile you figured to be proud gracing her lips. 'And we're not the only ones who think so too. We think you're ready to learn our... business, and so does the Boss.'

'The Boss?' you asked tentatively, not bothering to mask your slight fear. Was this the seller? Was this the guy you'd been trying to take down for almost a year now?

'Oh don't look so terrified, honey,' Madame Lacroix doted, walking around the desk to pat at your head. She leaned in close to you, and you restrained from gagging at the smell of too much wine tainting her breath. 'The Boss is impressed by your work and commitment to the trade. So much so, he wants to meet you. Soon.'

The men looked at you expectantly, and that's when you realised how you should be reacting. 'R-Really?' you mustered out an excited response, widening your eyes to appear more innocent. 'The Boss wants to see me?'

'Yes, Serena,' Alfred said. 'All the arrangements will be made when you meet, but soon you'll be seeing him a lot.'

'Arrangements?'

Melton surprisingly was the one to answer you. 'Each establishment in the Business, as we like to call it, has their hierarchy. The Boss is above us all, and he helps keep our establishments running smoothly. From there, it goes us, then our employees. That's you right now, Serena. But there is a status in between us and the employees that is trusted more than the others, kind of like our right hand woman.'

'And that woman acts as our mediator between us and the Boss,' Madame Lacroix continued, still stroking your hair. 'Kind of like a peace offering for how generous and kind he is to us.'

'What has this got to do with me?' you asked, but you already knew what the answer would be.

Madame Lacroix let out a dramatic sigh as she stood to make her way around the desk again, rejoining the men. 'Well, our mediator at the Chateau was Roxy, but, well, you know what happened to her. So what I'm offering is a chance to become the next Roxy, Serena. Be my most trusted employee, to learn the Business, and to appease the Boss- I mean, thank him.'

She stopped mid-walk to turn and look you dead in the eye, and despite her drunken breath, you saw clarity and evil flash in those emerald eyes of hers.

'So, what do you say, Serena? Do you want to be one of us?'

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Two

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Two Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4514 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Eleven months.

Eleven months you had been Serena Vanguff: Brooklyn born and raised, with a dream to live life to the fullest. You'd built and sold your sob story of growing up with your single-parent mother and her single job income to six different clubs and brothels in those eleven months. You'd built up trust, inserted yourself into the upper ranks of each establishment. It had taken patience, precision, and a lot of self-discipline.

And Dr. Spencer Reid of all people was about to ruin all of that.

You hadn't registered the voice until it was too late. From the door of the loading bay, you could only make out your fake name being called, not who was calling. You'd been in the bay by yourself for most of the morning, the voice startled you so much you hit your toe on one of the boxes of spirits. But even bent over, eyes focused on your injury, you'd heard him as he rounded the corner, heard his voice, and there was no mistaking it.

'Are you okay,' he said, and you heard him rush over to help, but you held up a hand in the hopes to create some distance between you two.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, doll,' you replied hastily, shakily. 'Just hit my toe, is all.'

'Well, here, let me get you some ice-'

'That's not necessary, hun. Really.' God, he was persistent as usual.

'Well, at least let me have a look at it. You might've gotten a splinter in it or-'

'Stop.'

You couldn't help it, your voice just slipped out. The voice you worked so hard to hide everyday. The voice you only let out in whispers or in the shower of your apartment to remind yourself you were still you. With him, it came out naturally, like it had never been hidden away.

He listened, but you knew it wasn't out of politeness. Spencer Reid had an IQ of 187 with an eidetic memory - he knew straight away. And when he slowly raised his head to look at you, you saw what he saw: a ghost.

'Y/N?'

You hadn't heard that name - your name - in months. The higher ups you reported to once a week didn't even use your name in case someone was listening in. You weren't prepared for the first person to call you by your true name after all this time to be the person you held most dear.

And the person you'd left behind without a word.

His voice was so soft; you'd always loved how he said your name. Like you were something to be revered and cared for. But realisation slapped you hard, and so you grabbed his head and pushed it down to make it look like he was looking at your injured toe. You also did it to avoid his shocked, pained gaze.

'Oh! You know, it actually does hurt a little, yeah. You're such a gentleman,' you said obnoxiously loud, holding his head steady as you bent slightly over, hair brushing his cheeks. Then, in a low voice you said, 'My name is Serena. I don't know you, and you don't know me. Make sure the cameras see that, okay?'

He nodded ever so slightly and you took his hand off his head. He slowly stood up, those amber eyes immediately locking onto yours. You followed him as he did, until you were craning your neck slightly upwards in a manner that pained you where it once was second nature. His gaze burned with so many unspoken things, but now that the shock had subsided, all you saw was hurt.

To his credit, he didn't express it verbally. Instead, he smiled a tight-lipped smile, slipping easily into his polite, greeting mode. 'Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit,' he said, introducing himself like he would to any other person.

Even though you hadn't been expecting him or the rest of the team to be called in, it didn't take you long to realise what he would be doing here. 'Madame Lacroix said the feds would be coming around sometime,' you said, making sure you sounded both indifferent and concerned at the same time. 'Poor Roxy. She didn't deserve that.'

You held Spencer's gaze for what felt like an eternity, silently pleading with him to go along with what you were offering. You willed for him to see that you had many unspoken things to talk about with him, too. But now was not the place nor the time.

He watched you for a moment longer, his inner turmoil visible in his clenching jaw, his fidgety fingers. It warmed your heart when he tucked a loose curl behind his ear. His hair was longer. You'd always liked it that way. The last time you saw him, it was close-cropped.

Had it really been that long already?

Spencer seemed to silently agree with your logic, coughing to clear his throat before diving in with the questioning you both were more familiar with than your home addresses. 'How long have you been working at the Chateau, Miss...'

You plastered on a big smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. 'Vanderguff, but you can just call me Serena, doll. No titles except for Madame Lacroix 'round here. And about three months now.'

'Okay, Serena. Were you two close?' he asked. 'You and Roxy?'

You shrugged nonchalantly. 'Sure, we all are here. But I guess you could say there was a small group of us in particular that looked out for each other. You know, like sisters of sorts.'

'We spoke with Madame Lacroix just before,' Spencer said. 'She said Roxy and her group didn't usually let people in until they'd earned their keep. But you just... slipped right into the group?'

You didn't like how pointed his question was. It was passive aggressive, like he was having a dig at you personally and not your alter ego. You crossed your arms over your barely covered chest, your face pinching in an offended manner. 'What can I say? I'm a charmer.'

'Were you popular at your old establishment, too? The Guilty Pleasure?'

'Look here, doctor,' you said, daring to take a step forward, appearing to get up in his face out of annoyance. When really, you just needed to look him in the eye when you said, 'Instead of asking about me, maybe you should be asking about Roxy and what she was into that might've gotten her killed.' You surprised yourself when tears sprung to your eyes, the memory of finding that poor girl all bloodied and mutilated flashing forward.

You redirected your gaze to the bay doors, giving a subtle nod in their direction. 'Found her just lying outside in a pool of her own blood. I had the midnight shift so I finished at around two in the morning, but I'd forgotten my phone in my dressing room so I circled back around to collect it. But when I did... there was Roxy.'

Spencer followed your gaze, his expression softening as he took in the scene. CSU had finished up just before Spencer got there, leaving behind nothing but a dark stain where Roxy had bled out. You tried not to think about her cold, lifeless body now laying under a sheet on the M.E.'s slab in the morgue.

You were broken from that thought when Spencer turned back to face you. 'Did you see anything or anyone when you found her? Anything out of the ordinary?' he asked outwardly. But you heard his silent request: profile the unsub.

You shook your head, face falling serious as you fell back into old habits. 'I didn't see anyone, but her body was still warm when I checked for a pulse so the sicko who killed her must've just fled before I got there.'

'Or could've been waiting somewhere nearby to make sure the job was done,' Spencer added, concern morphing his handsome features. Concern, you realised, for you. 'What did you do after that?'

You'd wanted to notify your superiors straight away on your secret phone you only used to receive texts from your unit, never to. But you'd come to the same conclusion as Spencer and decided you'd have to wait for a safer time to contact them.

'I waited for a bit,' you answered, putting on a frightened front as you pouted and hugged yourself a little. 'Mainly because I was so shocked to see her just lying there. I mean, I hadn't seen her in like a day, but I just assumed she took a rest day to go shopping or something. Then I pulled it together and ran inside to notify Madame Lacroix. She was in the middle of a business meeting when I told her. She called it in immediately.'

'You did the smart thing, Serena,' Spencer said gently, offering a small smile out of comfort.

You nodded your gratitude. 'You know, people don't think much about prostitution. That those who sell their bodies don't love or respect themselves enough to get a corporate job like everybody else. But it takes a different kind of smarts to do what we do. Especially if its something we had no choice but to do.'

'Was that the case with Roxy?' he asked carefully, his words soft-spoken but full of double meaning. His eyes locked with your eyes now, amber upon (E/C). 'Is that your case, Serena?'

You nodded, too afraid to speak in case you cracked. Eleven months of hard work would not go down the drain because of your silly little feelings for the wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid.

You swallowed the lump in your throat because, you reminded yourself, you didn't know this man. 'You don't get to choose the cards you're dealt, doctor. Not in my line of work, anyways.'

'Had Roxy been acting off lately?' Spencer asked. 'Was she more anxious, more jumpy than usual? Did she think someone was following her?'

'I couldn't really tell ya. Like I said, didn't see her from the night before last until early this morning when I found her,' you answered. 'But that wasn't really unusual for her.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'How so?'

'She took days off every second or third week - she was more a workaholic than the rest of us so she didn't have a designated rest day.'

'Do you know what she did on these days off?'

You shook your head. 'Could've been anything really. Shopping, spa day. Even figured she might've been visiting a secret boyfriend or something because she once came home with dark hickeys on her neck. But we're quite close as it is thanks to our line of work. It don't seem wrong to want a little privacy, so I never asked her about it.'

'Reid? You in here?'

The lump in your throat returned at the sound of Derek's voice, mainly at how close it sounded. You couldn't run away, so you steeled yourself as Serena Vanderguff ready to face the glorious figure that was SSA Derek Morgan as he rounded the stacks.

'There you are,' he said, walking up behind Spencer. 'I just finished with Madame Lacroix. How is Serena-'

That's when his eyes fell on you, and he pulled that same shocked expression Spencer had before. His mouth gaped as he looked over you. You couldn't tell if he was surprised by your appearance, or that he could hardly recognise you. Some days even you found it hard to find the true you underneath all the makeup and big hair.

Derek's gaze finally landed on your face, shaking his head in slight disbelief. 'Holy-'

'Thank you so much for your time, Serena,' Spencer intervened thankfully, flashing you a smile that resembled more of a grimace, and grabbed Derek's shirt to pull him back. 'You've been really helpful. We'll be in touch.'

Just for the cameras, you plastered on a Cheshire smile and gave them both a flirty wave goodbye. 'I'm looking forward to your call, doctor. But may I suggest that you keep asking the people upstairs, if you get my drift. They're the ones with answers.'

Derek was still too stunned to respond let alone speak, but Spencer held your gaze with an understanding that told you he knew what you really meant. So he just nodded and said. 'We'll keep that in mind... Serena.'

And just like that, they were gone. Spencer was gone. Again. You sucked in deep breaths the moment you heard the door open and they left, using the stacks to steady your exhausted body. You had not anticipated all that happening today, that was for sure.

The door opened again. You pushed yourself upright and steadied your breathing back to normal just as Madame Lacroix came to stand in front of you. Her billowy, silk sleeves slid down to her elbows as she crossed her arms over her chest, her frown giving away her displeasure.

'Did you speak with the agents?' she asked in a low voice. You nodded, prompting her to say, 'What did you tell them?'

'Exactly what you told me to say,' you said calmly, almost robotically.

Her frown lifted at your words, and she stepped closer to cup your cheeks gently with her hands. 'That's my girl,' she said, tapping your cheeks lightly before stepping away and walking back over to the door to the Pit. She paused at the door, green eyes piercing you even from so far away. 'Don't take too much longer, Serena. We've got real business to attend to, still.'

You nodded and she left, and you were once again left alone to ponder your situation. You were getting so close, but now your old team was involved. If you didn't expose these guys soon, your team would expose you.

And then you'd all end up dead.

~~~

'...may I suggest that you keep asking the people upstairs, if you get my drift. They're the ones with answers.'

'Reid... Reid... Hey, wait!'

Spencer stormed from the elevator, through the New York FBI office and into the conference room that had been set up as the BAU's personal office temporarily. There he found Hotch talking with Rossi and another man Spencer didn't recognise. But he didn't care who the heck he was, not as walked right up to them and said, 'Y/N L/N.'

The three men looked up at him, halting whatever they'd been discussing to give him incredulous looks. All except for the mystery new man.

'I'm sorry?' Hotch asked.

'You said she got a new job,' Spencer said lowly, almost growled out. 'That it was an offer she couldn't refuse. Now I understand what you meant by that.'

'What's going on?' JJ asked, walking through the door with Kate in tow. Derek closed the door behind them and went to close the blinds to the bullpen outside.

'I don't know,' Rossi answered, sitting up in his seat further. 'Reid, what are you talking about?'

'Y/N!' Spencer cried, curling his fists by his side so he didn't slam the table or break something, namely his hand. 'You made it out like she was happy, but she was forced to leave!'

Hotch's confusion quickly faded as guilt replaced it. 'That is classified information, Reid,' he said in a quiet voice very unlike the stoic and stern SSA Aaron Hotchner. 'How do you know that?'

'Because she told me herself,' Spencer said, leaning over the table that separated him and his boss. 'Does the name Serena Vanderguff ring a bell?'

It was the most emotions Spencer had ever seen his boss take on in such a small time, because his guilt turned into shock realisation as he turned to the mystery man on the other side of Rossi. 'Why didn't you tell me this was your case already, Steve?'

Steve. Spencer mentally ran through all the unit chiefs in the FBI and only one man came up with that name.

'Steven Holt, Unit Chief of Organised Crime,' Spencer said, eyes flicking to him as recognition dawned on him. 'You were Y/N's old unit chief before she transferred to us.'

Holt let out a sigh that said he knew he'd been caught. 'That's right. Y/N went on a lot of undercover missions for me back before she joined the BAU. She was the best of the best. I came down to inform you of the situation, Hotch...' Holt's gaze flickered to Spencer briefly before returning to hi boss, '...but seems as though you've beaten me to it.'

'I hate to admit that maybe my age is showing,' Rossi started, 'but I'm not following. What has Y/N got to do with any of this?'

'And this isn't old age,' Kate added, 'but I also am not following. Who is Y/N?'

Spencer's gaze flickered to Hotch, who seemed to be having an inner battle about what to do. He looked up at Holt for moment, and Holt nodded.

Hotch nodded back and stood from his seat to address the room properly. 'Eleven months ago, I was contacted by Unit Chief Holt about a potential underground trafficking network that dealt in young girls and women in the prostitute industry. Holt needed a profiler on the team to go undercover and find out who was in charge, then gain their trust, become part of their gang, and report back to the unit.' Hotch turned his attention solely on Holt. 'It wasn't my decision, but the Head Chief specifically requested L/N join the task force for this mission, as she has plenty of experience and success in undercover scenarios. I haven't been privy to anymore details than that, I'm sorry to say, since L/N is technically no longer part of the BAU. I trusted Holt would update us if anything had happened to her.'

'So she didn't leave us?' came Penelope's soft, hopeful voice. Spencer wasn't sure when she'd been phoned in - just now, or maybe before he'd even entered the room - but that meant everyone was there. Everyone was about to hear the truth.

'Not by choice, no,' Hotch said regrettably. Spencer saw and heard his shame, but he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for his boss right now. Not when he'd lied to for eleven months about the one person Spencer thought would always be there with him.

'I can take it from here, Hotch,' Holt said, also standing to address the room. 'L/N was the best of the best when we first worked together, and these past eleven months have only proven that she still is. She has found proof that girls from each of the establishments she's infiltrated never existed before they were hired at their respective establishments, which for some of them dates back into their mid-to-late teens.'

'Let me guess,' Derek said, 'all four of our victims are some of those girls.'

Holt nodded grimly. 'We believe these girls were just the beginning of an intricate trafficking system where young girls are picked out from low risk communities when they're impressionable, then groomed in the formative years of their lives by their owners before they're given new identities and hired at their owner's establishment. Agent L/N has been hopping from one establishment to the next trying to get a better idea of who these people are that are running it. The managers of each establishment are buyers, but there is a big seller that they're paying that is still unknown. Agent L/N's mission, now that we have a better idea of the linkage between each manager, is to work her way through the upper ranks of the Chateau to find out who that seller is so we can shut down the operation for good.'

He spared a quick glance at Hotch. 'In fact, we think these killings are being caused by the same person. That's why we brought you and your team in, Aaron. The pressure of Federal involvement could cause them to slip up, and we'll be ready to catch them in handcuffs when they do.'

'But we've profiled the unsub as a sadistic, calculative narcissist,' Spencer argued, anger rising in him once more. 'Have you seen what he does to his victims? What if they find out about Y/N? Will she be the next dead body we examine? You have to pull her out of there now!'

'Spence, calm down,' JJ said, but Spencer just brushed her off.

'No, I won't!' he said, voice cracking with annoyance and frustration. 'Because it seems to me like I'm the only one who actually cares about her still. Like you all just forgot about her as if she never existed.'

'Trust me, Reid,' Hotch said gently. 'No one has forgotten about her. But right now she is still our best chance at bringing this whole operation down and bringing these girls' killer to justice. She knew the risks involved, and she's lasted this long. Have some faith in her, Reid.'

'Aren't you forgetting that she was forced into this damn operation?' Spencer spat back. 'She's risking her life because some higher ups were too coward to do the job themselves.'

'Reid, walk with me,' Rossi said, not giving Spencer a chance to reject the instruction as he walked around the table and grabbed his arm so forcefully it almost popped right out of its socket.

They walked to the break room, but Spencer barely registered any of it. His anger was a buzzing white noise in his brain, stopping rational and logical thoughts from computing with his mouth. His heart had a stronger hold on that, it seemed.

'Sit,' Rossi instructed Spencer, pulling out a seat for him to do so. Spencer silently complied while Rossi started to make two coffees at the kitchenette bench.

'...it takes a different kind of smarts to do what we do. Especially if its something we had no choice but to do.'

For eleven months he'd thought you'd left them, left him. Eleven months, anger and grief for the loss of his closest confidant had festered into an ugly, mad creature that's only reason for living was to be angry at you. But you and Spencer had always been good at reading each other, even when your words told a different story entirely. You were someone else now, almost to the point he almost hadn't recognised you underneath all the glitz and glam. But he'd looked into your eyes and he had seen you, your fear, your guilt, your apology.

You hadn't wanted to leave him. And it was that one thought that fuelled his anger at Hotch, at Unit Chief Steven Holt of Organised Crime for all the lies and deceit.

'One cup of sugar with a dash of coffee,' Rossi announced as he placed Spencer's drink on the table he sat at, then pulled up a chair for himself, his own coffee in hand. 'Just how you like it.'

It was then Spencer realised how exhausted he was. Between the early flight, the long car rides, and then seeing you, his body was screaming for a reprieve. However, he couldn't even bring himself to pick up the sweet concoction no matter how much he craved it.

'Eleven months,' Spencer eventually said, his voice meek and quiet compared to the rage it spat out minutes before.

'I know,' Rossi said glumly. 'I can't quite believe it myself. All this time... and she's just been here?'

'I just-' Spencer caught himself, feeling his voice crack at the threat of hot, frustrated tears burning at the back of his eyes. 'Surely they could've let her say goodbye. Or let her contact us from time to time. This isn't like when Emily faked her death and we all believed her gone.'

'You know they couldn't risk it,' Rossi countered. 'This is how undercover operations work, Reid. If she tried contacting us at any point, it could've been her on the M.E.'s slab alongside those girls.'

'Maybe they should've faked her death like Emily,' Spencer muttered, but more to himself than to Rossi. 'Maybe it would've been easier to think she wasn't out there somewhere and just choosing to ignore us.'

'You don't mean that, kid.' Rossi paused for a moment to think about what he would say next. Spencer appreciated that about Rossi, how he always spoke with thought and meaning behind his words. 'Look, I don't like being lied to either, but you and I both know the team couldn't have gone through another cover up like Emily's. Use that logical brain of yours and tell me I'm wrong.'

Spencer tried reaching for an argument, but even he couldn't grasp onto anything even remotely logical to argue with. So he remained silent, prompting Rossi to continue his lecture.

'I understand you and Y/N have something special,' he said gently. 'And I get why you're so upset. But Y/N is an incredible agent who has survived this long before we came into the picture, both before joining the BAU and now. We pull her out now, they will kill her; or we alert them that they have a mole in their network and they go underground and we never catch them. The best we can do to help Y/N right now is to keep playing along. We treat this like any other case, and the quicker we do that, the quicker we can get Y/N back. All right?'

Spencer remained silent for a moment, running Rossi's words over and over again in his head on a loop. Somewhere in there was an image of Maeve, and a sudden wave of sadness hit him. He couldn't go through that again, never again.

He clenched his hands into fists in his lap. It won't. I won't let it.

He forced his gaze to match Rossi's and he silently nodded. Rossi nodded in return, lips upturning slightly. 'All right then,' he said, and pushed Spencer's coffee closer to him. 'Now, drink. We're going to need you at your best if we want to solve this case and bring Y/N home.'

Home.

Amidst his dark thoughts, he found a sliver of warmth in that one word, and what it insinuated. That you belonged with them, you always had.

He took a sip of his drink and was pleasantly surprised at how it tasted exactly how he liked it. The surprise must've extended to his face, as Rossi chuckled and clinked his coffee with his. 'Don't act so surprised. I'm a profiler after all - it's my job to observe behaviours and habits. And you, my nerdy friend, have an exceptionally unhealthy dependency on sugar.'

'Actually, pasta has a higher percentage of causing heart problems in middle-aged to elderly men than sugar because of the amount of carbs on top of sugar is in it,' Spencer stated, taking a sip of his coffee without breaking eye contact with Rossi.

Rossi narrowed his eyes on Spencer. 'Comment on my age and love for pasta again and see what happens.'

And for the first time that day, Spencer smiled.

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Four

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Four Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5598 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

'So, what do you say, Serena? Do you want to be one of us?'

Madame Lacroix's words looped through your brain as you walked as fast as possible back to the third shitty flat you'd been set up in by your undercover team. You attempted to keep your pace steady but not panicked, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

The invisible gaze had weighed on you since you'd left the Chateau, since you'd left the meeting. But this new information couldn't wait.

You unlocked the rusty gate to the apartment building, and flew past the bags of garbage that piled up at the doorstep without a single crinkle of your nose - you'd been desensitised to New York's poor pollution a while back. Swift feet carried you up two flights of stairs to your apartment door, where you scrambled for the key to open it.

The moment you stepped over the threshold you finally let the mask of Serena Vanderguff down. Your shoulders sagged as your brain finally recognised the pain in your feet from the six-inch heels you'd been wearing all evening. Despite that, you scrambled to push the heels off, not bothering to place them neatly by the door with the other pairs, and ran for your computer. It was hidden in a false back behind the kitchen sink. Most people would look for a computer in the bedroom or the lounge room, so you'd made the modification in every apartment yourself in case you were broken into by some amateur thieves in the neighbourhood.

You pulled the false back away to reveal the small device and grabbed it out, placing it on the kitchen bench and turning it on. You quickly pulled up the chat room you'd been using to communicate with Holt the whole operation.

You typed a quick message: Face to Home Please.

Not even a minute went by and a reply came: Welcome Home.

A window popped open on your screen with an image of the FBI sigil. You picked up the computer and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You quickly checked your windows. The moon was on the other side of it's peak; New York was the city that never slept, but it had it's low points, and the precious hours between midnight and sunrise were the perfect time to commit all kinds of crime and other unspeakable things.

You pulled the blinds down once you cleared the street, and sat on your bed as the screen changed from the sigil to the image of a room with a long table and a board in the background. That was odd. It wasn't the usual dark room with just Holt and a headset. Instead, Holt sat in a chair closest to the screen, files spread out in front of him.

But he wasn't the only one in the room.

'L/N, you're on,' he said, but instead of speaking the new information you'd just learned and moving on like you always did, your throat closed up at the sight of familiar faces now swarming the camera.

'Y/N...' JJ breathed out as she took a seat opposite Holt. A beautiful brunette sat beside her that you didn't recognise, only emphasising the missing presence of a certain Alex Blake. It saddened you to think she'd moved on since you'd left - you never even got to say goodbye. But you could've cried at the sight of Hotch and Rossi walking closer to the table with the others. You found Derek leaning on the end of the table beside Spencer, who seemed frozen by the board as he looked at you with everyone else.

This time, you were the one to look at him - at all of them - with shock and surprise, not expecting to see any of them so soon after your initial questioning. Tears stung your eyes, but you remembered you were still wearing makeup and kept them from welling over.

You couldn't help yourself, you raised your hand in a half wave motion, your voice returning. 'Hi,' you said, that one word coming out breathless because the weight that one word carried was almost too much to accept. You hadn't been allowed to be yourself outside your apartment and beyond the one minute conversations you had with Holt once a week.

You had imagined your return to the BAU a hundred times over; you had your explanation ready, your apologies on the tip of your tongue. But now, with the opportunity at your feet, you could barely form a cohesive sentence.

Hotch put you out of your misery, a small smile gracing his stoic features. 'Good to see you, L/N.'

'I second that,' Rossi added, giving a little wave and a smirk back to you. 'Nice hair, by the way.'

You couldn't stop the smile that pulled your lips wide, and it suddenly felt like you were back in the BAU round table room. Like you'd never left.

'Thanks,' you managed out, reaching up to touch the mess of H/C hair on top of your head. 'Not really my style, but then again, I'm not really me right now, so...'

You hadn't meant to bring the mood down, but eleven months was a long time pretending to be someone else. You were starting to forget how you liked your coffee and your style and your way of walking down the street. Just little things, but they added up, and you felt the weight of all the little things you were losing on your shoulders and back everyday.

Your eyes sought out Spencer, half expecting him to look sad or sympathetic like the others. However, what you found was a steeled expression of determination and anger on his handsome features. Not at you (even though he never took his eyes off you), but at the situation you had been put in, you realised.

So he did get my message. That one thought brought a sense of relief to you.

'You had something, L/N.' Holt said it more as a prompt than a question. He knew you wouldn't call up off schedule without a reason, and he didn't want to waste any more time than you already had.

'Yes,' you answered, shoving down your tears, shoving down your delight at seeing your friends, and fell into your other persona: analytical, emotionless undercover operative. 'We were right. There is a big seller that hangs above all the managers heads. They just told me tonight that they have been impressed with my work and so has he. They asked me to join the upper ranks of their scheme.'

'Your work?' Hotch asked.

Holt turned over his shoulder to address everyone. 'L/N has wormed her way into the top spots of each establishment to see where the girls have been coming from, but we've also found out that these places deal in a lot more than just human trafficking. Illicit drugs, money fraud, you name it. These places are screwed a hundred times over when we nail them.'

'So why not make an arrest now, then?' Spencer asked from the back. 'You have enough evidence to do so.'

'Yes, but not on the man that we really want,' Holt replied. 'We make an arrest now, we potentially scare off the seller for good. Girls will keep disappearing, and the killings continue.'

'We figured out that sooner or later, if I offered myself to do the dirty jobs and keep it all quiet, they would learn to trust me,' you explained. 'But I couldn't just do it at one place, I had to do it at as many places as I could to garner trust from multiple witnesses so that their boss would take their recommendation and bring me in himself.'

'And now he has,' Holt added. 'What exactly did they offer you?'

'Each establishment has a spokes girl, for lack of a better word,' you explained, recalling Madame Lacroix's own explanation to you about the Business. 'Roxy was the Chateau's, and these spokes girls would be called in at any time to... appease the seller. It was a sign of good will and thanks from the managers to the man that brings in their workers. I bet anything that that's where Roxy would go on her odd days off, and why she would come back looking like she did.'

'She was his personal play thing...' the brunette said, her tone indicating her disgust to the subject. Her eyes flashed with realisation as she looked directly at you. 'The other girls that were killed, were they also spokes girls from their establishments?'

You weren't surprised that she'd made the link. You didn't know her, but if she was on the team, she must be a good profiler and filled in the gaps.

You nodded. 'All of them. My guess is he wasn't happy with the service he was getting from those girls...'

'Or he could be sending a message to the managers themselves,' JJ finished.

'Maybe it's both,' Rossi offered. 'Maybe he isn't happy with what the managers have turned the girls into since he sold them and this is his way of telling them to pull it together or else.'

'But why twelve stab wounds?' Hotch asked. 'We've profiled this unsub as someone who is calculative and calm. He wouldn't leave those marks without a reason.'

'We've suspected that there may be more than the six establishments that L/N has infiltrated so far,' Holt offered. 'The first kill wasn't planned, based on the jagged and messy stab wounds on her body and the time between the first and second kill. His message wasn't received so he started killing with purpose, making sure that everyone who knew those girls knew who killed them.'

'So you think there are twelve other establishments he runs?' Derek asked. 'And that's who he's trying to warn?'

Holt nodded. 'We've got a list of potential places, but nothing solid like the first six. We figured if we found the guy behind it all, we could shut down everything at once.'

'Well, we think we've found out how these girls are being found,' Hotch said. 'We've been visiting homeless shelters and unofficial orphanages in the quieter, low-risk suburbs where if someone went missing, people wouldn't bother looking for them, not even police. We managed to figure out where the victims and some other missing girls came from including Roxy and her real name.'

'Missy Wright,' JJ added. 'That was her name before she was taken.'

Missy. It didn't sound right; you couldn't imagine that name upon a girl like Roxy. Thinking about it, though, that made sense. Just like you, she'd spent so much time believing she was someone else that her true self was someone completely unrecognisable.

You hated to think that Y/N L/N would be gone for good if you stayed as Serena Vanderguff much longer.

'Garcia is trying to match some more missing girls with the girls in the clubs,' the brunette explained. 'She's also looking into security footage from the aquarium Missy was taken from to see how our unsub did it. Although, whoever this guy is had probably been nabbing girls way before he found Missy, so she might find nothing if he was smart.'

Holt turned back to you. 'We'll keep looking into the girls past, L/N. What else did they tell you about these spokes girls?'

You heard the urgency in his tone. You needed to wrap up in case someone was listening.

'Not much. Just that, after I said yes, they would be in contact with me about having a first meeting.'

'Wait. You said yes?' The question came from Spencer, and you turned down the volume on your computer at how loud he was. He walked down the side of the table until the the bags under this eyes were visible on your small screen. 'Why would you do that?'

You didn't appreciate the tone he spoke with, like he couldn't believe what he heard. As if you'd made a dumb decision.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you narrowed your gaze on Spencer. 'Because this is what we've been working for this whole time. Once I'm in and amongst the dealings, I can gather enough evidence and we can shut this whole operation down for good.'

'You're assuming you won't get caught,' Spencer argued, hands splayed on the table now. 'You have seen what he's done to the girls who haven't given him what he wants, right?'

'I have, which is why I said yes, Spencer.' You never thought the next time you would say his name it would be out of frustration towards him. But it sounded like he didn't trust you. After all the crap you had both been dragged through, you would've thought he of all people would've had your back.

But beneath the anger, you saw his hurt. You saw him sitting at his desk that Monday morning just waiting for you to walk through the doors and maybe ask you out again, not even realising you'd already left. You saw the walls he had rebuilt after you'd worked so hard to pull them down after Maeve's death. The sad irony of it all was that those walls were because of you this time.

So you reigned in your annoyance and said in a steady, calm tone, 'I didn't stop him in time to save Roxy and the others. But there are hundreds of girls that could be next. I won't let him take another girls' life away twice.'

It was silent for a moment, but the moment dragged as you held eye contact with Spencer. You saw his internal battle through the somewhat blurry image of him, and you hoped he saw your own. It sickened you to think about what you were walking into, but you were not going to let another innocent girl be killed because of an impotent, psychopath who got off on overpowering women.

The moment ended when Spencer pushed himself up from the table and stepped away, dropping his gaze from yours for the first time since you'd appeared on screen. It saddened you to think what was going through his head, because you knew that he was blaming himself for your situation. But you were relieved that he dropped the matter for now, at least.

'All right, L/N,' Holt started, standing from his seat. 'That all?'

You dragged your gaze from Spencer back to your unit chief. 'Yes, sir.'

He nodded in approval. 'Okay then. Keep us up to date about this meeting. We'll be in touch.'

'Yes sir,' you said, but instead of signing off straight away, you allowed yourself a few seconds to look at all your friends and give them another wave and small smile. 'I'll see you guys around, then.'

'You got it, kiddo,' Rossi said, waving back.

'See you soon, L/N,' Hotch said.

You spared one last glance at Spencer, whose head had risen again so he could look at you. Determination, once more, steeled his handsome features, giving you hope that he wasn't completely mad at you.

It took all your strength to look away from him and press the button to end the call. One second you were staring at your friends, and the next you were staring at a black screen. You closed the video window and chat group and shut down your laptop.

You finally rubbed at your eyes, not caring if you smudged the makeup anymore. You were about to go take it off anyways before going to bed. It had been a long day, and knowing that you would only get a few hours sleep before the sun rose and you were expected back in at the Chateau for more dirty business, you rose, returned the laptop to its hiding place, and grabbed some takeaway Thai from the fridge.

You would eat, then shower, then go to bed, as you always did day-in and day-out.

Soon enough, you thought as you laid in bed that night, allowing exhaustion to lull you into a dreamless sleep. Soon enough, I won't have to do this anymore. Soon enough, I can go back home.

~~~

Spencer was on the precipice of exploding with so many emotions as you ended the call.

Frustration, hurt, hysteria, confusion. Some of it, he hated to admit, was aimed at you. Only because he wanted you safe, he convinced himself, but the offended look on your face when he'd told you to back down told him that you didn't see it that way.

He couldn't help it though, trying to micro-manage. Change wasn't something he liked. While he easily adapted to any situation he was placed in, that ease didn't always coincide with agreement with Dr. Spencer Reid. You leaving was a big change for him, and since then he'd grown more anxious to be in control of every aspect of his life, including the choices of the people around him.

'...there are hundreds of girls that could be next. I won't let him take another girls' life away twice.'

He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, brushed away the loose curls drooping into them. He knew why you were doing all of this, why you were risking your life. Your selflessness was one of the many things he adored and admired about you.

The small, selfish gremlin inside of him sometimes, however, wished you weren't so selfless. Especially now.

'I definitely wasn't expecting that hair,' Rossi said, breaking the silence that had filled the room since you ended the call. 'I haven't seen that style since my grandmother died.'

'Well, it seems to have paid off finally,' Holt said, standing from his seat. 'She's in, which means we're only one step away from finding who this creep is that's kidnapping children and then brainwashing them into being prostitutes for his own personal gain.'

'Don't forget that he kills them, too,' JJ added, a worried look shining in her doe eyes. 'If Y/N makes one mistake, she could be in real trouble.'

Spencer gulped down the bile that rose at the image of you lying in the morgue like Roxy and the others, all cut up, beaten and bruised. But his heart tightened with disapproval, as if berating his mind for playing cruel tricks on him, on his faith.

On you.

'She won't.' Spencers words echoed through the room, and it surprised him how calm and steady they rang. Realising everyone was looking at him, he repeated. 'She won't. She's made it this far without our help, and she knows what's at stake. All we can do is support her...' He looked to Rossi then, making eye contact with the man who had over time become his mentor. The salt-and-peppered Italian nodded slightly in approval. '...and have faith that she'll do the right thing.'

'I wouldn't worry too much about that,' Holt said, drawing attention back to him. 'She's got a mini camera hidden that looks like a button she attaches to many of her outfits. Anything she sees, we see. The moment we get eyes on the seller and solid evidence that he's behind all this, we'll swarm in on him before he can even think of running.'

'But we can't just rely on Y/N to get that information for us,' Derek countered. 'We've still got to treat this whole operation as two separate cases. Didn't you mention there might be other establishments that are part of this and that's why the girls are being stabbed twelve times?'

'Morgan's right,' Hotch said, looking to the man in question. 'If we back off now, we may alert them to L/N's involvement. Tomorrow, Morgan, work with JJ, Rossi and Garcia and see if you can find out if more girls from other similar establishments have gone missing or turned up dead mysteriously with the same MO as the current unsub. Kate, Reid and I will go back to other establishments we know and ask them where they have been getting their workers from. It's time to put them under some pressure. For now, though, let's go rest. It's late, and there's nothing else we can do until tomorrow.'

Spencer didn't like the thought of another night of you sleeping wherever it was you were chatting from - you must have been in a small room with dark green walls as your voice didn't echo; no light flooded in but you would've pulled the blinds down to ensure your privacy, so you were staying somewhere busy where people could see into your window if the blinds were up. Most likely some sleazy apartment building in lower Manhattan so you could walk to the Chateau in a hurry if needed.

Spencer didn't like that thought at all, but Hotch was right. They couldn't do anything until morning, so might as well try and sleep before chaos unfurls completely. But before Spencer could pack up his satchel bag, his boss called his name.

'Reid,' Hotch called gently, pausing Spencer's motions while everyone else exited. 'I'm bringing you along tomorrow because I need your questioning skills, but I need to know that you're going to be impartial to the matter when we question Madame Lacroix and other employees at the Chateau. Can you do that?'

Hotch didn't mention you at all, but Spencer knew that you were what his boss meant. Silently he was asking: can you keep your cool around Y/N?

In every other circumstance, no. He could barely breathe when you were near him, even then when he saw you on a giant monitor covered up by a mask that made you almost unrecognisable. But what you were doing was important work, otherwise you wouldn't have left him without so much as a goodbye, or even left at all. You'd suffered eleven months for this, he would not screw this up for you even if all he wanted was to bring you back home.

Back to him.

So he nodded, confidently and with purpose. He felt like an imposter doing so, but it was convincing enough to Hotch, as he nodded in return. 'Good. Now let's go rest. I don't think we'll get another break like this for a while.'

~~~

Spencer could just tell the Pit was going to be loud before he'd even stepped inside the Chateau itself. The noise was only amplified by the neon lights that flashed and waved all over the dark room as he followed Hotch and Kate down the stairs into it.

They'd spent the majority of the day going all over New York asking the same questions to the other establishments. Some genuinely didn't seem to know, speaking to their lack of involvement with the Business, while others went on the defensive straight away and lawyered up. They might as well have stamped GUILTY all over their foreheads.

The Chateau was their final stop. Unfortunately it appeared to be peak hour currently, as Spencer could barely squeeze through people to get to the bar it was so packed. But they managed, and were greeted by a beautiful woman with charcoal skin, dark eyes and rainbow braids that picked up the neon strobe lights brilliantly.

She looked up from the drinks she was making - some sort of vodka concoction and scotch on ice. 'Sorry, sir. Won't be a moment.'

Hotch pulled his FBI badge out and flashed it at her. 'Actually, we're not here for a drink. Where can we find your boss, Madame Lacroix?'

The woman finished the drinks and placed them on the bar where another girl put them on a tray and left. She wiped her hands on the towel over her shoulder, face dipping with sadness. 'This is about Roxy, isn't it?'

'We just have a few more questions we think your boss can clear up,' Kate injected.

The woman nodded, turning to her left and pointing to Madame Lacroix's office that Derek had gone to only a few days ago. 'She should be in her office. That's where she usually is on busy nights like this.'

'Thank you,' Hotch said before turning to talk with Kate and Spencer only. 'Stay here and see if anyone would be willing to talk about where they've come from or anything else about how this place started up.'

They both nodded as Hotch left for the office, disappearing within the crowd. Kate turned to Spencer then. 'I'll talk to the bar staff first.'

'All right,' he said. 'I'll scope out the floor.'

Kate smiled. 'Don't get lost on the dance floor, now.'

'I won't,' Spencer replied, amusement on his lips. Kate spared him one last smile before turning back around to speak with the bartender. Spencer took that as his cue and turned to walk into the fray of sweaty bodies and clouds of smoke.

He tried not to focus on how many germs were being passed around between the number of people pressed together as he squeezed through. He needed to be looking for girls that were younger than the rest, most likely new. They would be the ones to talk.

Keen, calculative eyes landed on a girl no older than twenty with long, strawberry-blonde hair, doe eyes and a skimpy lilac coloured outfit sitting on an older gentlemen's lap. There was another man there too, the three of them sitting around a small table as they chatted and the men laughed occasionally. And while she laughed and smiled with them, Spencer could just tell she wasn't having a good time.

It stirred a sickening swirl inside of him at the sight, spurring him to walk at such a pace he almost knocked a few people over. 'Sorry gentlemen, but I need a moment with, ah...'

'Lavender,' the girl kindly offered, and Spencer noticed the hope that glimmered in her innocent eyes.

'Hey, now wait just a minute,' the man that Lavender sat on said, his words slurred, clearly intoxicated. 'Did you pay for her time? No? Then scram.'

The man grasped at Lavender's hips possessively, fuelling Spencer's disgust and anger more. He pulled his badge out and shoved it in the men's faces. 'I'm with the FBI, and we're conducting an investigating that you're obstructing right now. So get your drunken hands off Lavender and-'

'Wow, doll face! Aren't you a cutie!'

Spencer couldn't finish his sentence as he was pulled sharply away from Lavender and the men and dragged through a sea of people. He was shoved into a private booth where his kidnapper closed the curtains in a flurry and only turned around when she was sure they were the only two in the room.

It shouldn't have surprised him when you turned around, your hair puffed up, face dolled up, and a red dress sticking to you like a second skin as you stormed over to him in your matching six-inch shoes.

'What do you think you're doing here?' you asked in a harsh whisper, your Brooklyn accent dropped in favour of showcasing your annoyance at him. 'You can't just go throwing your badge in front of big shot men like them. Do you even know who they are?'

'I was just asking a question,' Spencer argued, making sure to match your whisper with his own. 'And they were obstructing my investigation. I mean, they had their hands all over her-'

'Because that is what she is paid to let happen to her,' you interrupted, sitting beside him with a sigh of exhaustion. It was, after all, just before midnight, and the night was still young. 'I don't like it either, but we can't do anything about it. Hopefully those doofuses didn't see your name so they don't know who to complain about.'

Spencer looked around the room, but it was too dark to see into the top corners. 'You're not worried you'll be caught?' You'd dropped your accent without a second thought, so he assumed the booth was somewhat safe from prying eyes and eavesdroppers.

You shook your head, brushing a puffy piece of your hair out of your face. 'These booths are used to do some... well, I think you know what kind of things happen back here. It wouldn't be good for business if any footage of what happens behind closed curtains got out, so Madame Lacroix eliminated the risk.'

It was as if you both finally realised that you were the only two in the room. No cameras, no overbearing bosses (on both sides). Just you and him.

Synchronistically, you and him wrapped your arms around each other, holding one another in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of the time that passed and all the hugs you'd missed in that time.

Everything you'd miss in that time.

'I'm sorry,' you spoke first, words muffled by Spencer's shoulder. 'I'm so sorry.'

'No, no, don't be,' Spencer soothed, hating how you felt you were the one to blame for the mess you both had landed in. 'This isn't your fault. You had no choice.'

You pulled away from him at the threat of tears, but you kept your hands clasped within his, finding his warmth comforting in the depths of the Pit. You blinked rapidly as you looked upwards, stabilising yourself. 'No. But it's the right thing to do. And we're so close, I can feel it.'

He brushed his thumb over your knuckles. If only that action could swipe away all the guilt and pain you'd experienced for so long. 'I know... I just wish you didn't have to keep being someone else. I've missed you.'

Your smile filled a small part of the hole you'd left in him when you'd left, though it was tinged with sadness. 'There hasn't been a day I haven't thought about you guys, that maybe one phone call wouldn't have compromised the mission.' You let out a deep breath, and your smile slips into a flat line. 'What are you doing here, really?'

'Hotch is putting some pressure on Madame Lacroix by asking about how she gets her employees,' Spencer answered. 'Hopefully that will prompt her to get you that meeting with the seller faster.'

'Or blow the whole case apart,' you countered, brows furrowing with worry. 'There's been no mention of human trafficking so far in Roxy and the others girls' murders. Madame Lacroix will get suspicious.'

'Which is what we're betting on.'

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth in a combination of concentration and frustration. 'That's quite a risk you're taking there, Spence.'

'So is what you're doing,' he said, squeezing your hand in his. 'We're going to end this, I promise. And then you're going to come back to the BAU, and... it'll be like you never left.'

'Alex is gone.'

He doesn't hide his surprise at your words, as you spoke them more like a statement than question. But, just like him, you were a profiler. You were paid to be observant.

'I didn't see her in the video chat last night,' you explained, though Spencer didn't ask for one. 'After this is all over, I'll give her a call.'

'I'm sure she'd like that,' Spencer said softly, a melancholic feeling saddening him at the thought of his absent friend. 'Kate's nice though. She has a daughter, though she's not Kate's. Kate's technically her aunt, but her sister died in 9/11 alongside her husband, leaving the kid an orphan.'

'So she took her in.' Your smile returned ever so slightly. 'I'd say that's more than nice, Spence, and more like what a saint would do. She sounds like a great addition to the team.'

You spoke the last sentence with a hopelessness Spencer did not like one bit. Like you'd given up on coming back to the team - coming back to him - a long time ago.

'Hey,' he said, pulling himself closer to you. 'Don't be like that. You're going to come home. I won't let this end any other way.'

You opened your mouth to reply, but the rumbling of footsteps alerted you both to newcomers that didn't understand the meaning of curtains closed. You reacted quicker than Spencer, who just sat frozen in terror at being exposed or caught or he really didn't know what, just that he was terrified.

You unravelled your hands from his, and instead clasped them around his neck so you could pull yourself onto his lap, barely-covered breasts pressed dangerously close to Spencer's face. He was so used to being above you that he never imagined what it would be like to have the roles reversed.

Was it possible to be simultaneously embarrassed and happy at the same time? According to Dr Spencer Reid, the answer was yes.

He consciously placed his hands on your hips just as the curtains to the booth were reefed open and an overtly drunken man stumbled in with another Chateau girl on his arm, this time a dark-haired beauty with tan skin and dark eyes.

'Sorry, Nadia,' you said, Brooklyn intonations slipping easily from your tongue as you smiled devilishly. 'This booth's taken.'

'Oops!' Nadia squeaked, turning to the man with laughter. 'Sorry!'

And once more the curtains were closed. And it was just Spencer with you.

And your chest pressed right into his face.

You let out a sigh of relief before returning your attention to Spencer. You had to look down to get a proper angle at him, and despite your gaudy makeup and exaggerated hair and jewellery, he couldn't have thought of a more beautiful sight than looking up at you in that moment.

You looked so angelic, your lips so sweet and kissable-

'Well, that was close,' you breathed out, and Spencer heard your heart pounding even without his head pressed to your chest anymore.

Spencer swallowed thickly. 'Yeah,' was all he could manage without making a fool out of himself. He was alarmingly aware of his hands still holding your hips, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of you just yet.

You leant back a little, still not hopping off him, and pointed to one of the black-domed buttons lining the front of your dress. 'Holt has a feed directly linked to this,' you explained in a hushed voice. 'Madame Lacroix said I would be meeting the seller later tonight, so you better be watching.'

Only when he nodded did you make an effort to get off him much to Spencer's disappointment. He'd hugged and held you many times before - but maybe because this time was more intimate, or because there had been so much time since you'd last been together - but he craved your touch again. Soon, he told himself, and he kept his hands at his side.

You stood up and so did he, but just as you went for the curtain, he gently grabbed your wrist. 'Hey, uh,' he started, unsure if now was the right time to ask or not. But all things considered, would it ever be the right time? Throwing caution to the wind, he asked, 'What would you have said? That night I asked you out. Yes or no?'

That one unknown answer had been torturing him for months, mainly because he'd thought you left them all behind without a single thought. But he knew better now. He knew it hadn't been your fault you couldn't say or promise him anything.

Now - now there was hope again.

You stared at him for what felt like an eternity to Spencer, mouth moving but no words coming out. Your hesitation to answer saddened him. Maybe he'd read the signs wrong. Maybe all you'd ever wanted to be was his best friend. Had he just ruined your friendship twice by asking that damned, schoolboy question?

Again, you couldn't answer, as another man with a prostitute came barreling through the curtains.

'Oh, looks like we have some company,' the girl said, but not making any move to leave with the attractive gentleman on her arm.

'Don't worry,' you said, gripping Spencer's shoulder and guiding him out of the booth. 'Doll face here was just leaving.'

You shoved him and he stumbled back into the messy, sweaty fray that was the Pit as you closed the curtains behind you.

'Hope you enjoyed your time, doll face,' you said, the guise of Serena Vanderguff slipping back on scarily so. You flashed him a sickeningly wide smile as you held out your hand for a shake. 'If you want more, you know where to find me.'

And just like that - you disappeared into the sea of bodies that somehow seemed to have increased since Spencer left for only a few minutes. Spencer had half a thought to chase you, find out your answer once and for all, but there were too many people watching. He would only cause a scene.

'There you are.' Kate's voice prompted him to spin around and be greeted by the woman in question as well as Hotch, obviously having finished his interview with Madame Lacroix.

'Was that Serena just now?' Hotch asked in a quiet voice, but loud enough for Spencer to hear over the loud music.

Spencer nodded. 'She said something is going down tonight. What did you find out?'

'Lawyered up in the end. She's definitely hiding something. Anything from you, Kate?'

'I tried asking a few girls, but they all seized up or ignored me. They appear trained that way, just like we suspected. Brainwashed, of some kind.'

'All right,' Hotch said. 'Let's get back to the office. L/N's feed is our only lead now.'

Spencer followed his colleagues through the Pit to the exiting stairs, all the while looking for you. He couldn't find you, however. Maybe she's already having the meeting, he thought. If so, he just hoped you wouldn't do anything stupid in the mean time.

My favourite dumbasses 🤍

wayne Family making me want to draw stupid things

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Catalyst

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Catalyst Word Count: 2823 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: slow-burn romance, mention of crime scene and interrogation, and some more solid fluff Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: the catalyst of newfound feelings.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5  | Part 6

The next time you dumbfounded him, he almost kissed you.

Ever since you had joined the BAU, you and Spencer had alway had a sweet partnership. But after that night in the office, you had become inseparable. Best friends, to put simply. You stayed late at the office to keep each other company, brought each other coffee and treats, spent free days checking out the new films playing in the cinema.

You had inside jokes, and fought like an old, married couple - a fact the team loved to bring up whenever possible. But you liked it like that. Spencer was your person, and you were his.

And as much as he wowed you everyday, you managed to surprise him on occasions, too.

You were both paired up to interrogate a suspect. You personally didn't believe she was the killer, but Spencer didn't like to base anything from solely his gut. In other words, he was skeptical.

'I didn't kill those women,' your suspect said. 'And even if wanted to kill them, it would be for something more worthwhile than a stupid role.'

'Jealously isn't as far-fetched a reason to kill as you may believe,' Spencer stated to her. 'Particularly in women, the feeling of being threatened or in danger of losing something important to them brings out almost a maternal instinct to protect what they believe to be is theirs.'

'You think all actresses are that low? That shallow?' The young woman was pretty, but her face scrunched up in an ugly manner at the insinuation.

'He doesn't think that at all,' you interjected. 'In fact, he quite likes actresses, don't you buddy?'

Spencer gave you a side eye to which you smiled sickly-sweetly at in return. You were never going to let the Lila fling down any time soon.

You looked back at the young woman, your face returning to empathetic, concerned. She had a wall up, she was wearing a mask. If you wanted answers out of her, you needed to connect with her.

You leaned forward on the table, positioning yourself in front of Spencer so all her focus was on you.

'Anna,' you said softly, like you were speaking to a friend. 'I know you didn't do it. You're different than all those other girls right? You've worked hard to get where you are. Small town girl wanting to make a name for herself in an industry that can be ruthless and heartless as the killer that's still out there. You are classically trained, by-the-book, no shortcuts. I bet you started on the stage of your elementary school, landing the lead role.'

The young woman looked at you with skepticism for a moment, then you saw a crack in her mask as she nodded. 'I was Mary in the Christmas production. But it wasn't until high school when we preformed Shakespeare's The Tempest that I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.'

Spencer noticed your smile now, how it lifted in a manner that sung of melancholy and fondness.

'"We are such stuff as dreams are made on.",' you said whimsically, and Spencer noted a familiarity that had the words rolling off your tongue with ease. Like it was muscle memory.

'Such a beautiful line, right?' the young woman asked.

'Yes, but, when translated into our modern English, it is quite sad really.' You make eye contact with the young woman and hoped she saw the understanding and slight desperation in your eyes. 'It means that life is an illusion, and a fleeting one at that. I don't necessarily believe in the first part of that, but it is true that life is fleeting. So before you end up the next aspiring actress in our morgue, you've got to tell us everything you know.'

The rest of the interrogation went smoothly. Honestly, it was the easiest one Spencer had ever sat in before. And all the while he had just sat there in awe of you.

'I didn't know you read Shakespeare,' he said randomly as they drove together in a local police SUV to meet with the rest of the team at the new suspect's house.

You scoffed. 'See that's the biggest misconception of Shakespeare. That it can only be read. In fact, it actually shouldn't be just read. It needs to be performed.'

Amusement danced upon Spencer's lips. 'Are you saying you were in a Shakespearean play? Which one? Actually, let me guess. Romeo and Juliet.'

'That's a cliche.'

'Twelfth Night? How about Taming of the Shrew?'

'Why do you want to know so badly?'

'Because I...' It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't quite know why he wanted to know. Only that he knows everything and you were his best friend and he didn't know something about you.

You spared him a sympathetic smile from the driver's seat before returning your eyes to the road. 'If you must know... it was actually The Tempest. It was my high school's production, too. And as much as he irritates me, I grew fascinated with Shakespeare's work after that. It even prompted me to do a unit or two in Shakespearean literature and performance during my uni days.'

You allowed yourself to slip back in time a little to those days, that melancholy and fondness finding its way back into your smile, Spencer noticed.

'Outside of Shakespeare though, I'll admit... I was a theatre kid.'

'No way!' Spencer exclaimed. 'You?'

'Why is it so unbelievable that I used to dress up and spout lines that no one really understood?' you asked, but you weren't offended. Simply amused that you seemed to have stunned the (until now) un-stunnable Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Because... it's just so left of field from anyone else in the team.'

'And is that a bad thing?'

'...not at all,' he said after a moment, and then proceeded to drop the matter entirely. Spencer Reid never forgets anything, he couldn't forget, not with his eidetic memory. But he made extra special care to file that little fact about you away for now.

A few days after returning home from wrapping that case up, you came into work to find your coffee already made on your desk, and beside it was an envelope. Curious, you swiftly opened the envelope and gasped with pure surprise at what you found.

'I thought you might like them,' Spencer said as he approached you, his own coffee in hand. 'The ticket vendor said they were the best seats in the house.'

'Oh my God, Spencer!' You couldn't help yourself, you leapt onto the gangly man like a frog and held him tighter than you'd ever hugged someone before, avoiding spilling Spencer's coffee. You were so excited you even smacked a fat, grateful kiss on his unsuspecting cheek before letting him go. 'Tickets to ASC's production of The Tempest?! How did you even get these, I was told they were all gone.'

'Believe it or not, I have connections everywhere,' Spencer answered a bit too vaguely but you didn't care. 'Even in areas that aren't of my particular expertise. I figured you and a friend could go enjoy it before it finishes up.'

'You mean you're not coming?'

Spencer tried not to read into it too much, but he swore he heard a little hiccup in your question, like you were upset. 'W-Well, I, I, uh, didn't want to assume anything. I mean, y-you might want to take JJ, or Emily-

'Spencer.' It was ridiculous how easy he listened when you said his name, how he dropped everything to listen to what you had to say whenever you did. And his heart faltered when he made eye contact with you and saw joy and hope lighting up your eyes. 'Would you like to come to the show with me?'

And it wasn't any wonder, then, that he replied without hesitation, 'Y-Yeah! All right, s-sure. Would love to.'

'Amazing!' Spencer once again had to juggle his coffee and you as you squeezed all the air out of him in another bone-crushing hug. 'Spencer Reid, you have just made my day.'

It was a week later and the night of the performance. You drove yourself and Spencer two and a half hours straight from Quantico down to Staunton to the American Shakespeare Centre, reciting and recalling your favourite Shakespearean moments the whole trip.

Spencer made the extreme effort to look presentable, pulling out a nice suit set, even replacing his usual casual sneakers with some shiny boots. His hair was slicked back out of his face, with only the slightest stubble on his chin and upper lip.

When you picked him up, you said he looked handsome. He never cared much for his appearance, but that comment warmed his heart slightly, made him sit more upright in his seat.

Once you pulled up and got out of the car, he finally saw you in all your glory. A navy blue dress clung to your frame beautifully; kitten heels cradled your feet as you walked up the stairs to the theatre's entrance; your jewellery brought out the (e/c) in your eyes, even further accentuated by your simple makeup and hair.

Spencer has met Nobel price winners, attorney generals, even spoken with the most psychotic people humanity has to offer. And yet there you stood - ethereal, angelic, striking him silent with just your presence.

'You coming, Boy Wonder?'

You'd reached the top the stairs without him moving a muscle. Embarrassed, he tried to cover it up with a cough as he scrambled to catch up with you. 'Boy Wonder? Where did that come from?'

You shrugged playfully as you hooked your arm through his. 'Just seemed appropriate.'

'I'm twenty-seven, (y/n). I'm hardly a boy.'

'Oh, so would you prefer I call you Batman?'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'I didn't know you liked DC comics.'

'There's a lot you still don't know about me, Spencer Reid,' you answered, handing over your tickets to the ticket vendor at the door. 'Like how I've always preferred Robin over Batman, anyway.'

You quickly found your seats, and Spencer tried not to acknowledge how tight-knit the seats were pressed together. His thigh pressed lightly against your own, and he couldn't tell if he hated or liked the feeling that suddenly sprouted in his gut.

It distracted him so much that instead of watching the performance, he looked at you. How you reacted to each sonnet, to the entrance of new characters, to the costuming and the music and emotion that filled the room with every word spoken. He watched it all, your joy, your love. Your heart was on your face, and it struck something new and unexplored inside him.

You cried at one point, and physical touch wasn't his forte, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave them a reassuring squeeze that he was there. You'd turned to him briefly and nodded, showing that you understood and that you were grateful.

You didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the show.

'Wow,' you breathed out as you exited the theatre, the performance finally done. 'That was...'

'Yeah. I feel the same,' Spencer finished, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked down the stairs towards the carpark. His hand still burned from your touch, and that unsure feeling in his gut still remained.

'It was just so... magical.'

'I would say impressive, but magical works too, I guess.'

'Says the guy who still goes trick-or-treating on Halloween and believes in ghosts. Don't tell me you don't believe in the supernatural now.'

'I'm not saying I don't believe. I'm just saying that it's impressive that they were able to make fantastical magic seem slightly realistic.'

You playfully shove him, causing you both to fall into laughter. The two different melodies mixing together made Spencer feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. This was different to when you usually hung out. This time, there was no case, no team, nothing but yourselves to worry about.

'It doesn't matter, anyways,' you said, stopping on the steps suddenly. Spencer went down one more before stopping too. You smiled gratefully at him. It was a cool, autumn night, cool enough that your breath danced like ghosts in front of you as you spoke. 'Thank you, Spence. This was a wonderful night. You didn't have to do this.'

'I know,' he said, and it startled him how quiet and soft his voice was. 'I just... I just wanted you to enjoy the stuff you love. You deserve to enjoy the stuff you love.'

His acute eyes fell to your shoulders and noticed the slight shake in them. 'Here.' He wasted no time pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling it tight to capture the warmth.

You gratefully held onto the jacket, the warmth it captured seeping into your eyes. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer,' you said, your words dancing in between you two.

He was only the step down now, making you two eye level with one another. He was so close he could see himself in your eyes. He wondered if you could see yourself in his.

'Am I?' he asked, his breath mixing with yours.

'Yeah...'

He felt your warmth, and he suddenly decided that he liked the feeling in his gut. The one that had been driving him crazy all night. The one that had an iron grip on his mind, his heart. The one that pulled him closer to you, to your lips.

His eyes were almost closed and his lips almost on yours. You didn't back away - you didn't want to back away you realised. No matter how hard your heart pounded in your chest. No matter if he was your best friend.

So you leaned in too, and you could just feel the stars and planets align as you tasted his breath-

The front of your heel slipped on the edge of the step, sending you flying forwards into Spencer's chest. His reflexes had improved immensely since joining the BAU, and so he managed to grab hold of you and hold himself up before your momentum could send you both tumbling down the remaining stairs.

You both breathed in heavy gulps of air, steadying both your hearts from what could've happened.

'Nice catch,' you said after a moment, loosening your grip on Spencer only a little.

'Thanks.' He didn't know where to look. You, the ground, his surroundings. It all just felt muddled, as if his whole world had been tilted on its axis.

In a sense, it had.

But he felt your gaze, and he couldn't deny your eyes so he looked at you also. You eyes were blown wide, and the slight catch in your breath had him second guessing himself. Maybe he'd read you wrong after all. He'd never been wrong before, but there was always a first time for everything, he figured.

'(Y/n), look, I-'

Before he could attempt to salvage himself, the irritating ring of his phone went off, breaking the glass dome of solitude you'd' forged together with nothing but words and air.

This forced you apart, awkwardly so, as Spencer readjusted you on his step before letting you go completely and fishing his phone out of his pant pocket. He checked the ID caller: Hotch.

He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. 'Hotch, what's up?'

'New case,' the unit chief answered without pleasantries. 'I know we're all meant to be off for the weekend but this one is important.'

'Where is it and we'll be there.'

'You're with (Y/n), right? In Staunton?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Head to the local police. We'll meet you there. That's where the case is.'

'Okay. Gotcha.'

Hotch ended the call and then it was just him and you once more. Although instead of the air feeling freeing and warming, Spencer couldn't seem to get enough in his lungs. It was like he was suffocating, having to face you again.

So he slipped into work mode, keeping Hotch's urgency and the new case in the forefront of his mind. 'New case. Here in Staunton. Hotch wants us to head down to the police and meet them there.'

'Right.' You seemed to think the same as him - it's probably why you were best friends to begin with - as the ethereal light in your eyes dimmed with the severity of the new situation. Without another word, you both bee-lined for the car, jumped in, and made your way to the local police station.

But for the rest of the case, Spencer couldn't help but think about that moment with you on the steps. He'd kissed before, of course, even dabbled in flirting despite how little he knew about the craft. He'd never imagined he'd attempt it all on you, however. Not even in his wildest dreams.