The unsub is right in front of him, and Reid has absolutely no clue what he should do.
Sean Cotton, forty-two years old, became a murderer at age seven. He became a serial killer twenty years later, fueled by the death of his fiancé following her battle with cancer. The loss obviously has struck him hard - the bags under his eyes are clearly visible, as is the girl he has held tightly to his chest, gun pressed to her temple. Alicia Cornwell is crying in Cotton's grasp, begging Reid with her eyes for him to save her. (She would scream, Reid knows, but Cotton's hand over her mouth prevents this.) Cotton smirks when he realises that Reid's backup won't be coming any time soon.
"Well…" he sneers, inching forward as Reid keeps his gun firmly trained on Cotton's forehead. He can't take the shot - that would endanger Alicia's life, and Reid knows he's not a good enough shot to take that risk.
Instead, Reid opts for a more verbal approach. "It's over, Cotton."
"Is it? Is it really over?" Cotton asks, smugness practically dripping from his voice. Alicia whimpers in his arms, and he growls, jerking her roughly. "Quiet. The big boys are talking now, honey."
Alicia whimpers again, closing her eyes fearfully as Cotton presses the gun harder to her temple. Reid hides his flinch, instead using it to tighten his fingers over the trigger of his own gun.
"Neither one of us can move," Reid says slowly. "Not when we're both armed."
"Then I guess one of us will just have to put the gun down," Cotton sneers, eyes narrowing, "and it's sure as hell not gonna be me." His eyes shift almost imperceptibly, but the profiler in Spencer can read Cotton like an open book. The three of them are standing dangerously close to the edge of a steep cliff, with forestry and rough, rocky terrain coating its sides. One wrong move could send all three of them tumbling over that cliff, and all three of them knew it.
"And it's not gonna be me, either," Reid promises, more to Alicia than Cotton. The girl's eyes are still closed, her breathing panicky and shallow.
Cotton lifts one eyebrow lazily, smirking as he rests his posture. "Then I guess we're all in for a long wait."
Reid can tell this tactic isn't working. He needs something that will throw Cotton off his game, will shake him up. "Not as long as you waited for your dad to show up again, right?"
Cotton blinks, his grip on the gun faltering ever so slightly. "H-he doesn't matter."
"Doesn't he?" Reid replies, a cruel echo of what Cotton said earlier. "Obviously he mattered to you. If he didn't, you wouldn't have killed your younger brother that day."
"That was an accident-" Cotton seethes, but Reid cuts him off.
"But you enjoyed that feeling, didn't you? The power, the adrenaline…I think I know just how you felt, Sean."
"S-shut up!" the other man hisses, eyes wild with unconcealed rage.
"You felt like your dad back then, didn't you?" Reid lifts an eyebrow and pauses for a second, just to let his words sink in. "And you enjoyed it."
"You don't know a thing!" Cotton suddenly screams, dropping the gun and launching his entire body at Reid. For a split second the two of them are grappling in the dust, Alicia nowhere to be found, when a shot rings out and someone screams suddenly, right in Reid's ear. There's a strange sensation of falling, accompanied by the sound of wind rushing by his ears.
Then, only darkness.
o o o
Spencer awoke with a groan, pain radiating from somewhere around his temple. He raised his hand to his head to try and find any injuries, and to his mild surprise, found no blood. Must just be a light concussion, then, he thought with a grimace, lifting himself off the ground with his teeth gritted. As soon as he looked up, he found the rest of the BAU running up to the scene. JJ was already helping an unconscious Alicia onto a stretcher, paramedics buzzing around the two like flies to a corpse. Hotch was checking Cotton's pulse, a somewhat redundant measure after one noticed the hole in his forehead from the bullet that had entered it. Morgan and Kate were rushing up to help Spencer, arms outstretched. Spencer shook his head, managing to stand surprisingly steady on his own.
"Takes a lot to knock you down," Kate remarked with a wry grin, her arm dropping to her side.
"Pretty Boy is tougher than he looks," Morgan agreed, the worry still not completely gone from his voice. "What happened, kid? You sure you're not hurt?"
"I feel remarkably fine," Spencer shrugged, looking back to Cotton's corpse. "He tackled me, I hit my head and blacked out. Couldn't have been for more than a few seconds, though."
"And your head feels screwed on right?" Kate asked, peering into Spencer's eyes for any sign of confusion.
"It's sore, but I've had worse. I probably shouldn't fall asleep for a few more hours, but I think I'm good."
Morgan eyed him skeptically. "And you're sure?"
Spencer rolled his eyes. "No, Morgan, I'm actually about to drop dead right this second. Yes, I'm sure."
Morgan and Kate both grinned, the three of them walking over to the SUV where Rossi was awaiting them, chatting with the detective of the week. "Do you ever have contact with the victims if you've rescued them?" Kate asked suddenly. Spencer pretended not to notice the way she said if, rather than when. All of the team knew how disastrously wrong things could have gone only a few minutes before.
Morgan shrugged. "Usually, no. Some of us keep in contact with the people we've rescued, but the majority of cases we see, we never see those victims again."
"What do you think you would say to them?" Kate asked, a little softer than before. Maybe she'd realised she'd stumbled onto a sensitive topic, Spencer thought. It wasn't a secret that Morgan kept in touch with Angel, the boy they'd rescued from a sexual predator. It wasn't a secret why, either.
"Sometimes I used to wonder what I'd say to the people that we weren't in time to save," Spencer commented, resisting the urge to flinch as all eyes turned to him.
"Used to?" Kate frowned.
"Then I guess I just realised it was pointless," Spencer shrugged. "If you're in time, you're in time. If you're not, then you can't say those things you wanted to say to them. What's gone is gone."
Kate and Morgan both paused in thought, before Morgan broke the silence. "That's a dark way to look at it," he said, looking somewhat confused.
"But it's not wrong, is it?" Spencer challenged.
"No," Kate admitted after a pregnant pause. "No, it's not."
o o o
Spencer's arm ached.
Not just an ache, he realised, but a full-on hurt, deep in his bones. He was beginning to think he'd actually done something to it when he'd been tackled just over a week ago, and that his brain had just blocked out the pain signals until it felt right to unblock them. His head was beginning to come right again, except for the occasional stab of pain from behind his eyes, not entirely unlike a migraine. He was also back at work, something which he congratulated himself for.
A week out from almost being killed and I'm already back at work. I wouldn't be surprised if I set a record.
"Reid?" a voice from behind him asked. Spencer turned to see Kate peering at him with concerned eyes.
"Hmm?" he asked, mouth half-full of chocolate brownie Garcia had made for the team. Not that he really felt hungry, but brownies were brownies.
"You're looking kind of pale," Kate frowned, and Spencer could see her visibly stopping herself from reaching out and placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. "You feeling okay?"
Spencer frowned. "Am I?" he wondered out loud, looking for his nearest coworker. "I feel fine. JJ?" he called out from halfway across the bullpen. The blonde agent looked up, eyebrows peaking.
"Yeah, Spence?" she asked.
"Do I look pale to you?" Spencer frowned.
JJ bit her lip, studying Spencer's face. "Kind of," she admitted, "but you've always been pale. You've also had a week with barely any sun."
Kate nodded in understanding. "So you're one of those people who practically turns ghost-white if they don't get any vitamin D? I feel your pain."
Spencer nodded, passing the box of brownies over to her. "Want the rest of mine? I'm not that hungry."
"You're refusing chocolate-rich food? Now I don't understand," Kate smiled, gratefully accepting the box. "As for me, I could eat a small elephant."
"Good luck finding one," Spencer remarked, smiling faintly as he watched Kate practically inhale a brownie.
It's on days like this that I remember how lucky I am.
o o o
I really should have gone to the hospital, Spencer thought, as a lightening bolt of pain stabbed him through his eyeball and deep into his brain.
The pain almost made him whimper. Light, sound, even touch - everything made it worse. Not even his strongest pain medication - short of drugs - was helping. He groaned as another sharp burst of pain stabbed him from the inside of his skull. Jesus, it really did feel like a nail was stabbing him in the eye. He closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip, swearing he could taste blood. He almost screamed as the sound of someone knocking insistently on his apartment door invaded his thoughts, but instead managed a weak come in, though it hurt him to even move his mouth.
He opened his eyes weakly and saw Morgan standing by his bed where he lay, reaching down to shake him awake. "Don't touch me!" he yell-whispered just in time, and Morgan drew his hand back with a jerk.
"Okay, kid, okay," he soothed in what Spencer thought must be Morgan's trying-to-be-quiet-but-actually-being-really-loud voice. "I'm not touching you. What's wrong?"
"Migraine," he replied, teeth gritted.
"You think this is related to your head, two weeks ago?" Morgan asked.
"I don't know, okay - I've had ones this bad before, so probably not," Spencer muttered closing his eyes tightly to try and avoid any semblance of light passing through his eyelids.
"Anything else?" Morgan pressed, and Spencer swore that if he didn't go way and leave him to rest in peace, he would drive a nail through his eye sockets and see how he liked it.
"I'm cold. Not exactly life-threatening," he muttered, rolling over so he wasn't facing Morgan. "I don't think I'll be at work tomorrow, or the next day. Please, just leave me alone until then."
Morgan was silent for a while - praise Jesus - and finally sighed. "Okay, Reid," he said, his tone of voice making it clear that his patience was wearing thin. "In two days, I'll check on you, but for God's sake, please call me tomorrow morning and tell me you're okay."
"Yes," Spencer insisted irritably, "just please, let me have some rest right now, okay?"
Morgan held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I'm going. Get better, kid."
Spencer nodded lazily, beginning to fall asleep - finally. "Thanks," he muttered, finally letting his guard down as he heard the click of the door closing behind his friend.
o o o
"Obviously he mattered to you. If he didn't, you wouldn't have killed your younger brother that day."
"That was an accident-" Cotton seethes, but Reid cuts him off.
"But you enjoyed that feeling, didn't you? The power, the adrenaline…I think I know just how you felt, Sean."
"S-shut up!" the other man hisses, eyes wild with unconcealed rage.
"You felt like your dad back then, didn't you?" Reid lifts an eyebrow and pauses for a second, just to let his words sink in. "And you enjoyed it."
"You don't know a thing!" Cotton suddenly screams, dropping the gun and launching his entire body at Reid.
What happens next is different to what Reid remembers.
The gunshot happens all the same, but this time it's Alicia Cornwell's forehead that the bullet has pierced, and somehow she's not quite dead yet, her eyes begging Reid to help her, mouth forming a silent scream.
"Oops," Cotton sneers, picking up her limp body and standing up. "Looks like I didn't quite aim that right. But don't worry, 'cause this'll do the trick." He suddenly flings Alicia's body down the edge of the cliff and she screams, body disappearing down the steep edge, limp as a rag doll. There's a horrible snapping sound from somewhere below him, and once again, there is only darkness.
o o o
Spencer knew it was irrational. He knew Alicia Cornwell was alive and well somewhere in a Virginia hospital, and not at the bottom of a cliff, body broken and mangled like a twisted marionette.
But while his migraine was gone, the fear that he hadn't in fact saved Alicia was not. Which was why he was driving back to the cliff alone at three in the morning, following the signs on the road to the bottom of the cliff.
In the past, if asked if he had any common sense whatsoever, Spencer would have said yes. He wasn't sure if he still had any, seeing as he was walking alone, in complete darkness, on a deserted trail where nobody would hear him scream. Off a deserted trail, he thought with misery as he aligned the point of the cliff with his position on the trail, stepping into the undergrowth. All this because of some stupid nightmare I had.
And yet his brain wouldn't let go of the thought, like something was pulling him to the base of that cliff. Why, he couldn't say.
In a way, the forestry and undergrowth was beautiful. It would be better if I wasn't here at night, Spencer thought as he pointed his flashlight at the trees above him, their shape beautifully framed by the night sky. He kept walking like that for a while, admiring the view above him, until his foot brushed something undeniably human-like in texture.
He choked back a little gasp and shone the flashlight down quickly to reveal what was definitely a human corpse lying beneath his feet. Though he couldn't see the face, he couldn't deny that it looked familiar.
Oh no.
Cautiously, he wrapped his hands around his scarf and gently pushed the carcass onto its side, shining the flashlight onto it.
His own bruised and battered face stared blankly at him, body as still and lifeless as a rag doll.
o o o
I'm not going to say anything about how I ended chapter one, because frankly I'm scared of everyone else's responses.
Remember, reviews are greatly appreciated - adored, even. I always try and respond to them, if you have any questions about this fic or any other of my fics.
Thank you for reading!