Hello one and all, out of all my stories so far(lame and pretty good) this one is my favorite. I really hope you all enjoy this one, and be sure to let me know what you think about my OC from Spencer's past! R&R THANX!
He just stood there, like a statue. She stared at him, wondering what was going on in that big brain of his. "hey, Spencer, would you like to come back to earth and speak to me?" She asked him carefully. He glanced at her. An anxious, unnerving kind of glance. She was beginning to worry. "Spencer, please talk to me." She begged her young friend. He looked at the floor. "I-I'm really, really sorry A.J.." He finally spoke up, a tight, choked back sob could be heard in his voice.
"Why are you sorry? You haven't done anything wrong." She assured the saddened child. "I don't want to hurt you anymore A.J….." He had tears welling up in his eyes now. "Spencer, you haven't hurt me. Please stop crying." She knew he hated to cry in front of her, and it made her heart swell just seeing it. "I've heard what everyone at school says about us. They're always calling you names. And it's all my fault!" She couldn't believe this. "Yeah, Spencer, they make jokes and babble their insults, but it's not your fault Spencer. I love hanging around you. Yeah you might be younger than any other kid at school, but, who cares?"
"I can't be around you anymore. When you come home in ten days, we can't be seen hanging out with each other." Spencer told her sadly, but firmly. A.J. knew what had happened. One of the "cool guys" bullied Spencer into leaving her. "Spencer, you can't believe everything those bullies at school tell you!" He shook his head , the wet streaks of tears gleaming in the sunlight. "They told me they'd kill you! I've already lost one friend to those freaks, I'm not losing you!" Spencer quickly threw a strange object up into the air and ran off.
A.J. reached for the object and caught it mid-air. She stared at it for a second, confused. Then, with sudden realization, dropped the object onto the ground. "Annabeth? Annabeth, sweetie, is everything ok? Where did Spencer go? What is that?" Her mother came out of the house with a suitcase of hers and dads clothing. A.J. picked the object from off of the ground and put it in her pocket. "It's nothing mom. Spencer had to - had to go help his mom with something." A.J.'s mother nodded her head slowly, in a suspicious way.
A.J. and her family piled into their SUV, A.J. sat in the back, plugged her ears with headphones, and took out the object Spencer had throne. It was a lengthy piece of string with a colorful, yet black, rock attached at the end. It was the rock that was special. It was a rock that had been collected from and old, dark, supposedly haunted cave that her and Spencer had always been afraid of entering. They both had a fear of the dark. And yet Spencer still went through the trouble of getting this for her. She held the rock up to her heart and promised herself that she would never, ever forget Spencer Reid, her best friend.
Fifteen years later(I know it's sappy but please bear with me here.)
Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid sat at his desk at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Tomorrow was the day. Exactly 15 years ago tomorrow morning, at 9:00, would have been the last time he ever saw Annabeth James. There were only a few people still in the office at this late at night, so he was practically alone with his thoughts. He held the seashell necklace that had been given to him twelve days after the James family left for the beach. He remembered the tears, the questions, the therapy. Everything he never wanted to have to relive.
How did he get the necklace even though he never saw his best friend, who had made it, ever again? Because Mrs. James had given to him. As a memory. The memories were something he wanted to forget. They only brought pain and sadness. It continued to anger him that they never found out what had happened to his friend. She had died. They just didn't know how. Maybe she drowned. Maybe she threw herself in the water and committed suicide. Or, maybe, she could have been murdered.
Spencer hated all the "maybe's". He wanted a solid answer. But at the same time he didn't. What if it was his fault? If she killed herself, could it have been because of him? If she drowned, maybe her mind was elsewhere, because of him, and that cause her to drown. If she was murdered, could it have been because he had troubled her and she decided not to use her black belt in karate to protect herself? He won't be able to think straight tomorrow, it will be even worse than tonight. He's not sure how much he can take.
But he had other things to do. He had a job. Friends, colleagues, other people he needs to focus on. His cases, the victims, his own team even, need his mind focused and prepared. But how can he do that while being plagued by this horrible guilt trip! He needed coffee, coffee with a LOT of sugar. He stood to go get his coffee when he heard from above him, "Don't do it Reid." It was his boss, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Or, Hotch, to the team.
"The only reason you need to be standing up is to be exiting the building. Not getting coffee. Got it?" Hotch asked with an expectant look on his face. Spencer nodded wearisomely, deciding Hotch was right. He told Hotch he would do that, grabbed his stuff, and left. He kept thinking about the seashells in his pocket the entire drive home. He could still remember the look on Mrs. James face when she handed them to him.
"Hello, Spencer, sweetie, I can't imagine how hard my daughters death has been for you. So, here." Mrs. James handed the young Spencer Reid a necklace made out of seashells. "She made this for you." Spencer stared in awe at the gift. He had always wanted to go to the beach. A.J. had known it to. Spencer felt tears coming up again, so he wiped him eyes quickly.
"You know, she loved you, Spencer. She may not have spoken the words aloud, but, she loved you." Mr. James told Spencer, laying a huge hand on his small, twelve year old shoulder. "Anytime you want to talk, you can always come to see me, ok?" Spencer nodded at the man. That night, Spencer held the seashells to his heart, unbeknownst to him that A.J. had done the same thing, and promised to never forget that beautifully smart, blonde-headed tomboy he called his best friend.
Spencer gasped as the car ahead of him swerved to the side, blocking his path. He came to a halt, the force of the sudden stop propelling him forward. While fighting dizziness, he reached for his seatbelt to unbuckle. But it was to late, because as soon as he unbuckled, the car door swung open and he was dragged out of his vehicle like a rag doll.
He landed hard on the asphalt, pain shooting up his arm. The breath was knocked out of him and he could hardly move. But, almost instinctively, he reached for his gun, only to remember that he had set it in the passenger seat.
His attacker obviously was busy with something, for he hadn't come to beat on Spencer anymore. But he quickly realized that his attacker was almost done. He heard his car door slam and felt a huge pair of hands yank his own behind him and put him in handcuffs. The man pulled them on so tight, Spencer could feel his skin being sliced by the metal.
Spencer cried out in pain, his cries only to be cut short by a gag. Spencer choked on it and struggled to breath. Spencer was lifted up off of the ground only to be slammed hard onto his back. Spencer attempted to cry out once more, but it was to late, he was soon engulfed in the darkness of his own mind.
Spencer Reid opened his eyes carefully, but shut them quickly as a blinding light broke through the room. Spencer felt like death. His face throbbed, his arm throbbed, and he just felt sore all over. He didn't have the gag on anymore, and the cuffs were gone. He tried to open his eyes to examine his surroundings. The light had dimmed. Spencer didn't know how, but someone was watching him.
"Who - who's there?" He asked carefully, his voice barely over a whisper. Spencer repeated his question in a louder voice. Seems like either no one can hear him or they just won't respond. He continued asked questions - ranging from who they were to where he was to what they were going to do with him. He continued this for what seemed like hours. But it was about half an hour after Spencer had stopped his questioning that he heard voices. Angry voices, shouting at each other. He could only make out random bits and pieces of the conversation. He heard words like, "kid", "regret", "freedom", "trouble", "FBI", and finally, "death".
Spencer had thought for a moment that he had also heard the word seashells and instinctively reached for his coat pocket. They were gone, no surprise, they had probably been thrown out at the same time as he was. Spencer decided to try and profile the voices he heard. Both were male, one sounded young and like he didn't want to go through with what the other one did. The other one, the older, was dead set on going through with their original plan. Whatever that was.
Spencer knew that he was in big trouble. He also knew that his team wouldn't fail to come find him once he doesn't come in tomorrow. But the last time he had been kidnapped he had to go through NA meetings and drug help. He just prayed that he wouldn't have to go through anything like that again. Spencer chuckled to himself slightly, he had clearly heard the more dominant man say the word death, and here he was worried about drug abuse.
Suddenly, the lights all went out. Spencer jumped at the change, but soon realized that they must be going to bed. They didn't have time to stay all night and watch Spencer babble with his thoughts. Spencer realized that it would do him no good to stay awake and go over in his head something he needed to know more about. So Spencer closed his eyes, not expecting to fall asleep very fast, but soon found himself succumbing to sleep. And to the horrors that haunted his mind at night.
So? Well don't just sit there like a dumb blond in a potato sack(I love blond jokes!) review! Thanks guys(and gals)!
~SmoothCriminalStealsHearts~