So, a while back, IntoTheWilds made this absolutely beautiful picture of S/R that I fell entirely in love with, and in return, I offered her a short story of her choosing. She wanted a story with Spencer developing latent powers, and she's mentioned something to be before about him and blue fire. So, this is what I came up with. I hope it satisfies, sugar bee! I wrote it in, like, an hour and a half :/ round about. And keep in mind everyone that, right now, this IS just a one shot. Not the start of a new story :)
How was it that he always ended up in these kinds of positions? Spencer Reid found himself yet again staring down the barrel of a gun. It was rather terrifying to think that this had become so commonplace for him that he actually had multiple times to whine about in his mind. Twenty eight years old and he'd had a gun held on him far, far too often. Been taken hostage too often, too. A glance down at the floor had him wanting to wince a little. Usually when the bad stuff happened, he was alone. This time there were others to think of than just himself. This time he had to do whatever it took to keep those others safe. It wasn't just his own life at risk.
His best friend and coworker, SSA Derek Morgan, was lying in a heap on the ground by Spencer's right foot. Directly behind him was another friend and coworker, SSA Emily Prentiss. She was awake and was cradling their victim in her arms; sixteen year old Tiffany Kaiser. The girl was curled tight to her protector and sobbing quietly. Emily held her carefully, trying to offer comfort while being mindful of both their injuries. Emily's broken leg was stretched out to the side out of the way. Most of Tiffany's injuries were hidden from view with the position she was in.
Things had gone to hell so damn fast. One minute the three agents had been out at a house speaking with a man who had sold a truck recently that matched the description of their Unsub's truck. All they'd wanted was some information. I wasn't even supposed to be here! Spencer's mind shouted at him. He hadn't, either. He should've been back at the station working on the geographical profile. But he hadn't been feeling that well today and Emily and Derek had dragged him out with them in the hopes that the fresh air would do him some good. He'd been cooped up in the conference room at the police station for days now. They were sure he just needed to get out to start feeling better.
Yeah. This is so much better Spencer thought sarcastically. Held at gunpoint in what looked to be a storage cellar of some sort, with three injured people to protect, no weapons of their own, a sexually sadistic killer staring at them like it was Christmas come early for him, and to top things off, Spencer was beginning to think he might actually be sick. He'd been feeling better on his way out to this interview, but now he felt sick to his stomach and he was burning up enough that he was sweating, even in the chill afternoon air.
The man they'd spoken with, a Jeraby Milton, was a forty six year old bank manager with a private property on the wooded outskirts of town. He'd been perfectly kind during their interview and had offered up all the information he could about the man he'd sold his truck to. But something about him had seemed a little off. The three agents had left, slightly suspicious and unable to pin down why. They'd been debating it in the car on their way off the property just past the end of the long driveway, when the first shot had rang out. Spencer clearly remembered two more shots before a loud shout and the sound of metal crashing into something solid and then everything had gone black.
When he woke up next, it was to find himself being dragged and dropped down into a pile with his friends. Emily was already awake at the time, holding young Tiffany against her, and Derek was still unconscious. Spencer had easily seen his friends' injuries. Emily's broken leg, the swelling on her one wrist, and the bruising on her forehead. Derek had a head injury that thankfully wasn't bleeding anymore, though it left his face covered in blood, and it looked like he might have a broken wrist and there was a bleeding gash on his leg. Basically, neither of them was going anywhere. That left Spencer. Despite his own injuries, which were relatively minor in his book, he knew he needed to push up to his feet and find a way to get them the hell out of this. Because the Unsub had no sooner dumped him on the ground than he'd drawn a gun and pointed it at them.
That was how Spencer came to be standing here, staring down the barrel of yet another gun, contemplating once more why it was he'd chosen this life.
Spencer drew in as much courage as he could and made himself meet the man's eyes. He tried not to shiver at the glee that was so easy to see there. "Mr. Milton, why don't you put down the gun?" Not like he really thought that would work. Still, he had to try. One day someone might actually surprise him.
This wasn't going to be that day. Jeraby let out a laugh that had Tiffany squeaking and Spencer shivering. "Like I'm that stupid, boy. You think I'm just going to put down my gun because you told me to?"
One could hope. Though, it does seem unlikely that hope will ever be fulfilled. He tried a slightly different route instead. "You don't need that, Mr. Milton. With our injuries, none of us are going to be trying to make a run for it. You have us in an unknown location on one's been able to find so far. Holding the gun over us is just a slight bit of overkill, don't you think? I mean, I highly doubt this place isn't protected in other ways." Spencer put just the right note of both admiration and frustration in his voice. He needed to try and draw out any information he could and get this guy to relax in whatever way possible. So long as that gun was pointed at them, their options were limited.
His attempts seemed to serve only to amuse their captor even more. Jeraby let out another of those awful laughs. "You know, boy, I think I like you. You've got spunk." Grin wide, he gestured towards the staircase that led up to the trapdoor. "Get up there. Now." Despite his laughter, there was steel to his tone that made it absolutely clear that he expected his order to be followed.
What else could he do? Say 'No, thank you, I'd like to stay here'? It didn't work like that. But going off somewhere alone with an Unsub with a gun was never a good plan. Never. Spencer cast a quick look at his friends and he knew there wasn't really a choice. If he tried to refuse too hard, Jeraby might try to take one of them, and he couldn't' have that. He met Emily's eyes and a moment of understanding passed between the two. He was telling her he would do everything he could to distract the Unsub and try to subdue him if possible. She let him know she would do everything she could to take care of the others and try to get them out of there to back him up. Message passed and received on both sides, he turned back towards the Unsub and the door. Spencer felt proud of himself that his legs didn't tremble at all as he went to the staircase and climbed up.
At a brisk order from behind him, he pushed on the cellar door to shove it open. Pain arrowed through his ribs and he couldn't quite stop the gasp that slipped free. Damn! Oh, man. Bruised, if not broken, ribs. Man!
A jab in the back with the gun had him pushing down the pain and stumbling forward. He tripped at he went and his body dropped down into the dirt. Just barely did he manage to catch himself on his hands and knees. Jeraby kicked a foot out and sent it right into Spencer's hip, knocking him sideways. Spencer grunted with the pain and cursed roundly in his head in a way that would've both surprised and impressed his best friend. But he didn't lie there and indulge in the urge to curl up against the pain. With teeth clenched, Spencer pushed up from the ground and forced himself to start to rise.
Three more times they repeated that. Three separate places the bastard kicked him, enjoying watching him drop, laughing as he tried to get up.
After the third, Spencer heard another of those sickening laughs echo in the air around him. "I was right. You've got a hell of a lot of spunk, boy. Maybe I won't kill you. Never kept a boy here, before."
"I'm not your boy." Spencer ground out.
He was halfway up when another kick sent him crashing back down. Son of a bitch! He clenched a hand over his stomach and wheezed with the effort to draw in air. But he didn't stay down. If he was going to die, it sure wasn't going to be lying at the feet of this guy. With one hand Spencer wiped the sweat from his brow. His fever seemed to be climbing. Hell of a way to die his mind whispered. A mental snarl pushed that thought away. Spencer drew himself shakily up to his knees and then shifted one foot up. This time he saw the blow coming and tried to duck out of the way. He just didn't move fast enough. The butt of the gun caught up upside the head and this time he was sent flying down to land on his back. Agony exploded in his head.
Jeraby was saying something that Spencer couldn't hear past the ringing in his ears. The pain slowly faded from his head down to a manageable level. When he finally felt like he could move without the agony coming back and without hurling or passing out, he rolled himself over to his side and then to his stomach. As he pressed up once more to hands and knees, he heard Jeraby give a laugh, this one a little startled sounding. "You're still coming up for more, boy? I'll be damned. You're scrawny, but you got a hell of a set of balls on you."
The heat in Spencer's skin seemed to be getting even hotter. He froze there on all fours, his body aching, burning. The burning was beginning to outweigh even the pain. Man, he was on fire! Sweat poured off of him in buckets.
"What the hell?" He heard Jeraby growl out. His voice didn't sound as pleasant anymore.
Spencer opened his mouth to say something and found he could only wheeze pitifully. His limbs quivered and he fought not to fall back down. It felt like his skin was stretching tight over his body. His muscles were all clenching, his bones aching. Like he had the deep-in-your-bones ache that came with the flu, only times one thousand. And his fever seemed to be climbing higher and higher. His head was spinning and he fought not to be sick. Was this seriously how he was going to die? Brought down by a fever and a jackass with a penchant for kicking?
A hand fisted in his hair and yanked his head back and Spencer found himself eye to eye with Jeraby. "What the hell is wrong with you?" The man demanded furiously. "What're you doing?"
The pressure and pain and heat in Spencer's body built and built. He felt it inside of him, pushing at him. He couldn't move, could barely even breathe, as Jeraby brought the gun around and pressed it underneath his chin. "Guess you weren't as much fun as I thought you were." He sneered. "Nice playing with you, boy."
Spencer opened his mouth to try and say something, anything that might stop this, but the heat in him grew even hotter and the pressure stronger until suddenly, it snapped. The whole world was taken over with heat and pain. Spencer only vaguely heard screaming, a tiny corner of his mind telling him that the screams weren't all his, and he felt his fever was ripping its way from his body. His eyes were blinded by the brightest blue light he'd ever seen and he gave another scream as it felt like it seared through his eyes.
It felt like it lasted years and yet no time at all. As abruptly as it hit him, it washed away. The heat faded to a dull roar and then to nothing while the pain slowly muted itself. Still present, but not as overpowering. Spencer opened eyes he hadn't even realized he closed and he found himself staring across a yard to the cellar doors where Emily, Derek and Tiffany all stood. The three were staring at him with mixed expressions of shock and horror and, on Tiffany, terror. A second later, Spencer realized why. He instinctively looked around to try and find the Unsub. All he found was a giant circle of black around him, with a thicker black patch right in front of him, as if the very ground had been burned. But it was his body that caught his attention and sparked his own horror. Mostly, his hands and arms, as they were what was in clear sight right in front of him. He stared at them, blinked his eyes a few times to try and clear them, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. This wasn't possible. There was no way this was possible. He looked over his whole body and saw it on the rest of him as well.
Fire. Blue fire. It was like a second skin over top almost every inch of him. The flames were shrinking little by little. They were drawing back down into his skin. He watched with horrified fascination as the flames seemed to absorb themselves back into his body until they were completely gone.
Spencer felt numb as he rose up to his feet. All he could do was stand there and look around him at this giant circle of charred ground. The circle had to be a good fifteen feet wide. It stopped just shy of the house and the cellar. He…he'd done this? But, but how?
His ever logical brain supplied that answer for him immediately. Just one single word. Mutant.
No, that was impossible. He wasn't a mutant. Mutants manifested around puberty! Spencer had left puberty behind years ago.
Some people have been known to carry a latent mutant gene that has been shown to occasionally trigger. The reason why is unclear, but there are documented cases.
Not for the first time, Spencer wanted to curse the part of his mind that ran off of logic and facts. He might have if he could've gotten beyond the shock. He was just still too numb. Shit! If this really was him, then he was damn lucky he hadn't set the forest on fire! His eyes drifted over the charred ground and to that little pile of darker ground that was by where he'd been laying. The horror came back, pushing away the shock. Oh, no. Oh, no, no. That was…that was…
"Reid?"
Emily's voice broke into Spencer's terrified thoughts. He couldn't bring himself to look up at her. His eyes were locked on the ground. On that little bit of what was left of…of their Unsub. I burned a man alive. Oh, man. He was going to be sick.
"Reid." Emily's voice again, more insistent this time. "Reid, I need you to snap out of it. Come on. Focus on me here. I need you to snap out of this right now. You don't have time."
Time? Time for what?
Her voice grew just a little bit sharper and it snapped through his paralysis. "Reid, you need to get out of here." Emily grabbed his arm and gave him a quick shake. Her eyes were bright and sharp. "Do you hear me? You need to go, now. Take the car out front, get as far as you can from here, and then dump the car and find a new way. But you need to go, now."
Spencer finally broke his eyes away from the black patch on the ground. His eyes were wide and horrified as they looked to Emily. "Emily…"
She looked at him as if her heart were breaking. "I know, Reid. I know. But you know what they'll do if they find you here and they find this. That girl isn't going to keep quiet. We came out right as it happened. She'll tell them what she saw. And the locals won't stop to ask questions or to hear any stories. You'll be arrested and charged with murder before any cooler heads can prevail."
"She's right, kid." Derek said hoarsely. He, too, looked devastated as he walked up to them. "And once the Bureau finds out, you'll be in even greater danger. They aren't going to be thrilled at the idea of a mutant who knows as many secrets as you do. You've got to go. It's the only way you'll ever have any chance of being safe."
Spencer looked around, seeing that the girl was lying passed out on the back porch. The trauma must've been too much for her.
"Reid!"
Derek grabbed his arm as well now and added a shake of his own. It brought Spencer's focus back on him. He met the eyes of his best friend and the sorrow he saw there seemed to snap him more to the present. "Reid…Spencer, you need to listen to me and listen well, do you hear? I need you clear headed. Can you do that?"
Licking dried lips, Spencer thought for a second before giving a nod. He could listen. He could think. I killed a man. Burned him alive. No one deserved to die that way.
"Good." Derek said firmly. He kept his voice in that firm tone, giving Spencer something solid to latch on to. "You need to go in that house, steal some pants, some shirts, something, because your clothes burned away with everything. Then you need to grab the keys, get in a car, and do exactly as Prentiss told you. Drive out of this town and to the next one and then dump the car before authorities start looking for it. Then you need to go." Derek pulled out the wallet that was surprisingly still in his pocket, grabbed all the money in there and shoved it at Spencer. "Take this." When he saw Spencer open his mouth to argue, he cut him off. "Shut up and take it, Reid. I don't know where your stuff is and they're going to be watching your accounts by tonight. You're going to need all the cash you can. I'm sorry I can't give you more."
"You need to go before she wakes up." Emily interjected. She paused and then yanked Spencer in close for a tight hug. "Dammit, Reid, be safe. Please be safe."
No sooner had she let go than Derek was yanking him in as well. He hugged Spencer tightly, despite their injuries. "You take care of yourself, pretty boy. And if you can, find a way to let me know you're okay, dammit. I'll be doing everything I can to clear you on our end. You just stay safe and stay alive."
Reality was slowly sinking in for Spencer and their words were registering in him. He clung to Derek for a moment. "Take care of my mom." He croaked out hoarsely. "Make sure they don't freeze my accounts. I have one set up to pay for her care."
"I'll take care of her. You've got my word."
Derek was always good for his word. Spencer gave a shaky nod as he pulled back. He found Emily stand there, holding out money as well. "Take it." She insisted when he gave her a broken look. Her voice hitched ever so slightly. "Just take it, Reid."
He didn't want to go. Even knowing that he had to, that he was burning precious minutes here, he couldn't seem to make his feet move. Everything seemed so damn topsy-turvy. How the hell had it ended up like this? He opened his mouth, words sitting on the tip of his tongue, and it hit him that this might be the last time he ever saw his friends. They were right. The Bureau was going to be gunning for him now. Words tumbled past his lips. "I'm sorry."
It made him ache all the more to see his two tough friends look like they were on the verge of tears. They, too, knew this was goodbye. Most likely a permanent goodbye. Spencer was caught up in one more tight hug and then he found himself being pushed towards the house. Pushed to go. His feet seemed to at least get the message. Once they started moving, they didn't stop. They carried him up the porch, past the still unconscious girl, and inside. It was like he went onto autopilot. He went down and quickly found the bedroom. Without hesitation, he grabbed whatever clothes he could that looked like they would fit. A pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a hooded sweater. His bruises made them interesting to get on but the numbness had come back somewhat and it gave him a nice cushion. Last, he took a pair of flip flops from the bottom of the closet. They were a little too big but they'd do the job.
From there he hurried towards the front of the house. Keys hung on a hook by the door and he took them as he went by. Moments later, he was inside of the little SUV out front and was pulling out into the driveway.
He stopped himself at the wreck of their car just beyond the driveway. With the same calm numbness steering him, he climbed out and went to the wreck, going up to the open door at the backseat. Right there on the seat he found his messenger bag. He grabbed it and then hurried back to his stolen car. Without a backward glance, he took off down the road.
Spencer couldn't honestly say where he drove. The next few hours were a blur for him. He took the car to the next town over and dumped it. Then, with the money he had from his friends, he headed to the bus station and caught the first bus out of there.
It was tucked into the back corner of that bus that reality slowly began to seep back in for Spencer. He curled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his waist as his body started to shake. His face pressed against the cool glass, though he didn't feel it. Nothing could compare to the pain he felt on the inside. I killed someone today. I killed someone. No matter that the man was a killer. He was still a person. No one deserved to die that way. Burned alive. That fire had torn free from him without an ounce of control. What was to stop that from happening again? What was to keep him from hurting someone else next time? An innocent?
Spencer pulled his hands free and looked down at them. They looked so…normal. So, safe. Who would guess that they weren't? Trembling, he tucked them in again. He stared out the window of the bus and watched as the scenery went by. What kind of life did he have now? People were going to hunt him down for the murder of that man. The United States government was most likely going to view him as a serious threat. A mutant on the run with a mind like his? A mind that carried a hell of a lot more secrets than a lot of people knew. He'd consulted with numerous branches of the government. There were quite a lot of things that he knew. What would they do when they found out that he was on the run? It wasn't going to be pretty.
This was to be his life, then? Running and hiding? Never to see his friends again? Never to see his family?
He closed his eyes against the agony inside of him. Unnoticed, a single tear slipped down his cheek.