*I don't own anything*

I can't help but laugh at their sad attempts to get me to talk, it won't work. There had been the stern looking one that looked like he had seen too much in his life time but felt he had to continue. Then there was the older pruney one that should have been in a retirement home by now. He was followed by another man, he was of color and tried to intimidate me into talking, but that only made it worse.

It had seemed as if they had given up with their male agents when two girls came in, one was blond the other a brunette. Neither of them coxed me into reveling my secret. The one they needed to save three men. Men- ha, could they be considered that. They were disgusting maggots-no, worse- that get off on the pleasure of the pain they brought to women.

Of course, they didn't know why and I wasn't about to tell them, but they would be dead soon anyways; there wouldn't have been enough time to save them if I did tell. I had to be sure they were before I would speak up though.

As the girls leave, the blond says, "I hope you know what you're doing." As if that would faze me; I laugh again, harder but am cut short because of who enters next.

He was skinny, tall, and looked the same but different at the same time. He was someone I knew but couldn't place my finger on it. "Annamaria Cellon." He tested my name on his tongue. I knew the voice too; but from where?

"My name is Spencer Reid," he said tentatively. He wasn't trying to intimidate me or anger me or make me say something; not yet anyways. But as he said his name, I realized where I remembered him from: Caltech, I had been in my second year and he in his first; I had need tutoring in psychology and he offered to help and we later became friends.

He must remember me too then even though we haven't spoken since he had left me after years of friendship. I was able to confirm this as he asked, "Do you remember me?"

No, I was still unwilling to talk but I nodded. I couldn't stop the smirk from crossing my face at how upset the others must have been; they were in here for a good five minutes before switching out; none of them able to get any type of reaction other than a laugh. But Spencer was in here all of thirty second and he managed a nod and smirk.

That nod though was all I was willing to give him, until I knew they were dead.

"We are looking for these three men," he placed a photo of each in front of me, much like the others had and like each time, I felt quezy at just the sight and I wanted to vomit while I saw red of hatred at the same time; but I couldn't let that show. "And we think you might know where they are." He finished, watching me. I sat there not looking at the photos, not at him, not at the wall, but at the table, but saw nothing as I listened to what he was saying, what he was asking; I never answered.

"Please, Anna, we need to know where they are. If you can tell me, I can tell the court that you cooperated and they won't make your life a living hell for you," he pleaded. "We know that it was you, we have the evidence to prove it."

I felt sorry for him to have to do this. We had been friends and now he had to send me to jail because I found a way to serve justice. How sad he must feel to have to wring a confession from me. And I would give it to him and him alone but only when I was comfortable. Now was not the time.

There came a knock at the window and though we both knew that we would see no one, our heads jerked to look at where the noise had come from. We knew what that meant; he had to leave. As he stood he said in a soft voice, "I'm sorry."

He was sorry? For what did he have to be sorry? The others' tactics had been aggressive and tried to be the role of superior. He had never raised his voice in frustration at my silent state. He had tried to keep me safe or at least it felt that way. Like he still felt for our friendship that had basically ended when he continued on to his job of profiling and we never talked. He had apologized to me for something that I had started and needed to finish.

Before I could stop myself I tried to reach my restrained hand out to stop him. He noticed and only paused long enough to catch my eye but continued to exit the room.

No one came to take his place and it had to have been at least five minutes before I attempted to cross my arm over the edge of the table and rest my head on them. It wasn't the most comfortable but what could be expected with handcuffs. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine how the conversation was going outside these walls. Spencer would be fighting to be allowed back in to talk with me more; he would say how he had a connection with me and had had the most luck. And he should be the one to come back in. The time stretched from when he had left and my mind began to wonder down memory road; to when we were in college.

We were meeting outside the campus library and it was warm and sunny. We had gathered to our usual spot in the shade of the big oak tree. He was younger than me, 22 at the time and he looked a lot younger than he did now. I would have been 24 then.

"-Because it travels through the spine in waves." He was talking animatedly.

"Spencer, you do know that I haven't got a clue what you're talking about, right?" I asked

"Yeah, but that's okay." He flashed a smile but it quickly vanished to be replaced with a saddened expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked, I've noticed that he seemed to be in a more depressed stated lately. I had asked many times before but he would never give me a straight answer.

He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "Do you remember two months ago, when Agent Jason Gideon was hosting a seminar?" I nodded, remembering how excited he had been when he had first heard that he was coming to Caltech. "Well, after the lecture, I talked with him and he invited me to work with him at the BAU. And well, after the semester ends, I'm going to work with him. I didn't want to upset you with the news that I'm leaving so I never told you."

He waited for me to react. "Spencer, that's really big news," I started, "I wish that you had told me sooner but wow."

"You mean you're not mad?"

"I wish that you had told me but I'm happy for you. Plus I mean it's not like you aren't coming back when the next semester picks up."

"Actually, I'm not. He was offering a real job and this is what I want to do."

I didn't know how to respond to that; so I didn't. I left him while he still sat there shaded from the sun and I avoided any contact with him until he was gone, I didn't say goodbye to him then he left and I planned on never seeing or hearing from him again. He looked so much older now so that must have been why I hadn't recognized him at first.

The door opening is what startled me into reality. Standing there was Spencer but two officers walked in to release me from the table only to lock my hands together once again. Then they were walking me from the room. I glanced at the clock on the wall to see that enough time had passed so the men would have been dead now.

Spencer had an almost pleading look on his face as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. And as I was walked past him, I paused to whisper only so that he would here, "The basement to the warehouse on Maynard Lane. They will be dead by now. I'm so sorry but if you only knew." Then I was being forced to keep moving and Spencer stood astonished.

Indeed, if only he-they knew and maybe they would now that these women had no constant threat above them they could understand.