The first thing I remember is the dark. The cold, dirty floor, in a room I was blind to. There was no light anywhere, not a crack in a wall. Nothing. The second thing I remember is myself. I felt my body, naked and dirty as the floor, excluding the clean trails on my cheeks from the tears. I hauled myself up from my collapsed pile into a sitting position.

I tried my best to examine myself- split lip, broken fingers on the right hand, sprained ankle- maybe broken, a long cut that started under my breast and crossed my stomach to end at my hip. It wasn't too deep, and had already begun to scab over. Lower down, I felt a fierce, painful ache, and what felt like many brutal bruises. How long had I been there?

I stood up and limped further into the dark, one arm shielding my wound, holding my healthy hand in front of me. I whimpered each time I had to step with my sprained ankle, and each movement tore at the cut a bit more. It started to bleed again. I clamped my arm over it tighter, trying to hold it closed through sheer will.

It seemed like years before I reached a wall. I rested against it, nearly crying with relief. I had accomplished my goal. Now, to find a door... there had to be one..... I leaned as I walked down the wall, feeling for a means out. Blood was flowing freely from the cut, and it was getting harder and harder to walk. I slumped more and more to the wall. Finally, I gave up. I sat on the floor, screaming, wordless. I was stuck here, dying, in a world with no light, no way to help myself. "AAAaaahhh! AAAAAAAAAAAAH! Help, help, please!" I was on the floor again, sobbing, miserable. Stuck.

I heard a creak over my whimpers, and the room was cut open by light. There was a door- I'd been checking the wrong wall- and there was a silhouette in the doorway. I shut up. If that was the person who did this, I wanted him to think I was dead. If it wasn't, the person would be able to see me, and would try to help me.

The shadow rushed toward me. "Oh no, oh no..." He put a hand to my neck, felt for a pulse. I took a big, shaking breath. My voice sounded raw. "Please... please help me...." I uncurled myself and showed my blood-covered torso. Funny enough, it made me feel safer, the blood did. Less naked. The man- I could tell by the voice he was male, a young man- sounded horrified, frantic. It was funny... it wasn't too bad... I'd be fine...

The man lifted me into his thin arms, hurried me to the door. I leaned into his chest. I took a deep breath of him. He smelled like cologne and paper and now, blood. It was comforting. I held onto him, my arms around his neck. "It will be okay, I promise. Nothing bad will happen, I won't hurt you." The man said, worried. "I... believe you. Don't leave me here...."

"I won't." It sounded like a promise. I let the light swallow us. I liked him. He'd help me.

***

I woke up in another strange place, but this one was better. There was a pillow under my head, and a mattress under my body. The place smelled familiar, the clean of a hospital, and a bit like something else, something warmer- cologne, maybe? Even with my eyes shut, I could see the light. My not-broken hand was being held by another hand, a bit warmer than mine. The thumb of the strange hand was rubbing little circles on my skin. It felt nice. I smiled.

The hand was surprised- it stopped moving for a second. Then another hand joined it, along with the man's voice. "Hello?"

I found my lips and licked them. They felt dry, as did my throat. I coughed out a "Hello" back, and opened my eyes.

The man from the light was handsome, in an unusual way. Reddish hair with a slight curl, longer than most men let their hair grow. Pale face, with prominent cheekbones, and hazel eyes with a lot of gold in them in this light. He was dressed like an Ivy League college student: skinny tie, button-down shirt underneath a maroon sweatervest. His pretty hair was rumpled, and there were circles underneath his eyes, which were focused on me. He looked happy yet concerned. "I'm Spencer Reid, what's your name?"

Thinking back, I must've been on some painkillers, because I didn't respond immediately. I was watching him, letting the sight of him sink into my memory. Something just popped out of my mouth, unbidden.

"Were you the man in the dark room? The one who got me out?" My voice was high, panicked-sounding, although my mind was relaxed.

"Um, yes, I was... are you feeling any better? Do you remember your name?" He sounded more nervous than me.

I coughed. "Yeah... a lot better. Where am I?"

"The hospital. They cleaned you up, put a cast on your hand and your ankle. But they need to know your name, to contact your parents."

"My name is Serena. Serena Ortiga. Don't bother calling my parents," I said. I felt my face hardening up at the thought of them.

He looked confused. "But... you need them to sign the papers, and don't you want them here?"

"I can sign my own damn paperwork. I'm emancipated. And no, I don't want them here." He cleared his throat, and he started trying to warm up my cold hand again. "Why?"

I narrowed my eyes. Which hurt, because of the bruises. "Because they're the reason I'm here."

I tried to explain, but my throat was too dry. Reid looked at me, wondering why I wasn't talking, and I looked pointedly at the pitcher of water. "Oh!" He got the point, and jumped from his chair to get me a drink. He spilled half the pitcher on himself in his eagerness, and turned pink in the face. I laughed weakly as he tried to dry off with one of the blankets from my bed.

Finally, Reid was dry, and had a full cup of water to offer me. I pushed up from the bed and froze halfway up. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I looked down at the bed, and then looked at him. "Why am I naked?"

He took a glance at the state of me, with the blanket barely covering me- both legs were exposed to the knee, and my chest was very nearly indecent. Once again, he turned bright red, but this time he wasn't alone.

"That's my fault, they didn't want to risk disturbing the stitches to get it on you with you passed out, so the nurses gave me a hospital gown to give you when you woke up, but I forgot because I needed to find out what happened, I'm sorry.' He scrambled to get the gown from the drawer where he'd stashed it, looking apologetic and awkward. It seemed like he'd forgotten I was a girl until I was embarrassed about being nude.

He held the johnny out to me, looking away. The room was private and all the curtains were drawn, but I couldn't get into it.

"Um... Mr. Reid?"

He was still turned away. "Uh, just call me Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer."

"Okay... Spencer? My hand, it's broken, and... I can't tie the strings." I had my arms through the sleeves, but I couldn't tie the back. All that was keeping it on was my outstretched arms. "I'm going to walk in front of you, and just tie it, please?"

"Sure." His eyes were still squeezed shut. I took my place in front of him. I fought the urge to cross my arms- the gown would fall off- but it was hard. This was awkward, so embarrassing.... my insides were squirming at the thought of being exposed this way.

I felt the slight tug of fabric as he quickly knotted the strings. "Too tight? Too loose?" I moved a bit to test it.

"Uh, a bit too tight." He untied it, pulled the strings a bit further away, and tied it up again. "Is that right?" I tested it again. "Yeah, that's fine. Thanks." I turned to limp back to my bed- just standing in the clunky cast was painful- but Spencer took hold of my shoulder. "Wait!"

My heart raced. "Let go!" I jerked away from his grip, smacked his arm away from me and backed away from him.

He put his arms out in a gesture of surrender. "Wait. Please, I'm sorry. I saw something on your back, it looked like someone wrote something on you. Can I look at it?" He looked very curious.

I took a deep breath, tried to calm down. It was just him. Just him. Not a bad person, it was just this man, Spencer. He won't hurt you. If he tried, you could yell and someone would hear. It's okay. I convinced myself to relax.

"I- yes, you can." In that moment I noticed something hitched to his belt- a holster. "But take off the gun and put it on the nightstand." He was about to protest. "No! Take it off or don't come near me."

Reid pulled it off, placed it by the bed. "Okay. There it is. Can I just examine your back, please? I won't touch you."

"No, that's fine, if you have to." I felt bad. It wasn't fair of me to be mean just because of my fear. I swallowed the tears I could feel coming, residue from him scaring me. I sat on the bed and sighed. "Okay, proceed with your examination, Doctor." The bed shifted as he sat down.

He pulled the back of the johnny open. "I am a doctor, actually. Not a medical one, but I have a doctorate."

"Oh." A thought struck me. "Where do you work?"

His long fingers gently probed my back. "The FBI, in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We think you may be the victim of a serial rapist and murderer we've been trying to track." His fingers paused. "You're the only one who's escaped alive."

Spencer's fingers remained paused on my back. His voice was a bit unsteady. "Here it is," he announced. "It's a letter. T, in fancy script." He sighed. "There's no doubt. He intended for you to be the twentieth."

"The twentieth? He's killed twenty people?! And no one's caught him.... Oh my God."

I felt him nod. "Well, no. Only nineteen. You're still alive, I believe." Spencer traced the T, slowly, lightly. I shivered and turned to him. Our faces were a finger's width away.

"Thank you. For saving me." I didn't say the words so much as I breathed them. Spencer smiled, and leaned towards me. "I liked saving you," he whispered into my ear. Then he pulled back and covered my hand with his. "You know no man can resist helping the damsel in distress. It's how humans are wired."

I smiled back at him. "Well, I'm glad you did."

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation. "Who is it?" Spencer said, still looking at me. "It's Hotch, open up," said the door.

He held up a finger- one second - and opened the door.

I screamed and clambered to the other side of the room, slammed my back against the wall. I was breathing hard, and my eyes were tearing up. "Get away from me!' I yelled.

"Stay right there," Spencer warned the stranger, and walked over to my side of the room. He crouched down next to me and put and arm around my shoulders. "It's okay, Serena. It's okay. This man won't come near you, I promise."

I nodded, gasping for breath. Spencer pulled me closer and rubbed my arm. "Now, what about Hotch scared you?"

"I-it's him. H-he hurt me, he d-d-did this--" I broke off. "But th-this one isn't b-b-blonde....?" I was so confused... it was the same man, no doubt, but with different hair.

The man who hurt you looked like Hotch, but blonde? Okay. What else was different about the man?" Spencer asked quietly.

"The other man... he wasn't wearing a suit, he was wearing.... " I shut my eyes, "blue jeans... and tennis shoes. A red t-shirt and a black belt, leather, real leather. He b-bragged about it...." Pushing closer to Spencer, I wiped off my tears. "He said he took it off one of the others. that's exactly what he said. 'I took it off one of the others'....". I buried my face in his chest. "I don't want to talk anymore," I said in a tiny voice.

"Okay, you don't have to. Just relax." Spencer rubbed my back, and I did begin to relax. Which, I thought drowsily (the short time I'd been awake was exhausting), was strange. I barely knew this person, but I felt nearly safe with him, at ease.

The man- Hotch, whatever that was short for- waked into the room and sat on the chair next to Spencer and spoke with him in a quiet voice. "What's her name?"

"Serenity Ortiga. I had Garcia search it- she's been missing for three days. She lives two blocks from where I found her."

"Do you know how old she is, who her parents are?"

"I don't know her age, but she doesn't like her parents. She's emancipated and said that her parents are the reason she's here. I think she meant they're the reason why she's in the hospital."

"Okay. I'm going to call Garcia and ask for this girls' statistics- age, parents, reason for emancipation." He spoke more quietly. I could barely hear him. "Stay with her. After what she's been through, she needs someone familiar to stay and keep her feeling safe." Hotch paused. "And that seems to be you."

Hotch got up and left, shutting the door behind himself. Spencer and I just stayed on the floor, huddled together.

After a while- I don't know how long- Spencer asked me what happened when Hotch walked in. "Hotch- Agent Hotchner- works with me. What made you think he was the man who hurt you?"

I thought. "Well... he looks exactly like him, apart from the hair. And he's tall, and strong-looking, and very serious.... like a man on a mission. Wouldn't someone who came to finish me off think he's on a mission? And he was strong... and tall. Just like Agent Hotchner."

Spencer nodded, obviously deep in thought. "You live with your parents, right?"

"Nope. I live with my grandma, but she died. That's why I was walking the street when..... when he found me. I was just thinking." I sighed. "I'll have nowhere set to go when I get out of the hospital. I guess I'll find something."

"Well, couldn't you live in your grandmother's house?" Spencer asked.

"I could, but I can't get a job that'll pay enough for me to keep it heated and have groceries. Plus, it'd be so lonely, living in that big house all by myself. Oh well. Something will come, I hope."

Spencer gave me a look. "Right after you're out of the hospital, you'll stay with me- you're a witness for the case. The team can't risk you getting killed or ending up on the streets. And after that, we can take it as it comes."

I was stunned. This person who barely knows me was willing to give up their privacy to keep me safe. It was heartwarming, and that's exactly how it made me feel. Warm inside. And there was a strange tingle down my spine as he looked at me again with a smile. I wondered what his house would be like- or would it even be a house? maybe it'd be an apartment, or a dorm room. He looked like the type to be doing night college while working at the FBI. Or maybe he still lived with a relative.

"That would be great." I gave him the biggest smile I could without my lip splitting again. I looked at the clock on the wall- 9:48. "Is it daytime or night?"

Spencer absentmindedly checked his watch. "Uh, 9:48 at night."

I didn't want him to go. I wanted him near me, but he must've been up for hours waiting for me to get up. The circles under his eyes were dark, and I had the sense that he was one of those people who needed to be reminded to sleep, and to eat, so lost in their thoughts they could get. "You should go home. You look tired."

He stood up and pulled me up with him. "What? No, I've got orders to stay here until you're out. For the next few weeks, I'm going to be your shadow."

I tried to ignore the cheer I felt at the thought of staying with him for weeks. "Anyway, you should get some sleep. I'll ask one of the nurses for a cot, if you want."

He shook his head. "No, someone could sneak in." The only space in the room for a cot to fit was on the other side of my bed, the side further from the door. "I'll sleep in the chair."

"No, you will not. I've been sleeping for ages. Sleep in the bed, I'll sit on the end of it. If I hear anything, I'll wake you up."

He gave me a weird look, but all he asked was "What will you do while I sleep?" He seemed to think it was strange that I gave up the bed. What's the point of a bed if you're not sleeping? I thought, grouchy. It was the most reasonable solution.

I surveyed the room. No TV, since it looked like a rather poor hospital. No books.... not even prints on the walls. Absolutely noting to do... until I spotted his bag. "Can I use your laptop?"

"Sure." He took it out of its case and handed it to me, then kicked off his shoes and laid on the bed, on his side. I plopped onto the end and looked at his feet.

"Your socks don't match!" I smiled with surprise. One was yellow with black polka dots, and the other was striped with black, gray, and maroon. I glanced up at his face, still grinning. "I haven't worn matching socks since I was in fifth grade."

He simply smiled. Now that his head was on the white pillow, the darkness under his eyes was even more emphasized. He looked dead tired. I opened the laptop- "Wait."

Spencer looked up. I picked up the holster and gun from the nightstand and hitched it to his belt, then went straight back to the computer. I checked the reviews on the amateur stories I'd posted on a few websites, checked my email, looked on a few news websites. Once Spencer was asleep, I even unearthed a pair of headphones from his bag (yes, I know, I shouldn't have gone through his stuff. But I needed headphones so I wouldn't wake him up, and I found his badge, along with a few thick paperback books, sci-fi novels. Both put my mind at ease a little) so that I could listen to some of my favorite songs on YouTube.

I put the headphones back in his bag and placed the laptop on the floor, playing a list of Beethoven and Chopin nocturnes on repeat. I took the glass pitcher of water and put it flush against the door, to act as a crashing alarm if anyone wanted to enter. I took the sedative a nurse had offered me, after knocking on the door. Curling up at the foot of the bed, my back to Spencer, I let the soft piano coerce me into sleep.

Strange things had happened in my sleep.

I woke up with arms, Spencer's arms, wrapped tight around me, and mine were keeping his there. His body was curved to fit around mine, which wasn't the tense ball of nerves it'd been the time before. I was stretched out, one leg bent. In my sleepy, hazy state, I didn't move. I didn't even think to move. This felt right; familiar, even. I made a little noise and snuggled closer to his chest. Asleep, he responded only by pushing forward, to me. The nocturnes were still playing. Through the curtains, the hallway was brighter than it had been the night before. I assumed that meant it was daytime. I carefully unwound Spencer's arm from me and checked the watch- 8:02 am. I bet Reid had to be up by now, and I looked at the nightstand. There was a small black cell phone on it. grabbed it and checked it- 4 N E W V O I C E M E S S A G E S. I sighed, putting the phone back down, as I took hold of Spencer's hand. I shook it.

Nothing happened. He laid there, eyes shut. I shook his shoulder.... Still nothing. I thought for a minute, then... I pulled his hair, hard.

He jumped and rubbed his head, with one arm still around me. "Ow! What was that for?!" He looked completely unsurprised to have an arm around me.

"Spencer, it's eight in the morning, and you have four messages on your phone. Already." If Spencer was okay with being close to me, then I was okay with it too. More than okay. Once I wasn't in that dreamy half-sleep, I felt like I'd had ten cups of coffee. Just from his touch. Wow.

He ran a hand through his hair and picked up the phone. After he listened to the messages, he got up from the bed and began packing the bag up. "You like nocturnes?"

"Uh, yeah, they help me sleep. What's happening?"

He slung the strap of the bag over his shoulder. "We're going to sign you out, then JJ's going to pick us up and lend you some real clothes, then she'll bring us to the hotel, we'll change and head to Quantico."

I was confused. "Isn't Quantico in Virginia? We're in New York City now. Unless I'm really a total failure at geography, we need plane tickets to get there in any sort of good time."

Spencer put his arm around my waist as I limped and nearly fell on the way to the door. I leaned gratefully against him. "The FBI has a jet that will take us. See, all of us were here to investigate the serial.... cases that were going on here. But now that we have you, we can review the case in Virginia. Hotch and Prentiss will stay here, because we believe the UnSub- Unidentified Subject- is still in this state."

I nodded. Of course the FBI would have a jet. Why did I expect anything else? Some people don't have healthcare, or food, or a home, but the FBI has a whole fleet of private jets, I'd bet. Only in America.

We limped me to the nearest nurse's station, where I signed a ridiculous amount of paperwork after having an even dumber argument with a nurse as to my state of emancipation, which only ended when Spencer, mumbling something about "hating to do this", pulled out his badge and "vouched" for me. Then we limped to an elevator, limped to the doors, and limped out the hospital to what I assumed was JJ's car. Whoever JJ was. His girlfriend? His wife?

It was a large, unmarked black van, the back of which was where Spencer and I sat. The driver of the car was a young, pretty blonde woman, who introduced herself as Agent Jennifer Jareau. "I work with Spencer. Call me JJ. Oh!" She looked like she'd just remembered something. "Here," she handed me a plastic shopping bag, "these are for you. I hope they fit! You're taller than me." I smiled at her, nervously. "Um, thank you. I really can't wait to get into real clothes again." JJ pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive.

Spencer leaned over and whispered to me. "JJ is on the team. She organizes press conferences, deals with media relations in addition to her field work. She's very good at her job, and she'll be around us most of the time, since she's the one on the team I'm closest to."

He saw the look on my face and seemed to read my mind. "JJ's like a sister to me. Other than her, we'll spend a lot of time with Morgan, and Garcia. I think you'll like her."

I was relieved. I did not like the idea of Spencer having a girlfriend... which, again, was a weird unbidden thought that I considered I'd best keep private. I am Spencer's job, I told myself. Once this is over, I'm just a past case. It was true. I was still sad.

"What makes you think I'll like her?" I asked Spencer saucily. I wanted his attention.

He grinned. "The reaction to my socks last night." JJ looked at me questioningly through the rearview mirror. "f you like mismatched socks, you'll like Garcia."

JJ laughed in the front seat. "Just wait until she hears you said that!" She pulled out her phone and flipped it open, started scrolling through the contacts. "Garcia... G... G... G..."

Reid lunged from his seat and tried to grab the phone. "No, JJ, please don't! Come on, JJ, you know she'll kill me!"

I laughed and nearly split my stitches. "Wow, Spencer scared, didn't think I'd see that!" I kept laughing as he kept reaching for the phone. "Ooh, I found her!" JJ said. "Hmmm, should I call her or send her a text?" she teased as she held the phone to far forward for Spencer to reach.

This went on for a few minutes more. Finally I broke into their feuding. "Aw, come on. You can't tell Garcia anything unless Spencer's wrong! Otherwise it's just not fair."

JJ sighed theatrically. "Oh well, I guess you're right." She made a show of putting the phone away. "But if you don't like Garcia...."- she looked threateningly at Spencer- "she will be hearing that you think she's a pair of mismatched socks."

"I don't think she's a pair of mismatched socks, I think she's like a pair of mismatched socks, there is a difference...." Spencer mumbled, knowing he'd lost.

I nudged him with my shoulder. "Hey, I think I'll like her. Especially if you're this scared of her."

He snuck an arm around my waist, shooting sneaky glances at JJ through the rearview mirror to be sure she couldn't see. He whispered into my ear again. "Why can I do this, but you can't even look the male nurses in the eye?" Reid was obviously confused.

I thought. "Good question. Hmm...... Well, I know you better than them. I know your name. And since I realized what- what happened to me, you've been touching me. Remember, you carried me out of-" I swallowed- "that dark place, and you were holding my hand when I woke up." I cocked my head to the side. "I'm used to it, I guess. And you smell good."

My voice rose a bit towards the end, and I was pretty sure JJ heard me. I leaned in anyways, sniffed his neck. Sleep, day-old cologne, paper and hospital soap. In that moment, I was sure it was the best scent in the world. When I saw him look up- toward the rearview mirror- I knew he saw the other agent watching us. I saw him smile at her, then turn that sight to me. Spencer started talking to JJ while our gazes were locked. "So, JJ, now you know."

She cleared her throat. "Reid. Isn't that... inappropriate? While she's in the case?"

I burst in. "Technically, no. It's inadvisable, but since I'm seventeen, it's legal. Plus, I... trust him."

He leaned towards her. "I'm not going to tell anyone about this. JJ, this has to be a secret. If Hotch finds out, he'll take me off the case, and then she can't stay with me. And I don't think she should be put through that."

JJ was obviously thinking hard as she drove into the hotel parking lot. She sighed. "I don't think you should do this, Reid. But I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Thank you, thank you so much!" I was so relieved. There would only be one female available for me to stay with, and chances were I wouldn't be able to... and I wouldn't be able to handle being with any man other than Spencer.

We got out of the car, and Spencer took his thick jacket out of the bag and handed it to me. "I should've thought of this earlier," he said as he put it on me. I felt so much better with it on. It hung to midthigh on me- a few inches less than the johnny- and I felt safer with it on. It was warm and lined with something silky.

There were men in the parking lot, walking to and from the hotel. Some were with women, some weren't, but all of them looked at me in my half-dressed state and were thinking what I knew they must be. Two pretty girls, one guy, mid-day. I hated the looks in their eyes as they took me in, hated the thoughts going through their heads. Our little threesome walked to the doors as fast as we could, with my leg.

The hotel was a nice one. No marble floors, but no cigarette stains on the walls. Spencer hurried me to the elevators, and I wondered if he'd always been so nervous in public, or if it was an FBI thing. Secrecy and protection of the public, that whole deal. Either way, we reached the room in record time. JJ slid her key card and the door unlocked.

There were three bedrooms in the suite, with two beds in each. JJ headed to the second bathroom for a quick shower, while Spencer and I went to one of the bedrooms. I assumed Spencer shared it with someone, because the table by one bed had five books on it, none of them thin. One of them was the sequel to one I'd seen in his bag the night before. I put the bag of clothes on the bed and sat, rubbed my leg above the short cast.

"So, what did JJ give you to wear?" Reid asked.

I emptied the bag onto the bed. There was a black dress with a green, blue and white pattern. A pair of black leggings, white socks, and little black slip ons, half a size too big. It all looked like it would fit. At the bottom of a bag, there was brand-new underwear. I nearly cried, it was so thoughtful. I couldn't wait to feel like a real, properly dressed person again.

I looked at Spencer and blushed. "Uh, so... can you help me with this?" I looked down, embarrassed. Needing help to get dressed wasn't so embarrassing in the hospital- after all, that's where people go when they're hurt and need help with the little things- but being alone in a hotel room was a whole different animal.

He eased his coat off me, and started untying the strings of the johnny. "It's okay, it's okay," he said soothingly when I started shaking. The feel of my skin exposed to the air was not one I had fond memories of.

"It's untied," he told me, then put the clothing in the bathroom. "Just knock if you need any help." Spencer kept his eyes averted as I walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

There were no windows in the bathroom. I checked behind the shower curtain and in the closet- just in case. I had to tear the package of underwear open with my teeth. It all fit, thank God, but I couldn't hook the bra.

I panicked. I was in less than a hospital gown, and I needed help to finish getting my clothes all on. My hands got clammy when I thought of anyone coming in here- even Spencer. I couldn't leave half-clothed but couldn't let anyone in. I took a few deep breaths. In, out. In, out. I won't be hurt, I won't be hurt. Then I had a stroke of brilliance and checked the closet again. There it was- a curtain rod! Not as good as a knife, but a weapon if necessary. It could do if I could do it.

I knocked on the door.

Spencer walked in, gaze to the floor. "What do you need help with?"

I eyed the rod, next to the shower where I'd stashed it. Easily within arm's reach. "Could you hook my bra?" I kept my eyes trained on him, and he blushed. "I'll try, but no guarantees."

I spun away from him. I couldn't bear to see his eyes on me. He was Spencer, but he was still a man, and I had to pretend that this wasn't happening. It was over in a moment.

"Thank you. Please go."

He left.

It was that easy. Nothing happened.

Not a single thing. I shouldn't have worried. Obviously, I wasn't wrong to trust him. I was kinda proud of him, for not pushing it at all. He just did what I asked and left, and I knew he was interested. Why else would he be risking his job to be.... with me this way? The way he'd seemed to convey to JJ?

I pushed thinking aside in favor of dressing. I pulled the dress over my head and yanked the leggings over my cast. I slipped on the socks and shoes, then washed my hair in the sink with the little hotel toiletries. I waltzed out of the bathroom feeling much better. Spencer was sitting on the bed, reading a book. When I came in, he looked up, and I twirled for him with a smile. "Do you like it?" The dress was knee-length, but fit snugly, with a loosely flaring skirt. It was very pretty.

He stood and smiled back at me. "I think it looks great." I walked to him and looked straight in his golden-brown eyes. I reached for his hand.

"I'm sorry," I said softly.

"I understand." He looked into my eyes, asking permission. "This is okay, right?" I nodded, slowly, biting my lip. He leaned down, placed a shy kiss where my neck and shoulder met. A shock- like lightning- shot through me, from his lips to my spine, and I nearly dropped to the floor. I grabbed his shirt to break my fall, and he staggered from the pull. The look on his face switched from surprise to a smile. From his shirt, he took hold of my hands, pulled me up onto my own feet. Then I breathed in deeply, and placed my lips on his.

It was perfect. I felt warm from my head to my toes, and I shut my eyes. His lips fit just right with mine, and my heart beat faster. He put his arms around me and pulled me close, and I knew- for sure- that this man would never hurt me. He handled me like glass. The kiss deepened, our lips moving in tandem, and I reached beneath his shirt and felt the warm, smooth skin of his back. He moved a hand to run his fingers through my hair.

A knock at the door interrupted us. Spencer looked at me apologetically, and I unwrapped myself from him to answer the knock. "Hi, JJ. We're ready to go." I'm sure we made quite the picture of suspicion, as my hair was mussed and Reid's shirt was wrinkled, not to mention the blush of his face. I had a better poker face, but I bet I was still a bit colored from the intense moment. Spencer tossed me the jacket and picked up the bag. JJ had a backpack over her shoulders and the car keys in her hand as she flipped me a sly smile. As we left the suite, she whispered to me. "We've been taking bets on how long it'd be till Spencer got himself a girlfriend. Emily owes me twenty now, since she said it wouldn't happen before next year."

"Well," I whispered back, "I don't know..... a kiss doesn't have to mean anything..."

She chuckled. "It does for Reid. He never does anything he's not serious about." JJ watched me smile, no doubt proud of making me feel better.

Spencer caught up to us just as we reached the elevator. "So, JJ, you're going to tell Garcia, aren't you?" He curled and arm around me as the elevator began it's descent.

"Of course! It's not like she wouldn't find out anyway. You know how she can read this kind of thing. Plus," she said, eyeing Spencer's arm, "you don't seem to be too intent on keeping it secret."

"Actually, relatively steady amounts of physical contact have been proven to improve the rate of healing from psychiatric trauma by seventy percent in females. And Hotch can also see that she's okay with it."

More than okay with it, as a matter of fact. But I kept my mouth shut and beamed. "Also, her leg.... the hospital didn't give her crutches, so she'll need help going up and down stairs."

JJ shook her head. "That's fine. Just make sure no one sees you two getting more touchy-feely than 'medically' necessary. And don't lose your guard just because Garcia and I will know. You know how Emily's a stickler for the rules."

Spencer checked out in the lobby, and we made out way back to the truck. He and JJ bantered on the ride to the airport, but I wasn't listening. I looked at the splints on my fingers, the mottled color of the fingertips that peeked out. The doctor had told me that I'd regain most of the function of my hand after months of physical therapy. My ankle would be fine in a month or two, and it would take two to four weeks for my stomach to heal. I would always have a thick pink scar. I'd never wear a bikini without getting weird looks. My face, as I'd seen in the mirror, was peppered with swollen blue bruises. The rape kit at the hospital would be sent to the FBI next week. I couldn't even have a man look at me in my underwear without thinking I may have to kill him to stay safe.

And I was one of the lucky ones.