Okay – I am officially in love with Dr. Spencer Reid. Words cannot even describe it. Genuinely very pathetic. However, I've decided to focus that sad, sad energy into writing a fanfic about it!

Hurrah!

So here it is, my first Criminal Minds fiction – I hope you all enjoy it and give it a chance :)

Now onto the prologue!...

Then Julie yelled, "He's got a gun!"
And she stepped in front of me

Suddenly, a shot rang out
And I saw Julie falling!

Run Joey Run by David Geddes

Eden had never seen so many guns in her life. It was a ridiculous amount, nigh on inconceivable for an English country girl who much preferred her chick flicks to any kind of cliché gangster film, or serious war drama.

Even in the documentaries Spencer watched there was always a certain detachment from it, like they were really some kind of pellet gun or water pistol, and death didn't meet you at the end of the barrel. The actors' names in the rolling credits certified that much.

But something told Eden that, in the blink of an eye, the credits of her own life were going to start screening; if one of them slipped just a little, exhaled a little too harshly, shook in the slightest. There was a hair's distance between her and their target, and that target in question had his own glock pressed fiercely, painfully into the racks of her ribs. His other hand settled warningly around her throat.

She was scared for herself. And that was new.

Normally any semblance of fright was reserved for the people stood before her now, a staircase below her, levelling the barrels of their weapons steadily at the unknown behind her, their eyes darting worriedly from her to him and back again.

They looked so professional, so unlike the smiling family she knew and loved well. So unlike she did when she had stumbled upon the hidden pistol in Aaron's study drawer and hadn't been able to resist grasping it in her best Charlie's Angels pose.

"Stick 'em up, Buster! I've got a weapon and I'm not afraid to use it! "

A chuckle came from the doorway behind her and she whipped vehemently around, gun forgotten but still raised, pointed at the intruder. Her eyes had widened, chocolate curls swaying at the sudden motion.

"While you might not find yourself afraid you may still experience some difficulty with the execution, if you'll excuse the pun," he smiled, hands deeply embedded in the brown of his trouser pockets, honey eyes sparked with mirth, "The safety is still on."

Eden quickly dropped her hands and cocked her head to the side, one dimple appearing as she let loose a teasing grin, "Then I guess it's your lucky day, punk."

The stranger let out a soft, genuine laugh, a smile still lingering in the contours of his face: "I guess it is."

Looking into those honey browns in that moment was one of the hardest things Eden had to do. She didn't want him to see her like that: vulnerable; needy; alone. And she didn't want the reality check that came with it. What if she saw fear there? Desperation? Hopelessness?

Then she would know for sure…

She'd know she wasn't getting out of there.

The stranger holding her shook her from her thoughts, moving his hand up to grab her jaw and squeeze her cheeks together tightly; embarrassingly. "No?" He mocked, "You don't want to?" He sighed dramatically and Eden wondered if he was smirking, wondered how anyone could see this as entertaining. Pleasurable.

He manhandled her, shaking her head from side to side before turning his attention to those watching the show. His show.

"How about you, Dr. Reid?" He almost giggled, placing a kiss on her cheek as his hand, calloused and unyielding, slid disgustingly from her face to the swell of her chest, hovering above her cleavage dauntingly. Eden felt sick and tried to swallow back welling tears and rising bile as both surfaced. "Care to share your feelings with the class?" His hands began to travel again, the gun rising to meet her temple, the other continuing south, skimming between her breasts and following along, caressing her waist. "How much you want her…" he tickled across her midriff, "How much you need her…" travelled down to her hip, "How much you love her…"

He reached further, drifting from her hip to her thigh, lifting her skirt to skim the bare, soft skin there, his eyes – laughing, poisonous eyes – never leaving Spencer's. It took everything in the young doctor not to pull the trigger then and there, took everything to hold his gun steady as tremors of rage and frustration rattled his nerves. He took deep breaths. It's what he wants, he reiterated in his mind, radio silence in his ears, don't give him what he wants.

Then she caught him. Her eyes couldn't help but find his as tears escaped her lashes, cascading down the angles of her face, unnaturally pale. He hated the fear there, the apology written across her features. As if it was her fault. As if she was anything other than collateral damage.

Spencer held her gaze, using his face to tell her everything he felt, making promises with the contours of his skin, the widening of his eyes, bobbing of his Adam's apple.

He would get her out of there. If it was the last thing he did on this earth he would find a way to get her out of that murdering bastard's hold and back to his.

Spencer did love her. But, as much as he hated it, loving her would have to wait.

"Come now, Doctor, I don't have all day," he pressed Eden's body closer to himself, and she could feel everything. Every curve of his body, every nook and muscle firmly flattened against her back. She could feel just how damn excited he was by the situation. She closed her eyes and held her breath to resist the sob that was climbing up her chest. Was this it? Was this how it was going to end?

"And who knows how long poor, little Jack has?"

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