I do not own Criminal Minds or its Characters.

This is my first fanfic ever, would love feedback!

Chapter 2 Guns and Crayons

My bed is going to feel beyond wonderful. The cold weather makes every joint in my body ache. I have been shivering all day, and I am exhausted. My queen sized lover calls and I can't help but answer. I change into fresh out of the dryer pajamas, hop in and get under the covers. This is my favorite time of day. Time to be with my thoughts. Time to clear my head. The only problem is my thoughts are filled with images of a guy I just met. I don't understand why I can't stop thinking of him. Part of me wants something weird to happen just so I can call him. What would I even say to the supreme Dr. Reid? Uggh. I am acting like a teenage dreamer. I have to admit, it's been a long time since a man has made me feel even the slightest bit giddy. Not going to lie, it's kind of nice. Bad part, it's seriously keeping me up. As tired as I am, I cannot get the gears to stop turning.

Crayons. They are my favorite medium. As a child, after my mom died, anytime I couldn't sleep I would get up and color. It seemed to help me remember her. It calmed me enough so I could ease back into sleep. Guess I never grew out of that. I personally think all adults should take the time to color. It brings you back to a time that hasn't been ruined by pain or heartbreak. Besides, who doesn't like the freedom to color a cow purple and a horse green?

I walk over to grab my supplies out of my messenger bag, when I realize it's not there. That's so odd. I always bring that thing in with me. It's my version of a security blanket. It must be out in my car. Great. I gotta walk out in the cold, again. Not getting out of my pj's though, a jacket will have to do. As I run down my apartment's stairs I can already feel the temperature drop. God bless street side parking. I reach my car only to realize my bag isn't there either. Strange. Where on earth could I have put it? It's a rather large blue canvas messenger bag with the words, "Police Call Box" on it. If I didn't say that I am a true geek, that bag screams it for me.

Now I am pissed. Got out in the cold for nothing. I reach my door but when I enter I am just a tad bit startled. There, on my entry table is my bag. There is no way I could have missed this. I would have walked right by it going out to my car. I begin to get a tab panicked when I force myself to think logically. It's been a long day and I am just overly tired. I am just allowing myself to get worked up over nothing.

I go ahead and grab my sketch book and crayons to get at it. As I put the Tickle Me Pink crayon to paper it makes me think of my mom again. She would sit with me for hours and we would doodle all kinds of stories. She would always sing silly songs as we drew. Honestly, it was the best part of my childhood. My mother was far from perfect, but she tried very hard to help me be a normal kid. I barely remember any of the bad. Like I said, it has always helped me relax.

The coloring must have worked, because I was still hoIding the crayon when I woke up. I crack my eyes open to see the bright sun shining through my window. I can't help but smile. I think it has been three weeks since we had a good dose of vitamin D. I begin to shut my eyes again when my house phone rings.

"Uggh!" I yelp as I jump out of bed, "I don't have your money right now! Why do you guys have to start so darn early!"

Those bill collectors get me every morning. It has been four months since I graduated and four months since I have had any income coming in. Just wait, when I get this first professional paycheck-it will all be worth it.

I pick up the phone and with no hesitation I yell, "Hello! What do you want?"

"Umm Ms. McMillian, I mean, Lucy?"

Oh God. This is not a bill collector. I check the caller ID. "Federal Bureau…" Oh no, it can't be.

"Uh yes, this is she." Yea, like that is going to make up for the crazy woman outburst.

"Lucy, this is Spencer Reid. I was wanting to know if everything is okay?"

"Okay? I am fine, why?" He is beginning to make me a little nervous. Am I not supposed to be alright? Or maybe is this just some cute excuse to call me. Fat chance.

"Well, you called my cell last night. It was actually rather late. I didn't recognize the number, and there wasn't a message so I thought I would wait to call whoever it was in the morning. "

"I didn't call you Dr. Reid. You must have been mistaken." This guy is reading very high on my weird-o meter now.

"I'm not mistaken, Lucy. I ran your phone number through our analyst and she got your name for me. Someone called me from that house."

I couldn't even speak. The bag. My bag. Oh God, no. This is just a misunderstanding. No one was here but me. No one could have been here but me. My breathing began to get a little erratic, and I could feel the attack coming on. Come on Lucy, don't do this. You've been doing good. Fight back. You gotta fight it.

"Lucy? Are you still there?" I could hear a bit of nervousness and hesitation in his voice, which wasn't helping the situation at all.

I then deeply filled my lungs with air and said, "Dr. Reid, I need to tell you…"

Before I could get the word out I felt it. Pain. Sharp, intense pain. The kind of pain that knocks the breath out of you and causes your knees to buckle. The last image I saw was the clear blue sky out my window. The world then went extremely bright, then black. Nothing. No sound. No interruptions. Just a peaceful void.