For most of the morning, Hotch, Emily, J.J., and Spencer worked quietly at the Houston Police Department. Not that you could really call the atmosphere quiet. All around them was a cacophony of construction sounds, not including the typical hustle and bustle of a police station.
Spencer was trying to focus his efforts on the map in front of him, but was crashing from his high and in desperate need of a fix. With Hotch watching him closely, there was no chance he'd be able to slip away and use. Not that he wanted to while at work. He was trying to save lives and being high wasn't exactly helpful to those victims.
He only used when off the clock. Just like someone has a drink after work, he gets high. Nothing wrong with that? At least, that's what he told himself whenever his conscience tried to tell him otherwise.
He was starting to sweat and felt nauseous as his fingers trailed the board. He was aware of Emily sitting behind him watching what he was doing. Probably judging him and trying to catch any mistakes he made, so she would look better than him.
"Emily would never do that!" his conscience argued.
He shook off the annoying battle in his brain, just as J.J. came waltzing back into the room.
"What's that?" Hotch asked her.
"One of the detective's wives made us cookies," she said as she ate one.
"Wow, homemade cookies," Emily said clearly touched by the gesture.
"Yea, I guess that's what they mean by southern hospitality," J.J. said with a heavy southern accent.
"What are you saying?" Spencer said irritated as he turned to look at her.
"Southern hospitality," Emily repeated.
With that, Spencer stormed angrily across the room.
"How can you even concentrate –" he grumbled as he noisily slammed the window shut. "How can anybody hear anything with all this work going on?"
He stalked back over to the board.
"Well you better get used to it. Construction crews are working around the clock," J.J. snipped as she ate her cookie and returned to her work.
Emily kept her focus on Spencer. It disturbed her to see him so irritable. She watched as he scratched underneath his chin like a dog with fleas. She opened her mouth to speak, but Gideon, Morgan, and the local detective hurried into the room.
"Unsub might be homeless," Gideon stated. "He appears to have been living in a building next to where the security guard was attacked." He idled behind Spencer and the map.
"These are the locations of the last three murders. All of them are near abandon buildings," Spencer said as he morphed back into his old self.
"He knows the neighborhood. Maybe he was recently displaced," Hotch said.
"Could be a motive," Emily replied. "Construction workers, security guard at a construction site. Payback?"
"What about the homeless man?" Derek said.
"Get a lot of beef's down there with the homeless. That one could've just been a fight about space or food," the detective suggested.
"Let's get a list of residents that have been kicked out of their homes by the gentrification," Gideon said before turning to Emily. "You and Reid check the shelters."
"Yea, we're on it," Emily said getting up from her chair. "Unless … are you ok with that, Reid?"
She didn't know why she felt the need to throw shade at him. Maybe she was sick of his attitude? Maybe she wanted him to know he was hurting her? Maybe she just wanted to be a dick to him like he was to her? Either way she tossed it right out in front of everyone.
"I'm fine with that," he said as though he couldn't imagine why she would even ask such a question.
Emily nodded and walked off with Spencer trailing behind her. She went straight for the SUV and climbed in the driver's seat. She waited as he took his time getting into the passenger seat and buckled up.
"Ready?"
"Obviously," he said as he turned his attention out the window.
Emily bit her lip to keep from snapping at him. She didn't want to argue. Now was not the time. She drove off toward the nearest shelter, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white.
"Thanks for calling me out back there," he muttered halfway to their destination.
"Excuse me?" she said as she glanced his way.
"I know what you were trying to do in there. That was low, even for you," he said, gazing out his side window.
"Low even for me, huh? Pretty rich coming from you," she said as she tried to control her temper.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he said as his head snapped in her direction.
She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.
"I'm not arguing with you, Spencer. We have a job to do," she said as evenly as possible.
He didn't respond, but didn't object either. So, the remainder of the ride was in silence. When they pulled up to the first shelter, Spencer hopped out before Emily even had the car fully parked. She groaned at his childishness, but pushed it down and quickly followed.
Once inside they greeted Angie, one of the administrators of the shelter.
"Hi, I'm Agent Prentiss, this is Agent Reid. We're with the FBI," Emily introduced as she shook Angie's hand.
"Really?" Angie said surprised.
"Really," Spencer repeated rudely.
Emily showed Angie her badge and the poor woman became quite nervous.
"Looks like you've got your hands full," Emily said as she tried to ease Angie's nerves.
"The demolitions, the projects, and the abandoned buildings there's no place else for people to sleep," Angie replied.
"Well, thank God there are people like you," Emily said with a gentle smile. "You take the time –"
"Do you have a list of everyone who comes through here?" Spencer interrupted.
"Uh, we have a sign in sheet, but we don't force anyone to sign if they don't want to. Some who do don't even use their real names. Elvis eats here a lot," Angie explained.
"We would appreciate any lists you have," Emily said with a calm voice.
"Why?"
"Have you noticed anyone who acts unusually aggressive towards the other residents?" Spencer asked her.
"What's this about?" Angie said as her arms wrapped protectively around her middle.
"A series of murders in the area. The perpetrator may be a homeless man … may be someone who stays here … may even be in this room as we speak," he said as he looked around the room.
Emily's brow furrowed as she shot him a look.
"Reid," she scolded.
Angie looked around the room in fear.
"Have you noticed anyone who acts paranoid or displays explosive, unprovoked bursts of violence more than just pushing and shoving. I mean … someone who really tries to harm others?" he continued, completely ignoring Emily.
"There are territorial fights over food and places to sleep. The nurse treats people for minor injuries all the time, but no one's seriously hurt."
"If anyone does come to mind," Spencer said coldly as he pulled out his business card. "Give us a call. Thank you."
With that, he turned and walked away. Leaving a terrified Angie and a shocked and pissed off Emily.
"A murderer?" Angie said to Emily.
"I'm sorry. Uh … um …" Emily stuttered as she tried to calm the situation and ease this woman's fears. "This investigation is still … no one's actually been hurt in a shelter. We're just … we're acting with an abundance of caution. So, please let the police know if anything unusual occurs. Thank you."
Emily waved to Angie and stalked off to find Spencer. She was steaming at him for what he just did. Outside she found him pacing the street, staring at people walking by. His arms folded across his chest like he was some big, badass.
"There's high presence of mental disorders with the homeless," he began.
"Yea," she snapped. "What the hell was that in there?"
"What?" he said genuinely confused.
"He may even be in this room as we speak," she repeated incredulously. "We have nothing to support that."
"We're investigating a serial homicide should I have pretended there's no danger?"
"We just left that poor woman potentially afraid of every man who walks into this shelter," Emily said as she ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.
"Again, until we find this unsub how is that a bad thing?"
"What is the matter with you?" she said softly, hoping Spencer was still in there and would hear this cry for him.
"What ... what do you mean, what's the matter with me?" he said with a furrowed brow.
She could tell he wondered how much she knew. He was trying to gage how much trouble he was in.
"I've never seen you act like this," she said with concern.
"Oh, really. Oh … in the … in the months that you've known me, you've never seen me act this way?" he snapped. "Hey no offense Emily, but you don't really know what you're talking about, do ya?"
He stormed off back toward the SUV. Emily stood shell-shocked as she watched him. She couldn't even plead to his good side. How in the world was she going to help him when he fought back so hard? It might be time to see if anyone else was as worried as she was.
(xxxxx)
The rest of the case Emily kept herself professional, shoving her emotions deep inside, as usual. But every person has their breaking point. This case of the terrified war veteran suffering from PTSS ended tragically.
Emily stood inches away from Spencer when he received the call that the man had been shot and killed. She felt her heart stop before it sped up, pounding furiously against her chest. Her eyes uncharacteristically teared up as she tried to swallow down the pain she felt for that man and his family.
She rushed to the conference room, closed the door behind herself, and burst into tears. She braced herself on one of the chairs as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She heard the door open gently behind her, causing her to stand up straight and quickly wipe away evidence of her sorrow.
"Em?"
She glanced over her shoulder and let out a humorless laugh.
"What?" she said wetly as she began to clean up the table.
Spencer seemed to hesitate before he asked, "are you ok?" It was his soft voice. The one she remembered and fell in love with. Her heart aching more at the thought of who he used to be. She dropped the papers in her hands and leaned over the table again.
"I'm fine," she huffed.
She felt his hand gently touch her shoulder, making her flinch and move out of reach.
"I said I'm fine. Just leave me alone."
The room was silent for a moment, before he spoke again.
"I'm sorry," he said in a hushed voice.
She turned to look at him then. Part of her wanted him to see what he was doing to her. How he was breaking her unlike anyone before. Another part of her needed to understand what exactly he was sorry for.
He could read the question in her red, swollen eyes. He wasn't just sorry for what happened with the case. He was sorry for how he was treating her and for being a drug addict. He was sorry he had let her down and proved to be unworthy of her love.
But right now, she couldn't deal with that. Right now, she just wanted him to go away. To stop being so damn important to her. She turned her back on him and continued cleaning the room. He said nothing more, but stayed to help pack up with her.
(xxxxx)
When they arrived home, Spencer watched Emily leave. She hurried off without saying goodbye. He wanted to chase after her. To make things right. To admit he was a fool and he was going to change. At home, he sat on his couch staring at his phone. Trying to decide what to do. Wanting so badly to call her.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. He got up and walked over, hoping that Emily would be on the other side. Wishful thinking, he knew, but he still hoped.
"Hey, babe, I was hoping you were home," Kelsey greeted.
She reached out and pulled him into a hug. She smelled of alcohol and cigarettes. When he wasn't high, it was a disgusting smell. She let go of him and waltzed over to his couch where she made herself at home.
He looked at his phone again as he made his way over to her. She was dumping an array of drug paraphernalia all over his coffee table.
"How did the case go?" she asked as she sifted through the drugs she brought.
"Uh, not good," he muttered.
"Oh, I'm sorry, babe. Come here and we'll make it all better," she said as she patted the seat next to her.
He looked at his phone one more time, before placing it on the end table and sitting down.
"I just want the usual," he said as she handed him the vial and a needle.
"I have my own," he said handing the needle back.
"That's my sensible man. Always careful," she said kissing his cheek.
Spencer slid open the drawer next to the couch and pulled out a freshly packaged needle. He prepped himself and the needle, as Kelsey chose some kind of pills. He stared at the vein he was about to inject and sighed.
I'm so sorry, Emily.
With that, he pressed the needle into his skin and let the liquid release into his body. Sweet release soon followed.
(xxxxx)
Thank you sooooo much for the awesome comments! I hope you enjoy this chapter and just know there will always be a happy ending. Xoxo
*Same credit as the previous chapter – Season 2, ep. 7 – Distress, written by Oanh Ly
