Do what you know is right.
Do what you know is right.
Do what you know is right.
The words echoed through Lara's skull, resonated with every inch of her body, urging her to do it. Telling her, begging her to do what the man--Spencer, Spencer Reid--begging her to do what he had asked her to do. Save the lives of the women. Save her life, and save his in the process.
And that was part of why she was struggling so much with the decision. The simple fact that he had prioritized the lives of her and the other women held here by her father. His own safety was the very last thing on his mind. It was so alien, that selflessness, so foreign, that it had struck her...hard.
It had been over an hour since her father had sent her out of Spencer's holding cell. Over an hour since he'd began torturing that brave, selfless, heroic man. She knew she couldn't watch her father slowly kill him for much longer. And the only way she could think to save him was to follow Spencer Reid's instructions.
She was sitting in her room, lying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. While she couldn't hear it, she knew Spencer must be crying out from the pain her father was no doubt inflicting on him. He'd brought no camera with him this time, but it still didn't change the fact that he was in agony. And she could make it stop, if she could make herself do this.
Slowly, she got up from her bed. Her feet touched the freezing surface of the concrete floor. She tried to stay as quiet as possible as she treaded to the door. Cautiously, she turned the knob and pulled it open. The corridor was quiet. Of course it was; her father was busy elsewhere.
She crept silently to the cabinet in which he kept the second ring of keys. Glancing back over her shoulder every other second, she pocketed them and turned to the stairs. Carefully, she started up them until reaching the trap door. She twisted the key into lock and shoved it open.
The sound of metal grinding against rock froze her in her tracks, but nothing happened. Slowly and as cautiously as she could, she closed the door and ran for the front of the house. It was in the middle of an urban city, that much she'd known, but she had no clue which city. She had no shoes, but this was much more important than keeping blisters from forming on her feet.
It was a swilteringly hot afternoon, and the sun was at the highest point in the sky as she started running. It had to have been at least 98 degrees outside. Any time a car passed her, she tried to catch their attention. It seemed hopeless until, finally, after what seemed like years, a silver car pulled to a stop beside her. The driver was an elderly woman, and there was a younger woman, maybe her daughter, in the passenger seat.
The elderly woman jumped from the car first, and immediately moved to help steady Lara when she swayed on her feet. "Honey, are you alright? What happened?"
She shook her head, touching her throat. The other woman opened her door and rushed over as well. "She needs a doctor, Mom. She might have heat stroke." She said, then frowned at Lara's gesture. "You...You can't talk?" Lara nodded, and the elderly woman wrapped her arm around her shoulders.
"Come on, honey, let's get you to the hospital."
They led her back to their car, and helped her into the backseat. While the elderly woman started driving again, the other woman brought out a pen and sheet of paper from her purse, handing them back to Lara.
"Tell us your name." She prompted. Quickly, she scribbled her name down on the page, then added, I need to talk to the police.
"Okay," the woman assured her. "Okay, I'll call them, tell them to meet you at the hospital."
Lara reached out again for the paper, and wrote, Where am I?
The woman frowned. "You don't know? This is Chicago...in Illinois?"
Lara squeezed her eyes shut, nodding to show her thanks. She leaned against the leather seat, pulled her knees up to her chest, and cried. The two women let her be until they reached the hospital. They each helped her to the front desk, and then Lara lost sight of them in the rush of doctors that surrounded her. She heard them confirm that she was suffering from heat stroke before they rushed her into another room. By that time, the feeling of security in the hospital combined with the dizziness of her condition lulled her down into the depths of unconsciousness.