I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap

I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black

Sure enough, a pair of Cat's "associates" quickly arrived to handle the situation. It was so swift and easy that you'd think she called a rideshare. The men barely spoke except to ask Cat if she had a preference of "drop off."

"That place off of Pier 34 will work," she replied nonchalantly.

And just as soon as they arrived, they were gone. The floor was clean, the rug was gone, and Cat was storing her gun away and stretching her shoulders out like it was all in a good day's work. Meanwhile Spencer was shellshocked, just sitting and taking it all in.

"So…" Cat said, sitting next to him on the couch where he planted himself less than an hour earlier. "Are you gonna go back to bed or—"

Spencer laughed at the absurdity of it all. "You just killed a man and got rid of the evidence in less time than it takes to watch Titanic, and you want to go back to bed?"

Cat pursed her lips and looked around the room. "…so you want to watch Titanic?"

"How can you be joking around like this?" Spencer pleaded with her. "You lied to me, Cat. You told me that you had told me your secrets and you didn't."

"Well, to be fair, this isn't a secret so much as—" she stopped herself, as it didn't seem like he was in the bantering mood.

"Look, I understand this is probably not your average Wednesday night, so…what do you want to know?"

"All of it. I want to know all of it, now, or I'm calling the cops."

Cat opened her eyes wide. "Well, that's a little extreme."

She sighed. "Fine. I'm not a military contractor, but you could say I take on contracts. People want other people dead and I assist in that process."

Spencer put his head in his hands. "You're a hitman."

"I don't like labels," she replied. "But yes, I guess you could say that."

"How long have you been doing this? How long have you been lying to me about this?"

Cat shook her head. "I wouldn't say that I was lying, I just wasn't being entirely forthcoming… but regardless, I've been doing this since I got out of juvie. It's what you could call, my special skill. And I'm good at what I do."

"Which is killing people," Spencer confirmed.

"Killing men," Cat corrected him. "I don't hurt women or children. Just men that deserve it. And the ones that get in my way."

"I catch serial killers for a living and my girlfriend is a…"

"I'm not a serial killer," Cat said, defensively. "I don't take trophies or revisit dump sites or any of that weird shit. I'm more of a…fixer."

"How can you say that with a straight face and not feel like a complete monster?"

And there was that word again. Cat looked in Spencer's eyes and briefly considered her response before saying, "I'm not a monster. I'm getting rid of monsters."

"You're breaking the law."

"Who decides what's lawful and what's wrong? Who decides who's good and who deserves to die?" she asked. "The government? Some politicians from two hundred years ago? That's bullshit and you know it. You're too smart to believe that crap."

"Cat, I work for the FBI."

"Yes, and I forgive you for that."

Spencer shrugged her off of him as she tried to get closer. She wanted to touch him and make him feel better. She wanted to touch him without him recoiling in disgust like everyone else she had crossed paths with before.

"Who are you to play God?" Spencer asked her.

"Oh, like you don't do the same thing everyday."

"How many people have you killed?"

"How many people have you killed, Agent—oh sorry—I mean, Dr. Spencer Reid?"

"You're not answering the question."

"The question is bullshit and you know it. How many people have you killed on the job? How many people do cops kill on the street every day? Is it more righteous to do it when you have a badge and have taken a sworn oath to the United States government?"

Spencer rolled his eyes in frustration.

"You sit there and you judge me for putting down someone who is a threat to society, but soldiers do it overseas and come back and get called heroes," Cat continued. "I'm fixing the world. And I'm not saying I'm a fucking hero, and I'm not asking for a medal, but at least I'm not desperately trying to be something I'm not."

"I'm not like you," Spencer replied, shaking his head.

"We're the same," Cat finished. "You just don't know it yet."

Spencer got up from the couch and paced around the room, shaking out of anger, guilt, and frustration. How could he have been so blind this entire time? How could he let her play him like this?

"I—I loved you. And you were lying to me the whole time, about everything."

"I didn't lie to you about everything, I just didn't tell you about this part."

"Why?" he shouted.

"Because I knew you would react like this! All overdramatic and morality and blah blah blah…it's so boring. Come on, Spencer, you know me. You know that I'm not just a crazy psycho killer."

"I don't know you at all."

"Maybe before, but you know me now. Don't try to deny it, I'm the same person you loved before. Maybe you don't like the packaging but I'm the same person."

"No," he responded. "I was going to marry the girl that I knew. I loved her, I was going to have a…a life with her. And now she's gone."

Cat sighed. "I'm right here, I'm the same girl. And I still love you. Even if you don't love me anymore."

Spencer was overwhelmed, tired, and needed to get some air. He headed for the door.

"So what, you're just gonna leave now?" Cat asked. "You're gonna leave and what, turn me in?"

Spencer didn't respond, keeping his hand on the door.

"Do it. Turn me in, throw me away like garbage. If you don't give a shit about me anymore, just do it now."

He closed his eyes, pushing back tears.

"I need some time to think."

Spencer closed the door behind him with a slam and raced out of the building. If he had lingered long enough he would have heard a rare sound, one that even Cat hadn't heard in years. The sound of a woman crying. She didn't even know she could do that anymore.