Her glistening eyes looked up to the sky. Overcast. Her head was throbbing from the impact… what had that been? A shovel?
There was hardly any light around. The soft orange glow of the street lamp from the end of the alley. Other than that, she lay in darkness. Cold droplets of rain sprinkled her face. It was raining, mixing with her tears. Her gentle sobbing muffled by the duct tape stretched over her mouth, twine tightly bound her wrists and ankles. The blow to the head had made her slightly disorientated.
Suddenly she felt her body being lifted into the air. She struggled slightly, but it was no use. Her captor was too strong. He hadn't raped her, as she had first suspected he would. In fact, she hadn't remembered him speaking a word. The silence was nerve racking. What was he going to do with her?
Suddenly, the gravity went out from under her and she tumbled into the far below. With a terrible, excruciating crunch, she landed into the wet, cold dirt. The tape stifled her cry of pain.
Her green eyes looked up, finding herself deep in the ground. He had put her in a grave. Her throat whimpered for him to stop, begged for him to let her go, but nothing made sense. The figure above began dumping the dirt on top of her until her sobs were silent.
…
The week had finally come to an end. After a tiring case in Tallahassee, the team came home Thursday morning and spent the next two days on paper work. Now they had a full weekend to themselves.
Reid signed his name on what must have been the hundredth form and slipped it into the finale folder. His eyes were tired, barely able to focus. He leaned back in his chair, trying to rub the sleep off until he made it home.
The rest of the group seemed to be on track with him, each one finishing their reports within the next few minutes. Reid had been hoping he could sneak out before they were done, he didn't want to be roped into anything.
"Done!" Emily exclaimed. "Finally."
"Me, too," Morgan said, standing up, allowing his muscles to stretch from their long bought of sitting. "Anyone up for a drink?"
"Me, definitely, yes!" Garcia cried, who had come out of her cave just moments before.
"I'm in," Emily agreed, seeing J.J. come out of her office. "J.J.? You want to come out with us?"
"No thanks, I've got to get home to my boys." She said. "Have a good time guys."
"See you Monday." Reid said half heartedly. Morgan headed over to his desk, leaning on the side.
"Should we even ask?"
"No," Reid answered. "I'm going home."
Emily rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Reid, you don't want to do anything since you and Riley broke up."
"That's not true, I wanted to start drinking until I passed out. I wanted to burn all the things she left in my apartment, don't make it seem like I have no ambitions."
They weren't about to ease up on him, though. "Reid, you have to start getting over her." Garcia explained. "If you come out with us, you can have some fun, maybe it will take your mind off of Riley and if you don't come… everyone's going to be mad because we won't have a designated driver."
"Yeah, come on." Emily urged.
"Fine," Reid said, standing up. "But I'm not going to having fun."
"We'll see about that." Emily said, patting his back as he pulled on his jacket. Above them, the sound of a door opening was heard. Hotch, too, was exiting his office, ready to call it a week.
"Hotch, you want to come with us?" Morgan asked. "We're going out for drinks."
"Reid's going with you? Did his apartment burn down?" Hotch asked jokingly.
Reid rolled his eyes. The others found it funny and laughed, only adding to his annoyance. "I'll take a rain check, have a good weekend guys." He headed out for the elevators. "Be careful, though, guys. First snow of the season is predicted tonight."
In the middle of throwing his shoulder bag on, Reid paused at Hotch's words. First snow of the season. His first evening with Riley had been last year's first snow. Riley loved the snow. Was it snowing yet in Seattle? Had Riley gotten caught in it? Did she know by now she'd left her gloves in his apartment? "Guys…" he said, adjusting his bag. "I… I really… I'm just going to go home. Have fun."
Despite protests from the others, Reid made a beeline for the elevators. Alone at last. If he had to be alone, he was going to do it right.
…
3,000 miles and three time zones away, Riley was returning to her office with a full cup of coffee and a stack of disorganized files. Apparently the shrink here before her had absolutely no organization system. Even after seven months, she was still trying to put everything into order.
The entire Seattle Police Department wasn't going to fall apart in five minutes. Tossing the files in an unused chair near the door, Riley moved and sat down at her desk, slipping off her Mary Janes and put her stocking feet up, leaning her head back and closed her eyes. She was exhausted. Not since she had arrived had Riley gotten a full night sleep. She couldn't even remember a night she slept more than twenty minutes at a time. And when she did sleep… it was restless and uneasy.
Where does the therapist go when she needs therapy? Maybe she still wasn't used to sleeping alone… or maybe she felt guilty… or maybe she just missed him. Reluctantly, her thoughts turned to Spencer.
Leaving him had been so hard, especially since he had made it so easy for her to leave. Agreeing with her completely, telling her he'd support any decision she made. She hated how much of a gentleman he could be, yet she could hardly resist him when he was. But he was over her; that was good. He hadn't called, he hadn't e-mailed, Hotch hadn't even mentioned him. But that was good… he supposed to get over her… just like she should get over him. How pathetic would it be, calling him when he obviously… obviously didn't miss her…
"Parker?" a voice asked. "You sleeping on the job?"
Snorting slightly, Riley opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep accidentally. It seemed the only times she could sleep is when she thought about him. Sitting up, slightly embarrassed, she turned to greet her new visitor.
"Detective," she exclaimed. "What, uh… what are you doing here?"
"Waking Sleeping Beauty, it seems." He joked. "It's a shame; I didn't even get to kiss you."
"Try and you'll be singing soprano." She said, lightheartedly.
"You know, I don't think you're kidding." He took a seat. "Tough case you're working on?"
"Yeah," she answered, her breathing returning to normal. "Sex Crimes… those are always the toughest."
"Well, you're going to have to pass that onto a resident shrink, Parker." He said. "We're going to need you on the Undertaker case."
"The Undertaker?" Riley repeated. "I haven't been briefed on that case. Are you sure you want me."
"You're the best we got, kid." He said. "The Undertaker us to take one victim every two months, now he's taken three just this week. We need to crack down and catch this guy… before he evolves even further. We need your help building a profile, investigating the suspects, getting inside this perp's head."
"A profile." She repeated. "Really?"
"Yes, ma'am." He declared. "I'd love to get you better acquainted with the case, but I need to get back to Homicide. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Oh, well… Logan…"
"I know, it's Saturday, but the Captain said we can't afford to wait until Monday."
"It's not that, it's just… I'm not so sure how good I'd be at… at profiling."
"Don't worry about it, you'll do great."
"Thanks," she replied, taking a sip of her now temped coffee.
"And you won't be working alone. Some behavioral unit from the F.B.I. will be here."
Riley choked on her drink. "The Behavioral Analysis Unit?" she asked, shocked. No, she must have heard him wrong.
"Yeah, that's it. They're supposed to be the best."
He slipped out the door, leaving Riley alone with her feelings of confusion and shock. "Yeah… yeah, I know."
…
"You could take a later flight." Reid suggested, his hand gripping hers like either of them could be ripped away at any moment.
"Yeah, an effort to postpone the inevitable." She said, turning to face them. They'd reached the gate. To Reid, the gates of Hell would have been more welcoming.
He moved closer to her, his hand slipping onto her waist, slipping her shoulder bag aside. The words were in the back of his throat, begging to come out. Don't go.
"I'll call you when I land, okay?" she said, a hitch in her voice.
"You don't have to. Once you get on that plane… I'm not your boyfriend anymore." He wasn't going to cry in front of her. He had to stay strong.
Riley, thankfully, was not so reserved. As her forehead reached up and pressed against his, the glisten in her eyes turned into tears, streaming down her cheeks. "Spencer…" her hands resting on his cheeks, "…what happened these last four months… I'll never forget it. You… you've been my best friend… you saved my life… I will…" her breathe came out sharply, willing herself to hold it together, "I will always love you."
"I love you, too." He said. Don't go, don't go. Please, don't go.
Her hands slipping behind his neck, she pulled him to her. His own arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, absorbing all her essence. Their lips met; a kiss that in a perfect world would have changed her mind.
But a kiss is just a kiss. It ended slowly, like neither one wanted to admit it was over. Their eyes remained closed, still enveloped in each other. The sound of the final boarding call was heard. "I have to go," Riley whispered.
Reid nodded, breaking down and letting his tears fall. She slipped from him and moved toward the gate. "Riley," he called.
She turned back quickly. Reid knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't say it.
"Have a good flight." was all he managed to get out.
Quickly, Reid jerked awake. He was lying on the couch in his apartment where he had collapsed after coming home. The place was littered in Chinese cartons, papers, books, dirty clothes, and other debris. Seven months and it still felt like yesterday.
