Yes, it's been a minute. In other news, I just graduated from my Master's program. Commence the celebration.

All rights go to the owners of Criminal Minds, except for my original character.


Not Like This

Chapter Thirty-five: The Five Stages of Grief: Part One

DENIAL

Can you think of a moment in your life that altered the way you saw someone? Maybe in that moment you're afraid to trust or to love them. You might wonder, how could someone turn so ugly? You might have to live without them, and your fragile heart will surely break. Suddenly, it's like the person you once knew fell victim to deadly gravity and they'd been orbiting the galaxy's darkest star. Only to be spit out with the cruelest intentions.

"What did you just say?"

"God, please don't make me repeat myself, Spencer!" Her words were a crying plea. Jamie all but fell to her knees at the proclamation. She couldn't breathe. The air in the small apartment was getting awfully thin. She practically crashed into the couch, bawling.

Spencer hadn't moved. He was stuck in a state of shock…or he was in shock. He wasn't quite sure in the moment. His breathing was ragged and the layer of sweat on his skin was now thicker than it had been. "You're lying." Those were the only words he could come up with. "Nobody is that cruel…" he thought to himself. He shook his head quite quickly. His mouth was turning into a frown and his eyebrows were drawing together. "You're lying to me."

Jamie looked at him in disbelief. Through her cries she yelled, "How can you say that?! You don't actually believe that do you?!" The tears were free flowing from her eyes and at this point they weren't likely to stop. "I'm so sorry…" The apology was a mere mumble. Only a miracle would allow Spencer to hear it coherently.

"I-there's no way…" The slippery words heighted in his voice. He was surprised they even made their way out of his mouth. His jaw tightened and his eyes turned sharp. Looks could definitely kill. "…why?"

There was no answer. Unless the pathetic sound of sobbing coming from his couch was his answer. Either way, it wouldn't do. Spencer's mental and emotional fuses were running short. "I want an answer, goddammit!" It took a lot out of him to not hit a vase from a table. That wasn't him. He didn't want it to be, but she was making it hard.

With her head still in her hands, Jamie weakly said, "Because I didn't want that!" Jamie sniffled and wiped her face with her sleeve. She stood on her feet, her arms going wild as she didn't know what to do with them. "I was a kid, Spencer! We both were and-"

"No this isn't right…" His breathing got heavy and he began to pace around his apartment. His hands rested on his head and he walked. "You-you mean to tell me that you were pregnant?"

"Spencer…please." Jamie begged him to not have to say it. Despite not actually saying the words, she figured he could put two and two together.

He stopped midstep and focused on Jamie. His mouth was slightly agape. Shock and some disbelief will do that to you. His hands roughly scratched at his head and he leaned on an old chair he used for reading. He took a deep breath but didn't let it go right away. When it did escape, Spencer didn't move a muscle. "And you just left?"

Her brave façade that she was building crumbled at his question. The tears came lowing back and she moved towards him. "Just let me-"

"I don't want to believe you." His statement was so clear.

Jamie stopped coming towards him. She stopped and a perplexed look appeared on her face. Her head tilted as she asked, "What?"

His eyes met hers. His bloodshot eyes almost pleaded with her to take back what she had said. How could this be happening to him? What did Spencer Reid do to deserve this kind of treatment from someone he swore to the heavens he loved?

Time would never tell.

"Jamie, there's no way that even you would be that inhumane." Spencer wasn't a complicated human being. Yet, at the same time, he was deeper than anyone cared to see. Maybe that's why people rarely understood him. Sometimes he felt as though he was a bit much, and that's why he was alone. He knew he was more mature than a lot of people his age. He had several degrees to prove it, for crying out loud. In all of this, Spencer never tried to change for anyone. He never saw the point; but when it came to this girl, he almost blamed himself for not being an ordinary person.

Now, he was seeing the flaws of this messy human in his living room. She wasn't who she used to be…and neither was he. They were never going to be those people again. Jamie spent her life hiding. To her, it was the safe option. Who's to say it would all come crashing down like this. The emotional toil of this dark secret could only follow with an all consuming misery.

"Why would you not include me in this?" Spencer was angry. He was angry to the point where he was calm. That was never good for anyone.

Jamie scrunched her face in a guilt-ridden expression. Her head shaking back and forth like a bobble head. Her shameful eyes looked at his angry ones. "I didn't want a kid, Spencer." Her voice was stern.

The cogwheels in Spencer's head began turning again. He felt stiff as he came to a realization. "What did you do, Jamie?"

She knew what he meant. Her heart and brain were hollow. At this point, she didn't deserve a heart. She stood up facing him. "She was adopted by a nice couple who could give her what we couldn't."

A hand flew to his mouth. Tears pricked his eyes. "She?"

"A girl…"

He let the tears flow. It was okay for him to be vulnerable. After all, he was hit with some insane news. He was a father…or not necessarily. The fact that he had fathered a child who was somewhere in the world scared him. What was she like? Did she like to read? Was she smart? What was he favorite food? What was her name?

"What's is her name?" he couldn't help but ask.

Jamie shrugged, "I don't know. It was closed."

The information coming from Jamie was minimal. It was pissing him off. Seething, Spencer steamrolled past Jamie to his door. He swung it open hard. "You need to leave." It wasn't a request. It was a warning.

"Spencer, please…"

"GO, JAMIE!"

The violent boom of his voice intimidated her. She didn't say anything more. Jamie picked up her coat and bag, leaving his apartment at once. The door was slammed behind her.

Jamie stopped before walking further. In front of his door, she could hear crashing glass hit a hard surface. She knew they weren't done with this conversation. It was only beginning. They both needed some time.

This was a long coming consequence. Admittedly, Jamie told herself it was her fault. She slowly walked to her car. After slumping herself inside, she let the cold consume her. At this point, she didn't deserve anything. Not even heat to keep her warm. What had she done? She wondered if that secret was one that should've stayed a secret. She told herself she ruined his life. His seemingly smooth life was crumpled, thanks to her.


ANGER

March 16th, 2015

It was a cold morning. Jamie got dressed for work as usual. It was her first time out of bed after that past Saturday. She wasn't hungry, but thankfully, she showered. She didn't want to draw more attention to herself than she already predicted.

The car took a moment to warm up. Her body was shivering. She thought it was mostly from nerves. How was she supposed to face him? She knew when the team found out, it would be open season on her. More from a likely couple, than the entire team.

She drove to work, arriving a few minutes early for the day. The cold weather made her mood worse. Usually, she would love the cold morning and stop to grab a coffee on the way. Today, she didn't do that. Her car was in the parking garage, her foot on the pedal to keep it steady. She contemplated. Option one, she could go to work and pretend nothing is upsetting her. This would be the worst thing for herself. Jamie was a paranoid person, and she knew she'd spend the day looking over her shoulder and walking on eggshells. Yet, she told herself there was no reason to miss work. Jamie gripped her steering wheel and inhaled deeply. A headache was building in the back of her skull. "Relax, Jamie…"

Then it dawned on her. Option two, she could get the hell out of there. She put her car in park and released the brake. As she was fishing around her purse for her cell, she tried to muster up some words as to why she'd be missing today. With her phone in hand, Jamie dialed Hotch's office. "Don't pick up, don't pick up…" she murmured to herself.

"Hotchner,"

"Shit," she thought. "Uh, hey Hotch."

"Jamie, everything alright?" Hotch sounded more alert this time. With Jamie, he expected the unexpected.

Jamie ran a head over her face, messing her makeup in the process. After a deep breath, she said, "Yeah, um I just…". She took a moment. There was no reason to lie here. Hotch was more understanding than she deserved. After what happened all those months ago in Texas, Hotch had been vigilant with Jamie. "Actually, no." A weight dropped from her chest. "If it's okay, I think I really need today for myself."

"Hmm," Hotch pondered for a second on the other end of the line. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, not with this."

Hotch let out a small sigh. "I know I told you to tell me if this is getting to be too much…" He trailed off, thinking of the next thing to say. If Jamie truly need some time, then there was a good reason. He knew her as a hardworking and deserving individual. Despite the drama that followed her, she was damn good at her job. The trauma was not her fault. "…so, if this is you telling me, I'm glad you called me."

"Thanks, Hotch. I promise I'll be in tomorrow."

"See you then."

"Okay, that went better than I thought." Jamie tossed her phone back in her purse. She didn't know where her destination was. The only thing she was sure of is the fact she needed to blow off some steam.


The sign read Virginia Shooting Range and Gun Club. Pulling into a space, Jamie gathered her belongings and shut off the car. As she walked inside and was surprised at how many people were at a gun range on a Monday morning. A few men, mostly trucker and gruff types, gave Jamie a good look over. It didn't bother her. However, she silently wished she could change her clothes. Who goes to the range is business formal?

"Hi," said a man at the counter. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm thinking target practice." Jamie replied.

"Sure thing,"

"Oh, and I won't be needing to rent a firearm. Just some extra bullets will do."

The guy straightened his greasy looking ball cap. "Alrighty then. Where's your piece?"

Jamie casually brushed back her jacket to expose the gun on her right hip.

The guy squinted. "If I'm not mistaken, that looks like a Glock Gen 5." He looked a moment longer and made eye contact with Jamie. "May I?"

Jamie regarded him for a second. "Sure," She took the gun from its holster and put it on the countertop. She checked the safety. It was on.

"9 mm." The guy inspected it further. His eyes seemed to go over every inch of the gun. He let the weight be in his hand. He glanced at Jamie once more. "You know who uses these 9mm?"

"Tell me," Jamie felt comfortable here. She placed once elbow on the counter and the other back on her hip.

"Cops, FBI agents…" He gently slid the gun back to Jamie, who took it and placed it back in the holster.

"Well, even agents need practice, too."

A quick grin showed on the guy's face. He clapped his hands together as if he was ready for something. "So, how many bullets are we talking here?" He turned around and grabbed one box of 9mm ammunition. "This here has 50."

Jamie automatically shook her head. "Give me another."


Jamie walked down the range to an empty spot. The targets were ready. She was feeling trigger-happy. Yet, she couldn't help to remind herself why she ended up here in the first place. She set the boxes of ammo on the small ledge and released her gun from her holster. The protective eyewear she was given smelled like a toxic plastic when she placed it over her eyes. Jamie took her gun, whipped open the barrel, loading an extra 12 bullets to the existing 3. She closed the gun and turned the safety off. Her gun hung by her hip, waiting to be shot.

She took a deep breath and raised her weapon. Eyes focused but mind wandering. Her finger lightly touched the trigger and BOOM!

The first shot as perfect as can be. Directly into the head of the target.

She didn't lower her weapon but kept it upright. She shot again, and again, and again. Before she knew it, she was out of ammo. Her gun lowered in front of her as she examined the target from afar. If the target were an actual person, they wouldn't stand a chance. The bullets hit every vital place.

Without thinking, Jamie reloaded and didn't take a moment to compose herself. She fired without a second thought. Now, there were 30 bullet holes in one target. She reloaded her gun. She took her shot. The frustration building in her body felt consuming. It was too easy to work herself up when she didn't have to be so stressed. She knew it was her own doing. Jamie was never the type of person who relaxed easily. On top of it all, her situation with Spencer was sitting idly in her brain. She couldn't help but think about it.

"You're lying."

"There's no way that even you would be that inhumane."

"Nobody is that cruel…"

Jamie loaded her gun once more. With a fresh target taken care of, she fired without stopping. Her aim was more careless this time. Several bullets splayed on either side of the intended target. She went from feeling trigger happy to feeling enormous weight on her shoulders. Aside from her current issue, incidents from her past always crept up behind her. Jamie couldn't escape them. The past cannot be rewritten. She aimed her gun and fired a shot.

That's for causing yourself so much pain.

She fired another.

That's for ruining Spencer's life.

And another.

That's for getting JJ hurt in the field.

Once more.

That one is for being a complete wreck.

Her gun lowered and she gazed at her target. Her breathing was heavy, and her chest ached. It wasn't a random spot. It was her healed wound from the shoot-out in Texas. Jamie would never escape that night. Her body had a permanent reminder. On that note, with only a couple of bullets left to go, Jamie raised her gun one last time.

BOOM!

"That's for the son of a bitch who shot me in Texas."

She straightened up, holstered her weapon, fixed her button up shirt and walked out of the range.


After the range, Jamie headed home. Without work she didn't feel much purpose. She could go to the office, but she didn't want to see anyone. Isolation was optimal in the moment. It was nearly 9:00 p.m. The sky was dark, and the night was cold. The winter air crept into Jamie's home from cracks in the walls and small holes in the window seals. She slumped herself onto the couch, pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt. The nearest blanket accompanied her. Her television played local news with the volume low.

Jamie tried to focus on her television. Her mind kept repeating that it was only Monday and the rest of the week seemed gloomy. She knew she had a busy week ahead of her. Therefore, she didn't have time to sit and pout. Nevertheless, it was inevitable because that's who Jamie was. A tragic, traumatized, damsel who was given a gun and a badge.

"No, you're more than that."

Jamie had been hit hard a few times in her life. She had also delivered some blows that came back to her. Regardless, Jamie managed to stand back up. Jamie came back a little stronger each time she was knocked down. Losing was a part of her life and she accepted that. It was the way she dealt with what knocked her down in the first place, that she didn't always agree with. Acting out on the job, leading on a person from her past and ruining their relationship, keeping life altering secrets.

She was always presented with a choice, though. Jamie Carter could either rise or remain. Much of her life, Jamie remained when she thought she had rose above. The same challenges made way to her life and her state of mind was a constant cycle of self-hatred to care-free. She loved work but couldn't ignore the obstacles it brought into her daily routines. She loved her team, her friends – no, family. Yet, she had brought them pain in various ways. Jamie had yet to meet the happiest version of herself. She wondered if she ever would. She had a small grip on what was left of her own sanity. She wondered if she was worthy of that grip or the shred of sanity that remained.

Jamie was too consumed in her own mind to hear it the first time.

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

The sound startled her. She glanced that the clock, seeing the time read 9:37. Jamie stood from her place on the couch, wrapping the blanket around her.

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

Her steps to the door were hesitant. Who in their right mind would be banging on her door this time of night? With quiet movement, Jamie floated to the front and peered out the peephole. Her face of worry turned to distress. She considered not opening the door and walking up stairs to bed.

"Jamie!"

She waited, silently hoping he would go away.

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

The pounds of his fist seemed to get louder with each knock. The blanket wrapped tighter around her, providing fake safety. Jamie knew she wasn't at risk for physical harm of course, but the emotional and mental anguish that would follow this conversation would no doubt scar her. She pulled open the door quickly.

Spencer.

His arm was raised as if he wanted to knock again. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was puffy. He lowered his arm. He placed his hand inside his jacket pocket. Without exchanging words, he pushed past the door to enter Jamie's home.

"Where were you today?"

Jamie closed the door, sighing. "You didn't have to knock like that you know."

He ignored her statement. "It's not fair," he said matter-of-factly. "It's not fair that you got to avoid the problem you created. I went to work today and was miserable. I did my job, Jamie."

She shrugged, not sure what to say. "I needed some time."

Spencer removed his hands from his pockets and raised them to his face. He blew warm air into them and scoffed at Jamie's words. "Don't we all…."

"What are you doing here? It's late." Jamie was not in the mood. From the looks of it, neither was Spencer.

Spencer stood in front of Jamie. Neither of them had moved from their spot by the door. They were both stuck. Spencer stared at the woman before him and shook his head. "I just don't know what to say to you, Jamie."

She said nothing. Sometimes silence was the best answer.

"I was miserable today. I was so angry…and it's because of you."

"Spencer…" Jamie was almost scared to move. She inched forward towards Spencer and to her surprise, he moved back. It was hurtful.

"No," he said, shaking his head. He pointed one of his long fingers at Jamie. "You did this. You did something unforgivable, and the kicker is that you don't give a damn!"

"That's not true-"

"You're so selfish!" He was yelling now. "You've always been selfish, and I was too naïve to see it!"

Maybe this is what he needed. Their conversation was cut short before.

"If someone would have told me that you'd ruin my life all those years ago, I would've stayed the hell away!"

"That's not fair!" Jamie screamed back. "You obviously don't understand why-"

"No, Jamie! What isn't fair is the fact that you kept my child - our child – a secret for as long as you did! Who does that?!"

Her eyes welled. Her feet still stuck to the floor. She had to take it. She knew she deserved it.

"I never did anything to deserve that!" Spencer began pacing her living room. Apparently, anger meant pacing.

"I never hurt you! I wouldn't never do anything that cruel to you! I just-" He couldn't form words. What could he possibly say that she didn't already know?

Suddenly, he stopped moving. His eyes stayed on Jamie. His breathing was rapid, and his chest was heaving.

Jamie took this as an opportunity. She moved towards him. Slowly of course. "Spencer, please…"

He looked at her with disbelief. "Please don't act like you give a damn about me." Don't do it."

"I do care about you!" The blanket left her body as she passed her couch. "Of course, I care!" Her eyes released some tears. "I just couldn't do it anymore!" She was in front of him again. Her head tilted up to see him directly. She placed a hand on the right of his chest. "I couldn't keep it in anymore."

He looked down at her. Trails from his own tears shined from the light in the room. "Does it hurt?"

Confused, she asked, "…does what hurt?"

"Does it hurt to realize you cause pain wherever you go?"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Her hand moved from his chest, and she crossed her arms. "You're hurt, I know that. I'll take whatever you want to throw at me if that's what you need."

Spencer watched her as she sat down in her previous spot on the couch. "I'm done."

Jamie looked to him, "What?"

"I'm done," he repeated, "we're done." He began walking back to the door. His steps were heavy, leaving a trail of resentment as he went. "Nothing but work from now on. We're not friends. As far as I'm concerned you don't exist outside the office."

Jamie said nothing. Her eyes remained fixed on where he was previously standing. She was tired.

For a moment, her home was silent. Spencer's steps halted and no words were exchanged. The faint sounds of breathing were all that existed.

"I hate you."

Jamie's heart dropped.

"You ruined my life."


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