Spencer's Point of View
I stood on her doorstep and anxiously waited for her to open the door. Her words echoed through my mind; I saw him, Dr. Reid. I saw him.
Where could she have seen him? And there was no mistaking who she meant; she meant the bastard who had broken her, taken several human lives, and done unthinkable things to God knows how many women. It was sickening. It was horrible. I wanted to kill him.
Leah opened the door, and the first thing I saw was her wide eyes. Those big, green, beautiful eyes looked up at me with haunting uncertainty. She had an uncanny way of taking my breath away every time I saw her, so much so that it took me a moment until I was able to gasp out a complete sentence.
"You saw him?" I questioned, feeling anxious still. She nodded, not saying a word. "Where?"
"I was walking to my studio," she said calmly, opening her door a little wider so I could step inside. "I was being jostled around, trying to fight my way through a crowd... when all of a sudden, there he was. I didn't imagine him, I swear it. He was there." I looked at her, observant. She fidgeted, watching me apprehensively. "You don't believe me?"
"Of course I believe you," I tried to console her, reaching out my hand towards her. "I wouldn't assume you were trying to deceive me. What motive would you have to lie?" She flinched away from my fingers as they brushed her arm. She was shivering, and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively.
"What if he saw me?" she asked, her voice shaking. "He knows my face. He knows where I work. He could easily find my address— he could..." She choked on the words, but managed to get them out. "...finish what he started."
My mouth was dry. Fear crept into my system like a drug in my veins; what if he did find her? What if he did decide to finish what he started? She was the only witness to his horrific crimes. Why wouldn't he want to silence her? What could be done to stop it?
I looked at Leah, noticing for the first time that there were new tracks of tears on her pale cheeks. The tears had spilled over in my silence, and my heart broke again. How could one human being tug on my heartstrings so much? "Miss Banks..."
She scoffed, wiping her tears away with the backs of her shaking hands. "I told you to call me Leah," she scolded, talking to me as though I was a disobedient dog.
"Leah," I started again, and took a deep breath. "I'm going to have to ask you some questions." And I did. We sat down on her sofa and I made her give me a description of what he was wearing, where exactly he was, street names; everything. I wrote them down in my messy handwriting, watching as her eyes darted to the right every so often during her answers. She was remembering. She wasn't lying.
I chastised myself for profiling her. She was a victim, not an UNSUB! She was an innocent, and I was scrutinising her body language to make sure she wasn't being deceptive.
"That's all I know," she mumbled finally, brushing her tears away again. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
"Miss— Leah, you've helped so much. This is a lot more than we could ever expect of you." She smiled a little and nodded, looking down at her hands, folded carefully in her lap.
"I think I'm scared," she admitted, still staring at her fidgeting fingers. She looked up at me suddenly, her eyes no longer brimming with unshed tears, but bright and determined. "I don't like being scared."
"We can get local police to assign a security detail to watch the neighbourhood, if it would make you feel more comfortable," I told her slowly, knowing that it probably wouldn't ease her fears. She sighed.
"Thanks but no thanks. I want him to know that I'm not afraid of him. I am afraid; I'm scared to death. But he isn't going to get the satisfaction of knowing that. Not over my dead body."
Those last words cut into me like a knife. Her dead body. That expression was usually used light-heartedly, a playful insistence that something would never happen. But the way that Leah had said it— she meant it. If he were to come and kill her, she still would not let him have the pleasure of knowing she was scared. That scared me.
"Leah, that would be... unwise." I tucked my hair behind my ears, and looked her right in the emerald eyes. "You may not want him to know that you are afraid, but you can't go unprotected, now that he has a general idea where you frequent."
"He's not going to win."
"It isn't about winning. If I have to worry about your safety, how am I supposed to concentrate enough to catch him? I've been putting my whole self into your case; I really can't have you playing brave right now." She sat up straight, her eyebrows pushed together in discontent. I'd over-stepped my boundaries.
"You don't need to worry about me, Dr. Reid. I'm a big girl," she told me sternly, her jaw squared. "I don't need a babysitter."
"I know you don't," I replied carefully, looking at her with a gentle expression, "I just don't want to see you hurt again. I just don't think I could live with myself if I stood by and did nothing while he came back and hurt you." It was the truth. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I'd have broken down. I was already screwing things up because she was on my mind half the time. But I wasn't falling in love with her.
She sighed, slouching her shoulders a little. "Why do you care so much?"
The question caught me off-guard. Why did I care so much? Why was her case eating at me like termites ate wood? Why was I always wondering where she was; how she was doing; if she was okay? It didn't make sense to me that I should care this much. But I did.
"I... don't know," I admitted sheepishly, attempting a small smile at her. "I just..." I paused. "Do."
Leah's Point of View
I shouldn't have taken that answer at face value. I could see in his eyes that there was more to it than just 'I just do,' but I didn't press him. I was too scared for my own life to care too much about whether he was holding something back. He had the right to, anyway. Who was I to stop him?
"I see," I grumbled moodily, crossing my arms over my chest. He stared at me as though in wonder, his eyes round as saucers. "What are we going to do?"
"You should have protection, of some kind," he warned me. I frowned. He was looking at me as though I was a piece of breakable fine china. I wasn't sure why I liked him looking at me like that. If it had been anyone else standing there, I would have run my mouth off at them more, complaining about it. And yet I let him do it. I let him look at me like something small and fragile. It felt almost freeing to know that he wanted to protect me. And maybe I would let him. Maybe he could be my Knight in Shining Armour.
"Then I'll get myself a gun," I heard my voice say shakily. A gun? What use would I have for one of those? I'd never shoot somebody. I didn't even know how to.
Dr. Reid cocked an eyebrow. "Do you know how to use one?" Damn. He'd thought of that, too.
"No. But I can learn." Why did I have to use that defensive tone all the time? What was I defending myself against, exactly?
"I could teach you."
I stared at him, my heart racing. Spencer Reid and I, in the close confides of a shooting range booth, with him showing me how to shoot? Why was this giving me romantic thoughts? He was just being a good FBI Agent. He was just being nice. He wasn't thinking how he'd have to hold my arm straight for me, or put his arms around me to help me aim... was he?
I smiled slightly. "I'd like that." I would? Where was this coming from? He smiled.
"Until then, I suggest you get a hotel room."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine." Had he been anyone else, I would not have agreed so quickly. But he wasn't just anyone. He was Spencer Reid. ...Spencer. I liked the sound of that.