Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been
Chapter Six / Harsh Truths
warning: mild/brief NSFW, discusses physical, verbal, and emotional abuse, discusses alcoholism and drug use/trafficking, brief language
four years earlier
Spencer was laying on the doctor's check-up table, his body hurting but his spirits high and insides warm. Zyla was here, safe, with him, and she wasn't going to be with Trump anymore. She sat next to him, holding his hand in both of hers, stroking his skin softly with the pad of her thumb. The room was silent, the door shut. The only noises were their breathing; in sync with each other.
He was studying her features, staring at her forming bruises from the night and gazing at older wounds he saw peeking from her clothes and hair. She had been deep in thought; he could tell by the occasional quirking of her lips and eyebrows, her eyesight focused on nothing. He finally broke the silence. "It's not your fault," he whispered, his voice weak. Zyla met his eyes from where she was staring at nothing next to him. Her eyebrows raised in question, and she hummed in question. She was exhausted. It had been such a long night. Hell, scratch that, it'd been a long few years. It had been too long.
"It's not your fault. Any of it. What he did to you, what happened tonight… it's not your fault." he murmured. She gazed at him, not knowing what to say. She had been with Andrew for years, and he had treated her like absolute worthless garbage for so long that maybe after a while she started believing it. But she nodded solemnly in response, looking down and focusing her eyes on their enclosed hands. He squeezed hers, and she squeezed back.
After another twenty minutes or so in silence, the doctor came in and cleared Spencer to go home. Zyla helped him up, picked up his painkillers that were prescribed to him, and she got a cab outside. The cab took them, to Spencer's surprise, to Zyla's old house, the one she lived in with her mother. As the two walked up the walkway to the front door, Spencer noticed the "For Sale" sign just barely swinging from the wind. Zyla moved the welcome mat on the front porch for the spare key, and unlocked the dark house. The house was mostly empty, but the furniture and a few stray knickknacks were still in place. The rest of the house was in packed cardboard boxes.
The rooms felt empty and cold with it looking bare and dark. However, Spencer saw warmth flood in slowly when Zyla turned on the lights and stood in the middle of them and the whole world seemed to curve around to her. She was breathtaking.
"Why did we come here?" Spencer asked quietly after a few moments of silence. Zyla didn't answer at first; she was trying to find some blankets and pillows for them to sleep on the couch in the boxes. Sighing, she finally answered. "Because… we don't really have anywhere else to go, do we?" She paused from her search, sighing again. "You don't live in Vegas anymore and your mom's in the hospital, and… I didn't want to go back to Andrew house."
Her voice was soft, almost childlike, when she finished, and Spencer didn't speak. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't make any of this better; he couldn't erase the last nine years of her life with Andrew. He couldn't heal her wounds. After a moment, she looked at him with a small smile, almost cynical looking. "So we're breaking and entering instead." she said, her voice noticeably trying to be light.
She continued her search without another word after that. Spencer decided to rest on the worn couch; his body was almost aching from exhaustion. He was almost asleep when she dropped a couple pillows and a blanket next to him, then walked over to turn off the dim lamp. When the house fell back into darkness, he heard her scuffle back over to the couch and sit beside him. She grabbed the blanket and threw it up to unfold it, then let it fall over the two. She settled in next to him, both squirming until they were in a comfortable place, lying side by side.
The house fell quiet again, the darkness of the night becoming more settled in their eyes. Each listened to the other's breathing, both knowing that they were not going to fall asleep for a while.
It had been over twenty minutes since they entered the house, and while Spencer felt totally drained, he couldn't sleep. He wondered how Zyla was feeling; she hadn't fallen asleep yet either, but she was being very quiet. A few minutes later, she broke the silence.
"I know it's not." Her voice was quiet and hollow-sounding. For not the first time, and yet each time it surprises him, Spencer was not reminded of the aggressive teenager he last left her as, but as a scared and damaged adult who had been through hell for almost a decade. He listened carefully to her as she began to speak again.
"Most days, I know it's not my fault, what he said and did to me. Most days, I knew that he was angry and drunk and high, and he was taking it all out on me, because I was there and I was an easy target. But…" her sentence trailed for a moment, her voice fading a bit. "Some days, I believed him. I believed him when he told me I was worthless and disposable."
She stopped speaking, not wanting to talk about it any more. She didn't want to think about it; she wanted to erase it from her mind. She rubbed her eyes with her fingers, sighing. Spencer turned his head to look at her. Her fingers stayed on her closed eyelids for several moments until blinking open rapidly, her eyes stinging from unfallen tears. Spencer saw this, and immediately tried to bring her closer to her, and she happily obliged, burying her head into his chest.
Tears leaked down her cheeks slowly, a hard lump starting to grow in her throat. She sniffed, letting out a shaky breath. She felt small, like a child, but she felt so safe and warm with Spencer.
And that's what she slowly realized all over again: Spencer was safe. Spencer was caring. Spencer held her and listened to her and tried to make her smile. He was loving and kind.
Spencer was home.
He had told her, all those years ago, that he loved her. He was in love with her, and he had been for a long time. And she never said it back, did she? Not that she recalled; all she remembered was breaking both their hearts, and going their separate ways. He never deserved that, he never deserved any of this. And yet, here he was, holding her like nothing ever happened.
She never told him she loved him, but my god, she did. She loved him more than the stars loved the night. Spencer Reid was everything to her; she loved him, she was in love with him. He was her best friend, her family. She would do anything for him; anything to keep him safe.
But she needed to know this: did he still love her like he did before? Like he had said he did? He had shown something like it, yes, but Zyla had her cautious doubts. After years of being manipulated and emotionally abused, she didn't remember what being cared and loved for was like.
"Spencer," she whispered. She had to know. "Do- do you still… love me? You told me that night that you did, but… it was a long time ago. And I've been through and done so much shit. I-I'm not the same person as I was." She trailed off from there, the room becoming silent again. Her heart beat in anxiety, hoping with every fiber of her being that he would still accept her.
Spencer took her arms and slowly removed her from his chest, making a space between them. With fearful eyes, Zyla studied him cautiously, her heart filling with dread. She swallowed at the lump in her throat again, ready to look down or turn away when he spoke.
"I have never stopped loving you, and I never will, Zyla Zone." His words were soft and desperate for her to listen, to actually listen to his words. Her eyes glistened over, lips slightly parted in awe as her sight tried to completely be full of him. Spencer, Spencer her best friend, Spencer the one she loved, Spencer Spencer Spencer.
Both clashed together abruptly, warm lips meeting and meeting again, each time giving a beautiful hello, goodbye. Arms surrounded each other in a tight embrace, arousement sparking between the two. Zyla's fingers ran through the ends of Spencer's hair, causing small frenzied exhales from him, which made the blonde smile in gratification.
Their nerves were electrified, the atmosphere was buzzing. Zyla's hands were gentle, but her kisses were passionate and urging. Spencer was overwhelmed with her aphrodisiac presence, the way her gasps came each time she stopped kissing him, the feel of her hands against his electrified skin. But he was confused internally on the effects of her in his body, and he was quite frankly a little terrified; he hadn't done anything like this before. What if he messed up? What if he was terrible, and she hated him forever? What if he accidently bit her tongue?
Spencer's scientific mind raced through probabilities and statistics, but he couldn't think properly. He couldn't juggle sexual thoughts and scientific thoughts at the same time, okay? He wasn't Superman.
Impulsive with panic, he took a hold of the sides of her arms quickly, his wide eyes swishing every which way. Zyla, abruptly stopped and out of breath, analyzed him in confusion. "Spence, what's wrong? Do-Do you not want to?" she asked, voice sounding a little fearful. Spencer was quick to reply. "No, no, of course I do. I-I just... " he sighed, his hands grazing her arms. "I've never done this before, okay? I-I don't know what to do."
His face was flushed red. He avoided all eye contact, and was sharply reminded of the horrible incident with the blindfold in high school. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them, blinking rapidly. Zyla, practically on top of him, studied him quietly until she gently grabbed his face in her hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks.
"I can show you," she murmured, her voice low and sensual. All the air left him as his body went rigid, heart thumping. Swallowing, he couldn't reply, didn't even dare to, as she came closer to him, lying a kiss upon his lips again. Her kisses trailed from his face to his neck to his chest, her love spreading to him everywhere she could find and Spencer had never found a better definition of bliss than right then and there.
It was awkward at certain points, yes. Neither were masters, and Zyla laughed at these times, though Spencer, as always, turned beet red. Spencer didn't mind, though; her laugh was like the water to the flowers- heavenly and angelic.
Afterward, the world became quiet and calm again, but the world inside Zyla's mind was buzzing. She closed her eyes, her head cuddling closer to Spencer, turned towards him. He was peacefully fast asleep, his fingers and legs twitching every so often, his eyelids fluttering. She was so tired, but her mind was racing with thought. She just needed… what did she need?
She needed her life back. She needed the last nine years erased from her head, she needed to not be so goddamned damaged and broken because of what that fucker did to her, she needed Spencer to not be bruised along with her because of both her and Andrew. She needed Spencer to be happy, she needed parents who were alive and who care for her so she can have some guidance in this crazy screwed-up situation.
She was filled with rage. She wanted the world to explain why it did this to her, why she's left with next to nothing. But the thing she wanted most was for every last bastard that ever did her wrong the past decade to pay for the irreversible damage they did to her. She was filled with utter rage for those men, and how none of them regret anything they did, and that they will continue screwing everyone else's life
Slowly, she sat up, a deep realization setting in. Once she made the decision, every feeling she had was washed aside, ebbing into a slight dull instead of overriding her in emotions. It needed to be done. She had started this; it was time to end it, or they would come for her.
Careful to not wake Spencer up, she quickly complied a very small bag together of small essentials, knowing it won't nearly be enough, but it will be enough to get her started and to get some distance between her and Spencer.
Looking over to her sleeping lover, her heart squeezed in pain. They had just gotten each other back, and now she was disappearing into a dangerous mission, leaving him in the dark. She knew it was an awful thing to do to him, but she was sure that this is what's best.
It needs to be done. He's going to get hurt if I don't, she thought, forcing herself to focus back onto her mission.
When dawn started to approach, Spencer still in a deep but slightly fitful sleep, she scribbled a note down, her hands shaking. Before exiting her childhood home, she paused at the end of the couch, watching over him with a pinched expression. Ever so slowly, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry." she whispered, her voice barely audible, the words coming out like a breath.
When Spencer woke, he woke alone. He was heartbroken, crushed, but he quickly found the note left on the kitchen table.
I need to do what needs to be done. I'm so sorry. It's not your fault at all; I'm keeping you safe. I love you so much, Spence. Take care of yourself -Z
And Spencer was alone.
The night after Andrew and Spencer's fight were loud flashes in her mind as she observed Spencer's quiet apartment. It was exactly how she pictured it: a quiet atmosphere, bookcases lining the room, stray books lying around the place. It was kind of plain, but it was Spencer, and it felt like home. She couldn't help but smile, but she was more ecstatic when she found an old bottle of scotch in one of the pantries, not even opened. She poured herself a glass, knowing Spencer wouldn't care as it had been down there for ages without a sip from it.
Watching the street below the apartment as she sipped her glass of scotch, she saw a taxi pull up and Spencer climb out, quickly coming into the building. A few minutes later, the front door cautiously opened, having been unlocked. Zyla turned from the window, and grinned at him, showing that there was no danger, and he could relax.
He did so in a few moments, looking around his apartment and finding that nothing was out of place, which was strange because Zyla definitely snooped around his things. He nodded towards the glass of scotch in her hand.
"Where'd you get that?" he asked curiously, closing the door behind him. Zyla laughed a little. "Found it in the pantry. It was buried down there without being opened, so I thought you wouldn't mind." she answered. Spencer nodded, hands in his pockets as he waded over to the couch. "How did you get in?" he questioned. Zyla plopped onto the loveseat next to her, and replied with, "Picked the lock."
Silence followed, and neither knew how to break it. Zyla knew that she needed to explain, needed to tell her story, but she didn't know where to start. Spencer mulled over several questions in his mind, not knowing which one to start with first, but he promptly said without thought, "Why did you run that night, after the hospital? I know why you did it, to stop Andrew, but… why did you leave?" He had somewhat asked the question that'd been on his mind for years: why did you leave me?
Zyla exhaled, running a hand through her unwashed blonde hair. "That answer requires more of a story to explain." she said, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees and her hands clapped together. Spencer sat in the same position on the couch across from her, and waited. She sighed again, but began explaining what her life had been like in the past thirteen years.
"You know, the first couple years Andrew and I were together, it was fine. I wasn't overall happy, but it was better than what was to come. It started after Frank died when we were twenty, and Andrew became the president of Liberated in his place. Liberated had a statewide system of drug-trafficking, but when Andrew took over, the system took over half of the country. They began making the drugs, not just buying and selling," Zyla rubbed her hands together nervously.
"From the stress of the system, Andrew began to drink; a lot. And when he started to drink, he became… aggressive," Zyla paused, taking a deep breath. It was hard to talk about what he did, but even harder to explain it to Spencer, who had hurt and anger flash across his face. She continued on anyway, knowing that she needed to get down to the nitty details, no matter how much it hurt either of them. It was time to tell him everything.
"He shoved me around at first, when I didn't do something right away or said something I shouldn't've. Of course, being me, I fought back at him," she spit in disdain, face scrunched. "And that just made him angrier, so he hit me. Slapped me, shoved me, threw me to the ground. He called me 'slut', and 'bitch', and 'whore', and told me horrible things, like I was nothing and a waste of space," she paused, tears in her eyes. She downed the rest of her scotch for some liquid courage, setting it aside, before speaking again. "After a while, I think I started to believe it."
Spencer felt like his chest was collapsing, and he reached over and grabbed her shaking hands in his, trying to stroke her skin with his thumbs in comfort. She smiled in appreciation, and blinked away her tears, taking another deep breath.
"Anyway. The system was growing, Andrew was drinking, and I was basically trapped with him. And then Mom died. Andrew and I went to the service, because it was the least I could do. Even though she was kind of a crappy mother… she was still my mom. I still loved her even though when I was younger I thought I shouldn't because she always ignored me. But I knew she still loved me." Zyla murmured, her eyes looking wet again and far-off. Spencer squeezed her hands.
"Of course she did," Spencer told her. "You were her daughter." Zyla smiled at him again, squeezing his hand back. She continued her story.
"Andrew and I went, and then I saw you there. And… it gave me hope that I could leave. So when you called me, I ran, even though I knew that if I was caught, Andrew was likely to- beat me senseless," Zyla shook her head at the thought. "And then… you know what happened from there. The fight… everything after that."
At the mention of that night, Spencer's ears turned a little pink, and he looked down at their hands, a small smile curving his lips. Zyla smiled a little too, watching him gaze away in his usual shyness.
Clearing his throat, he looked back up. "And after that night?" he asked.
She hesitated for only a moment. "I told you that I needed to do what needed to be done. I knew that the Liberates would post bail for Andrew, and his first mission would to track me down and find me. I knew all their secrets, and their system, so I needed to be taken out," she paused again, exhaling slowly before giving Spencer a small smile. "I was so angry. I was furious at what Andrew and that damn gang did to me, so I decided to take them all down. Stop Andrew, and break the system. Let Liberated disappear until there's nothing left."
Spencer raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You made a plan to single-handedly take down a national drug trafficking organization?"
Zyla grinned a Chesire-like grin. "Not just made a plan, Spence; I achieved it."
Spencer sat in skeptic silence, gaping at her. She continued to grin, even as she stood to pour another glass of scotch, standing in the kitchen. While he remained on the couch, she continued, "And it wasn't just me. The Las Vegas Police Department, while kind of annoying and slow, helped me out and arrested the people I took down."
"How did you do it? You're not even qualified for something like that!" Spencer exclaimed, rising from the couch to stand across from her at the kitchen counter while she handled her liqueur. Zyla scoffed quietly, rolling her eyes. "I went through the FBI Academy, Spence. Twenty week long course. Plus, I have two PhDs in Psychology and Sociology," she smirked at him. "Don't think you're the only smart one here, boy-genius."
Spencer did a double take, his eyebrows scrunched. He was quiet for a moment, until his curiosity got the best of him. "How did you find the time and money for two PhDs?" Zyla now had her eyebrows scrunched together, lips pursed. "Well, one- I went to school, two- when your boyfriend trafficks drugs, it makes quite a lot of money, and three- uhm, I'm a genius?" Her tone was sarcastic, but her face showed amusement. Spencer still looked unconvinced, so she rolled her eyes, and changed the subject.
"On the meaning of how, it was quite easy when you were living with the gang for almost a decade of your life. Even though Andrew was abusive, he did let me in on a lot of things he did, and I even got to supervise some of them. I had the information I needed, the team from LVPD for my back-up, and the rage to fuel me for four years," she shook her head, in deep-thought. "It wasn't a walk through the park, I'll tell you that. After I left, Andrew gave the guys a rough time, and increased their demands. They got more security, and the system became more low-key. I started with the smaller trafficking parts; the people who delivered and received. Then I had to take down the manufacturers and the big guys behind the curtains all in one, because they knew something was going on. I had a lot of close calls."
Spencer nodded slowly, his gaze away from her. "Like in New York." he spoke, his stiff voice making it sound more like a statement. Zyla answered with a few small nods of her head. "Andrew's right-hand man shot me. At that point, it was only the close circle left of Liberated, like eight or nine guys, with Andrew. Most I had taken down, and some had run off. And they were ferociously angry with me. Like, 'put my head on a stick and wave it around'' kind of angry," she laughed a little. Spencer looked slightly horrified.
"After I ran from the hospital, I tracked down the rest of the group, which was only a few guys. A couple had been killed. I guess Andrew didn't think they were loyal enough," her voice faltered for a moment. "After a few weeks, it was just Andrew. He had gone completely mad; he-he killed people, random people. I tracked him down and tried to stop him from killing that woman, but I got stupid and blind and he knocked me out. I woke up in the warehouse and tried to escape, but he found me and, well… attacked me. He tried to kill me, but this time I fought back." Her gaze was distant, and she ran a hand through her disheveled hair. She leaned her elbows forward on the counter, exhaling softly. "I knocked his gun away from him. He grabbed a knife out of his boot and slashed my shoulder. I kicked him down to the ground, and the knife fell out of his hands. He grabbed his gun again, and I got mine out. He tried taking a couple shots, but then a few moments after that you guys came in."
Her story done, Zyla downed the rest of her glass in one gulp again. She winced at the brief burn in her throat. Now that she was done talking, she realized how exhausted she was. Her whole body throbbed with bruises and scrapes from her brawl with Andrew, and her shoulder was sharp in pain. She didn't realize how much involvement she had in telling her story. She was also quite dizzy as well from all the alcohol she had been drinking, and the pain medicine she took for her stitched shoulder.
Not only that, but she was in desperate need of a shower. She felt like she had on a whole body layer of dirt on her skin, and she didn't remember the last time she had washed her hair. She subconsciously flinched, shuddering slightly.
Spencer mulled over at the surprising load of information he had received. He studied her, trying to figure what she was thinking. Trying to figure out how damaged she was.
"Before we continue this, Spence, it'd be really nice if I could shower and sleep and eat, like, an actual meal. Do you mind?" she asked, already moving forward. He was quick to comply to her. "Of course not. Bathroom's first on the right. I can make up my bed for you while you're showering. I can sleep on the couch" he said, speaking fast. He avoided her gaze as he moved into the living room to tidy.
Feeling somewhat guilty, she hesitated before going down the hall, her hand leaning against the wall. She darted her tongue out to lick her chapped lips. "Spence," she said softly. He stopped moving things, keeping his head down. He swallowed, fingers twitching. Zyla shuffled over to him, fingers knotting together, before she took his hands. She moved them around herself, and wrapped her arms around his slim body, hugging him tightly. He was quick to respond. He embraced her gently, being careful of her injuries, but she didn't seem to even notice. Her hold on him was tight. She buried her face into his neck, and he closed his eyes, touching his head with hers.
"I missed you." he murmured into her hair. She exhaled heavily through her nose, nodding, her head cuddling closer to him.
They stayed in an embrace for a few moments, until Zyla pulled away. She had a warm minute smile of gratitude, or appreciation, maybe. His lips curved up briefly in response. She walked down the hall and into the bathroom without another word.
A/N: Oh my god, I cannot ask you to forgive me enough for not updating for so long! It's been difficult to do anything lately because I've been busy and just other things have been going on in my life, and for some reason this chapter was difficult to write. But here's a really long one to try to make up for it.
Anyway, there's Zyla's life in the past decade or so. Rough life, my poor baby. Plus, the first time the two of them… did it *winky face*
Tell me what you guys think- reviews are always welcome! And thank you all for being so patient and awesome!
