10/08/2018. David Rossi's House, Virginia. 09:28 hours.

Spencer groaned outwardly at the cramp forming in his bladder and lower abdomen. He had spent the better part of thirty minutes trying to hold the overwhelming urge to urinate. Realising that it was a battle he would not win without risking incontinence, Spencer threw back the covers and swung his long legs out of bed. His toes brushed against the cold wooden floor. He grasped the bedside unit and pulled himself to his shaking feet. Spencer was immensely grateful that David's spare room had an en suite bathroom. His left foot dragged behind him in an attempt to reach the bathroom with minimal effort. Spencer used the wall for support to guide him. The cramps reignited. Gritting his teeth, Spencer made one final push to the bathroom. He made it by only a hair's breadth before his bladder relieved itself. Spencer let out a long sigh and mentally berated himself for waiting so long.

Spencer's stomach gave a small growl. He clutched his stomach, his pyjama shirt twisted under his fingers. He was not entirely sure how he was going to make it down the stairs on his own. Spencer slowly exited the room and stared at the staircase before him. The longer he stared at it, the longer and steeper it seemed to get. Stretching his injured leg out before him to keep it straight and his left hand gripping the handrail post, Spencer lowered himself to the floor. Hesitantly, he shuffled forward until his buttock reached the edge of the step. The staircase appeared to grow before his eyes. Sliding down each step at a time, Spencer made his way down the stairs. He did not realise that he had been holding his breath in fear until he reached the bottom and gave a sigh of relief. Seated on the ground at the foot of the stairs, Spencer glanced around for a way to get himself back up. Using the spokes under the handrail, he dragged himself back up to his feet. With his left leg and foot lagging behind, he made his way to the kitchen. Spencer attempted to balance himself on his uninjured leg as he tugged open the fridge door. David had prepared a baloney sandwich, wrapped it in clear film and left it in the fridge for Spencer. Spencer's stomach gave a happy growl as he retrieved the snack. Spencer carried the plated snack to the sofa and dropped himself down into the cushions. David had left a small pile of folders on the coffee table.

Spencer took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly as he opened the uppermost folder. His eyes quickly scanned the writing and crime scene photographs. Their unsub was poisoning their victims and then flaying them. He held the mushed up contents of the sandwich bite in his mouth and furrowed his brow. He considered the photographs. Poisoning was typically a killing method used by women, whilst the aggression associated with flaying was generally the act of a man. Spencer swallowed the contents of his mouth. Their unsub was in fact a pair, most likely a couple. He frantically looked around for a pen. Realising that there was not a writing tool in sight, Spencer resigned to the fact that he would have to commit it to memory instead. He closed the folder and moved on to the next- it was for an equivocal death investigation. Spencer scanned the notes. It was a cut and blow dry suicide. With a sigh, Spencer moved on to the last folder. He frowned and set his plate on the table. It was not a homicide, kidnapping or equivocal death. It was the investigation into the train accident. Spencer felt a well of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

Turning the cover to the folder, nausea crept up his gullet at the photographs of the decimated train. The accident report sent chills throughout his entire body. His skin prickled in alarm. The wiring connecting the carriage that Spencer was on had been cut prior to departure. The constant weaving of the train caused the wire to sever entirely. The speed the train was moving in caused the carriage to drag for some time before coming to a halt. Spencer's heart leapt into his throat as he noticed a transcript from a video sent to the team. A name caught his eye and his anxiety turned to anger. Catherine Adams. Clearly, she had tired of playing her mind games and was ready to outright maim him. She had an accomplice sabotage his train.

"I wonder how Spencie is enjoying his hospital stay... I hear it's as soul destroying as being in solitary. Though, he does know what that feels like, doesn't he? Too bad the crash didn't kill him, but the mental torture he'll suffer from will be enough to make him blow his own stupid brains out."

Spencer's blood boiled in his veins and his eyes blazed with fury. He was just unsure as to what the real cause of his rage was- the fact that Cat had tried to get him killed and wanted him dead, or the fact that the team kept it from him. Spencer reached for the plate and launched it across the room. The plate smashed into pieces against the cream wall and the sandwich littered the floor like confetti. His chest heaved in anger.

The sound of a door clicking attracted Spencer's attention. David dashed into the room from the adjoining study. He stopped, his mouth agape at the broken shards of ceramic, bread and baloney scattered across his floor. Spencer snapped his head sideways, his hair hanging across his face.

"What the hell, Spencer?"

"Why didn't you tell me, Dave?"

"Tell you about what?"

"The crash! You knew!" Spencer dragged himself to his feet from the sofa and launched himself feebly at the older man who simply caught him. Spencer pounded his fists against David's chest, tears of rage flowing down his face. His hair clung to his tears.

"How could you? How could you know and not say anything? I opened up to you!" David pulled the thin man in close and wrapped his arms around the shuddering shoulders in an effort to restrain the bubbling vat of rage that was Spencer Reid.

"I needed you to see that the crash wasn't your fault. You were in a very dark place, Spencer. You wanted to do exactly what Cat wanted you to. That information would have killed you. Trust me. I didn't think you'd find those files." Spencer sniffed and straightened up.

"Your first case is a couple killing team. The female unsub poisons the victims and the male unsub flays them. I suspect he's a hunter. The second case is a simple suicide." David raised his eyebrows, "What will happen to Cat?"

"Her execution has been brought forward to next week." Spencer's face hardened and determination returned to his eyes.

"She wanted to see me die, I want to see her die."

"Come on, let's get you sat down and we'll make some coffee." With an arm around Spencer's waist, and Spencer's thin arm draped around his shoulders, David helped him back to the sofa and dropped him into the cushions. Spencer surveyed the mess he had made.

"I'm sorry, Dave."

"It's okay, I'll clean it up. Just make sure you don't get my liquor cabinet next time. My thirty-year old whiskey won't like you if you do," came David's voice from the kitchen over the soothing sounds of the bubbling coffee maker. Spencer gave out a small laugh, "How about I get everyone over here tonight and we'll have my speciality- Carbonara a la Rossi?"

"Sounds good." Spencer smiled as a mug of coffee was placed in front of him.