"You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings, you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything." Nine Inch Nails- 'Closer'.
Spencer stared morosely at a coffee stain on the round table. One hand cupped his mug of steaming coffee, his long, thin fingers entwined around the handle. His other hand rested on the table top as he drummed his fingertips against the wood. He snapped out of his daze as the sound of the team bustling into the room. He stopped the drumming and rubbed the back of his neck with his palm as he tried to divert his attention away from Emily. He was acutely aware that she was watching him with concern. Penelope Garcia trotted up to the front and grabbed the matte silver control, pressing a button. She wore a bright shade of pink that was both blinding and intriguing. The monitor behind her powered to life.
"Morning, crime fighters. Today, we're staying right here. Three victims have all shown up in DC over the past two weeks with the same MO. All were killed by blunt force trauma to the head and have signs of sexual assault." Three photographs appeared on screen. All of the women had dark brown hair and blue eyes.
"These victims could almost be sisters. This unsub clearly has a type," commented Tara.
"These could be surrogates for someone," answered JJ.
"Where were their bodies found?" asked Matt Simmons. Penelope clicked another button, the screen showing a pair of legs from behind a dumpster.
"All were found dumped in alleys behind dumpsters," responded Penelope.
"What can you tell us about the victims?" asked Emily as she stole a glance at Spencer who was rubbing his chin in thought.
"Sarah Miller, 32, was a hairdresser. Leonie Cuthberts, 31, was an administrator for a local health practice and Veronica Burns, 32, worked in a supermarket," answered Penelope.
"So, these victims are low risk. Anything to connect them?" piped up David. Penelope shook her head, her blonde curls swaying. David frowned, "So this is an organised unsub who has some serious pent up anger and need for sexual release."
"Perhaps this unsub was rejected by someone who resembles these victims?" offered Luke.
"Probably a jilted lover. It's likely he stalked these women before he attacks." Everyone turned to the source of the voice. Spencer had stayed unnaturally silent throughout, sipping his coffee. He raised his eyebrows, suddenly aware that seven pairs of eyes were fixed on him, "What?"
"Oh, you finally decide to join the conversation?" laughed Tara. Spencer scowled at her.
"Spence is right," responded David.
"Okay. Matt, I want you and David to walk the crime scenes. Luke? You're with Tara and I want you to go to the ME. I'm going to head down to the PD and get some more information from them. JJ? I want you to stay here with Reid and help him build a geographical profile," ordered Emily. All heads bobbed in response. Spencer remained seated as the others filed out of the room, chairs scuffing across the navy carpeted floor. JJ paused at the door and turned back to the man staring at his coffee.
Spencer stood before the map that was pinned to the board, his arms crossed over his chest. He had haphazardly slung his blazer over the back of his chair and rolled the sleeves of his black button down shirt to his elbows. He frowned as he pressed a pin into the map. So far, he was unable to see a pattern to the dump sites. The atmosphere was tense. Almost as tense as the muscles in Spencer's back and his clenched jaw. JJ glanced up from the crime scene photographs on the desk before her at Spencer and brushed a piece of her golden hair back behind her ear.
"Is everything okay, Spence? You seem tense." Spencer had not appeared to have heard her, "Spence!" Spencer jumped as he was jerked back to reality. He whirled around to see JJ staring at him.
"Sorry. What?" asked Spencer, his fingers absent-mindedly returning to his chin.
"Are you okay? You're quiet. You've barely said two words to any of us all morning. Are you pissed at us?"
"No, Jennifer." JJ winced at the use of her full name, "I'm being stalked whilst being haunted by memories of being in prison and none of you seem to care." JJ's mouth bobbed.
"Spence? Of course we do." Spencer rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and let out a long breath through his nose before glaring back at the blonde agent.
"Is this to do with those paranoid thoughts you've been having? I think you're overthinking this," paraphrased Spencer, "I tried to tell you and you didn't believe me. I'm being sent candid photographs and letters, but all any of you can focus on is how tired I look." Spencer found his voice rising, "Yes, I'm tired. In fact, I'm exhausted beyond belief, Jennifer. All I see every night is those men beating me up in my cell. All I see is Delgado having his throat cut right in front of me while some guy restrains me. Now, I have some crazy stalker following me every damned day and sending me images and breathing down the phone. But this is exhausting me more! I'm scared to be in my own apartment." Spencer was noticeably shaking in a combination of fear and anger.
"Spence-" began JJ.
"No, Jennifer! I-" Spencer's breath hitched in his throat, "I c-can't." Spencer strode over the shelf of ring binders. Letting out an agonised scream, he swept the folders to the floor with a crash. JJ jumped in her seat. Spencer slumped to the ground, his long legs drawn up to his chest and his hands tightly gripping his hair. The room fell silent for a moment. The silence was soon broken by the soft sobs from the broken man on the floor. JJ was unsure of how to respond to her best friend. She came to her feet and approached him cautiously as though she was nearing a wounded animal. She lowered herself to the floor and pulled him in close. She felt him stiffen under her arms.
"Spence? I'm sorry. Really. I am. I wish you would talk to us."
"I- tried. Y-you- didn't- listen. N-none- of- you- did," responded Spencer between sobs.
"Spencer, you thought you were being paranoid. Prison made you hypervigilant, remember? We just thought the same. What have you been sent?" Spencer sniffed and ran the back of his hand across his nose as he slowed his breathing. He looked at JJ with watery eyes.
"The first was a photo of me sitting at the park playing chess with a letter saying "next time, Spencer." The second one was of me getting into the car yesterday morning with a letter that said "Lavender looks good on you. You know what else does? A pair of handcuffs." Then there was a photo of me being led out of court in handcuffs. This morning, a photo of me was put under my door after I was released from prison and was going after Scratch." JJ thought for a moment.
"So, this has to be someone local. I mean, they're following you around here. Have you spoke to Emily?" Spencer nodded, brushing the tears from his cheeks.
"Yeah. She said it would be looked into, just not today." JJ rested a hand on his upper arm. Spencer's eyes fell on the hand, then slowly lifted up to JJ's face.
"And we will, Spence. You know we will."
"I'm just afraid that they'll get to me first." JJ smiled softly.
"Come on. Let's finish this geo profile." JJ stood up first and held out her hands. Spencer glanced up, then took her hands and eased up to his feet. His knee twinged. Spencer tried to hide a wince of pain. He didn't need to add a knee injury to the team's plate.
Spencer sighed as he approached his apartment door. They had managed to narrow down the geographical area of the unsub but were no further forward in identifying a connection between the area and the victims. It was nearing 10pm before he made it home. As he retrieved his keys from his trouser pocket, Spencer noticed that his door was open ajar. Pushing his keys back into his pocket, Spencer reached for his revolver at his hip. The sound of the safety clicking off was deafening in the silent hallway. He gently pushed open the door with his left hand. He dropped his satchel and blazer on the floor next to the coat stand and gripped his gun with both hands.
"Hello?" His voice echoed around the empty apartment. Slowly, he edged towards the kitchen, his gun raised in front of him. He flicked on the light and looked around. He turned the light back off and cautiously crept towards the bedroom. The hairs on his bare forearms stood on end with anxiety and uncertainty. "Hello?" His bedroom and bathroom were both devoid of any presence. With a deflated sigh, Spencer lowered his gun and returned to the lounge. Something hard came down heavy on his head, ending him crashing onto his stomach on the floor. His revolver slipped from his fingers and skidded across the wooden floor away from him. He reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head. As he withdrew his hand, he noted that the tips of his fingers glistened with blood. He turned to look at his attacker and his eyes widened with recognition.
"You!" was all Spencer managed to press out as a needle was jabbed into the side of his neck. He grasped blindly at his neck, his vision blurring considerably and limbs weakening.
"Sleep tight, doctor." Spencer's eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped limply to the side.