Over Your Shoulder

"There's a fine line between stalking and being in love with someone. Unfortunately, it's hard to read that line when you're wearing rose-colored glasses."- Unknown.

Chapter One

15/04/2020. 03:35 hours. David Rossi's House, Virginia.

It had been one month since the United States stood still. President Trump ordered the shutdown of workplaces, schools, non-essential stores, and public meeting places. The day that everyone was ordered to remain at home to prevent the spread of SARS-CoV-2, coined the infamous COVID-19. It was the day that most serial killers vanished into hiding. The keyword being most. Some still managed to work under the radar. The BAU had been forced to work from home where possible to build profiles and do consults via conference calls, leaving the police precincts to carry out the rest of the investigations and arrests. Dr Spencer Reid and David Rossi shared an office space within David's oversized home, or as he so aptly referred to it, his 'mansion'. The pair were often nose deep in consults at their respective laptops. Having each other made the isolation that much more bearable.

Spencer twitched in his sleep, sweat beading his brow. A small mewl left his lips, his brow furrowed. His right hand clenched the navy comforter twisted around his legs. His bare chest rose and fell rapidly with each choked breath.

Spencer slowly peeled open his eyes to find himself in a cold, dank room. A single lightbulb hung from a rusty chain in the ceiling. He was laid on an uncomfortable mattress. He attempted to sit himself up, only to find that his wrists had been bound tightly to each post of the wrought-iron headboard. He glanced down to see his ankles bound in a similar fashion to the bed frame. He was laid spread out and he was naked. He wanted to call out to whomever had him but was stopped by a strip of duct tape pasted firmly over his lips, sealing them shut.

"Good. You're finally awake. I've missed you, Spence." Spencer's eyes widened in horror and he fought against his restraints. The rope rubbed harshly against his skin. He desperately wanted to scream at her to get away from him but his words were trapped. He shook his head and yelled curses at her through the tape. He knew the words would be muffled and incoherent, but he had to get them out of his system. His captor's emerald eyes glinted maliciously in the low light of the room. A blade hovered unnervingly close to his genitals. He squeezed his eyes shut as the blade bit into his sensitive flesh.

"Spencer…"

"Spencer…"

"Spencer? Spencer! Wake up!" Spencer's eyes flew open, wide and wild, and sat bolt upright in the bed. He was covered in a cold sweat as though he had been doused with a bucket of ice water. David had a hand resting gently on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer's chest heaved for breath and his mouth was bone dry. He blinked several times to restore the focus to his vision.

"Dave?" gasped Spencer, his voice low and raspy.

"Yeah, kiddo. You were having a nightmare. Your scream woke me up." Spencer pressed a shaking palm to his forehead and let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry." David moved his hand and perched on the side of the bed.

"Okay. You know that we've gotta talk about it." Spencer nodded slightly, his long brown curls brushing against his shoulders.

"I woke up in a dark room, like a basement. I was tied naked to the bed and was gagged. It was Mel. She had a knife and held it to my penis and began to cut. That was right as you woke me up."

"Mel can't hurt you anymore. She's in prison."

"Dave, we both know that doesn't mean anything. Look at Scratch with Hotch." David gave a resigned sigh.

"Okay, you got me there, Spencer. This is different-"

"How?"

"It just is."

Spencer groaned weakly, stars and nebulas bursting before his eyes. His hand fell limply to the blankets and his head tilted back slightly. David recognised the glazed look in the young man's eyes and eased him back into the pillows. He rolled Spencer onto his left side and gently tipped his head back to maintain his airways. Blood began to trickle from Spencer's nose, running across his cheek and dripping onto the pillow.

"You're okay, figlio. You're safe." Spencer's eyes rolled to the side and his head twisted painfully. His arms straightened in front of him, every muscle, ligament and tendon locked in place. His legs were poker straight, toes pointing down. His mouth was open in a silent scream and his breaths came out as ragged huffs. His cheeks flushed purple and his lips slowly turned blue. David knew that this was the tonic phase. He watched as Spencer's eyes began to blink furiously, the corner of his mouth twitching. A grotesque gurgling sound emitted from his throat, his breaths leaving his chest as noisy pants. Spencer's long, thin fingers clenched tightly into fists and his arms jerked rhythmically. His feet bounced against the mattress and his head rocked back and forth in time with his convulsions and the shorting electricity throughout his body.

It had been some time since Spencer had a tonic clonic seizure this bad. David knew that there had to be something else that was triggering this new wave of nightmares that he was having, yet it was the one thing he could not get out of the genius. It was like drawing blood from a stone. Something was bothering him. Over the past few weeks, his demeanour had changed. He had become snappy and sarcastic. He knew that the isolation from the rest of the team was stifling. They were all struggling with it, but Spencer seemed to be suffering the worst. They were not out in the field so it felt as though they were lost and unhelpful, nor was he teaching. David noticed that Spencer was constantly being interrupted by his cell phone going off, but he would just shake his head and shrug it off as spam calls and messages. The senior agent suspected otherwise and had tried to approach the subject, only to be immediately shut down.

Spencer's jerking slowed to a stop and his breathing evened out. His eyes rolled sluggishly, his confusion palpable. He finally settled his hazy gaze on David. He smacked his lips, tasting a familiar metallic liquid on his lips. His cheek felt wet and sticky. Spencer reached a trembling hand to his cheek and attempted to brush away the wetness. He frowned at the crimson liquid glistening across his fingers. His breath hitched in his chest and his eyes stung with tears. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and keep the tears at bay but they managed to push past his eyelashes. David gently swept Spencer's hair back out of his face and wiped the tears that rolled down his face away with the pad of his thumb.

"It's okay, caro. You had a tonic clonic seizure. Three minutes, ten." Spencer released a choked sob. "Spencer, you haven't had a seizure that bad since New Year when the neighbours were setting fireworks off. You've been acting strange for weeks now. What's going on?" Spencer's eyes snapped open and he turned a hardened glare to David. David sighed, knowing that he could not press the matter further. David patted Spencer on the leg and came to his feet.

"I'll make us some cocoa. Try and rest, Spencer." Spencer watched the older man leave the room, his almost white hair glinting in the low light from the hallway, then averted his gaze to a darkened spot on the wall. His cell phone lit up on the bedside unit. He fumbled for the phone and glanced at the screen- Unknown Sender. With a frustrated huff, he threw the cell back onto the unit with a clatter and curled up, dragging the comforter back over him.

Just as Spencer's eyes were beginning to fall shut, David returned with a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Spencer blinked and eased himself up into a sitting position. David set the mug down on the unit and seated himself heavily on the side of the bed. Spencer took the mug into both hands, allowing the warmth to crawl through his fingertips and down his gangly arms.

"I'm sorry, Dave." David quirked an eyebrow. Spencer's voice was low like a wounded animal.

"What for?" David sipped his cocoa.

"This. I hate the fact that my nightmares are back. I guess being away from everyone, from being out of the field, is getting to me more than I wanted to admit." David rested a hand on Spencer's knee.

"I hear you, kid. I miss everyone too. Conference calls aren't the same as a family dinner, are they?" Spencer shook his head softly, his gaze fixed on his cocoa. "Listen, Spencer. You listening?" David moved his hand from Spencer's knee to tilted the young man's chin up to meet his gaze. "I know something else is going on. You might not want to tell me, and that's fine, but trust me when I say, I will find out." Spencer swallowed hard and his brow furrowed before looking away guiltily.

"I'm fine. It's fine. It's nothing," whispered Spencer.

"Something that isn't anything doesn't trigger nightmares and seizures like this. I will find out what it is."

"Please, just leave it alone." David released a frustrated breath through his nose. Sometimes Spencer was far too stubborn for his own good. Spencer gulped the hot contents of his mug and set it back down on the unit.

"I'm going back to sleep for a while." Spencer's voice sounded lost. David picked up Spencer's empty mug, stealing a glance at his cell phone whilst the genius lay down and pulled the covers up over his head. David padded his way out of the room, gazing softly back at the mound in the bed. He would figure it out.

15/04/2020. 10:58 hours. David Rossi's House, Virginia.

Spencer shouldered a black cardigan over his navy blue and green check button up shirt as he made his way down the hallway and through the kitchen where David was seated at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee. David glanced up at him from his newspaper. Spencer looked exhausted, his features haggard and almost black circles around his eyes.

"You okay, bambino?" asked David.

"Yeah. Just going for a walk. Don't worry, I won't go too far." Spencer pulled his cardigan around himself and stepped out into the back garden. The late morning sun was warm. Spencer swallowed thickly as he passed the tree he was hung from. The noose still felt real. As much as he cherished David for all of the support he had been given, at times he was stifling. Spencer just needed some time away from him and his cell phone to think and recalibrate. He relished the shade of the tree branches overhead that had recently begun to sprout their first green leaves of the year. He could feel a tremor beginning in his right hand. Spencer knew that this was the beginning of a complex partial seizure. He sat himself down at the base of a tree and rested his back against the trunk. His hand quivered in place against his knee. Blood trickled out of his nose and his lips smacked several times. After around forty seconds, the seizure ceased. Spencer blinked and tilted his head back against the tree. Six months he had been getting texts and calls. He knew who it was, despite the voice changer, hang up calls and anonymous text messages. The team had carried him through too much. He could not add more stress to them.

…

David watched the young man leave the house and disappear into the clearing of trees at the back of the garden. He took the opportunity of Spencer's absence to make his way into the doctor's room. It felt wrong to be snooping in Spencer's business, but he needed to get to the bottom of the change in him. His dark eyes fell on the cell phone on the bedside unit. It was a newer cell phone than Spencer normally used, but David has insisted that he use something more modern after he smashed his previous one. He never did find out why. David picked up the phone and unlocked it with a swipe of his thumb. He groaned internally, realising that he would need to explain to the kid how to increase his security by using the thumb print scanner to unlock his phone as a start. He stole a glance over his shoulder to make sure that Spencer had not returned, then turned back to the phone. He opened the call log first. There were hundreds of calls from a withheld number. That automatically raised his hackles. As he closed the call log, a text message pinged through. Curiosity won over David and he opened the message from an unknown sender.

You can't keep ignoring me. That was a pretty nasty seizure you had when you collected the mail. Did your babysitter see? I will get my hands on you, Spencer.

David closed the message and marked it as unread. He couldn't let Spencer know that he had read it. He quickly locked the phone screen again and wiped it down with his sleeve to remove his fingerprints. He set it back down where he found it and made his way back to the kitchen. He seated himself back at the breakfast bar and picked up his coffee just in time for Spencer to return, looking somewhat more dishevelled than he had. David noted the dried blood around Spencer's nostrils and on the back of his hand. He sighed inwardly. The words rang in his head. "That was a pretty nasty seizure you had when you collected the mail." Things were clearly far worse than David had realised. Spencer moved wordlessly behind the older man, pouring himself a mug of coffee from the pot and heaping three spoons of sugar into it. He silently swirled the contents of the sweet concoction with a spoon, his eyes fixed out of the window. The only sounds were Spencer's rigid breaths and the clinking of the spoon against the ceramic. Spencer carried the mug back to his room, his shoulders hunched.