MASTERMIND | spencer reid

011: you think I'm gone 'cause I left?

Lucy squinted, "M-Mary? What. . ? What's going on?" She narrowed her eyes, staring intently until the person came into focus. Dark strands of hair cascaded down to her shoulders, and her face was covered in dirt. Could that have been from the explosion, but—"what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here."

"Did it hurt? Mary, I'm sorry." Lucy shook her head, frustrated as her words seemed to go unheard. She wrapped her hands around the wrists of the girl before her, clad in her cheer uniform as was the commonality, though it was stained remarkably with dirt and. . .red splotches.

She let out a moan in pain as she shifted her body once more. "No, stop! Stop it! You're not real. You're—You're dead! Am I. . ? I'm—". She gasped, and held her breath for the dizzy spell to pass, before another jumble of frantic and incoherent words flooded from her lips. "What are you doing here? Why you? Why—?"

"Byrne. Byrne, are you okay?" The teenage girl wearing a blue and gold cheerleader uniform blurred, and in front of her now was a suited man, with speckles of blood on his face. Lucy had never seen Hotch so dishevelled. The sight didn't help her nerves.

Her heart beat was burning the more it quickened. "Hotch," she breathed out, and couldn't help but crack a smile, before she realised that the girl from before had left again. "Where did she go? Where is she?"

She held her right hand up, meaning to wipe the dots of blood from his face, transferring it from his face to her hands. Her arm wobbled in the air, and Hotch's own hand enveloped hers before she could even make contact with his cheek.

"I-I can't—" he started, before stopping and beginning again. "I can't find her. She must've—The explosion, it—"

"Who, Jasmine?"

Hotch's eyes narrowed, and a strong hand held the side of her head in a somewhat protective manner. "No, Lucy. It's Kate. I can't find—I think you may have hit your head."

Lucy shook her head.

Wracking her brain for memories was a specialty of hers. She could do this, remember. Take a breath, close your eyes (even despite Hotch's frantic requests to keep them open and to stay with him), and remember.

"No. I'm. . .I'm fine. I was further away. On the phone. I was on the phone. Theo, he called me. Dinner, something about dinner," she spluttered as another cough bubbled in her throat. The fire crackled in her ears, and sirens from ambulances and police cars antagonised the ringing that still pounded at her brain.

"Byrne, just—"

Lucy interrupted, tightening her grip on Hotch's sleeve. "Go find her. I'm okay. I'm fine. Please."

"Lucy."

"Go, Hotch. Please, go."

"I really don't want to go." Lucy wrapped her jackets around herself, tightly, before patting the pockets, hoping to hear the rattling of her car keys nestling amongst the clutter that had surely made a home within them. She then glanced up at Theo and pouted her lip out in a frown. "I guess two whole days off was a gift enough already," she admitted, bouncing between her tip toes and her heels.

Theo weaved his way through the room, from the sofa, around the small dining table that sat between the kitchen and the living area, offering her a small smile. "This is what you signed up for, right? Or—I don't know—maybe you just. . .call in sick?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, sarcastically, "bit late now. I've already texted JJ that I was on my way." Standing face to face, Lucy appreciated the height difference between them, glancing up at Theo with a bittersweet grin. "I wish I could stay."