What is Heard but Never Seen

Chapter 3: Motive

Spencer's agonized cry echoed off the basement walls as the bullet penetrated the fleshy area of his bicep. And as it hit him, recognition clicked into place like a puzzle piece. 

"Maeve Donavan." He muttered. 

"Good," the woman cooed, "You do remember. My sister was Diane Turner. She killed herself that night because of you."

Reid couldn't bring himself to look up as pain radiated through his arm, and emotion reverberated through his entire being. "It wasn't my fault." Reid replied. 

There it was. The lie he had been telling himself for months. It wasn't his fault. Everyone told him that- the therapists, the doctors, his team. And somewhere inside, he had started to believe it. 

A tear slid down his face as he looked up at her. "What's your name?" He asked. 

She cocked an eyebrow, intrigued but no less angry. In fact, the fury behind her gaze seemed to be building behind a weak levy. "Ciera Turner." 

He ignored the blood soaking into his sleeve and the fog in his head as he studied her face. "I'm sorry," he made a feeble grasp at an apology. 

"You're sorry?" The note in her voice made it clear he shouldn't have spoken. "YOU'RE SORRY?" She exploded, pulling the pin back a second time and slamming the barrel of the gun into his forehead. "She's DEAD because of you! She isn't coming back! There isn't anything you can do to change it now, so what the Hell do you think apologizing is going to do?"

He looked her in the eye around the barrel in his face. "If I can't fix it, then why am I here?" he asked, a poorly disguised tremor in his voice. 

"You are here-" Ciera began as she stepped closer, "-because I am going to right a wrong. An eye for an eye," she explained. Reid flinched as she pulled the trigger. 

Nothing but a dull click sounded off. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Did you think it would be that easy?" Ciera asked. "No, it's too soon. I have to crush your soul first, like you did mine." 

Spencer watched as Ciera turned and walked out of the room, only caving in to full body, heavy-hearted sobs after the door closed and the lock clicked back into place. Then all at once, the pain in his arm hit him like a speeding train, and he felt his consciousness begin to ebb. His vision faded as the black waves washed inward from the edge of his sight lines, and finally, mercifully, he sank into the inevitable unconsciousness. 

O  O  O

"Son of a bitch!" Morgan swore as the line went dead.

Alex Blake, who had been absorbing the situation in silence, spoke up. "She said we."

"What?" Morgan questioned.

"She said, and I quote, 'you aren't going to find us or your team member,'" Blake explained. "So we can assume there's more than one unsub.

"Right," Hotch replied in the short silence that followed. "Blake, J.J, Morgan, go to Reid's apartment and look for evidence. Anything even an inch out of place. Garcia, monitor the phones. Rossi and I are going to canvas for witnesses."

The group stood, beginning what would perhaps be the most important case of their tenure at the BAU.