Not even an hour later, JJ called Penelope when she needed to extract some information on the work the computer genius did on all the volunteers. You were with Penelope the whole time, so you know she didn't really find anything that would be of value.
"Man, this is one place of a town. Most everyone lives well above the median income of the country. You got doctors and lawyers... One guy owns a bunch of shoe stores up and down the eastern seaboard."
"Is he married?" JJ chuckles.
"Yeah. Story of my life, sunshine. Reverend Paul Burke, looks like he became born again in prison."
"Prison?"
"Yeah for two years as a guest of the state of Ohio for embezzlement. I'm seeing a lot of tax sheltering and various hanky-panky here, but I'm not sure what would suggest potential satanic cult members."
"Maybe these deaths have nothing to do with satanic rituals, but the unsub wants everyone to think they are," you theorize.
"That's certainly a possibility, but I don't think so. We've gotten other evidence to point towards satanic rituals."
"Well, if I know anything, it's that people who worship Satan don't always look the part. Just because someone wears black makeup and listens to metal music doesn't mean they love the devil."
"Hold on," Penelope mumbles as she fast types.
"What, you got something?" JJ asks.
"Yeah, I got a guy with a ton of debts, spotty work history, and his house is in foreclosure. He's got a record, too. An assault with a deadly weapon three years ago."
"Wait, does it say what the weapon was?"
"Baseball bat," you answer.
"Our unsub used a blunt object," JJ reveals.
"Bats are blunt, aren't they?"
"What's this guy's name?"
"Dent. Henry Dent."
"Okay, here he is. Grid b-5," she reads from whatever is in front of her. "Okay, that puts him with... Elle."
"Shit," you mutter.
"Is everything okay?" JJ wonders.
"I wish I were with you guys. I could definitely find this girl. Fuck," you groan loudly.
"Just get better. There will be other cases," she sighs and hangs up.
"I fucking hate this."
"Why can't you let this one go??" Penelope asks in a soft voice.
"If I can help, I do it. All my life, I've never not helped someone. It didn't matter if I was hurt or if my dad didn't want me to, I did it. If I don't, people die and if people die, that's just one more fucking nightmare. I'm sorry for swearing, but this literally killing me. I hate not being able to help."
"Why wouldn't your dad want you to help? If I had a child with your gift, I'd let them use it all the time."
"My dad was an asshole. He was strict and he had a set of rules me and my foster siblings had to follow. If we didn't... anyway, my dad saw my abilities as a burden. The more I knew, the smarter I'd get. That's what he used to tell me, but he'd never tell me what I would be smart about. Don't get me wrong, I was his favorite kid. He didn't explicitly tell me this, but I knew. He'd do stuff with me without my brothers and sisters. Sorry I'm getting off track. To answer your question, my dad wasn't in favor of my "gift". He wanted it gone. I guess it scared him or whatever."
"Well, I for one, think it's very cool."
"Thanks, Pen," you laugh.
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To give Penelope a break from you, you decided to work at your desk for a little bit. It's getting a lot harder to contain just how much pain you're in, so that's also another reason for moving. There are a lot of files that still need to be filled out, so that's what you're doing right now. You've gotten through at least three files when your phone rings.
It's Spencer.
"Hey, did you find her?" you ask as you rest the phone between your left shoulder and your left cheek.
"Did you tell anyone about what I told you?" he asks, but his voice cuts in and out.
"Hello? Spencer?"
"Can you hear me now?" he tests, and it's much clearer.
"Yeah, what did you ask?"
"Did you tell anyone about my nightmares?"
"No, why would I? It's no one's business."
"Well Morgan told Hotch and Gideon. What if they think I can't do my job?"
"Spencer, he's just concerned is all. He didn't do it because he wanted to betray you, he did it because he gets them too."
"How do you know?"
"Tell me one person who dives deep into serial killers' minds and doesn't have nightmares about them and the things we see. It's inevitable. I get them too."
"Yeah, but it's just upsetting when he tells our bosses without my permission."
"Spencer?"
"Yeah?"
"You know you can do your job. I know you can do your job. Derek knows you can do your job. Everyone on this team knows you can do your job. He just doesn't want you to bottle them up, I guess."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," he says, but his voice cuts in and out again.
"Spencer, I can't hear you," you state.
"Y/N?" he asks, but the line goes dead before he can finish your name.
"Spencer?" you ask despite knowing he's not going to answer.
You feel bad for Spencer because he's the kind of guy who doesn't really know how to deal with things that head his way. It's either avoid them or ignore them until it goes away, and you know he's using that second method with his nightmares. You get them too, but your gift doesn't allow you to bottle things up. It forces you to deal with what you're scared of until you fix the problem yourself, but that doesn't mean a few bad dreams doesn't slip through the cracks.
To deal with them, you write down the ones you can remember and rewrite the ending. By doing so, you're able to see that they aren't going to hurt you, and you're also showing them that you're in control of them. You have about three journals filled with past nightmares. Your dad gave you your first one when you were fifteen when you saw the aftermath of a terrible shooting gone bad in the next town over. It's helped you ever since, and you're hoping it would help him.
It sucks that you can't be there with him, but you'll make do with what you have.
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The pain in your side isn't getting any better. It's getting worse because even the slightest movement is enough to send searing pain shooting into your abdomen. Penelope let you sit back in her office while she works, and since there is nothing left for you to do, you're coloring a coloring book to pass the time. The grip you have on the red crayon gets tighter with each stroke. This isn't doing a good job at distracting you, but you have to keep yourself under control if you don't want to alert Penelope.
Just then, an invisible force slams into your stomach causing you to gasp and clutch your stomach. Penelope turns to you just as you jump out of your seat and grab her trash can. You have no clue what just happened, but something bad is happening to Spencer. Flashes of him and Derek race through your mind too quickly for you to comprehend.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"Something is wrong with Spencer," you quickly say.
You step outside of her office before throwing up in the trash can. You didn't want to stink up her office, and you could only get two steps out the door before you're blowing chunks. The flashes come back but they're of Spencer only. The young unsub is grabbing at him from behind with a gun pointed to his head. He's scared, nervous, and wishes he was back at home with a good book. You're not sure why you're seeing this or why you can almost feel what he feels, especially since he's miles away from you. You throw up again and the flashes vanish from your mind as if they were never there.
"Y/N!" Penelope shouts to get your attention. "Are you okay?"
You open your eyes—you're not sure when you closed them—and puke into the trash can. All that's inside is blood. You look up at Penelope as blood drips from your mouth into the trash can. Now that your brain isn't focusing on throwing up, you can feel the blinding pain in your side. It's finally gotten to a point where you can't ignore the pain any longer. You lift up your shirt to see your blood seeping through your bandages.
"I think I need to go to the hospital," you murmur.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you fall to the ground.
"Y/N! Someone call 911!" Penelope yells at others who were watching from afar.
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Penelope stares at your unconscious body lying on one of the hospital beds. She's glad she got you here in time, otherwise you'd have serious damage to your organs. Now that the dust has settled a little bit, she takes out her phone and calls Hotch who is on the plane back home.
He answers on the first ring.
"Sir, we have a problem."
"What is it?"
"Y/N's in the hospital again."
"What happened?"
"Who is that?" Spencer says from the background.
"Well, the doctors never removed the bullet from what happened on the train. They thought it'd be best to let her heal first before removing it. Due to her moving all day, the bullet shifted and cut through her tissue. It was headed straight to her organs, but luckily, we got here just in time. They already removed the bullet and she's sleeping right now. They are going to keep her overnight for observation purposes, but it's strictly bed rest for at least a few weeks."
"Alright, we'll head there once we land. Thanks Garcia."
"Of course sir," she nods and hangs up.
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The first person you saw when you woke up was Hotch and Gideon. They were waiting for you while the rest of the team waited outside. The doctor told them that only a few people at a time. Naturally, they send in the big guns.
"I'm sorry," you whisper.
"What happened to taking it easy?" Hotch asks.
"You could have died, Y/N," Gideon adds.
"I know. I just wanted to help. I'm sorry," you sigh.
"Bed rest until the doctor says you're cleared. Understood?"
"Yes sir," you nod.
"Get some sleep. One of us will be by here tomorrow to bring you home," Gideon says right before they both take their leave.
The best people to walk in are Derek and Elle. You smile when you see them, and you try to sit up. Derek is quick to rush to your side to gently push you back down.
"You heard the doctor, mama. Bed rest until you're better."
"What happened on the case? Is everyone okay? Is Spencer?"
"What do you mean?"
"I saw him and the unsub. He had a gun to his head. Right?"
"Spencer is just fine. Don't worry about him."
"The case was pretty cut and dry," Elle explains. "Just a high school boy jealous of his crush's boyfriend. We got him though."
"Good."
"Get better okay?" Derek softly demands.
You nod as they leave, and JJ is the next person to come in. She's carrying your favorite flowers, which is weird because you only told Spencer the kind you like.
"Did Spencer pick those out?"
"How did you know?" she chuckles.
"Had a feeling," you smile.
She says her goodbyes and leaves the room. Spencer is the last person to enter, and you smile widely at his presence. He doesn't have a scratch on him.
"Hey, I'm glad you're okay. I saw what happened."
"You saw it?" he chuckles and takes a seat next to your bed.
"Yeah. Something punched me in the stomach and I got flashes of where you were and what happened. I'm just glad you're okay."
"Don't worry about me, okay?" he says and grabs your right hand.
"I'll always worry about you."
"I talked to Gideon about my nightmares. He gave me something that might help."
"What are your nightmares about? If you don't mind me asking."
"In my dream, there's a baby in the middle of a circle and there's someone on the other side. And I can't get to her before—"
He stops short, but you know what he's going to say next.
"Do you want to know what mine are about?"
"Yeah."
"I mostly dream of people I couldn't save. How cliche, right? I see their eyes—hopeful and pleading—asking me to come save them. I never can, and I'm always too late whenever I get to them. They scream, 'It's your fault' and 'You're too late'. I'm haunted by every dead person I come across. It's bound to seep into my dreams."
"What about the other ones?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said you mostly dream of people you couldn't save. What are your other ones about?"
You couldn't tell him that the other dreams are of your foster dad and mom when they got angry, drunk, or high. Bad things happened, and you put up a big block inside your mind to separate yourself from those events. Instead, you veer the topic to something a lot safer.
"I brought you something."
"What is it," he asks, understanding you don't want to talk about your other dreams.
"They're on the table over there," you point to them.
You had Penelope run to your apartment and get the notebooks you wrote in. Every single nightmare you remember is in there, and Spencer gets the pleasure of reading them. He gets up and grabs them, returning to his seat.
"What are they?"
"Whenever I had a bad dream, I'd write it down and change the ending. It proves to myself that I am in control and that they can't hurt me. I want you to read them and maybe you'll rewrite your own endings to the stories you don't like. It's helped me a lot, and maybe it'll help you."
"Thanks, Y/N," he smiles. You yawn and he gets up to leave. "I'll let you sleep."
"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep? I don't want to be alone."
"Sure," he nods and sits back down.
He grabs your hand and you close your eyes knowing you're safe as long as Spencer is right next to you.
"Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together." - Eugene Ionesco