welcome back!! so sorry for the long wait. more chapters here to come and more one-shots in my mgg book. enjoy! i really love this chapter. remember to vote and comment, i'd really appreciate it :))
genre: angst and some fluff
warnings: prison, solitary confinement, stabbing/physical violence
word count: 5k
summary: spencer needs to protect himself and he knows exactly how to do that.
pairing: season twelve spencer reid x oc
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SPENCER
I had a million ways of getting out of that situation and yet, I chose the one that would cause the most pain. I chose the option that would come back to cause me the most pain.
It was dumb. Really, it was. I admit that now. I shouldn't have poisoned those drugs. Calvin would know I did it. There's nobody else it could have been. He knew Malcolm, as much as he claimed he didn't, and Calvin knew that Malcolm wouldn't poison the drugs. Calvin knew it was me and the moment he was released from the infirmary, he outed me. He told everyone he could get his hands on that I'm a fed and that's the worst thing that could happen to me. That beating I got before? I'm about to get much worse than that.
I've been outed as a federal agent and my mom has been abducted by a hitwoman working with Mr. Scratch. I didn't think things could get any worse.
I know what I need to do and it's not ideal. In fact, it's maybe the worst plan possible. It could backfire and maybe it could get me killed. But I need to do what I have to do to survive. And if I get killed in the process of trying to survive, then whatever. At least I won't have to worry about surviving anymore.
I wake up and make my bed like usual, lining up for breakfast. And in my head, I say goodbye to my cell. My plan will keep me from ever seeing this cell ever again. I will ensure I never come back here ever again. Just as the guards shout for us to line up, I slip my hand under my pillow and grab Amelia's note, tucking it in the pocket of my jeans.
I don't intend on wasting any of my precious three minutes on actually eating food. I can skip a meal today. I'm on edge as I shuffle through the food line, my head on a swivel and staying alert for any potential attacks. I sit down at a table by myself, thankfully unscathed for this moment. But as soon as I spot Calvin a few feet away, I'm reaching into my pocket, past Amelia's letter, and to my sharpened toothbrush.
I keep my eyes trained on Calvin in front of me, who's chatting to someone else. Staring always gets his attention, and I know the longer I do, the more it will piss him off. So I persist, locking my eyes on his face and hoping to pull his attention away from the inmate next to him. And it works, because within the next few seconds, he's sitting across from me.
"You're gonna need to grow eyes in the back of your head because you'll never see it coming."
I lean in towards Calvin, and for some scary reason, I'm calm. I'm so calm and unfazed with what I'm about to do but I don't give it a second thought. "I have a better idea."
Calvin cracks the tiniest smile as he scoffs. "What's that?"
I rise to my feet at the same time Calvin does and immediately lurch for him. Correctional officers rush over to break us up, but I'm quick to act on my plan. I aim my self-made shank at Calvin and position it perfectly so that when he's blocking it, I twist it and plunge it into my arm and then my leg to make it look like he stabbed me.
I cry out in pain but Calvin tosses his hands up, proclaiming his innocence as a guard drags him away. A guard is at my side too, looking at my bleeding arm while yelling something to another guard. I'm not exactly sure what they're saying but I hear the word "solitary" and I smile devilishly. My plan worked.
///
I've heard stories about solitary confinement throughout my years at the BAU. It's common practice to throw inmates in solitary to see how long it'll take them to crack and give us the information we need. I've seen countless prisons and jails and cells and solitary cells. But being in solitary confinement is completely different than being a federal agent on the outside. I thought it would be silent. I expected my thoughts to echo off the walls. But the only thing echoing is the cries and screams and moans of the other inmates around me. They're shouting for help, for attention from the guards, for common human decency. It's agonizing. This endless noise is more agonizing than silence.
I lay down on the bench and close my eyes. I figure that since it's relatively dark in here, I might as well try to sleep. Maybe, I think, solitary will miraculously make my nightmares disappear and I'll be able to sleep without reliving someone's death. But every time I close my eyes, I just hear the other inmates crying out for attention from a guard. But the guards don't come. They never do. They never will. I consider shouting to offer my help, but that won't work. I don't have the energy anyway.
You'll never see it coming.
He's right. If he wanted to hurt me, I'd never know. I didn't see it the first time. Calvin has so much power in here. It's scary how much he does. It's scary how many strings he pulls. He could snap his fingers and have the other inmates on their knees in front of him, begging for their lives before he even says anything at all. If he wanted me dead, he could have it done within an hour.
I roll onto my side and cup my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sounds around me. I try to think of something better. I try to remember my favorite Mozart composition, but the notes aren't making sense in my brain and the song sounds horrible. I try to hear Henry and Michael's giggles, or hear Amelia's quick talking, or a story from my mother about my childhood, but nothing works. Nothing can drown out the screams and cries.
I quickly lose track of the time. It's not hard to. There's no window in here and the only way to tell the time is when food shows up. So I eventually get lunch and then dinner, and then I don't get anything else. Not until a vaguely threatening note from Calvin is slipped under the door. I crumple it up and throw it under the bench. I read Amelia's letter seven times to cleanse myself.
I'm left to another restless night. I curl up again but the screams are deafening. Why won't someone just help them? These men are in agony. They shouldn't be in solitary confinement, they should be in a hospital or a mental hospital. They shouldn't be locked up and screaming for help to officers who don't give a shit about them.
I keep pulling out Amelia's letter in my pocket but as the day goes by, it gets too dark in here and I can't make out her handwriting. Of course, I've read it once and I can recite it already but I want to see her handwriting. I want to see the tear stains and the pen smudges and the mistakes. I want to have her comfort. But I can't. So I keep it tucked away in my breast pocket, directly against my heart.
I manage to drift off at some point, but it's one of the least satisfying periods of sleep I've ever had. I'm woken up every half hour or so by screaming and screaming and screaming. My head is pounding and my neck is sore from this awkward position and I'm starting to think this is worse than being in general population. Much worse.
It's suddenly morning. There's food being thrown through the slot in the door and an officer clunking along the hallway, ignoring every single inmate he passes. I grab the lame tray of food and let out a yawn, rubbing my eyes and sitting on the bench again. I eat quickly, in just two minutes and twenty seconds, and then balance the tray in the slot so the officer can take it away again.
I just sit there. It's not worth it to work out to try to read Amelia's letter. There's nothing to do but listen to the sounds around me. I can't sleep, I can't leave, I can barely even move around this tiny room. I'll just have to sit around and stare at the black walls until my time in solitary confinement is up and then I'll have to find another way to get myself thrown in here. I have to keep myself protected. If I can't get in protective custody, this is the only place where I'll be safe.
The sound of keys brings me out of my thoughts, and when the door to my cell opens, I scramble to my feet. When I see Wilkins standing there, the panic sets in. Wilkins is practically Calvin's lapdog. He eats out of Calvin's hands. He's probably scared of the power that Calvin has, even in prison, much less in the outside world.
Wilkins pulls handcuffs off of his belts and slaps them on me, tightening them as tight as they can possibly go, but I don't complain. Now isn't the time for protests or complaints. Once they're on, he gives me a stoic look. "Let's go," he grabs my arm and drags me out, slamming the door behind us.
Outside the room, the first thing I notice is two other guards following us. That's an awful lot for me to be transported somewhere else. Where am I going?
"You're gonna need to grow eyes in the back of your head."
Wilkins leads me away from the block of solitary confinement cells and up a flight of stairs. His grip on my arm doesn't let up. It's far too tight for any normal transport. Where am I going?
"They're gonna beat you again. Might even kill you."
I know, for a fact, that the fastest route to get from solitary to the interview rooms would be to go through the cell blocks as opposed to walking around the blocks. That's how the prison is set up to be. But Wilkins makes it a point to not pass through the blocks. He doesn't want me to see who is in their cells and who isn't. He wants me to be surprised about who is going to kill me.
"You'll never see it coming."
Wilkins shoves me into an interview room, one without any tables or chairs, and one without anyone in it. But just because it's empty right now doesn't mean the door won't open in just a few seconds and flood with the inmates I sent to the infirmary or any of the countless inmates who just happen to hate federal agents.
"I can get you anywhere."
Wilkins grabs the chains of my handcuffs and pulls me towards him, unlocking them. He tucks them back onto his belt, gives me that same stoic look, and then leaves. He shuts the door behind him and leaves me in this empty interview room. I start to panic. What's happening? Why am I here? What has Calvin arranged to happen to me? Surely, he's arranged for me to be taken out of solitary so I can be killed. That must be the only option.
"I own this place."
My body jerks forward as the door opens again. My first instinct is to reach for my hip, to reach for the gun that hasn't been on my hip for months. I expect the hallway to be crowded with inmates. But instead, JJ comes in. I barely even believe my eyes. My heart starts pounding because now I have an inkling of why she's here and why this situation is so odd, but having hope right now is the worst thing to have.
"We're taking you home."
I swear, my knees could've buckled right then and there and I could've burst into tears. JJ pulls me into a hug before any of that can happen, though, and she holds me as tight as she can. It's the first hug I've felt in months and it's euphoric. The affection fills me with a feeling that I can't quite describe as anything other than pure bliss and pure relief.
"Okay, come on, let's get you out of here." JJ says, rubbing my back as she pulls away. "Is there anything in your cell you wanted to grab?"
"No, god no," I shake my head quickly, my lips quivering as I hold back tears. "Just get me out of here, please."
JJ smiles, unraveling her arms from around me and leading me out of the room. She helps me through the paperwork that needs to be done and then she gives me a box with my name on it, containing the suit I wore in court. It's not my ideal outfit to be wearing right now, but it's better than the mandatory outfit I've been wearing the last three months.
"I'll be right here when you're done," JJ smiles, gesturing to the little area where I'm supposed to change.
It feels nice to finally have something other than this scratchy and smelly blue material, and the suit I have is heavy and is a bit big now. I hadn't realized I'd lost so much weight. But I knot my tie and return my blues to a waiting officer, and then give an expecting smile to JJ.
"There he is!" I turn at the sound of Luke's voice, turning just in time for him to hug me too. "It's good to have you back, brother."
"Thanks," I mumble into his shoulder with a heavy sigh. "Where'd you just come from?"
"Oh, I was just talking to Shaw," Luke smirks, shrugging his shoulders. "He'll enjoy his time in Michigan at FCI Milan. The Bratva will be happy to see him."
I should feel guilty about that, but I don't.
"Let's get going, there's some people who are very excited to see you," JJ puts her hand on my back and guides me along, out some more gates and into the blaring daylight. It's a painful contrast to the solitary cell I was in just a half hour ago. The sunlight burns my eyes but it's a welcomed feeling now.
I grin when I see Penelope approaching and I quickly sweep her into my arms. She hugs my waist tighter than I've ever felt her do so before, and I reciprocate around her shoulders. "It's so good to see you. I missed you," I tell her, and she's becomes the first person I hear let out a genuine laugh in over three months. Maybe four months. Maybe five months.
"I missed you too, Spencer," she beams, and pulls away, squeezing my hands.
My stomach tightens with excitement and my eyes tear up for the first time when I let go of Garcia's hands. I instinctively reach for my pants pocket and feel for the letter, just for reassurance. My eyes scan for the beautiful blonde that I've been craving to see more than anyone, but I come up empty. My chest deflates and I takes a step back, bumping right into Luke, who grabs my shoulder. "She didn't come?" I whisper, my voice cracking and shaking, tears beginning to stream down my cheeks.
I love my friends so much, but I've seen them all at least five times since my arrest. I haven't seen Amelia since I was transferred from Mexico and put in jail. I didn't see her at my arraignment and I didn't put her on my list of approved visitors. I wanted to see her beautiful eyes and feel her touch and see her smile and hear her voice telling me that she loves me.
I glance between my three friends, lips quivering. "I know I told her not to visit but I thought this was different because--"
"She's here." JJ interrupts, putting her hand on my other shoulder. "Spencer, she is here. We picked her up but she got here and she was intimidated by the building so she didn't wanna come in. She's outside by the cars. She wouldn't abandon you like that."
She's here. She really did wait for me. Well, I never had doubts that she would wait for me. But after all the times she watched my team come to visit me and after I told her not to see me when she had chances to, she still came to my release date. She still stayed by my side. Metaphorically, of course.
I nod, and in my bleary, love-struck daze, Penelope grabs my hand and drags me away from the prison. She drags me right out of the gates. It's bizarre to me, it always has been, that there are only a few fences that separate the inmates from the free world. It's just some welded chainlink. That is it.
"We went to Amelia's apartment," Garcia explains as we walk closer to the parking lot, "and she wanted to take her own car. So I drove her car with her and JJ and Luke went in the SUV."
Garcia lets go of my hand when Amelia finally comes into my view. And seeing her, standing here as the sun rises, it's like I'm meeting her for the first time. I'm meeting her all over again.
She's just as beautiful as I remember her to be. I didn't expect her beauty to falter, though. She'll still be the most remarkably beautiful angel on the face of the earth to me. And in the rising sun, she looks perfect. I wish I had her camera so I could take a picture of this moment, of her beauty.
Her blonde hair is curly and a bit unruly, probably because she was woken up by the team far too early in the morning to get here. She's wearing the oversized sweats she usually wears on lazy Sundays and especially on rainy days. Her glasses are resting on the bridge of her nose and she's fiddling with something in her fingers. I notice that there's a new tattoo on her hand, but from here, I can't see what it is. All of her piercings are missing and she just looks raw and unfiltered and just plain perfect.
She looks perfect and gorgeous and beautiful and I want to fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness for all the heartache that I've caused her because of this. Forget everything I've been through. I want to tell her how much I love her and apologize until the word sorry sounds wrong and swear that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to her. But I'm frozen in my spot, just admiring her and wishing I could touch her. After so long, it doesn't seem real. Part of me thinks that a guard is about to run out and tell us there's been a mistake and they're going to drag me back inside. Part of me thinks that my mind is playing a trick on me and that my girlfriend isn't standing just a few feet away from me.
Her chest heaves and it's then I notice that she's crying. She reaches her hand up to move her glasses and wipe her tears away, and that's when I notice something else. She's not even looking at me. She's looking up. She's staring up at the sky. Her gaze hasn't deviated and I'm not even sure if she's noticed my presence yet. If she has, she's done a good job of hiding it. I follow her gaze to the sky, and when I see what's so interesting up there, it brings the tiniest smile to my face.
I breathe in a new batch of fresh air and a step closer to her. I move until I'm an arms-length away, and when I'm close enough to touch, her breath hitches. I don't reach out to touch her though, because I don't think either of us is ready for that. As badly as I need her touch, I need her to be fully present. I'm not even fully present yet. My mind is still lingering inside those gates I just passed.
When I step closer, her hands stop moving, but she doesn't make another effort to start. She doesn't move at all. She doesn't look at me and she doesn't hug me and she doesn't kiss me. And for some reason, it doesn't hurt that she doesn't immediately jump on me. Maybe it's because I'm still wondering if this is reality. Maybe she's wondering the same.
I glance up at the sky before settling on her eyes that have always enchanted me. "I'm sorry," I say softly. I watch her lips start to shake, but she stands her ground, nose scrunching up in the cutest way. "I tried to see dinosaurs and cars and lamps like you told me about, but I couldn't. I need you to teach me how to see shapes in the clouds because I can't do it without you, baby." I pause after I speak, waiting for a reaction.
I'm not sure what reaction I was expecting, honestly. But she looks at me. She averts her gaze from the sky and locks her bloodshot eyes with mine, and it's such a captivating sight that I never want to look away. I huff out the air in my lungs and I reach for her, but I don't grab onto anything, because I retreat my hands before I touch her. Who am I kidding? I don't even deserve to touch her anymore. These hands have committed so many sins inside those walls. I shouldn't be allowed to touch someone as pure and innocent as Amelia. But she just stares at me, waiting, gazing into my eyes as her body starts to tremble.
"I-" I stumble over my words, just like the first time I ever talked to her. I clench my hands into fists and I start to break. In the presence of the woman I love, in the presence of the woman who knows all my secrets, in the presence of the woman who has never failed to remind me that she will love me unconditionally, I allow myself, for the first time in months, to be vulnerable. "Lia, I need you."
Amelia finally breaks with my words. She lets out a sob as she nods, throwing her arms around my shoulders. She throws herself against me, and out of the three people I hugged previously, they don't hold a flame to this hug. Amelia's body is shaking and trembling against mine as I hold her with a death grip, my hands grasping her clothes. Her hands have a hold on my suit jacket, and while I wish her hands could be on my skin, being as close to me as possible, I know that won't happen for a while, I'm being greedy. I'm just happy to be holding her after so long.
"I love you," she cries into my shoulder, and I think my heart bursts at the confession. I've waited so long to hear her say those words. I've laid awake at night, trying to recall the way it sounds when she says those beloved words, and I could never come up with an accurate memory. I squeeze her tighter, hiccuping into her shoulder as I cry. "I love you so fucking much. If you ever leave me like that again, I'll-"
"I won't." I don't even let her finish her sentence, I just nod into her shoulder. She hums softly in response, and when I hear her take a deep breath and then release, her warm breath brings a type of goosebumps to my skin that haven't appeared since we last laid in bed together. I squeeze my eyes shut and force a few tears to fall onto her shirt. "I'm never leaving you ever again. We're moving in together and we're getting married and having a family and I'm gonna make you hate me with how annoying my statistics are and you're gonna love it."
Amelia laughs, and I swear, the sound is more beautiful than any of those Mozart or Brahms pieces I tried to remember while in solitary. Amelia's laugh is one in a million. I should have never taken such a remarkable sound for granted. "That sounds perfect, dove,"
She lifts her head and her ocean eyes connect with mine again. She places her hands on my cheeks, thumbs brushing over my skin. She leans in close, her nose brushing against mine delicately. My eyelids flutter closed at the intimacy, and I forget that we have an audience. I forget that we're in public and in front of the place that has been my living hell for three months. But Amelia's laugh makes me forget. Amelia makes me forget everything happening for a split second, and that's all I need.
"You promised."
"I did," I whisper, brushing our noses together and holding back tears. "And I still haven't broken a promise, right? I never will." She suddenly giggles and the melodic, beautiful, familiar sound brings one of the first genuine smiles to my face. "What?"
She trails her hands down my cheeks and to my jawline. "I was right."
My eyes open again, and my brows furrow. "You were right?"
She smiles mischievously at me, and when her pointer finger presses into my upper lip, I understand. "Your facial hair is sexy." I toss my head back laughing, truly laughing for the first time in months.
Only this remarkable woman could make me laugh at a time like this. Only she could make me laugh after everything I've just been through. She presses her body flush against mine, and while just an hour ago, a body against mine would have made me panic, our connection makes me relax.
Amelia looks up at me as a tear drips down her cheek, and she smiles. Just a moment ago, she was teasing. She was happy and she was carefree, glad to see me. But now she's tentative. "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes," I answer far too quickly, nodding eagerly "yes please."
With her hands now on my cheeks, she brings my lips down to hers. And whether she was intending for it to be a simple peck or not, it doesn't matter. Her lips are soft and smooth and warm and taste like strawberries and I wish I could kiss her forever. I never want this kiss to end. I want to lay in bed with her and whisper sweet nothings until the sun rises and we realize we haven't slept yet. I want to kiss her until our lips are swollen and then go back for more. I want to make love to her like we never have before, bodies sweaty and pressed against each other under a duvet. I want to have her lay on my chest and count the freckles on my stomach until she loses track and has to start over again. I don't want those moments to cease ever again.
I hold her waist in my hands as tight as I can, not wanting her to run away or leave me. It's cruel of me to think that she could change on me at the drop of a hat, but I guess that's what prison has done to me. Prison has made me untrusting. Prison has changed me, as much as I don't want to admit it. But Amelia has never given me a reason to think that she would leave me because of this. She spent months following me through a false arrest and I still think she would leave me? How awful.
I pull away, breathless, eyes half-lidded. "I love you," I confess quickly. "I love you so much. Thank you so much for being here. I wanted to see you so bad- I needed to see you."
"It didn't seem real," she admits, dragging her hands down my chest, straightening my tie. "I didn't wanna get my hopes up. Penelope drove and I just- I'd gotten so used to getting bad news that I didn't wanna be so heartbroken if it didn't happen." She brings her hands further down, and then she notices the letter in my inside jacket pocket. But Amelia doesn't take it out, she just acknowledges its presence and smiles. She fixes my jacket and then flattens it out, resting her forehead against my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist, once again bringing her body flush against mine.
I sigh contently, resting my chin on the top of her head. "Did you read my letter?"
Amelia nods, laughing, her chest rumbling against mine. "I did and I cried. Dave gave it to me and I cried and I hugged him and I hugged Penelope and it was the happiest I'd been the entire time you were, um," she narrows her eyes, figuring out her choice of words, "well, gone. So, thank you for doing that."
"Thank Rossi. He's the one who smuggled in the pen and flashed his badge to get the letter in." I bring my gaze down to her, and she lifts her head. I move my hands up and down her arms, sighing. I let myself be vulnerable again. She's the only one I'd only allow myself to confess such things to, and after months of holding my thoughts in, I'm scared to let them out, but I know I'll need to eventually. "I didn't lie. I thought about you every single day and you're the only reason I'm standing here right now."
"Spencer." She speaks my name for the first time and it sounds like music to my ears. Amelia drops her hands from my waist and intertwines our fingers, squeezing gently. "You're home now and you're not going anywhere again, okay?" I nod to her as if confirming her words. "Alright. Let's go find your mom."