i know some lovely readers were dying for the next chapter...so here you go!! please enjoy :)
vote and comment, as always!
genre: angst
pairing: season 13 spencer reid x oc
warning: blood, murder, suicide implication, a lot of angst
word count: 3.4k
summary: spencer searches for amelia.
SPENCER
Not talking to Amelia is one of the worst things in the world. It's heart-wrenching and it's painful and I miss her immensely if I don't see her every day. While I was in prison, not being able to see her was the worst pain in the world. I went three months without seeing her or talking to her and after that was over, I swore I would never let that happen again. But now, knowing that she's so close to me– nearly within reach– but she doesn't want to see me, somehow that hurts worse.
It's been a week since Amelia stormed out of my apartment, and rightfully so. She has every right to be upset with me, I just wish that she wasn't. I've called her relentlessly and left messages, but she hasn't returned any of them. She responded to a few of my texts just to let me know that she was okay, but that's it. She wasn't calling me to come over or spending the night with me or sending me flirty texts about how much she misses me and how she craves attention from me. It's only been seven days since I've seen here but I miss her more than anything.
Rossi called me on Saturday morning to let me know that Damian Kelsey killed again and left his signature behind– the symbol for female in blood on the forehead of the dead body. But he got closer this time. He's in Florida. He traveled all the way from California to Florida just to murder, and now it's federal case. The director didn't want to let the BAU handle the case and she gave it away, but Rossi and I still went to the scene to check it out and compare it to the others, and compare it to Kelsey's old scenes. Of course, I lied a little bit to Amelia on my whereabouts, but I was only trying to protect her. I wanted to keep her out of this, to not give her something else to stress about, and try to allow her to keep relaxing after years of hardships. After a life of hardships. I didn't want to reignite the trauma that runs her life even if she claims it doesn't. I just wanted her to be happy.
Going to work is the last thing I want to do. All I want to do is show up at Amelia's apartment, fall to my knees, and beg for her forgiveness. But unfortunately, I have a job to do and as much as I don't want to, I manage to drag myself to the front of the lecture hall and start talking.
I show a longer video than normal so that I don't have to talk as much, just staring down at the floor, eyes locked on the scuff on my dress shoes. The video drones on and on and the light from the projector makes my head pound, and I find myself checking my watch relentlessly, wondering if class is almost over and I can can sulk at home alone.
The video ends and the projector rolls up, and all of my students look towards me to start elaborating like I always do. Before I can start talking though, my phone starts buzzing on my desk, but I ignore it. Whoever is calling can wait, even if it's Amelia, but I doubt it is. I start talking about the video to the class, my voice lower than usual. I can't find it in me to be my normal self, pacing around the stage and talking with my hands. I don't have the energy.
My phone rings again and this time it makes me stop talking. I roll my eyes and check who is calling, seeing that it's Jenna. I roll my eyes again. She's probably calling to yell at me for being a horrible boyfriend to Amelia. I let it ring out again but before I can even set it down, she calls me a third time.
"Sorry, everyone," I apologize to my class, shaking my head, annoyed. "I gotta take this. Give me a minute. Talk amongst yourselves." I step aside and answer Jenna's phone call as my students grow in volume. "Jenna, I'm in the middle of teaching a class right now. Can you call back to yell at me later or–"
"Do you know where Amelia is?" Jenna rushes out, seemingly heaving for breath. "She was supposed to come over hours ago and she still hasn't come over. I called her and I texted her but she hasn't answered. Have you talked to her?"
My blood runs impossibly cold and I could swear that my heart stops. "N–No, I haven't heard from her. We haven't really been talking this last week. We got in a fight. You called her a bunch and she didn't answer?"
"I've called her more than a bunch. I've called and texted her probably a million times over the last hour. Should I go to her apartment to check up on her?"
"No, don't," I answer quickly, frantically. My thoughts are moving a mile a minute and I'm doing everything I can not to completely freak out in front of a class full of college students.
Amelia could just be sleeping, or her phone could be dead, or she could be intentionally disconnecting from everyone to her a break. She's been through a lot lately, hence why I suggested therapy, and she might have wanted to unplug. She should have told someone first though, preferably me. But Jenna is Amelia's best friend and they tell each other everything. Amelia would have told Jenna if she wanted to disconnect and she wouldn't have made plans with Jenna just to stand her up.
"I'm gonna call her," I tell Jenna, glancing once more at my watch. "I'll call her and if she doesn't answer then I'll go over to her apartment."
"I'm really sorry," she rambles. "You said you're in class, and I–"
"Jenna, it's totally okay. Let me handle it. I'll call you back later and let you know, okay?" I quickly hang up and dial Amelia's number, waiting for the dial tone. But it goes straight to voicemail and plays me Amelia's sweet voice, but at this moment, it doesn't comfort me at all. I call two more times and it goes straight to voicemail both times, and that's when I really start to panic.
I whip around and rush towards my bag, shoving my papers and books inside. "I'm sorry everyone," I announce to the class. "I have a family emergency and I have to go. Class can end early. No homework or anything. Look for an email about upcoming classes. Have a good day."
I get out of the class as quickly as I can, and when I know I'm in a completely empty hallway, I reach into my bag and pull out my holster and gun, clipping it to my pants and then stuffing my FBI credentials in my pocket. It's a preparation for the worst case scenario but this is what I've been fearing for our entire relationship and more so for the last few months.
///
I leave my bag in my car when I get to Amelia's apartment and I barely even wait to put it in park before I jump out. I rush up to Amelia's apartment, skipping stairs, ignoring the way I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
I freeze when I get to the top of the staircase, my eyes fixated on her door. It's cracked open, resting just slightly ajar, and the lock is clearly intact. It's not broken. I swallow the lump in my throat and immediately draw my gun, slowly approaching the door.
"Amelia?" I call in and then wait a moment to enter, but the only response I get is silence. I tighten my grip on my gun and inhale through my nose, then push the door all the way open.
Amelia's apartment mirrors her studio. It's completely destroyed. Pictures have fallen off the wall, plants are tipped over and soil is spilled on the ground, records are shattered, there's a hole in the wall not too far away from the door. It's an absolute mess with glass on the floor and some ripped clothing and spilled food in the kitchen. I'm checking every single crevice in the walls for Amelia, but all I find is more destruction. I press on and keep searching for anyone at all, but I get nothing.
I get nothing until I get to the balcony doors. On the doors, in blood, is the symbol for female and on the floor directly under it is Amelia's butterfly necklace.
I drop my arms from their defensive stance, tears already pouring out of my eyes. "No," I whimper, shaking my head and pressing my hands into my temple, "no, no, no, no, this can't be happening!" I crumble to the floor and drop my gun, curling into the fetal position and I cry, and cry, and cry.
Amelia is gone and it's all my fault. I should have protected her. I should have told her about her father not being in prison so she could have been prepared. I shouldn't have let her walk away last week. I should have scooped her up and locked her in her apartment so I was sure she was safe. It's all my fault that she's gone. She's probably dead by now. Damian killed his wife and his son but left his daughter alive, and now that he's got her, what purpose would he have to keep her alive?
I wiggle my phone out of my pocket and try to see through my tears, dialing Rossi's number. Waiting through three dial tones is painfully long and each tone puts another knife in my heart.
"Hey, kid," Rossi greets me far too cheerfully.
"Rossi," I choke out, hunched over on the ground, "he got her."
"Reid? What's going on? Are you okay?"
"He got her! Kelsey got Amelia! She's gone!" I cry out in anguish.
"She's gone? Spencer, where are you right now?" Rossi asks quickly, and I start to hear some chatting behind him.
"I'm at Amelia's apartment. It's– it's so– she's gone, Rossi."
"Spencer, I'm bringing the team over. Stay put. We're on our way."
///
The team walks into what I imagine is a pathetic sight. They arrive to see me crumbled into the floor with my gun, credentials, and phone next to me, sitting beside Amelia's beloved necklace. I truly don't think I've ever seen her without this necklace. She doesn't even take it off when she showers. She would never willingly take it off and leave it on the floor like this.
"Oh, Spencer," JJ rushes over and crouches beside me, barely even paying attention to the obvious crime scene around us. The rest of the team is looking around while Luke and Tara go upstairs, guns drawn. Maybe I should have done that before I fell to the floor.
JJ reaches her hands out for me but then pulls them back, refraining from touching me. That's probably for the best right now. I can't even think straight. I'm so hyper-focused on the butterfly pendant next to me and I'm so hyper-focused on how scared Amelia must be.
When I'm taken hostage, I have ways that I can get through it. I have been trained for hostage situations and for torture and I know how to talk down killers and psychopaths. Amelia doesn't know any of that. She doesn't have any tactics on how to get herself through this. But on the other hand, she doesn't have anything to "get through" if she isn't being tortured. She's probably already dead. Damian Kelsey has never tortured his victims before. This is probably her blood on the door and Emily is going to get a call that Amelia's body was found in some park a few miles away. I should have known that Kelsey was out to finish the job he started so long ago. I could have prevented this.
The apartment goes silent, aside from echoing footsteps. I wish they would go away so I can wallow in peace. I wish the team would leave so I could clean up the entire apartment and put it back together in the way that Amelia likes it to be. I want to go out to buy her new records and repot her plants and wipe the blood off the door and clip the necklace around her neck. I don't want my team interrupting my happy place. I don't want them confirming my worst nightmare.
"Spencer," Emily crouches down on the other side of me, and she doesn't touch me either. I lift my head to stare up at her, my cheeks stained with tears. Emily sighs when she sees my broken down state, and she hesitates before speaking. "I'm really sorry to have to ask you this but did you touch anything? Did you contaminate the scene?"
I shake my head no slowly. I pull my knees to my chest, shutting myself off from everyone. I'm sure they have a million questions but I just can't deal with that right now. I don't think I'll ever be able to deal with questions about this. Emily nods and walks off again, telling everyone that she's going to call in CSU and forensics units, leaving me with JJ.
"Spence, why don't we go outside? Let's go get some air," JJ suggests, sitting down fully beside me. I just keep my eyes on the floor, admiring a small dot of yellow paint on the wood. I remember when it got there. Amelia bitched and moaned for hours when she realized it had already dried up and she wouldn't be able to clean it off the floor. I listened and laughed when she whined and eventually just kissed her to shut her up. She never mentioned the paint again. "It would be good for you to get some air. It's stuffy in here and we can't open the windows until pictures have been taken–"
"Speaking of pictures," Matt walks into the room again, "Reid, did you look at the kitchen table? I think you should," JJ furrows her brows but jumps to her feet, rushing into the other room with Luke and Tara on her heels. Pictures? What pictures? Amelia never has any pictures in her kitchen.
I told myself I wouldn't get up. I told myself that I would sit here and guard Amelia's beloved necklace until it gets moved to evidence and I won't be able to protect it anymore. But pictures? What does Luke mean by pictures?
I push myself up and stumble into the kitchen, finding everyone staring down at the island. The island that holds so many beautiful memories. The island where Amelia and I made Christmas cookies on what I consider to be our first date. The island where Amelia sits and watches me make breakfast. The island where we sometimes lose our inhibitions and wind up intimately intertwined on top of the marble. The island that is now covered in hundreds of photos of Amelia from over the years, even from way before I knew her.
Without a second thought, I push everyone out of the way to get the best look at the photos. There are pictures of Amelia walking around at Carnegie Mellon when she was in college, some of her walking around town with me, some through the balcony doors, others with her friends when they have gone out in public. There are years and years of intense stalking here. Damian Kelsey has been watching her ever since he escaped from prison and he finally got his chance to grab her.
He waited years for this. He watched her and invaded her privacy and ruined mine and Amelia's safe place and managed to destroy both of our lives. He's clearly wanted to take out his whole family and he waited until now to do it? He waited until just when I started to get my life back together? Just when we were about to move in together? Just when we were about to truly start the next chapters of our lives.
I would have loved it if Amelia took these pictures of us. I would have loved it if she documented things like us walking to our favorite cafe together, or getting ice cream late at night, or running back to her car in the rain. If these pictures were taken with Amelia's camera, I'd tack them up on my wall and my heart would flutter every time I pass them. But they're not. These pictures are taken from afar with a long lens, and not with the beautiful and artistic view that Amelia always possesses.
They make me angry. They make a fire burn in my chest that I haven't felt since prison. My body feels hot and my hands ball into fists and if anyone touches me, I know that my first instinct is to throw a punch. My eyes lock on one horribly stunning picture of Amelia, sitting on a park bench with her legs crossed and a sketchbook in her lap. I can't even begin to estimate when this picture was taken but she's the most gorgeous woman in the entire world and now she's not here with me anymore.
"Spencer?" JJ whispers, standing at the other side of the island. "Hey, you okay?"
"No!" I shout. "Absolutely not! What makes you think I'm okay right now?" JJ is taken aback by my screaming, and rightfully so. Emily comes into the room immediately, followed by Rossi. "Amelia is gone! I can't–" I grip the edge of the counter, hanging my head, "I can't let this happen again. I can't let her die." When I look up again, the entire team is standing in the kitchen in front of me. "I don't know how to live without her." Everyone shares nervous glances that don't go missed me, and it heightens my anxiety immediately "What? What happened? Why are you all looking at each other like that?"
Emily sighs and steps forward. "There's... um, there were more pictures upstairs on the bed."
My limbs move faster than my mind and every rational thought goes out the bloody balcony door as I rush past everyone and bound up the stairs. The stairs where Amelia and I have so commonly had late-night conversations. The stairs where we have stopped walking midway through kisses to rip off clothing. The stairs where I've had to catch Amelia before she can fall after she has had one too many glasses of wine.
The bed is covered post to post with pictures, as Emily said, but this is different. These are pictures of the team, but they're all focused on me. There are pictures of Amelia and me on dates, of me on the train going to work, and plenty of me in the field. But why? He was stalking me too? What reason does Damian Kelsey have to stalk me? Going after his family has clearly always been his endgame, but do I fit into that plan just because I'm dating his daughter? It's unlikely and incredibly confusing.
"Reid," God, I'm already tired of everyone saying my name in that sad, pitiful way. But Rossi comes up next to me and stares down at the pictures, shaking his head. "I'm really sorry. I know this is what you were afraid of. But we're gonna find her. You know that we're amazing at what we do and we're gonna find her."
"She's already dead." I spit out, backing up until I hit the wall and slide down, putting my head in my hands. "Kelsey has never held and tortured anyone. That's Amelia's blood on the door. She's– she's gone. You might as well..." I laugh pitifully, shaking my head at myself and tangling my hands in my hair, "you better make sure I don't get ahold of my gun anytime soon."