better have conviction - eclipse_dawn (2024)

Chapter 1: this is why

Chapter Text

Elle looked at the unfortunate amount of paperwork on her desk. She would kill to be out in the field right now, instead of working on these case files, but she knew someone had to do them. She wishes she’d had Reid’s ability to read quickly so she could be done in half an hour, but of course she was never that lucky. Her boredom overwhelmed her, and she rubbed at her temples in frustration.

She learned a long time ago that being on this team for a few months, that earning trust and approval from her bosses was a challenge. Gideon and especially Hotch had been particularly hard on her. Morgan had been less than helpful, only telling her to “show a little leg” next time, and Penelope could barely tolerate her. The only ones who even seemed to give the time of day was JJ and Spencer Reid. JJ, though a bit overwhelming, was their liaison for the media. When they had met, she was greeted with a handshake, and a run down of her information. Elle knew she meant well, but they were such different people.

And Spencer Reid.

He was a young genius, who’s brains got him a good career here at the FBI. Elle admired the man, three years her junior. At twenty-four, he was the youngest member of the team. Elle admired the man, yes man, for his intelligence. She could only imagine what his life was like for someone with an IQ of 187.

Elle sighed deeply, looking back to the paperwork in front of her. The pressure to be the best was intimidating. But she was a tough woman, she could handle it.

Her cell phone started to ring. She flipped it open, leaning back in her chair and answered. “Greenaway?”

“We got a case,” Gideon said on the other end, “Meet us in the conference room in ten.”

He hung up before she could get a word in. She sighed deeply, flipping her phone shut. She let out another deep exhale before standing to gather her belongings. She was thankful she would not have to stare at more paperwork for the moment. She quickly made her way down the hall, moving past other agents, and made it to the conference room. The rest of the team had already been seated. She sat next to Derek Morgan, a playful, cheeky grin covering his face. She smacks him on the shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Don’t even say it.” she grumbled, sitting in her seat next to him.

“Say what?” he teased.

“Don’t play dumb now.” she smirks, tilting her head.

"What? I wasn't going to mention you were last to show up-"

“Oh, I’m sure you weren’t.” she mumbled sarcastically.

"Okay, we got ourselves a new case. Meet the Beaux's. Shot dead in their beds, and their young five year old daughter was found hidden in the closet, alive." Hotch began, his voice steady and unmoving.

A silence filled the room. Cases with children were always extremely difficult, and Elle knew that. Her specialty in sex crimes had her working with women and children constantly. Elle took a deep breath, looking at each of her teammates. Her eyes lingered on Spencer, who’s fingers lingered on the documents of file in front of him. Hotch cleared his throat, clicking the slide show, showing pictures of the dead parents. “Here are some details. Both parents were shot in the neck. The mother was also hit in the back, before it seemed like she was thrown to the floor.”

Elle’s stomach felt like it filled with lead. It was not going to be an easy case. Spencer spoke, his eyes avoiding everyone else’s. “Was there anything taken? The parents' wallets? Any money, jewelry, personal effects?”

Hotch looked at him, not looking at his notes. “No. Nothing was taken, but..." He flicks the slideshow to a photograph of the wall behind the victims bed. In red paint, or blood, was a pentagram.

“I guess we can rule out a sex crime…” Elle muttered. “What does history mention about pentagrams, Reid?”

He looks up from the files. “Pentagrams hold a lot of meaning to different cultural and religious groups, mainly the occult, Paganism, and most known Satanism. I-It’s often used as a protective symbol.”

“Is it an inherently bad symbol?” Derek asked, tossing the paper down.

“No, it can one hundred percent be used as a positive practice in witchcraft.”

Elle stared at the symbol. If this were the case, it felt like it was misplaced with the crime scene. There were no other signs of witchcraft. “What if it’s a distraction? Nothing else points to this being a religious murder. It seems like it’s a simple crime of passion.”

Hotch nodded and looked to Gideon, who was leaning against the wall.

“She’s got a point. The pentagram may not be relevant to the motive. We have to be sure.” He looked at the group. “Morgan, take Reid to the crime scene and see if there’s anything that may have been missed. JJ, I need you to coordinate the press conference. Greenway, you come with me. We’ll question the girl. Wheels up in twenty.”

Everyone filed out of the room, each going to complete their given task. Elle caught up with Spencer in the hallway, grabbing his arm to stop him. “Hey, um...” She trailed off, looking down at the floor, suddenly feeling insecure.

Spence looked at her, his brow raised expectedly. “What?”

"Um..." she pauses, gathering her thoughts. "Could you check with Morgan at the crime scene if maybe if there is any suggestion of child abuse in the home? Just..something isn't stilling well with me."

Spencer took a moment before responding, his face serious. “Yeah, of course.” He pauses. “But... can I ask why?”

Elle fidgets with her shield clipped to her belt. “I just have this feeling. This feels familiar for some reason…”

Spencer and Elle walk back to the bullpen, gathering their belongings for an overnight stay. Elle’s attention fell to the little girl. Five years old is way too young to experience such a horrid thing. She thought Hotch taking her with him was a smart move, and she couldn’t agree more. She knew after the case, she’d probably cry about it, but for now they needed to worry about protecting this little girl.

They all board the jet. Hotch sat across the aisle, flipping through the file and Elle sat next to him. She looked at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. She didn’t understand how the man did it with a wife and newborn. When was the last time he actually went home to spend time with them?

The plane ride was quiet, the jet engine being the only noise in her ears. Everyone was occupied in some capacity. JJ was busy writing a press statement. Morgan and Reid sat together, talking quietly between themselves. Elle rested her head back on the seat, but she was unable to relax. She wanted to do everything to make sure she could to protect little Kennedy Beaux.

The jet finally touched down in Louisiana, and the group split. Hotch and Elle got to the grandparent’s house where Kennedy was placed. Hotch and Elle walked to the front door, and knocked. An older woman greeted them, Edith, with tears in her eyes, and led them to the living room. Sitting silently on a small sofa was the young Kennedy, a stuffed bunny clutched tightly in her arms. Elle’s heart shattered at how sad the young girl was.

“She hasn’t moved since she woke up this morning. She’s barely slept. I hope you can get something out of her.” Edith looks to Elle, pleading.

She nods quietly at Edith, feeling a pang of guilt. How could she question a young girl who just lost her parents and her home? Elle sits down on the small sofa, leaving space between her and Kennedy. “Hey there...” She spoke softly, not wanting to scare her.

Kennedy did not budge, just simply held her bunny in a daze. Five years old was way too young. Elle thought for a moment before kneeling in front of the girl. She touched her shoulder delicately. “Hey sweetheart, can you look at me?”

The girl slowly looked up at her, her small face puffy and red from crying. She had some light bruising along her forearm that held her bunny. “I want my mommy…” she murmured, trying not to cry.

“I know sweetheart. But...” She wanted to choose her words carefully, “I need you to talk to me for a little bit. Can you do that?”

Kennedy remained silent, her eyes filling with tears. Elle thought for a moment. “Why don’t we go outside? I saw your grandma has a pretty garden. It’ll just be us, okay?”

Kennedy looked at Elle, her eyes glancing at the window. Elle held out her hand. Kennedy slowly, and wordlessly, took her hand. Elle guided the girl outside, shutting the backdoor behind them. The garden was small, but spacious enough for the two girls to talk. They sat on the bench. Elle sat next to her, giving her a moment to adjust. Elle waited a few moments before speaking. “Do you like your bunny? What’s his name?”

The girl looked at the bunny for a moment before looking up at Elle. “His name is Hoppy…” She answered quietly.

Elle smiled sweetly. “That’s a good name.”

Kennedy played with the ears. “Mommy got him for me when I was a baby.”

Elle looked at Kennedy’s arm again. “Kennedy,” she swallows. “Can I ask you something? It’ll be our secret.”

Kennedy nodded, a worried look in her eye.

Elle squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. “Did your mommy or daddy ever hurt you?”

The girl stayed quiet for a moment, avoiding eye contact. She fiddled with her bunny’s ear, but didn’t answer. Elle felt sick, that pit in her stomach returning. Even though the girl hadn’t answered, the silence spoke volumes.

She gently touched the girl’s small arm, moving her hand up a bit to see the bruises. “Can I see your arm?” She asked softly.

Kennedy handed out her arm, and Elle gently tilted it to get a better look. Three well defined fingerprint shaped bruises wrapped around the girl’s forearm. Kennedy looked up at Elle, her eyes filling with tears again. “Are you going to send me away?”

“Oh honey, no. You did nothing wrong.” Elle steaded her breathing. “I have to ask you…did your daddy ever hurt your mommy?”

Wordlessly, Kennedy nodded. Elle had seen this scenario many times before. Husband is abusive and the wife and children get the brunt of it. Kennedy’s limit seemed to be up, and she started to cry. Elle bit her lip as the girl moved her arms around her neck in a hug. Elle stood up, picking her up. “I know sweetheart…it’s okay. You did good.”

The girl buried her face into her shoulder, Elle held her closely, rubbing her back. She was so used to adult victims, but a child was something so mentally scarring and so deeply disturbing. Elle let herself slip a bit, a lone tear slid down her own cheek.

The case was solved, realizing the sad outcome. The father had shot his wife during a fight about hurting Kennedy. Once in the back paralyzed her, and the neck shot was just for assurance she’d never talk. The husband drew the pentagram to invoke protection for his daughter, a deranged and hypocritical move, before shooting himself. Kennedy had clung to Elle, refusing to let her go, so Hotch put her in charge of watching over the girl. Before they left for the hotel, she gave Kennedy her contact info with her number. Elle managed to get to her hotel room, before her cell phone buzzed. She flipped it open, recognizing the number. “Hello?”

“Hi Ms Elle!”

Elle smiles sadly. The little voice of Kennedy on the other end made her heart squeeze. Elle listened to the girl talk about going on a vacation to Oregon with her grandma. They talked for a few minutes, and Elle heard a knock on the door. She checked in the peephole, only to see awkward Spencer standing there with his hands in his pockets. Opening the door, Elle waved him in, still listening to Kennedy. She gave him an expectant look, as if she was saying ‘sit, please.’. Spencer sat on the end of her bed, patiently and quietly fidgeting with the comforter. He would stim right now if he didn’t feel like it would scare Elle off. He doubted it would, but he did not want to take the risk. He notices Elle biting at her lip. “Okay sweetheart…have fun, okay?...bye.”

She hung up, snapping her phone shut. A heavy exhale escaped her body. “Sorry about that. That was the little girl from the case.”

“It’s all good,” his hands now in his lap, picking at the texture of his pant leg. “How is she doing?”

He knew these cases were always difficult. Elle had stayed the whole day with the traumatized little girl. He watched her expression carefully. She collapsed next to him on the bed next to Spencer. “She’s doing the best she can under the circ*mstances.” She paused before looking at Spencer directly. “Reid..”

“Yes?”

Elle fidgets with the cell phone in her hand. "Do you ever wonder what really, I mean really, happens after we leave the victims' families?"

Spencer pauses, thinking about her question. He never really considered or dwelled too much on the aftermath. “Not really, but sometimes. Why? What were you thinking?”

Elle shrugs. “I dunno. I just think about the trauma she’s going to have to deal with at such a young age. I mean what if it happens again? What..”

She drifts, afraid she was revealing too much to the man next to him. Spencer stays quiet, observing her body language. Her shoulders were tense, her elbows were set on her knees, holding her head in her hands. Dark rings circle under her eyes with fatigue. Worry etched her face. He knew this case was weighing heavy on her. “Maybe…keep in touch. Keep up with it. It might make a difference.” He paused, realizing how grim it sounded. “We can’t write the fate of what happens. We can try and prevent more people from going through those tragedies.”

“You’re right. I just…it’s so hard sometimes.”

Spencer smiles awkwardly. “I know it’s all said and done, but for what it’s worth, you did the right thing. Kennedy will not forget you.”

Elle returns the tight lip smile. “Thank you, Spence. It means a lot.”

She lays back on the bed, her legs hanging off the end of the bed. Spencer saw her shirt hem rise a bit with her torso, showing a small sliver of her tan skin. He looked away, grown nervous. The pair are quiet for a moment, until Elle finds her voice again. “Can I ask you a personal question? And please don’t laugh at me.”

“Sure.”

Elle bites her lip. “Do you think I’m good at this…do you think I make a difference?”

Spencer seems surprised, not expecting such a question from someone so confident and headstrong. “You know what I really think? I think you're one of our best. You have this natural instinct that the others don’t have. You make such a difference.” Spencer finishes his mini speech, pushing up his glasses.

Elle nods wordlessly. She was unsure if she believed him completely, but knowing it was coming from someone like Spencer, she knew his word had merit to it. She sat back up, her hands on each side of her thighs, gripping the comforter. Silently still, she leans on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer does not make any sudden moves, simply letting her rest her head.

He could feel her weight resting against him, and he wondered why she had chosen to lean on him. He was just some nerdy kid with a big brain. She could have gone to Derek, or even JJ. He tried not to overthink it too much, simply enjoying the closeness between them.

Elle sighed deeply, taking in the warmth of Spencer’s body heat and comforting silence. This was the closest to content she was going to be for the night, even if it was only temporary.

If only she had just been content with doing paperwork.

Chapter 2: the news

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A few weeks later, Elle was once again in the bullpen at her desk. She had been out with the team, case after case for a few weeks on end. The mental burnout was starting to catch up with her. She groaned, rubbing her forehead. The headaches had been getting worse, a constant throbbing in her temples. The words on her computer screen were starting to blur together. She knew she should leave, but the thought of going home and staring at the ceiling was more exhausting than pulling an all-nighter here.

The cases and their details started to overlap. Murder. Suicide. Mass Suicide. Rape Homicide. Another Murder. The photographs of each crime scene were practically tattooed on the inside of her eyelids. It was haunting her at every waking moment, and she knew if she fell asleep, she’d have nightmares.

The sound of the clock ticking on the wall echoed through the empty space. She usually preferred the silence, but tonight it felt too loud. It felt as if the room was whispering to her in some sick way, reminding her of the horrors they see everyday. Elle stared at the papers in front of her, her body heavy with worry, guilt, shame. She clenched her fists, trying to push those feels back into the deepest part of her soul, willing it to go away. It did not take long before she shoved her chair away from her desk, and willed herself to walk away for a moment.

The room finally stopped feeling so overwhelming. She stretched, needing to walk around to move her legs. Elle decided she should probably use the restroom, and get a snack from the vending machine. Elle padded her way down the long hallway to the ladies bathroom. The hallway felt longer at night, the lights flickering on after sensing her presence. Elle was curious as to how no one else was in the building. She would have thought some kind of custodian would be here. She figured the lucky bastard also took a day off.

She entered the bathroom, the tiles echoing the sound of her footsteps. She noticed all of the stalls were unoccupied, as she made her way to the sink. Turning on the faucet, she let the cool water run over her hands, the sensation leaving chills up her spine. She observed her tired reflection briefly, before bending down and cupping the water to bring to her face. She attempted to splash away the exhaustion that had consumed her. She turned off the faucet, grabbing a paper towel to pat her face dry. She just finished when she heard a click noise from behind her. Elle whipped around at the empty stalls, all of them still unoccupied. She must have been hearing things. Elle continued to glance around, suddenly feeling the urge to leave.

Elle threw out the paper towel, and pushed the door to exit the bathroom. Elle looked down the hall, feeling as if the long hallway had somehow felt like it had been stretched longer. The lighters flickered more ominously now, and the chills ran up her spine. She decided to quicken her pace to the vending machine. The vending machine at the end of the hallway seemed to tease her, with its neon glow and slight humming noise. She finally made it, looking at her different options. Suddenly, the echo of footsteps were heard behind her.

Elle turned around to see a figure at the end of the hall. She could not tell what the figure looked like, but she recognized the build of the person as masculine. “Hello?” she called out, seeing if they would respond.

She was met with silence. She looked behind her again, but instead of the vending machine, she was met with more expanse of the hallway. “What the-?”

The once normal hallway now felt like a labyrinth, shifting before her eyes. The sound of footsteps echoed again, closer this time. But when she looked behind her, nobody was there. Her heartbeat quickened, and she felt the urge to run. She picked up her pace, but she heard footsteps approaching behind her faster. She turned her head, no one behind her. She could hear the quick footsteps chasing her, hearing them come closer. Her mind, along with her heart, was racing. Her breathing quickened. She felt the sweat forming on her forehead, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. She ran until she was stuck in pitchblack, the room now feeling smaller. “Help!” she yelled, hoping someone would hear her.

“They can’t hear you,” a voice whispered right in her ear.

Elle screamed, turning to hit whoever it was, but she felt no one there. She frantically looked around, but the darkness enveloped everything, making it impossible to see anything. She suddenly was blinded by a spot light suddenly turning on in front of her. Elle’s stomach dropped when she saw her father standing there in his police uniform. He was still as could be, she couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. “Daddy?” she whispered, already starting to weep.

His mouth opened, blood pouring from it like a waterfall. Elle covered her mouth to muffle the cry she let out. Her dad’s eyes turned white, and an inhuman scream left his body. He still remained unmoving, seemingly staring right at her. Elle stepped backwards, then suddenly fell down a hole that appeared out of nowhere. The world spun around her as she fell, her body tumbling through the dark abyss like a rag doll. She felt like she had no voice, but she wanted to scream. She fell for a moment until hitting the cold ground, knocking the wind out of her. She laid there for a moment, coughing, and trying to push herself up. The silence was deafening, and the feeling of being watched never went away. She stood up, her legs unsteady beneath her. Slowly, she took a step forward, holding her arms out in front of her.

Then without warning, all kinds of lights turned on and she was back in the bullpen. But instead of empty desks, agents of all kinds were standing inhumanly still, all staring right at her. They all looked as if they were in a trace of sorts. She willed herself to use her voice, but all that came out of her was a strangled whimper. Her colleagues continued to stare at her, unmoving. Elle felt someone touch her shoulder, and she whipped around. Not even a few inches from her, was Hotch, but instead of eyes, she was greeted with black voids. Elle was too scared to scream, and could only stare in horror. Hotch opened his mouth. “THERE ARE RULES.” he stares blankly. “THERE ARE CODES. THERE ARE TRUTHS.”

Another hand pulls at Elle, showing JJ in a similar state. “OPEN UP. LET US INSIDE.”

Another yank, and Derek is in her face. “THEY’LL ALL DIE. YOU CAN’T SAVE THEM.”

Elle pushes Derek away, but ends up running into Garcia and Gideon. “WHY BOTHER? NO ONE CAN SAVE YOUR SOUL. YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE ONE.”

Elle yells, and runs out of the bullpen, feeling like she was being chased. Elle is suddenly yanked upwards by a strong force, and she comes face to face with Spencer. His face was even more distorted than the others. His eyes were black, and he didn’t even have a mouth. She tried to wrestle from his grip, but he maintained his hold. She was trapped, surrounded by the very people she had grown to trust and rely on. But now, they had turned into terrifying monsters, their words ringing in her ears. "Rules." "Codes." "Truths." What did it all mean? Her gaze snapped back to Spencer as he made a noise, the sound echoing in the eerie silence. His lack of a mouth should've made it impossible for him to speak, yet he somehow managed to let out a noise. The noise is guttural in nature, and the most terrifying noise she’d ever heard. She’s suddenly shoved backwards.

Elle yells out, and she finds herself on the jet. Spencer was standing above her, his hands gripping her shoulders. He looked normal, mouth and all. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. Her breathing is heavy and she realizes she just woke up from a nightmare. “Elle, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Spencer’s voice was like music to her ears at that moment. She tried to regain her composure, but she was shaking. “That felt so real…” she managed to say.

Spencer’s grip loosened a bit. “It was just a dream. You’re on the jet. We just got back home.”

Relief filled her veins, as she sat up to look at her surroundings. The jet was empty except for Spencer and herself. Her breathing slowly calmed, and she looked back up at Spencer again. “That felt so very real.” she reiterated, still in shock.

Spencer's hand moved from her shoulder to her forearm, a comforting gesture. “I know. Come on, let’s get out of this jet. We have a mandatory week break, ordered by Hotch.” he assures, helping her to her feet.

"Mandatory week break?" She repeated, surprised. “I must be still dreaming.”

Spencer smiles, appreciating Elle still had her sense of humor. “Nah, this is real. Hotch can tell we all need it.”

She followed Spencer down the steps of the jet, her feet hitting the ground with a thump. Her black combat boots walked next to the blue converse of Doctor Reid to catch up with the group. Her eyes scanned her team, relief flooding her again as she saw each one of them. They were all normal, no twisted features or missing mouths like before. Hotch turned as they approached, looking right at Elle’s exhausted frame. “You look like hell.”

“Wow, thanks.” Elle muttered in response.

Morgan smirked, looking at Elle with a raised eyebrow. "You okay, Greenaway? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She rolled her eyes, her usual sass returning slightly. "I'm fine, Morgan. Just a little jet-lagged, that's all."

JJ gave her a sympathetic smile, noticing the slight tremble in her hands, but she remained silent. The team gathered their bags, and got ready to head home. As the team headed towards the exit, the exhaustion hit her even harder. The dream, if that's what it was, had taken a toll on her mind and body. Spencer caught up, moving right next to her. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered.

She mustered a small smile. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, not really believing what he was being told. He opened his mouth to protest, but she beat him to it. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just need some coffee and a shower, and I’ll be right as rain again.”

Spencer looked unconvinced, but he knew better than to push her when she was in this mood. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "But if you need to talk, or if anything else happens..."

Elle gave him a genuine smile this time. "I know," she replied. "Thanks."

Elle eventually ends up back at her apartment. She does exactly what she told Spencer. She drinks a nice cup of coffee, two sugar, one cream, and takes a long shower. But she doesn't feel right as rain, and she definitely does not get sleep that night. She looks upon a newspaper sitting on her kitchen table. She scoffs before tossing it in the recycling.

She had enough horror stories for one day.

Chapter 3: running out of time

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Elle never really understood completely why Gideon never fully trusted her. She remembers the first time they met, he made it obvious he was not impressed with her. She thought it had something to do with her trying too hard to get into the BAU position, but she realized he was informed that she was labeled as ‘impatient’. To her, this was something she was not aware was in her file.

She couldn't help but wonder if this was an unfortunate twist of fate, a cruel joke played on her by the universe. Maybe it was karma for those times she had failed to show up for others. Elle struggled with feeling inadequate within the team, but the inadequacy seemed to follow her everywhere since she was young.

At eight years old, she tried to learn how to ride a bike for the first time. When her father had to tell her he had to go to work and couldn’t teach her, she told him she hated him. Later that evening, Robert Greenaway was shot and killed in the line of duty. Elle never tried to learn how to ride a bike after that. The guilt she felt from not learning how to ride the bike when her father tried to teach her became intertwined with her perception of her ineptitude.

As a teen in Brooklyn, she had almost every reason not to piss her mother off. Everything became a screaming match, with her mother cursing her out in Spanish. One incident in particular, when she was sixteen and got her navel pierced, resulted in her mother yelling, "¡La gente va a pensar que eres una puta!"

A slu*t. That’s what her mother had reduced her to over a hole in her belly button. Another incident that stuck in her memory was that time when she stumbled home late from a party, high as a kite. She convinced herself that her mother would have killed her if it hadn't been for the fact that she was hunched over and puking her guts out from having “greened out.” But every time her mother scolded her for her decisions growing up, she couldn't help but feel guilty, realizing that perhaps her actions did make her mother's life harder.

Her mother wasn’t the reason she had felt that way. That role went to her stepdad, Daniel. Dan had anger issues, and that barely was half of it. If he wasn’t drunk to the point of no return, he sure as hell was beating on her mother. “We speak English in this f*cking house, you hear me?”

One night in particular, Elle decided she needed to step in. She was just barely eighteen and was about to leave for college the next morning. Dan was close to hitting her mother over the head with a rolling pin when Elle shoved her mother, and gripped his arm mid swing. The tension in the room was palpable as they faced each other, both holding strong stances, refusing to back down. He struggled to free himself from her grip as he shouted, “Get your hands off me, you little bitch!” he growled, pushing himself in an attempt to get loose from her grasp.

"I won't let you hurt her anymore, you bastard."

The unexpected strike from the rolling pin sent her stumbling backward, pain exploding across her face. The room spun around her as she slowly pushed herself up off the floor. Her fingers made contact with her face, feeling a wet sensation where the pin had connected. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her body was in shock. Dan had never laid a hand on her before, not like this. He was more of the verbal berating type when it came to his stepdaughter. He had hit her a couple times, but nothing like this. Elle managed to look up at Dan, looking shocked at himself for his violent outburst. “Ellie-”

“Go to hell!” she yelled, her mother rushing to her side.

Her mother, panicked and shaking, quickly pulled her into the bathroom and guided her towards the sink. As she leaned over the basin, her mother splashed water at her face, attempting to stop the flow of blood from her nose. Despite the obvious bruising under her eyes that formed later that night, he continued to insist that she was overreacting. “It wasn’t like I really hurt you, you’re overreacting.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or are you trying to convince yourself?” Elle spat back.

He took a step forward, his presence towering over her. “Don’t you talk back to me!” he growled.

Elle got in his face. “Good thing I’m leaving to get a career in putting sh*tbags like you in prison.” she leaned in till she practically nose to nose with him. “I bet those criminals wouldn’t hesitate to show you what happens to scumbags like you who beat their wives.” she whispered, an almost psychotic smirk crossed her face.

For the first time in a long time, Elle had made it her life’s mission to make men like Dan suffer. And now she was committing to something with unwavering resolve. This became the one thing in her life where she felt she could help be the voice for the victims of those just like him.

But even then, she felt inadequate. She did her job. She supported the victims. She sent men like her stepdad to prison, but still. Was it enough? Did her contributions really provide a sense of security to those she sought to protect? Those questions lingered in her mind like a shadow.

Elle was currently in the hall of headquarters in Quantico. From Brooklyn, to Seattle, now to Quantico felt like a screwy game of ping pong. As she made her way down the hall, her thoughts were interrupted by a sound emanating from the conference room. Curious, she approached the slightly ajar door and peeked inside. Inside, Spencer Reid was going through files and photographs of their latest crime scene. Some were pinned to the board, and others were organized along the round table. Elle sighed before knocking on the door frame, pushing the door open a bit more.

Spencer heard the door, looking up. “Elle, hi.” his awkward demeanor peeking through his greeting. “Come in.”

He gestured to her to come in and join him. Elle smiled softly, entering the room. “Hey, Spence. How are you coming along? Are you seeing a pattern?”

Spencer returned her smile, his awkwardness momentarily giving way to a warm expression. "Not quite yet. There is some overlap, but nothing set in stone," he looks her up and down for a moment. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

Elle shrugged slightly, leaning against the edge of the table. “To be honest with you, I’m not sure. I figured maybe I’d be useful somewhere other than at a desk.”

"You know you're not the type to just sit around and fill out paperwork," he commented with a smirk.

He could tell she was getting restless, itching to be involved with nailing Randell Gardner, who had been stalking the BAU for sometime. Spencer’s poor schizophrenic mother ended up in the same mental institution with him. Elle gave a saddened smile. “I’m really not. I just really want to get this guy. His connection to your mom, and his delusion of us being knights at the round table…”

Spencer nodded, his expression a mixture of frustration and worry. "It's like there's something just beyond our reach," he said, taking his fingers through his unkempt hair. “I just keep thinking if I look harder at these photos, that maybe..”

Elle took a seat next to Spencer, crossing her legs. “I know you want to find something, anything that’ll give us a lead,” she acknowledged. “But sometimes you have to give it time. It’s like my mom used to say - 'patience is a virtue'.”

As the words left her mouth, Elle internally cringed, wanting to kick herself. She couldn't help but bite her lip at her own hypocrisy. Spencer chuckled too, clearly aware of the irony. "You're one to talk about patience," he teased, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

The feeling of inadequacy filled her chest, and her gaze shifted. Sensing the change in her mood, Spencer noticed the shift in her demeanor. "Hey," he said gently, his tone filled with concern. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry…”

Elle opened her mouth to speak, but instead slowly stood up. "I know you were teasing," she replied quietly after a moment. "It's not your fault. It's just...I think I need to go home. Get some sleep, maybe?”

Spencer’s face fell, his hand flapping next to his thigh discreetly. “Elle…”

Elle squeezed his shoulder. “Spencer, it’s okay. I think I’ve just been in this office a bit too long. Good night…”

He let out a sigh as he watched her leave the office, feeling a pang of guilt for not realizing the effect his words had on her.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning where he was informed Elle had been shot in the chest in her own home. He managed to make it to the parking lot outside the building before stumbling to the side, where he doubled over and vomited into the grass. The woman he just spoke to last night, the one who he had teased was now fighting for her life in the hospital.

Elle fought for her life that night. As she was asleep, she got to speak to her dad in what felt like purgatory. Elle tried to tell Robert that her life needed to end, and that she was ready to join him. Her dad convinced her not to. “Peanut..” he called her as he told her that she had so much to offer the world. Elle cried, apologizing for her words towards him before he didn’t come home that night. Robert told her to forgive herself.

And with that, she woke up.

Elle could hear the nurse next to her, but her words were muffled. She could feel the oxygen tube in her nostrils and the massive gauze on her chest, exposed to the air above her. She couldn’t hear anything, or feel anything else but anguish. A lone tear streamed down her cheekbone into her hair. No one was there to wipe it from her face or provide her comfort.

Maybe she was running out of time, but so were they.

Chapter 4: c'est comme ça

Chapter Text

Elle Greenaway was a woman who liked to maintain herself and her career. Sometimes, both of those things felt like a challenge. Being shot in the chest, surviving for that matter, took out some stability she had. She grasped at the chances she had to maintain balance, but her walls were starting to crumble. Even then, it seems she still has some degree of disorder she needed to keep it together.

Elle came back to work four months after her shooting, a new woman.

Her hair was chopped short and she had got bangs. She had graduated from working on her physical therapy. Of course, no one knew that her hair cut came from an old pair of scissors she owned. In a fit of a dissociation episode, she cut her hair, chopping inches off of her head. Seeing what she had done, she sat on the cold bathroom floor, surrounded by discarded locks, sobbing hysterically.

Her team had missed when the physical limitations her injury had caused on her and the psychological trauma of the shooting incident had led to her freaking out on her physical therapist. Her therapist had to prematurely stop sessions because Elle’s anxiety was too great to get her started on any exercises. The mental roadblocks took almost two weeks to overcome, Elle finally let her therapist work with her.

She came back to work, timid as a mouse. She sensed her peers staring her down, and she felt somehow smaller. She was a shell of her former self, and they could all tell. She ended up in the bathroom, letting a debilitating panic attack take her over in the far stall. She ended up doubled over the toilet, vomiting as the wave of panic crashed over her. She ended up leaving after hearing someone come in to take a smoke break in one of the far stalls, rather than outside.

Reaching the correct floor eventually, she runs into Spencer Reid in all of his nerdy glory. He had changed a bit since she last saw him, his hair was longer and cut a bit differently. His reaction to her was unexpected, as the usage of her name, followed by a ‘wow’ made her feel warm inside of her chest. Those two words provided her with much more comfort than from anything else the past few months.

“Nice haircut.”

Spencer smiled, observing her own hair transformation. He took in the fact her curls defined themselves more, and that her fair seemed to reflect his own. He wanted to tell her that she stole his look, instead he told her he liked hers too. They banter back and forth, and Elle slowly starts feeling much better about showing up to work. This was familiar and normal, and Elle craved those after being deprived.

Hotch approaches them, seemingly surprised to see Elle back so soon. His greeting was short, and if anything, bittersweet. He immediately started talking about a case. Spencer looked to Elle, seeing her eyes almost glaze over in a state of dissociation. He wanted to shut Hotch up so he could check in on her. Before Spencer had a chance to intervene, Elle mustered the courage to interrupt and ask a question, only to be quickly shut down by Hotch. Frustrated, Spencer watched as Hotch issued an ultimatum - go home or go with Spencer.

Spencer cringed as Hotch walked away from the pair, not bothering to stick around to find the answer. Elle looked to Spencer, her eyes bright as she found some sort of peace in Spencer’s presence. “I’m all yours, Doctor Reid.” she declares, making her decision known.

The team ended up in Cleveland, looking into a case involving a young boy put up for auction by a child p*rnographer. Spencer never left Elle’s side, committed to making sure she was okay. Elle ended up going into the field without Hotch’s knowledge. Spencer and Elle were outside the school when their boss saw them. They had caught a suspect, and Elle quipped, not thinking twice. “I told you to stay out of the field.” he exclaimed, frustrated at Elle’s impatience.

“Yeah, I know! But Reid said you wanted us!”

Spencer was taken aback by Elle’s blatant lie, not understanding that she wanted him to back her up. “No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

Hotch sighed deeply. “I’m sure you didn’t, Reid.”

Elle and Spencer ended up walking away, Elle hitting him on the forearm gently with her own. “Thanks.” she muttered sarcastically.

Spencer knew that she was frustrated, and he silently cursed himself for not understanding what she had wanted from him. He let her walk away ahead of him for a few moments before catching up and walking alongside her.

“Elle, I’m-”

“Let’s go back to that office. That laptop has got to be somewhere”

Elle and Spencer combed around the Principal’s office for a while, Derek keeping an eye on the man himself in the other room. Spencer was pulling at drawers until he came across one that was locked. He jiggled the drawer, but it would not budge. “Hey Elle, this one is stuck. I wonder if there is a key somewhere…”

Elle looked up from the desk. “I got a better idea.”

Elle moved her way towards Spencer. She moved him aside with a gentle hand to his bicep. She pulled out a small hairpin, and got to work on the lock. She skillfully worked the lock, her hands moving with precision and finesse. He couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her resourcefulness. “Did you learn that in FBI school?” he asked, inquiring about her previously unknown skill.

Elle smirked, the drawer's lock clicking. Spencer watched in awe as the lock clicked open beneath Elle's adept touch. “Nah, they taught me that in Brooklyn.” she says, a playful tone in her voice.

The tips of Spencer’s ears heated up at her response. That response felt like it was a small opening to her past, and he smiled at the idea of her telling him more about life in Brooklyn. He pictured a teen Elle, running about the New York streets in some type of street wear. He wanted to ask her about it, but for right now, they needed to see what was in that drawer.

Cases came and went the next few weeks, and Spencer was noticing a pattern in Elle’s behavior. The once playful, fun going, headstrong woman had become more timid and reserved. He could see the paranoid looks she would get when being in a new environment, and the dissociative states she’d get in during meetings. Her brown eyes would glaze over, void of all feeling. He wanted to confront her, to ask what was wrong, but the timing never seemed to be right. The team was swamped with cases, and there was hardly any time to breathe, let alone talk about personal issues. He figured he needed to give her time.

It wasn’t until one night when they were in the parking garage. Spencer and Elle were left last, Spencer walked ahead until he heard a soft gasp from behind him. He looked around, seeing Elle looking around the car. Spencer peaked his head further around the corner. “Elle, everything okay?”

Elle turned to look at him, her grip on her bag tight, making her knuckles turn white. “Yeah, I think I just left my glasses in the car.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow curiously. He walked closer, a good few feet away. “I can stay here and wait for you,” he offered.

Elle took another look back at the car, then back at Spencer. “You know, let's just go. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay, I’ll keep you company.”

Elle gave a tight lipped smile, her dimples displaying on her cheeks. She paced quickly towards Spencer till they were side by side, and walked to the hotel. As they walked, Spencer couldn't help but notice the rigid way she carried herself. Her shoulders were tense, and her steps were quick and anxious. He knew this wasn’t the time nor the place, so he kept his mouth shut.

An hour later, everyone in their separate rooms, Spencer was in his pacing back and forth. He could not stop thinking about Elle. He replayed their conversation from earlier in his head - her nervous actions, the tense way she held herself, the subtle unease in her eyes. He could not erase the image from his head. Without hesitation, he walked out the door to the next door where Elle was staying for the night. He knocks ‘shave and a haircut’ on the door. Elle made her way to the door, looking through the peephole. She opened the door after seeing it was Spencer.

“Hi.” he greets, awkward as usual.

“Hi.” she says back, in slight surprise.

Spencer doesn’t leave her room till an hour later. He’s buzzed, and confused about what the hell just happened. Elle brought him in, offering him a drink. The next moment, he was telling her she ‘won’ for surviving her being shot. She smiles at him with such kind eyes, and it makes his insides turn to applesauce. They drink more, and Elle tells him she’s okay, and she thanks him for spending the time with her. “This is the most fun I think I’ve had in months. Thank you, Spence.” Spencer left Elle's room feeling a mix of tiredness and warmth from their unexpected bonding session. He fell asleep quickly, his mind swirling.

Meanwhile, in her room, the door clicked shut behind Spencer. The weight of her emotions came crashing down. Once alone, Elle allowed herself to cry, the tears streaming down her face as she wept quietly. The exhaustion and emotional turmoil eventually took its toll, and she drifted into a fitful sleep.

It isn’t till a week later where Elle has to go undercover as a single woman for a rapist to track down. Elle insisted she was ready to do it, and she quickly got ready. Elle is wearing a black knee length skirt, and a maroon button down. In the conference room, she was working on getting her mic placed between her bra. Her shirt was unbuttoned a bit, revealing the scar she had been hiding from them.

It was a dark pink line running down the almost dead center of her chest like some sick religious painting. She recalls telling Spencer how Gardner shoved his finger inside of her wound, and how it felt like she could still feel it. Derek noticed the scar first, then Gideon and Hotch. No one dared to speak as they stared at the scar, the implications of its origin hanging heavily in the air.

Elle went into that house. Spencer was not at the location, but he was on edge thinking about her in the house by herself. He did not doubt her ability to defend herself, but it scared him to death knowing she could really go to a dark place if she wasn’t careful. All seemed okay, and she suddenly moved at a determined pace down across the street, her glock tight in her grasp. “FBI, drop your weapon!” she demanded through gritted teeth.

This would prove to be a big mistake, as because she moved prematurely, they could not hold Lee. Elle was enraged by this, she stormed up to Gideon. “Back off, Elle.” Derek warned, holding her back softly.

“You’re letting him walk?” she asked, a sadness and frustration in her voice.

Spencer watched and Gideon and Hotch both told her she was impatient, and could not hold him because, in reality, did nothing to her. “We would have had you back.”

“Do you really think you got my back?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“What are you talking about?” Hotch asked.

Spencer bit his lip, trying not to butt in. Hotch knew damn well what she meant. She was spiraling for months. How the hell did he not notice? ‘I couldn’t have been the only one to notice…’ Spencer thought to himself.

The pair continued to argue, and Elle spat: “The last time you sent me home, Hotch, you got me shot.”

There it is. Spencer sucked in air through his nose. He heard Gideon ask her to walk with him, grabbing her bicep to pull her into a spare room. Spencer felt sick to his stomach, but the words couldn’t leave his mouth. Moments later, Elle exited the room, tears filling her eyes. Spencer reached out for her, but she shoved his arm out of the way and out of the building. Spencer looked at Derek and Gideon, a sad expression crossing his face. He couldn’t bear to see her like this, torn between protecting her and respecting her space. He felt caught in the middle of a war he did not want to be in. He decided to stay for the time being, to give her space.

He would come to regret that very action. Elle had taken her glock, and shot Lee in the chest. She told an officer that she had done it in self defense. Spencer felt sick to his stomach, thinking about what could have happened. From the look in Hotch’s eye, he could tell she had not come clean. Spencer felt at a loss. His mind filled with all the opportunities he could have stepped in to talk to her. Knowing she was harboring all of this rage against the team made his heart shatter just thinking about it. He couldn't help but feel responsible in some way for her actions. Spencer excused himself, finding a spot down the street far from the crime scene. He sat on an empty bench for a moment.

The meltdown he had been shoving down for weeks now finally surfaced. As Spencer sat on the bench, the emotional toll of the situation hit him in waves. His tears streamed down his face as he rocked back and forth, his hands clenching his hair tightly. He felt like a failure. He failed to protect her from herself, and at this point, the team.

The next day, Elle turned in her badge and gun.

Spencer saw her heading to her car. “Elle!” he yelled, running towards her.

Elle turned to look up at him, a sadness etched in her face. Spencer paced till he was right in front of her. “Y-You’re leaving.” he said, noticing her badge and guns missing from her possession.

Elle bit her lip, nodding. Spencer's eyes searched her face, looking for any hint of the woman he had grown to care about so deeply. He crossed his arms, contemplating what to say next. “Elle, I’m sorry.”

Elle looked up at him, her eyes unwavering. “Why?”

Spencer felt his breath hitch softly. His voice caught in his throat as he answered her question. "Because I should have been there for you. I should have known something was wrong. I'm sorry I couldn't help you befo-"

“Spence,” she cut him off. “It’s not your responsibility to make sure I’m okay.”

Spencer looked hurt, but Elle continued. “Spencer, you have been there for me more than you think. I know you care deeply, and you prove that everyday. Don’t lose that empathy just because I’m walking away.”

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck, trying so hard not to fidget with his hair.Elle smiled at him, her eyes softening. She knew how hard he was struggling not to stim. “Spencer, you know you don’t have to hold back from self soothing, right?”

Spencer felt a heat in his cheeks. “Sorry…”

Elle let out an airy chuckle. They both stood silently for a moment, before Spencer swallowed his fear. He enveloped her in a tight hug, holding her close, his chin to the top of her head. He could feel her relax against his body, her arms surrounding his mid back. His large hands rested at her shoulders, where he felt the tension leave. He heard her sigh softly into him, her body instinctively pressing closer to his. They remained unmoving for a moment, before they pulled away. Elle hit the unlock button on her keys, and opened the door. She turned to face him once more. “I’ll see you around, Doctor Reid, okay?”

He nods wordlessly, waiting for her to sit before shutting her door for her. As he watched her drive away, his heart ached thinking about the hug they shared.

It is what it is, right?

Chapter 5: big man, little dignity

Chapter Text

Elle’s time spent at home was minimal before she packed a bag, and drove all the way to New York. She played her many CDs she owned as she drove along the highway. Over five hours later, she was standing in front of her old childhood home in Brooklyn. The house looked the same, if not a little run down. She could practically hear the music from her old parties with her friends, the constant giggling and loud talking, and the smell of cigarette smoke. None of which took place in her own home, minus the cigarettes. She swallowed her hesitation before quietly knocking on the door. Elle’s mother opened the door and immediately observed her, noticing the leather jacket and pants. Elle’s mother, Mariana, had on a bandana covering her hair, which was now a salt and pepper color. “It’s about time you came here for a visit.” she scolded, waving her inside. “Get in here, you’ll let the bugs in.”

Elle entered, shoving her hands in her pockets and taking in the sight of her old home, memories of when she was a young child flooding her mind. “Yeah, yeah Mamá.” she replied, nonchalantly.

Leaning against the far wall, Mariana observed her daughter. “What the hell are you doing back here in New York, Chica?”

Elle shrugged, already having an idea that her mother already knew why she had driven up here. “You’ve come here to talk, hmm?”

“Where’s Dan? I’ve yet to smell his foul stench.”

Mariana’s face soured at the name of Elle’s stepdad. “He’s long gone. Last I heard, he was on the street begging for change.”

An awkward silence followed, Elle trying to comprehend how her mother was managing to live on her own, all without her knowledge.

Mariana chuckled. “What, the thought of me without a man makes you feel weird?”

It was like she could read her daughter's mind. Elle started to really wonder who the real profiler was here. “No. If anything, I’m just glad I don’t have to see that sh*tbags face-”

“¡Idioma, mija!” her mother scolded.

Elle huffed. “I’m just calling it what it is.”

“I’m telling you one more time, watch your tone.”

They’d had this exchange many times before; Elle was a stubborn and defiant child, still rebellious in her adult years. Mariana knew she could still call out her daughter, even if she was twenty-seven years old. Elle rolled her eyes, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

“How’s your love life?” Mariana asked, walking into the kitchen.

Of course she asked that. Elle rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time, following her to the kitchen. “No, not really.”

Mariana raised an eyebrow, reaching into the fridge, grabbing two beers from the fridge. “Really? No one at all?”

Elle fidgeted with her hands, not wanting to discuss this with her mother. She understood she would never get any peace if she didn’t give her an answer. She ran a finger through her hair, her curls wild and loose. “There’s…someone. At work.”

Mariana raised an eyebrow. “Okay? And-” she gestured for her daughter to keep going, opening the beer bottles before setting one in front of Elle.

The cold bottle of beer made for a nice distraction, as she took a sip from the cold bottle. It tasted like sh*t, but it would do the trick. “There’s just..”

Elle couldn’t really find the words she was looking for. She had not really thought about her complicated feelings for her co-worker. She quit, and left him stranded in Quantico to deal with the aftermath of her exit. Her mother waited silently, drinking out of her own bottle. Her mother could practically see the turmoil in her daughter’s mind; she’d known her all her life of course. “Who is he?”

“My co-worker…” she reiterated, struggling to not go into detail about it.

“What’s his name?” her mother asked, her beer now resting on the table, and she grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her pants pocket.

“You’re still smoking?” Elle asked, avoiding the question.

“Are you still going to police me on it? Or are you going to take one and tell me this boy’s name?”

Elle sighed, caving in and grabbing one of her mother’s newports. She snagged her mom’s lighter, lighting the cigarette. This had been a common occurrence for the two of them long ago; as much as Elle hated her mother smoking, she eventually adopted the habit herself, and would sometimes even accompany her mother in an occasional cigarette. Her mom puffed on the cigarette held between her fingers. “His name?”

“Spencer Reid.” Elle finally admitted.

“And you two have…” she trailed off, waiting for her daughter to explain.

“No. I left before I could get that far. I didn't even really think about it till I already left.” Elle puffs on her cigarette, the stream of smoke leaving her lips.

“What do you mean ‘left’,” Mariana asked, before her eyebrows raised. “Did you quit?”

“I did.”

Mariana didn’t anticipate her daughter to drop everything. “Why did you quit?”

She shifted in her seat. “I felt like I needed to look out for myself, y’know?”

Mariana squinted at her daughter, knowing she was hiding something. “¿Lo que realmente pasó?” she asked, more demanding.

Elle puffed on her cigarette, putting it out prematurely on the ashtray sitting on the table. “Nothing happened.”

“Bull.”

The two women were at a stalemate, both too stubborn to let it go. “Don’t give me that face, mami,” Elle warned.

Her mother rolled her eyes, taking a drink from her beer. “Don’t give me an excuse. ¿Qué realmente pasó?”

Elle exhaled, knowing she couldn’t dodge the subject for forever. “I was shot in my apartment. I had a freak out and ended up killing a rapist who got let go. He threatened to rape other women, and there was nothing we could do. I left and quit because I didn’t think they would want to deal with me anymore, okay?”

Her mother paused, processing the information she had just been given. Her shock lasted for only a second, quickly shifting to anger as she stood up. “Qué carajo, Elle?!”

Elle tried to defend herself. “Mami-”

Her mother cut her off, putting out her cigarette. “Don’t Mami me! Elle Francesca Greenaway, what the hell were you thinking? You thought it was okay to leave yourself vulnerable?” her mother exclaimed. “And why didn’t you tell me?!”

A wave of guilt washed over her. Elle knew she should have told her mother about what was going on. But now, her mother was furious. “Mami..” she tried again to reason with her.

“Stop. Just stop. Dios mío, Ellie. You left, you quit, you decided ‘oh, you know what, I’m just going to remove myself from everything’? And you didn’t tell me?!” her mother exclaimed, standing up from the dining room table.

The worst thing about her mother’s anger was that she was right. It was true that Elle should’ve told her, it was true that she shouldn’t have left herself vulnerable by leaving the BAU. Elle felt herself standing up as well, her rage boiling over. “Mami, I left because I go to sleep at night, and I have to be reminded of being shot. I felt his f*cking finger digging inside of my wound, and he wrote out a word in my own blood! I almost f*cking died, and had to come with terms with that! I can’t f*cking sleep! I can’t eat! I can barely stand hearing the phone ringing without being paralyzed! So forgive me if I could not take a f*cking minute to call you!”

By the time Elle finishes ranting, she is breathing heavily. Mariana was quiet momentarily, allowing a moment of silence to pass between the two of them, and allowed her daughter to calm down. She knew her daughter was on the verge of a mental collapse. “Ellie…”

Elle let the walls she had built up for so long to come crashing down. Tears streamed down her face while sobs escaped her lips. She felt broken, destroyed by her own emotions. Mariana, without saying another word, closed the space between them. She wrapped her arms around her weeping daughter, and led her to the couch where she held her, rubbing her back. After several minutes of crying and letting everything out, Elle’s sobs slowed to a stop. Her mother held her in her arms through the entire episode, silently letting her release all the pain she had suppressed for months.

“Ellie, do you remember what you told Dan the night he caught you in the face with a rolling pin?”

Elle sniffs, nodding into her mother’s shoulder.

Mariana looked up towards the ceiling. “You told him that you were going to be the one to throw men like him in the slammer. And you did. You worked your ass off to get into the FBI. I remember the smile you had on your face when you graduated. I was so proud of you.”

Her daughter had been a handful, and had been reckless and disobedient in her younger years, but her passion had always been obvious. Elle looked up at her mother. “And now look at me.”

“Do you not think I’m still not proud of you? Ellie, I’ve always been proud of you. There’s never been a moment where that has even been put into question.”

“I’m a mess, Mamí. I don’t even know what the hell to do. And I…” she drifted, considering her next words carefully. “I think I need help.”

Mariana smiled softly, caressing her daughter’s hair. “That 's all I needed to hear. Te amo mucho mi niña hermosa.”

Elle stayed with her mother for a week. She went about with her mother, running errands, and going out with her. They spent time looking around where Elle used to roam as a teen. Elle’s smile slowly started to come back, as she loved being home with her mother. The last night she stayed, Mariana and Elle were drunk, half way through a pack of cigarettes. They were giggling about childhood memories and their youths. At around one AM, both women had grown quiet. Elle was strumming on an old acoustic guitar left behind by her biological father. She was strumming to “Love Alive” by Heart. She was singing softly, her voice carrying around the room sweetly.

“Baby I want you to roll me,

Hold me in your love.

No more habits, promises and jive.

Ever since I was a baby girl,

Wanted one thing most in this world.

It was to keep my love- keep my love alive..”

Mariana smiled at her daughter. Robert would have been so proud of his little girl. She was stubborn as a mule, but she had grown into such a passionate, beautiful young woman. “Your father would have been so proud of you, mija.” Mariana said, puffing her cigarette.

Elle paused her strumming and singing for a moment. “I don’t know. I think he would be upset that I quit.”

“Maybe…” She paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “You know, you reminded me so much of your father.”

Elle looked up, setting the guitar down, leaning on the sofa. “Yeah?”

“You both had a lot of similarities. You were both stubborn, and passionate, and loyal - a bit of a smart aleck,” Mariana smirked. “You’re both too smart for your own damn good.”

Elle smiled sadly, seeing her mother reflect on her one true love. “He was definitely a charmer, your father. I don’t know where he got that from, certainly not from his family or my own. But God, he was charming.” she smiled. “He was definitely a special man.”

Elle gave a tight lipped smile, thinking about her father. She only got the privilege of being with him for eight short years, but from how her mother talked about him, he might as well have been still alive. “He’s really the only man I’ve ever trusted. He set the standard of a good, gentle man.” Elle said, snagging another cigarette.

Mariana smiled. “What about Spencer?”

Elle was just about to take a drag of the cigarette when her mother posed the question. “What about him?” she asked. She didn’t sound harsh or rude, more she was covering the fact that his name made her feel a fluttering inside her chest and stomach.

“He’s a good man, isn’t he? He seems to be the only man you don’t seem to have a bad thing to say about.”

If Elle’s expression did not give it away, her reddening cheeks definitely did. She took a long drag of her cigarette, trying to distract herself from the pounding of her heart. “Yeah, Spencer’s a good man… I never said he wasn’t…”

“I know you did not, Mija,” her mother said, puffing on her own cigarette. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“What are you asking me, Mamí? What exactly do you want to know?”

Mariana leaned on the recliner a bit more, observing her daughter on the couch. “You love him. He’s treated you well, and you left. He probably misses you, and from how you talk about him, you do too.”

Elle fidgeted on the couch, taking another drag of the cigarette. There was no point in trying to lie to her mother. “Yes. I miss him.”

Mariana smiled at her daughter. “Then you need to go home and go get him.”

“You make it sound so easy, but-”

“Life is never going to give you a guarantee. You’ll never have a guarantee of success or how a situation will go. But if you don’t try…” her mother’s voice trailed. “Who knows?”

Elle paused, putting out the butt of the cigarette. She really had to stop smoking these. “You’re right.”

Elle said goodbye to her mother the next day, giving her a long hug. “I’ll give you a call when I get home, yeah?”

Mariana smiled, sad to see her go. She really enjoyed the time she got to spend with her daughter. She leaned into her ear. “Ve a buscar a tu hijo, nena. Quiero conocerlo eventualmente.”

Elle smiled. “Goodbye, Mami. I love you.”

And with that, Elle hopped into her car, and made the trip home. Elle reflected on her discussions. Maybe men were really the scum of the earth, but there were definitely some good one’s out there.

Doctor Reid was one of them.

Chapter 6: you first

Chapter Text

Elle got home that week, but she never actually went to see Spencer Reid. Instead, she shut down in her apartment. Her bed became her safe space, rotting in the same spot unmoving. The only light coming through her window was a subtle glow from the streets below her apartment. A steady hum of cars and ambulances driving by was the only thing bringing life throughout her apartment. She couldn’t bring herself to eat anything, or do anything. When she did eat, it was snack food. The only time she got up was to use the bathroom, but then it was right back to bed. After a week, her room was a disaster.

Trash started to cover the floor, and clothing was scattered about. The suitcase she had brought when she was with her mom was still opened with clothing everywhere. She was staring at the ceiling, her thoughts clouded and mushed together. It wasn’t until her cell phone rang did she snap a bit. Seeing it was a spam caller, she gripped the device and threw it against the wall, watching it shatter into small pieces scattering on the floor.

The next few hours, she remained asleep. She woke up a few hours later, sitting upwards, her hair a mess. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in quite some time. She slowly stood up, overwhelmed by the state of her room. She decided she needed to start small, and brush her teeth. Looking at the reflection, she truly saw how bad she looked. She was wearing a week old sports bra, and a pair of gym shorts. She had thinned out in her stomach, and the bags under her eyes were dark. She suddenly felt her stomach roll. She gripped the sides of the sink, leaning over the drain taking deep breaths. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on not throwing up.

A few moments passed, and her stomach settled enough for her to brush her teeth and splash her face with some cold water. She leaned her body against the counter, after wiping off her face, trying to remember the last time she had eaten anything substantial. Her stomach let out a loud grumble again, her hand clutching her abdomen. The thought of getting something in her stomach was overwhelming, but she knew she needed to eat.

Heading to the kitchen, she looked through her fridge and cabinets. She came up with nothing. Her stomach rumbled again and she clenched harder onto the counter, her eyes closing and forcing herself to breath. Her jaw was locked tightly as she clenched her teeth. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by hunger pangs. Frustrated, Elle slammed her hand down on the counter and let out an angry yell. Without thinking, she lashed out and swiped her arm on the counter, sending everything scattering to the ground. A piece of glass cut her forearm, Elle cursed loudly. She grabbed a bunch of paper towels, holding pressure on the cut. It was not super deep, thankfully.

Elle entered back into the bathroom, stripping completely naked. She hopped in the shower, sitting in the tub. She let the water fall over her, washing the grim and the blood from her arm. The water was extremely hot, the room filling with steam. After Elle got out, her cut stopped bleeding and her skin was bright pink. She grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her body. She went back into her bedroom, digging through drawers until she found a pair of black joggers and an oversized gray sweatshirt. She put her clothes on, and slipped on socks and old black high top vans. She left the room, grabbed her wallet, and left her apartment.

The streets of Virginia were freezing cold at ten o’clock at night. The wind cut through her sweatshirt, and she shivered, shoving her hands in her pockets. Most stores were closing soon, so Elle picked up the pace until she found a twenty four hour convenience store. She jogged towards the door, opening it. No customers were present, and the man behind the cash register didn't even look up from his magazine upon her entrance, even after the bell jingled.

Elle, trying to avoid passing out or getting sick, looked among the frozen section, her view of the door blocked by a few shelves. She grabbed a mango flavored drink that seemed to be a knock off of Gatorade. She needed the electrolytes desperately, as she realized she was shaking from hunger pangs. She looked down further and spotted what could only describe a holy grail. A section filled with premade sandwiches were lined up. Elle made her way over to the sandwiches, grabbing a turkey sandwich. Elle heard a jingle from the door, and a familiar voice was heard.

“These hours are getting ridiculous! I’m glad Gideon let us at least get a snack.”

Morgan.

Elle’s heart rate increased rapidly. Panicked, she hid by the bathrooms in the doorway. Panic ran through her as she stayed hidden, her body trembling from a mix of hunger and the cold drink she held in her hands. For a moment, it crossed her mind how she looked. She felt animalistic in the way she hadn’t eaten or slept well in a week.

It made her think of a case she had in Seattle a while back. The girl was held hostage for a few years, and she was pregnant, and severely abused. When Elle found her, she was in the corner, crouched on all fours protecting her unborn baby. The image of her was animalistic and feral in nature. She ended up taking a couple weeks off after that case, as it messed with her.

Elle realized she adapted the same position, but instead of a fetus, thankfully, she held her meal to her chest. She felt a wave of shame overcome her as she heard JJ respond to Morgan. “They let Reid go home. Lucky bastard got his paperwork done in thirty some minutes.”

Elle felt embarrassed, hiding from her old co-workers. She was a grown adult and was an FBI and profiler, and here she was crouching and protecting her food like a feral animal. She pressed her head against the wall as she heard Spencer’s name. She knew if he were here, he would have probably picked up some beef jerky and either a small coffee or apple juice. In that brief moment, hunger and exhaustion seemed like trivial feelings, overcome by the aching loneliness she felt.

She heard Morgan and JJ talk some more. “What’s your thoughts on Emily?” JJ asked, Elle hearing her grab a bag of chips.

Who’s Emily?

“Prentiss? She’s definitely sexy,” Elle rolled her eyes. “But seriously, Hotch doesn’t seem to be sure about her.”

“I mean after Elle, I guess he wouldn’t be so sure to trust.”

Elle felt a sting in her chest after hearing JJ mentioning her name. Hearing them talk about her replacement was already difficult, but hearing JJ say something so critical made her heart break. Her eyes filled with tears, embarrassment filling her chest. Elle made her way inside the bathroom to hide. She wanted the voices of her co-workers to stop ringing in her ears. She went into the cleanest stall, and locked the door. Looking at the sandwich, she quickly opened the packaging, tearing into the sandwich. She ate quickly, satisfied to finally have something going into her body. The bread was a bit stale, and the turkey was dry, but she really could have cared less.

She’d come to regret eating so fast. And after a few moments of relief, she began to feel a familiar uncomfortable ache growing inside her stomach. She felt bloated and cramped up, not thinking about the consequences of eating something for the first time in a week. She felt her stomach, which had become tight and taunt in response. She began to rock back and forth slowly, trying to prevent herself from throwing up. She couldn't help but think of the young doctor, who had a habit of rocking when he was troubled about a case. Here she was, mirroring that very action, but for a more humiliating reason. It felt like bitter irony.

The rocking seemed to calm her down enough to take a sip of the drink she had on her. The drink was cool going down her throat, settling her stomach a bit. She remained seated, still rocking to make sure she was okay to move.

After a while, she felt better. She was still cramped and felt full, but she felt better than she had in a week, and her brain fog seemed to lift a bit. She slowly stood up, making sure she wasn’t dizzy. She got up, washing her hands before peeking open the bathroom door. She no longer heard the voices of Derek or JJ any longer. She stepped out, quickly making her way to the register. She had finished off the drink and sandwich in the bathroom, so she threw a twenty on the counter, telling the cashier to ‘keep the change’ before walking out.

Walking out of the store, Elle shivered at the cold air. She still felt achy, her stomach still tight, but she continued. Her steps felt slower and heavier, as she headed to her apartment, and she could only think of the words JJ had said about Elle. The memory of Elle’s name leaving her mouth like salt on a wound felt like a shot to the chest.

Elle felt the scar on her chest from on top of her sweatshirt, that bitter irony hitting her again. The more steps she took, the worse she felt like she was going to mentally snap. Her tears pricked at her eyes. She really needed a drink, a cigarette, anything. It was becoming too much to bear. Tears slid down her cheeks, and now her pace had quickened. She got to her door, fumbling with the keys. She took in the familiarity of her dimly lit apartment, only adding further to her feeling of isolation.

Without bothering to turn any real lights on, she collapsed on the couch, letting out a choked sob. She curled into a ball, shaking violently as she gripped her sweatshirt. Her choked breaths and gasps echoed off the walls of her apartment. She felt like such a failure within that moment, disappointed she couldn’t even keep it together enough in her own apartment.

She wanted to lash out, but in the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She looked up momentarily after a brief moment to catch a glimpse of the whiskey bottle on the coffee table. Her eyes lingered on the amber liquid. She can already taste the burn on the back of her throat, and she craved the forgetfulness that would come with it. With a trembling hand, she reached for the bottle.

As her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle, she could hear the voice in head, begging her not to drink it. That voice was silenced by a much louder one. “You’re a failure” “I mean after Elle…” “You need this, because they didn’t need you.”

She unscrewed the cap, and took a long sip, the burn in her throat overwhelming the voice. The warmth filled her chest, and dulled the sharpness of her dark thoughts. The further on she went with drinking out of the bottle, the more light she felt. But the overwhelming guilt and depression remained. She knew her stomach was going to start protesting, but she continued taking sips, and soon enough, the bottle was near empty. She laid on the sofa, her body a combination of nausea and inebriation.

Elle, even in her current state, let out such a sad laugh. Karma was coming for all of them, and it came to get her first.

Chapter 7: figure 8

Chapter Text

It was late, and Spencer was settling in for the night with a book on old magic. It was a little out of his genre choices, but he did not seem to mind the small change. Compared to some of the more intense changes he’s been enduring at work, this change was a walk in the park. He was glad to have a quiet evening like this, being able to catch up on his studies and interests.

In the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. Maybe it was the colder air that had seemed to Virginia that night, or even the fact he got to go home earlier then usual. He pushed the thought aside, continuing to immerse himself in his book.

Despite his efforts, his worry persisted. He couldn’t focus as the thought continued to bother him like an itch. He ended up standing from his arm chair, and stretching instead of continuing his book.

Just as he reached for his phone, it started ringing shrilly, startling him. He looked at the caller ID and saw Elle’s name displayed on the screen. He hesitated for a moment, his mind still swirling with worry. He raised an eyebrow, realizing it had been almost two weeks since she left, and he hadn’t thought about her much. Getting swept up with work was to blame for that, but seeing her name now felt like a calling from the universe.

He took a deep breath, along with realizing at this time of night, picked up his phone and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

There was a moment of brief silence before he finally heard her voice, thick and slurred. “Hey,” her tone was slow and shaky. “I need a favor.”

Spencer’s face etched with worry. “Okay, what kind of favor?” his voice remaining as calm as possible.

He could hear some light rustling, presumably from her hair. “I need you to come over,” she said, her voice airy and more slurred. “I think I drank too much whiskey, and I feel sick.”

Spencer’s internal alarms were going off. “Are you alone in your apartment?” he asked, in the process of gathering his keys and wallet.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just need some company. My stomach is killing me."

Spencer started picking up his pace, knowing her being intoxicated and alone was not good. Her stomach pain was really not a good sign either. He grabbed his jacket, and slid his shoulder and ear. “I’m on my way,” he declared. “Don’t try and move to much, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She let out a soft whimper. Spencer locked up his door before quickly heading towards his car. He kept his on speaker in the passenger seat, in case she were to do something stupid. He made his way to her apartment, her address memoried from her shooting, as fast as he could without breaking any speed limits. Finally, he pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex and quickly found a spot to park. He snatched his phone tightly to his ear again as he left his car, hurrying towards her apartment to get to her as soon as possible.

He found her door without much trouble and knocked on it urgently. "Elle, it's Spencer, I'm here."

His listened, not hearing anything, making his heart rate increase. He jigged the door knob, feeling it was locked. He looked around her door, and observing his feet he saw a door mat. Curiously, he peaked under it, finding a spare key laying in the center. He quickly grabbed it, fumbling with the lock until he heard a click.

He swung open the door and stepped inside, his eyes immediately searching for her. The apartment was dark, except for a few dim lights scattered around the living room. But his eyes quickly adjusted, and he spotted her on the couch, lying on her back with one hand over her stomach. ‘Elle? Are you okay? You said your stomach was hurting?”

He could see her struggling to form a response to his question, her eyes drifting to the side. He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to focus.

“Can you sit up for me? It might help your stomach.” He asked gently.

She nodded, struggling to set herself upwards. She let out a groan in pain as she sat up, and Spencer reached out to support her, his hands hovering above her arms. “Take it nice and easy. Don’t rush.”

She managed to get into a position where Spencer quickly moved a pillow behind her. He made quick assessment of her, seeing she wanness and the way she still held her stomach. He was nervous to touch her, but he knew he had to to make sure she was okay. He placed his hand on her forehead to feel if she had a temperature. She was a bit sweaty, but not overheated. He moved to check her pulse, which was racing from more then likely the mix of alcohol and her stomach pain. “Elle, I’m going to have to assess your stomach,” he tells her softly, rubbing a hand along her shoulder. “Can I take a look?”

She looked up, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She took a moment to process his request before finally nodding. He carefully lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing her stomach to his view. He felt his ears get slightly pink, but he needed to stay focused. He gently placed his hands on her stomach, feeling for any signs of tenderness or any abnormal swelling. He pressed, relieved to find it soft and supple. He did take note to everytime he pressed, she would wince in pain. "Does it hurt when I press here?" he asked, gently touching a different spot on her stomach.

She nodded faintly. “I ate a sandwich earlier.” she slurred, hoping she was being helpful.

He smiled faintly at her attempt to help. "A sandwich, huh? And you've been in pain since then?"

“It’s the first actual meal I’ve had in a week.” she grimced as Spencer put pressure on her stomach.

His eyes widened and his heart dropped at her confession. “You’re saying you’ve barely eaten in a week?” he asked.

He moved his hand, finding the spot that seemed to hurt her the most. He could see the mixture of pain and guilt in her expression. He knew that the combination of her not eating and drinking heavily had likely led to the pain. “I’ve been in bed. Food felt like a chore.”

Spencer, internally profiling his old co-worker, realized this was textbook depression and lack of self care. A wave of concern and sadness washed over him. He realized how bad she had been since she left the BAU.

“Have you been sleeping?” he asked, his hand still on her stomach, feeling it contract with each word she spoke.

Elle felt woozy, the alcohol messing with her head. “Too little, or all day.” she slurred, her eyes fluttering.

He frowned at her response, realizing how out of sorts she was. The combination of her low energy levels from barely eating, mixed with the alcohol she had consumed was starting to catch up. He could see something else behind her eyes, something not physical. “Elle, what else are you not telling me?” he inquired gently, pulling her sweatshirt back down over her stomach.

Elle looked around his face, finding his eyes. She wanted to confess to what she had been feeling, but the words felt too heavy to say outloud. Seeing her struggle, he took her hand. Her hand was soft despite her current state. “You can tell me anything, you know,” he said. “You can tell me anything.”

The words pierced her drunken mind, and a wave of emotions hit her. Tears welled up in her dark eyes, her breath shuddering. Spencer noticed, now stroking his thumb along her knuckles. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

She sniffled, her lower lip trembling. She stared at her lap, willing the tears not to fall. But the combination of the alcohol, her exhaustion, and the overwhelming emotions finally overpowered her, and the floodgates opened finally. Sobs wracked her chest, her shoulders shaking with each gasp. He could see the pain etched on her face, and he moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her. He held her, letting her cry against him. "No..." she cried, leaving

Spencer unsure if she was in denial of her current state, or if was just the only thing she could manage to say.

He hugged her tighter, feeling her tears wetting his jacket. He took a time to assess her apartment, noticing her kitchen was trashed from where it looked like she smashed things in a fit of rage. He remained curious about the rest of her apartment, but for now, he focused on Elle. “It’s okay,” he whispered into her short hair. “Let it out.”

He felt Elle’s breathing become more ragged, like she was struggling to get air in. She was trembling against him. Spencer, pausing his soothing words, pulled back with his hands still on her shoulders. “Elle, try to take in slow, deep breaths.” he instructed.

Elle stomach rolled, feeling her throat tighten. “I’m gonna be sick.” she managed to get out.

"Okay, okay," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just lean forward and try to breathe through your mouth."

He grabbed a small trash can from the side of the sofa, and held it in front of her. He heard her cough, then the sound of bile hitting the bottom of the can. He grimanced at the noise, his sensory issues coming to the surface, but he pushed it down knowing Elle needed him. He kept a hand on the can, while the other pressed her short hair out of her face. After a few more heaves, Elle started to slow down, coughing and panting. Spencer placed the bin on the floor and began rubbing her back again, trying to soothe her. He could feel her shaking under his touch. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Elle let out softer cries, realizing what she had just done. She felt embarrassed that she called Spencer, after icing him out for nearly half a month. The last time she saw him, they left on a seemingly good note. Now here he was, having to take care of her due to her mental spiral. Spencer's heart ached as he felt her shake underneath his hand. He scanned her body once more, and noticed a mark under her sleeve. He took her arm, and pulled up the sleeve, seeing a cut slashed across her arm. His heart almost stopped, his mind going to the worse possible scenario. “Elle-”

She seemed to notice, her face red and streaked messily with tears. “It was an accident,” she whispered. “I got mad and threw things.”

Spencer made the connection to the messy kitchen, where he noticed shattered glass. He calmed slightly but just to be sure, he checked her other arm. Her forearm, aside from a stray bruise, was clear of any marks. He exhaled in relief. He carefully moved next to her. “You need to be more careful. You could have seriously hurt yourself.” he said gently.

Elle looked him directly in the eyes unwavered for the first time since he showed up. Her eyes welled up again. “I wish it did.” she whimpered, her voice cracking.

Spencer’s stomach dropped for the umptenth time that night. “Please don’t say that. You are worth so much. So many people care about you. I care about you.”

Elle thought back to the convenience store during Morgan and JJ’s exchange she overheard. “I’m replaceable. It wouldn’t matter.”

“No, you are not,” his voice is firm, taking on a slight edge. “You have no idea how wrong you are.”

Elle whimpered, leaning hard into Spencer. Spencer held her in a side hug, rubbing her arm. “If something every happened to you, it would matter so much to me.” he felt a lump form in his own throat. “I don’t know what I would do without knowing you weren’t here.”

Elle cried, hearing Spencer’s kind words and his own voice shake. She could not believe Spencer was being so understanding. She practically abandoned the man, and here he was doing everything he could to prevent her from thinking suicidal thoughts. She did not understand why he was putting in the effort. She thought about the conversation she had with her mother. “He seems to be the only man you don’t seem to have a bad thing to say about.” her mom said.

Spencer was not sure how much longer he could keep his own emotions in check. He thought about his next move. He considered that Elle should be moved somewhere else more comfortable. His thoughts went to her bedroom, as he saw how her being still very drunk and emotional was probably exhausting her. "Elle," he said gently, his voice soft. "I think you should lie down. You're really drunk and you've been through a lot tonight. Is it okay if I take you to your bedroom?"

Elle, if she weren’t in her current state, would be probably made a joke about the young doctor taking her to bed. But she was too much of a mess to even think. He gently helped her stand up, keeping a steadying arm around her waist as they made their way towards her bedroom. Spencer thought about if she weren’t in her current state, he would have been flustered at the fact he had his arm around her waist.

Spencer could not deny, even now, that Elle was very pretty. Spencer recognized that the day they met. She had these enchanting brown eyes that reminded him of a bambi. Her skin was lightly freckled and tanned, courtesy to her half Cuban background. He had felt a flutter in his stomach when they hugged for the first time. He had never felt that sensation with anyone before, including Lila. He knew Elle was special, and he knew for a fact he would do what it took to keep her happy.

Once they reached her bedroom, he helped her sit on the edge of the bed. He took a moment to survey the room, seeing clothing and garbage along the floor. He knew she was in a really low state mentally. Spencer crouched in front of her, looking at her red, glassy eyes. He placed a gentle hand on her knee. “Can you lie down for me? You need to rest.”

She weakly nodded, moving along the bed, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated. Once she settled on her side, he sat on the edge of her bed. He was unsure if he should stay or if he should leave. Considering the pros and cons of both sides, he shifted to face her better. He couldn’t bring himself to walk away from her. He looked at her clothing, and noticed at some point, her shoes had come off. He considering asking if she wanted cleaner clothing, but he did not want to over step or cross any boundaries. He flushed at the thought, but pushed those thoughts aside. He looked back at Elle, seeing her eyes were shut. He watched her for a moment, seeing her breathing softly and evenly. He looked back at her room, wanting to do something about her room’s messy state. But just as he was about to get up and leave, he heard her voice, soft and weary. "Stay," she muttered.

He hesitated, but he looked back at her, her eyes barely open. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

He shifted on the bed so that he was lying down beside her, careful not to get too close. He stared up at the ceiling, think about the past couple hours. He started out at home, reading a book, and now he was in bed with a woman who made his stomach flutter at the thought of breathing the same air as her. He felt the bed shift next to him, and felt her pressing into his side. He looked down to see Elle had laid her head on his chest.

He felt his heart skip a beat, surprised by her sudden closeness, but he did not move away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her. He felt her nose nuzzle into him softly. Spencer’s hand moved from her waist to her back, tracing patterns near her spine. This was the most intimate thing Spencer had ever done with someone in his life. He felt sad that she was drunk, but he was glad she felt safe with him. He felt a sense of protectiveness as he held her. His hand moved from her spine, to her hair. He hadn’t stimmed in hours, and he felt half bad her hair was comforting him. Then again, it seemed to comfort her as well, as her breathing became deeper and more relaxed. The repetitive motion was soothing to him, and it seemed to be having the same effect on her, which made him smile slightly.

Spencer felt his own eyes feel heavy, as he started to drift off to sleep along side of her, playing in her hair. He was trying not sleep, not wanting to let go of the peaceful moment he had with her, but sleep eventually won.

The next morning, Elle woke up a glass of water, a couple of aspirin, and a clean room. She was alone in her bed. Along side of the glass was a note:

Elle,

I cleaned up your apartment to help provide a clean slate. Please don’t hesitate to reach out. You mean a lot to me, and I want to see you happy.

-Spencer

Elle smiled at the note, even with a horrible headache. She held the note to her chest, and everything in her head started to feel lighter and clearer then it had been in a long time.

Chapter 8: liar

Chapter Text

Elle did not fully know what compelled her to walk to Spencer Reid’s apartment. His apartment was almost four miles from her place. It had been almost a month since her mental spiral. She would call Spencer on the occasion, mostly to show proof of life. After that night, she decided to start going to therapy, where her therapist gave her a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress and depression. She didn’t really talk to Spencer about her diagnosis, figuring he didn’t need to now the depths of her issues.

As she stood in from of his apartment, she contemplated turning around and leaving. Eventually, she decided to go through with it, and knocked. Elle waited at his door, hoping he wasn’t out on a case with the team. She was surprised when she heard the door clicked open to reveal the doctor himself. His white button had the first few buttons undone and his his tie hung loose around his neck. “Oh, hi Elle!”

“Hi,” she responded, her voice faltering. “You, uh…busy?”

Spencer’s eyes raked across her appearance. She still had dark circles under her eyes reflecting a rough sleep schedule. She was in a t-shirt with the logo of a band he didn’t recgonize and a pair of low rise jeans. He quickly looked away, ashamed by his wandering eyes. "No, I uh... No, I'm not busy. Come in.”

Opening the door wider for her, she entered his apartment. She glazed her eyes around his apartment. His apartment looked closer to a library then a home, his shelves covered with books and small trinkets. He could see a small collection of DVDs with titles of Doctor Who and Star Trek, which gave her a small smile. “I like your place.” she says, observing the space.

Spence closed the door behind her and walked into his living room. On the coffee table sat a half-finished chess game. He looked up at her, seeing her eyeing the game herself. “Sorry, I just got home not that long ago.”

She nodded, her eyes looking back at the chess board. “Still haven’t finished a game, I see.”

He smirked. “I get distracted,” he admitted, leaning forward to resume what his next move was. He eventually leaned back, observing the woman in the arm chair. “How have you been?”

“Good…” She responded quietly, her eyes shifting down to the carpet, avoiding his gaze. It was a lie and she knew it. She could have been much better, but good would surfice. She looked at the board more closely. “You know, you’re losing, right?” she pointed out.

Spencer looked back at his board, realizing he, indeed, was losing. “I didn’t realize you knew how to place.” he said, looking for solutions.

Elle smiled. “You think Gideon is the only one that knows how to? I used to play it with my dad when he was still alive.”

He looked up from the board just to get a glimpse of her smile. That simple expression made his heart leap in his chest. “He ever beat you?” He asked, referring to her late father.

Elle almost wanted to joke that “nah, my stepdad did that”, but she kept the conversation light. “He did at first, but I’m a fast learner.”

This is what he missed; their playful banter, her witty banter. Though something still seemed a little…off about her. Unsure of how much he should ask, he paused for a brief moment. “You seem better…” he began, choosing his words carefully.

Elle shrugged. “I guess you could say that,” looking back at the chess board. “Therapy helps. And the meds.”

He gave another glance down to the board before looking back up at her. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting help.”

They remained quiet for a moment, making his move on the board. He gestured to the board, letting her make the next move. Without taking too long to think about this strategy, she moved one of her pieces across the board before leaning back into the armchair. “Checkmate.”

Spencer let out a chuckle. “Damn, you’re good.”

She leaned back further into the armchair, crossing one leg over the other. A brief moment of silence passed between them, and then- “Can I ask you something?”

Spence raised his eyebrow at her question. That single sentence sent multiple thoughts through his head. “Uh... yeah, sure.”

Elle sighed. “I didn’t really come here with any real reason,” she started.

He tried to mask his disappointment by plastering a smile on his face. “Then what did you come here for?” he inquired.

“I just…” she paused. “When you told me that night, when I was having that breakdown, did you mean what you said? That you care about me?”

He cleared his throat, his pulse increasing in speed. “Of course, I meant it, I-“ he hesitated. How much did he tell her? “I care about you, a lot.”

Spence's heart rate quicked even more. It was true; he cared deeply for her, probably much more than he should. Over the past year as they've worked with each other, he developed feelings, feelings that he's been struggling to control. He never really had the courage to confront those feelings. He swallowed hard, watching her intently.

With every ounce of courage she has, she spoke again. “How much?”

The question almost froze him in place. Does he confess every feeling he’s ever had for her? Instead, he opted for a more general answer. “Too much.” he breathed, his heart now on the verge of bursting.

Her heart beat faster, now with a tinge of hope. She studied his expression, seeing how he seemed just as nervous as she was. Does he mean what I think he does? She wondered, her hands gripping onto the armchair.

Spencer fiddled with his hands, his nerves rapid firing in his brain. He bit his lip, trying to think about what to say next. This moment was different. It was personal - intimate in an almost strange way. “Elle…” he began, his eyes flickering back up to her gaze.

Her heart skipped a beat, straightening up at his question. “Yeah?”

Spencer, running out of words, made his move. He slowly brought his hand towards her cheek bone. She couldn't help the shiver that ran through her body, the feeling of his hand on her skin. Spencer watched as her eyes glimmered from the light of the lamp, and how sweet she looked in this moment, slightly flustered and surprised. "Spencer…" her voice came out as somewhat of a whisper, the sudden closeness catching her off guard.

She swallowed hard, trying to find some sort of response to his actions. As his hand trailed lower along her jawline, she reached up and laid her hand on his, wanting to steady herself somehow. She felt his hand run along side her neck, his thumb still caressing jaw with such a softness behind his touch, the intimacy of the moment taking her breath away. “Spence…” she whispered once more.

The proximity between them was dizzying, and she found herself unable to think straight. As he began to lean in, Elle felt her breath hitch in her throat. Her eyes darted between his eyes and lips, anticipation flooding through her body, as he slowly closed the gap between them. As their faces drew nearer, he took a moment to study her expression. Her eyes were filled with nervousness, but also a hint of desire. He reached out, gently placing his free hand on her hip, pulling her closer. She reached up and slowly tangled her fingers into his hair, her touch both hesitant and needy.

Spencer's heart was thumping in his chest as he finally took the plunge and closed the gap between them. His lips gently met hers, tentative, and gentle as the tension between them took over. Elle's breath caught in her throat as Spence kissed her, the feeling of his lips on hers both thrilling and grounding. They pulled away after a moment, savoring the moment at what they had just done. They had just had their first kiss, and the tension of desire and tenderness was overwhelming. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Elle..." he murmured, his voice hoarse.

She reached up and gently touched his face, her fingers tracing the lines and curves. She cupped his face, her eyes filled with such passion of the moment. She leaned in, this time making her first move to kiss him. Their kiss deepened, and Elle slowly moved from the arm chair, to now in his lap. Spencer’s arms moved around her waist, pressing her against him. His lips moved urgently against hers, their kisses deep and passionate. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and contour as he lost himself in her.

His hands migrated under her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin under his touch. Her back arched into his touch, a gasp leaving her body as she gripped his arms in response. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together as he began to place kisses along her neck, his lips lingering at the sensitive skin between her collarbone and jawline. She leaned back, giving him more access, silently encouraging him to continue.

Spencer could not believe this was happening, but he continued anyway. He leaned back on the sofa, now on his back and Elle sat above him on his lap still. His fingers reached the hem of her shirt, tugging at it gently. She lifted her arms, allowing him to remove it off of her. Once her shirt was off, Spence took a moment to admire her, his eyes roaming over her bare torso. His eyes made contact with her bra covered breasts, making his body feel warm. He looked down at her stomach, the soft formation of ab muscles on display. He couldn’t help but smile a bit at seeing belly button piercing that she had at some point put back in.

He looked back up again, and caught sight of her scar. Set in the center of her chest in an almost straight line, it was a dark pink. He made eye contact with Elle, seeing her gaze drift from his. She swallowed hard, her hands subconsciously moving to cover the scar, as if to shield it from his view. Spencer took a hand off her waist, and held his hand on top of hers.

She let her hand fall from her chest, letting Spencer feel at the scar, it’s pinkish hue a contrast against her olive complexion. He studied the mark, feeling the texture of her skin and the raised scar tissue beneath. “You’re so beautiful…” he murmers, looking in her eyes.

She managed a small smile, her cheeks flushing slightly at his comment. Instead of kissing him again, she laid on him, her face nuzzled into the curve of his neck and shoulder. Spencer moved his hands around her lower back and the back of her head. He turned his head a bit, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. Her scent, a gentle citrus smell, filling his senses. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, the steady rhythm matching her own erratic heartbeat.

Spencer’s mind bounced around, trying to find the words to say as they relaxed into each other. "You smell nice," he murmured quietly, his voice just above a whisper.

Elle couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Spence chuckled at her response, a soft smile playing on his lips as she laughed. "What?" he asked, his hand moving up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Your attempt at conversation is just... "cute," Elle teased lightly.

Spence rolled his eyes playfully at her comment, his lips curving into a lopsided grin. "Hey, I'm trying my best here," he muttered, his fingers dancing lightly up and down her spine. “It’s not a common experience for me to get to kiss a girl of my dreams.”

"A girl of your dreams, huh?" she said, arching an eyebrow at him. "And how many of those have there been, exactly?"

“Just you.”

Elle smirked. “What about Lila?”

Spencer smiled, rolling his eyes at the mention of the blonde actress from their old case. “I think she was more infatuated with me, then I was with her. I was just shocked she even kissed me.”

"Yeah, she was pretty relentless," she said, shaking her head slightly. “You know, I was pretty jealous seeing you with her.”

Spencer smirks. “I remember your sarcasm after I had got out of that pool, soaking wet.”

Elle rolled her eyes playfully, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Oh, c'mon. I was just... teasing you," she said, but there was a hint of truth in her voice. “But I enjoyed seeing you get all flustered afterwards…”

Spence chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her words. "Oh, you did, did you?" he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “You masoch*st you.”

“I’m not a masoch*st,” she declared, a small grin tugging at her tips. “I just enjoyed seeing a certain nerdy genius get all befuddled. You’re cute when you blush.”

Spence rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile at her words. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, shaking his head. “You know, I liked you from the moment we met back in Seattle.”

Elle raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she bit her lip “You know, I was pretty damn impressed by your brain from day one, Wonder Boy."

He let his hands wander down to her hips, resting on the curve of her backside. "I’m glad to know my intellect is such a turn-on for you.”

Spencer, boldly, put his hands into the back pocket of her jeans, causing Elle’s eyes to widen a bit before fluttering in awe. “Spence…can we,” she bites the inside of her cheek. “Can we just cuddle?”

Spencer blushed, starting to take her hands out of her backpockets. Elle stops him. “It’s alright, you can keep them there if you want. I just don’t want to rush, you know?”

"Yeah, c-cuddling sounds nice," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. He reached up with one hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But just so you know, I’m kinda obsessed with you."

Elle smiles. “I’m kinda obsessed with you too.” She leans in, pecking him on the lips.

That night, they spend the night on the couch comfortable in each other’s warmth. They ended up falling asleep, Elle cuddled on his chest, with a blanket covering the both of them. Spencer kept his arms around her, a smile on his face.

Chapter 9: crave

Chapter Text

Spencer and Elle were curled up on the couch, a movie playing on the TV in the background. Spence had his arm draped around her shoulders, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her skin. Elle was curled into the doctor’s chest, her feet tucked underneath her. Spencer kept his attention on the television screen, but his mind was wondering elsewhere. His mind wondered to Elle and how honored he felt being with her. He almost was convinced the stars alined just for this moment alone.

Spencer and Elle kept a promise to not tell the team, and they stuck to their guns. As far as the team knew, Spencer was a single man and Elle was long gone. Spencer knew if his team found out he was in a relationship with the Elle Greenaway, they’d probably be angry with him. Spencer looked down at the woman in his arms, smiling to himself.

Elle was in her pjs, an old t-shirt of Spencer’s, and old black gym shorts. He loved seeing her like this, her hair slightly tossled to the side, now a bit longer. She looked relaxed against him, and he loved it. She looked up from his shoulder, flashing a tired smile, her dimples now on display. “You okay?” she asked, her voice sleep laced.

Spencer nodded, his hand playing with the ends of her hair. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

He pressed a soft kiss into her forehead. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” he mumbled into her hairline.

“I think you say that every day,” she teased, her voice soft and sleepy. She wrapped her arm around his waist, hugging him tightly.

“I just can’t believe you’re all mine,” he murmured, his eyes scanning her features.

She shifted slightly, turning to press a soft kiss to his neck. “I’m all yours, and you’re all mine,” she whispered against his skin, her breath hot and tickling his skin.

Spencer tilted his head back, giving her more room to kiss him. She took advantage, and continued kissing and nipping at her neck. She loved seeing him so needy and undone for her. It made her feel powerful. “You’re so responsive.” she murmured against him.

Spencer took his turn, taking his lips to her neck. He kissed and sucked along her neck, definitely leaving marks. “God, that’s new..” she moaned out.

Spence chuckled, feeling a rush of pride at her words. “You like it?”

Elle smiled, sultry in nature. “Oh yeah.”

“Good,” he murmured, his lips moving down to her collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites in their wake.

Part of him was nervous about crossing into that territory with her, but a bigger part was just fueled by desire and need. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he wanted to feel her body against his in every way possible.“Spence... “ she whispered, her voice dripping with desire.

He ran his hands up her thighs, his fingers gripping her hips as he held her in place. She leaned in closer, her lips finding his ear as she whispered, “Don’t hold back. I want everything you’ve got.”

Spencer’s hands slid up under her t-shirt, feeling her warm bare skin. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice ragged with lust.

“Positive,” she replied, her voice low and sultry. She rocked against his hips, feeling the now hard evidence of his desire. “I want you. I need you.”

He couldn’t resist any longer, his hands moving to the hem of her, well his, shirt and tugging it over her head, exposing her bare skin to his hungry eyes. He threw the shirt on the floor. With Elle in a bra and some short shorts, he nearly drooled at the sight. He gripped the back of her thighs, using all of her strength to pick her up. Elle gasped as she was lifted in the air, surprised at Spencer’s strength.

He walked them towards the bedroom, his lips never once leaving her collarbone. Spencer laid her gently on the bed, hovering over her, before crawling his way on top of her. He admired her hair that fell around her head, almost like a halo. Elle smirked before, pushing him, now on top of him. “That’s more like it.” she whispered.

“You like being in charge, don’t you?” he asked, provoking a response from him.

Spencer fidgeted with the waist band of her shorts. “I can’t wait to take these off of you. I need you so badly.”

Elle leaned into his ear, her back arching as she bent over top of him. “Lucky for you, I’m not wearing anything under these.” she whispered, teasing him.

He let out a low growl, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "God, you're relentless," he mumbled, his breath shaky with desire.

Elle smirked. “Relentless? C’mon Doctor, give me some better synonyms. And maybe you’ll get to see all of me.”

"Ruthless, relentless, voracious..” he paused, looking her up and down. "Is that good enough, or do I need to come up with even more synonyms before you show me what you're hiding under those shorts?"

Elle smiled, a low, sultry chuckle leaving her body. "You're such a dork..."

He then suddenly flipped them over, his body pinning hers to the bed, his hands pinning her wrists above her head. “And you love it.”

Elle bit her lip, and they kiss again, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Spencer groaned into the kiss, his hands pinning her wrists tightly against the mattress. He felt her teeth grab onto his lower lip, biting him. They pull away, Spencer tasting copper on his lips. He touched his finger tips to his mouth, pulling them away to see a little bit of blood. Elle flashed a look of nervousness. Spencer looked down at her, letting out a smile, licking his lips. “You bit me.” he said.

He brushed a gentle kiss onto her lips, her now tasting the metallic. “You’re gonna pay for that.” his voice low, driving Elle wild.

He released her wrists, his hands moving to the waistband of her shorts. His fingers slowly pulled them down. Elle made quick work of his shirt, and started unbuttoning his work pants. She leaned in, her mouth trailing kisses down his chest, and her tongue tracing a path down to his stomach.

Spence sat her up, his hands slowly unclasping her bra, and tossing it to the side. He set her back down, sitting up himself, to admire her like a work of art. Spencer was still so in awe of how he managed to pull someone like her into his world. In the past, he would have marked her way out of his league. Now he was here, obsessively eye f*cking her body. He looked at her, his eyes roaming over her body, like he was trying to memorize every single inch of her.

“Putting that eidetic memory to work, hm?” she asked him, her nails digging into his back.

"I couldn't forget a single detail about you if I wanted to," he murmured, his mouth attaching to her collarbone. "Every inch of you is etched into my brain, permanently. Forever."

She ran her fingers through his hair, holding him close. "Keep going," she whispered, her voice strained. "I need you, now."

Spencer moved his mouth to her now bare breasts, feeling the soft skin under his lips. His left hand migrated onto her inner thigh, feeling her heat she had building. She found herself bucking her hips up at him. She reached for the drawer, digging around with taking her mouth off of Spencer’s body, until she felt the small packet between her finger tips. He knew that this was it, the moment they were both craving, as he felt a pang of excitement and nervousness.

Spence gently took the packet from her and tore it open with shaking hands. He looked into her eyes, making sure she was ready, his mind focused. With one final movement, Spence slowly entered her. He let out a gasp, the feeling of her surrounding him almost overwhelming. He paused, letting her adjust to him. He could see her eyes roll back gently into her head, her mouth agape at the sensation. He felt her clench around him, telling him how desperate she was for him. “You feel so incredible. f*ck.” he whispered, his voice strained at the feeling.

Slowly, he moved his hips, building a steady, even rhythm as he moved. He leaned down, capturing her lips with his. He heard her gasp, and he pulled away. “Are you okay?”

Elle nodded, her eyes dark with pleasure. "I'm... ," she managed to gasp out, a nasty moan leaving her mouth.

Elle felt as if her body was on fire. It had been so long since she had sex with someone, and this being sex with her partner felt so more intimate. She knew she would be sore tomorrow, but she did not care. Him inside her felt incredible, and she wasn’t going to let him go. Spencer continued at a steady pace, her moans and cries becoming louder, along with her demands. “Harder,” she asked between cries of pleasure. “Harder!”

He picked up the pace, his hips moving with more force behind them. He could feel himself getting closer, but he was determined to make sure she reached her climax first. She felt closer the edge, her mind and body filled with pure ecstasy. He could feel her clench around him. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go, Carissima, I got you.”

The usage of Latin spilled her over the edge. Elle gasped as she reached her peak, her body shuddering with pleasure. He felt her nails dig into his back, and he did exactly what she wanted. He gently eased himself out of her, collapsing down onto the bed beside her. He could feel her trembling from her high, and he moved his hand towards her stomach, feeling it move up and down with every breath she took. Spence's fingers lazily traced circles on her stomach possessively, his touch gentle and soothing. “Are you okay?” he asked, feeling her skin was slick from a light sheen of sweat.

“Yeah,” she gasped, her voice. “I’m great.”

Elle felt the coolness of her sweat, and Spencer’s fingers tracing circles near her belly button. She turned to him, moving to cuddle into him. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, feeling the heat coming off of her. His hand ran through her hair, gently untangling the locks. Spencer looked down at her naked form. She was sweating lightly, and his eye caught her belly piercing, causing him to smirk. "You know, I've always wondered about this piercing. How long have you had it?"

Elle looked down at it, her hand pushing on her stomach so she could get a better view of it. “This? I got it when I was sixteen. I was at a party, and this girl was giving people piercings.” Elle smiled at the memory, remembering she also ended up in her bed that night. “I let her do it, and my mom found out. She was so pissed off.” she laughed.

Spencer chuckled, tracing patterns into her hip. “Did you get any others?”

"No, just the one," Elle chuckled, tracing her fingers over the small barbell. “Except my ears, of course.”

"How come you never got any others? Didn't want your mom to have a coronary?" he teased.

Elle smiled, looking up at him. “You’ve never been at the other end of a Cuban immigrant mother. I thought she was going to murder me.”

He moved his hand up to her stomach, gently tracing her belly button, the barbell there brushing against his fingertips. “I’m so glad you still have it. It’s so cute.”

"You think it's cute, eh?" she teased. "I never figured you to be into body piercings, Doctor Reid."

“What can I say,” he smiled. “And you’ve got the perfect body for it. It suits you.”

Elle smirked. “Me haces sentir tan especial, chico maravilla.” she whispered into his ear, cuddling into him more.

"You are special," he said, his voice soft. "Especially when you talk like that."

Elle knew he loved to hear her speak her mother’s tongue. She thought it might have something to do with the fact that it was one thing she could outsmart the genius in, besides apparently chess. When he begged to hear more, she grinned playfully at his request. "Que quieres que diga?" she teased, her voice low and sultry.

“Anything. I just want to hear your voice. It’s like gospel to me.”

“Estás desesperado por escucharme, eh?” she asked, leaning into him once more, a smile playing on her lips. “Voy a sacudir tu mundo, mi niño bonito…”

And that’s exactly what she does.

Chapter 10: thick skull

Chapter Text

Elle and Spencer were walking down the streets of Brooklyn with little year and a half old Camilo. They were in town to visit Elle’s mother, who insisted on seeing her grandbaby. Camilo was asleep in his stroller as the couple walked. They made it to Mariana’s home, and Elle knocked on the door softly. Elle's mother opened the door, a huge smile on her face as she laid eyes on her daughter and her son-in-law. She immediately cooed as she spotted Camilo, asleep in the stroller. "Mija! Spencer!" she exclaimed, pulling them both into a tight hug. "And Camilo! Oh, you've gotten so big!"

Mariana ushered them in, gushing over her grandson as they made their way to the living room. Elle noticed the smell of cigarettes from her old childhood home was gone. She observed Mariana quit smoking after Camilo was born. She sat down on the couch, holding Camilo in her lap as he stirred awake. Spence sat down beside her, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind her. Camilo looked around after a moment, his eyes falling to his abuela. He blinks before letting out a small giggle, his dimples mirroring his mothers as he smiled. Mariana chuckled, reaching out to touch Camilo's cheek. "Ay, mi bebe," she cooed. "You're awake now, hm?"

Mariana looks up at Spencer and Elle. “He looks so much like his mother, except for those eyes and those curls,” she looks at Spencer, grinning. “That’s all you, hombre joven.”

"But his personality is all Elle."

Elle laughed, bouncing Camilo on her knee. "What's that supposed to mean?" she teased.

“Oh trust me, that’s all genetics. She’s practically a carbon copy of her father.” Mariana said, kissing her daughter on the head.

Elle rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help smiling at her mother's words. "Well, I guess I can't argue with you there," she said, bouncing Camilo on her knee again.

Spencer holds his finger to his son, Camilo gripping on to it. “Papa!” he cheered, a giggle leaving his little body.

Camilo had just started talking a little while ago, and that was his first word, much as Elle tried to make it “Mamá”. Camilo eventually got there. Mariana shook her head. "You two are going to be in trouble when he starts talking more," she warned, shaking her finger at them jokingly.

Elle suddenly was hit with momentary dizzy spell. She wobbled slightly on the couch, grabbing onto Camilo to steady herself. “Hey, are you okay?” Spencer asked, concern laced in his voice.

Mariana stood from her spot on the arm of the sofa. “Let me grab her some water.” she said before heading into the kitchen.

Elle nodded, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her voice shaky. "Just got a little lightheaded for a second."

Mariana came back, a glass of water in her hand. She traded off the water for her grandson, making sure Elle took a couple sips. "Are you sure you're alright, mija? Maybe you should eat something."

“You could be right,” Elle looked to Spencer, who’s face still was full of concern. “I’m okay, really.”

Spence looked unconvinced, but he didn't press the issue further. "Alright, but just take it easy, okay?" he said, rubbing her back lightly.

Elle simply nodded, looking back at Camilo who was sitting on his grandmother’s hips. Spencer saw Camilo making grabby hands towards him, and Spencer went ahead to take him. Spencer stood up with him, bouncing him lightly. “Your Mama’s fine, sweet boy.” he whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

Mariana lead her daughter to the kitchen to help make her a small meal. Elle sat down at the breakfast nook, watching Spence bounce Camilo in his arms in the living room. She felt a pang of guilt for worrying him. Mariana grabbed a couple slices of bread to make her some toast. “I’m sorry, Mamá.” Elle said, feeling a wave of guilt.

Mariana looked over at her daughter, her expression softening. "What are you sorry for, mija?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice, putting the slices into the toaster. "You got dizzy, that's all. It happens to the best of us."

“I know, I just feel bad worrying you and Spencer.”

Mariana chuckled at her daughter’s response. “That’s our job. If were didn’t worry, would that be better?”

Elle couldn't help but let out a small laugh at her mother's response. "No, I suppose not."

Mariana set the toast in front of her, and Elle took a small bite of the toast, feeling suddenly famished. Mariana looked at her daughter momentarily, taking her in completely. Elle noticed her mom’s studying eyes. “What?”

Mariana pursed her lips before smiling lightly. "You look different, mija," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Elle's heart skipped a beat at her mother's words, and she felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks. "Different?"

"Yes, different," she said, her eyes still studying her daughter. "You've put on some weight, haven't you?"

Elle felt her stomach clench at her mother's words, and she instinctively placed a hand on her abdomen. She knew she had gained a few pounds lately, but she hadn't realized it was that noticeable. "Maybe a little." she said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Mariana raised an eyebrow at her daughter's response, clearly not believing her. "Are you sure it's just a little, mija?" she teased, her eyes darting meaningfully towards Elle's belly.

Elle felt another wave of self-consciousness wash over her, shifting uncomfortable in her seat. “I’ve just be eating better, is all.”

"And you're sure that's all it is?" she asked, a knowing look in her eyes. "But I think you know exactly what I mean, right mija?" she teased.

Elle had been trying to hide it, but it seemed that her mother's intuition was still as sharp as ever. Elle finished her toast, finally managing to look up at her mother. Mariana leaned in closer to how daughter? “How long?”

Elle took a deep breath, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. "Five weeks," she said quietly. "I found out five weeks ago."

“And how long are you along now?”

Elle couldn't help but smile at her mother's playful tone. "Twelve weeks," she replied. "Well, almost 12 weeks."

Mariana's eyes widened once again. "Twelve weeks? That's quite a while to keep this a secret, mija."

Elle placed her hands on her stomach, feeling the gentle rounded curve of it. “I know, I know. I’m just trying to figure out when to tell Spencer.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

Elle and Mariana turned to see Spencer standing in the doorway with Camilo, who was sound asleep on his shoulder, a smile on his face. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Spencer chuckled, his smile widening. "Long enough to hear that you've been keeping secrets from me, apparently."

He entered the room, gently transferring Camilo into Mariana's arms before taking a seat next to Elle. She couldn't help but smile in return, feeling her heart flutter at Spencer's playful tone. "I'm sorry," she said, fidgeting with her napkin. "I just...I didn't know how to tell you, and I was nervous."

“Elle Greenaway? Nervous?” Spencer teased, wrapped an arm around her waist.

Elle rolled her eyes playfully but leaned into his embrace. "Very funny, Spence," she said, swatting at his arm.

Elle leaned into his embrace, feeling comfortable as her nerves eased up. Spencer chuckled and tugged her closer, his hand resting gently on her stomach. "So, when were you going to tell me that you're pregnant, Greenaway?" he asked, his tone soft and teasing.

Elle felt her heart flutter again as Spencer's hand rested on her stomach. “Well, Reid,” using his last name teasingly in return. “I was going to tell you at some point while we were here.”

"Is that so?" he replied, pretending to be offended. He squeezed her against his side gently. "And here I thought we were supposed to share everything with each other."

Elle rolled her eyes again, but she couldn't help but smile at his playful tone. "We are," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "I just...I don't know. I didn't want to overwhelm you."

Spencer chuckled. “Overwhelm me? Elle, you’re the one carrying Tapeworm number two. I should be worried that you’re not overwhelmed.”

Elle couldn't help but laugh at the nickname. "Tapeworm number two," she repeated, shaking her head. "I feel like I should be offended, but I can't deny it's pretty damn accurate."

Spencer smiled. “You know, I was already suspecting something like this.”

Elle’s eyes widened. “You did? Since when?”

Spencer looked at Mariana, who wasn’t that far away with Camilo. He leaned into Elle’s ear. “A week or so ago when I held you on top of me..” he whispered, smiling.

Elle felt her cheeks flush at Spencer's whispered words. She remembered the moment he was referring to all too well. They had been in bed together, and he had playfully held her on top of him, his hands resting on her hips. “Oh…”

He chuckled, his smile widening. "Oh, I definitely noticed," he replied. "You were extra sensitive that night."

"I...I was?" she said weakly, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

He moved closer to her, his hand resting on her thigh. “Darling, it barely took you three minutes before you-”

Elle covered his mouth. “Shut up,” she whispered through her teeth. “My mother is right there.”

She could feel Spencer smile under her hand. Despite her embarrassment, Elle couldn't help but laugh a little. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Mariana wasn't watching them, but her mother had her back turned and was busy fussing over Camilo, who was giggling away. Spencer kissed her cheek before whispering “Three minutes is definitely a new record.”

Elle shushed him again. “Spencer Walter Reid, shut your mouth,” she whispered back, looking to her mother, before a smile tugged on her lips. “Three minutes, really? I’m never gonna hear the end of it, am I?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying teasing her. "Are you kidding, Elle Francesca Greenaway? This is golden ammunition! I'm never going to let you forget it."

Mariana eventually joined them, with Camilo giggling away. “You two are cozy.”

Spencer smiled, his hand quickly moving back to Elle’s waist. “Yeah, we were just talking, right?”

Elle blushed. “Yeah, Spencer was just telling me how excited he was about the baby.”

Mariana raised an eyebrow, but decided to not push it further, instead turning to Camilo in her arms. "He's such a happy baby," she said, tickling Camilo's belly. "I'm so lucky to have a grandson as perfect as he is."

"He's growing so fast," Elle said, running a gentle hand over Camilo's fuzzy head. “And now we get to do it again.” Her hand subconsciously moved to her stomach.

Mariana smiled. “Twelve weeks,” she paused, putting her nursing job to work. “You don’t find out the gender until a couple weeks. Are you hoping for another boy, or a girl?”

Elle smiled, looking at her son. “I’d be happy with either, but I kind of already think it’s a girl,” She looks at Spencer sweetly. “Just a gut feeling.”

Spencer smiled back at her, his eyes soft and warm as he watched her. He reached out and placed his hand over hers, entwining their fingers. “I kind of would love a girl too.”

Camilo squealed, flapping his hands similar to how his father does. Elle chuckled. “I think he does too.”

Mariana chuckled along with Elle, noticing the similarity in Camilo's hand movement to Spencer's. "Looks like he's already taking after daddy," she said.

Spencer smiled. At one point, he felt that his stims and habits were embarrassing. He felt it made him more outcasted from everyone, but now seeing his son doing the same thing had really changed his perspective on how he viewed himself. “Yeah he does.” he said, squeezing Elle’s hand.

Mariana transferred Camilo to Elle's arms, and the little boy immediately snuggled against her chest. Spencer chuckled and wrapped his arm around them both, pulling them closer. Mariana looked at the three, well four, of them together, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness. "You two are going to make great parents again."

Elle and Spencer looked to each other, a smile on both of their faces. They leaned in, sharing a sweet kiss between them. Camilo snuggled deeper into his Mamá’s arms, feeling her content and relaxed. They pulled away and Elle couldn’t help but look around to the people she loved. She shifted a hand down to her belly once more, feeling the newness of the curve in her body. She reflected on her life up to now and smiled to herself.

They were going to be okay.