CLANDESTINE : Spencer Reid

58

I don't listen in on the surveillance bugs but I do eavesdrop on the conversations the others share. A mass poisoning that the leader faked, and then the beating Prentiss takes. I don't listen in. I don't think I could bare it, not while seeing the look on Morgan's face while he hears it. Soon enough, they decide that we are running out of time. We are going in at 3:00 AM.

It will be the morning of the nineteenth, one day before my flight out with Estelle. If everything goes smoothly, I can make it.

Rossi and Morgan go in. I put on a bulletproof vest, but I stand outside the building with Hotch.

He explains the plan, and I listen as best as I can.

"Prentiss is going to gather all of the women and children. The men will be escorting them out. Both you and JJ can act as friendly faces, help put the women at ease surrounded by all of these uniformed officers."

I nod my head. It's dark out, and everyone is sneaking through the building. Hotch and I are at the front. JJ is further back at the tents behind us, since a bullet proof vest isn't ideal for a pregnant woman.

"Last time you were in the field with me, you disregarded an order," Hotch looks over. "Should I be worried that you're going to run in there tonight?"

I shake my head, "why would you need to be worried?"

"Because you didn't say no just now. Instead you redirected."

Hotch's voice is always so calm. For a long time, I thought of it as a weakness of his. His inability to emote was always a bit off-putting. Maybe it's because I'm not a profiler. Somewhere, there must be worry in his eyes. At least I'm glad I can't see it. Instead I stand in the quiet air of the night, waiting for something to happen.

The bombs go off. I flinch backwards, covering my eyes as dust kicks into the air. It tastes like salt on my lips. I bump into Hotch, who remains sturdy, bracing me against the wave of heat that flashes against us.

As I pull my hand back, I hear shouting and crying. A stream of women come rushing out the side of the building, some arm in arm, all escorted by officers. I step back from Hotch. This is my time to go, to help the women. The air is smoky, almost chalk from all the powder and debris kicked up into it.

"Reid!" Prentiss calls out. She rounds to the front of the building, stepping in from of Hotch and I. "Morgan?"

Her black hair is a mess, sweaty and sticky, and there is blood on the front of her shirt. Even through the haze, I can see the bruises on her face.

I should go. Hotch told me not disobey him again. I'm supposed to help the women, but Reid isn't with her.

He's in the building still. The building where all the windows were shattered from the force of a bomb, where fire dances across the steps and trees in front of it.

"Morgan?" Prentiss repeats his name, only a shadow of a sound against the roaring light of the fire.

I cough, my hand finding my throat. I don't move in closer. I don't dare.

Two shadows lift from the rubble in front of the building. I'd recognize the outline of Reid anywhere. He's here. Suddenly, again, he is here. Coughing, but Morgan calls out to us, letting us know they are okay. I can't tear my eyes away.

He's here. He's here standing in front of me, his shadow hunched over but him all the same. Prentiss approaches them. I stop myself and look back at Hotch.

"I'll go help the women," I tell him.

My feet pivot before I change my mind.

"You can stay for a minute," Hotch says behind me. "He'll be happy to see you."