The Chariot (Spencer x Reader)

SEVEN

warning: mentions of death/dying

It had been 10 days since that night at O'Keefe's. The next time I saw Prentiss at work, I apologized, blaming my actions on the alcohol. I don't think she believed me, but nevertheless she accepted my attempt.

"Do you know if Reid is alright, though? He disappeared the other night and he's been acting weird ever since."

"Uh, I'm not sure, sorry," I lied through my teeth.

"Oh, okay. Just figured I'd ask because you two seem to be pretty close these days." The tone of her voice implied ever so slightly that she suspected we were more than just coworkers. Whether that meant friends or what we had actually been doing, I don't know.

She was right though, we had been growing closer ever since our arrangement started. That made it hurt even more when Reid didn't so much as look at me over those 10 days. I often found myself staring at him across the bullpen or the jet, just hoping I would catch his eyes and force him to acknowledge my existence.

I never knew if he heard me that night outside of his apartment. I didn't expect him to forgive me – I could barely forgive myself for what I had said, but I thought that if he heard my muffled apology, he'd at least be able to look at me.

Hotch called Reid and I into his office. Shit.

"Hey, Hotch, what's up?" Spencer sat down at a chair in front of his desk without recognizing my presence in the room.

"I'm sending you two to Colorado to pose as Child Protective Services agents. There was a distress call from a girl in a religious group, The Septarian Sect, and we need both of you to make sure she's safe. You leave in 30."

"Sure thing" I replied. Maybe this alone time would force Spencer to talk to me.

It was just the opposite, as he chose to sit at the other end of the jet from me. How long was he going to punish me for this?

As we disembarked, I mumbled, "can we please just temporarily put this awkwardness behind us? I don't want it getting in the way of the case."

He nodded. So, we dropped off our bags at the hotel and waited for a CPS agent to pick us up and take us to the compound. We talked as little as possible the whole ride, and when we did speak, it was only about the case.

We met the leader, Benjamin Cyrus. He fit the profile of a typical cult leader; charismatic, narcissistic, and manipulative.

I took the lead on the interviews of the young girls, Spencer and I agreeing that they might feel more comfortable around me. The girl we suspected made the 911 call, Jessica, was only 15 years old. During the interview, she proudly stated that she was married to Cyrus, the prophet, and had borne his children. Why would a girl who so clearly worshipped him call the cops?

We only had time for that one interview before Cyrus and a few other men busted into the room carrying semi-automatic rifles.

Looking at us, he pondered, "I just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me about a raid?"

Shock washed over Spencer and my face and we both shook our heads no. It was the truth, Hotch wouldn't send us in here if he knew about a raid.

He took our reactions as genuine, and the men led us and the children down a hatch in the floor and through a tunnel. Just as the hatch closed, I heard gunfire erupting outside.

The tunnel led us to a basement cellar where they held us, not knowing if we would ever leave. I kept my eyes on Spencer the entire time, desperately soaking up the recently distant but still gentle comfort his presence offered me.