𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 ➵ 𝓼. 𝓻𝓮𝓲𝓭

Chapter 9: I Can't Dance

EMILY HEARS A repeat of the words you had told her in the SUV on the way here, but everyone else just hears an announcement that doesn't make any sense.

"Why are you bleeding?" Morgan inquires, pulling a bandage from his bag and beginning to wrap it around your hand, unsure of where the blood was even pouring from. He notices the way everyone eyes him like he's Mary Poppins before looking shameful and opening his mouth, "Garcia packs my bag for me..."

You press your lips together to stifle a laugh before remembering what had happened just a few moments ago, prompting you to run a hand through your hair and peer through the curtains.

"Explain to us what happened." Hotch states.

And so you do, you explain everything, excluding the specifics about what shoes you wear. Everyone takes in the information carefully, and when you are finally done, silence dominates the room.

"Okay, I know I just told you some whacked out story, but someone's gotta say something."

Morgan presses his lips to his knuckles before looking down at where you sit on the bed, "You did what to my phone?"

"Sorry Derek, but in all fairness I'm being stalked by my serial killer dad, I think it's pretty justified." You argue, standing up to meet his eyes.

"But my phone, man..." he mumbles, but backs off after you glare at him.

JJ seems to ignore the bickering, "He knows what room we're in, but does he know which motel, I mean, maybe he just heard the room number on the phone and went with it?"

"Whatever it is, we shouldn't take any risks."
Hotch chimes in, smoothing a crease out of his suit and placing his hand on the door handle, "We should go somewhere safe."

"You don't get it, do you?" You scoff, pinching the bridge of your nose and plopping down on the hard mattress.

Hotch glances around at the rest of the team who are equally confused as they all stay silent, allowing you to continue.

"This place was meant to be safe. And it's not. Because of him. Because of me." You motion to your body that still subtly shakes from the adrenaline rush you had received a short while ago, "How many 'safe' places do we have to go for you to realise we'll be safer in a crowded mall than we will be in any safe house?"

Everyone looks at you with sympathy, unable to understand how you feel, but trying nonetheless.

"That's it. A crowded place, not necessarily a mall but if it's crowded, it's safe." Spencer begins.

"You've got to be kidding me." You say, sighing and falling onto your back.

"No," he assures, "Your father has social anxiety, right?"

"Yeah it runs in the family. Unlike the cogs in his brain that are supposed to prevent him from murdering women, but I'm happy to see where you're going with this, Doctor."

He glances at you wearily and purses his lips before continuing, like something threw him off, "He can't strike in public places. Think about it, he taunted you when you were alone outside the station, he taunted you inside of the station when the majority of workers weren't there, and he's taunting you now, in an abandoned motel."

"Reid's onto something." Morgan says.

"I'm not onto something," Spencer answers in return, "I have something."

You raise your eyebrows as you return to a sitting position, unable to hide the smirk that forms at Spencer's sassy side. It doesn't show often, but when it does, it's a blessing in disguise.