From the Shadows

Chapter Three

"Every breath you take, and every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, I'll be watching you." The Police- 'Every Breath You Take'

Spencer had no recollection of falling asleep on his sofa. He creaked open his heavy lidded eyes to find he was laid on his sofa and was still dressed in his work attire from the day before. His revolver was tightly grasped in his hand that rested on his stomach. His right leg dangled over the edge of the sofa, his foot curled in on itself, causing his toes to go numb. He slowly sat himself up, laying his firearm down next to him on the cushion and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Spencer pursed his lips and frowned at the sound of shuffling behind him. Glancing over the back of the sofa, he noticed something had been stuffed under his door. He darted to his feet and grasped his gun. With a speed he hadn't had to use since high school, Spencer reached for the door and threw it open. He held his gun between his shaking hands and held it up, searching every direction outside of his apartment. The only sound to reach his ears was the echoing of his own heavy breathing. With a sigh of defeat, Spencer turned back to his apartment. On the floor at his feet lay a photograph of him. He looked rugged, his white shirt open at the collar and his deep purple tie hidden behind his Kevlar vest. He was running into a warehouse with his gun in his hands. This was after I got out of prison and we went after Mr Scratch. Spencer sighed. He wanted nothing more than to put an end to the harassment. He had managed to ignore the hang up calls as he simply assumed it was a wrong number being called. The shrill sound of his phone ringing startled him. Dashing for his antique corded phone, Spencer held the handset to his ear.

"Hello?" answered Spencer, his voice shaking. His response was heavy breathing on the other end of the line, "Hello?" The breathing continued before ending abruptly with a click. Spencer slowly set the handset back down and swallowed hard. When would it end? He flicked back the sleeve of his blazer to read the time. He wasn't due at the office for another two hours. He slid his blazer off his shoulders and carried it through to his bedroom and dropped it into his laundry basket. He grasped his tie with both hands and tugged at the knot to loosen it before dragging it over his head. His silver watch followed and landed with a soft thud on his bed. Spencer shuffled listlessly into the en suite bathroom and turned on the shower. He dipped his hand in and out of the stream of water to test the temperature. Once the temperature was satisfactory and the steam filled the bathroom, Spencer cast off his shirt, trousers and underwear and stepped into the stream. He gasped as the water instantly pounded off his skin. He pressed his palms to the dark blue tiles to steady himself. He stood for a moment, his head bowed as the water soaked through his hair and dripped from his arms, pooling at his bare feet. Spencer slowly lifted his head and allowed the water to crash against his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and gasped as water entered his mouth. Grabbing his bottle of liquid soap, Spencer scrubbed harshly at his skin until it was red and raw. Exhaustion overcame his limbs once again and he lowered himself to the shower basin. He curled in on himself, his chin on his knees and arms wrapped around his legs. The water lashed against his back.

A breeze ruffled Spencer's curls as he unlocked the door to his car. He peered over the top of the car. He was alone in the parking lot, as he expected for the time of morning. A nagging feeling pulled at his gut. A crawling sensation crept up his spine. He whipped his head around to glance over his shoulder. He could feel the eyes on him again. Unconsciously, his hand slipped down to his satchel where the letters and photographs were tucked away. His eyes narrowed as he tried to see if anyone was behind him. Realising that he was indeed alone, Spencer slung the satchel onto the passenger seat of the car and climbed in. He locked the doors behind him and let out a long sigh.

Spencer cradled his satchel as though his life depended on it as he pushed open the glass doors to the BAU offices. He stole a glance at an office to his left and noted a light on behind closed blinds. He slowly made his way up the few steps required to get to his desired destination. The steel plate on the black door read 'SSA Emily Prentiss- Unit Chief'. Spencer swallowed hard and curled his fingers into a fist. He knocked twice and waited.

"Come in," came the female voice from behind the door. Spencer grasped the cold door handle and pushed the door open. Emily was seated behind her desk, a stack of manila folders in front of her. She glanced up from her paperwork and brushed some of her raven-coloured hair out of her face. Her eyebrows shot up at the sight of the agent in her doorway.

"Spence? Is everything okay?" Emily's dark eyes followed Spencer as he softly closed the door and dropped into a plush armchair in front of her desk. The man looked worn, stretched thin like too little butter spread over too much bread, "Reid? Are you alright? You look-" Emily was quickly cut off.

"Terrible? I know. I've got a problem, Emily." Emily closed the folder that was open in front of her and folded her hands on top, showing that she was listening intently, "I'm being stalked. For weeks, I've been getting hang up calls. Everywhere I go, I'm being watched. Then these started coming." Spencer flipped open his satchel and tugged out the envelopes and the newest photograph. He gently lay them out in front of Emily. He watched as Emily pulled out the polaroids and letters. Her eyes scanned them, then looked up at the man who watched expectantly.

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" asked Emily, her voice tinged with concern.

"How can I when I'm being followed? How can I when all I see when I close my eyes is the beatings I took in prison?"

"I thought you were getting therapy for that?"

"I was but it didn't help. They gave me Ambien to help me sleep but I refuse to take something that I know I have the potential to become dependant on." Spencer's bottom lip quivered uncharacteristically, "I'm scared, Em." In a brief moment, Spencer's shoulders slumped and he buried his head in his hands.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, Reid. Just not today." Spencer lifted his head, his cheeks wet with silent tears.

"What?" snapped Spencer incredulously, "Is it going to take for me to end up dead before anyone will take me seriously?" Spencer rose to his feet, his hands balled into fists by his sides. Emily looked up at him.

"I'm not saying that, Spencer. We're meeting in an hour in the conference room to present our newest case." Spencer's eyes glittered with unshed tears as he straightened up.

"Understood," he responded venomously. Spencer turned on his heel and exited the office, allowing the door to slam shut behind him, the blinds hitting the glass with a clatter. Emily came to her feet and moved over to the window. She parted the blinds slightly to watch her youngest agent dump his satchel on his desk and slump into his swivel chair with his head in his hands.