Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

Safe Haven

Stephie

The safe house is a small, an unassuming cabin tucked away in the woods. As soon as we step inside, the tension that's been gnawing at my insides for days doesn't ease up. Instead, it tightens, like a noose around my neck. Spencer gently shuts the door behind us, and I feel his eyes on me, searching for something, reassurance, maybe? Answers? I can't even tell anymore.

The silence is heavy, interrupted only by the soft creak of the wooden floor as we move through the space. Spencer doesn't say anything at first, just walks over to the couch and sits down. He looks exhausted, his normally sharp eyes dulled by everything that's happened. I wish I could go to him, curl up in his arms, and pretend this nightmare isn't real, but I know that's not an option anymore. Not with everything out in the open.

I drop my bag by the door, feeling the weight of the day dragging me down. The urge to run—to escape all of this—is overwhelming, but I force myself to move forward, to sit down beside Spencer. The space between us feels like a chasm.

"I'm sorry," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. I know it's not enough, not even close, but I don't have anything else to give.

Spencer looks at me, really looks at me, and I can see the hurt in his eyes. "I know you are," he says quietly. "But that doesn't make this any easier, Stephie."

I nod, swallowing hard. "I never wanted you to find out like this. I thought...I thought if I could just keep it buried, I could protect you."

He shakes his head, a small, sad smile on his lips. "You can't protect me by shutting me out. That's not how this works."

This?

The tears I've been holding back start to spill over, and I quickly swipe them away with the back of my hand. "I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want you to think of me differently."

"You're still the same person to me," he says, and I can hear the conviction in his voice. "But you can't keep hiding things."

I nod again, feeling the truth of his words settle in. "I know. I just... I'm so scared, Spencer. He's my father. And I know what he's capable of."

Spencer reaches out, his hand finding mine and squeezing it gently. His actions alone are a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge. I squeeze his hand back, holding on to that promise.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says softly.

I want to believe him—I need to believe him. Spencer's reassurance should be comforting, but the dread gnawing at my insides only intensifies. I want to believe we'll get through this, but my father isn't just another criminal; he's a force of nature, one that's always had a dark hold over me. No matter how far I've run, his shadow has always loomed behind me.

Spencer stands, still holding my hand, and leads me to the small kitchen. "You should eat something," he says gently. "You haven't had anything all day."

I nod, though the thought of food makes my stomach churn. But I go through the motions, accepting the sandwich he makes and trying to swallow a few bites. The silence between us is different now—no longer thick with unspoken secrets, but still heavy with the weight of what's to come.

"Do you think they'll catch him?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly. It's a question I've been afraid to ask, but I need to hear the answer, even if it terrifies me.

Spencer pauses, then sits across from me at the small table, his expression thoughtful. "We have one of the best teams in the world, Stephie. They won't stop until they bring him in. And we have you. You know him better than anyone."