Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

Let It Blow Over

Stephie

The car hums quietly beneath us as Spencer drives, his hands steady on the wheel. I keep my gaze fixed out the window, watching the blurred lights of the city pass by, trying to focus on anything but the knot of tension tightening in my chest. The warehouse, my father's voice, his final threat—they play over and over in my mind like a broken record.

Spencer's voice cuts through the haze. "You're on edge. Talk to me."

I tense up. Of course, he'd notice. Spencer has always been perceptive, too perceptive for his own good. I thought that maybe, with him driving, I could avoid this conversation. But there's no escape. I feel his eyes on me, briefly darting from the road to my face, searching for any sign that I'm ready to open up.

"I'm fine," I lie, the words automatic, but I know they sound hollow. He deserves more than that, but I can't—no, I won't burden him with what's going on in my head.

"You can't fool me, Stephie," he says softly, his voice tinged with concern. "I know you're scared."

I swallow hard, forcing down the emotions threatening to rise to the surface. "Spencer, please. I just... I just need a moment."

He doesn't push, but I can feel the weight of his worry pressing down on me. It's suffocating, knowing he's waiting for something, anything, that will tell him I'm okay. But the truth is, I don't know if I'm okay. I don't know if I ever will be. We drive in silence for a few more minutes, the tension thickening between us. The BAU is getting closer, and with it, the reality of what's to come—what my father might say, the questions that will follow, and the consequences that could unravel everything I've worked so hard to protect.

"I can't lose you," Spencer says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. My stomach drops right out of my body. The words hang in the air, a confession that cuts deeper than I expected. I finally turn to look at him, and the pain in his eyes nearly breaks me. He's afraid, too.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice cracking. "For sneaking out, for not telling you the truth sooner. I just... I didn't know how."

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "You don't have to apologize. I just want you to trust me, Stephie."

"I do trust you," I say, and I mean it. But there's a part of me that's terrified—terrified that if I let him in, if I let him see everything, he'll realize how broken I really am.

We pull into the parking lot of the BAU, and I feel a cold dread settle over me. The building looms ahead, a place that once felt like a sanctuary but now feels like a prison. My father's words echo in my mind.

If I go down, you go down with me.

Spencer parks the car and turns to me, his eyes searching mine. I wait for him to say something, anything, hell he could say something cheesy right now and I wouldn't even be mad.
He remains silent.

"Ready?" he asks, reaching for the door handle.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Yeah. Let's get this over with."

As we step out of the car, the cool night air hits me, and I pull my jacket tighter around me. Spencer walks beside me, his hand brushing against mine, offering silent support. I'm grateful for it, more than I can express, but the knot in my stomach only tightens.

Inside, the BAU is quiet, the usual bustle of activity reduced to a few late-night agents and the hum of computers. We head towards the interrogation rooms, where I know my father is being held. The closer we get, the heavier my steps feel, like I'm walking towards my own execution.