Closer - A Spencer Reid story (2)

12

Late one evening, the BAU office was quieter than usual, with only the hum of computers and the low murmur of agents talking softly in the distance. Spencer and Yn found themselves alone in the conference room, sifting through files, coffee cups, and scribbled notes as they tried to piece together the pattern that would lead them to the unsub. The killer had been meticulously targeting people with connections to Spencer and Yn, toying with them in a way that was both deeply personal and unnervingly precise.

Yn glanced over at Spencer, noting the exhaustion etched into his face. His brows were knit in concentration, his fingers tracing lines across a map as he muttered observations to himself. Even now, years after they had parted ways, she could still recognize that unique spark of intensity he carried, the way he lost himself entirely in his work. She felt a pang of something familiar, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time. But this wasn't just Spencer's case—it was hers, too. The unsub was targeting her, manipulating their shared past to add another layer to their twisted game.

"I keep thinking that there's something we're missing," Yn said, breaking the silence. Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if anything louder would shatter the fragile quiet between them. "It's like... she's pulling strings we can't see yet."

Spencer looked up, nodding. "She's always one step ahead, almost as if she knows what we're going to do before we even do it. It's unsettling how close to home she's getting."

They shared a glance, the intensity of the moment drawing them closer. The light from the computer screen cast a faint glow across Spencer's face, highlighting the worry etched there. Yn could see the weight of the case pressing down on him, the tension in his shoulders, the haunted look in his eyes. It was a look she knew well—a look that told her he was carrying more than just the pressure of the case. He was carrying memories, too.

"It feels like we're being baited," Yn continued, her voice laced with frustration. "Like every clue she leaves is designed to throw us off her trail, to keep us chasing shadows."

Spencer sighed, rubbing his forehead. "She's smart. Too smart. And she knows how to get under my skin." He looked away, his voice softening. "She knows about us, Yn. She knows what we meant to each other."

The admission hung in the air, thick with an unspoken tension that neither of them could deny. Yn felt her chest tighten as the weight of their shared history pressed down on her, memories flooding back with each passing second. She glanced down, focusing on the file in front of her, but her mind was far from the pages.

"I thought I'd moved on," she murmured, almost to herself. "But... this case... you... it's brought everything back."

Spencer's gaze softened, his eyes searching hers. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I wonder if we ever really let go or if we just buried it deep enough to pretend we did."

Yn felt her heart skip a beat at his words. She wanted to pull away, to put distance between them before the emotions swirling inside her took control, but something held her in place. They had spent so long pretending, so long burying their feelings under layers of professionalism and unresolved pain. And here they were, face to face with everything they had left unsaid.

Spencer reached out, his hand hovering over hers, his fingers barely grazing her skin. The touch was tentative, as if he were testing the waters, unsure of where this might lead. Yn didn't pull away, and that only seemed to embolden him. His hand settled over hers, warm and steady, grounding her in a way she hadn't felt in years.

"Yn," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, "I still... think about us."

Her breath caught, and she looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a vulnerability there that she hadn't seen before, a rawness that made her heart ache. She wanted to respond, to tell him that she felt the same, that she hadn't truly let go of what they once had. But the pain of his betrayal still lingered, a sharp reminder of the past that kept her from crossing that line.