Closer - A Spencer Reid story (2)

16

The unsub's latest message came in the form of a plain white envelope, slipped under Yn's apartment door. She had been running on adrenaline since joining the BAU team to help with the case, but this one act of invasion stopped her in her tracks. The letter, filled with chilling precision, referenced moments from her past with Spencer—small, intimate details only he would know, now twisted and taunted in the unsub's scrawl.

She clenched the letter, her hands trembling with a cocktail of fear and anger. She'd faced threats before, but this was different. This wasn't just a reminder of her past; it was a direct line to the memories she had tried so hard to bury, and it made her feel violated, vulnerable in a way she hadn't felt in years.

Yn arrived at the BAU's briefing room, her face a mask of cold fury, her eyes barely meeting Spencer's as she handed him the letter. He took it, his expression tight as he scanned the contents, his brow furrowing deeper with every line. His mouth set in a grim line as he looked up at her.

"Yn, I—" he began, but she cut him off, her tone sharper than she intended.

"You knew all of these things, Spencer," she said, keeping her voice low enough to avoid attention from the team members in the room. "The unsub is getting these details from somewhere, and it sure as hell isn't me."

He looked wounded but resolute. "I haven't told anyone those things, Yn. I would never compromise your privacy like that. Whoever this is, they're not just targeting me; they're targeting us."

Her glare softened, only slightly, but her voice stayed steady. "I want to believe that, Spencer. I want to believe you, but this... this is pushing me over the edge. It's like I can't breathe without this person turning every memory I've ever had into something toxic."

Spencer looked down, his shoulders tense, before speaking in a low, intense voice. "You think this isn't affecting me, too? You think I'm just going to stand here and let them drag us through the mud, reliving every mistake I made?"

Yn's eyes flashed. "Well, you're certainly good at avoiding them, aren't you?"

His jaw clenched as he met her gaze. "Avoiding it? How many times can I say I'm sorry? I've tried to move on, but I can't change what happened."

There it was—the unspoken wound between them. She couldn't help but feel her heart tighten at his words, frustration bubbling over. This wasn't what she had signed up for. She had expected a professional distance, but instead, she felt trapped, every line between personal and professional blurring in a way that made her skin crawl.

"You know what, Spencer?" she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I'm done tiptoeing around this. The unsub is trying to use our past to hurt us, and I'm not going to pretend like it doesn't hurt. But what really hurts is that it feels like you still haven't learned anything. I'm here, working on this case, and all I feel is the same betrayal I felt years ago."

He took a step closer, his voice quiet but intense. "You think I don't feel that every day? You think I haven't paid for it a thousand times over? Yn, I never wanted to hurt you. I—"

His voice broke, and for a moment, he looked like the Spencer she remembered from years ago—vulnerable, open, and full of regret. She looked away, unwilling to let him see her own pain reflected in her eyes.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered, fighting back tears.

"I want to protect you," he replied, his voice raw. "I don't know how to do that if you keep pushing me away."

"Maybe because being close to you hurts more than being alone, Spencer." Her voice shook as she spoke, and his face twisted with pain.

They stood in silence, the weight of their unresolved feelings bearing down on them. Finally, Spencer reached out, his hand hovering over hers, and she felt a familiar warmth, a pull that made her heart race. The intensity of the moment seemed to fill the space between them, and without thinking, she took a step closer, her eyes flicking to his lips.

And in that instant, the floodgates opened. Spencer's hand cupped her face, and his lips met hers in a kiss that felt both fierce and tender, a culmination of everything left unsaid. The kiss was intoxicating, filled with years of pent-up emotion—regret, longing, and a kind of love that had never really faded.

But as quickly as the kiss had started, Yn pulled away, breathing heavily, her face flushed. Her hand came to her mouth as if to shield herself from the storm of emotions crashing through her.

"I can't do this, Spencer," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I can't let myself fall back into something that broke me once. This unsub is already in my head, twisting every memory we ever had. I don't need you doing the same."

Spencer's face was shadowed with pain, his hand falling back to his side as he looked away, struggling to compose himself. "Yn, please—don't let the unsub win. They want us divided, broken. That's exactly what they're counting on."

"Maybe," she replied, her voice steely. "But maybe I need to be broken to know I'm strong enough to move on."

She turned to leave, but Spencer's voice stopped her, soft but intense. "Yn, I know you're hurt. I know I was the one who caused it, and that's something I'll have to live with. But I've changed. I've grown. And I just... I just want you to know that I still care. No matter what happens."

She looked back at him, her expression unreadable. "I know you care, Spencer. But caring doesn't erase the past."

With that, she walked out, leaving Spencer standing alone in the dim light, the echo of her footsteps haunting the silence.

The days that followed were tense, the air between them thick with unresolved emotions. Yn threw herself into the case, trying to drown out the memory of that kiss, the way his touch had reignited feelings she thought she'd buried. But no matter how hard she tried, her mind kept drifting back to that moment, her heart aching with the weight of what might have been.

Spencer, too, was struggling. His guilt hung heavy over him, and the pain of seeing Yn every day without being able to reach out to her was unbearable. Every glance, every brush of her hand as they worked together reminded him of how deeply he still felt for her, how much he wanted to make things right. But he knew, deep down, that his apologies and his feelings might never be enough.

And as the unsub's taunts continued, they only grew bolder, more personal. Each message seemed to cut deeper, twisting the knife in ways that left both Yn and Spencer feeling vulnerable, raw, and exposed.

One evening, as Yn was pouring over case files in the BAU's dimly lit office, Spencer approached her, his expression weary but determined. She looked up, her gaze wary, but she didn't say anything, waiting for him to speak.

"Yn," he began, his voice soft, "I know I'm the last person you want to talk to right now, but I can't stand by and let you carry this weight alone. We're stronger together. I can't lose you, not again."

She looked at him, a storm of emotions swirling in her eyes. "Spencer, this isn't just about the case. It's about us. It's about everything we left unfinished, everything we never dealt with. And now, with the unsub targeting us, it's like every scar has been ripped open again."

"I know," he replied, his voice choked with emotion. "I know I failed you before. But I want to be here for you now, in whatever way you'll let me."

Yn took a shaky breath, feeling her defenses begin to crumble. She wanted to believe him, wanted to let him in. But the fear of being hurt again, of letting herself be vulnerable, held her back.

"I need time," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I can trust you with my heart again. Not after everything."

Spencer nodded, understanding etched into his face. "Take all the time you need. Just know... I'm not going anywhere."

Their eyes met, a silent promise passing between them. Yn felt a glimmer of hope, a tiny sliver of possibility that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to heal.

But as she turned back to her work, a dark sense of foreboding settled over her. She knew the unsub was still out there, watching, waiting, ready to strike again. And as much as she wanted to let Spencer back in, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning—that the worst was yet to come.