City Limits (Spencer Reid Fanfic)

Chapter Nine: Death by Lego and Lightsabers

I probably looked crazy, and truth be told, maybe I was.

After all, what kind of sane person would willingly cake their face in dark makeup and safety-pin a black blanket around themselves, while holding a makeshift lightsaber, constructed from markers and tape, and possibly permanently damage their vocal chords, purely for the entertainment of a child?

Turns out, I would. And turns out watching mini-Hotch was definitely not what I had been anticipating.

"Jack," I drawled out in my best Darth Vader impression, "I am your...babysitter!"

With that, I swung my lightsaber his way, and chuckled as the seven year-old deftly blocked my shot with a strike of his own. I was cool with reenacting Star Wars—in fact, I sort of geeked out at the idea, since I'd had an obsession with Harrison Ford since I was a little girl—but Jack went to the nth degree.

Not only was I stuck with being the most emotionally-disturbed character in science fiction cinematic history, but I was forced to go full-out for my villainous role. Jack demanded that I don the appropriate gear, as he had done, to fulfill his part as the young Jedi. After scrounging around my makeup bag and the D.A's sparse linen closet, I managed to create a pretty decent Darth costume.

And by 'decent,' I mean hideous. If Reid were to catch me in this get-up...

Well, at least I wasn't Chewbacca.

"That's not right, Rae! I'm Luke! And you're Darth Vader, and you're my father," Jack retorted from his position atop the sofa. The two of us were battling it out in the office's kid-friendly waiting room, and despite the workout I was getting from keeping up with him, I was actually having a lot of fun.

"Sorry, dude," I replied, brushing a strand of stray hair out of my eyes.

I was about to correct my mistake, when I tripped over a conveniently-placed bin of Lego.

Before I could regain my balance, and before I could send a 'please be merciful' prayer to God, the bin spilled. My feet had gotten wrapped up in the blanket-cloak I was wearing, and that was really all it took for me to topple down on everything. Face-first.

The last thought I had before falling was something along the lines of: oh, fuck.

On the bright side, at least I was consistent in my clumsiness! I hated inconsistencies. Truly.

Nevertheless, the second the little satanic blocks dug into the entire front of my body, my inner monologue went on pause. Right then, I could only focus on dying.

Through my pain, I barely registered the door flying open, and someone come rushing in.

"Rae? Rae, are you alright?" the person sputtered.

Suddenly, there were hands on me, and I was rolled onto my side and my back.

I screamed as more blocks burrowed into me, the half-discarded blanket doing little to protect my skin, and I swear I saw a bright light beckoning me forth. Then, I was lifted up, and I realized what was happening.

This is it, Rae. You're dead.

It was like I was flying. The feeling of weightlessness washed through me in waves, and I basked in the warm surrounding glow. My nose prickled at a beautiful smell, like old books and cinnamon buns and fresh rain on trees, and I unconsciously buried my face deeper into the heat enveloping me.

I breathed in, and the homey scent overcame me. The surface holding me rumbled, as if someone were laughing, and I reached up to wrap my arms around whatever it was that held me. The thing stiffened under my touch, but after a few soothing strokes on my behalf, it relaxed.