Hidden // Spencer Reid

Influence

"That's alright, because I love the way you lie." -Eminem

____________________________________________________

"No, Spencer. I don't see your point," I snap, and he sighs.

"This wouldn't be an issue if you just let them figure out whose it is," he counters, and I roll my eyes.

"Don't you realize, Spence? I don't want to live without you, and... and I'm afraid that if it's not ours, I'll have to." I blurt out, then blush. Spencer looks at me with another indescribable emotion on his angelic face.

"That's why we have to do this, Lena. If we go to court, then we can have custody over the little baby inside of there. Alright?" he asks, stepping closer. I nod, and place my hand on the slight bump that is my baby.

"No, Spencer. You're going to have to try harder than that to make me let you go to court for my baby." He looks shocked, hurt almost.

"Just a second ago, it was our baby remember? This is something we do together, not alone. We're a team, you and me. Got it?" He whispers, still looking down at my blushing face. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face into his chest.

"I'm so scared, Spencer."

"Don't be. We're together on this one. Always."

Tears spring into my eyes, and I have much difficulty holding back. One escapes, two, three tears stream down my face, followed by a sudden waterfall of them. "I'm so sorry, Spence," I whisper into his tear-stained shirt. "I'm so sorry."

"Lena, you know we have to do this, right?" I feel his chest vibrate as he speaks, causing me to laugh weakly.

"I'm afraid of losing," I admit quietly, and he pulls my arms off of him. They fall limply to my sides, anxiety getting the best of me. I look up at him, upset that he pulled away from me. But he just grabs my arms and assures me it'll be okay.

"We won't lose," he tells me when I've calmed down. "We have you."

I gain a bit of my natural competitive spirit back at that moment. "Tell me how I'm going to help us," I say, eager to keep the baby inside of me. After all, no matter whose it is, it's mine too, and I'd like to keep it that way.

He looks pained. I don't like it. "Morgan.. Really cares about you. A lot. He responds to you well. He.. loves you. He'll listen to you, Lee. He will."

I instinctively take a step back. "What did you call me?" I hiss, shocked at what I've heard.

He blushes. "L-L-Lee, I-I'm sorry," he stutters.

I take his hand with both of mine. "No, Spence. I'm not mad at you," I whisper, because he looked awfully embarrassed by the way I reacted, or what he said. "That's what Charlotte called me, that's all," I tell him, and he nods.

"D-do you miss her?"

I stare at him as fresh tears well up in my eyes. "Every day."

"Who are you fighting for?" He asks, trying to spark some sort of ambition.

I have much more than necessary. "Charlotte! Baby! Us!" I pause, remembering what Jessica said. "My right to party!" I yell, and Spencer laughs quietly to himself.

"You are some girl, Lena." I blush and look down. He lifts my chin. "There is nobody out there better than you, do you understand me?"

I sniffle. My shoulders shrug slightly.

"Lena Alice Portman, no man ever deserves you, okay? Remember that when you see Morgan at court. Every single man who lays eyes on you is absolutely stunned, and you can get them to do anything. Do you solemnly swear to use this force in order to protect the fetus growing inside of you at this moment?" I burst into laughter. If he was trying to cheer me up, he most definitely succeeded.

I smile and raise my right hand. "I solemnly swear I will use my magic for good," I say jokingly.

He shakes his head. "I'm not kidding, Lee. You've got to do this. We can't lose him, alright? I will not lose him. I will love him like a father, no matter whose he is."

I raise one eyebrow. "He?"

He smiles bashfully. "It?"

"She?" I suggest. We both laugh, and I feel no more sorrow. Spencer is with me. He'll protect me.

_____________________

"Derek, it's not your fault!" I protest as he just shakes his head. I shift my weight to my other foot, my hip leaning into the cheap porch outside of his small apartment.

"There are no words to describe how sorry I am, Alice." I wince at my 'name'. I then finally reach an epiphany: he's not sorry about me cheating on him, just him hitting me.

"Alright. Then let us have the baby, or I pinky promise I will take this to court." He nods slowly. I hope he realizes I have made the most serious vow ever created: the pinky promise. Spencer had told me that in the past, if you broke a pinky promise you had to cut off your pinky. Needless to say, I take them much more seriously now.

"You do realize I will not back down from this," he reminds me yet again.

"And you do realize that this is my child, growing inside of me, and I want Spencer to be the legal father of him."

He winces at the sound of his previously best friend's name. "Is it a he?"

I sigh. "I don't know, Derek. I'm leaving now."

_________

"I've been thinking," Spencer begins, and I laugh to myself.

"You mean there are rare occasions that you, Dr. Spencer Reid, don't think?"

He dismisses the comment and continues to draw designs into the palm of my hand with his finger. "What if it's... neither of ours?" I can feel him draw away from me, which indicates he's waiting for me to realize what he means.

"W-what do you-" I stop my current sentence as soon as it hits me. "No, Spence, no, I can't keep it, then!" I cry out. I will not have a murderer's child.

"It's just an observation," he defends himself. I curl up into a ball, shrinking away from Spencer.

"I will not have it if it is," I snap. He looks away.

"You can't just kill it."

"What do you want me to do? Have a child, who is most likely mentally ill, grow up as a constant reminder of that terrible, terrible day? Those two terrible days?" I say, my voice rising. I stand up.

"B-but it's probably not-"

"We're getting finding out." I cut him off.

"You don't have to-"

"Come on, Spence."

_______________

How the hell does this work? Are they going to come out and say 'oh, it's a rapist's baby', or are they going to have to get DNA samples? Will Spencer figure out whose it is and then tell me, or will I have to go back in there? My tiny baby bump shouldn't be messed with anymore. Will I be able to find out the due date?

Something tells me that the doctors know the due date. Spencer walks out. "A-Are you positive you don't want to stay in here?" He asks, pointing back the way he came.

I grimace. "There is no doubt in my mind that I don't want to see whatever's going on back there," I proclaim, and others look up at me from their magazines. I ignore them, naturally.

"I-it's actually quite fascinating. You see-"

"I don't want to."

He puts his hands up in mock surrender and turns around. "Alright," he mutters.

I settle back into my chair after returning each glance with a death glare. Needless to say, they all look away.

I pick up "Better Homes and Gardens" magazine and find a 'delectable' recipe for banana bread. Yuck.

Spencer's back. "Lena?" He says in a small voice, approaching me. I can feel the other's judgmental glances burning holes into the back of my head.

"Is it yours, Spence?" I ask him quietly when I see the look on his face.

Dread fills my entire body as he shakes his head. At that moment, my world crumbles and dies. It completely falls apart. Nothing could ever be worse for anybody, anywhere then at this office, when you're carrying a rapist's baby, the same rapist who killed your sister, the same one who stabbed you in the back (literally). All the time, while a baby was growing inside of me.

"No," he tells me. His voice is raw. "It's Morgan's," he continues. As much as I hate to say it, relief washes over me.

"Oh, Spencer," I whisper, getting out of my chair and hugging him.

He doesn't even cry, like I expected. He doesn't laugh in an attempt to break the rising tension. He doesn't do anything. I could only imagine what he's going through, how he feels. "We have to fight," he mumbles. I nod. I will fight for my child if it's the last thing I do.

_______________

"Just send the damn letter," I call from the kitchen. I pull out my prenatal vitamins.

"Are you sure you don't want to just tell him in person?" Spencer asks from my living room. I stomp into the spotless room, my hands on my hips (reaching towards my growing stomach protectively).

"Do I look like I want to go up to Derek and tell him this?" I snap, and Spencer's face turns bright red.

"N-no."

"Then do it," I suggest. There's nothing worse than a nervous Spencer. It makes me feel bad for snapping at him.

"Alright," he mutters and gets up off the couch to put the letter in my mailbox.

I sit down on my couch right where he was sitting, and place my hands around my baby bump. September 27. I should remember that.

Of course I'll remember it. When was the last time I forgot something important? Oh, right. That one thing that you do when you get into a relationship with someone.. You're not supposed to cheat on them, the snobbish voice in my head reminds me. Damn, I'm annoying. I tap a steady beat on my thighs nervously. There's no way I've gotten myself into this much of a dilemma. Not me, Ally Marie, soccer star, voted most likely to change the world. Yeah, more like ruin the worlds of the people I care most about.

Spencer walks back into the house, disrupting my inner turmoil. "I'm going to Crestview," I say suddenly, standing up. Spencer looks shocked. "Do you want to come?" I offer, reaching over the the coffee table and grabbing my dark blue wind breaker. Thankfully it's not that cold right now. A warm front, they call it.

"Only if you want me to," Spencer replies. I smile, slightly bitter.

"That's your choice, Spence. You're not bound to me. You don't have to do my bidding, or tag along with me if you don't want to." I answer.

Spencer's eyebrows furrow. "Am I being a nuisance?" He questions, genuinely looking for an answer.

I approach him after pulling on my Ugg boots. "No," I murmur, grabbing onto his hands. "Never."

He blushes and nods his head, and I walk towards the front door. I grab my keys as I turn the knob, the familiar location easy to find. I push the door closed after me, and am kind of disappointed when it snaps closed. A small part of me was hoping he'd come along.

My jeans restrain me from taking steps that are too long (because God forbid I take a normal-sized step) so it takes a while to get there.

When I finally turn the corner to the dreary graveyard, my breath catches in my throat. "Grant," I whisper, stopping in my tracks. His back is turned to me, but I still immediately know it's him. Nobody else stands like that. And nobody else approaches my sister's grave.

I keep walking, passing the entrance to the graveyard. I'll just catch a bus back home and he won't see me...

I know that won't happen, though, because Grant could always spot me, no matter where I was. Even if we were in the mall on Black Friday, if I was seen five meters apart from any male, I would be spotted and punished.

By punished, I just mean the usual... a black eye, maybe a broken finger, if it was bad, then a mirror breaking onto my face, proving that I was, indeed, an ugly bitch, bruises on my shoulders, maybe a cut or two from a broken beer bottle.

If I ran away, it would be worse. One time he beat me with a foldable chair, another time, he pushed my head underwater in a bathtub for two minutes at a time, again and again until I begged for him to stop, another time, we played Russian Roulette.

That is, until I changed my bleach-blond hair to a pitch black color, and cut it to my shoulders. Until my sister took me under her protection, and I stayed in her home for months. That was so long ago. He couldn't have found me..

"Hey babe."

I stop in my tracks, my entire body going rigid. No, he wasn't talking to me. Maybe it wasn't even his voice... but I know that voice. The one that makes me want to break down and cry, that sounds melodic, comforting, and deadly. As charming as kitten, and as lethal as a lion. Except, a seemingly extraordinarily sexy kitten, and a sadistic lion.

"Babe." His hand roughly grabs my shoulder, and I yelp. No, my baby.. he can't hurt me, I won't let him.. "I was talking to you, bitch!" He pulls on my shoulder so I face him, and tears stream down my face. The scar, the cold, unforgiving eyes, the sadistic smile, the spiky hair. "You can't hide from me, baby. You know that." I stifle a sob.

My head moves slightly, a weak attempt at a nod. I'm scared stiff. "Sh, it's okay, baby. I forgive you, I forgive you. You don't have to run from me, baby," he pulls me into his quite strong arms, though I find them 1,000 times less comforting than Derek's.

Derek didn't gain muscle by beating me every day. He didn't have a scar on his face from when I defended myself with a knife from the kitchen. And he sure as hell didn't stalk me for two years just so he could do it all again. I gasp, a sob ripping through me that I can't control. "Please," I cry. "Just let me leave,"

He steps back and looks at me with fake pity in his eyes. "You know I can't do that, Lena. Not after all it took trying to save you," he whispers, and a shiver makes its way up my spine.

"You didn't save me," I say in a shaky voice. "I didn't need saving," I continue. He slaps me in the face, and the prickles of pain remind me of Derek. I wish he was here now, because I know damn well that Spencer can't save me. Especially from him.

He grits his teeth. "You little slut, don't you ever talk to me like that!" He hisses. A tear lands on my sleeve as I put an arm over my stomach. He notices, of course. He notices everything.

"Oh, what's wrong? You got a tummy ache?"

To hide any suspicion that I have definitely aroused, I shake my head and drop my arms to my side. He smirks. "Then you won't mind if I.." He moves a hand, balled up in a fist, close to my stomach.

"No!" I cry, my hands flying to the bump.

He raises his eyebrows and smiles. "Oh?" He gently places his hand on top of mine and pulls it away. He puts his large hands over my unborn child. My lip quivers. My vision blurs with fresh tears. "Did somebody get inside you, lovely Lena? That's not okay. We talked about this."

An unintentional high-pitched whine escapes me as I try to stop my crying. "I'm sorry," I repeat over and over again. "Please don't.." I plead uselessly. My voice comes out at barely a squeak.

"Oh, Lena, that's a big problem.." he trails off as he roughly grabs my arms and makes me walk backwards. My shoulder blades painfully hit the side of his van before the rest of my back. He inches closer to me. "You see now, sweetie, that's not okay. I'm afraid I'm going to have to restrain you. We don't want this," he pauses to lift my finger and trace the scar over his eyebrow, causing me to think of how many different things I can scream, and how tough the fetus is inside of me to withstand the inevitable blows. "To happen again."

I nod slowly, and my throat creates and ugly, hiccuping noise. I am a hideous crier. Grant makes sure to remind me of that. Every day, when he punished me for not looking him in the eye 24/7, I would also get told that its not pretty when I cry. I would always think, then leave me if I'm not pretty.

I don't understand why my life has been such a disaster lately. By lately, I mean starting the October 19 of four years ago. Fresh out of college, spent the summer with my family, then moved in with Grant. Why was I ever so naïve as to ever think that someone like him would care about me?

I sniffle, and his thumb swipes below my eye, then painfully presses down. Hard. His fingernails gouge into the skin before my hairline on the left side of my head, and I whimper as warm liquid trickles down the side of my face. "Why am I doing this?" he whispers, causing me to let loose a loud and "unappealing" sob.

"B-because you love me," I squeak. He smiles evilly.

"Oh, baby, don't cry. I'm here, okay? You don't have to hide anymore. You play silly games, Lena. You don't have to keep doing that." My teeth chatter (as they often do when I sustain a gruesome injury, or get extraordinarily stressed out) as I nod.

My reactions bring lip quivering to a whole new level. Hell, my mouth practically has a seizure. "Just let me go Grant. I-I don't love you anymore," I whisper shakily. I was hoping it would discourage him, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

He laughs, a steely, humorless laugh. "You are definitely a little joker, aren't you, Lena? Oh, and don't worry about your baby. I won't hurt this child. Who do you think I am? I wouldn't do that. Not just yet."

A terrible mix between a gasp, a yelp, and a sob bubbles out of me, violently ripping the oxygen from my lungs. I hear his van door slide open, and he backs me up until I trip over the rim and fall inside.

He slams the door before I get my leg in, and a sickening snap sends me screaming. "Stop!" He tells over me. "Shut the hell up!"

He pushes my mangled foot inside and closes the door, then I hear him get into the front seat.

"He won't find you, Lena. I promise, okay?"

"Alice." I correct her.

"What?"

"Call me Alice. I'm changing my name to Alice Marie Portman."

Charlotte approves, nodding her head. "We need a story."

"A what?" I question, having my chance at being confused now.

"If anyone finds out your name used to be Lena Christine, you'll have to tell them a sorry of why you changed it!" she explains. I smirk, a rare happening given my situation.

"I'll say my name used to be Lena Alice, but.." I trail off, thinking of the lie I made up at summer camp. "We're going to have to use Mom on this one, okay?"

Charlotte nods. "This may take a little of.. intervention," she points out, choosing each word carefully.

"Just wait. Let's say Mom drank herself to death.. and her name was Lena. Nobody's going to question that. Pity, my friend. Pity." I say, my diabolical plan pleasing me greatly. It's so complicated, yet simple.

"And the illegality? Nobody can know your past self," Charlotte demands. I nod slowly, then smile again.

"I have.. friends."

"Careful friends?"

I widen my eyes and lean forward. "My friends are the epitome of careful."

Does he know that I changed my name and lifestyle, using every penny necessary to pay Kevin until Lena Christine Porter never existed? Does he know about Spencer and Derek and Jessica and the BAU who are as close to me as family?

Did he only did me because of Charlotte? Is irony that cruel?

A bump disrupts my thoughts and I think of my baby. Do I really have that kid of influence to get us out of this alive?