One-shots/Short Stories

Spencer Reid

Suspect
"What the hell, people!" she yelled out, tugging on her handcuffs. Her wrists were handcuffed to the table, and she didn't like that at all. One of the reasons being she was innocent, she was in her pyjamas still, and her hair was all over the place - thus her tugging on the handcuffs because she wanted to remove the hair out of her face.
   Morgan and JJ stood in front of her stoic, arms crossed. She huffed at the sight. "Really, standing all stoic and silent?" she scowled. "Dude, not cool."
   "Where were you yesterday morning?" Morgan asked her sternly.
   "Depends."
   "Depends?" he raised an eyebrow.
   "It depends on the time of morning." the two agents stared at her with a blank look. "You know. . .seven in the morning, eight in the morning, nine, ten. . .twelve. . ."
   "Where were you between eight and ten in the morning yesterday?" JJ asked her. She shrugged in reply.
   "Home. Asleep."
   "Asleep?" Morgan scoffed. "How old are you, twelve?"
   "No!" she sniffed. "I'm twenty-eight."
   "Why are you sleeping in at the age of twenty-eight? Don't you have a job?"
   "You're the FBI you should know this." No response. "I. . .lost my job last week."
   "A lot of time to yourself." JJ noted.
   "And that just so happened to be around the time the killings started." Morgan added. She looked up at them quickly. . .as much as she could with hair in her face.
   "Killings?" she questioned. "Uh. . .I did no murder."
   "You didn't?" They stared at her unconvinced.
   "Nope." she shrugged. "I mean, I watch crime shows. Have you seen Bones? It's really cool -"
   "Do you know this woman?" JJ showed her an image of a blonde-haired girl who looked to be around her age.
   "Never seen her before."
   "How about this man?" JJ showed her a photo of a young man with brown hair.
   "Nope - oh wait!" They stared at her with expectation. "Nuh. Don't know him."
   "Miss Everdeen, this is not a joke." Morgan snapped. "Three people were murdered in the past two weeks. And you're our main suspect."
   "How am I a suspect!" she shrieked. "Just because I have had a lot of free time these two weeks - do you know the amount of sleep I get now? Man, it's amazing -"
   "Then why have you recently bought rope, duct tape, and basically the materials to kidnap a person?" Morgan asked her. She stared at them confused.
   "What?"
   "Your credit card?" JJ elaborated, as if speaking to a small child. "From your credit card you bought rope, duct tape, and other materials to harm a person." JJ crossed her arms with confidence. "What do you have to say about that, Everdeen?"
    "Uh. . .I didn't buy those stuff."
   "Really." Morgan started to get angry. "You can't bullshit us -"
   "I'm serious!" she exclaimed. "My credit card got stolen around the time I lost my job!"
   "What?" JJ frowned.
   "Yeah." She attempted to move her bushy hair out of her face. "When I got fired at the bar, I got mugged." She barely got access to lift up her shirt, revealing a side of her hip that was bruised. "Got slammed against the wall outside of the bar, and was held at gunpoint. The guy took my wallet which had my credit card and license. So during this time I was also quite upset with that and what's happening in life."
   "So. . .you don't know these victims." Morgan said slowly.
   "Nope."
   "And you haven't left your house in two weeks."
   "Nuh. I have a lot of food at home that deserves to be eaten."
   "And you never bought these items."
   "Dude, I just said I was mugged and this bruise is proof."
   "Do you remember what the person looked like?" JJ asked her.
   "Yeah. I have an eidetic memory."
   "Thank you. A sketch artist will be here shortly."
   "Whatever."
   "Sorry about the misunderstanding." they apologised. She huffed at their apologetic looks.
   "Whatever." she grumbled. "You all owe me by getting me somewhere to work."
   When they left, she only just realised that she was still handcuffed. "Wait! I'm still handcuffed!"

***

When the sketch artist left, Reid entered the room. He was quite shocked to see a woman who looked to only just wake up. Her black hair was all over her face, face pale and make-up free, and she was wearing pyjama pants and a singlet, along with fuzzy socks that was covered with furry boots. It was a sight he'd never thought he'd come across unless he had a wife or something.
   "You're uh, you're free to go." he cleared his throat awkwardly, realising the singlet was quite. . .revealing. "Sorry about the arrest and all. . ."
   "Yeah, yeah." she sighed. "Anyway, your agent friends may have forgotten about the fact that I am still handcuffed to the table." She made the handcuffs clink together, gaining his attention.
   "Oh, uh. . .let me help you with that." Reid quickly went out and grabbed Morgan's keys, walking back in and unlocking her wrists. When she was released, he held her wrists longer than necessary. He leaned towards them, observing the redness and small scratches on her wrists. "You struggled a lot." he noted. "I am really sorry about this."
   "Well, at least I can cross 'getting arrested' off my bucket list." she joked weakly. He gave her a small smile, brushing her hair back from her face. "Thanks for moving my hair. But my wrists hurt quite a bit now. . ."
   "Well, if you clean your cuts and wrap them up they'll be good as new." He released her hands when he realised he held them on for too long. "Sorry, again, about all of this. . ."
   "You apologise a lot, do you realise?" she told him amused.
   "Sorry -" he cut himself off when he remembered what she said.
   "Anyway," she slowly stood up from her seat, wincing when she stretched out her limbs, "is there any chance of getting my credit card back? My money and all. . .?"
   "Um, a friend of mine is exchanging your money to another card." Reid explained to her, escorting her out of the room. "She will have it done soon."
   "Thanks." She noticed Morgan and JJ, and sent them the bird.
   "Was that really necessary?"
   "Yes. You guys barged into my home at eight in the morning while I was sleeping, and thought I was a murderer. And let's not forget the fact that they left me handcuffed to the table for roughly two hours until you came."
   "Sorry."
   "Again with the apologies."
   "Sorr. . ." He noticed her shiver when they exited the building, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. "It's winter, and you're wearing a singlet?"
   "The heater was on in my room." She held the jacket closer to her. "Thanks."
   "No problem." he shrugged. A taxi arrived on the sidewalk. "There's your ride."
   "Thanks. Again."
   "No problem. Again."
   "I never got your name, Agent. . ."
   "Doctor Spencer Reid." he shook her hand quickly.
   "Olivia Everdeen." He opened the car door for her. "Thanks."
   "You thank a lot, do you realise?" Reid smiled at her teasingly.
   "Sorry." she smiled back at him. "Uh, I should go. . ."
   "Yeah." Reid closed the door after her, leaning against her window. "It was nice meeting you."
   "You too. You're the only Fed I met today that didn't accuse me for murder - well, to my face."
   "Uh, thanks." Reid said awkwardly. "Listen, uh. . .I was thinking if you'd like to meet up again sometime. . ."
   "Sure! Just. . .let me find a job first. So then I'll be able to pay you back for the times we go out for food."
   "We're going to be meeting up more than once?" Reid asked surprised.
   "Of course!" she nodded. She told the driver her address. "Besides, one of the things you agents owe me is finding a new job. I'm sure a few words from the FBI will surely get me something."
   "So now you're using me?"
   "Hey, we're both getting our ways. You going out with an attractive woman who wears pyjamas on first meetings, and me meeting an attractive Doctor who works in the FBI."
   "Attractive?"
   "Don't get so cocky."
   "Sorry." The driver beeped, getting impatient. "I'll see you soon?"
   "Soon." she nodded. "Tomorrow night at seven. Don't be late."
   "You're not going to tell me your address?"
   "You're FBI, and came to my place to arrest me. I think you know where I live by now."

The End