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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 3 years

Text

A Real Rain: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

You knew the unsub would strike again, you just never thought he would strike at a church, much less in a confession chamber. The priest he shot is thankfully still at the crime scene, so this must be really fresh. If you can get a clear picture, you might be able to see the unsub or the direction in which he fled.

Police are scattered throughout the outside and the inside of the church. Nora escorts your entire team inside the church to inspect the body and talk to a potential witness. If there is one, then you might be able to get something out of her. Maybe something she says will clear the picture up a little bit. The woman is sitting next to an officer inside, and you stare at her in the eyes. She doesn’t look like the chatty type, but you’re going to do your best to try and get something out of her.

“So, this is where terror starts,” Nora sighs.

“How did they find him?” you ask.

“A night janitor. He didn’t see anything, but he did remember a parishioner who was here earlier.”

“And she’s the potential witness?” you wonder and point to the distraught woman.

“Yeah.”

Elle leaves with Derek to talk to the woman while you approach the body with Gideon, Hotch, and Spencer. He’s laying on the floor with his tie wrapped around his eyes. Whatever happened, the unsub didn't want him looking at him afterward. You get up and try to focus on the events that happened last night. You close your eyes to get connected with the energies, and when you open them, you’re in the past.

The church is empty save for a couple of people in the pews. One of which is the woman Elle is currently talking to. You’re standing at the altar, but no one sees you. You turn and see the dead priest walk into one of the confession chambers, patiently waiting for someone to come in and confess to him. The door to the church opens and the same hooded figure comes walking in. You study his frame to memory just in case you might need it later. He’s doing something weird with his hands. They’re twitching, or to some, it looks like he’s playing an invisible piano with the way he’s tapping them against his leg.

He walks right up to you and dips his hands in the holy water to bless himself before walking over to the confession chamber. He spends only five minutes in there before fleeing. However, when he does, it’s a black apparition instead of an actual body. He must have had control of his emotions and mental state before killing someone. The more mentally stable someone is, the better you can understand them. That tells you something about the unsub because he must not always be in control of who he is, especially after a kill.

You blink once, and everything is back to the way it was when you first walked in.

“First public killing. He's getting bolder, huh?” Gideon brings you back to reality.

“He didn't let his surroundings alter his method. He's meticulous. The presentation has been as important as the killing,” Hotch says.

“He’s unstable,” you say, and the two men look at you. “He might have a mental illness that tells him to kill. He’s more in control before a kill, and then after, he’s all over the place. I saw it.”

“So, like a psychiatric patient?” Hotch wonders.

“Could be.”

“Okay, thanks.”

You leave the altar and join Derek and Elle to hear what the woman has to say.

“As soon as the police asked me if I'd see anything, I had a sickly feeling,” she sighs.

“So, you saw him?”

“Not his face. He had a hood on and he kept his head down.”

“But something about his behavior unsettled you?”

“I'm sorry. I should have known.”

“There's no way that you could know something like this,” you butt in.

“It almost felt like he couldn't hear me like he was in his own world, you know? I tried asking him if he was okay, but he didn’t even speak to me. He didn’t even look up. I couldn't stop watching his hands. They were moving like he was playing the piano or fingering a rosary maybe. He could have killed me,” she gasps.

“Unless he's not killing at random,” Elle points out, “and whatever these people have in common's what got them killed.”

“I thought maybe he was uncomfortable being in this parish,” the woman says.

Gideon, Hotch, and Nora walk over just as she says this.

“Why would it be uncomfortable?” you wonder.

“Because of all that... business,” she whispers.

“A year ago, the rector was indicted for pedophilia,” Nora explains.

“A lot of people stopped worshipping here. But father Breeman was tried in a court of law and found innocent. It's not my place to question that.”

Spencer hurries over to the group with something in his gloved hand.

“He's not using just any knife. It's made of flint.”

“As in stone?” you question.

“In Egyptian mythology, flint was the symbol of protection and retribution. With hieroglyphics, they used to depict dangerous animals like scorpions and snakes being cut with flint knives in order to render them powerless.”

He shows the small blade in his hands to the whole group. You walk over to the dead priest and grab a glove to inspect his ear. Gideon, Hotch, and Nora follow in your footsteps. You reach down and grab the end of the tie that’s wrapped around his head. You pull it away to reveal the priest’s blood all in the inside of the tie. That means he stabbed the guy before blindfolding him…

Why?

“Anything strikes you as strange?” you ask and show the tie.

“The blood's all on the inside,” Hotch notices.

“Exactly. He was blindfolded after being killed. I’ll call Garcia and see if she can’t dig up anything on the other victims.”

You drop the tie and get up, removing your glove so you can use your hand. You dial Penelope, and she answers on the first ring.”

“Fount of all knowledge. Check my flow.”

“I need you to check all the victims and see if any were charged with a crime, please,” you say nicely.

“Okay, you wanna time me or should I just dazzle you off the clock?” she asks but doesn’t give you enough time to answer. “Okay, Kaveh Surrani was involved in vehicular manslaughter. She was tried and found not guilty in July 2002. Next, we have Rachel Holman who was convicted of cocaine possession in 2004. Oh, baby girl. Just say no.”

“No acquittals?” you wonder.

“She was also up on charges for administering fatal heroin to her boyfriend. The Jury found her not guilty. Can we go three for three?” she mutters as she types. “Yahtzee. Our cabbie, Walter Derbin got charged for spousal battery. Bastard!”

“Was he innocent?”

“If you wanna call it that. The charges were dropped mid-trial four months ago.”

“You’re a genius, Pen. I love you!” you grin.

“You're just saying that 'cause it's true,” she jokes.

“We’ll talk later.”

You hang up and rejoin the group to let them know what you found out.

“All three victims were charged with a felony. All three were found innocent.”

“And that didn't show up on your men's radar?” Gideon asks.

“Acquittals? No. Why is it important?” Nora wonders.

“Because we have a new profile.”

After gathering all the cops back at the police station, Gideon started giving the new profile.

“We now believe these killings aren't random. We might be dealing with a vigilante. The unsub first shoots his victims in order to subdue them. The flint knife then provides both an efficient kill and symbolic retribution. Finally, the victim is blindfolded like the statue of lady justice. This particular unsub displays both a heightened--it's actually almost a poetic sense of right and wrong.”

“Serial vigilantes are extremely rare,” Spencer takes over. “The exaggerated drama of these killings suggest that they're somehow personal. He, or someone close to him, is likely the victim of a violent crime. His first killing was possibly against his original attacker. Since then, he's developed an overblown sense of justice in order to justify that killing to himself.”

“Because he chooses the imagery of lady justice, it's possible we're dealing with someone who works in or around the criminal justice system. Lawyer, paralegal, bailiff, and even a judge.”

“We'll cross-check unsolved murders against suspects in assault cases and victims who work in the system,” Nora addresses her men and women.

“Whatever the unsub's job, he's someone who's a cog in the machine,” you add. “He's overworked and undervalued. He's used to not being noticed. His sense of theatrics is a way to enhance his own self-esteem, t convince himself he has a higher purpose.”

“He also knows that people look right through him,” Hotch cuts in. “Being faceless is his best defense against protection. He's everyone.”

“One last thing. We need you to close ranks. The more details slip out, the more he'll feed off it. We don't want him believing he captured the public's fear or imagination,” Gideon states.

“Too late,” JJ interrupts, coming inside the room with a newspaper in hand. “The afternoon edition's leading with the vigilante story.”

“How did they get it?” Nora gasps.

“I don’t know.”

“You were worried about this guy becoming another son of Sam. Now, we might be dealing with a vigilante folk hero like Bernhard Goetz,” Gideon sighs.

The entire room is now worried for the sake of everyone in this town, but you physically can’t do anything about it. You’re surrounded by too many officers and police environments to separate yourself from the investigation. If you can put yourself in a whole different environment, something else might spark inside your brain. You haven’t eaten anything since you landed, so the entire team decided to go out to lunch at a Chinese restaurant nearby. It’s a good way to let off steam and to think outside the box.

You’re sitting between Spencer and JJ, and you look over at him to see him fiddling with his chopsticks. It brings a smile to your face. As soon as everyone got their food, Hotch speaks up.

“So, you know there was a big hole in the profile you presented back there.”

“Can you pass the moo shoo, please?” Gideon says, ignoring Hotch’s comment for now.

JJ reaches for the bowl and passes it over to him.

“What’s the hole?” she asks.

“I left out the possibility our unsub might be a cop.”

“Well, they do know the system. They're definitely overworked and underpaid,” you scoff.

“They see so much injustice every day that they can easily take matters into their own hands.”

You look to your right and see Spencer struggling with his chopsticks. He gets some food on it, but then it falls through and he has to start all over. You use yours expertly, grabbing a forkfull of food and eating it.

“When someone like our victim is killed, police refer to the murder as a public-service murder,” Spencer says.

He grabs the food easily, but when he moves it up to his mouth, they just fall off. You snicker and reach over to grab his hand to help him position it. You put his fingers where they are supposed to be and move his wrist where it’s supposed to be.

“It’s all in the wrist,” you whisper.

He tries again but achieves the same result. You giggle into your elbow, and he just blushes.

“You know how many rapists I saw walk during my sex-crime days?” Elle says. “None of the victims didn't want to press charges, or the juries said that she was asking for it. It was enough to make you explode.”

“It's a long way from feeling like that and actually committing murder, don't you think?” JJ wonders.

“Not really.”

Spencer is having too much of a hard time with the chopsticks, so he grabs the attention of a waitress passing by.

“Excuse me. Can I get a fork, perhaps?” You, Derek, and JJ all snicker in amusement. “Did you know that experts credit Confucius with the advent of the chopstick? He equated knives with acts of aggression.”

“You don't know how to use them, do you?” Derek grins.

“It's like trying to forage for dinner with a pair of number two pencils.”

“Okay, try this,” you offer.

You grab a small hair tie from your pocket and use it to tie the ends of the chopsticks with it. The waitress brings a fork for Spencer, but he’s more interested in what you’re doing.

“Oh, the rubber-band trick,” Derek nods.

“Yes, the rubber-band trick,” you giggle.

Once completed, you hand the chopsticks over to Spencer. He doesn’t want to feel left out, so he uses it instead of reaching for his fork. It takes him a few tries to get it right, but he eventually does.

“Well, New York City cops do have a lot of pressure on them,” Derek says, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand. “Every move they make is scrutinized.”

“You know, the first cases of criminal profiling happened when a New York City cop asked a criminal psychiatrist friend to help with the mad bomber case,” Gideon explains.

“The mad bomber was a major inspiration for the Unabomber,” Spencer takes over. “He eluded cops in New York for sixteen years starting in 1940. But he kept his promise and never set off a single bomb during the second world war.”

“Psychiatrist James Brussels developed a profile so accurate he predicted that when they caught the bomber, he'd be wearing a double-breasted suit and it would be buttoned,” you note.

“You guys, we're here in New York and even when we're not talking about our case, we end up talking about another profiler,” Elle chuckles.

“You’re right,” Hotch nods with a knowing smile. “So, Elle... are you seeing anyone?”

The whole table laughs, and she just shakes her head before turning to Gideon.

“Uh, Gideon... Why didn't you tell the cops that it might be one of their own?”

“If we're gonna catch the guy, we need all the help the cops can give us. The last thing I want to do is accuse one of them of murder.”

Spencer tries to use his chopsticks again, but he’s back to where he’s started.

“How’s it going?” you tease.

“Awesome,” he mutters.

He picks up some more food, but it ends up falling to the floor.

“It's absolutely incredible. 1.3 billion people stay nourished using these things,” Spencer scoffs and sets it down so he can use his fork.

Gideon’s phone rings and he answers it while you just smile at Spencer. He’s so cute, you just want to grab his face and kiss him.

“Well, we know you’re not going to be one of those people,” you laugh.

“Yeah. Okay. I got it,” Gideon sighs and hangs up. “He just took out a cop killer.”

And you’re back to reality.

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 3 years

Text

A Real Rain: Part Four

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

When you get to the station, all you feel from this man is his huge ego. He's scooped most of the reporters in New York, so his ego is definitely inflated. He’s cocky and determined, and that makes for a vulnerable spirit. People like you eat people like him for breakfast. It’s the only reason why Hotch and Gideon wanted you in the room for when they talk to him.

“So, how did you put together the vigilante angle so quickly?” Hotch begins.

“I covered the original trials of all the victims.”

“You must have a good memory. A lot of killers can't remember details from their own crimes.”

“Some cases just stick right in your brain,” Lance chuckles but it’s not in humor.

“Tell us about the victims,” Hotch says and lays down pictures of all the victims.

“Alright. Well, this girl, she was just a waste case. The jury bought into the whole ‘addiction as disease’ bullshit. And this old guy, he was a thug. He beat his wife, but the case fell apart because she wouldn't testify.” Lance moves onto another victim and just sighs. “He drank and drove. It was a tragedy, but it was the kind of thing that could happen to anybody.”

“So, who do you think we're looking for? What's his background?” you ask.

“My guess is he's a crime victim. Probably something violent.”

“But do you think he's a hero?” Gideon wonders.

“You know this city makes you swallow a lot of crap. It's hard not to feel for someone who won't take it anymore,” Lance says and leans back, clearly enjoying himself.

“These haven't been released to the press. They're pretty grim,” Hotch says and lays out the new crime scene photos for him to look at.

“I've seen plenty of crime scenes,” he mutters as he looks at each one.

Each picture is of the victim’s ear with the blade of flint in it.

“We're stuck on the ear. Is it for killing efficiency or symbolism? Why would you stab someone through the ear into their brain?”

Lance must have picked up the vocabulary change because he looks at each of you with suspicion written all over his face.

“What’s going on here?”

“The profile leads us to think that he works close to the criminal justice system. What do you think?” you ask.

“No, no. You didn't bring me in here because you wanted my help.”

“The profile suggests this guy would contact the media. He hasn't, and we thought the killer wouldn't need to contact the press if he were the press. You're single-handedly turning this psychopath into a folk hero.”

“So, what happened? You get your men killed on the job and you think everybody else must be a killer, too?” Lance snaps, and Hotch grows angry.

“Watch your mouth.”

“It's okay, Hotch,” Gideon says.

“He’s not our guy,” you state with your arms crossed.

“You're damn right I didn't kill anybody. What about you?” he glares at Gideon.

He’s about to leave, but Gideon stops him.

“Wagner. You’re right. You’re not the killer.” Lance nods in agreement. “Everything you feel is vicarious. You don't have it in you to act. This psycho's the last chance for you. You've screwed up other jobs, you drink too much, and you probably have a broken marriage or two. You're actually hoping he doesn't get caught for a while. Part of you knows that's twisted and pathetic, but hey... you're just reporting the news, right?”

Lance doesn’t say anything to that as he leaves, and you sigh and take a seat at the table.

“I could read that guy from head to toe. He is having a very hard time concealing his feelings and emotions, but he’s failing. I’ve seen the unsub twice, and I couldn’t read him at all. Our unsub is unstable and probably hears voices. Lance is not our guy, he’s just cocky and arrogant.”

“Thanks for your help,” Hotch nods.

“Yeah, you got it,” you nod and leave the room.

Nora takes this moment to walk into the station with a determined look on her face.

“The reporter is not a vigilante.”

“Yeah, we just spoke to him. How do you know?” you say.

“There was just another shooting in Central Park.”

“You say shooting. What about the rest of the signature?” Derek wonders.

“Officers heard the shot, but he ran off before they got there. The victim was an undercover cop.”

Nothing warrants this feeling inside of you. You’re just talking with your coworkers and the police about what is going on, but you feel an overwhelming sense that someone bad is coming. The energy they give off is eager and dangerous. You grab your gun from your holster, and Derek notices this along with the alarmed look on your face.

“What is going on?”

“A killer is in the building. I don’t know if it’s our killer though,” you say right before it happens.

“I think you’re looking for me,” a man says on the other side of the room.

He holds up his hands, and in his right one, a small gun. You point yours at him as does every single cop/agent in the station.

“Put the gun on the ground! On your knees! Drop the gun! Get down. Don't move!” Derek yells commands at him at the same time as other cops say the same thing.

The man sets the gun on the ground and gets on his knees before an officer basically pushed him to the ground so that he’s lying flat on his stomach. They arrest him right there and then with cuffs, but he panics slightly because of it.

“No, you don't understand. I did this all for you. We're in this together!”

The officer gets him up and takes him to an interrogation room while your team immediately figures out who he is. H has his wallet on him that fell during the arrest, so you pick it up and read what his driver’s license says.

“His name is Will Sykes.”

“I’ll get Garcia on it,” Derek offers and takes the wallet.

You walk to the interrogation section of the station and see him sitting in a room, completely calm. The fact that you can read this guy like he’s an open book, you know it’s not him. Gideon, Hotch, and Nora are inside talking to him.

“How’s it going in here?” you ask JJ who is posted outside the room.

“He just confessed to all the murders.”

“Why?” you ask, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t do them. His energy is completely different than that of the unsub. I would know,” you cross your arms.

Derek enters the room with the wallet in hand.

“He’s a security guard at a boutique in Soho. He was a mugging victim last year. He spent two days in intensive care.”

“He fits the profile,” Spencer shrugs.

“It’s not him,” you shake your head.

“So, what were you doing in the park?” Nora asks.

“It's full of animals--muggers, scum, and drug dealers. I knew one of them would try to prey on me,” Will says calmly.

“That's not your usual method. I mean, you target them. You don't let them target you.”

“I made that point, now I'm making this one.”

“Which is?”

“If you hunt us on the street, you will die the way you lived.”

“So, why turn yourself in now?” Nora questions.

“I can't change the city without help. People need to be inspired. They need to see me. They need to hear my voice.”

“Can you tell me about the cab driver, Derbin?” Gideon asks, trying to bait him.

“He was a thug. A wife-beater.”

“And the priest?”

“What's to know? He preyed on young boys.”

“Is that why you stabbed him in the groin?” Gideon asks, tricking him.

“It's what he deserved.”

“Thank you,” he nods and gets up.

“Told you,” you say and look at your colleagues.

The three authoritative figures leave the room, leaving Will to sit by himself and stare at himself in the mirror.

“Why would he confess to murders he didn't commit?” JJ wonders.

“Because he has narcissistic delusions. He wants the glory. He wants to be a star,” you answer. “He went into the park hoping that somebody would mess with him.”

“He killed your undercover officer but not the others,” Gideon says to Nora.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“We know our unsub has a heightened sense of right and wrong. If he knew that he inspired a would-be vigilante to murder an undercover cop, he might feel remorse,” Spencer points out.

“You think you might be able to mend fences with the reporter, Wagner?” Gideon asks JJ.

“If it played to his ego, yeah.”

“We might be able to draw the unsub out. That's a good one,” he says, leaving the room once he got an idea on how to handle this.

JJ got Lance Wagner to cooperate by posting a story that the undercover cop’s blood is all over the vigilante’s hand. By posting that, then the real unsub will come forward in remorse and guilt that he got an innocent man killed, that he inspired someone else to kill in his name. To do that, then they held a public funeral for the cop, bagpipes and an audience in all. You’re at the station watching the service instead of actually being there.

“Wagner said this morning that the cop's blood is all over the vigilante's hands,” Spencer says.

“How did JJ get him to cooperate?” Hotch asks.

“The unsub may feel a need to be there, to physically mourn for what he caused. If that article lures him, Wagner gets to claim he caught a murderer. It's the ultimate scoop,” Gideon answers.

“Will they know how to spot him?” Nora asks.

“I briefed your men. If the unsub's there, he'll be alone, out of place, not speaking to anyone else, and probably not even making eye contact. Hopefully, he'll panic and draw attention to himself.”

The bagpipes start playing, and Nora just sighs with a shake of her head.

“I can never get that sound out of my head. Wakes me in the middle of the night. If there was any justice, cop killers would have to hear it for an eternity.”

Your phone rings and you answer it immediately while still watching the service.

“Y/L/N.”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Morgan. Listen, something isn’t adding up. I'm here trying to get transcripts from the victims' original trials. I thought maybe there could have been a disturbance at the courthouse, or maybe the unsub even made himself known. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, what about it?” you ask, shifting your attention from the TV to Morgan.

“Okay. Well, here's the thing. There are no records available yet from the cabbie's trial. The clerk told me that your average court reporter is three to six months behind in transcribing his notes.”

“Shit, alright, thanks Derek,” you say and hang up. Your team heard you curse, so they’re looking at you in expectation. “We need to get to the courtroom. Derek just told me that there are no records from the cabbie’s trial just yet. That means that anyone who knows the details of that case had to have been in the courtroom.”

“Let’s go.”

You, Gideon, Hotch, and Spencer all leave the police station to follow up on this lead. Whoever the unsub is, you know he is a court reporter. It’s the only viable reason that he knows this much about each case and whether they were found innocent or not.

“Court reporters take their work home with them. They get paid overtime. They take their notes in court and finish transcribing them at night,” Hotch says once you’re outside the police station.

“You know what Bennett said about not being able to get the sound of bagpipes out of her head? Maybe that's why the unsub stabs the ears.”

“Killers often harm their victims in ways that they themselves have been harmed,” you say. “I said the unsub might be hearing voices. What if he’s hearing their voices? Killing them stops their voices from destroying them.”

“What if the voices wouldn't stop when you left the courtroom?” Hotch speculates.

“The witness at the church said that the unsub was playing a piano-like motion,” Spencer remembers.

“Or transcribing,” you say.

“Killings a good way to get the voices to stop, huh?”

“I’ll call Penelope.”

You take out your phone and quickly dial her number. She answers on the first ring.

“Holla.”

“I need the name of the court stenographer in each of the victims' original trials, please.”

“It’s the same one every time. Marvin Doyle,” she says after a moment or two.

“Cross-check him against criminal records. See if he was ever the victim of a violent crime.”

“Not him. His parents were killed in an attempted robber in '04.”

“His parents were killed in an attempted robber,” you say to the group before talking to Penelope again. “That's his stressor. Is he still working?”

“100 Centre, courtroom 12-B.”

“Thank you so much,” you say and hang up before turning to your team. “We’ve got him.”

All of you get into the car and Hotch turns on his sirens to get to the courthouse faster. It’s New York, so there are always people on the road, but they part when they see and hear the sirens. You make it to the courthouse within a few minutes.

You walk inside the courthouse and find room 12-B, and as soon as you see the courtroom reporter, you know it’s not him. The energies don’t match up, but you let Hotch handle this. When the officer posted at the door sees this, he immediately stops you, but you take out your badge to prove this is more important.

“Marvin Doyle. Is that him?”

“Doyle called in sick.”

“Shit, I was in this courtroom yesterday. He must have seen me,” you sigh.

“Tell your judge I need a warrant. Take that,” Hotch hands over his badge to the officer.

He has no choice but to do as he says. When the judge sees the badge and hears what the officer has to say, then you get the warrant in record time. With it in hand, you can now go to his house or apartment and bust him.

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