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For once in their lives, the entire team of BAU members had a night off. Hotch guaranteed it. After the shit show that was the last case, he got approval from Struass for the entire team to have the next twenty-four hours off, with the promise of no cases.
In the bullpen, wholeheartedly ignoring his paperwork, Spencer has one hand clasped onto the strap of his messenger bag, while the other waves animatedly, giving the history of French films. All too happy to have the excuse to not work on her own paperwork, Emily watches him, nodding and “Mmhm”ing along when necessary.
Although no one’s going to be the ones to say it, it’s a relief to see Spencer in his natural habitat: infodumping. His cheeks are wrinkled up in a perpetual smile, and his eyes are wide with excitement. It’s enough to even bring a smile to Rossi.
Watching his team blatantly pretend they have no filing to be done, Hotch sets down his own manilla folder before watching everyone smile along with Spencer. He’s pretty sure that no one understands what he’s talking about, but everyone’s happy to see him express the insides of his brain.
It’s a nice break from the past week.
With an internal monologue of, “Screw Strauss,” Hotch enters the bullpen to announce they can all go home an hour early.
Spencer stops mid sentence, one hand still half curled in an explanation. His eyes light up like it’s Christmas day. Assuming Spencer has ever had a good Christmas day, but Hotch doesn’t want to think about that at the moment.
Excited, he turns to Emily. “This means that we can-”
“Yep,” She smiles, “French films galore.” Turning to the rest of the team she asks, “Anyone want to join us?”
JJ just laughs. “No offense, but none of us know how to speak French,”
Perking up, Spencer begins, “It’s actually quite simple if you already know a language with Latin roots, which you do, of course, because the placement of verbs and nouns carry throughout all Latin languages. There are minute differences, of course, such as adjective placement, and certain conjugations of verbs, but it’s-”
“Reid,” Morgan cuts him off with a teasing smile. “None of us are going to learn an entire language in the time it takes to get to Prentiss’ apartment.”
“I’m just saying,” Spencer starts up again, a twinkle still in his eye, “It’s entirely possible to-”
“Not all of them are geniuses like us, Spence,” Emily teases.
Morgan snorts at her. “‘Genius’? Prentiss, I saw you trying to pour salt in your coffee a few days ago,”
Acting like the adult she surely is, Emily sticks her tongue out at Morgan. Then turning to Spencer she announces, “C’mon, fellow genius, we have a film to catch.”
Spencer frowns, but follows her out the door nonetheless. “Why would we need to catch a film? Is it being thrown?”
Emily smiles at him, “Oh, my little genius.”
Spencer doesn’t know exactly what she’s smiling at, but he smiles too. This is finally going to be a good night, he can feel it.
During the entire car ride, Spencer continues his rant about Latin languages, and even picks Emily’s brain about the linguistic differences between reading the language and actually living in a place that speaks it.
Emily diligently listens the entire time, and even secretly turns down the radio. It’s been far too long since she’s heard her friend this happy, and she doesn’t want that to end any time soon.
By the time they’re on to Polish dialects, Emily’s in the parking lot of her apartment complex. Pulling his messenger bag to the side of his body, Spencer continues talking, waving his hand so wide he ends up knocking it into the side of the car door.
Emily teases it for him, but the gaudish grin on her face betrays her.
It’s only when they’re walking up the stairs, that Emily begins to tense. She doesn’t know exactly what throws her off, but there’s something in her gut that twists once they reach her floor. And if there’s one thing she’s learned throughout her years of Interpol and the BAU, she knows that trusting her gut is her best tool.
“Hey, Spence,” Emily starts, face pinched up in fear of the unknown. “Do you have your weapon with you?”
Demeanor instantly changed, Spencer’s shoulders tighten up, and he instinctively puts a hand on his messenger bag, where his holster and pistol lie. “What’s going on?”
Pulling out her own government issued weapon, Emily cryptically answers, “Something doesn’t feel right.” She frowns and murmurs, “I can’t hear Sergio.”
Spencer, a frown of his own coming to his face, asks, “Do you hear him every day?”
In a poor attempt to lighten the mood, she answers, “Yeah. That cat’s a glutton. He could wake up my neighbors when asking for food. He’s always meowing by the time I get up here.” With one hand, Emily pulls out her keys to unlock her apartment, while her right hand stays securely holding her pistol.
As soon as the door opens, the two agents rush in, as if they were clearing a possible crime scene.
Emily goes through her kitchen while Spencer clears the living room. He turns to ask her a question before seeing a figure behind his friend. “Emily!” He shouts, but it’s too late.
A man grabs Emily by her neck, attempting to wrestle the gun out of her hand.
Not a second later, there’s a different man on Spencer. He nearly gets a round off, but the man is able to pinch his wrist hard enough for him to drop his Smith & Wesson. Despite what local authorities may think, Spencer’s quite proficient in hand to hand, thanks to Morgan’s help.
Spencer is able to elbow the man in the chin, but that just seems to anger him. Across the room, Emily grunts with the force of taking down a man much bigger than herself.
The unsub attacking Spencer gets a lucky hit in, smashing his nose, and blood begins pouring down the bottom of his face right after. Spinning around, Spencer is able to knee the man, but as he goes to sweep his feet out from under him, the man grabs his wrist and they both go down.
Spencer reaches for his gun on the floor, but the man gets to it first, bringing it straight up to his head. He gives Spencer a kick in the gut for extra measure, and shouts to Emily, “Drop your fucking weapon, or your boyfriend gets it!”
Although her first instinct is to tell him she’s a lesbian, Emily quickly glances over to Spencer’s collapsed form beside her coffee table.
Shit.
She puts up her hands in a surrender-like fashion, and mutters, “Fine, fine!” The man attacking her grabs her pistol with a snark, and it takes all of her willpower to not spit on him.
Satisfied with their work, the other attacker starts up, “Okay c’mon, get ‘em down. Get ‘em situated.”
“Situated where?”
Exasperatedly, the seemingly dominant partner replies, “To a fucking chair, you imbecel!” Frowning at Spencer, he questions, “Shit, he didn’t pass out, did he?”
Spencer groans as a reply.
“Okay great. C’mon man, get the rope! What are you doing?”
After five long minutes, the two unsubs have managed to get both Spencer and Emily tied up in her dining room, threatening the other to get them to cooporate.
Tired of the situation already, Emily questions, “What are you trying to achieve by doing this? Is there something you want?”
“Yes! Answers?”
Emily rolls her eyes. “Great. About what?”
The dominant unsub makes a disgusted face at her. “What? Do you not remember me?”
With a disinterested face, Emily replies with a simple, “No.”
Huffing, he continues, “I’m Finnian Randoph. Ring a bell?”
“Nope. Who’s your partner?”
“Bill Sellers.” The other unsub answers. “And you’re Emily Prentiss, ex Interpol Agent.”
Emily rolls her eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake. That’s what you’re on about? Interpol? You said it yourself, I don’t even work with them anymore.”
“No, but you have answers to our questions.”
Face contorted from deliberation, Spencer looks between the unsubs and Emily. If he can read the room correctly, he might be able to talk themselves out of this situation.
“And what makes you think that I’ll answer any of your questions?”
Finnian laughs, before pulling out brass knuckles.
Spencer gives an alarmed look to Emily, but she just gives a sigh. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Torture? Really?”
“Shut up, bitch!”
“You haven’t even told me what you want to know!” She counters, wishing that she could just have a single day off to watch old movies.
“Tell me what happened in Paris last year.”
Spencer frowns when Emily instantly pales, her entire demeanor changing.
“No.”
Finnian punches her right cheek and asks again, “Tell me what happened in Paris.”
Looking him dead in the eye, Emily reiterates, “No.”
Hunching down, Spencer looks at the scene in front of him. He could’ve guessed that Emily’s not a blinker either. Mutely, he wonders if she and Hotch have to deal with dry eyes on a daily basis. He’s pulled from his thoughts when Finnian punches her again.
Emily can’t help but groan from the metal doing it’s best to break her cheekbones. When he pulls back and punches again, she feels the cartilage of her nose crunch. It makes a sickening noise, and based on Spencer’s small flinch, he heard it too.
“What happened in Paris?”
Emily clears her throat before sweetly answering, “Your mom.”
Spencer has to bite his tongue to stop from making things worse. Selfishly, he wishes that Emily would just tell them what they want to know so they can stop beating her. While in reality, he knows that Finnian won’t just let them go free, Spencer still childishly wishes it so.
Pulling back his arm, Finnian mutters, “Fuckin’ bitch,” Before punching her across the face once again. Then, turning to Bill, he asks, “Want a turn?”
With a devilish grin, Bill nods, pulling on his own pair of brass knuckles.
Spencer closes his eyes when he hears flesh being crushed. This wasn’t supposed to happen! They were supposed to be watching old French films, and forgetting about the terrible world around them. He was supposed to be curled up on Emily’s couch, Sergio purring in his lap, putting pressure on his thighs. Frowning, Spencer wonders what happened to Sergio. He hopes the pretty kitty is okay.
“Tell me what happened in Paris!”
“No.” Emily spats, sounding absolutely terrifying, rather than terrified. She’s definitely not a blinker.
Angry that his plan isn’t working, Finnian tries a new tactic. “Fine. What about your little boyfriend here? ‘You tell him what you did in Europe?”
Eyes turning cold, she protests, “He doesn’t know anything.”
“Is that so?” Finnian questions, grinning at the fact that he’s finally managed to make Emily uncomfortable. “The kid doesn’t know anything? Then why did he have his own gun? Why was he so prepared, walking into a house, clearing every room?”
“He doesn’t know anything about Interpol.” Emily repeats, voice stumbling when she hacks over a glob of blood.
Finnian just grins. “Citizens don’t have government issued weapons, sweetheart. So I’ll ask you again, what does he know about Paris?”
“He doesn’t. Know. Anything. You keep him out of this.” Emily barks, face as cold as stone. Even Spencer’s a bit scared of her, and she’s not even directing her thoughts at him.
Giving up on Emily, Finnian stands next to Spencer. “Hey baby boy. What’s your name?”
Spencer swallows, and sends a worried glance to Emily.
Finnian quickly takes Spencer’s chin in his hands and forces him to look forward. “Nuh, uh. You look at me, okay? Not your girlfriend. What’s your name?”
Blinking (damn his blinking!), Spencer answers, “Spencer Reid.”
“Tell me, Spencer Reid, do you know what dear ol’ Emily did in Paris last year?”
Building his strength up, Spencer looks him in the eyes and replies, “No. But I think we might be able to make a bit of a deal.” Internally, all of the gears are turning in Spencer’s head, neurons firing in every direction. He knows that he needs to be treating this not as a hostage situation, but as something personal.
Unfortunately, Finnian isn’t interested. “Nice try. What do you know about Paris?”
“He doesn’t know anything, asshole,” Emily hisses from a few feet away, looking thoroughly pissed off.
“Stop trying to defend him!” Finnian shouts, and Bill punches her jaw, just for good measure. She groans from the pain, and Spencer feels his heart clench.
Turning back to the younger agent, Finnian jeers again, “What happened in Paris?”
“I don’t know!” Spencer honestly answers. He hasn’t felt this hopeless and terrified since Raphael and Charles worked together to make him reveal his sins.
“Bullshit!” Finnian shouts, punching Spencer squarely in the face.
Spencer’s head jerks to the side from the sudden jab, and his nerves begin screaming. He’s never been hit by brass knuckles before, and he never wants to again either. He’s been punched before, but the metal makes the pain increase ten fold. It’s worse than he thought it would be.
“Don’t fucking touch him!” Emily shouts, jaw clenched from pain and anger. “He’s not a part of any of this. You have a problem with me, not him!”
Bill huffs in her face. “He became a part of this when you brought the little twerp home with you!”
“I was in Paris,” Emily counters. “Not him.”
Finnian tilts his head to the side, pretending to consider her thoughts, before punching Spencer from the other direction. “Oh? Is that so?”
“Get the fuck away from him!”
With pursed lips, he teases, “Do you not like that, Emmie-Em? Hmm? Don’t like your little boyfriend getting hurt?”
Straining against her bonds, Emily growls, “I’m going to kill you.”
“Aww, how sweet,” Finnian smirks. “You know what? Spencer’s inspired me. I think I’d like to make a deal with you.”
“Get the fuck away from him,” Emily hisses again, watching him gently trace a finger around his jaw.
Smiling, Finnian agrees, “Oh, I will. But only if you tell me what happened in Paris.”
Spencer sucks in a breath, before turning to her and gulping, “Emily, don’t-”
Finnian cuts him off with yet another punch, this time drawing blood from his cheek bone. “This doesn’t concern you!” He shouts, before throwing another punch. “This is between me and Emmie, okay?” Finnian asks condescendingly.
Neither accepting nor denying Finnian’s deal, Emily barks out, “You have a problem with me, you numbnut. Not him.”
Giving a faux frown, Finnian points out, “But you seem to care about him so much. So here. I’ll try this again. Tell me what happened in Paris, or,” He punches Spencer higher up this time, reaching his brow. “Your boyfriend will suffer.”
Spencer tries to stay as silent as he can, but he can’t help letting out a small whimper, the entire left side of his face stinging and throbbing.
“Deal with me instead- take me instead!” Emily shouts at him, pulling at her bonds so much that the chair rocks forward from the force.
“Tell me what happened in Paris!” Spencer feels yet another hit, this time clipping the side of his nose.
“No! Get the hell away from him!”
“Tell me what happened in Paris, you bitch!” Finnian nearly screams, taking his anger out on Spencer.
“Take me instead!”
At this point, Finnian is too tired to deal with the situation, and simply punches Spencer like a rag doll. He stops asking about Paris, and stops offering Spencer’s immunity.
He just wails on Spencer with both hands, staring at his head, dropping down to his chest occasionally.
Emily screams bloody murder the entire time, while Spencer murmurs broken pleads.
Bill begins to hit Emily, but it’s only to make her shut up, rather than draw information out. They both know that they’re going to learn nothing about Paris at this point, but they don’t want to make their entire trip a bust. They solve that problem by skipping a day at the gym, using both of their victims as heavy bags.
And then the door bangs open, coming clean off its hinges, making all four of them jump.
“Hands in the air!”
Emily doesn’t have to turn to know that it’s Morgan’s commanding voice. A second later, Rossi’s and Hotch’s voices join him. Once the hits to her face stop, Emily’s able to crane her neck enough to see her rescuers. Along with the men, JJ’s also there, looking about as angry as she did when Henry was in danger a few years ago.
Seeing at least five guns trained on his head, Bill quickly puts up his hand, murmuring, “Aye, man. Calm down. I ain’t gonna do anything more.”
Finnian sends a nastly look to his accomplice, scolding, “Bastard,” before both of their arms are pulled behind their backs, fashioned with FBI handcuffs.
All of the free BAU agents instantly gravitate toward Spencer and Emily, simultaneously calling for medics.
Hotch quickly unties Emily’s bonds, searching for her eyes. “Prentiss. Look at me.”
Groaning, she mutters, “I’m fine, go to Spence,”
“JJ and Morgan are with him, see?” He asks, pointing only a few feet to his left. “He’s going to be okay.”
When Morgan cuts the ropes on Spencer’s wrists, he limply falls forward into JJ’s arms, wincing at the movement. “Jayje?”
Attempting to keep her panic pushed down, she soothes, “Hey, Spence. Can you open your eyes for me?”
Ignoring the request, Spencer questions, “Is Emily going to be okay?”
“You’re both going to be fine,” She promises, trying to hold up his weight. Morgan helps, holding up half of his body, but he nearly drops Spencer when he sees his face.
Already swollen, blood and bruises litter nearly every inch of it. Even after Hankel, Spencer didn’t look this bad.
“Emily’s ‘kay?” Spencer questions again.
“She’s okay, pretty boy,” Morgan answers. “You’re both gonna be okay.”
Spencer tiredly nods, before falling limply into JJ’s and Morgan’s arms.
*
Spencer wakes from a nightmare, still fading from behind his eyes. Hands are on him in a fraction of a second, all holding him down.
Just as he begins to panic further, JJ’s voice cuts through. “Spence! Spence, you’re fine, you’re safe, I promise,”
“JJ?”
Smiling down at the figure on the bed, JJ assures him, “Yeah, I’m here. You’re okay.”
After nodding, Spencer questions, “And Emily? She’s okay?”
“She’s also recovering. You’re both going to be okay.”
Finally, Spencer relaxes back down into the bed. “Where is she?”
“A couple rooms down.” JJ answers, nodding to the wall. “She woke up about an hour ago, but she’s sleeping again.
“Good.” Spencer muses, tiredly leaning into the pillow.
“You can go back to sleep, Spence,” JJ smiles, noticing all of the telltale patterns of a sleep deprived genius. “Emily’s okay. And so are you. Just rest.”
Spencer nods, and his eyes slip close.
*
A day later, Spencer awkwardly walks around his apartment, eyes turning manic before they find Emily, settled on his couch, nursing a cup of coffee. Emily’s no rookie profiler though, and notices his rather obvious signs of distress.
After minutes pass, and Spencer’s still stumbling around his apartment, she speaks up, “Spencer.”
He instantly whips his head in her direction, questioning, “Are you okay? Are you cold? Do you want more coffee?”
“Sit.”
Spencer furrows his brow. “What?”
Patting the cushion next to her, Emily reiterates, “C’mon. Sit.”
Giving her a look like she’s actually an alien, he mumbles out, “I don’t…”
“Spence. Come. Sit.” She gives him a look that has no room for negotiation. Spencer pensively sits down. “I’m fine, you know.” She says, looking him straight in the eye, sighing when his eyes quickly dart around the room.
“I know.” He quickly responds, bouncing his leg.
“And you’re okay too.”
“I know.”
Sighing, Emily puts a hand on his knee, and Spencer looks up at her. “So what’s going on with you?”
Spencer breathes in and out a few times, and just as she’s pretty sure he’s not going to answer, he asks, “Did you mean it?”
“Did I mean what?”
“That you’d rather take the beating for yourself?”
Even though Emily’s not expecting the question, she instantly answers. “Yes.”
“Why?”
She can’t help but let a scoff escape. “Why? Spencer, I could never let anything happen to you.”
Frowning, he tries to counter, “But,”
“Nope.”
“Em-”
“No.”
He gives her a look before trying again, “But-”
“Spencer.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t care about the situation we’re in. I don’t care what’s happening, or who’s doing it. I’ll always make sure you’re safe. I’d take a beating for you every day. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop it yesterday.”
Spencer swallows, before reiterating the question that Emily knew was coming. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“I just,” He huffs, collecting his thoughts, before continuing, “I just don’t get why you’d sacrifice yourself for me.”
“That’s what family does.”
“Family?”
“Family.”