Chapter Text
“On your right, pretty boy.”
Spencer stops as Morgan rushes past him back to his desk, eyes trained on the hallway.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” he complains. “I nearly spilled my coffee.”
“Gideon’s daughter is here again,” he says. “Did you not feel the temperature drop five degrees?”
Spencer frowns. He opens his mouth to say something when he hears the telltale signs of your arrival: arguing.
“—so typical of you! I have to drop everything the moment you need me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you to listen to me.”
Gideon turns the corner with you in tow. He has a duffle bag in one hand and a file in his other, his brow furrowed in frustration.
“That’s because this is important,” he says.
“Oh, and everything else I try to get you to be around for isn’t?”
“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Gideon says, keeping his voice level.
“This is ridiculous,” you spit.
“It’s necessary,” he corrects. “I’m not going to play games with your safety.”
“Oh, yeah,” you mock. “Because you’ve always cared about that.”
He just shakes his head. “I’m not debating this with you.”
“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”
You follow Gideon into his office and Spencer watches him close the blinds. The door slams shut, and though he can still hear the muffled argument he can’t make anything out.
“Oh, great,” Morgan says. “Now we can’t even get Reid to read their lips.”
“I don’t think we need it to know what they’re talking about,” Elle says. “They’ve been arguing since she was brought in.”
“Of course they have,” JJ says. “Gideon sent Hotch to pick her up instead of doing it himself. She sees it as another slight.”
“She sees everything as a slight,” Spencer says. “She hates him.”
“I don’t blame her,” Morgan mutters. “Not when we only found out about her last month.”
“Surely this isn’t helping with anything,” JJ says wryly.
Elle shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes pointless arguing makes you feel better, even when you’re in the wrong.”
“That’s enough, agents.” Spencer’s attention—along with everyone else’s—snaps to the top of the bullpen to see Hotch holding a file with the same expression as always. “I need you all in the conference room.”
“Does it have anything to do with that?” Morgan asks, tilting his head towards Gideon’s office.
“You’ll find out,” he says. Hotch starts walking to the conference room, the conversation clearly over.
JJ sighs as she stands up and grabs the files on her desk. “I’ll get Penelope. The rest of you try not to gossip too much.”
She goes off, and the others disperse back to their desk to finish up some last-minute things before the case takes them away. Spencer can’t tear his eyes away from Gideon’s office, even though he’s not getting anything.
All he can think about is the last time you were here, when he got caught in the middle of your argument with Gideon—your dad, which was still a little weird—and he can’t help but feel guilty.
Gideon is a father figure to him, sure, but it isn’t that difficult to end up with that dynamic when Spencer’s the youngest on the team. And he can go into everything about his father leaving and the psychology of that, but it doesn’t matter. Gideon treated him like a son when he had a daughter all along that he’d been neglecting.
For all Spencer knows, it is his fault.
“Reid,” Elle says, snapping him out of his thoughts, “you coming?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding far too many times as he catches up to her in a few quick strides. “Sorry.”
“No need,” she remarks. “Gideon’s kid was all anyone could talk about when she first showed up here. This is only gonna make things worse.”
“He can’t really be that bad of a dad,” Spencer says, “right?”
“All I know is that having a parent in the force rarely ends well,” Elle murmurs. She opens the door to the conference room and looks at him. “We can’t be too hard on her when we probably see Gideon more than she does.”
Spencer recalls his meeting with you, how he barely got a word in edgewise while you spent the whole time arguing with someone half the office viewed as immovable.
“Yeah,” he says distantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
-
“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”
Your dad shuts the blinds on all the windows in his office, then closes the door behind you. He sets your duffle down on the floor then looks at you, that infuriatingly even expression still unchanged.
“It’s not ridiculous,” he says. “Sit down and lower your voice, please. We have some things to talk about.”
“I gathered that when you sent your guy to pick me up,” you say, crossing your arms as he walks over to his desk. “Couldn’t even do it yourself?”
“Aaron Hotchner is the chief of this unit and one of the most accomplished agents here,” he says. “He lives closer to you than I do, and I asked him to pick you up on his way in because I knew you would be safe with him. Sit down, please.”
“There it is again. My safety.” You remain standing. “Tell me what this is about. I’m missing work right now— I know you can understand that, at least.”
He lets out a sigh as he says your name and looks at you. “Can we get through this without any arguments for once?”
“That depends. Are you going to treat me like your daughter or an inconvenience?”
“You’re my daughter, I love you, and your life is in danger,” he says evenly.
You open your mouth to retort, but your dad opens the file in his hands and sets it down on the other side of the desk. You can see from your position that they’re photos, but your curiosity ultimately wins out. You walk over to get a closer look, and any words die in your throat as you pick up the first photo.
A photo of you.
You pick up the next one, only to see it’s another picture of you. At least ten photos are tucked away in the file, and they’re all of you. Taken outside your work, at your apartment, on your morning run— god, there’s even one taken through the window of your bedroom, half-naked in a towel after a shower.
You fall silently into the chair, your heart hammering inside your chest as your eyes dart between all of the photos. You want to crawl out of your skin.
“What the fuck is this?” you breathe.
“The heart of our newest case,” your dad says. “It appears that you have a stalker.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes still glued to your oblivious self, “I would fucking think so.”
“These photos were dropped off at my door this morning,” he says, and he flips to the next section of the file, “with that note.”
The erratic handwriting instantly stands out to you as you pick the photocopy up, the lump in your throat growing with every word you read.
such a pretty little thing. I wonder if she knows it.
you don’t care about her, but I do. she’s just like all the rest of us, everyone that you’ve ruined.
think about your priorities, agent gideon. I’ll be watching.
“What the fuck is this?” you repeat. Blood pounds in your skull as a distant chill creeps down your spine. “I— I’m one of your cases now?”
“We’re not sure yet,” he admits. “These only appeared yesterday, but from the looks of it, the unsub has been watching you for a while. Can you pinpoint when any of these photos were taken?
You stare at him. “Some psycho has been stalking me for a while?”
Your dad says your name again, slightly strained. “Please. I know this is difficult to think about, but figuring out a time frame would help us.”
“Difficult,” you scoff. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
But it doesn’t have the bite your words usually hold. For once, you don’t think you’re mad at your dad. You think you’re terrified.
“…Yeah,” you finally murmur, and you pick up one of the photos. “I thrifted a mirror a month ago, and this one doesn’t have it.”
Your dad nods, and he picks up two others. “Neither do these.”
“So this has been going on for at least a month,” you say bitterly. “Great.”
Your dad says your name, quieter this time, and when you finally look at him his eyes have softened.
“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “This is a threat against an FBI agent’s family, and it will be treated accordingly. Forensics is doing tests on all the original copies to try and find a lead. The whole BAU will be on your case—I will be on it, and we won’t rest until we find whoever’s doing this.”
“Yeah,” you say numbly. “You sure that’ll help? Because it looks like all this is happening because I’m your daughter.”
“I know this is scary,” he says. “This… this is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. But you have to trust my team. We know what we’re doing.”
“Of course you know what you’re doing,” you say. “You’re always here.”
Your words have no bite behind them, more of an instinct as you grab your purse from the ground. You can feel the pinpricks of incoming tears, and you refuse to cry in front of your dad.
“I— I need a minute,” you say. “This is all just—”
“I understand,” he says. “Just don’t go far. Stay on this floor.”
You nod and start towards the door, but you pause right before you reach it. Your mouth opens as you try to think of something to say, but it falls shut just as quickly. You shake your head as you reach for the door handle, but before you get the chance, it swings open and you’re met with a familiar face.
Spencer Reid, the kid your dad likes more than you. He’s nothing less than surprised to see you, from his stumbled step back, the slightly wide eyes, his hand poised to knock on the door.
A mumbled apology falls from your lips as you move around him, and you can still feel his eyes on you as you speed off. You wonder what ideas he and the rest of the BAU have drawn up about you since your last visit to the office.
You don’t really care.
True to your word, you don’t go far—just to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s close, because the moment you make it to one of the stalls, knees stinging as you fall to the tiled floor, you vomit.
By the time you’ve expelled the contents of your stomach, it feels just as empty as the rest of you. You stare at the wall, breathing slightly harried and skin warm to the touch, and you resist the urge to punch it.
You have a stalker. Someone has been watching you for a month—at least a month, maybe longer—and you had no fucking clue, and now your only decent hope lies with your dad and his team.
Normally, you wrote off anything depending on your dad as fruitless, but this involved the thing he loved more than anything in the world: his job.
You huff a wry laugh at the thought. This wouldn’t get solved because it concerned you, it would get solved because it concerned his job.
You stand up and walk over to the sink. You rinse your mouth, then just stare at yourself in the mirror.
It— it feels strange. Looking at yourself like this, knowing someone has been—still is—watching you.
You recall their words.
Pretty little thing.
You don’t care about her, but I do.
A chill crawls up your spine. You can’t shake the dread settling all over you.
What the fuck are you going to do?
You have to trust your dad, but you’ve never trusted your dad. God, he’s not even really your dad. He’s Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon, nothing more—the estranged kid is an unfortunate side effect of the estranged wife.
You let out another breathy laugh. Would he even care if this psycho actually ends up killing you?
You stand there for another couple minutes, time idling in the background as you continue to stare at the mirror.
You haven’t cried, at least. That’s certainly something.
The door opens ever so slightly and someone says your name. Your eyes flick to the mirror almost immediately as your body tenses, and you recognize her as one of the BAU’s agents. She’s pretty and blonde with sympathetic eyes, and you know they’ve been briefed on your situation.
If you have to deal with an office of pitying looks, you think you might lose your mind.
“Are you alright?” she asks softly.
“Just peachy,” you mumble. “My dad ask you to check up on me?”
She nods. “You can imagine why Gideon is a bit high strung at the moment.”
“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I just… needed a second.”
“I understand,” she murmurs. “Do you still need some time?”
“What do you need?”
“Gideon wants to talk to you. It’s best if he explains it.”
You huff a laugh and shake your head. “Fine. Lead the way, Agent…”
“Jareau,” she supplies. “But call me JJ, please.”
In lieu of a response, you walk over to her. She offers a thin smile and holds the door for you, then falls into step with you. A moment of silence passes before she speaks up.
“We’re going to figure this out,” JJ says. “Your dad is one of the best to walk through these doors. If anyone can solve this, he can.”
“So I keep hearing,” you murmur.
-
Spencer watches you hurry off with wide eyes, and it takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it. He’s less surprised by your pace, and more surprised that you actually apologized for bumping into him.
“Reid,” Gideon speaks up, and his attention snaps back over to his superior. “What do you need?”
“Is she okay?” he asks instead. He can’t help it—after what Hotch just told all of them, he’s worried about you.
Gideon gathers the photos back into the file then stands up. “Our job is to make sure she will be.”
“Hotch briefed us,” he says, and his eyes darted back to the doorway almost on instinct. “This— this is crazy. We just found out about her last month, and some guy’s been after her for longer?”
“What this is is one of my enemies targeting my daughter because they’re too much of a coward to go after me,” Gideon says evenly. “We just have to figure out which one before they escalate.”
“How do you know?” he asks.
“What you said is true,” he admits. “Hardly anyone knows I have a daughter. Even fewer would know where she lives. Someone who wants to hurt me would have incentive to discover both.”
“So we look into unsubs you’ve put away that have been released,” Spencer says. “Or ones that are still in, but have family that might be bitter.”
“Exactly,” Gideon nods. “But I have to ask something of you, Reid.”
He frowns. “Anything.”
“We’re working on getting a safe house for my daughter,” Gideon says. “I need you to stay there with her.”
Somehow, his frown deepens. “What?”
“I need to know she’s with someone I can trust,” he says. “There’s someone after her, and we don’t know who—that means we need to keep this circle tight.”
“So you want me to be her bodyguard?” Spencer marvels. “Do you remember that you had to waive all my physical tests?”
“Less of a bodyguard,” he says. “More just… keeping her company. Making sure she’s alright—mentally as much as physically.”
“Why am I the one that has to keep an eye on her?” Spencer asks. “She hates me!”
“Don’t take it personally,” Gideon says. “She hates a lot of things.”
“But it is personal,” Spencer insists. “She hates me because she thinks you like me more than her.”
Gideon doesn’t seem phased at the comment. “She’s opinionated, but she’s harmless. And right now, I need to know that she’s with someone I can trust.”
“I— I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Please, Reid.” Gideon leans forward, and there’s an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. "If I’m going to be on this case, I need to know that she’s safe. I won’t be able to focus otherwise.“
Spencer wasn’t going to lie—he genuinely thought it was a bad idea. But… Gideon said he trusted him. And this was his daughter—they might’ve argued, but they still cared about each other. if he could keep Lila Archer safe, he could keep you safe.
“…Okay,” he finally concedes. “Okay.”
Gideon nods, and he watches the change in his eyes, the slightest bit of tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Just… make sure there are two bedrooms,” Spencer says. “I don’t need her to kill me one day in.”
At that, he cracks a rare smile. Spencer is thankful for it, that he can bring even the smallest amount of levity to Gideon’s life right now.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
-
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Your dad says your name, but you hardly let him finish.
“No! First I find out I have a stalker, then my whole life’s going to be uprooted until you find them, and now I have to be stuck with boy genius?”
“You know, we’re about the same age—”
“Do you ever stop talking?” you cry, whirling on Spencer.
“I actually don’t talk that much when I’m around you,” Spencer says, his brows creasing. “This is the third time I’ve met you, and I’ve only said nine sentences across those meetings. Thirteen, if you count all of these too.”
You let out a strained laugh as you shake your head, trying to blink back tears. “This is fucking unbelievable. I know he’s practically your son, but this is just—”
“A safety precaution,” your dad interrupts. “Doctor Spencer Reid is another one of the BAU’s finest agents, and he is fully qualified to keep you safe.”
“He looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half.”
“This is not a joke,” your dad says sternly. “None of this is a joke. Your life is in danger—you have a stalker that has been watching your every move for at least a month, and we have no idea what their next move will be. Doctor Reid is more experienced than you in every facet of this, and I am entrusting him to your care. I respect him immensely, and you will do so as well.”
You don’t even look at Spencer, quiet rage simmering beneath the surface as you stare at your father.
“You really don’t get it,” you murmur. “Do you?”
“The only thing to get is that your life is in increasing danger with every moment you spend pushing against me,” your dad says, and he stands up. “Get your purse. Reid, get her duffle. We’re leaving.”
He leaves before you get the chance to do anything—you assume he’s finally tired of you.
You just shake your head and pick up your purse, and Spencer clears his throat as he reaches for your duffle bag. You wonder if it even has anything useful—Aaron Hotchner was the one who packed it.
“…So,” Spencer says. “I guess we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”
You huff in fully unveiled annoyance, and you push past him on your way out.
“Great,” he mutters to himself as he follows you. “So this is what Gideon’s trust earns me.”
It doesn’t take him too long to catch up to you, despite the unnecessary quick pace you’re taking. You bypass the elevator and head towards the stairwell, and Spencer catches the door before it’s able to slam on him.
He says your name, but you just shake your head.
“If we’re gonna be stuck together until this is over, I’d prefer silence.”
“I don’t really do silence,” Spencer says.
“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of books for you to read in whatever jail cell they throw me in.”
“It’s actually going to be a pretty nice safe house,” he starts, throwing his hand up against the wall to catch himself from running into it as he turns, because god you are moving fast, “Gideon picked it out himself.”
“Oh, then it’ll definitely be a jail cell,” you mock. “It’s not like he knows anything about me, so he’ll probably think that it’s perfect.”
Spencer frowns. “Cut him some slack. This is all just as hard on him as it is on you.”
You come to a sudden stop, whirling around to face him, and Spencer has to reel to the side to prevent himself from running into you. Had he not already been pressed up against the wall, he would have moved back further, what with the fire blazing in your eyes.
“I’m not going to cut him any slack,” you spit. “This is the most time I’ve gotten to spend with my dad in months, and it’s only because some creep is stalking me to get back at him. The only reason I’m in this at all is because of his job that he cares about more than me, and now he’s sticking me with the guy that he wishes was his kid. So no, Doctor Reid—I’m not going to cut him any slack.”
You’re already off on your way again before Spencer even has time to blink, and you’ve made it down the whole last flight by the time he pushes himself back up.
He takes the steps three at a time to catch up to you, and he once again barely manages to catch the door before it slams on him. He calls your name, finally managing to fall into step with you right before you reach Gideon. He, like a normal person, deigned to take the elevator.
“You haven’t started arguing already,” he says, passing a glance at Spencer, “have you?”
“What do you think?” you ask, your arms crossed.
“I think you’re giving him a hard time that you usually reserve for me,” he says. “Cut him some slack.”
Your jaw clenches. “I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. Save the profiling for my stalker, will you?”
“There’s plenty of profiling to go around,” Gideon says. “You two wait here—I need to confirm the safe house location before we head out.”
“Can we stop by my place before we go?” Spencer asks. “I need to pick up some things.”
“You have a go bag, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but I— I wasn’t exactly prepared for this sort of thing when I came in today.”
“You’ll be fine,” Gideon says. He walks off before Spencer can protest, and he sighs.
You lean against the wall, your arms crossed with your purse hanging off your shoulder, and for once you don’t pass judgment on his—admittedly small—plight.
“I changed my mind,” Spencer speaks up, deciding to try and break the remarkably high amount of tension that had built up in such a short time, and your eyebrows rise as you glance at him.
“About what?”
“I— I think I can do silence,” he says. “Temporarily.”
You huff a laugh. “Really?”
“I don’t really want to annoy you while we’re stuck together in an undisclosed location,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.”
And for the first time since Spencer has met you, you actually smile. It’s the smallest thing, just a slight tilt of your lips that’s more akin to Hotch’s moments of levity than anything, but it’s a smile.
“…Good choice,” you say. It feels like a joke, but Spencer isn’t sure.
He smiles anyway. You meet his eyes, and for a moment, you’re just another girl. Someone that Spencer could imagine himself stealing glances at in a lecture hall, a regular at his favorite coffee shop that he falls for over the course of an especially cold winter, someone he meets on a night out with the team that he ends up talking to all night.
You really do have pretty eyes.
And then your gaze hardens, darts away from him, and Spencer sees Gideon coming back in his peripherals. The moment fractures.
You’re not just a girl. You’re Gideon’s daughter, you’re in a remarkable amount of danger, and lest he forget, you do in fact hate him.
Spencer lets out another short sigh.
At least this safe house won’t have a pool.