dead to me| 2- s. r

FIFTEEN

After nearly three weeks of no new breaks in the case, it was safe to say that everyone was at an all-time low, feeling discouraged and defeated.

Garcia had typed away on her computers until she felt her fingers would fall off, but nothing came of it. The team looked through what felt like a thousand files, only for each of them to come up blank or be met with dead ends each time.

You give yourself a final once-over in the mirror, feeling slightly more nervous than you know you should be. You smooth down the fabric of your jeans and adjust your sweater, fiddling with the sleeves of it nervously. You let your hair down naturally, sliding on a pair of combat boots, adding your winter jacket on top and zipping it up, burying your chin under the zipper to try and keep yourself warm as you walk to your car. You start your car and blast the heat up, rubbing your hands together to try and create some warmth, shivering slightly until you feel the car start to warm up. Only then do you start the drive, following every direction that the GPS spits out until you arrive, inhaling sharply before pocketing your keys and walking toward the entrance.

As you approach the doors of the prison, you grip the strap of your purse tighter as you walk through the gates. The drive was far, and you sure as hell hope that you're right about this, otherwise it would be a complete waste of time. You're more nervous than you probably should be, especially since you're not here on official business, just here as a regular visitor.

You check in with the lady at the front, getting frisked by one of the female officers and having to walk through metal detectors until they deemed you safe enough to enter. You filled out the sign-in sheet, filling out all the necessary information before finally being led into the visitation room. There were chairs lined up in a row with plexiglass separating the prisoners from everyone else that was here to visit.

You saw some families all crowded together, visiting other family members, all of them putting on fake, brave smiles for whoever it was they were here to visit. You found it slightly odd that you were the only visitor that was allowed to come and visit him, the only one he put on his allotted list of visitors. No one else. Not even his family, other friends- but then again, he probably didn't really have any other friends besides you.

You take a seat at the small cubicle that the prison guard had told you to sit at, watching on the other side of the glass for the face you so desperately didn't want to see, but you had to. If you were right about this, and you sure as hell hoping that you were because you honestly had nothing else to go off of here, then there's a chance you might be able to help out Spencer.

When he takes a seat in front of you, it takes you a second to even process it because he's grown nearly unrecognizable from his time in here, yet somehow, he still looks exactly the same, and it chills you right down to your bones. Seeing him sitting before you, even with a piece of glass separating you, is greatly unsettling for you. If not for Spencer's sake, you would have never come to visit him at all, you would have chosen to let him rot in here without giving him the satisfaction of seeing you again. But now that Spencer was involved, you knew it wasn't that simple, and it was something you had to do.

His hair had grown longer and he'd now grown a beard, making the bottom half of his face nearly unrecognizable. His eyes still had the same cold, harsh look to them, sending shivers down your spine, causing the hairs on your neck to raise up, goosebumps forming all over your body. You will yourself not to react to him in front of you, merely gulping as you keep eye contact with him.

He picks up the phone on the other side and holds it up to his ear, motioning to the phone on your side with a salacious smile, tapping his free hand against the table impatiently. Your mouth feels like you haven't drunk water in days with how dry it is, but nonetheless, you shake your nerves and pick up the phone, hesitantly bringing it up to your ear, all while maintaining eye contact with him.