Guarded Hearts and Broken Wings || S.R.

20 - Fallout

The room was a calamity, and Spencer Reid stood in its doorway. It was a heart-stopping shock. Despite it, he crept in with light footsteps though the brewing thunderstorm made that pointless.  The kitchen light was on, but there was no one to be seen. Further into the apartment, the living room was engulfed by the darkness of the storm. Through it, he could see the figures of the table and chairs that were strewn across the room. Canvases were scattered throughout the room. Papers had been torn off the walls and as he crept forward he noticed a few shredded remains that had made it into the light of the kitchen. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a cold breeze blew through the room. When he inched into full view of the kitchen, his eyes were drawn to the floor — an open phone, an explosion of red staining the white floor, and a lone knife. His breath hitched, and his hand snapped to his gun and pulled it out of the holster. Further examination beyond a glance showed the red to be spilling out of take-out container -- not blood. His jaw clenched still, and his eyes darted around the room.

With the barrel kept aimed at the floor, he checked his back behind the front door then continued forward. He swiveled around the corner of the kitchen island, gun ready. With his eyes fixed on the looming dark hallway so that he would not be surprised, he moved into the living room. 

The floor creaked in protest under a forward foot. He froze and with every muscle in his body tense, he returned his weight to his back foot and adjusted his step. The tip of his shoe kicked something. He afforded himself a glance down and to see that it had been a canvas. His lips parted in shock. The canvas was busted open. He ripped his eyes away from it. He did not have time to examine anything until the apartment was clear. 

Though his hands were steady and his eyes trained and focused, his heart pounded in his chest. It felt like it was all happening over again, and he did not think that he could take it. Then he moved far enough into the living room to see a foot sticking out from behind the piano. Then the tips of fingers. Then a whole hand. He glanced again at the hallway.

"Mel?" He whispered. He stepped slowly forward until he could fully see her crumbled form. "Amelia..." His voice was soft and full of distress. He holstered his gun and hurried forward until he was kneeling in front of her.

She lay on her side, loosely curled into a fetal position. Her hands were claws clutched into her chest, and her hair was in a matted mess over her face. Spencer reached forward and with trembling hands, brushed her hair out of her face. Her eyes were open but glassy and distant and unresponsive to any of his movements. With wide eyes, he took her wrist in his long fingers and felt for a pulse. When he could feel her heart softly thudding underneath his touch and see the subtle rise and fall of her chest, he released a great weighted breath. His shoulder softened, and his eyes lowered for a moment before snapping back to her blank expression. They darted back and forth between her eyes as if a thousand calculations were happening behind his eyes. Suddenly, he stood and darted to the kitchen. He returned with a washcloth full of ice cubes and placed a few in her palm. With tenderness, he closed her fingers with his own around the ice cubes. With his second hand, he reached forward and softly stroked his thumb against her cheek.

"Come one, Amelia," he mumbled though he was sure the storm drowned out his voice. Thunder boomed and rolled through the streets. Spencer's eyes darted to the window in concern, but they quickly returned to Mel when he felt her body rattle underneath his hands. Even if the storm was not the cause of her current state, he was certain it was making it worse. "I'm right here. You're okay. You're safe in your apartment." Barely noticeable, he felt her fingers tighten around the ice underneath his own hand.

"Hey, that's right," he cooed. He adjusted his kneeling to pull even closer to her. "It's Thursday and it's 4:32 pm. You're safe in your apartment. You're not alone." He continued muttering to bring her around as he caressed her cheek. Shortly, her eyebrows twitched and her eyes seemed to focus. She blinked a few times before she looked up at Spencer's face.