checkmate , s.reid

019 » THE GUILT

(tw for abuse)

The case doesn't take too long. We track down the unsub and successfully arrest him without any injuries. Although, I have not been much help. My mind is in a haze and I can't clear the fog from my brain.

For the entire case, I have been distracted, and tired, and unable to sleep properly. Like usual, my sleep has been plagued with nightmares and uncomfortable dreams. But they have been different. They have been less focused on murder and kidnap and more focused on flashes of memories from my childhood, and Jackson.

I jolt awake from another dream, my skin coated with sweat and my heart beating erratically. I glance around the jet, my vision slightly bleary. Everyone else is doing their own thing, focused on themselves.

Except for Reid.

When I notice his eyes on me, I quickly avert my gaze and run a hand through my hair, breathing a sigh. The remnants of the dream are fading from my mind, thankfully, and I check my phone, seeing four texts from Jackson. I bite my lip as I open them, reading through them all.

JACKSON:
Are you going to come
over when you're back?
JACKSON:
I miss you so much babe
JACKSON:
Hello?
JACKSON:
Y/N?

Rubbing my eyes, I adjust my position on the jet's couch, frowning at the messages. I type out a reply, letting him know that I am planning to see Alice and Ezra, and send it. As I slip my phone back into my pocket, I glance up, meeting Reid's gaze.

I still do not understand him. He confuses me in a way that nobody has confused me before. Usually, I am easily able to read people. Spencer Reid is different.

I still don't know who Maeve is. I don't know why he is an absolute dick to me. I don't know why he gives me such a hard time, when he loves everyone else. I don't understand why sometimes he will be nice, and civil, and then an hour later he will go back to hating me. I don't know why he constantly makes condescending remarks towards or about me. It makes my head hurt to think about. He makes my head hurt to think about.

He makes his way across the jet and sits beside me. My body tenses as I watch him, waiting for him to speak.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks.

What?

"What?"

"Something's bothering you. It's obvious," Reid responds. His gaze lingers on the almost completely faded bruise on my face before flickering back to my eyes. "It's affecting the way you think. The way you work."

"Nothing is bothering me," I reply, my eyes dropping down to my hands. I pause for a moment, then look back at him. He is still watching me. "Why, why, why would anything be bothering me?" I stammer.

Way to go, Y/N. You can't even fucking talk properly.

"Well, for starters," he begins, looking slightly amused, "you just said 'why' three times."

"I'm tired," I counter, narrowing my eyes. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I ignore it. "Why do you care anyway? You're not exactly my best friend, Reid."

"That's a shame," he says sarcastically. My phone vibrates again. "Are you going to answer those messages?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No. They're not important."

"Are you sure?" he questions as it vibrates another time.

"Why are you even here?" I sigh, rubbing my eyes. "Don't you have anything better to do? Go talk to Morgan or some shit. I'm sure he'd enjoy your company more than I do."