ROSEMARY - spencer reid

S E V E N

CHAPTER 7: BROKEN HEARTS

Rosemary Cooper's POV

[September 30th, 2009]

After taking a shower and drying off, I put the tight long-sleeved shirt from before back on. I decide not to put the pants on and just wear the underwear so that I can be more comfortable.

I plop down onto the soft bed, looking around. I sigh contentedly to myself, reading the clock and seeing that it is already past 10:00 pm. I decide to just call it a night since I'll have to be awake somewhat early tomorrow. I reach over and turn off the lamp, sliding under the covers and closing my eyes.

I am almost instantly asleep, not sure when the last time I had slept in an actual bed was.

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Meanwhile

Agent Prentiss pulls into the parking lot of the B.A.U. Headquarters, getting out of her vehicle and locking the door behind her. She is unaware of the shadowy figure lurking in the darkness of the lot that creeps closer and closer to her. Ramón Sanchez's steps are completely silent; his phantom-like figure just within arm's reach of the brunette agent.

Without warning, the butt of his handgun comes down on her temple. She is rendered helpless by the blow, crumpling to the ground as her head begins to bleed. Ramón shuffles through her pockets, finding the keycard that he knew would be there. He looks down at it, seeing the name of the hotel emblazoned on it as well as the room number.

"357." He smirks to himself, leaving Agent Prentiss bleeding on the pavement.

Prentiss fully loses consciousness as he disappears into the night, returning to his vehicle and making a beeline to where he knew he would find the woman.

Ramón makes it to the hotel, letting himself in through the side door with the card and taking the stairs up to the third floor. He quickly finds room 357, letting himself in quietly and eases the door shut with gloved hands when he sees that the lights are off.

He hears the kind of slow, steady breaths that only a sleeping individual can produce, so he quickly readies his rag and chloroform, wanting to make this process as quick and efficient as possible. He follows the sound of her breathing, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the hotel room as he approaches the side of her bed.

He sets the small bottle of chloroform onto the beside table before positioning the rag over Rosemary's face. He suddenly clamps it over her nose and mouth, grabbing her throat and holding her down when she jolts upwards in fear.

She lets out a shriek of terror and confusion, but it is muffled both by the rag and by the fact that her airway is being constricted by Ramón's grip. Rosemary does not by any means succumb to the drug peacefully. She thrashes her arms and legs out, tossing the blanket off of the bed in a heap and shoving the lamp off of the nightstand with a loud crash.

After a few more terror-stricken moments of struggle, the chloroform finally drags Rosemary into unconsciousness.

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Dr. Spencer Reid's POV

We all pile out of the SUVs, slamming the doors behind us before approaching the Headquarters. We are about halfway through the dark parking lot when we see someone lying on the ground.

We race over with our hands resting on our guns, seeing that it is Prentiss. She is regaining consciousness and groaning as Derek tears off a piece of his t-shirt and presses it against her head, which is bleeding from being hit.

"What happened?" Hotch asks her over the din of all of us asking various questions, concerned about our friend.

"I-I don't know," she stammers, her eyes blinking quickly as she begins to recall. "I was just walking in and someone came up and clubbed me in the head."

"Where is Rosemary? Is she safely at her hotel?" Hotch asks, keeping her as the priority.

I feel a brief surge of panic wash over me at the thought of Rosemary being in danger.

"Yeah, yeah," she nods, reaching towards her pocket. "I just dropped her off a little bit ag-" she suddenly stops talking, her eyes expressing nothing but pure anxiety.

"What?" I demand shrilly. "What is it?"

"It's the keycard," she groans. "It was in my pocket, he must have taken it."

"So it was Sanchez?" Rossi asks, rising to his feet quickly.

"What do you think?"

"JJ, stay here with Prentiss," Hotch tells her, and JJ nods, taking the piece of cloth from Derek and applying pressure to her temple. "Call her an ambulance. The rest of you: with me."

We sprint to the SUVs, leaping in and driving at top speed to the hotel. We barge in the front doors, sprinting up the three flights of stairs, breaking down the door of room 357. We quickly file in, turning the lights on and drinking in the scene.

The duvet is in a heap on the floor, the sheets crumpled and the pillows severely askew. The lamp that should be resting on the bedside table has been knocked into the floor and there is a small bottle of labeled chloroform sitting neatly on the table.

I immediately begin to wonder why he left it behind. Everything is for a reason. Maybe he was trying to taunt us?

"Look." Rossi says, picking up the business card with all the team's phone numbers on it.

It is torn in half; a clear message that the Sanchez isn't our biggest fan.

I take a deep breath, my mind on Rosemary. I know that I worry far more about her than I do for other victims, but during the short time she's been with my team, she's wormed her way into everyone's heart.

I just hope that we don't have our hearts broken by Sanchez's actions.