Unknown- A Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 16- Bike and Biker Chick

Reid pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, and I stared out the window at the drops blurring the headlights and taillights of other traffic.  It was D.C., the streets were always busy, even in weather like this.

It was warm in the car, and my eyes blurred as much as the scene out the window because I was so tired. My head dropped back against the seat, and  I don't even remember falling asleep.  I certainly remembered waking up with a start from some crazy dream about a man chasing and grabbing me, however.

It wasn't until I had fully awakened from my post-sleep induced daze though that I realized it had actually been Reid shaking my shoulder to wake me up.  We were parked right outside my apartment building, but when he had woken me up, instinct had kicked in and I had somehow managed to seize his wrist and bend his hand at a very unnatural angle.  A flick of my wrist and his would be broken.

I immediately released my grip on his arm when I saw the look of surprise on his face that barely concealed the pain I was putting him in.

I muttered a quick, "Sorry," as I hurriedly unbuckled and then added a rushed, "Thanks," before stepping out of the car, back into the rain, and splashing through puddles as I dashed to my apartment building.

Once I was inside my apartment and had the door locked behind me, I leaned against it and exhaled a sigh.  I can't believe I had just attacked one of my coworkers because I had been dreaming.  What the hell was wrong with me?

I absent-mindedly hoped it wouldn't leave a bruise, but I doubt it.  Rumor had it the last guy I'd gotten in a fight with looked like he'd been mugged by a biker gang when in reality he just got a bad case of the grab-hands when he was inebriated.

I ignored the loop of the incident playing on repeat in my head as I grabbed the mail off the counter--thanks again, Mrs. Mulcahy--and flipped through it as I walked through the apartment to my bedroom to change out of my wet clothes.  Junk mail, letter, bill, more junk mail, insurance on my piece-of-crap car...I paused and stared at the pile in my hands, a lump of dread hardening in my gut as I slowly pulled the letter back out of the stack.  The envelope had my name and address on it, just like the other two.

I stared at it as I walked into my bedroom, dropping down on the ottoman in front of the armchair in the corner of my room, setting the other mail next to me and angrily ripping open the envelope.

I unfolded the sheet and spotted the regrettably familiar scrawl of my taunter.

Did your last case remind you of something?  You're finally thinking about me.  I knew you would understand soon.

With an angry growl, I crumpled it up and tossed it across the room before disappearing into my walk-in closet,  stripping off all my wet clothes, pulling on a loose T-shirt, and climbing in bed.  If only I could find this guy and do the same thing to him I'd accidentally done to Reid, just ten times worse. 

My restless sleep was punctuated by nightmares, snippets of terror, and the occasional moments of waking when I was almost positive there was someone in my apartment wielding a knife and a branding iron. 

At six the next morning, after lying awake for nearly two hours, I finally decided to get up and take a shower.  And, calling to mind one of the first conversations I'd had with Reid, a clearance purchase I'd made at the store a few days ago, and the aching in my head from lack of sleep, I made myself some green tea in an attempt to wake up.  And immediately regretted it after a single sip and dumped the whole cup down the drain because it tasted like water scooped out of a mud puddle and stewed in grass clippings. No amount of honey or sugar could fix that, so once I had tamped down my gag reflex, I resolved to stick to soda so the cereal I had for breakfast wouldn't come back up.

I grabbed my keys, badge, and gun and was about to head out the door when I remembered I didn't have a car.  I glanced at the clock, I was supposed to be leaving now if I wanted to beat the morning traffic and still make it to work on time, but I had no way of getting there.  I wasn't going to call anyone on the team to give me a ride, then I'd make them late, too, and it's not like I wanted anyone to see me this early in the morning after a night of approximately twenty minutes of sleep that I'd gotten on the drive from the BAU to my apartment.

My eye fell on the dusty key sitting in the bowl on my counter where I normally kept my phone and stuff.  Looks like the bike it was, so I quickly rushed back to my bedroom and found the small stack of boxes I had yet to unpack from when I'd moved here almost two months ago buried in the back of my closet.  I ripped open the nearest one and dug through it before unearthing a dusty helmet. I swiped my hand across it to reveal the shiny black paint job underneath and then snatched the motorcycle key up, too on my way back out the door.

I kept my bike in Mrs. Mulcahy's allotted parking stall--don't worry, I paid the yearly fee for both her parking space and mine since she didn't have a car--but I hadn't had a chance to use it at all since I'd moved to DC.  Thankfully it still ran quite well, and in seconds I was speeding down the highway and weaving between cars to make it on time.  I really had to stop making it a habit to be almost late to work.

Once I got there, I pulled into the lot right next to my abandoned car from the night before, pulling off my helmet and then remembering to snag my go bag from the passenger seat.  The minute I opened the car door though, I heard the incessant buzzing of my phone which I had left tossed on the seat.  Two missed texts from Garcia and a missed call from JJ.  I opened the first text, apparently we had a case, and the second was demanding where I was and instructing me to meet the rest of the team on the plane.  It had been sent fifteen minutes ago.

I tucked my phone into the pocket of my leather jacket and readjusted my grip on my go bag, shutting and locking my car door and then going around the building to the waiting plane.  No surprise that I was the last one to board, the door closed right after I had bounded up the steps, and everyone glanced up when I arrived.

"Oversleep?" Rossi teased, but before I could answer, Morgan had to notice the motorcycle helmet I still had clutched in my hand.

"What's the helmet for, Rookie?  Catch a ride with your biker boyfriend?" he said with a smirk, glancing at Reid.  Not sure how Reid correlated with that statement other than being the complete opposite, but I suppose this is Morgan we're talking about.

The laptop on the table lit up with Garcia's face.

"Oh yeah, because since I'm a girl I'm not allowed to own a motorcycle or heaven forbid take safety precautions while riding said motorcycle," I said, my voice flat on the bottom of a lake of sarcasm as I dropped onto the far end of the 'couch' on the plane, right under the screen on the wall that was also displaying our personal tech guru's smiling face.

Before Morgan had a chance to respond to what I had said, Garcia cut in with a gasp at overhearing our conversation. "Badass biker chick?  I can definitely see it," she exclaimed.

Not like it had anything to do with my preferred clothing choice of combat boots and leather jackets or anything, but I digress.

Morgan shook his head and took a seat.  The plane was taking off, which meant we had a case to discuss.