Infiltration - Spencer Reid x Reader

Chapter Thirty

You and your team worked furiously to better understand and trace where exactly the orchestrator was headquartered. Your mind had clarity while your body whirl winded around, taking papers from desks, pulling reports from the computer, and answering back and forth phone calls from Penelope and alternating members of the BAU. You decided to head up to Baltimore with two of your agents, all three of you toting go-bags and mentally preparing to take on the identities they had carefully curated based on the profile.

Spencer greeted you at the hotel; Your body language was reserved and professional and Spencer's was noticeably concerned. You didn't relax a single limb until the two of your were behind the closed door of the small room. Wordlessly, Spencer embraced you, rubbing your back as you hummed in thought. Reminiscent memories that weren't so far away bubbled to the surface — Of how Spencer had been there for you immediately after coming off assignment; How you had begun to fall for him without even fully realizing what was happening.

That night, Spencer held you to his chest tightly, comforting you with the statistics of arrest and indictment and recovery that the FBI had. You were mostly silent, nodding your head in the little range of space that was available between your two bodies. You couldn't bear to think of going undercover for weeks, let alone months or another year. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't ready. You weren't ready to leave behind your blooming relationship with Spencer or give away the feeling of safety you had finally regained. Powell had told you that the most important part of being an undercover agent is knowing how to give yourself ample time to heal, and eventually, how to stop. With all those thoughts awash, you fell asleep listening to Spencer's calming voice and soothing heartbeat.

The morning came just after sleep had graced your body. It was still dark outside, and Spencer was still asleep, so you tiptoed around the hotel room getting ready. As you holstered your guns, Spencer woke up and rolled over to face you groggily.

"Is everything all right?" He asked, genuine concern evident in his voice despite the sleepiness.

"Yes, I just couldn't sleep much."

Spencer nodded with his eyes closed and you walked over to give him a quick kiss before heading out the door. You walked to a nearby coffee shop, where you ordered a large black coffee and pored over case files for the tenth time in 24 hours. As you scrolled through diagnostic reports on the iPad, you noticed something strange about the coordinates of all the contract killers. There were ten points; You began by only looking at the first number of the latitude and longitude. With no paper at your disposal, you wrote all twenty numbers down onto the cardboard sleeve of your coffee cup. For some reason, you felt compelled to see them in that way. You recognized a familiar area code in the random numbers — one for Baltimore. You wrote it down separately, crossing out the numbers used. That was when you saw a D.C. area code, and also scratched that down. Were there really two phone numbers here, or were you just that desperate for a breakthrough?

With a jagged breath, you shoved the cardboard and pen into your bag and snatched the iPad and coffee. It was all you could do to not sprint back to the hotel room. Once through the lobby, you completely bypassed the elevator, opting instead for the stairs, taking them two at a time until you had reached the fourth floor. You hustled through the hallway to the room you and Spencer were sharing, knocking on it harder than you meant to because you couldn't be bothered to retrieve the key card from wherever it was in your bag.

Spencer opened the door with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist and sopping wet hair.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" He seemed slightly panicked as you shoved past him.

"Spencer, come here. I need you to look at these numbers." You knew that if anyone could figure out a number puzzle, it was your genius.

He jogged up to where you'd thrown down all of your things onto the bed and were tearing the cardboard and pen from your pocket.