Unknown- A Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 50- Promise

Note to Readers: Spoiler alert: This is the last chapter! Please comment and vote to let me know what you think. :)

"Damn it, Charlie, I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!" Spencer exclaimed.

"And I'm trying to subtly avoid it," I snapped in response, angrily tossing a button-up shirt--it might have been his, I didn't really know--in the general direction of my go-bag sitting on my bed. I was repacking for whatever case we ended up jetting off to next, not for another 'vacation' of indeterminate length in a safe house without contact with the outside world like he thought I should be doing.

I had been back at the BAU for a total of three days, but I--well actually the FBI--had had cameras wired up outside my apartment windows and door for a week and a half, since the day after I'd called Spencer about seeing my stalker on the street.  After talking to Hotch, and Strauss of course, she'd finally agreed to my original plan to use myself as bait to catch Matthew Skinner.  And since I wouldn't let them put cameras inside my apartment, I had to wear a camera with a built in microphone anytime I stepped past the threshold of my doorway, and upon Rossi's insistence, the BAU's resident genius may or may not have taken up semi-permanent residence in my apartment with me.

He had also suggested Reid stay with me because I still had a hard time sleeping at night without being plagued by nightmares, and for some odd reason I had a little easier time sleeping when Spencer was there, but I liked to believe it was solely for security purposes.  Regardless, though, aside from Rossi the team still didn't know anything about my new roommate, and I kind of wanted to keep it that way.

"Would you please--" Spencer started, grabbing my arms and turning me to face him--"stop trying to avoid everything?" he asked me.

The flat expression of incredulity that morphed its way over the anger on my face was enough to make him realize what he'd just said, but I pointed it out anyways.

"Isn't that exactly what you're trying to make me do? Just because my stalker's back doesn't mean I'm going to abandon my life until you guys can fail at catching him again," I shot back.

The silence that followed was thick enough to be cut with the blade of remorse that had just stabbed through both of our middles, and I immediately regretted what I'd said.

I know the whole team had tried their hardest to catch my stalker after he got away when they were rescuing me, and they certainly hadn't given up now considering the measures the FBI had taken to try and keep me safe and catch Matthew Skinner, but somehow I still felt like it was their fault. I'd just never confessed that out loud before because I knew how unfair it was of me to blame them.

Instead of apologizing, though, I jerked my arms free of Spencer's grasp and continued digging through the basket of clean laundry sitting on the ottoman in my room. He heaved an exasperated sigh, and out of the corner of my eye I could see him rake a hand through his perpetually messy hair.

"You know we'll catch him. It's just a matter of when," he said in a low voice, failing at hiding the dejection in his tone.

"And until then I'm just supposed to stay locked away from the rest of the world, right?" I demanded sarcastically, striding over to the bed to finish cramming clothes into my bag.  Since he'd started living with me approximately a week ago, he'd been trying to convince me that I should go back into Witness Protection and hide out in a safe house regardless of what the team and the rest of the FBI had decided on, and I was damn fed up with it.

Spencer opened his mouth and I knew he was going to say, "Yes," before the word even slipped from his lips. He paused and then continued, "But I know you won't no matter how much I ask, or plead, or try to reason with you," he said, meeting my gaze. "So promise me," he said gravely. 

I turned to look at him as a knot tightened around the barely dwindling blade of guilt still lodged in my stomach. I wasn't one for making promises, usually because I never had any intention of keeping them, and considering what he was asking, I knew this would end up the same even despite his sudden change in tone.  He was reasoning instead of arguing.

"Promise me you'll be more careful. No going anywhere alone, stop spending the whole night avoiding me, carry your gun with you," he listed off.

I only regularly did one of the three, but after living by yourself for four years, it wasn't easy to suddenly have a non-canine roommate and not be able to go anywhere by yourself.  I didn't like it, but I suppose that was a better alternative to a safe house.

"And one more thing," he added, "No more keeping secrets."

And that was why I didn't make promises.

I huffed a sigh, my bangs wisping across my forehead, and then answered softly, "I can't."

His eyes dimmed as he cast them down at the carpet again, and the dejection on his face snaked it's icy grip to the knife still pitted in my stomach and twisted the knot even tighter.

"I'll call Rossi, then," he muttered, pulling out his phone and turning away from me as he started dialing.  Rossi must have put him up to this, because thought I was cooperating with all the measures they had implemented to keep me safe and catch my stalker, I certainly wasn't cooperating well or completely.

"Wait," I objected, grabbing his arm. Spencer turned to look at me, his thumb poised above the 'send' button on the phone in his hand.

There was really no other option, so I told him the truth, "I can't promise I'll do what you asked, but I can promise I'll try."

A smile barely reached the corners of his mouth, but it did reach his eyes, and I could hear it in his voice when he said, "Thank you."

I wasn't as surprised then as I was a second later when he tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of my head and pushed me forwards so his lips met mine, and he kissed me with his faintly smiling mouth.