Selcouth | Criminal Minds | Spencer Reid

Part 3: Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, look, I actually published something! Woohoo! This is Part 3, of course. I was going to out up a sequel, but I decided it might be easier to just leave this as one big book. Make sure to leave feedback and don't forget to vote! Besos!
-Sierra B.
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Thump. Thump. My knuckles connect with the punching bag with ease, each hit weaker than the last. The sting of shredded skin stops me and I pause, eyes squinting curiously as I hold my hand up to the low lights of this musty Quantico gym.

Blood blossoms through the cotton on my hands and I curse under my breath as I come to realize just how shoddy my wrap job really was.

"Damn it," I mutter, peeling back the ruined material to reveal a mess of scrapes and blossoming bruises.

"You know," A deep voice startles me into focus, "I thought I might find you down here."

I twist to face my companion and a sigh drops from my lips as Hotch stands in the doorway, concern playing slightly on his otherwise stoic features.

He peers down at his watch on the sly and I note the briefcase signaling his return home.

"On your way out?" I reply cooly, dropping my eyes pointedly to the case.

"I could ask the same Wilde; it's past eleven and you've been down here all week," He snorts in mock amusement, "Don't you want to go home and get some rest?"

"Spence called you; didn't he?" I huff, turning my back on the man as I rummage in the dusty cabinets for peroxide.

When that's unavailable, I turn instead to the bottle of whiskey peeking out of my messenger bag.

"Yes, he's worried about you Natalia," Hotch starts, brow furrowed as he stares at the bottle clutched tightly in my hand, "We all are."

I pause above the sink tucked into the corner of the gym for a moment, before twisting the cap off my bottle and pouring the remnants over my cuts.

It itches and burns hot, as I hiss and grit my teeth at the sensation. A hand falls heavy on my shoulder and I turn to face Hotch, as he holds up a clean piece of gauze.

"Give me your hand," He commands, his tone short and clipped.

I hold out a shaky hand, my fingers bouncing up and down as if to some silent music. The movement holds my attention, until Hotches' voice breaks back through my sluggish.

"Done," He says, "Now grab your stuff, you're going home."

"Is that an order, sir?" I bite off cheekily, shooting the mildly irritating man a slurred smirk.

"Yes" Is his final reply as he tugs me through the door and towards the elevators, much to my feeble protests.

Time teeters and suddenly we're in front of the apartment, as if by magic. I step out of the car into the chilly autumn air, wrapping my overcoat over my thin frame and allowing a shudder to overcome me.

The lights on our floor are off, but I know better.

"I'll walk up myself; thanks for the ride," I sigh, leaning down to talk with Hotch.

"That's what friends are for Natalia," He replies, his features illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, "Don't ever forget that."

I paste a smile on my lips and turn away, lurching towards the doors a bit unsteadily at first. Once I gain my footing, I make my way to the door, hovering my finger slightly above our buzzer before pushing.

The intercom crackles to life and I can faintly make out Spencer's voice through it.

"Can you buzz me up?" I question "I forgot my key."

An unintelligible reply. And then the click of the door unlocking. I practically sprint up the stairs, eyeing the elevator with more than a little disdain.

Spencer is waiting by the door, hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets on his pj's I had bought him last Christmas.

I smile softly at him, hand reaching out to open the door behind his lanky frame.

His slender fingers curl around my wrist gently and he pulls me back.

The confusion must bleed through my features as he rushes to talk.

"We need to talk," He winces at the words and my entire body goes slack, smile dropping easily.

"I'm tired, can't this wait?" I whine just the slightest.

He shifts uncertainly and I feel my heart drop at the thought of tricking him the way I am attempting.

"No, we're talking now," He holds his ground and puts up a shaky finger to silence my rebuttal before it even reaches my lips.

"It's been 4 weeks, I think you made a mistake transferring back into the BAU," He blurts out, a slight tinge of red playing on his cheeks "I think you should take a step back for now; this just isn't like you Nat..."

"Wow Spencer, a step back?" I grit my teeth, choking back a flood of emotions threatening to pool over.

He looks confused by my outburst and it's almost laughable as I lean my weight against the wall, watching his brow furrow at my remark.

"It's almost like you don't trust me to do my own damn job!" I bite off bitterly, pushing past him to let myself into the warm apartment.

I kick off my flats as he treks in behind me silently.

I roll my eyes at the mess in the living room, with books and art supplies strewn all about the floor.

I set about tidying to keep my mind off the conversation as he hangs silently in the doorway, his presence looming over me as I keep my eyes to the floor.

"You're angry," Spencer states matter-of-factly, and I whip around to face him, my loose strands of hair managing to whip my face during the process.

I tug the hairs away from my eyes angrily, glaring as Spencer looks at me expectantly, eyebrow cocked.

"Of course I'm angry!" I practically boom, "You're acting like I'm some sort of porcelain doll! Everyone's been on eggshells around me like I'm gonna just break down at any minute!"

"Natalia, this is the third night this week you've came home drunk!" Spencer bites back and I freeze, my back tensing as his eyebrows pinch together in an unrecognizable emotion, "We're all walking on eggshells around here because you can't seem to just stop and see the irony of this whole situation!"

It's at this moment that I would like to iterate I decide to make the worst decision of my life.

I pause, silent, before making my way to our bedroom carefully. Spencer follows once again, as I yank open my drawers and throw various items of clothing onto the king sized bed.

"What are you doing?" He questions softly, as I pull out my duffel and cram various items into it with haste.

"I'm leaving," I deadpan as I place my gun and badge on top of the mess and zip it "I need time to think for myself, and I can't do that with everyone breathing down my neck, ok?"

"Don't," He speaks barely above a whisper, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. It seems to be a familiar emotion he carries these days, with me being no more than a distraction from the real goal.

To find my father. Who ever elusive as he seems to be, successfully disappearing without a trace into the night and leaving us scrambling in his wake to dig up at least one useful lead in a barren wasteland of them.

"Goodbye," I put it simply enough that I won't start tearing up so soon before I can escape.

I brush past him, wrenching free of the gentle hand he lays on my shoulder to stop me.

Pausing only once to watch the kids sleeping soundly, I turn my back and leave.

Who knew I would grow to be so predictable?

ANOTHER A/N:
Ok, I'm sorry!! So, I started with a whole other direction that involved a happier-ish route, but then I junked it for this plotline because I honestly love it. BELIEVE ME THOUGH, IT WILL GET BETTER!