Front Lines| Spencer Reid + Anne Grey

twenty nine

"Having me drive with secured hands really isn't a safe idea, Charlie."

Anne Grey stares at the road ahead of her, struggling to keep the steering wheel perfectly straight. She was normally alright with one handed steering, but having both hands binded together was a bit of a problem.

It had been about forty-five minutes since they left the BAU, and Grey was still trying to come up with a reasonable game plan. There weren't a lot of options for her. She couldn't find her way to a cemetery right now even if she wanted to, since her navigation skills were utter garbage without Spencer, so bringing Charlie to one wasn't even in the question.

God, Anne thought, Having Spencer here would fix everything.

He would've had a plan the second that they left the BAU, even if going to a cemetery didn't work. He'd have a hundred different facts he had learned about similar situations piled up just for a moment like this. He could probably get out of this unscathed.

Thinking about where Reid was now, Anne wonders if anyone had managed to get a hold of him or Hotch yet. She halfway hoped they hadn't, since he was so far away that all he'd be able to do was worry. Like she had been trying not to do all morning.

"Shut up and drive," Charlie barks, his handgun still aimed at Grey. He had been starting to realize that it didn't scare her, but still used it.

"You know, I get why you're pissed," Anne says, trying her best to empathize. She wasn't usually good at that, or even sympathy, but with unsubs, she sure as hell could try. "I know he couldn't control it, Charlie."

"Then why did you arrest him?" He didn't sound intrigued, oddly enough. No amount of interest crossed his face.

"People were dying," she says, the corner of her lip rising, though it showed more of a confused expression than any sort of smile. Her eyebrows sank as well, as she tried to figure out Charlie's mentality. It was all fuzzy, from what she could tell, like he barely even had one.

He cringes for a split second, but his expression recovers at an instant. "People die. That's life."

Sighing, Grey mutters, "At least I can say that I tried, huh?" She slowly turns the wheel, looking down at her hands for a split second, thinking of Spencer once again, then looking back up at the road. She had a new plan, and a damn good poker face.

He wouldn't approve of this one, she internally said. Hell, no one would. But fuck it.

"What?" Charlie asks, shaking his head and looking away from Anne.

"Well, we're going to get to Richard's grave, then what?" she asks, trying not to smile as she moves her wrists to the steering wheel, keeping it centered while she worked on getting her ring off of her finger. "You may not have thought that far ahead, but I know what happens. You don't accept it, then you shoot me in the head and run. That's what we're in for." She thought that the vivid image she was depicting would make Charlie question his motives, which would buy her more time. He didn't intend on killing her to begin with, from what she could tell, so maybe that could be her bargaining chip.

The man sighs. "I'm not Charlie, y'know," he mutters.

"Excuse me?" She ceases her movement completely. There was no way that she had heard that correctly.

Before she could think any further, the man asks, "Who's Lawrence Grey to you, Annie?"

Anne's jaw falls slack for a second, her eyes unfocusing. She drifts off of the road for a moment before recentering the wheel and trying to process what she had heard. That wasn't possible. It couldn't have been.