Here to Misbehave | S.R.

Ch. 24 | The Bank

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive.

Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying

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"Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I'm calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics."

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don't feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

"Ma'am, where are you?" Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

"I'm inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There's a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call..."

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I'd met them both, why couldn't I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

"Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and... Derek Morgan."

"Can you remain on the line?" She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door's hinges.

"Only until the door opens."

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I'm probably going to die. It wasn't a completely irrational fear.

"Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?"

Jesus, it was like everything I'd just told her had gone completely over her head. "No, I'm in the bathroom."

"Does the agent have his service weapon?"

"No."

If she didn't ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn't help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

"Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n)."

"Please hurry."

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don't even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

"We've contacted Agent Hotchner and he's also on his way."

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn't blinked in several minutes.

"Thank you," I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn't. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

"I have to go."

"Wait, don't hang up—"

I couldn't wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I'd ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.