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Keep the Peace - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Twenty-One

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

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Summary: Michelle had to rest after the head trauma she suffered when she and Bellamy tried to rescue Clarke after risking both of their lives. She would be fine but there was something brewing ever since Pike joined the people of the Ark in Camp Jaha. And after an explotion occured at Mount Weather, to whom Bellamy’s loyalty belonged was put in question.

Words: 5.9k

Warnings: The 100 season 3 spoilers (mention of events from episode 3 “Ye Who Enter Here”; episode 4 “Watch the Thrones”), mention of wounds/concussion, dried blood, guns, pike is racist

The whole trip back to Arkadia had been a pain for Michelle. The swirls of the car on the forest roads made her even sicker and sicker than she already was due to the acute vertigo and migraine from the head trauma. At one point they had to stop the car because she was moaning so much. She had gotten so nauseous that the moment Kane opened the door, and she stuck her head out, she threw up but again, it was only bile and it felt like fire went through her throat. He gave her several sips of water from a canteen as they continued the road and she lay down, resting her head on Kane's leg. Driving in Arkadia, He carefully hoped out the rover and was met by Abby on his way to the infirmary of the camp where he went straight to put his daughter on the nearest bed available. The car ride really took a toll on her, and she was unable to respond to Abby as she examined her but the state in which she was in gave the doctor and Chancellor enough information on how bad the injury might be, though she later determined it was only a mild concussion, which was already enough to make her sick for days. She told Kane to stand aside as Jackson joined to assist her. They slowly sit her up and Jackson placed his hand on both side of her temples to stabilize her head and keep it aligned with her spine and prevent movement while Abby firmly pressed a clean cloth on the wound. It had stopped bleeding by now, meaning it had already started to coagulate, which was good news but it still required to be cleaned and bandaged and so she did. She then covered the wound with a piece of gauze and wrapped her head before resting her on the pillow. Without even flinching, Michelle swallowed the medicine which was put on her tongue and eventually fell asleep, the last image before she closed her eyes was of her father sitting beside the bed, running his hand worriedly over his beard.

The next 48 hours, Abby came in to check on her every hour or so, but Jackson stayed in the infirmary to always have an eye on her, cleaning her head injury about three times a day and changing the bandage. The pain killers she got every now and then helped her not to be in so much pain and really calmed down the migraine. She didn’t have to stay in bed all day but because every time she tried to stand up and take a few steps, she was seized with dizziness which forced her to sit down again so it really narrowed down the options of what she was able to do. Like Abby told her, after a whole week most of the symptoms should have resolved on their own and it did, except for the migraine which came back every now and then especially when triggered by loud noises or vertigo if she moved her head too suddenly but thanks to supplies taken from Mount Weather, she was able to get pain killers when it was too much to bear.

“It’s been a week. How are you feeling today?” Abby came into the infirmary and walked up to her, pulling a chair next to Michelle’s bed. She got up to sit in her bed, placing her pillow behind her back for support. She didn’t have her head bandaged anymore since the wound had scabbed for a few days already.

“Just a headache when I woke up, but Jackson gave me painkillers. Now it’s fine.” The Chancellor turned her head towards her and held a small flashlight to her eyes to check her reaction and sensitivity to bright light. Michelle barely squinted her eyes. She then had her lean her head forward to clean the scab that formed over her head wound. It was mostly healed by now, but she still had to be careful so that it didn’t start bleeding again if she scratched it off. Abby got her to stand up and walk around a bit. No vertigo to report. This was a good sign that things were going the right way. She sat back down on her bed and Kane arrived at the same moment that she started asking about the Summit they were supposed to attend at Polis City with the 12 other clans and the Commander.

“You’re not coming.” He straight up said, his arms crossed.

“Didn’t expect you would let me anyway.”

“I sent Bellamy to Mount Weather, so he’s not coming either. But you, will stay in Arkadia, and you will not leave campgrounds. What you did the other week was stupid and reckless. I had asked you to be careful and you left with him without telling anyone. You both could have been killed.”

“I am sorry, okay?” She apologized, frowning. Now that she was better, his worry was overpowered by his need to scold her and act like the parent he should have been in her life and no matter how much she deserved it, she didn’t like to be addressed like a child. It was her decision to go with Bellamy and it was to look for Clarke, so she wasn’t actually that sorry, though she understood the stupidity of it. That was that kind of interaction that harmed her relationship with her mother, prior to her getting sent to solitary confinement for an entire year. Michelle stood up after taking an antibiotic and painkiller and Abby stopped her before she walked out. She still wasn’t allowed to take part in any activity that required effort and be careful not to touch her injury so it wouldn't bleed again. Even though in the past few days, she had had to stay within the walls of the infirmary for obvious reasons, she felt like she had been grounded ever since her return to Arkadia, a camp she still couldn't call home.

Michelle had taken care of doing what she could, chores here and there to help out among little trips to the infirmary when she got dizzy but knowing on the one hand her dad and Abby in Polis and her friends in Mount Weather were enough to keep her mind busy for the day. In the evening, she wandered around the camp, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. The weather was good, and the mood was calm and relaxing until the sound of an explosion in the distance disrupted everything. Given where the sound came from, it didn't take her more than a couple seconds to realize that it had occurred in Mount Weather, where she knew her, friends were, which immediately worried her. She watched the smoke rise above the treetops with wide eyes. Unable to go to bed, she stood pacing near the station entrance, watching for the camp gate until she saw a car drive in in the middle of the night and she ran to the hangar. Her father, Abby, Bellamy, and the others came out. She tried going up to Bellamy, but he walked past her and left. He seemed out of it.

“Dad, what-- what happened? What was the explosion earlier? Where are the others? Is Bellamy okay? What—" She was so confused and worried she couldn’t stop asking questions. He grabbed her shoulders.

“The Ice Nation blew up Mount Weather. Gina died in the attack.” It was the only piece of information she needed. She rushed to catch up with Bellamy who was walking down a hallway towards his bedroom. It was late and a lot had happened, so she understood he probably needed to be alone right now, but she had to check on him. He didn't even turn when he heard hurried footsteps coming from behind him, until she called his name. Then he stopped and looked at her before avoiding her gaze. She could see the neon light above them reflect the tears that made his eyes glisten.

“Bellamy, I’m sorry.” He knew what she was apologizing for and just looked down. She had never been close friends with Gina, because she was the girlfriend he got after they had gotten close and she pushed him away, but she would never have wished something like this to happen to her. She was a nice person who didn’t deserve to die. For some reason, Michelle drew Bellamy into a hug, and he wrapped his arms around her after a second. Acting tough wasn’t everything, he needed to be comforted too. They spent the night sitting on the floor next to each other in his room, not really talking or saying anything, just keeping each other company so neither of them would be alone. She saw him let his guards down and be vulnerable in front of her. The events at Mount Weather had really taken a toll on him and she had never seen him so bummed about something before, only when Clarke had left them. After a while, they fell asleep, their heads resting on the bed behind them, their foreheads pressing against each other. This was the kind of intimate moment that they hadn’t shared in forever and Michelle realized how much she had missed it. She was quite unsettled by the resurgence of her feelings for Bellamy, not knowing what to do about it since the death of his girlfriend had just happened and she would hate herself if she tried getting with him just yet. She would deal with all this later, right now she just wanted to be there.

Shortly after the sun finally rose outside, the rays entered the room and illuminated Michelle's face. She placed her hand over her eyes and rolled onto her back, when she realized that she was lying on the bed. At first without straightening up she raised her head and looked around in confusion and finally sat up seeing Bellamy standing near the table. He looked away, looking preoccupied. She was already over the fact that he woke up first and carried her on the bed, which somehow warmed her heart and wasn’t surprised by the expression on his face as he observed his Ark guard’s jacket hanging from the coat rack on the wall, near the door. He was as silent as last night, and it took her a minute to understand what was going on in his head. Because of what happened, he wanted to resign.

“Whatever happened… it wasn’t your fault, Bellamy.” She finally broke the silence. Hearing his name spoken outloud, he turned his head to her, looking back at her. It was clear that he disagreed with what she said, but it was true, what happened to Gina was beyond his control. She was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“I could’ve done something. I should’ve stayed.”

“Stayed where? At Mount Weather? But weren’t you there when it blew up?” She tried to ask a couple questions, to get him to tell her what actually happened because all she knew was that Mount Weather blew up and Gina died, but she didn’t know the details. Her questions remained unanswered as he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the room. Michelle jumped out of bed and followed suit. He wasn’t any more talkative in the corridors. She kept asking him where he was going and suddenly step in front of him to stop him in his tracks, grabbing his arms. Quickly, he finally loosened his tongue and told her the whole story. How a Grounder he was locked up with came back and told them about a trap at the Summit and that he then decided to leave with the others, leaving Gina behind at Mount Weather, where she was murdered before the whole facility exploded. There was a second of silence and she let her hands slide off his arms, nodding. Repeating that he didn’t need to blame himself for this was pointless, as he truly believed it was his fault.

A man guarded the entrance. Inside, Kane and Abby were in a private meeting, probably assessing their next move regarding what happened. The door eventually opened, and the two young adults found themselves facing Pike who looked at them before leaving. They stepped in the room, watching Abby walk to the opposite side while Kane was leaning on the table, thinking.

“Sir?” Bellamy quietly called out to Kane. The latter straightened up on his stool and glanced at them, joining his hands in front of him. It took him a couple glances to notice his daughter standing next to him. She could tell he was wondering what they were doing together.

“Why aren’t you at your post?” He asked in a low voice, with a sigh. Bellamy put his jacket on the table and pushed it further away. “Don’t do this.”

“Forty-nine of the people I swore to protect died yesterday because I left them.”

“That’s not your fault, Bellamy.” Kane turned to face him. “Place the blame where it belongs. On the Ice Nation.”

“The Ice Nation didn’t tell Gina to stay there.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “That was me.”

“Given the information you had at the time, you made a reasonable choice.” Kane stood up, placing a hand that was meant to be comforting on his shoulder. From the side, Michelle could see the pain and guilt that made his eyes shine in the faint glow of the light. “You were trying to save lives.”

“But I didn’t.” He looked away with a heavy sigh, his eyes getting watery as he tried to fight tears. He didn’t say anything else, maybe if he knew that if he did, he would have started crying, and instead just turned around and left. Michelle went to grab his arm as he walked past her, but she stopped herself and crossed her arms. She sighed, closing her eyes.

“All that’s certain is that we die. How we die is up to us.” Pike declared, standing before them as they all sat on chairs set in rows in the hangar. On Pike’s left side, Abby and Kane were sat together. They were all gathered here, attending a memorial for the ones that died in the explosition at Mount Weather. Michelle was next to Bellamy in the back row, sat straight back in her chair, fiddling with her fingers, eyes glued to her hands, her loose black hair falling in front of her face. She wasn’t good with feelings like sadness and grief and hated the heavy atmosphere that hung over them. It kept reminding her of the loss of her mother and she wanted to run away from it but there she was, stuck in this room and it would be disrespectful of her to just leave out of the blue. She wanted to be present, out of respect for the victims, but especially to show up for Bellamy, but she didn't feel able to look at the people around her. She didn't want to see the pain in their eyes. The former Earth skills teacher asked who wanted to speak for one of the girls that died in the attack and a man walked up to him after a moment of silence.

“Iris was strong. Good with a knife. She saved my life. I’m just sorry I couldn’t do the same for her.” He gave a sudden jerk with the knife in his hand to pull out the blade and put it down on a small piece of furniture nearby, before returning to his seat.

“We will miss Iris.” Pike resumed. “May we meet again.”

“May we meet again.” Everyone spoke in unison, with Michelle barely letting a whisper leave her lips. She hated that her grief made it all about her mother for her, and anything to do with loss and grief reminded her that she never had the chance to say goodbye to her mother and she never would. Neither would she ever see her again in this life. But it wasn’t what this memorial was about, and she refused to let herself cry over it while being surrounded by all those people. She never even told Bellamy about her feelings on this subject, despite pushing him to talk about what happened to his girlfriend.

“Who will speak for Gina Martin?” Michelle raised her head for the first time in the whole service and looked at Bellamy. He glanced at her and She risked giving him a small comforting smile and although he didn't return it before getting up, she knew he appreciated her support. Their relationship had been on and off those past few months, but they had never stopped being friends. He walked up to Pike, holding the book The Iliad in his hands. This time around, Michelle looked at him as he spoke, and he often met and held her gaze. Maybe he really felt her support, she didn’t know.

“Gina was real. She always saw the light, even here. She deserved better.” He went to put down the book when doors opened, and a bunch of Ark guards entered. Everyone straightened up in their chairs, looking at the soldiers and whispering to each other. Michelle noticed Pike talking to one of them, and she saw Lincoln alone. She followed Pike with her eyes as he walked to Kane and Abby. Seeing his lips moving as he leaned towards them slightly, she frowned. His voice began to rose.

“You gave a Grounder one of our radios?” Everyone in the audience stood up and the whispers became much louder.

“Sir, are we under attack?” Hannah enquired.

“No, we are not under attack.” Kane declared. “Their commander sent a peacekeeping force. To ensure that we can defend against any further attacks from the Ice Nation.”

“Peacekeeping force?” Pike was clearly not having it. “Even you can’t be that naïve, Marcus.”

“Watch your tone. You’re talking to the next Chancellor.” Abby chimed in, before addressing the crowd. “We’re all grieving. This has been hard on all of us. But we can’t let anger drive our policy.”

“Anger is our policy.” Michelle frowned even more at his aggressive response. His hatred for Grounders made him so biased and he really thought he was in the right. He rose his voice louder and talked to the people of the Ark present here. “If they’re here to defend us, as you say, then tell them to go home. We can defend ourselves!”

“Yeah!” Some of them began agreeing with Pike. Michelle looked around and exited the crowd through the left side to go to his father and Abby when a man dressed in the clothes of an Ark guard pointed at Lincoln in the back.

“You. You don’t belong here.”

“He’s one of them.” Said another man.

“My boy is dead!” A dude yelled and a stone was thrown at Lincoln, hitting him in the head with a thud. He groaned at the blow, and it quickly turned to chaos with some people trying to come at the grounder and others pushing them off. Bellamy ran through the mob to keep people from getting close to Lincoln. Kane ordered to arrest them and separated one of the many fights happenings when Pike let out a shrill whistle and things finally went to a halt.

“We do not attack our own!” He pressed each one of his words. “Fighting each other only makes us weak. The enemy is not in this camp. The enemy is out there.”

Michelle hated how everyone started listening to Pike suddenly, just because he was loud and strong with his words. She could tell he was going to cause troubles for all of them, especially those who weren’t pitting themselves up against the Grounders, like herself or her father. She looked at the people in the room and her eyes set on Bellamy and she wondered if that man would manage to get in his head, one way or another. It made her grind her teeth to think of Bellamy siding with Pike but when later that day, she saw the two men having a drink. She was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, having a drink on her own since without Clarke or even Murphy, well if she wasn’t hanging out with Bellamy, she really had no other friends. And Monty was nowhere to be seen anyway so she didn’t bother to look for him much. She couldn’t hear their conversation from where she was, but she watched them from the corner of her eyes. She noticed Monty’s mother at a table next to Pike and Bellamy’s and the woman was discreetly looking at them too, but Michelle wasn’t too sure if the latter wanted Pike to get the young man on their side. She didn’t know her too well, so she had no idea what was going on in her head. But to be safe, she preferred to assume the worst and to think that all the people from the Farm station were with Pike, and against her dad, and by association, against her.

When she saw Bellamy look around and the people from Farm Station that were there all gave him a glance, a glance full of the hatred for Grounders that they witnessed earlier, she understood that her assumption was in fact right. Sometimes being safe is being right and in that case she was. She didn’t like what was brewing. For some reason, and she wasn’t even a Grounder, so she wasn’t the group’s main target, but she started feeling unsafe and quite uncomfortable at that. She wished she could hear what they were saying so she could report it to Kane and Abby, but she at least knew that they were preparing something and trying to get Bellamy in on it with them, so that was already something, but she chose to wait a bit longer and see what more she could learn by just watching them from afar. The second she saw Bellamy give a nod to Pike, she knew whatever game they were all playing, it was over. For the Grounders at the very least, but also for anyone siding with them. She bitterly gulped down a last shot of alcohol and, grabbing her jacket lying on the seat next to her, she walked away as she put it back on. Not knowing where her dather would be as of now, her best guess was either the meeting room that she visited earlier with Bellamy or his own room, but she didn’t even remember where the latter was so she had to hope he and Abby would both be there. She had no idea where else they could be anyway.

After a dozen minutes just wandering around, she ran into Harper, and she grasped the chance. She wasn’t surprised at all to hear Michelle’s thoughts on the situation they had with Pike. It was already late, the sky was dark, and the two girls went to Lincoln and along with Zoe, they stood in the dark of the main gate, and it didn’t take very long for the group of wannabe vigilantes to come to them. When they noticed the four individuals, they stopped, and Bellamy walked up to them with a stern look on his face. He looked at all of them without moving his head, his eyes lingering for a little longer on Michelle. He was frowning.

“You need to step aside, right now.” He warned.

“What are the guns for?” Michelle asked after exchanging a glance with Harper. They knew very well what the guns were for, and Bellamy wasn’t so stupid either.

“There’s an army out there. And we need to hit them before they hit us.” As they spoke, Pike and the others slowly advanced towards them.

“That army was sent to protect us.” Lincoln said.

“Do we have a problem?” Pike asked this in such a way it sounded way more like a threat than a question.

“No.”

“I have always done what is best for us. I need you to trust that I am doing that now.” He glanced at Zoe in the back, and she subtly nodded before stepping away. Michelle frowned, taking a step towards him. Bellamy then looked at Harper and as if she understood his motivation, she nodded and apologized to Lincoln before leaving in turn. There was only Michelle left by his side, and she wasn’t about to walk away as well. She chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, and she looked at Bellamy, trying to knock some sense into him before it was too late, even though she knew damn well that it was in fact too late. He would stand his grounds and side with Pike still, and he would realize only too late how far he went because he believed in the wrong person. Pike was loud and aggressive but that didn’t make him any less of a snake. Now she knew why she disliked him so much as a teacher on the Ark. He was never a good or a nice man.

“Bellamy.” Her tone of voice was soft. She was trying to do something pointless, but she still tried. And if she wasn’t on Pike’s bad side already, she would be now. “You’re not thinking this through. You can’t let Pike get in your head like this with all his Grounder hatred bullshit, come on. They’re not out there to kill us.”

“I am thinking this through, Michelle.” He came closer to her, and his brows relaxed but not hers. He spoke with determination to convince her this was the right thing to do. “I’m doing this for all of us. We have to hit before they hit us. Trust me on this.”

She looked away for a second. She wanted to believe him but with Pike in the mix, she just couldn’t, and it was tearing her heart apart to have to doubt Bellamy’s intentions but on this one, she couldn’t risk being on the wrong side. And she couldn’t be on the same side as Pike because it would always be the wrong one. She hated that Bellamy let himself be manipulated like this. She still believed there was a way to get him back on the right track, but she just couldn’t support him this time. She shook her head and looked back at him.

“You can’t just go out there to kill 300 people. They’re here to protect us.”

“They’re Grounders.”

“So were your fucking ancestors, Pike.” She spat vehemently, giving him a death stare.

“Watch your tone. You wouldn’t talk to your mother like this.”

“Don’t you talk about my mother.” She angrily rose her voice at Pike, suddenly walking towards him but she was stopped mid-way by Bellamy who grabbed her arms and moved her back in front of him. Pike obviously kept his composure and just looked at them. She hated how vicious he was, mentioning her mother like this, to try and get to her emotionally and he almost did get something out of her, but Bellamy prevented that. If she was alone, she would have bursted out in tears but her voice barely broke when she talked back to him.

“Let us pass.” Bellamy asked her, almost whispering. For a second, she got lost in his eyes, but this was nothing like the intimate and priviledged moments they had once shared. They were surrounded by Pike’s minions. She made a pout, shaking her head again as she pushed his hands away and stepped back next to Lincoln, staring at Bellamy. He seemed disappointed by her reaction, probably hoping she wouldn’t fight him, but he wasn’t Clarke, and the latter was the only one she would blindly follow.

“I can’t.” Bellamy let his arms hang at his sides and they held each other's gaze.

“Lincoln, you wanna prove you’re one of us, let us pass.” Pike spoke to the Grounder.

“I’m not moving.” One of Pike’s men suddenly aimed at him, urging him to get out of the way and Lincoln subtly pushed Michelle behind him as he grabbed the gun and made the man lose his balance, holding his knife up to the latter’s throat, backing away. Being behind him, Michelle was kind of stuck there, having to step back as well. The rest of Pike’s men brandished their guns. Bellamy told them to put the guns down and Pike encouraged them to listen to him.

“So much for the good Grounder.” Monty’s mother noted.

“Quiet, Hannah.” Michelle now stood aside, still not about to leave. “Whose people are you defending here, Lincoln?”

“Lincoln, put down the knife. No one has to get hurt here.” Bellamy added.

“I can’t let you start a war.”

“We’re already at war.”

“Not with the Grounders out there.” Michelle argued.

“They’re all Grounders.”

“This is so stupid… They’re not all Ice Nation. We’re not at war with them.”

“Neither of you can stop this.” She stared back at Bellamy, letting out a quiet but heavy sigh. Shaking her head in disbelief, not taking her eyes off him, she mouthed his name but not a sound came out of her lips, and she hated that she could see in his eyes that he wasn’t sorry for any of this. He truly thought he was doing the right thing here. The PA system in the camp went off and screeched for a second before a voice came on.

“All unstationed security personnel report at the main gate.” He repeated the message a couple of times as a buzzing sound sounded in the background. Octavia appeared in their sight and ran towards Lincoln.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bellamy closed his eyes and looked at his sister. A second later a bunch of Arkadia guards arrived with their guns. Michelle saw her father walking in their direction among the soldiers. She could’ve searched for him longer but when earlier she came across Harper, she didn’t waste any more time. They had gone straight to Lincoln. As Kane came closer, Pike asked his people to put their guns on the ground.

“Lincoln, it’s all right. Let him go.” At Kane’s words, he released the man who threatened him. The future chancellor and his daughter exchanged a quiet glance.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Abby enquired.

“What you didn’t have the guts to do.”

“Did you arm these people?” Kane headed towards Bellamy. He didn’t even answer but his silence alone was enough for him to understand.

“Guards take them to lock up now.” They were quickly all arrested as she told everyone else to go back to their quarters. It was late and there was nothing else to see here. “It’s over.”

“Nothing is over.” Pike exclaimed. “We are surrounded by warriors who want us dead.

“That’s enough!” Kane spoke up.

“No, it isn’t. Not even close. Why don’t you show us all what you let the Grounders do to you yesterday? Come on, Kane. I think that the people who are about to vote for you have a right to know.” Michelle frowned, having no idea what he was talking about. She got closer to Abby and her dad. He looked around him as people asked him to show them whatever it was. He lifted his sleeve and showed the crowd a red mark on his arm.

“It’s the mark of the Commander’s coalition. It means we are the 13th clan. It means we are in this fight together.”

“No. It’s what farmers used to do to their livestock.”

“Right before the slaughterhouse.” Hannah shouted, trying to entice the crowd into siding with them. And people started to be for Pike going as far as to tell him to be on the ballot for tomorrow’s election. Michelle turned around when she heard Bellamy chanting Pike’s name, followed by every single one of those who had been arrested, and a lot of people in the crowd. This felt like a nightmare. She stepped next to her father, and he put a hand on her shoulder out of habit. He, Abby, and Michelle looked at each other, worried and dumbfounded by the situation.

“I tried to talk him out of it.” She said quietly, looking at them walk away.

“You did what you could.” He gently squeezed her shoulder, unable to take his eyes off the people still chanting Pike’s name like a bunch of brainwashed people. Things were only about to get worse now that Pike convinced others to be with him. There was a risk he could be elected the next day and with him at the head of the whole group, it would be war against any Grounder in sight.

The next day, with barely a few hours of sleep as she was unable to get any rest, Michelle attended the election held outside in the camp and and Pike quickly received a majority of the votes. They couldn’t believe it. Once it was over, her father and two guards headed towards the prison wing of the ring. She followed them and hid behind the walls to let them pass without being seen and, to keep a certain distance. She followed them until they got to the portion of the corridor that went straight to the cell door. She stopped behind a corner and even though she wished she could be closer, it should be enough for her to hear them talk. If she tried to approach, it wouldn’t be the guards or Kane who would notice her, it would be the prisoners and she would be spotted by everyone anyway because if Pike saw her lurking around the corner, he would never keep his mouth shut. He knew she was out of reach for his manipulation tricks. She would never talk with him. He was only going there to tell Pike of his win at the election, but she still wasn’t supposed to be following him when he had asked her not to, though he knew she wasn’t always listening to him. She went ahead with following him because she was fully aware he wouldn’t get mad at her for something like this. He had other things to be uspet about anyway.

Kane pressed on the panel next to the door, unlocking the door before walking in. Everyone inside stood up. He walked up to Pike.

“Congratulations, Mr. Chancellor.”

“Where’s Abby?”

“Wishes she could be here.” He handed him the Chancellor pin. “The vote wasn’t close. Our people are now your responsibility, Charles. I hope you take that seriously.”

“Thank you, Marcus. I certainly intend to. For my first official action as Chancellor, I pardon myself and the others. For my second official action, I reject the brand that made us the 13th clan. For my third, let’s finish what we started.” Michelle felt a knot in her stomach just hearing this and she rested her head against the corner with a sigh, not caring if she was seen anymore. She crossed her arms and watched the people walk out of the cell, keeping her eyes on her father as he stopped Bellamy before he left. He spoke to him in a whisper so she couldn’t hear but the expression on Bellamy’s face as he walked past him. He noticed Michelle standing there and gave her a brief look but there was nothing there, no compassion, nothing. It was just the dark brown of his eyes looking at her like they were enemies.

[To be continued…]

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Published (12/29/2023) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405 @kika64 @mirellef2001

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sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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