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Fic: Missing
Missing - Criminal Minds - Gen (Spencer Reid) - Words: 1,571
Written for Angst Bingo; Prompt: Fairy Tales & Folklore
Summary: Spencer wakes up and everything is the same, except the things that somehow aren't.
Content Notes: None. PG-13
Author Notes: This is intended to be a type of retelling of Rip Van Winkle, though with much less time elapsed and adapted to how it could be perceived through the eyes of FBI profilers.
On AO3: Missing
It was later than usual when Spencer woke, feeling groggy and very much like he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. But he could sense the amount of light in the room, even without opening his eyes, and knew that he was going to be very late for work if he didn't get up and get on the next train to Quantico. Rubbing his eyes for a moment, Spencer finally opened them and looked blearily at his alarm clock. It hadn't gone off and although his body was usually very reliable at waking him he always set it just in case. He rolled out of bed, his limbs uncoordinated and feeling a little weak, he wondered if he was coming down with a cold or maybe the flu. Not feeling sick enough that he wanted to stay home, Spencer stumbled into the shower and got dressed, not bothering to put his contacts in until the last moment.
He felt marginally more awake now that he was clean and dressed, his morning routine brushing some of the cobwebs from his still exhausted mind. There was nothing edible in his fridge and after a moment of looking through his nearly bare cupboards Spencer decided that he could scrounge something up at work. He was already going to be late anyway and what he really wanted was a very large cup of hot coffee. He decided that he would buy a cup at the station if he had time, though he didn't remember when he'd run out of cereal, milk, or coffee grounds, and made a quick scramble around his apartment for his bag. Everything felt out of place and he banged his shin against the coffee table that he was certain was usually six inches closer to his couch. Finally locating his bag all the way back in his bedroom, he flipped open his cellphone to find it was completely dead.
The last case, whatever it had been, must have really put him through the wringer on the time zone difference and maybe caffeine withdrawal, Spencer decided as he located the cellphone charger and shoved it in his bag along with his cellphone. He'd have to plug it in when he got to his desk and hopefully he hadn't missed anything important. Of course, if it'd been really important Morgan or Emily would have shown up banging on his door by now. Finding his shoes by his bedside, again not where they should have been, Spencer shoved his mismatched, sock clad feet inside and gratefully located his keys on the kitchen counter.
He made it to the station with just enough time to purchase a large cup of generic coffee, the blend not particularly satisfying but the coffee itself was needed so badly that he didn't even care. The weather seemed chillier by several degrees than the last time he'd walked to the train station and Spencer pressed his hands agains the thin paper cup. He hadn't remembered to find a jacket before he'd left his apartment; after all the searching he'd had to do find everything else it hadn't even crossed his mind.
The train was emptier than usual and when Spencer glanced down he realized that he wasn't wearing his watch because it hadn't been on his nightstand when he'd been still half asleep and getting dressed. He found a seat by the window and watched the scenery pass from suburbs through patches of city and a brief section of semi-abandoned rural land. The trees had lost a lot of their leaves, the ground beneath them scattered with brown and yellows and the gloomy sky broken by the thin empty branches. Spencer couldn't remember the end of fall and the beginning of winter sneaking up on him like this before. Growing up in Las Vegas, the seasons were barely noticeable as it went from fairly warm to very hot and then back again. He'd gotten used to the steady progression from green and humid summers to cold and snow trodden winters but he hadn't really paid it much attention either. Apparently he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts recently that he'd missed a piece of fall altogether.
Spencer stood as the train pulled up to his stop, it was only a short walk to the headquarters from the station, though he usually had the company of an entire group of agents who chose to take the train instead of driving to Quantico from their homes. Today he was alone as he stepped from the train onto the platform and he quickened his steps as he walked. He must be truly late if he was the only one arriving though the overcast sky made it more difficult to accurately judge the time. The parking garage entrance, along with the back elevator, was the quickest way up to where the BAU offices were housed. It had the added bonus of being out of the direct line of sight of the administrative offices, though Spencer was under no illusions that Hotch had missed how late he was slipping in.
The open bullpen style area where most of their desks were housed was nearly empty when Spencer hurried in. He glanced around before deciding that everyone was probably up in the conference room. Moving swiftly, he dropped his bag off at his desk and bent down to plug in his cellphone and throw away his now empty coffee cup. He could probably use another cup of coffee, or maybe three more cups considering how disoriented he was currently feeling. He walked up to the conference room and paused in the doorway, trying to get a feel of what case they were working on before he just barged in. He couldn't even remember where he'd left off, what case they'd just finished or where they'd flown in from. Maybe this was some type of cumulative jet lag, though he didn't recall memory loss this severe as being a typical symptom of any type of jet lag.
"Spencer?" JJ's voice called out, high in pitch that seemed to indicate distress.
Realizing he'd been spotted, Spencer walked into the conference room and headed toward his usual seat. "Sorry I'm late. My alarm didn't go off and I think I might be a little jet lagged considering I didn't wake myself like I usually do," he said, trying to figure out how to admit that he had no idea what was going on. When he looked, the words died before they reached his lips; all of his team was staring at him with expressions ranging from shocked to stricken.
"Reid?" Morgan asked, moving from where he'd been standing at the white board and wrapping his arms tightly around Spencer's shoulders so quickly that it seemed like he barely had to walk across the short distance.
Spencer stood stiffly, growing more confused by the minute as he watched over Morgan's shoulder. Morgan was the casually demonstrative type, a hand clasped on the shoulder or a nudge with his knee, but for him to be outright hugging him was highly unusual. "Morgan?" Spencer asked, feeling slightly ridiculous at the whole name repeating thing they seemed to have inadvertently started.
Morgan finally released him, one of his hands still firmly affixed around Spencer's arm like he couldn't bring himself to let go.
"Reid, where have you been?" Hotch asked. He had gotten up from his seat and was only a few feet away.
Spencer looked around and found the entire team gathered around him, JJ looking precariously close to tears, Emily and Rossi obviously concerned, and Morgan still looking absolutely stunned. "I'm not that late, am I?" he asked uncertainly.
"We've been looking for almost three weeks," Rossi said, his eyes shifting to meet Hotch's before returning to Spencer. "You've been missing."
"Three weeks?" Spencer asked. It was suddenly feeling a little harder to breathe. He shook his head, trying to clear his jumbled mind. He looked beyond his team and noticed how it was his neighborhood and apartment on the maps that were pinned up, profiles of unsubs that he'd been instrumental in providing testimony against that were clipped to the board, and his name written in heavy strokes across the top. "How can you have been looking for me for three weeks?"
The team shifted around him again, no one apparently having an answer to his question, or maybe they didn't know how to answer it.
Spencer shook his head again. "I need to sit down."
The room seemed to break into motion, Morgan using the hold on his arm to guide him into a chair and the rest of the team pulling out cellphones and speaking in overlapping voices that Spencer couldn't begin to decipher. He barely looked up when he heard Garcia's voice in the doorway, shock and relief coloring her tone and Morgan moving to her while he issued quiet instructions.
Spencer sat, the eye of the whirlwind that had stirred up around him, and tried to retrace his steps from before he'd woken up that morning. The longer he sat, the faces of his team occasionally appearing in his line of vision and talking briefly to him, the more it bothered him that he couldn't remember what the last case was, or when they'd flown back to Quantico, or how he'd gotten back to his apartment whenever that night had been.
Written for Angst Bingo; Prompt: Fairy Tales & Folklore
Summary: Spencer wakes up and everything is the same, except the things that somehow aren't.
Content Notes: None. PG-13
Author Notes: This is intended to be a type of retelling of Rip Van Winkle, though with much less time elapsed and adapted to how it could be perceived through the eyes of FBI profilers.
On AO3: Missing
It was later than usual when Spencer woke, feeling groggy and very much like he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. But he could sense the amount of light in the room, even without opening his eyes, and knew that he was going to be very late for work if he didn't get up and get on the next train to Quantico. Rubbing his eyes for a moment, Spencer finally opened them and looked blearily at his alarm clock. It hadn't gone off and although his body was usually very reliable at waking him he always set it just in case. He rolled out of bed, his limbs uncoordinated and feeling a little weak, he wondered if he was coming down with a cold or maybe the flu. Not feeling sick enough that he wanted to stay home, Spencer stumbled into the shower and got dressed, not bothering to put his contacts in until the last moment.
He felt marginally more awake now that he was clean and dressed, his morning routine brushing some of the cobwebs from his still exhausted mind. There was nothing edible in his fridge and after a moment of looking through his nearly bare cupboards Spencer decided that he could scrounge something up at work. He was already going to be late anyway and what he really wanted was a very large cup of hot coffee. He decided that he would buy a cup at the station if he had time, though he didn't remember when he'd run out of cereal, milk, or coffee grounds, and made a quick scramble around his apartment for his bag. Everything felt out of place and he banged his shin against the coffee table that he was certain was usually six inches closer to his couch. Finally locating his bag all the way back in his bedroom, he flipped open his cellphone to find it was completely dead.
The last case, whatever it had been, must have really put him through the wringer on the time zone difference and maybe caffeine withdrawal, Spencer decided as he located the cellphone charger and shoved it in his bag along with his cellphone. He'd have to plug it in when he got to his desk and hopefully he hadn't missed anything important. Of course, if it'd been really important Morgan or Emily would have shown up banging on his door by now. Finding his shoes by his bedside, again not where they should have been, Spencer shoved his mismatched, sock clad feet inside and gratefully located his keys on the kitchen counter.
He made it to the station with just enough time to purchase a large cup of generic coffee, the blend not particularly satisfying but the coffee itself was needed so badly that he didn't even care. The weather seemed chillier by several degrees than the last time he'd walked to the train station and Spencer pressed his hands agains the thin paper cup. He hadn't remembered to find a jacket before he'd left his apartment; after all the searching he'd had to do find everything else it hadn't even crossed his mind.
The train was emptier than usual and when Spencer glanced down he realized that he wasn't wearing his watch because it hadn't been on his nightstand when he'd been still half asleep and getting dressed. He found a seat by the window and watched the scenery pass from suburbs through patches of city and a brief section of semi-abandoned rural land. The trees had lost a lot of their leaves, the ground beneath them scattered with brown and yellows and the gloomy sky broken by the thin empty branches. Spencer couldn't remember the end of fall and the beginning of winter sneaking up on him like this before. Growing up in Las Vegas, the seasons were barely noticeable as it went from fairly warm to very hot and then back again. He'd gotten used to the steady progression from green and humid summers to cold and snow trodden winters but he hadn't really paid it much attention either. Apparently he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts recently that he'd missed a piece of fall altogether.
Spencer stood as the train pulled up to his stop, it was only a short walk to the headquarters from the station, though he usually had the company of an entire group of agents who chose to take the train instead of driving to Quantico from their homes. Today he was alone as he stepped from the train onto the platform and he quickened his steps as he walked. He must be truly late if he was the only one arriving though the overcast sky made it more difficult to accurately judge the time. The parking garage entrance, along with the back elevator, was the quickest way up to where the BAU offices were housed. It had the added bonus of being out of the direct line of sight of the administrative offices, though Spencer was under no illusions that Hotch had missed how late he was slipping in.
The open bullpen style area where most of their desks were housed was nearly empty when Spencer hurried in. He glanced around before deciding that everyone was probably up in the conference room. Moving swiftly, he dropped his bag off at his desk and bent down to plug in his cellphone and throw away his now empty coffee cup. He could probably use another cup of coffee, or maybe three more cups considering how disoriented he was currently feeling. He walked up to the conference room and paused in the doorway, trying to get a feel of what case they were working on before he just barged in. He couldn't even remember where he'd left off, what case they'd just finished or where they'd flown in from. Maybe this was some type of cumulative jet lag, though he didn't recall memory loss this severe as being a typical symptom of any type of jet lag.
"Spencer?" JJ's voice called out, high in pitch that seemed to indicate distress.
Realizing he'd been spotted, Spencer walked into the conference room and headed toward his usual seat. "Sorry I'm late. My alarm didn't go off and I think I might be a little jet lagged considering I didn't wake myself like I usually do," he said, trying to figure out how to admit that he had no idea what was going on. When he looked, the words died before they reached his lips; all of his team was staring at him with expressions ranging from shocked to stricken.
"Reid?" Morgan asked, moving from where he'd been standing at the white board and wrapping his arms tightly around Spencer's shoulders so quickly that it seemed like he barely had to walk across the short distance.
Spencer stood stiffly, growing more confused by the minute as he watched over Morgan's shoulder. Morgan was the casually demonstrative type, a hand clasped on the shoulder or a nudge with his knee, but for him to be outright hugging him was highly unusual. "Morgan?" Spencer asked, feeling slightly ridiculous at the whole name repeating thing they seemed to have inadvertently started.
Morgan finally released him, one of his hands still firmly affixed around Spencer's arm like he couldn't bring himself to let go.
"Reid, where have you been?" Hotch asked. He had gotten up from his seat and was only a few feet away.
Spencer looked around and found the entire team gathered around him, JJ looking precariously close to tears, Emily and Rossi obviously concerned, and Morgan still looking absolutely stunned. "I'm not that late, am I?" he asked uncertainly.
"We've been looking for almost three weeks," Rossi said, his eyes shifting to meet Hotch's before returning to Spencer. "You've been missing."
"Three weeks?" Spencer asked. It was suddenly feeling a little harder to breathe. He shook his head, trying to clear his jumbled mind. He looked beyond his team and noticed how it was his neighborhood and apartment on the maps that were pinned up, profiles of unsubs that he'd been instrumental in providing testimony against that were clipped to the board, and his name written in heavy strokes across the top. "How can you have been looking for me for three weeks?"
The team shifted around him again, no one apparently having an answer to his question, or maybe they didn't know how to answer it.
Spencer shook his head again. "I need to sit down."
The room seemed to break into motion, Morgan using the hold on his arm to guide him into a chair and the rest of the team pulling out cellphones and speaking in overlapping voices that Spencer couldn't begin to decipher. He barely looked up when he heard Garcia's voice in the doorway, shock and relief coloring her tone and Morgan moving to her while he issued quiet instructions.
Spencer sat, the eye of the whirlwind that had stirred up around him, and tried to retrace his steps from before he'd woken up that morning. The longer he sat, the faces of his team occasionally appearing in his line of vision and talking briefly to him, the more it bothered him that he couldn't remember what the last case was, or when they'd flown back to Quantico, or how he'd gotten back to his apartment whenever that night had been.