Soft on the Lips, Rough on the Heart

He took slow steps towards me, and I walked backwards to get the island between his body and mine. My hands ran across the drawers, silently pulling them out, looking for something to defend myself with.

“Don’t bother,” Sam said smoothly. “I’ve taken all the knives and hid them. I know how resourceful you are.”

“Sam, you don’t know anything about me. We went on ONE date.” I stopped moving and so did he.

“That’s where you’re wrong though. I know everything about you. Your parents died two years ago, you hate cherries, you’re favorite color is blue, and you’ve never dyed your hair before.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Sam, listen to me. I don’t know how you found out all of that stuff and I don’t care. You should just go on home now.”

He chuckled uneasily. “You must not pay much attention to cop shows, because that’s not how this works. You’re going to do exactly as I say,” he paused to pull a small knife from his pocket and stab it into the counter top, “or else we’ll have problems. Got it?”

I nodded hoping to buy some time.

“Good girl. Now, first things first, you need to call Spencer and let him know there’s only one man in your life and it’s not him. I don’t care who he is, just be brutal. No one needs to come looking for you.” I nodded.

I was biting down on my lip so hard I thought it would bleed.

“Tell me what to say,” I whispered, my phone shaking in my hands.

“You figure it out.”

I sighed and hit redial. I was mentally figuring out what to say for the message when he
answered. I gasped and grabbed a handful of my shirt in my free hand.

“Emily I-”

“Stop talking Spencer. It’s my turn. I just got home and I’ve been thinking. I just can’t do this anymore.”

I released my shirt and rubbed at my dry eyes. Sam motioned for me to keep going.

Apparently I hadn’t put enough salt in the wound yet.

“I’m really sorry, but there’s someone else in my life. I’m sorry.” I had barely finished saying I’m sorry when the phone slipped from my palm.

My bottom lip quivered and my hands shook as I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Good, very good. I knew you were a smart one. I always knew it.” Samson said as he paced back and forth in front of me.

I grabbed his wrists. “Come on, can we just get out of here?”

His smile beamed as he reversed the hold I had on him so he could grasp my forearm. His callused fingers dug into my skin, but I didn’t complain. I just let him drag me through the door. A bright light made me squint as I looked back around the room; as soon as we were on the sidewalk I realized what had made it.

3rd POV

Spencer set his phone down on the coffee table in front of him. The first voicemail made him smile, but now this phone call confused the hell out of him. Emily hadn’t even given him a chance to talk about this other person. He didn’t want to think of her as a bitch, but considering this came out after they had sex, well that was just cruel.

Hotch waltzed by Spencer’s door knocking twice and moving on. Reid came out and followed the sound of footsteps to the adjoining room.

“After the profile we gave, the local police managed to get the guy while we were asleep last night. Everyone did a fantastic job. Get your stuff together, we leave in thirty.”

Derek walked around the room handing out high fives while Spencer walked sluggishly back to his room. Everything he had with him was still in his bag so he spent the half hour sitting on the edge of his bed, face in hands.

“Kid, hey kid. It’s go time. What’s wrong with you?” Derek questioned, but Reid shook him off.

On the plane Penelope showed everyone the note Emily had left, and gushed about wanting to check up on her little girl. Spencer’s hand stayed curled around the note he had in his pocket. He would make Emily talk about it when they got back.

Derek, Reid, and Penelope drove Morgan’s car home. The two guys grabbed her bags and walked them to the door. She unlocked the door, opened it, and kissed their cheeks.

“I’ve got it from here,” she said and shooed them away.

They had taken a single step before Garcia cried out their names.

“What’s wrong baby girl?” Morgan pushed ahead of Spencer to get inside.

“I just don’t understand,” she said in a hushed voice.

Spencer observed the scene; a single pocket knife was stuck into the wooden countertop and a bouquet of flowers was close beside it. He thought back to the first voicemail Emily had left.

“Spence, the flowers are beautiful,” she had said.

He didn’t send her flowers, but it hadn’t really struck him as odd before.

Derek picked up a card from the flowers. “It’s signed S.R.”

They immediately looked to Spencer, and he held his hands up in defense.

“Don’t look at me.”

Garcia hit her hand hard against her forehead. “Oh, shoot. I can’t remember his last name. Samson… um, Samson something with an R. But why is there a knife?”

Reid’s stomach dropped.