Never Thought I'd Meet You Like This

“F-FBI. Get out.. Get out of the bed,” a shaky voice woke the girl up. The light was on and there was a man pointing a gun at her. The girl shot up, throwing her hands up so that the man wouldn’t shoot her. He had longish brown hair that was tucked behind his ears and he was wearing brown slacks and a button up with a light beige sweater vest. That’s when she realized it was the man that lived here.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” she said, shaking. She closed her eyes and rocked back onto her heels.

“What are you doing in my house? In my bed?” he asked.

“I needed someplace to sleep. Please don’t shoot me,” she pleaded. The man lowered his gun slightly but kept it at the woman in his bed.

“Get off the bed,” he said softly. She walked off the bed on her knees with her hands still in the air and when she got to the edge, her foot got caught in the sheets and she fell off the bed, letting out a short scream. “Are you okay?” he asked, helping her off her face and she sat up and leaned against the bed.

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“I’m going to ask you again; why are you in my house? And in my bed?” he asked, looking into her eyes. She noted that he had beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

“I slept there so it was ready when you got home. But you left on one of you business trips. I didn’t think you’d be home for days,” she whispered, tears started to fall out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“But why?” he asked, as he sat down across from her. The girl looked away from him and grabbed her arm and rubbed it.

“The books. They fascinate me. Every time, there’s more and more. How do you read so much? Don’t you have a job?” the girl asked. The man sighed, a small smile forming on his lips.

“I read 20,000 words a minutes, and I have a an eidetic memory. Wait, how many times have you been here?” he asked.

“Five or six times. You’re gone a lot,” she said, looking down at her lap.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI. We travel around the country profiling serial killers,” he said, still unsure about the half naked girl that he found in his bed.

“So are you profiling me right now?” she asked.

“Trying not to. Trying to figure out what to do with you,” he admitted with a small laugh.

“Oh God. You’re the FBI. You can have me arrested for trespassing. I’m so sorry, don’t arrest me. I-”

“Calm down,” the man said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. Now, where are your pants?” he asked.

“Out back. When I hopped the fence, I landed in mud and got mud on my shoes and pants and I didn’t want to leave a mess. I was going to wash the house off, I promise I was,” she told him, tugging on the end of her shirt.

“I believe you, actually,” he sighed and stood up, startling the girl. He went over to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of black sweat pants. “Here you go,” he said and threw them on the floor next to her. “What’s your name?”

“Wendie Alkrey. What’s yours?” she asked as she slid the pants on.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” the guy replied with a small smile. Wendie and Dr. Reid stood in the bedroom awkwardly.

“I guess I’ll go sleep on the couch,” Wendie suggested daringly. She started to walk to the door when Spencer stopped her.

“No, you can sleep in the bed, I’ll take the couch,” the man suggested.

“But it’s your house that I just intruded on, and you can home for your bed. I have no problem with the couch,” she argued, trying to push past him again.

“Hey, you’re lucky I’m not arresting you, just take the bed,” he said, pointing to it. She sighed and walked back to the bed. She sat back on the bed and looked back up at the tall man in the room.

“Why don’t we share?” Wendie suggested.

“Seeing as we officially just met, I think that is out the window. You’re still a stranger to me,” he said, giving her a weird look.

“Why are you back so early?” Wendie asked.

“We were going to be flying out to Montana to catch someone when the police actually found him, so my boss sent my team and I home,” Spencer said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “So, um, you sleep, and I’ll just be out on the couch,” he said, grabbing his pajamas and leaving, turning off the light. Wendie laid back down and fell asleep faster then she wished.

When the girl woke up, she could smell fresh coffee and eggs. She got out of bed and walked down the hall to the kitchen and saw the doctor reading the newspaper that was spread on the counter. Wendie cleared her throat to announce her presence. Spencer looked up and turned to see her, a smile forming on his lips.

“Good morning. Do you like coffee?” he asked, gesturing to the coffee pot.

“I’ve never had it,” she admitted.

“Really?” Spencer asked, pouring them both a cup, and handing it to her. The curious girl took a sip of the black liquid. She wanted to spit it out, but she swallowed it because she didn’t want to piss off an FBI agent. “You don’t like it,” he said, laughing.

“How could you tell? I thought I masked it well,” she said, setting the drink down. Spencer laughed again as he went to the refrigerator and grabbed some creamer.

“I’m a profiler for the FBI. Remember?” he asked and poured some of it in Wendie’s cup. He took a spoon and stirred it. Wendie took another sip and it tasted better.

“I guess I forgot. This is better, thank you,” she smiled. He returned it and went over to the stove and flipped the eggs. “I’ll clean the mud off of your house, and I’ll be on my way,” she told him solemnly.

“You don’t have to,” he said slowly.

“Clean the mud?” she asked as he turned towards her.

“No, I mean leave,” he said slowly. Deep down, he didn’t know what he was doing. He knew he should have kicked her out last night, but there was something about her that he didn’t want to lose. He just didn’t want to throw her back out on the streets. If she had been here at least 5 times before, he hadn’t known because she took such good care of his house and his possessions. Everything was always put back, and nothing was ever missing, that he knew of. She must not eat here, because he didn’t have much food, and none of it was ever missing.

“But I’m just a stranger that broke into your house-,”

“Yeah, how did you get in by the way?” the man asked, getting two plates out of the cupboard and served the eggs.

“If I told you that, I’d never get in again,” she said, taking the plate from him. She giggled and sat down at the island with her coffee.

“Nah, I’m just curious,” he told her and sat down next to her.

“The window in your dinning room is never locked,” she sighed. She knew because of what I just told him, that this was the last time that she was going to be able to get into the house. But why did he want her to stay? It seems so weird for an FBI agent to let a stranger stay in his house. Also, he looked young to be with the FBI. He had to be her age at least.

“Never thought anyone would try getting in that way,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you have a place to live?” he asked. Wendie looked down at her food and shrugged. There was no way she’d tell him that, FBI agent or not. “That’s not a good answer,” he told her. Wendie just shrugged again.

“How old are you?” she changed the subject.

“What? No, you have to answer my question first,” he told her, he didn’t like it when people didn’t answer him.

“I’m not telling you that,” she declared. He sighed, giving up.

“I’m 25,” he said, playing with his food. Wendie looked at Spencer and gave him a look.

“Don’t you have to be older to be in the FBI?” she asked.

“I graduated high school at 12 and I have an IQ of 187,” he said. He looked up at the girl and saw that her mouth was open. He gave her a nervous laugh.

“I’m jealous. I never graduated high school,” she stated.

“When did you drop out?” Spencer asked.

“5th grade.”

“Why?” he asked, shocked that someone wouldn’t even finish elementary school. Wendie looked down at her plate and shrugged again. Spencer let out a frustrated sigh. He knew she was hiding something. He didn’t have to be a profiler to guess that. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Wendie? If something happened I can help you. My team and I can help you.”

“Nothing happened,” she said, looking away from Spencer.

“Then why didn’t you finish school?” he pressed.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she told him. He got up and walked out of the room, leaving the girl at the island. Spencer pulled out his cell phone and called Penelope Garcia, the BAU’s computer technician.

“Hey sugar, what’s shaking?” she asked.

“Garcia, I need you to look someone up. Wendie Alkrey,” he said in a whisper. He could hear her typing away.

“Uh, there’s a Wendie spelled, W-E-N-D-I-E, could that be her?” she asked.

“Try it,” he told her.

“Wendie Alkrey, was taken from her home at 11 years old by a serial rapist. The man was arrested 5 years ago, but her and the other four girls were never found,” Garcia said.

“Well I just found one,” Spencer said and hung up before Garcia could ask any questions. Spencer straighten up and walked back into kitchen. Wendie was at the island still poking at he eggs. “I’m sorry about that,” he apologized.