Make It out Alive

"Reid, Bryson, I need you two to go this address and talk to a Dr. Charles Grimson, he might know our UnSub," Hotch told us.

I nodded, checking my belt, finding my gun and phone. In my back pocket, I felt my badge. I followed Spence out to the black car, getting in. "So, how are you?"

"I'm fine," I lied. "How are you?"

"I'm well," he said, the strain in his voice made it clear that he was lying as well.

We stayed silent the rest of the ride. We pulled up to a small mansion. "Grimson has money," I commented.

"For West Virginia, certainly, but it's less expensive here," Reid remarked.

I got out of the car and walked to the front door. I knocked. It opened, a hand grabbed my collar and I was yanked inside, the door slamming shut. I heard Spencer yell, but Charles Grimson was nose to nose with me. "Please don't scream. It's so much better if you don't scream," he breathed. His breath was clean and minty. He didn't look frightening, he was attractive. A man in his forties, he had chesnut hair and matching eyes, a strong jaw.

"Charles, what do you want?" I breathed.

"I won't hurt you unless I have to. I've been following you and your team. I need to tell someone. I need to tell someone before I go. You know," he hissed. "You understand what it's like."

"What is it, Charles?" I asked.

"Please, please don't be afraid. I just want to talk. I won't hurt you if you don't force me to. Please, just, come into the kitchen. Have a cup of coffee, please. I just need someone who understands, who can listen, please," he begged. His eyes were wide and frantic.

I nodded. I followed him into the well lit kitchen. He asked me to sit down politely, as if this were normal, as if he was asking me to tea. I sat down. "How do you take your coffee, Miss-" He trailed off, obviously asking my name.

"Bryson. Polly Bryson," I told him. "With cream and minimal sugar, but enough to make it sweet."

He smiled. "Well, Polly, would you perhaps like a muffin?"

I faked a smile. "I'd love one." I didn't want to make him angry.

"Polly, please, don't be afraid of me. If you don't really want a muffin, I won't be insulted. I don't want to hurt you, Polly," Charles said cordially.

"I actually would like a muffin, Charles, thank you," I assured.

"Blueberry or chocolate chip?" He asked.

"Chocolate chip," I answered. He placed one on a small plate and placed it before me.

"That man you're with, he's more than a coworker, isn't he?"

"How do you know that?" I stuttered.

"He's searching the house for a way to get in, his face is too desperate for you to just be coworkers. He loves you," Charles said, handing me a mug of coffee.

I choked on the piece of muffin I had in my mouth. He held the cup of coffee up to me worriedly, and I took a hasty gulp.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," he apologized. His voice was sincere, like we were two friends talking.

"It's fine," I said hastily. "What is it you wanted to talk about, Charles?"

"Call me Charlie, please," he said cheerfully. Then he sobered. "I didn't know it would hurt them," he whispered. "It's what my father did, I thought it's what everyone did. I thought it was normal for other families, I thought other people expressed their love like that too."

"Who are you talking about, Charlie?" I asked.

"Jennifer Ableson, Amy Heatherly, Janie Lynkins, and Angela Carrie," he whispered. "I never meant to hurt them. I loved them, you have to believe me."

"I do believe you, Charlie. I know you loved them," I told him.

"I tried to save them," he said passionately. That made sense. The women had nearly crushed sternums, broken ribs. He had given them CPR. "I can't live with the guilt of this, Polly, I can't. I just needed someone to know."

I nodded. "Your father abused you, didn't he? Hurt you?"
He licked his lips. "My father was a good man, but his hand was heavy," he said, looking away from me for the first time.

"Charlie, why don't you turn yourself in? If you come with me, you can turn yourself in, you can get rid of that guilt?"

"Polly, you don't understand. I know your father hurt you. It's why you're so skiddish around men." He stood. "Polly, I'm afraid it's time for you to leave. You see, this house is rigged to blow in two minutes. You and this man who loves you, you need to run. Don't get in the car, it will blow. Run, run like hell, Polly. Thank you."

I took his advice and ran out of the house, Reid was at the front door. "Reid, run!"

He kept up with me, and I didn't look back as we sprinted. I sensed him next to me, and that's all I needed.

When the building blew, the ground shook, and I stumbled, falling to the ground. I yelped when I tried to stand. "Spencer, there's something-"

"Polly, don't move. You- I need to call a medic, and oh God," he said. I felt him press a hand against my back, and I cried out. "This is SSA Spencer Reid, I have a federal agent down, and there was an explosion. I need medics, and the fire department. Hurry." He listed the address, but the pain was excruciating.

"Oh my God, Spencer, what is it?" I screamed, tears running down my face. The asphalt of the road was so hot. I was pressed against it, and I felt rocks digging into me. "God, Spence, I can feel it inside me. I can feel it poking out my other side."

"It's going to be okay, Polly, it's going to be okay. Just stay with me," he pleaded. In the distance, sirens rang. "You're just fine, Polly, you're going-" I didn't hear the last of Spencer's words, I was going into a deep dark hole, and I couldn't fight it.