Make It out Alive

Spencer was undercover as a high school kid, something we both found distasteful, but it was Hotch's orders. The high school would be the best place to find the UnSub. Spence had "started school" two days earlier at the West Virginia high school. I picked him up from school with much teasing on my end.

"Can I drive?" He asked. I nodded, getting out while he scooted over.

"Where we going, Mr. Highschooler?" I teased.

"Someone told me about a point over the town that's really beautiful. I wanted to take you, you know, for our aniversary."

I giggled, taking the hand that didn't occupy the wheel and giving it a gentle squeeze.
*****
Spencer and I sat on the hood of the small sedan, our hands linked on my bulging nine months pregnant stomach. "I can't believe that in less than a month, we're having a baby and getting married," I said.

"Do me a favor?" He asked with a smirk as we watched the sun go down.

"Always," I answered, squeezing his hand gently.

"Don't go into labor during the wedding," he suggested.

I laughed heartily, resting my head upon his shoulder. "She can't wait to meet you," I whispered.

"How do you know?" He asked.

"She kicks more when she hears your voice," I told him with a smile. Almost as if she were completely aware of the conversation, Abigail kicked in the area of our hands.

With a sheepish smile, he lowered his face so he eye to eye with my belly button, and said gently, "Hi, Abby. It's me. It's your daddy. I can't wait to meet you. It's going to be the second happiest day of my life, after marrying your mommy, of course. We can't wait to meet you."

Suddenly, there was a scream outside of a car. Spence moved quickly, drawing his gun while I got mine, holding it in front of me. "Federal agents!" I called out.

"Help me!" A girl screamed. Her scream was coming from the left, so I went left, Spencer turning on the car lights and grabbing flashlights. Together, we found a dirty, crying, bloody girl.

I got her in the car and made Spencer drive to the hospital. "I'm Special Agent Polly Bryson, that's Dr. Spencer Reid. What's your name?" I asked, wrapping a blanket around her as we both sat in the backseat.

"Anna. Anna Morzanan," she answered. Wide-eyed, Spencer looked at me in rearview mirror. Anna Morzanan was our victim.