All My Heart

“He looks so much happier,” Alex states, watching Reid walk into work, a large cup of coffee in his hand, leather bag slung over his shoulder, and brown hair in a perfect tousled mess. “Whatever he’s doing, he better keep it up…as long as it’s healthy.” We share a laugh. “You two get along pretty well.”
I nod in agreement. “Thankfully. I was worried he’d be bitter towards me for coming in as his replacement.”
Reid sets his things down at his desk. “Good morning,” Alex chimes.
“Morning,” Reid replies with a small smile. She turns to her paperwork, and Reid and I exchange a small greeting, too.
His idea has been working, as much as I hate to admit it. I don’t think about Luke nearly as much as I used to. In the past month, my performance on cases has skyrocketed. I guess we just fuel off of each other’s mentality. He’s obviously an absolute genius. I mean, I’m considered a genius, too, but he’s so much smarter than me. I learn things every single day that I didn’t know I wanted to know.
But I don’t want to admit that I might be starting to feel more than I ever intended to. So, I blame it on proximity—psych 101: the more time you spend around someone, the more attracted you are to them. Usually.
We’ve tried to keep this as civil as possible, though. We’ve never kissed, we trade off paying for dates (or whatever they are), and we don’t talk about it. Especially not at work.
Alex gets up and heads for the break room, and I hear Reid’s chair turn. “Where do you want to go for lunch today?” he asks.
I drop my pen and turn in my chair, too. “It doesn’t matter to me. Your pick.” Morgan enters the office, and we drop our conversation immediately. Alex returns with a topped off cup of coffee and a muffin.
“We’ve got a case in San Diego,” JJ hollers from her office. We all gather our things and head for the conference room.
The case is on a serial killer who manually strangles his victims and uses small bombs to explode the body and evidence.

“We’ve got a body,” I call out. I head to take another step into the room and hear a click. I immediately throw my arm out to stop the next person from passing me, and Morgan clotheslines himself into my arm.
“What—“
“Stop.” I look down at my feet, and a white string is pressed against my ankle, slightly indented from the weight of my body.
“We’ve got a bomb!” Morgan hollers down the steps. Footsteps rush up the stairs, and they freeze at the sight. “We’re getting the bomb squad up here, Jules.” I nod in response and hold onto the doorframe to make sure I don’t move.
The bomb squad doesn’t have a problem disarming the bomb, but it still makes me sweat. I catch myself watching my feet as I enter my hotel room that night. I collapse on the bed with exhaustion. I’ve never gotten myself into that kind of trouble before—I could have died right then and there if I hadn’t been paying close attention.
A light knock on the door sends me back to my feet reluctantly. I peer through the peephole and find Reid standing on the other side of the door. So, I pull it open and invite him in. “I just wanted to check on you after today…I know how the first experience like that can be startling and—“
“I’m okay,” I assure immediately.
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Juliet, I’m not Derek. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t bother you.”
“It doesn’t really…Not yet, anyways.” Reid nods. “I guess I’m just glad it didn’t end as badly as it could have.”
“You really are a great agent. Almost any other person wouldn’t have noticed a tripwire.” He takes a seat in the desk chair, and I sit cross-legged on the bed.
“I didn’t expect a tripwire, otherwise I’d have been looking for one. I was listening for the ticking of the timer the unsub has used in the past murders, and I heard the click of trap setting.”
“Strange he didn’t use a timer this time,” Reid speculates.
“Yeah, that’s something Rossi and I talked about briefly. He must have known that we would find the body.”
“Well, part of the profile did suggest that he would be heavily interested in our participation of the case. They did find the same signature in the bomb. So, we know it’s the same unsub.”
I nod in agreement, get up off the bed, and open the mini fridge. It’s stocked with a couple of small, single-serving bottles of wine and two bottles of water. I pull out one of the wine bottles and pour it into a coffee mug. “Want one?” I offer. I take a sip of the white wine.
Reid shakes his head. “I don’t drink on cases.”
“You make it sound so bad.” I retake my place on the bed.
“No, it’s not. I know JJ does it, too. I don’t typically care for alcohol that much altogether.”
“I’ve noticed.” I offer him a small smile.
We share a small laugh. “Can I tell you something?” He speaks much quicker now—something he does when he’s uncomfortable or nervous.
I nod.
“I…I like you, Juliet. N-not the coworkers or friends kind of like. The kind of like I never thought I’d feel again.” He doesn’t look at me, just keeps his gaze on his hands. I stay quiet and wait for him to continue, but my heart is beating out of my chest. “I’m happy with you—happier, anyways. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same after,” he pauses and shakes his head as if to rid himself of a thought, “but I’m different because of you.”
I study him for a moment longer and until I know he’s finished speaking. “What was her name?”
“Maeve,” he mutters. It physically hurts him to say it. He winces away and his eyes squint slightly. The corners of his lips pull down and back as if he’s trying not to frown and sneer at the same time.
I finish off the wine in the coffee mug and set it down on the table next to the bed. “You’re something else, Spencer.” I fold my hands together and lean on my legs.
“Thanks?” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
I let out a small laugh. “I mean it in the best way possible.”

“Shotgun!” I holler, rushing out past Reid and Blake. The two laugh and follow Morgan and I out of the building. I hope into the passenger seat as Morgan starts the SUV, and the four of us speed off in pursuit of our unsub. We come to a stop outside a house about two miles from the one I almost set the bomb off in.
We get out of our vehicles and suit up. “I want everyone to be very cautious upon entering the house. As we learned a few days ago, he knows how to set traps and is not afraid to do so. Watch your feet, be careful when you open doors, and keep quiet,” Hotch instructs. We all mutter a response and take off into our teams towards the house—Morgan and I with a few local PD, Reid and Rossi, and JJ, Alex, and Hotch.
Our team quietly enters through the back. Morgan and I take the lead and scour the main level of the house. We meet with Reid and Rossi after they check the basement and the rest of the team once they return from downstairs. “It’s empty,” Hotch concludes.
“There was no car in the garage when we got here,” Reid adds. “Maybe she’s not home when she typically is, and the unsub couldn’t do it. It strayed from the norm.”
I have Garcia on the phone almost immediately. “Garcia, has Amy Lauderdale had any activity outside of her house in the last hour?” I question.
“Give me a second…” She types frantically in the background. “She just used her credit card at a restaurant about three miles away ten minutes ago.”
“Thanks, Garcia.” I hang up the phone. “So, there’s still a good chance she’s alive and the unsub hasn’t gotten her. What should we do? Clear out and watch?”
“No, he knows we’re here by now,” Rossi disagrees. “He’ll have to move on.”
“He did try to blow us up, though,” Alex comments. “So, maybe he’ll take it as a challenge. Get to Amy before we do.”
We all exchange a glance. “Morgan, Reid, Alex, and Vick, stay here and wait. I’ll take the rest of us and a squad car to try and stop Amy. Clear the house and the area, but stay close.”
We spring into action. Morgan and I hide in the yard in sight of as much as possible. Alex and Reid parked the SUV two houses down and have eyes on the front door.
We don’t wait long before headlights pull into the driveway. We wait until she gets into the house before we knock on the front door. And we knock again. Morgan and I exchange a glance. “You guys got eyes on anything?” Morgan asks into his microphone.
“Just you guys at the front door,” Alex answers.
A glass breaks inside of the house. “We just saw her go in,” I sigh in disagreement to what Morgan is thinking.
Morgan pounds on the door again. “Amy Lauderdale, FBI! Open up!”
It’s the screech of the word help that seals the deal, and Morgan kicks in the door before entering the house. I follow him, and we check the rooms on the way to the kitchen until we find her there with nylon around her neck and struggling with the unsub.
“FBI, let her go!” I demand, fixing the aim of my gun on the unsub. He freezes for a moment and gives Amy enough slack to breathe lightly. She’s sobbing hysterically and gasping for breath.
Everything else happens so fast. He throws Amy to the ground and pulls out a gun. My finger hits the trigger immediately, and guns start firing. Next thing I know, I’m watching Morgan fall out of my peripheral vision and watching the unsub fall right in front of me.