" keep reid away from the door .
keep him away from me . "

**

x. The broken
5413 Words

⭓ MICHIGAN, detroit ≋ 1:33 PM

THE PLAN WAS SET IN STONE. Every detail was carefully crafted, each move calculated with precision. Hotch had taken the lead on the operation, sparing Jade from the burden of planning. He orchestrated the arrest of Vincent Kane, pulling him into custody just long enough to let him know he was a suspect before releasing him. The ruse was intentional—Hotch had ensured the team presented their evidence as insufficient, just barely missing the mark to hold him.

It was a gamble, but Hotch knew Vincent wouldn't run. Men like him didn't. They thrived on their own arrogance, believing themselves untouchable.

Vincent Kane thought he'd won. He thought he'd slipped through the cracks. That was the plan.

And now, the bait was set.

Jade.

She sat silently in the passenger seat of an unmarked car, her hands clasped tightly together, her nails pressing into her palms. Spencer sat beside her, fidgeting with his scarf, his nerves spilling over into small, almost imperceptible movements. The quiet between them was heavy, the kind that gnawed at the edges of conversation.

Spencer finally broke it. "Are you feeling okay about this?" His voice was a touch higher than usual, the kind of nervous energy that made it crack slightly at the end.

Jade didn't answer right away, her gaze fixed on her hands as though they might somehow provide the answers she was looking for. "I'm sure it'll be fine," she said softly, her tone measured but distant. "Quick and easy."

Spencer's brow furrowed, his lips parting to speak, but Jade cut him off. "About yesterday," she began, her voice a little stronger now. "I didn't mean to be a jerk. This case—it's just been..." She trailed off, staring out the windshield. "Let's just say it's been a lot. And it felt like you guys were doubting me. Like you were watching my every move, waiting for me to screw up." She exhaled sharply. "I guess you were right to."

Spencer immediately straightened, his hands moving in quick, thoughtful gestures as he spoke. "That wasn't my intention," he said earnestly, his voice rushing as though the words might not come out fast enough. "I—I mean, you're not wrong. JJ and I were worried. But it wasn't about doubting you, not really. It's more like..." He hesitated, his hands pausing mid-motion. "We're just trying to make sure you're safe. I know I can come across as, um, overbearing sometimes."

Jade turned her head slightly, finally looking at him. "Overbearing?" she repeated, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Yes," Spencer admitted, nodding quickly. "It's a byproduct of... well, you know, wanting everything to go right. The success rate of undercover operations is significantly higher when the operative has strong team support, and I—" He caught himself rambling and sighed, his voice softening. "I just didn't want you to feel like you were alone in this."

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then gave a small nod. "I get it," she said. "But next time, maybe dial it back a little? I don't need to be wrapped in bubble wrap."

"Noted," Spencer replied, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a faint smile.

The radio crackled suddenly, cutting through the tension in the car. "It's go time," Derek's voice came through, firm and steady.

Jade glanced at Spencer with a small smile, her fingers brushing the door handle. "Well, wish me luck, pretty boy," she teased lightly before stepping out of the car. The door shut with a quiet thud behind her. Spencer gave a faint smile in return, his brows furrowed with concern. His gaze lingered on her as she walked away, the faintest trace of apprehension tightening his chest.

She took a moment to steady herself, clearing her throat and smoothing her hair. The air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of distant traffic, but the tension around the restaurant was palpable. Jade's heels clicked softly against the pavement as she approached the entrance.

Inside and outside the restaurant, law enforcement officers were strategically positioned. Some blended into the crowd as plainclothes patrons, while others lingered inconspicuously nearby. Among them, her team stood watch—Hotch, Derek, JJ, and Emily—all stationed at key vantage points.

A hidden microphone was nestled beneath the fabric of her blouse, the wire concealed and barely detectable. Through an earpiece, she could hear the faint murmur of her team's voices, ready to guide her at a moment's notice.

In five minutes, Spencer would follow, slipping inside as an unassuming customer to maintain a close but discreet eye on her.

Jade pushed open the heavy glass door and stepped inside. The warm glow of the restaurant lights spilled over the polished floors, and the hum of quiet chatter filled the air. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him—Vincent Kane. He was seated at a table near the back, dressed sharply in a dark button-up and slacks, his posture relaxed but his sharp eyes scanning the room like a predator.

She forced a polite smile, her heart pounding against her ribs as she approached. "Vincent," she greeted, sliding into the seat across from him.

He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Well, look at that. You made it to Wednesday," he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

Jade mirrored his smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Beneath the table, her hands found each other, fingers twisting anxiously out of sight. "I guess so," she replied casually, grabbing the menu to occupy her hands. "So, how are you?" she asked, her voice calm, careful.

"Great." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward. "How's your... case going?" His words were deliberate, probing.

Jade glanced up from the menu, meeting his gaze with carefully measured neutrality. "Could be better," she admitted, her voice steady.

Before she could say more, the waiter approached the table, notepad in hand.

"Two cokes," Vincent ordered abruptly, cutting off whatever Jade might've said.

Jade shifted in her seat, the edges of her smile tightening. Her face remained neutral, unbothered on the surface, but internally, she clocked the behavior. Control. Power. He wasn't just ordering a drink; he was establishing dominance.

The waiter nodded and left the table.

"Let's talk about it," Vincent said, his tone as smooth as it was unsettling. His hand rested on the table, but Jade didn't miss the way his fingers tensed slightly.

She kept her expression composed, her body language calm. "Talk about what?" she asked lightly, though her eyes never left his.

"The case." He tilted his head slightly, studying her like a puzzle he was trying to solve. "The one that's got you running around. You must be tired. Stressed. I can see it."

Through her earpiece, she caught a faint murmur of voices. Hotch's low tone came through clearly. "Stay focused. Let him lead the conversation, but don't give away too much."

Jade forced a small laugh, leaning back slightly in her chair to match his casual posture. "Yeah, it's been a little crazy. But you know how it is—just another day at the office."

Vincent's grin widened, but there was something cold behind his eyes. "I bet. You've got that... what's the word?" He snapped his fingers, the sound sharp and deliberate. "That hustle. You're not like the others, though. You've got something different. I could tell the moment I met you."

Through the mic, Spencer's voice came through, soft and clinical. "He's testing her. He's trying to gauge her reaction. Narcissistic personality types often use flattery to manipulate their targets. Don't react too strongly."

Jade nodded imperceptibly, keeping her smile measured. "Well, you're not like the others either, Vincent," she said, her tone carrying just enough curiosity to sound genuine.

The waiter returned with their drinks, setting the glasses down with a polite nod. Vincent didn't acknowledge him, his focus locked entirely on Jade.

"Oh, I'm not," he said, his voice dropping slightly, taking on a more intimate tone. "I see things differently. People like us... we don't fit into the same boxes as everyone else."

Jade sipped her soda, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. "People like us?" she repeated, tilting her head slightly. "What do you mean?"

Vincent leaned in, his voice lowering as though sharing a secret. "You're smart. You see through people. You don't play by their rules. That's what makes you different. Special."

Through her earpiece, Hotch's voice cut in again. "He's trying to pull her in. Keep him talking. Make him feel like he's in control."

Jade gave a small, knowing smile. "I guess I've always been a little different," she said, her voice light but carrying an edge of vulnerability. "It's not always easy, though."

Vincent's grin returned, more predatory now. "It never is. But that's what makes it worth it."

She nodded, her hands still fiddling under the table as she prepared herself for the next move. The pieces were in motion, and the game was just beginning.

Hotch's voice came through the earpiece, calm and measured, but carrying an edge of urgency. "Be subtle about his involvement. Let him think you're on his side. Build trust, Jade. Make it seem like you understand him."

Jade shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers brushing the condensation on her glass. She looked up at Vincent, her expression soft but carefully controlled. "The case has been... difficult. Frustrating, actually," she said, her tone deliberate, every word calculated.

Vincent raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Oh yeah? How so?" His tone was smooth, but his eyes were sharp, watching her closely.

She tilted her head as if mulling over her words. "I don't know... It just feels like I'm chasing my own tail. The position I'm in—it's annoying. Like, no matter what I do, it's never enough," she said, dropping her gaze to her drink, feigning vulnerability.

Vincent's lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes lighting up just enough to reveal his intrigue. "Really?"

Jade nodded slowly, swirling the straw in her glass. "Yeah. It's like I'm stuck in this endless loop, and it's starting to feel personal, you know?"

Vincent nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he were suppressing a smirk. "Sounds rough," he said casually, though his voice carried an undertone of satisfaction.

In her ear, Spencer's soft, rapid cadence cut through the tension. "He's trying to gauge her frustration. He'll use it to manipulate her if he believes she's vulnerable. Statistically, people with narcissistic tendencies often interpret someone else's struggles as an opportunity to assert control or influence."

"Stay calm, Beckett," Derek chimed in, his voice low but reassuring. "You've got this."

Jade exhaled slowly through her nose, her neutral expression never wavering. "It is rough. I just—" she paused, glancing up at him as if weighing her words. "I thought it would be different, you know? I thought I'd have more control. Instead, I'm stuck waiting for everyone else to make a move."

Vincent studied her for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, he chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. "Control, huh? That's what it's all about, isn't it?"

Through the earpiece, Hotch's voice came again. "Good. Let him talk. Don't push too hard—he's feeling comfortable. That's what we need."

Jade offered a faint smile, keeping her tone even. "I guess so. But it's not exactly easy when you're surrounded by people who think they know better than you. Makes you feel... stuck."

Vincent's grin widened slightly, a flicker of arrogance flashing in his expression. "Yeah, I get that. You're not the type to sit back and let someone else call the shots, are you?"

Jade shrugged, her movements casual. "Guess not."

"You're sharp," Vincent said, his voice almost conspiratorial. "People like us... we have to play the long game. Can't let anyone see our hand too soon."

Spencer's voice came through again, quiet but insistent. "He's projecting. He believes she's aligning with his worldview. That's good—it means he's letting his guard down."

Jade leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table. "Yeah. I've learned that the hard way."

Vincent's eyes gleamed as he nodded, clearly pleased. "Smart. You've got potential, Jade. You don't let people push you around."

Jade smiled faintly, her grip tightening on her glass beneath the table. "Thanks. Coming from you, that means something."

Vincent tilted his head, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long. "Oh, it should."

Outside the restaurant, Spencer adjusted his tie as he prepared to walk inside, his expression focused. Through the comms, Derek's voice came through, tinged with dry humor. "Reid, try not to look like you're about to give a dissertation. You're just here for dinner, remember?"

Spencer's voice was quick, tinged with nervous energy. "I've been in restaurants before, Morgan. My behavior shouldn't raise any suspicions."

"You don't exactly scream 'casual customer,'" Derek shot back.

"Enough," Hotch interjected firmly. "Focus on the objective."

Spencer straightened his posture, exhaling deeply before pushing the door open. Inside, he scanned the room, his gaze briefly landing on Jade and Vincent before moving on, careful not to linger. He approached a table near the bar, his movements deliberate and unhurried, blending in as much as Spencer Reid could.

Meanwhile, Jade kept her focus on Vincent, the tension between them a carefully orchestrated dance. The team watched and listened, every word and movement building toward the moment they'd been planning for.

Hotch's voice cut through the comms, crisp and commanding. "Do it."

Jade's fingers tightened momentarily around the glass in her hand. Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to steady it, exhaling slowly through her nose. Her eyes flicked up to meet Vincent's, her expression calculatedly open yet tinged with vulnerability. "I actually..." She trailed off, as though hesitant, before continuing with a practiced sigh. "There's a reason I decided to come tonight. I need to talk to you about something."

Vincent tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curling in faint amusement. "And what would that be?"

She drew in a breath, letting her hesitation linger for just a moment. "It's about the case," she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "And you."

His brow quirked slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

"I know I shouldn't be saying this. God knows my team would kill me for even thinking about it. But... I trust you." She let those last three words land deliberately, watching as they sparked a flicker of intrigue in his eyes.

His posture shifted subtly, and after a moment of calculated silence, he reached across the table. His hand slid over hers, his touch light yet possessive. Jade's eyes darted down to the gesture, her jaw tightening ever so slightly, though she covered it with a thin, almost apologetic smile. She could feel the tension in her own hand, but she didn't pull away.

"What is it?" Vincent asked, his voice smooth and inviting, but with an undercurrent of suspicion.

Her smile widened slightly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Well..." she began, her voice soft but steady. "They think—" she paused for a half-hearted laugh, shaking her head as if the idea itself was absurd—"ridiculously enough... that you're a suspect. In the recent murders of those five girls."

Vincent's face remained neutral, but his hand stiffened slightly over hers. She forced another laugh, the sound hollow but convincingly so, leaning in as if sharing some absurd inside joke. "It's unbelievable," she continued. "I mean, seriously, it's like my team is on some kind of personal vendetta. They've found a brand-new way to intrude on my life—and now my love life, no less."

At that, his eyes narrowed slightly, and his head cocked to the side. "I'm a part of that?" he asked, his voice low and deliberate, the suspicion breaking through just slightly.

"Of course," Jade said without missing a beat, her tone light and dismissive, as though the answer was obvious. "God, they're so entitled, you know? Always trying to control everything I do—find ways to break me down. But it's fine. I'm not worried. Because I believe you," she said, her voice dropping into something softer, steadier.

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto his, unwavering. The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, his arrogance seemed to win out over his caution.

Over the comms, Derek's voice broke the silence, his tone low and impressed. "Damn, she's good."

Spencer's voice came next, rapid and measured, as though analyzing every beat. "He's responding predictably. Narcissistic personalities often align themselves with people who express belief in their innocence. It reinforces their inflated sense of superiority and erodes their defensive instincts."

"Stay focused," Hotch's calm, even tone reminded them. "Don't let up, Beckett."

Jade's gaze never wavered, her expression soft but resolute. "I've got your back," she added, letting the words sink in.

Vincent's lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, his grip on her hand relaxing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. "Good," he said simply, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

Jade nodded, her own smile widening just enough to appear genuine. "Good," she echoed softly, all the while feeling the weight of every eye on her, waiting for the next move.

"I enjoy that. You understand me," Vincent said, his tone low and unnervingly calm.

"Of course," Jade nodded, her voice steady, though a flicker of unease flashed in her eyes.

"I was right this entire time," he admitted, leaning slightly forward, his gaze locking onto hers like a predator.

"Right?" Jade asked, feigning innocence, though her instincts were screaming at her to be cautious.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I look into all the friends I make along the way. You happened to be one of them. I read about you," Vincent said, his words deliberate, watching for her reaction.

"Read about me?" Jade tilted her head, confusion etching her features.

Hotch, standing near the back of the restaurant with Lila, turned slightly toward them, his expression sharpening at the subtle tension in Jade's voice.

"What is he getting at?" Lila whispered.

"I'm not a very social person. Not really out there, you know? I don't understand how you could've read about me," Jade said, her tone guarded but light enough to mask her unease.

"Well—the newspaper. There was news."

"What?" Jade's brows furrowed, her tone edged with disbelief.

"I mean your dad," Vincent clarified, his voice eerily calm, the words slipping from his mouth like venom.

The mention of her father hit Jade like a freight train. Her heart raced, and she instinctively tugged her hand back, but his grip didn't budge. Her voice came out brittle, sharp, as she demanded, "What did you just say to me?"

"You're just like me. You're a victim," Vincent said, leaning in closer, his tone almost affectionate. His eyes gleamed with something twisted, something wrong. "I knew it from the start. We're too alike."

"No," Jade whispered immediately, her voice trembling with controlled annoyance. "We're nothing alike."

Vincent smiled faintly, almost pitying her. "Come on, Jade. Be honest. You're not like the other girls—the ones who died. I thought they might've been threats because of their pasts. They might've grown up like their parents. But you? You're worse."

His words felt like punches to her gut, but Jade didn't flinch. Her jaw tightened, her nails digging into her palms as she hissed, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Vincent leaned closer, his grip on her hand tightening painfully. "Do you ever feel it? That rage? That dangerous edge? Are you aware that you're a threat?"

The words were like ice down her spine. She tried to pull her hand free again, but his grip was unyielding. "Let go of me," she said, her voice steady but cold, each word a warning.

He ignored her, his voice soft but insistent. "Don't you see it? I've looked into you. We're the same. Unique. You're not fit to be an agent. But together—we could be something unstoppable. You can't control it. You know you can't."

Jade shook her head, recoiling. "You're insane."

"And you aren't?" His voice rose slightly, his composure cracking. "Your anger—it'll destroy you. You think you're helping people, but you'll only hurt them. With me, you could let go of all that. Forget being the victim. Forget being the one who's hurt. We'd be the ones in control. The killers. They were weak—broken. But we're different. We're special."

Jade's eyes widened, her heart thundering in her chest. Over her earpiece, she faintly heard Hotch's signal to move in.

"We're our dad's kids," Vincent said, his voice dripping with twisted pride.

Jade jerked her hand away, glaring at him. "You're disgusting," she spat.

Vincent's face twisted with something between rage and disappointment as the team moved in.

"Get up. Now," Derek's voice cut through the tension as he approached, his jaw clenched. He grabbed Vincent with a force that made the man stumble against the booth. "Vincent Kane. You're under arrest."

Vincent scoffed as Morgan snapped the cuffs on his wrists, his eyes darting to Jade with venom. "I should've known," he snarled, his voice escalating into a shout. "You're a traitor, you little bitch! Weak! Do they know? Do they know you're a danger to them? Do they know they're working with a ticking time bomb?"

Jade held her ground, though tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her voice was cold but trembling. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Vincent laughed darkly as the officers hauled him to his feet. "Do they know your dad beat you? Your sister? Do they know he almost killed your mom? Do they know you're all over Michigan's 1997 headlines? A mother and her two daughters—beaten bloody!"

His words were knives, each one cutting deeper.

"Do they know you can't even touch people? That you've been diagnosed? It's all in your file, Jade! Your boss knows—you're broken!"

Jade staggered back slightly, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.

"Take him out of here! Now!" Hotch barked, his voice sharp and commanding as officers dragged Vincent toward the exit.

Vincent struggled against them, shouting, "You're no hero, Jade! You're just like me!"

Jade stood frozen, her breath shallow, her mind spiraling. She didn't realize she was crying until Hotch placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Jade—" Hotch began, his voice softer now.

She flinched at the touch, instinctively recoiling. Her reaction startled him, and he quickly pulled his hand back, his brow furrowing.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

"Jade," Hotch tried again, his tone laced with concern.

Without a word, she turned and walked out of the restaurant, her steps quick and unsteady.

The rest of the team watched, tension thick in the air. Derek, JJ, and Spencer exchanged glances, each one ready to follow, but Hotch raised a hand, stopping them.

"Don't," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "She needs space," Hotch replied, his tone final.

⭓ WASHINGTON, d.c. ≋ 6:00 PM

The team had all gone their separate ways after the case wrapped. As usual, they boarded the plane to head back home, but Jade didn't join them. She couldn't. The thought of sitting with them—having them look at her, ask her how she was doing—was unbearable. So, she stayed behind, leaving on her own, refusing to face them. It was hours before they found themselves back in the same building again, all at the office. But even then, Jade was nowhere to be seen.

The break room was silent, almost unnervingly so. It was usually a place of banter and lighthearted conversation, but today there was only the buzz of the fluorescent lights and the murmur of muffled voices beyond the door. Jade had taken it over without anyone so much as batting an eye. The team had all arrived, but they knew better than to disturb her now.

She was curled up on the floor, her knees drawn tightly to her chest as she stared at the wall in front of her. Her eyes were hollow, empty—fixated on the cracked paint and the endless hum of fluorescent lights above. One hand clutched at her other, shaking violently as she tried to hold herself together, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it was useless. They streamed down her face despite her best efforts.

Jade couldn't believe what had just happened. She couldn't get the sound of Vincent's words out of her head—the way he'd described her life, her pain, her brokenness. How could he have known? But then it hit her like a ton of bricks: He had gone through everything—her legal files, her medical records, even old newspaper clippings. He had read it all and used it against her, like some kind of twisted confession.

It all made sense now.

The rage that had burned in his eyes when she wouldn't fall in line with his plans—it wasn't just because he thought she was like him. It was because he was angry. Angry that the girl he had such faith in—who he had pegged as just another unstable soul—wasn't like him. She wasn't crazy. Not in the way he expected.

The door creaked open, the sound echoing down the hallway.

"Don't." Jade's voice cracked immediately, the words trembling in the air. The moment she spoke, the door stopped. Derek remained just on the other side, silent. He didn't look at her, not even glancing down at the floor. He just stood there, like a presence in the room.

"I won't come in if you don't want me to." Derek's voice was soft, but with a firmness that matched his usual tone. "Look, I just wanted to let you know. He... they found where he was living. An abandoned building. Squatter. And they found all sorts of files—on the girls he targeted. You were one of them. He had illegal records, stuff he shouldn't have gotten his hands on. Another psycho with a damn brain."

"At least he's credible." Jade's voice was thick with sarcasm, her face still hidden in her knees. She wiped her tears away quickly, but they came back just as fast.

Derek let out a quiet sigh. He wasn't backing down. "Jade, listen to me. He..." He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "Vincent was raised in a toxic, abusive environment. Detroit, of all places. His father was violent, real bad. His mom... she was emotionally distant, probably had her own trauma to deal with, maybe even substance abuse. You know, the usual. But the real kicker? When Vincent was a kid, his father burned him for crying—left a permanent scar on his arm. That messed him up. Bad."

Jade's eyes were closed tight, but she didn't say a word.

Derek continued, speaking slowly but with a weight in his voice. "That crap gets in your head. He grew up believing that pain was the only way to grow, that survival meant you had to hurt. After he aged out of foster care, Vincent probably thought the system failed him, just like everyone else. That resentment, that anger? It turned into something dangerous. It made him hate authority, hate everything that stood in his way."

Derek shifted his weight against the door frame, not quite leaning, just steady. "His foster families were either neglectful or abusive, so it was only a matter of time before he snapped. And then, recently... his mother died of an overdose. They think that's what pushed him over the edge. That's when he started his killing spree. It was like his brain finally broke, and he started taking all that pain and putting it on other people."

There was a long pause, but Derek knew she was listening. He wasn't sure if she was absorbing it, or if she was shutting it out.

"He was still wrong. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying any of that excuses what he did. None of that justifies the hell he put you through."

Still, she didn't speak.

Derek felt the tension in his jaw tighten, but he pushed forward. "And you need to hear this: it was never your fault. You hear me? Never your fault. You didn't deserve that, not for a second."

Jade's voice was barely a whisper, but she spoke anyway. "Derek, I know." She sniffled again, wiping her face, and let out a shaky breath. "You don't have to give me the therapist talk."

He gave a short chuckle, but it didn't sound amused. "Couldn't help myself." He sighed deeply, his voice growing serious. "But why didn't you say anything? I get why you wouldn't want to, but..."

Jade hesitated, her voice barely audible. "Because... it's not something I like to share. It's hard enough to live with, let alone talk about it."

Derek leaned against the doorframe, his tone softer now, but still resolute. "We wouldn't have judged you, Jade. We're your team. You should've known that by now."

Jade closed her eyes, feeling the weight of those words. "I know," she whispered, the two falling into an uneasy silence.

Derek took a slow breath, his hand resting on the door handle as he prepared to leave. "I'll leave you alone for now. But just know, I'm here if you need to talk."

"Derek..." Jade's voice cut through the quiet before he could leave, catching him by surprise. "Keep Reid away from the door. Keep him away from me."

He didn't say anything at first. He just nodded, understanding what she needed, and without another word, he walked away. Within seconds, Derek was standing in front of Spencer, guiding him backward toward the bullpen with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey," Derek muttered, his voice low but firm, his hand gently but decisively pushing Spencer back. "Back up, boy genius."

Spencer blinked, clearly confused. His brows furrowed as he glanced between Derek and the door. "What's going on, Derek? Did something happen?"

"She needs space, Reid. You gotta respect that." Derek's tone was calm, but there was a layer of something softer beneath it. He wasn't just giving Spencer orders—he was looking out for Jade.

"But she... she talked to you, right? Doesn't that mean—" Spencer started, his voice rising with that quick, analytical urgency he was known for. But Derek didn't give him a chance to finish.

"Nope." Derek shook his head, cutting him off with a single word, his posture unwavering, a silent demand for Spencer to back off. "You'll talk to her when she's ready. Not a minute before, man. And I mean that."

"But I—I just... she's not okay, Derek. I don't think we can just leave her alone like that. She needs help," Spencer protested, the words tumbling out of him, his voice laced with concern, his mind racing through all the possibilities.

Derek exhaled slowly, glancing at Spencer with a mixture of understanding and quiet authority. "Reid, listen to me." He paused, making sure Spencer caught his gaze, his tone softening just a touch. "We're gonna be there for her. But she needs her time. We've all been through it—you can't force it. She's gotta come to us when she's ready. You respect that, or you're gonna make it worse."

Spencer looked down, trying to process Derek's words. He was used to wanting to fix things, but sometimes, even he knew, it wasn't that simple. He let out a long breath and nodded, his voice quieter now. "I understand."

Derek gave a curt nod, his face hardening once again, though his eyes softened just a little. "Good. Now, let's give her that time. We'll talk to her when she's ready, but not before." He gave Spencer one last look, his voice firm but understanding. "She's not a case, Reid. She's one of us."

Spencer hesitated for a second, but he finally stepped back, his shoulders slumping a little, resigned to Derek's judgment. "Right. I'll... I'll wait."

"Yeah, you will," Derek said with a nod, a brief flash of warmth in his eyes. "Now, let's get back to work. She's not going anywhere, and neither are we."

✸

authors note: ik you all love me. enjoy