Abby is regretting this already. Seating in the booth closet to the door, the petite red head takes a bite of the stale blueberry muffin in front of her. The hard bread does nothing to ease the coiling of nerves in her belly. With a crinkle of her nose, she sets it aside. She toys with a loose strand of hair that had managed to free itself from her braid. She shouldn't be nervous. This wasn't her first posting with the FBI. It was her third. Granted, the other two had not been field positions. Most had included her being stuck behind a desk despite having graduated first in her class at the Academy.

Abby had severe social anxiety. It made being around people, new people in particular, fairly difficult. The FBI had overlooked her obvious deficit. The anxiety was brought on by emotional and physical abuse from childhood. Of course, this was something she would never admit to anyone except the therapist she'd been forced to see every day for the last three years. It was part of the FBI's requirement in order for her to continue working with the wondered how her new boss would take to her…. quirks. Would he stick her behind a desk like the previous two?
The bell above the café door dinged. Abby looked up out of habit. She nearly choked on the bite of muffin she was still struggling to chew. She blinked. His blond hair was rather disheveled but in a cute sort of way. A brown bag slung over his chest, he appraised the small café as if searching for someone in particular. His eyes glossed over her. She ducked her head for reasons unknown even to herself. He wouldn't recognize her…. right? It'd been a while since she'd attended his last lecture.

When he didn't seem to find the person he was looking for, he slid into the booth behind her. The tip of her index finger disappeared between her nervous teeth. She nipped at the corner of her nail, a habit she had yet to break. She was accustomed to being overlooked. His name was Spencer Reid. She hadn't imagined meeting him under such circumstances. She'd envisioned their first meeting to be once she'd officially been welcomed to the BAU.

Should she introduce herself? Or would that be too forward? She wouldn't have the chance to find out. Before she could utter a single word, the door to the café dinged again. This time, it was followed by the sound of rapid gunfire. She didn't flinch. It was a sound she was used to. The other patrons in the café were another story. Every single one of them scurried from the front door.

"Everybody on the floor. Now!" The masked gunman ordered. Everyone obeyed. Well, everyone but her. She remained rooted, unable to move. Another man followed behind the first, shutting the café door behind him.
The first moved forward. He aimed the barrel of the gun at her face. He repeated the demand. This time, she was forced to do as she said. She slid from the table. Her gun tucked away at her side, hidden by her sweater, it would be far too obvious should she try to grab for it two men were clearly not after money. Spencer Reid mumbled something. Neither of the two-gunman heard but she did. He wasn't talking to her or to anyone in particular. She turned slightly. He didn't seem afraid. Or if he was, he hid it well. Their eyes met. He offered a smile. At this point, Abby saw the earbud tucked away in his ear. Her eyes drifted to it and then back to his face.

Had the BAU been expecting this? Was he undercover? The two gun man began speaking amongst themselves. A man in the corner shifted, his body tensing. He was going to try something…something foolish that would only end up getting him killed. Spencer didn't see it. His back was turned to the man. Abby licked her lower lip. What should she do? She could do nothing and allow the man to get himself killed. Shit. She couldn't do that

"I have to pee." She blurted loud enough for the men to hear.

The one that had entered first turned to her. His brilliant blue eyes burned a hole as he made his approach. "What did you say?"

I said-" The man's hand snatched out, fingers curling in her hair. He hauled her to her feet. His accomplice rolled his eyes but did nothing to stop his fellow criminal. For a moment, she feared the man meant to do her arm. Instead, he shoved her in the direction of the bathroomShe didn't miss the look of concern that flashed across Spencer's face as the man so rudely shoved her again. She staggered beneath the weight of his hand. Abby had expected this. The man had entered first. He was the vulnerable one, the one that was considered expendable. He had a far more volatile temper than his partner. He was the loose end, the key to unravelling whatever the two were there to do.

The man pushed her inside the women's bathroom. Of course, he followed. He locked the door behind him. He wanted privacy. He did intend to do her harm, just a different sort of harm. This was the social interaction she was accustomed to…. despite her limited field experience, she was smart enough to recognize a sexually motivated predator

I been eyeing you since the beginning." He purred, fingers moving to undo his buckle.

"You brought me in here to…." She swallowed. "For privacy?"

He grinned. "I'm nothing if not a gentleman."

She forced a smile to her lips. "Thank you." She forced herself forward. This seemed to please him. He smirked. . He pushed her against a sink, lips crawling over her. She fought back a shudder. His hands pushed inside her jacket. He felt her gun. He recoiled. He reached for his own which had been discarded on the bathroom floor. He was no criminal mastermind. Her knee came up between his legs. When he bent over, she shoved her other knee into his face. He clutched his face, staggering backwards.

"You…you…bitch!" He growled. He moved forward again. She ducked out of the way, foot catching his right ankle enough to throw him off balance. She used this to her advantage, showing his face into the bathroom mirror. The sound of shattering glass was explosive. That surely would catch someone's attention.

To Abby's surprise, the second gunman didn't come running. Perhaps he simply thought his partner incapable of being overwhelmed by a female. She reached inside her jacket, fingers wrapping around the smooth handle of her gun. She pulled it from the holster. As cliché as it may sound, Abby was never more at home then when she had her gun between her fingers. It gave her a sense of security…something she rarely felt these days.

She slowly undid the door lock with the hand not clutching her gun. She opened the door with some caution. The last thing she saw was the barrel of a gun coming directly towards her face. Everything went black