Part one of a series of Ideas and the scenes they inspired. I'm not sure where any of these scenes will go, or if they'll ever turn into more stories, but if you'd really like to see more, let me know! I'm going to post them as chapters on here, and individual stories over on A03.

"After a case gone bad that left him traumatized and disabled, Spencer quit the Bureau and moved away, shutting himself off from the world. Until one day, his little sanctuary is broken open by a man with a sharp grin and laughing devil eyes."

The sun was just starting to dip low in the sky when Spencer Reid stood at the back of his truck and loaded his groceries inside. An absent look at the sky told him he'd been smart to stick the canopy on; it looked like there was a good chance of rain starting up before he finally got home. He quickly finished settling his bags in the truck and securing them into place. Once he had them all in, he shut the back hatch and put his cart in one of the nearby caddies before heading to the driver's seat. His hand curled around the inside handle to help hold himself steady as he leveraged his body into the truck with just a slight wince for the pull on protesting muscles. As always, he pushed away the thought, only giving a moment to absently rub at the throbbing in his right thigh. A long soak in the tub was going to be in order as soon as he got home and got these groceries unloaded or he was going to be in for a very long night.

Spencer locked his seatbelt into place and then started up his ancient truck. Just a hint of a smile touched his lips as it always did when the now familiar roar filled the air. Wouldn't people be surprised to see him now? Spencer Reid, awkward little genius often dubbed an 'absent minded professor' because of his fashion sense, dressed down to a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and driving around in a truck that was older than his father. The surprise wouldn't end there, though. He knew they'd be surprised to see his home here, too. This definitely wasn't typical 'Reid' style.

'Here' was a private, cozy house, about twenty minutes outside of the city of Salt Lake City, Utah, in the middle of a forest set on private land that had cost him a hefty sum of money to get. The house afforded him privacy from the world around him, a place to relax and unwind and escape from people while still providing him with easy access to the city. No matter how low he got, no matter how much he needed to hide out a while, he was too much of a city boy at heart to be too far from one. This was a perfect fit for him right now. If he so wished, he could easily head into the city and do whatever he needed to do. Or he could stay in the quiet of his home, where the only thing outside were trees and sky.

Still, he could picture the expressions some people would wear if they caught sight of him driving down the road in this truck. That thought entertained him as he pulled out of the parking lot and started to make his way toward home. He could hear them in his mind, their voices laced with disbelief.

"You live here? Seriously? Like…seriously?" Penelope would say to him.

Derek would most likely laugh. "I swear, pretty boy, you're one hell of a mystery. Who would've pictured you out here with nature. And not a library in sight!"

Dave and Aaron would understand, Spencer thought. Emily, probably, too. They'd understand the appeal of this place. JJ, well, she'd been the one to help Spencer find this. She'd helped him find this little sanctuary and had promised him she'd tell no one where it was, or how to find him. It was the way he'd wanted it when he left and it was way he still knew it needed to be. Every now and again JJ would come and see him and bring him news of his friends, always bearing gifts and letters from them, and those would have to be enough. Spencer had come out here to escape his world. He knew he couldn't do that with all of his friends around, no matter how badly he missed them.

Thinking of them brought on that same pang that it always did. Spencer took his next turn and tried not to let himself care. It never worked. Almost three years he'd been living here and still, he found himself missing them, missing home, at least once a day. He'd find himself thinking of the people who had been his friends, his family, and he'd feel that clench in his heart again. He'd get that urge to pack up and go back home. "It's not home anymore." He reminded himself, shivering as his voice echoed softly in the confines of the truck. There was no home there for him anymore. Not since that day, three years ago, when his home had been violated. Not just violated—ripped apart and destroyed. It wasn't his home anymore. That had been ruined. Now it was a horror, and Spencer didn't need to be there every day to see it. He saw it often enough in his dreams. He didn't need the daily reminder.

The drive home took a little longer than normal as the dark clouds overhead finally gave in to their promise for rain. He unloaded his groceries and tried to keep himself as dry as possible. Mentally he ran through what he had and what he'd bought and he gave a small, pleased nod as he started to put things away. Good. It looked like he'd have plenty. The river had looked high when he'd drive across the bridge and onto his property. With the way the rain was coming down and the weather reports he'd heard, there was a good chance that the bridge would flood over, effectively trapping him here. There was only the one road to and from the cabin, once off the main road, which was a plus in some ways, but a down in others. Namely, when bad weather struck and the river rose, trapping him here. But he'd learned how to stock himself up for just those times.

There was a chance he could lose power, too, if the storm got any worse overnight. Luckily, there was plenty of wood chopped to keep him warm enough. He'd been surprised to find just how much he enjoyed the fireplaces in his new home when he'd first moved in. Oh, sure, learning how to chop wood had been a pain—literally. But his doctor had actually encouraged it as a form of physical therapy and so Spencer had worked through the pain of it until, nowadays, he sometimes even enjoyed the physical labor of chopping the wood and stacking it on his covered porch. Who would've ever figured him, scrawny little him, actually doing something that required muscle, and enjoying it? JJ had teased him about it endlessly when she'd caught him at it during one of her visits. But the looked she'd given him even as she'd teased had been warm and loving.

However, right now he was immensely glad he'd cut some wood a few days ago and that there was plenty enough on the porch to get him through a few days if need be. Right now he doubted he'd be able to even lift the ax properly. Swinging it would be dangerous as hell. There was no telling what he'd end up hitting.

Slowly, achingly, he folded up his reusable bags and put them into the pantry where he stored them. Then he made his careful way out of the kitchen, sparing a moment to check to make sure the doors and windows were all shut and locked before heading down the hall to the master bedroom. He bypassed the very alluring looking bed, promising himself sleep soon enough, and made a beeline straight for the bathroom with only a brief stop to grab comfortable clothes from the dresser.

This room had been another selling point behind this house. Whoever had owned this place before had definitely splurged on a few things when they'd built it. The kitchen, for one, which somehow managed to feel comfortable and homey while still being built in a way that would probably make some chefs jealous, and the bathroom was another area that they'd splurged on. The master bathroom had a long vanity with a bench seat, a shower stall to one side, near the toilet, and against the other wall was a raised Jacuzzi tub. A huge Jacuzzi tub. It was raised up just enough that Spencer could sit down on the edge of it without having to bend to far, and on those days that it was hard from him to move, it was easy to pull himself out to the tub edge and then just turn his legs out of the tub and his feet touched the ground with barely any effort needed to straighten up. Those kinds of days happened to often for his liking, even after all these years.

Spencer sat down at the edge of the tub and leaned in to get the water started. He made sure it was hot enough, just shy of boiling his skin, and then he set the plug and moved away while the tub filled. One hand rubbed at his thigh absently while he made his way to the counter to start unloading his pockets. Change from his pockets went into the little jar he kept in here that was already three quarters of the way full of loose change. Next came his cell phone, which he never traveled anywhere without. Next came the other item he never traveled without—he pulled his gun from the ankle holster and set that down on the counter as well, close enough to be in reach of the tub if he had to move quickly.

He had to sit himself down on the bench to get low enough to remove his shoes and socks. The socks were tossed into the hamper and the shoes set onto the countertop for now. In quick order, he shed the rest of his clothes, tossing them all into the hamper, until he was down to just the last few items.

The brace around his knee and thigh came off first. The only reason he'd worn those today was because he'd been out shopping and being up on that leg for extended periods of time wasn't smart without the brace in place. He ignored the scars that were uncovered, signs of the damage hidden within. He knew them all by heart. Knew which ones were from the surgery that had worked to repair the shattered knee, which ones came from where his thighbone had broken through the skin. He could trace each and every one of them without even having to look and he could tell the story that went with each. But he didn't. He set that brace down and moved on to the next. With his left hand he reached over to his right and pulled the thin leather glove off, setting that down. Then he drew off the prosthetic that covered half of his right hand. He ignored these scars, too, though not as easily as he did with his leg. It wasn't easy to ignore the gap of the three missing fingers. For just one brief moment he curled in his index finger and thumb, making a facsimile of a fist, the ache in his hand spreading a little. Then, with a deep breath out, he relaxed his hand once more.

His steps were only slightly heavy as he moved to shut the water off. Without the brace, his leg didn't move as easily, nor as pain free, and it took him a second to walk over there. Once the water was off he made sure a towel was nearby and then he sat down on the edge of the tub and carefully lifted his aching leg up and then into the hot water with only a soft hiss to show his pain. That hiss turned into a drawn out sigh when he slid the rest of his body down into the water. Ah, yes. The heat surrounded him and his whole body seemed to slump down into it. This was exactly what he'd needed. After a long day spent in town his body needed this relaxation. Trips into town were rare for him so he tended to pack as much as possible into one day. For the most part, he was content to spend his time here, away from people. Away from the world.

"You can't hide out forever, Spence." JJ had told him the last time she was here. She'd sat on the front porch with him while they'd drank their morning coffee and she'd watched him with those big eyes of hers that looked at him with love and understanding and sympathy, but never pity. Thank God, never pity. "What kind of life are you living here? A person needs more than books in their life."

"My stories are good enough for me." He'd told her. And they were.

This life he'd built here, it was good enough. It was safe. There was nothing in the world more important than that.

Spencer sighed and sank a little lower down into the water until it was tickling at his chin. With practiced skill, he pushed away the dark thoughts, letting the heat of the water warm him straight down to his bones until he felt like every bit of him had simply melted here. He might've come close to drifting off to sleep if it wasn't for the sudden flickering of the lights. That was enough to draw his heavy eyes open and bring him back to reality. Time to get out of here. He needed to get a fire built in the bedroom before the power really went out. Best to get it going while it was still warm in here.

Fifteen minutes later Spencer was in his comfortable sweats and a long sleeved shirt, carefully kneeling and coaxing the small blaze to life in his bedroom fireplace. He'd just managed to bring it to life when he heard the very last thing he'd expected—a hard knock on his front door.

For one instant Spencer froze. His whole body locked down and his wide eyes snapped up and towards the direction of the front of the house while his heart jackhammered in his chest. Who the hell was here, at his place? In this weather?

A second knock jarred him out of his stupor. Immediately, his left hand slid around to the back of his pants where he'd set his gun on his way out of the bathroom. There was absolutely no hesitation in him when he drew it and checked to make sure it was loaded and the safety was off. The gun stayed firmly in his hand while he made his way cautiously out towards the living room. There was a very large part of him that wanted nothing more than to take up a careful position here in his living room where he wouldn't be seen—there, against the side of the cabinet, perfectly hidden from anyone who came through the door while still allowing him a clear line of sight—and just wait for the person to leave. Why on earth would anyone be out in weather like this, let alone knocking at his door? How on earth would they have even gotten across the bridge? There was no way it wasn't flooded over by now! The rain was coming down in buckets out there!

But the other part of him, the part that still held something of the person he'd once been, couldn't just stand here. What if this person was lost, or hurt, or in need of some kind of assistance?

Against all better judgment, Spencer forced himself across those last few feet and, with his gun held ready at his side, he answered his door.

The very first thing he saw was a pair of laughing devil eyes framed by chunks of soaking wet hair. Hair that was plastered to a face that was stretched with a wide grin that matched the devilish humor of those eyes. "Hey dere." The man said, and his voice came out like whiskey, warm and husky, and there was just a hint of a laugh at the edges. "Je suis désolé, monsieur, I don't mean to disturb y, mais my name's Remy and I was on m' way to see a friend of mine somewhere in dese parts an I t'ink I got a bit turned round, an den de damn mud got so t'ick I couldn't get m' bike to go nowhere. I was hoping maybe y' might have a phone I could use? M' cell aint working an I need to call Logan an tell him to come and find m' ass, cause dis city boy is sure as shit lost out in all dese trees."

The rush of words that tumbled from this man had Spencer speechless for a moment. When he could find his voice, which took a very pregnant pause and the clearing of his throat, he blurted out the very first thing that came to mind, no matter how stupid it sounded. "Not many carriers get cell service up here. Just one, really." Stupid, stupid! The man was soaking wet and here Spencer was talking about cell phone carriers.

Remy didn't seem bothered by his inane words. If anything, his grin grew wider and just a bit brighter. "Go figure. Leave it to Logan to pick some place in de boonies dat aint even got good reception. Sounds like just his kinda t'ing."

"I've got a phone that works." Spencer found himself blurting out. The voice inside of him screamed out 'Stupid!' at him, but it didn't stop him. It was like his self-preservation took a sudden backseat. All those years at the BAU had apparently taught him absolutely nothing. Letting strangers into your home when you're miles from civilization and there's no one around to help was never a good idea. Yet Spencer took a step back and gestured in towards his living room. "Why don't you come inside and I'll go get it for you? I still have power, so it's still warm in here. Better than standing on the porch."

If he'd thought Remy's smile was bright before, it was nothing compared to the one that was beamed at him now. "Merci!" He exclaimed happily. He accepted Spencer's invitation without hesitation and strode inside like he'd been doing so for years, moving with an ease and confidence that Spencer had never been able to replicate, not even back in his better days.

As Spencer shut the door behind his new guest, he cursed himself roundly, calling himself every stupid name in the book. What was he doing, letting some stranger in to the house? Hadn't he learned his lesson? Hadn't he learned anything? Briefly, he pressed his forehead against the door. No, no, this wasn't the same. This was completely different. He wasn't helpless this time. He was armed, as prepared as anyone can be, and he was smart. He wasn't going to be caught unawares like that ever again.

Slipping his bad hand into his pocket, he lifted his other hand and deliberately put his gun in the front of his pants, after making sure the safety was back on, of course. Let the man see that he was armed. Let him be aware. Spencer lifted his chin and wiped any expression off his face. Then he turned around to look at the man who was now standing near the fall wall by the heater, watching him with one eyebrow raised. He didn't even flinch at the sight of the gun. Spencer put on his best fake smile and squared his shoulders. "You go ahead and stand there and get warm .I'll go and get the phone for you." Then you can make your call and get out of my life, before I do anything else stupid around you.