QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

FBI HEADQUARTERS

"Spencer."

Doctor Spencer Reid, standing in front of the elevators, looked up from his phone and turned to face his friend and colleague, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau. She was moving towards him with a small smile on her face, her go bag draped across her thin frame and her long blonde hair around her shoulders, framing her slender, fair face.

"Want some company to the parking garage? I'm on my way there anyways." JJ said, reaching her arm out to hold the elevator doors open. Reid smiled back.

"Sure. Heading home so soon? Thought you'd stay behind with Hotch to finish the paperwork." Reid shifted his own go bag to his other hand, as they both stepped into the waiting elevator.

"Yeah, Hotch decided he didn't need me. And Henry is getting the flu, so I kind of need to be at home right now."

"Oh yeah? That sucks." Reid said, as he pressedthe "G" button for the parking garage underneath the FBI building. The doors closed and the elevator car began descending. There were a few moments of silence before JJ looked over at her friend.

"Hey."

Reid looked up at her, noticing the worry on her face. He knew what was coming. Of course he did.

"Are you okay?" JJ asked. Reid took in a sharp breath. Of course JJ would ask him if he was okay. She had seen how the previous case had affected him. A young boy had been kidnapped by his paranoid schizophrenic mother who had believed that everyone was out to harm her child. She thought she was keeping him safe by locking him in the basement where no one could touch him. Reid had been forced to tackle her in order to prevent her from hurting the boy.

Reid nodded curtly and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm, uh, I'm fine. Just..." Reid bit his lip, trying to explain to JJ what he felt. "It, uh, wasn't easy. I know how he feels, living with someone like that. I'm just glad my mom wasn't trying to lock me away or anything ike that. You know?" He gave a small, quick smile. JJ returned it sadly.

The elevator rang and the doors opened up to the garage, a large underground vault still filled with dozens of expensive looking cars. Reid spotted his at the far end, his horizon blue Volvo.

"Well, this is where we part ways." JJ said. "At least," she added with a smile. "until tomorrow."

Reid smiled back. "Yeah, have a good night, JJ. Say hi to Henry and Will for me, okay?" JJ nodded as they exited the elevator, Reid heading forward while JJ searched for her car to the left.

Digging into his pockets, Reid searched for his keys. He finally pulled them out when he reached his car, and inserted them into the drivers side lock. It was an old 1965 Volvo, so he didn't have one of the new-fangled electronic locks like everybody else had. But it didn't bother him. He loved the feel of manually turning the key and hearing that satisfying clunk of the door unlocking and granting him access.

Normally, Reid took the metro down by his house to get to work, but when he got to the station for his morning train four days ago, he was dismayed to find it temporarily closed due to maintenence on the tracks. That was why Reid was currently driving himself home in his own car. He didn't mind driving, he enjoyed it actually. But soon, the drive became monotonous, boring. He saw the same signs every day, listened to what seemed to be the same damn pop song over and over on the radio. At least on the subway, he saw a variety of interesting things. People going to work, teenagers going to school, drunks coming home from their friends houses, assuring their wives on the phone that, no darling, he hadn't been drinking all night and no, he didn't hook up with that skank down the road, the one who gave Bill Haytham herpes or HIV or whatever it's fucking called. Reid liked variety. The highway didn't offer much of that these days.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the turnoff that would take him home, and as he quickly swerved to catch it, pissing off at least six different people simultaneously, he reflected on the case he had just finished.

Timothy Hope, a thirteen year old boy who had been living with his mother, suffering from paraoid schizophrenia, was like Reid in many ways. He was certainly smarter than most kids his age, but Spencer wouldn't call him a genius. He loved books, and he loved learning about everything. How everything worked, what made it work, all the different ways you could make it stop working, and then putting it back together differently, but still have perform the same tasks. He was a kind boy, never blaming his mother for what she did to him.

His mother, Caroline Hope, had stopped taking her medication because she couln't afford them anymore after welfare had cut her off because she had been claiming single, but her boyfriend, James Carlton had been living with her. It was through this paper trail that their eccentric-but-in-a-good-way tech analyst, Penelope Garcia, was able to find them pair in time. Reid struggled to tear his mind away from imagining what could have happened had they not found them...

Reid signaled a left turn and was finally on his own street. The large brownstone he had called home for almost ten years appeared out of the fog which had quickly rolled in almost as if by magic. Spencer parked the ancient vehicle in the driveway on the left of the house and turned the car off. He pulled the key out of the igniton and exited his vehicle, grabbing his go bag from the back before manually locking the car up for the night. As he walked to the front door, he noticed that his mailbox flag was up.

'Weird,' Spencer thought. It was twenty minutes after two. There should be no mail in the box yet. Curious, Reid approached the mailbox and slowly opened it. Inside was a small brown package. Frowning, Reid yanked it out and stared at the neat, decisive writing which proclaimed the package to be his. He tucked it under his arm and made his way into the house.

The rich smell of leather made its way to Spencer first, and all at once Reid's nerves settled. The warm atmosphere of home calmed him, and made him feel at ease. He unceremoniously threw his go bag near the door to the laundry room, before taking off his shoes and jacket and headed into the large living room. Flopping down on the big leather sofa, he gave himself a moment to relax. It had been a long, tough four days and Reid was just glad to be home. Plus, his muscles were sore from sprinting after James Carlton, (whom Morgan had eventually caught and whom was also involved in the kidnapping, albeit for different reasons) diving to the pavement to avoid being shot by Carlton, and ultimately tackling Caroline Hope to the ground before she could shoot her own son.

Reid's eyes drooped and he almost fell asleep before he remembered the package, which had been placed on the coffee table in front of him before collapsing on the couch. He stared at it for a few more seconds, running through different scenarios and guessing what the package contained. It was small, eight inches in width, fifteen inches long and four inches deep. It was hard, and it was heavy. Reid suspected a book. He picked up the package and studied it. On the back was a receipt. On it stated the date that it was delivered. Which was earlier today, at six o' clock pm. Mail never arrived at six in the evening.

Spencer tore open the package. His suspicions were right. It was a book. But it wasn't just any book. It was the complete third edition copy of Chaucer's The Riverside. The book looked worn, like someone had read it hundreds of times. The spine felt broken in Reid's hands and there appeared to be coffee stains on the top right corner of the cover. Reid opened the front cover and read the chilling message written on it.

You can save her if you hurry. Tidewater Lock. She's waiting.

"Reid, calm down. Are you absolutley sure the message was for you?" Hotch said into the phone, rubbing his temple. He was still at the bureau, finishing up the last of the paperwork from the last case. He had sent JJ home about an hour ago so that she could look after Henry, whom she suspected was getting the flu. Hotch could hear the panic in Reid's voice as he spoke hurriedly, and sounds of what seemed to be Reid getting his coat and shoes on to investigate the claim that there was a woman in need in Tidewater Lock.

"Yes, Hotch! I'm absolutley sure! The package was addressed to me! It had my damn name on it!" Ried huffed out angrily.

"Alright. I grab the rest of the team and we will meet you down there, along with DC Police."

"Okay... Thank you."

That's all I got for now. Stay tuned for more! :D