Purposeless Paranoia

CHAPTER 1: Shards of Ice

It was a cool night. Spencer Reid appreciated the crispness of the Autumn air as he sat on the bench. He enjoyed reading in the park, especially just after the sun set. Turning the page of his book, his eyes flitted from the novel to the brush near him as he heard something.

'No need to be paranoid, it's just the breeze,' he thought to himself casually.

Returning his attention to the book, he caught a slight movement to his left. He stood up to to home; he was getting a little creeped out and it was late anyway. Walking on the path out of the open park, he jumped when his cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Reid, it's Hotch. I need you to come into the office, we have an urgent case."

"Okay, I'm-"

He didn't get to finish as he felt a prick in his neck and everything suddenly went black.

Hotch

Hotch sat down at his desk, checking the time. 6:20 pm on a Saturday night. Sighing, he picked up the phone and dialed the number of Spencer Reid.

Reid answered the phone after a moment. Hotch smiled a bit imagining the young genius reading a huge dictionary on a Saturday night. Quickly becoming serious and getting to the point, he asked Reid to come in for a new case. Reid began to respond and Hotch became alert when he heard a grunt and the dead ring of the dial tone.

Hotch hurriedly redialed him, but it went straight to voice mail. Trying to think logically, he reasoned that Spencer had bumped into something and dropped his phone. He relaxed slightly and assured himself that he would see his teammate shortly, despite the nagging feeling in his gut. Reid was fine, no need to be paranoid.

Thirty minutes later

The BAU team gathered around the round table in the conference room as Garcia took her place in front of the presentation screen. It took a moment for everyone to realize that they were one person short.

"Where's Reid?" Prentiss asked as she noticed that there was no one endlessly rambling about the statistics of something or other.

"I didn't see him come in," Garcia commented.

"I called him. I said we have a case, and he was responding when he got cut off and the line went dead. I put it off as nothing, but now..." Hotch felt guilty and worried as he became increasingly regretful of his inaction.

Anxiety filled the room, and Hotch was about to tell Garcia to trace the young profiler's cell when the team leader's own cell phone rang. Noting that the caller's identity was unspecified, he answered it.

"Agent Hotchner speaking," Hotch said.

"Ah, Aaron Hotchner. Been a while." The mystery voice paused, as if expecting a response. "Well, I'll get right to the point. I have taken Spencer Reid, and you would do well to follow my instructions." Hotch hurriedly put the phone on speakerphone, gesturing for the team to pay attention. Everyone listened as the Unsub spoke again. "By now I'm sure that your whole team is there, so listen up. Penelope Garcia, I'm warning you not to attempt to track this call or any other communication that is made to you. It won't work. I will know if you try, and your precious Reid will be punished severely. Derek Morgan, I know you are just itching to punch the wall and growl a threat or two, but do either and your Pretty Boy may not be so pretty anymore. Jennifer Jareau, do not involve the press or anyone outside of the team. David Rossi, no mind tricks. Emily Prentiss, no insubordination. And finally, Aaron Hotchner," the Unsub said Hotch's name with pure loathing, "One wrong move and he will pay. You'll receive contact shortly, along with instructions and a little...incentive for your cooperation." He hung up, leaving a deafening silence. Garcia sat dumbfounded for a second, too shocked for tears, then began typing frantically.

"Garcia, what are you doing?" Hotch thought she had heard that she could not track the call.

"I'm tracing Reid's cell phone. He didn't say I couldn't do that."

"Good. Try to see if anyone's hacked into the security system, he's gonna keep an eye on us somehow, and if it's not electronically then search for any employees with records or any recent suspicious activity. Also, have JJ help you look through old case files for anyone that has a grudge against me or Reid, the Unsub seems focused on us. Morgan, I want you and Prentiss to search Reid's house for any signs of a struggle. Rossi, we're gonna wait for that contact arriving shortly, we might catch the Unsub leaving a package here. Everyone get to work."

After the allotment of jobs was completed and everyone set to work, Hotch processed the situation. Reid had been kidnapped again, was in danger again, and once again the Unit Chief felt wracked with guilt.

Reid

Groaning, Reid awoke. His head was pounding and he felt groggy and confused. He remembered talking to Hotch, getting jabbed with a syringe, and then...nothing. Trying to bring his hands to his head, he realized he couldn't. He was sitting in a chair with his ankles and torso bound to it by rope. His hands were tied behind the chair, leaving him vulnerable. He became slowly more aware of his surroundings and quickly more scared. The concrete floor beneath his bare feet was cold. The walls were also concrete and bore no windows, instantly bringing to mind a dungeon, or more likely, basement. He was in the middle of the room, under a lone light bulb, and facing a plain wooden door.

Just as he was about to yell for help, the door opened. A man entered and closed it, simply watching his discombobulated hostage for a moment before speaking.

"Hello Spencer, I'm glad you're awake. It's time to have some fun."

Reid looked warily at his captor as the man walked toward him. While the young man was terrified, he forced himself to calm down a bit and profile the Unsub. He was tall and muscular, obviously an alpha-male personality. He was calm and collected; staid and stoic in composure. Reid was thrown off a bit though at his eyes. They were completely unobscured by his short-cropped hair; the man's eyes were a striking, piercing blue, like shards of ice, almost emotionless. What alarmed Reid was the hidden eagerness, the earnest zealousness and enthusiasm locked away, hidden carefully to control his emotions and appear tough. This hint of excitement grew as the man watched his hostage squirm uncomfortably against his bindings.