CMCMCMCM
A shrill ring woke him from a light sleep. Spencer rolled over and grabbed his phone off the side table. "Reid," he rasped, running his tongue over chapped lips, his mouth dry and throat sore from a chest cold he just couldn't seem to shake.
"Hey, man. Did I wake you up?"
iDerek/i, his muddled mind supplied and he squinted up at his bed side clock, the red display blurring. "What time is it?" he asked, rolling over, stretching out his achy legs, and stifling a yawn.
"Almost nine,"/i Morgan laughed. i"I'm sorry if I woke you..."
He was about to deny that Derek had woken him up…as if he couldn't sleep in on his day off, but then his doorbell ringed. "Just a minute," he called toward the front room then swung his bare legs over his mattress, standing on shaky limbs, running a hand through his messy bed hair. "Someone's at the door. Hang on," he told Derek.
It took a second or two to find his robe and then he slowly shuffled towards his front door.
The doorbell rang again just as he peered through the peephole and saw an UPS man on the other side.
Who would be sending me a package?
Unlocking and opening the front door of his condo, he tried to smooth his sleep tousled hair again, holding the phone against his ear with his canted head and raised shoulder, as the guy reached forward and held out an electronic clipboard and a small brown package.
The balding man at his door waited for Spencer's illegible scrawl, taking back his clipboard without even looking at the signature, handing him the box.
The package was light and rectangular and his name was neatly printed on a mailing label, no return address.
"Hmm, strange."
"Strange?" Morgan asked, still on the line tucked against his ear.
"Yeah. I'm just trying to decide if I should open this package." He quickly shut his door, bolting both locks. He hesitated just a moment before taking a seat on his sofa and fingering the edges of the taped paper, but curiosity won out.
He tore off the tape, letting it fall to the cushion and then slid open the paper. Balling the thick wrapping in his fist, he studied the white box before him, lifting off the lid, puzzled at what he found within.
"What is it?" He jumped, shaking his head for forgetting he still held the receiver to one ear, forgetting that his friend was still waiting patiently for him on the line.
This cold must be turning my brain to mush.
He pushed a finger into the box, snagging a shiny gold ring and eyed the object attached.
"It's a key." And not a fancy or old style skeleton key…just an everyday key…small, but possibly a key to a house or pad lock.
"Why would someone send you a key?"/i Morgan's voice lost its lighthearted friendly quality and took on an edge that Spencer recognized. His mind went back to the man that made the delivery, but the profiler in him was sure the uniform and the man himself was legitimate. i"Is there anything else with it...a note, a return address?"
"No." He got up and took the package to his kitchen, setting the box on his table. "I'll see if I can get some information on the package, check out the..." a hacking cough burst forth before he could get the rest of the sentence out and then another. He was doubled over, gasping for breath and he could hear Derek urgently asking if he were okay.
Finally the coughing subsided. His face felt flushed and hot and his sinuses were tight and a steady pounding behind his right eye signaled the beginnings of a migraine. "Yeah, I'm okay."
Morgan snorted, i"Right man. Well I was calling to see if you wanted to hit the courts again, but from the sound of it I think you need to get back into bed."/i
Spencer nodded, shuffling back toward his bedroom and his unmade bed, his messy sheets and down comforter calling him. "I might lie down for a little longer," he said, sliding back under the sheets. "And when I get up I'll call UPS and see what I can find out about the package...it's probably from my mom…" His eyes grew heavy as he talked, shifting onto his side, tucking his free hand up under his pillow, glad the sheets were cool on his heated skin. "She sends me..." a huge yawn escaped, "...some odd stuff sometimes."
"Okay, man." Derek's voice changed again, the hard edge was gone. "Get some rest and maybe we can work on your jump shot some more one night after work this week."
There was a few seconds of silence as he drifted and then he remembered he needed to answer, "M'kay, see you at work." He shifted over again, disconnecting the call, not bothering to put the phone back on the cradle.
Smiling as he drifted closer to sleep, he thought about his Friday evening spent at the youth center with Derek and a group of young boys, shooting baskets and learning the basics of basketball.
He wasn't exactly athletic but even he could keep up with eight-year olds.
He was nearly gone when a few sneezes violently erupted and he half rolled toward his side table, lifting his hand, rooting around for some tissues. He was hoping he would be feeling better before having to report back to work on Monday morning and as he finally drifted off to sleep, tissues falling from his lax fingers, he wondered if the mysterious package containing the key really was from his mother.
CMCMCMCM
Monday morning found Reid walking bleary eyed toward his desk. He had tossed and turned most of the night before, but at least he could finally breathe through his nose this morning and his headache was gone.
Most of his team was already in the office and he nodded to each as he passed them, sipping his cream clotted coffee, which soothed his sore throat. Sinking gratefully into his own office chair he booted up his computer.
"About time you showed up." Morgan stood towering over him, a smug smile lighting up his dark features.
Spencer shook is head, leaning forward in his seat. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm right on time." He smiled into his paper cup as his friend snagged a nearby chair and sat down.
"So, you sound better." Morgan took a bite of an apple he was tossing around from hand to hand, a little smirk on his face as he swallowed. "If you're feeling up to it, Coach Draper needs some mentors tonight at seven, might be a bit more of a challenge though. The boys are ten."
He nodded, not taking the bait, wincing a little as pain zipped up his spine and down his arm. Even the hand holding the steaming paper cup felt funny, tingly, but he passed it off as recovering from his bout with the flu or whatever virus he had been fighting. "Sounds good." He sat his cup down as his hand began to shake, not wanting to spill the contents, but if his teammate noticed he didn't say anything.
"Okay, I'll pick you up at six. We can grab a bite to eat first...if you want."
He pondered the offer over, picking up his coffee to take another sip. "Sure. Sounds like a plan."
Morgan pushed to his feet, knocking the chair back toward the empty desk. "By the way, did you find out anything about your delivery?"
He hadn't.
He had called his local UPS office, but they couldn't find the record of a delivery to his home address.
"Nope. You think I should tell Hotch?"
Morgan's posture changed in an instant. "The question is do you think you should tell him? Last night you seemed pretty certain it was from your mom. If that's changed you need to run it by him."
Spencer knew he was right. He just didn't want to bother his boss with something that was probably trivial. Just because the delivery company couldn't find the record didn't mean it didn't exist; human errors occurred and he was sure the man that delivered the package to his door was indeed an employee of the company.
Really it came down to not wanting to potentially bring up his family history. He didn't want to have to reveal anymore about himself or his life then was necessary. His job was hard enough without his coworkers profiling him. They all already unconsciously did that on the limited knowledge that they had. He didn't need to supply them with more information, when he was afraid of the outcome.
It had to have been his mother...she had done this sort of thing before.
But a little persistent voice kept asking, 'What if it's not?'
Finally he said, "I guess you're right. I'll tell him."
CMCMCMCM
Aaron Hotchner looked up when a swift knock came at his open door a little after three in the afternoon.
He had that policy; he liked to keep his door open for his team when at all possible, so he inclined his head for Morgan to enter, dropping the remains of his late lunch, a turkey on rye, back to the wrapper, wiping his fingers on a crumbled napkin. "What can I do for you?"
Morgan sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, leaning back casually. "Sorry to bother your lunch. I just wanted to see what you thought of Reid's key."
He saw the look of expectation cross his agent's face, but had no idea what the man was talking about. "Key?"
Morgan sat a bit higher in his seat, his face losing its relaxed look. "Yeah. Reid got a package on Saturday. Standard UPS delivery. He found just a key inside."
"Nothing else?" Hotchner asked, alert to a threat now even though he did not fully understand it. "Did he try to track the package?"
"Yes. Didn't he come in this morning to run it by you?"
Hotchner shook his head. "I haven't seen him all day."
They both turned toward the BAU bullpen, looking for the familiar thin frame and shaggy head, but Reid's desk was empty.
Something wasn't right.
"Maybe he went out to lunch?" Aaron offered, knowing even as he said it, it didn't ring true. They were between cases, but each member of his team had been working on open profiling assignments for other law enforcement offices and agencies.
Morgan pulled his phone from his pocket, calling Reid's number, but it went right to voice mail.
"Check his calendar; see if he had an appointment or interview...we might have had a miscommunication." It was unlikely, but possible...they were not perfect.
They rose together, moving out of the larger office and over to the empty desk. Morgan picked up the open planner that sat on the blotter, reading through Reid's schedule for the day. "He had some phone interviews, but nothing out of the building."
Hotchner reached over, feeling a paper coffee cup, "cold. Check the restrooms, he hasn't been feeling well. Keep calling his phone. See if he's signed out for the day at security, try his home number too."
Aaron pulled his own cell phone as Morgan took off toward the restrooms, but he had a sinking feeling they wouldn't find their missing agent there. He quickly dialed JJ's number, inquiring about Reid, but she hadn't seen him since earlier in the day. "Call everyone else, set up a timeline." As he spoke, he noted a plain brown paper bag sitting atop the surface of Reid's desk, among the open files and Reid's hand written notes on the cold cases he was working. "Get Garcia to check the time stamp on his PC and the security footage. I'll get someone up here to secure his desk and we'll meet in twenty."
He made the necessary calls to get a team up to the desk.
Morgan was just coming back as they were preparing to open the bag. "He's not in the building that I can tell, but he didn't sign out. No one's seen him since earlier today. What do you have?"
"Another package." Aaron watched as the lab tech took great care in removing a long box from the lunch bag, then using tweezers to removed a piece of tape that secured the lid to the box, preserving any evidence that might be on the packaging, thinking of his next move. "I'll send a team to his apartment."
The lid was removed with care and at first he wasn't sure what he was looking at. He knew what it was of course, but not the significance. The tech held up a chunk of human hair in his gloved fingers, long strands, more then seemed possible, neatly braided and held together at each end with a leather binding.
Morgan broke the silence. "It's got to be his, Hotch. We need to find him and fast."
"Take it to the lab," he told the tech, "keep me informed."
CMCMCMCM
Spencer could feel soft material covering his head and face, covering his eyes and even when he thought he had opened them it was still completely dark.
A rising surge of panic threatened to overtake him, but he tried to push it down, gasping in gulps of air, pulling frantically at the ropes that bound his wrists behind him, yanking hard at whatever was tethering his ankles together.
His hands felt completely numb, but he could bend and flex his knees and feet, kick with them, there was no resistance, so he rolled from side to side, entangling himself in heavy rope.
He tried to sit up, but fell back again, riding out a heavy wave of nausea and then he thought to open his mouth, to scream for help, but his hoarse calls just bounced and echoed off the walls of the cavernous room he was being held in.
For hours, no one came, no one spoke to him.
He screamed and cried until his already sore throat could make no more noise and then exhausted he lay back against a cold concrete wall, swallowing a thick wad of saliva that was collecting at the back of his throat, tasting of his own fear. "Where, where am I...please, where am I?"
He lay panting; a spike of shear panic bolting up through his stomach and spine, straining to hear anything in the quiet space, all his senses on overload.
Sometime later, he got his breathing under control and he thought he could hear another's breath…someone in the room with him and he panicked anew. "Who's there?" he rasped, squatting and scooting back as far as he could go, bumping his bare back against the wall.
He turned his head from side to side, listening in darkness so complete, he could see bursts of bright lights firing behind his tightly pressed lids, straining to hear anything above his own gasps for air and his pounding heart.
And there...another breathing in the darkness…calmer…smoother than his own.
A gentle in and out.
And then suddenly a cold hand touched his bare chest and he jumped back, ramming his head into the concrete wall, seeing a brilliant display of stars and fireworks shoot through the darkness behind the blindfold or his closed eyes, he wasn't sure. But the hand remained, petting his heated skin and in that instant Reid had a moment of clarity.
His back was abrading against the rough texture of the wall and a cool hand petted his chest and shoulder, joined by another that moved down his trembling sides and rested on his bare right thigh.
Why am I naked?
His brain screamed for him to move, but his body did not obey.
A wet something swabbed his leg and then he felt the sting of a needle as it pierced his skin.
Heaviness settled over his chest and belly.
His eyes began drooping behind the cloth that covered his head and face and he could feel gentle touches, rubbing over his thigh where the injection was given.
And then another ran gently up his leg toward his groin.
He drew in a giant breath, pushing back and away as far as he could and just before he knew the hand would reach its goal, just when he knew his heart would beat out of his chest, just when he began to scream his denial his eyes rolled up and he knew nothing more.
CMCMCMCM