The Foreboding
15th September, 2012
He sat alone is his apartment, staring down at the coffee mug before him, which, had stopped steaming and started turning cold. He didn't feel quite alright.
His insides were warning him of an oncoming disaster. Like, all of his biological alarms screamed so loud that he had reached a point of retaliation. He felt his insides whirring with these feelings
Physically, he sat still, staring at his mug of coffee. He sat calmly but his eyes suggested he was away, fighting an emotional conflict. Only by establishing an improved and determined concentration to that coffee cup gave him the manna required to win that battle.
He let out a nervous laugh, finally breaking the reverie. It was as if the toy maker who absconded from his toy shop had returned bringing life to the lives of many, here, the physical side of Dr. Spencer Reid.
Picking up the coffee mug he waited again. He was almost aware of the oncoming danger but just couldn't specify. Besides, his mind was filled with 30 years of clear details, hardcore information and well researched statistics. It took some slack for him to clear out and concentrate.
He had the rest of the weekend off and had considered going away for the weekend, perhaps with Morgan. However, again he felt an overpowering feeling. Something awaited him. He needed to be someplace, doing something for somebody.
He did not like this feeling. It made him feel paranoid and with an eidetic memory, it's not something you should walk around with. Reid finally decided to drink his coffee and placed the cup to his lip when his phone rang, loud and clear, breaking the reverie for the second time.
It was Hotch, as expected. "Reid, report to the BAU ASAP. It's an emergency. Inform Morgan too".
"Will be there in a few", replied Reid.
He couldn't help being amazed at his own sense of telepathy.
Too bad paranoia. Better luck next time.
And with that he expected the feeling to end. It stayed, growing as a guilty and dirty thought that plagues your thought process. Reid stops for a moment, frightened, breathing a little hard. He hurriedly drinks his coffee and gets dressed. Morgan was informed who agreed to pick him up in ten minutes.
Far away from Quantico, on a filthy and unused alleyway, local cops recover the remains of a white male with a mutilated face. The body was decaying heavily. It was raining and the investigating officer only wanted to get done with this night soon.
