Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement.

Complete darkness all around him. But there was a noise.

Where was the noise coming from? From underneath him or from somewhere above him?

It occurred to Reid that the answer to that question was quite crucial.

If the noise was coming from above him, it was a positive thing. He couldn't quite put together why, but noises from above were good.

While noise from below … would be rather disturbing.

So, where was the noise coming from?

Reid tried analyzing it. It was a scraping sound, slightly metallic every now and then. Focusing on it made his head hurt.

Badly.

But the pain also awoke something in the back of his mind.

Ah, yes, he remembered – headaches.

Acupuncture!

Garcia had gotten him an appointment. He hadn't even needed telling her. She had seen him massaging his temples, had taken a good look at the shadows under his eyes and had realized what was going on. Good friend that she was she had taken steps to relieve him from his pain.

While sitting in the waiting room he had taken a look at the paintings on the wall, all done by the acupuncturist himself. He had noticed…

…he had noticed…

…he had noticed that…

Oh.

Uh-oh.

Three of the paintings had shown spots where murder victims had been found. Murder victims of the unsub Hotch had unsuccessfully tried to catch when he had been a young agent, just starting out. Reid had glanced at the file one idle afternoon, months ago.

Unfortunately his ability to lie was not nearly as well-developed as his memory. As he tried to back out of the appointment (and out of the building) the acupuncturist realized his new patient must have drawn some way too clever conclusions while looking at his wall decoration and decided to take no chances.

Reid vaguely remembered a sharp pain. A needle. An injection. Which explained his rather clouded state of mind and his oddly wandering thoughts…

At the moment they were going back to Hotch's old file…the media had dubbed the unsub "copiata". Reid knew "copiata" was a Latin word, but what did it mean again?

Copiata, copiatae…

Oh no.

"Copiata" meant "gravedigger". The unsub's signature mark had been that he…

Suddenly the noises from above weren't so good at all anymore. What if this wasn't his team, digging him out, as his subconsciousness had originally assumed, but copiata, burying him?

How long had he been unconscious? Were the noises from above getting louder or growing fainter?

The lack of oxygen in the coffin and the effects of whatever drug he had been injected with made it horribly hard to think, but after a minute or so of anxious listening, he was sure: The noise was growing fainter.

Reid closed his eyes. So this was it? He was going to end like this? There was nothing he could do? His heart started galloping at break-neck speed. Panic set in. His breathing rate increased dramatically. He was quickly using up what little oxygen he had left.

And were the sides of the coffin suddenly pressing down on him? Only now he realized that his arms were firmly pinned by his side.

This was when a soft voice in the back of his mind spoke up. Interestingly, it sounded a lot like Gideon's – "Hypoxia and drug intoxication can seriously disturb sensory perception."

Reid calmed down again.

Just in time to hear it, barely perceptible to his heavily impaired senses, but unmistakably there:

Bonk.

A shovel hitting a wooden coffin lid.