a/n: This is my first time writing a Fanfic for CM. Reid is threatened by a mysterious killer that seems to want to be caught by him. The team searches for a murder that likes to force their victims into contacting friend or family before death.
Reid did not let most things get to him, at least on the outside. It came with the territory of the job, if you were too busy constantly worrying, how could you be useful to the team? They needed strong people who could focus despite the pressure and offer guidance in subjects that others may not recognize usually. That was where Spencer could be useful. Knowledge opened itself to him at a young age, where he only found comfort hiding behind the pages of books. His mother had first read to him, more so after his father left. It seemed to put whatever poisoned her mind at peace, so he allowed it, despite the fact he could read faster then, and more efficiently. It was soothing to listen to her voice calmly read off the lines he already knew by heart. It was then he loved the pleasures of having the memory that he did.
Now it only brought nightmares. Names of victims, and images of savage murders floated in a dark place at the back of his mind. The need, struggle, to stop the flashing images that came to him at night induced headaches. Prompting him for long nights up, reading through files to learn more. This part of himself found it eerie that the more murders he got trapped in his mind, the more he had to learn about the killer. The complete fascination he found in himself for the killer's past, motives, and thoughts sometimes scared him. But knowledge was power, the more he knew, the more the thought he could prevent these things from happening. So he believed,
Dr. Reid sat at his desk, flipping through the last case file and tossing it aside with a sigh. He was absolutely exhausted, they finally arrived home after a long ride on the jet. They lingered in the office for an hour before returning to their homes for rest. Even Hotch's office was dark, the door locked shut. The man had asked if he wanted a ride home, but he kindly refused. He had wanted to finish going through the last files of the victims. Their faces burning behind his eyelids, and the killer haunting his back. He absently wondered if anybody would care if he took a nap. As there was no objections, in the empty, dark office, he rested his head on the his desk, allowing himself to drift.
"Hey wake up, Sleeping Beauty," joked a voice, that Spencer distantly registered as Morgan. He blinked awake, rubbing his eyes, and jumping back as he saw it wasn't Derek at all... Richard, the killer from their last case, stood before him. Smiling inspite of himself, and all he could do was jump back in his chair, reaching at his holster for his gun. It was gone, and the killer casually held it in his hand, looking innocently at him with a grin. He panicked, pushing away in his chair, grabbing a pen, anything, to defend himself. The man just laughed, and pointed the gun at his forehead, pulling the trigger back... No, no, no- he liked torment, this didn't make any sense, but that didn't seem to bother him as he pulled the tigger.
A shot still rang in his ears as Spencer woke suddenly, a shaky hand grabbing his gun that still laid safely in his holster. He leaned back in his chair, relieved to know it was all a dream, and he was still alone in the dark office. His desk lamp still lit up, and as he squinted at his watch he realized he had fallen asleep for a good three hours. Heart still fluttering in his throat he restacked the paperwork at his desk, that had been scrambled by his nightmares. Finally noticing a post-it note on the wall of his cubical. He gently peeled it off, bringing it to his face to read the small, messy handwriting. Catch me soon Magician. Tick-tock.
At first he wondered if this was some sick prank Morgan or the team was playing on him, so he dismissed the note, throwing it away in the trash can by his desk. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. He didn't feel like getting scowled for spending the whole night at the office. Pulling on his jacket, and dragging has over packed bag, with books, over his shoulder he headed out of the station. Listening to the metal doors clang shut, and automatically lock again. He decided to take the late bus home, driving was an activity he didn't prefer to do. He knew too many statistics to vechical related deaths to even think of it.
The bus ride home was uneventful, and shortly Reid stood outside, hands digging through his pockets, and bag, for his keys. Where did they go? He wondered if he had left them at the office, kicking off his left shoe, and lifted the sole to grab his spare key. As he leaned in to unlock it, he was a little surprised to find it was unlocked already. Slipping his shoe back on, he cautiously opened the door, knowing he had locked it before he left. He always did when going on a case... Hand protectively on his gun, the doctor flipped on the light, relieved at first, but quickly moving through the entire structure to be assure he was secure. He walked back, double locking the door, and reaching for the security chain. Next to it was another post-it note.
This time a different color, blue, and the handwriting was larger and more hurried. Believe me now Dr. Reid? Tick-tock. It was in the form of a question now. He quickly dragged the chain into place, a shiver running down his back. Work, and now his own home, had been penetrated. He backed away, trying to ignore the thoughtless babble the occured in his mind. Nobody on his team had this sick sort of humor. He crossed his arms, rubbing them gingerly, feeling chilled. How was he supposed to sleep? He considered calling one of the team, but there was no actually threat yet, right? What did he have getting scared by a few notes? Reid curled up on the couch, feeling exposed, and hoping morning would come soon. So he could yell at Morgan for creeping him out.