1: [Mnemonics]
Suggestions welcome, the characters do not belong to me, and please review!
Sweat drips down his brow as he cuts through alleyway after alleyway. He relies on a five second glance he took of an outdated map a week ago. Right before he'd been taken. This one window of opportunity to escape caught him off guard, although he was ever grateful. He also understood that if he didn't outrun them now he would never get a chance to again.
Laughter leaks out of doorways, smoke rises from the ground, life is moving at its own pace regardless of him. He runs.
A crashing sound alerts him to their closeness, and even though there is no pace to pick up, he still tries. Lungs burning, arms aching, legs on the verge of breaking, he descends a set of stairs and bursts into the road. Honking, swerving, screeching, ending in spinning. He rolls to reduce the amount of damage. A pain shoots up his leg and his side begins to throb. Slowly all noise fades out. While his head lulls to the side, a pair of arms are grabbing him. He hears someone on the phone. He waits for his kidnappers to catch up, for this rudimentary plan to fall through and these people to pay the price.
It seems that today luck was on his side. He's happened upon the busiest street possible, the Ringstrasse of Vienna. He coughs up blood as someone is asking him his name.
" Reid."
"I really don't know how to respond to that… are we not calling on you enough? You feeling lonely? I do believe this to be rather reminiscent of a certain scene in Shrek, albeit I would not be surprised in the slightest if you've never even heard that title…"
Spencer blinks and jolts back to the present, shaking his head somewhat he apologies. "I dozed off a bit, my apologies. I haven't been sleeping so well lately."
"Well, glad to have you back. Now, we are going to be going to…"
Hotch continues as Spencer checks out of the conversation for a second time. While the events from three months ago had never faded from his mind, Spencer had not before had such a difficult time suppressing them. A migraine threatens to worsen this already particularly difficult day, and he squeezes the bridge of his nose in a weak attempt to stave off the pain.
"Wheels up in 30 minutes."
Standing up out of his chair he leaves to go splash some water on his face in the bathroom. His colleagues grab their things and chatter as they get ready to leave. The water helps, but the migraine is being persistent. Spencer returns to his desk and pulling open a drawer, gets out the ibuprofen. He glimpses his personal journal as he slides it back closed. On a whim, he opens the drawer once more to grab it. In a split-second decision, he slides it into his bag. He just may need it to get through this day. Turning to join the others in leaving, he sighs.
The drive to the jet is brief, yet his persistent migraine has now mostly subsided thanks to the medication. Ascending the stairs to the jet, he squints and sunlight glints off its exterior. He settles down into his usual seat, and prepares to sleep for the duration of the flight. He notices everyone else remains standing, and hears an unfamiliar voice entering the cabin.
She shakes hands with everyone firmly, and when her eyes meet his he rises out of his seat.
" Reid, I've read about you."
"I'm flattered. It's nice to meet you Ms. …"
"Dr. Rachel Schink."