This story takes place about season 9, so indeed after the Maeve/Reid plotline. I couldn't stop myself from writing about the lovely muffin that is Spencer Reid.
Her head was pounding, her eyelids too heavy. Rosemary parted her lips and felt the stinging sensation of dry cracking. She hastily licked her lips to stop the burn, but could feel with her tongue that there was some dried substance on the side of her mouth.
Where was she? Millimeter by millimeter she forced her eyelids up, anxious to view her surroundings. Wanting to know what was on her mouth, she began to reach up. A frail, cracked scream shot out of her mouth as a pain she could not put into words shot up her arm. She had never felt anything like it before and her anxiety suddenly increased.
Where was she?
Rosemary kept her arm absolutely still so as not to bring the pain back, but was somewhat relieved to realize she was not tied up or chained to anything. She lifted up the other hand with more care, relieved to find it was okay. Trembling, wet fingers reached her mouth. She rubbed the dried substance lightly, wincing as her lips burned again. As she lowered her hand, her eyes fixated on her fingers. Dried blood.
As tentative brown eyes looked around, Rosemary found that the room was damp and dim, and seemed to be some kind of spacious warehouse backroom rather than a tiny, cramped space where kidnappers usually threw their victims. The lights flickered and Rosemary glanced up, frightened. As far as she could tell, she was alone. There was only one door, a large metal lifting door directly across from her a few feet away.
What was the last thing she had been doing?
Her memory swiftly provided her with an answer, reminding her of the library shelves and three heavy books weighing down her satchel as she walked outside. The alleyway was her shortcut, but someone else seemed to know that. She was hardly halfway down the road when a cold pinch stung her neck. She was smart enough to realize she had been injected with something to render her unconscious.
Rosemary blinked hastily, scared to remember. But she needed to- it was in every book and tv show, if she could get out of here the only way any law enforcement could help her was if she could remember the crucial details. So she forced her brain to focus on how she'd gotten here. It was hard; whatever she'd been injected with had interfered with her consciousness. But there were spurts of visual activity after the attack that gave her vague answers. She was being carried, the weight of her bag suddenly gone. The next time her eyes opened, she was staring at the ceiling of a van, drowsy and seeing double. She turned her head; he was there with a mask over his face and a button up shirt, leaving her in the back of his van.
It felt impossible, but Rosemary mustered up what little strength she had left and threw her weight at him. They wrestled, and she scratched at his shirt with all her might. With a few tugs the buttons popped and the shirt opened- she was momentarily caught off guard by the tattoo. Suddenly an acute pressure twisted her arm and a snap made her scream and she was shoved backwards.
It was all dark from there. Rosemary firmly imprinted the tattoo image in her mind, knowing it would be the one thing that just might get this guy behind bars if she could get out of here. But that was just the thing. No one would ever know what she'd seen if she couldn't get out of this damp prison. She forced herself to look for options- there was always a way out.
But that door taunted her. Until it opened, there were no options. Were there cameras in here? She hadn't even thought to look. Her legs were shaky, but able to support her. She wandered the room, her arm crying out with every move. There, right by the door! This was her chance. She needed to do something impulsive, something that would force him to come in and open that door.
"Hey!" she called into the camera weakly, putting on her best acting skills. "I- I don't feel good! Please, I need water!"
This part would not be fun, but it was necessary. She turned away from the camera, adding, "I'm going to be sick!" She then swallowed hard and brought her shaking hand up, staring at her index finger. It had to be done. Seconds later, she was shaking and empty-stomached. She faced the camera again, this time looking even worse because she truly felt worse.
"Please, bring me water!"
She forced herself to start crying and got on the floor, holding her knees to her chest. Rosemary was desperate for some sign he was there... and then it suddenly came. The metal door gave a shake before it began to rise, slowly at first before shooting up quickly. A figure approached as the light in the hallway flickered above him.
Rosemary tried to disguise her horror at the mask that covered his face- a golden bull. This was a living nightmare- had she been kidnapped by some kind of cult? He approached and she shot up, frightened but determined in her plan. Through the slits for eyes she saw him staring at her. The eyes were a clichely icy blue. He held something out to her. She looked and saw a water bottle in his grip. She reached out with trembling hand to accept it, uncapping slowly and taking a drink. She brought the bottle away from her lips as he watched silently, her mind racing.
In a blink, water was flying towards the mask as she tossed all of the water out of its bottle onto his face. He remained silent still but stumbled, impaired as the water went into the eye slits and blinded him. Rosemary ran for it, shooting past him and out of the doorway. She searched for a button, seeing green and slamming it down and just hoping it might slow him down. She ran left, her steps echoing down the corridor and the sound of the metal door sliding back down reaching her. Don't look back. Everyone who looks back dies.
She had no idea where she was going, but it had to be somewhere. She heard footsteps a ways back and realized with a sinking feeling her hopes to deter him had been shattered. She hit a fork in the road, and darted left. Some kind of sewage room, full of pipes and machinery that were silent, inactive. She looked down. Rosemary was more overjoyed than she had ever been in her life to find a sewer that she knew would lead underground. Despite the searing pain in her arm, she used both limbs to tug up the lid and move it aside. She then slid into the hole, but it was too fast. She lost her grip on the thin handles leading down the hole and fell straight down, into the sewer tunnel. It hurt to hit the cement floor and she was now soaked, but none of that mattered. It was life or death, and she knew which one she wanted.
Rosemary hauled herself up and ran, splashes of water sounding as she followed the tunnel. One of the grates above would have to lead to some exit outside. That was what she told herself to keep herself going, anyway. She didn't hear any other splashing than her own steps- maybe she'd lost him. She couldn't bear to think of that awful golden mask. She ran for what seemed like an hour, not wanting to stop until she was sure she was far away from that warehouse.
She decided to stop and take a chance, climb up, and see if she had reached freedom. Rosemary stopped at the next opening above and reached up to heave herself into the ladder, climbing up like there was no tomorrow. Another lid blocked her, but she shoved up with a loud cry and watched as the lid tilted up before toppling over with a loud bang. Rosemary continued upward, seeing sky right above. As she tried to pull herself out of the hole, she felt a scary hot pain in her leg. Something was tearing into her skin.
Rosemary glanced down in the space between her chest and the hole and saw that mask, right below her. A glistening silver flashed by her leg and and she knew he was the cause behind her pain. Rosemary was crying and wishing she could give up, but she was determined not to be another dead body the police would find. She gave a hard kick and heard metal contact. A loud splash came next and she knew he had fallen.
She only had moments now, and her body was losing energy by the second. She scrambled up onto concrete and found herself somewhere back in town, unfamiliar but somewhere. She shoved the lid back over the hole and kept running until she found a street with businesses all around.
"Oh my god," a woman cried out from outside a cafe down the pavement. Rosemary looked around as people began calling for help, rushing over and asking her all sorts of questions. Her body was overwhelmed and she fell, her vision going black.