Monday, September, 26th 8:23 AM

"Spencer."

Reid couldn't quite keep from tensing when Gideon hugged him tightly; he hoped that his mentor wouldn't notice.

He had never much liked physical contact, and the knowledge –however distant and blurry the memory might be- that the last person who had really touched him had stabbed him with a hunting knife seven times wasn't exactly helping with that.

He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the dark thoughts as he let Gideon usher him into his office at the BAU. Today was his first day back on the job, the start of a new life.

"It's good to have you back, Spencer," Gideon smiled, motioning for him to sit, "You look well."

Reid did as he was asked without replying, knowing full well that he must look like hell. Anything else would be surprising considering he hadn't slept more than three hours in a row since he´d left the hospital and practically lived on coffee.

But just like Morgan and Garcia, whom he had met in the bull pen not ten minutes ago, the old profiler looked genuinely happy to see him back, so he decided to play along for his sake.

Gideon had something drawn about his ashen features that made him look much older than he actually was, like he too wasn't sleeping too well either.

Reid couldn´t help but wonder whether it was due to everything that had happened with Foyet and then being forced to operate with a team that was missing two agents afterwards, or if it was caused by a current case.

"Have you seen JJ yet?" Gideon asked pleasantly, though never quite managing to ban the haunted look from his eyes, "She's been talking about you ever since you woke up."

Reid smiled at that, sure that it looked a bit forced, "Not yet, no."

Truth was, he had been on the team for a fairly short time before the Foyet case and his memories of his team members were by far not as good as the others suggested they should be.

It wasn't like he hadn't tried to remember more details about them, but everything that came too close to the incident seemed to simply be blocked from his memory.

He remembered their media liaison as a friendly, motherly blonde who always had a smile and a comforting word for him. Technical assistant Penelope Garcia had seemed familiar enough, her bubbly chatter and odd terms of endearment making both him and Morgan chuckle in union as they all stood in the bull pen.

It had felt pleasantly like coming home, even if he had no clear recollection of when Morgan might have started to treat him like a little brother. Maybe he never had and the sudden affection was merely born out of almost losing him.

Reid smiled absently. Not that he minded all their friendliness in general- it just meant more awkward hugs.

He became aware of Gideon watching him intently, dark eyes thoughtful in their deep hollows, and realized was probably expected to keep up a conversation here.

He sat up straight, trying to pull himself together. This wasn't like the hospital, he couldn´t keep spacing out.

"How long has Morgan been unit chief?" he asked Gideon, trying to sound interested. He couldn't help but think that Gideon was analyzing him even now that he'd been cleared.

"For about one and a half years," Gideon answered, a shadow passing over his face, "I tried replacing Hotch at first, but it wasn't for me."

He fell silent and Reid knew he was thinking of Aaron Hotchner, the second team member they had lost along with Reid that night. Hotchner, or Hotch, had been his boss back then but he was also the one person on the team he remembered the least.

Dr. Halley had told him it was likely because Hotchner was so closely connected to everything concerning Foyet and the fact that he had been there the night Reid had almost died.

He remembered virtually nothing about that night. Gideon had let him read the case file a couple of weeks ago when Dr. Halley had suggested it might help in regaining his memory. It hadn't.

From what he'd gathered, the team had been chasing a serial killer called The Reaper who had for some reason become obsessed with Hotchner and his family.

One night, he had attacked Jack and Hayley Hotchner in their home, waiting for Hotchner to come home so he could kill them in front of him. Reid didn't remember their faces, had only briefly glanced at their autopsy reports. The boy had been only five.

The report further said that Foyet had called Hotchner and the whole team had raced to save his family. Hotchner had arrived first, seconded by Reid.

Then, the situation must have escalated. The result was three dead people, one in a coma and one lost to sanity, covered in blood and cowering over the mangled corpse of the man who had killed his family.

Reid shuddered at the mere thought, even if he had only ever heard the story told to him. Maybe he should be glad he had no memories of that night.

"What case are you currently working on?" Reid asked, intent on getting both of their minds away from the horrid past.

Instead of the relief he had expected, Gideon's expression seemed to darken even more, confirming Reid's suspicion that this case wasn't a good one so far.

"We were put on the case only three days ago. We already had the briefing so I'm going to fill you in." Gideon opened the file in front of him, turning it around for Reid to look at. It held numerous pictures, all of them gruesome.

Reid felt his stomach turn at the sight of the cut off body parts and swallowed hard, trying to remain distanced and professional. It wasn't as easy as he remembered, probably because he had been in the victims' position, too, now.

Gideon watched him carefully, but after a moment he seemed to decide Reid was doing well enough for his first day back.

"We think we may have made out a serial killer who has been operating for years without being detected," he explained, "The remains of one victim´s ribcage have been found in the Desert Rose Nation Park on Tuesday. Ten years ago similar remains were found in almost the same area. At first we thought it might be coincidence but the M.O. is the same."

Reid gulped as he skimmed through the reports before him, "One rib bone removed, arteries cauterized to check the blow flow. They were alive when the UbSub cut off their limbs."

Gideon nodded, grimacing, "Yes."

He pointed towards a whole stack of files on his desk, "We dug deeper and found more remains around that area, remains that belong to seven different people total so far. It looks like the UnSub comes back there every once in a while to kill again. The area is mostly desert but it is close to a Highway so they are looking into the cities close by or now."p

He then pointed to the picture of a young woman in the file Reid was holding, "38 year old Terry Montgomery. She was reported missing three days ago. They found her body this morning in Fernley, Nevada. Not the same area but the same M.O. Press is all over it."

"It figures. If what you found all adds up, it's probably the same guy. Which means he may have more than those two dumpsites. My God, there could be God knows how many vicitms that have never been found in that desert." Reid gulped, paling as he took in all that information.

This was horrific, enough to shake up even the toughest of investigators. But it was familiar terrain. He could do this.

"So what's the plan?" he asked.

Gideon shrugged, shaking his head, "We don't have one I'm afraid. We don't know the UnSub's schedule, where he'll be or how long it will be until his next kill, plus, with the rising coyote population we only have a limited amount of time to find potential fresh remains. This guy is good. There is a reason he was able to stay invisible for so long. We only have a single promising lead: We believe that our UnSub has been writing letters to someone, describing the details of the murders to him."

Reid nodded interestedly, urging him to continue, "That might be a lead. Is it a family member? Or a partner in crime?"

Gideon shook his head, taking a moment before explaining, "No, it's an inmate at the United States Penitentiary, Lee here in Virginia. It´s maximum security. It is highly unlikely that they have ever met in person."

Reid looked at him in confusion, sure that there must be something Gideon wasn't telling him now, "So why would he be writing to a perfect stranger?"

"Because they are both serial killers, with similar M.O.s," Gideon offered, "Apparently, the letters read like fan mail."

"Alright, it's possible that there's something in those letters," Reid nodded, trying not to let the thought disturb him too much, "Have they been analyzed yet?"

Another shaking of head, more furrowed brows.

"Unfortunately, they have been destroyed by said inmate before we could get our hands on them. He is now the only person who has read them and he´s refusing to cooperate with us."

Gideon sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes like they were burning. When he looked up he looked deeply uncomfortable, like he would rather not have to say the next words that came out of his mouth, "Reid, I know this is a lot to ask for a first assignment, but Morgan decided…I mean, we thought you should to go talk to him, have another try at cracking him."

Reid could practically feel his mentor's reluctance. This case seemed to be really gnawing at him, for more than just the obvious reasons.

"Why me, sir?" he asked.

"You're the only agent we haven't sent yet, " Gideon explained, his mouth a tight line, "We are running out of options and people are dying out there."

There seemed to be more to it but Reid decided to agree for now, hoping to help his mentor with his troubles and take some of his work off his shoulders.

"Alright, I'll go talk to him. What's his name?"

Gideon didn't answer verbally, merely nodding tiredly. He produced another file, pushing it over the desk for him to pick up. Reid's eyes widened in stunned disbelief when he read the name on it.

Aaron Hotchner.

xxx

The past is never dead, it is not even past.

~William Faulkner

xxx