Edited: 5/11/2015
Here is another chapter! I wrote this one fairly quickly compared to my other stories. I'm already almost done with chapter 3! The chapters should be getting longer after this! If there are any mistakes please tell me. Also, this is set in season 4. (If you forgot.) I used a poem from Edgar Allan Poe, don't beat me up over it. (It's called: Sonnet-To Science.) Please suggest quotes or poems you think Reid should recite. :)
Last time:
Turning away from the bed and facing the wall, Hotch pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed Rossi's number.
"Rossi." The man on the other end answered.
"Dave," Hotch said with a muted anger and slight apprehension to his usually emotionless voice, "He's gone."
"Literature is an investment of genius which pays dividends to all subsequent times." - John Burroughs
"What do you mean? Gone?" Rossi questioned.
Hotch reverted downcast eyes to the floor, "There are signs of a struggle. Albeit there isn't much to go on, it's safe to assume that he did not leave his home on his own free will."
He could hear Dave's voice hitch, "Did he leave anything behind?"
Hotch glanced back at the bedside table. "His glasses and cellphone are here," He stepped closer to see if there was anything else, "He unplugged the clock."
He picked it up and examined it. A logo caught his attention. "It has memory storage. It can probably tell us an estimate time that he was abducted." He bent down and plugged the cord in the outlet. The time, 3:17, blinked to life. He wrote it down on a notepad he had found on Spencer's desk.
"Morgan and I are going to look around, I'll call you back." Hotch stated.
"Alright, I will be awaiting news." Rossi agreed, then the line went dead. Hotch returned his phone to his pocket and marched back into the living room.
"Anything?"
He directed the question at Derek, although he didn't look exactly at him. His eyes were busy taking in his surroundings. Derek stood from his crouched position, "Should we be alarmed by this? Or," He held a syringe in his now gloved fingers.
Hotch shook his head. "No, we would have seen the signs if he was using again. He would be on-edge and cranky. He would be more alert and would not carelessly leave evidence like this laying around." Derek looked at him with a frown, "What happened to the 'no profiling your teammates' rule?"
"We are profilers, it's kind of hard not to." Derek looked away, Hotch was right, of course. He nodded grimly, "Right. So what do we do now, Hotch?"
Hotch scanned the area once more before answering, "Let's get a crime scene crew over here. We need this area sectioned off, and they can find any evidence that we may have missed.
Derek agreed and placed the syringe on the kitchen counter. "I'll contact them."
He stepped into the hallway to make the call. Hotch figured this would be the perfect time to tell Rossi that they would be leaving shortly.
He answered on the second ring, "Rossi."
"Dave, Morgan and I are leaving soon, we called the crime scene investigators to take over from here."
"Thanks for telling me. Drive safely."
Hotch ended the call and met with Derek in the hallway, who was also finishing his call. "They'll be here in ten minutes. Do you want to go now or wait for them?" Derek asked his superior.
"We can wait."
11:21, BAU Office,
20 minutes later, they found themselves in the elevator on their way up to the bullpen. Hotch looked to Derek, noticing his overall gloomy vibe. He cleared his throat, causing Derek to focus his attention on him. "We are going to find him. Don't worry." He tried to reassure the younger agent.
"Don't worry? Hotch, he's like a brother to me. " Derek protested. Hotch quieted him with a simple, "I know."
The elevator's movement slowed and there was a quiet ding as the doors swished open, revealing a distraught and concerned Emily. "Is Reid okay?" She asked as they stepped out. Derek would have answered, but Hotch spoke before he had a chance.
"We need everyone in the briefing room."
"When?" She questioned.
"Yesterday." He huffed as he stepped around her. Derek shrugged at her as an apology and hurried after his boss. Emily shook her head with exasperation and went to inform Garcia of the sudden meeting.
11:31, BAU Briefing Room,
They all gathered around the table fairly quickly, with the exception of Garcia and, of course, Reid. Garcia wasn't too far behind, however, and was merely the last to enter. She set up her laptop in it's usual spot and sat down in front of it. Her eyes gazed around the room. "Where's boy wonder?" She asked, noting the vacated chair where he usually sat. It was quiet. It took about a minute for someone to answer.
"That's," Hotch began, and hesitated. "That's why we are here." Derek was glad she was sitting down, otherwise she might have fainted. "Oh god." She muttered with wide eyes, her hand came up to meet her mouth in shock. Emily, who was sitting the closest to her, pat her arm as reassuringly as she could. "I'm sure he's okay." She said in an attempt to console the distraught tech goddess. "Yeah..." Garcia agreed half-heartedly.
Hotch, who stood in front of the evidence board, cleared his throat. "Derek and I have been to Reid's apartment. There were signs of a struggle, and, although a miniscule amount, some blood was found on the premises," He pretended to not hear Garcia's stifled gasp.
"At this point, we can only assume that he was forced to leave against his will." He worded his last sentence differently, purposely not using such words as kidnapped, taken, or abducted. His team needed to remain calm, or they would be reliving Tobias Hankel all over again.
Realizing the the group had been silent for an agonizing amount of time, he continued, "His clock was found unplugged. It had memory storage. I assume that Reid knew something was wrong, and left that clue to tell us an estimate time that he was.." His voice trailed off, but he quickly continued to speak.
"It is now," He checked the clock on the wall, "11:36, which means that he has been gone for approximately eight hours and nineteen minutes. We can only guess that we may only have twelve hour left, more or less."
?, Unknown Location,
Spencer awoke to a throbbing head and the feeling of metal against his back. It felt sickeningly like an autopsy table. His fears multiplied when he attempted to move his arms and legs, all of which were bound to what can be considered a table. He moaned quietly, he still had yet to open his eyes, but he could see the light through his eyelids. He blinked up at the light overhead, almost crying out when the light stabbed through his eyes and assaulted his brain. When the pain subsided, he became aware that it was harder to see. He squinted, wishing he had his glasses or contacts.
"Recite something for me." A deep voice spoke up beside him.
He flinched, startled. The sudden movement brought forth an unbearable wave of pain, and he winced. His breath shuddered, "W-What?" He asked weakly. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry.
"Recite something for me." The voice repeated.
Spencer attempted to move his head to the side to get a look of the unsub, but his neck and head protested and he cried out. "No. I might have a concussion."
"No?" He heard the voice repeat questioningly.
There was a snarl of rage and a sudden harrowing pain erupted inside of his abdomen. He was too out of it to know what it was. He let out a choked gasp.
"Recite."
Spencer ran his tongue over his chapped lips. "Any suggestions?" He whispered, his voice cracking when a surge of pain rippled through his body. There was a moment of silence. If it were any quieter, he could have sworn he heard the gears turning inside his captor's head.
"Do you know Poe?"
"Yes."
"Recite."
"Is there a certain text?"
"Any is fine. Recite."
Spencer nodded slowly. He took a deep breath. It hurt to talk, he was in pain.
"Science! True daughter of Old Time thou art," He began, interrupted by a coughing fit. When he recovered, he continued.
"Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart, Vulture, whose wings are dull realities? How should he love thee? Or how deem thee wise, who wouldst not leave him in his wandering. To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies, albeit he soared with an undaunted wing? Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car, and driven the Hamadryad from the wood. To seek a shelter in some happier star? Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood, The Elfin from the green grass,"
He noticed the other person in the room was being unusually quiet, "And from me the summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?" He finished. He was about to begin another excerpt, but the scraping of a chair made him hesitate.
"Excellent." The voice said, now higher up rather than next to him. He surmised that the man had stood up. A hand gripped his chin and moved his head to the side. He barely managed to stifle a pained gasp.
He gazed up at a black mask.
"You have a beautiful mind, Doctor Reid."
Spencer frowned, disappointed that he couldn't see who the unsub was. "I suggest you rest, it would be a shame if you tarnished it." The man finished.
Suddenly, Spencer realized how exhausted he actually was. He did not want to heed his captor's advice, but his eyes had already begun to close. Just a few minutes, he promised himself. As he drifted off into slumber, he could almost inconceivably feel fingers combing through his hair.
Should I continue? Please review! Also, if you have suggestions for poems, excerpts, stories, or anything else that you think Reid should recite, please tell me! -MLB
