A/N: Heh, I just couldn't help myself. I actually wrote this entire chapter on one sitting! It spilled to the screen of my laptop so easily that it almost scared me. Creepy, huh? For me the stories don't usually gain a life of their own this quickly. (quirks an eyebrow)

THANK YOU so much for all your amazing reviews! (HUGS) They mean A LOT to me, ya know? So thank you!

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) Because stalling won't do any good, let's just get on with the story, eh? I REALLY hope you'll enjoy this second bit of the journey.

Shock to the System

Spencer had always been good at keeping track on passing time. That's why he was perfectly aware of how much time had passed from the first time he woke up to his own personal hell.

Six days, nine hours and forty-eight minutes.

Or that's what he honestly thought. Because it seemed that in the middle of the four walls of his tiny room time had lost its meaning. It could've as well been six years. Perhaps even six decades – that's how long it felt to him.

He would've given anything, absolutely anything, if he'd been allowed to speak to his team, to hear their voices telling him that everything was going to be alright. To be convinced that he wasn't going crazy, that they'd make sure he'd get out of the nightmarish place.

But all he had was his four walls, his painfully uncomfortable bed and Dr. Daniel Harris. Dr. Harris, and a tiny, extremely timid young nurse who introduced herself as Kathleen when she first walked into his room with food and medication.

He was fairly sure it was around noon when steps approached his room and the door was opened to reveal Kathleen's familiar face. Her chocolate colored eyes were full of fear while she used one unsteady hand to move some strands of hay-colored hair closer to her eye. She wasn't fast enough – he saw the bruise. "It's lunch time", she announced in her usual quiet tone, kneeling down to his level and placing the tray before him to the filthy floor. Sadness, guilt, helplessness and fear shone in her eyes as she looked at him. "You have to eat, Spencer. Please. If… If you don't, Dr. Harris will…" She trailed off with a petrified expression, like she'd already said too much.

Spencer frowned, his brain working busily to put together the pieces. "He'd do what?" He glanced towards where her bruise was hiding, giving him a whisper of threat. "Did he hurt you?"

Kathleen swallowed, appearing ready to throw up. She got up and took several steps away, like she'd been afraid of him all of a sudden. "Just eat, and take your medication. He's keeping an eye on you."

Spencer shuddered, those words making his already chaotic head spin to a point of almost exploding.

His lips opened but before even one of his million questions could be voiced Dr. Harris entered the room. There was a look of rage and disappointment on the the doctor's face. "Kathleen, I don't know what you think you're doing, but I want you to get out right now. I'm sure you're aware of how fragile Spencer's condition is – I don't want you making even more damage."

Muttering apologies the young woman obeyed. The look she gave Spencer upon leaving would never stop haunting the brunet's nightmares.

Dr. Harris inhaled deeply, then focused on Spencer. "I'm so sorry about that. I promise I'll make sure she won't bother you again." The man then nodded towards the three pills waiting in a tiny cup on Spencer's tray. "Now take those. We've already talked about this. It's the only way you can get better."

Feeling colder than ever in his life – even during his time in Tobias Hankel's hands – Spencer put the pills into his mouth and skillfully slipped them underneath his tongue. He was already an expert at gulping convincingly before he opened his mouth to show that it was empty.

Dr. Harris smiled. "Good. Very good. Who knows. Perhaps you're finally making some progress." With that the man turned to leave. "Don't forget to eat. I'd hate to force you into it." And so the door closed with a loud bang, isolating Spencer into the cave of horrors and loneliness.

As soon as he was sure Dr. Harris wouldn't come back or find out Spencer took the pills from his mouth, then slipped them into a hole he'd managed to make to his mattress. His eyes were those of a trapped wild animal as he stared at the closed door, barely even daring to breathe as he sat absolutely still and waited.

Waited, although he was rapidly losing touch to what exactly he was waiting for. A miracle, perhaps.

Several hours later Dr. Harris found the food untouched and Spencer still occupying the same spot where he'd left the younger man. The doctor emitted a long, heavy sigh.

Another week slipped by deviously subtly, like a very skilled thief had stolen it away. Spencer managed to skip the pills, but he couldn't avoid the rest.

Through countless of therapy sessions Dr. Harris kept trying to convince him that all he believed in was nothing but a lie.

Through lonely, endless nights nightmares were his only companion, constantly circling in his head like hungry vultures.

He refused to eat. And in the end Dr. Harris lived up to his threats. Through violent protests Spencer was once again strapped and attached to a i.v. While tubes fueled him with the fluids and nutrients his body was screaming after Spencer found his resolve crackling for the very first time. He slipped into a world of his own, horrified of the moment when he'd be forced to come back.

Safe inside his own head he was with his friends, family, once more. He could actually feel a warm, tender embrace, hear a whisper telling him that everything was going to be just fine. It didn't matter who the voice belonged to – all that mattered was that he believed it was real.

That he believed he was SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, not a mental patient.

That was when Dr. Harris played his most brutal trick so far. He was halfway on his way to sleep when the man entered his room with two male nurses, a somewhat grave look on his face. The doctor sighed. "Spencer… I'm so, so sorry that we have to go through this again – I know I promised you we'd never try this again. But this is for your own good, do you understand? Nothing else is working, and we need to get you better."

Spencer frowned, terror seeping towards the surface. He was surprised by how dry his mouth felt when he swallowed. "What… are you going to do to me?"

That was when he noticed what the man was carrying, and his eyes flew wide. His heart thumped beyond all limitations.

A needle full of anesthetic, and equipment necessary for connecting him to a heart monitor. He could easily come up with a procedure that'd require such.

Electroconvulsive therapy has been used since 1938. It was invented by a Italian psychiatrist named Ugo Cerletti and…

"No!" he howled, the terror from before getting completely out of control. He tried to fight back with all his might when the men held him, but it was impossible with his limbs restrained. "No, no, no! Please, no! I'm not crazy – you can't…!"

Dr. Harris cut him short with placing a hand to his lips. He was truly terrified by the look that flashed on the man's face. "Shh, Spencer. Shh. Just relax and take it easy, and this'll all be over soon."

As they thrust a needle through his skin Spencer screamed again, with absolutely all there was in his body; called out to Morgan, to Hotch, to his mom, even to Gideon. No one answered him, but nonetheless he screamed.

He screamed although he knew that it was much too late.

Spencer lost track of time after that session.

He was fairly sure he spent several days in a state between sleep and awareness, every single muscle in his body sore and violent attacks of nausea ravaging his already gaunt frame. He wasn't dying, but he most certainly felt that way.

It became increasingly hard to separate reality from the creations of his mind. The memories of his time with the FBI began to feel more and more distant with each passing moment.

The mental snapshots of Derek Morgan ruffling his hair, of Jennifer Jareau's smile, of Emily Prentiss taking his hand in a jet, of him hugging Aaron Hotchner ('I knew you'd understand'), of Penelope Garcia grinning at him, of David Rossi abandoning him to a ditch… They were growing dimmer by each passing day. And Spencer was scared to death that one day they'd fade away altogether. Or worse.

Perhaps one day he'd find out that none of those things ever happened.

No. He wasn't about to fall into that trap.

His team – his family… He was sure that wherever they were, they hadn't given up on him yet. He couldn't give up on them, either. He couldn't let them turn into ghosts.

At one point he was desperate enough to ask for Kathleen. That was when Dr. Harris fixed a very strange look towards him and frowned. "Kathleen? Who are you talking about?"

There had been no one in the hospital by the name of Kathleen. Every single one of his meetings with the timid girl was nothing but a trick of his imagination.

Tears streamed down Spencer's cheeks as he threw up only seconds after those news.

What the hell was happening to him? Was he really losing his mind?

It took a injection to help him calm down. As the drug began to take affect Spencer could've sworn he heard the constantly fading voices of his friends screaming out to him.

A lone tear slid to his cheek.

He was still in a drug induced haze when a strange, foreign sound forced some awareness into him. A frown crossed his drowsy, barely even half awake features.

It was like someone had been… scratching.

Moving slowly and clumsily he shifted on his bed. It took several seconds before his spinning head cleared enough to allow him to realize that there was a hole on the wall he'd never noticed before, right above the floor. Now there was a tiny piece of paper sticking from it.

The frown on his face deepened. Deciding to defy the screaming protests of his head Spencer forced himself out of the bed and into motion. His steps were dangerously unsteady, which was why it took him what felt like ages to reach the piece of paper.

After a couple of futile attemps he managed to pick up the note and fold it open. His eyes couldn't quite focus, but finally the words made sense although they were blurry to his eyes. What little warmth there'd been in his body disappeared immediately.

'Is there someone in there?

Please help me!'

And nothing made sense anymore.

TBC, or not?

A/N: I'd call that a plot thickening. (nods to oneself and shudders) What, exactly, is going on with Reid?

PLEASE, leave a note to let me hear what's on your minds! To continue, or to toss into a cyber trashcan? Do tell me your opinion! (glances with irresistable eyes)

IN THE NEXT ONE would be: New, desperate hope sends Reid's mind reeling. He ends up to a solution that may have dramatic consequences…

Until next time, I hope – with whichever story that may be!

Be good!

Secret agnet person: Oh gosh, how flattered you're making me feel…! (beams, and hugs) I REALLY hope the next one proves worthy of absolutely all your expectations.

Monumental thank yous for the baffling review!