Reid felt a throbbing in the back of his head. A pulsating feeling that spread down his spine. He peeled his eyes open to see the silhouette of a man staring down at him.

"Hello, Doctor Reid." He said.

"Jeremy?" Reid rasped, and was joined by a bolt of pain through his head.

"Jeremy's not here. He was feeling pretty sensitive about the whole… Hannah ordeal." The man responded.

"Who- who are you?" Reid asked, his head swimming in a pool of dizziness.

"Vincent. But there's no need to talk about me, let's talk about you. I was quite impressed by Hannah, but when I saw you—she became nothing. There's just something about you, Spencer. What might that be?"

"Where's Jeremy?" Spencer tried to move, but noticed his hands bound behind him to the chair.

"He'll be back soon. Whenever the lights come on, he always emerges from his corner— Jeremy just loves it. But we're not talking about him, we're talking about you."

"What could you possibly want to know about me?" Reid questioned, the pain becoming more and more prevalent.

"Oh, trust me, Doctor, there are many things I would like to know about you."

"Fine. Ask me anything. I have nothing to hide."

"Why do you think your team hasn't found you yet?"

"What does that mean? I—I haven't been gone that long, it takes time to find hostages."

"It's been 3 days. Shouldn't that be more than enough time for your team? They are the best, aren't they?"

"Well, the profile… the profile was wrong. They'll get it. And they'll find me." Reid couldn't breathe, his pain overwhelming his mind.

"I don't think so. Without you… your team is useless. You carry that team. What happened the last time you were taken by a killer? Your team couldn't do anything, could they?"

"That's not true. They were there- they figured it out."

"Yeah, after you spelled it out for them. And even then, it was too late. Hankle had already killed you and nearly did it again. You saved yourself! So, I ask you again why do you think your team hasn't found you yet?"

"Our profile was wrong, and they had to go back to scratch."

"You had your suspicions, though. Didn't you? That the profile was wrong?"

"I always do if we don't find the unsub soon enough. You're never sure if you're right."

"But they didn't. They all just heard the word "schizophrenia" and figured it was a good enough explanation. You knew—you know—that's not Jeremy. Not completely, at least."

Reid was shaking. From the pain of his headache or nicotine withdrawals, he wasn't sure. Possibly a mixture of both. He could barely breathe, and was losing control over his body. Along with his consciousness.

"Sir, I have perused the footage— I have watched it over and over again, and I am not finding anything that can help me. For being such a heavily monitored area, Munroe has kept hidden any kind of identifying information of where he might be." Garcia's voice rang through Hotch's phone.

"You know what, Garcia, I need you down here. You'll do your work best where you can see all of the variables." Hotch ordered.

"Yes, sir. I'll be on a plane quicker than Rossi denies his adoration of One Direction."

Hotch suppressed a smirk and ended the call. Somehow, Garcia could make him smile even now. His momentary joy was undercut with worry, however, when he looked at the clock. Over 72 hours.

"Everybody, in the conference room." The incomplete team stepped into the conference room. "Alright, it's been three days. Where are we?" Silence rang for moments too long for anyone on the team to be comfortable.

"We've gone back to scratch so many times, we- there's nothing left that pans out. We don't even know where the profile was wrong."

"I still think it's the schizophrenia that we got wrong. Reid seemed to think so."JJ said.

"We have no evidence of that- nothing to back it up." Morgan argued.

"Well, what made us decide it was schizophrenia?"

"The disorganization, mostly, Everything about him was random. His victims, MO, dumping sites. He was sloppy, made mistakes. Not to mention that his therapist suspected that he had schizophrenia."

"Hannah hadn't met him face-to-face. And she wasn't sure yet. She hadn't had enough time to properly diagnose it." Rossi countered.

Prentiss began: "Well, that's what makes the most sense. Everything we have points to it, we-"

Hotch interrupted: "All this time of us going back and forth for days is time that Reid is with Munroe. We don't know what's happening to him, all we know is that we need to find him now."

"Well, what do we have wrong?" JJ questioned.

"Maybe… we don't have anything wrong." Rossi suggested "Maybe we just need to… complete the profile."

Ticking. Shifting. Order. Tick, tock. Tick tock. Tick… tock. Silence, grinding, disorder. Resetting, resetting. Silence, grinding, disorder. Disorder. Disorder. Silence.

Pain. Pain, pain pain pain pain. Silence, pain, grinding, pain, disorder, pain.

Nothing. And then tightness. And then pain. Incomplete, it's incomplete. Incomplete and broken. Broken and then nothing.

Reid woke with a gasp. Fire burned within his chest and the walls seemed to be turning, like he was on the inside of a pottery wheel, watching the colors collide and spin. He took air in as if he'd never get it again. Finally, the spinning came to a stop.

The door opened, Munroe following it, and Reid was blinded as the lights came on. As is vision returned, Reid took notice of where he was. It looked like he was underground. No windows, one door. Walls, ceiling, and floor all concrete. Not to mention the pressure on his ears and head. Reid still couldn't quite see and was starting to realize the pain in his eyes, seeming to come from the light.

He noticed Munroe holding a tray. He pushed the tray towards Reid and set it on his lap. Munroe pulled up a chair and took a grilled cheese from the tray.

"My mama used to make these for me." He said in his southern drawl. "She cut 'em up into triangles like this."

"Jeremy, why did you take me?" Reid asked in a steady voice.

"I liked when the cheese stretched. And then I dipped it into the tomato soup."

"Why did you kill Hannah?"

"And, of course, my mama always made me drink a glass of milk with it."

"Jeremy. Why are you doing this to me?"

"It's Vincent who wanted you! Not me! I wanted Hannah, but he said that we had to kill her so we could get you!"

"W-what?" Reid could barely process what he was saying.

"So now I'm stuck feeding Vincent's little pet!"

"Where is Vincent?" Reid asked.

"He's out. Won't be back for a while." He started to cut the grilled cheese.

"Why do you listen to him- to Vincent? What do you owe him?"

"He's my closest friend. The only person who ever understood me… except Hannah." He became quiet. "But Vincent knows what's best. And he told me to feed you. So eat up."

"...My- my hands are tied."

"And now I've gotta hand-feed his pet too. Great." Munroe said with clear annoyance in his voice.

"You don't have to feed me. I- I can feed myself." Reid innocently suggested.

"And have you attackin' me and escapin'? Nah, Vincent would be pissed."

"You don't have to feed me, then. I only want you to do what you're comfortable doing."

"Don't play this game with me, Doctor. Don't pretend you care."

"I do care. I mean, I cared about Hannah. You clearly did, too. We have something that connects us. I know how you feel, because… I feel it too."

"Do." He shortly responded.

"Sorry?"

"I do care about Hannah. You said I did. But I still do. And you barely knew her." Munroe snapped.

"I've read every one of her books. You know that I'm a profiler. Her books were all about psychology- they fascinated me. I've been in touch with her for years."

"What?"

"Yes. She and I were friends. For many years."

"Did she ever say anything about me?" Munroe begged.

"Y-yes. She did." It wasn't technically a lie. He could play the call that he got over and over again in his head.

"Doctor Reid. Spencer. Um… that killer you're after? I think he might be one of my patients."

"W-what makes you say that? Don't you live in Montana? The murders aren't in Montana."

"I've been doing this online program. It's part of a study to see how effectively therapy works without physically being around them… anyways, that's not the point. I've noticed that the murders are going across state lines, and, uh… they look like they're leading to me."

"Okay, Hannah. You-"

"No, I need you to listen. He… he's been sending me this book he's writing. The characters match your victims. This book is the only thing he can stay focused on. I think- I think he has schizophrenia. He keeps telling me that he wants to see me. That he want to talk to me in person."

"What did you say?"

"I told him that he couldn't. That I had stopped seeing my patients in person."

"What did he say?"

"He wanted me to tell him where I lived. I told him no, and that if he kept asking, I couldn't be his therapist anymore."

"I take it he didn't respond well."

"He did, actually. Or so I thought. He started writing the book, and sending me the chapters. It wasn't until the last murder I heard about, and I realized it coincided with his character- and it took place in Montana. I… connected the dots. I waited a few days and then… I showed up in his book. Spencer, I-" Hannah's sobs echoed throughout Reid's mind.

"Hannah, listen, we're going to figure this out, okay? Now, what I need you to do is give me all the information you have about this patient. Then, you need to get to your nearest police station. I need to talk to my team about this, okay. So make sure you're safe and send me everything you have on him, okay?"

"O-okay. Thank you, Spencer."

"Please be safe. Be careful."

Reid was pulled back into reality, hearing a faraway voice. Munroe looked to him, as if he'd asked a question.

"W-what?"

"What did she say about me?"

"She… told me about your book."

"She did?"

"Yes. Mostly about the characters. I don't know the story itself too well." This piqued Munroe's interest.

"Who… which one's your favorite character?"

"I like Harriett. She's… very kind. I don't care much for Agatha, though."

"That's… that because you don't understand her character!" Munroe insisted. "She...she's incredibly complex. You just need to understand her context, her background."

"Does her background have to do with Jared's?"

"Yes! Yes, though I haven't revealed it yet. See, you- you get it. I think I see why Vincent likes you."

"I still don't quite get it. Why does Vincent like me?" Reid asked, as if talking to a friend.

"You understand people. You're just different."

"Well, it's my job to understand people. It's my whole team's job to understand people. Why me, specifically?"

"Like I said, you're different."

"What does that mean?"

"Just stop asking me questions, and eat some food. Vincent wants you ready for him when he comes back. He wants you nice and strong."

"I don't think I've ever been considered strong. What does Vincent have planned that I need to be strong for?"

Munroe smiled. "Oh, you'll like it. It'll be like a game to you. Vincent thinks it's fun. I'm sure you will, too."