*Thank you to anyone and everyone who reviewed! I hope everybody likes this chapter!*
Everyone else had fallen asleep; Hotch stared blankly at the case file, glad that this particular one was over. It had been a long three days; but ultimately, they had saved the girl before she had been hurt; physically, at least.
They hadn't heard from Reid the entire time they'd been gone; it was Monday night, and he had been AWOL since Friday. Under normal circumstances, Hotch would have been concerned; but they had just been too busy, and their worry for their teammate's whereabouts had been pushed to the back of their heads. He suspected that Reid had either misplaced or turned off his phone; it was the weekend, after all; or was deliberately ignoring his calls; something that, Hotch decided, would require some sort of disciplinary action later on. Reid had been having a hard time lately, and he didn't want to stress his agent any more than usual, but he couldn't let it affect his work performance this way.
Hotch stared at his phone, deciding against dialing Reid's number again; he knew he wouldn't pick up. Instead, he called Garcia.
"Hotch? What do you need?" Garcia asked upon answering. Even though it wasn't even seven o'clock yet, she sounded ready for bed.
"Garcia, has Reid been in at all today?"
"No, sir."
Hotch frowned. It was one thing to miss a case over a weekend; it was another thing entirely to not show up to work.
"Has he contacted the office at all?" Maybe there had been some sort of family emergency.
"He hasn't, sir." There was a pause, and then her voice came out shriller than usual. "Is there something wrong?"
Hotch swallowed. "Maybe; we're almost back, and Morgan has a key to his apartment. We can go check on him once we land, to make sure he's alright." As he said these words, Hotch's stomach twisted uncomfortably. Reid had been having those headaches lately. What if something was truly wrong with him? It wasn't like he had any family or friends who would check up on him.
And so, as soon as they landed, Hotch woke Morgan and informed him that they were driving to Reid's apartment immediately. Morgan had protested a bit, but eventually consented once Hotch voiced his concerns.
"Reid!" Morgan pounded loudly on the door. "Reid, its Hotch and Morgan, open up!"
Nothing.
Hotch telephoned Garcia. "Garcia, can you track Reid's phone for me?" he asked. He didn't want to enter the apartment without Reid's knowledge unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Hold on one sec." The two men waited in anxious silence as Garcia attempted to track it.
"Got anything?" Hotch asked after a minute or two.
"Well…it's a good thing Reid's phone is waterproof."
"What? Why?" Hotch demanded.
"Because according to this it's currently at the bottom of the Potomac River."
"WHAT?" Morgan shouted.
"Morgan; calm down; let's not jump to conclusions-" Hotch began, but Morgan was already backing up.
"What are you doing?" Hotch demanded.
"Breaking down the door!"
"Morgan! Wait!"
"What?" Morgan demanded, already preparing to strike.
"You have the key!"
There was a pause. "Oh, right." Morgan said, and dug around in his pocket for several moments. Hurriedly, he unlocked the door and the two men entered the apartment, Hotch's hand hovering instinctively around his gun.
"Reid?" Hotch called. "It's Morgan and Hotch."
They checked all of the rooms but found nothing; except…
"All his fish are dead," Morgan muttered. "He's supposed to feed them twice a day."
Hotch frowned. "Where's the cat?"
The cat, apparently, had clawed its way into the bag of cat food, and was doing perfectly fine.
"He hasn't been here in days," Hotch said tensely, peering around the apartment.
Morgan swallowed, obviously trying very hard not to panic. "Do you think something…happened to him when he was walking home from my house?"
"We can't be sure of anything yet," Hotch said. Well, except perhaps of one thing; this was definitely not good. "Call the team," he said to Morgan.
Meanwhile, Reid was eating dinner.
"I made it myself," Tucker was saying. Reid smiled politely.
"It's very good, Tucker," he said, although in his opinion Tucker was one of the worst cooks he had met in his entire life. But then he remembered what had happened the last time he had refused to eat Tucker's cooking; he shuddered. Besides, he had to eat something.
"Thank you!" Tucker said, grinning. "Father thought so, too."
Father would come down from time to time during the day; according to Tucker, he was a very busy man. With what, Reid wasn't exactly sure. Tucker would be gone during the days, as well, as he had to attend classes; so during the daytime Reid just sat in the cellar, bored out of his mind, stuck watching whatever channel father had decided on for the day.
"What does father do for work?" Reid asked Tucker; he had already tried this question on several different occasions, and Tucker usually neglected to answer.
"I added some cinnamon this time," Tucker said, once again ignoring his question.
Reid had many other questions; for example, "Is father delusional, or just evil?" or "How long before you unchain me from this bed?" or "Who the hell puts cinnamon on spaghetti and meatballs?" But he knew that asking any of them might make Tucker; or father; angry, and before he knew it, Tucker would be looking for a new brother.
Just as he was finishing the last of his dinner, father came downstairs. Reid retreated into the sheets; nighttimes were the worst.
"Upstairs, Tucker," father commanded, and Tucker nodded obediently and scurried up the staircase.
"Hello, there," father said. "Are you ready for tonight's lesson?"
Reid grimaced, but nodded his head.
The shock was sharp, but not unbearable; probably a three or four. Reid let out a cry of surprise because it was so unexpected. Last night, he had been punished for giving the opposite answer.
"You shouldn't lie," father said silkily. "My sons are not liars."
"Sorry, father," Reid responded immediately.
Father moved closer. They sat on the bed in silence for awhile. Reid scrambled to think of something to say; last time, when the silence had been too long, he had been given a five for "ignoring his father."
"Tucker made spaghetti and meatballs tonight," Reid said hurriedly.
"Yes, I know," father said, "Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes," Reid said immediately, then yelped as he was shocked again.
"I told you not to lie," father said angrily, "Tucker's cooking is horrible."
"But father," Reid said, frustrated, "Last night I told you I didn't like it, and I still got punished." This man was definitely a sadist; no matter what Reid said, he found some reason to punish him.
Father gave him what must have been an eight this time; Reid screamed, falling back on his bed. Once it was over, he reached for his wrist instinctively; the skin around the bracelets was burnt and raw.
"Don't disrespect your father!" he shouted.
"I d-didn't mean to-" He was zapped again, and then father reached forward and pulled him out of bed by his hair, so that the chains pulled painfully against his ankles. Father held him there like that for several moments; then he slapped him, hard, in the face, and dropped him back to the bed.
"You need to learn," father panted, "To be a good son. You need to learn not to be a liar…"
Reid didn't say anything; he simply lay on the bed, clutching his face.
Zap!
"Apologize!"
"I'm s-sorry fath-"
Zap! That one had to be a ten.
"You're not sorry!" he screamed at Reid, who was now rolling around on the bed in agony. "You're only sorry for yourself!" Reid lay there, trembling, every inch of his body on fire; he waited for the next one to come, but it never did.
He glanced up; only to come face to face with his "father." He flinched away again, instinctively.
"You're just like the rest of them," father spat, then left the room, leaving Reid trembling there alone. A realization was beginning to dawn on him; it was a lot harder to be a "good son" than he had originally thought.
*So Reid's in a bit more trouble than he thought. Hmmm. I haven't decided if he's going to live or not, yet. Reviews are cool! Tell me what you think!*
