A/N: Thank you all for your support! Virtual hugs and cookies (or muffins, if you prefer) all around. Hope this next chapter is enjoyed as much as the others! Reviews are always super duper appreciated :)
xxx
"The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you'd ever left behind riding on your shoulders."
― Paolo Bacigalupi
4.
Morgan had talked a lot about the past two years in the hour he'd remained in the room, about how much they had searched, how they had never given up, and how they'd always had a hope that he was still older agent had also mentioned how Spencer's mother had been just as sick with worry as the rest of them, probably even more so, and that they had already notified her about him being found alive. Reid seemed...uncomfortable with that subject, to say the least, and to Morgan's surprise, he shook his head when asked if he would want to visit her after this all was over. And it wasn't that Reid didn't want to see her―he did, more than anything. He had missed her just as much as any of the rest of them.
But she would not want to see him, especially not like this, not after what he'd done, what he had become, what he had seen...He was dirty now, inside and out, and his mother would no longer want him once the truth came out. And the truth would come out; it always did. It was only a matter of time before she knew, before the rest of the team knew. They wouldn't want to protect him then; they wouldn't want anything to do with him. He would be better off back with...back where he had been for the last twenty-four, almost twenty-five months.
Clearly only distressing Reid after a while, Morgan chose to leave as Reid's eyes started drooping, and it took only minutes before he put his head down on his arm and closed his eyes totally, hiding his tears.
"Poor thing's exhausted," Garcia said as they watched through the other side of the glass. She sighed after a moment and rubbed her face while Rossi held back a yawn.
"We all are," Hotch said, and he glanced at his watch. "It's late. We should all try to get some rest back at the hotel."
"I'm staying," JJ immediately replied, firmly, and Prentiss touched her shoulder. "You need sleep, too, you know."
"Go ahead." JJ nodded at them. "I'll catch up."
"Alright." Hotch turned around and looked at the group. "We meet back here at eight. I talked with the sheriff; the first child is coming in in the morning.
They all agreed, said goodnight to JJ, and then she was alone. She clasped her hands over her belly, smiling as she felt her baby kick; just a few more months and she would finally be able to greet the he or she that she was already so very in love with...the he or she that she still, aggravatingly enough, did not have a name for. Maybe she just hadn't thought of the right one, the one that would just click and stay with her until it got the chance to be the first thing this baby would have all their own. She suddenly missed Will terribly, and so she called to update him, both on the team and on Reid.
"I'm glad he's okay," Will said after she had filled him in. "But...are you?"
JJ licked her dry lips and hummed. "I will be when we get him out of here. He's handcuffed to a table, for God's sake."
"I'm sorry. You sure you don't want me there? Moral support and all, you know."
"I might take you up on that."
"You sound awfully tired. You're going to sleep soon, right?" A pause. "Jen..."
"Yeah. Yes. I am. I mean, I will."
"Can you do anything right now?"
"What?"
"With Spencer. Can you do anything else to help him right now?"
JJ let out a long breath, and as much as it pained her to say it, she reluctantly replied, "No."
"Then let yourself be rested for when you can, okay? Please? For the baby."
She chuckled. "Oh, I see. It's all about the baby."
"Both of my babies," Will said, smile audible, and JJ made a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue. "Yeah, yeah. Alright. I'm gonna head off to the hotel, then. Goodnight. I love you."
"Goodnight. I love you, too."
She hauled herself to her feet, whispered, "Goodnight, Spence," and then grabbed her coat and headed out the door.
xxx
"I'll fucking teach you to stop talking back to me, you little shit!"
"Please, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"Not yet you're not. Get your ass over here—"
Reid cried out when he was grabbed by his hair and dragged along to the other side of the room. He was shoved against the side of the dresser, and he heard the belt crack through the air mere seconds before it made contact with his bare back, still in agony from the last time...and the time before that. "No! Stop! I'm sorry!"
"One more word and I'll kill you, you hear? And them! Shut up! This is your fault! Stop crying! Stop fucking crying!"
Reid startled awake, screaming, and fell out of the chair, striking his chin on the side of the table and biting his tongue as he did so. He cried out again, clutching his jaw with his free hand, tasting blood and barely able to keep from letting the tears constantly behind his eyes begin to fall again. The door burst open as two officers entered, demanding to know what had just happened. Reid only whimpered, pain clouding his consciousness to the point where he could hardly see, and then he shrieked again when hands were suddenly pulling at him, shaking so hard he was almost convulsing.
"Jesus, kid—" The officer who'd been trying to get him up immediately released him, noting the drops of blood on the floor before turning to the second man. "Call an ambulance!"
"No, don't." Detective Brown blocked the doorway and held up a small, clear bottle with a very light colored liquid inside, along with a small syringe. "It's just a panic attack. He had one at the hospital. They gave us this in case he had another."
"I think he hit his head," the second said, frowning, and Brown rolled his eyes, fixing up the dose. Then, kneeling beside Reid, he injected it quickly into his shoulder before he could try to jerk away and then stood. "He'll be fine. I need you two outside with the others, to protect the Grosse family from the press and whoever the hell else is out there. They should be here any minute."
The officers nodded and then left, and Brown turned his attention back to Reid, who was still trembling but beginning to catch his breath now. He was holding his chin, and a line of blood trickled out of his mouth; Brown concluded what had happened, and that it would most likely simply leave a nasty bruise. He was favoring his wrist, however, the one that was cuffed to the table, and Brown could see it was bruising, though he was far from letting him go, and so he decided to pretend he had never noticed it at all. "Breathe, Dr. Reid," he said quietly, and Reid moaned. He tugged gently on the metal keeping him from laying down, and then finally settled for maneuvering himself into a better position before weakly leaning back against the leg of the table, his eyes closed. It didn't knock him out, but he surely didn't have the strength to panic any further, nor the will.
"The first family is coming in. William Grosse is the child." Brown said after a moment, once Reid's panting had evened out and he was positive the younger could hear him. "He's requested to see you."
Reid blinked up at him wearily and nodded, and his mouth formed the word please.
"After we've finished questioning him." he added, and then left. Reid moaned again; his limbs weren't responding like they should have been and it was pissing him off. His arm flopped out in front of him, of absolutely no help, and though somehow he believed being back in the chair would have been more comfortable, he really didn't care enough to try. He felt a bit like he had...that day. The day he'd been taken. God, he hadn't thought about that in ages. He'd been sitting on his couch...reading, probably, as if he'd ever done anything else, and then someone he had never heard had abruptly slapped a hand over his mouth from behind and painfully shoved a needle into the side of his neck. He'd ripped it out after just a second or two, but he was already dizzy before he even stood up, staggering about in an attempt to turn around. There had been someone there...just a blurry, darkened shadow at that point. And they were just...watching him, apparently just waiting until he was simply dead-weight to make a move.
He'd stayed on his feet for another good minute, angry because he knew he'd locked his door and he was wondering how the fuck someone could have gotten in, stumbling to reach his cell phone. He'd gotten it in his hands, straining to remember somebody's—anybody's—number, when the figure struck his arm, knocking his lifeline out of his grip. He fought, then, desperate, taking whoever it was to the floor with him. They had hit the table on the way down, and the position he'd fallen in caused him to hit his arm on the side of it, giving him a good sized gash that he cried out at. There were hands over his mouth again, and he cursed himself for not screaming sooner. He kicked out, trying to reach for his cell, he'd been so close, and then...and then...
And then Reid couldn't remember anything else until he had come to in the trunk of a moving car, bound tightly and gagged, too weak to do anything even if he'd been free. He'd found himself mumbling for his friends, for his mother, like any of them could help him now, and then suddenly he'd been waking back up, in what looked like a basement or cellar, hanging from a chain connected somewhere above him by his wrists, his feet only just touching the floor enough for him to ground himself and not swing about. His arm ached terribly, but as far as he could tell, someone had bandaged it. So whoever this was didn't want him dead...at least not yet.
Unfortunately, that hadn't been at all as comforting as he wanted it to be.
It might've been hours later, or maybe a day (it was hard to keep track when he kept drifting in and out of consciousness) before someone unlocked the door up the stairs to his right and made their way down. Reid had thought about pretending to be asleep to avoid confrontation, but instead watched in horror and as a woman—smaller than him, even!—came into view, a child who he hoped was simply unconscious in her arms. He now saw that there were beds in front of him, against the other wall, previously lost in the darkness to his eyes, as she set him down upon one and covered him with a blanket. There was the sound of metal clanking against metal as she'd fastened something around his ankle, and then she'd turned around and walked over to Reid, proceeding to stroke a hand down his face and murmur, "Very good indeed."
"What's going on?" Reid had quietly tried to talk to her, but she was not interested in conversation, and began to hum a tune as she went back up the stairs.
Reid had begun to struggle then, rattling the chains loudly as he fought to free himself. "Wait! Come back! What the hell is going on? What the hell is going on?!"
The door had shut, the lock had clicked, and for some reason it was only then that he had realized how much trouble he was in. If only he'd found some way to get out, if only he'd avoided the coming years, if only, if only, if only...
If only the one responsible was dead, not still somewhere out there. If only Reid didn't fear for his and the other survivors lives with every breath he took, with every breath he didn't deserve to have.
If only he'd managed to save them all...
xxx
Outside the precinct, it took ten minutes to clear the group of cameras, news reporters, and the like enough that the black car could pull up, the Grosse family could get out, and then proceed inside without all the equipment in their faces...at least, for the most part. Damn media. Every other officer had been standing by the door to allow them and no one else in, and then Detective Brown greeted them, proudly declaring that he was lead on the case.
"Thank you," Caroline Grosse gave him a tearful smile. "Thank you." She took her husband, Mark, by the arm and held her son's hand.
"Of course. If you could come this way..."
"I want to see Spencer." William said, firmly, and Brown clenched his teeth, something he hoped went unnoticed.
"Sweetie," Caroline murmured, petting his hair, "we—"
"I want to see him!" William repeated, a bit more forcefully, and then Brown managed a smile. "It's okay. Come on, then."
William followed him quickly and quietly, and Brown glanced back at him once or twice. He hadn't jumped at his mother's touch (although he also hadn't seemed all too pleased with her calling him sweetie), he was speaking perfectly fine, and he looked healthy. Maybe they would be able to get somewhere with him...
Brown unlocked the room, opened it, and gestured William inside. Reid looked up, slowly, over the chair, and then his eyes went wide and he straightened up as best he could. William gave a huge smile, went over, and—to the detective's surprise—hugged him. Reid still flinched, but he put his arms around the boy anyway, allowing him to bury his head into the older's neck.
"I was real worried about you," William mumbled, and Reid nodded in agreement. He was still rigid, but he did seem to find comfort in the contact. Brown turned away, flipping through his file as something professional-looking to do, and then his eyes settled on the last paper, reading it for the third time. It was something he hadn't given to anyone else to see, a choice he'd made in order to continue his task. It was hardly his decision, anyway; he had to do what he had to do, by any means necessary.
"Are you okay?" William quietly asked, sitting next to him, and Reid nodded slowly. He winced at the motion, wiping dried blood from his bottom lip, and William shot the sharpest glare in Brown's direction that he had ever seen from someone so young as he looked over, as if he thought Brown was responsible.
"Was he part of this?" Mark suddenly asked, frowning, his fists clenched, and Brown stepped in front of them and closed the door. "He was apart of it, yes...but we don't know how yet."
"Why are we letting him be alone with my son?"
"Don't get me wrong. He fits into this somewhere. But there's evidence he took care of William and the other children; he's of no harm to them."
Caroline peered into the window, simply to be assured, and saw William smiling as he spoke unheard words. He seemed happier than she had seen him since they'd gotten him back. And the older one...he looked hardly strong enough to get to his feet, let alone do much of anything criminal.
"And there are still children missing?" Mark asked, and when Brown nodded he continued. "Why hasn't he said where they are? Where thecriminal behind this is?"
Brown sighed, nearly answered, but then, from behind him, JJ did so instead. "Sir, we are doing the best we can to find the others, and the man behind it." She smiled sadly at them, crossing her arms gently across her chest. "But you have to understand. He's been through a lot of trauma."
"And you are?"
"Agent Jennifer Jareau, with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. His name is Dr. Spencer Reid...he's with us."
"He was in the FBI?" Mark's expression was one doubt, and JJ blinked. "Is. He is."
Brown cleared his throat, gesturing towards the door. "Shall we begin?"
"Yes." Caroline gently knocked on the door and nodded her head at William when he looked up. He rolled his eyes and then turned back to Reid. "I'll come back, okay?" he said, and Reid gave him a small smile. His eyes followed the boy as he left, and then he rested his head back against the chair, eyes closed again, looking worse than he had before; tired, and...
JJ caught Brown's arm before he could follow the three. "Detective, did you give him something?"
"For his panic attack this morning, yes. Prescribed, of course."
"I'd like to see his medical examination file, if you don't mind." Or if you do, I actually don't care, she didn't add.
"Excuse me," Brown ignored her, and then went off to get the others into a room they could talk in. JJ huffed out a breath of pure frustration; she'd get Garcia on that later. "Are you okay, Spence?" she asked as she went over to him, handing down the pad of paper and pen.
I'm very thirsty.
"Okay. I'll get you some water." She sat in the chair he was beside. He looked like he was falling asleep, and so she quickly continued. "But Spence...we need to talk about what happened to you, to the kids."
Reid shook his head, just slightly, but JJ did not let it go. She couldn't any longer. "Please. I know you're tired, but work with me here. Do you remember any names?"
Forcing his eyes open, Reid weakly replied, Her name was Marian.
"Her?!" she exclaimed, loud enough he jumped, clearly trying to control her irritation of not being told this earlier. "There were two?"
Were. She's dead now.
"What...happened?"
Don't know. Just dead.
"And the other was...?"
My — Reid froze completely, then hesitated a few moments before roughly scratching that out and continuing on a new line. Her husband. I...we never got a name.
"In two years?"
I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.
"It's okay; I'm not mad. Anything you can tell me helps."
She's the one who came to my house.
"Oh, Spence..did you ever know why? Why they did it, I mean?"
She said...they were her family.
"Family?"
Reid nodded. I'm not sure...I think a child of hers died. Maybe set her off. There were pictures on the wall by the stairs, but I never saw him. He was around ten.
"That makes sense of the age range for most of them, but...why abduct the thirteen and fourteen-year-old, then? Why keep them all this time? And why you?"
Reid swallowed with difficulty. She didn't know she needed the younger more, I guess. Easier to control. Didn't require as much effort.
JJ was starting to feel a bit ill, and Spencer had gone paler than the paper he was writing on. "And...he still has them?"
I'm really, really thirsty, please.
JJ didn't blink, didn't even look away, asking for a last time, "Spence...where are the other kids?"
Reid let out a single sob, lowering his head and placing his hand over his face, and she knew then, with heartbreaking certainty, that they would not be rescuing anyone else.
