Thanks for the lovely reviews and follows! My plan from now on is to update every Tuesday, unless I miraculously find the time to write more. As well, I don't think I ever clarified, but this story takes place before Strauss' death and when Prentiss was still on the team.
Hotch had just finished a call with the warden of the prison that was holding Michael Aremovic. The man refused to believe that the hostage situation was a serious threat, and he had to resort to using his superior position in order to be able to interview the prisoner.
Hotch's phone rang again, and he had to resist the urge to smash it against the wall.
"SSA Hotchner speaking."
"Hotch, you have Rossi and me on speaker. You need to come out here and see this."
Hotch let out a sigh and glanced at his watch.
"We don't have that much time before Aremovic calls again. I'll take the rest of the team and meet you there. We'll be there in 20."
Rossi and J.J. hadn't left the entrance of Aremovic's house. Plastered on the walls and ceilings were photos after photos of Reid. Some were of him walking down the street or working on a case, but others were more invasive. There were ones of Reid eating dinner, watching T.V., and some while he was changing. Scribbled on the walls were notes of the date, time, and any other thoughts Aremovic had at the time. Sometimes he had formulated the best way to kidnap Reid, while other times he had written grocery lists.
"Rossi, look at this one. This is from two years ago. How long was Reid being stalked for?"
"I don't know, but look at this. His vocabulary is very simple, and many of the words are spelled wrong. Probably didn't have much of an education. But he was patient if he waited for two years. I'm going to call Garcia and see if Aremovic had contacted Reid at all before this."
He opened his phone and hit his speed dial.
"Garcia speaking."
"What, no witty message for me?"
"I'm not in the mood. Not until we get my baby boy back."
"I need you to look something up for me. Can you see if Reid received any threatening emails or phone calls within the last two years?"
"I can, but I'm in the car heading to you right now. I can get limited information right now, but I am going to need to get some wifi first."
"Okay, tell me when you have anything."
"Hotch says we'll be there in three minutes."
"Bye."
"What did she say?" asked J.J.
Before Rossi had the chance to answer, a man stepped through the door.
J.J. immediately morphed into her media liaison role.
"Excuse me sir, you can't be here. This is a crime scene."
The man was tall, and dressed in a dark suit.
"I know. Strauss told me the team would be meeting here."
Rossi's eyes suddenly flickered with understanding- he recognized the man.
"Excuse us sir, but why are you involved with this case?" Rossi asked, stepping forward.
"Let's just say that I am personally invested in the outcome of this case."
Rossi took another step, his eyes narrowed.
"And why does the assistant director of the FBI have a personal connection to this case?"
The man paused, fumbling with his words.
"I am his… umm… his… sponsor…"
"Excuse me? What are you implying about Reid? Sponsor?"
The man didn't respond. Rossi mentally went over his list of people with sponsors. It mainly consisted of athletes, drug addicts, and alcoholics.
"Are you accusing Reid of being an alcoholic? Because I don't think he even knows what whiskey is!" Rossi had taken another angry step forward. The two men were mere inches apart, glaring into each other's faces.
Outside, the rest of the BAU pulled up and rushed into the house. They stopped short at the scene in front of them. Rossi and John Meyers stood toe to toe, the tension palatable in the room.
Hotch rushed forward, already in crisis resolution mode, and roughly dragged back his best friend.
"Sir, what are you doing here?" Hotch addressed the FBI assistant director.
"I am just here to make sure the investigation is running smoothly. Strauss said I could meet the team here."
"That's fine, sir. Forgive me for asking, but you don't normally involve yourself in our cases. May I ask why?" Hotch was using all of his diplomacy skills to be tactful; the last thing he needed was to deal with politics in the middle of the team's worst nightmare.
"I am Spencer's sponsor, and I am concerned for his wellbeing." Meyer threw another nervous glance at Rossi. Apparently the man didn't know about Hankle.
"Ahh." Hotch let out a noise of understanding.
Rossi grabbed his arm and dragged him back outside.
"What is going on here, Hotch? The assistant director of the FBI doesn't just make house calls. You need to be honest with me. What does he mean by 'sponsor'- what is he sponsoring Reid for?"
Hotch couldn't meet his eyes for a moment.
"Reid… Reid used to have a drug problem. Obviously, he fixed it."
"What do you mean 'Reid used to have a drug problem?' Are we talking about the same person here?! This is Reid, who can't talk to a woman without blushing, and can list every side effect of drugs known to man!"
"Rossi, you need to calm down. I promise, I will explain everything to you later, but we don't have the time right now. If you can't control this freak out, I will remove you from this case."
Rossi glared at his boss for a minute, but finally answer. "I'm fine. But you better have a damn good explanation for all of this."
"Don't worry. We do."
The two men re-entered the house. For the first time, Hotch looked around. The walls were plastered with photos of Reid.
"Okay, we only have two hours until Aremovic calls back. We can process this house afterwards." Turning towards Meyer, he continues. "Sir, if you would like to sit in on our conversation, you are more than welcome. However, we don't have time to explain our thought process or answer questions."
"That's fine. Thank you."
The team settled around the kitchen table and began the process of profiling Aremovic. Rossi and J.J. explained their theory about the initial attack, which the rest of the team agreed was likely.
Morgan looked thoughtful. "So this man spends months, possibly years stalking Reid. Based on the writing on the walls here, he came up with dozens of different ways to attack Reid. Yet the plan wasn't very well thought out. Reid put up a fight. It would have been much easier to threaten Reid with a gun or knock him out with a strong hit to the back of the head. So Aremovic is patient, but not very smart."
"That makes sense," said Hotch. "He clearly spent hours brooding, but couldn't come up with a decent plan. And he was never well educated. If he had done any research at all, he would know there are dozens of ways to easily make someone unconscious."
"Guys, I have something!" Garcia exclaimed. "So I was looking for any suspicious threats, like you told me to, and Reid received several phone calls from the same number. Most of the phone calls were short, although some lasted for an hour or so."
"But other than that there were no threats?" Hotch questioned.
"None," Garcia confirmed.
"Okay, call that right now."
Garcia began dialing the number, but Prentiss quickly interrupted.
"Garcia, can you read that number out? I might know who it is."
"Sure. It's 963-482-1234."
"That's not Aremovic, and I don't think this person can help us with the case."
"Prentiss…" Hotch warned.
"Fine. I'll tell you, but you won't be happy." She paused, looking at the faces of her teammates.
"A couple of years ago, Gideon called Reid. It took a while for Reid to forgive him, but he was persistent. Now they talk once a week or so."
The team was shocked. Gideon had abandoned the BAU without any warning. They were a family, and Gideon tore a hole in all of their hearts. Hiding behind her laptop, Garcia's heart sank. She had tried, several years ago, to track down Gideon. She was unsuccessful. Reid had known how much finding him had meant to her, yet he didn't tell her. Masking her betrayal, Garcia called the number.
"Hello?"
"Gideon? It's Agent Hotchner with the FBI."
"I remember who you are. No need to be so formal. Who gave you this number?"
Nobody answered for a minute. The team glanced at each other, unsure of what to say. Finally, after a deep breath, Prentiss spoke.
"Gideon? It's me, Prentiss. We have a problem."
"Who gave you this number? Only… only Reid had this number!" He growled into the speaker. Then he went silent with the implications of his statement.
"Where is Reid? Let me talk to him."
"Gideon, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub by the name of Jeremy Aremovic last night. We were searching Reid's records when we found several phone calls from this number. I'm sorry, we didn't mean to bother you," Hotch said tightly. His lips were pursed, and his eyebrows were furrowed. He had yet to forgive Gideon for abandoning the team, especially Reid. Although by the sounds of it, Gideon and Reid had been in contact the entire time.
"Wait, I know that name. Aremovic… Aremovic. Oh! Reid, Greenaway and I worked that case together. There were two cases that both needed our attention at the same time, so the team split up. I thought that bastard was in jail."
"He is. It's his brother that has Reid. Look, I can't tell you any more. This is all confidential."
"I'm coming. I'll be there in a couple hours."
"Gideon, you can't come. You don't work for the FBI any more."
"I promised Reid I would protect him. This time, I am going to do my damndest to keep that promise." Gideon hung up the phone with a snap, his mouth a grim line.
"I'm coming to save you, Reid."