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Reid paced the confines of his new prison. The carpet whispered under his stocking feet. He figured he only heard it because the silence of the room was so deep. It was way too creepy.

He'd tried the door again, but it was locked. It was like he'd dropped into a bad television drama. This was something that could only happen in the fictional world of the movies or television.

"Unless you let someone stroke your ego and lead you away like the lamb to slaughter!"

He threw himself down on the bed and put one arm over his eyes. He wasn't the kind to let personal glory rule his head and his gut. He should have known that something wasn't right with Agent Stark's story, but someone had obviously done their homework.

"Yeah, or they just read your article. It isn't hard to figure out an obsession when you hand it to people on a silver platter with an invitation that says 'why don't you come and get me?' wrapped up in a bright red bow."

He lifted his arm off his face and looked up at the fake sky over his head. He'd only been here for maybe a couple of hours… At least he hoped it was a couple of hours. He'd been here for a short time and already the painted ceiling was getting on his nerves. Who painted a ceiling like that? It was like some gross parody of a summer sky. Who would want something like that in a room like this?

Stop wondering about the motives of the interior decorators and start thinking about how you're going to get out of this. Yeah… all he had to do was outsmart a fellow profiler. That was no problem… He could do that in his sleep.

"Yeah and the last time you were so confident, you got cold cocked over the head, and locked in this room that looked like it belonged in a really bad horror movie about someone trying to drive some poor young guy crazy." He shivered and then tried to laugh it off.

Okay, talking to himself was getting out of hand.

"It's only a sign of insanity if you answer yourself."

Well, if he didn't get out of here soon that was a distinct possibility!

He got up and walked to the far end of the room. He decided to walk a straight line across the room and see how long it was, and then he'd find out how wide it was, and then…

"What are you going to do then genius? How about focusing on the problem at hand?"

He walked to the far corner of the room and began inspecting the walls. They were concrete block and had to be pretty thick because he couldn't hear anything at all outside the room. He supposed he could try shouting, but he'd probably end up with a very sore throat and nothing to show for it.

"Hey…" He shouted as loud as he could, and nothing happened.

That was smart!

He followed the wall around the room. He skirted the couch, and the coffee table, and then the bed at the other end of the room before ending with the locked door. There was nothing to use to escape. The carpet was tight to the floor. The walls were solid, no cracks anywhere. He went to the closet. Agent Stark was right; all of his clothes were there. How had the Agent got into his home?

"They're FBI just like you. You're not the only one that can pick a lock."

The strange thing about the closet was that none of his clothes were hanging up in the large space. Instead there were clear plastic containers and everything, including all of his shoes, was in boxes that were stacked up against the walls.

He went back into the room and to the foot of the bed. His messenger bag was there with his ready bag. His I pod was in the front pocket of his messenger bag. He pulled it out, and stuck the ear buds into his ears. He set the volume up to ear drum shattering levels. It was better than listening to all the silence around him. He would lie down and shut his eyes. If he looked at the back of his eyelids, rather then that distracting sky, he might be able to think of some way to get out of this trap.

He lay down and closed his eyes while Guns and Roses started to sing "Knocking on Heaven's Door." The first thing he needed to do was profile his captors. Once he knew what made Agent Stark tick, he'd have some kind of idea what they wanted from him. Agent Stark had also mentioned an Agent Calloway. He remembered seeing Calloway in the bullpen. He'd been average build, and average height, with dark hair and light brown eyes. He was ordinary looking in every way and he'd been the bane of Gideon's existence when the older agent was still with the Bureau. Now if Reid could just remember what it was about the man that had been so irritating to his old mentor…

All the facts and statistics that he knew about the other profilers that worked in the Bureau went round and round in his head and soon his eyes closed in sleep. His breathing evened out and became deep. His eyes moved rapidly behind his lids. One ear bud fell out of his ear. The tinny sound of heavy metal whispered into the room and was soon drowned out by the pervasive silence.

---

The eyes that watched the young profiler sleep were cold and calculating. The young Dr. Reid could sleep now, but soon he'd have to do his job for a different team. The young man believed that he'd never trust and cooperate with his new team, but that would all change. He had the necessary pressure points all lined up to use. The young doctor had his weaknesses just like everyone else and the smart man was the one that new how to exploit them for his own means.

He picked up the phone. "It's Calloway. Did you do what I asked? Yes, I want the surveillance to begin tonight on all the subjects. Don't argue with me. I'll explain all the expenditures of man power. No, but the one I answer too could end your career like that. Don't you dare threaten me. You came to me and you're being well paid. That's better; I thought your attitude would improve with a little reminder. Now go do your job. When this is over, we'll all be a lot better off."

Calloway slapped his phone shut and went back to the computer room. Soon the rest of his team would be joining him and they could begin in earnest.

---

Austin put the plastic bags from the grocery store on the counter top. She hated to cook for one person and normally lived on frozen dinners and take out, but now it was time to dust off her limited cooking skills and put together something really delicious for Spencer.

She unloaded the ingredients for the only dish she could make really well and that was lasagna. She hoped that Spencer liked it. It was her grandmother's recipe with a special secret ingredient that she'd been sworn as a child never to reveal.

She pulled out candles and two new candle holders she'd found in the supermarket. They were carved crystal that looked like roses in full bloom. She set them aside to wash and polish before she put the white tapers in them.

There was a new tablecloth she'd picked up at Kitchens and Stuff. It had everything from vacuums, to flatware, on sale. The tablecloth looked like someone had woven moonbeams into the silvery fabric. It was slick, and shiny, and looked great with the candles and the new dishes she bought. The plates were red with scalloped edges. The glasses were crystal, and the silverware was brand new. She had all of this stuff on hand, but she wanted to impress Spencer by making everything look nice for him.

She stopped and looked at the results of her impromptu shopping spree. Why was it so important to impress him? She'd never gone to this much trouble for a man and was puzzled by the need to do so with Spencer. He wasn't the type of man she'd dated in the past. He was much different from any of her boyfriends. Still, he'd saved her life, but it was more than that, there was something in his eyes that called to her. It tugged on her heart. She wanted to know why the pull was so strong.

She pulled out her phone and called him. He wasn't going to arrive until the next day, but she really wanted to hear his voice and be sure that he was actually going to come and see her. If she could only see him again, maybe the nightmares would go way.

The phone went straight to voice mail. She hoped that his team hadn't been called away on a case.

"Hey Spencer… It's Austin. I know I just talked to you yesterday, but I just wanted to hear your voice again. I hope you'll indulge the neurotic gal and call me back. If you're on a case, call me when you get the chance. I hope you can still make it down here."

She slapped the phone shut and began loading the dishwasher with all her new dishes. Soon she was whistling a happy tune and the nightmares that had plagued her were far away. Spencer would be there tomorrow and he'd help her banish them forever.