Hello. Thank you for all the great reviews! You guys were really freaking out about that last cliffy. Here's the next chapter


"I've got a location! I found Reid!"

Hotch was instantly at her side. "Show me."

Garcia brought up the window on her screen and focused the digital map on the little red beacon that indicated the origin of the signal. "He's still in Virginia."

"That's a half an hour's drive," Rossi observed.

"Not with me behind the wheel," Morgan said determinedly, fishing the keys to one of the bureau SUVs from his jeans pocket.

"Garcia, JJ, stay here and get local authorities to that location." Hotch ordered then suddenly cringed as the timer went off again and Reid's agonized screams filled the room. "Everyone else with me!" He concluded forcefully before marching out the door, the rest of the team hot on his heels.

They piled into the black SUV and, as Morgan promised, set out at a breakneck speed with the lights flashing and the siren wailing. After several near misses they rolled up the drive of the address Garcia had given them, everyone except the driver clinging to the 'oh shit' handles above the doors as they screeched to a stop.

Several county sheriff's vehicles littered the street in front of the ramshackle house before them. Two uniforms approached them and Hotch held out his credentials.

"I've got an injured agent on the property," Hotch started without greeting or introduction. "Is the premises secure."

The senior officer shook his head. "SWAT set off a small explosion when they rammed the front door. We think the whole place is booby trapped and we have to wait for bomb squad to get here."

"Shit, was anyone hurt?" asked Rossi.

"A few minor injuries, no fatalities." The sheriff replied with obvious relief.

"We need to get EMTs into the cellar." Hotch was in no mood for pleasantries. "My agent's life depends on it."

"We haven't secured the building, there could be traps." The officer looked honestly dismayed, "we can't send in EMTs."

"Then we'll go in ourselves," Morgan said resolutely. "I've got bomb squad training."

Hotch's dark eyes were determined. "I'm with Morgan. Rossi and Prentiss stay here and monitor the situation. If that bastard's still here, I want him found."

Rossi pushed the clear plastic ear piece into his ear. "We'll keep in contact via radio."

Hotch nodded as he and Morgan stripped off their jackets and strapped on their vests before heading around the side of the property towards the cellar, guns in hand. Hotch furtively grasped the rusted door handle and briefly made eye contact with Morgan before pulling it forcefully open. The both felt shudders run down their spines as they heard the god forsaken shriek of the hinges in person. They cast a brief glance toward Rossi and Prentiss who watched anxiously from ten feet away before descending into the darkness

Morgan entered first, gun drawn and pointed forward, index finger resting against the side of the matte black barrel of his Glock. Hotch followed closely behind, carefully navigating the steep, decrepit stairs. Morgan halted them abruptly before they reached the sixth step.

"There's a wire here," Morgan announced quietly in the dim darkness. There was a soft light coming from the bottom of the stairs and it filtered weakly up the narrow enclosed staircase but it was enough to just barely see the sheen of a metal wire stretching across the expanse of the sixth step.

"Avoid this step," Morgan instructed. "Bomb squad will neutralize this later."

Hotch did as the larger man ordered and they continued their descent down the fourteen steps without incident. It wasn't until they reached the bottom that they could see the full extent of the room and when their shoes hit the dusty cellar ground, neither could suppress a gasp. They were inside of the nightmare.

Rusted tools hung from the walls covered with malicious dark stains and a nauseating metallic smell permeated the stale air that caught in the backs of their throats and clung there. It was almost like they could taste it. On the far side of the underground room was a large wooden table and on it was their missing genius, looking as if he were asleep with closed eyes and a slumped posture.

"Reid!" Morgan called out and made as if to run across the room, but the sound of a small click made Hotch grab the back of his vest and pull him back just before he reached the kid. The timer activated itself and they watched Reid's entire body seize up, his muscles spasming as he bucked off the table. He threw his head back in a raw agonized scream as his thin back arched.

They stood stunned for half a second before rushing to the contraption on the cart and flipping the switch. Reid collapsed gasping back onto the table in a boneless heap with the smallest of whimpers. Hotch and Morgan were instantly at each of Reid's sides coaxing him into awareness.

"Reid! Reid, open your eyes," Hotch ordered, carefully placing a hand on his thin and relatively undamaged shoulder. Reid flinched away from the touch and whimpered, refusing to open his eyes.

"Reid, it's me, kid, it's Morgan," the dark man soothed, gently cupping the genius's bruised cheek. "Open your eyes pretty boy."

Reid's bloodshot eyes fluttered open to see two blurry faces before him. "Mo-Morgan? Hotch?" He ground out as he gasped for air.

"Yeah, kid, we're here. You're safe now." They saw Reid's shoulders slump slightly in relief and thin tears filled his eyes.

He closed his eyes and took in a shuttering breath through his raw throat. "Hurts," he whined weakly.

"Shh, we know, Reid." Hotch attempted to sooth his subordinate as he traded misty glances with Morgan. "We're going to get you out of here."

"Reid," Morgan waited before the doctor opened his eyes before continuing. "I'm going to get these things off of you. I need you to stay calm, okay?"

Reid gave a small nod before closing his exhausted eyes again. Morgan moved further down the table and took a steadying breath before reaching a hand between Reid's bloody thighs and unclamping the alligator clips from Reid's testicles. He hissed when he saw the burned flesh they'd left behind.

Hotch whispered comforting assurances as Reid cried out in pain and pressed his face into the rough material of the man's Kevlar vest. Morgan tossed the goddamn clips aside and took over comforting his friend from Hotch who immediately began to search the room for something to cut the younger agent's bonds.

"Shh, you're gonna be okay, Reid." Morgan reassured quietly, resting a warm hand on Reid's bloody and matted hair. Reid calmed somewhat, his body too dehydrated to produce anymore tears, and focused on breathing. "That's it, pretty boy."

Hotch returned to the table with a pair of bolt cutters and quickly set to work at freeing Reid's ankles. "Ghaaha!" Reid gasped when his broken leg was jarred by the motion of the cutters as they bit into the metal cuffs. Hotch whispered apologies as he continued to cut away the restraints, causing the boy's overtaxed body to writhe weakly.

They all breathed a sigh of relief when Reid's ankles were free and Hotch moved to the head of the table where he made quick work of the cuffs around Reid's wrists. When the boy's hands were free Hotch and Morgan gently pulled them from above Reid's head down to rest at his sides. He moaned in pain at the change of position after so long. It felt like his muscles and joints were on fire.

"It's all right, kid." Morgan took Reid's left hand and grasped it in his own, seeing the bloody nail-less fingers up close for the first time and fighting down nausea.

"We've got Reid," Hotch said into his radio. "He's alive."

"Thank god," Prentiss replied.

"How is he?" Rossi asked.

Hotch looked at the young genius laying bloody on the table, his brow furrowed in obvious pain and breath coming in ragged gasps even as Morgan tried to sooth him.

"Not good" He answered finally. "He need's medical attention."

"They haven't cleared the EMT's yet," Rossi informed the team leader. "It might take a while."

Hotch sighed heavily. "I need you to scrounge up some blankets and some water. I'll collect them from the top of the stairs."

"On it." Prentiss confirmed.

Two minutes later Hotch carefully climbed the stairs, avoiding the trip wire, accepted a black FBI duffel bag from Rossi at the top of the stairs.

"There's a trip wire on the sixth step," Hotch informed the older man. "When bomb squad gets here tell them it's their first priority."

Rossi nodded. "I'll take care of it."

Hotch descended the stairs again. He kneeled on the floor by the table before unzipping the bag and pawing through its contents. There were two thick woolen blankets and four bottles of water.

Hotch grabbed a blanket first and draped it over Reid's exposed body, covering him from chest to feet, then added another to help ward off the chill of the damp cellar. He then pulled a bottle of water from the bag and shared a wordless glance with Morgan who gently lifted Reid's head and shoulders enough to drink.

"Small sips," Hotch instructed as he carefully rested the rim of the bottle against Reid's bloody lips and tipped some of the contents into his bone dry mouth. The boy greedily gulped it down and Hotch let him drink a quarter of the bottle before pulling it away. Reid whined in protest but Hotch reassured him that he'd get more in a few minutes. Morgan eased him back onto the table.

After ten minutes had passed, Reid had made his way through an entire bottle without being sick and was starting on his second. The water seemed to revitalize him somewhat and made his breathing easier.

During a break between drinks he shifted his body on the table, seeking a more comfortable position, when wave of pain swept wracked his frame and bogged down his efforts. Reid cried out and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his muscles involuntarily writhed and spasmed. Morgan gently scooped him into his arms and carefully held him as he gasped and whimpered into his muscular chest.

"I've had enough of this waiting," he said heatedly after Reid had quieted some. He laid the still twitching genius back unto the table before going to the wall of tools and taking a pair of wire cutters.

"What are you doing?" Hotch demanded as he simultaneously comforted Reid. "We should wait for bomb squad."

"Are you really willing to wait any longer?" asked Morgan, fire in his eyes. "We need to get him out of here."

Hotch deliberated for a second before making his decision. "Do it."

Morgan immediately set off towards the stairs, using a mirror he'd picked up from the tool bench to examine the small bomb under the ledge of the step from all angles. It was a simple trip wire connected to what looked like a hand grenade with the handle pinched down by a zip tie around the middle of it. The wire was attached to the pin with next to no slack in the cord. It would be simple to dismantle as long as he put no tension on the wire while he cut it.

Morgan took a deep breath to steady his hands and checked to make sure that the wire cutters were sharp enough to do the job. Though they were stained with old blood that had begun to corrode the metal slightly, they were in good working order. The blood was for intimidation but the bastard made sure that his tools would be able to perform for his next victim. Morgan ground his teeth at the thought. What he wouldn't give to get his hands on this monster.

He steadied the wire with one hand on the pin and as gently and quickly as possible, snipped the thin metal cord. He had a split second flashback of his entire life; the taste of his mother's cooking, the sound of his sisters' laughter, the smell of Penelope's fruity perfume, the feel of Clooney's soft fur and Reid's shy smile. Then the millisecond reverie was over and replaced with an enormous rush of adrenalin, just like back in his bomb squad days. Most of the people on the squad were adrenalin junkies, cheating death to get to the next high. He almost missed it. Almost.

He dismantled the disarmed device. "It's done, Hotch" Morgan said as he hurried back into the cellar to his two companions. He saw a perceptible line of tension ease from the set Hotch's shoulders. Reid was only just barely conscious, his eyes almost impossible to keep open and exhaustion weighing heavily on his taxed system.

"He's losing consciousness," Hotch stated quickly. "We need to get him out of here now."

Morgan nodded. "Reid," he called, gently rousing the genius with a hand on a relatively uninjured patch of his chest. "We're gonna getting you out of here, but I'm going to have to carry you out. It's going to hurt."

Reid swallowed and weakly nodded. Even that minimal amount of movement was enough to make his see stars, he couldn't imagine what being picked up and carried would feel like but he wanted out of that goddamn basement no matter what the cost.

"Morgan disarmed the bomb," Hotch announced into the radio. "We're bringing him out now."

Morgan lifted Reid's shoulders up off of the table, as if he were helping him take a drink of water, then slipped a hand behind his back. He tucked another arm beneath his knees, apologizing softly when it ripped a cry from Reid's throat. He gave a small word of warning before he hoisted the boy off of the table and cradled him against his chest like a bride. Reid stifled a scream into Morgan's tee shirt clad shoulder.

Hotch tucked the blankets around Reid's trembling body and they quickly set out for the stairs.

Rossi and Prentiss were waiting for them at the top flagging down the EMT's to come to Reid's aid.

"Oh god," Prentiss intoned when she caught a glimpse of their boy genius who was only just barely clinging to consciousness. They watched as his eyes suddenly rolled back into his sockets and his breath let out in a shaky sigh as he passed out.

"Get a medic over here NOW" Hotch screamed towards the officers clustering around the house. The authoritarian ring of his voice brought a team of paramedics rushing towards them with a gurney.

Morgan gently laid Reid down onto the backboard and reluctantly relinquished possession of their genius. The EMT's began to hastily check him over, starting an IV line to replenish his obviously depleted fluids and they quickly ushered him towards the ambulance.

"What's his name, age, blood type and allergy history?" The tall EMT asked hurriedly.

"Agent Spencer Reid, 26. He's blood type AB- and he's allergic to sulfa." Hotch answered quickly. It was his job to know the medical history of each member of his team. The paramedic nodded his understanding and helped his partner hoist the gurney into the back of the bus.

"I'm riding with," Morgan declared, jumping in the back beside the gurney. The paramedic looked as though they were going to argue but the dark set of his expression made them think twice.

"We'll follow behind you" Hotch affirmed. He turned toward the sheriff who was watching the events from several feet away. The bomb squad was just now rolling up the drive. "I'm leaving you in charge of this crime scene, but this is federal jurisdiction. My people are coming to process the scene."

"Understood," The officer nodded before leaving to debrief the bomb squad arrivals.

The ambulance was off and the rest of the team piled into the black SUV and followed quickly behind on their way to the hospital.


Okay everybody, here's the deal: I have no idea where to go from here, and have very little planned out for the up coming chapters. I'm wide open for ideas. I know you've all been eagerly anticipating a huge pile of comfort and I don't want to disapoint. Suggestions are very welcome.

It's strange that dispite all the horrific torture, Reid is actually not hurt that badly. I could use some brainstorming help.

Thanks all,

PancakeMassacre