Author's note: You guys rock! Thank you soooo much to my readers (SasukoUchmaki2012, Pembie, Yeegaber, Pallyndrome, JessicaRae95, Hippiechic81 and my two guest reviewers) for your lovely comments! I really appreciate it! Seeing those little comments pop into my inbox makes my day.

Hope you like this latest chapter. I really struggled with this one so I'm not sure if it's any good. This is probably about the 5th version of this chapter… but well, I'm gonna go nuts if I don't walk away now. Let me know what you think.


Chapter 7

Early Wednesday morning…

Reid lay on his right-hand side and stared across the room to the window. It was getting bright outside, but there were blinds on the glass that made it difficult to see anything. He could really only make out the swaying of a tree in the distance as a green blurry shape moved back and forth. He didn't have his glasses and his distance vision wasn't good enough to make out the details. Not the leaves or the branches, just vague brown shapes melding into green…

He knew that he could probably send one of the team to his apartment to retrieve a spare pair of glasses or his contact lenses case, or even ask the doctors to arrange replacements for him, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care. His eyes were too sore anyway.

In truth, everything was sore.

He'd hardly slept because of the pain and now the tiredness was making even the smallest twinges seem amplified. His stomach burned along the incision site, and every movement reminded him that his whole abdomen was bruised a deep shade of blackened purple. His ribs ached, the skin on his feet felt tight and itchy, and it hurt to breathe in or drink anything because his throat was so swollen. And then there were other things that were bothering him, maybe more than everything else combined. The injuries to his nether regions served as an ever-constant reminder of what had happened, forcing him to remember every time he moved...

But laying still wasn't an option either. The bruises on his hips made lying down incredibly uncomfortable and his ribs throbbed more and more the longer he stayed in one position. He'd never been this miserable.

A low rumbling snore got his attention and he glanced tiredly over his shoulder at the man currently occupying the chair. Rossi had been snoring off and on during the night, alternating between little snuffly snorts and full-on 'shake the place down' snores. Of course, he knew the Italian would deny it, just like he always did when they were roomed together. He'd tried explaining that it wasn't anything to be ashamed of; that there was a higher incidence of snoring in older men, with only 10% of men aged 17-29 afflicted with the condition, but over 50% of men aged 50 years of age and over… but he'd been met with an indignant glare that said 'I am not old!'. He did wonder at the wisdom of leaving a chronic snorer in a room with an invalid with specific orders to 'get some sleep'. They all knew the Italian snored. Even the female members of the team had been treated to his foghorn snores on occasion on the plane. If he'd had even the slightest chance of sleeping despite all the pain, he was pretty sure Rossi's snores would have put paid to that.

As it was, he was almost grateful for the disturbance. What little sleep he had managed to get had been plagued by nightmares. Terrifying dreams that had been all too real and had left him gasping and sweating, his heart trying to leap out of his chest. He was scared to go to sleep.

The problem was, the more he tried not to fall asleep, the heavier his body felt. His eyes kept slipping closed and he had to keep shaking himself to stay awake.

He turned to gaze out the window again with a frustrated little huff. He didn't want to think about what the team were doing right now, but it was easier said than done. The thought of it had his stomach in knots and he couldn't concentrate on anything else. He just kept wondering what was taking so long?! How difficult could it be to go search a hotel room?! Either Kris was there, or he wasn't. They would have had their answer hours ago. Why had no-one called to give him an update?!


Morgan shoved a police officer out of the way as he made a frantic dash from the room, his hand covering his mouth as vomit rushed up his throat. He only made it to the corridor outside the room before vomiting into a large plant pot. He retched and retched, grimacing in disgust as chunks of partially digested danish and sour morning coffee splashed out onto the beige carpet.

"Are you okay?" he heard Hotch say, a pair of shiny black shoes appearing in his field of vision but keeping a respectful distance.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he gasped in a few gulps of air and then spat. He had one hand braced against the wall to support himself, but he was almost bent double, dry heaving unproductively. His stomach was obviously empty, but his brain hadn't quite got the message yet.

"Morgan…" he heard the other man begin, "I understand it's difficult..."

"I'm fine" he said, wiping at his mouth as he moved down the hallway to a seated area in a sort of mini-foyer, "It's just… It's Reid, man… I mean…" He sat down on one of the chaise longue type seats and rubbed his face in his hands. "How is any of this fair?"

"It isn't" replied Hotch, following him with a bottle of water that one of the police officers had handed to him. "Here" he said, pressing the bottle and packet of tissues into the other man's hands.

"Thanks" said Morgan, flushing a little with embarrassment. It had been a long time since a crime scene had made him vomit. It wasn't supposed to happen to a seasoned agent like himself. He took the bottle of water and began to take small sips, swishing the water around his mouth to try to wash away the taste of vomit. "I just didn't think it would be so bad" he said after a moment, "I mean… there's blood everywhere."

The room had been a shock for both men, even after so many years on the job. The bed covers, once white and pristine, were now blood splattered, torn, and twisted into makeshift ropes that had obviously been used to restrain their friend. They were looped around the headboard and around the posts at the foot of the bed. The mattress had a large dark stain in the middle, and there was a trail of blood across the carpet that looked as though someone had been dragged kicking and screaming. Handprints stained the bathroom door, blood was splattered all over the porcelain roll-top bath, and the mirror was broken in a way that suggested someone's head had been smashed against it. Even after two days, the air was still thick with the smell of sex and blood and urine. The place was nothing short of a bloodbath.

"They're taking samples" said Hotch, with a grim little nod, "And they're packing away the needles… And those vials you found..."

"Muscle relaxants" nodded Morgan, his face darkening with anger, "Just like Reid said…"

'I… I couldn't move, Morgan… I couldn't move!' he remembered Reid sobbing, 'I just had to lie there and let him do that to me. I just kept hoping someone would come through the door and help me. There was one time… I think he ordered room service, and I heard a woman's voice at the door. I wanted so bad to shout for help, but my mouth… my mouth wouldn't work... He had me tied up… I was on the bed and he… he just threw some blankets over me and went to the door. She was right there! Why didn't she see?!'

Morgan balled his hand into a fist and drove it into the seat beside him. "That fucker had him paralysed for two days, Hotch! If I get my hands on him, I'm not gonna be responsible for my actions!"

"Morgan, I'm sorry, but I think maybe we need to hand this to another team" said Hotch, sinking down onto the couch beside him, "I think we're too close to this to…"

"You can't be serious?!" exclaimed Morgan, turning to him with a scowl, "Tell me you're not serious, man?!"

"I think it might be for the best" sighed Hotch. He looked worried.

"Just cos I hurled?" demanded Morgan, a look of angry indignation on his face, "It won't happen again, Hotch… I just..."

"No" he sighed, "It's not about that… I'm not happy about it either, but I just think we might be better placed to help Reid emotionally if we take a step back from this and allow another team to run the case… It may be better from a legal standpoint too, if this makes it to court."

"And you really think Reid would be okay with that?!" demanded Morgan, "Cos I sure as hell wouldn't be… If this had happened to me, I know I'd want my friends to go out there and do what they do best. Find this sick fucker, and make sure he pays for what he did… Not just stand around doing nothing. Reid needs to know we got his back, that we're gonna protect him no matter what it takes… He has to be able to count on us, Hotch!"

"Morgan… It's not that simple…" began the older agent, but they were interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone. He gave Morgan a look that said, 'This isn't finished' and then fished for his phone in his pocket.

"Garcia?" he said, as he answered, "You're on speaker..."

"Talk to me, Baby Girl" said Morgan as Hotch placed the phone on the cushion between them, "What you got for us?"

"Okay… so I did a thing…" she began, her voice unusually panicked, "And… and I know I shouldn't have done it, but I did… and now I know something that I shouldn't know… but…"

"Garcia, slow down!" said Hotch, his voice soft but authoritative.

"Yes sir!" she chirped a little breathlessly, "I'm trying."

"Now, start from the beginning…" he coaxed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "What is the 'thing' you did? Or do I not want to know?"

"I…Oh God, he's never gonna forgive me!" she whined.

"Who isn't?" asked Morgan.

"My sweet little Baby Cakes" she sighed, "You know how much he values his privacy… And I just went and… Oh God, he's gonna hate me!"

"Garcia, can you please just spit it out?!" asked Hotch, his voice betraying his impatience, "What have you done?!"

"Okay… so, I was trying to find a Chris Novotny where my sweet little Junior G-Man lectures but I couldn't find him… like anywhere… He's not staff, and he's never been enrolled… So, I started looking at college forums and I found a 'Kris' with a K with a username of 'Kris-nova'. So, I'm like 'bingo!' Scumbag pops up on a lot of the LGBTQIA websites and forums, ranting about people not living by 'God's laws' and how they need to be 'bred' to teach them how to function normally…and I took a guess that this was him…"

"Okay… I don't see how Reid is gonna be upset with you though?" said Morgan.

"Well… I sort of looked at Reid's search history" she answered, "I mean, I know I shouldn't have… but well, it kind of made sense… and I… I don't know, I thought maybe…"

"What's the forum for?" asked Morgan, a sinking feeling in his gut.

"It's um… it's an 'Ace' forum" she answered, "For um… for asexual people…"

"I see" answered Hotch, the pieces clearing clicking together in his mind.

"So… um… I found out that he's been writing on this forum and talking to people for the last few months… and well… some of the men who were on that forum are missing… Like 'poof!' they're just gone! There are three missing person's reports… I think our guy 'Kris-with-a-K' might be a serial killer!"


Reid gave a startled gasp as he opened his eyes, a pinprick sensation in his thigh. The room was a lot darker now. He must have fallen asleep! He froze stock-still when he realised there was someone in the bed behind him, pressed flush against his body, squeezing him so tight he could hardly breathe. "Spencer" moaned the intruder, hot breath in his ear, the voice thick with arousal, "God, you smell so good". He cringed when he realised that he was naked and that the other body was naked too, a man's crotch pressing against him, nestled sickeningly between his buttocks. A leg began to rub insistently up and down his naked thigh and that voice whispered again, "Gonna show you… gonna make you beg for it..." He wanted to argue, to say no, to tell Kris he didn't want this. Never had! Never would! But he couldn't make his mouth work, the muscles uncooperative and sluggish, simply gulping in panicked breaths. He tried to move, he tried to pull away, but he couldn't. Paralysed! It was happening again!

"Reid!" came a loud voice, and a hand reached out and shook his shoulder a little violently, "Spencer! Wake up!"

Reid's eyes flicked open, and he gave a loud gasp, as he scrambled out of the bed and onto the floor with a heavy thud. His arm was still attached to the IV so the pole clattered to the floor beside him. He clutched at his chest and wheezed as the panic took hold. A man was crouching down in front of him but he couldn't focus on what was being said. All his panic-stricken brain could manage was a single thought; 'Run, Spencer! Run!'

Before he could even try to get up, the figure in front of him held him down, an authoritative voice telling him to wait for the doctors, that they'd need to check him out for further injury. What if you've burst your stitches?

Didn't they understand that there was a rapist on the loose?! Burst stitches were the least of his worries!

"Get him away from me!" he rasped out, looking behind him at the bed in terror, "Somebody help!"

"Shh, shhh, easy… calm down Spencer, calm down!" he heard the man say, a hand holding him in place with very little effort, "It was just a bad dream, okay? …Look where you are… It's just a hospital room… You're safe."

His eyes flitted madly around the room, bouncing from corner to corner in search of a fellow naked body. He needed to see where Kris had gone. He'd been just here, hadn't he?! How could he have gotten out of the room so fast?! He glanced up at the man in front of him and blinked a couple of times to try to focus on his face. Through his panicked haze, the face began to become clear. 'Hotch!' his brain supplied a little foggily, 'Hotch will know where he went!'

"Where is he?!" he whined, eyes pleading with Hotch to make this all go away, "He was just here!"

"Who?" asked Hotch, a look of pity and concern etched across his face, "Reid, there's no-one else, here… Rossi left this morning."

"Not Rossi… Kris!" he hissed at him, yanking at the gown to try to cover himself up, "He was just in here! He was in my bed!" A wave of anger crashed over him. He'd been trusting his team to watch out for him, even letting his guard down a little, and they'd allowed that man to get in here… and… touch him again! "You… you let him get to me!" he growled accusingly, "You promised me I was safe!"

"Spencer, you are safe!" sighed Hotch, "You are! One of us has been here the whole time… It was just a dream."

Just a dream? He glanced around him again, noting the bright light outside, and then down at the gown he was wearing. Of course! It had been a dream! He knew that… Of course, he knew that! Kris wasn't here. And yet… it had felt so real. His skin, his smell, the feel of him against his body… He felt like throwing up.

"Oh God!" he groaned, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth as he began to retch.

"Woah, Spencer!" gasped Hotch, as he made a mad grab for an emesis tray off the table above him and just managed to get it under Reid's nose in time for the flood of vomit rushing out of his mouth.

Reid heaved violently, bringing up what little food he'd managed to force down the evening before. He gulped in desperate breaths of air in between retches, almost choking himself, and moaning loudly at the pain of both his belly and his ribs. "Oh God!" he groaned, when the nausea finally began to ease off. Distantly, he became aware of Hotch's hand on his back rubbing soft circles, and the fact that the man was now holding an over-flowing basin of sick in the other one. "Sorry" he moaned, wiping at his mouth, and glancing shamefacedly at his boss.

"It's fine, Reid" said Hotch, setting the emesis bowl aside and reaching for a box of tissues he'd just spotted.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this" sighed Reid, accepting a tissue and swallowing convulsively to try to quell the queasiness in his stomach.

"This is the second time I've been thrown up on today" chuckled Hotch, "At least you managed to get most of it in the bowl." He elected not to tell him it was Morgan that had been doing the vomiting because of what that would mean. "You get used to it when you have kids" he added hastily. With that, he got to his feet and reached for him, "Come on, let's get you back into bed?"

Reid gave a weak little nod. Even if he wanted to object, he didn't think he would have the energy to say no, and truth be told, his whole body was aching right now. He couldn't stay on the hard floor for much longer.

With some difficulty, Hotch managed to manoeuvre him off the floor, trying and failing to find a way to lift him without hurting him in one way or another. In the end, Reid just grit his teeth and allowed himself to be trailed up, his legs too weak to offer much support. With a hiss, he settled back against the pillows and arranged himself under the blankets.

'Calm down' he told himself. Even though he was much more comfortable in the bed than he had been on the floor, he couldn't shake the feeling that Kris had been in this bed too. That he'd been there and somehow tainted it. 'You're being ridiculous!' he mentally scolded himself, 'He's not here!'

"Someone's been here the whole time?" he asked, unable to stop himself from double-checking but more than a little embarrassed at how paranoid he sounded, "You didn't leave me alone?"

Hotch gazed at him for a moment, silently reading him with soft fatherly eyes. "No, Spencer" he said, as though he was reassuring Jack after a nightmare, "We didn't leave you alone. Morgan was here… Rossi came in to relieve him last night, and I took over this morning. There's always been someone here… and I was here when you started having that nightmare."

"So… he couldn't have been here?" he said, more as a statement than a question, "Kris definitely wasn't here?"

"No, Spencer, he wasn't" Hotch assured him, "It was just a dream."

Reid nodded, his eyelids growing heavy, but he startled when he felt Hotch lift the blankets back and begin to tentatively lift his hospital gown.

"What are you doing?!" he gasped, weakly reaching for the hem to pull it back down again.

"I just want to check your wound" said Hotch, his voice even and calm, "You fell out of bed. You might have busted your stitches?"

"I'm fine" he replied shortly, the pained expression on his face telling a different story, "It's fine… I'm fine…" There was a hint of panic in his voice. He didn't want Hotch seeing him naked.

"I just want to make sure the wound isn't bleeding" the older agent insisted, "It's better than me calling the doctor in, isn't it? You know they'll take a lot longer than I will…"

Reid rolled his eyes. He recognised it for what it was, a very manipulative ploy, and he couldn't help feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for Jack Hotchner. With a father like this, the boy must never get away with anything.

"Fine!" he grunted, "But only the bandage on my stomach. Nothing else. I'm still capable of telling when I need help."

Hotch gave a tiny, almost imperceptible little smile, before gently rolling the hospital gown up far enough to get a look at the large pad of gauze bandage taped to Reid's abdomen. Reid looked away, flushing a little pink as the older agent peeled back the bandage to check for bleeding before taping it back into place. "

Looks okay" said Hotch, replacing the gown and pulling the blankets back for him. "How's the pain?"

"It's fine" answered Reid.

Hotch almost rolled his eyes. "Please don't do that, Reid… I asked you a simple question, I want an honest answer."

Reid licked his lips and turned his gaze to the window for a moment. "It's… manageable" he answered eventually, "I don't want to take any more painkillers."

"I respect that" answered Hotch, "But there's a limit to how much pain you should be in… You can have NSAIDs. I don't want you suffering unnecessarily." He waited for Reid to look at him. "I mean it."

Reid just nodded reluctantly. "I take it you didn't get Kris?" he asked, fingers nervously picking at the material of his gown, "Morgan said he would call…"

"No, Reid, I'm sorry" said Hotch, "He wasn't there… The hotel said he'd paid up for an extra week and put a 'do not disturb' sign on the door. They don't know when he left."

Reid nodded glumly. "So… You just… You saw the hotel room?"

"We did" confirmed Hotch.

"And it was… it was still… like before?" he stammered. Flashes of blood-soaked sheets and blood dripping down porcelain flashed through his mind.

"Yes" answered Hotch, his eyes full of compassion for the younger man, "It didn't look like he'd made any effort to clean things up…. It's all being taken into evidence…"

Reid nodded, as he watched the older man speak. He sensed that there was something Hotch wasn't telling him. The man's body language was tense and guarded and he was being too nice, too gentle. Something had the man walking on eggshells around him even more than he had been earlier, in a state of hyper-vigilance, his eyes flitting to the doorway every time there was a noise in the hallway. Not only that, but Hotch was wearing a Kevlar vest and he had both his guns on him. Something had obviously freaked him out, and if Aaron Hotchner was freaking out, then it had to be something bad. It was then that he noticed the armed security guard stationed outside his door. His eyes flitted back to meet the worried gaze of his boss. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked.