A/N: I'm so sorry that it took longer than usual to update, but I've had insanely busy few days! I've slept about four or five hours for several nights, so my head's even more of a mess than usual. (groans)

The chapter is now here, though! (beams) But before getting to it… THANK YOU, so much, for all that love and devotion! It really means a lot to me that you're out there waiting for each update. (BEAMS) Thank you! (HUGS)

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) Let's go, no? I REALLY hope you'll enjoy the ride!

SONG OF THE CHAPTER: 'The River' by Good Charlotte. I just love that song so much! (grins sheepishly)


The River


It was a solid fact that Aaron Hotchner was good at hiding his emotions. But that particular day – as he stood in a previously carefully hidden surveillance room of Wellington Sanitarium, staring at the surveillance camera's footage on a small TV-screen – he felt a time bomb stirring inside him.

He felt physically ill as he watched how Spencer fought back a nurse they now knew as Chris and ran, never even noticing how one of the bullets the nurse fired slammed into the tender flesh of his back.

Aaron looked away sharply, a foreign stinging sensation taking over his eyes. He found the quite pale chief of local police, Sharyan Miller, whose long brown hair appeared even messier than usual. She'd been helping them with this case from the beginning, so she was sadly aware of all the sick things they'd come across so far, but at the moment she appeared ready to vomit. There was a shaken look in her brown eyes.

"So this half of the hospital has been closed for the past five years?" he inquired, mostly because of a desperate need to hear something – anything – other than his own screaming thoughts.

If he'd pause to think now…

Chief Miller nodded, folding her arms to her chest. "Yeah. It was shut down due to budget cuts five years ago. I don't think a lot of people remember it even exists anymore. It was the perfect opportunity for Dr. Harris and his gang."

It was Aaron's turn to nod. His throat felt a lot tighter than he would've considered comfortable.

That was why Derek and he didn't get a clue of Spencer when they first came to see Dr. Harris with questions of his patient, Fernando 'Fez' Lopez, who'd been discovered murdered. No one had told them of this closed half. It was sheer luck that chief Miller had managed to hint them towards the right direction later. At the moment he could only pray it hadn't been too late.

Aaron was so deep in thought that he shuddered slightly when David Rossi's cell phone started ringing behind him. "Excuse me…", the man mumbled, then left the room.

It took a very long moment before chief Miller spoke. "That agent of yours… It seems he's made it through hell already. He's a fighter. He's not going to give up now."

Aaron didn't respond, mostly because he couldn't produce a sound. He really, truly hoped she was right. Because if they'd lose Spencer after all this…

Fortunately that trail of thought was cut when a man who looked strikingly like a younger Derek marched into the room with slightly wide eyes. The man – Woodridge – appeared ready to pass out. "You… You should come and see the backyard. You won't believe it."

Exactly one second later David also entered the room. There was a look that chilled Aaron to the bone on his face. "It was JJ. Something's finally happening."

Aaron had only ever felt as torn as he did then with Haley. It hurt physically but he was all too aware of his duties, no matter how much he hated it sometimes.

His eyes most likely radiated a lot more than he would've wanted when he looked at David. "Call Prentiss and Morgan, then go to the hospital. I'll be there as soon as I can." He then focused on officer Woodridge. "Show us what you've got."


Derek Morgan's temper was no secret amongst those who knew him. That rapidly darkening evening, as he sat in a interrogation room of a police station right across the table from nurse Chris Strummer, he felt ready to kill.

Yes, he understood that Dr. Daniel Harris was the mastermind behind this horror story. That he'd known Chris and the other nurse – Luca Jones – since the three of them were little boys, that the undeniably brilliant yet sick man had been brainwashing the two others into helping him since. The earliest bits of information he'd seen showed the three of them torturing animals when they were six. He understood that the man before him was a sad, very sick individual who needed help.

But good heavens, if Derek had been allowed to…

Despite the fact that Derek had given Chris several definitely painful bruises during the arrest the man didn't seem hesitant to push his buttons even further. Instead the nurse fixed a crooked smile his way, tilting his head. "I bet it's killing you that you're not allowed to lay your hands on me, agent." The man then leaned closer, as though about to trust him with a great secret. "You know… I wasn't just a mindless puppet. Luca… That poor guy's parents chose alcohol and heroin over their own son. He was a easy target when Daniel gave him a little bit attention. I, on the other hand…" Chris glanced towards the file that lay on the table between them. It had the nurse's name written on the sticker on top of it. "You're aware of my history. I had good, loving parents. My father – may he rest in peace – never even raised his voice at me. But I knew I was different, from the start." The man tapped his own head with two fingers. "It's all in here, you know?"

Derek nodded stiffly, burning taking over his veins until he feared he might suffocate. "I see", he responded wryly.

Chris seemed to see how his frail resolve started crackling. The man's nostrils widened, almost quivered, and a pink tongue licked dry lips. "Spencer… Out of all our experiments he was my favorite. I've never seen anyone as infuriatingly stubborn. And when he kept running even after that bullet hit him…" The man sighed, his eyes practically rolling with delight. "It felt fantastic to watch. He was really something special."

At that very moment the little resolve Derek previously had exploded to pieces. Faster than Chris could even pull in a proper breath Derek had jumped over the table and taken the stunned nurse to the floor. He rammed his fist into Chris' face once, twice, thrice, getting a sick quiver of satisfaction upon seeing the trail of blood seeping from the nurse's nose. Then he curled the fingers of both his hands around the other man's neck and squeezed. "You… fucking son of a bitch…", he hissed. His breath hitched and his eyes were on fire. He couldn't be sure if a couple of tears spilled to his cheeks, didn't even care. "Don't… mention his name ever again, do you hear? If you mention his name I'm going to fucking kill you."

Chris was already choking, his lips gaining a hint of blue. That was when the room's door was thrown open. Derek unleashed a nearly animalistic scream of protest when firm arms pulled him off of Chris and a safe distance away. "Morgan, cut it out! Get a hold of yourself – he's not worth it!" Somehow the sound of Emily Prentiss' familiar voice managed to cut the sharpest tip from his rage, despite the fact that she sounded ready to cry. The woman didn't dare to loosen the irony hold she had on him, though. "Take deep, even breaths. Calm down."

Derek did, only then becoming aware of the tears blurring his line of vision.

While getting examined by a young female officer named Kincaid, who had long blond hair and sharp blue eyes, Chris gave him a taunting look. "I'm going to sue your sorry ass."

Kincaid snorted, pressing on the nurse's bleeding nose a lot more roughly than would've been necessary. "Good luck with that. Because I didn't see a thing and the camera was off."

If Chris' look could've killed the officer would've lost her life at that moment.

With Chris' attention coaxed elsewhere Emily leaned closer to Derek's ear and whispered in a uncharacteristically unsteady tone. "I… I just got a call from Hotch." She swallowed loudly. "We should go to the hospital."

Derek's heart skipped several valuable beats while he swallowed despite the fact that his mouth had gone painfully dry.


Spencer's mind was unexpectedly slow to reach out towards the deafeningly loud world around him. There was beeping and talking, some sort of clattering. The TV seemed to be on.

Spencer's head hurt like hell and he attempted to groan with displeasure – perhaps to even tell someone to quiet down the noises around him – but something was blocking his throat. That very realization, quickly followed by a sensation of suffocating, made his eyes fly open. He tried to scream with extreme displeasure when all the light and white assaulted his eyes.

"Reid, kid, calm down." Derek's voice was painfully loud but also familiar, reassuring. He clung to it with all his might, not even caring if it was for real or not. "Calm down. You're safe now, okay? You're safe and sound. I've got you." A hand squeezed his and after what felt like ages he pressed back.

Or tried to, at least. Because it looked like he couldn't hold on to anything.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again. This time he was prepared for the assault of white and it didn't overwhelm him anymore. He took several minutes, staring at the white ceiling up above. It occurred to him that he recognized that sterile reek hanging thickly around him. Slowly yet surely his foggy brain began to register facts.

A hospital. He was in a real hospital. He was alive.

Somewhere at his right the infuriating beeping grew a lot more frantic and he winced, his stiff and numb fingers clenching on the bedsheets. Suddenly something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

In the furthest corner of the room a TV was on. Apparently there was a newsreport. His eyes widened and his chest tightened to a extend where it hurt.

The documentary footage… It was from Wellington Sanitarium. His whole body went numb from shock and terror as he stared at the familiar walls and windows, a violent flood of flashes spinning in his head. It felt like he was still inside his nightmare.

Then the footage's location changed and Spencer could've sworn his heart stopped although the violent beeping beside him told otherwise.

There were grave holes in a forest opening only a slight distance away from the hospital, dug open by the police. At least twenty-five of them. Dr. Harris had killed all those people and managed to do it so that no outsider had a clue.

Spencer felt a urge to throw up and his fingers twitched like he was convulsing.

The team… They'd only been examining five murders – for some reason Dr. Harris, or perhaps Chris, had dumped those bodies to a river. They'd never had the time to notice that so many people were also missing. To realize that…

Then another flash appeared to the TV screen and Spencer couldn't think at all anymore.

The TV showed a newspaper cover – and his picture was on it, although he could barely even recognize himself. A picture of him in the ICU. He was attached to a ventilator and what looked like a million tubes and vires. He appeared swollen from whatever medication they'd given him and his skin held a far from healthy color. His wide, frantic eyes locked on the words right beside the picture.

'…the only survivor…'

He shuddered with immense startle when the room's door opened and turned his gaze rapidly. In walked a doctor in her early thirties with black-framed eyeglasses, neatly tied hair of the same color and big blue eyes.

For a moment she appeared just as startled as he did but then smiled. "Well good morning, Dr. Reid. I'm Dr. Alanna Douglas – I've been treating you since you were cleared from the ICU. It's good to finally have you with us." She made some notes, then walked to his bed and pulled out a tiny flashlight. "Could you follow this light with your eyes?" He did as ordered, every single one of his muscles tightening. She nodded with approval. "Very good. Do you know why you're here?"

Spencer nodded, his throat so raspy and sore that he didn't dare to even try talking yet.

Although… To be fully honest he wasn't entirely sure. He remembered realizing what Dr. Harris was all about. He remembered running. He remembered black. And JJ.

Feeling a sudden wave of panic he squirmed, wishing from the bottom of his heart that his body would've had the strength for getting up. And then Dr. Douglas lay a hand on his shoulder. At that point even fear of facing masses of pain couldn't hold him back.

He screamed, his tormented throat making it sound like a noise coming from a injured, horrified wild animal. Or that's how it sounded in his head. He was fairly sure that in reality all he managed to squeeze out was a pathetic wheeze.

Dr. Douglas was quick to pull her hand away. Her face revealed hints of regret, sadness and fear, which only made him feel worse. "I understand that you've been through a lot, but we need to work together for your wellbeing, alright?" She sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that, I really am." She nodded towards the TV, her nose wrinkling slightly. "And I'm even more sorry that we couldn't prevent that. A reporter sneaked into your room a day after you were admitted, dressed up as a member of staff. The footage was on air before anyone could do a thing to stop it."

Spencer nodded slowly, working his hardest to make sense into things. To him being unable to think properly was foreign and extremely unpleasant.

He then frowned, finally registering the pain floating pretty much everywhere inside his body. Something dramatic must've happened. He allowed his gaze to linger on the machines and tubes, then glanced towards the doctor with questioning, demanding eyes.

'Just tell me, everything', his eyes demanded.

Dr. Douglas seemed to understand although it was clear that she didn't like it. Her weight shifted from one leg to another. "Based on what I've heard from your friends you're man of science and facts, so I'm going to be honest with you. But you need to tell me if it's too much too soon." The doctor seemed hesitant at first but then began in a calm, soothing voice. "You were shot to the back. The bullet caused massive internal bleeding – we lost you once on the table. It took longer than we would've hoped before your body remembered how to breathe on its own again but you've been off the ventilator for two days." She sighed. "The bullet also damaged one of your kidneys irreversibly. It wouldn't have been life threatening if we hadn't discovered that you only had one kidney left to begin with. It seems that Dr. Harris removed the other. Your team believes that it was a trophy of some sort."

Spencer frowned, cold creeping into his body. Instinctively his hand found its way to his lower abdomen. "What… are you saying?" he asked in a absolutely pathetic raspy and barely audible voice. Of course he knew what the doctor was trying to say, intellectually. But it appeared he needed to hear it said out loud.

Dr. Douglas sighed, looking at him directly to eyes. "I'm sorry, but you're going to need dialysis until you get a new kidney." She seemed to bite the inner side of her cheek, trying to brace herself. "The kidney situation also complicates the process of your body getting rid of all the drugs Dr. Harris gave you. Your ICU doctor ran a tox screen as soon as you were admitted. There was a great deal of hallucinogens in your bloodstream."

Spencer sunk more heavily against his bedsheets and fought the urge to bury his face into his by then trembling hands. A stinging sensation took over his eyes but tears didn't fall.

So… After all this he'd have to fight against the chokehold of drugs, again? Fate sure had ways to screw around with him.

He shuddered when feeling a hand laid on top of his. It was Dr. Douglas', and somehow her smile made it easier than he could've ever imagined to accept the touch, the comfort. "I know this is a lot to take in, especially when you only just woke up. Right now your body needs a lot of rest. Once you're better I want you to be patient and take one step at a time. And come what may, remember that you're not in this alone." She replied to his frown with nodding towards the other side of the room. He looked towards the pointed direction. If he'd had even the slightest bit more strength in his body he would've smiled.

There on a surprisingly comfortable looking, huge chair was the slumped form of Emily, who was clearly fast asleep.

"Three days ago you were finally at least somewhat coherent for a couple of minutes. Since then she's been awake, waiting. She fell asleep a couple of hours ago", Dr. Douglas revealed.

Spencer blinked several times, staring at the sleeping woman. After everything he'd been through it was almost impossible to believe that Emily was really there, right before his eyes. He was scared to death that she might disappear and he'd be back with Dr. Harris if he'd close his eyes so he barely dared to blink.

"Get some rest, Dr. Reid." Dr. Douglas' voice sounded far off. He was clearly falling asleep already. Instead of the pain coursing through his body he focused on the feel of her cool hand. "They'll all be here when you wake up, I promise."

Spencer didn't have much of a choice, really. His head was already turning foggy.

The last thing he saw before the shadows swallowed him was Emily's eyes fluttering open.


Aaron felt out of place and extremely uncomfortable as he stood in the room Spencer was locked into not too long ago.

Two and a half months. That was how long Spencer spent here, while they searched through all the wrong places. Aaron knew he shouldn't blame himself. Dr. Harris was smart enough to take Spencer several states away from the original location, and after two weeks Erin Strauss ordered them in no uncertain terms to give the investigations into other hands.

Aaron should've never, ever fallen for that trap. He should've never trusted Spencer's life into the hands of strangers. Derek sure as hell didn't. Aaron knew exactly what the man had been doing whenever they weren't on a case. Aaron hoped from the bottom of his heart that one day Derek would understand that as a unit chief and father he had his hands full with looking after Jack and trying the keep the remaining BAU-family from falling apart completely.

But they were already in pieces. Derek was angry with everything and everyone, most of all with himself. JJ was tripping over herself trying to make amends and remain invisible. Emily was sinking into a world of guilt – these days she carried around the scent of cigarettes and long, sleepless nights. David was slowly yet surely isolating himself from the rest of them, having seen these things happen far too often. Penelope was utterly, throughoutly exhausted with trying futilely to keep at least a semblance of peace between all of them. And Aaron… He didn't even know what he was anymore.

They were in pieces. And Aaron, quite selfishly, hoped from the bottom of his heart that Spencer was the glue they needed. Once again he found himself wondering if Spencer had even the slightest clue of how important he was to them. If they'd ever bothered to show or tell him.

It was fortunate, really, that his thoughts were cut at that very moment by approaching steps. He glanced through the corner of his eye how Penelope stood beside him, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes were already shimmering with moisture.

Feeling a massive wave of sympathy towards her he considered taking her hand but decided against it. "What are you doing here?" he asked softly instead.

Penelope's mouth opened several times but in the end she didn't managed to produce what she was supposed to. Instead she shook her head, appearing dazed and crushed. "I have no idea."

It was then her eyes met what he'd been staring at for what felt like ages. The bed that only a blink ago belonged to Spencer had been flipped over, so that the bottom was visible. There, engraved to the wood in a all too familiar handwriting, were Spencer's desperate words.

'You're SSA Dr. Spencer Reid.'

It seemed that was what it took for Penelope to break down. As she exploded into violent, loud sobs and covered her face with both hands something broke down inside Aaron as well.

For the first time since Haley Aaron felt a tear sliding down his cheek – just a single one, but still. Somehow it made the agonizing damn that'd been sitting on his chest crack just a little bit.

Outside sun peered through grey.


When Spencer woke up once more he was immediately aware of the fact that he wasn't alone. Startled he turned his gaze to find JJ sitting on a chair right beside his bed.

JJ. Alive and well. Alive.

So he hadn't dreamt that part, after all.

She smiled at him and despite the fact that there were tears in her eyes it made him feel warmer than he had in ages, since this all began. Her smile finally convinced him of the fact that he was really coming out of the nightmare.

He shivered slightly when her hand squeezed his, then found himself holding back. He truly hoped he managed to smile back at her, at least a little bit.

After everything – after Emily and Ian Doyle, all the lies, those endless ten weeks, bitter words, hurt, this – there was a huge load of things they'd have to go through before things could be even close to normal, close to what they once were. It'd take a lot of work to tear down the walls between them, hell a lot more than just one pasta party. He understood that. But as it was that failed to concern him.

He'd just been told she was dead – he'd almost died. After something like that…

He took a deep breath, finding himself relaxing despite the pain his body was in, and at least attempted to squeeze her hand once. She held back with both hands, with all her might.

He fell asleep to her touch. And JJ stayed right there beside him, even when the nightmares took control. When Spencer dreamt of Dr. Harris giving him an injection he could've sworn he heard her humming softly.

She couldn't shield him from the nightmares. But she was sure to walk him through them.


TBC, for an epilogue.


A/N: Oh boy… (sighs) It's drawing close to the end, but the journey is only just beginning. There are TONS of scars to be closed, and not just for Reid.

PLEASE, leave a review – let me hear from you! Awww, c'mon – if I give cute puppy eyes would it softens your hearts to click the button down below…?

IN THE NEXT AND (geez, I can't believe this!) LAST ONE: Time has passed, but has time managed to mend all scars? A ghost from the past changes a life.

Until next time! I REALLY hope you'll all join in for the finally.

Take care!


secret agent person: Awww, such kind words! (beams)

Oh no! (winces) I wouldn't want the ninja monkies cry. It'd be so sad! (chews bottom lip)

Massive thank yous for the review! I really hope the next one's worth the wait.