Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hello all! Thank you again to everyone who is reading, reviewing, or adding this story to their alerts/favorites! I'm sorry I didn't get around to answering the reviews this time…grad school has been INSANE. But I'm hoping to answer them this time. Thanks for the support! Also, I just wanted to be clear and let everyone breathe easy; I know there seemed to be some worry about Reid and Chase, but I won't be killing either of them. I've read some very well-written death-fics, but I can't bring myself to kill a major character unless it's a villain….I just bring them very close to the edge. Anyhow, enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Chapter 9: Variation 8

Breathe life into this feeble heart/Lift this mortal veil of fear/Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears/We'll rise above these earthly cares/Cast your eyes on the ocean/Cast your soul to the sea/When the dark night seems endless/Please remember me." ~ Dante's Prayer (Loreena McKennitt)

Reid knew he wasn't getting enough oxygen to his brain.

He was getting air, but it wasn't nearly enough to make his mind function properly. He was sitting up, desperate for a deep breath but finding none, grasping his chest even if he knew that wouldn't help in the slightest. He felt Gideon's hand on his back, rubbing up, down. The trouble was, it wasn't just the lack of air, it was the searing pain that cut across his lungs, a pain he had felt once before, during the anthrax episode. There had been damage to his lungs, he knew, and he had a terrible feeling that said damage was making this worse.

"Breathe Reid," Gideon said gently. "Just focus on breathing, the doctors are coming."

"Gideon," Reid said, his ramblings slipping into a delirium. He couldn't focus, couldn't form coherent sentences. "Gideon it doesn't make any sense, none of it makes sense. I have to…I have to help…case."

"Don't talk Spencer, just breathe," Gideon said, but there was sharp fear in his voice, and Reid had never been fond of that particular sound, because when Gideon showed his fear, it meant something was surely very, very wrong.

"Someone…grudge," Reid said, feeling his eyes falling half closed, his brain screaming in protest that it wasn't getting enough air and that Reid could no longer articulate his thought process; his brain was his most powerful weapon and yet at the moment he needed it most it was rendered useless. "Doesn't…need to call my mother…"

Reid heard, rather than saw Drs. Foreman and Cuddy enter, the machine's shrill, piercing screams seemingly growing louder.

"Do we need to intubate?" Cuddy questioned, making for the intubation kit in the supply drawers.

"Dr. Reid," Foreman said. "Can you talk? Can you breathe at all?"

"A…little."

"He wasn't making any sense," Gideon cut in. "He was talking nonsense."

"He isn't getting enough oxygen to his brain," Foreman said, gesturing at Cuddy to grab an oxygen mask. "He doesn't need to be intubated because his airway isn't closed off, but he needs more oxygen. A lot more. His lungs are being forced to work too hard."

Reid's breaths grew ever shallow, and he saw dark spots playing at the edges of his eyes; it was similar to how he'd felt in Tobias Hankel's cabin, and then he was remembering death, and the warmth, and the light he saw…

He wasn't ready to see that light again…

Spencer knew he was dying.

He knew the minute Tobias, consumed by the personality of his father, pushed the chair over, that he would die. He couldn't breathe…his heart felt as if it might explode, and his mind, his mind…he couldn't even think straight. He didn't have time to think, really. He just saw flashes of color, flashes of his life.

Had he been able, he would have laughed at how cliché it was.

He saw a flash of his mother reading Dickens aloud while he sat next to her on the bed, a flash of his father walking out, a soft goodbye on his lips and a letter for him on the table, a flash of his doctoral graduation from Cal-Tech, a flash of his first day at the BAU…a flash of the team at dinner after a case, laughing uproariously at something ridiculous because that was how they all kept their sanity. He wasn't even sure if what he felt as the life slipped from him, as he convulsed on the floor, was fear, or rather regret at having everything cut so short. He hadn't wanted to die like this, in a cold dark cabin as Tobias' eyes gleamed with the life of his father, handing down what he saw as righteous justice. There was no one here with him, and he thought that even dying might be made better by the presence of a friendly face, sitting with him as he was sent on to whatever happened after death…if anything happened. He longed for his BAU family, if only to tell them goodbye, to tell them all how much they meant to him. He longed to see his mother's face, to hear her voice. "It's okay baby," she would say as she stroked his hair. "It's okay."

He had one last glimpse of the rotting ceiling of Tobias' cabin before, slipping into darkness, and in that moment he felt his surmounting fear wrapped in an odd sort of peace.

But it wasn't over.

A light was overtaking the darkness, slowly spreading itself out in front of his eyes. It wasn't as if he was walking toward it…more like it was blanketing him instead. This unnerved Spencer perhaps more than dying had.

He was a man of science, of logic, of facts, and there was no quantifiable proof that God existed. However, his job had taught him that sometimes things couldn't always be explained, and as many horrors as he had seen, he had also witnessed events that some would deem miracles. He'd seen kidnapped children returned to their parents despite the overwhelming odds; he'd seen people hang on through the most gruesome torture; he'd seen the team stop an unsub mere seconds before another life might have been lost. It was moments like those that kept him going through the horrific crime scenes, the dead bodies, the broken families. They kept him going through the nightmares.

Those miracles, if that was what they were, had been what pushed him to start considering a degree in Philosophy, even though nearly everyone he mentioned it to pointed out that it starkly contrasted from his other fields of study. He certainly wasn't putting his facts and his logic aside; they were an inherent part of who he was, and had led to breaks in more cases than he could remember. He was simply supplementing them with a new kind of viewpoint, because as he'd grown, he'd started to understand that the world was not always black and white. Profiling itself wasn't black and white. But as it stood now, it didn't look like he'd be getting that degree, or looking for any of those answers, because if this was what it appeared, he might be getting those answers sooner than he'd intended.

How was it possible to think so clearly if he was dead? Why was he conscious at all, if that was indeed what this was called? The light kept spreading until the last spots of darkness vanished, growing blindingly bright as it went. Was the moon shining in through the window? But he wasn't in pain anymore, he wasn't cold…in fact he felt pleasantly warm, and he'd been shivering like mad for hours. He'd felt himself dying, had felt himself convulsing and his heart going mad, and he knew he had to be dead. But this…this wasn't what he'd expected. He wasn't sure he'd expected anything at all, except an ending.

It was incredibly rare that he couldn't find an explanation for something, but as he felt the light recede alarmingly fast, and as he found himself once again staring at the ceiling of Tobias Hankel's cabin, he knew he couldn't explain this.

"Dr. Reid," Cuddy said, drawing him back to the present moment, placing very gentle hands on the front of his shoulders and pushing his back to the bed. "We need you to lie back."

Foreman removed the nasal cannula and placed the green strap of the oxygen mask around the back of Reid's head, finally placing the mask itself over his mouth and nose.

"Breathe slow and easy for me," Foreman said. "I know that seems wrong, but just trust me."

Reid nodded, following the instructions, breathing in the oxygen as the machine's screams died down, still aware of Gideon's hand on his back. He was as a thirsty man trapped in the desert, and after a few moments, although his breathing still didn't feel normal, the fog surrounding his brain slowly dissipated. He sucked in the air, breathing deeply and resisting the urge to take quick breaths, tempting as it might have been.

"What's causing this?" he heard Gideon ask. "What's happening?"

"Respiratory distress is a symptom of what the test results pointed to," Foreman said, the bewilderment over the cause evident in his voice. "Mandrake poisoning."

Reid started, jerking his head up. He hadn't recovered enough air to speak, but he met Foreman's gaze, shock in his eyes. Sometimes he thought nothing could surprise him anymore, and he was always proven wrong. He knew cases of mandrake poisoning had occurred, but none in recent history in the U.S.

"I didn't even know…" Gideon began, unsure of how to respond. "That happens, still?"

"Rarely," Cuddy answered. "And especially not here. But whoever is doing this found a way to get her hands on some, although the test results only point toward it…it might be something different but with similar symptoms. There's a group of poisonous agents called Tropine Alkaloids that can cause the same issues, and sometimes the treatments can vary."

Reid removed the oxygen mask just long enough to ask the inevitable question. "What's the treatment?" he asked, his voice so soft he could hardly hear it himself.

"Activated Charcoal," Foreman said. "Physostigmine is sometimes used, but we'll need to be absolutely sure because of the side effects it can cause."

Reid nodded, hoping that this was indeed the right answer, but knowing that false/positives occurred more frequently than people supposed. As he finally began catching up on his oxygen levels, even though it was still a laborious process, he found himself wondering what had happened in light of Dr. Chase's kidnapping. He thought of how stricken Dr. Cameron must be, of how terrified Dr. Chase was feeling, and wished desperately that he could do something to help, because he knew all to well what it was like to suddenly be jerked away from the normal and placed in an earthly hell.

"What," he asked, taking a deep breath again. "What's happening for Dr. Chase?"

"The Princeton P.D. are already here," Cuddy informed him, a gleam of melancholy in her eyes as she attempted to hold herself together in the midst of this crisis. "And your team is talking to Dr. House and Dr. Cameron. We'll be enacting extreme security measures around the hospital, doing everything we can to protect you and find Dr. Chase."

Reid was still trying to think of someone, anyone who would hold this type of grudge against him, but knew it would be impossible to truly speculate until he had some information, until he was permitted to look at the note, or see the surveillance tapes, or talk to the team.

"Are you in pain Dr. Reid?" Foreman suddenly asked, squinting slightly.

Reid nodded, not possessing the energy to speak again.

"Your lungs might have been weakened a bit from your run in with anthrax," Foreman suggested. "It's likely why your breathing problems are worse than they might have been, and your lungs are irritated and tired. You inhaled the anthrax that day, and that is infinitely more fatal than just absorbing it through the skin. The damage wasn't extensive enough to cause problems in everyday life, but the toxin in your system is bothering old wounds, so to speak."

"Will he need a respirator?" Gideon asked, that same fearful tone striking him again.

"Not yet," Foreman said, and Reid could tell he was trying to avoid looking grim. "But if this keeps up, he will. But for now I'm going to check with House on using something called humidified high flow nasal airway respiratory support, which can be used with the cannula so you don't have to wear the mask all the time," he said, softening his words a bit, realizing that although he was being honest, he was also being harsh. "I'm going to the pharmacy right now to get the charcoal." He looked to Cuddy, whose pager had started going off, no doubt someone needing to speak with her about Dr. Chase's kidnapping.

"It's my office calling, the police need to meet with me urgently," she said, looking frazzled. "But I'll get Dr. Wilson to come and sit with you for a few minutes to make sure you stay stable, while Dr. Foreman goes to the pharmacy."

Reid nodded and tried to smile at them in thanks, while Gideon verbally thanked them. As the two doctors left, Dr. Cuddy's heels echoing down the hall, Reid noticed that his mentor's face had become drawn. He lifted the mask slightly, feeling the need to reassure him…and also to reassure himself.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Gideon," he said. "This could be the answer."

"I know," Gideon said, folding his hands in his lap and looking down at them. "But this woman is after you and we have to be on the highest alert. You know as well as I do that these people have their ways, which is why one of us will always be present in this room," he paused, considering his next words carefully. "I think you should think about Hotch's advice to take the stronger pain medication," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "There's no need to make this worse on yourself."

"I'll think about it," Reid replied, his eyes starting to flutter closed, his mind still whirring even as exhaustion wrapped him in its cocoon.


A wall of concrete silence built itself around House's office, as everyone stared at the phone for a solid thirty seconds.

That is, until House saw fit to make his opinion known.

"Am I missing something?" House seethed, even as Hotch gestured at him to cease and desist.

"Dr. House…"

"Yeah I'm missing something you sick witch! You'll bring him back or you can find out what an angry cripple with a cane looks like!"

"Dr. House." Hotch's voice was firm, even as his heart started to race. Most unsubs did not take well to this sort of confrontation, and he didn't want to endanger Dr. Chase, or Reid, any further.

"I'm sure you'd be simply terrifying," Kelly finally said, voice disturbingly sweet even though was laced with sarcasm. "But your loyal little dog here will pay if you keep shouting at me. You'd best listen and hand the conversation over to Agent Hotchner."

House paused, then moved aside, muttering profanities under his breath, to let Hotch closer to the desk, the phone still on speaker.

"This is Aaron Hotchner."

"Well Agent Hotchner, you should really get a handle on your investigation, don't you think?" Kelly questioned, and Hotch was certain he'd never heard an unsub sound so incredibly upbeat in all his years, and he was sure that it could mean only the highest level of mental instability. It seemed that if even the smallest thing set her off, tragedy would instantly follow. "I'll bet you're furious that I'm going to succeed in getting rid of your precious Dr. Reid, aren't you? Is sweet little Dr. Cameron there?"

Cameron opened her mouth and stepped forward, but JJ put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head.

"Dr. Cameron is worried for her husband," Hotch replied, keeping his tone even, calm, controlled, refusing to give in to the comment about Reid. He remembered what letting his temper to overtake him had done when he had gone with Reid to interview Chester Hardwick, remembered Reid's quick thinking as he kept Hardwick distracted by talking for thirteen minutes straight, remembered Reid's words when he'd thanked him: I find I do some of my best work under intense terror. "As is everyone here at Princeton-Plainsboro."

"You received my note?" Kelly asked.

"We did," Hotch said, his eyes roving around as he looked at his team; at Garcia, who was practically leaning on Morgan; at Prentiss, whose eyes were locked on the phone, fingernails digging into her palms; at Rossi, who was looking at him; at JJ, who was doing her best to comfort Dr. Cameron, her blue eyes wide with worry, her professional demeanor cracking around the edges.

"Then you know my terms," Kelly said, as though they were choosing between lattes in a Starbucks. "Stop treating Dr. Reid, and I'll return Dr. Chase to you. An exchange, if you will."

"You know we can't do that," Hotch said diplomatically, eyes flickering up to House, who this time didn't look back, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "Have you harmed Dr. Chase?"

"You won't do it, you mean," she said, the first hint of real animosity slipping into her tone. "And only a little, but I'll certainly go further if you don't meet my terms."

Dr. Cameron gasped, trying to stifle it with her hand, but it did not go unheard by Kelly, a sadistic chuckle entering her voice.

"Oh don't fret Dr. Cameron," she said. "I won't be killing him just yet. He's my leverage, after all. A little pain is a good for a man. Psychological pain, physical pain."

House opened his mouth again but was cut off by Rossi, who shot him a serious look that said, 'keep your mouth shut, or you are putting your employee's life at risk.' House closed his mouth again, concerned eyes landing on Cameron before darting to the hallway, likely waiting for a report from Dr. Foreman.

"What do wish to accomplish?" Hotch asked.

"I want Dr. Reid dead," she said, the hostility now very apparent in her tone. "Or I'll be just as pleased to keep him with me, alive, at least until I've finished with him. If he behaved perhaps I'd see fit to keep him alive longer, but you would never see him again. But he'd be alive, and that always counts for something, doesn't it?" She laughed softly, as though she was imagining that very scenario in her head, and Hotch shuddered with the possibility.

"Can you tell us why you're upset with Dr. Reid?" Hotch asked, daring to press her in the hopes of gleaning even the smallest bit of information.

"I really don't think you deserve that," Kelly said, the sickly sweetness returning to her tone. "I won't help you profile me, Agent Hotchner. Now I do believe I'll have to be going…I've got things to accomplish, you see. Do tell Dr. Reid hello for me."

With that, the line went dead, sounding particularly ominous in light of the situation.

"I recognize that voice," Cameron said suddenly. "I remember her."

"It can be difficult to identify voices over the phone if you don't know them well," Morgan said. "What do you recognize?"

"That overly sweet, chipper tone she used," Cameron continued, sounding more confident with each word. "At first I just thought she was enthusiastic, but now…that's definitely her. I just know it."

"Who was she?" Emily asked, dark eyes full of intensity as she stepped closer to Cameron. "Where did you meet her?"

"She said she was a medical student who was doing volunteer hours here, she was helping with the food trays in the ICU…her name was Kelly Lewis."

Hotch watched as House's face lit up with an idea, his eyes widening slightly as they stared off into the distance.

"What is it, Dr. House?" Rossi asked.

"The food," he said. "She was sneaking in here to poison his food. No one would have even thought twice at seeing someone in hospital clothing pushing a food cart."

His cell phone went off, blasting the Hanson song "Mmmmbop."

"What?" he asked sharply, as everyone in the room was staring at him. "It's my ringtone for the team." His eyes ready quickly over the text message. "Boy genius' breathing is stable, for now," He said, but his expression betrayed his knowledge that whatever was plaguing Reid was growing more dangerous by the hour. "Foreman is going to start treatment now."

The collective relief of the BAU was felt by everyone in the room, even as Hotch turned back to Cameron to question her further.

"What did she look like Dr. Cameron?" Hotch asked, feeling his blood starting to race; they finally had something to go on.

"She was about my height," Cameron said. "Blonde hair like Ms. Garcia's…she wore incredibly bright eye shadow. She was thin."

"Garcia, run the name Kelly Lewis through the databases and see what you get. I know it will likely be a lot of hits, but we've got to start somewhere," Hotch instructed. "And when Reid is able, we need to get him to look at those surveillance tapes."


"They just won't listen to me," Kelly said, her tone disturbingly calm as she put the phone back in its cradle. She turned to look at him, and Chase felt hot, sickening terror flood his entire being. Her eyes were wild, and his mind reeled with the possibilities of what torture she would bestow on him. He fought against his bonds.

"Oh don't be ridiculous Dr. Chase," she said, turning her knife over in her hands, a sinister light glinting off its edge. "Those are wrought iron manacles. Not even a strong man like you can escape them. And I'm afraid you will have to pay for your friends' indiscretion. They won't let one little FBI agent die just to save you…they must not care about you very much," she said, lifting a piece of his hair with the tip of the knife. "I'll bet your pretty wife is out screwing another man already, probably that boss of yours. I heard from some people around the hospital that she used to have it pretty bad for him, and that you were just…sloppy seconds."

"You can't ask anyone to make a decision like that," Chase spat, daring to argue with her and ignoring the comment about House and Allison, knowing she was just trying to toy with his insecurities. "The BAU will find me, and my team will save Dr. Reid. You can bet on that."

"Can I now?" she questioned, her manic cheerfulness nowhere in sight, her eyes slits of malice. "Oh, you will be such fun to break. Not quite as fun as Dr. Reid, but you'll entertain me until his time comes."

Before he even knew what was happening she'd seized him by the hair so hard that his head knocked into the wall, the metallic smell of blood piercing the air and the cold edge of her knife resting on his throat. Stars danced in front of his eyes as his head throbbed, the blood running in sticky rivers through his hair and onto the collar of his lab coat.

"I could rip you to pieces right now," she whispered. "But that wouldn't be any fun. Slow is best, slow is how I'll get them to do my bidding. Slow is how Dr. Reid will meet his maker, if he refuses to stay with me. You're nothing but a pawn in my game, Dr. Chase, although you are certainly a fine one to look upon. I'll do my best to not damage the pretty face of yours any further. That nasty bruise isn't permanent."

Chase bit his lip in a fruitless attempt stifle the cry of pain that erupted from his mouth as she dragged the tip of the knife hard, deep, and slow from shoulder to shoulder across his collarbone area.

"Hurts, doesn't it Dr. Chase?" she cooed, watching as crimson further stained his crisp white lab coat. "Not life threatening though, but you know that. You should prepare yourself to embrace pain, because there's going to be a lot of it in your future."

Chase watched as she sat down across from him, his head throbbing with pain, the knife wound burning like hell. He didn't want to be here, he wanted someone, anyone, to come and find him. Hearing House's reaction on the phone had buoyed him slightly, had almost made him laugh at his boss' complete lack of tact, and it was clear that Agent Hotchner meant business, but how would they find him? He didn't have a clue where he was. He kept his hopes for himself with the BAU, and his hopes for Dr. Reid with House, Allison, and Foreman; his own fate was intertwined with Dr. Reid's, that much was clear.

"I think we're due for one more short story time before I have to go again," Kelly said. "And because you were so rude before, I'm afraid you won't be getting any dinner tonight. Now, where did I leave off? Oh yes, Dr. Reid's incessant need to impress everyone…"

Kelly caught up with Spencer as she left the Engineering colloquium. She had to walk briskly to catch up with his long-legged stride, as he'd gotten a head start. He'd been surrounded by professors and a few fellow students during the reception, but after about twenty minutes had politely excused himself from the room.

"That was a great presentation," she said as she walked up next to him. "You're turning into a real star."

She didn't mention that she had been the star before he'd come along, the jealously pumping through her veins growing toxic.

"I don't know about that," he said shyly, turning to look at her in greeting. "But I'm glad you liked the presentation. I'm hoping my public speaking skills are getting better."

"They are!" Kelly chirped. "I couldn't even tell if you were nervous."

"Good to hear," Spencer answered, chuckling a bit. "So how's your project going for Dixon's class? I'm finding it quite time-consuming."

"Haven't had time to get started on that just yet," Kelly answered. "Family troubles, and it's getting majorly in the way of my schoolwork, grades slipping and all that."

"Oh," he said, meeting her piercing gaze with sympathetic wide brown eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure you can get everything back up, though. Your parents live on the east coast, right?"

"Trenton, New Jersey," she responded, an angry spark igniting in her eyes. "I'm flying back over there in two weeks during the three-day-weekend. Like I even want to go."

"Family can be hard sometimes," Spencer said, his eyes downcast as he adjusted his bag strap on the shoulder of his navy cardigan. "But sometimes we have to fight to keep them together."

"What about your parents?" Kelly asked, slipping her arm around the crook of Spencer's elbow. He instantly stiffened, but didn't pull away, likely because he was looking for a way out which wouldn't appear overly rude.

"Oh, you know," he said, avoiding her gaze now both because it made him uncomfortable and because he didn't want her to read the half-truths in his expression. "My Dad is a lawyer. My Mom is a Literature Professor, mostly 15th century England, but sometimes she teaches other periods. She's brilliant, and I swear she must have read every book under the sun."

"Like mother, like son," Kelly said, stepping closer to him even as he stepped away. "Sounds like you're close."

"We are," he said, quietly slipping his arm from her grasp as they reached the door of his on-campus apartment building. "Well, this is me. I'll see you in class tomorrow?"

"You will indeed," Kelly said, a hint of irritation slipping into her tone. "You'd better get inside and start working on your next brilliant project." She touched his cheek briefly before walking away, leaving a befuddled genius behind her.

Kelly continued twirling the knife in her hands, causing Chase's anxiety to bubble up in his stomach. He tried to think about anything that would block out the pain he was in, but with her sitting there contemplating him as though she was simply planning what to do next, made this impossible.

"He acted so utterly clueless about all of it," she said, immensely angry now. "He acted as if he didn't know how much the professors loved him, acted as if he deserved everything they handed him, acted as if he didn't know that I was attracted to him."

"Dr. Reid isn't really like…" Chase began, but was abruptly cut off.

"Quiet!" she screamed, pushing her foot up against the wound on his chest with vigor and he cried out in pain. "There will be no opinions from you, Dr. Chase. I'm afraid I must go now, much to plan you know," she said, regaining her calm as quickly as she'd lost it. "I'm sure your brilliant Dr. House will have figured out I've been poisoning the food, so I'll have to get work on my new look. The next step is the pharmacy, you see. They'll never figure it out. Be good."

With that she was gone, leaving Chase alone once again in the darkness.