Still, trying to re-type, sorry its taking so long.
Disclaimer: not mine, unfortunatly.
Jeremy's fingers were like a vice, gripping Gideon's hand as if for the sake of his life. "It's Mr. Crane!" Panic filled his voice.
Mr. Crane's cackle echoed in every ear in the room, a cruel, sadistic sound. "I congratulate you on your escape, none have done so and lived. Kudos." Another cruel cackle. "You'll be glad to know that we wont be coming after you again, no, your buyer has taken a liking to your friend, so he will take your place." An undistinguishable sound in the background. "When all is done, Jeremy, he will wish he had never helped you escape. His fate, is blood, Jeremy, is on your hands." The darkness began to clear, and what they saw stopped all of their hearts.
The picture cleared, and they saw Reid, nothing like he had been thirteen days ago. His wrists were bound above his head, he hung limply, unconscious from the wall. His wet hair hung, masking his face which was obviously tear stained. Bruises on his chest, his throat. They looked at the revolting gag that silenced any cry for help he might make, and all of them wanted to vomit. Blood, red and fresh was trailing down his back, snaking around his sides.
"He will be sold tonight to the man who wanted you, Jeremy. This blood, Jeremy, is on your hands." A clear, sadistic laugh and the picture went black.
Morgan's eyes blazed with hate at the man Jeremy had identified as Mr. Crane. Seeing what that man had done to Reid, listening to him blame Jeremy. Morgan clenched his fists until his knuckles were moon white and crescents bleed from his palms.
Hotch stared at the empty screen, the image of Reid burned into his eyes. He could not stand it, did not want to see it. He wanted to find the men ho had been n the patrol car in charge of chasing after the van and force the officers to explain why they had not moved faster, why they had let this, man, get away with Reid.
Gideon was squeezing Jeremy's hand as much as Jeremy was squeezing his. Jeremy was crying, trying not to, but he was.
"This is not your fault." Gideon assured him.
Jeremy averted his eyes, staring at the dead screen. He knew that Gideon was telling him the truth, but he was unable to accept it. "If I hadn't run away…"
"Reid wanted you to run, Jeremy. What you've told us, will help us save him. If you hadn't gotten away, we might never have found either of you."
"Can you really help him?" Jeremy asked, tears in his eyes.
"With what you've told us, yes." Gideon said, reassuring Jeremy, trying to ease the boys guilt.
Mr. Gubler looked to the agents as they prepared to leave, his eyes shone with pain for their loss. "I'm sorry." He said sincerely. "I hope you find him."
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Hotch and Gideon walked into the police station, both of them with their minds occupied by what they had heard and seen. They had left Morgan as the hospital to sit with Jeremy while they waited for an official police bodyguard and a sketch artist to talk to the Nurse who had been given the package. Morgan had been so openly angry, he had needed to just sit and cool down, to focus his mind.
It was with hesitance that they handed he video over to Elle and JJ, to view it themselves for a second time. They needed to hurry, because no matter how strong Reid was, he could not take much more of this.
.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Reid opened his eyes slowly, aware of the cloth being used to clean his face. He was still standing, supported by the metal ring in the wall, his arms were numb, his body sore. He could tell that the blood had been cleaned away from his back, as the traces of his tears were being cleaned away from his face.
He shook as the cloth was pulled away from his skin, its steamy warmth replaced by sudden cold. He closed his eyes as the gooseflesh covered him, and then opened them, hatefully eyeing the man that stood before him. Mr. Crane stood with a smug expression on his face, tapping on a small video camcorder. Reid turned his head, ashamed. He knew that the others had seen something; Mr. Crane had said that he would give then one last look, but what had they seen? Reid had not seen the camcorder while he had been conscious, so it had to have been used after he had blacked out.
He attempted to question Mr. Crane about it, but he had forgotten about he gag in his mouth, his teeth forever indented. Unable to speak, he glared at the man.
Mr. Crane slapped him. "It will do you no good to stand up to me, if you do that to your master, much worse will be done to you." Reid turned away from him, forcing back tears.
Mr. Crane smiled; unhinging Reid's bound wrists from the metal ring. His arms fell lifelessly, his body fell to his knees. "There's no time for that, you're almost up."
Reid looked at him, confused and shocked. Surely he had not slept through the entire day! What had this man done to him?
"Oh yes." Mr. Crane smiled. "I'll be rid of you in the next fifteen minutes." That said, he forced Reid to his feet, and up the old stairs.
It was a large theatre. Reid observed, looking around as he was led closer to the long, navy blue velvet curtains. All around were dust covered props for shows that had not been performed in years, discarded beer bottles and cigarette butts were he cleanest things to be seen. Up ahead of where Mr. Crane was leading him, Reid saw three teenage boys, all of them bound the way he was, in the same clothes. He could also hear the auctioneer calling out prices, selling those in line before him. This was it, Reid shuddered. Once he was sold, the team would never find him. He closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. At least Jeremy had gotten away…
Reid was jerked forward. "This one goes to Sanders, bid him for show, but he goes home with Sanders, no one else."
"Understood." The man said, roughly taking Reid from Mr. Crane. "Nice doing business with you."
"Likewise." Mr. Crane smirked at Reid, and disappeared, just as Jake had done.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"We have until tonight to find out where they're selling these boys." Hotch said, his voice hard.
"It will be somewhere big, where they wont expect interference. A private building."
"A lot of theatre buildings and show houses are rented out downtown." Garcia said over the phone. "I'll check into them."
"Jeremy said that Mr. Crane mentioned apartments." JJ pitched in.
"Might be some kind of code name." Gideon murmured.
Elle walked back into the room with Morgan. "The nurse at the hospital identified the officer she saw as the same one seen here earlier today."
"We have out leak, now we just have to find him." JJ said, staring at the identical sketches. "I'll run these by the other officers, see what they know."
"Hotch looked up. "All right, but I want you and Elle to go back to the hospital when your done, see if Jeremy remembers anything else."
"Sure." Elle said, following JJ.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-
A bright, hot light shone on him as he was dragged across the wooden stage. The man who Mr. Crane had spoken to pulled on his bound wrists harshly, almost tripping him. The man stopped next to the auctioneer, a tall, handsome man at the podium, and told him what Mr. Crane had said. Bid him only for show…
The auctioneer grabbed Reid by his hair, and held tight as the other man walked off of the stage.
"A member of the FBI," He snickered to the crowd. "Special agents doctor Spencer Reid, only twenty four, yet he still holds that beautiful look of wide eyed innocence we all prefer in a slave." He forced Reid to his knees, still holding him by the hair.
Reid wanted to scream out as he watched the men in the audience eyes him, sizing him up and looking into their wallets, but his hurting mouth reminded him why he could not.
"Shall we start the bid at, Four thousand?" The auctioneer cooed.
"4,500!" Cried a man in the corner.
"5,000!"
"5,900!"
"6,050!"
Reid's head swam as he looked at all of the hands flying into the air. This was unreal!
"9,000." Called a man in the middle, and for a moment, no one else spoke.
Then a voice called down from the balcony, and even the whispers stopped. "10,000."
The man in the audience looked angry, Sanders was the man in the balcony. The man in the audience ignored Sanders' daring gaze. "10,500."
A wave of murmurs spread through the room, people looked around anxiously.
"11,000." Sanders said coolly.
"11,500." The man dared.
"12,000." Sanders turned to the man in the audience. "You'll back down now Brendon."
Brendon looked into Reid's eyes, smiling. "12,500."
"13,000." Sanders called. "Brendon, you have al ready purchased a new slave, this one comes home with me."
"I would gladly back down were this any other boy." Brendon looked at the auctioneer. "14,000. But he killed my father."
"15,000." Sanders looked down to Brendon. "We have all lost someone to the police, Brendon, but this boy is mine, and that is final."
Brendon looked as if he might bid again, but angrily sat down instead, glaring at Reid with pure hate.
The auctioneer peered over the crowd of gossipers, then smiled as he pulled Reid to his feet. "Sold!"
