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Chapter 34
It was if, Rossi thought, a switch had been flipped. As soon as Hotch hit the doorway to Reid's bedroom, and saw the chaos inside, he seemed to undertake an actual physical metamorphosis; Rossi had never seen anything like it.
The Hotch of the last week, and especially the last few days: tight, slightly hunched, dark, emotional, tense, unsure, wrapped in rage; seemed to melt away, or rather Rossi suspected, melt inward, to be replaced by SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU, ready for action. Shoulders squared, face neutral, intense eyes taking in every detail, profiler brain ticking away, voice sure and steady, demeanour of someone completely in control, completely in command.
Hotch himself, could instantly feel the difference. His mind suddenly cleared of all other incidental information, seemed to clearly focus on nothing else except correctly interpreting the scene of the crime and finding the Unsub who'd done it. That wasn't to say that his gut wasn't still filled with knots that seemed to be made of heavy ropes of knife-sharp glass blades which his stomach was continually clenched against, but his mind had broken through the total darkness and despair he'd been experiencing.
He had felt it for a few minutes this morning when he first found out Reid was missing; the information validating what he'd been feeling for over a week. But this, Reid's overturned bedroom, pressed home the fact that Reid had been taken by someone and needed to be rescued. Hotch's newfound control of his brain, did not extend so far that he could even consider that it might be too late; it had to work under the assumption that Reid was being held, which meant he could be found and retrieved.
Only once he was over the threshold of Reid's bedroom, surveying the mess, did Rossi realize he'd been holding his breath, dreading the thought that they might find the room covered in blood. Although they still had to do a thorough investigation of every inch of the room of course, Rossi knew if ANY of the team saw blood, Reid's blood, they would ALL lose their tenuous hold on their self-control. Before they entered Rossi had known they wouldn't find a body, or else Robbie would have made a comment about the smell, but blood had always been at the back of his mind.
"Dave, tell the others to come in here once they're finished with the other rooms; I'll have Garcia go through his phone messages later. It's obvious he wasn't lured away from home: this is the abduction site, so I want everyone in here to construct a profile of the act. And we need to concentrate on discovering how the Unsub got in here in the first place, and how he managed to get Reid out undetected."
Rossi was relieved to hear Hotch sounding, once again, like the leader of the team. He knew Hotch was still worried, still angry and in pain; but if he could manage to maintain this control for a while, Rossi knew it would ease the physical strain on Hotch's body, in addition to subduing the intense mental strain he'd been struggling under.
Moving slowly, staring closely at everything in his path, Hotch circled the bed; he, too, was cognoscente of the fact that he might find blood and what that would mean to the team. He noticed the pillows were missing from the bed, as well as a top cover; the sheets had been removed, crumpled and thrown in the corner. Hotch was pondering why those particular articles would have been taken, speculating it may indicate the Unsub intended to keep Reid for a while, when Prentiss and Rossi joined him in the bedroom.
"Morgan?" Hotch asked, raising his eyebrows in question, but Rossi just shook his head, so Hotch let it drop, for now.
Prentiss glanced quickly at the bed; Rossi had told her just now, to try and forget it was Reid's bedroom, otherwise it might seem too intrusive for her to thoroughly search such a personal, intimate space. Standing absolutely still for a moment, Prentiss closed her eyes while she silently apologized to Reid for being in his room, for touching his things, for invading his privacy.
Taking a deep breath, she started looking around at the mess of the room; she immediately thought it resembled a tangible sign of anger, like someone in a high rage had torn through it, emptying drawers, overturning furniture, throwing objects, smashing pictures, or in Reid's case from what she could see on the floor, diplomas. It spoke of an out-of control, chaotic mind; yet the same man managed to get into an FBI agent's apartment, subdue him somehow and leave with him, which would have taken planning and complete self-control.
"What the hell happened in here?" Prentiss whispered, almost to herself, then using a stronger tone asked, "Was the Unsub struggling with him?"
"I think we can all agree that Reid was most likely taken from his bed. Why the pillow and cover were taken, has to remain unknown for now." Rossi's voice was quiet, as he mulled the evidence over in his mind while he spoke.
Walking to an upturned wooden chair, he stared at the clothes beneath it. "He had laid out his clothes, ready for his early flight. He'd placed his packed suitcase at the door, knowing he'd be in a rush Sunday morning."
Rossi went silent as he tried to picture the sequence of events in his mind. However, it quickly became too painful imagining Reid going about his business getting ready to visit his mother in Las Vegas. Hotch's voice cut through his contemplation.
"I think once we can establish points of entry and exit, it might give us a clearer picture of what happened, and who we're dealing with. There's only one door to this apartment, but it hasn't been damaged. We know Reid wouldn't have opened his door to a stranger, especially at night. He had a working security alarm system that, knowing Reid, we can agree he would have set every night." Hotch had insisted on each member of his team installing the latest alarm system available after he was ambushed by Foyet in his home.
"Even if the Unsub did manage to get through the front door, how would he be able to get out without attracting notice? Even if he used something to subdue…," Prentiss's voice trailed off for a moment, before she took a small breath and resumed speaking "..such as a gun or a knife, somebody should have seen him, wouldn't they?" Prentiss asked, a hint of desperation deepening her voice, her newly erected mental walls starting to become battered with the constant pounding thought that poor, sweet Reid had been attacked and taken from his own bed.
"He could of led Reid out and not been seen. It would've been late, the street might have been deserted, possibly no one from the building was around. The Unsub would definitely have had a car or some means of transport." As Hotch spoke, his mind kept turning the facts over, twisting them this way and that, trying to create the most likely scenario.
"But the questions remain, how did he get in? And why was Reid targeted?"
"I can answer your first question." Morgan's voice was low, the torment he was feeling laid bare for all to hear….
As he sat in the chair, staring at his 'boyfriend', Derek smiled slowly, like the cat that got the cream. The adorable specimen before him was magnificent, from his shiny, wavy hair, to his feet covered in odd colour socks.
When Derek had first discovered that his 'Mr. Right' wore socks of different colours, he first felt a flash of anger, thinking this affectation somehow diminished the young man's perfectness. But then he had talked himself into believing that it was actually kind of cute, mismatched socks; ever since he'd laid an unconscious Reid down in his this basement room, Derek himself had taken to wearing the same. In fact, when he'd given Reid clothes to wear, he'd made sure to include only one sock of each design.
"You look absolutely beautiful!" Derek complimented Reid, taking stock of the myriad of colourful wounds and bruises covering Reid's face and body. Derek was extremely pleased, it made this tasty morsel that much more appealing; in fact he was awash with lust at the moment, just from gazing at the injuries.
Knowing full well what was expected at that comment, Reid mumbled out a thank you darling Derek, all the while willing himself to stand up straight, eyes ahead, no wavering, no trembling. His chest was paining him tremendously, but he was trying not to let it reflect on his face; he knew any signs of weakness would enhance the control his captor had over him.
But he couldn't control his eyes, and they told the truth; they were wide, bright with pain, and fear.
Derek admired his 'boyfriend's' show of self-control. 'No whining for my Mr. Perfect' Derek thought, as he slowly tipped the chair back and forth a bit, making Reid wait to find out what Derek had in store for him this time.
"What does Hotch mean?" The question was fired at him suddenly, Derek eyes intense as he scrutinized Reid's face for any telltale signs he was lying when he answered.
But Reid, knowing full well he was being videoed in the room, had been prepared for this question ever since he woke himself up calling Hotch's name.
"It's the Ukrainian word for Grandfather" he answered easily, hoping his captor wasn't familiar with the language.
Derek accepted the answer, smiled again and asked deceptively softly, "Who do you belong to?"
Reid stayed silent, although his mind screamed 'NO ONE'
As swift as a predator on the hunt, Derek had reached Reid's side, grasped his hair painfully in his huge fist, and smacked him across the face twice. Then shaking him violently by the hair, he asked again in the same quiet voice "Who do you belong to?"
"Y..you, d..d..darling D..D..D.. Derek" Reid could barely gasp out the vile words as his head was shaken to and fro.
Appearing completely calm, Derek resumed his seat, his heart racing from the joy of pulling Reid's hair, his body tingling from being so near the body he lusted for.
Taking out his camera, Derek crooked his finger and beckoned Reid to come closer to him. With increasing trepidation, Reid forced himself to walk over to the large man, stopping a mere foot away. Derek spent the next few minutes taking close up pictures of Reid's chest, his bruised nipples and the red finger marks on his throat. Derek would have loved to take a picture of Reid's beautiful black eye, but he couldn't take the chance someone would recognize him.
"Kneel down"
Reid went to the floor stiffly, his body aching from the beatings he had endured.
"Take my sock off, but don't touch me. Or else."
Trying desperately to control the slight tremors in his hands, Reid carefully slipped Derek's sock down, his breathing becoming a little heavy due to the tension.
"Look up "
Reid raised his large, brown eyes upwards, looking every bit like a wounded puppy. Derek, seeing the infinitesimal tremble of Reid's full lips, had to really struggle to prevent himself from pouncing on him.
"I love you so much" he said with a smile, "Now you say it."
"Thank y..you, d..d..darling D…D…D…, I.. I.." Reid couldn't complete the sentence, his entire body had ceased up on him with revulsion at the look he'd seen in Derek's eyes. Reid's internal battle prevented him from uttering the impossible.
Not waiting for Reid to finish, Derek, feeling benevolent, decided to give him a pass on the necessary punishment for breaking a rule, and continued on with his plan.
"Kiss my foot."
Derek knew this was one good way to show dominance over another human being; he had often made his old boyfriends do the same.
Reid blanched, a look of confusion on his face. He closed his eyes as he slowly lowered his head down to the floor and let his mouth touch, for the briefest moment, his captor's bare foot. Humiliated, Reid nearly cried out in shame as he heard the click of Derek's camera.
The reaction for Derek was swift; his body already in heat for his new toy, now flared white hot at the merest touch of the soft lips. Knowing he was moving into dangerous territory, but wanting to further humiliate Reid, Derek sucked in a deep breath to try and quell his rising desire.
"Now lick the sole" he directed as he lifted his leg and thrust his foot into Reid's face.