I don't know about the rest of you, but I still intend to dress up for Halloween. I won't be trick-or-treating (mostly because I've surpassed the age limit where it's even remotely acceptable), yet candy shall still be enjoyed on this fine evening.
That being said, enjoy this chapter. It's...yeah...
Warnings: blood, violence, possible triggering content, language, gore, character death, spoilers to season 2's "Revelations" and season 4's "Omnivore"
There was a turbulent flurry of activity once Foyet ended the call.
Tobias was already feeling light-headed when the Reaper said his farewells, all laced with dark, threatening undertones. However, when Agent Garcia managed to get a signal on the phone call's location only for it to blip out merely moments after, he had to lean against the police car to prevent himself from collapsing.
He was there now, trying to remember how to breathe, as everyone else was shouting and running about. His subconscious informed him that Agent Garcia succeeded in retrieving a rough location of the cell phone and had provided basic coordinates.
Agents Morgan and Rossi immediately informed Officer Rodriguez who began shouting orders to her fellow police officers. Sirens and lights were put back on and raced off into the night.
Tobias couldn't help but think that that wouldn't help.
Foyet will just see and hear them and avoid them.
"Peterson!" Tobias flinched at the sharp voice and came back to himself. He didn't realize that Agents Morgan and Rossi were gone, and he was left with Agent Hotchner and a handful of the police force.
He wasn't even sure where the ambulance went.
Officers Rodriguez and Peterson had joined him and Hotchner. Tobias was surprised that the profiler wasn't zooming off to chase after Foyet too, but figured he was forbidden to do so.
That's probably why he looks so…
Angry wasn't quite the right word. Yes, Agent Hotchner was clearly furious, but there was more behind his dark, steely eyes. There appeared to be a determined sense of finality in his gaze that Tobias wasn't quite sure what to make of.
"What do you need me to do, Chief?" Officer Peterson asked.
Rodriguez paused, fleetingly startled, before stating, "Make sure Mr. Hankel is locked up tight and that the fellows watching him know his condition. I don't want him uncuffed or underestimated, understand?"
"Yeah, Chief. I got it." Peterson glared at Tobias before unlocking the car and shoving him inside. "Get in there and sit quiet."
Tobias was more than happy to do so. He remained still as he was strapped in.
Officer Rodriguez turned to Hotchner. "What are you planning to do, Agent? I know it isn't protocol, but we can get the EMT to write off a temporary bill of health if you really feel the need to join. Or you can ride with Peterson and make sure your perp is properly taken care of."
"…I'll probably do that," Agent Hotchner responded after a moment's hesitation. "Thank you."
Officer Rodriguez gave him a peculiar look and seemed to scrutinize him before carefully nodding. "Alright then. Don't cause too much trouble for my guys and gals in blue." Her lips briefly quirked at one corner before she turned back to Peterson. "Listen to him, give him whatever he needs."
"Yes, ma'am."
And with that, Officer Rodriguez strode off and pulled out a walkie-talkie to hand out more orders. Officer Peterson straightened up and turned to Agent Hotchner. "Ready to go?"
To his and Tobias's surprise, the profiler shook his head. "I'll take care of him. You go and join your colleagues."
Peterson raised a brow and threw a quick, distrustful glance at Tobias. "You sure about that? I know he's just one guy, but he's also…not."
Tobias found it depressing that he, Charles, and Raphael were lumped together as one wrong-doer.
I suppose I am still an accomplice, as unwilling as I was. Maybe I can ask for a lighter sentence…or at least to be separated from the other two.
It may be too much to ask considering everything that's happened, but Tobias supposed it didn't matter anyways. His guilt over Spencer's death would not only be sufficient retribution for his sins, but it might be the thing that kills him.
"The wages of sin is death." Charles quoted that verse from Romans multiple times in his life, especially when Raphael began killing. Tobias wryly noted how he never seemed to finish the rest of the verse: "but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."
There would be no eternal life for Tobias Hankel, but he had made his peace with that a long time ago. Even without Charles's poison-dipped preaching haunting him since childhood, Tobias knew that he was undeserving.
But Spencer isn't. Please, Lord. Accept him into your home with open arms. He's done nothing but good.
It was the one comfort Tobias was going to get in all of this.
"I can handle him," Hotchner insisted, bringing Tobias back to the moment. "Catching the Boston Reaper is priority. He's a dangerous criminal. The others are going to need all the help they can get. But if I can borrow an extra firearm, then that'd be appreciated."
"Yeah, I guess you've got a point. Here, take my Glock. It's a 19." Peterson handed the profiler the weapon as well as his holster. "I have an extra attached to the ankle." He lifted his pants leg in indication. "Oh, and you'll probably need these." He then gave Hotchner the keys to Tobias's handcuffs.
"Good. I'm going to need your cell phone, too. I doubt anything will happen, but I'd like to be able to get in touch with my team."
Peterson handed Hotchner his phone. "There's no password, so you shouldn't have any issues with it. Rodriguez's number is already programmed; she'll patch you through to the other agents."
"Thank you." Hotchner pocketed the phone. "Be careful and good luck."
"Same to you, agent." And with a final nod, Peterson hurried to catch up with his fellow officers.
Agent Hotchner wasted no time in getting into the driver's seat and starting the car. "Tobias. How far are we from the shack?"
Caught off guard, Tobias could only manage a "huh?" as a response.
"The shack," Hotchner repeated. "The one where Reid was held. Is it far from here?"
"U-Um, no. It's only about twenty minutes away…why?"
"Because I have strong hunch that's where Foyet is taking Reid." Agent Hotchner pulled the car out of park and began heading away from the factory, opposite the police force. "Can you direct us from here?"
Tobias couldn't answer right away, mind still reeling from the other's declaration.
"Tobias!" The man jumped at the profiler's sharp tone. "Do you know how to get there or not?!"
"Y-Yes," Tobias stuttered out. "Y-You're going to k-keep heading this way until you hit the, um, second stoplight…where you'll make a right."
Hotchner nodded and pressed on the gas pedal to give them speed.
There was silence between them until Hotchner made the turn and asked where to go from there.
"U-Um…five stoplights…you'll make a left on the street before there's a sixth." After a beat of silence, Tobias asked, "D-Do you really think t-that's where F-Foyet will be?"
"I'm almost certain," Agent Hotchner responded. "Foyet said that he'll be thinking of your father and Raphael when he kills Reid. Considering that he's been enjoying mimicking their previous murders, I have a feeling he'll want to do one last act in accordance to theirs—to finish the job, so to speak. Foyet also enjoys spending time with his victims, so the shack will likely give him just enough privacy to slowly kill him."
Though Hotchner didn't hesitate over the possibility, he was far from casual about it. His anger kept Tobias grounded and from getting sick.
"That…That makes sense, I suppose. B-But shouldn't you tell-"
"I can't tell the team until I know for sure." Tobias could see Agent Hotchner's eyes harden from the rearview mirror. "He might not go there at all, but if he does, then too many law enforcement vehicles might tip him off like before. With the just the two of us, we have a better chance at surprising him."
It made sense, but… "B-But…But I'm not police. I-I'm…aren't I under a-arrest?"
"Yes, but I'm going to need your help. Foyet thinks I've been rescued and that you have been taken into custody. He's not going to be expecting either of us."
He plans for us to ambush him. Tobias knew this, understood that this was what Agent Hotchner intended to do, but the concept was unfathomable.
For one, neither of them was even supposed to be doing this. Hotchner was supposed to be with Jennifer at a hospital, safe and taken care of. Tobias was supposed to be locked away and questioned.
Hell, he wasn't even qualified for this.
Agent Hotchner had a gun, yes, but Tobias couldn't help but feel that they were outmatched. Foyet was smart and had a gun and a knife.
Plus. he had Spencer. What was to stop Foyet from using the young man as a hostage, or, heavens forbid, a human shield?
Tobias wanted to help, truly he did, but he wasn't sure if this was the right way. He figured the best thing for him to do would be to help tame his father when the police finally found and caught him and to keep the archangel from retaliating should he return.
And, of course, there was Agent Hotchner to consider.
Though he raised good points, Tobias had a strong suspicion that the profiler was more pursuing his own grudge, that he was making this personal.
In a sense, Tobias could understand. Foyet has put them all through so much, and he needed to be stopped.
And wasn't that all that mattered? That the Boston Reaper was caught and his reign of terror stopped forever?
It was this thought that drove away Tobias's hesitation. Lord…I know you may not approve of this since this ambush is mainly fueled by hate and fear, but please forgive us because Foyet must be stopped.
After taking a breath, Tobias asked, "What is it that you need me to do?"
Reid's face still throbbed from the blow Foyet delivered, but he refrained from raising a hand to prod the damage.
Granted, he couldn't quite do so anyways with the way his hands were cuffed, yet he still had to clench his fists whenever he attempted to reach for his face.
The trauma I received damaged the capillaries in my cheek, causing me to bleed under the skin. The blood extravasates into the surrounding interstitial tissues and will only stop when it's absorbed by tissues or-STOP. This information won't help me.
His mind wouldn't stop racing, so his hands yearned to curb the restlessness in some way. There wasn't any healthy way he could, and anything that came to mind was disregarded since it would only be construed as weakness.
The last thing Reid wanted was to be considered weak.
"I don't give a damn whether you're weak or strong!"
Foyet likely wouldn't care either way. He hadn't said a word to Reid since his rhetorical question and remained pensive and quiet as they drove along.
He had likely already come up with how he intended to kill Reid and was likely considering what to do after.
Once he's through with me, then he's going to ensure that he's far away from here and that he's off the grid again. Only then will he get in touch with the team to taunt them before disappearing again.
Gritting his teeth, Reid mentally calculated his best strategy for escape. Foyet had a gun and knife as well as proper rest and food consumption on his side.
On the other hand, Reid was weaponless, handcuffed, hadn't slept properly in days, and hadn't eaten since the croissant someone, Prentiss most likely, had slipped him while he was deep in thought well over 12 hours ago.
He couldn't even remember finishing it.
Reid clenched his fists when his stomach inaudibly growled. He knew he was currently running on coffee- and adrenaline-induced fumes and, even at his best, knew he couldn't outmatch Foyet, especially since the killer was armed.
Then there were his wounds to consider.
Tobias had done the best he could to patch him up and, though the makeshift bandages held up wonderfully, Reid felt his blood slowly soaking through it. He felt a bit light-headed, more so from the calculations running through his head at the decreasing probability of his survival; even his knee, the one that had sustained a bullet from Patrick Meyers when he had meant it for Dr. Tom Barton, was throbbing, despite that it had healed weeks ago.
Get a grip. Mind over matter.
Knowing the power of his own mind, Reid focused on the possibilities rather than the hindrances and felt his weariness and injuries gradually recede to the backburner.
At some point, Foyet is going to have to undo the handcuffs if he wants to get me out of the car. Shooting me won't cut it. The most likely scenario is that he'll undo the handcuffs so that I can exit the vehicle before fastening them on me again. Then he'll lead me somewhere at gunpoint or knife-point to wherever he intends to torture and kill me. It'll be somewhere at least somewhat secluded so that he could take his time without being interrupted.
The team is likely working with local law enforcement to set up citywide blockades so that Foyet has no chance of slipping out of Atlanta; they might even set up ones stateside so that they could trap Foyet in Georgia.
According to the profile, Foyet is highly intelligent and is likely anticipating this. He probably won't pull over until he's either out of Atlanta or out of Georgia. If the blockades can be executed quickly and efficiently, then Foyet will only be able to leave Atlanta, but will have a harder time leaving Georgia.
For the sake of efficiency, he'll likely stop to kill me once we're out of Atlanta.
Let's just say he does once we're out of Atlanta. Then I'll need to either outrun him or overpower him after he undoes the cuffs. This'll be easier to accomplish if Foyet decides to use his knife rather than his gun. Regardless, my best strategy would be to run…or possibly get ahold of his gun.
This was all speculation, of course, but it comforted Reid to have a semblance of strategy. He glanced at Foyet's coat. Though he was reluctant to do so, he flipped through his memory of when the Reaper killed that young couple.
He remembered that Foyet's knife was in the left side of his inner pocket while the gun was in the outer right pocket.
Reid considered the self-defense classes the FBI made him and the other agents take every year. Morgan in particular was adamant that he practiced what they learned, and the two would lightly spar together.
Morgan didn't need the practice; he only sparred for his own piece of mind that Reid was capable of taking care of himself.
If I get out of this, I'm apologizing for the things I said to him.
Swallowing his guilt, Reid mentally went over proper fighting techniques until he realized that the car was slowing down. He reassessed his surroundings, taking in the desolate atmosphere of the forest, before spotting a dark shape hidden amongst the trees.
It took merely a moment to recognize what it was and even less time for his heart to sink.
Reid had suspected he was being kept in a shack based on his prison's wooden interior. He knew that they were still in a rural part of Atlanta based on Tobias's hunting as well as the telltale noises of nature he occasionally heard.
However, when he realized he was right, he wasn't comforted. Having successfully extracted a sin, the 'Charles' personality had unlocked the cuffs keeping him in that wretched chair and commanded that he grab a shovel.
As Reid was shoved outside in the dark gloom of night, he caught a brief glimpse of a shabby-looking shack before 'Charles' forced him to start walking. Dread and residual Dilaudid weighed heavily in the profiler's stomach, adding to the fatigue that slowed his steps. 'Charles' was unsympathetic and merely shoved him along.
If it weren't for the gun in his hand, Reid would've taken the chance and swung the shovel at him. Nevertheless, he barely even had the strength to lift the tool, to even walk, let alone muster enough for a hearty blow.
And then what? He wouldn't be able to run very far in his condition, especially since he hadn't the faintest clue where they were.
Reid felt that they had walked for miles when 'Charles' finally ordered him to stop and to start digging. The knowledge that he was digging his own grave was petrifying, and Reid's hands shook as he reluctantly obeyed.
From where they were, he could see his prison. The shack seemed smaller in the distance and a lot less intimidating.
And yet, Reid knew that he'll be seeing that shack in his nightmares for years to come.
Or at least, he would if he was actually going to survive this.
"Home sweet home."
Reid's gaze flickered over to Foyet. The Boston Reaper was studying the shack with a grin that wouldn't meet his eyes. "Be honest with me, kid. Has this place changed much since you were last here?"
Unwilling to rise to the bait, Reid began scanning the area. One of the first things that he and the team did when Foyet took Tobias was send officers to guard the shack. There ought to be at least two.
At first, Reid couldn't spot anyone—not sure whether or not that was a good sign.
His hazel eyes widened when he noticed movement within the shack.
Unfortunately, Foyet saw what he saw. "A-ha, so there is a pig cop." He squinted at the growing darkness. "Hm, you'd think they'd put more than one." He lightly chuckled and shook his head. "Arrogant, the lot of them."
The lights were off in the car as Foyet slowly drove them closer. Turning off the car, Foyet took one last visual sweep of the area. "Looks like our friend there is the only one. Well, this should be quick."
Reid's heart seized when Foyet exited the car and began trotting over to the shack, yanking out his gun. The profiler instinctively jerked against the handcuffs before tucking his legs into his body and stretching one over to the steering wheel. He then pressed his foot as hard as he could against the horn, shattering the quiet night.
He was able to witness a minute flinch from Foyet and a quick, irritable glare before the Reaper took off running. The shack door had barely burst open when the killer lunged forward and attacked the cop.
Reid choked back a startled cry when he heard a gunshot within the blasting horn. Even so, he kept his foot on the horn, desperately hoping that a second cop was nearby.
Just as his leg began to ache, Foyet finally left the shack. He stormed back over to the car, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Reid flinched when the killer ripped open the passenger door and yanked him out. He yelped when the cuffs cut into his wrists and his shoulders screamed in protest.
Reid's heart sped up when he heard the tell-tale sound of jingling keys and began to mentally steel himself. The gun is still in his hand. I have very little chance of success if I try and take it from him, but he'll only shoot me if I try and run, so I'll have to-
His thoughts screeched to a halt when his encased wrists were free and the back of his head exploded with pain. Instincts had him clutching his head and curling in on himself as his body prepared to take more pain. The bracing, however, did nothing to prepare him for the sharp kicks that assaulted his abdomen.
Just as Reid felt his makeshift bandage bleed through, the kicking stopped and a hard foot pressed into his chest. When his hands came up to dislodge the appendage, they were seized and handcuffed once more.
Reid gasped as the foot disappeared and a hard hand fisted into the front of his shirt to heave him up. The profiler's legs nearly gave out under him, but Foyet refused to let him fall.
The killer's lips curled in a mirthless smirk as his eyes burned with rage. "You try and you try, and yet your efforts are always in vain. You think you'd learn by now." Foyet gestured to the shack. "Hicksville decided to leave what was likely their best boy in blue to guard this place and figured he was a big boy who didn't need back-up."
A rough, humorless chuckle. "And look where that got him. His name was Cody Smith. If he's lucky, he'll get his name and picture in the paper within the next few days. But I doubt it. Your death will likely steal the spotlight."
Then he roughly yanked Reid along into the field. Racing heart now in his throat, the profiler instinctively tried pulling away and kicking, but Foyet barely acknowledged his efforts.
"Unfortunately, I won't be able to spend as much time with you as I want," Foyet continued as he dragged him along. "But that's alright. We had a good run. I'm sure your precious team will be all over this place sooner or later, and I can't wait for them to find you.
"Then, after things cool down a bit, I'll finish my business with Hankel; that is, if he hasn't done himself in already." Reid's bit back a gasp at the possible scenario. "I'll bet you anything that Aaron will drive himself crazy looking for me. With you and Jennifer on his conscience, and later Hayley and Jack, he won't stop looking for me until his body fails him. He'll be worse off than I left Shaunessy."
Reid gritted his teeth, a retort ready, when he was abruptly thrown to ground. He grunted at the rough landing and mentally braced himself for another beating. Vaguely surprised when he didn't receive one, he attempted to push himself up when the dirt beneath his hands crumbled. Reid yelped when he nearly pitched forward, but managed to catch himself.
It was then he realized exactly where they were.
Eyes widening, Reid scrambled away from the ditch 'Charles' had forced him to dig before he had been rescued. It looked largely untouched and just as deep as it was before.
No, no, no…
The Boston Reaper chuckled, sounding a bit more like himself. "Look familiar? Hankel and I had some good conversations while they lasted. He mentioned that having you dig your own grave was a suitable punishment for disrespecting your mother." Foyet stepped closer to peer into the hole. "Obviously, it's nowhere near complete, but it'll do. It'll be fitting for you to die in the place where you were intended to."
Reid saw the irony, and he hated Foyet for it. A part of him hated 'Charles' too, but hating the personality felt like hating Tobias.
He's going to blame himself for this. Reid knew that for sure, but he feared that Foyet's comment about Tobias killing himself would come to pass. Tobias had mentioned before in his letters that he often wondered why he should carry on when he clearly didn't deserve to. He had these thoughts since his youth and had turned to Dilaudid for an escape since the Bible condemned suicide.
Reid recalled the dark places Tobias often crawled to while at the institution, how he and Ben did their damndest to pull him back. Would Tobias return to those dark places? Would Ben be enough to keep him steady?
And what about Hotch and the rest of the team? Reid had no doubt that, with a lot of healing, they'll move on from him and JJ's deaths. Hotch, however, will make hunting Foyet even more personal. Reid feared for him, that this will push him over the edge and cause him to do something rash and dangerous.
Fingers gripping the dirt beneath him, Reid considered his options again, yet realized that he was even worse off than before. There were nowhere to run, and no way he could fight back.
"Are you going to film me?" Reid heard himself asking. "You might've gotten rid of one cell phone, but the other one is still in the back seat of the car. It's the same one you used to take pictures of that couple, so it'll likely have a recording function as well." He then turned to the Boston Reaper, resolving to maintain eye contact until the very end. "So, are you?"
There was a moment where Foyet didn't seem to know what to make of the question. When he hesitated for too long, he erased his confusion with a smirk. "Eager to send your fed buddies some evidence? Sure. I'll take plenty of pictures and send them to Derek. I have a strong feeling that he'll enjoy them the most."
The Reaper felt around his coat before he pulled out the cell phone. "Here we go. It may not be high quality, but it'll get the job done." He then wryly chuckled. "Looks like that'll be our theme tonight. I'm guessing we have maybe, maybe an hour at most before this place is swarming with feds, but, realistically, it's more like we have…" he considered it, "maybe twenty minutes, if someone decided to leave right after I made that phone call. I doubt any of those profilers are smart enough to consider coming here, but better to be safe than sorry. I'd rather not be caught here in Hicksville."
Foyet clucked his tongue before tucking away the cell phone, sticking the gun in his back pocket, and pulling out his knife. "Alright then, twenty minutes, and shave off ten so that I can get a decent head start. I don't like it, but I've worked with less."
With a tilt of his knife, he gestured for Reid to stand up. "Okay, Spencer, this is how it's going to go: you can either stand up and die with a bit of dignity, or you can stay on the ground and grovel." He made an abysmal grin. "I can work with either. The results will still be the same."
Heart threatening to burst out of his chest, Reid manically considered throwing logic to the wind and making a run for it. The forest was approximately thirty feet away, give or take. If he made it to the tree line, there was a slim chance he'd be able to hide in the dark.
His overwrought mind immediately conjured up an image of him stumbling around the forest, prisoner to the elements, and then another one of Foyet shooting him in the back as he tried to run, like how he did with JJ.
Would it hurt? Would he see the light again? Would there be angels there to greet him? Or will there be nothing at all?
Statistics and philosophies pertaining to the afterlife flipped through his brain like a deck of cards being shuffled at Vegas, and then that subconscious thought was latched on to and Reid found himself thinking of his mother.
The team will take care of her. They'll visit her and make sure she's okay, and my life insurance will cover any additional medical bills.
So many thoughts, so many regrets, so many feelings that Reid couldn't keep track of. There was even a fleeting, desperate need to demand that Foyet stop leaving him with suspense and to just get it over with.
Then that feeling was violently quashed by Gideon's voice in his head.
"You are stronger than him. He cannot break you."
Mind and focus back on track, Reid took a moment to regain control of his breathing. I won't. Then the profiler squared his shoulders, picked himself up, and held his chin high and his gaze as firm and unafraid as possible.
This all spanned within seconds, yet Foyet smirked as if he heard every single thought and experienced every feeling for himself and relished in it. Readjusting his stance and grip on his knife, the Boston Reaper smugly drawled, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall."
Reid tensed, fight or flight response blaring loudly, when a gruff, angry voice called out, "Foyet!"
Both killer and agent whipped towards the voice and were shocked to see Tobias striding towards them. Reid's initial shock became dread when he recognized the scowl on the Georgian man's face.
"Charles," he muttered under his breath.
It took everything Tobias had to maintain his glare when Foyet turned to look at him. Though he wanted nothing more than to quiver, he remembered Agent Hotchner's instructions and tried his best to take courage.
Although Tobias readily believed that Foyet wouldn't mistake him for his father, Hotchner insisted that it was possible.
"Believe it or not, you two look a lot alike."
"W-We…We do?"
"Yes. All you need to do is act and sound like him; deepen your voice and act temperamental. Foyet won't pick up on the difference right away, and by the time he does, it'll already be too late."
The plan was simple: act like Charles long enough to either get him away from Spencer, or long enough for Agent Hotchner to sneak up on Foyet.
Tobias refrained from glancing towards the surrounding trees, knowing that Foyet would catch the look and figure out the plan. He had to trust that Hotchner was moving as swiftly and silently as possible.
Now Tobias needed to do his part and not let something as simple as fear ruin things.
You can do this. Be brave. Be brave like Spencer.
Tobias refrained from looking at the young man as he approached them. Pretending that he was his father, he puffed his chest and growled, "There you are. Why did you leave me behind?!"
I…I think I got the voice right…b-but I'm not sure if I sounded angry enough.
Tobias hoped his uncertainty didn't show on his face as Foyet came out of his shock. "Hankel? What the…How did you get here?! I thought the feds had you!"
"Tell him you heard police sirens and made a run for it. Say you stole a car."
"How do you think I got here?!" Tobias snapped. "After you left me behind with that narcissist and that sniveling son of mine, I started hearing police sirens! I was damn lucky someone was driving by, or else I would've been stuck there with all those sinning FBI agents!"
At Foyet's narrowed eyes, Tobias thought, Too much anger?
His shoulders minutely loosened when the killer looked past him towards the trees, but then tensed up again, holding his breath as he hoped that he wouldn't spot Hotchner. The agent stated that he would make his way around the shack so that there would be a less likely chance of being prematurely seen in the open field.
However, to his relief, there wasn't any flash of anger or recognition. "You…stole a car?"
The disbelief in his tone, however, caused Tobias to internally panic. "I did what I had to! I wouldn't have had to sin if you hadn't left me behind!"
"Where's Aaron?" Foyet immediately pinned him with a fierce, unforgiving glare. "Did you leave him?!"
"Of…Of course not!" Tobias cursed his hesitation. "He's in the trunk!"
They hadn't gone over that. Tobias briefly wondered if Agent Hotchner was out of the trees and close to the shack now.
Foyet squinted distrustfully at him before glancing behind him at the tree lines again. There was silence for several agonizing seconds before Foyet turned back to him. His eyes were still clouded with suspicion and his jaw was locked in anger.
"So, you weren't captured after all, eh?" He gestured behind him. "The fed and I noticed all the cop cars on our way back and bailed. Figured your rat bastard son had something to do with that."
Against the odds, Foyet seemed to believe him, that he somehow hadn't witnessed him and Hotchner among the other agents swarming the factory.
Tobias swallowed his relief and pretended to be annoyed. "I kept the boy in check. I don't know how they found us."
"Where is Tobias, anyways?"
"If he asks where you are, then say that you were left behind."
"O-Okay…it sounds like something Charles would do anyways."
"I left that wretch behind. Don't know if he'll talk or not, but he doesn't know I was headed here."
Foyet relaxed and snorted. "Doesn't matter. We're here now." He then glanced back at Spencer. "I figured it was best to kill the kid now and then get the hell out of dodge. But if you're not in custody after all, then there's no reason to rush." Tobias fought a shiver at his eerie grin. "If you still have Aaron, then I can make him watch us kill Agent Reid. He deserves to see this."
Tobias thickly swallowed and jerkily nodded. Where are you, Agent Hotchner? Please hurry.
"Now look, Hankel." Foyet pierced him with a look. "I know you've got beef with the kid, but he disrespected me too. I deserve to make my mark just as much as you do. But don't worry, I'll let you do the honors. More than anything, I just want Aaron to watch and know that this was all his fault."
Foyet chuckled. "Now hear me out, Hankel. I know you're all for wiping out all the sinners off the face of this earth, but I'm planning on letting Aaron live. His sins go beyond narcissism, and I have plans to make him suffer the rest of his miserable life. You can't change my mind on this, so don't even try."
"I won't," Tobias growled. "Why don't you go get him while I keep an eye on Spen-this sinner."
Please, please go away. It'll be much easier for Agent Hotchner to catch you if you just get away from Spencer.
"I think I'll do that. But first, answer me this, Hankel. I called the feds to let them know that they lost me again. Agent Morgan sounded pretty concerned about the good doctor and tried to threaten me. Now, how come he didn't mention a thing about Aaron? I mean, those feds are so close-knit; you'd think Derek would be just as pissy about Aaron, but he wasn't. In fact, when I told him that I knew that he and the others rescued Aaron, I wasn't corrected. You'd think Derek would've demanded that I let Spencer and Aaron go. How come that wasn't the case?"
Tobias's initial confusion twisted into dread as he realized what Foyet was getting at. H-He…He's accusing me of lying. He suspects that-
Foyet pointed the gun at him and fired.
It took Tobias speaking for Reid to realize it was him. He was surprised that he was impersonating 'Charles,' but it gave him hope. Reid figured the team must've figured out where Foyet was taking them and had given chase directly after the phone call.
Using Tobias was risky and something that Reid never would've guessed Morgan or Rossi would have approved, but he could see the logic in their strategy. Foyet had bought the ruse and was relaxed since he believed he was with an ally.
As they talked, Reid surreptitiously glanced towards the trees in an attempt to spot his team and the Atlanta Police Department. He was disconcerted when there weren't any shadows to be found and reassured himself that that was the point.
He also simultaneously listened to Tobias. He was making a decent effort to impersonate his father and was almost passable. Nevertheless, what should've been a rough voice was just a bit too soft and anger was a bit less heated. Also, the minute inflections within Tobias's voice was vastly different from those of 'Charles.'
Regardless, Foyet didn't seem to notice, so Reid focused on getting ready for whatever the team planned to do next.
Just as Reid was beginning to relax, Foyet suddenly whipped out his gun and a shot rang out. The profiler yelped as Tobias grunted and collapsed, hands automatically coming up to staunch the rapidly bleeding wound in his stomach.
"Tobias!" Reid cried out, ready to jump forward.
Foyet, however, pointed the gun at him without looking away from Tobias. "Well, that's all the confirmation I need." Tobias moaned and attempted to get up. "I wouldn't if I were you. I can confirm that bleeding out from the stomach is the slowest, most painful way to die. Does it hurt, Tobias? It better."
Then he charged forward and kicked Tobias in the face, knocking him down. Tobias's surprised yelp switched to groans as he curled in on himself, instinctively ready for another blow.
"Did you really think you could trick me?" Foyet took another step forward and kicked Tobias where he had been shot. "I'll admit, you had me going for a bit. I didn't even expect you to be here. I would've bet good money that you were on your way to the slammer; threw me off my game. Who's here with you?! Aaron?! Derek?! The police department?!"
Foyet hurriedly scanned the darkness. "Whoever the hell's out there better come out! I'll kill this bastard right now!" Then he swung his gun around and aimed it at Tobias.
"No!" Reid tackled the killer down. A stray shot rang out before the gun went flying out of Foyet's hand. The Reaper grunted when they hit the ground, yet immediately recovered and swung out a fist. The first one missed, but the second landed and struck him.
Reid yelped and crashed into the dirt. Despite his disoriented mind, his body instinctively began to rise. Then a kick to the ribs forced him back down, and a knee was suddenly pressing into his sternum and a forearm digging into his throat to pin him down.
Foyet's glare was as dangerous and sharp as the knife in his hands.
"You've got guts, kid," Foyet snarled as he loomed over him. Reid frantically struggled to get out of his grip, but the Reaper merely tightened his hold. "I can't wait to see 'em once I disembowel you."
The first stab plunged into his shoulder.
The next one connected with the bandaged wound in his ribs.
Regardless of the pain, Reid continued to fight and aimed blows at the Reaper as he attempted to get away. The pain was just as excruciating at the first time, and Reid could practically feel his life gushing out of him.
But he had to hang on.
He needed to get to Tobias.
Before the knife could stab him a third time, Foyet was suddenly wrenched off him. Reid gasped in air blessedly returned to him before he dazedly glanced to the side. He was stunned to see Tobias on top of Foyet, attempting to wrestle the knife away from him.
The men grunted, arms straining. Even Tobias, who was pale and covered in blood was doing his best to retrieve the knife, despite Foyet vicious curses and flailing legs aimed to kick.
Reid was breathing heavily as he struggled to prop himself up. His mind raced, and his eyes scanned around for the discarded gun. Tobias's cry of pain stopped him, however; to his horror, Foyet had plunged the knife into the Georgian man's chest.
Even though Reid logically knew that the world was carrying on around them, the moment seemed to stretch. He and Tobias were staring at the knife with disbelief and dawning terror while Foyet was beginning to grin.
The Reaper shoved Tobias off of him, and he immediately collapsed onto the ground, blood soaking his already bloodied shirt. Just as Foyet began to get up, a shot rang out and shattered the moment.
Foyet reared back with a shout. Reid half-expected blood to begin blossoming on his shirt, so he was faintly surprised to see it drip from his arm.
Reid woozily looked to where it originated and saw Hotch running towards them with a gun in his hand. As he raised it again, Foyet roared with rage and unexpectedly met Hotchner halfway and tackled him down. Another shot and another shout were heard before the men began to brawl. The profiler's gun left his grip, skidded across the floor, and into the forgotten grave.
The brutal smack of flesh on flesh was as repeated as the intermingled grunts of pain and anger. Foyet initially had the upper hand and was practically flinging punches at the profiler until Hotch managed to get in some punches of his own and disorient the killer.
Reid's wounds burned and his blood was hot in his hands. If hemorrhaging isn't stopped, a stab wound victim could bleed to death in five minutes—shorter if the wounds are especially severe. I've been lucky so far that my adrenaline has kept me from feeling too faint, but it's only a matter of time before-
Stop!
Reid gritted his teeth and looked to Tobias. His breathing hitched when he noticed the pool of blood had gotten bigger. He shakily crawled over to him as quickly as he could and leaned against him.
The knife stood erect in Tobias's chest like Excalibur and unleashed a trickling river of blood. For a moment, Reid's eyes were glued to the weapon, hand hovering over it, before he clenched his fist and looked to Tobias.
Somehow, he was still alive, though the unnatural paleness of his face reminded him that that won't be the case for long.
"Tobias," he whispered. One hand clutched his wounds and absently attempted to pressed his torn bandages into them; the other dug into Tobias's shoulder, lightly shaking him into awareness. Tobias's pale brown eyes were glassy and unfocused and took time to focus on the profiler.
"Sp-Spencer," came a weak croak.
"Hold on, Tobias, please," Reid pleaded. "You're going to be alright."
Adults can lose up to 14% of their blood before experiencing adverse side effects, such as faintness and dizziness. When blood loss nears 20% of total blood volume, then the human body will go into hemorrhagic shock. Symptoms include: rapid breathing, weakness, confusion, pale skin-
STOP!
He needed to staunch the bleeding. The thought of removing his vest sounded excruciating, but Reid still did his best. It took longer than it should have to accomplish such a simple task, yet Reid managed to press his vest into Tobias.
It was agony. The profiler's grip was weak on both his and Tobias's wounds, his hands shaking from the effort. The blood refused to clot for either of them, and Reid had a horrible vision of the two of them passing out and dying in that empty field.
"N-No," he whispered to himself as he pressed closer to Tobias.
The piercing sound of police sirens jolted Reid. He turned to see the telltale flashing red and blue lights racing towards them.
Hotch and Foyet noticed as well. Bruised and bloodied, they glanced towards the police cars. With a vicious snarl, Foyet aimed a punch at the back of Hotch's head and scrambled up. The agent, however, wasn't disoriented for long and stumbled up to give chase.
"I'd let me go if I were you, Aaron!" Foyet exclaimed as he began picking up speed. "If you don't, the doc and the mental case won't make it!"
Hotchner paused and looked to Reid and Tobias, eyes unreadable.
"It's either me or them, Aaron!" Foyet gloated as he ran. "Don't let them bleed out!"
Despite knowing the statistics, despite knowing that Foyet might actually be right, Reid mustered up the strength to say, "G-Go, Hotch. He needs t-to be stopped."
Hotch briefly hesitated before throwing a phone and his jacket at him. "Call an ambulance." Then he took off running after Foyet.
A momentary burst of relief was immediately stifled by pain. Reid's breaths were shallow as he grabbed the jacket and pressed it around the knife.
The police sirens grew closer until the vehicles stopped, parking where Foyet had left the car. Reid wasn't sure how they knew to come here, but he didn't care. He could only hope that they could help.
Hotch's phone felt heavy and the thought of dialing 9-1-1 sounded daunting. Letting the phone slip from his hand, Reid focused his dwindling strength on the jacket. It wasn't soaking through as quickly, yet Reid didn't allow himself to take that as a good sign.
"Spencer," came Tobias's weak voice, barely audible even if the police sirens weren't blaring.
"D-Don't talk," Reid pleaded. "P-Please. Just breathe."
"H-He…He stabbed me…"
"I…I know. I'm sorry."
"It's m-my fault. I was weak."
"No." Flashlights and loud voices cut their way into the dark. It would take too much energy to scream for them to hurry. "Y-You did what you could."
It would also take too much energy to explain that Foyet was the one at fault, that Tobias was innocent and that his personalities didn't make him weak or evil.
Tobias's gaze, glassy before, was rapidly becoming unfocused again. His breathing was coming in slower, shallower.
NO!
"T-Tobias, please…stay with me."
"D-Do you think I'll s-see my mom again?"
"Y-Yes," Reid replied through his tears. "B-But not n-now. Please. Just…J-Just hang in there…"
"We got 'em! We got 'em, Rodriguez! Tell those Quantico folks to drive down here!"
"Shit! There's blood everywhere!"
"Call an ambulance!"
"Hang in there, sir! Help is on the way!"
Reid wanted to tell them to hurry up. He wanted to tell them that it was pointless.
But instead, he said nothing as strong arms lifted him away from Tobias, despite his feeble attempts to remain with him.
Soon, he felt something getting wrapped around his torso, faintly heard something about blood loss, and saw the night sky as he was gently pressed onto his back.
"T-Tobias," was the last thing that Reid said before he went unconscious.
The gunshot had only grazed his arm, but Foyet felt like he was losing more meat as he ran. There was a brief moment where the killer imagined the wound being deeper, and his arm was barely hanging on by a few stubborn muscles.
Then he gritted his teeth. I repeatedly stabbed myself and dragged myself to a payphone about a mile away. I can handle a fucking gunshot.
The rest of him ached, too. Aaron and Tobias did a number on him, loathe was he to admit to the latter.
He was pissed when he realized that Tobias was acting like his dad. He knew the whole situation was off, he fucking knew, but it wasn't until the bastard nearly called Dr. Reid by his first name did the realization click. He was pissed at himself for not realizing it sooner, pissed that that meant that the fucking feds were likely skulking about, and pissed that Tobias had the fucking gall.
Foyet didn't regret coming to Atlanta, but he knew he was going to be pissed to the end of his days that he didn't get the chance to kill Tobias the way he deserved.
Stabbing him was fine, Foyet noted with a flicker of grim satisfaction, even though it'll never be enough. The Reaper found himself hoping that the bastard didn't bleed out, just so he could pay him a visit later.
Foyet didn't ask for much in life—not anymore—but if he was allowed this one thing, then he'd be satisfied, almost as much as he would be once he killed Hayley and Jack.
The sound of pounding feet behind him had him mentally pause, yet the Reaper refused to slow or look behind him. "You picked wrong, Aaron, as fucking usual! Spencer and Tobias will burn in hell because of you!"
Aaron didn't respond. Surely, he didn't think he could catch him, did he? Even though Foyet never got the chance to really punish the fed, he shouldn't have the energy for a chase.
Doesn't matter. Soon enough, I'll be in the wind, and he'll be cursing my name.
Foyet raced through the trees as the forest thickened. There was no way the police could follow them in their cars, so it was all a matter of losing Aaron. The fed was a stubborn bastard that managed to keep on his tail.
The Reaper was getting tired. His wounded arm didn't distract from the burning in his legs and the throbbing of his body. Aaron's breathing was beginning to sound loud and labored, yet Foyet knew that his stubbornness and narcissism would fuel him.
As his mind raced through his options, Foyet spotted some lights ahead of him. He grinned when he distinguished houses emerging from the gloom.
Stealing a car should be a cinch.
Foyet almost laughed as he neared some back gates. It wouldn't be hard to hotwire some minivan or break into one of these houses and steal some car keys.
And if worst comes to worst, Aaron wouldn't dare endanger civilians and would have no choice but to let the Boston Reaper go if he were to take a hostage.
With a semblance of a plan under his belt, Foyet began scouting the approaching homes. It was past early evening yet not late enough for folks to go to sleep, so majority of lights were on. Many of the back gates were rusty chain-link fences. Foyet selected one that would least likely require him to need a tetanus shot and started to climb.
Hard hands grabbed the back of his coat to haul him down. Having expected this, Foyet threw back his elbow, catching Aaron in the jaw. The fed grunted and loosened his grip, allowing Foyet to deliver a swift, backwards kick to the chest. Once Aaron let go, the Reaper continued his climb and hopped over the fence.
Aaron was still wheezing when Foyet smirked at him from the other side. "It's only worth it if you catch me, Aaron. Try to keep up!"
A fierce glare was all Foyet allowed himself to see before he turned to run. He could see the house's lights were on, casting dead grass and a dog house in a buttery glow, and that there was a side gate leading to the front yard.
Perfect.
If the circumstances were right, then Foyet might be able to hop more fences and disappear. If not, then that just meant that cars were ripe for the taking. He couldn't be sure how many cops showed up, but it hardly mattered since they'll be swarming soon enough.
Foyet was halfway to the side gate when something unexpectedly popped up before him, and he ended up tripping over it and landing hard on the ground. As he grunted and cursed, he faintly heard a sharp, startled whine. Then angry snarls and growls sounded near him.
The killer's eyes were wide as he realized that he had tripped over a dog of all things and that another mutt was before him, growling menacingly.
"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "Nice doggie." He carefully untangled his legs with the other one and made to slowly get up. The fur on the dog's back raised with its crescendoing snarl as it stepped forward.
George Foyet knew nothing about dogs and had nothing on him that could help. He held his palms out in an attempt to placate the mutt as his mind raced. He was wasting time just standing there and felt his chances of escape slipping away.
He attempted to move around, but the dog merely followed his movements, growls growing louder. Then he began to hear the other one joining behind him.
Son of a bitch!
With what little patience he had disappearing, Foyet squared his shoulders and snarled, "Get the fuck out of my way!" Then he viciously kicked the dog in the head before making a run for it. Outraged barks and snarls followed behind him.
Just as Foyet's hands grazed the side gate, a sharp pain exploded onto his calf and he was dragged back. The Reaper cried out and attempted to shake the dog off of him. The mutt, however, was unrelenting and sunk its teeth deeper.
The other one, the one Foyet had kicked, followed suit and leapt at him. Foyet couldn't dodge and his left arm was grabbed. He did his best to ignore the pain as he kicked and tried to wrench himself away.
Nevertheless, the dogs were huge and were easily able to pull him away from the gate and drag him back into the yard. Foyet soon lost his balance and the dogs were on him once he fell. The killer roared as one mutt bit into his wounded arm and began tearing into him while the other began ripping at his leg.
For the first time since Foyet arrived in Atlanta, he felt fear—pure, aggressive, ruthless fear.
"Get off me! Fuck off!" He attempted to sound angry, but his voice came out panicked. A flash of movement caught his attention. "Aaron! Get these mutts off me!"
The one on his leg ripped something out, and the Reaper howled in pain. Then the dog on his arm did the same before going for his torso. Each bite, each pull was vicious and relentless. Any attack that Foyet could muster began to lack in strength and coordination and spots entered his vision. He attempted to claw at the dog closest to him, but he only served to piss it off and it bit his hand, pulling until two of his fingers dislocated and he screamed.
Maybe it was the pain that fucked up time, but Agent Hotchner was taking too damn long to do something. "Aaron!" He stretched out his neck to look at the gate. He didn't have the best view of the fed—was he still on the other side of the fence? —but he recognized that Hotchner hadn't moved.
"Agent Hotchner! Help!"
But Aaron still wasn't moving.
When the dog finally let go of his hand, Foyet wildly swung at it, hearing a yelp, and attempted to pull away. The other dog dug into his leg, so he bashed it with his free fist. The blow wasn't as strong as it could've been, but it was enough for the dog to let go.
Foyet desperately attempted to scramble up and run, only for his leg to crumple under him. Then the dogs were on him again. One pounced on his back and bit into his shoulder while the other attacked his other leg.
The Boston Reaper tried bucking them off, yet didn't have the strength. Blood slicked his hands, making it impossible for him to even push himself up. There was more pulling and tearing—Foyet was sickened to hear distinctive rips coming from him—and he was in agony.
Through the pervasive haze of pain, Foyet vaguely noted the yard getting brighter and a new voice calling out in alarm.
"Sir, don't!" Of course, it was Aaron's voice that managed to cut through. "Get back inside and call the police!"
The new voice tried to protest, but the agent brusquely interrupted. "There's nothing you can do! Just leave him!"
As Foyet puzzled over whether or not he was the 'him,' he distantly heard a door slam. The dogs didn't respond to the others and continued to tear him apart. The gunshot wound was ripped into a gaping hole, and Foyet felt muscle and blood slide out of where he was bitten.
It can't end like this. Not for me…
Then all thoughts ceased when one of the mutts lunged for his neck.
Hotchner watched with morbid fascination as a pair of large dogs continued to rip into Foyet even after the man had stopped moving. They were mostly mutilating him, yet occasionally stopped to chew on and swallow pieces of him.
Hotch felt that he should be disgusted, yet mostly felt apathy. The owner of the dogs had seemed horrified by their behavior, yet listened to the agent and went back into the house. Hotchner saw him now, peering out from the window as he babbled into a landline.
The profiler briefly wondered if animal control was called. He made a mental reminder to emphasize that Foyet antagonized the dogs first once the authorities arrived. Though he couldn't account for the dogs' behavior before this evening, he had a feeling that they only attacked due to the threat on their property.
Once sirens pierced through the nothingness that held him hostage, Hotchner began to think of what he'll put in his statement.
He could've helped Foyet when the dogs first attacked, but there was nothing he could do.
(Never mind that he managed to find one of the discarded guns and could've shot the dogs.)
(Never mind that he could've used the gun to try and shoot Foyet during the chase.)
(Never mind that even if he didn't have the gun, that he could've tried to stop the dogs with his bare hands.)
He'll say that he stopped the owner from intervening for the man's own safety.
(Never mind that there was a possibility that he could've gotten his dogs to stop.)
Later, when Strauss berates him for going after Foyet himself and getting Tobias involved, he won't apologize. He did what he had to do.
And as for Foyet's fate, well, that just meant there was one less serial killer out there and his family was safe.
And that's all that mattered.
Hotchner experienced a deep sense of calm that wouldn't leave, even after the dogs finally pulled away from Foyet's bloody carcass and began to eat pieces of it.
...Yup.
For those of you who liked Foyet's death in canon, sorry. I had debated having this happen in this story, but I realized that it's not feasible. I can't see Hotch getting that angry in these circumstances. Letting Foyet die seems like something he'd do though.
So yeah, Hayley lives~
Stay tuned for the next update! See you all next month!
