Coming down from a high was never fun. For starters, Steven was incorrect with his words about the amount of Dilaudid he gave to Reid being too much, or more than he used to use when he still was using. It was the correct amount. Which terrified Reid even more. It could be a lucky guess, or, and this was the more likely situation as Reid had been a profiler for far too long to believe in coincidences, Steven had been watching him, all of them really, for far longer than he originally thought or hoped. If he ever got out of this basement alive, he would never sleep soundly again. For a moment, he wondered if this was how Elle felt after she was shot in her own home by the Fisher King years ago.
Reid shifted very slowly, trying to inventory his vast injuries. No longer was he at a risk of bleeding out but lying on the ground of the cold basement probably wasn't the best for the gashes on his back.
Blood, semen, and some sort of lubrication dripped out of him and he desperately wanted it to stop. He wanted to curl up into a ball and never have to face Steven or his team again. That, however, was a pipe dream.
Steven came back after a few hours, and a vague memory that was hazy from the drugs reminded Reid that he said he would. Steven's hands, cold and soft, were trailing up his side. Something hard hit the ground and Reid realized, perhaps a moment too late, what it was.
He played along for the time being, lying completely still and trying not to clue Steven in that he was fully coherent now and could see the hand gun only a few feet away from them. Steven whispered something in his ear, but he wasn't listening. He needed to get that gun.
Quickly and not quick enough, he was being rolled onto his stomach and the cap of the lube was being popped open. This was his chance. Both of Steven's hands were full and he was somewhat distracted with his arousal and intentions. If Reid moved slow, Steven would notice. He only had one chance at this, at saving his team. His family.
He gathered all of his diminished strength (not like there was much to begin with, as Morgan always poked fun at him for) and lunged at the gun. Steven cried out in surprise and grabbed his leg, dragging him back before realizing what was in his hand. Reid rolled on his back and clicked the safety off, discharging one, two, three, four bullets into Steven's chest. There was no fanfare, no lingering words like when he killed Tobias Hankle. Steven was there, and then he was gone.
Laying on the ground with blood pooling around him, he was dead immediately. His eyes were open, steel blue and already clouding up. Any other person would probably try to close them, but Reid knew it would be futile. It would take a few hours to close Steven's eyes for him and actually have them remain closed.
From somewhere far off, he heard Penelope Garcia sobbing loudly and Derek Morgan screaming obscenities. They thought it was Steven who killed Reid, and not the other way around. Reid crawled over to Steven, feeling for a pulse even though, logically, he knew his captor was dead. But the lack of a heart beat made it more real. He was alive, his team was safe. That was all that mattered. Everything was worth it if his family was safe.
He dug through Steven's pockets and produced a key, probably to whatever room was holding the team. He held it up and stared when the fluorescent lights reflected off it. His team was safe.
Struggling to get to his feet and find a pace, he stumbled over to the door that Steven disappeared whenever he went to get a new member of the team. There was a long hall way, and when he started walking down it, he heard Derek shouting again.
"Come here you bastard! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"
Reid closed his eyes and leaned against the wall to regather some strength. He silently willed Morgan to stop shouting. It was hurting his head.
He fell to the ground once he was within view of the team. A homemade jail cell was the thing holding them, and a chain and padlock held the barred door shut. It was dark in the room, and Reid was grateful for that change. He held the key out blindly and somebody's hands were reaching through the bars to grab it. JJ was speaking to him, trying to soothe him, Rossi was encouraging him. It didn't matter what they said. He just wanted to leave.
The padlock dropped to the ground with a heavy thud and somebody's arms were wrapped around him in an instant. He pushed them away with a soft don't touch me.
"Can you walk?"
Leave it to Hotch to be so straight-forward.
He grunted, perhaps it was a yes, perhaps it was approval, he wasn't sure anymore. Someone, Rossi, was trying to help him to his feet, but he struggled out of his grip.
"Don't touch me," He repeated it like a mantra. "Please don't touch me,"
"Spencer, can you walk?" Hotch asked again.
"Let us help," Rossi said softly.
He pushed them away again and stumbled down the short hallway. He didn't even make it to the white room before collapsing. JJ caught him and lowered him to the ground gently.
"No," He moaned, trying to push her hands away, "Stop. Don't want it,"
"Spence, it's me,"
"Please don't touch me,"
"We have to get him out of here," Morgan said with a sense of urgency that Reid hadn't yet heard from him.
Reid nodded and closed his eyes against the bright lights, "Stairs..."
"We're in a basement?" Rossi guessed.
Another nod.
"I can't..." Reid tried to explain but failed miserably. "Sorry."
He fell unconscious at that moment.
The next thing he remembered, although it was a brief memory and rather hazy, was being on a gurney and rolled up and into an ambulance. Morgan was with him and gripping his hand. He squeezed back.
"You're gonna be okay, kid."
He fell back asleep.
When he woke up again, he was in a hospital bed. The walls were white, and he panicked, for a moment thinking he was back in that basement with Steven. He absentmindedly remembered all the symbolism of the color, or lack thereof, white. It wasn't supposed to be a prison.
"Welcome back," Derek Morgan said softly.
"Making it a habit to be in my hospital room," Reid joked weakly.
"Making it a habit to land yourself in the hospital," Morgan joked right back. Then, his demeanor changed into something that Reid hadn't ever remembered seeing. He stared at Morgan for a while, waiting for him to continue speaking, "JJ went home to be with the boys. Hotch is with Jack. Emily went to get some coffee. I finally convinced Rossi and Garcia to go home and get some rest,"
"You need rest, too,"
Morgan shrugged one shoulder and didn't elaborate.
With a herculean effort, Reid managed to roll onto his side, facing Derek, to allow his wounds some time to breath. Everything hurt. Everything ached.
"How long was he watching us for?" Reid asked.
"I don't know, kid,"
Reid let out a soft hmmf and closed his eyes. Sleep covered him like a blanket, dampening the pain temporarily. Then, much too soon, hands were on him. His eyes sprang open and he almost fell out of the hospital bed trying to get away from his assailant.
"Don't touch him, man!" Morgan cried.
The nurse gave a quick apology before explaining, "I need to check his stitches."
Reid reached out for something, anything, and found Morgan's hand. He held onto it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this Earth, and only let go after the nurse left. Water was running from behind a door in the hospital room, and Reid realized that it was a bathroom. Emily Prentiss came out, drying her still-wet hands on her pants.
"Hey, Reid," She greeted, a sad smile on her face.
"Hey,"
"How are you feeling?"
"I don't think you want me to answer that," Reid admitted softly. Morgan grabbed his hand again and squeezed it three times. Spencer repeated the action and grimaced. "Can we turn off the lights?"
It took about three seconds for the room to be flooded in darkness, courtesy of Emily. He nodded his thanks and quickly fell back asleep.
When he opened his eyes again, the lights were still off and it was dark outside also, preventing him from seeing who was in the chair next to him.
"Morgan?" He asked weakly, his voice strained.
"No, it's me," Rossi answered. "Sorry. Morgan went home to shower and get some sleep,"
"Oh."
He asked Rossi what happened, and Rossi delivered. Steven hired men to drug and kidnap the members of the team. JJ, Garcia, and Rossi were caught off guard at work. Hotch was at home, and his son called the police. Emily was at home too, but alone. One of the men staged a small car accident to get Morgan alone and isolated.
"Why did he do it?"
Rossi heaved a sigh, "If you keep asking yourself that, you'll drive yourself crazy,"
"I'm already driving myself crazy,"
Rosse gave a humorless chuckle and told Reid to get some rest. Reid didn't feel like sleeping. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, though.
Derek returned in the early hours of the morning, showered and freshly shaven, although it appeared that he didn't get any rest like Rossi had hoped. Members of the team (and Will and Henry at one point) filed in and out of his room for the rest of the day. He wanted them to leave. He couldn't look at them knowing that they knew what had happened to him.
The only person who stayed for the entirety of the day was Derek, who held onto Reid's hand and refused to let go, occasionally squeezing three times and smiling when Spencer returned the action.
Hotch came into the room just after JJ, Will, and Henry left to go get some dinner.
"They're going to release you. You can't stay at your place,"
"Why? I want to go home,"
"That's not a request," Hotch said.
"He can stay with me for a while," Derek offered immediately.
"I just want to go home," Reid repeated, "I don't want your help,"
"You put up a pretty good fight, kid. Your place is a mess. Let us clean it up before you go home. Besides, you really shouldn't be alone right now,"
Reid shot him a harsh glare, "If you think I lived through all that just to kill myself now, you're wrong."
Morgan cocked an eyebrow and looked like he was about to say something but caught Hotch's eye and stopped just short of getting the words out.
"It wasn't a request," Hotch repeated, a touch of finality in his tone.
Reid rolled over so that he was facing away from Hotch and closed his eyes. He heard Hotch's footsteps retreat to the hallway and the door close softly.
"I just want to go home," Reid murmured. Morgan reached out and patted his arm.
"Sorry, kid."