"So far, this group has managed to leave no trace online or on the ground." Agent Hotchner continued, "Agent Swann has analysts working on the video streams, Garcia, I want you working on the most recent one. Pay attention to the background, to noises and things that are said, anything that might help us narrow down a location. See if you can identify the second victim as well.
Morgan, you'll view the older recordings and start working on a profile, JJ and I are going to coordinate with Swann's team and go over what they have so far. Any questions?" he hated the way he made it sounded like any other case, but this was the best way they could help Reid. "Allright, then let's bring him home."
"You know the odds of the door breaking now as opposed to the twenty-six other times you have tried that aren't exactly great." Reid stated, laying back with his arm over his face.
"You know maybe if you helped instead of just sitting there." Alex snapped back.
"One extra person is not going to make much of a difference against a bolted iron door." he said sitting up on the cot, "If you keep doing that your just likely too...hurt yourself." Reid finished as Alex gasped, holding her right shoulder, blood seeping from between her fingers.
"Dammit!" She hissed, walking back to the cots and shaking out her arm.
"Are you ok?"
"I'm fine."
"Can I see?" he asked.
"Sure." She shrugged, sliding over so there was room on the cot next to her, "It's no big deal though, really."
Reid reached over and gently moved her hand away from the gash. It pulsed red, about two inches long. A superficial cut, but he could already hear Prentiss' voice in his head from when she had insisted on teaching him first aid after he had tripped and cut himself on one of their first days in the field together. God he missed her. He would give anything to know she was out there looking for him instead of six feet below him.
"Hey doufus," Alex's voice interrupted his train of thought, "You ok? Your not going to pass out on me are you?"
"We need to wrap it," Reid automatically replied, "to stop the bleeding. Here..." and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"Hold up! What do you think you are doing?" she asked jumping back alarmed.
"It's alright," Reid said freezing and showing her his hands before cautiously continuing with removing his black button up to reveal a similarly colored undershirt, "I'm just going to use it as a bandage."
Alex seemed to settle down a bit as Reid tore the shirt into strips and wrapped her arm. He realized that what he has first mistaken for tricks of the dim light, were actually scars and burn marks running up and down her arms and across her shoulders.
As he tied the knot, Alex winced and looked up, her dark eyes meeting his for a brief moment. He looked away first.
"Huh," Alex mused, admiring Reid's handy work, "That's pretty darn good. Where'd you learn to do that?"
"A friend from the BAU taught me. She said I was so accident-prone that if I didn't learn I'd be stuck in a wheelchair for most of my life." He laughed
"BAU?"
"Behavioral Analysis Unit," Reid explained, "It's a part of the FBI. We help identify and capture criminals using profiling and various other analysis techniques."
"Huh, cool. So your kinda like Jason Borne in that scene, where he rattles off the license plates and tells the girl he can tell the waiter is right-handed and the bartender works some other odd job or something?"
"Not exactly, but I do have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187."
"So your like a genius or something. Could you profile me?"
"That's not exactly how it works, plus, shouldn't we be looking for a way out anyways?"
"I mean, you said it yourself, that door is pretty damn solid." Alex laughed, "So come on, Spence, who am I?" she asked, putting on a comically inquisitive face.
"I...allright. From your age range and the fact that you were in one of my lectures, I would initially say a college student, but the callouses on your hands and your build suggests a life of manual labor, which is highly unlikely among female college students, so you most likely grew up in a lower income area with an above average intelligence. Because of this, you likely would have gotten a scholarship if given the opportunity, but something, likely an abusive familial relationship, prevented you from focusing on your studies. This led you to become frustrated, but instead of lashing out, you turned inward, self harming until you were able to leave three or four years ago."
Throughout his exposition, Alex had started to turn inwards, crossing her arms across her stomach as if attempting to hide the scars whose story he had read like a library book.
"How did you guess the last bit?" She asked quietly.
"About the self harm? The scarring, there are repetitive inward slanting cuts on both arms, but they are most common on the left, the non dominant, arm. The larger, inconsistent scars are most likely from abuse, but these are too repetitive and precise."
"ah" she nodded, half whispering to herself.
"I'm sorry," Reid apologized awkwardly as he consciously registered what he had just blurted out, "I didn't mean to overstep."
"No, your fine." Alex said, turning slightly back towards him. He could see something change across her face, as if she had wrestled back control from something hidden behind her eyes. Her posture changed too. From curled protectively inward, to broad shouldered and confident, though he could see her hands just barley shaking from the tension she was holding.
'Of course!' He suddenly realized 'that's why she appeared so calm when he first met her, victims of abuse often learned to control or hide their emotional response when confronted with a traumatizing or overwhelming situation.'
"I mean, your not wrong." she continued, "I grew up on a ranch in Texas with an asshole of a father. He always wanted a son, to carry on his legacy or some shit, but instead he got me. He used to come home drunk and put a belt, a wrench, and a stick on the kitchen table and tell me to choose. He said that was how he would 'make me a man.'"
"Based on physics and material structure, I would have to choose the belt." Reid interjected.
"I always chose the wrench." Alex shrugged
"Why?"
"Because fuck him. He already controlled everything else about my life, and I'd be damned if I was going to give him an ounce of satisfaction if I could help it. Anyways, I left home as soon as I turned 17 and hitch-hiked north, working odd jobs here and there. Haven't seen him since."
"I'm sorry." Reid said, looking at the ground.
"Hey man, it's alright. It's over and done with anyways...So what about you? What's your poison?" she said, attempting to change the subject.
"Hu?" Reid asked, confused.
"You didn't totally freak out when I took off your blindfold, so I'm guessing you've seen some shit, and don't take this the wrong way, but you don't exactly seem like the type to talk about you problems. So what is it? Gambling? Drugs? Sex?"
"Dilaudid. But I've been clean for four years."
"Damn," Alex marveled, "You must have a pretty great support system."
"I mean, yea. They are like my family." Reid smiled
"And?" Alex pressed with a grin, "Come on, I told you about myself and my shitty family, now you tell me about yours."
"Well," Reid started, "I guess I could always start with Morgan..."
