"So, what's your theory, Reid?" Emily asked on the drive back. The sun was setting. She sat in the front seat as Morgan drove. Reid rested, laying on the back seat, looking at Fueller's copy file.
"I'm not sure how much Andrews was involved with the Fueller case, but Riley never mentioned entailing his expertise. I think we should talk to him."
"He might not know anything." Emily said.
"Maybe, but it's the only lead we have. Even if he had been briefed on the case, he may not remember much, but still it's still worth a shot. We can't all have memories like our brainiac in the back seat."
Reid felt a pang of heartache and gloom at the word. He'd give anything for Riley to call him "Brainiac" again.
Closing the file, he set it aside and allowed the pain to sink in again. For the first time in a long time, he wanted pain meds to actual help with pain. But that was a bad idea. He'd ask Morgan for aspirin once they got home. Reid stared at the car ceiling, allowing his mind to wander, imagining Riley: her laughter, her smile, the feeling he got when she walked into a room. The incredible sensation he got when he said something that made her laugh.
This was agony. He had no idea where she was. Was she bound and gagged or drugged? Had he beat her or raped her?
"Do you guys think she's still alive?" he asked into the silence mixed with the hum of the SUV. Unseen to him, Morgan and Emily glanced at each other, unsure what to say. "You're lack of response gives me your answer." He added.
"Reid, it's not that we don't want to believe she's alive," Morgan began.
"It's just that…" Emily continued, "We've all worked enough cases to know the odds of her survival. She's been gone almost five days; we have to expect the worst."
"She has to still be alive." Reid said, closing his eyes.
"She's not like us, Reid. We're agents, we're trained to fight and protect ourselves. Riley's a civilian."
"I know that, but she's strong."
"I'm sure she is, but five days of torture? If this guy is doing to her what he did to other victims…"
"But, if he is obsessed with her, he may keep her alive a little longer than the others. He might not treat her the same." Emily chimed in.
"But weren't the others his rehearsal?"
"No," Reid answered. "He used the same MO as Fueller. He may… he may have been trying to copy him to get Riley's attention. I mean, Riley worked with Fueller for a long time. It's probably why the unsub stole the file from her apartment. He had become Fueller; he had gotten her attention,"
"-and wiped out everything in his path that might take her attention away. It explains the books, the posters, you."
"Okay, then why am I the only patient of hers to be killed?" Reid asked. "All the girls targeted had nothing in common, except for the attackers at Havensall… and that could just have been a coincidence."
An answer wasn't immediate. Each in the car thought it over carefully, trying to make the connection.
"Because I'm in love with her, too. He didn't torture me like the girls because that would ruin the Fueller illusion. If he wanted to simply make a point that I was in the way, he would have just maimed me. Even if he did want to get rid of me, he would have done it quickly; slit my throat or shoot me. My murder was personal to him."
"Stabbed five times in the stomach. I'd say that's personal." Emily concurred.
Reid still felt despondent. "Still, it doesn't give us any clue who he is or where he's keeping Riley."
"But it gives us what we need to track him down, Reid." Morgan replied.
"What?" Reid asked, not thinking clearly.
Morgan smirked, flipping on his turn signal. "A profile."
…
"We are looking for a white male," Hotch said to the Quantico Police Department the next morning. "in his late 30s to early 50s. Despite his age, he will be in good physical shape. His mental health, however, is far from healthy."
The team stood around, each explaining their own part of the report. Reid was sitting in a chair quietly, not bothering to say much. He was feeling much weaker than yesterday. His body wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed for a thousand years until the pain stopped. But his mind was set on autopilot and wouldn't let him rest for long.
He voiced nothing during the profile. The others seemed to be on the same wavelength, never waiting for him to chime in. Before they'd even finished, he got up to go into the PD break room.
He sat down at the table, closing his eyes for a moment. His brain wouldn't stop working, even for just a moment of rest. Trying to sleep last night had been more of a nightmare than sleeping ever would offer.
The sound of the door opened and Reid opened his eyes. Morgan had walked in. He headed over to the coffee machine and poured two cups. Taking a seat, he handed one over.
"Whenever you're ready to go," Morgan explained, taking a seat next to him. "Are you sure you're up to this?"
"I have to be." Reid stated, taking a sip of the coffee. "This is really weak… Riley would hate it."
"Reid, everyone will understand if you can't do this. You look awful, you sound worse, and I know you didn't sleep last night."
"I guess you're right. And Riley will understand why no one came to rescue her. Hell, you won't even have to explain it to her."
"Listen to yourself: rescue her? You're not a knight in shining armor and Riley is not some damsel in distress. You have to stop thinking like you're in love with her and focus on the case."
"I know what she's going through. I know what it feels… what goes through your mind… when you know you're about to die." He closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears. "She's got to be terrified. Anybody would be."
"The odds of her being alive…" but lecturing would do no good. Morgan nodded. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to treat you like you're a kid. We're going to get this guy."
Reid nodded just as J.J. walked in. "Hey," she said. "Uh, Emily's waiting. You guys ready to go?"
"Yeah," Morgan said, helping Reid stand. "Let's go."
…
The waiting room seemed completely different to Reid. He hadn't been there in over a week, yet it seemed like years. The same receptionist sat behind the desk. There were no patients in the room.
Morgan and Emily ushered the way. The familiar smell of the office hit him: knock off Chanel from the receptionist and Febreze. The scents made him nauseas and he felt like falling over. Reaching out, he grabbed Emily for support.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
"I just got dizzy, that's all."
"Sit down," she said, steering him into a seat next to the exit. Her free hand when to his forehead for a moment before motioning Morgan closer. "He's got a fever; we have to get him back to the hospital now."
"I'm not going back to the hospital." He hissed, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair.
"You might have an infection. You're sick, you need medical help." She looked at Morgan for support.
Taking a deep breath, Morgan glanced at Reid and then back to Emily. "We're already here. Let's just… talk to Andrews. We'll be as quick as possible, and then we'll get him back to the station where he can get some rest."
Emily shrugged. "I'm outnumbered. Alright, come on, Reid." She said, carefully lifting him out his seat. "Just try not to look too sick."
"I'll do my best." He muttered.
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked, annoyed.
"We'd like to speak to Dr. Andrews, please." Emily said, turning around.
She eyed Reid curiously. Obviously, she had to recognize him, he'd been in every week. But after a moment, she shook her head. "He's not here right now, can I take a message?"
"When will he'll be back?" Morgan asked.
'I'm not sure. If he doesn't come back by three, he always calls to check in for messages? You're Dr. Parker's patient, right?"
Reid nodded. "You don't usually come in on weekdays. I'm sorry to say, she's not in."
"I know." Reid replied disheartened. "Doesn't she have an assistant or a secretary or something?"
"That's me, that's part of my job." She answered.
"Perfect." He answered with a bitter tone, sitting down in a chair with his face in his hands.
Emily quickly intervened. "Uh, you'll have to excuse Dr. Reid, he doesn't feel well. Listen, we're with the B.A.U. and we're working on a time sensitive case. Could you give us Dr. Andrews' number? We really need to get a hold of him."
"Well, I could give you his cell number, but he rarely ever picks up. He's been swamped lately, trying to cover both his patients and Dr. Parker's."
"Yeah, like it's her fault," Reid spat. He rose quickly and headed towards the door.
"Well, when you decide to go on vacation without so much as a warning to anyone, it's rather inconsiderate."
Frozen in his tracks, Reid turned around and caught eyes with both Morgan and Emily. It wasn't just him, they were just as confused. "She's not on vacation."
"That's what I was told." She stated.
"Who exactly told you she was on vacation?" Emily asked.
"Dr. Andrews did. He came in last Saturday, said Riley had gone off to Napa the night before for a few weeks. Said everything was just getting to her here and asked him to cover for her." Her eyes darted from Emily to Morgan to Reid. "Why? Where is she?"
Running his hands through his hair, Reid uttered a groan, finally having a bit of clarity. The memory was too hazy and dark to truly understand… but this new knot in his stomach was proof enough.
"Thank you," he uttered quickly to the receptionist. "I think we just found our unsub."
