AN – Hi everyone, guess who's FINALLY back! My inspiration for writing fanfic has been really lacking over the past few months, hence the lack of updates and new stories, but I eventually got some of my muses back and have returned with this new idea for a Criminal Minds fic (yes I'm back on my Hotch x Reid bullsh*t, don't judge me).

This fic contains a pre-established Hotch-Reid relationship, and is set some time after s5 so there will be spoilers for content up to there (and possibly later episodes depending on where the plot goes). It has some graphic gore and violence, much like the actual show, so don't read if that's not your thing. I really hope you enjoy reading, drop me a review to let me know what you think!

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The world comes back to him in pieces. Brightness – harsh, fluorescent brightness – is the first thing he registers, followed by the intermingling scents of damp and mould and blood, swirling around him, nauseating him. The last thing that returns to him before he fully opens his eyes is the sense that something is very, very wrong.

And that's when he remembers.

Disjointed images flash through his memory – returning home after a particularly gruelling case, stepping out of his car into the cool night breeze that drifted through his apartment parking lot, noticing too late as someone slipped through the shadows towards him. A tire iron. A struggle. Pain. Darkness.

And then, waking up here. Wherever the hell here is.

His eyes fly open instantly, the sudden intensity of the light making him wince as his temples start pounding from the added stimulus. His gaze darts around the environment, taking in as many clues to his location as he can. He's in a windowless, concrete cell, no bigger than his own living room, an imposing metal door marking the only exit and a surveillance camera prominently mounted high up on one wall. Before he can drag himself to his feet and investigate the surroundings further, a final detail of the room filters through his still hazy mind, and it makes him freeze in his tracks.

He's not alone.

It's the shoes just protruding into his peripheral vision that catch his attention, and their distinctive appearance immediately tips him off to the identity of his fellow prisoner. As he turns to face the other occupant, he is greeted by that all too familiar smile, and his heart lurches in his chest. There in front of him, battered and bruised and watching him with concerned hazel eyes, is none other than his colleague, his friend, his partner, Dr Spencer Reid.

"Hotch, you're awake," comes Reid's gentle voice, rasping slightly from the dryness of the air.

"What happened?" Hotch responds, having to clear his throat to allow the words access past his lips.

Reid readjusts his position slightly where he sits propped against the wall. "They were waiting for me outside my apartment. Blitz attack."

"Me too," Hotch comments, a dull pang on the back of his head reminding him of the swift and forceful attack. "I was out cold."

He sees Reid pause for a second, suppressing a grimace before replying softly, "I wasn't."

As the words sink into Hotch's brain, he stops and fully takes stock of Reid's condition for the first time since regaining consciousness. What he sees causes the breath to catch in his lungs.

Running down the side of the younger man's head is a thick coat of blood, originating from a series of several blows peeking out from the edges of his hairline. There is a fine spattering of crimson across the collar of his dress shirt, and his arms are trembling slightly from the exertion of keeping himself from sliding down onto the floor. As Hotch's gaze runs further downwards, he catches sight of the most prominent of Reid's injuries, and curses himself for taking so long to notice the way Reid's right shin is folded at an impossible angle, the bones obviously mangled and shattered beneath the skin.

"What did they do to you?" It comes out as little more than a whisper.

"They hit me from behind and knocked me down, but I didn't black out straight away. I tried to stand up… To get away… But they broke my leg before I could. I think they were wearing steel toed boots or something. I don't remember anything after that."

Hotch flinches almost imperceptibly as he pictures the incident in his mind, imagining the sight of a hard steel boot crunching down onto Reid's leg and the sound of the bones snapping as his lover cries out in anguish. If waking up as a hostage in an unfamiliar place had made him angry, now he was decidedly furious.

"I'm so sorry," he eventually manages to choke out, trying to hide the rage and fear from his voice and failing on both counts. "Listen, I'm going to find a way to get us out of here. Are you going to be okay there for a moment?"

Reid nods quickly. "I'll be fine. Go."

Once again Hotch attempts to stand up from the floor, and once again he is interrupted before he can succeed. He barely makes it up onto his knees before an ominous creak from behind him signals the arrival of more people into the room, and both agents instantly know that this is not going to end well.

"Well, well, look who's finally awake," a deep voice sneers from the doorway. "Agent Hotchner, we've been waiting for you to wake up. It would've been so disappointing to only have your little boyfriend to play with."

Definitely a sadist, profiles Reid.

'We'. That means at least two UnSubs, reasons Hotch.

We're screwed, they both think in unison.

Turning around slowly to face the new arrivals, Hotch finds himself being towered over by two young, muscular men, both clad in dirt-stained t-shirts and jeans, both with handguns lodged haphazardly into the waistbands of their pants. His guns, he deduces upon closer inspection, and anger flares in his chest again at being not only disarmed but then threatened with his own weapons.

"Who are you?" he asks slowly, careful to maintain his usual strong and stoic demeanour.

The taller of the two men scoffs. "That's irrelevant. The more important question is, who are you? You see, we know everything about you and Dr Reid over there." He punctuates the sentence with a curt nod in Reid's direction. "And we decided to have a little fun with you."

"Why us?" Reid questions instantly, figuring that the more he can get the UnSubs talking, the more information they will have for a profile, which would really be their only weapon in a fight where they had neither the physical nor the firepower advantage.

"You don't get to ask the questions," snapped the second man, advancing fully into the room just behind his partner and slamming the door behind him with an ominous thud. "You only get to answer them."

"That's right," his partner jeered. "And there really is only one question you need to answer. Which one of you is going to die?"

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AN – So what did you think? This plotline has been at the back of my mind for ages (legitimately it came to me in a dream about two years ago!) so I hope my writing has done it justice. I'll try and update soon, but I can't promise anything… Reviews would be very much appreciated, and thanks for reading!