Author: TemporaryUniverse
WC: 4600 (19497 Total)
Chapter 8: Insomnia
Day 3 ~ 12:01 pm
REID
He felt numb and empty. He wasn't crying anymore, and he doubted that he would ever cry again. He felt too dead inside. I just killed someone. Oh my god, I killed someone. I didn't even know her name. I killed her. I killed her. Hotch, Morgan, where are you? Someone, please, help me. Oh god, I killed her. The thoughts were chasing each other around his mind. His body was shaking, but the tears refused to come. He tried to focus on other things, but that helped very little. He supposed anything was better than dwelling on the woman, though, so he began to think about himself. He looked down and all he could see was red. The blood coated his weakened body. He still could feel her blood on his hands, cracking as it slowly dried. It was making his clothes stiff. He felt nauseated as once again the realization of I killed her entered his mind.
He shook his head, trying to clear it, but winced in pain when the movement hurt. He tried to determine other things about himself, to ignore the red liquid.
Reid went through his list of concerns in this situation. Dehydration. He hadn't had anything to drink since his abduction and hadn't drunk any water since the day before that. Malnourishment. He had eaten a sandwich at lunch the day the man took him but hadn't had any breakfast or dinner. He realized he wasn't hungry at all, a bad sign, he knew that his body was beginning to no longer function properly. Injuries. The knife wound on his leg still throbbed and it would spike when he tried to move or touch it. When he had last touched it, the area had felt overly warm. Reid figured that the wound might be infected. He grimaced at the thought, an infection would make this a lot worse for him. He was pretty sure the cut had stopped bleeding, although with the rest of the blood everywhere, it was hard to tell. His bottom lip was swollen and bloody from his efforts to keep from screaming. There was also the bruise on his jaw, though painful, it wasn't swollen, so he wasn't too worried. Then there were the electrical burns and some bruising from the cattle prod. Each injury conjured a flash of a memory of its infliction. Reid's breathing grew shakier as panic started to overwhelm him. Realizing that thinking about himself wasn't helpful, he turned his attention to his surroundings.
It was the same as before, the same metal table, the same small TV with the same glowing view of the same house, the same sturdy rings set in the same grey cell-like walls, and the same bright lightbulbs in the ceiling. The only difference now was the blood. It was dripping from the cold slab of the table, splashing the stained concrete floor, trickling down the prison's walls, oozing its way across the floor in big splotches of red until it reached the drain in the center. Reid now knew why the drain was there, and the thought made him shiver. The entire scene was like something from one of those horror films that Morgan loved to watch. Except this time, the nightmare is real. The thought did nothing to reassure him.
The bloodied corpse was gone. The Unsub had removed her a few hours ago. Reid was slightly grateful that she was. The image burned in his mind was bad enough, but every time he had glanced up on accident and seen the real thing he had almost thrown up. Reid shuddered as he recalled her blank, glassy eyes, the eyes of death, and the stillness of her lifeless body. Stop thinking about it, you idiot. With considerable effort, he tried to distract himself with happier memories. He tried to escape the horrifying reality he was in. The memories came in flashes.
He thought about Garcia, her cheerful optimism. He thought about her kind smile and unique fashion style. He remembered the blonde hugging him when he had been shot, her constant worrying and concern. Her nagging that he needed to eat more, that he was too skinny. He imagined the taste of her famous cupcakes and her teasing banter with Morgan.
Morgan, his best friend and his brother. He thought of the way Morgan protected him, the way the older man would playfully tease him and call him Pretty Boy or Kid. Reid still refused to admit he liked the nicknames, but he always felt a little spark of happiness when they were used. He thought about his and Morgan's endless prank wars and the moment when he had shared his worst high school experience with the dark-skinned profiler. He thought of how Morgan was always there for him, how he trusted the older man, and how Morgan would always give Reid the support he needed.
Rossi was like a father to him, much like his former mentor Gideon had been. He was a guide to Reid. The younger man wasn't as close to Rossi as he was to the rest of the team, but Reid still felt the parental presence of the senior agent. He thought about the many games of chess they had played together on the plane, and how much he admired the man.
Hotch was next. The senior profiler was his rock. He kept Reid grounded. Hotch was strong, and Reid respected that strength and wished he could be more like Hotch. He wouldn't be just sitting here on the floor covered in blood after killing someone. Reid immediately shook himself out of the thought and forced himself to focus back on Hotch. Reid remembered when he had profiled Hotch as a 'classic narcissist' to save his own life. In fact, that was the complete opposite of the truth. Hotch cared deeply about the team and would never put himself above his family. You should have gone with him when he offered to take you home, you idiot. Reid growled in frustration, trying to shut out the unsettled voice in the back of his head.
He gave up concentrating on Hotch and tried to consider Emily instead. The ebony-haired woman seemed to understand him better than most of the team. She pushed him to talk when she knew something was wrong. Reid remembered hugging her in relief outside of the devastated building after being held hostage by Benjamin Cyrus. He thought about how much it hurt when he believed that she was gone forever, and how angry he was when he realized she had lied to him. His childish reaction had been uncalled for and unfair, and he knew that. If I make it out of here, I'm going to apologize to her. He promised himself. He hadn't realized until now how much her friendship meant to him, and Reid decided that he needed her to know that.
He remembered JJ. Her caring eyes, and her comfort. Reid remembered inviting her to the Redskins game. His crush on her when she joined the BAU. Nothing had ever come of it but he was okay with that, because they still cared about each other, and now he had a wonderful godson. He thought about how he had pushed her away after Emily's return. She knew that Emily was still alive and hadn't told him, and that betrayal had shattered his trust. They would never get a chance to repair their bond. I'm sorry JJ, I'm so sorry. He was going to die here, and she would never get to know that he had forgiven her.
He would never be able to tell his mom how much he loved her one last time. He wouldn't have the chance to see Gideon, Elle, or his dad again and tell them that they were forgiven, that he finally understood, and that he didn't blame them. I'm sorry. Tears of despair welled up in his eyes again. I just want to get out of here. He told himself to be strong for Henry and his family, but even as he did so, he could feel himself break just a little bit more. He leaned his head back against the wall and curled tighter into himself, hugging his knees against his chest. Exhaustion began to overcome him. A solitary tear made its way down his blood-spattered cheek before he lost consciousness, surrounded by blood and darkness.
UNSUB
The man watched silently as Dr. Reid fell asleep. He figured he could give the young agent a small break. There was still a lot that he planned on doing with the doctor. He had disposed of Sarah's body a while ago; she had done her job and was worthless to him now. Somehow, watching Dr. Reid kill her was more satisfying than doing it himself. The look of absolute horror on the young man's face had excited him. It had felt better than if his own hands were holding the gleaming, bloodstained knife and his own eyes were seeing the life draining from a victim. The image of Dr. Reid's terror-filled eyes made him shiver with anticipation. He needed to experience it again. Not yet, he reprimanded himself. First, I must make him suffer more. Dr. Reid will know the true meaning of pain when I am done with him. He would use the knife. He would make sure that the agent currently trapped beneath his feet would suffer as he had suffered. An eye for an eye, Dr. Reid.
An hour later, the man decided that his captive had been resting for long enough. He raised himself from the padded seat of his leather couch and went to go gather his materials. He searched the house for a bucket, which he promptly filled with frigid water, and his favorite weapon, the knife. The man grinned his insane smile as he studied the polished blade, reminded of the screams that it had already elicited and imagining the screams it was about to bring to life. Shaking himself out of the reverie, the man made his way down a darkened hall, stopping in front of a heavy metal door. He punched in the 4-digit code of the electronic panel, and a small click was heard as the door unlocked. He grasped the handle and pulled, and the barrier swung obediently open.
Dr. Reid was huddled against the wall of the concrete prison, his lanky arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He didn't stir when the man entered the prison. The man strode over to the limp form and set the bucket down. He crouched back on his heels and studied the young face before him. The doctor was pale, frightened-looking even in sleep.
Deciding the agent had slept long enough, the man abruptly grabbed hold of his bucket and splashed the icy water over his captive. The agent gasped and sputtered awake, his sleep interrupted by panic. His body tensed with adrenaline and he gazed wildly about the small room. His lungs sucked in air in his body's response to the feeling of drowning.
The man stepped back, his eyes never leaving the form on the ground. He watched the young genius slowly focus on him, blinking and breathing heavily. Dr. Reid's panic was subsiding and the defeated posture returned as he became more aware of his surroundings.
"Good morning, Dr. Reid," the man said snidely. It was hardly morning, but the brown-haired agent didn't know that. His prisoner stayed silent, glaring stonily at the man. He smirked and tossed the empty bucket away. It clanged loudly when it hit the concrete floor and rolled, making the young genius flinch. He raised the knife he held, holding it in front of his face and running his finger lightly over the sharp edge. He studied it tauntingly, relishing in the sudden tenseness of his captive and the fear that alighted in his eyes.
"You know," he began amiably, as if he was holding a conversation about the weather. "My dad was the first person to show me what could be done with a knife. It was his favorite tool. So simple, clean, yet it can be used in so many different and painful ways. It was the only thing he used. It's my favorite, too, I guess. I just prefer to branch out a little more. Maybe I'll demonstrate some of my collection for you later."
He lowered the blade. Dr. Reid watched him warily, water dripping down his face because of his soaked hair. He shivered from the cold. The man crossed the small distance between himself and the agent and grabbed the younger's wet shirt, pulling him off the wall. He then thrust him flat on the ground and straddled him, pulling the thin arms above the genius' head and holding him there by the cuffs. The younger man's eyes widened and his breathing hitched slightly, but he didn't make a sound.
The knife flashed, slicing Dr. Reid's shirt in two and scoring the pale skin underneath. The man ripped the rest of the shirt away, then placed the cold tip of the metal strategically on the bare chest, glancing up at the face of his prisoner. The doctor's eyes were squeezed shut, and he was biting his lip.
"Eyes open, Dr. Reid," he admonished. The young agent complied and his eyes opened and stared resolutely at the ceiling. The man began tracing the knife's edge over the chest of his victim.
"Why are you doing this?" He barely heard the soft voice, but he stopped his tracing to look up at the young doctor. It was the first time he had spoken since he had stabbed Sarah.
"I've already answered that question, Dr. Reid," he replied, somewhat confused.
"No, you haven't." The soft voice grew more confident, but it was flat and emotionless. "You told me it was about revenge, but I still don't know what I did to deserve this."
The man sat back and contemplated his answer.
"Why do you want to know?" He finally asked.
Dr. Reid scoffed quietly, "Wouldn't you want to know the reason you why you apparently deserved to die?"
The man was quiet for a second. "It's your fault."
Dr. Reid blinked, and a frown appeared on his face. "What is?"
"He didn't deserve what you did to him. He didn't deserve to be in jail. You were the one who caged him like an animal. You think you're so damn high and mighty, that the rules don't apply to you? He was better than you. I loved him. Now you don't even have the decency to remember what you did to him," the man spat out angrily. The young agent beneath him immediately tensed and tugged at his pinned arms.
This time when he spoke, the panic that was creeping in was noticeable. "I'm sorry, I was just doing my job," he choked out.
The man didn't reply, but anger etched itself into the hard lines of his face. He turned his attention back to the knife and Dr. Reid's bare chest. Choosing a spot just above the young doctor's heart, he began to carve.
G
The sharp blade sliced through the skin effortlessly, guided by an expert hand. The doctor let out a muffled scream, his teeth already digging into his tortured lip, but he stopped struggling.
U
The second symbol completed, the man moved on to write a third, slowly and deliberately.
I
The man reveled in the stifled whimpers and moans that his torture elicited from the younger man. On the fourth letter, he pressed slightly harder, ripping a pained gasp from his victim.
L
He moved on to the next lines, dragging the knife agonizingly slowly through the flesh.
T
Just one more letter was left. He made sure to press the knife deep, leaving a scar that would never fade.
Y
The man pulled back after the final letter and admired his work. Crimson seeped from the wounds and pooled on the pale and bruised skin. Guilty. Probably not the best word he could have chosen, but it seemed fitting, after all, guilt was the reason he was doing this, and the young man beneath him wasn't innocent. Plus, it will send a wonderful message to the BAU when they find Dr. Reid's body.
Dark red blood was now traveling down the sides of the young agent's torso, dripping onto the half-dried stains that already existed there.
He released Dr. Reid's wrists and stood up, then turned and exited the room, switching off the TV on his way. He had one more thing he needed to do, then he was going to catch up on some sleep.
Day 3 ~ 1:15 pm
HOTCH
Agent Hotchner was standing next to a cold metal table, gazing down at the lifeless corpse that was laid on it. He ignored the twinge in his gut and kept his composure, finally tearing his eyes away and refocusing them on the mortician, who took this as his cue to begin speaking.
"Sarah Hendrix, 26, Caucasian female, 5'6", 115 pounds, cause of death was exsanguination from 15 separate stab wounds." The ME's thin face glanced up at the two agents expectantly. Hotch took in the aspects of his appearance; rather short and thin, with wisps of graying hair plastered neatly to the top of his balding head, dark, pinched eyes, narrowed brow, and a low, hoarse voice that belied his smoking habit.
Rossi asked a question, pulling Hotch out of his examination, "Were any of the stabs delivered postmortem?"
"No, actually," the ME replied. Hotch's confusion must have shown on his face because the examiner continued, "There was something else as well. Each wound is shallow and hesitant, although they are all placed on major arteries. She would have bled out very quickly. On the other victims, it appears the knife was stabbed in, and then twisted slightly, opening the wounds wider, before it was pulled out. The wounds on the other victims also avoided any arteries or other critical areas. The only wound that presented these qualities in Ms. Hendrix was this one here," he pointed it out to them, "which I think was delivered first. This one also showed no hesitation and was deep. He buried the knife to the hilt."
"What kind of knife was used?" Rossi inquired.
"Well, it was double-sided and wasn't serrated. I would estimate the blade is five inches in length. It was the same as the knife used on the other victims. She wasn't sexually assaulted either."
Hotch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing up at Dave, "This doesn't make any sense, an Unsub with the level of rage we saw wouldn't devolve like this. There's no overkill at all here and it's almost like this was his first kill again, and he wanted her to die quickly, which doesn't fit his sadism. If it weren't for the evidence that Sarah was kidnapped by our Unsub, I would say that this murder was committed by someone else."
Dave was studying the body, concern written on his face. "Maybe it was someone else," He said cryptically.
Hotch stared at him. What the hell is he talking about? ran through his mind, but instead, the words that escaped his mouth were, "What do you mean?" Even as he said it, he had a suspicion of what the other agent would say, but he needed to hear it out loud.
"Reid."
Hotch's stomach twisted unpleasantly, and he felt slightly sick. "You think the Unsub forced Reid to kill Sarah," He stated, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of his voice.
"I do." Dave's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. He refused to look Hotch in the eye. Hotch swallowed and turned to the ME, who was shuffling through some papers, ignoring their conversation.
"Was there anything else that was different in this victim?" If the normally expressionless unit chief didn't get out of the cold room soon, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold his composure much longer.
"She has a contusion on her head, likely from a blunt object," the coroner reported.
"He blitz attacked her?" Rossi asked incredulously. The Unsub's M.O. so far had not involved this particular element.
"It could have been just to subdue her. Either way, he's getting sloppy, he's devolving."
"What does that mean for Reid?"
"I don't know. But if he's becoming unpredictable, I know it will be a lot harder to catch our Unsub," Hotch huffed angrily.
"Thank you for your help," Dave told the examiner, as he and Hotch headed for the morgue door.
The drive back to the BAU was silent, each man lost in his own thoughts. Hotch pulled the car into the garage and parked it. It wasn't until they were in the elevator that the dark-haired agent spoke up.
"We'll need to discuss it with the team."
Dave glanced at him before responding, "I know."
In Hotch's opinion, the ride to the Behavioral Analysis Unit floor was far too quick. Somehow, he managed to walk the route to the conference room calmly. Four pairs of eyes met his. Any hope of receiving good news fading at the look on the Unit Chief's face. The BAU team stared at their leader expectantly, their exhaustion apparent.
"Did you find anything?" Prentiss asked.
Hotch allowed himself to collapse into a chair before he replied, "The son of a bitch made Reid kill Sarah."
The four tired eyes widened in disbelief. Hotch's uncharacteristic swearing was almost as shocking as the content of the statement itself.
"He what?!" Morgan was furious and looked close to hitting something, most likely a wall. Hotch leaned forward on his elbows and buried his face in his hands. This case was getting to him. The other three agents just gaped at him before glancing wide-eyed at Dave, silently demanding an explanation.
Hotch heard Dave sigh. "The knife wounds were shallow and hesitant, and there was no rage or overkill. They were all inflicted antemortem. He also made sure she died quickly and had knowledge of anatomy. It was obvious that the person who killed Sarah wasn't our Unsub, it was like an Unsub's first kill, nervous, uncertain, almost scared, and he didn't torture her at all. But, she was restrained with wire and it was definitely the same knife that was used to kill the other victims."
"But Reid would never kill someone like that. He would rather d-die first." JJ looked mortified.
"He would also die to make sure we are safe," Rossi countered.
"So, you think the Unsub is threatening to kill us if Reid doesn't do what he wants." Prentiss seemed to shove aside her shock well, but then, Hotch reasoned, she was always very good at compartmentalizing.
"Reid knows us, though, and he's not an idiot. We're trained FBI agents, we carry weapons, and now we're hunting this guy. The Unsub isn't likely to get to any of us and Reid should know that. For now, though, don't go anywhere alone." Hotch finally felt calm enough to join the conversation.
"Could the Unsub be threatening Reid's mom, then?"
"I doubt it. The Unsub likes to be in control. Using someone on the other side of the country as insurance leaves too many variables," Rossi said.
"Still, JJ, will you call Bennington? Make sure Diana Reid is safe and maybe ask the nurses and guards to watch her more closely," Hotch ordered the liaison. JJ nodded and left the room, dialing a number on her phone before she even made it to the door.
Hotch turned back to the rest of the team. Before he could open his mouth, though, Garcia burst into the room. What Hotch had been expecting, he wasn't sure, but it definitely wasn't the words that came out of the bubbly tech's mouth.
"I think I know who he is!"
All of the heads in the room immediately swiveled towards her, hope once again alighting their faces. Garcia handed a file to Hotch and began speaking.
"His name is Jake Ellis. Nine years ago, his brother was the subject of a BAU case."
"Baby Girl, Reid wasn't with the bureau nine years ago," Morgan sounded as confused as Hotch felt.
"I know that hot stuff. Be patient, I wasn't done yet. So, anyway, turns out Jake's brother, Matthew Ellis, was a serial rapist and murderer in Kalispell, Montana. PD was totally out of their depth, and so the BAU was asked to help catch him. They did, and the guy is in jail for life without parole. Our boy genius joined the BAU four months after that, but, and there is a but, Jake also went to Caltech with Reid and they even had classes together. In fact, he was top of almost all his classes except for the ones he shared with Reid."
"If they went to Caltech together, it might be possible that he was jealous of Reid. When you're a 13-year-old prodigy in college, people tend to think you're showing them up. Then when Reid joined the BAU, Jake might've had even more reason to hate him," Morgan voiced to the rest of the team.
"A lot of people don't take it well when someone that much younger is smarter than they are. How old is he?"
"35."
"He fits the profile. Does he drive a dark van, Garcia?" JJ asked.
"Uh, no, the only vehicle registered to him is a white 2000 Subaru Forester."
"The van could easily have been stolen, though," Hotch reasoned. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, "Garcia, how did you figure this out?"
Garcia immediately did her best deer-in-the-headlights impression. "Umm, well," she stammered before blurting out, "Someonehackedmycomputers."
"Could you repeat that?" Hotch raised his eyebrow at the blonde tech.
"The thing is sir, I have so many firewalls and security measures, and, I mean, it should have been practically impossible to delete the information unless someone physically went into my office and they did a really, really good job of it, I almost didn't notice, but then I realized a toy from my desk was missing, so I did a check just to be safe and…" Garcia explained rapidly. She was holding back tears and wringing her hands.
"Woah, woah, Baby Girl slow down. What are you trying to say?" Morgan moved over to stand in front of her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.
The distraught woman seemed to calm down some and took a shaky breath before continuing, "Someone hacked into the FBI database through my computer and deleted a file. I was able to retrieve the file, and then I noticed it fit the profile of the case we were working on and hadn't shown up in our original search because someone had removed it. It was this file, the Jake Ellis file."
"PG, you said he had to have used the computers in your office?" An alarmed Prentiss questioned.
"Yeah, it was an internal hack. The guy that did this was good, like crazy good. He managed to hide the hack really well," Garcia replied, looking tearful again, "I just can't believe he got into my office, I…"
"Hey, Gorgeous, look at me," Garcia gazed up into the dark-skinned agent's face, "It's okay, just relax. You did good. We'll catch this guy." Morgan glanced over to Hotch for direction.
"Let's pay a visit to Mr. Ellis."
