so long i never had experienced this bliss.
so how could i resist?
and i'm fine
a little light-headed
does that worry you?
didn't mean to worry you
Better Than Ezra, "Live Again"

Hotch had paired them yet again. Reid knew it was to test him: could he manage to work with Jack for more than two minutes without biting her head off? Though he felt genuinely bad about what he'd said to her earlier, he wasn't sure he could pass Hotch's test in his current state.

Upon Jackson and Morgan's return to the station, the two youngest agents had been sent to the park to scout dumpsites. They'd spoken little, but every time he looked at her he felt something squirm inside. She had every right to tell him to go to hell, but she hadn't; she was coolly professional, distant. Not Jack, in other words. Maybe he should apologize? Would that make things better, or worse? He rubbed the back of his neck and wished he were anywhere else.

They passed a men's room and he hesitated. If he used, would she know? He had been hiding his thoughts from her effectively since Hankel, but she was observant beyond her ability. She would notice a change, but she probably wouldn't ask. Operation Alienate Jack had been succeeding remarkably well, considering her incredible tenacity, and he'd pretty much put the last nail in their relationship's coffin with his idiocy earlier today.

"Hey, Jack, go on without me," he called to her. He gestured to the restroom when she turned with a question on her lips. "I'll catch up."

"I'll wait," she said, leaning against the wall to add action to assertion.

He ground his teeth. The muscles in his jaw danced noticeably, but as predicted, she didn't comment on his sudden agitation. "No need," he said. "I'll only be a minute."

She gave him a Look. "Just go pee, Spencer. I'll wait. We shouldn't split up."

Realizing he was making too much out of it, he shrugged and stepped through the swinging door. As it closed behind him he let out a long sigh, briefly closing his eyes in anticipation. He checked to make sure the stalls were empty before fishing the kit from his brown messenger bag. Locked himself into a stall. Almost, so close. Filled the needle. Seconds away, yes, please… Inserted it into his arm, depressed the plunger, and…

Bliss. Warm, cotton-candy cloud of pure, sweet, honey-coated bliss.

Sighing softly, he leaned his head against the wall and floated.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there when he heard the squeak-and-swish of the outer door. Hastily he flushed the unused toilet and stowed the kit back in his bag. He emerged from the stall and began to wash his hands.

Reid watched his reflection in the mirror above the sinks with fascination. It was wavering, dancing, doubling. He smiled and reached out to touch the face in the mirror, but he jerked his hand back when his fingers encountered cold glass. He stared down at his open palm, splayed fingers, in consternation. The loops and whorls formed by his skin were mesmerizing, and he was wondering if Jack could read palms and minds when the man attacked.

Reid had forgotten the man was even there. He'd been standing at the urinal, his back to the young agent, and Reid had barely registered his presence. Now, as he sank to the bathroom floor, his brain going even fuzzier, he wondered what the fuck just happened.

Outside, Jackson checked her watch yet again. Shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Fidgeted. Maybe this was why he hadn't wanted her to wait: he knew he'd be a while. Whatever. She wasn't leaving him alone.

She was debating calling him when the man who'd entered the bathroom shortly after Reid burst through the door. "Hey, lady!" he said. "There's a guy passed out in here. My phone battery's dead. Call an ambulance!"

Her green eyes widened, and she flashed her badge by rote, on instinct. "We're FBI agents," she said, hurrying past him and into the bathroom. She stopped short at the sight of Spencer laid out on the tile; he was bleeding from the head, and his skin was ashen. She tossed her phone to the stranger. "Call 911. Tell them a Federal Agent needs an ambulance now."

Jackson knelt beside her partner and checked his pulse. Sluggish, but strong. She was reaching to check his pupils when a warning flashed, screamed into her mind. It wasn't from Reid; he was out cold. She whipped around, realizing with rapidly-dawning horror that the man behind her hadn't yet called 911. The park, shit, the park, college-age couples abducted from the park!

The man held a truncheon in his hand, and despite her quick reflexes and thorough training, Jackson knew she was in Deep Shit. Inanely, her first thought was We profiled he didn't use force to subdue them I better call Gideon…

Her hand flew to her weapon, but he was faster. The blow connected to her temple, and she saw stars. The stars set; blackness reigned.

"Someone's gotta talk to him," Morgan said. "He's out of control."

"I know that, Morgan," Hotch said. "I'm planning to have a sit down with him when we get back to Quantico."

"What're we supposed to do in the meantime?" he said, hands on hips and handsome face twisted into a scowl.

Hotch sighed and rubbed his forehead warily. This case was difficult enough without having to deal with Reid's drama. He knew he'd been through a terrible ordeal, but he had no right to take anything out on EJ. To be honest, Reid's attitude toward their newest agent had taken Hotch by surprise; they'd seemed close before Hankel, and Hotch had thought Reid would confide in her, not lash out at her.

So much for his amazing profiling skills.

"In the meantime we're going to focus on finding this UNSUB before he chooses another couple," he finally said.

Morgan took a few deep breaths through his nose. Hotch was right. He had to get it together. "Yeah, okay. All right."

"She's an adult, Morgan; she can handle Reid," Hotch said.

"You didn't see the look on her face…" He trailed off with a brief shake of his head. "You're right. I'm gonna call Garcia, see if she has anything on those missing persons."

"Good. I'll check in with EJ to find out how they're doing in the park."

Morgan flashed him a quick, knowing grin. "Uh huh. She's an adult, remember?"

Hotch gave him a deliberately neutral look. Without a word, he hit the speed dial key for Jackson's cell and listened to her ringback music. He briefly fought the urge to hum along to a familiar, catchy Van Morrison tune, but as the selection looped through a second time, he frowned. "She's not answering."

"Huh. Let me try Reid," Morgan said. He raised the phone to his ear and listened to the ringing. His face creased. "Nothing."

Hotch's brows furrowed as the first inkling of alarm began to trickle down his spine. "Call Garcia. I want to know what cell coverage is like in that park, and find out if she can locate their phones."

He was making the call when JJ stepped around the corner. "Gideon wants to know if either of you have heard from Reid or Jack," she said. "They've been gone awhile, and he's anxious to know if they've found anything."

Hotch checked his watch, and the furrow deepened. "I didn't realize it had gotten so late. We just tried to call them and got no answer. Morgan's on the line with Garcia now."

JJ's dark blue eyes widened in apprehension. "You don't think they're fighting again, do you? Not after what happened…Reid's not that messed up, is he?"

"I hope not," Hotch murmured.

"Are you sure, baby girl?" Morgan said. The anxiety in his voice sliced through Hotch and JJ's quiet conversation like a guillotine's falling blade. "Check again." A pause, and they could hear Garcia's voice through the phone. "Okay, I'm putting you on speaker. Hotch and JJ are here."

"Hotch, JJ," Garcia said. She sounded frazzled and a little frantic. "The cell coverage in that park is perfect. It's not a big park, and there are towers everywhere. There shouldn't be any dead zones."

"Garcia, baby, gimme some good news," Morgan said.

There was a deafening silence from Quantico. "I don't…I…there's no signal," she nearly whimpered.

"What do you mean, Garcia?" Hotch said. "You just said the coverage is perfect."

"No!" she said. "I mean there's no signal from their phones, no GPS. That means both phones are turned off."

The agents shared a three-way glance as their trepidation mounted. "There's no way," Morgan said. "Even if the kid flipped out, Jack would keep her phone on. She'd stay in touch. She had it right beside her in that coffee shop."

Hotch shifted restlessly. "JJ, go get Gideon and Detective Rodriguez. We need to get over there now, and I think we're going to need search teams."

"Hotch! Hotch, you don't think…I mean, the guy didn't…Jack and Reid…" Garcia stuttered, for once at a complete loss for words. "They're okay, right?" she finally said.

"I don't know, Garcia," he said, quietly. "I hope so."

"Call me the second you find out anything, good or bad," she said. "I'll keep the GPS tracker up, so I'll know if one of their phones comes back on."

"Thanks, baby girl," Morgan said. "We'll be in touch soon." He snapped the phone closed with a grimace. "If that kid's got himself kidnapped again, I might kill him."

"Get in line," JJ bit out.

Reid came to first. He raised a hand to his aching head and carefully probed the sorest spot. A lump had formed, but he'd stopped bleeding. Frowning, he began to take stock. Jack was lying near him, still out. They were in a six by ten cinderblock cell with a concrete floor and a vague light source overhead. Two buckets in the corner. A heavy, metallic door. With a dismayed sigh he crawled over and checked Jackson's pulse, patted her cheek gently. "Wake up, Jack," he said. "I need you to open your eyes."

"Mmm," she murmured, face scrunching in pain as consciousness began to return. Her eyelids fluttered. She batted his hand away. "Don't, please; my own thoughts are as much as my head can handle at the moment."

He pulled his fingers off her skin as though she'd burned him. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

She sat up gingerly. Pressed gentle fingers against the darkening bruise at her temple. "Ow."

Her eyes cleared as she looked at him, and she reached over to tenderly brush his hair back to examine his matching wound. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "Head hurts, but I'll be fine."

She gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "How fucked do you think we are?"

He looked around the bleak dungeon. "Very to extremely."

"Looks that way," she agreed with a trace of her old humor.

The door swished open, and the man from the bathroom filled the entry. Reid got to his feet and reached down to help Jack stand with him. She felt a bit wobbly, but relatively okay. He didn't let go of her hand, and though he tried to keep his thoughts warm and reassuring, she could feel the undercurrent of fear.

She squeezed his hand. She hoped he understood what she was trying to say. It was different this time. He wasn't alone. She was here with him, and she wasn't going anywhere.

"Welcome," the man said. His voice was stark, bleak, nothing like the voice she remembered from before. Some mind reader, fooled so completely…

"You really should let us go," Reid said. "We're Federal Agents, members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Our team will be looking for us, and they will find us. They're the best in the world."

He flashed white, white teeth. "They can look. They won't find."

"Okay, then you should probably know that killing a Federal Agent carries an automatic death sentence. Something to consider as you plan your next move."

Jackson stirred. She wasn't much in the mood to stand here and listen to this man gloat, and Reid's blithe tone was worrying. "You think I'm going to kill him?" she said, stepping away from Reid as though he carried Plague. "That's your thing, right? Driving couples to kill each other, watching the erosion? It's what gets you high, gets you off," she said.

Reid wondered, briefly, in the part of his mind that had the energy to wonder, if she were making a huge mistake.

"Yes," the man said.

Her laugh was bitter enough to corrode iron, and Reid flinched back from it. "You're in for a nasty surprise." She gestured toward the other agent, her normally serene features twisted into something almost frightening by stark lines of disdain. "He and I aren't a couple. There's no desperate love, no secret story, no hidden affair. We're not even really friends." These last words left her mouth like bullets straight into his chest. He wanted to crumple from the impact, but he stayed upright, tried to look defiant.

The man seemed unimpressed.

"Kill me, kill him, kill us both," she continued, voice rising in fury. "I don't give a damn. Just do something, because for a major bad-ass, you're really just boring."

His hand shot out faster than either agent could see, and a moment later Jackson was reeling, falling, and Reid was there to catch her. She fell against him a ragged gasp, and impatiently blinked away the tears forming in her pain-dazed eyes. Before she could get a clear picture of Reid's mind, afraid it would be her undoing, she straightened.

Jackson stared up at the man. Turned her head and spat blood. Wiped her mouth with a hand that barely trembled. "You could have just told me to shut up," she said, the words thick as she struggled to get them past a badly split lip.

The man stepped closer and grabbed her chin in a vice-like grip. He raised her head, tilting it to an almost painful angle, and she gritted her teeth. Tried desperately to ignore the taste of blood coating her tongue and the mental images that slammed into her. "I'm not going to kill you, little fed," he said. "He is." He nodded in Reid's direction, and then shoved Jackson away.

She smashed into the wall and her breath left in a rush. Before she had it back enough to form a suitable retort, he had slammed the cell door behind him with a decisive clang.

Once the heavy footfalls faded away, Reid moved a cautious step closer. "Are you okay?" he said. It was a stupid question, but he didn't know what else to say.

"Peachy," she gasped, pushing herself off the wall.

"I'm sorry," he said. He dabbed delicately at her split lip with the cuff of his shirt. "I should have stepped in, said something."

"No," she said, "it's better this way. Now he thinks you'll be the one to break. He'll be watching me for rebellion, not you. You heard what he said."

"They'll find us," he said. The look in his deep-set hazel eyes said something else.

"We have to be prepared in case they don't."

He took off his tie and handed it to her to use as a handkerchief. "This shouldn't be happening to you, Jack."

"Oh, boy genius, don't go there. We're not playing any blame games. I let him get a jump on me. I gave him my phone, then I turned my back. So if you want to go there…" She trailed off, brows raised, offering to let him have the first shot.

"It's just ironic considering the way I've been treating you lately."

She sighed and slid down the wall to sit. Bent her knees and let her hands dangle between them. "It doesn't matter, Spencer. It never did. Call me a glutton for punishment, but even pissy Reid wasn't going to drive me away."

"I tried."

"Yeah, no shit. But I'm stubborn."

His mouth quirked. "Yeah, no shit."

She leaned her head back against the cold, rough cinderblocks and closed her eyes. "It would have worked. Eventually."

"I'm glad it didn't."

"Yeah," she said, "I am too."

He crouched in front of her, folding his long, lean body into a shape that should have been terribly uncomfortable. "Morgan's going to kill me when he sees that lip," he said with a little smile.

"He might kill you anyway for getting kidnapped again. That's twice in three months, you know," she said without lifting her head or opening her eyes. Her voice was deceptively light, but he could hear the gentleness in it.

He rubbed a hand across his narrow chest. It hurt, that voice, even more than her put-on anger had before. It reminded him of how beastly he'd been to this genuinely kind, generous woman who inexplicably cared about him. She had never asked him for anything, yet he knew on a basic, visceral level that he had failed her by not living up to the faith she'd had in him since day one.

"He didn't physically attack any of the other victims," he finally said, steering the conversation into safer territory.

"No," she said. "He's devolving, maybe. I don't think he'll wait for us."

Distracted by a sharp, shooting pain in his leg, he shook his head and tried to focus. "What do you mean?"

Her face scrunched as she looked over at him. She wasn't sure if she'd ever heard those words come out of Spencer Reid's mouth the entire time she'd known him. "I mean he'll try to provoke us; divide us. If that doesn't work, I think he might get bored and kill us himself."

"If we fail at hating each other enough for one to shoot the other, you mean?"

Her mouth quirked, and she flinched a little. "Yes," she said, "if that."

He tried to wipe the sweat from his brow without her noticing. "It's dangerous, what we do," he said.

"No kidding. Maybe we should switch to white collar."

"It's an idea, except you suck at math."

Dark brows came together over clear green eyes. "It's not all math. And I don't suck at it; it's just not my area." He gave her a skeptical look, and she couldn't suppress a smile. "Yeah, okay, I suck at it. But it's not all math."

"No, it's not. You could get lucky."

She snorted out a laugh, winced. Raised a hand to her pounding head. "Right, because my luck's so grand now."

Frowning, fighting back a shiver, he glanced around the cell with big, anxious eyes. "How long do you think we were out?" he said.

"Our watches are gone," she said. "He wouldn't have relied on the blows to the head to keep us unconscious; he probably doped us with something. So, who knows? A few hours, maybe."

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before finally settling his ass on the cold concrete. "He took a big risk with us. The other victims could have genuinely believed his offer, but we know it's bullshit. Neither of us will leave here alive if he has his way."

She fixed him with a shrewd look. "Then we have to make sure he doesn't get his way, don't we?"

I don't think dilaudid causes the sort of hallucinations Reid was having, but it suited my purpose. consider it artistic license. drop me a line, y'all! you're all so quiet...