Chapter 4

Hotch had fallen asleep in his office when Rossi knocked on his door, making him jerk awake and almost fall off the sofa. "What? What?"

"Good to see you got a little sleep," Rossi said, standing where Hotch could see him. "Morgan, JJ, and Emily all fell asleep at their desks about an hour ago."

"Any news yet?" Hotch asked, fighting to wake up.

"Penelope just buzzed me and asked that I gather everybody in the conference room," Rossi said, helping Aaron to his feet. "There will be coffee."

"Thank God," Aaron said as he pulled on his suit jacket. "Let's go."

They woke up their team members and everyone gathered in the conference room. Immediately everyone made a beeline for the coffee, and once fortified, they took their places at the table. Penelope joined them a moment later, with dark circles under her eyes and a worried expression on her face. "I've got...something," she said, sounding uncertain. "I don't know what it is, but it's something."

"Something's better than nothing," Hotch said as Penelope set up her laptop.

"Definitely more than what we had last night," Derek said, fighting off a yawn. "What've you got for us, baby girl?"

"Like I said, something," Penelope said, bringing up a photo of a teenage girl on the projection screen. "Reid and I were talking about icebergs before he...disappeared...and I got to thinking that maybe Reid's kidnapping is only the proverbial tip of the iceberg. I thought, what if it were something bigger? So I started digging and I found something really, really frightening.

"This is Mara Teller. She was fourteen at the time this photo was taken, a few months before her parents lost their lives in a car accident. Since she had no family willing to take her in, she was put into foster care. She'd been in a gifted program ever since she began school and she was actually on track to graduate early when she disappeared. There was a search, but people concluded that she ran away. She's eighteen now and there's been no sign of her for four years." She hit a button on the remote and the screen changed. "This is Sean Gallagher. Graduated early from high school, completed his bachelor's in two years, his master's in less time, and he finished two Phd's within five years, don't ask me how. He was employed as a chemist for a company on the west coast when he disappeared." The picture changed again. "This is Wendy O'Shanahan. The furthest she ever went in college was a bachelor's degree, but she's remarkable in the fact that she's a polymath, a polyglot, an award-winning writer of several articles and a popular book on botany, and a member of several...I suppose you could call them 'brainy' societies. She had a blog called Smart Girl that had a good number of followers and she ran her own business in the Midwest, but she disappeared one morning on her way to her business. She never made it to the office. Her husband is still looking for her and her case is still open, but so far, bupkis. There are more examples, but I think you guys are starting to get the idea."

All of them stared from the screen to Penelope and back again.

Rossi was the first to speak. "Penelope, are you saying that whoever took Reid might have taken these people?"

"Just over fifty disappearances fit these parameters. All of them are very intelligent, and all of them just disappeared," she said, sounding scared for Reid. "I was doing searches on underground organizations and I came across a chat room for government conspiracies-don't ask me how I got there-and one thread was discussing how all these smart people were disappearing. People on the thread were saying that the government was warehousing geniuses for dark purposes of their own, but one person said that it looked like someone was trying to build a 'brain trust.'"

"Kinda like FDR back in the thirties?" Emily asked.

"Kinda like," Rossi agreed.

"So, we're most likely looking at...an organization, or just one, very evil and organized person able to influence multiple people," Penelope continued. "The person or people responsible for kidnapping Reid probably have a whole lot of money and resources at their disposal."

"So, we have an organized serial kidnapper," Hotch said, thoughtfully, thinking of the photos and of Reid. "All the people taken are highly intelligent and...are they all experts in different fields?"

"That's right," Garcia confirmed, typing on her laptop. "There. All the information should be on your tablets."

JJ started reading and swiping. "Chemistry, aeronautics, biology, mathematics, nanotechnology, engineering, pharmaceuticals…"

"How did people miss this many...well, geniuses disappearing?" Emily wondered aloud, reading a file.

"We know enough to connect the dots and see the bigger picture," Hotch answered, getting to his feet. "Well done, Garcia. Get some rest; I can tell that you haven't slept, and we're going to need you at your best in the coming days. Everyone else, read through those files. We're going to talk to as many people as possible and try to establish some patterns. I'm going to go talk to our higher-ups."

Sean led him to the lodge, which was the place where meals were served and the dances held, he explained. "Anytime there's a big gathering, we're either at the amphitheater or in here," he said, leading the way through the front door. Directly inside the door on the wall was a panel. "Swipe your wristband here so the kitchen knows you're here and they can bring up your file."

Spencer swiped and followed Sean. "Why do they need my file?"

"Your doctor has submitted a nutritional plan for you to the kitchen, and they'll need that to make your meals."

"What if I don't like what they make?"

Sean led him through another set of doors and into a large room. "Don't worry; you get choices. I'll show you."

The dining room was a large, pleasant, and sunny room with tablecloth-covered tables and upholstered chairs. On three walls were fireplaces while the fourth wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows. On each table was a tablet in a stand, silverware wrapped in cloth napkins, a pitcher of ice water, and glasses.

"You scan your wristband on the tablet," Sean said as he took a seat at a small table and scanned his wristband. Reid took a seat across from him. "Your file will come up, and you'll get a menu. Just choose what you want, and press the submit button, and a staff member will bring the meal out to you. At dinner you can get an appetizer and a main course with a side of fruit, or a main course with a dessert. What you choose to eat and how many calories and nutrients it has influences the other things you can get."

Spencer watched as Sean chose a grilled chicken salad with a baguette for dinner and a hot apple cobbler for dessert. "See? They'll bring it out in a few minutes. Go ahead and order yours."

"What does a meal like this usually cost?"

"All meals and snacks are provided for free," Sean said as Reid looked at the tablet at his menu. "You only have to pay for things at the cafe."

Reid didn't answer; he was too busy studying the menu. In the upper left-hand corner was his photo, and it looked like the one from his work ID. His name was next to the photo, as well as the date of his arrival. Underneath that were images of his choices. "Wow…You eat like this all the time?"

"There's a team of professional chefs in the kitchen, so yes. One day I would love to order everything on my menu just to see what they do, but the program won't let me."

"I have a friend who could probably hack it and rewrite it so you could," Spencer said thoughtfully, scrolling through options. Butternut squash ravioli, tomato bisque, roast turkey with dressing, herb-crusted prime rib, apple and barbeque spare ribs, spaghetti alla carbonara with chicken, mahi mahi kabobs, grilled salmon, pork chops with mushroom gravy...the options were limitless. At last, he found something that he felt he could stomach: chicken noodle soup. Once he selected it, four options for sides showed up, all of them vegetables, and he had to choose two. He tried selecting one and continuing, but the program wouldn't let him. The soup already had carrots, celery, and onions-couldn't that be enough vegetables? He picked two random ones and the program continued, where he could take his pick of rolls and spreads to eat with his soup, and at last, there were the desserts. He settled on a cinnamon streusel cake and to drink, he chose iced tea. He clicked 'submit' and set the tablet aside. "Do you order all meals like this?"

"All of them, except for brunch and dinner on Sunday. Sundays are a little different."

"What are they like?" Reid asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

"The Director says they're a day of rest, so we're allowed to rest. Your alarm doesn't go off and you can stay in bed if you like until brunch, which starts at quarter to ten and runs until one. At one-thirty we have something the Director calls 'Fellowship,' which is really listening to someone read from a religious text or philosophy and then it's discussed. The topic's usually something like 'virtue' or 'leading a moral life' or something similar. After Fellowship, we can do as we like for the rest of the day." Sean gave a small smile. "Sundays are my favorite day of the week. For brunch, the food's set out like a regular cafeteria, and you can pick and choose what you like, and you can go back as many times as you want. Dinner's just as informal. They don't count your calories and your nutrients on Sundays."

Reid sipped at his water. "You mentioned rules earlier. Could you give me a general idea of them?"

Sean appeared to gather his thoughts. "It would be best if you read the rule book in your room later, but I can tell you in a nutshell. Unless you're sick, you don't skip an activity or a meal. You don't go someplace that you're not allowed to go. You can't hole up in your room, as tempting as it may be. You don't go to an activity without being signed up for it, and you don't go to an activity when you're supposed to be somewhere else. Also, you don't go somewhere else, like the Green or the cafe if you're supposed to be at an activity. If you have an appointment, go to it. Don't try to run; you won't get far and you'll just get someone else in trouble. Keep your room neat and recycle any trash. Show up on time for activities and projects. You can't lash out and be violent, or someone else will be punished. You can shout and scream if you feel the need to, but only in a shrink's office or your bedroom-they don't want you upsetting other people. If you're restless at night, you can sit on your balcony or the front porch, but they really don't like it if you wander around outside of the cottages. No going to any of the facilities, the Green, or the beaches at night. Any questions?"

Reid thought about it. "Is there anything I should know about this place?"

"There's never been an escape, so I would suggest you accept being here." At Reid's face he continued. "I know, it sucks beyond belief, but adjusting to being here is hard enough. Refusing to accept being here makes it a lot harder, believe me. The sooner you accept being here, the easier it will be for you."

"I can't," Reid admitted right away. "My mom's...well, she depends on me. I write to her every day. I have to get back to her."

Sean shook his head. "She'll have to learn to get along without you."

Reid leaned back in his seat and fiddled with his silverware, his appetite gone. "She can't."

Sean gave him sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, kid. I really am. It sucks for you and your mom that this happened, but right now, there's not much you can do."

Reid thought about it. "I suppose."

Their food arrived then, carried by a waitress on a tray. Reid wished that he didn't have to eat, but he was sure that someone was watching to see if he did. He spooned up some soup and then, despite himself and his current mood, he smiled. "This is really good."

"The food's always good. I don't think I've ever had a bad meal," Sean told him, and then he leaned closer with a conspiratorial look in his eye. "Unless it's with the Director. Then, everything stinks."

Reid couldn't help grinning. Feeling somewhat better, he managed most of the soup and bread, all the vegetables, and had started on his dessert when the Director showed up.

"There you are," the man said, approaching their table. "Has Dr. Gallagher been showing you around, Dr. Reid?"

Reid swallowed his present mouthful and took a sip of tea to wash it down. "Sean's been great. He's shown me practically everything and explained things when I asked. I kinda wish my orientation at college had been half as thorough."

It had been the right thing to say. "Well! I'm glad to hear that," the Director said, smiling. "I've come to invite you to take a walk with me this evening after you've finished dinner. I'd like to continue our conversation from earlier. What do you say, Dr. Reid?"

I'd rather drink hemlock, was on the tip of Reid's tongue, but his sense reasserted itself. "I'll be there. Where and when?"

"I'll be outside, in front of the lodge. Come out when you're ready." With that, he was gone.

Reid turned to Sean, feeling panic starting. "What do I do?"

"He gives everyone the same talk when they arrive, so I don't think you have to worry," Sean said, digging into his apple cobbler. "Just listen and be polite as long as you can until he walks you back to your cottage. Most likely he wants to tell you most of what I've already told you and that he's looking forward to having you here."

Reid squashed the last of his cake with his fork. "I'm not looking forward to being here."

After Sean showed Reid how to bus their table and where to take their dishes, Reid bid Sean goodbye and headed outside, where the Director found him with little trouble. "Ready for our walk?"

Reid nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"I'm sure several questions have occurred to you since your arrival earlier today," the Director said as he led Reid down the lodge stairs and onto the path. "I'll be happy to answer them."

Reid thought about it. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to this man for any length of time, but...Wait. The Director was inviting him to ask questions, which meant that he wanted Reid to ask them. This might be important. "You said that you started the Trust to provide a supportive environment. What is it a supportive environment for?"

"For you and for others like you," the Director clarified. "The world is not kind to those who are gifted, Dr. Reid. It's rare that the gifted are appreciated and treated as they deserve. You can see this in schools nowadays, in cuts to gifted education and outright neglect of their needs. I believe when you were young you were just moved up several grades, isn't that right?"

"Acceleration is a commonly-used method of gifted education," Reid admitted.

"But not always appropriate, given individual circumstances," the Director told him. "Wouldn't it have been better if they had been able to educate you in a different way and in a more supportive environment?"

Reid shrugged. He'd been glad to go to school where the work had been somewhat more challenging, but he hadn't enjoyed his new peers all that much. "My situation was what it was, so I guess I never gave it much thought. We didn't have the money for a private school, and the public school system did the best it could. It really wasn't set up to accommodate the gifted all that much."

"But imagine if you'd been able to go to a school made for you," the Director said excitedly. "A facility made for you, an environment tailored to your needs, with resources and teachers that the public schools couldn't provide. What do you think you might have been able to accomplish if you'd had such things at your disposal? That's what I set up this campus for-for gifted individuals to reach their full potential, surrounded and supported by others like them. Here you'll be able to study things you wish to learn, teach others, and work with others like you."

"So, you're making...something like Plato's Academy here?"

"Something like," the Director agreed.

Reid's brain was working furiously. "You must have seen a great deal of potential wasted to go to this much trouble and expense to set this place up and bring people here."

"I did," the Director admitted. "It was heartbreaking."

That caught Reid's attention. Heartbreaking was a strong word to use. There had to be a personal connection there. That was...interesting. "I can understand why you would want to help others, but I can't really stay here."

"Your work at the BAU is so pressing?"

Reid ignored the question and the patronizing tone in which it was asked. "Actually, I'm more concerned about my mother. If you know as much about me as I think you do, then you'll know that she's a paranoid schizophrenic in a psychiatric facility. I write to her every day and…" He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I know that there's only so much I can do to help her, but I like to think that my letters help ground her a bit more in reality. I can't…" He stopped and swallowed hard, hating that his voice was breaking. "I can't write to her here."

Saying it out loud did it. The next thing he knew, he was shaking and choking back tears. The Director looked startled when Reid dropped down to sit on the path, his arms around his knees, still fighting tears.

"Dr. Reid? Can you try to talk to me?"

Reid took a deep breath, but he sobbed instead of speaking. Another deep breath, and he managed to choke out, "She'll give up! She's already fighting so hard, and my disappearing will make it harder, and she'll give up!" Reid looked up at him, tears running down his face. He wasn't trying to control them now. "How can you be so cruel?"

To give the Director credit for being human, he had enough empathy to look abashed at Reid's outburst, as well as guilty. He crouched down next to Reid and put a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't bring you here to be cruel to you or your mother, Dr. Reid."

Reid finally located a handkerchief in his pocket. "It doesn't feel that way to me. How do you expect it'll feel to her, if I just stop writing?"

Reid let himself cry-Morgan was right; those walls that he built up around himself needed to come down sometimes. Why not let the Director see the fallout of his orders? He could deal with an emoting FBI genius and see how much he liked it. Maybe he'd think better of his decision and send Reid home.

The Director pulled Reid to his feet and led him over to a bench, pushing down on his shoulder to make him sit down. "I was aware of your mother's condition and how often you wrote, but I was not aware of what purpose your letters served. I thought you were merely being a dutiful son."

"I was," Reid croaked, mopping his face and trying to take a deep breath.

"I will have to think about this," the Director told him, taking a seat next to him. "This is the first time communication served such a...vital purpose."

There was something Reid felt he wasn't seeing, but for the life of him, he couldn't see what it was.

The Director stood and faced Reid. "It's been a very long couple of days for you, Dr. Reid. I think it would be best if you retired now. I'll walk you back to Beech, and since it's a tradition of mine to see each of my new arrivals to bed the first night, you and I can talk a little more while you settle yourself for the night."

"You...want to…" Reid's mind stuttered to a halt. "You see new arrivals to bed?"

"Just the first night," the Director told him as Reid got to his feet. "I'm afraid you'll have to indulge me on this; I want to be sure each of my new arrivals settle in easily and are comfortable. Let's go."

The change from the considerate listener to the old imperious Director was too much for Reid to take. "Um...no. No, you're not going to do that tonight. I'm going to walk back to Beech by myself and I'll go to bed without you there."

The Director went very, very still. "Take a moment to think about what you just said, and then take another moment to think about your situation, and then think of something better to say. This will be your only chance, Spencer."

The Director's tone frightened him and he could tell right away he was walking a fine, fine line. He nodded, too afraid to look the man in the eye. "All right. I'll...I'll do as you say."

"I'm glad to see you can be reasonable."

As they walked, the Director asked him questions, mostly about what he thought of the campus, the amenities, the activities on offer, and so on. Reid did his best to answer civilly and it wasn't long before they arrived at the cottage. The Director led him inside, up the stairs, and to the door Reid had left behind a few hours ago. The panel outside the door where he was to swipe his wristband now had a placard above it reading, SPENCER REID.

Reid almost didn't recognize the room when they stepped inside. "Woah. What...happened?"

"Usually, your rooms are prepared for you while you're at lunch with me your first day since we're never one hundred percent certain quite when a new arrival will be here, but your fit of shock forestalled that. I had the staff take care of it all while you were on your tour with Dr. Gallagher. What do you think?"

What had been a bare, institutional room when he'd left was now warm and inviting. The furnishings and rugs were now in warm shades of brown and green, making him feel as if he were sheltered in a forest. The mantel over the fireplace was actually a log, and on it were ferns and succulents, lending the forest theme a little more life. It actually felt cozy. Shelves had been brought in and filled with copies of his favorite books, and colorful prints of nature scenes like wildflowers and waterfalls had been hung on the walls. Altogether, the effect was calming and he found himself liking it better the more he looked around.

There was a sitting area just as one entered the room, with a sofa, two easy chairs, and a coffee table. Lamps on either end of the sofa provided perfect spots to sit and read. A table and chairs beyond them to the right in front of a bookcase would make a perfect place to spread out and work on a project. The room had been divided by a low bookcase behind the sofa, and that area was the bedroom, complete with a dresser and wardrobe, which had been left standing open to display the new clothes that hung there. The bed had been turned down for him and a set of nightclothes had been left out on the pillow.

I guess that's my cue, Reid thought, spotting the pajamas, and he yawned. The Director was right; it had been a long and very tiring couple of days.

"Go ahead and get yourself ready for bed," the Director told him. "I'll wait here."

Reid did a tired double-take. "I wasn't going to ask for your help. I'll be just a minute." He didn't care that this guy felt the need to tuck him in or whatever he was going to do; he needed to sleep, and if he needed to go along with this nutcase to get into that bed faster, he was going to do it. All of the stress he'd been battling and all the emoting he'd been doing had wrung him dry. He picked up the pajamas and headed into the bathroom. Once there, he took care of the needful, brushed his teeth, and changed into the pajamas. He found the hamper with little trouble and dropped his clothes into it and left the bathroom, making a very short and determined beeline for the bed. Reid dropped into the sweet embrace of blankets and pillows and sighed.

The Director took a seat in a chair near the bed, where Sean had sat when Reid had last been in that bed. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm glad. I'm going to promise you, Dr. Reid, that I will give some serious thought to your situation and your circumstances, but I would like you to do something for me."

Reid cracked one eye open. Why couldn't he just shut up and let him sleep? "What?"

"Don't fret about your situation and try to have some fun," the Director said. "Let me do the worrying, all right?"

"Right now, I don't even have the energy to worry about why I'm not more worried," Reid confessed. "Why am I so tired? Was there something in the food?"

"No, this is the reaction to a great deal of change and stress; it's perfectly normal. Settle yourself, and I'll read to you until you drop off, all right?"

"Mmmnn."

Reid barely heard the first stanza of a poem by a Romantic poet before he fell asleep.

Author's Note: Okay, this evil little plot bunny has taken over my life and become Rabbit-zilla. I TRIED working on some of my other stories, but this one was clamoring to be written. I hope this will pacify the rabid plot rabbit and I'll get some peace but there's still a part of me in doubt. Someone help me.