Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Criminal Minds or its characters. This is purely for my and others enjoyment.

Chapter 6:

6 hours later

Reid woke to the sound of water dripping on concrete. Where am I? Why did I fall asleep standing up? The aftereffects of the drug had left his mind so bleary that it was all he could do to piece together the events of the previous night. "I come with you and no one gets hurt." "You come with me and no one needs to die tonight." He had hoped it had all been a very realistic nightmare, but the shackles chaining his hands above him confirmed that this was his reality. At first the realization elicited no response, but within moments his mind had transported him into a memory. He woke to a 40 watt light bulb swinging above his head. His head was pounding and he could feel blood, his blood drying on the side of his face. He raised his hands to wipe the blood away, but they wouldn't move. Why wouldn't they move?

"Hey boss." A rough voice jarred him from the memory, "he's awake." How can they know that? Reid thought. There's no one in the room with me. After a few deep breaths to calm himself of his previous panic attack, Reid reassessed his predicament. He'd originally thought that it was still nightfall when he'd woken, but small slivers of light appeared whenever he shifted his eyes up or down. He had been blindfolded, but not so well that he was completely without light. For that, he was grateful. The team had always teased him about his fear of the dark, but no one had considered what the absence of light meant for a young Reid.

Darkness was the hole his mother fell into soon after he was born. Darkness was his father leaving because he couldn't handle the responsibility of dealing with a schizophrenic. It was being tied naked to a goal post because no one understood why a twelve-year-old was so much smarter; only that he was a freak and freaks needed to be taken care of. It was walking home at two in the morning because anything was better than having books thrown at his head and his mother screaming that you were sent by the government to take her away. It was knowing that he'd sacrificed part of his soul and betrayed the person he loved more than anything because he couldn't take care of them on he own any more. It was the intimidating stares as everyone muttered the only reason he'd been accepted into the BAU was because of his brain; that he wouldn't last the week. It was the blank look in Phillip Dowd's eyes when he took that fatal shot. It was the crushing guilt after Elle left and again with Gideon. It was the draw of the needle, feeling weak but knowing he couldn't handle the memories. He'd always associated the bleakest moments of his life with the darkness because they couldn't be explained and they consumed him in a pool of despair.

"Mmph!" he had tried to clear the scratch in his throat only to realize he'd also been gagged. Whoever had gagged him was more experience than the one who'd blindfolded him, the thick cloth sat behind his teeth and was double-knotted at the base of his skull. He wouldn't be calling for help anytime soon. Both his hands and feet were chained, his feet to the floor and his hands to the ceiling, effectively keeping him in a single and very uncomfortable position. Lastly, he noticed the thin electrodes attached to his chest, monitoring his heart beat. That was how they knew I was awake. They must have a computer monitoring my heart rate. But why? Do they want to gauge the effectiveness of their torture? There was no doubt in his mind that he would be tortured. Or is there some other motive? What does the profile say? Gotta think in terms of the profile.

Creak. The sound of a door opening shook him out of his reverie. Someone was coming. Reid tried to slow his breathing, but could do nothing to control the fast thumping of his heart. "Hello Spencer." a cold cultured voice said. "Nice of you to finally wake up." Reid said nothing, not wanting to give his captor the satisfaction of listening to him struggle to speak. If he wanted silence, then silence was what he would get. "Oh, the silent treatment?" the voice's owner chuckled. "Don't worry, we'll see how you respond after the morning's news." Dread filled Reid's stomach at the soft voice of a reporter filled the room."This is Kyra Chen reporting live. No groups have claimed responsibility for the bombing attack on the FBI Training Academy. Ten have been reported as dead with another eight in critical condition. We'll be continuing with this story at five. Reporting for News Center 4, this is Kyra Chen." What? He thought, heart racing. He promised no one would get hurt if I went with him. That no one would die. Were the others still in the building when the bomb went off? Please, lord, let them be okay. I don't care what happens to me, just tell me they're alive.

Rough hands brushed against his neck as the gag was removed. "How do I know this isn't some sort of trick?" he asked. "What's the matter Spencer? Don't trust me?" Well obviously you're a sick son of a bitch, so why should I believe anything you say?" "Maybe listening to this will convince you." First there was silence, then, "Seaver! Hey! Ashley!" Morgan's voice filled the room, and then BOOM! The telltale sound of a bomb detonated and sirens filling the air. At least Hotch, Rossi, and Garcia are okay. He thought, trying to compartmentalize the loss of at least Morgan and Seaver. Another recording started as soon as that thought had passed through his mind. "Did she ever say anything to you before tonight?" Garcia's voice, followed by Rossi's reply, "No, I had no idea she, they felt that way." And once again the sound of the explosion. Okay, he thought struggling to keep his features blank, at least Hotch is safe. But yet another recording proved his hopes were mistaken, "Agent Hotchner?" "Yes?" and then the irreplaceable sound of a gun firing.

After that final recording it was all Reid could do not to curl in upon himself in grief. To mourn the only true family and home he'd ever had, but he couldn't, not with the audience present. The brief profile he'd constructed had told him his captors would find pleasure at any and all signs of pain he exhibited, he couldn't give them the satisfaction. Struggling to keep both his voice and heart rate steady he snarled, "You told me if I went with you no one would be hurt." His captor laughed mockingly, "What's the matter Spencer? Upset that your precious team is dead?"

Reid silently apologized, grateful none of his teammates would ever hear about what he was about to say. "No, I'm pissed that innocent people were caught in the cross-fire. I couldn't give a damn about what happened to my colleagues." His words appeared to throw his captor off because he replied, "Really? I thought that you were close with them all. That they were your family." "Ha." Reid barked a short laugh, "that must be one fucked up family then. Let's see. Agent Morgan loves using me as his physical and psychological punching bag. Anytime he gets too pissed, he can't wait to take it out on me, but heaven forbid I come to him with any of my own problems. I'm just the nerd they rely on when the big guns can't kick down doors, it's probably the reason why I'm the one in the line of fire so much. Agent Hotchner has proven time and time again that I am only a tool in his disposal, and it's a miracle he even puts up with me. When we were taken hostage by an unsub he told the unsub about how I'd failed my gun recertification and how he'd like nothing more than to kick the shit out of me for making his life miserable. Then he actually did. Oh, and let's not forget the time I was shot and went to visit him the next day. He pretty much told me that it was my fault that a deranged psychopath was targeting his family. That if I had actually tried with the profile, the unsub would be dead or behind bars by then. Agent Rossi's made it abundantly clear that he wants absolutely nothing to do with me and never will. In his mind, I'm just the freak the Bureau picked up because it would look good to have a 'genius' working there. Garcia is just happy that she's not the biggest freak there, and trainee Seaver is just some pathetic little bitch who's daddy was a serial killer."

"On their own, they could give me enough ammunition to write a book series about how they've treated me; but let's not forget what they've done to me as a group. It isn't bad enough that they're always teasing me and shutting me up, but whenever something goes wrong I am always the first one they blame. Take this case with a kid who was murdering his former bullies, I identified with him and, instead of helping me, they did all they could to paint him as the psychopath. I had to stand between my teammates and the boy just to make sure they didn't shoot him. You'd think that would've made them realize that they took the wrong approach, but no, all it got me was two months of being bitched out. Didn't matter why I did it, only that I had. So yes, I don't have any love lost for them. The world is so much better off without them in it."

"What about Agent Prentiss?" the man asked quietly. Ah, Emily, so I was right. He took me to get to her. I've got to protect her, I can't lose the only family I have left. "What about her?" he asked in a voice so cold he surprised himself. "Surely she must care about you. She did take a beating for you two years ago." Damn, how much does this guy know? Those files are sealed, he must have someone on the inside. "Only because our boss told her to." He said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. It had hurt so much when he'd heard that. "Believe me, she wouldn't have done it if she wasn't ordered to. The only person Prentiss gives a damn about is herself. It certainly isn't me! Sorry to ruin your plans." "How do think this will ruin my plans?" "You think that by taking me, you'll force Emily to cut a deal or you'll hurt her, but you're wrong. She'll probably thank you, and ask why you didn't do it sooner. I'm sure every day I'm alive is a day she considers wasted." There was no response, only the sound of rolling metal, a sound that haunted his nightmares; the sound of the gun barrel of a revolver being spun before Russian roulette. Reid's heart pounded violently as the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against it. "Let's test that theory." his captor said.

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