Disclaimer: see my profile

Emily picked up the coffee pot and poured herself her fifth cup of coffee. The file folder she carried around with Glen Simeon's photo in it seemed to burn into her hand. There had to be something that would help them find the boy.

"Hey Emily," Agent Todd's voice startled Emily and she nearly dropped her coffee.

"Hi Jordan," She sipped the slightly shaken coffee.

"You look beat." Jordan said and then she flushed. "Sorry, that's a really stupid thing to say."

"It's okay. It's just this case. I hate looking for missing kids."

"I know… What are we supposed to do if there's no ransom demand?"

"Money isn't what this guy's after. He wants something else. The problem is that Garcia hasn't found anyone on the sex offender list that even remotely has anything to do with his disappearance. The relationship between the parents appears to be amicable. Now he's dead and the kid is missing. I feel like we're missing some important piece and we can't see it.

The women headed back down the hall to the room they had been using as their meeting room. It was six o'clock in the morning and they'd been up all night. None of them wanted to sleep until they found this little boy safe and sound.

"This is another dumb question… Why do you sound like you've forgotten something very important?"

Emily sat down at the large rectangular table and opened the file she carried around, for the one hundredth time in the last few hours.

"Actually, it's not a dumb question. See, there is this time in almost all of our cases when we hit a barrier. We have a working profile in this case. We know the perpetrator is white. Since there's no ransom demand we can be reasonably sure that Glen was taken for other reasons. It could be that the un-sub is a pedophile. It could be another relative kidnapping the kid. I could be any number of reasons. He's between the ages of 30 and 50. There is a level of organization to this that suggests some maturity. He got quick control of the situation by shooting Glen's father. He also did this in broad daylight, which is pretty ballsy."

Agent Todd laughed heartily, causing Emily to look up at her in surprise. "I never thought I'd hear the word ballsy from Emily Prentiss."

Emily let her face smile. "Yeah, well I guess this is all getting to me. I feel like this is the point in the story where Reid comes up with something really brilliant that we're just not seeing and it solves the case."

"He does do that a lot?"

"Yeah, he does that all the time. It's like we're missing our right hand."

The rest of the team entered the conference room just at that moment. They took their places around the table. Each of them looked as disheveled as Emily felt, except for Hotch himself. He never looked exhausted. His suit always looked perfectly pressed. His tie was always straight. His short hair never got rumpled and his shoes always shone. In fact, he looked like a high priced lawyer on the way to court, or a high powered executive on the way to a board meeting. Unless, you looked into his dark eyes, and knew what to look for. It was in his eyes that everything showed despite his attempts to keep it all locked away. He looked exhausted to Emily now.

"You can always count on Reid to see something we haven't thought of." Morgan said with a half exasperated, half proud smile.

"I'll never forget the first time I met him," Hotch said with a very fond expression that surprised Jordan. Since when did he smile? "Gideon brings this tall skinny kid into my office and I'm thinking that Jason had lost it or something. Then Reid opens his mouth about the current case on the white board. He gave an accurate profile without hearing anything about the case. All he did was look at the photos. I'd never see anything like it."

"God I hope he's okay!"

"Well all hope he's okay." Rossi said.

"Let's get focused and find Glen." Hotch said, his scowl firmly back in place.

Morgan dropped into his chair and rubbed his hands over his bald head. "What do we do now?"

"Everything isn't as innocent as it seems. We've got an ex-cop that moved up from New York for a quieter life. The wife was an editor for a high profile publishing company. When Scott Simeon moved up here he was on the verge of getting promoted to Captain. It would have meant getting off the streets and more money. Why leave behind a really good job and the money that goes with it to move up to a small town to start over. He loses his rank and then he's fired for misconduct which led to his divorce."

"They divorced after they moved up here. Scott had an affair with an eighteen year old prostitute. Everyone knew about it including Mrs. Simeon."

"What if she hired someone to take him out? All of the good will could just be a smokescreen.

"We're getting off base here."

Hotch was interrupted by his phone ringing. "Hotch."

"It's the Goddess of the information super highway. I've got some information for you about the Simeons."

"Go ahead."

"You're not going to like it. Scott, Mary and Glen Simeon don't exist. I can't find anything on them before eighteen months ago when they came to Rock Creek. The mother-in-law's name has been changed too."

"They're in the witness protection program?"

"If they are, I can't get anything from their computers."

"Do I want to know how you got into their program?"

"No sir, I want you to have plausible deniability." Hotch laughed and the smile on his face made the rest of them chuckle too. "So what do you want, the good news first or the bad news?"

"I prefer the bad news first."

"Scott Simeon was a deep cover agent for several years in New York. He was instrumental in bringing down some of the biggest crime families on the East Coast.

"That's the bad news?"

"You sound disappointed."

"No, just curious as to what the good news is."

"The good news is that I found a life insurance policy on him for 5 million dollars. It was taken out one month ago."

"I'll bet I know who it was that took out the policy."

"You would think that, but you'd be wrong."

Hotch raised his eyebrows and the rest of the team waited with bated breath. "Tell me!"

---

Reid picked up the needle and looked at in the lamplight. It was funny. In fact, he began to chuckle as the liquid drug moved along the inside of the syringe as he moved it and turned it over in his hands. He could take the dose and escape for awhile. Then he'd wake up and soon there would be the desperate longing for more of the poison. That's what it was to him, poison that he'd deliberately injected into his own veins for months.

He turned the needle over again and watched the light wink off the silver tip. He used to be afraid of needles. He hated physicals and flu shots because of the needles doctors used to draw blood. He'd always turn his head away from the needle and squint his eyes shut. It wasn't the pain. It was the sight of the needle cutting into his vein that gave him the chills.

That was the funny thing, how easy it was to learn to overcome those little phobias when it came to getting a fix of your drug of choice. He'd even got to the point that watching the needle enter his arm could make him shudder with pleasure before the drug was released into his blood stream.

He turned the needle over in his hands again and then he put it down on the glittering surface of the glass coffee table. Calloway had included a tourniquet with the kit as though it was a forgone conclusion that Reid would just take the drug. His mind wanted the numbness that it could bring him, even if it was only for a short while.

What was the use in fighting something like that? He didn't have anyone to help him here. He was alone. Why not escape? No one would blame him if he did. It would all be over soon anyway, so what difference did it make. He picked up the tourniquet and wound it around his arm, tying it off with his teeth. Now that was a skill you never forget! The needle waited to be used. He picked it up and got up to go into the bathroom. It wasn't the first time he'd ever shot up in a bathroom. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but at least he wouldn't have eyes watching his humiliation.

---

"Get in there and make sure he's okay! Calloway ordered Ramirez from his spot next to the screen that showed Dr. Reid's accommodations.

"What am I supposed to do if he's not okay?"

"Just get in there and check on him. You know who to contact if he's not."

"Why did you give him something so dangerous?" Ramirez stood his ground.

"I didn't pick Dilaudid for him. He's an addict with a very specific intravenous drug addiction. This particular drug slows the nervous system and can shut down your breathing. It's very dangerous."

"Then why did you give it to him in the first place?"

Calloway puffed up and scowled at Ramirez. "Don't question me. He's the one that gave us the perfect way to ensure his cooperation. Threatening his family and loved ones didn't do the trick, so I simply upped the stakes a bit. He'll do anything for his next fix, even if it's helping us to solve our cases."

"Calloway, I don't think-"

"You're not getting paid a truck load of money to think Ramirez. Get in there and make sure Dr. Reid is okay."

---

Ramirez opened the door to Dr. Reid's room. It was quiet as a tomb. The doctor was nowhere in sight. That meant he must still be in the bathroom. How typical… Ramirez couldn't count the number of times he'd read about junkies overdosing in bathrooms. What was it about all the porcelain and fake marble tile that made addicts shoot up and die there?

He knocked hesitantly on the door to the bathroom. When nothing happened he knocked again, a bit harder this time.

What are you doing? He's not going to open up for you!

That was true - he was probably passed out on the floor. He straightened his shoulder and opened the door. The light was on and it illuminated the whole room, including Reid sitting with his legs splayed out on the floor in front of the bathtub. The tourniquet was around his left arm and his head was lying on his chest. Ramirez couldn't tell by looking at him, if the man was breathing or not. He edged into the room for a closer look, and shut the door behind him.

Ramirez holstered his gun and approached him a little warily. He watched him for a minute more, but he couldn't see the rise and fall of the young man's chest. What if he wasn't breathing? He knelt down next to Reid and put his hand to the doctor's neck. He felt the pulse beat of his heart, a little fast, but it was there.

"Dr. Reid…"

The younger man's head jerked up and he grabbed Ramirez's shoulder so hard that the other agent cried out in pain.

"Hello Ramirez," Reid said with a smile.