A/N: I'm pretty sure you're all going to hate me at the end of this chapter, and I'm sorry. Sort of. Please review!

BRTxoxo


As hard as they tried, the BAU team was unable to find any leads or evidence that could possibly help them identify who the unsub- AKA Sweeny Todd-really was. Days went by, countless cups of coffee were consumed, the carpeted floor in the conference room was beginning to fade in long runs from the constant pacing. And it wasn't just the team that was agitated enough to pace.

"There has to be something we're missing. I mean, people just don't get kidnapped by someone who doesn't exist." Although he wasn't a part of the team, Daniel had become almost an intricate part of the group.

Kate's warm brown eyes followed his movements as the neuropsychiatrist paced the floor. Garcia was of course in her tech den, JJ was out managing the press and paperwork for other cases, but the rest of the team was in the conference room, reading and rereading the file notes.

"Well it would seem that way now wouldn't it love?"

Daniel jerked around to the sound of the English voice, a woman's voice. Oh no, not now. Please not now!

The woman he saw was clearly not from this time period, or area. Her skin was almost ashen it was so pale, and there was dark purple under her eyes. Her hair was a curly knot atop her head, and her dress was tattered and ratty. She was obviously a hallucination, one he could very well do without right about now.

JJ entered the room before Daniel had the chance to reply. "Sir, there is a young man here looking for Doctor Pierce."

"What's his name," Hotch asked, weary of any 'young men looking for Doctor Pierce'.

"Max Lewicki."

"Lewicki? What's he doing here?"

JJ nodded when Daniel responded to the name and led him out to the bull pen to meet with his assistant.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have work back at the university?" the doctor's tone was incredulous as he approached the young man, dressed in a plaid sweater vest over a button shirt and tie.

"Actually Daniel," Kate replied, coming from behind him, "I asked him to come." She'd followed them out of the conference room and hesitantly touched his arm. She could feel his muscles slightly tense under her touch, and how warm he was.

"Why?"

"Because he can cook better food for you and keep you on your schedule better than I can. He needs to be with you, for now." Her lips quirked into a nervous smile.

Daniel's arm burned where Kate's hand was resting, though he could barely feel the warmth through his knit shirt. His muscles tensed and his mind buzzed.

"Well then, seems like you've got a nice lass to 'elp you out then. But you'll still need good ol' Mrs. Lovette, I'm sorry to say. How else are you s'possed to understand dear Sweeny Todd?"

Spencer Reid stood leaning out of the doorway a bit to watch what was going on. Max Lewicki. He assumed that Max was Daniel's assistant, and he could faintly hear them talking about it. With a gentle sigh, he pulled himself back into the room and sat on top of one of the file cabinets.

Daniel was right; they had to be missing something. He frowned. What were they missing?

He'd seen the picture Daniel had provided of his niece. Her hair was long, a light brown color that framed her face like a halo. Her eyes were a pale green, like a cat's, everything about her screamed cat, and her ears had been a mottled brown color. Instantly he wanted to know more about her, about how her body worked, what she was like, who she knew.

Katrina didn't know anyone, wasn't friends with anyone but her sister and her uncle and Garcia, but none of them knew who would have taken her. Taryn was gone, Garcia hadn't been in contact with her cousin for years, and Daniel hardly ever responded to his nieces letters, usually only when he had a spare moment.

Wait. Letters.

She sent him letters regularly, once every two weeks.

"Hotch, the letters."

"What?" the tall, dark haired agent looked up from his file folder to meet the excited, vacant stare of the young doctor.

"The letters," Reid replied, looking off into the distance, his eyes unfocused. "Katrina wrote letters biweekly to Daniel. She could have written about anyone strange or suspicious in her letters." He blinked, his warm brown eyes focusing on the rest of the team. "We need those letters."

. . .

Day 1
Taryn was murdered by Sweeny Todd today, and then he kidnapped me. He was still in the apartment when I got home from looking for a job… there was so much blood...

Day 2
Sweeny Todd took the blindfold off me today. I'm in some basement, probably of his house, on a mattress with nice sheets and blankets and pillows… my head hurts and all he gave me to eat was a bottle of water and crackers. He also left a note saying something about "my love" and I have no idea what he's talking about.
I found this journal today… it hurts to write, the handcuff is too tight and it's chained to the wall. It smells so bad in here, and I feel so dirty. I can't stop crying, every time I try to sleep I keep seeing Taryn's dead body and blank eyes… oh gosh why did she have to die?! I wonder if anyone is looking for me… if anyone is worried…

Day 3
he thinks I'm secretly in love with him! He keeps talking about the little glances I've sent him, begging him to take me away… I said I had no idea what he was talking about and he told me to keep talking, to sing and tell him stories… when I stopped he told me to continue… he hit me when I said I couldn't anymore.
He started to brush my hair and I started crying and shivering… and then he took me upstairs, blindfolded and stripped me… he hit me again when I fought against him and then he stuck me in the shower and washed my hair… he at least let me wash myself… I feel even dirtier now.

Katrina's hand trembled as she closed the diary and tucked it under her pillow, between the wall and the mattress she sat on. His phantom fingers ghosted over her body, taking off her clothes. She so badly wanted to scream, to throw something, but she knew it would do no good. She knew he would just come downstairs, probably hit her, and then stay there and tell her to say something so he could listen to her voice, tell her to say that she loved him.

But she didn't. She hated him. She loathed his very being. Katrina wasn't one to hate anyone, she got along with those that she met, the few she met. But she couldn't shake the fact that he'd brutally raped and murdered her sister, her best friend. And then for him to have the audacity to say that she loved him when he knew nothing about her!

She could feel her tail tip twitching irritably, her ears were laid flat against her head just thinking about him. Her long fingers clenched around the bunched up top sheet, her nails nearly poking holes in it.

The way his pale blue eyes trailed down her body-she could feel his perverted gaze on her when he'd taken her upstairs-and the way his awkward hands had trailed across her skin, wrapped her tail around his arm, it made her stomach lurch and her hair stand on end.

Her body curled into a ball as she tried to block out the images of her sister and try to sleep, but it continued to evade her.

The next week passed. Eventually she began to eat, but the good it did her was outweighed by how little it did to help her. She ate little of what he gave her-it wasn't what she needed, and would not speak to him. He would hit her, enraged by her refusal and the way she shied away from him. She'd tried to tell him what he needed but he would just tell her to just babble, tell him she loved him, sing, tell him stories, anything to hear her voice. And yet as infatuated with her and delusional as he was, it almost brought him pleasure and joy to hurt her, to hear her cry in pain.

Another week passed. She wrote in the diary every night, despite how her wrist ached, or how badly her head throbbed, depending on how the day had gone. Every night she prayed that someone would find her, that she would be released from this Hell, that it would just end, that she could just go home. But each morning found her in the same dingy basement covered in dust and empty boxes, trapped with Sweeny Todd, with no hope of escape.

Katrina Power's face was a constant harbor for tears that spilled from her raw eyes. She wrote stories in her head, fairytales where someone would rescue her and take her away to a beautiful house. Sleep eventually befriended her again, and her dreams began to return to their normal state of fantasies and memories of stories she'd seen or read about in years past.

Day 19
Not much has changed in the past two or three weeks. I've nearly stopped talking entirely, and because of that he hits me more frequently. I'm beginning to feel sick, I'm not getting everything I need in my diet… I need fat, I can't produce it on my own, but all I get is water, crackers and sandwich meat. Sometimes he gives me milk, and sometimes he gives me fish.
he continues to wash my hair and keep me blindfolded when he takes me up for a bath, about every other day. I hate him so much… I'm able to sleep easier now, and I don't dream about Taryn's dead body anymore. The least he could do is give me books to read all day…

The next day, around 7 in the evening, Katrina woke from a nap to the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs leading to the basement. She immediately shoved the diary under her pillow and folded herself into the corner. The pressure on her wrist from the handcuff increased and it bit into her skin.

Sweeny Todd came into the room, carrying someone over his shoulder, and tossed the body onto the bed in front of the cowering woman.

The man-as it turned out to be-that had been dropped nearly in her lap was tall, skinny, and lanky, with light brown hair that was slightly curled at the ends. He couldn't be older than 25.

Sweeny Todd chained him to the wall as well, tightening the handcuff too much, and dropped first aid supplies at her feet.

"Take care of him, dearest."

She could only nod as she stared wide eyed at the young man lying on the bed.