Disclaimer: See first chapter for full disclaimer. Additionally, I do not own the characters from the shows, "The Munsters" (created, produced and written by Joe Connelly and Bob Mosher) and "The Addams Family" (originally created by cartoonist Charles Addams; episodes were written by Nat Perrin).
Warning: Disturbing images.
The Hiding Place
"Nothing terrible has ever happened except in our thinking. Reality is always good, even in situations that seem like nightmares. The story we tell is the only nightmare that we have lived." – Byron Katie, Loving What Is
Just a few more steps and they would be in the safety of the woods. Just a few more steps. Just a few more steps. Panting, Reid faltered and nearly fell flat on his face, but Aiken's firm grip on his hand reminded him that he wasn't alone and he righted himself, continuing his lurching gait toward the woods. What a fitting image, Frankenstein's monster – Lurch – wait, that wasn't Frankenstein that was "The Addams Family" wasn't it? Morticia, now that was one hot monster of a chick, Reid attempted to grin, but a sharp spasm of pain twisted his lips into what amounted to no more than a mere ghost of a grimace. He was so not going to make it; the image of the tantalizing Morticia Addams beckoning him onward with her sultry smile was not nearly enough incentive to keep him going. Now, maybe if it were Morticia Addams and Marilyn Munster waiting for him...surely he could manage to go a few more feet into their awaiting arms. Almost there, just keep putting one foot in front of the other, Marilyn and Morticia are waiting, you can't keep them waiting, you should never keep a lady waiting.
Mom had allowed him to watch the old reruns on TV, none of the newer TV shows, but the oldies had been okay. She would sometimes even watch an episode with him making inane comments, pointing out how handsome Gomez was or how pretty Morticia was in spite of her name. Here he was, Lurch in the flesh, making a comeback after forty-two years, of course he was a little stiff, it's been forty-two years after all, give a guy a break. A slightly desperate sounding gurgle that he had meant to be a laugh bubbled forth from his lips and Aiken shot an urgent look at him, pulling on the wavering agent's arm, driving him to continue forward. Reid moved forward, carried on by his earlier momentum and pure survival instinct. Now ain't that something different? He mused as he made his way on limbs that felt strangely foreign to him and as though they really belonged to someone else. They were betraying him after all, not following even his simplest of requests without balking. Traitors! They reeled as though they were the legs of some drunken sailor on a storm-swept sea rather than those of a young genius FBI agent.
And still, the promise of the protection of the woods continued to taunt him, silver and white, silver and white the trees flashed in front of him (always in front of him) as streaks of lightning illuminated them. His eyes cringed at the brightness of the sudden light as it lit up the woods, tormenting his throbbing head. Shouldn't we have already reached the woods by now? He felt as though he had run the course of the Boston Marathon on crippled legs. Should be running through that red-tape at the finish line any moment now…any moment now…"Damn it Reid…you gotta make it to through that finish line." When had Morgan arrived? Was he too standing at the finish line with Morticia and Marilyn?
He should stop running, he was getting nowhere. This was total madness, all part of some freakish nightmare in which, he, the victim ran from some faceless monster and ran and ran, getting absolutely nowhere. It had no doubt been brought on by too many late nights and his work for the BAU. Who needed nightmares when reality was terrifying enough?
Maybe if he stopped running he would wake up in the sanctity of his apartment, heart racing from the vivid nightmare, sweat pooling in his sheets. He was no stranger to nightmares and knew the routine. He'd wake up chilled, shivering, lungs agonizing to bring in the tepid air until his fevered mind took in the familiar surroundings of his threadbare apartment and reasoned with him, daring him to remember where he was and to believe that it had all been some harmless nightmare, barely worth remembering the next day. He would then strive against all odds to avoid remembering what he couldn't, thanks to his faultless memory, forget. All of the nightmares that he had experienced from early childhood on, he was able to recall in masterful detail as though they had each just been dreamt afresh. His mind was a curse at the worst of times and a trap at the best.
Oh no, maybe this wasn't a nightmare after all, maybe he was on some whacked out drug-induced trip. That would more than explain his strange ramblings, disjointed memories, and self-imposed hallucinations that continued to call to him, "Spencer Reid, just a little further, you can do it. Come, my pet."
Up close, Morticia looked even more beautiful; her pale face nearly glowing as lightning once again struck, illuminating it, a stark contrast to the macabre black she wore and the dark trees that surrounded her. Where had Marilyn gone? Where was Morgan? Reid twisted around looking for them. He had been sure that he had heard the older agent's voice pleading with him to finish the race. No, wait, that was part of his nightmare in which he had been running. He was no longer running. Morgan had faded into the darkness of the woods as the nightmare fled Reid's tormented mind and clouded memories of blue eyes and rough, unkind hands assaulted him.
Where had the faceless monster, whose fiery blue eyes haunted his memory even if he couldn't recall meeting the master of those eyes, gone? Those eyes had pierced him to his very soul and made him return to the piss-in-your-pants- fear he had felt under Hankel's tutelage. They had been cold, calculating, and had held the promise of torture. The monster's hard sapphire-eyes had drilled into his brown ones, and as though pinned by them, he had been unable to move.
Overcome by the dislocated images, Reid stopped. Gasping for air, he sunk to the wet earth, unable to go any further.
"Spencer!" A child's voice, hushed, yet strained, finally broke through to the beleaguered agent, pulling him out of his stupor. Reid shivered violently at the recollection of those horrid eyes and finally began to come to his senses when a small hand tugged desperately on his own, pulling him off of his knees.
"Aiken?" Reid's voice trembled in spite of his best effort to make it sound stronger than he felt.
"Spencer, the monster who killed my mom and Braden is coming for us. We have to hide," Aiken's eyes were wide with fear and his teeth chattered in the cold rain. Even as Aiken said the words, Reid could hear footsteps at the edge of the woods, drawing nearer to where they stood motionless. The man had not fired his weapon again, but Reid knew that it was just a matter of time before he would find them if they didn't move soon. If it came to that, Reid would almost prefer to have the man shoot them rather than take them alive. He didn't think he could survive another torture session and didn't really want to find out if he could. He doubted that Aiken would live much longer if the man were to catch up to them. He had noticed the bloodthirsty looks the man had cast toward the young boy and wondered what he had planned for the both of them. Why hadn't the man killed them at the house? What did he have in store for them? He prayed to god neither of them would have to find out.
"Come out; come out, wherever you are!" The warbled, sing-song voice was carried to them on the wind.
Fighting down sickness and darkness that threatened to overcome him, Reid squeezed Aiken's hand and they headed away from the voice. It was too dark for them to really see where they were going and they stumbled over roots and got scratched by branches, but they kept walking steadily away from the edge of the woods and into the heart of it.
"I know you're in here! You'd best come out before I find you! If you come to me, I promise I won't be mad! If you don't come out on your own, well Dr. Reid, let's just say that your little friend won't be coming out at all," the wind and rain distorted the voice, but it sounded hauntingly close. Reid's heart hammered in his chest, the beat pulsing in his neck, drowning him in adrenaline. It was hard to breathe. They needed to keep moving, find a place to hide. Why couldn't this have just been a nightmare after all? Why did Aiken have to be dragged into this mess? Wait a minute! Yes, yes…
"Aiken, listen to me," Reid stopped walking and knelt down so that he was eye-level with the boy, "you've got to find a place to hide and stay there. I don't think I can go much further on my leg and I'm so dizzy I can't think straight. If you hide, he won't be able to find you and you can go get help when he leaves with me."
"No, no, no," Aiken trembled, backing away from Reid, tears coursed down his cheeks as he remembered the blood-stained kitchen. He didn't want to hide again. The monster would come and he would kill Spencer and Aiken would be left alone with the blood again. He didn't want to be alone, even if that meant going back with the monster. Even if it meant that the monster would get him and kill him, spilling his blood all over the wet ground.
"Shh, Aiken, it'll be alright, I promise. You need to run and hide. I'll be okay," Reid's voice cracked, "I promise."
"No you won't. He'll come a…and you'll bleed and I'll be all alone. Please don't make me go. You hide with me," Aiken pleaded, shaking his head back-and-forth furiously. Throwing his arms around Reid's neck, he clung to the agent, sobbing.
"Aiken," Reid pried at the vice-like grip, "Aiken, you've got to let go. You have to run and hide. Everything will be okay, I promise."
Still the boy clung to him; refusing to let go of his hold on the man who was there when no one else was. The only one he could trust, now that Braden was gone and Savannah had not been there to help him. He would not let him go, not even the threat of the monster coming back could make him. He felt safe with Spencer. Spencer had made the pain go away. He had held him and rocked him until the horrible pictures of his mom and Braden's blood left him. Spencer was his protector. He would not let the monster take him away from him, ever.
Aiken's hot tears graced Reid's neck and he bit back anguished tears of his own. Great Reid, going from tripped out iconic-television diva phantasmagoria to flaked- out wimp in the time it takes to blink is probably a big flashing neon sign of mental instability. He'd end up in the psych ward if this continued. That is if he lived through this at all. Aiken would not be in this situation if Morgan was here instead of him. He would have already gotten Aiken to safety; shit, he would've never been in this situation to begin with. Morgan would've managed to get away from this nameless bastard. He wouldn't be here, kneeling weakly in the mud, close to tears. No, Morgan was infinitely stronger than he was; hell, everyone on his team was stronger, better equipped to handle such situations. Prentiss would've escaped by now. Hotch would've remained stoic, his resolve impenetrable. Rossi would've been successful in returning Aiken to his father. JJ, she would've been able to get a handle on the situation and would've had the kid tucked safely in bed by now. It was just Aiken's bad luck that he had to be stuck with the most feeble, ineffectual member of the BAU.
You are such a coward Spencer Reid… SNAP! Reid's head whipped up, eyes wide as he looked around for the source of the disturbance. CRACK! Dire thoughts scattered, Reid listened, heart racing, breath stilled.
"Ready or not here I come!"
Another sharp CRACK rang out as a nearby branch exploded dispassionately. Aiken's sobs quieted instantaneously as his breath hitched in his chest. Reid's heart missed a beat…then another; blinking, he held his breath until his heart resumed its panic-stricken pattern: ..…. threatening to explode.
Knowing he should push Aiken away and force him to run, but not having the strength to do so, he clutched the boy closer and stood on shaky legs. A spasm tore through him as his back protested the extra weight. Grunting and feeling ridiculously like Lurch, Reid stumbled through the trees, not caring where his feet were taking him as long as it was away from the man who was hunting them. His eyes, bright with unshed tears of self-loathing, were alert for a place in which he and Aiken could hide.
His faltering footsteps appeared to be echoed footfall for footfall as he fled from the man who hunted them. Stopping behind a large oak tree that hid his slight form, Reid waited for a count of five; listening. Not hearing the tell-tale sound of branches breaking, he put a cautious foot forward when a sudden SNAP to his left stilled him. His foot hovered just above the ground as he hadn't even planted it yet. Closing his eyes, wishing he could be invisible, he dared not move. He was afraid to look to his left. Afraid that those damnable blue eyes would be staring back at him in a face twisted with a sinister grin. Afraid that Morgan would be standing there, a look of disappointment on his normally congenial features. Afraid that Morticia and Marilyn would be looking on with disgust at his pathetic escape attempt. Even if they were figments of his deluded mind, he didn't think he could handle letting them down, so he kept his eyes closed and concentrated on the difficult task of breathing.
"Reid, c'mon man, you gotta get a move on," Morgan's disembodied voice cajoled, "he's gaining on you, there's no time for you to stand around. You're strong, you can do this."
"No, Morgan, I can't. I'm not strong like you, or Hotch, or Prentiss, or Rossi, or JJ. I'm…" Reid's whispered appeal to his teammate trailed off as he opened his eyes. No one was there, not even the recent ghosts of his frantic mind's creation.
Allowing his foot to make contact with the solid earth, he pushed forward again, concentrating on the simple act of walking. When faced with a difficult, overwhelming situation in which there appeared to be no way out, it was best to break things down into the simplest of actions possible to survive. In his case the simplest actions involved breathing and walking. He didn't need to escape; he needed to breathe and walk. Breathe and put one foot in front of the other. Breathe and take another step.
"I can see you," the taunt came from somewhere behind Reid.
Quickening his pace, Reid swallowed back a scream as red-hot pain accompanied his body-jarring movements over the uneven ground. He could hear the other man's footsteps, slower than his own creeping up on them, and he fought all the more with his injured body to move faster. Encumbered by the added weight of Aiken, he knew he would be unable to keep up a reasonable pace for long. Surrender might be the best option. The man had said he would kill Aiken if we didn't come to him. Maybe another opportunity to escape will present itself later and I'll be able to think more clearly.
"You can run from me, but you can't hide!"
A luminescent bolt of lightning electrified the air surrounding them, illuminating Reid and Aiken. Reid felt the heat of the electricity and turning, without slowing his pace, caught a glimpse of the man bent on recapturing him and the young boy he carried. There was an instant where their eyes met in the supernatural light. The calculating gleam in the older man's eyes terrified Reid, but he forced himself to turn his head and continue his flight. The rain, which had become no more than a mere trickle during their escape, came pounding down on them once again with renewed force. Reid kept up his facsimile of running, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the madman who was chasing him. Hoping that the curtain of rain would help conceal him, Reid turned to the right in an attempt to lose the man. With any luck the man would continue on the same forward path and Reid would find a shelter for him and Aiken before the man realized that he had been duped.
His legs threatened to give out and his lungs felt as though he were breathing in wooden splinters. His back ached and Reid bemoaned his weakness. He wanted to keep running with Aiken in his arms and had he been Morgan or Hotch or Rossi, maybe even Prentiss, he would have been able to, but he wasn't any of them. He was, truth be told, taxed well beyond his limits and had been for quite some time. It would be mind-boggling for him to escape even if he were to be rid of the added weight of the small boy.
"Aiken," Reid whispered into the boy's ear, "if I let you down, can you run?"
A reluctant nod of the head was all that Reid got in response and when Reid stooped to lower the boy to the ground, he refused to let go of his fierce hold around the agent's neck. If anything, he clung more fervently, unwilling to lose his only anchor to reality.
"Aiken, I can't run with you in my arms," Reid implored, "I need you to get down."
"Promise you won't leave me?" Came the muffled reply. Aiken's head was still buried in the fabric of Reid's blood-stained, white shirt and his tears had left warm, salty spots in their wake.
"Aiken, look at me," Reid pulled the boy's head back to look into his troubled eyes, "I will never leave you," he promised fiercely, even as his heart niggled at him, warning him that he may be too weak to carry out his oath to the boy.
Reid felt the absence of the warmth that had been Aiken's arms around his neck keenly when the boy released his stubborn hold on him. He nearly collected the boy back into his arms, loath to lose the warm assurance, but settled instead for grasping his small, sure hand in his own bigger, yet uncertain one. Straightening up, his muscles once again protesting against the abuse, he and Aiken set off at a slight, listing jog.
"Look for a place to hide," Reid urged Aiken. The boy nodded his head vigorously and swiveled his head back and forth as quick as their pace allowed. Reid too searched for a place that would conceal them, not only from the fanatic who still pursued them, but also from the persistent rain. Now that it had renewed its vigor, it continued on in a steady tattooing stream.
A brutish, strangled scream, muted by the pounding of the rain reached their ears from somewhere behind them. It was difficult to gauge whether the guttural cry had been borne of pain or was a frustrated cry of anguish. Had they succeed in thwarting the deviant's pursuit? Had he been felled by a tree or entangled his ankle in a root? Reid allowed a brief smile to adorn his lips as he and Aiken continued their tottering trek through the woods toward the unknown. Knowing what pursued them, caused him to embrace the uncertainty that lay ahead with a recklessness contrary to his nature. The thought of getting away was the only one that he allowed to occupy his suddenly cognizant mind, that and keeping his promise, however rashly made, to Aiken.
We can do this, Reid thought positively for the first time in what felt like ages. A surge of energy filled him with renewed strength and he put on a burst of speed that brought him and Aiken further away from their enraged tracker and closer to what he felt assured was freedom and shelter.
Yes, we can do this, he thought as he took another step forward in anticipation and came crashing down as his foot slipped on a moss covered root. Stars, small and bright, stabbed at him from behind his eyes as his head reeled with the swift pain that exploded from his right knee which had made solid contact with a rock embedded in the ground. Tears spilled shamefully from eyes squinted shut in pain and he released his hold on Aiken's hand. Incredibly, the boy had not fallen. He placed a panicked hand on Reid's trembling shoulder, afraid that if he let go of his guardian the man would disappear and he'd have to face the monster alone.
When he was finally able to open his eyes and move his leg, he looked down at the bleeding gash that spread across his kneecap and painfully swallowed the thick lump that had formed in his throat. The gash looked ghastly against his all too pale skin and the knee was already beginning to swell. Placing a shaky hand on the tree that had knocked him down, he stood, tremors wracking his pummeled body. Dizziness and severe pain threatened to return him to the ground when he attempted to straighten his injured knee. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the coarse bark of the tree and took in several shallow breaths, willing the pain to cease. How long had he and Aiken been here? Too long. Surely their pursuer would catch up to them and their escape would be stopped prematurely.
Insistent tugging on his shirt caused Reid to open his eyes once again. He gazed down through eyes glazed with pain. He couldn't form the question, What do you want? Aiken stood there, tugging on his shirt and pointing at something beyond where Reid could see. He was saying something, but the agent couldn't hear anything, not even the rain, through the throbbing of his heart. Was this it for them? Had they been found? Would they be once again at the mercy of a madman bent on their destruction? Reid found that he no longer cared and he almost welcomed the return to captivity, knowing that he wouldn't last much longer anyway.
Maybe if he was lucky, the assassin would shoot him outright. It was too much for him, he wasn't cut out for any of this. He was a profiler, not a babysitter or a hostage negotiator. He wasn't supposed to be held captive by predators. None of this had been in his job description. True, there were dangers to being a profiler, but surely this went beyond what anyone in his chosen profession should be forced to handle. He would gladly embrace the darkness, sweet bliss of death, if only for a reprieve from this pain and confusion. He was so tired and his body was no longer really listening to him. His sanity was slowly abandoning him. Yes, when their captor came for them, he would welcome a quick end to his pain and temporary insanity with the aid of a well-aimed bullet. But no, he had made a promise; he couldn't leave Aiken like that. No, he would have to convince the gun-wielding psycho to spare him. His heart clenched in fear at the thought of what the man would yet do to him. He didn't like it, but he couldn't leave Aiken alone with that man. He had made a promise and he would be damned if he went back on it.
Aiken was afraid when Spencer had asked him to get down, sure that he would want him to leave him and try to find a place to hide on his own. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't leave Spencer ever again.
But when Spencer had promised that he would never leave him, he believed him and he made sure that his hand gripped the older man's securely. He did not want to be left behind. That had happened once when he and his brother had been playing at Savannah's with their cousins. They had been playing soldiers and it had started to rain. Aiken was afraid because the rain was so hard and he couldn't see where Savannah's house was. Braden told him to follow him and he had taken his brother's hand. Braden started to run, so they could get out of the rain faster, but Aiken's foot got caught in a hole and he fell; his hand left Braden's.
Thinking his little brother had let go of his hand so that he could run more easily and that he was following him, Braden raced to the shelter of Savannah's house. He kept running, oblivious to Aiken's cry of pain and his calls for Braden to wait. Aiken tried to keep up with his brother, but his ankle had been twisted and he couldn't run. He soon lost sight of Braden in the rain. He was lost and alone, the rain was falling all around him, he couldn't hold back the hated tears (he wasn't a baby). Much as he wanted to, he couldn't be brave, and so he sat on the ground, angry at Braden for leaving him and mad at himself for being a baby, hot tears coursing down his cheeks, ankle throbbing, he was afraid. He sat there crying until Savannah had come and picked him up, cradling him in her arms, hushing his cries with a lilting song. He had felt like such a baby and Braden had promised that it would never happen again, that he would always make sure his little brother was safe and that he would never leave him behind.
His brother had lied. He had left him behind and now he was all alone. No, Aiken was not going to lose Spencer too; he would make sure the man kept his promise. Even if it meant that they both ended up with the monster. If he had Spencer with him, everything would be okay. He made him feel safe. He felt sure that the man would not let anything bad happen to him. Hadn't he already protected him from the monster?
When Spencer fell and let go of Aiken's hand, he had panicked at first. It was happening again. The man had told him to find a place to hide, like Braden and his mom had urged him to do when the monster with the scar had entered their home. When Spencer didn't get up, Aiken put his hand on the man's shoulder urging him to get up because he had found a place to hide. He had found it just before Spencer had fallen and had been about to point out the small entrance to a cave, but didn't get the chance to when the man had crashed hard to his knees.
He didn't respond to Aiken's shout that he had found a place to hide and the boy saw tears running down the man's face. He didn't think that grown men cried and always hated it when he cried because it meant that he was acting like a baby. He had never seen his dad cry and his dad had said that big boys didn't cry whenever he had cried. Every time he thought he had seen Braden crying, his big brother would wipe at his eyes and say that he had gotten something in them. Maybe it was okay to cry when someone was hurt really badly, he reasoned when he caught a glimpse of the ugly cut on the man's knee.
He was relieved when Spencer stood and had resumed his excited cries of, "I found a place to hide! I found a place to hide!" Spencer didn't seem to be listening to him and it looked like the man was going to fall over again. Aiken did the only thing he could think of when the terrifying sound of someone thrashing through the woods, entirely too close to them, reached his ears. He took the agent by the hand and forcefully pulled the man with him toward the shelter of the cave, hoping that they would make it before the monster came and caught them.
Spencer swayed and fell, but Aiken did not release his hold on the man's hand. He pulled the man along on his knees, knowing that it would be painful for him. He worried that the man might scold him for hurting him further, but the anticipation of getting them both to safety overcame his worry and he led the man mercilessly to the mouth of the shelter, wincing at the whimpers that came whenever Spencer's knee hit a fallen branch or embedded rock. When they were at the entrance of the cave, he bit his lip in concentration, and maneuvered around so that he was able to push the agent into the cave and then crawled in next to him. It was a tight fit and dark, but it was dry as the rain did not come in through the entrance. Knowing that he would have to find a way to hide the entrance from the eyes of the man who wanted to hurt them, he hesitantly left his newfound haven and quickly gathered several leafy branches, ears and eyes alert for the monster. Entering the cave once again, he placed the braches in front of them so they covered the entrance.
"It's going to be okay, I found us a place to hide," he soothed as he hugged the older man to himself. Both of them shivered with the cold and with unhidden fear.
Reid was barely aware of moving as he crawled across the rough ground. In his agitated mind, he was back with Hankel and the man was dragging him along, oblivious to his captive's pain. He had no mercy and Reid wasn't expecting any to be thrown his way. He was hoping the torture would end soon and didn't really care how it would end, with a bullet to the head or another drug-filled syringe, he wasn't overly picky. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep; he wanted to drift away on a pain-free cloud. Anything would be better than the sharp pain that rocked its way through his body each time his wounded knee came in contact with the debris that littered the ground. Where was Hankel taking him now? What further torture did he have in mind for him? Hadn't he put him through enough? Wasn't his continued survival proof enough for the deranged man that he deserved a chance to live or if not that, to be left alone for a few moments? A few moments of peace, that is all he craved.
When the torturous journey stopped and Reid finally opened his eyes, he discovered himself in a very dark place. It was as though he hadn't opened his eyes at all. He attempted to look around, but found the place too cramped. Not a fan of cramped places, he panicked, his arm slamming into a rock wall as he strove to leave the tiny, confined space. Biting back a cry of pain, he didn't want to give Hankel the pleasure of knowing that he had caused him discomfort, he held his breath for five, then ten seconds and released it. Considerably calmer, he let his eyes get adjusted to the darkness of the small space. It was like a miniature cave. Why would Hankel confine him in here? What could the man possibly do to him in such a small area? He wouldn't be able to fit inside with him, would he? Reid shivered at the very thought of the hulking form of Hankel shoving himself in next to him or, more likely on top of him. He could crush him in here or he could close up the entrance and leave him there, alone and in the dark, for an interminable amount of time until he became mad with sensory deprivation. Reid had read about that, how it had driven people insane. Not that he wasn't already slowly slipping into insanity's beckoning embrace. He almost welcomed its bitter kiss. It would be a welcome reprieve from the constant thinking of his often overtaxed mind.
In spite of his best efforts at composing himself, he couldn't seem to stop the shivering and belatedly realized that it wasn't due to fear or pain, but rather a cold that seemed seeped into the very marrow of his bones. How long had he been sitting in this cave? It seemed like hours, but surely he had been left by Hankel for only a few minutes.
The sound of shuffling feet had Reid lowering his head in anticipation of a blow that never came. Instead, he felt a body scramble into the small space next to him. Lifting his head, he watched with detached curiosity, his eyes now accustomed to the darkness so as to notice the entrance that he had been unable to free himself through. He watched as something was carefully placed in front of the entrance, blocking out what little light had been allowed to filter into the dark place. He then tensed when arms drew themselves around him, hugging him, pulling his shivering body closer. What was Hankel doing?
The whispered mantra of, "It's going to be okay, I found us a place to hide," finally broke through Reid's confusion and he remembered that Hankel was no longer alive. He had died at Reid's own hand. He remembered that he and his team had been searching for a boy named Aiken. He remembered that Aiken and he had been captured by the man who had killed the boy's family and that, though they had escaped, he was hunting for them. He remembered, vaguely, promising to stay with the boy and urging him to look for a place to hide.
"Wha….what's that?" Reid croaked.
"I found a place to hide," Aiken whispered, a tinge of pride colored his voice.
"Well done Aiken," Reid whispered back, hugging the boy closer to him. His body ached, his head screamed in pain, and violent shivers racked both of them, but they drew heat from each other and now had dry shelter thanks to Aiken. He hoped that the man, who searched for them, would not discover where they hid.
Hardy cursed as he stopped once again, listening for the sounds of the brat and the agent he pursued. He had been so angry when he discovered that Dr. Reid and the Randall brat had left the vehicle. He had entered the gas station to replace his puke-stained shirt, grab some food and water, and find a new set of wheels. Not wishing to leave any witnesses behind, he had shot the clerk, taken the cash to make it look like a simple robbery had occurred, found the man's car keys, and then destroyed the video tape which had diligently recorded his actions. He had felt confident that Dr. Reid and Aiken were sufficiently terrified of him that they would not dare disobey his orders. So, when he walked calmly out to the SUV, his sneer confidently in place to further ensure his authority over the two, only to discover that they were no longer there, he had acted in blind range, shooting off his gun. When he had calmed down, he easily discovered where they were headed and started after them. How the hell had they gotten so far? He aimed a careful shot at Dr. Reid not wanting to kill the man just yet. The bullet hit the ground at his feet and Hardy watched as the two continued toward the woods at a quicker pace. If he were to run in full force, he would be able to overtake them in just a few minutes.
Instead, he increased his pace to a jog, following them at a distance, having made up his mind to hunt them down like the deer he and his uncle had hunted when he was younger. He remembered the thrill of the hunt and how nothing else could quite replicate that. He remembered with a buzz of excitement the fear of the animals they hunted that permeated the air. It was a pleasure he had not been able to engage in for several years, not having felt up to it since his uncle's untimely death ten years ago. It had been deemed a hunting accident, but Hardy knew the truth. Those men had not mistaken his uncle for a deer, they had murdered him and he had taken delight in returning the favor, visiting pain on their families. Gutting all five of them in the end. After that, he hadn't felt much like hunting, until now.
What had started out as a simple hired kill had turned out to be so much more for Hardy. At first he had been annoyed that the youngest boy had somehow managed to hide from him and survive, but now he saw it as providence. If he hadn't been forced to look for the boy to finish the job, he would never have met Dr. Reid. Hardy could sense an innocence and vulnerability in the young agent that was a rare commodity nowadays, especially amongst those in the FBI, and he had been intrigued by it.
Although Hardy had wanted to kill the Randall brat immediately, he had held back for some reason. As he pursued the two in their flight through the woods, he realized that he had seen potential in the boy that had escaped him at the time because he had seen him simply as a mistake. It was a mistake that he had been left alive, nothing more, but as Hardy ran through the woods, he began to see that the escape of Randall's youngest son had not been a mistake after all. It had been a gift for him.
He would enjoy hunting Dr. Reid and the brat. Slowing his pace to give the two a head start, to be fair, he waited in the rain, watching as they made their way into the woods. Counting to ten, as slowly as the thrill of the chase would allow him, he waited before entering the woods himself. He sniffed the air, savoring the odor of fear, knowing in the end that they would surrender. He was hunting them, not to kill them, well maybe the brat, but to recapture them. He would punish the doctor for disobeying him; make sure that it never happened again. Dr. Reid would know what pain was, and Hardy was going to make sure that he also knew what a pleasure pain could be.
The two were easy to follow, especially when the rain had begun to lessen. It had been like following after a lame bear. Hardly any sport to it at all. That's why he called out to them, eliciting more fear, increasing his enjoyment and their pace. He didn't want it to be too easy and he wanted to make sure that Dr. Reid would be so exhausted that he wouldn't be able to put up a fight. He would be much easier to manipulate that way and, if he let the Randall brat live, he knew he could manipulate the man through threat of pain to the kid as well. Grinning maliciously when he spotted the two just in front of him, he called out confidently, "You can run from me, but you can't hide!"
That's when Mother Nature turned on him. Lightning had struck and, though he read abject terror in the doctor's eyes when their eyes met, the rain had begun to pour again in earnest and his ability to see his prey was diminished. He let out an anguished cry that was whipped away by the wind and ran after the two, stumbling along the ground. He tripped on a root and fell. Cursing his stupidity, he picked himself up and went after his quarry.
He was no longer enjoying the hunt and would find great joy in taking out his anger on Dr. Reid. It was, after all, the doctor's fault that it had taken him so long in the convenience store in the first place. It had taken him quite some time to convince the clerk to take off his shirt and give it to him to replace the one Dr. Reid had dirtied, he could have killed him first, but then the shirt would've been stained with blood – that wouldn't do him any good. Ending the infuriating man's life afterwards had brought a thin smile to his lips, but the triumph of that moment had been short lived when he returned to the SUV to find his two hostages gone. Yes, Dr. Reid would know the extent of his anger tonight and the Randall brat would suffer as well.
Sighing in relief when the rain began to wane again, he scanned the area and easily found the faltering agent and the boy. They had gotten further ahead than he would have thought possible for the agent with his injuries. Perhaps he had been a bit overconfident and had underestimated the two. That would no longer happen. He started running, desirous to end this pursuit. A cry of anguish was rent from his lips as he tripped over a root and fell hard, landing on his hands, sending a shaft of pain from his wrists to his shoulders. Tears smarted his eyes, he picked himself up and continued his pursuit in heightened fury and anticipation of overcoming his prey, though he could no longer see them, he thought he could hear them in the distance.
A twig snapped mere feet from where Reid and Aiken huddled together in their temporary shelter. Reid held his breath, hoping that they would not be discovered in their hideaway. He hoped that Aiken's cover was not easily spotted as an obvious hiding place. Another twig snapped, closer still. His heart ceased beating as he continued to listen, anticipating being discovered.
"I know you're around here somewhere," he was practically on top of them now. They were sure to be discovered. Reid could practically see the man pacing in front of their covered den even though his eyes were closed in fear of the unearthing. He could hear the man's heavy breathing as though it were in his ear. Twigs continued to snap beneath his feet as he searched the area for them. Reid was on tether hooks waiting for their shelter to be torn apart by their would-be captor. His heart beat so loud and fierce in his chest that he felt sure that it could be heard and that it would be what gave them away in the end.
"Come out and I won't kill you," came the silky promise. It seemed as though it were a bit further from their hideaway, yet they could still hear the heavy footsteps. Would their hideout remain hidden after all?
He and Aiken sat huddled together in silence, barely daring to breath for what felt like hours, until they no longer heard twigs breaking under footsteps. Until they could no longer hear the man's labored breathing as though he were sitting right next to them. And when all that they could hear was the occasional pattering of intermittent raindrops, they resumed breathing normally, but made no move to exit their shelter. They would wait awhile; give their pursuer time to move further away from where they hid. Then they would head back to the gas station and Reid would radio for help, provided that the man did not double back when he couldn't find them. Reid wouldn't allow himself to worry about that, though; it would paralyze him. Instead, he concentrated on getting his heart to beat at a normal pace and trying to keep warm. Trying to conserve energy he didn't think he had, he allowed his body to relax as much as it could in the cramped space and felt Aiken's body relax against his own.
"We'll wait here a little bit longer and then head back to the gas station and to my vehicle," Reid whispered.
"'Kay," came Aiken's shivering response.
"We got a dead clerk, trashed till, and ruined tape here," Peters called into the station.
"Looks like he's been dead for no mor'n two, three hours," the officer answered. They had come to the station as per FBI request and had come upon a grisly murder scene. The clerk had been stripped of his shirt and then shot pointblank in the head. The SUV appeared to have been abandoned, the passenger door remained open and there was a small amount of blood on the mat. It also reeked of pee which had caused Peters to wrinkle his nose in disgust.
Just what the hell had happened here? It was going to take several hours to secure the crime scene and it was still raining. Would this day never end? It had started at six am for the officer and it looked like it would continue on until the weary hours of the next morning as they needed every officer due to the storm. Gesturing for his partner, Carter, to join him, he secured one end of the yellow tape cordoning off the crime scene while Carter secured the other end. They'd have to wait at least a half an hour for the coroner to arrive because the storm had taken out a bridge on his road. He was so not going to hear the end of this from his wife Peg who already chastised him for how little time he spent at home with her and the boys. Maybe if the missing boy and FBI agent were recovered in of all this mess, his wife's nagging would turn to praise. He would be a hero in the eyes of his wife, his boys, hell, the entire town. Rubbing his fatigued eyes, he waited underneath the awning of the gas station, outside of the secured crime scene next to his partner, hoping that the coroner and the rest of the boys on homicide would turn up sooner rather than later. The dead body and eerie light coming from the interior light of the SUV (they had left everything as it had been found) were giving him the creeps.