Another update just two days later :O Shocker! I will warn you ahead of time that about half this chapter was written on a smart phone. I've reviewed it several times and done my best to fix all the mistakes but I'm positive I've missed some. As promised this chapter is entirely Reid and the UNSUB.

I noticed when re-reading the previous chapter after I had posted it that at one point during the profile briefing JJ refers to him as just "Reid" when it really should have been "Dr. Reid" in that context.

A quick note, Paul mentally refers to Reid in different ways depending on how he's feeling about him in that particular moment. Whenever he refers to him as Spencer it's a particularly intimate moment for the UNSUB.

Warning: References to torture, some slightly disturbing states of mind.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor do I own the Criminal Minds characters. All other characters and mistakes are my own.

Reid felt the vehicle finally stop moving. A while ago, about half an hour by Reid's estimation, the ride had gotten a lot bumpier. He was keenly aware of the change as each bump sent agony running through his shoulders, stretched and battered from carrying his carrying the full weight of his body for so long. Reid briefly wondered if being suspended as he was, unable to support his weight during sleep and periods of unconsciousness, had done permanent damage to the ligaments.

Between the change in the road beneath and the bird calls he could hear over the noise of the engine, Reid guessed that the UNSUB had left civilization behind and ventured into the nearby state park.

Reid knew the Camden Hills State Park was only 5500 acres. It wouldn't be impossible for his team to find them in the park but it all depended on his team actually knowing where to look. He took some solace in the fact that his team must have been closing in on the UNSUB for his behaviour to change so radically.

The part of his mind that had spent the past two and a half years studying the minds of some of the worst of humanity clamored about how risky it was for the UNSUB to transport a captive as he fled. The choice to transport the victim, rather than kill him and dump the body, did not bode well for the victim. Particularly when the victim was an FBI agent whose untimely death would completely shut down the very people pursuing the UNSUB.

For whatever reason, the man wasn't finished with him yet. It was looking more and more to Reid like he was the man's real target, the key to his fantasies. We've never crossed paths... or have we? Reid suddenly recalled the feeling of familiarity he had been unable to place the first time he laid eyes on his captor.

The sound of the engine cut out and was rapidly replaced by the sound of a car door followed by footsteps in the dirt. Reid took a deep breath to steady himself as the footsteps approached.

Paul yanked open the car door and dragged the helpless young man out of the vehicle and into the cabin. No one knew about the cabin. As far as the authorities were concerned the property had been abandoned long ago when the previous owner died.

Paul had made the trip out to the cabin several times before the first murder. He wanted to be sure he had somewhere safe to retreat to if his home became compromised. Somewhere where he could still carry out his work.

He dropped the agent on the floor next to the small workroom he had set up. It wasn't nearly as complete as what he had at home. His selection of knives was severely limited and his options for restraints were limited to a chair with some chains attached and a bed in the corner.

As he stared at the bed, Paul remembered the letter he had sent to the young man's colleagues. He remembered the threat... no the promise, he had made in that letter.

Shaking his head to clear it, he picked the boy up off the ground and pushed him into the chair. That done, he quickly set about winding the chains around the chain linking the cuffs that bound Reid's hands behind him. When he was finished, the agent would only be able to lift himself a few inches off the chair.

Paul also took the time to remove the gag from the boy's mouth. The cabin was far enough away from any trails, campsites, tourist traps or popular hunting grounds to ensure there would be no one to hear him scream. He watched Reid wince in pain as the duct tape was ripped away from his skin, taking some of his facial hair with it.

After 3 days as his guest and who knows how many days without shaving the evidence was starting to show clearly on his face. It made him look older than the first time Paul had seem him up close. For some reason this bothered him, and the fact that it bothered him disturbed him even more. He would have to do something about that later.

He debated whether to remove the duct tape around his captive's ankles but decided to leave it on for now. Through his previous experiments he had found that helplessness was key to breaking a person. He had guaranteed the agents that if they found their team mate they would find nothing more than a broken shell and he planned to make good on that promise.

-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-

Paul stared down at his victim's bared chest. The milky white skin lay like a blank canvas before him, just waiting for an artist like him to make his mark.

He stared down at the knife in his hand. The blade was serrated, designed to part flesh. A knife for cutting rather then stabbing. The rounded end of the knife would never penetrate flesh.

Looking up from the knife, he roughly ripped the blindfold away from the boy's eyes. There was no sense in playing with the young man if he couldn't see the fear in his eyes. Besides, he wanted to be able to see the exact moment when he broke, when all hope fled. The eyes were the only way to really tell. You could see it in the eyes, in the emptiness there.

Discarding the blindfold behind him, Paul brought the edge of the knife down on his captive's bare chest. He started dragging the edge of the blade along, scraping skin, teasing, never quite exerting enough pressure to part flesh. The entire time his gaze was fixed not on his work but on the young man's eyes.

Some cultures believed the eyes were the window to a man's soul. Looking at the mix of fear, determination and something else in Reid's hazel orbs, it was easy to see why.

The way the man stared at him was starting to make Reid more than a little uncomfortable. He felt his eyes slam shut just to break the connection. With his eyes closed Reid could ignore the chains binding him, the tape around his ankles, the knife against his skin. With his eyes closed Reid could almost pretend he was alone.

The temperary escape his mind provided was shattered by a searing pain running from his shoulder, across his collarbone and down to his chest as the man dragged the knife across his flesh. The teeth of the serrated edge bit deep, cutting through skin and the thin layer of muscle easily. Reid felt a the knife catch on something for just a split second and he hoped it wasn't bone.

Reid's eyes flew open to gauge the damage. With his eyes closed and all of his attention focused on the sensation, the cut had felt deep and penetrating. In reality what he could see of the cut was shallow, almost hesitant. The type of cut he expected from a first time killer, not what he expected fr a man who had most likely killed at least a dozen people. Definitely not what he expected from the man who had tortured Jane.

Paul cursed inwardly as he examined his handiwork. If someone had presented with such a wound in the emergency room he wouldn't have even bothered with stitches. It was more of a scrape then an actual cut. He attacked the wound in frustration, sawing back and forth with the serrated edge, not even caring that he was probably cutting into bone.

When he finally stopped his captive was gasping and wide eyed from the pain. The blade of the knife was almost completely covered in blood. Paul pulled the knife away from the doctor's skin and stared at it.

He stood transfixed by the sight of the bright red blood against the cool backdrop of metal. He had never noticed before the simple beauty of blood on steel. At the sight of the blood a slightly morbid idea popped into his head.

Turning the blade on his side, he dragged it along Dr. Reid's pale stomach, leaving a streak of red in stark contrast. Flipping the knife over he repeated the action, leaving twin trails above and below the earlier stab wound.

Reid was barely even aware of what the man was doing with the knife. It was all he could do to cope with the pain of the man's attack. So far he had avoided looking at the mess the man had made of his shoulder. When he finally forced himself to survey the damage he saw that what had started as a mere scratch was now a gaping wound. He suspected that if he looked in the mirror he would see bone peeking out in places. Without proper care a wound like that was bound to get infected.

When Paul surveyed the mess he had made, he was disgusted. What had been a thing of beauty in his hands only moments before now seemed like a treacherous snake. He threw the knife into the corner where it hit with a loud clang, causing the young man in front of him to jump at the sudden noise.

Going over to the tray in the corner, he grabbed a carving knife instead. Razor sharp, it's edge could part flesh as easily as a hot knife slid through butter. Another knife used for cutting, as the blade was too wide to stab his victims.

There was no foreplay this time, no slow anticipation of the act. With a vicious slash he sliced Reid across the chest.

This time there was no hesitation. Where the first cut had merely felt deep, this one truly was deep. Reid stared down in shock as the blood dripped in a steady stream down his chest. Before he had even gotten over the shock he felt another pain as the knife sliced through his uninjured shoulder, parting skin and muscle.

Already weak from dehydration, blood loss and a steady diet of IV fluids, this latest wound was more than Reid's body could handle. He barely had time to register the pain before his world went black.

Paul was frustrated at how easily the boy's body had betrayed him. He vented his frustration by adding several more cuts to the agent's abdomen. In a particularly vicious move he used the knife to cut the agent's pants off him. Let him think what he will when he wakes up.

His frustration played out, he returned the knife to the tray. There was no point in torturing someone who wasn't conscious to experience it. He left the young man chained to the chair and made his way to the tiny kitchen area. He needed to feed Dr. Reid when he regained consciousness. Food and water would let him play with his guest longer and besides, he had left all his IV equipment back at the house. Unless he wanted the doctor to starve to death he was going to have to feed him actual food.

-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-

The first thing Reid noticed as he regained consciousness was how cold the room was. He could feel goose bumps forming on his arms and legs as a slight breeze played across his skin... Reid sat up with a start, making the chains rattle as he stretched them to their limits.

He could only imagine the look of horror displayed on his face as he realized his slacks were gone. Though his memories of his last conscious moments were slightly fuzzy, he was positive he had still been wearing pants at the time. He shuddered at the thought of the UNSUB touching him when he was unconscious.

Before he could dwell on it further he heard footsteps, drawing his attention towards the UNSUB. Reid could see the man was carrying a bowl woth a spoon clearly sticking out of it. When Reid inhaled deeply the smell of stew met his nose.

While normally such a scent would have left Reid's mouth watering, in his present state the rich scents caused his stomach to rebel furiously. His brain told him that given the amount of time that had passed since his last actual meal, his stomach and intestines were completely empty. His body didn't particularly care for his brain's logic and Reid winced as his stomach attempted to expel the nothingness that filled it.

The man stopped about a foot away from Reid and stared silently as the muscles in his abdomen contracted violently. The contractions were so severe thay they upset his earlier stab wound. Reid hissed as the pain flared up.

The pain from the stab wound reminded Reid of his other injuries. As soon as his stomach settled Reid surveyed the wounds he could see. The wound in his chest had been stitched up while he was unconscious, as had the less severe cut on his shoulder. The gaping wound had been dressed though not nerely well enough to prevent infection. Reid also noted half a dozen smaller cuts he didn't remember feeling. Odd.

"My apologies Dr. Reid" the man said mildly. "If we hadn't left in such a hurry I could have given you something for the nausea."

Reid eyed his captor wearily, not sure if he was being sincere or not. The man took a few steps forward and placed his burden on a small table Reid hadn't noticed before.

He left quickly after setting the bowl down. Reid heard rather than saw him drag a chair over. Dropping the chair next to the table, he sat down facing the restrained man.

Using the spoon, the man lifted a small bite of stew from the bowl. Reid waited for his stomach to react again but this time it remained calm. Reid stared at the spoon as it inched forward, recalling the drug laced water.

Paul raised an eyebrow at the kid's reaction. "Even if it is drugged, your alternative at this point is starvation." Paul saw despair in th agents eyes as he nodded his ascent.

Reid sat passively and let Paul feed him, despite how humiliating the experience must have been for the young man. He paused after the first couple of spoonfuls to ascertain whether his captive\s stomach would accept the food. When it appeared the food would be staying down Paul continued to spoon feed Spencer until the bowl was empty.

Paul was somewhat dissapointed when all of the rich food stayed down. He had long ago discovered that the quickest way to break an animal's spirit was to punish him for something he had no control over. After a moments contemplation he shrugged off his dissapointment. There would be plenty of other oppertunities to exert his dominance.

Standing up, he gathered the dishes from the table and headed for the sink. A brief glance back revealed his captive staring at the ground dejectively. He watched a single teardrop land on the wood floor of the cabin before he turned back to his task.

-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-

Reid was still staring at the floor when the dishes were done and everything from the meal was put away. It suprised Paul how quickly the young man had given up since arriving at the cabin.

Even when fully compliant back at the house he had still exuded an inner strength that belied his outward appearance. A couple hours at the cabin and that strength appeared to have evaporated.

While such a radical change in victim behaviour would normally have made Paul weary, he figured the change in locale was to blame. He figured Dr. Reid knew the statistics on finding victims alive once they had been moved to a secondary location, knew there was no hope of his team coming to the rescue.

With that last thought, Paul was filled with a sudden desire to gloat. He marched over, hands on hips, to stand in front of Reid. The younger man didn't even bother to remove his gaze ftom the floor.

"The BAU supposedly has some of the brightest minds in the country, yet here you are. What do you think their chances of finding us are now? " Paul taunted. He felt his anger rise when his taunts garnered no visible response from the agent. He unleashed his mounting rage in a powerful right fist to the doctor's left eye. "I thought I taught you to answer when I ask a question."

Reid finally looked up from the ground, eyeing his captor with his one good eye. His left eye was already starting to swell shut. "Less than 1 %." Reid answered, his voice emotionless, soulless.

Paul felt a thrill run through him at the words. He judged the young man was close to breaking and he had the perfect scenario to complete the task. Grabbing a knife from the tray, he slit the tape around the doctor's ankles. With what he had planned next it would only get in the way.

After he replaced the knife he moved around behind the young genius, undoing the chains that bound Reid to the chair. Grabbing the key to the handcuffs out of his pocket, he started to undo the cuffs.

The nearest knife was 2 feet away and the gun was nowhere in sight. As soon as Reid felt the cuff release his wrist he jabbed his free arm backwards with all his strength, elbow aimed at his captor's face. Reid's aim was true as his elbow made contact with the man's nose with a sickening crunch.

The man stumbled backwards, momentarily stunned, and released Reid as both hands instinctively shot up. Whether to check the damage or protect his face, Reid didn't stick around to find out. The moment the UNSUB released him Reid ran for the door, the adrenaline pumping through his body keeping the pain of his injuries at bay.

Luck was with him for once when he reached the exit. In his arrogance, the man hadn't bothered to lock the front door of the cabin. The door swung wide with a tug and Reid bolted through.

As he ran past the UNSUB's car, a Tesla S-Series, he desperately wanted to stop and search for a weapon but he knew the man wouldn't be far behind him. His best chance was to get as far as possible as fast as possible. For perhaps the only time in his life, Dr. Spencer Reid wanted to get lost in the woods.

Thank you for reading, and for all the recent favorites. It helps me as a writer if you can take the time to review.