A/N: Sorry it took a few days update. Honestly, I broke my foot yesterday and I've been on a series of pain medicines which is making it hard for me to focus on the story, but it also seems to be the only thing I want to do! You know what I mean? As soon as I'm just on bed rest without the pain medicine, I'll update super frequently. Until then you're stuck with probably every 2-3 days. Don't worry though it won't ever be any longer than a week haha. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :) (A/N at the end too)
"Where the hell is my agent?" Hotch asked forcefully as he leaned over the small table separating him from the man they had brought into custody. He himself had not really been filled in on all of the details. All he knew was Reid was gone, this man had answered the door to the house he was taken at and the house had been searched thoroughly – no sign of his agent. Honestly, Hotch had been put into this situation one too many times. It seemed as if every time he got a phone call it was about something happening to Reid. For all he knew, it could be a trick of the mind just because the agent was rather vulnerable and young. The technicalities were far from important at the moment though. Not until he found Spencer.
The guy opposite of Hotch was rather old. Roger Priest was precisely sixty-two years old. His hair was a shiny gray, but met his shoulders. The panicked look on the older man's face didn't have Hotch the least bit concerned as he pressed his questions.
"For the last time, Agent Hotchner, I haven't any idea what you are talking about. The other man kept asking me the same thing. How could I know where he is? I was too busy talking to that Agent Morgan fellow. I didn't even see anyone else other than the cops at the end of the driveway."
Aaron growled with impatience and pushed away from the table. He quickly began to pace as he searched his brain for the correct questions.
"Well, assuming you are telling me the truth, who else could've been at your house? My agent is gone and so is the VW that was parked in your back yard."
"It looks like you need to take better care of your agents or they should be more conscious of the decisions they make. You wouldn't want an irresponsible agent on your team-"
"I asked who else was at your house, Mr. Priest?" The older man smirked and sat back. Had he not been cuffed, he would've crossed his arms flatly over his chest.
"I want a lawyer."
If Hotch had been in a normal state of mind, he perhaps could've convinced their suspect to give up more information. On the contrary, the Supervisory Special Agent had lost his last ounce of patience the moment he had gotten the phone call. The door slammed behind him as he stormed out and found Morgan. The distressed look on his colleagues face hit him immediately and he prevented himself from going into a rage.
"I don't know what happened out there, man," Morgan said in a low voice, his elbows resting on his knees with his head propped onto his hands. The small seat was all but comfortable. "I thought he was fine. I would've gone with him, but the guy opened the door just after he walked off. Even if he had been in danger, I thought that I was with the man who would've put him in it. I didn't even hear anything... I could've saved him I just – trust he would be okay."
Hotch watched as the little color left Derek's face and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Even he knew no one was to blame here. The only thing that mattered now was getting Reid home safe.
The idea of thick and cold air was like a nightmare. Spencer had experienced many dreams involving the temperature and sometimes it was completely irrelevant to the weather outside. It was hard to explain, but even lately the young genius had been waking up in a hot flash when his brain finally shut off long enough to let him sleep. It usually occurred after seeing death behind his eyelids. Even though it hadn't always been nightmares about his job, with the little sleep he got lately, nightmares were the only thing he could conjure.
The tip of his spine ached as he attempted to lift his head up subconsciously. It wouldn't have been the first time Reid had fallen asleep in an upright position. It kind of came with the job. If it came to it, the agents would do all they could just to get a couple minutes of sleep. Although this particular time, his spine beyond ached. As soon as he moved his arms to stretch, there was no room. His arms were bound behind him by cold metal. Handcuffs, no doubt. Once he quickly came to these realizations, his eyes sprung open.
Beads dangled from a small threshold in front of him. He knew exactly what he was staring forth at though. It was the van he had been lurking through the window just before everything went black. The chair he was tied to faced the back door, beads swinging from side to side as the wheels beneath them were making prominent turns. When Reid turned his head to the side, he half expected the lit up lava lamps to fall over from the force the turns had made, but they didn't budge. The rest of the dark area was decorated with artifacts from the era it represented. Posters hung from the ceiling and had it not been such a small, enclosed space, it could've been mistaken for a bedroom. Without the bed of course.
Panic struck the young agent as soon as his memory hit him in the face. The useless struggle began as he forced his arms from the handcuffs they were bound in, but to no avail. To his side the window was cracked open which was the reason for the cold air hitting his bare skin... then he realized he was just in his boxers. That was why he was so cold. Another involuntary chill ran throughout his tiny body, but this time it wasn't due to the harsh air. This was not happening; this was not happening. His active brain relived scenarios in his head. Those of torture and the feeling of being helpless. More than anything, he hoped that that was not the case right now. He was in a van with a serial killer; he was plain naïve to anything else.
His eyes felt thick with sleep, which was rather unusual even having been knocked unconscious. It was the familiar feeling of not being able to comprehend the situations around him. The clogged mind that refused to use it's full potential. The feeling of narcotics flowing through his veins, this time involuntarily. His eye's lidded themselves and his lips parted slightly as if he were napping, but he was still aware of his surroundings. It seemed like hours, but was probably only thirty minutes later that they came to a halt. That is when the real fear began to run throughout the young boy's body. As much as he needed his limbs to work, he couldn't think of a time they had been more useless. Then the doors before him opened and a blinding light caused him to squint at what came before him.
Both Morgan and Hotch stood with still faces and arms crossed in front of the one-way glass. The old man didn't even look capable of kidnapping a federal agent. Perhaps it would've been the easy way to do this. Blame the man they caught, but obviously that got them nowhere. Even though Hotch knew deep down that it wasn't him, he was also well aware he was hiding something. The moment he requested a lawyer was the moment Aaron knew he wasn't going to be getting anywhere with the man. They had to find their agent on their own. The older agent just hoped it would be before it was too late. He had had a lot of slim chances of saving their youngest and the idea that it may not be so lucky this time ate away at him.
"Call Garcia," Hotch muttered, monotonously. Uncrossing his stiff arms, he turned around to go through the door. "I'm going to have a talk with J.J. about any evidence that might've been found at the crime scenes. Anything at all." Before Morgan nod his approval, Hotch descended through the door. The dark-skinned agent took out his cell phone and speed-dialed their tech.
"Hey handsome, what can I do for ya?" Garcia's familiar voice sounded on the other end of the receiver. Derek's reply wasn't as cheerful as the blissful woman on the other line.
"I need you to find something – anything. I don't know," he mumbled before shaking his head. His mind felt like it was pounding... pain knocking around his head from trying to think. From trying not to think about what could be happening to his colleague. "Sorry," he continued. "I just need to know if maybe someone lived with Priest. Something's... kind of happened. I don't want to worry you, but it's probably only fair if you know." He could almost hear the beat of hesitation on the other line. He could almost imagine the woman's soft, worried face going into one of shock and fright. Concern.
"What happened?" was all she managed to get out.
"Reid – we uh, we think... well we know... something's happened to him. He kind of disappeared at the house. We just need to find out who might've taken him. He would've been at the house when we went there. Can you find that out for me?" he asked, feeling the blood in his veins almost freeze.
"No no no no, not again. Just-" she nearly found herself going off, but cleared her throat. Though the instinctive tears formed in her eyes, she began to type away at her computer. "He has a son, Robert. Thirty years old. He doesn't have a house of his own. Your Priest guy isn't married. His wife died in '82. It's all there is. He's retired and he's a part of a country club in the center of Franklin."
"Thank you, baby girl. Send the background check on the son to my PDA. I'll call you as soon as we know anything at all. I promise." He closed the phone and walked out the door to find Hotch standing there waiting for him. "He's got a son who might live with him. Thirty years old. We need to find out more about him. Garcia's sending my the background check on him. It's not much, but it's something." Hotch nodded, clearing his throat.
"I have road blocks set up around the city looking for his van. Wherever he is, he can't get far. I still don't understand how he got so far without you knowing he was gone."
"I kind of would like to figure out how he did it too."
"Then there is only one place we can go."
Once his eyes had finally adjusted to the light, he was surrounded by near darkness once more. The only dim light was through the covered windows and the lava lamps. This was not going to be his death. Not if Reid could help it. He had been stuck in situations like this one time too many. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair.
"You don't want to do this," he said calmly. As calmly as his monotonous voice could sound as he hid away his fear, anyway. "I'm a federal agent. They'll find you... they're probably close behind you. If anything – you could be surrounded in mere moments." Before he could say anything else, he felt a sharp pain against the side of his face. He had been pistol whipped before he could even say anything else. A small whimper thrust past his parted lips and he cleared his throat. He had a gun obviously. This wasn't a part of his normal MO though, Reid knew this much. Which meant this was obviously Reid's gun and his captor had taken it from him. Most likely he was being bound by his own handcuffs as well. The young boy attempted to stop thinking about the likeliness of him getting out of this alive and just waited for something else to happen. Nothing but silence. This motivated Reid to speak out again.
"I'm not... I'm not one of the people you hate. I believe in the music you listen to. The era you respect so much. If you ask my opinion, I think it's awful what things have come to these days. It's not right, you know? I- I can help you. I can help you get rid of the- the posers." Spencer swallowed hollowly and looked upward to find another pair of eyes to meet with his own. He was granted with nothing but darkness.
"I would've let you go," the other man finally said, rubbing his hands together in some attempt to get warmer. "If you were just a normal person, I would've let you go. But you're just as bad as the others... you're just as bad."
"What did I do?" he asked, weakly.
"People like you... cops – you killed my mom." Reid's eyelids closed in defeat. He knew exactly how these things went and if he didn't come up with something better than the argument he had already started, he would end up like the other victims.
"I'm not a cop..." Before Reid could go on, the man pulled his hand into his pocket and shoved the agent's credentials into his face. Spencer winced at the sudden movement, afraid to be hit again. He meekly nodded his head and cleared his throat again. "Federal agents aren't cops... I- I don't-"
"Shut up already!" he screamed, backhanding Reid with a fury he hadn't even seen in himself. Another whimper made it's way past his lips. Without another word, the man walked past Reid and towards one of the lava lamps, putting on what looked to be an oven mitt. He knew exactly what was coming.
"Y- you don't want to do that. Listen to me. I'm on your side. I didn't do anything to you, remember? I need you to trust me. That will cause many problems... I mean third degree burns. The last victim you did that to survived. Do you really want to see an innocent man suffer? I mean... third degree burns involve both layers of the skin and may also damage the underlying bones, muscles, and tendons. They're damn nasty to look at too. Besides, I'm not the revenge you're looking for, right? I mean, you're seeking revenge on the 60's. I wasn't even alive. I'm not doing anything to damage the era or make it forgotten about. You need to understand that this isn't the right thing-"
"I like when you talk." Reid stopped dead in his speech. Of all things, that was the last thing he had imagined hearing. Arching an eyebrow, he stared dumbfounded. "Mhm. Half the time you sound like you're reading a text book. You must be very smart. What kind of person would I be if I killed you?" Reid did not think it would be this easy in a million years. Didn't think he would be able to convince the man who had every intention of murdering him not to. All because of his knowledge-filled brain. "What kind of person would I be if I let you go though, right?"
Before any more words could be spoken, the man ran his fingers through Spencer's sweat-dampened hair and let out a thoughtful hum. Oh, how useful the boy would be.
A/N: So I had this really clever/good idea, but it has to do with sexual abuse so I wanted to run it by readers to see if they would approve of that or not. It's kind of evil, but I can't help it. It's so easy to use Reid like that, haha. Well help me out in reviews so I can know how to write the next chapter!
