How This Works.

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine. All original characters are.

A/N: Word just in. Floyd is having fun in Canada.

Horrible experiences lead us to wonder whether the person who experiences them might not be something horrible. - Friedrich Nietzsche

He couldn't stand. He couldn't use his hands. He just knelt on the floor and kept his head down. If he moved they hit him. If he made a sound they hit him. He knew he had to stay alive. The only way to survive this was to keep his head down and do as he was told.

The room was a five foot square cell. There was a metal grid on the floor and here is where he must stay. His legs were numb now. Reid had no idea how long he had been here, but he knew now resisting was pointless.

Spencer looked at the infected holes in the backs of his hands. They had stitched and put some vile smelling liquid over them but he couldn't move his fingers. He couldn't move his toes. He knelt in silence. He knelt in pain. He knelt in fear. He wanted to sit and wrap his painful hands around him. He wanted to curl up on the floor and nurse his body, but he had to stay still. Still and silent.

He was wearing a small cotton jacket which tied up down the front and a sarong type thing on his bottom half. Both unbleached and rough against his skin. His neck hurt - at some point someone had come in and put a thick leather collar around it. The light was bright at least. Yes at least he wasn't in the dark. That was something he needed to think about and keep in his mind. It could be worse. It could be dark as well.

When the door in front of him opened he lifted his head slightly to see who it was. This slight movement was a mistake but he didn't it without thinking. It was a natural reaction. He couldn't stop it from happening.

The staff hit him hard across the face before he had time to put his head back down again. He fell sideways onto the floor and lay still not knowing if he should try to get up again or keep still. The blood flow back into his legs caused tears of pain to race down his cheeks. Spencer took the opportunity to hold his hands close to his chest trying to protect them.

"Get up." It was Otikami. "On your knees. White trash."

Reid slowly moved back onto the grill and knelt with his head down watching the blood from his nose and mouth drip on to the metal and slide through into the darkness below.

"You have to eat." A bowl of food was placed on the floor in front of him. A dish of grey looking rice. "Eat."

He stayed still and looked down at the revolting mix in front of him.

"I told you to eat."

Slowly Spencer moved a hand to pick up some of the rice. He didn't think he would be able to though his fingers were swollen and stiff.

"With your dirty mouth trash boy. Hands stay still." And Reid felt his head being pushed down towards the food and this was the last straw. He wouldn't be treated like a dog. Yes he needed to stay alive but he wasn't going to let this happen.

"No." And he moved his head aside.

For a moment nothing happened. He started to move off the grill trying not to put pressure on his hands. He wanted to curl up in the corner and protect his bruised body from what he knew was going to happen. He wasn't expecting the hands. He wasn't expecting something comforting. Spencer tried to pull away from the prying hands.

"Still. Keep still."

"Please don't - please." A small voice through broken lips.

"Hush worm and keep still." Reid tried to crawl forwards, but Otikami grabbed the collar. "Still or do I need to get Andanatchi to nail you to the floor again?"

Spencer curled up tighter trying to keep the hands away from him. He let out a soft moan as he was pulled back onto his hands and knees.

"I can keep you safe, or I can make your life miserable. You decide – you decide now. Be nice and I can help you."

Reid let out a whimper as the hands moved to his shoulders and pulled him back – holding him close and tight.

"Please – don't." Tears falling hot down his cheeks.

Spencer could feel the tickle of hair as his thin jacket was pushed up out of the way, and then hot breath on his back. He let out an involuntary shudder.

"I can tell Aaron. I can tell him you are alright. Would you like me to contact Aaron for you?"

Another shudder and a whisper. "Yes."

"Do you want me to tell him anything special? You know so he knows the message is from you?"

A slow careful nod "Yes"

"Well this is a good start. I will deliver a message for you. You will keep me entertained. How does that sound?"

……………

They stood and looked blankly at the wall, no one knowing what to say. Hotch had insisted in coming into work, but it was moot really. The BAU had been pulled so far off he case that they couldn't even get sniff at what was happening. With Reid missing and Hotch unable to work, and still no replacement for Gideon they were three men down, and Organised Crime had taken over the case.

They had gone back and talked to the barkeep but he had already told them all he knew, which in the end amounted to nothing as all the addresses he had given them were fake. They knew something bad had happened. The closest the crime scene unit could come to was that Reid had somehow been nailed down to the floor with the spikes, but how – they were unsure - still working on it. The amount of blood though, they thought was non fatal.

Morgan, Prentiss and JJ just stood and stared at the clock on the wall. How long had he been missing now? They had heard nothing. No ransom. No demands of any kind. No message to taunt. Just a void where Spencer had once been and as the days went and still nothing the hope seemed to be getting weaker.

JJ had no tears left, her eyes red and swollen from the grief she was feeling for Aaron and his loss, and from the pure panic her heart felt every time she noticed Spencer's empty desk.

Prentiss wanted to go and ask questions. More questions, but she didn't know who to ask. Organised Crime had tugged the rug from under her feet and she was left helpless. She had cried tears of anger and of pity for Aaron and she had paced her apartment until she had blisters trying to get the image of Spencer spiked to a floor out of her mind. Different scenarios going over in her mind, each one more horrific than the next.

Morgan had sobbed openly. He had held Aaron and they had cried together. They cried for Haley and they sobbed for Reid. Frustration boiling over as he slammed doors and kicked objects out of his way. They had all agreed to go to the firing range and brush up on things that evening. It would help get rid of some of the pent up grief they were all feeling.

Aaron sat. Aaron didn't do anything but sit. Why had Haley done this? What on earth had made her do such a thing? Now he had lost both of them. Both of his great loves gone in a second.

They turned their heads as one when the scream came from behind the door Garcia had been hiding behind. When they heard a thump and crash they all started to run.

……………….

They crowded around the computer screen Garcia was sitting looking at.

"I got an email. It is from – I don't know who it is from!" fingers flicking over the keys. "A web mail address. It had Reid's name in the subject line." She looked over her shoulder. "We need Hotch. The message is for Hotch."

A hand on her shoulder. Morgan's comforting touch. "I don't think he is in a fit state for this Garcia."

"Derek, please, go and get Hotch."

They stood in Garcia's bunker fidgeting until Hotch – looking red eyed and crumpled arrived. She gave Aaron a worried look and opened the file. It was a very short clip of someone kneeling in a room. Head down hands out slightly in front of him. They could see the scabs – the holes in the backs of the hands. They knew that hair. They knew who that was without having to see a face. It panned in on an area between the battered hands – blood dripping and falling through a grill of some kind. They stood and listened.

'I have your boy Aaron. He wants you to know he is alright and to tell you he is sorry, and he hopes you understand'

…………………..