A/N: Thankyou for all your lovely reviews, it's nice to know that so many are concerned for poor little Reid. Let's see what we can do about it in this chapter! Oh, and I forgot to mention, this story takes place PRE-Revelations! Beta read and bunny-enhanced by the Gublerific editor frog!

Monday

"Where is that kid?" Emily looked at her watch for the fourth time in ten minutes. It was eight thirty and Reid was half an hour late. "Hotch is going to have his head if he doesn't show up in the next five minutes."

"Aw, come on, Prentiss – let the kid have some fun!" Morgan nudged his female co-worker's side. "He's probably just trying to stand up from this weekend's escapades!" The big grin on his lips was not to be mistaken; he was proud of his young colleague.

"Sure, but he does have a job to do." JJ walked up to them, carrying a pile of files. "Conference room in five." The blonde liason left her teammates and continued on her way to prepare the briefing.

Emily turned to Morgan. "Have you called him?"

"About ten times today! There's no answer. Hopefully he shows up before we have to leave."

The female agent shook her head. "Hotch's not gonna like this."

"Speak of the devil and he shall arrive", Morgan nodded towards the staircase where their superior was just making his way down to join them.

Hotch didn't look too good. His eyes were swollen and you could practically see his head pounding. The suit didn't hide the fact that his entire body ached from the strain yesterday at the bowling alley. The man hurt in places he didn't even know existed. Looking up at his co-workers, he nodded silently and passed them on his way to get a cup of coffee.

After Hotch had disappeared behind a corner, Emily turned to Morgan. "He looks like death warmed over."

"Better not tell him that." The two began making their way over to the conference room. Morgan tried once again to reach Reid on the phone, but to no avail. "Come on, kid", he muttered after the fifth signal had passed through his ear. As the phone went to voicemail, he left the fourth message for the morning. "Kid, if you are not down here in ten minutes, Hotch is going to string you up and flog you! Get down here! Or at least call me!" He flipped the phone closed with a deep sigh and entered the conference room.

After they were all seated, Hotch arrived, setting down a near pint-sized cup of coffe on the table in front of him. Looking around the room, he noticed that the team's youngest member was missing. "Where's Reid?"

Morgan fidgeted in his chair. "Aah... He's not here yet. And he's not answering his phone."

"What?" Hotch's voice was less than pleased as he shot a question at his younger colleague. "Where is he?"

"He met a girl when we went out Friday night, and we haven't heard from him since." JJ couldn't help smiling at the fact that Reid had actually gone home with a girl. At the same time she was furious at him for not showing up at work when he was supposed to. Damn it, Spence – we're not playing a game here. We have important work to do!

Hotch took his phone out of his pocket and shortly dialed Reid's number. As it went to voicemail, he left a short message. "Reid. You have five minutes." Click. The superior was not in a good mood this morning. He turned to his team and sat down at the table. "JJ."

The young blonde grabbed the remote for the projector, turning it on. The body of a young woman showed up on the screen. She had been strangled with a belt, which was still around her neck. Her dead eyes were staring out in nothingness. "This is Monica Sanders, 22 years old. She was found at a playground in Norfolk, Nebraska. She is victim number three of a..."

Gideon's phone began to ring as JJ continued to brief the team. Rising, the older agent pulled up his cell phone. Reid's name was flashing on the screen. Gideon quickly flipped his phone open. "Reid, where the hell are you?" The rest of the team turned slightly as they heard Gideon's answer on the phone.

The line was completley silent. Gideon furrowed his brow. "Reid?" A few more moments went by without an answer. "Reid!" The older man began to get annoyed with his younger teammate's slight insubordination. But then a voice came on the other side of the line - and it wasn't Reid's.

"Agent Gideon."

The scrambled voice greeting him made Gideon's breath stick in his throat. "Who is this?"

"That's not important at the moment."

Gideon waved his free arm at his colleagues, signaling that something wasn't right. He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote 'Garcia trace Reid', throwing it to Morgan. The younger agent yanked his phone out of his pocket, calling the technical advisor to get a trace on their co-worker's cell. Gideon pressed the button for speaker, and the distorted, metallic sounding vioce was heard once again.

"Are you missing something, agent Gideon?"

"Where's Reid?" Gideon nearly gritted his teeth in frustration. Who was this? And where was Reid?

"Do you believe great minds think alike, agent Gideon?"

"Tell me who you are."

"You better hope they do, because if they don't, your young protege might not be as comfortable as he is at the moment."

"Tell me what you want."

"Oh, agent Gideon... I want a lot. But for now – let's play a game."

"What kind of game are you talking about?" Gideon was getting more and more frustrated with whoever was on the other side of the line.

"One where the life of young Spencer Reid is hanging in the balance." Despite its distortion, the voice was eerily calm, letting no emotions through. Its intonation was static, not moving a single time.

Gideon looked at his peers. They were all staring at him in both shock and fear. One question was simultaneously running through their minds. Was this for real?

The older agent turned his eyes back onto the phone, keeping his calm. "How do I know you have Reid? For all we know he's just overslept and is on his way in."

"Then explain to me how it is that I have his phone."

Gideon shrugged. "You go out drinking, you lose things. I'll just call him at home and we'll have a good laugh about this."

"Then I suppose you're not interested in seeing what I have for you?" The voice never changed its strength or tone.

Gideon had talked to too many deranged people to know when someone was bluffing – and when someone was telling the truth. And this person was not bluffing. There had been no demands, only questions. This was for real, and he had to keep his calm. "Depends. What is it?"

"19967672732328." The voice spoke slowly enough for him to catch the digits. Gideon scrambled for a pen, scribbling down the numbers. "I will keep it open for a total of four minutes, starting now. After that, you'll have to play to see more."

"What is it?"

"You figure it out. After all, you're the smartest one there since I have your little boy genius."

"Let me talk to Reid."

"Dr. Reid's not available at the moment, agent Gideon. Play the game." Click.

Gideon stared at his dead cell phone. Whoever he had been talking to seemed very aware of his relationship with Reid. He looked up at Morgan who had Garcia on speakerphone, listening in on the conversation. "Did you get anything on the trace, Garcia?"

"I traced the signal to Seattle, but its moving east."

"Seattle?" Hotch frowned.

"I need you to do a search on a series of numbers. 19967672732328, you got it?"

"I've got it, and I am searching!" A few moments went by. "I have nothing."

"No matches?" Morgan lifted the phone slightly towards his face.

"Nothing, zip, nada, niente, zilch!" The sound of striking keys was heard through the speaker.

Emily took a few hasty steps towards her male colleague holding the phone. "He said he was going to 'keep it open' for four minutes, what does that mean?"

Morgan shook his head. "I have no idea."

Garcia's concerned voice came through the small speaker once again. "'Keep it open'? Hang on, let me try something." Rattle, rattle went the keys on the board down in the control room. Garcia's fingers were working double time. "It's a website."

"What?" Gideon lifted his eyes from the paper on the table. "A website?"

"Well, sort of. It's a streaming video address that lets people watch something in real time, like on There are cameras placed on buildings around the world and you can watch whatever you want. What you see is what is happening at that exact time. It's avery popular way of..." Garcia's voice faded out to silence.

"Garcia?" Morgan tried to make contact with his distant colleague.

"Get down here. Get down here now."

The five agents dropped absolutely everything and ran at top speed towards the small office belonging to Penelope Garcia, who had just seen something she wished she hadn't on the website.

It was a streaming video of Reid, sitting on the floor of a barren cell, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was slowly rocking back and forth. Garcia stared at the image, mouth gaping in utter horror at the sight of her young co-worker and friend looking so helpless and scared.

--

Reid sat on the floor of the cell, holding his knees. The motion detectors had been turned on for god knew how long, and every time he sat still for more than 30 seconds, the lights would go out. He hadn't slept for a long period of time. There was no way for him to know how long he had been in there - the lights constantly going on and off had completely thrown off his time perspective. All the young doctor was doing at this point was staring blankly at the wall in front of him, rocking back and forth to keep the motion detectors from going off.

The lack of sleep had really done a number on his mind. Everything was blurred, and even focusing his eyes was a task too difficult to master. The young man tried to keep his mind clear by continously reciting passages from the countless books he had read as a child. He had done this for hours - or what he could only imagine had been hours. In a low, mumbling voice he quoted the ancient and sometimes arcane texts meticulously.

At the moment, he was reciting the Iliad by Homer. It had been one of his favorite books when he was seven years old.

"For if Zeus that thunders on high is utterly to destroy them in his evil will, and is minded to help the Trojans, verily then I too would desire that even instantly this might be, that the Achaians should perish here nameless far from Argos: but and if they turn again, and we flee back from among the ships, and rush into the delved ditch, then methinks that not even one from among us to bear the tidings will win back to the city before the force of the Achaians when they rally..."

The young doctor's eyes were bloodshot and had even darker rings than usual under them. He wanted nothing more than to be able to lie down and go to sleep.

--

"Dear God." Hotch and the rest of the team had just reached Garcia's office and they had all seen the terrifying image of their young colleague sitting in a cell with no visible exits. Hotch leaned over the keyboard to get a closer look at the screen. "Where is he?"

"Looks like a cell of some sort. Could be a storage facility." Emily stared at the screen, not being able to take her eyes off it. Her stomach was tangled in aching knots from seeing her friend trapped in a cement cage like an animal.

Morgan looked at the image of Reid; he stared at the small, huddled figure sitting on the floor, feeling nothing but rage. Whoever had put him in there was going to pay. He clenched his fists and pressed them tightly against his legs. "Gideon, what the hell? What's going on?"

Gideon slowly shook his head. "I don't know."

Seconds later, the screen went black and a message showed up in its place. "No!" JJ yelled when the image of Reid disappeared from her sight.

The message was simple.

Will you play my game now?

There was a textbox beneath the message, presumably where the answer was supposed to be entered. Gideon leaned over Garcia and struck four keys:

Y-E-S-ENTER.

The message disappeared and was replaced by another.

Good. Here are the rules. Follow them and Dr. Reid will benefit. Break them and he will suffer consequenses. Rule one: Do what I say, when I say it. Rule two: Solve the clues and you will be rewarded. Rule three: The game ends when I say it ends. Have you understood the rules?

Gideon once again typed his answer in the textbox, all under total silence from both him and the rest of the team. Y-E-S-ENTER. The message once again disappeared and replaced by another.

Very good. Then let us begin the game.

The text faded out, and new text appeared. This time there were no instructions. Just a quote.

You show love to thousands but bring the punishment for the fathers' sins into the laps of their children after them. O great and powerful God, whose name is the Lord Almighty

Below the quote was the familiar textbox for the answer. But what was showing above the quote was more unnerving. It was a timer. And it was ticking down. The team had exactly 10 minutes to solve the clue before the timer hit zero.

Garcia looked at Hotch. Hotch looked at Gideon. Gideon stared at the screen, trying desperately to remember his Bible.

A/N again: Moah.