A/N: I realize that the entire last chapter was written sans "The Archer" and Reid, therefore, I am going to do them in alternating chapters until the final collision.

The Archer's POV:

You've let him rest for the best part of two hours, occasionally banging loudly to startle him out of his much needed sleep, and to help him realize where he is. Once his memory has been refreshed, and that look of horror that you delight in replaces the troubled flickering of emotions from sleep, you allow him to sink back into much needed recovery. In fact, if he's going to last what you have planned, his initial well being is important, after all, you haven't even started with the really fun stuff. No, you were just beginning. For what he's done, he deserves far worse than the mercy and restraint you've been showing him. You decide that half an hour more of recuperation is all he'll be allowed before you go back in and assault him again. You anticipate this eagerly, and can barely contain yourself for the half hour. For what he's done, he will pay. You smirk with pleasure, and a tingle runs through your finger tips, as they itch to begin on a much more fun part of breaking Spencer Reid down.

Spencer is lying on the floor, clearly suffering. 'Good' you think as you observe his pain. You were never particularly sadistic, but his pain is giving you a gratification that you've never experienced before. You like it very much. You open the hatch down to Reid's cell. So far, you've only been observing him through a sort of "sky-light" made of durable glass. He doesn't know where it is, as it is darkened to blend in with the ceiling. You descend the steps, feeling him flinch with each step. Oh, the satisfaction you feel as you watch him wince away from the mere sound of your steps. You've succeeded in making him fear you, finally. You draw out your elegant blade and watch the light reflect off it, looking almost as if it is shimmering in the lowly lit area. He whimpers at first, but seems to buck up and resumes his "defiant" gaze at you. Inside you're chortling; the poor fool thinks he's being domineering. You swipe your blade to and fro, delighting in the way he watches the blade move with fear. You straddle his lap, being extra careful to place your rear upon his newly healing knees, and bring the blade forwards to his face. His gaze shifts momentarily, allowing you to see the fragility behind the mask he had been trying to keep up. For a spell you pity him, almost sympathize with him, until you remember what kind of monster you're dealing with. 'This is still Spencer Reid' you remind yourself, 'get a grip.' He looked so pitiful you couldn't help but pause for a second, to admire your handiwork.

He returns his gaze to you, and you resume your merciless torturing of him. "Hello Spence, how are you?" He stares blankly at you, and this only enrages you further.

"Oh, so we're playing the silent treatment? Well maybe I should make it easier for you… by say, cutting off your lips?" he begins to shake his head violently, and coughs a few times to make sure that you understand why he isn't speaking to you.

"Oh, is poor Spencer…thirsty?" you drawl out the last word, making sure he hears every syllable. "Let me just go and fetch some… water, for myself." You run upstairs quickly and fetch a bottle of water, then you run back down, seat yourself on his lap and slowly make him watch as you sip the water, each time allowing a couple of drops to roll down your chin and onto his chest. Then you bring your full cheeks by his ear, and swallow audibly enough for you to taunt him.

"Mmmm, that was so refreshing." He looks at you in desperation. "I'm sorry, did you want some? Here, let me fix you something better to drink. Something, with more nutrients." you reach for your blade, and carefully cut along the top of his arm, then, using the water bottle, collect his blood.

"Why don't you try some of that, Dr. Reid?" and you place the bottle full of his own blood to his lips. He looks at it for a long time, then shakes his head and purses his lips shut.

"Very well, then I won't allow you to have any water. Not even a sip. After all, you didn't drink what I prepared for you, and that's just plain rude." He sizes you up again, and slowly takes the smallest of sips from the bottle you kept under his nose.

"Atta boy Spence. Here, now you can have some of this clear, clean, crystalline water." You lift the water bottle to his lips and allow him to gulp down the most part of it.

"You don't mind sharing with me, do ya?" he looks at you in recognition at that phrase. He knows who you are, or at least, he thinks he does.

"L-Lila? Is that really you?"

"Hey Spence. Never quite got you back for never calling me back. That was really rude y'know."

"Lila." He breathed. THAT was what had been bothering him, the fact that he hadn't been able to solve why this was all happening to him? You feel a pulsating rage take over your body. How dare he? All he cared about was the stupid puzzle, damn him. You try not to let your anger show and resume your torturing. Now that he had your identity cleared up, or so he thought, you didn't have to hold back any more.

Reid's POV:

The first thing that you register is the burning thirst slowly creeping down your throat. You're slumped on the ground, each breath is coming out in a gasp and your knees have sunk into a state of numbness from blood loss. Your arm is trembling with pain and right now, you're sure you've gone into shock. At least she's gone. You hope she won't be back for a while, but you don't really know how long a while is, since you've lost all concept of time. Now that you're alone you feel free to choke the sobs you'd been holding back. You couldn't give her the satisfaction of crying during torture. You wouldn't. Memories of the team engulf you; you lie frozen in pain, helpless to their attack. You remember the good things about them, the laughter and smiles, but this only makes it harder for you to prevent another round of tears. An incident hits you particularly hard, one time when you and Garcia had been making fun of Emily's year book picture. The laughter provides you with the escape you'd been seeking. You cling to the memory, glad to have a place you can sink into when the pain becomes too unbearable. When you want and need to escape.

You hear her footsteps as they descend the stairs, and know that your short moment of peace will soon come to an end. You flinch involuntarily, and you see the glee that crosses her face as you do. You know what awaits you now, and you're not looking forward to it. She begins to talk to you, and when you don't reply threatens to cut off your lips, to show her that you can't talk, not that you won't talk, you shake your head violently and cough a few times for good measure. All the while she's seated on your lap, bouncing on your already tender knees. Now that she understands you, she's bounced off of your knees and is running upstairs to fetch some water. At least she's not going to let you die of thirst. Yet. When she comes back down, she seats herself on your lap and takes a few sips of the water, then, leans forward and swallows audibly into your ear. You shiver. You're so thirsty; you'd do practically anything for a drink of that water. Now she taunts you with the water, and you feel increasingly desperate.

You feel her reach for her knife, and watch as she cuts into your arm, watch as you bleed out into an open water bottle. An empty bottle. It's now about a quarter full, she removes the bottle from under your arm and raises it to your lips, gesturing for you to drink. You shake your head, there is no way you're drinking your own blood. But you're so thirsty… you look down into the bottle and reason it out. If you drink your blood you'll get some of what you lost back…right? You know that this doesn't make sense, but you can't help it, you need a drink. So, you breathe deeply and take the smallest of sips, instantly the metallic taste of blood drifts into your mouth, and the sickly sweet odour that comes with it floats into your nose. You struggle to swallow, but manage in the end, and are at last allowed a drink of water.

"You don't mind sharing with me, do ya?" she says. Oh god, you've heard that before. Lila. Lila Archer, 'The Archer', it all adds up now. But something's still off, this can't be Lila, she's filming up north right now, you'd know, you were following her online. Yet somehow, this person seemed convinced that she was Lila, she never said, 'I never got you back for not calling her back' she said 'me'. Whoever she is, she believes that she's Lila. You decide to play along, and ask in your softest voice,

"Lila?"

She replies to you, happy that you've figured it out at last, but for you, the puzzle has only just begun.

Sorry for the late update guys, just started a new school and updates may be a little less punctual. Thanks to CaptainAlias and CriminalMindsLove1 for reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)