A/N : Okay, I admit it; I'm stuck. I'll continue it, so this is to my faithful fans eagerly awaiting my next installment of 'A State Of Anger', not to worry. However, ideas on how to move the story along would be greatly appreciated either in a PM or a review on the story. I was thinking of adding yet another UnSub to throw them even further off Amy's tail while Reid himself closes in on her, but I'm not too sure. So please, give me a shout out, and in the meantime, here's another Criminal Minds fic to keep my mind and my fingers active. (I have WAY too much time on my hands.) xD
I own nothing. Except my ideas, my story line, my characters, my dialogue, my settings… (Rambles on about everything other than the characters from the show.)
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February 17th, 2007.
Spencer Reid shivered convulsively, as he did every night in the dark cell that would end up his grave. There wasn't any light to judge by; it was just a complete and total black here, but he knew the days and nights by the change in temperature. It was definitely the middle of the night. His eyes were slowly being dragged downward by the force of several nights gone without sleep, but Reid fought it. He fought it because even as he continued to tell himself he had given up hope, there was still a small glimmer of childish hope that as long as he stayed coherent, something would happen; something good. That he'd be saved like the people in the stories he would read as a kid.
But he was unable to continue fighting the need for sleep, and his eyes finally closed, his body slumping forward and into a restless slumber, filled with dreams and nightmares generated by a fearful mind and hurting body…
* * *
January 24th, 2007.
Reid raised a hand to rub at his eyes, suppressing a yawn. Then, using that same hand, he reached out and grabbed the plastic cup he'd filled with coffee about ten minutes ago, and grimaced when he held the cup to his lips and found it was empty. Thinking deeply, Reid replaced the cup on his desk and moved into an Indian-style sitting position in the office chair, then using his hand to push himself off the desk, sending him into a slow, spinning motion.
And spinning, Reid continued to think. Thirteen men dead; first profiler thought, they were all men. Granted they were Hispanic, Caucasian, short, tall, with all kinds of differences varying, but they were all men. Normally when you had a serial killer targeting a specific gender, you had a few different possibilities. Sexual motives; in which the UnSub has an 'affair' with the victim, either alive or dead. There were no indicators that the crimes were motivated by sexual needs, nor had anyone been reported back at the scene, which ruled out sexual motives.
The next possibility would be revenge. A hate crime; a vendetta against those who looked like someone who had wronged him in the past or recently. In those particular crimes, the UnSub would choose a particular grueling fashion in which to take revenge, in most cases mutilating the body beyond recognition, cutting limbs off of the body before or after death, and then dumping the body where everyone would see what had been done.
But not only did the victims have nothing in common feature wise or background wise, there was no sign of hate. Just a single gunshot wound to the head and a severely empty stomach.
Sighing, Reid let the chair slow as he slowly thought out the victims in his head. There had to be something they were all missing here. Just one, single gunshot wound to the forehead made it seem like an execution of some sort, but why go through the trouble of kidnapping and starving the victim for a week before killing him? There had to be some kind of hate here…
Or maybe… it was a punishment…
Letting his feet hit the ground, Reid reached over to the file laying open on his desk and looked through the photos of the victims and the places they had been found. They had all been found near or in dumpsters, their clothes dirtied with garbage… like it was some type of degradation…
But why would the UnSub want to punish seemingly random people…? Unless, they weren't really random…
Taking a shaky breath, Reid closed the file and looked up, and was startled to find he was the only BAU agent in the bullpen. It was barely even eleven at night, and yet it seemed as if everyone had already gone home. Of course, Reid couldn't blame them; the case was wearing everyone down and they needed a little sleep every now and again. In fact, so did he… His brows furrowing, Reid finally gave up on the case for that night, standing up and taking his heavy coat off the back of his chair, slipping it on while gathering up the case file and holding it securely in his arms. He could work on it a bit more when he got home, and in the morning he'd have Garcia check to see if the victims all had a dealing of some sort with an unknown person that barely even registered on the radar.
It was a long shot, but it was something worth looking into on a case such as this one, where you had next to nothing to go on. Reid glanced up to make sure he wouldn't hit anything, as had been his habit lately, before he took the first step forward toward the door. He'd been running into so many things and people lately, it was a wonder he hadn't broken everything in the bullpen at least once. But then a bit of movement caught his eye. Glancing around, Reid assured himself that it was just the janitor, picking up the trash and everything it was that janitors did, but his heart began racing when he realized the man wasn't moving.
He was just standing there, staring at Reid.
And then it was as if he was frozen; paralyzed. Reid knew it was irrational, but it felt as if he couldn't move. His heart was hammering in his throat, blood was roaring in his ears, and he was shaking.
'I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…' he continued to chant within his mind.
Reid watched as the unknown person finally looked away from Reid and began emptying a basket of trash into a bigger bin, and even though the feeling of being rooted to his spot faded, Reid was still shaking as he made a quick break for the exit.
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Standing outside the door, Reid was still shaking, though this time it was from worry rather than the piercing eyes of someone who he didn't know. Still chanting 'I'm not crazy' in his head, Reid raised his hand and knocked on the door again, this time a bit louder, still wondering a bit worriedly if he'd be turned away. Finally, the door opened after several clicks of the locks being loosened, and his supervisor stood in the doorway, looking surprised at finding an agent standing outside.
"Reid, what are you-" Hotch started to say groggily; didn't Reid know what time it was…? But Spencer interrupted him before he could get anything else out.
"Please, I'm really sorry to come knocking this late at night, but I really didn't want to go back to my apartment…"
Reid then paused, not completely sure how he should phrase his fears, and decided to just plunge head first.
"There was a man at the bullpen, and he was staring at me. And I've never seen him before, and I know no one had hired any new personnel. And yesterday morning, I heard footsteps behind me right before I walked into the BAU office and I'm scared, Hotch…"
Reid knew he really shouldn't, but being in the state of both panic and fear, Reid put on his best tortured face, knowing that if he stood there in front of his superior for long enough, looking like a frightened child, Hotch's expression would melt and then he would sigh, and let him in.
Which, sure enough, happened.
"Just for tonight," Hotch mumbled, and his eyes watched Reid scramble through the doorway, heading for the couch. "We'll talk about this in the morning."
Reid inwardly cringed as he situated himself on the couch, knowing that tomorrow morning wouldn't be all that fun for either of them. But he had to make Hotch understand that he wasn't going crazy; he had to make the older man aware that someone was stalking Reid…!
That was the thought Reid fell asleep nurturing…
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February 17th, 2007.
Reid slowly became conscious again, though his eyes remained closed. In the back of his mind, a little voice was practically screaming at him; telling him to open his eyes. Because if he didn't… if he just let himself go back to sleep… what would happen if he never woke up again…? Unable to help it, Reid continued to keep his eyes closed, drifting in and out of a conscious state, all the while thinking to himself,
'What did I ever do to deserve this…?'
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"For we pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won."
- Lucy Maud Montgomery
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A/N : Another chapter up! Once again, don't forget to review!! I practically LIVE on your feedback. xD