Disclaimer: If I owned the show it wouldn't go on break over the summer.

Thank you to everyone who commented, favorited, and followed my new story. Your comments were absolutely wonderful and very encouraging.

Please forgive any mistakes! I know I have a major issue with commas...I can't stop using them.

Enjoy!

Earlier that morning

"I hope that Mr. Bookins is here. I would hate to think that we had to wake up this early for nothing," Morgan said as he and Blake pulled into Maybell's Diner.

"Well, there's a light on in the diner. That's a good sign. If John's not here yet we can at least catch some breakfast while we wait for him to arrive," Blake said.

"Hmm, homemade breakfast…sounds good to me. I could go for some biscuits and gravy right about now," Morgan said as another abnormally loud grumble issued from his stomach.

They walked around the back of the diner and headed toward the dock. There was an airboat moored down there and a large man was unloading what looked to be an alligator. Maybell was standing on the dock with a large cart waiting to haul the gator up to the diner.

The two agents waited for the difficult unloading to take place and immediately sidled up to the boat before the owner could depart.

"John Brookins?" Blake called out pulling out her badge.

"Yeah, who's asking?" came a gruff response.

"Mr. Brookins, I'm Agent Morgan and this is Agent Blake with the FBI. We have some questions we would like to ask you about your occupation," Morgan said as he too held up his badge to be inspected by the man.

"I've still got a ton to do today. You need to make it quick," the man responded as he worked on cleaning up his boat of the alligator blood.

"I assure you sir, we will be as quick as we can," Blake tried to placate him.

All they received as a grunt from the working man. Taking that as a signal to get on with the questions Morgan dived right in, "Sir, are you aware that there have been two different bodies discovered in alligators delivered to Maybell's?"

"Yeah, she told me about that," John said. "Wait…are you trying to accuse me of something? All I do is catch the gators and deliver them."

"No sir. We're not accusing you of anything. We would like to know how you go about catching the alligators and where you hunt for them," Morgan said quickly trying to diffuse the situation.

"Eh…well I catch them using a heavy duty hook that I hang from a tree with bait at dusk. The gators go up to the bait, swallow the hook and become stuck. They usually die before I get back to them in the morning, but I guess that's the point. Isn't it?" he explained with a chuckle.

"What do you use as bait?" Blake asked.

"Well, anything that's got some meat on it will work. Lately, I've been using nutria. They're river rats that have just invaded this area over the last few decades. So, I thought I would do my part in reducing the population."

"Do alligators normally attack or eat people?" Blake asked moving the conversation along.

"Well, not usually. They don't really go after something as big as a human. They stick to stuff like river rats, deer, and turtles. Humans really aren't considered prey. If an alligator attacks a human it's usually out of self-defense not hunger," John explained like it was common sense.

"Have you ever heard of an alligator eating a human before?" she continued.

"Oh, no. But alligators have been known to eat dead animals if they're really hungry. If those bodies were already dead in the water those gators might have made a meal out of them," John said as he finished cleaning up his deck.

Morgan was busy writing down some quick notes and looked up when he realized John was ready to leave. "I've got one more question before you go. Do you hunt in the same areas daily or do you vary your range?"

"Well, I know the best places to put the hooks, but there are hundreds of locations. The bayou is a big place and there are tons of alligators waiting to be caught," John said.

"Could you make a rough list of all the locations you trap in and bring it by the police station tomorrow or later on today?" Blake asked knowing that Reid could use it in formulating a better geographical profile.

John started laughing, "Not really. There aren't names for the places I hunt. You would need to give me a map and I could mark the spots I typically frequent. But you're going to have a hard time finding one that is really accurate. Like I said, the bayou is a big place and it has got a lot of twists and turns."

"If we bring you a map tomorrow morning do you think you could complete it by the next day?" Blake asked, not wanting to lose this important information.

"Sure, sure…just drop it off with Maybell and I'll get if from her in the morning. Now if that's all, I need to collect my fee from Maybell and get going," John said dismissively.

"Yes Mr. Brookins, that's all for now. We'll leave the map with Maybell later today for you. Thanks for all your help," Morgan said as he and Blake turned to leave.

John watched the two agents retreat from the dock and hopped out of the clean airboat and went up to the diner. He walked in the back door and saw Maybell prepping biscuits for the morning rush. The gator he had just delivered was sitting on a counter in the back waiting for Maybell's son to come in and butcher it. He walked over to the prep table and snagged some raw dough to eat.

"Hey! I'm going to have to start charging you for that," Maybell yelled and swatted his hand away from the dough.

"You always say that," John replied. "Those agents are going to leave a map here for me and I'll pick it up in the morning with my delivery."

"Alright…anything to stop finding dead bodies in those gators you've been bringing me," Maybell said as she sauntered off to get John's payment. The two stood around talking about the town gossip for another half hour when the front door opened and a tall thin young man entered. Maybell didn't need a bell on the door to signal when a customer entered because her kitchen food window had a view of the dining room.

John stood there in the back for a few minutes and scrutinized the newcomer. It was the kid he heard last night at the food counter. He remembered the waitress remarking that he was FBI, but John found that hard to believe. The kid was so willowy it looked like a cocker spaniel could knock him over by just barking at him. He heard the agent order a large amount of coffee and decided to not waste such an amazing opportunity.

John knew that there wouldn't be anyone around to witness what he was about to do. He had already successfully taken three other people before this kid, and he was confident he could do it again. He ran down to the dock and fetched a snare out of his tool box. Then he snuck into the alley and waited for his prey to heedlessly walk past him. Smiling, he crouched down and got a little excited at the prospect of being able to hear the end of the kid's story.

There was an infernal buzzing that was overwhelming his ears. It filled his head and made him think that he must have fallen asleep in the middle of a motorcycle enclave. He hadn't opened his eyes yet because sleep was such a tempting mistress but that damn buzzing made it impossible to fall back into a peaceful slumber. Deciding that there must be someone with a weed whacker trying to cut his hair Reid decided to try to get rid of the sound source.

It was when he tried to move his arms to clear the area around his ears that he started getting worried, they wouldn't move. He sent the signal to his hands again and he was still met with their defiance. Realizing that the only reason his body wouldn't respond was if it was unable too, Reid's eye flew open and tried to take in his surroundings.

His big brown eyes were assaulted with a bright white gleam. He quickly slammed them shut and slowly opened them again, hoping that they would adjust to the light better. It was a painful process, but once his eyes were accustomed to the shine he was able to comprehend in his location.

Reid realized that he was lying on his right side on the deck of a ship. In front of him was the bow of the boat and he couldn't see over the top of it. He maneuvered his head as best he could and noticed that the walls of the boat were relatively short. Unfortunately, from his vantage point they were still too high to get any sort of view of the land the boat was travelling through.

By now he had already figured out that his hands were tied behind his back using some sort of wire. He fought against it for a few minutes hoping that the knots were weak, but all he succeeded in doing was irritating his wrists. Heaving a sigh he decided to flip onto his back to see what was above him.

What he expected to see was the bright blue sky taking up his view, however they only sky visible was a narrow strip where the trees had yet to reach. He knew these trees were indicative of the Louisiana Bayou; they were bald cypresses. These trees have flourished in the swampy environment because their fluted trunks help make them flood tolerant. Reid knew without a doubt that he was somewhere cruising through the Atchafalaya Swamp, the largest swamp in the United States.

A feeling of fear suddenly flooded through the profiler. What luck did he have of being saved if his captor was familiar and comfortable navigating these mazelike waters?

Speaking of his captor, Reid slowly rolled his body to face the stern of the boat. The man from the diner sat on a seat that was a few feet above the deck of the boat. He was a large man, muscular and fit. He had a head of dark black hair and eyes that were bright blue. The man was truly an alpha male to his core, which exuded out of his every pore.

Glancing behind the man, Reid finally figured out the source of that incessant sound. It was a large fan that propelled the boat throughout the bayou. Reid knew now that he was on an airboat, and more than likely this one was used for hunting. The only seats on the boat were located near the one his kidnapper sat in, and the rest of the deck was bare of anything except for tools.

Reid focused his gaze back to the man steering the boat and made eye contact with him briefly. There was no point in trying to talk to him because the roar of the fan would wipe out any words he spoke. The man didn't seem the least bit interested in communicating with Reid anyways and turned his steely gaze back to the water. Reid decided that he had enough of lying on the floor and struggled to sit up to see where they were going.

The moment he finally had himself positioned in an upright position he felt a yank on his neck. He was jerked onto his side, and ended up sprawled across the deck. Up until now he hadn't even realized that whatever had cut off his air earlier was still wrapped around his neck, just not as tight.

He looked up at man again and saw that he was holding a loop of steel cable that led all the way to Reid's noose. The man had used a snare trap on him. All a trapper has to do is take the end of the snare with a large loop and catch it over the intended animal's neck. Once the hunter makes sure the loop is in place they simply pull on it to make it squeeze tightly around the prey's neck. There is a locking mechanism on the large loop that ensures that the snare maintains the desired tightness and that in turn leaves the prey helpless.

A bit of humiliation coursed through Reid as he took in the fact that he was taken using a method usually reserved for wild animals. He wished his arms were free so he could clutch the wire digging into his neck and try to loosen it up a little. Now that he knew that it was there he couldn't get his mind off of it. It seemed that every second that passed the noose was getting tighter and tighter.

Trying to get his mind off the metal cable encompassing his neck he decided to analyze the man's reaction to when he tried to sit up. Obviously the man intended for him to stay down. Why? Maybe the man was trying to hide him from someone else's sight. If that was the case, who was he trying to keep from seeing Reid? Were there other fishermen out here? Was he just trying to keep Reid from seeing where they were going?

Who was this guy anyways? If he is the unsub, than he sure did change his victimology. The man had shown a propensity toward women, never once taking a man. What would his motivation be in taking Reid? Was he just upping his thrill by taking an FBI agent? Still, why not take JJ since she would have fit his pattern better? No, what was he thinking? He was happy that JJ was spared this whole experience. He would rather it be him a hundred times over than one of the girls. Knowing that he just didn't have enough information to go off of to form a profile, Reid longed for the boat to come to a stop so he could attempt to have a conversation with his captor.

His wishful thinking actually came true when he heard the airboat begin to power down. Keeping his eye on the man above him, Reid watched as he pushed and pulled levers and turned the rudder as if there were a large amount of obstacles in his way. The boat slowed to a crawl and Reid was taken by surprised when he was jolted toward the front of the boat abruptly. The large man cut the fan, hopped out of the boat, and tied the ship to what Reid assumed was a dock.

"Hello?" Reid called out, trying to take advantage of the sudden hush.

He received nothing but silence in return. Not one to wait patiently, Reid tried to sit up again. Once he was successful and caught a glimpse of the surrounding environment, the seriousness of his situation came crashing down on him.

The man had docked the boat on a small island set in a dead end channel of the swamp. The dock was off to the side between the house and the backyard, giving Reid a general view of this man's home. Overall, the island itself was not very large, but it was able to support a boat dock, cabin, tool shed, and a garden.

The exterior of the cabin was wooden and worn down. The roof was in major need of new shingles. Reid wouldn't have been surprised if there were multiple leaks throughout the house. The porch looked like it would collapse in on the next person that stepped on it, and the screen door was hanging on by only the top hinge. From the looks of things, it was clear that the man cared more about his yard than his house.

For the yard surrounding the house was well maintained and there was even flower bed out front. The vegetable garden was quite large, and took up most of the backyard. The location of the cabin was pivotal in the owner's ability to grow vegetables at all. The island that the cabin was located on received mostly direct sunlight throughout the day due to the cypress tree branches not stretching far enough out to block it out.

At this point, worry was running rampant through Reid. This man had totally taken him somewhere off the grid, and only an expert at these waterways would be able to find him. In fact, Reid was almost positive now that the man had him ride on the floor of the boat to make sure he couldn't track the path they took through the trees. Not like that would have helped him anyways, since he woke up at an unknown point in their journey. His captor had made sure that Reid would be unable to find his way out and his team would never find their way in.

Reid yelled out again at the man who was fixing the boat in place, "Hey. Why am I here? You do know that I'm a FBI agent, right? You're going to be in a lot of trouble when they find us. Just take me back now and I'm sure the sentence won't be as severe."

Reid watch for any reaction from the man and was met with a glare. The man said nothing as he stepped back in the boat and reached for the end of the snare. He jerked on the line and gestured for Reid to get up.

Reid struggled to get on his feet, especially with the boat moving beneath him. The man got off the boat and started pulling on the snare like a leash. Reid, refusing to be subjected to such dehumanizing treatment planted his feet as best he could and stood his ground.

"I'm not a dog. I will not be led around on a leash. Now talk to me and tell me what I'm doing here!" Reid demanded with a hint of fury edging in his voice.

The powerful man just turned around and faced Reid. Wordlessly he yanked roughly on the snare causing the loop around Reid's neck to contract. Reid, grasping a little too late the repercussions of his defiance, started gasping for air like he did in the alleyway. Except this time instead of being able to reach his hands up to help relieve the pressure he could only stand there and accept his fate.

Stars were starting the form around the corners of his eyes, and he felt a light jerk on the line. The man was trying again to get Reid to get out of the boat and walk with him compliantly. Not sure whether it was the lightheadedness or the fact that he was tired of always being the victim, Reid decided then and there not to give into his captor. The young agent refused to move from his spot again and did his best to stare defiantly at the man at the end of the leash as he struggled for breath.

The man growled with impatience and stomped back to where Reid was standing. He got back into the boat and stood nose to nose with his captive. He reached his hands up and manually tightened the noose. He watched impassively as the young man sputtered and gasped. When the boy finally passed out from oxygen deprivation the man picked him up and carried him into the house.

Once inside the cabin, he carried the boy over to an old wire box trap that he used to use when trying to catch the alligators alive. Before he placed the young man in his new bed he removed the snare from around his neck and undid the fishing wire that was restraining they boy's hands. There were a nasty purple and blue bruises forming all around the kid's neck and wrists and they wasn't going to get any better. The man picked up a metal collar from the floor and secured it around Reid's neck.

The collar had two lengths of chain coming off of a metal loop positioned in the front. Each length of chain ended in a metal manacle that secured around the captive's right and left hand. He knew that the boy was harmless at the moment, but when he was allowed out of the cage the man wanted his freedom to be limited. The collar would also enable him to secure the kid wherever he wanted via the loop in the back with the padlock. It gave him complete control of the boy's movements, and was absolutely necessary for the breaking in period. This young man had some spunk in him, shown in how obstinate he was being on the dock. The man knew that he was going to have some work ahead of him crushing that spirit out of the boy.

With a final look down at his new guest, the man made his way back out to the boat to continue his day catching more game out on the bayou. He was eagerly looking forward to tonight when he would finally introduce his "guest" to his new life.