A.N.: Sorry everyone that I was late with this, it was finished a couple of days ago, but the mailing system of the site played a tick on me again:S Anyway, I'm very grateful for the kind reviews I've received on the previous chapter! I really try to be a good writer and not to disappoint my readers:)

Beta-read by REIDFANATIC. Here you go!

Chapter Eight

One day earlier

Fear paralyzed Reid's body as he saw his previous attackers start running towards his car. The doors were locked. Would these guys break the windows if he refused to get out? After a short mental debate, Reid decided that they probably would.

The black-suited men were getting closer. He had only a few moments left to think and find a way out of this situation. He should call someone from the team right away and ask for help. That seemed the smartest move of all, and he remembered this thought coming to his mind earlier, right before the fake agents spotted the car.

But as he reached for his cell, something caught his eye once again. One of the men seemed to pull something out of his pocket that looked very much like a gun.

Reid felt the adrenaline kick in with new force. Normally he wouldn't have gotten so scared of an armed unsub, but this was different. Now the unsub had a gun, but he didn't; that made quite a difference. Without being able to defend himself, they could easily force him to go with them. Or simply knock him out before he could say a word. Just like Tobias Hankel did.

Memories were invading his brain, and Reid panicked. Barely noticing what he was doing, he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, knocking one of the attackers over with the side of his car.

He didn't know exactly where he was going, or how he was even capable of driving without crashing into anything, but when he calmed down a bit, he realized that he was in a part of town which he was unfamiliar with. Pulling the car aside, he rested his head once again on the steering wheel and tried to think his situation over.

Strauss and the whole team probably think now that I'm trying to run away. They're right though, only that I'm not trying to run away from them, but from those unknown guys. Reid froze. The guy… what if I killed him? I may have not been accused of murdering Jacobson, but I will be now, and I can't prove they were attacking me!

His biggest problem was at the moment that he had nowhere to go. There was no place where he could feel safe, and where he could find out what to do next. His home was probably guarded by the FBI, and the BAU by the unknown attackers.

I need coffee.

Fifteen minutes later, when he returned to his car from a nearby coffee shop, he felt a bit calmer. He still didn't know what to do though; for the first time in his life, he felt unsure about going back to the BAU. Not getting there despite the fact that he had promised it to Garcia, plus running over someone probably didn't improve his situation. Just then, his cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" He answered.

"Reid, I hope you have a very good reason why you're still not here," Garcia spoke without greetings, her voice half angry and half worrying.

"I do. A little after we last spoke, I arrived. But they were waiting for me."

"Who, Reid?" Morgan's voice was heard; Garcia had probably put him on speakerphone.

"The black-suited guys who attacked me at home!" The young agent swallowed. Were they going to believe him?

"Then why didn't you call us sweetcheeks?" Garcia's voice now lacked the anger; this time it was pure worry.

"I wanted to, but they saw me," Reid explained. "They came towards me, and at least one of them had a gun. I drove away. I… I even knocked one of them over! I've probably injured him!"

"Okay, man, listen, here's what will happen. You come here right away, and I'll come down for you and make sure no bloody black-suited guy touches you or I'll kick them in the ass like they've never been kicked before!" Morgan's frustrated voice made Reid smile for a second, but he had already decided himself.

"No."

"What?"

"Garcia, please answer the next question honestly. Am I accused of something, or is there any chance I'll get locked up even for a small amount of time?"

"Reid why do you think…"

"Just answer me, please!" He nearly shouted nervously.

"Well… Strauss is mad at you of course, but not getting here in time is not a very big deal, you may only get a warning for that. On the other hand… Jacobson's death is still being investigated, just like the attack at your apartment. It turned out that some neighbor saw you entering and leaving Jacobson's house."

Reid was holding his breath while he was listening to Garcia; he felt his heartbeat quicken again.

"However, it still isn't enough to bring a charge against you, but putting it together with the attempt to flee… it may raise the chance that you'll be brought to court. Of course they will find out soon that you're not guilty, but until then… I fear you could be locked up for a couple of days."

Breathing out the long-held breath, Reid nodded to himself. This made some things clearer. I won't go to prison, if it's up to me.

"Thanks, Garcia." He said softly.

"Reid, where are you? You should…"

But Reid shook his head, smiling. "Do you think I don't know you're tracking my phone signal as we speak? I'm sorry guys, I can't go back. I have to find who's after me."

"Reid, don't be stupid," Morgan was raging. "You need to bring your ass up here and let us help you! How could you even find those guys again?"

"Well, they've found me twice already; I hope they'll be just as clever next time."

"Man, don't joke around, just…"

"I'm sorry," the young agent cut him off. "I'll call you as soon as I find something."

"Reid!" Morgan and Garcia shouted in unison, but they were too late. The phone was already flying, having been thrown out of Reid's car window, only to land behind some trash cans with a big crash.

"Dammit!" Morgan punched the wall in anger at Reid's stubbornness. "I thought he was a genius; he doesn't even know what's good for him!"

"It's about that stupid letter," Garcia pointed out softly.

"What letter?"

"He's received a threatening message. Poor thing, he was so worried, I've seen it…"

"And what did you tell him?"

"Calm down Derek, nothing frightening! I told him that everybody receives some from time to time… and that he shouldn't be worried. But the letter said something about prisons, and now he's freaked out that he'll die if he's sent to one!"

"Man, let me get my hands on that sick son of a bitch who sent that…!"

"Do you think he's losing it?" Garcia asked, now whispering, not looking away from her monitors.

"What?"

"Reid… don't you find he's acting a bit… paranoid?"

Morgan shook his head in disbelief, wanting to say something that would prove she was wrong but he couldn't come up with anything. Come on, who would take a letter like that seriously? And then those mysterious attackers… there should be some evidence, some sign that they were really there! If they were really there… And then again they appeared at the entrance of the building… That's impossible… cleaning up Reid's apartment, treat their wounds and arrive before Reid… no one could be that fast.

"Do you think… do you think that he may be…?" Morgan didn't dare to say it out. Hell, he even hated himself for even thinking about this possibility. But they had to think about it! Reid was almost past the typical age of onset, but still he was at risk of developing his mother's illness.

"I don't know," Garcia shook his head, still whispering. "Maybe he's just exhausted. All of us have been under a lot of stress lately… I mean, the last case was more than depressing…"

"Yeah, of course," Morgan repeated. "Maybe he's just too tired."

After a couple of silent seconds, he continued. "Did you manage to track his cell signal?"

"Yeah," Garcia answered, with guilt in her voice. "26 Amber Street."

"Though I don't really think he'll still be there when we arrive," he murmured under his breath as he walked out.

Reid noticed that his hands were still shaking when he was a good ten miles away from the spot where he'd thrown away his cell.

He was on his own now, he knew that very well. And the worst of it was that he himself had chosen it. But he could imagine what the team would think about him now! Since there was no evidence that he was attacked in his apartment, everyone would think that he had just dreamt it or hallucinated or something. Reid knew very well what consequences it would lead to if they thought he was hallucinating. It would lead to two things, and none of them looked good for him.

The better option was that they would think he had schizophrenia, and try to lock him away in some hospital where they would visit him just as often as he did his mother. The other option was that he was probably using drugs again, Dilaudid or even something stronger. No! One simple blood test would prove that I'm clean! But would anyone pay attention to it when drugs would perfectly explain the hallucinations, the attempt to run away and even senseless actions like killing a man?

But he had not been hallucinating. Those hits and punches were real. That big purple bruise on his arm was so damn real!

Doubts and fears were warring with another in him as he finally stopped the inner debate; finally reaching a decision, he got out of his car and headed for a nearby banking machine to get some cash. Of course Garcia could find him if he used his credit card; so now that he had some cash, he could disappear for a while again.

After driving another ten miles away from the banking machine, he wearily stopped his car in front of a friendly-looking Internet-Café. He bought another coffee and a big sandwich and sat down on one of the empty chairs. The sandwich was delicious; he felt like he hadn't eaten for a week.

While enjoying his meal, he kept glancing suspiciously out of the window, searching for any familiar FBI cars, but so far there were none. So they'd really lost track of him… he could escape them if he wanted to… The thought made him content and proud for a moment but then he remembered why he'd been forced to run.

Where the hell should he start searching for his mysterious attacker? Should he go somewhere he'd be expected to be? No way, the FBI would probably be waiting for him to turn up at these places. And he didn't want to meet the black-suited guys but their boss. Reid had to admit that there was very little chance he'd find him on his own. Maybe he'd just wait for P.D. to show up again…

A sudden idea made Reid get up and walk to one of the computers. He quickly checked his e-mail box and felt his heart rate quicken again as he saw the letter he was waiting for. It had come from an unknown sender, and said:

Agent Reid,

You have really surprised me; I wouldn't have thought you'd choose this road.

However, I don't want to play games with you. If you'd like to meet me, I'll be waiting for you tomorrow at 10 in the morning at the old tourist house, west of town. There we can arrange our little business.

P.D.

P.S. Don't bring your team if you don't want them to get hurt, because my people will be there too.

So what do you think? I'm eager to hear (see) your reaction!:)