Part 2

A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

.

Chapter 20

BAU Headquarters
Quantico, VA

Spencer

"Thank you for doing this." Spencer said as he settled on the couch. Rossi had loaned them his office for the day.

"Sure. No problem." Kate replied. "I'm just glad JJ was willing to babysit."

"I think Will is home today." Which gave JJ an extra set of hands for three kids, two of them still newborns.

"That explains it."

Spencer liked Kate, she had a good head on her shoulders, and her time in Andi's unit meant that she was unlikely to flinch at the story he had to tell. But they didn't really socialize, he wouldn't have to wonder if she was thinking about that story over a holiday dinner or a crowded after-work pub. It was the best balance he was going to get. For himself Spencer felt as ready as he was going to be for this. Last night he and Alice had loved again until they were both satiated and wrapped in the warmth only love could bring. He had that sense memory to carry with him today. "Are you ready?" He asked.

"Are you?" She replied.

"I don't..." He took a deep breath. This was going to be a hard one, even with the memory to keep him warm.

"Just start at the beginning." She said. "What happened first?"

"PTSD"

There

Then

Spencer did not expect to wake sitting up in a chair.

The case had been a difficult one. They had been finding bodies of young men, all with different signs of sexual abuse, some with mutilation, all eventually strangled to death and left in the woods around Southern Oregon. Law enforcement had an unusual relationship out here, lots of coordination between the different agencies, including the sheriffs of different counties. But there was one who was not working with them as well as the others, who was not comfortable with them present, who had not had a body left in his jurisdiction. They were beginning to suspect he was hiding something. Perhaps the Unsub was a relative of some kind. Whatever it was it was slowing them down.

And the weather had not been helping. It was hot out, well in to the triple digits, and bone dry out there. Too long in the field and hot weather and interagency frustration all combined to exhaust them, or at least to exhaust him. Spencer had gone back to his room that night, had a quick shower, pulled on his pajamas, removed his contacts, downed a bottle of water against the dryness and gone to bed where he passed out immediately.

At least he thought he had.

But he woke sitting up in a chair, with a swimmy head that spoke of some kind of drug. When he went to rub his eyes and try to stretch it out he realized he was cuffed.

The adrenalin burned off the last of whatever they had given him.

"Good morning Agent...Doctor...Reid." A sarcastic voice snipped too close for comfort. "Welcome to our little party pad."

Who? Wait..."I know you." Spencer said. That voice was familiar.

"Sure you do. What you don't know is how to mind your manners." The voice was suddenly closer, right in his ear. "Do you have any idea how rude it is to insult your host by making him look bad? And in front of his own men no less."

"What?" When had he insulted someone?

"Sheriff Blackburn is very upset with you." The voice went on. All of a sudden this started making sense, why the Sheriff had been less than helpful, why it seemed like they needed more than one Unsub to make it all work. "But the rest of your team has been trying their level best to catch the bad guy. He's been impressed with the work they do, especially that Hotchner fellow. So he decided to teach you a lesson and do them a favor at the same time. After all, if a junkie faggot runs out on a case, well, that's pretty much out of a job right there. No need to come up with a fancy reason for it."

Oh hell. "I am not a homosexual." Not that there was anything wrong with it, Spencer just knew he liked girls.

"Bullshit. About as much bullshit as this eight year chit in your wallet."

"Eight years, six months, eleven days." Spencer knew exactly how long he'd been clean, thanks.

"Once a junkie, always a junkie." The voice had been slowly pacing behind him all this time. "Now here's how this works, you play along, don't fight too hard and when we're finished having our fun we let you go..."'

"No you don't." Come on, Spencer thought, he'd seen the bodies.

The pacing stopped a moment. "No, we don't." Spencer could hear the smile in the man's voice. "See, usually we bring you faggots in in pairs. That way when one of you fights..." Someone grabbed Spencer's shoulder, shoved a hand down the front of his shirt and caressed his chest. A sense memory tickled at the back of his mind, tried to force it's way in and he flinched away. "...we can make it worse for the other one. But your boy, or more likely Daddy, is likely hidden away back in DC, back in the closet somewhere, so we'll just have to use someone else. We figure, FBI, any civilian will do. Right Queenie?"

Spencer's eyes widened as Maeve Donovan was pushed into the chair opposite him, a gun pointed at her head.

"Maeve Donovan?" Kate asked. "She was your girlfriend, wasn't she?"

Spencer took a deep breath. Even though he loved Alice very much he loved Maeve too, and remembering the one time he'd seen her still hurt. "Diane Turner made us sit in chairs opposite us while she psychologically tortured us at gunpoint. The situation was so similar, and Alice and Maeve have similar coloring and I didn't have my glasses..."

"You had a flashback."

"I totally had a flashback."

"It's understandable. What happened?"

"I agreed not to fight them. I think I lost right there."

It was Maeve. It was Maeve, it had to be Maeve. That female shaped blur of pale skin and dark hair, that had to be Maeve. That was Diane who had her hands down his shirt. That was Diane's gun. It was Maeve and he had another chance. "Don't hurt her." He said, so very quietly.

"Then don't make us." The voice said. Wait, was that Diane? He watched a hand reach down and over her shirt and the figure shuddered. But that hand, that arm, was that a uniform. "You behave and we'll leave her alone, got it?"

"Just don't hurt her." He couldn't risk her dying again. Whatever it took.

"We have an understanding then." That hand wandered down his shirt again but this time he forced himself not to flinch away. Better him than her. "You learn quick Agent Doctor." Whoever it was pulled Maeve away. Spencer tried to go after her but he was attached to the chair... "Sit down." The voice said as a heavy hand pushed him back in. "We want to see what that mouth can do."

Spencer went on to relay what happened that first day in all the embarrassing, necessary detail. "There was no ...other rape that first day?" Kate asked, her manner warm, but professional.

It was exactly how Spencer had hoped she would be, not cold but with enough professional distance to give him the space he needed here. "No. I was told later that the one called Doc had taken blood to test for STD's. They, um, didn't go there until they knew I was clean."

"Nice guys. So what happened after?"

"I was sent back to the holding cell."

This place was a maze. Spencer had no clue where he was in relation to the room where he had started, or to the outside. He had yet to smell fresh air or see sunlight. At the moment he could barely stand, his head ached and his jaw ached and his stomach was churning to the point where he was dizzy. They dragged him to one more door, which was opened, and then he was pushed into land on his knees.

The door locked behind him.

All Spencer knew was that he was going to be sick.

He could feel himself starting to heave. Before he could even see the room he was in he was lifted by a new set of hands and taken to another, one with brighter lighting. There he was pressed to his knees before a clean enough toilet, and just in time.

When he was done gentle, warm hands lifted his head and held it for him. A warm, damp towel was pressed to his face to help him clean up, and then a bottle of water appeared at his lips. "Rinse first." A soft, female voice said.

He did, and then drank, which did not help much but the burn of bile was better than what had come before. "Who are you?" He asked, even as he leaned into that touch, so gentle and warm.

"I'm Alice."