Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.
Author's Note: The poem below was one that I had found online and I can't remember the writer. So I apologize at not being able to give credit where it's due. If anyone knows who wrote this, please inform me right away so that I can give this wonderful poet he's credit. Enjoy.
Chapter Five: So Afraid of That
'My fear of going mad, drives me mad, and I'm so afraid of that.'
"How are you feeling?" JJ asked, a small brush creeping up her cheek as she sat beside Reid. She hadn't quite forgotten that one night and, even though Reid never said anything, she couldn't help but feel nervous around him.
He shrugged slightly, keeping his attention focused on the information regarding the individual victims. "Alright, I guess. My side still hurts and so do my arms where there are stitches. But okay," he said.
"That's good," she said with a smile. She took a deep, calming breath. 'Go ahead! Just say it!' her mind urged as she worried her lower lip. "You know," she began, her hands shaking. "I was really worried about you when Morgan called us. I thought for sure I-"
"I've got the notes!" an excited and oblivious Varney said, walking through the door while he waved the thick envelope high above his head. JJ, half thankful for his interruption and half irritated for the same reason, smiled at him and then stood.
She walked over to the door, saying softly, "I just remembered something Hotch asked me to do. See you guys later."
Reid barely had a time to respond before the door slammed shut, a head of blonde hair going with it. Varney, clearly unperturbed by her quick dismissal of them, said, "You're supervisor requested that you be the one to look over the notes. Said that if anyone could figure it out, it would be you." He shrugged, as if he himself couldn't see anything particularly special about the young man before him.
"Oh, um, alright," Reid said as he reached out to grab the envelope, startled by its shockingly heavy weight. Eyes wide, he asked, "How many pages did he write?"
"One hundred and ninety-seven pages," he answered sheepishly.
"Oh, that's not so bad. How many words do you figure that is a page? Probably around five hundred, or seven hundred if he crammed it in. I should only need," he paused as his eyes shot to the top of his head, his hand raising as he began counting off with his fingers. In his moment of calculation, Morgan entered, but before he could say hello or any sort of greeting, Reid exclaimed, "At most…three minutes to read it all, give or take of course for any variables. That'll give me…twelve hours to crack the code before I go to sleep."
Varney's mouth had fallen open, and was currently alternating between open and close. Only three minutes to read all of it? How was that even possible? "He…he's not being serious, is he?" he said wide eyed to Morgan as if Reid was a pathological liar and Morgan would be the only one to tell him the truth.
However, the FBI agent in question just chuckled at his bewildered expression. "Eidetic memory, IQ of one hundred and eighty-seven and can read twenty thousand words a minute. He's our resident genius. You get used to it after awhile." Varney nodded once, doubtful and unsure of his claims.
"Well, if you guys are done discussing me, I'm going to go read these and work on decoding it. Is there a library or someplace I can go for a few hours where it's quiet?" he asked, turning to Varney as he slid his messenger bag over his shoulder and put the envelope inside.
"There was a fire at the local library," he responded, shrugging. "But, there's this place my kids call the Flats. It's right at the start of Chichester from Phoenicia. If you head on the main road there will be a bend in the guard rail. Climb over that and you're in one of the nicest parts of the Esopus Creek. My wife likes to go there to read, thought you might enjoy it too. The rocks are flat too, so they can be used like tables."
Reid smiled. He had been looking for an excuse to enjoy the scenery. "Alright, thanks. I'll look into that," he said before starting to leave, but Morgan stopped him.
"Do you want me to come with you? I could help."
But Reid shook his head. "No, I'll think better if I'm by myself. Besides, you and everyone else have been fussing over me so much after I got out of the hospital, it will be a relief." He laughed, just to show he wasn't trying to be mean.
Morgan hesitated before asking, "But Reid...the UnSub...and you're...well...you know."
"Ugh, no offense but I ugh...I think that I'm just being ugh...paranoid..." He whispered the last word as if it were venomous, and Morgan could only nod in understanding. He then added, "Besides, you and everyone else can get this job done without being afraid of everything. I need to be able to do the same."
Morgan shook his head. "But none of us ever matched the victomology."
Reid sighed as he rubbed his face. "Listen, I just...I need to do this. For myself. Besides, if this place is right as you enter Chichester and on the main road, then there will be houses right across from it."
A long paused followed before it was finally broken by a defeated Morgan.
"If you're sure," Morgan said, shrugging his shoulder.
As Reid left, he called over his shoulder, "I'm positive."
xXx
He was afraid.
No, Spencer Reid was terrified.
While he denied Morgan's request to come with him, a part of him was screaming at him to do otherwise. He wanted the man to come, desperately did, but he knew he couldn't- shouldn't. His fear wasn't about the UnSub or how close he was to his other victims, not anymore. Now, it was the emotion that burned through his veins, boiling his blood and causing a slick, cold sweat to form along his forehead. The emotion he had feared for the longest time- Paranoia.
It was in the ride back from the hospital that he realized how utterly ridiculous he was being. How…insane he was being. Even the word caused a shudder to shake every single bone in his spinal column, quivering up the long stretch of nerves and sending signals throughout his body to do the same. He was so distracted by the victim profile that he hadn't even realized the delusional thinking it was causing- the delusional thinking that he had convinced himself was appropriate.
Footsteps coming towards him- it was the UnSub.
The door creaking open- it was the UnSub.
Feeling eyes on him- it was the UnSub.
When he realized just how paranoid he was, he nearly hit a breaking point. His fear of going insane was crippling him now, making him insane in the process. He couldn't complete this case if he was jumping at every sound and every shadow to emerge. He needed to keep his head- and more importantly, he needed to validate to himself that he wasn't being over reactive.
So he said no to Morgan.
He had to.
'Time to grow up, Spence,' he thought, almost bitterly as he slid into his car and began to drive to where Varney had described, the Doctor's notes at his side.
xXx
"Morgan, where's Reid?" Hotch asked as he entered the board room, never removing his eyes from a printed list Garcia had sent him. He sat in his chair, still not looking up, as Morgan grunted in response to the lack of proper greeting.
'Really, is a 'hello, how are you?' too much to ask for?' he thought, not unkindly, more so teasingly as he answered. "He left to some place Varney told him about, to read the notes. Some place in the Esopus Creek."
Hotch looked up, almost with startling speed and his dark, brown eyes, cold and unsettling, bored into Morgan's. "The Esopus Creek?" he asked slowly, thinking he had heard him wrong.
"Yeah," Morgan responded, not quite grasping the concept until bits and pieces came back to him, slowly at first until it became a tumultuous jumble of unclear thoughts and words.
Two were Fishing.
Two were Swimming.
One was studying…
All five were kidnapped at the Esopus Creek.
All five were alone.
All five were just like Reid.
His heart pumped wildly in his chest as his expression became animalistic- eyes wild and frightened and his mouth wide in an expression of sheer terror. Adrenaline was rushed into his body, dissolving into his blood, his muscles, his bones, his skin…everywhere. It seemed the hormone permeated the very air he breathed, suffocating him, choking him. He needed to breathe, just focus on breathing. But he couldn't.
Reid was in danger.
And it was his fault.
He forgot that important piece of information and had allowed Reid to go on his own- without even so much as a debate! He had let him get away…
The world spun around him and nausea swept in, a result of the soaring levels of adrenaline he was secreting, but he pushed it away. It didn't matter. He didn't matter. Right now, only Reid mattered.
"Where did Varney tell him to go?" Hotch asked, his voice quiet and seemingly collected, but to a trained eye he was having an equally detrimental breakdown as his partner.
His eyes were dilated.
His chest moved shallower and quicker with his breaths.
His lower lip quivered only slightly.
And his left thumb began to twist his wedding ring around- he was petrified.
Morgan searched back for that moment in time, only two hours ago, when Reid had left and what Varney had said. The library was burnt down. The creek…From Phoenicia…the Flats…His mind worked as fast and as hard as possible to remember the name of the town. Leaving Phoenicia, just as you enter…where?
"I…the town…I forget," he said. Was that him? His voice sounded so quiet and meek.
"You need to remember, Morgan," Hotch said, low and dangerous.
He knew that- he knew he needed to remember. But that didn't mean he could just will it to happen. He couldn't help the bitter, guilty voice that entered his mind, telling him that Reid would remember. Reid would've remembered and then give the entire history of the town until someone stopped him.
And then Hotch started listing nearby towns.
Olive? No.
Woodstock? No.
Chichester? YES!
He practically jumped as his memory was jogged.
"In Chichester, just as you leave Phoenicia. A bend in the guardrail…" he trailed off, just as Hotchner ran from the room.
Without skipping a beat, he followed.
xXx
Pt. Dss. fm ses. / work.
Rs. to atpt. Eng. fight. Prs in ts?
Elc. Shk. Cls temper. Gd/bd?
Par. Sch. Symps? Jt temp rs? Prs gd.
Rpd pt. Bcm. More /rs. No prs.
Reid sat on a flat, gray rock, water rushing passed his bare feet as they sat in the creek, wiggling his toes at the slimy clay coating the stones. Ignoring the feeling, he ran a hand through his hair and looked at the Doctor's scribbled notes.
Pt. Dss. fm ses. / work.
Rs. to atpt. Eng. fight. Prs in ts?
Elc. Shk. Cls temper. Gd/bd?
Par. Sch. Symps? Jt temp rs? Prs gd.
Rpd pt. Bcm. More /rs. No prs.
The random, incoherent words ran through Reid's line of vision, taunting him as he reread them, trying to grasp their meaning. It didn't make sense. It was shorthand, complete and total unreadable shorthand. Of course, some words were clearer than others- Fight, and work clearly indicated the obvious.
Perhaps they were medical terms, shortened for efficiency and not secrecy?
Pulling out a separate sheet of paper, he began scribbling down possible words for one line.
Pt. Dss. fm ses. / work.
After a little over a minute, he had deciphered the sentence.
Patient dissociated from the session, it did not work.
He continued, until he had several more lines figured out.
Responds angrily to the attempt. Engaged in fight. Progress in tests?
Electric shock, calms temperament. Is this good or bad?
Paranoid schizophrenic symptoms? Or just temporary response? Progress good.
He paused over the last line. That couldn't be what it translated to, could it? His mind ran a list of everything that would fit in and be cohesive, but there wasn't any other than the one he had tried to disprove. Hesitantly, he wrote down.
Raped patient. Became more unresponsive, no progress.
He stopped at this point, setting his pen down as he felt rage rush through him. What the hell was this man doing? And why? Even though he had decoded this bizarre form of shorthand, he was still no clearer on this UnSub than he was when he began. In fact, he was more confused. Not only was he torturing them for a medical experiment…but, from what he was gathering, he was torturing them for psychological experiments.
Shaking the disturbing thoughts away, he set the notes aside and then returned to the profile, based on what he was gathering from the notes.
'Loose association,' he thought to himself, adding it to a mental checklist he was creating in his head. He shifted slightly on the rock he sat on, pushing his foot even deeper into the chilled water as he ran through the list once more. 'Cognitive dissonance, aware of how others perceive him, yet not aware of the true unethical actions he partakes in, conflicted ideas...black and white thinking? Would that apply in this situation?' he was sidetracked by his list as he began to wonder about just how bizarre this case was. It was more like there were several UnSubs, each with their own pathology instead of one. He never heard of a psychiatric case like this, and wondered if it were possible if the UnSub had several mild disorders working in comorbidity.
His thoughts were interrupted as a familiar voice broke through his mental barrier.
"Dr. Reid, how good it is to see you up and about," Dr. Wright said as he walked down the sloping rocks to join him.
Reid smiled at him, scooting over on his rock to make room for the doctor. He plopped down, stretching his legs and then curling them beneath him so as to avoid the water.
"How are you feeling?"
Reid shrugged. "Alright. My head isn't hurting so much anymore, only if I focus too hard."
Dr. Wright smiled happily as he gently clapped a thick, hard hand on the young man's back. "That's wonderful! You seem to have returned to your work as well. Not wasting a second are we?" he asked with a laugh, eyeing the notes with an odd sort of look in his eyes. For a reason Reid couldn't quite comprehend, he straightened the pile and then placed it face down to hide it from his view.
Dr. Wright only smiled.
"I spoke to your teammate- Agent Jareau. She spoke very highly of you, you know. Praised your intelligence. She also explained to me how you had a rather unfortunate time growing up because of your advancement," he said, the ever present smile there.
Reid bristled with his words. JJ gave away such private information? He felt hurt, betrayed almost, that she had been so free with his life and handed it out to a stranger. But then again, this was a doctor- his discharge doctor- and so she had probably reasoned that he had only his best intentions at heart.
He really needed to learn to trust more.
"Ugh, yeah. But it's in the past now," he said with a flourish of his hand, wanting the man to go away now.
"Well, from what she tells me, you still are quite socially awkward. And she's right, you have difficulty with eye contact, nervousness around others, inappropriate social interactions…"
Reid stared at the man, his heart thumping. Was he being…profiled?
Before his thoughts could go any further, Dr. Wright then said, "Have you ever been tested for Asperger's Syndrome? Because you match the description perfectly." He paused here for a second, before reaching back and sliding his hand inside his pocket and fiddling with the fabric. "You also fit the description of those men they've been finding."
His heart skipped a beat.
He swallowed heavily.
With a trembling, shaking voice he asked, "Pardon?"
In a voice so calm that the two men were a juxtaposition, he said, "The victims of The Doctor. You're just like them. Except," he looked up at the sky, a small smile appearing on his face. "You're better."
xXx
"Go faster, Morgan!" Hotch shouted, slightly betraying his normally cold exterior. Who knew how far away they were from Spencer? How close he was to being kidnapped? His chest was pounding and he couldn't distinguish the noise his heart was making from other external noises. He was convinced that Morgan could hear the thadump thump….thadump thump of his heart as it beat harshly against his ribcage. Sweat covered his brow and he quickly wiped it away with the heel of his palm. 'Damn it, couldn't this car go any faster?'
Behind them, practically tailgating them, were Rossi, JJ and Emily, immediately running on to the scene the moment they received the urgent call from their boss. Everyone was in a panicked state, desperately wanting to reach Reid before the Doctor did. But, as Hotch had noticed in the boardroom back at the station, Morgan was taking this more personally. It didn't take an in depth understanding of behavioral sciences to know that he blamed himself for Reid being placed in danger.
Turning his focus to the road and the quickly dissolving green that passed his sides as the car sped forward, he decided to focus on that later. Right now, that had to get Reid.
If they got the youngest member of the team to safety, he would comfort Morgan.
His eyes widened.
When they got him to safety.
Not if.
He gulped nervously as he quietly prayed for Morgan to go even faster still.
xXx
Author's Note: And so the real story begins! Tried my best to make it seem like a plausible account. I feel as though Reid has too much pride and also feels slightly ashamed that he's often considered the kid of the group and the one who needs most protection. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, alerted this story. It means a lot and your thoughts and suggestions could only help me improve this story of mine. Present time now!
Also, a specific response to Gemma72: The thing about hospitals is they pretty much kick you out as soon as you're functioning in order to keep enough beds open, haha. I felt as though three days for a concussion and other injuries was fair, especially since they could no longer do anything for his injuries. And as for not speaking to him about the victimology, my thought was that they were doing it more for Reid's benefit than being dismissive. But I am trying to make it as plausible as possible, on all parts, so I'll try to explain their views regarding this situation better.
Chapter Six: Mad Men Know (Preview)
He struggled on unsteady, shaking legs, trying to wrench himself free of the grasp. When the fingers released suddenly, leaving soon-to-be-bruises in its place, he stumbled backwards, unprepared for Dr. Wright to let go. As the flecks of green and brown and gold came into view from the trees above him as his vision finally settled somewhat and allowed blurs to become fuzzy, colorful shapes, a shove at his chest pushed him further back. And when he placed a foot down, searching for a stable surface, he found none.
His stomach slipped into his throat as he fell off the rock, crashing into the water before him, his leg cracking against a protruding rock below. He cried out in pain for only seconds before the water slipped into his open mouth and choked him. Sputtering and coughing, he frantically fought with all four limbs to resurface, to find air, to breathe. The water was strangling him, icy fingers wrapping around his neck and closing tight. The liquid seeping into his clothes dragged him under, weighing his tan slacks and shirt and sweater down and making his struggle for air even more difficult. His chest was collapsing, his lungs filling with water. He was going to drown.