Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.
Chapter Nine: Lock and Key
'A man who is "of sound mind" is one who keeps the inner madman under lock and key.' –Paul Valery
A photograph of Spencer Reid lay on the table, a candid one taken by JJ one night after a particularly long and exhausting case. She remembered being tired on the ride back to Quantico, but forced herself awake because it would only be more difficult to nap on the jet and then get up and drive home. In an attempt to busy herself and her mind, she took a camera and began taking snapshots of everything. She had a picture of Rossi "reading" a book- oddly enough with his eyes closed- a picture of Morgan winking at her in a very posed way, and a picture of Hotch laughing after a particularly witty jab at Reid- this picture in question thought to be the only one of its kind, as Hotch did not smile nor laugh often enough. But the picture that lay out before her was the one she had taken of Reid- his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, dark curls covering his face. He hadn't been aware that she was taking a photo until seconds before she did, capturing his surprise at the precise moment.
She sniffled slightly as she rubbed at her blotchy eyes, her hair hanging down around her and covering the photograph. She still couldn't believe it…It had been two days now that he was gone and she still couldn't believe it. She felt for sure that she would see him walk through the door and into the boardroom, making a beeline to the coffee maker. She imagined he would get his cup, and Morgan would ask if he wanted some coffee with his sugar, and he would ignore him, sitting down and start talking about his newest theory on the UnSub. He would sprout out random, confusing facts and statistics that left the team with wide, exasperated eyes before he realized he was the only one who even knew what he said half the time.
But that wouldn't happen.
He couldn't walk through the door because he was being held captive by the UnSub, having God knew what happen to him. She whimpered at the images from the first debriefing of this case. To much her chagrin, the subjects of those photographs morphed and became a dead Reid, and she saw herself and the team find his body in the creek.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Naked.
Scarred.
Burned.
She nearly screamed at the pictures floating through her mind- but the team needed her, Spencer needed her, and she couldn't help him or anyone if she was suffering a nervous break (Or, as Spencer were say if he were there, a major depressive episode- they don't call them nervous breakdowns anymore). So with a calming breath, she stood and snatched the photo off the table, cramming it into her bag to be forgotten until it was okay to feel emotional again.
As she began collecting her stuff together, thinking of anything she could that wasn't related to Spencer- which was near impossible as everything reminded her of a random fact he had stated- the door clicked open and Hotch entered halfway into the room.
"We're about to release the profile."
And like that he was gone, the door clicking in place.
Biting her lip, she smoothed her hair and washed her face before heading off to find him, hoping this would bring them closer to Spencer.
xXx
"The man we're looking for is most likely a white male, in his late twenties to late thirties," Hotch said at the cameras and cameramen before him, as reporters waited anxiously to hear more. "He's charismatic, and very outgoing but can have unexplainable moments of detachedness- staring at something for minutes, or avoiding specific topics."
Emily stepped in now. "We think this man might've been a student in medical school and was close to achieving a doctorate when he was kicked out- most likely for some unethical theories or ideas. He's very upset about this fact but still tries to hold onto it in his occupation or even in his personal life. He may often suggest unwarranted medical advice or volunteer to do a medical procedure, small or large, for you," she said, nodding her head as reporters wrote down what she was saying with lightning speed.
"Though this man is unstable, he may seem perfectly normal. He is extremely dangerous though and we ask that everyone proceed with caution in their day to day lives. If you suspect anyone, we ask that you call your local police station and provide the information to someone working the case," Hotch explained.
"If you do know of someone you suspect, do not approach them. This killer- The Doctor- believes that his work is admirable and necessary, so anyone who approaches him will most likely put him on the offensive. He thinks people don't understand his work and so will be highly protective of it if questioned," Emily added before asking, "Any questions?"
Questions and comments were fired off, but eventually among the chaos and cacophony of it all, they managed to hear one question loud and clear.
"Is it true one of the latest victims was one of your own, Agent Hotchner?"
Any noise that followed that was unheard of then, as that all consuming guilt and anger came crashing back to Hotch, almost knocking him off his feet. But, as always, he was the picture of calmness as he bit the inside of his cheeks and said, "Yes, Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid was captured Tuesday, between the hours of eleven in the morning and one in the afternoon."
New questions emerged, focusing specifically on what was just revealed.
"How was Dr. Reid captured? Was he alone?"
"Did the killer leave any message or ransom note?"
"Are any of the other agents targeted next?
"What are the chances that he'll be found alive?"
The noise had grown to be too much, and suddenly the lights were too bright. The clouds of bright white and yellow from the lights grew and encompassed Hotch's vision and he needed to sit down….needed to get away from the overwhelming sound and light. He felt like he was swaying to and fro, but couldn't be sure if he was actually doing so, and, without so much of a warning, he walked away and left the interview, leaving a gaping Emily and a new onslaught of questions that he just managed to catch before disappearing into the sitting room.
"How does Agent Hotchner feel about his disappearance?"
"Does he feel responsible?"
"What was his relationship with Dr. Reid?"
SLAM!
The sound of the door crashing into its frame silenced the noise, and he felt relief wash over him. He pressed his palms flat against the metal surface and took a deep breath, slowly tilting his head forward so that his forehead did the same, the cool material welcome on his fevered flesh.
Even the media blamed him for Reid's disappearance. Not as if they were wrong- he was the boss, he should have protected him- but it did nothing to abate his guilt. He couldn't imagine what Reid was going through at that moment- torture, pain, experiments- and it was all his fault.
He moved away from the door and sat down on a cushioned armchair, letting his head fall back so that the top of the chair lay just under his neck. His eyes closed, dimming out the obtrusive glare of fluorescent lighting and he let his breath become even. Perhaps it was a form of meditation, sitting in an empty, bright room with his eyes closed as he focused only on creating a steady rhythm with his breath.
Breathe in.
One, two, three, four.
Breathe out.
One, two, three, four…
Whatever it was, it worked and he felt his body and mind relax as the nausea subsided and he could think clearly and be the composed Aaron Hotchner he was known to be.
SLAM!
He lurched at the sudden sound of the door, reaching around his hip instinctively just as he turned around and saw a somewhat agitated Emily before him, her hands on her hips and her lips pulled into a thin, straight line.
"What the hell happened out there?" she yelled, nodding her head to the right to indicate that she meant outside where the press conference had taken place, moments before. Hotch was silent for a second, but a second was all she needed. Her stance and expression immediately softened, as her dark brown eyes turned sympathetic and she approached him. Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his shoulder, somewhat happy that he didn't shirk away.
"No one blames you, Hotch," she said.
He shook his head. "I do. And I should."
"No, you shouldn't. It's-"
"Don't be ridiculous, Emily! I'm supposed to lead this team; I'm supposed to make sure everyone is okay! If someone gets hurt doing this job, it's my fault for not preventing it."
She would've laughed had the situation not been more serious. "Hotch, if we get hurt it's because we make a living out of hunting dangerous people. And we put ourselves in the line of danger to help people because that's what we do! We didn't sign up for this job expecting safety," she tried to say, but he just shook his head again.
"We all knew, Emily. We all knew how well he fit the description, and yet we did nothing. We just let him go off and…" he stopped himself, taking another long, composing breath.
'It's amazing how even during a mental break he can appear so in control,' Emily thought briefly before returning to the subject at hand. "The fact remains that he's been captured. You said it yourself, we need to work on this case as best as we can, and blaming each other or ourselves isn't going to help us get Reid back." He looked at her, an indiscernible expression in place as always.
She was right.
He did say that.
And now he needed to act that.
"Tomorrow, we're going to interview everyone on the list Garcia gave us. We'll break into teams, you and me, Rossi and JJ and Morgan and Varney," he said, and Emily smiled. She knew that if anyone could be relied on to remain calm and collected in the face of danger, it was her boss. He would make sure everyone kept their wits about them, made sure everyone focused on saving Reid, even if he himself allowed for a moment of grief, as he had just experienced. And she hoped with everything she had, that Reid would somehow know just how loved and cared for he was, despite whatever he was being subjected to.
Repressing the thought and imagery that crossed her mind in only the way a profiler could compartmentalize everything, she said, "We'll find him. We're all working our butts off and Reid is an incredibly strong person. A lot stronger than I think he receives credit for."
Hotch opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the door opening and Varney stepping through.
"Hey, I'm really sorry to interrupt, but we have a woman out here," he said, breathless and wide-eyed as a small, hopeful smile flitted onto his visage. "She says she thinks she knows who the UnSub is."
With that, Hotch and Emily stood simultaneously and ran from the room.
xXx
His thigh was on fire.
That was the only thing Reid could focus on when he woke up, the fuzziness from having passed out disappearing quickly as he registered the pain, biting hard on his lip to stop from crying out. He was once again chained up to the bed, his broken leg elevated and with a new bandage on the thigh, covering the gash mark. He was still dressed in hospital gowns, but these ones were clean and had not even a discoloration of a mild stain.
However, the cleanliness of his wardrobe was not at the forefront of his mind as he focused once more on his situation.
The UnSub was trying to convince him he was insane…was that what he was experimenting with? Trying to see if he could force the mind between sanity and insanity as he pleased? He shivered at the thought, not wanting to even think about what he would be put through if that was the goal. Stabbing him because he refused to believe what Andrew was saying was painful enough, and he knew that the more he denied Andrew's claims, the more pain he would feel. Cognitive reinforcement.
'He's trying to make my mind associate sanity with pain,' he thought to himself as he raised his leg slightly and subconsciously began rubbing the bandaged thigh. If he wanted to avoid being beaten, he would need to convince Dr. Wright that he believed himself to be insane. But what if that was why he killed the other victims? What if he was killing them because once he made them insane, he had no more use for them? If that was the case, than he would much prefer pain to death.
But Reid couldn't help the horrible question that his mind was shouting at him.
What if Andrew succeeded, and he started to really believe he was insane?
Even though he wanted to use logic against his own question, he couldn't. He knew as well as anyone that a person can, if under the right stress and circumstances, believe themselves insane- and God knew Reid was under a lot of stress right now. In fact, he wouldn't be too surprised if the weight of the whole situation caused a real psychotic episode to occur if he remained in the Doctor's hands for too long.
He whimpered at the thought. His very fear- the thing he feared more than any UnSub he had ever seen or faced- was so close to happening. His reality could, at any minute, dissolve into insanity and he would be confronted with the thing he always dreaded, always sought to avoid- psychoses.
Without his want, his mind began to fashion scenarios of his life, the life he would live if he were to go insane.
A life in a hospital.
A life where the sun and the sky and the grass eluded him.
A life where his genius meant nothing because he was crazy, and who listens to crazy people anyway?
A life unfulfilled.
A life where his own mind lied to him every single second.
Where he couldn't trust himself and what he was seeing or hearing…
Where he believed everyone was out for him…
He cried out suddenly, the scenarios too painful to even consider. This couldn't be happening to him. How could he be placed in a situation where insanity or pain were his only options? It wasn't fair. What did he ever do to deserve this?
'Calm down. Freaking out isn't going to help you,' a voice that sounded oddly like Hotchner said in his mind. As disturbing as it was to have been around the man so much that even his thoughts were sounding like him, he knew it was right. He needed to relax, he needed to think clearly.
He took a deep, calming breath that shook his entire body, his eyes closed as he began thinking rationally.
'Don't accept what Dr. Wright says is true. He probably disposes his victims once they crack. Accept the pain- it isn't so bad, you've been through similar, Spence. Mind over matter, don't let the pain make you give in. The longer you hold out, the longer you'll live. Your team will rescue you- they're smart and reliable. They didn't need you to solve cases before, and they don't need you now,' he thought to himself and he instantly felt calmer. His team would help him, he knew they would. But he couldn't help but wonder how they were handling his disappearance.
No, he wasn't so silly as to wonder if they missed him, though a very large part of him hoped they did. He was wondering how close they were, if they were close at all, or even how long he had been gone for. His moments of consciousness were so far and few between that it was impossible to decipher an amount based on that alone- not to mention the constant state of sensory deprivation he was placed in. He could only recall being offered five meals, but that didn't necessarily mean he was here a day and a half- it is, after all, impossible to remember missing meals if you're not awake at the time.
The door opened and Andrew walked in, carrying the very subject of his thoughts in a tray which he placed on the desk.
"Good evening, Spencer," he said, offering him a smile as he walked over, preparing to undo the restraints. "How are you feeling? You suffered a rather nasty gash when fighting me, I'm afraid."
Reid resisted the urge to glare at him.
"Spencer? How are you feeling?" he asked as he finally released the bindings, but still held tight to his wrists as he helped pull him off the bed, supporting Reid's weight as he limped with the doctor.
"I'd be a lot better if I could see my friends," he said, letting the doctor cuff his wrists once more when he sat down in the chair. "Can you please let me see my friends?"
Andrew shook his head as he pulled the lid off the tray, revealing two hot dogs, string beans and some macaroni salad. "I'm afraid visitation rights are put on hold until you can manage proper behavior, Spencer."
Reid bit the inside of his mouth in irritation. "Look, I don't know what you're getting at, but my team will find you. They are fully qualified FBI agents who-"
"Spencer! There are no FBI agents!" he said, shaking his head sadly and Reid fought the urge to cry as all the scenarios came rushing back to him in that instant. He wasn't insane. He wasn't. Andrew was the insane one. Not him.
After a long pause in which Reid stared down at his lap, tears threatening to break free as he chewed on the inside of his mouth, Andrew handed him a fork and then stood with a great sigh. "Eat up, Spencer. I'll return in about twenty minutes."
And he left.
Reid let the tears slip down his face as he pulled on his restraints. He needed to get out. Needed to hear Morgan say he was as sane as anyone could be, needed Hotch to tell him that he shouldn't put any validity into what an UnSub says. He needed everything he couldn't have at the moment.
He sat like that for nearly ten minutes before the grumble of his stomach made itself known once more, and he reluctantly began picking at his food, too upset to truly eat.
xXx
As promised, Andrew returned ten minutes into Reid eating.
"Ah, I see you're not very hungry right now?" he asked, motioning to the tray that still had one and a half hot dog and a fair portion of the macaroni salad and string beans left. Reid didn't respond, he just continued to push the elbow macaroni noodles across his plate absentmindedly.
When Andrew realized he would not get a proper answer from Reid, he produced an individually foil wrapped pill and a small water bottle from a pocket of his lab coat. Reid swallowed as he eyed the medication, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice when he asked, "What…what's that?"
"Clozaril. Part of your new treatment. It will help with the delusions. It's very commonly used to treat such cases of schizophrenia-"
"I'm not schizophrenic," Reid said sharply.
Andrew gave him a sad, condescending smile. "Of course not, Spencer." He broke the foil and the pill fell into his palm, which he outstretched for Reid to take. "Just take this and-"
Smack!
The restraints had enough give for Reid to reach out and slap the doctor's hand away, promptly knocking the pill from his palm and onto the cold linoleum. Cold eyes turned to him, but he didn't look away. He bit his lip as the eyes promised a great punishment for what he had done.
Maintaining his ground however, he said, "I'm not taking any pills for something I don't have."
He could practically see the tendrils of rage coming out of Andrew and resisted the urge to back down. He wasn't insane, he wasn't going to take pills and that was that.
Roaring with anger, Andrew reached out and grabbed a large section of Reid's hair, using his other hand to quickly unfasten the restraints with the small keys. With a yelp of pain, Reid was lifted into the air, feeling like his entire scalp would've been ripped off if he continued to dangle there like that, brown curls locked in a tight fist by Dr. Wright. His legs kicked out underneath him as he reached up and dug his nails into Andrew's hand, trying to dislodge his grip from his hair while making grunts of pain and exhaustion. And then his broken leg, moving around with just as much vigor as his broken one, crashed into the chair he had previously been sitting in with a thwack! and he screamed out in agony.
As his knee buckled and came up to meet his chest, Andrew dropped him to the cold floor. Thankfully, Reid's reflexes were sharp enough that he managed to roll his position before landing, keeping his already throbbing broken leg away from the collision. But now his shoulder and hip smarted painfully and he was alternating between holding his leg to him and hugging his shoulder. So much of him hurt and he didn't know what to do, where to focus his attention. Before anymore contemplation could be given, he was lifted off the floor once, two hands slipping under his armpits and pulling him up before throwing him down once more, his lower back taken over by pain.
Reid let out another cry as he attempted to stand, only to receive a sharp kick under his chin. His head snapped back and with the force of the momentum, he fell back, the breath knocked out of him.
Just as he moved to sit up, a heavy force stepped onto his belly and he gasped out. He looked up to see Andrew towering over him, his foot placed on Reid's diaphragm as he applied more and more pressure.
His breath was escaping him faster and faster and it felt like his entire chest would collapse. He tried breathing but he couldn't inhale, Andrew was applying too much weight for his lungs to expand. Sputtering, he reached up and tried to throw punches at his leg, hoping to knock his foot off, but his head was swooning from lack of oxygen and he couldn't aim probably. His fists would fall back to the floor or swing in large, swooping arcs before colliding with a loud bang on the linoleum.
Andrew became nothing more than a fuzzy, unreadable shape. Blinking the tears from his eyes, he swallowed, his chest still restricted as he did the only thing he could think to do.
"Please, Andrew," he said, his voice small and gasping as what little breath he had left was pushed away with his words. He was suffocating now. No oxygen to replenish and expand his lungs, nothing to keep his blood and organs healthy. He had wasted his last breath on a plea that went unnoticed.
But slowly, Andrew raised his foot, and Reid's mouth opened wide to inhale as much of the precious oxygen as he could. In long, gulping breaths, his lungs pushed back into activity and his vision swam into a wave of colors as his brain received the proper amount of air.
He was picked up, his sore, broken body placed gingerly down on the bed. Andrew made to grab his wrists, but Reid pulled them away, holding his hands bunched together at his neck and with as much strength as his worn out muscles would allow. He didn't want to be tied down anymore. His wrists were so aching and chafed from the cuffs as it was and he just wanted to wrap his arms around his waist- a feat made impossible by the restrictive bindings.
But Andrew grabbed his wrists and pried them apart easily, putting them into the restraints once more. When Reid was back in the hospital bed, securely tied in and exhausted, Andrew leaned forward and said, "The medicine will help. But I won't give it to you just yet. Trust me, you'll come to understand why you need it."
He pushed some stray locks out of Reid's face, who flinched in response, before striding across the room and grabbing the tray of the half-eaten dinner on his way out.
Reid moaned in pain- every part of him hurt. He was sure his leg was broken even more now and that the stitches in his thigh had been reopened; not to mention the numerous new injuries he was sure to have gained.
He closed his eyes, trying to meditate once more, but the pain was inescapable. And so, with no meditation zone available, he fell into a fitful sleep.
xXx
The person who Varney had spoken of was an older woman- in her late fifties perhaps, with more gray hair than auburn pulled into a loose bun on the back of her head. Her cheeks sunk downward and deep wrinkles surrounded her dim blue eyes- void of all luster- as she bounced anxiously from one foot to the other. She was overweight, which was even more pronounced by the baggy clothes she wore which seemed to swallow her up. Yet despite her frazzled and slightly nerved appearance, she smiled cordially at Hotch and Emily as they came to her, followed by Varney.
"Hello, I'm Special Agent Aaron Hotchner," Hotch greeted as he held his hand out. She shook it loosely and detachedly as he added, "Office Varney told us that you had some information regarding a possible suspect."
She sobbed greatly, her entire face scrunching inward as she reached up and concealed her red and puffy eyes from view, her shoulders shaking with such intensity that Emily wrapped an arm around her and led her to a nearby couch.
"It's alright, Ma'am. You can take your time," she said comfortingly as she motioned for Hotch to grab a tissue box. He did so, and the woman accepted the tissues with a nod of thanks. For several minutes, Emily whispered calming words to her and she eventually regained enough of her composure to explain her suspect.
"I…I'm sorry, Agent Hotchner. But…thinking my little Philip could…could…" she bit back tears and looked to the side, swallowing as much emotion as possible. "My name is Elyse Matthews. And I…I think my son…might be the…the…"
"UnSub?" Hotch prompted, and she nodded, sniffling slightly.
"Why do you think that, Ms. Matthews?" Emily asked.
She shook her head lethargically. "He's just…he's always been a little…bizarre. I mean…oh does that make me a horrible mother?" she asked desperately and Emily cupped her face gently.
"No, it doesn't. I'm sure you've done the best you could for your son, for Philip, and if he is the one doing this, than he has made his own decisions, no fault on you. But you have to understand, this UnSub is hurting many people, and he needs to be stopped. It took a lot of bravery for you to do this, and you could be the reason many lives are saved," she cooed, and Elyse nodded solemnly.
"He went to medical school, but was kicked out. He never told me why, he always just got so offensive and angry. Now he works for the local funeral parlor, but he doesn't seem happy…"
Emily shot Hotch a look at the mention of the funeral parlor. 'Just like Reid said…'
"Ms. Matthews, we know this was hard for you, but you did the right thing," Hotch said and she sniffled in response.
Tapping Emily on the shoulder, he indicated that he was going to go to the rest of the team and inform them of the new lead, each hoping that this could bring them to their friend.
xXx
Author's Note: Longest chapter yet! Eleven pages on Microsoft Word- I must really like you guys, haha. Please review and let me hear your thoughts.
Chapter Ten: Never Stops (Preview)
"What do you got on our boy Philip, Garcia?" Morgan asked as everyone sat impatiently around the table, feet tapping and pens clicking.
"A lot of weird stuff," she responded and they could practically hear the exasperation in her voice. "I found his records from medical school and this guy is so far off the straight and narrow he's doing doughnuts like there's no tomorrow."
"What did you find?" Hotch asked, anticipation welling up inside him.
"Freaky experiments with a capital F. I want you to imagine Frankenstein, The Fly and Psycho all rolled into one unholy lovechild and you've got Matthews. Apparently, he was kicked out of his school from robbing local pet cemeteries and combining them- like a cat with the head of a rabbit and stuff like that- and then tried to regenerate them. He was discovered one night by his roommate who ratted him out. He was a semester away from his doctorate at the time of expulsion and had to be removed by campus police after responding violently to the news," she said and the team involuntarily gagged at the information.