Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.

Chapter Fifteen: In All Matters

'In all matters of opinion, our adversaries are insane.' –Oscar Wilde

Reid woke up to voices; tangible, embodied voices. His mind was cloudy with what he now knew to be heavy narcotics. He felt numb, his entire body on a completely separate plane of existence. He barely noticed the poking and prodding of metal utensils against his chest, or the bright beam of light hanging over him. His brain was too fuzzy and his thoughts too disconnected. The only thing he could hone in on were the voices surrounding him, speaking over him as metal instruments continued to work on his chest.

"Why did you shoot him in the chest, of all places?"

"I panicked- I just aimed and shot."

A scoff. "You're lucky I at least taught you some basic medical training. Lord knows he wouldn't be alive right now if not for that."

"Oh, as if you were much help. Getting yourself knocked unconscious for six hours."

"He tricked me. I thought it had worked."

"I still can't believe you got taken down by someone with broken bones and more scar tissue than skin tissue."

"Why do I even keep you around?"

"That's a stupid question."

Reid began to stir, sensation slowly creeping back to him as the voices continued to argue. He felt so heavy, so dizzy. His head lolled to the side and he tentatively cracked his eyes open, wincing at the glaring light above him. But the more he looked around, the more he realized the situation he was in. He was on an operating table, his chest bare as Andrew worked on his wound to safely remove the bullet, the entire section numb.

"Thank the Gods you have bad aim. You managed to shoot him above the heart, far enough away to prevent any fatal injuries," Andrew said as the owner of the second voice, who Reid soon discovered was Varney, rolled his eyes.

"Why does it matter anyway? He seems to have too much fight in him to be worth it. Why not find a different-" he started but was stopped by Andrew, who angrily slammed his fist down on a nearby table, turning his attention to the police officer.

"Because Spencer is perfect!" he shouted, his face turning red.

Varney jumped slightly, pulling back as he narrowed his eyes in confusion at his outburst. But Reid's mind had taken focus aware from the quarrel at hand and placed it directly on Varney, the police officer who he had worked with prior to being kidnapped. The police officer he had ate lunch with. The police officer who had told him where to go that day. The police officer who shot him. The police officer who was working with the UnSub all along.

How could he have done this to them? How did they not know? As he ran through all his conversations with the police officer, trying to isolate any hinting incidences that would have revealed his true personality, a deeply disturbing thought came over him. What if Varney had been the one raping him? His body twisted with physical discomfort at the thought. Had he really been so close to a monster all along? Had he really been betrayed by someone who he thought was friendly and helpful? He wanted to punch himself with the anger and self hate he felt right then and there. The question that he asked himself on the first day of his imprisonment resurfaced once more, louder and more reprimanding than before.

How could he have been so stupid?

His eyes cracked open again, watching with an almost sick fascination as Andrew operated on him, carefully working on the wound that, had his chest not been numb, he was sure would cause him insurmountable pain. Varney stood to his right, acting as an assistant as he helped Andrew here and there.

"Hand me the surgical knife," Andrew commanded and Varney reached to his side, producing the small knife and handing it to the man over Reid's chest.

It was the sight of his hands that set him off.

Hands that moved his gown up.

Hands that explored his body.

Hands that held him in place.

Hands that bruised his hips.

Reid growled in anger, embarrassment, guilt, and hatred, trying to pull his arms away from his sides only to find that they were so tightly clamped down to the rails of the table he could barely move his elbows. His movements, however, were enough to alert the two men to his consciousness and Andrew looked at him with a face a surprise.

"How...how is he even..."

Varney shook his head, smirking sadistically as he said, "Beats me why the little brat is always fighting." Andrew shot him a withering look before turning back to Reid, his expression almost tender as he reached out and gently stroked his cheek.

"Don't worry. We'll have you fixed up in no time. You're quite the fighter, you know," he said, pulling his hand back as he motioned towards something Reid couldn't see and mouthed a command to Varney. The police officer disappeared from view, only to return several seconds later as he placed a mask over Reid's mouth, who fruitlessly tried to pull away.

"Fine, go ahead and be conscious through the whole damn surgery. You'll pass out when the numbing wears off anyway," Varney mumbled angrily, causing Reid to still, letting the mask fully cover his nose and mouth. Varney looked up at him, smirking as he added, "Not so much fight as we thought then, eh? Oh well."

The room blurred, the voices faded, and Reid succumbed to sleep.

xXx

"Did you call the Border Authority?" Hotch asked as JJ entered the room, her blonde hair pulled up into a loose bun and large, purple bags sitting below her eyes. She nodded as she sat down in a large swivel chair, crossing her legs and leaning back.

"I gave them a description of both Varney and Spencer. They promised to call and act immediately if they find anything suspicious," she said.

At the moment Morgan walked into the room, clicking his phone shut as he stood before them all. "I just got off the phone with Garcia. She did some digging around and found out that not only is Varney's mother alive and well, but she's living in Florida. But she never sold her house in Quebec, which means-"

"That could be they're hide-out," Rossi finished.

Morgan nodded. "Garcia's emailing us the address as we speak."

Hotch stood and turned to JJ. "Get the Border Authority back on the phone. Give them the address and tell them to check it out."

"Got it," she said as she stood and practically ran from the room as Hotch turned to the remaining team members, ready to give out instructions.

"Alright, here's our plan. Once JJ informs the Border Authority and have them search the house, we're going to go to Varney's house. A search warrant is already being processed. We well search everything with his name on in it. We will question his family." He paused, debating on whether or not to say this next piece. He always preferred to never say anything too hopeful, to never hint towards the positives in case the negatives won out. But just this once, maybe he should make an exception. Let his team hope. Looking down to the floor for a brief second before returning his gaze to his team, he added, "And we will find him."

Everyone nodded, though no one possessed a look that showed that they believed in their bosses words. Even if the did find him, it wouldn't be their Spencer. He would be different. Anyone would be different after six days with that monster.

"What if this is just another Red Herring?" Emily suggested, raising her arms only to flop them exasperatedly to her sides. "What if Varney isn't our guy and we have to keep digging? What if-"

"He's the partner," Rossi said, his eyes never leaving the desk he sat at. Hotch looked at him, prompting him to continue. "He has no medical training. And when we started the case, we did speculate on the contradictions in it. The victims were beaten, then healed. Then sodomized. Then embalmed. Then left naked. There were conflicting levels of respect and hate. There are two UnSubs. And Varney's one of them."

"So what if Varney fled the country and Reid and the Doctor are still here?" Morgan asked.

"Then we keep searching until we find them," Hotch said. "Even if Varney is another Red Herring, he's at least connected to our real UnSub. We find him, we find Reid."

"I alerted Border Patrol. They contacted Canadian Law Enforcement and are sending a group of armed officers at the address now," JJ said as she entered once more. Looking around, she asked, "What'd I miss?"

Rossi shook his head. "Nothing really. We're still searching for Varney and his partner."

"Partner?" she asked, raising a slender, blonde brow. But before anyone could answer her question, they were interrupted by the loud, beeping ring of Morgan's cell phone. He reached for it, opening it and immediately putting the caller on speakerphone.

"What is it, Baby Doll?" he asked.

"Somewhat positive news," Garcia said uncertainly, as though she were stretching the definition of 'positive'.

"What is it?" Hotch asked, moving forward.

"Well, I was going over Varney's flight information and found that his ticket was never registered the day of the flight- or at all, for that matter. After I found that out, I hacked into the airports security archives and searched like I've never searched before. Varney did not enter or leave the terminal at all," she said, her voice gradually growing in confidence as she continued with her story.

"Varney never got on that plane," Hotch said, more to himself than anyone.

"Or any plane. I then looked to all nearby airports to see if there were any tickets purchased under his name or a possible pseudonym- nada. Then, I hacked into all the security footage from those airports and still, didn't find him. The only way Varney could've gotten into Canada was driving. But I looked into that too- his passport was not used. He did not cross country lines. He is still in the states. Possibly even still in New York."

Morgan was smiling wide, one of the first real smiles in days. "There's the miracle worker I know," he chuckled and they could practically hear her smirk at the comment.

"Good job, Garcia. You really pulled through on this," Hotch said. He then looked around the room and added, "I'm going to check the status of the search warrant. The second it's in, we're paying Mrs. Varney a visit."

xXx

"Mrs. Varney," Hotch said, rapping his knuckles on the door, the search warrant in his hand. "We need to speak to you. Open up, this is the FBI." He jumped back as the door opened, a ten year old boy standing behind.

"Hello?" he asked, confusion evident in his face.

"Hey," Emily started, smiling wide as she leaned forward to look the young boy in the eyes. "My name is Emily Prentiss. What's yours?"

"Shawn," he said, before looking around, brown eyes wide. "Are you really the FBI?"

"Yes, we are. Is your mother home? We need to speak with her," Hotch said.

Shawn opened the door wider slightly as he leaned back, his hand grasping the door knob as he called through the house. "MOM! THE POLICE ARE HERE!" he yelled. Immediately, footsteps echoed off the walls and a woman in her early forties came into view, wispy blonde hair pulled back into a bun as she looked nervously at each agent.

"Can I help you?" she asked, wrapping an arm around Shawn's shoulder as she knitted her brow in concern.

"Miss, are you Linda Varney?" Morgan asked.

Slowly, she nodded. "Yes, I am. What...what is all this about?"

Hotch lifted his hand, holding the folded search warrant in her line of vision. She pursed her painted lips as she leaned forward, her brown eyes scanning the visible words as she read. She gasped, her eyes opening wide as she pulled back and pushed Shawn behind her, who called her name in protest. "A search warrant? What for?" she asked, her voice raising to high pitches.

"Ma'am, I think it's best if your son isn't here to hear this," Morgan said, nodding towards the boy peaking out from behind his mother's waist. Linda turned around and gave him a stern look before grabbing his shoulders and motioning for him to go out back.

"But mom! I want-" he protested.

"Don't!" she snapped, effectively silencing the boy who bit his lip and turned around, stomping all the way to the backyard, pausing only to slam the door.

Linda turned back to face them, smiling apologetically as she let them in, yet her eyes were darkened with worry. "I'm sorry about him. But um...what...what is this warrant for?" she asked, sitting down on a worn, comfy looking couch, leaning forward with her palms pressed flat on her knees.

"We have reason to believe that your husband, Heath Varney, is connected to the abductions and murders that have been occurring here," Emily said softly, her eyes flitting to the floor the second understanding dawned in the woman.

"Wh...what?" she asked, her hands flying up to her chin. "You...you can't be..."

"I'm sorry."

Linda shook her hand, standing up only to sit back down when a wave dizziness crashed into her. "You're...he's not...he's not a murderer...he's a good man!" she yelled, her voice breaking over sobs as tears fell down her cheeks, marring the thin layer of eyeliner she had on. "He wouldn't hurt a fly! Let alone a human!"

"I'm sorry about this Ma'am, but like Agent Prentiss said, we have evidence against him," Hotch began, motioning towards Emily when he said her name. "We need you to help us now. Whoever the murderer is, he has an agent of ours and everything you say could only increase our chances of finding him. Please."

Linda bit her lip in an attempt to stop her tears as she looked down at her lap. She raised her hand and used the heel of it to wipe at her eyes, black marks on her skin from where her make-up had ran. After several minutes, she sniffled and looked up, her brown eyes empty and listless, but alight with determination. "What do you need to know?" she asked.

"We're going to have to perform a search of your property, as well as interview you," Hotch said, and she dismissively waved her hand, sniffling once more.

"Then...just...just search. But, please...please don't tell my son anything," she said quietly, her eyes returning once more to her lap.

"Of course," Emily said with a nod as the team turned to inspect the house, all except Morgan who came forward, sitting in the armchair opposite Linda.

"I'm Agent Morgan. Would it be alright if I ask you a couple of questions?" he said, leaning forward in his seat as he entwined his fingers together and propped his elbows on his knees. Linda nodded, sniffling once more.

"Does your husband have any friends who have a background in medical training?"

She thought for a moment, reaching into her pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. As she pulled one out, she looked at Morgan and asked, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," he said with a comforting smile.

Returning the gesture, though shakily, she lit the cigarette and took a drag, blowing out a puff of smoke before saying. "Um...Well, most of Heath's friends are police officers so I wouldn't...but then again, I called him once, to see when he was coming home, and in the background I heard like an announcement, like the ones you hear in hospitals. I asked him if he was at the hospital and he said it had something to do with work. That night I called one of my friends- Officer Parks- and asked if she was at the hospital and well...we got to talking and she said there wasn't any case that would involve a trip to the hospital."

"Did he ever explain this to you?"

She took another drag from her cigarette, shaking her head. "No, he didn't. I ugh...I thought for awhile there that he was having an affair with like a nurse or something but um...no, I never heard uh why he was there."

Morgan nodded. "I see. Mrs. Varney-"

"Linda," she corrected.

He smiled. "Linda, has your husband's behavior changed in the last two and a half years? Any remarkable differences?"

She stilled, the cigarette dangling in between her fingers. Her eyes looked around the room, and she coughed nervously before saying, "Well...um, yes I have."

"Can you explain the differences to me?"

"It's kind of um...ugh...awkward..."

"Linda, I understand how difficult it can be to discuss your sex life, but I assure you, everything you say is important to finding our missing agent. We will not judge you by what you say," he said and she relaxed slightly, breathing out deeply as she brought the cigarette to her lips and took a trembling drag.

A puff of smoke blew out before she said, "Well...the past two years or so he's been more...ugh...dominating."

"How so? Is he being rougher?" Morgan asked, trying to urge her on.

She coughed awkwardly again, avoiding eye contact as she said, "No. He...he wants me to pretend like...like I don't want it. Like he's..."

"Raping you?" Morgan asked, a brow raised high.

She nodded slowly, taking another drag. "I...I didn't think...it...I just..." she began, flustered as the tears started anew and she had to put her cigarette out in the ashtray beside her. Her hands raised once more to her eyes and she shielded them from view, her shoulders shaking.

"Listen to me, Linda," Morgan said strong and reassuringly. "This isn't your fault. Your husband...he isn't healthy. And it's not because of you or anything you did, and it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you." He waited for her to nod before he continued. "Thank you for telling me all this. It means a lot to our investigation." He smiled warmly at her as the team continued their search of the house, his interview only just beginning.

xXx

Author's Note: FUN FACT!: the setting for this story was actually inspired by a town I visit every summer (Phoenicia) My family owns a cabin up there and it's quite beautiful. And I'm visiting it this weekend! YAY! Bad news: No internet connection. Good news: Lots of peace and quiet and charming scenery to get the creative juices going and even though I won't be able to update, I hope to have a couple chapters completed up there- and may even finish the story. So hopefully I'll be able to finish this story this weekend and work on that one Harry Potter story I started before working on the sequel.

ALSO: with the way it's looking with the poll, I think I may actually do TWO sequels, alternative sequels. One sequel for one group, and another sequel for the opposing group. The votes have been pretty neck-to-neck so the possibility of two sequels is high- especially since I'm kinda digging the plot I have created for one. The summaries for both sequels will be posted on my profile and a preview for each one will (hopefully) be available for the Epilogue to this. Feel free to read one sequel, both sequels (they are written in a way that the story will flow time-wise and plot-wise) or no sequel.

Thank you all for such kind reviews! It's so great to know people are enjoying this story.

Chapter Sixteen: The Majority (Preview)

"H...Hotch?" Reid whimpered, staring disbelievingly at the man before. He reached out, his hand quivering as he tried to grab hold of anything tangible- anything real about his boss. But he stepped back, the fabric of his suit jacket now inches away from Reid's fingertips. "Hotch?" he asked again, looking up to see hard brown eyes turned on him, a thin, tight-lipped mouth scowl on his face.

"You disgust me," he spat out, and Reid shrunk back, his hand snapping closer to him as if the man had turned into an all-consuming flame. His eyes widened at the words and he felt his throat close up with tears.

"Wh...what? Hotch...it's me," he said, his voice small and filled with tears. Why was he being so mean? Wasn't he happy to see him?

"You disgust me," he spat again, harsher and slower as he folded his arms across his chest. Reid shook his head. This wasn't happening. He was his family. How could he do this to him?