Hey again! New chapter. Yaaaay. Things are starting to get interesting, I hope :)

Um, so like one review for the last chapter, which got me down cause I updated it as fast as I could :( I don't want to be one of those whiney people, but it does make me write faster. But a huuuuuuuuugggge thank you to ImThatTypeOfGirl, who has stayed with me virtually all the way, you rock!

Thanks to all that faved and followed!

No beta

Disclaimer: Nup, it isn't mine :(

Reid blinked, trying to refocus his eyes. He really needed a coffee, but couldn't bring himself to rise from the chair. He had stayed up all night, retreading case files, then reading them again and again, but had come up with nothing, and, as a consequence, was totally and utterly exhausted.

Anxiety crept up his throat, he had to find her. He knew he wouldn't forgive himself if Anne died, she was much like himself when he was younger, he remembered talking to her parents, when he asked if their daughter had a higher than normal intelligence, all they had said was I guess so. They didn't care, not really.

He frowned and rested his head on his hand, drawing a glance from Hotch and Morgan; keeping up this facade was difficult, made doubly so because of their profiling skills.

He avoided their gaze, letting it wonder about, finally resting on a day old newspaper discarded on one of the officers desks. I'll read an article and then get up, he told himself, as he started.

Man refuses to sell for over $250, 000

Richard Creve, 84, is the sole owner of over 300 acres of prime farming land, and is swearing to keep it that way until his last breath.

Creve hardly leaves his house, apart from the occasional run to the store, and keep himself to himself and his Bon Jovi collection.

Deaglas Stroud, 32, has repeatedly made offers to by Richard's property, which have been promptly denied. " he sits there on a potential farm which could give jobs to over 50 people, and does nothing, letting the grounds overgrow with weeds. I wouldn't be surprised too much if I found out that he hadn't walked around those veiled in the last six years" Stroud later said.

Efforts are still continued to convince Mr Creve of his property arrangements, but are shooed away with threats of lawsuit.

With that information stored away, Spencer suddenly stood and hungrily headed toward the coffee machine, ignoring the startles of surprise from those situated near him. It's good to keep them on their toes, he thought, giving himself a rare chuckle.

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Anne grimly set off on the rope bars; rope attached loosely to two slick metal bars spanning a pit of mud and more unpleasant things. It looked a little like monkey bars, but harder.

As she dropped to the ground from the last rung, she caught a glimpse of the rest of the compound and felt sick, she didn't want to have to go back there, she was almost at breaking point, and when she did break, she was terrified of what was to happen after. The once open space closed on her, suffocating her, squeezing the life from her.

She had to escape from the deadening grip that held her, if she waited any longer, her very should might be compromised.

She blundered off to the left, there really wasn't much difference to which way she went, but this way she wouldn't have to go past the compound.

At first the going was tough, she had to force her way through close-packed trees and bushes, obtaining various cuts and scratches, twigs stuck in and pulled at her hair, and her woollen jersey caught on branches and collected a selection of burs.

Blindly, she blundered on, in any direction that wasn't heading back to He. Finally, she broke free of the suffocating bush, to be faced with decrepit fields that looked like they hadn't been used for years, overgrown with weeds.

A strangled scream of frustration rang through the air, followed by a deafening shot; He had realised that she was slipping from his hands.

Anne took off at a sprint, pumping her arms and legs, the ground passing away quickly. After a solid ten minutes or so, she wasn't even breathing hard. At least that was one good thing that had come from the intensive training He had put her through.

These fields were all good and well for running, but it had little or no cover, especially from a gun. She played with the idea of dropping to the ground whenever she heard someone. But she discarded it on the account that if they were suspicious, all they would have to do would be to fire randomly into the grass. Turning right, she headed for a copse of trees, which she could travel through, and when the tree ran out, she would dash or belly slide her war to the next group of trees.

And so the tiring journey went on.

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The sun had traveled far to the western edge of the sky, and Anne, for all the training she had been through, was starting to tire. Even the weather was against her, giving a hot sunny day that was out of place in the late winter.

At around midmorning she started to get thirsty, as she had only had a glass of water last night, at dinner. It wasn't that bad though, and she pushed through it. But as the day progressed, it became more and more serious, until her tongue felt sticky and swollen, but still left some space for air to pass through.

Then the hunger pangs started, constantly reminding her of the empty space in her stomach, doubling her over sometimes, and she wondered how long she could keep this up. Dimly, she remembered year eight camp, where one of the instructors had taught them the rule of threes; three minutes without oxygen, three hours with out shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. So far, she had surpassed much more than three hours without shelter, but figured she could make one out of branches and scrap metal, if she could get some.

As she staggered out of the line of trees to sprint to the next one, she was faced with a towering wire fence, like the ones you would see around a field hockey turf, its purpose obvious.

This was it, she thought with a surge of hope, she was finally escaping Hell, and when she reached the closest town, she would inform the police where the compound was, even testify against him in court if she had to, and finally save them!

She noticed the barbed wire topping the barrier, but knew that if she threw her jersey on top, she could get over relatively unharmed. The thing that she didn't notice however, was the security camera hidden in the trees she had just come from.

Anne started to scale the fence like a spider, but lost her footing and came crashing to the ground again. This time, she took off her boots and tied the laces together, slinging them around her neck before climbing, with her fingers and toes holding up her weight. She thought she could hear a humming noise, but put it down to a ringing head from her previous fall.

She stopped just under the barbed wire, and lent against the fence, struggling to pull her jersey off. In retrospect, she should've taken it off before the climb. The sun had almost completely disappeared under the earth, and the dim lighting made it harder to pull it over her head.

Frustrated, she jerked wildly at the wool, and lost her balance, swaying precariously away from the fence, only just stopping herself from falling as she grasped the cold, rusty metal, pulling herself flush with it, taking a much needed breath.

Gradually, she worked the jersey over her head, blinded as the dirty wool covered her eyes.

A cold hand gripped tightly at her ankle, pulling her screaming from the fence, thudding into the hard ground below.

He tuttered, shaking his head like a exasperated parent after their child had broken some pottery. "I saw great potential in you, you know, but now it all ends for you." He cocked his head to the side, grinning.

"You could actually thank me, after all, some religions believe that death is the greatest escape"

Review? Like, pretty please with Reid on top?