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Reid POV *Insert Hallelujah's*

"Detective Lewis is missing."

That was all I heard before my mind began running at almost double it's normal speed, which was pretty fucking fast if I do say so myself. I couldn't stop thinking about all the plausible possibilities of how this would end. There was the likelihood that the reason for the kidnapping was sexually based, as well as her playing a surrogate for the unsub - maybe a mother figure or a past lover, which made me feel rather ill. Her being an attractive young woman would play a massive part in the outcome of this case, and I hoped that she could take care of herself.

Instead of focusing on Hotch, which is what I should have probably been doing, I couldn't get the imagine of a pale, sullen corpse that looked eerily similar to Charlotte, out of my mind, and I felt myself grimace at the thought. I don't know why this bugged me so much, I couldn't help but feel my stomach churn in fear and a little bit of sickness. I just wanted to protect her - and keep her safe. I wanted her to be okay.. With me? I don't know, my body felt cacophonously alert whenever she was around, like there were tiny currents of electricity being sent through my system.

If I were being completely truthful with myself, I knew this feeling was highly irrational and unorthodox, but there was something strange bubbling in my chest every time I looked into her eyes. It was exceedingly infuriating as I didn't understand what was going on. It was going to send me insane. I ran a hand over my face in frustration, and started rubbing my fingers together, out of habit. A few moments of feeling this strange tugging in my gut, I pulled a hand through my hair, yanking lightly on the ends and let out a low groan.

I absolutely loathed not being able to understand something, and the worst thing about it was it involved my body. If it were a rush of oxytocin and vasopressin I would be able to understand what was going on; I would have been falling in love with her, but it's not that. It's like my body was drawn to her. I wanted to know that she was okay - I didn't care where or who with, I just wanted her safe.

"Reid.. Are you okay?"

I jumped out of my skin, and immediately whipped my head around to look at Hotch, who seemed to have teleported from his seat near the sink to sitting opposite me, with a very concerned expression on his face. I hated worrying Hotch, it always reminded me of my experience with Tobias, he always had that look on his face. Worry. Apprehension. It was always there whenever I was being quiet. Or at least quieter than usual.

"Y-Yes, Hotch. Do you need anything?"

I tried my hardest not to overcompensate by talking more than I needed to, which is something that, apparently, I do a lot when I'm nervous. He caught on quickly, and I glared harder at my hands, and he asked, "Is there something you want to talk about?"

I shook my head too quickly after being asked to be considered honest, and I knew I had messed up. It was like watching a car accident, there was nothing to stop me when I had gotten started, and I made it worse by opening my mouth and babbling, "Nope, nothing, nada, nothing at all."

He raised an eyebrow, and after that I couldn't look at him in his eye. He knew I was lying, but eventually he left me to my own devices. I went back to reading New Worlds: A Religious History of the Latin Civilisation. It was a fairly thick book, but it usually was about to distract me during these long flights, however the taut feeling in my stomach was halting me from calming down enough to truly relish in the literature, so I had to eventually close the book and push it into my bag.

I checked my watch and found that there was still a strong hour and a half left of the journey, and I decided to try and sleep it off. I stood and pulled out the portable, soft to the touch, dark blue blanker of sorts out of the bunker above my head and wrapped myself up in it. I crossed my ankles, and lay my head back, feeling the curls displace and rearrange themselves. The cushioned seat was far too comfortable for me to not fall asleep fairly quickly and I was beyond glad that the sheet of sleep was pulled over my mind and I could finally fall into the silent abyss that is my dreams, and silently prayed that the headache that was bubbling beneath my consciousness would dispel while I slept.

Charlotte POV

Ice cold water was thrown over my dropped head and I gasped out in a sudden rush of freezing liquid passed over my body and drew a chilling sensation through my system, and shivered as the chipped ice cubes ran down my back and stomach, settling in my lap and soaking into my underwear.

"Rise and shine, princess."

My teeth chattered and gnashed as I tried to bare my teeth at the bastard who had held me captive for God knows how long. I had given up on Stephenson helping me out, and had decided to get myself out of this situation - which is something I've always had to revert back to. I was the only person who wasn't going to let me down.

"H-H-Havent you d-done enough t-t-to me? Can't-t you just-t let-t me g-g-go?!"

My words were choppy and stuttered, and I even bit my own tongue in an apparent hastiness to get the words out. He just laughed in return, and disappeared upstairs, to retrieve whatever else he saw fit. I took these precious few seconds to do what I had been doing ever since he brought out the kitchen knife.

All it was is that I rocked backwards and forwards, quietly enough as to not alert him, but hard enough that the wood creaked lightly, and began to wane in sturdiness. I was only able to do this five times before the muscles in my leg gave out and he returned from his excursion of sorts, and held another kind of wood in his hands. A paddle of some kind.

"See this little beauty right here? It's a whipping willow, you know like they had back in the old days? Now, I want to play. Lift up your foot."

I shook my head in defiance, but instead of infuriating him like it used to, he just smiled, evilly, and grappled with my ankles. After getting my right leg under control, he traced my upper thigh, past my knee, and stopped mid way down my calf before sharply slapping the smoothly curved out piece of wood against my skin once, twice, three times, four times. He carried this on until he was tired, and then watched my skin react. It began by flushing red and slowly morphed into a yellow, then shone with a green-ish hue, and finally a deep purple.

He did this on both calves, thighs, knees, ankles, soles of my feet and forearms. I cried, screamed, thrashed and wailed but he only quit when his wrist cramped, and that was when he returned the demonic wooden paddle back to wherever it was stored, and left me in the blackened room, with only sound of my sobs to drown out the quiet.

Every time I tried to place my feet fully on the ground, a pulsating, shooting pain ran up my body and I cried out into the dark. If I listened closely enough, I could almost hear his insane laughter resound from his bedroom upstairs. I felt the bile rise in my throat from the level of pain I was experiencing, and was hard-pressed to stop it, and felt it fall from my mouth, splattering to the floor and emptying my stomach. The tears I had tried to hold back for however long fell from my eyes in rivulets and dripped into the cuts on my face, stinging sharply. I hiccupped a little and felt the burning return to my limbs from the exertion, and eventually, felt it fade away as I passed out once more.

Aw, poor Charlotte. I know it's similar to what Spencer went through, but that's the point. I hope you liked this chapter. Thanks!