Reid was surprised that he was still alive and conscious, if he was being honest with himself. It had been a while since the webcam connection had been lost, and he'd been left with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Though he had know way of telling how much time had passed, he suspected it hadn't been as long as it had felt.
He knew he was still bleeding, and would continue to do so until he got medical attention. He was almost glad that he couldn't see how much of the vital fluid was pooling on the floor. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.
Reid could feel his heartbeat speeding up, and recognized this as a sign of hypovolemic shock setting in. It wouldn't be long now until he lost consciousness from the blood loss. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, but he forced them back open with each blink. He was too stubborn to give in.
Reid still had a glimmer of hope which he held desperately on to. Maybe it defied logic, but he had faith in his team. They would figure this out. They would re-examine the data and his location would pop up on Garcia's amazing computer of hers. He had to believe that. It was the only thing keeping him from giving in to the unconsciousness that hung so close now.
He kept picturing the team finding his dead body just moments too late, and would do anything to stop that nightmare from becoming a reality for them. He refused to be the cause of that kind of pain, if he could help it.
He convinced himself that as long as he was still conscious when the team got here, he would be okay. Logically he knew that wasn't necessarily true, but he chose to believe it nonetheless.
He stared out the windows, wishing desperately to see a flashlight or a pair of legs that indicated that his salvation had arrived.
A tear fell down his face, and as he sniffed, that's when he felt it.
His face had twitched.
He concentrated, and realized that he was able to move his lips ever so slightly. It took a lot of effort, and he didn't have much control, but he could move something. It was the most blissful feeling of his entire captivity.
Slowly and with much effort, Reid turned his neck to the left to get a good look at his IV bag. It was empty, which explained why he was regaining his motor functions. Malcolm hadn't changed the IV bag on his last visit, and the drugs had finally all been dispersed to him. Now that they were no longer being pumped into his body, it was slowly working its way out of his system.
Reid knew what he had to do now. He shifted his neck so that he was looking down at his arms. He needed to get them moving if he was going to do what he needed to do. At first, a slight twitch was all he could muster. Then, he managed to swing his right arm into his lap. It was a very strange feeling. He had little to no fine motor skills. As much as he knew where he wanted his arm to go, he could only get it to go generally in that direction. It was like he was a baby who hadn't learned to control his limbs properly yet. The blood loss didn't help matters, making him slower and weaker than he otherwise would be.
Reid needed to get off of the chair, and there was going to be no graceful way to do this. He managed to shift himself to the front of the chair. He leaned himself forward, pulling his arms up to hopefully break the fall that was coming.
Reid groaned as he hit the floor. The fall had not only exacerbated his stab wound, but also the welts all over his torso. The IV had been ripped out of his arm as well, but that was minor in comparison to the rest of the pain he felt. Reid took a moment to allow the wave of nauseating pain to subside, before he continued on his mission.
Using his arms, he pulled himself towards the laptop table. He reached his arm up to the tabletop, which took tremendous effort. But he was still unable to operate his fingers in any functional way. He swung his arm back and forth, attempting to get the item of his desire to fall from the table.
Unfortunately, his lack of coordination caused the entire table to crash forward with the weight he put on it. The laptop crashed to the ground narrowly missing his head; but that was not what he was after. He saw his gun go flying to the far wall, but it was his cell phone that he was focused on locating. Looking around, he saw that the fall of the table had made his phone go flying towards the bottom of the stairs. It was a good eight feet from where he was lying, and it seemed like an impossibly long distance for him to travel in this condition.
Reid took two deep breaths, pushed the now broken laptop out of his way with the swing of his arm, and continued his slow crawl towards the phone. It seemed to take him ages to get to it, but he eventually had the item within reach.
Reid's vision was starting to go dark and he felt incredibly weak, but willed himself to hold on just a few seconds longer.
He managed to get his right hand around the cell phone. He knew all he needed to do was to get it turned on. As he lost his fight to remain conscious, he squeezed the phone, hoping his finger hit the power button on the phone's side. He blacked out not knowing if he had been successful or not.
Garcia and Rossi had gone over all of the parameters that had been used to narrow the search for Reid. Rossi was redoing the math that had led to the multiple search radiuses they had used to narrow Reid's location. Their best guess so far was that Malcolm had in fact exceeded the speed limit on one or both of the trips he'd made, which would increase the search area from what they had initially proposed. He was attempting to figure out how much further to widen the search. Garcia meanwhile worked quickly on her computer, attempting to find any buildings she may have erroneously eliminated earlier.
When a ping came from her computer, it caught the tech's attention immediately.
"Garcia, is that another email?" Rossi asked. It was the middle of the night – an odd time for her to be receiving messages.
"No sir, that's…" Garcia needed to confirm it before she said it out loud. She pulled up the map of the agents' cell phone locations, and saw that a new one was now showing. "That's Reid's cell phone turning on!" Tears fell from her eyes, but unlike before, these were tears of relief. Rossi was already dialing the Hotch as Garcia pulled the address to send to the them.
Aaron answered his phone immediately, putting it on speaker so the rest of the team could hear. "Dave, do you have something for us?" Rossi could hear a desperation in his tone that was unusual for the man. Not that he could blame him, given the circumstances.
Rossi smiled. "You won't believe this, but Reid's cell phone just reactivated. Garcia is sending you all the location, and I'm going to call the paramedics to meet you there."
Rossi heard an engine come to life as Morgan's voice came on the line. "Okay, we are on our way there. It's not far from where we are now."
Garcia and Rossi heard sirens turn on and tired squeal as the call disconnected.
Hotch, Morgan, Prentiss and JJ had all jumped in the same SUV and were quick to reach the house they were directed to. They wasted no time in exiting the vehicle the moment it stopped. The house was dark, and there were no cars in the laneway.
The agents made their way to the front door. They had probable cause this time, so would waste no time with knocking or circling the building. Every second counted right now, they knew.
Morgan reached the front door first. He yelled, "FBI!" before trying the door handle and finding it locked. One swift kick to the door solved that problem, and the it swung off its hinges as they entered the house.
Though they knew Malcolm was not here, they still needed to clear the place, just in case. Hotch pointed to Morgan and Emily, indicating that he should check the second floor. As they made their way up the stairs to the left, he directed JJ to the room on their right, while he continued down the hallway straight ahead.
He cleared a bathroom before coming to a door that looked as though it might lead to the basement. As he opened the door, he saw wooden stairs leading down into a lit space. At the bottom of the stairs, Hotch could see Reid. He was lying on his stomach, unmoving, in a pool of his own blood. His cell phone rested under his right hand. It was impossible for Hotch to tell from where he stood, whether or not Reid was still breathing.