Part 5- Lights Out

Dr Spencer Reid sighed as he slid the final manila folder from his in tray onto the wooden desk in front of him. He had hoped that his colleagues, Luke Alvez and Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau, hadn't taken a leaf out of Derek Morgan's and Emily Prentiss' book and started to slip him their folders. Yet there he was with a larger pile of folders than he recalled having to begin with. Spencer shook his head with a smile and opened the folder. He didn't mind. He enjoyed completing the reports which his team, more often than not, found utterly bizarre. His eidetic memory coupled with his ability to read 20,000 words per minute meant that he completed reports in a fraction of the time it would take them. Spencer glanced up at Emily's and David Rossi's offices which were in darkness. The majority of the bullpen was dimly lit by the LEDs along the frosted glass that separated the desks. Spencer's desk lamp cast a white circle over his reports. He hated the dark. It was a long standing phobia of his due to the inherent absence of light, as he once told Derek and JJ when they goaded him about his fears.

Spencer sat back in his swivel chair and stretched his arms out above his head. He glanced around. He was renowned for staying late, and this night was no exception. He mentally debated whether to make more coffee to get him through the last report. With a sigh, he decided he could manage one more. He pressed his palms to his desk and pushed himself up to his feet, his knees clicking from being seated for so long. His lanky legs took him in wide strides around the desks to the break room. The coffee pot was half-filled and still a drinkable temperature. Selecting a navy FBI mug, Spencer poured the black liquid into it. He grabbed several sachets of sugar and tore them open, pouring the white crystals into the coffee. He gave the sickly sweet concoction a stir and turned to return to his desk.

As he started towards his desk, Spencer developed an uneasy feeling in his stomach. His bare forearms bristled with fear. Spencer swallowed hard as he glanced around. Something felt very off. It started in the tips of his fingers and spread through every limb. Suddenly, all lights went out. Spencer let out a gasp of horror. He was completely unable to see anything around him.

"Hello?" he called out with a wavering voice. He was met with silence. With one hand holding his mug in a white knuckled grasp, Spencer reached out his right hand to feel around. It was pointless reaching for his gun as he would not be able to see his target. He grunted as his thigh connected with the corner of a desk, the quick jab of pain spreading through his leg. His fingers were ineffectually grasping at the air, feeling for a way around. Spencer's heart pounded against his ribs. He wasn't entirely sure where he was in the bullpen when a meaty hand clamped tightly over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks with painful intensity. Spencer dropped his mug on the floor as his hands flew up to the hand on his mouth. The ceramic shattered as it hit the tiled floor, the sound echoing around the empty bullpen. Spencer grunted as he twisted and turned desperately trying to pry the hand away but his efforts were fruitless. He attempt to thrust his foot back into his assailant but his kick was easily dodged. He tried to yell out but his voice was trapped by the palm over his mouth. Spencer felt the sharp pinch of a needle jabbing him in the neck. Within seconds, his limbs felt weak and uncoordinated as the drug took hold and he slumped against his attacker.

Spencer let out groans as the haze started to melt away from his mind. Pain rippled across his skull. He struggled to recall the previous few hours. I was in the bullpen completing reports, then went to get coffee... It went dark... A hand over my mouth... Needle... Spencer flinched despite himself. He slowly and groggily started to lift his head and wrench his eyes open. The darkness he could recall from earlier persisted.

"Ah, you're finally awake, Dr Reid. I may have misjudged the dose of sedative when I saw how emaciated you are." Spencer tilted his head in confusion. He found his limbs unresponsive to his commands. His wrists were bound together behind the chair with what he could only assume was a zip tie from the way the plastic bit harshly into his skin. He tested his bonds but they held fast. He could tell his secondary firearm had been removed by the way his ankles had been bound tightly together, another zip tie digging into his mismatched socks. Spencer's heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to burst out at any given moment. His breaths came short and sharp in horror. His captor chuckled at his prisoner.

"Ah, yes. I did read about your phobia of the dark, Dr Reid. Or should I say, pretty boy?" Spencer tensed, "I want to see how long it will take for you to break, doctor." As he returned to full awareness, Spencer became aware that he had not been blindfolded, but that the room was in pitch blackness. Instead of a hand covering his mouth, a large strip of duct tape was keeping him silent and was irritating his nose. His chest and upper arms were bound to the back of the chair with more layers of tape.

Spencer hated being trapped in darkness. It reminded him too much of the days his mother would lock him in the closet during a psychotic episode, or the night that the men gained on him in prison and tied him up using torn up towels. He could feel his captor's hot breath on the back of his neck. He was unable to prevent the involuntary trembling. He could only presume that the man was using some sort of night vision equipment to be able to see what he was doing. A calloused hand brushed against Spencer's throat and cupped his stubbled jaw. Spencer's breaths came thick and fast through his nose, his brow furrowed with fear. He felt his chair being tugged backwards, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the genius. He struggled against his many bonds, grunting behind the tape over his mouth. The rough sensation of paracord slinked across the front of his neck. The cord wrapped around his neck twice before being knotted at the back, pressing into his spine. He let out a choked gasp as the cord was pulled taut. He could tell by the sound of clinking against metal that the cord was being tied around a metal bar. Spencer struggled against the offending item, only for it to tighten around his throat and briefly cut off his air supply. His head was forced to lean back slightly to prevent it cutting into his neck again.

"Best not to fight it, Dr Reid. We're going to talk now. Well, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen. I know an awful lot about you, Dr Spencer Walter Reid. I know your father, William Reid, attorney, walked out on you and your mother when you were ten. You were forced to take care of yourself and your paranoid schizophrenic fifteenth century literature professor mother, Diana Reid. When you were eighteen, you admitted your mother to Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas. You graduated high school at twelve. You have an eidetic memory, an IQ of 187 and can read 20,000 words per minute. You have doctorates in chemistry, mathematics and engineering, as well as Bachelors in psychology and sociology. You were bullied relentlessly in school. You were lured out to the football field, stripped naked, blindfolded and tied to a goal post." Spencer's throat bobbed, tears stinging his eyes, "You were kidnapped, tortured and drugged for two days by Tobias Hankel. I bet the withdrawals from the Dilaudid were brutal. You joined the BAU at twenty two. Your first kill was Philip Dowd. Your mentor, Jason Gideon, abandoned you just like your father," A hand trailed across Spencer's cheek, spreading the tears that were involuntarily falling. Fingertips traced over the duct tape silencing the doctor, "You almost died from anthrax. You were shot in the knee protecting a doctor. You offered yourself up to save your girlfriend. Only, her captor shot her and herself with a single bullet in front of you. Maeve Donovan." Spencer's breath hitched, "Oh? It seems that hit a nerve. You spent three months in a federal prison for murder and possession with intent to supply." Spencer grunted and struggled again. The cord tightened around his throat. His eyes widened. He rested his head back again. How does he know so much? He has to be someone on the inside.

Spencer shivered. Tears tracked over the duct tape. He desperately tried to slow his breathing. He shook his head and his pleas came out mumbled at the sound of flicking next to his ear. Cold steel was dragged across his cheek just under his left eye. Spencer trembled more violently. The blade gently slid down his chin and neck, taking care not to cut the cord or the gag. He swallowed thickly. He felt a squeal of pain as the knife slashed his forearm. Blood crawled down his skin and over his bound wrists. The knife moved down and made another cut. Spencer's cries were muffled. The knife danced over Spencer's bared throat. He gave a sigh of relief as he felt the blade move away from his flesh. His ears strained to hear what his captor was doing but the man was moving around silently. He sensed the man behind him once more but was unable to turn in any way. Something cold and metal pinched the fingernail on his left little finger. Spencer tried to pull his arms away from what he could only assume was going to happen. He felt a tug and a searing pain as the nail slid free. He pulled harder on his bonds, causing the plastic to cut further into his wrists. The cord tightened around his neck. A hand gripped the cord and twisted it, choking the genius into unconsciousness.

It was sometime later that Spencer returned to the land of the living. His throat felt raw. He twitched, testing his restraints. Everything remained as it was. His eyes fluttered, small mumbles leaving his taped lips.

"Did you enjoy your nap, Dr Reid? I'm afraid we don't have much time left together but we'll leave a nice little surprise for your team to find when they get here." Spencer frowned. I'm still at the BAU? How did this guy get in? "You still haven't figured out who I am, have you? You're supposed to be a genius. Though, none of you would suspect one of your own. You all treat me like a dog's body. Aaron Hotchner sent me to take Elle Greenaway home all those years ago and yet he expected me to babysit her!" exclaimed the man incredulously. Spencer's eyes widened in realisation and yelled into his gag, "Ah so you have figured it out. Well done, Dr Reid. Well, it's time to finish up here. It'll be getting light soon. Spencer felt a soft material drape across his eyes and tied tightly in a double knot at the back of his head. "My parting gift." A sharp pain ripped through Spencer's thigh as he felt the blade of the knife thrust into his limb. He let out a muffled scream of agony, panting heavily through his nose to try and quell the pain. He felt the blood soaking through his dress trouser leg. Spencer felt dizzy, as though the room was spinning. His head lolled forward as he passed out.

JJ was alarmed the minute she walked into the bullpen, her black leather purse over her shoulder. Her alarm was at the fact that Spencer's satchel remained tucked under his desk and his blazer draped over the back of his swivel chair. As she edged closer to his desk, she noted the open folder and his revolver. Glancing over to the break room, her blue eyes fell upon the broken mug lying in a pool of coffee on the floor. She set her purse down on her desk. A sound caught her attention. It was small and undiscernible at first. She listened hard. The sound appeared to be coming from the conference room. Her hand reached for her glock at her hip.

"JJ?" JJ whirled around to see Emily behind her. JJ pressed a finger to her lips to silence the dark haired woman. They slowly made their way to the conference room where the sounds became louder. Realising what had JJ on edge, Emily withdrew her own gun and held it up in front of her. JJ gripped the cold steel door handle and swung open the door. Neither woman was prepared for the sight before them. Spencer's hands were bound behind the chair he occupied. His ankles were tied tightly together with a zip tie. Tape held his chest against the back of the chair. Heavy cloth blindfolded him. A large strip of duct tape stretched across his mouth, pressing into his cheeks. Paracord was wound around his neck and tied to a bar in the radiator, forcing his head back. He struggled in vain. As the women moved closer, they noted wide gaping cuts in his arm and the blood pooling in the bed of what previously held his nail. Blood dripped steadily with soft splats on the navy carpet from a large wound in his right thigh.

"Spence?" Spencer's grumbles intensified at the sound of JJ's voice. Holstering her gun, she darted towards him and untied the blindfold. Spencer blinked with bleary eyes as he tried to regain his vision. He noticed the golden-haired agent in front of him. She reached out and gently peeled the tape away from his mouth. Spencer let out a gasp as he greedily gulped in air.

"Who did this to you, Reid?" asked Emily. Reid turned his head slightly to look at her, grimacing as the cord pulled.

"Anderson," rasped Spencer.

"Anderson? Agent Grant Anderson?" clarified Emily. Spencer nodded and winced at the pulling of the cord. Emily shifted behind him and began untying the cord from the radiator. She moved on to the knot at the back of his neck and unwound it. Spencer's neck was ringed with dark purple lines. He gasped and wheezed as though he were a fish out of water. JJ hunted through several drawers for a pair of scissors. In the last one, she found what she had been looking for. She crouched down and cut through the zip tie holding Spencer's ankles together. As circulation returned to Spencer's legs, so did the renewed pain in his thigh. Spencer bit his lip to staunch a scream. JJ handed the scissors to Emily who cut through the zip tie binding his wrists together and the tape around his chest. Spencer slowly moved his arms around, his shoulders protesting the movement, to find deep welts in his wrists. JJ was already on the phone requesting an ambulance.

"I'm fine. I don't need a hospital," came Spencer's weak and hoarse voice.

"Yes you do, Reid. That's an order. JJ will go with you. You need your wounds stitched and cleaned and you need your throat checked." Spencer opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again at the glare in Emily's dark eyes. Spencer closed his eyes and sighed. Why is it always me?