Part 12- Breakout

Dr Spencer Reid had awoken with a feeling of apprehension gnawing away at his insides, though there was no rhyme or reason for it. He had slept relatively well without a single nightmare, so the fact that he had this feeling unnerved him. He was just grateful that he finally had a day off from teaching and cases, so he would spend the day doing what he loved most- reading and catching up on reruns of Doctor Who. He flicked his long, dark brown hair out of the collar of his blue chequered button down shirt as he set about making a fresh pot of coffee. As the coffee bubbled and hissed its soothing symphony, Spencer returned to the lounge and dropped heavily onto the brown leather sofa with a sigh. He slid the matte grey TV control from his coffee table and tapped a button to turn his TV on. The local news flashed up on the screen. He watched mindlessly, flipping the remote over and over in his hand. His hazel eyes narrowed at the most recent breaking report.

"Breaking news right in. A mass prison escape has taken place at Mount Pleasant Women's Correctional Facility in Washington earlier today. Police and prison staff continue to work closely together to determine exactly who and how many prisoners have escaped. More on this as it develops."

Spencer's stomach lurched. Bile bubbled in the back of his throat. With a quick tap on the control, the TV flickered to black. Spencer let out a few deep breaths through his nose, his eyes closed. He launched the control at the TV, the plastic clattering against the glass. For a brief minute or two, Spencer remembered about the coffee he had started brewing.

Spencer's hand trembled as he poured the steaming black liquid into his mug on the counter. Coffee dribbled down the sides of the mug, pooling underneath. His stomach constantly knotted and unravelled. He barely realised that he was still pouring when the coffee spilled over the mug and counter and splashed onto his colourful mismatched socks. He hissed, quickly withdrawing his foot from the hot fluid and set the pot back down. With an outward huff, Spencer returned to the lounge with his over-filled mug and dropped heavily back down onto the sofa. He set the mug down on the coffee table and peeled his hot, wet socks off his feet. He cast the soggy garments to one side. As he reached for his mug, he was interrupted by a knocking on his front door. Spencer glanced over shoulder at the door, curls bouncing against his cheek. He furrowed his brow. He was not expecting company and his team always contacted him before turning up at his apartment after his savage beating in his prison cell made him exceptionally paranoid of unannounced visitors. He hoped by ignoring the knocking that it would stop but it continued. With a groan, Spencer came to his bare feet and padded his way to the front door. He tugged the door open and stilled at the sight of the gun pointed at his abdomen.

"Hi, Spencie."

xxx

Spencer found himself unable to speak as Cat Adams used the gun in her hand to force him backwards into his apartment. Using the tips of her fingers, Cat gently pushed the front door shut with a click and pulled the bolt across to lock it. She turned on her heel and smirked at the genius who was frozen in place. She scratched her neck with the barrel of the gun.

"Not talking to me?" asked Cat seductively. Spencer's mouth bobbed, unable to find his words which was almost unheard of for him. Cat guided the speechless man to his dark wooden dining table and sat him in one of the chairs.

"Y-you shouldn't be here..." pressed out Spencer breathlessly.

"Oh! You found your words! I was beginning to think you had stopped talking to me, Spencie." Cat tugged the occupied chair away from the table and circled Spencer, trailing the gun across his shoulders and the back of his neck. Spencer sat bolt upright in the chair and swallowed hard at the cold metal brushing across his shirt.

"What do you want, Cat?"

"To end this of course, silly." Spencer pursed his lips and glared at her. Cat's dark, crazed eyes were swallowed by the black rings around her eyes. Her black, greasy hair hung limply over her shoulders. She had somehow acquired a beige sweater, jeans and slouch boots. Cat grasped a handful of his hair, yanking his head back, and jammed the gun into his throat.

"Tired of playing games, have you?" Cat let out a cool exhale across his cheek as she leaned into his ear.

"Never. But it was time that I finally got you alone, away from your team, your moron of a mother-" The gun pressed harder into Spencer's flesh as he jerked away from her in anger, his hands clenched around the edge of the chair, knuckles turning white, "No. I'm going to really draw this out and enjoy it."

"Enjoy torturing me? Haven't you done that enough? Framing me for murder, sending me to prison, pretending someone else's baby was mine, kidnapping my mother... Need I go on?"

"Oh, please do. Oh, wait... I think you pretty much covered it, actually. But to answer your question, no I haven't."

"So, what's your plan? Is there a clock? What's the game?"

"Oh, there's no clock and no game. I'm just going to really, really enjoy hurting you, Spencie."

"I've told you not to call me that." The tip of Cat's tongue tickled the opening to Spencer's ear, making him cringe and try to shirk away from her. Cat brought the handle of the gun down hard across his head, dazing the young man. Spencer's vision went dark as the pain from the hit rippled across his skull. He could faintly hear Cat opening and closing drawers as she rummaged. Spencer pressed his palm to his pounding scalp as he groaned. Through blurred vision, he was able to make out the silhouette of Cat sauntering back to him.

Cat used the opportunity of Spencer being on another plane of existence to slink behind him and pull his arms around the back of the chair. Spencer squinted as he tried to look over his shoulder at the psychotic woman binding his wrists together tightly with thick black duct tape. She peeled another strip away from the roll and pulled it taut. She wrapped it around Spencer's upper arms and torso, restraining his upper body to the back of the chair. Spencer blinked several times, his vision slowly creeping back to see Cat knelt down at his feet.

"Wha-?"

"Don't even think of kicking me, Spencie." Cat bound Spencer's ankles tightly to the front legs of the chair.

"I really don't see how else you can hurt me, Cat. You tortured me enough by having me sent to prison."

"Yeah, but I didn't get to physically hurt you."

"You're a hit woman with no compunction or remorse. You don't do physical torture. It's not in your psychology. You enjoy mind games too much."

"I need a change, Spencie. I'm bored."

"Like I told you last time, you lose interest in the same way a six year old loses interest in a pet hamster. Of course you're bored."

"You wound me, Dr Reid."

"Oh? I didn't realise you were capable of feeling pain."

"Spencie, that hurts."

"Again, I didn't realise you were capable of feeling pain- mental or physical. You're a sociopath with the emotional range of a teaspoon." Cat tugged the gun out of the waistband of her jeans and thrust it harshly under Spencer's jaw.

"Why so mean?" asked Cat in a child-like voice.

"Why? You escaped from prison and have me tied up in my own apartment. Why do you think?" Cat raised the gun to his mouth and brushed the barrel across his lips.

"Oh, I really am going to enjoy this." Cat tucked the gun back into her waistband and knelt down for the roll of tape next to Spencer's left foot, "You have such cute toes!" Cat leaned forward and licked Spencer's toes. Spencer struggled against his bonds to try and remove his foot from her touch. His skin bristled with disgust at the sensation creeping through his limb. Cat came to her feet and perched herself on Spencer's lap. She held the tape up in front of his face and peeled some away from the roll. Spencer's hazel eyes bore lasers into Cat's head as he tilted his head back slightly as though daring her.

"Can't have your neighbours hearing us have fun, now can we?"

"If you say so." Cat pressed the tape down firmly over Spencer's lips and wrapped it tightly around his head, the tape cutting into his cheeks and trapping his curls before tearing the end off the roll. The edge of the tape irritated his nose. Cat slid herself from Spencer's lap and set the roll down on the dining table. Spencer's eyes followed Cat into the kitchen where her fingers danced over his wooden knife block as she hummed to herself. Spencer pulled against the tape around his wrists but it was too tight and would not budge. Cat selected a small vegetable knife from the block. The blade glinted in the light as she held it up to inspect it. Spencer swallowed thickly.

Cat spotted Spencer's cell phone on the coffee table next to his still steaming mug of coffee. She grasped the knife and phone in one hand, the mug in the other and sidled back over to the restrained man. Cat set the mug down on the dining table and opened his phone. Spencer had finally upgraded to a touch screen phone, despite his anti-technology quirk, after much persuasion from Penelope Garcia. Cat seated herself on Spencer's lap and opened the self facing camera. Spencer's blood boiled at the sight of himself bound and gagged. The knife hovered unnervingly close to his neck.

"Let's take a selfie, Spencie." Cat pursed her lips into a kiss next to his cheek and snapped a photograph. She pushed the phone into her pocket and twisted around on his lap so that she was facing him. With the knife cradled between her thumb and forefinger, Cat began to painstakingly slowly unbutton the bottom of Spencer's shirt up to the tape across his chest. She licked her lips hungrily at the toned abdomen before her.

"You've been holding out on me, doc." Spencer tensed under her icy cold touch as her fingertips trailed down his stomach. He felt the tip of the knife brush against his skin. Cat pressed down firmly and began carving into the flesh. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and let out a muffled moan of pain. He bucked his hips to try and dislodge the woman from his legs which only resulted in the knife digging deeper into his skin. He peeled his eyes open and glared at the woman carving into his stomach. He panted heavily through his nose to try and quell the pain. Cat continued, warm blood trickling over his pale skin and into the waistband of his corduroy khakis.

xxx

Minutes felt like hours before Cat had finished her carving into Spencer's stomach. Cat admired her work with a crazed glint in her eye and a smirk dancing on her lips. Sweat had beaded on Spencer's forehead and his chest heaved. Blood glistened in the crevices of the words 'Cat + Spencie 4evr'. Spencer's hazel eyes were fixed with hatred on her. Cat dipped the tip of her little finger into the mug of coffee to find it had gone cold.

"Well, that's disappointing." Spencer furrowed his brow as he watched her enter the kitchen. As soon as he observed her reaching for the salt, realization hit him like a bucket of ice water and he began to yell into the tape, shaking his head wildly, "What's wrong, Spencie?" Cat straddled Spencer's legs once again and filled her palm with the white crystals. Spencer was on the verge of hyperventilating when Cat thrust the palm full of salt into the wounds on his abdomen. Spencer let out a muffled scream, wrenching his head from side to side and jerking his hips at the agony that ripped through his torso. Cat smeared the blood and salt across his skin, forcing the salt further into the wounds. Spencer hated himself for the whimper he let out into his gag and the tears that managed to escape the corners of his eyes. Cat slid off his knee and stepped back.

"Oh, Spencie. Don't cry." Spencer threw the psychotic woman the most hateful look he could muster despite the red rings lining his eyes. Cat tugged the phone back out of her pocket and snapped some more photographs, "I know just who to send these to." Spencer's response was merely a mumble, his eyebrows knotted in despair.

xxx

Penelope swayed her hips and bopped along to the dance music that blared from her stereo speakers as she iced the cupcakes she had baked earlier in the day. Penelope's golden curls bounced against her shoulders as she did a twirl. Her dance was halted in its tracks by the pinging sound of her phone cutting through the music. She picked up her phone and glanced at the screen to see she had a message from her '187'. With a smile quirking across her lips, Penelope opened the message. Tears brimmed on her lower lashes and her mouth bobbed in horror at the photograph on her screen. Spencer was tied to a chair, tape wrapped around his head and across his mouth. Cat Adams was sat on his knee and posing for a kiss. Penelope scrolled through the images, the tears tracking mascara over her cheeks as she spotted the bloody carving in his stomach. She quickly dialled a number.

"Emily? Get everyone to the office, like yesterday! Cat Adams has kidnapped Reid. I think he's still in his apartment but he's hurt really bad."

xxx

The silence in Spencer's apartment was stifling. Spencer felt tiny fires across his body from the cuts that Cat had made on his lower arms and thighs. The pain from the wounds on his stomach had dulled slightly. Cat took great pleasure in rubbing salt into all of his wounds as though she were basting a Thanksgiving turkey. Spencer felt weak and worn as though he was too little butter spread over too much bread. He glared lethargically at the woman who twisted the knob on the stove, blue flames roaring to life. She held the blade of the knife in the flames, watching in child-like wonder as the blade turned red. The blade was still glowing when she returned to the bound man and pulled the collar of his shirt to one side. She pressed the flat side of the blade down hard against Spencer's collarbone. Spencer let out a muffled scream and squirmed in his bonds at the red hot agony spreading through his shoulder. Small plumes of smoke left his blistering and burning skin. Spencer let his head drop as he breathed heavily through his nose. Nausea bubbled in his stomach. It appeared that he was wrong, very wrong and that Cat really did want to torture him. Cat grasped a handful of his hair and lifted his head so that his eyes met hers.

"If you think that's bad, you have no idea what I've planned for my grand finale." Spencer frowned, fear prickling his skin. Cat buttoned his shirt back up over his bloody stomach and buttoned his collar over the grotesque burn. Blood seeped through the material and clung to his skin. Spencer's cell phone pinged. Cat slid it back out of her pocket and eyed the message, "Looks like little Penelope got my messages."

"Mmm mmrrmm!" yelled Spencer into the gag. He desperately wanted to curse her but his voice was lost into the tape. Cat leaned forward and kissed him firmly on the taped lips. Spencer desperately tried to turn his face away. Cat wrapped her hand around his slender throat, pressing his collar into his skin, and continued to kiss him.

Cat released her hold on his neck. Spencer could feel her fumbling with the waistband of his khakis. He doubled his efforts to throw her from his lap when he heard the distinct sound of his zipper coming undone. He stilled when Cat pressed the still warm blade to his throat.

"Now, now, Spencie. Don't be silly." He felt the knife move away from his neck and slid into his trousers, coming to rest over his genitals. Spencer whimpered softly as it occurred to him that Cat's end game was to castrate him; after all, if she couldn't have him, then she would ensure no one else could. His eyes were fixed on her, pleading, almost begging. He desperately wanted to maintain a stoic facade in front of Cat but he could feel himself falling apart at the seams at the prospect of losing his ability to ever father a child. All of the pain from his various wounds did not compare to this. The pair were startled by the sound of wood splintering as Spencer's front door crashed open. The door frame was ripped from the wall. Spencer caught sight of his team bustling through the door with their guns raised.

"Catherine Adams! Drop the weapon!" Cat smirked at Spencer. She edged around behind him, one hand gripping his throat and the other holding the knife to his genitals.

"No. Me and Spencie are having fun here."

"Cat? You have no reason to hurt Spencer," said Emily Prentiss calmly.

"Are you sure about that? We're having fun, aren't we?" Spencer shook his head. Cat pouted and seated herself heavily on his lap and moved the blade from his crotch to his throat. Spencer inwardly let out an exhale of relief, "Spencie is being so mean! He just doesn't want to admit that he's really really enjoying this, aren't you?" Cat gripped his hair at the back of his head and forced him to nod. Spencer glanced in despair at his family, unable to wrench his head away for fear of accidental injury.

"Cat, drop the weapon and let Spencer go," ordered Jennifer Jareau.

"No. I'm not going back to jail. Me and Spencie are going to live happily ever after."

"Cat? This is your final warning. Drop the weapon!" yelled David Rossi. An evil smirk crept across Cat's face as she leaned in closer to Spencer's face, her hot breath against his cheek. The blade pinched into his neck, leaving a thin, stinging line in its wake. The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the apartment. Blood sprayed across Spencer's face as the bullet lodged in the side of Cat's head. Cat's body slumped and slipped from Spencer's lap. Spencer felt himself hyperventilating, the fires across his body reigniting and his eyes wide in horror. The warm blood on his face tickled as it trickled over his skin.

JJ was the first to holster her glock and approach Spencer who was on the verge of a panic attack. She gently cupped his face with her soft palms and wiped away the involuntary tears escaping his eyes. JJ could feel her best friend trembling beneath her touch. Spencer was frozen in place, chest heaving.

"Spence? Spence, it's okay. You're safe now." JJ's words appeared to fall on deaf ears as Spencer found himself unable to breathe properly, his nose as a primary breathing tool being unable to get sufficient oxygen into his battered body. JJ's palms rested over the duct tape over Spencer's mouth as she desperately tried to get him to focus.

"Spence? It's JJ. Please look at me." Spencer's eyes finally met JJ's pools of blue. His eyebrows raised in despair and tears spilled from his wide eyes. The tears trickled under JJ's palms, merging with the droplets of blood, and over the tape. Matt Simmons flicked open his penknife and crouched down next to JJ's legs. He quickly sliced through the tape binding Spencer's ankles to the chair legs. He expertly severed the tape holding the genius' wrists together, hands mottled in shades of white, red and purple, and the tape holding his upper body to the chair. Spencer latched on to JJ's forearms in horror. JJ picked at the corner of the tape over Spencer's mouth and proceeded to pull it away. She untangled it from his hair as gently as possible and peeled it away from his lips. His skin was reddened and raw. Ragged breaths left his throat as he panted. JJ pulled him in close. Spencer's head nestled into her neck and shoulder and his bloodied arms curled around her waist. His fingers gripped her t-shirt.

JJ could feel wetness seeping into her shirt. She gently eased away from Spencer to see blood soaking through the material of her shirt. She glanced at Spencer whose face was wet and reddened from crying. His shirt was heavily bloodstained. She reached forward to undo the buttons of his shirt but Spencer shirked away from her and wrapped his arms around his waist.

"Please, Spence? Let me see." Spencer hiccupped as he nodded and released his hold over his abdomen. JJ slowly unbuttoned his shirt and noted the gruesome carving in his stomach. The surrounding skin was red and angry. Her eyes moved up his torso as she fully opened his shirt to see the blistered and crimson burn on his collarbone. Cuts littered his forearms.

"Oh, Reid. What did that bitch do to you?" asked Dr Tara Lewis softly.

"S-she.. Cut me... Carved into me..." panted Spencer, panic rising in his chest once again, "She rubbed... salt into... my wounds. Sh-she... Was going... To... Castrate me..." His breath hitched in his throat as the panic reached his brain. He gasped desperately for every breath. David placed an open palm on Spencer's shuddering back and eased him forward so that his head hung between his parted knees.

"Head between your knees, kiddo. Take some deep breaths."

xxx

A pair of medics bustled into the apartment and made their way over to Spencer who was still trying to come out of his panic attack. They parted the surrounding group and knelt down before the bloodied young man. They gently sat him back in the chair.

"Hello, sir. I'm Michaela, this is Simon. We're EMTs. Let's get some oxygen on you." Michaela pressed a plastic mask over Spencer's nose and mouth and hooked the elastic over his hair, "Simon? Would you mind bringing the evac chair up from the bus? I don't think we'll get the stretcher in the elevator." Simon nodded and made his way back down the four flights of stairs to the ambulance parked outside, "Sir? Can you hear me?" Spencer nodded, "Good. We're going to take you to the hospital to get checked over. You're going to be okay."

Simon returned with a two wheeled chair. Matt and Luke Alvez eased Spencer up onto his trembling legs, turned him slightly, and lowered him onto the evacuation chair. A red blanket was placed over his lap and hung down over his feet. Straps were brought across his chest and his legs. Fear briefly flickered over the young man's face before it was replaced with exhaustion. The chair was tilted back onto the wheels. Michaela carried the oxygen canister and their bags whilst Simon pulled the chair backwards out of the door. Spencer glanced wearily at his team, his family. A smile quirked on his lips as he hoarsely muttered two words to them before his eyes fell shut and his head dropped.

"Thank you."