Chapter Seventeen

04/07/2019. 09:17 hours. FBI Offices, Quantico, Virginia.

JJ glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her, her blonde locks bouncing against the side of her face. Satisfied that she was alone, she slid her ID card into the lock to the left of the door and punched in the code. She firmly grasped the door handle and pushed the door open. She was met with several computer monitors, both on the desk and on the walls. Penelope was seated at her desk with her face up close to the monitor directly in front of her. She had a headband of blue cat ears nestled on top of her golden curls. Her fingers flew wildly over her keyboard, eyes narrowed in concentration. She was surrounded by multiple colourful and lit up toys. The pen cradled between her first two fingers of her left hand and had a large pink pom pom on the top.

"Hey, Garcia." Penelope almost leapt out of her swivel chair in fright and whirled around, firing a glare at JJ.

"Don't you people know it's polite to knock?!"

"Sorry. You were in the zone." Penelope's features softened. She wore blue frame spectacles to match her dress and cardigan.

"It's okay. What can the oracle do for you, my angelfish?"

"I need a deep dive on someone. The only thing is that this needs to stay between us for now." Penelope shrugged.

"Sure. What do you need?"

"I need you to look into Director John Michaels." Penelope cocked her head in confusion.

"Like, the FBI Director John Michaels?" JJ let out a sigh.

"Yeah. I'm getting a hinky feeling. He knew what Spencer had been through yet still sent him into a prison. A prison where he would have known that the warden would have a score to settle with Reid." Penelope pouted in thought.

"What level of search are we talking about here? Like level one or two? Arrest records, divorce records?"

"As far as you can go."

"So, as far as what underwear he wears?" JJ snorted with laughter.

"As deep as you can go. Just don't let anyone catch on to what you're doing. There's just something amiss. Once I have enough evidence, I can take it to the team. The only ones who know about this right now are me, you, and Tara." Penelope squared her shoulders and gave a determined nod.

"Of course, my sweetness. As soon as I have anything, I'll hit you up."

"Thanks, PG. You're the best!"

"Don't you know it? Now, begone and let the mistress work!" JJ blew Penelope a kiss and turned on her heel to exit the room.

The rest of the team was gathered at the round table in the conference room when JJ returned from Penelope's office. It did not matter how many times they used that room when Spencer was in prison, kidnapped, or teaching. It still never felt right without him going on a rant or spouting out facts. Emily glanced up from the file in front of her. It unnerved JJ to see that it was Spencer's file. Only, instead of it being his profile, it was glossy photographs of his recent injuries.

"Hey, Jayje. Everything okay?" asked Emily.

"Oh, yeah. What are you guys working on?" responded JJ, sliding into the seat beside Emily.

"I'm completing Reid's leave forms. He's being discharged later today. He's staying with Rossi for a few weeks."

"And how did he take that? Bearing in mind, he was tied up and critically injured last time he was there."

"He was a little apprehensive. But someone is remaining with him at all times as a protective detail."

"He's going to hate it." Emily shrugged.

"He will, but it's not appropriate for him to return to a psychiatric unit at this time." Emily let out a small laugh. "You know he's arranged for a coffee date with Mel? Our boy genius!" JJ pressed her fingers to her lips and laughed.

The friendly atmosphere was broken by the sound of knocking on the door. Everyone glanced up to see a well-built older man in a suit stood in the doorway. He held an air of authority that closely resembled that of a drill sergeant. His thinning grey hair was slicked back, and his piercing blue eyes made everyone's blood run cold. Emily turned in her hair and looked up at him, her stoic mask slipping into place.

"Director Michaels. What can we do for you?" asked Emily.

"How is Dr. Reid?" responded Director Michaels.

"Recovering as well as he can be."

"How many casualties?"

"Only one, sir. Warden Lee Michaels." Director Michaels gave a non-committal huff.

"And you couldn't bring him in peacefully? I thought you were the best with negotiation?"

"Director, with all due respect, sir, he was about to have Dr Reid murdered with a lethal injection. The prison had widespread corruption through the ranks, and it started with Warden Michaels. He was able to wrangle his own officers to aid in the kidnapping, false imprisonment, rape, assault and attempted murder of an FBI agent," answered Emily, sitting back in her chair and glaring at the Director.

"And he would have been brought to justice."

"You know how the wheels of justice work, sir." Director Michaels puffed out his chest.

"Yes, I do. I trust that Dr. Reid is being given a leave of absence? At the end of that, we will discuss his position in the FBI, given that he couldn't even complete a simple custodial." JJ felt rage boiling in her veins, and her face flushed with anger.

"You know that Dr Reid has severe PTSD from being in prison. He has gone through a huge amount of therapy to get past that, but no amount of therapy can fix a traumatic brain injury. Knowing all that, why did you send him into a prison alone?" snapped JJ. Emily rested a hand on JJ's arm to calm her.

"Dr. Reid is a trained FBI agent and should be more than capable of going into a prison. All agents have trauma of some sort. I reiterate. We will discuss his position within the bureau in the next few weeks. Until then, I expect him to be placed on medical leave for six weeks minimum." Director Michaels eyed the agents at the table before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Emily slowly moved her chair around so that she faced the team. David narrowed his eyes.

"Someone care to tell me what the hell is going on?" A vibration in her trouser pocket startled JJ. She carefully slid her cell phone out of her pocket and glanced down at the screen as inconspicuous as she could. It was a message from Penelope.

"Director Michaels is Warden Lee Michaels' father! Reid arrested his son!"

Deciding she would need to inform the team of the critical piece of information, JJ let out a sigh and tilted her chin up to look at the others.

"Guys, there's something I need to tell you. I got a feeling about Director Michaels after Spence tried to end his life, so I had Garcia do some digging. Warden Lee Michaels is Director Michaels' son." The atmosphere immediately grew thick and stifling.

"That means Reid is the one that arrested his other son. They both wanted revenge on him," responded Tara.

"I hate to play devil's advocate here, but we don't have any evidence that he is the one who orchestrated the whole thing," answered Emily with a shake of her head.

"Then we find evidence. We do what we have to in order to prove that Director Michaels is behind this," said Luke.

"Agreed. This is going to be hard. Like trying to get Reid out of prison hard. Dave, you're picking Reid up in an hour, right?"

"Yep."

"Okay. We get Reid home first, and then we look into things further. No one discusses this outside of the team. Is that clear?"

07/07/2019. 21:24 hours. David Rossi's House, Virginia.

Spencer had easily slipped back into his routine at David's. He remembered not to throw anything at his liquor cabinet, and David learned not to leave any files lying around. Spencer had access to David's expansive library, and at least he was able to walk around the house with ease. He hated having someone babysitting him twenty-four hours a day, however. It was as though he couldn't be trusted to be alone. Given that he had tried to end his life and came exceptionally close to doing so, it was better than being locked in a psychiatric unit. David had ensured that he locked any sharp objects away. He was curled up on the couch deeply engrossed in Homer's Iliad, his wire frame spectacles balanced on the bridge of his still healing nose. The bandage had been removed, but the bruising remained. He had almost forgotten that Matt had been assigned to him for the night until a throat being cleared snapped him out of his reverie. He lifted his head to see Matt thumbing through a glossy hunting magazine.

"Hey, Matt," said Spencer, gently closing the book on his lap. Matt raised his eyebrows and turned his head to the genius.

"You okay, Reid?"

"Yeah. I'm good. Uh… I wanted to apologise for my behaviour at my apartment. It goes without saying that I'm mortified by what I did."

"We understand. Dr. Stokes said you would have trouble with your emotions with the brain injury. Given everything you've been through, it's understandable." Spencer shook his head.

"It's not excusable, though."

"Reid? Seriously, it's okay. We're with you every step of the way." Matt glanced at the sports watch on his left wrist. "Time for your medication. I'll get them for you and brew a pot of coffee." Spencer offered Matt a genuine smile that reached his eyes and returned to his book as Matt came to his feet and made his way to the kitchen. He was lost in the words on the page he was reading, taking in the smell of the coffee machine, when a glass of water was shoved under his nose. Matt held out a tumbler of water and two white pills. Spencer accepted them gratefully and tossed the pills into his mouth. The bitterness on his tongue was immediate. He gulped the contents of the tumbler to wash away the taste and the offending tablets. He shivered from head to toe and set the tumbler down on the coffee table. Matt's cell phone sounded from his pocket. He slipped it out and glanced at the screen.

"It's Kristy. I'm just going into the back garden to talk to her. Come and get me if you need me." Spencer smiled and waved him away.

"Tell her I said hi." Matt nodded and answered the call, moving away through the kitchen to the back garden. Spencer gave a content sigh and returned to his book.

The story was compelling. Spencer found himself reading at a normal pace, just to take it all in. He was so hooked on the lines in front of him, the siege of Troy by Mycenean Greeks hidden inside of a wooden horse, that he was immediately startled by cold steel brushing against the back of his scalp. Spencer lifted his eyes from the book and softly closed it. He swallowed hard and lifted his hands to his chest. He could hear heavy breathing behind him.

"Stay quiet, Dr Reid." Spencer averted his attention to the kitchen where Matt was returning, sliding his cell phone into his pocket.

"Sorry about that, Reid. Kristy has been trying out some baking with the kids…" Matt's voice trailed off as he noticed Director John Michaels stood behind Spencer with a Glock aimed at the back of his head. Spencer was visibly trembling and had his hands raised in surrender.

"Director Michaels?" asked Matt. Spencer frowned, and his mouth gaped.

"Put your gun, credentials, and cell phone in the middle of the coffee table, Agent Simmons." Matt reluctantly removed his Glock from the holster at his hip and tossed it onto the table. His credentials and cell phone followed.

"Director, you don't need to do this." Spencer's face was taut in confusion.

"Director? Matt, what's going on?" Director Michaels brought the handle of the gun down hard across Spencer's face, splitting the skin over his cheekbone. Spencer hissed at the pain, blood trickling down his face.

"I told you to be quiet, Dr Reid. Since my son failed to end this, you're going to help me."

"Why would I help you? Spencer is my friend. I'm not going to hurt him."

"Oh, but you will when you know what's on the line. Right now, there's a van parked outside of your house. The agent inside has been ordered to kill everyone in the house if you do not comply."

"You're bluffing." Spencer's eyes were fixed on Matt, his brow furrowed in fear.

"Am I? I'm not sure Kristy, Jake, David, Chloe, Lily, and Rose Mary would agree. You will follow my instructions to the letter, Agent Simmons, or I will order the agent in to kill everyone." Matt gulped in horror.

"It's okay, Matt. Just do whatever he says. You can't risk your family for me." Director Michaels slapped Spencer across the back of the head.

"Shut up!"

"Okay, okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Excellent. First of all, you're going to put this on Dr. Reid." Director Michaels tossed a heavy package at Matt, who easily caught it. He tore open the package to reveal a white strait jacket. He met Spencer's gaze. The young doctor was terrified but was nodding at him in reassurance.

"It's okay," mouthed Spencer.

"On your feet, Reid," instructed Matt as he held out the straitjacket. Spencer gracefully unfurled his legs from underneath him and came to his feet. Matt approached him with the jacket. Spencer's mouth felt dry, like it was full of cotton wool. His pulse bounded in his ears.

Spencer compliantly slipped his hands into the closed arms of the jacket. Matt gently turned him around so that the genius was facing the director who still trained his gun on them.

"Fasten it properly, Agent Simmons. Nice and tight." Matt nodded stiffly and began buckling the straps up the back. He reached the one at Spencer's thin neck and pulled it as tightly as he could so that it would be mildly uncomfortable but not restrict his breathing. Spencer corded his neck against the heavy fabric circling his throat.

"I'm sorry, Reid," whispered Matt.

"It's okay."

"Cross your arms over your chest." Spencer folded his arms over his chest as instructed. Matt pulled on the straps attached to the sleeves and fastened them behind Spencer's back. Spencer turned back to him to allow him to finish securing him. He fastened the short strap around Spencer's arms to hold them together. Spencer offered Matt a small, reassuring smile. The two straps at the bottom of the jacket were hooked between Spencer's legs and fastened at the back.

"Excellent. Now we're going into the dining room. You're going to pull out a chair, and Dr Reid is going to sit in it." The pair walked silently to the dining room with the Director close up behind them. Matt tugged out one of David's wooden dining chairs, and Spencer seated himself in it. Director Michaels handed Matt two plastic zip ties from his trouser pocket.

"Bind his ankles to the chair legs." Matt nodded grimly and knelt down at Spencer's feet. He pushed Spencer's left ankle towards the chair leg and wrapped the zip tie around them. He pulled firmly on the plastic to secure it. Spencer was unable to prevent the wince of pain. Once both ankles were bound to the chair, Matt eased himself up to his feet. Director Michaels set the black bag he was carrying down on the wooden floor and handed Matt a length of rope.

"Around his chest to tie him to the back of the chair." Matt complied, winding the rope around Spencer's chest and upper arms and knotting it tightly behind the chair.

"Director, what's this going to accomplish?" asked Matt with a defeated sigh.

"I've already told you. Revenge. Do none of you listen?" Spencer's eyes darted between the two men.

"What's going on here? Revenge? I don't understand," came Spencer's trembling voice. Director Michaels' glare was enough to make Spencer's blood turn to ice.

"I told you to be quiet, Dr Reid. Since you aren't listening to me either, I'm going to shut you up. I will not have you interrupt me again." Director Michaels rummaged through his bag and handed Matt a roll of black duct tape and what appeared to be a polishing cloth. "Stuff the cloth down his throat and tape his mouth shut." Matt's mouth gaped. The thought of tying up and gagging his friend was horrifying. He glanced at Spencer, who was staring at him with large watering eyes. Matt huffed and scrunched up the scratchy cloth. Spencer clamped his lips shut to stop his team mate, but was unable to prevent Matt from pinching his nostrils shut. Black spots danced in front of Spencer's eyes at the lack of oxygen, and he opened his mouth to take in a breath. Matt shoved the cloth into Spencer's open maw, pushing it behind his teeth so that it depressed his tongue. A tear crept out of the corner of Spencer's eye as he met Matt's gaze. Matt pulled the tape away from the roll and pressed it firmly over Spencer's lips. He wrapped it tightly around his head several times, trapping his curls underneath and securing the cloth inside of his mouth.

"Thank you, Agent Simmons. Finally, he's silent. Your work here is done for now. Dr Reid and I are going to talk for a while." Director Michaels jabbed a hypodermic needle into Matt's neck and pressed down firmly on the plunger. Matt's eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped to the floor with a heavy thud. Spencer's cries were muffled behind the suffocating cloth and tape. He took the handcuffs from the back of Matt's belt and cuffed the unconscious man's hands behind his back. Spencer's eyes shot up to the director's face. Director Michaels was grinning maniacally.

"Now, I finally have you. It's time for you to pay for arresting one son and leading them both to their deaths." Spencer shook his head wildly and screamed through the gag at the older man who slipped a curved blade out of the inner pocket of his blazer and pressed the tip to the skin at the side of Spencer's eye. Another tear escaped and landed on the edge of the blade.

"Go ahead. Cry, Dr Reid. No one will save you this time."