Chapter Two

17/04/2020. 12:23 hours. David Rossi's House, Virginia.

Spencer was nose deep in his reports, having just given a profile to Charleston Police Department for an elusive arsonist they had been searching for for weeks. He deeply missed being in the office. He missed the bad coffee, the camaraderie amongst the team, and the games of poker for nuts, pretzels, and candy. He sat back in his swivel chair and brushed his curls out of his face. He stretched his arms above his head, relishing in the way his spine clicked. The screen lit up on his phone screen, indicating that he had a call. Spencer glanced at it to see that it was JJ. He smiled to himself and answered the call. His hair fell down his wrist as he held his phone to his ear.

"Hey, JJ. How are you?" asked Spencer as he came to his feet and made his way over to the large window looking out onto the garden.

"Hi, Spence." Spencer recoiled at the nickname. "It's so good to hear your voice. I miss you. How are you?"

"I'm okay. This isolation is killing me, though."

"Hopefully, Trump will let us return to the office soon."

"God, I hope so. I miss the bad coffee. I miss everyone. I miss you. And you have no idea how much I miss Henry and Michael. How are my godsons?" JJ laughed softly.

"They're great. Henry's a typical teenager now. They love not being at school."

"Well, Henry'll have to work super hard when he goes back. I promised him I would get him into Caltech, and I won't break my promises." Spencer frowned as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye from behind some bushes. He could barely hear JJ talking over the static in his ears. He froze in place, heart pounding against his ribs.

"Spence? Are you still there?" Spencer shook his head.

"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry."

"It's okay. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Listen, I need to get back to my consults. Talk to you later, alright?"

"Of course. Be safe." Spencer turned his attention back to the window as the call ended. He peered into the trees, determined to find what he saw. All he could see was slightly swaying trees. He had seen something. He was sure of it.

Spencer snapped his gaze to his phone that pinged in his hand. It was a message from an unknown sender. He cautiously opened the message to see a photograph of him standing at the window on his phone. He wore a purple button-up and black dress trousers. This was taken today…. Just now…. Spencer felt his heartbeat speed up, breaths coming as ragged gasps. Another message followed.

You look good in purple, Spencer. Can't wait to dress you up, and then tie you up all nice and tight. You're going to look amazing with tape on your mouth and my teeth marks in your skin.

Tears streaked down Spencer's face as he slumped down to the floor with his back against the wall. The phone dropped from his trembling hand and clattered against the laminate flooring. He could barely get in a breath, his lungs contracting. The room was spinning around him, and his blood rushed through his ears. He rested his head back against the wall, hoping that the small fraction of increase in his hollow neck would aid his breathing. He felt a crawling sensation over his lips and down his chin. He whimpered at the jolts of electricity he could feel in his limbs. Spencer's head tipped to the side, and his eyes rolled back. He slid across the wall until he landed against a small wooden case filled with a variety of books on psychology and criminology. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides, every muscle taut in contraction. His limbs jerked furiously, his head bouncing against the bookcase. His huffs of breath were uneven.

…

David had been preparing a tray of sandwiches for himself and Spencer in the kitchen when he heard a dull thudding sound from the office. He approached slowly, listening as the sound got louder and more frequent.

"Reid?" David's response as he neared the closed door was the repeated noise and throaty huffs. He closed his fingers around the steel door handle and pushed the door open. He was horrified to find Spencer slumped against the bookcase, his head thumping against the side. Blood was gushing from his nose, dripping steadily onto his shirt. David dropped to his knees beside the young man, suddenly unsure of what to do. He noted Spencer's phone on the floor, and a text message was still open on the screen. His curiosity piqued, and he skimmed the message.

You look good in purple, Spencer. Can't wait to dress you up, and then tie you up all nice and tight. You're going to look amazing with tape on your mouth and my teeth marks in your skin.

Spencer's lips greyed, his seizure unrelenting. A dark patch blossomed over the crotch of his trousers. David eyed his watch cautiously, taking note of the timer creeping past four minutes. He knew that Spencer kept a syringe of buccal medication in his desk drawer for situations like this. He rifled through the drawer for the distinctive orange case and grabbed it before glancing at his watch. Five minutes. David broke the seal on the case and slipped the syringe out. He uncapped it and peeled back Spencer's top lip. He squeezed half of the syringe into one side, then repeated the action on the other side. David watched as Spencer's jerking began to slow, and his eyes fluttered shut. There was a patch of blood on the bookcase that had begun to run down the wood. David pressed two fingers to Spencer's pulse point on his neck, his heart beating steadily beneath his coarse fingertips.

"Come on, chico. Let's get you to bed." David gathered Spencer up into his arms in a bridal carry, shocked by how little he weighed.

Spencer's head rested against David's chest as he was carried to his room. David gently set the doctor down on the bed and moved to the en suite to fill the wash basin. As the water was warming up, David stripped Spencer down until he was naked on the bed and draped a towel over his hips to hide his modesty. Once the water was at a sufficient temperature, David grabbed a face cloth and began to wash Spencer down to remove the urine from his genitals and legs. Spencer would be mortified by the prospect of being bed-bathed like a child, so David worked as quickly as he could. Satisfied that he was clean, David grabbed some fresh underwear, plaid pyjama bottoms, and a Dr Who t-shirt from Spencer's drawers and dressed him. Spencer did not rouse or react in any way. It was likely that he would be asleep for hours. David tucked the covers over Spencer's sleeping form and made his way back to the office.

Spencer's cell phone still lay on the floor exactly where it had been left. David reached down for it, the plastic feeling icy cold in his palm. He slipped his own phone out of his jeans pocket and scrolled through his numbers until he reached Penelope Garcia. He sighed and waited for the call to connect.

"This is Penelope Garcia, the oracle of all things tech and sparkly! Speak, oh fortunate one."

"Hi, Penelope. It's Dave."

"Oh, my gosh! It's so amazing to hear your voice! How are you? How's our boy genius?"

"He's resting. He just had a pretty bad seizure. I'm okay. Listen, Penelope. I have something I need you to do for me."

"Anything, sweet cheeks."

"I'm going to drop a cell phone off on your doorstep. I need you to try and track the location of the person sending the messages and calls."

"Sure thing. Just drop it off when you're ready, and I'll work my magic. I've just finished baking a batch of double chocolate brownies. I'll leave a box at the door for you and Reid."

"You're an angel, Garcia."

"You know it. PG out!" David took the phone and gathered his car keys. He stole a glance at Spencer's bedroom door that was open ajar before heading out of the front door.

17/04/2020. 13:28 hours. Penelope Garcia's Apartment, Virginia.

Penelope bounced and bopped her hips in time to the beat of the music blasting out of her Bluetooth speaker. The scent of freshly baked brownies filled the room. The half filled tray lay on the kitchen counter. She had a pink apron tied over her floral blouse and fifties style skirt. Her cell phone lit up with the sight of the image from her video doorbell. It showed David setting a cell phone down at her door and collecting the box of brownies. She smiled as David looked directly into the camera and waved before blowing her a kiss. She knew he would not be able to see her, but she returned the gesture all the same.

Once David was away from the door and had disappeared down the hallway, Penelope went to her front door and picked up the cell phone. She turned it over and over in her hands. It was an older model of iPhone, but she could work with that. She tapped the screen to open it with the tip of her polished thumb. She was alarmed by the lack of security on it. She was met with the distinctive blue Behavioural Analysis Unit background and swallowed hard. A quick search in the settings, and she discovered that it was Spencer's phone.

Penelope seated herself on a stool at the kitchen counter and plugged the phone into her pulled up the call log first, noticing hundreds of calls from a private number. It was from a burner phone, making it difficult to trace. All she could ascertain was that it was calling from near where David and Spencer lived. With a frustrated huff, Penelope opened the messages. She noticed the photograph of Spencer first where he was standing at a window, peering out as though he had seen something and was on his phone. His lips were pressed together in a tight line, and his shoulders were hunched. His eyes looked terrified, swallowed whole by dark circles. She tapped on the most recent message.

You look good in purple, Spencer. Can't wait to dress you up, and then tie you up all nice and tight. You're going to look amazing with tape on your mouth and my teeth marks in your skin.

Penelope's mouth bobbed, and tears gathered on her lower lashes. She had to see these. For Spencer's sake. The previous messages all sounded similar. They talked about Spencer hiding from them, how they would find him, and kidnap him. They went into graphic detail about all the things they would do to him once they had him. It made for harrowing reading. There were hundreds of messages dating back six months.

17/04/2020. 19:10 hours. David Rossi's House, Virginia.

Spencer awoke with a groan, his head pounding. He gingerly touched his temple and winced at the tenderness there. His fingers traced over a small cut above his eyebrow. He eased his aching body up into a seated position and glanced around. He had no recollection of changing into pyjamas or getting into bed. His head still felt like it was filled with cotton wool, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth like he had taken medication. He squinted in the darkness to find his bedside unit to be devoid of his phone.

He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room tilted slightly before righting itself. Spencer stood from the bed and padded out of the room to the lounge. David was seated in his leather armchair with a glass of Scotch in his hand as he watched the lockdown updates on the television. David turned his head at the sound of Spencer's bare feet on the floor.

"Hey, kid. How're you feeling?" asked David. Spencer frowned and smacked his dry lips.

"Um… Rough…. Confused," answered Spencer as he went into the kitchen and ran the cold water faucet. He grabbed the pillbox from the back of the bench and tipped his evening medication into his palm. He filled a glass tumbler with water and threw the pills into his mouth. He grimaced at the taste as he gulped the water to wash the tablets down. Spencer carried his drink back to the lounge and slumped onto the sofa. David watched him cautiously. Spencer frowned, his mind in a haze and memories jumbled.

"My head feels weird, and I've got a cut on my eyebrow. What happened?" asked Spencer, his fingers curiously reaching for the wound.

"You had a prolonged seizure in the office. You kept hitting your head on the bookcase. I had to give you that buccal Midazolam you keep in the drawer. What triggered that one?" Spencer shook his head.

"I don't remember. I gave my profile to Charleston PD, finished my report, and then took a call from JJ. It all goes blank after that."

"It's okay, Spencer."

"Have you seen my phone?" David shrugged and sipped his drink.

"No. Sorry," answered David. Spencer sighed. "Are you going to tell me what's been bothering you?"

"Please, Dave. Don't do this right now."

"We need to talk about it, kid. Whatever it is, it's having a serious effect on your health." Spencer glared at David.

"I've already told you. I'm fine. So, I'm stressed with the isolation and lockdown! I'm sure I'm not the only one suffering from my health during this nightmare." Spencer set the empty glass on the table and folded his arms indignantly over his chest. David came to his feet and shuffled over to the sofa. He seated himself next to the genius.

"Spencer, you know too well what happens when you keep secrets. You ended up in prison for God's sake through keeping secrets." Spencer scowled at him, disbelief and hurt burning in his hazel pools.

"I'm not keeping secrets," pressed out Spencer, his voice dangerously low and his eyes flashing with anger.

"Sure, you're not. You forget that I'm a profiler too, and I've been doing this job almost as long as you've been alive. I know you, Reid." Spencer launched himself from the sofa, his hands balled into fists. "You're going to end up having another seizure."

"Good. Let me." Spencer turned on his heel and stormed away, the atmosphere tense. David sighed and slipped his cell phone from his pocket to see an incoming call from Penelope. David quickly answered it.

"What you got for me, kitten?"

"I can't get an identity or exact location, but what I can see is that it's a burner phone, and it's within a fifteen mile radius of your house. There's six months of messages and calls. Dave, they're horrific. They talk about kidnapping him, hurting him. Whoever it is is watching him at your house. Should we put him into protective custody?"

"He can't know that we know about this."

"But, Dave. He's going to get hurt. I can't see him get hurt again. He's struggling again, isn't he?" David gave a resigned sigh.

"Yeah, he is."

"What are we going to do?"

"I'm trying to get him to open up. It's hard, but I'll do what I have to to make him talk. Thanks, Penelope."

"You're welcome. Stay safe. Both of you. Keep me posted." David ended the call and threw his phone on the coffee table. He could hear the distinct sound of Spencer sobbing through the closed bedroom door. It was going to be far from easy.