Reckless

Chapter 39

…The high walls of Oxford University's Bodleian Library towered above him, making even Spencer feel small. He'd only been there once in real life, years ago. But the place left enough of an impression on him that he often found his unconscious mind drifting back to the facility's impressive reading room. Soft music was filling the space, the way it never would in real life. That's how Spencer knew he was dreaming even before he saw Maeve sitting at a nearby table with a book in her hands.

"It's been a long time…," she teased, smiling as she turned her book face down on the table top. She looked exactly the same as Spencer remembered, right down to the grey sweater she was wearing the day she died. He wasn't sure why he was surprised by this. The dead don't age. And they certainly don't change their clothes. Like the Oxford Library, he only saw Maeve once. It was hard to picture her wearing anything else. "I wasn't sure if I would ever see you again," she added.

Spencer started to rise from his seat. He paused in mid motion, gripping the edge of the table with one hand. His other hand rose to his head as he winced in pain. The walls of the library suddenly turned fluid, fading in and out of focus until he could feel the threadbare hotel carpet under his body. His wrists were secured behind his back. The bindings were ripping and pulling at his skin. There was a gas mask fastened to his face. The bitter taste of the gas was choking him. He thrashed against his bindings as the white clouds of gas filled the mask, but his efforts were in vain. Whoever tied him up knew what they were doing.

"Stay here, stay with me," Maeve whispered. The feel of her hand on his face replaced the horrid pinch of the rubber mask.

"Am I dying?," Spencer asked. "Is that why I'm here with you?" Maeve shook her head as she lowered herself down onto the table in front of him.

"No," she promised. "...but when she's done with you, you might wish you were dead."

Spencer reached up, gripping Maeve's hand as he was once again jerked back into semi-consciousness. His wrists were no longer bound, but the room was swirling around him. A hard jolt of pain in his arm kept him from fading back into oblivion. He was unable to focus his eyes enough to see the face of his assailant. But he could see a hand on the needle that was being poked into his arm. The fingernails were covered in chipped dark red nail polish. Spencer willed himself to move, but his body felt like it was melting into the floor. His arm flopped down at his side as the burn of the drugs began to crawl up his arm. The burn quickly gave way to the feeling of forcefully induced euphoria.

"No," Spencer croaked. He didn't want this. He hadn't touched a narcotic in years. Not even when he was hurt. Not even when he was shot. Not even when Maeve died. Not even when he thought Emily died, even though there were moments when he would have given anything to stop the pain.

"Don't worry," the woman cooed. "It's me, Toni."

"You're not Toni," Spencer argued. His words were slurred and garbled. But they must have still been clear enough for his attacker to understand him because she started laughing. Her laugh was oddly familiar to him, like he'd heard her voice somewhere before. Reaching down, she grasped his head and forced it to the side. The world spun faster around him. Spencer blinked his eyes as he tried to focus on the scene in front of him. The body on the floor was just a blur at first. When he was finally able to focus, he recognized the doctor he drove into Mexico to meet. The one that was selling him the Alzheimer's medication she concocted for his mother. She was lying on her side, her eyes open and unfocused.

Spencer felt himself slipping. He could almost feel Maeve's hand in his before he was roughly slapped back into consciousness with a hard slap to the side of his face. When his eyes opened, the first thing he saw was the knife. His attacker held it in front of his face before moving away from him and toward the doctor's limp body. Her hair was falling forward as she crouched down, obscuring Spencer's view of her face.

"You did this," she hissed with a laugh. Lifting the knife, Spencer watched in horror as she plunged the blade into the doctor's body over and over again. His body twitched as she moved towards him, fresh blood dripping from the blade of the knife. Even in his current state, Spencer had some idea of what she was about to do. She put on gloves before she picked up the knife. Now she was going to press his hand down around the hilt of it, leaving his fingerprints on the murder weapon. Spencer jerked as she lowered the knife into his hand. Instead of the handle pressing against his palm like she planned, the blade hit him instead. Blood bloomed, a red flower with flowing petals in the center of his hand. He watched it with fascination as the blood ran out, unable to even feel the cut. All the drugs in his system were numbing the pain.

Spencer could feel the darkness swirling around him, thick and cloying. As he let his heavy eyes blink shut, he felt his attacker's hot breath on his ear.

"When I'm done here, your girlfriend is next," she whispered…

"Spencer!"

Spencer jerked awake with Toni's name on his lips. He didn't know where he was, or how he got there. But he woke with the overwhelming urge to make sure she was safe.
"Spencer. It's me, JJ."

Spencer's back was riddled with tiny spasms of pain as he forced himself up into a sitting position. JJ was there, just like she said. But there was a heavy set of steel bars between them. At first, he was confused as to why JJ was in jail. It only took Spencer another moment to realize that she was standing on the outside of the bars. He was the one locked up.

"Where's Toni?," he asked. There was a limp in his step as he approached the bars. Spencer gripped them to keep himself upright, wincing at the intense surge of pain in the palm of his hand. His hand was wrapped in medical tape and bandages, but he had no idea what happened to cause his injuries. The cut felt deep, like more than just his skin was cut.

"She's back at the office," JJ explained. Her tone was soft and even, like she was talking to a frightened child.

"She's okay?," Spencer confirmed. He could hear the slur in his words. He could feel the pressing fog in his mind, slowing his thoughts. But his body must be moving even more slowly than his brain. He wasn't sure with what, but he could tell he'd been drugged. The fact that he woke up in a jail cell and not in a hospital was becoming more and more concerning.

"She's fine," JJ promised. "Luke just got off the phone with Garcia."

Reid let out a heavy sigh. Unfortunately, the relief he felt only lasted a moment. His memory of what landed him in Mexican jail was still lost in the fog, but the mention of Toni's name brought the horrible fight they had back to the forefront of his mind. The last time he saw her, blood was dripping down her chin. Spencer was racked with guilt over his poor handling of the situation. It mixed with his lingering anger. He didn't want to be angry with Toni, but he was. If she was capable of lying to him about something so serious, he wasn't sure if he could trust her at all. This left him questioning every interaction he ever had with her.

Lifting his hand to his head, Spencer winced. The pain was coming in sharp pulses, radiating out from behind his eyes until his entire head felt like it was about to explode. "I need to talk to her," Spencer groaned. "We had a fight."

"I know," JJ replied. She threaded her hand through the steel bars, wrapping them around his in the only gesture of comfort she could offer at the moment. Spencer opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights.

"You know?," he asked, his eyes widening slightly as he wondered just exactly how much she knew.
"Toni told me. About the fight… and about her son. I mean your son." JJ paused. She could tell Spencer wanted her to help him digest the situation. But at the moment, they had a much more serious problem. "Spence," she said, trying her best to not let her anxiety show in her voice. "Do you remember how you got here?"

Spencer winced, lifting his hand and massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. His head was pounding. The pain was making it impossible for him to think clearly, let alone make any sense of the foggy thoughts swirling around in his mind. He blinked his bloodshot eyes against the harsh overhead lighting. Finally he shook his head. He had no recollection of how he ended up in Mexican jail.

"The car you were driving, they found a lot of drugs in the trunk. And money," JJ explained. That was bad enough. But it was the dead body they found in Spencer's motel room that was the real problem. "Do you remember driving to Mexico and checking into a hotel?"

This time Spencer nodded. He remembered making the trip. It wasn't the first time he crossed the border without notifying the fbi. "I was meeting a doctor. Nadie Ramos. She's working on a drug that can reverse brain degeneration."

"You were giving it to your mother?," JJ asked, sighing when Spencer responded with a nod. They not only found drugs in the trunk of the car Spencer was driving, the Mexican police also found vials of some other substance on him. JJ hoped that whatever drug mixture Spencer was giving his mother, it wasn't illegal.

"Will you be able to get me out of here soon?," Spencer asked. He knew his situation didn't sound good. But he was hoping his status as an fbi agent might earn him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't use or sell drugs, and this seemed like something that would be fairly easy to verify.

"There's a problem with that," JJ admitted. This time she was unable to keep her own fear from creeping into her voice. "They found a woman dead in your hotel room. They haven't identified her yet." JJ turned, gesturing for Luke to approach. He stopped his conversation with the Mexican officer. Both of them approached Spencer's cell as Luke showed him a few photos of the body they found in Spencer's hotel room. Spencer was able to identify the woman as Nadie Ramos, the doctor he drove down to Mexico to meet. But he had no idea what happened in his room or how she ended up dead.

The pain in Spencer's head was getting steadily worse. He hadn't eaten in what felt like days. The drugs he was given were slowly making their way out of his system. The last clear memory he had was of Hotch. After Spencer identified the body of Nadie Ramos, the bau unit chief approached his cell and promised him that he was going to get him transferred back into american custody.

Spencer spent most of his journey back to the United States trying not to vomit. His migraine was growing worse and worse. It felt like someone was hitting the inside of his head with a hammer. When the pulsing pain stopped long enough for him to string together a coherent thought, he was plagued with worries about the fight he had with Toni. Spencer knew he had bigger worries than his love life at the moment. But telling himself that didn't stop the intrusive thoughts. The whole ugly scene was playing on repeat in his mind. He felt like he was living in a nightmare. Everything that was happening to him, from the intake to the medical exam felt surreal. It wasn't until he was corralled into a holding area with an assortment of other inmates that the reality of the situation really began to sink in,

He was sitting on a metal bench that was attached to the floor beneath it. In his lap, there was a small pile of prison issued clothes and toiletries. Everyone in the room was holding the exact same items. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit, but the clothing in his pile was grey. He was oddly grateful for that.

One by one, a second group of men in grey prison attire filed into the room. It appeared that each of them were assigned to one member of his group. Spencer waited with nervous anticipation until his name was called. He shuffled after a tall man with a shaved head and a tattoo on his neck. He didn't look like the sort of man Spencer would choose to spend his time with. But given the circumstances, Spencer didn't have much of a choice.

"Your name is Reid," the man confirmed. "Spencer Reid?" Spencer nodded his head. The man's question seemed routine. It wasn't until he glanced back at Spencer with a strangely curious look on his face that Spencer began to worry. He forced himself to hold his ground when the man leaned in closer to him.

"I've got a message for you," the man said. His voice was low, like he was about to share a secret. For a moment, Spencer felt a glimmer of hope. His first instinct was that if a stranger had a message for him, it might be from his team at the bau. The last contact he had with them was when he was in the holding cell in Mexico. But there was no such luck. At least not today. The man's curious glance quickly turned into a devious smirk.

Before Spencer realized what happened, he was doubled over in pain. The man punched him in the gut as hard as he could. The air woofed out of his lungs. Spencer dropped his neatly folded pile of clothes and toiletries as he slunk down onto the floor, his arms wrapping protectively around his midsection. The man got one more hit in. His fist slammed into the side of Spencer's face before one of the guards stepped in to break it up.

The man hissed a threat at Spencer, laughing as the guard dragged him away, "Fletcher Flynn sends his regards… I'll be seeing you again, real soon."