5:00 am, BAU Office
JJ came rushing into the conference room, raising the paper clutched in her hand and exclaiming, "We've got something."
They all impatiently waited for her to continue.
"A kid working at a convenience store called the tip line and said he remembered a guy buying a ski mask and a black sweatshirt, among other things. The kid remembered it because the guy left a bag, the bag with the ski mask and sweatshirt in, behind, and the man in line behind him offered to take it out. Garcia's running the footage from the security cameras outside the store to see if we can get a hit," JJ said.
Morgan was just about to head to Garcia's 'Batcave' to check her progress, but then she came bustling in, her jewelry rattling.
"What do you have, Garcia?" Rossi asked her.
"I've identified the man who made the purchase at the store. Addresses have just been sent to your phones. Go find our resident genius," she said, trying to be cheery, and all of them rose from their seats and rushed out the door, intent on finding Reid, or at least someone who could give them information to help them find out where he was.
5:30 am, Suspect's Home
"FBI, open up!" Hotch shouted, pounding on the door and standing with his gun at the ready, flanked by Morgan and Rossi. JJ and Prentiss had gone around back.
There was no answer, and Hotch stepped aside and nodded to Morgan.
"We're coming in," Morgan called before aiming a well-placed kick just to the right of the doorknob, and it slammed open.
Guns raised, backs against the walls, they searched the house, a cacophony of, "Clears," ringing out as they checked each room.
"Guys, basement," Prentiss called from the hallway, and she covered Morgan as he descended the stairs first.
"Michael Jameson, put your hands above your head," Morgan demanded of the man huddled over a worktable in the far corner of the room, his gun pointed at the man's back.
A clatter reverberated around the dark basement as he dropped whatever he had been working on, raising his hands over his head and cautiously turning to face the gun barrels and flashlight beams aimed at him.
Unknown Time, Unknown Location
"Dr. Reid," the man greeted as he entered the doctor's prison. He left the door open, Reid noticed, but he stayed silent. He couldn't make a run for it until the man removed the cuffs chaining him to the table.
"Do you care to continue Shakespeare for me?" he asked.
Reid swallowed, his throat dry, but nodded.
"Good," the unsub said softly, his voice almost sickeningly sweet, and he advanced to the edge of the table and began undoing the rusty metal cuff around one of Reid's ankles.
Reid forced his expression to stay neutral to hide the adrenaline that had started thrumming through his racing heart and calmly started reciting, "In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie."
Reid raised his voice to be heard over the jingling of chains as the man moved to the foot of the table to free his other ankle, keeping as still as possible because now that he was fully conscious again, a fresh dose of pain was rushing through his body in time to the staccato of his pulse.
"As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by."
Reid noticed the man wasn't looking at him, but rather staring off into space as he listened, a small smile playing on his lips as he absentmindedly undid the cuff around one of Reid's wrists.
He tried to keep his breathing slow, frame by frame of his escape playing in his mind as he continued speaking, "This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must ere leave long."
The silence that followed was only broken by the slight breathing of the man, Reid's stifled breath, and the chains of the cuffs as the man proceeded to undo the last one.
A sharp inhale cut the air, unsuccessfully concealing Reid's pain as he slowly sat up, rubbing his wrists. The man just needed to turn his back, he just needed to turn his back...
But the unsub instead reached up and brushed a few strands of lank, blood-crusted hair out of Reid's eyes, stating casually, "Pretty boy. That's what your friend Morgan calls you, correct?"
Reid froze, escape momentarily forgotten. He hadn't even considered the possibility that the unsub had chosen him as a victim after stalking him, but what he had just said was clear evidence supporting that fact.
"He's right, intelligence is very attractive. Though not to him, I'm sure. All he cares about is kicking down doors, isn't that right, Spencer?" the unsub seemed to gloat over him.
Reid was speechless. What if the rest of the team was in danger? He had to get out of here, now. If he ever wanted a chance at saving them, he needed to save himself, first.
"I-I don't know," Reid stammered, attempting to keep talking so the man wouldn't be suspicious about what he was planning as he carefully slid off the edge of the table, standing, but his knuckles were whiter than his pale skin as he gripped the cold metal in his clammy palms to try and keep his balance.
The dark room, a strand of maroon hair, and flashes of white were spinning in front of his eyes as he struggled to remain conscious, his breathing strangled and harsh.
The man forcefully clamped his fingers around Reid's jaw, forcing him to look right into his glaring eyes, scrutinizing Reid's face for even a micro-expression of deceit, but Reid hoped his fear would cover it up.
With a grunt of satisfaction, he released Reid and then turned his back on him, fishing something out of his pocket. Last chance, Reid thought, and he swiveled and sprinted for the door, ignoring the pain firing through his limbs with every step. Six, five, Reid counted inside his head with each stride.
"No!" the man growled, lunging at Reid and seizing his shoulder, jerking him back and throwing him to the floor.
Reid let out a cry of pain, ignoring the starbursts blurring his vision as he scrambled to get to his feet again, but he had just risen on his hands and knees when a kick to the abdomen sent him sprawling to the floor again, the breath knocked out of him. He drew a sharp breath, as cutting as the pain slicing through his middle, but his inhale quickly turned into a flurry of coughs.
Blood spattered the cold cement, contrasting starkly from the dull gray and rusty spots of red paint he had seen the first or second time he had woken up here. Reid vaguely wondered if he was the one bleeding on the floor, but before he could rise to his feet a second time, the man knocked him down again, pinning him to the floor with a foot on his already burning chest and clamping a fist around his forearm, a syringe in his other hand.
"No, no..." Reid whimpered, trying to twist his arm free of the man's vice-like grip, but he wrenched it back, exposing the soft pale flesh on the inside of his elbow. It was so white it seemed to glow in the dimly lit dungeon.
"Stupid boy, you never learn," he said, his voice soothing even though his words were anything but.
A last whimper escaped his bloody lips as the man plunged the needle into his arm, plunging Reid, once again, into darkness.
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Boy- A Criminal Minds Fanfic
Fanfiction"Who are y-" With a swift backhand to the face, Spencer was silenced, yet again. The force interrupted his balance and he swayed a bit before falling onto his back. The man stood above him, weapon pointed at his head.
