The Other Side, Part V Criminal Minds Big Bang
Title: The Other Side
Author: wit_worry_what
Beta: Katherine the Amazing
Artist: peasnbeanstalks
Art
PART V
Ethan always knows when Reid is in trouble, and he has the penchant for showing up and making it worse. So, after Reid returned home the day he met with Garcia and things had… disintegrated, he called Ethan, knowing out of everybody he would be the one to understand.
Once Reid got the phone call that Ethan just left the airport and was on his way, he collapsed into the large overstuffed sage reading chair he had and thought about the loud resounding knocks that will soon sound in his apartment. He knows whose smirking face will be behind the door, but in that moment he wished another face would appear in its stead. One with a subtle up-turning of its mouth and a glint of amusement in its eye.
Enjoying the sensation of running his fingers up and down the side of the chair, he let his mind wander to the subject of Aaron Hotchner…what it would be like to call him Aaron. What it would be like to touch his skin more than just an accidental brush of fingers in the office. What it would be like to wear his collar, to be his pet, to fuck him. Reid shifts in the chair, trying to relieve the pressure that has grown in his pants. He immediately softens, though, when he imagines what it would be like to share blood with Aaron. Not because it is scary or because it would hurt, although, it would be both of those things, no. It’s because Reid can imagine how intimate that would be. He was always taught that the ultimate symbol of ownership is found within bloodletting; freely giving up your very lifeblood for your master so that he may also live, having that sort of trust. It sounds remarkable, unbelievable.
A sharp knock knocks him from his reverie.
Reid stands ambling slowly towards his front door, delaying the inevitable. With a snort he thinks, unbelievable is right.
~~
By the time Friday rolls around, the office is rife with tension. For his part, Reid is a little befuddled. Obviously, he realizes that his behavior has been a little abnormal, but every member of the team has tried to talk to him, except for Hotch, and he thinks he does an okay job fooling them into believing everything is alright.
He decides that Hotch not attempting to talk to him is fine. It doesn’t bother him in the least, although from the looks JJ and Prentiss keep shooting their esteemed leader they disagree, quite vehemently.
Around two o’clock Hotch abruptly leaves his office with a sigh and heads towards Reid’s desk. Reid doesn’t notice the movement, or JJ’s subtle smile, because he is practically bent in two at his desk finishing paperwork with his fingers beating out a rapid and disconnected rhythm on the metal of his lamp.
“Reid.”
Hotch’s winces when Reid’s head whips up so fast it makes a cracking sound. Reid’s eyes are impossibly wide, like a small animal caught in a corner by a much larger predator, or a child found by his mother with his hand stuck in the cookie jar.
“I just wanted,” Hotch sighs again, and his eyes seek out the wall behind Reid’s head, refusing to make direct eye contact. “I just wanted to make sure you remembered you have your monthly meeting with Strauss in an hour.”
Reid lets out the breath that he has been holding and says, “Uh, yeah. I’m just gonna finish the paperwork from the Oregon case and then head over there. Did you need something else?”
“No,” Hotch says automatically and does an about turn and walks quickly, as if in retreat, back to his office. JJ begins to walk towards Hotch but is cut off mid stride with one look. She stops and glares at his back as he retreats into his office.
***
His second meeting with Strauss actually takes place in ten minutes, but, in all honesty, he desperately needed to get out of the bullpen. He sits in an extremely uncomfortable hard-backed chair outside her office, his leg moving frantically up and down. He flexes his hand over the jumping knee attempting to stop the motion, but it would only stop a moment before picking up again. He sighs in defeat.
“Oh, Dr. Reid, you’re early. That’s ok, not a problem. Come right in and let us begin.” Strauss starts with surprise and ends with a determined gait back into the depths of her office. “Actually, it’s a pleasure to have something that starts on time today. The bureaucrats of today all have to start meetings ten minutes late for some reason! It’s aggravating to say the least,” she chit-chats amicably.
“They do it to assert their dominance,” Reid begins, sounding like a textbook. “By making you wait for them, they’ve created a dynamic in which you’re the lesser authority looking for answers with the one in charge. I would imagine it happens to you more frequently particularly because you yourself are a sub. It most likely grates with tops to have to speak with you as an equal, so they find their control where they can. Quite straightforward really.”
Strauss slowly sits in her chair, which she has been standing in front of for the length of Reid’s speech, and folds her hands on her desk, sitting forward with a hard glint in her eye, “Dr. Reid, if you are implying that because I am a sub I cannot adequately do my job, I will have…”
“I’m not,” Reid says innocently, realizing that this was one of those times Morgan speaks of when his brain gets in front of his mouth. “I was just providing an explanation for why your meetings frequently start late. I, you, I mean, you do a great job. I have no problem with it. Or, uh, anything like that?” Reid tries to stop himself but he ends with a ramble, unsure of how to backpedal as well as, say, Hotch would have been able to.
Strauss actually seems to be amused by Reid’s latest outburst. “Well, good. And thank you. I will keep that in mind. Now, let us begin. How have you been handling your duties the past month without Gideon?”
Reid’s gaze flicks down to his again shaking knee, “Fine. Good, even. Um, I just keep working, and I still feel like I’m learning a lot from Aar - Agent Hotchner and all the rest of the team. We keep going like Gideon was never even there.”
Strauss scribbles on the notepad in front of her and nods. “Good. Are you feeling any extra stress from either the job or any individual persons? Anything happening outside of the office that is troubling you?”
The rest of the interview goes as usual, until Strauss’ last question. Reid must commend her because he was feeling as though he had gotten through the interview without running into a problem.
“So, finally, Dr. Reid, I have just one more question. Did you know that the man currently staying with you is a known drug addict?” She asks the question just as she has recited all the others, calmly detached and professional. He stares at her, the gall of that woman, he thinks. She is perfectly aware of what she just implied but has made no show of concern. Of what this implication could mean for Reid. Of what would, will happen…
“What? How could you possibly know who’s staying with me?”
“Dr. Reid, the Bureau naturally keeps tabs on its investments. This, surely, cannot come as much of a surprise, can it?” Her self-righteous attitude is like pouring vinegar onto an open wound. Reid is steaming.
“Ethan is not a drug addict. He, well, yes, he uses every once and a while, but that does not make him an addict. Don’t start throwing out accusations that you can’t back up! He’s a friend. I am allowed to have friends. I know the Council is against all sorts of cohorts and shenanigans, but he is all I have right now. So fuck you and that god forsaken archaic group of holier-than-thou chauvinists!” Reid’s outburst doesn’t ruffle a single feather, or hair, on Strauss. She sits sedately, continually scribbling on her notepad.
“Are you currently abusing any narcotics, Dr. Reid? Or are you just in a sexual relationship with Mr. Raine?”
Her calm attack has reached a melting point in Reid. They know. They do know. How? They can’t…get out. Get out now. Now.
“Screw you,” he says, calmly walking out of her office back towards the bullpen. He makes no sound and answers no one’s questions. He grabs his messenger bag and walks out, shouts of his name following him.
He won’t return.
***
Storming through the front door of his apartment he screams out for Ethan.
Jolting up from the reclined position on the couch where he has been pleasantly dozing, Ethan scrubs at his eyes, bewildered. “Wha? What’s going on, Spencer?” With just one look at Reid’s panicked expression, Ethan knows something horrible had happened.
“They know, Ethan. They know you’re here,” Reid seethes, walking in a tight circle. He makes a full stop, and then bursts into motion, tearing through the room, grabbing pieces of clothing. “You need to get out of here. Now. They’re going to…”
“I’m not going without you, Spencer. Hey. Hey! Come on,” Ethan says reassuringly, trying to calm the manic human rushing about the room. “It’s gonna be fine. It’s not as if they’re going to come bursting through the door. This is your apartment. Just sit down for a second,” Ethan says softly, but when no response is forth coming he barks, “Boy. Sit down. Now.”
Reid snaps to attention and immediately sinks onto the couch with his eyes darting about as though compensating for his body’s inability to move.
“Good. Ok, Spencer, listen to me. You will be fine. This will all be fine. You’re just becoming a little paranoid.” Reid opens his mouth to tell Ethan the story but isn’t given the chance. “No. You will not speak unless asked a direct question. What you need is something that will calm you down.” Ethan reaches across the table to a used needle and a half empty vial. “Let’s take care of you.”
Ethan inserts the needle into the vial’s soft top and pulls up the plunger, filling the chamber with the sinfully delicious clear liquid. He takes Reid’s arm, wrapping a nearby tie around the top and pulling it tight. Holding the narrow crook of his elbow, Ethan uses his thumb to sensuously press into the red specked skin. Reid gasps at the tingling sensation and anticipation of what is about to come. “This’ll make everything better, babe,” Ethan says, looking up from where he is kneeling in between Reid’s thighs. Returning his eyes to the issue at hand, Ethan finds what he is looking for and thrusts the needle, penetrating Reid’s vein and, at the same moment, releasing the drug into his system. Reid’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he sighs involuntarily as his body falls back, hitting the couch.
Is it even a couch, Reid thinks sluggishly. Is there a separation between this “couch” and “him”? He can feel every atom vibrating in the air against his skin and takes a deep breath. Why was he even worried? Ethan says everything is fine, so it is.
Reid’s mind drifts for the next twenty minutes or so, while Ethan maneuvers Reid out of some of his clothes and lays him flat across the couch. Ethan then begins to touch. Touch things and places that Reid would never ordinarily let him touch, just to be on the safe side, but at this moment Reid has no control. Just as he likes it.
Reid doesn’t shy away from sensations such as touch as much when he is like this. His skin burns where Ethan’s fingers drag across his stomach, around his navel, and about to dip into his pants.
A sudden and obnoxiously loud bang startles Reid from his drugged stupor. Too slow to fully understand his surroundings, Reid counts four new darkened figures scurrying through his apartment. In the distance he hears yelling: “Clear…Hey, what the fuck…Get him out…has been located…drugged…Go!”
It isn’t until he is roughly pulled up and dragged from the couch that he can find any words and the ones he finds are slurred: “I was comfy. Bring me back. Wha, I mean, who are you?”
He looks up at the two strangers dragging him unceremoniously down his hall; he sees a flash of fangs in each of their mouths. “We’re your ride back home, Selected.”
***
Reid falls asleep on his ride to the Council’s headquarters with his extraction team, not because they make him feel safe but because the drugs pulsing through his system override any other sort of stress he is feeling. He is flying higher than he has ever gone before.
The team of four large vampires, all dressed in what Reid was calling “cat burglar black get-ups”, half carry, half drag Reid through the eerily silent high-ceiling mansion; the same place Reid and Gideon had gone all those years ago. However, Reid is pulled past the Council’s chambers and directed down stairs instead. It is curious that he isn’t going to see the Council, he thinks to himself. As a matter of fact, Reid didn’t even know there was a downstairs underneath the mansion. By the look one of the vampires gives him he has been talking aloud the entire time. “It’s the dungeon, Selected. Not downstairs.” Reid could have sworn he heard a “Where the hell did they find this guy” mumbled underneath his breath, but is too far gone to mention it.
After what feels like a four-hour-long trek down the stairs, the group of them finally step on to the concrete floor of what seems to be a large bunker separated into many different cubicles with iron bars; similar to what a “brig” would look like from Britain’s colonial days.
“I think someone has seen Pirates of the Caribbean too many times,” Reid grunts after being pushed to the ground and then begins to laugh hysterically, believing his comment to be the funniest thing since sliced bread.
Out of the shadows, a rather handsome looking man in a perfectly-fitted three-piece suit adorned with a blood-red tie steps out. “I am glad you are taking this so well, Spencer. I would have hated for my men to have harmed you in any way.”
Supreme Councilor Chilcott stops directly in front of Reid’s crumpled form, which is now just gasping, making no noise. From an outsider’s view it would seem Reid has begun to sob. “You have broken your agreement with the Council, and forthwith your body returns back to its rightful Master.” Chilcott bends down at his knees so that he can lean forward and whisper directly into the wide-eyed boy’s ear, “Me.” Chilcott grabs Reid’s face and looks directly into his eyes. Scoffing at the blown pupils, he pushes Reid’s face away, which forces Reid’s entire body to topple over. He stands, cleaning off an invisible speck of dirt on his pants and barks out, “Get him to his cell. He needs to dry out.”
The four mercenary vampires nod and pick up the frail body and toss him into the farthest cell, locking the door.
Left alone in the dark, even through his drugged haze, Reid understands what has just happened. His life has just been forever altered. What has he done?
***
He awakes dry and sore. His eyes are red and puffy from his crying the previous night. His face and clothes are smudged with dirt and grime from the cement floor, which has quite obviously not been cleaned in years. His hair is stringy and matted to one side of his head where his face touched the ground.
A small barred window a good fifteen feet up is the only source of light, but the sunny day gives Spencer enough illumination to identify his surroundings. The 6’ by 6’ cell he is now forced to call home has a small cot that looks supremely uncomfortable; however Spencer does concede it must be better than the unforgiving concrete floor. So, he hoists himself up and stumbling, unsure on his legs, he makes it to the creaking piece of canvas. Sitting and sinking dramatically, he sighs in relief.
Darting about in the dank basement, his eyes alight on a small sink and a toilet. He lets out a breath of relief knowing that at least he has plumbing. He realizes, though, that this is it. A small bed, a sink, a toilet, and an unreachable window. That’s his new home. He drops his head into his hands trying, unsuccessfully, to stop tears from leaking out his eyes.
Half an hour later, he picks up his head when he hears footfalls. His leg begins to shake. He flexes his hand trying to stop his leg, but as the footfalls get louder his hand joins in twitching slightly.
When the sounds stop, Spencer looks up into the face of the man who put him here: the large vampire from last night. He unlocks the cage and walks in dropping a change of clothes and some rations on the floor. Without saying a word, he exits and re-locks the door. Spencer eyes the water bottles on the ground, but looks up again saying, “Who are you?”
The vampire looks at him with a blank expression and nods towards the supplies. Then, without speaking, begins to walk away. Reid stands. “Hey! Wait! Just tell me something. Are you going to come back? What’s going to happen to me?” The man continues to walk without stopping or turning around. Eventually the sounds of footfalls disappear.
Spencer takes a moment to collect his thoughts and scratches his throat, which has begun to hurt after all of his yelling. He walks much more steadily to his rations and finds himself ravenous. He unwraps one of the protein bars and eats it in three large bites. Moments later he hurls himself to the small toilet, gripping the porcelain edges, violently heaving.
When he’s done, he sits back against the toilet, shaking as if fighting off hypothermia, but feeling incredibly warm. Spencer refuses to acknowledge this. He can’t be…No, he’s just coming down with a bug or something. He repeats this over and over again in his head, while his leg muscles continue to twitch and the itching of his left arm becomes stronger until his scratching draws blood.
***
Two days later, Spencer has sweated through the canvas cot. His sweat drips off of the cloth to the floor, so he moves to lie against the cool tile. Feeling bile rise again, he attempts to move towards the sink, but makes in only a foot or so before he can keep it back. He vomits on the floor. He curls away from his stink and begins to shake harder.
His heart thumps painfully loud within his head. The pain is so intense his vision is fuzzy. His head throbs, unable to keep a single thought long enough to string together an idea. The spasms have strained all of his leg and arm muscles so much that he can barely walk. Spencer knows he hasn’t slept for hours. He has that dissociated feeling sleep-deprived people often have. He would give anything for just five minutes of sleep, yet even though he and his body are completely and utterly exhausted he is unable to sleep. The pain stops him. The never ending, all-over pain.
***
Prentiss is the first person, after Reid deserts the FBI building, to visit his apartment. It’s the next day. She figures she can give him the night to collect himself, but then she is done with this shit. She has seen how self destructive his behavior, and what it is doing to Hotch. It needs to end.
However, when she knocks on his door Saturday morning an unfamiliar face, one with an impressive black eye, answers the door. “Who are you?” he grunts.
“Emily Prentiss,” she says, puzzled, “and I’m looking for Dr. Reid.”
“Well, you’re too late, gal. They came in last night and took him. So, if you want to find him I think you’re shit out of luck.”
Ctd Part 6
Author: wit_worry_what
Beta: Katherine the Amazing
Artist: peasnbeanstalks
Art
PART V
Ethan always knows when Reid is in trouble, and he has the penchant for showing up and making it worse. So, after Reid returned home the day he met with Garcia and things had… disintegrated, he called Ethan, knowing out of everybody he would be the one to understand.
Once Reid got the phone call that Ethan just left the airport and was on his way, he collapsed into the large overstuffed sage reading chair he had and thought about the loud resounding knocks that will soon sound in his apartment. He knows whose smirking face will be behind the door, but in that moment he wished another face would appear in its stead. One with a subtle up-turning of its mouth and a glint of amusement in its eye.
Enjoying the sensation of running his fingers up and down the side of the chair, he let his mind wander to the subject of Aaron Hotchner…what it would be like to call him Aaron. What it would be like to touch his skin more than just an accidental brush of fingers in the office. What it would be like to wear his collar, to be his pet, to fuck him. Reid shifts in the chair, trying to relieve the pressure that has grown in his pants. He immediately softens, though, when he imagines what it would be like to share blood with Aaron. Not because it is scary or because it would hurt, although, it would be both of those things, no. It’s because Reid can imagine how intimate that would be. He was always taught that the ultimate symbol of ownership is found within bloodletting; freely giving up your very lifeblood for your master so that he may also live, having that sort of trust. It sounds remarkable, unbelievable.
A sharp knock knocks him from his reverie.
Reid stands ambling slowly towards his front door, delaying the inevitable. With a snort he thinks, unbelievable is right.
~~
By the time Friday rolls around, the office is rife with tension. For his part, Reid is a little befuddled. Obviously, he realizes that his behavior has been a little abnormal, but every member of the team has tried to talk to him, except for Hotch, and he thinks he does an okay job fooling them into believing everything is alright.
He decides that Hotch not attempting to talk to him is fine. It doesn’t bother him in the least, although from the looks JJ and Prentiss keep shooting their esteemed leader they disagree, quite vehemently.
Around two o’clock Hotch abruptly leaves his office with a sigh and heads towards Reid’s desk. Reid doesn’t notice the movement, or JJ’s subtle smile, because he is practically bent in two at his desk finishing paperwork with his fingers beating out a rapid and disconnected rhythm on the metal of his lamp.
“Reid.”
Hotch’s winces when Reid’s head whips up so fast it makes a cracking sound. Reid’s eyes are impossibly wide, like a small animal caught in a corner by a much larger predator, or a child found by his mother with his hand stuck in the cookie jar.
“I just wanted,” Hotch sighs again, and his eyes seek out the wall behind Reid’s head, refusing to make direct eye contact. “I just wanted to make sure you remembered you have your monthly meeting with Strauss in an hour.”
Reid lets out the breath that he has been holding and says, “Uh, yeah. I’m just gonna finish the paperwork from the Oregon case and then head over there. Did you need something else?”
“No,” Hotch says automatically and does an about turn and walks quickly, as if in retreat, back to his office. JJ begins to walk towards Hotch but is cut off mid stride with one look. She stops and glares at his back as he retreats into his office.
***
His second meeting with Strauss actually takes place in ten minutes, but, in all honesty, he desperately needed to get out of the bullpen. He sits in an extremely uncomfortable hard-backed chair outside her office, his leg moving frantically up and down. He flexes his hand over the jumping knee attempting to stop the motion, but it would only stop a moment before picking up again. He sighs in defeat.
“Oh, Dr. Reid, you’re early. That’s ok, not a problem. Come right in and let us begin.” Strauss starts with surprise and ends with a determined gait back into the depths of her office. “Actually, it’s a pleasure to have something that starts on time today. The bureaucrats of today all have to start meetings ten minutes late for some reason! It’s aggravating to say the least,” she chit-chats amicably.
“They do it to assert their dominance,” Reid begins, sounding like a textbook. “By making you wait for them, they’ve created a dynamic in which you’re the lesser authority looking for answers with the one in charge. I would imagine it happens to you more frequently particularly because you yourself are a sub. It most likely grates with tops to have to speak with you as an equal, so they find their control where they can. Quite straightforward really.”
Strauss slowly sits in her chair, which she has been standing in front of for the length of Reid’s speech, and folds her hands on her desk, sitting forward with a hard glint in her eye, “Dr. Reid, if you are implying that because I am a sub I cannot adequately do my job, I will have…”
“I’m not,” Reid says innocently, realizing that this was one of those times Morgan speaks of when his brain gets in front of his mouth. “I was just providing an explanation for why your meetings frequently start late. I, you, I mean, you do a great job. I have no problem with it. Or, uh, anything like that?” Reid tries to stop himself but he ends with a ramble, unsure of how to backpedal as well as, say, Hotch would have been able to.
Strauss actually seems to be amused by Reid’s latest outburst. “Well, good. And thank you. I will keep that in mind. Now, let us begin. How have you been handling your duties the past month without Gideon?”
Reid’s gaze flicks down to his again shaking knee, “Fine. Good, even. Um, I just keep working, and I still feel like I’m learning a lot from Aar - Agent Hotchner and all the rest of the team. We keep going like Gideon was never even there.”
Strauss scribbles on the notepad in front of her and nods. “Good. Are you feeling any extra stress from either the job or any individual persons? Anything happening outside of the office that is troubling you?”
The rest of the interview goes as usual, until Strauss’ last question. Reid must commend her because he was feeling as though he had gotten through the interview without running into a problem.
“So, finally, Dr. Reid, I have just one more question. Did you know that the man currently staying with you is a known drug addict?” She asks the question just as she has recited all the others, calmly detached and professional. He stares at her, the gall of that woman, he thinks. She is perfectly aware of what she just implied but has made no show of concern. Of what this implication could mean for Reid. Of what would, will happen…
“What? How could you possibly know who’s staying with me?”
“Dr. Reid, the Bureau naturally keeps tabs on its investments. This, surely, cannot come as much of a surprise, can it?” Her self-righteous attitude is like pouring vinegar onto an open wound. Reid is steaming.
“Ethan is not a drug addict. He, well, yes, he uses every once and a while, but that does not make him an addict. Don’t start throwing out accusations that you can’t back up! He’s a friend. I am allowed to have friends. I know the Council is against all sorts of cohorts and shenanigans, but he is all I have right now. So fuck you and that god forsaken archaic group of holier-than-thou chauvinists!” Reid’s outburst doesn’t ruffle a single feather, or hair, on Strauss. She sits sedately, continually scribbling on her notepad.
“Are you currently abusing any narcotics, Dr. Reid? Or are you just in a sexual relationship with Mr. Raine?”
Her calm attack has reached a melting point in Reid. They know. They do know. How? They can’t…get out. Get out now. Now.
“Screw you,” he says, calmly walking out of her office back towards the bullpen. He makes no sound and answers no one’s questions. He grabs his messenger bag and walks out, shouts of his name following him.
He won’t return.
***
Storming through the front door of his apartment he screams out for Ethan.
Jolting up from the reclined position on the couch where he has been pleasantly dozing, Ethan scrubs at his eyes, bewildered. “Wha? What’s going on, Spencer?” With just one look at Reid’s panicked expression, Ethan knows something horrible had happened.
“They know, Ethan. They know you’re here,” Reid seethes, walking in a tight circle. He makes a full stop, and then bursts into motion, tearing through the room, grabbing pieces of clothing. “You need to get out of here. Now. They’re going to…”
“I’m not going without you, Spencer. Hey. Hey! Come on,” Ethan says reassuringly, trying to calm the manic human rushing about the room. “It’s gonna be fine. It’s not as if they’re going to come bursting through the door. This is your apartment. Just sit down for a second,” Ethan says softly, but when no response is forth coming he barks, “Boy. Sit down. Now.”
Reid snaps to attention and immediately sinks onto the couch with his eyes darting about as though compensating for his body’s inability to move.
“Good. Ok, Spencer, listen to me. You will be fine. This will all be fine. You’re just becoming a little paranoid.” Reid opens his mouth to tell Ethan the story but isn’t given the chance. “No. You will not speak unless asked a direct question. What you need is something that will calm you down.” Ethan reaches across the table to a used needle and a half empty vial. “Let’s take care of you.”
Ethan inserts the needle into the vial’s soft top and pulls up the plunger, filling the chamber with the sinfully delicious clear liquid. He takes Reid’s arm, wrapping a nearby tie around the top and pulling it tight. Holding the narrow crook of his elbow, Ethan uses his thumb to sensuously press into the red specked skin. Reid gasps at the tingling sensation and anticipation of what is about to come. “This’ll make everything better, babe,” Ethan says, looking up from where he is kneeling in between Reid’s thighs. Returning his eyes to the issue at hand, Ethan finds what he is looking for and thrusts the needle, penetrating Reid’s vein and, at the same moment, releasing the drug into his system. Reid’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he sighs involuntarily as his body falls back, hitting the couch.
Is it even a couch, Reid thinks sluggishly. Is there a separation between this “couch” and “him”? He can feel every atom vibrating in the air against his skin and takes a deep breath. Why was he even worried? Ethan says everything is fine, so it is.
Reid’s mind drifts for the next twenty minutes or so, while Ethan maneuvers Reid out of some of his clothes and lays him flat across the couch. Ethan then begins to touch. Touch things and places that Reid would never ordinarily let him touch, just to be on the safe side, but at this moment Reid has no control. Just as he likes it.
Reid doesn’t shy away from sensations such as touch as much when he is like this. His skin burns where Ethan’s fingers drag across his stomach, around his navel, and about to dip into his pants.
A sudden and obnoxiously loud bang startles Reid from his drugged stupor. Too slow to fully understand his surroundings, Reid counts four new darkened figures scurrying through his apartment. In the distance he hears yelling: “Clear…Hey, what the fuck…Get him out…has been located…drugged…Go!”
It isn’t until he is roughly pulled up and dragged from the couch that he can find any words and the ones he finds are slurred: “I was comfy. Bring me back. Wha, I mean, who are you?”
He looks up at the two strangers dragging him unceremoniously down his hall; he sees a flash of fangs in each of their mouths. “We’re your ride back home, Selected.”
***
Reid falls asleep on his ride to the Council’s headquarters with his extraction team, not because they make him feel safe but because the drugs pulsing through his system override any other sort of stress he is feeling. He is flying higher than he has ever gone before.
The team of four large vampires, all dressed in what Reid was calling “cat burglar black get-ups”, half carry, half drag Reid through the eerily silent high-ceiling mansion; the same place Reid and Gideon had gone all those years ago. However, Reid is pulled past the Council’s chambers and directed down stairs instead. It is curious that he isn’t going to see the Council, he thinks to himself. As a matter of fact, Reid didn’t even know there was a downstairs underneath the mansion. By the look one of the vampires gives him he has been talking aloud the entire time. “It’s the dungeon, Selected. Not downstairs.” Reid could have sworn he heard a “Where the hell did they find this guy” mumbled underneath his breath, but is too far gone to mention it.
After what feels like a four-hour-long trek down the stairs, the group of them finally step on to the concrete floor of what seems to be a large bunker separated into many different cubicles with iron bars; similar to what a “brig” would look like from Britain’s colonial days.
“I think someone has seen Pirates of the Caribbean too many times,” Reid grunts after being pushed to the ground and then begins to laugh hysterically, believing his comment to be the funniest thing since sliced bread.
Out of the shadows, a rather handsome looking man in a perfectly-fitted three-piece suit adorned with a blood-red tie steps out. “I am glad you are taking this so well, Spencer. I would have hated for my men to have harmed you in any way.”
Supreme Councilor Chilcott stops directly in front of Reid’s crumpled form, which is now just gasping, making no noise. From an outsider’s view it would seem Reid has begun to sob. “You have broken your agreement with the Council, and forthwith your body returns back to its rightful Master.” Chilcott bends down at his knees so that he can lean forward and whisper directly into the wide-eyed boy’s ear, “Me.” Chilcott grabs Reid’s face and looks directly into his eyes. Scoffing at the blown pupils, he pushes Reid’s face away, which forces Reid’s entire body to topple over. He stands, cleaning off an invisible speck of dirt on his pants and barks out, “Get him to his cell. He needs to dry out.”
The four mercenary vampires nod and pick up the frail body and toss him into the farthest cell, locking the door.
Left alone in the dark, even through his drugged haze, Reid understands what has just happened. His life has just been forever altered. What has he done?
***
He awakes dry and sore. His eyes are red and puffy from his crying the previous night. His face and clothes are smudged with dirt and grime from the cement floor, which has quite obviously not been cleaned in years. His hair is stringy and matted to one side of his head where his face touched the ground.
A small barred window a good fifteen feet up is the only source of light, but the sunny day gives Spencer enough illumination to identify his surroundings. The 6’ by 6’ cell he is now forced to call home has a small cot that looks supremely uncomfortable; however Spencer does concede it must be better than the unforgiving concrete floor. So, he hoists himself up and stumbling, unsure on his legs, he makes it to the creaking piece of canvas. Sitting and sinking dramatically, he sighs in relief.
Darting about in the dank basement, his eyes alight on a small sink and a toilet. He lets out a breath of relief knowing that at least he has plumbing. He realizes, though, that this is it. A small bed, a sink, a toilet, and an unreachable window. That’s his new home. He drops his head into his hands trying, unsuccessfully, to stop tears from leaking out his eyes.
Half an hour later, he picks up his head when he hears footfalls. His leg begins to shake. He flexes his hand trying to stop his leg, but as the footfalls get louder his hand joins in twitching slightly.
When the sounds stop, Spencer looks up into the face of the man who put him here: the large vampire from last night. He unlocks the cage and walks in dropping a change of clothes and some rations on the floor. Without saying a word, he exits and re-locks the door. Spencer eyes the water bottles on the ground, but looks up again saying, “Who are you?”
The vampire looks at him with a blank expression and nods towards the supplies. Then, without speaking, begins to walk away. Reid stands. “Hey! Wait! Just tell me something. Are you going to come back? What’s going to happen to me?” The man continues to walk without stopping or turning around. Eventually the sounds of footfalls disappear.
Spencer takes a moment to collect his thoughts and scratches his throat, which has begun to hurt after all of his yelling. He walks much more steadily to his rations and finds himself ravenous. He unwraps one of the protein bars and eats it in three large bites. Moments later he hurls himself to the small toilet, gripping the porcelain edges, violently heaving.
When he’s done, he sits back against the toilet, shaking as if fighting off hypothermia, but feeling incredibly warm. Spencer refuses to acknowledge this. He can’t be…No, he’s just coming down with a bug or something. He repeats this over and over again in his head, while his leg muscles continue to twitch and the itching of his left arm becomes stronger until his scratching draws blood.
***
Two days later, Spencer has sweated through the canvas cot. His sweat drips off of the cloth to the floor, so he moves to lie against the cool tile. Feeling bile rise again, he attempts to move towards the sink, but makes in only a foot or so before he can keep it back. He vomits on the floor. He curls away from his stink and begins to shake harder.
His heart thumps painfully loud within his head. The pain is so intense his vision is fuzzy. His head throbs, unable to keep a single thought long enough to string together an idea. The spasms have strained all of his leg and arm muscles so much that he can barely walk. Spencer knows he hasn’t slept for hours. He has that dissociated feeling sleep-deprived people often have. He would give anything for just five minutes of sleep, yet even though he and his body are completely and utterly exhausted he is unable to sleep. The pain stops him. The never ending, all-over pain.
***
Prentiss is the first person, after Reid deserts the FBI building, to visit his apartment. It’s the next day. She figures she can give him the night to collect himself, but then she is done with this shit. She has seen how self destructive his behavior, and what it is doing to Hotch. It needs to end.
However, when she knocks on his door Saturday morning an unfamiliar face, one with an impressive black eye, answers the door. “Who are you?” he grunts.
“Emily Prentiss,” she says, puzzled, “and I’m looking for Dr. Reid.”
“Well, you’re too late, gal. They came in last night and took him. So, if you want to find him I think you’re shit out of luck.”
Ctd Part 6