Time

Another day, another moment, another piece of hell. Morgan stared at the desk again, his eyes traveling over the empty in box, the empty chair. All of it, so empty. His eyes drifted up toward the clock on the wall, his mind automatically doing the math that was never far away from him.

One year, eight months, three days, two minutes and forty seconds.

How could two more months have gone by? Still no word of Spence. No sign of him, no hint anywhere. He hadn’t come back, hadn’t called them, hadn’t contacted him. Strauss was pushing them again, telling them that they knew the chances of Reid being alive were nothing. If they ever found him, she said, they’d only be recovering a body now, if there was even a body to find. The team had stared at her, saying nothing, doing nothing. She wouldn’t change their minds off of this

A sudden door crashing caught Morgan’s attention, ripping his eyes away from the desk, from the clock. He looked up to see Rossi racing toward Hotch’s office. A moment later the two emerged. “BAU team, conference room, now!” Hotch demanded. Then he and Rossi ran to the conference room.

Giving a strange look to Emily, the two rose to their feet, moving toward the room. What was going on? JJ joined them on the staircase, and Garcia came out of her office, moving with them. “What’s going on?” JJ asked quietly.

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s gotta be something big.”

They walked as a group into the conference room, all eyes immediately on Rossi, who was bent over the phone in the middle of the table. “This is SSA Rossi.” He was saying. With one hand he gestured to the others to be silent. “I received a note to contact you immediately concerning our missing agent.”

Everything inside of Morgan turned to ice. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stare at the phone. Missing Agent…that could only be Reid. Did this man have something about Reid? Would they finally get information on his whereabouts? Did…did they have a body?

“Yes, Agent Rossi. Your and Agent Hotchner’s names were the ones that came up when I ran this information through the data base. A flag, the instant we input the name that said to call the number listed. Yours was the first one I tried. I was just about to try Agent Hotchner’s.”

“Yes, yes. What do you have for us?”

“We’ve got a gentleman here, had him here for a few hours. Fingerprints came back and listed him as a Dr. Reid, part of the BAU in the FBI.”

It was Hotch who asked the question they all dreaded. “Is he alive?”

The man’s response was quick. “Yes, yes! I’m so sorry. Yes, he’s alive.” There was an audible release of breath in the room. Morgan felt like he was going to drop, right then and there. Reid was alive. He was alive! Sweet God! Where had he been all this time?

The voice on the phone continued talking. “We’re over here at the Virginia State Police division headquarters in Fairfax. We were going to collect our suspect in a string of murders we had. When we swept the house, we found your friend in the basement. He’s been treated at the hospital and brought back here.”

“We’ll be there in thirty. No one is to talk to him, to question him, nothing, until I am present. Is that clear?” Hotch switched over to his Unit Chief voice, demanding control, issuing orders. Morgan started to blank it out. All he could think of was that Reid was alive. His eyes traveled over the girls beside them, seeing all their faces stained with tears.

The room had gone quiet again. Looking at them all, Hotch drew their attention to him. Even his eyes were slightly red as he gave them a smile. “Let’s go bring him home.” He told them all. Reid was alive!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“SSA Hotchner?” The detective asked when he caught sight of them. He walked over, one hand extended. Hotch took it and shook, but to his team it was obvious that he didn’t care about pleasantries. His eyes were darting around the police station, looking for one thing. The one thing that all of them were looking for.

The detective gave Hotch a half smile that showed no signs of mirth. “I’m Detective Kurgan. I understand that you’re all wanting to see your friend, but I need you to step in here with me for a moment first. There’s something I think you should see, Agent Hotchner.”

Hotch nodded. The group started to move, all of them following Detective Kurgan. When they reached a small room at the back of the eerily silent station, Detective Kurgan looked back at them. His expression turned unsure for a moment. “Maybe your team should, um, wait out here. I’m not sure if this is something everyone should see.” He suggested, eyes drifting over JJ, Prentiss and Garcia.

Before they could protest, Hotch shook his head. “We’ll all come in.” He said firmly.

After a moment’s hesitation, the detective nodded. He gestured them all inside the room, following in at the end and shutting the door. Morgan wanted to shout at the man to bring Reid out to them. He wanted to rip the place apart and find him. A tremble ran down his body with the force of trying to hold it in. As if she understood, Garcia linked their hands, squeezing lightly.

“After our initial entry, our crime scene technicians swept the place. They found a computer in the…well, downstairs.” Detective Kurgan moved toward a computer set up on the side of the room. He paused by it, one hand resting on the monitor. “I think you should see this before we take you to your friend.”

“What exactly is this and why is it more important than going to see Reid?” Morgan snapped before he could stop himself. A warning look from Hotch and Rossi both stopped him in his tracks.

The look in the detective’s eyes was almost heartbreaking. “Trust me, Agent.” He said softly. “Before you see him, I think you need to see this. The…the bastard that had him videotaped everything. Non-stop. There’s tons of footage. But this, this is the clip from when we found them. I think you should see it, to understand. So you’re prepared.” When no one said another word, Hotch simply gestured at the screen, the man clicked a few keys and then stepped back.

The team watched, unable to look away as the video started.

Pain was the first sensation Morgan felt. Clear as a bell he saw a figure in the center of the screen. It was male, that much was obvious as the man had no clothes on. He was standing, arms at his side, head bowed. There were marks all over the man’s skin; bruises and cuts. Blood. He was so small. It took Morgan a moment to realize that this was Reid. Reid. Jesus.

Garcia’s grip on his hand tightened as she realized the same thing. There was a soft gasp from Prentiss and JJ, but no other sound was heard in the room.

Another man stepped on screen. This man was fully clothed, but even then it was easy to see how physically fit he was. He was taller than Reid, and broader in the shoulders. The color image made it easy to see that the man’s hair was dark brown and, as he moved in a circle around Reid while tapping a finger on his chin, Morgan could see the man’s ice blue eyes.

“Now, now.” The man said in a voice as deep and rough as gravel. “You’ve been a very, very bad boy today, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Master.” The reply was automatic. In that small room, though, the sound of Reid’s voice after so long was enough to have them all jumping slightly. Morgan’s eyes wanted to slide closed on the pain of it. God, it had been so long since he’d heard that voice! Yet hearing it, seeing Reid, it was like it had been only moments.

“Yes, you have. Kneel.”

Even as the command was leaving the man’s mouth, Reid was already dropping down to his knees. It looked like a pose he was well used to using. He knelt there, hands resting on his knees, head bowed down. Morgan could see that the movement had opened up one of the wounds on his back.

The man moved toward the wall. When he stepped back on screen, there was a whip in his hand….

*”You’ve been a naughty, naughty boy, yes you have.” He said as he walked around Reid. The light in his eyes showed his enjoyment when a tremor ran down Reid’s small frame. “Yes, Master.”

The whip snapped out, cracking across Reid’s back. When Reid jumped, the man laughed. “That’s it, show me that it hurts. I want to hear you scream. I want to know your punishment is working. Stay quiet and it will only last longer. I want your screams.”

Again the whip flashed down; once, twice, three times. A throaty sound ripped out of Reid’s throat, almost against his will. The man laughed and whipped him again, until Reid’s screams were echoing around the room.

He stopped suddenly, looking down at Reid with a detached look. “Recite.” He snapped out. When Reid didn’t immediately speak, the whip flashed out again. “Recite!”

“What do you wish to hear, Master?” Reid asked between sobs.

The whip came down once more. “Recite!”

Between sobs and screams, Spencer Reid began to recite. “Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream! My spirit not awakening, till the beam; Of an Eternity should bring the morrow. Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow, 'Twere better than the cold reality…”

The whip moved faster and faster and Reid’s words started to sound like screams. But he never stopped reciting. “Of waking life, to him whose heart must be, And hath been still, upon the lovely earth, A chaos of deep passion, from his birth. But should it be- that dream eternally; Continuing- as dreams have been to me. In my young boyhood- should it thus be given, 'Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.”

The words cut off for a moment when the man threw the whip down, broken by the younger man’s sobbing. When he heard Reid stop talking, he kicked him. “I didn’t say stop!”

A loud sniffle, then, “For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright I' the summer sky, in dreams of living light; And loveliness,- have left my very heart; In climes of my imagining, apart. From mine own home, with beings that have been; Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen? 'Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour from my remembrance shall not pass- some power; Or spell had bound me- 'twas the chilly wind. Came o'er me in the night, and left behind, Its image on my spirit- or the moon; Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon…”

The words were cut off by a sudden and loud crash off screen. “Virginia State Police!” A voice shouted. “Put your hands where I can see them!”

Reid’s tormentor stopped, eyes darting around. He was too far away from the weapons to get any and had stepped too far from Reid to use him as a shield. There was no chance. Slowly he brought his hands up.

Uniformed figures darted into the room, guns drawn, pointed directly at their target. Someone was on the man in an instant, snagging his hands and bringing them behind his back, cuffing him. The other officers, seeing the man cuffed, lowered their guns, obviously perceiving their threat as gone. None of them had expected what came next.

With a strangled cry, Reid shot past the person who tried to touch him. He dove for his captor’s leg, wrapping his hands around the man’s calf. “Let him go! Let him go!” he screamed and sobbed. The whole room looked frozen as Reid buried his face against the leg of the man who had just been whipping him only minutes ago. “Let him go! Master, don’t go! Please!”

“Hush, boy.” In contrast to the anger before, the man’s voice was almost gentle now. “Let me handle this.”

One of the figures seemed to snap from his trance. It was Detective Kurgan. “Handle nothing. Vincent Montgomery, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping, assault, and murder of seven women.” He told the man, this Vincent. He stood beside him as he rattled off Vincent’s rights to him. The whole time, Reid sobbed quietly against Vincent’s leg.

When Vincent said he understood his rights, Detective Kurgan gestured for them to take him out of the room. But, again, they didn’t take Reid into account. As soon as Vincent was being moved, Reid clung tighter and his wailing grew louder. “No, no! Don’t take him! Please, don’t take him from me!”

“Sir, sir, we need you to let go.” Another officer said. He took a step toward Reid, arms extended.

For the first time, Vincent showed anger. “Don’t touch him!” He barked out at the officer. The other officer holding him jerked on his chains, but Vincent ignored it and dropped his head down to look at Reid. “Let go, boy.” He ordered him in a deep, hard voice. “Now.”

Instantly Reid let go.

“You follow my rules till I can come get you, boy. I’ll know if you don’t.” Vincent snarled. “Don’t let these people touch you. Don’t let them Have you. You’re mine. You’ll see me soon. I will come for you.”

Vincent was yanked from the room before he could say anything else. Reid started to cry harder. Arms up, hands laced into his long hair, he rocked on his knees and sobbed, whispering so softly that the others didn’t realize he was talking. “Too coldly- or the stars- howe'er it was that dream was as that night-wind- let it pass. I have been happy, tho' in a dream. I have been happy- and I love the theme: Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life, As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife Of semblance with reality, which brings To the delirious eye, more lovely things Of Paradise and Love- and all our own! Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.”

He had finished the poem. After that, though all were staring at him, he said not a word. At least, not until someone said that the paramedics were there and one of the cops stuck out a hand and touched his arm, trying to help him to his feet.

In that instant, Reid went crazy. He lashed out, flinging himself back. “Don’t touch me!” he shrieked. He grabbed something off the nearby table, flinging it forward as he still tried to scramble backwards. Object after object flew forward. The cops tried to deflect them, trying to move toward Reid before he did them or himself any real harm.

Paramedics swarmed the room suddenly, filling up the frame. Between them and the cops they cornered Reid, who was screeching like a banshee by now. He fought them as they tried to grab him, hitting and kicking where he could…*

Detective Kurgan stopped the video, lifting his eyes to look around the room. “He took out two officers, injured two more, as well as one of the paramedics before they finally got him sedated.”

“Jesus.” Morgan breathed. Who knew the kid had it in him to take out that many people? Especially weaponless, backed against a wall? He tried to shut out what he’d seen; to burn the images out of his brain. It wasn’t working. He felt Garcia trembling beside him and slid his arm around her waist to try and offer comfort. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Morgan could feel tears burning at the back of his eyes, but he held them in.

Kurgan looked at them, one after another. “Do you all know what that was he was reciting? Or why it’s important?”

It was Rossi who answered. “That was Edgar Allen Poe’s poem Dreams. I doubt the poem itself was significant as much as the obeying of the command and the recitation.”

“How on earth could he recite it like that?” Kurgan asked them.

This was an easy answer. Morgan felt his lips curve. How many times had he heard Reid explain this to people that asked? “He has an IQ of 187, and eidetic memory, can read 20,000 words per minute, holds Ph.Ds.’ in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering, as well as B.A.s in Psychology and Sociology and he was working on a B.A. in Philosophy. He was our genius.”

They all chuckled at the expression Kurgan wore. The moment grew serious again as they looked back at the stopped video. “Where is he now?” Hotch asked, his voice hard and gruff. To others it would sound cold; to his team, they knew the emotion held tightly underneath it.

“They took him to the hospital, treated his back and such.” Detective Kurgan said. “Did tests, made sure that he’d be physically ok. Then they brought him back here. He freaked at the hospital, tried to escape twice. He’s burning the sedative off too fast and they were scared to give him too much. All he wanted was to get here to the station to wait. The doctors suggested that it’d be better for his health if he was allowed. So, we’ve got him down in interrogation three. The bastard that took him is in interrogation room one.”

It took everything Morgan had not to race out of the room and go down to interrogation room one and beat the living hell out of the bastard who had kept Reid for so long.

“We’ll need copies of his medical files.” Rossi spoke up, a calm voice in the midst of their chaos.

The detective nodded. “I’ll go get those for you, as well as the rest of it.” By the door, Detective Kurgan stopped, looking at them all. “I understand he’s your friend, but I need you all to remember. There are seven women in my morgue. And unless I get this man to talk, your friend down there is my only potential witness. He also has to be considered a suspect. I’m sorry.”

The instant the door shut, JJ rounded on them all. “A suspect? How on earth is he a suspect?” She demanded in a watery voice. One of her hands came up, swiping at her face. “He’s a victim.”

Prentiss shook her head at her friend. “He’s been with the Unsub for a year and a half. During that time, seven women were kidnapped, beaten, raped, and then murdered, their bodies dumped into the river. They have to question him.”

“Screw that.” Morgan finally snapped. “Why aren’t we down there seeing him? That’s our Reid down there!”

“And we will go see him, Morgan.” It was Hotch this time, his voice almost as firm as normal. “As soon as I view his medical file and understand what we’re dealing with.”

Closing his eyes, Morgan stood and tried to gather his composure. I’m coming, kid. We’re here. We’re coming down to you and we’ll take care of you. You won’t have to hurt anymore.