47AN: I apologize for the long delay between chapters. I started a new job shortly after starting this story and haven't had a lot of extra time. Hopefully the next update won't take so long. Also in retrospect George Foyet may have been channelling the spirit of Jacob Dawes a bit in the last chapter. Anyways enjoy
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor the characters.
"Once we know of atrocities we cannot remain silent, and knowledge inevitably leads to an urge to protect the innocent." - Azar Nafisi
Thirty minutes. Thirty short minutes was all it took from the parking garage at Quantico for Emily and Morgan to find themselves standing in front of the door to Reid's second story apartment. Morgan eyed the door gravely, noticing even the smallest detail and analysing everything he saw.
Small scratches around the keyhole, most likely caused by an inattentive genius trying to open the door at one a.m. Door locked and secured so no forced entry. Nothing's wrong. At least, not out here...
Even though Emily had already tried knocking, Morgan still knocked twice. Though he expected no answer, it seemed wrong to simply barge in. After a minute of the expected silence, Morgan used the key to let Emily and himself into the apartment.
At first glance nothing seemed out of place. The room itself was neat and orderly, much like Reid's desk at work, yet Morgan chuckled to himself as he spotted piles of books stacked on every available surface. As Emily continued to sweep the front room, Morgan headed for the hallway leading to kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. Finding nothing, Morgan returned to the living room where he spotted Prentiss bent over and examining something on Reid's couch.
"What did you find?"
Emily glanced up, looking slightly startled by the sound of his voice. "Reid's messenger bag is here, so he definitely made it home last night."
"I checked his bedroom. We were only gone for a couple of days but the bed doesn't look like it's been slept in for at least a week." commented Morgan.
"I'm not surprised. With his injury he's mostly been ordering take-out and crashing on the couch." She paused to stare at the bag again before continuing. "Should we check his bag?"
Morgan absently ran a hand across his smooth head. "No sign of foul play. I don't think we should violate his privacy any more than-" Morgan swore loudly as Emily went ahead and unceremoniously dumped the contents of Reid's bag onto the coffee table.
Along with a couple of file folders they found a few odds and ends, some type of Russian literature and Reid's credentials. The agents traded a look: they all carried their credentials any time they went out so why were Reid's still in his bag?
It was Prentiss who spotted the folded piece of paper with what looked like a smear of blood on it. Patting down her pockets Emily cursed softly; she had never grabbed another set of gloves after the last case. Scanning the room, she swiftly spotted a box of tissues on a side table. Grabbing a couple
she picked up the paper and unfolded it.
It was a page torn from an address book containing then information for one Hayley Brooks.
-CM-CM-CM-
" Now I'm afraid our friend here is going to have to pay for your disobedience ".
Reid tuned out the rest of the conversation as the pronouncement left his mind uncharacteristically frozen. The surprise of seeing Hotch, the conversation that followed, the attack itself was all too much, overwhelming even a genius whose mind admittedly worked best under duress. As his fear began to abate Reid's mind went into overdrive.
Hotch. Hotch is here. He tried to trade himself for me but Foyet isn't letting me go. The profile, what do we know about Foyet? We profiled He's a narcissistic omnivore, it's more about the recognition than the victims themselves. He's also a hebophile: attracted to post-pubescent adolescent females. He stabs them which means he's most likely impotent. His weapons of choice are the gun and the knife. He attacked couples, shooting the men and stabbing the women yet he also shot up a bus full of people to make a point. He's not above self-harm to get what he wants. He kills his victims on site, he doesn't abduct people. He doesn't abduct people. He doesn't abduct people.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Reid knew he was perseverating (1), but the realization that Foyet had gone off script had temporarily overwhelmed his senses. Suddenly the sound of a throat being cleared managed to break his hyper-focused state.
Looking up and seeing the look on Hotch's face, Reid realized it must have been his boss who had brought him back to reality. Reid shot him what he hopped was a thankful look before once again looking away.
-CM-CM-CM-
From the way Reid glanced at him for only a second Hotch could tell that the abduction had caused the young man to regress. The confident young man had been replaced by the socially awkward doctor who had joined the team 6 years before. The experienced profiler idly noted that Reid appeared to have regressed past the point of his previous abduction, which was atypical. But then nothing about Dr. Reid ever was.
Convinced that Reid was fine for the moment, Hotch once again locked eyes with the Reaper. Foyet had been stalking between the bound men, alternating between observing Hotch and watching Reid's reaction.
Just as Reid's fear appeared to be abating, the Reaper pulled out one of the many knives secreted about his person. Hotch's eyes narrowed in anger as Foyet took up a position next to his bound agent. Foyet brought the knife close to the young man's skin, tracing the lines of his face with the tip and talking all the while. "How many stab wounds before you passed out Agent Hotchner? 7? 8?" Hotch called Foyet's bluff. A need based killer like Foyet would never forget the number of wounds.
"Don't worry Hotch, the good doctor won't get off quite as easy." Foyet lined the tip of the knife up with Reid's left eye before drawing away. "You should have taken the deal." The reaper took one last glance at Hotch before the knife came plunging down.
-CM-CM-CM-
The familiar beep signalling an incoming text roused David Rossi from his work. Glancing at the clock he was startled to see that it was past 11. He had been writing up consults for the past several hours. Setting his pen down, Rossi massaged his wrist slightly before picking up his phone.
As soon as Rossi opened the image Morgan sent him his eyes widened in shock. A quick look at the message details revealed that Morgan had sent the same message to Hotch. Knowing the man's reaction to anything to do with the Reaper, Rossi hurried out of his office and over to Hotch's.
Not bothering to knock, Rossi pushed open the door only to find the office empty. Slightly concerned, Rossi sat down in one of the extra chairs to await his boss's return.
Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty but still Hotch had failed to appear. With a sigh Rossi pulled out his cell-phone and dialled a familiar number.
-CM-CM-CM-
Reid flinched as he saw the knife plunging straight towards him. Foyet pulled the blow at the last second, stopping the blade less then an inch from Reid's eye. The young man shrank back in his seat, trying to put as much room between himself and the blade as a possible.
Reid breathed a sigh of relief as Foyet withdrew the blade and turned towards Hotch. "The control necessary to stab yourself 13 times and live, that same control is the only reason your agent still has his eye."
With a laugh that rang of cruelty, Foyet turned once more and stabbed the knife, the same one he had been using to toy with the young man, through Reid's foot. The blade slid through shoe, flesh and into the floor of the warehouse where it stuck fast, pinning the doctor's foot to the ground.
The suddenness of the attack along with its brutality left Reid stunned for a moment. I guess the floor wasn't concrete after all. That single thought was all Reid's brain had time for before the onset of overwhelming pain. The burning sensation started in his foot and travelled up his leg until it felt like the entire thing was on fire.
Reid growled aloud as he struggled against the blackness threatening the edges of his vision. He had been through far worse without giving into the pain. Even when a bullet had pierced that same leg he had remained focused enough to shoot his assailant and... what was it about a knife in the foot that was so painful?
Foyet approached, knife in hand as if by magic, towering over the seated genius. Reid barely had time to note the menacing look on the Reaper's face before he lost the fight and succumbed to the darkness.
-CM-CM-CM-
Hotch watched his younger colleague lose the battle for consciousness and breathed a sigh of relief at the look of disappointment written on Foyet's face. It seemed the same desires that kept him from killing an unconscious Morgan would force him to spare the genius for now.
Glancing down at the wound Foyet had inflicted, Hotch felt his stomach turn at the blood seeping through the material of Reid's brown loafers. Despite his revulsion, the analytical part of Hotch's mind noted that the foot pierced by the knife was the same one injured during Reid's time with Henkel 3 years earlier. As cold as the observation felt, Hotch knew it was that analytical separation that allowed him and his team to look at mutilated bodies day after day without sacrificing their sanity.
Movement drew his eyes from the floor. Foyet had turned away from his unconscious captive to face Agent Hotchner once more. "I'm not done with the good doctor yet but the rest will have to wait. Oh well I've got a little errand to run anyway."
Hotch found himself deep in thought as he watched the Reaper's retreating back. Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, even Jareau. His people were some of the best in the world at what they did. If anyone could track down his subordinate and himself it was his team. That being said, investigations take time, time Aaron Hotchner feared Reid didn't have. It seemed it would be up to Hotch to keep them both alive.
"Tell me Aaron, while your team was busy looking out for you who was looking out for them?" Foyet stopped to offer one last taunt before disappearing into the darkness beyond.
"The blade itself incites to deeds of violence." - Homer
(1) Arguably I'm relying more on the English definition of perseverance than the psychological definition. A more traditional example of perseverance would be a brain-injured individual identifying the rule through trial-and-error during a card-sorting task yet when the rule changes the individual continues to sort cards according to the original rule.