
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8676916.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Fandom:
      Criminal_Minds
  Relationship:
      Aaron_Hotchner/Spencer_Reid
  Character:
      Spencer_Reid, Aaron_Hotchner, George_Foyet, Alex_Blake, David_Rossi,
      Jennifer_"JJ"_Jareau, Emily_Prentiss, Derek_Morgan, Jason_Gideon, Unsub_
      (Criminal_Minds), Penelope_Garcia
  Additional Tags:
      so_much_whump, im_sorry, but_not_really, Reid_gets_hurt, fic_previews,
      Violence, Kidnapping, Torture, Heavy_Angst, Hurt/Comfort, more_hurt_than
      comfort_tho, Choices, Blood_and_Gore, Not_a_Happy_Story, more_torture,
      Rape, graphic_depictions_of_violence_and_rape, Implied/Referenced_Rape/
      Non-con, kid!spencer, Implied/Referenced_Child_Abuse, Underage_Rape/Non-
      con, Blake_is_wonderful, Seriously_tho, Child_abductions, Foster_Care,
      William_Reid_is_an_Asshole, Witness_Protection, Non-canonical_past,
      BAMF!Reid, Mafias, Even_more_torture, Hotch/Reid_-_Freeform, little_bit,
      Established_Relationship, Hospitals, Season_5_premier, Alternate_Ending,
      Foyet_is_evil_af, wing!fic, Team_has_wings, team_as_children, Maximum
      Ride_inspired, but_not_a_x-over, Extreme_amounts_of_torture, Ransom, THIS
      IS_GETTING_RIDICULOUS, Flashbacks, Rossi/Reid_friendship, One-Shots,
      Teasers, i_think_thats_it, too_many_tags
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-11-28 Chapters: 8/8 Words: 8759
****** A Series of Fic Previews and Teasers ******
by Sandshoes_(TemporaryUniverse)
Summary
     I have an abundance of unfinished fics and my muse seems to have
     abandoned me temporarily. Joy. Anyway, I thought I'd post some of
     them here and get some input on which ones I should continue to work
     on and which ones I should leave on the backburner for a while. Most
     of them contain graphic violence and/or descriptions of rape, and
     because of that I highly suggest that they not be read by those under
     18.
     The fics (in order) are:
     Acquainted with the Night
     Bad Things and Good People
     Lost Innocence (interim title)
     Protection
     End of the Line (interim title)
     Life is Not a Fairytale (interim title)
     Jason and the Dragon (interim title)
     Underestimated
***** Aquainted with the Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Summary:
     It is inevitable that a hero will make enemies. For the BAU, this is
     especially true. Sometimes, those grievances return to exact their
     revenge, and the innocent will be caught in the crossfire. Spencer
     Reid finds himself targeted by someone looking to right a past wrong,
     and his friends and family are in danger. He may be forced to make a
     choice. To live or to die. To kill or to be killed.
Chapter Notes
     Title from Robert Frost's poem Acquainted with the Night
     Season 7. Sometime between "Closing Time" and "Profiling 101".
     Spoilers up to season 8.
     Warnings: Graphic depictions of torture and violence. Gore, blood,
     death (but not major character). Rated M.
     Working Word Count: 25,002
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Chapter 1: Late Night
Day 1 ~ 11:18 pm
REID
Dr. Spencer Reid was an interesting man. He was 29, and had worked for the FBI
as a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit since he was 21. He was a
certifiable genius, with an IQ of 187 and three, nearly four, PhDs, brown hair,
and dark hazel eyes. While his intelligence was high, his social skills were
anything but, resulting in more than a few quite embarrassing situations.
Currently, he was sitting at his desk, slowly sipping his overly-sugary coffee
as he reviewed the paperwork he had just completed. He didn't really need to,
he had memorized every word he had written thanks to his eidetic memory, but
the young genius didn’t feel like going home. He ran a hand through his short
brown hair, making it even messier as he gazed tiredly around the empty
bullpen, everyone else had gone home for the night. Reid sighed and heard
footsteps from somewhere on his right. He looked up as his unit chief,
Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, exited his office and began walking
down the stairs towards the main area and Reid’s desk.
Aaron Hotchner was tall, with dark hair and a perpetual frown on his face. He
was known for his profiling work, but also for his serious attitude and his
suits. Hotch always wore a suit and tie to work, but the only time Reid had
seen him relaxed was when he was at home with his son, Jack. He was an imposing
man, and when he got angry, it was terrifying, especially if you knew him, and
knew that did not show his emotions very often.
“Hey, Reid,” Hotch called, his voice strangely loud in the relative silence of
the work area, “I didn’t realize you were still here.” He phrased his comment
more like a question.
“Just finishing some paperwork,” Reid replied in way of an answer.
“You work too hard,” Hotch gave a rare smile as he met Reid’s eyes, but Reid
could see still see the concern behind his joking expression.
“And you don't?” Reid shot back, returning Hotch’s smile.
“Are you going home soon?”
Reid shrugged, “In a few minutes.” He stood up and transferred his messenger
bag from the back of his chair to his shoulder.
“Do you want me to give you a ride? I can wait.” There it was, Reid knew it was
coming and he hated that question, it made him feel like he was being babied,
like he was incapable of doing anything without supervision.
He straightened some papers on his desk, avoiding Hotch’s gaze, “I'm alright,
you go home to Jack, it's late.”
The young genius looked back up at his superior’s stoic face, and saw that
Hotch’s eyes were soft and sympathetic. “Okay. Don't stay too late.”
Reid grinned slightly, “I won't. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Reid.” Hotch turned and left the bullpen through the glass doors
etched with the FBI emblem.
Reid stayed at the office for a few more minutes after Hotch left, pouring out
the rest of his now tepid drink, before he, too, exited the building.
Outside, the air was cool and crisp, a light wind biting through his sweater.
He inhaled deeply, enjoying the freshness, and shoved his hands deep into his
pockets. The young doctor walked down the sidewalk, heading for the subway
station that would take him to his apartment. He wasn't outside much, work kept
him busy, but fall was one of his favorite times of the year. He thought
longingly of the large novel waiting to be read at home and smiled. Reading was
another one of the things he enjoyed the most. He felt a sudden chill and
shivered slightly, picking up his pace as the subway entrance came into view.
A clattering noise startled him out of his own mind. Reid’s senses went on high
alert, and he felt his heart rate speed up, adrenaline rushing through his
veins.
“Hello?” he called into the dark of an alleyway between two buildings where the
noise had seemed to emanate from. Cautiously moving closer, he peered into the
alley, but saw nothing, the darkness seemed heavy and threatening. After a
minute of anxious searching, Reid turned away. Probably just a stray cat or
something, he tried to convince himself, he was just being paranoid, but his
overactive mind seemed to focus on the word 'something'. He shivered again, and
couldn't tell if it was just from the cold or because he was scared. He shook
himself and continued walking, although with a degree of apprehensiveness that
wasn't present before.
Reid had almost reached the station when he sensed something behind him, he
tried to spin around, reaching into his bag and trying to find his gun, but a
pair of hands were already wrapping themselves around him. One covered his
mouth, preventing him from crying out, and the other held him tightly around
his chest. He struggled, trying to gain freedom and yelled into the hand on his
mouth, but whoever was holding him was much stronger and his voice was muffled.
He felt a pinch on his arm and fought harder, managing to break free when he
elbowed the man in the stomach.
He spun to face his attacker, but only caught a glimpse of someone tall,
wearing a dark hoodie and jeans. He grabbed at the syringe in his arm and
yanked it out. He gasped for air, his panic and whatever drug he had just been
injected with making him dizzy so that he stumbled and collapsed on the ground.
The syringe was gone, but the damage had already been done. Reid tried to yell
once more for help, but all that left his lips was a low, weak groan.
Everything felt heavy and he couldn't move properly. He struggled to breathe as
his vision began to turn black. He was dimly aware of heavy thud of boots next
to his head, before he felt himself being lifted up off the ground, but he
couldn't focus anymore. Loosing consciousness fast, he heard the man whisper
into his ear, “It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reid,” and then the darkness
claimed him.
UNSUB
The man smiled as he watched Dr. Reid walking down the sidewalk. Anger rose in
him, but he quickly pushed it away. He couldn't afford to loose control now,
this needed to be perfect. He started to move forward out of the alley, but his
foot knocked a discarded soda can as he did so. He froze as the noise echoed
around him, cursing silently as he glared down at the offending object. When he
turned his eyes back upward he could see Dr. Reid peering into the narrow
space. He flattened himself against a wall, willing himself not to move any
further. The man held his breath as his target called a slightly timid,
“Hello?”, and he begged the darkness to keep him hidden. He couldn't fail now,
not now, he had spent too long preparing for this. He watched as Dr. Reid
frowned before he began walking away, vanishing from the man’s sight. The man
let out the breath he had been holding, and carefully stepped over the aluminum
trash. He stepped out of the alley, watching as his target neared the subway
station entrance. It was now or never.
The stupid doctor didn't even realize he was in danger until it was too late.
The man immensely enjoyed the struggle that Dr. Reid put up, and enjoyed it
even more when the smaller man collapsed on the ground and went limp. He picked
his target up, slightly surprised at how light he was, given how hard he had
fought. He whispered into the smaller man’s ear, taunting him, he couldn't help
it, everything had gone perfectly. Dr. Reid didn't even have any bruises, not
yet anyways, though he would soon if everything went right.
He carried Dr. Reid over to a dark blue van, that had, until now, been sitting
innocently by the curb of the sidewalk, and placed him in the back, smiling
slightly as he stared down at the young face for a couple of seconds. He
managed to turn himself away from his prize, shutting the back doors and
walking around the van to the drivers seat. He climbed in, feeling relieved,
the first part of his mission was complete. We are going to have so much fun,
the man mused, driving away with the unconscious doctor.
Day 2 ~ 6:00 am
HOTCH
Agent Hotchner arrived at the BAU headquarters early, as per usual. The team
didn’t need to come in until at least 8:00 unless there was a case, but Hotch
always arrived early in order to get ahead on his paperwork and make sure
everything was ready for the day. Hotch didn't mind that there wasn't anyone
else there, the peace and quiet was a good start to his day. He walked up the
stairs to the platform outside his office, looking around at the empty desks
and sighing slightly, before heading in to get started on his work.
Some time later, with a start Hotch realized he had already been working for an
hour, there was a knock on his door. He answered with a calm “Come in,” and
looked up from his papers when a petite, blonde woman entered.
“Good morning, JJ,” the unit chief stated. Agent Jennifer Jareau was a young
and rather beautiful FBI profiler, and a member of Hotch’s team. Her pale
golden hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she had a stack of official looking
folders clutched in her arms. She looked slightly strained and Hotch was
instantly on alert. JJ had first started working for the BAU as the
Communications Liaison, in charge of choosing cases, and talking with the
police departments, families of victims, and the press. She had recently been
promoted to the status of profiler, where her reasoning, skill in hand-to-hand
combat, and fierce, motherly nature had been vital to so many of the BAU’s
cases.
Hotch glanced at his watch, it was 7:00 which meant that the rest of the team
wasn't there yet, and judging by the expression on JJ’s face, there was an
Unsub to catch.
“Is it bad?” He asked her.
“Yeah. I've called in the team already,” JJ replied, her face masked as she
thought about the horrors contained within the folders she carried.
“Where?” Hotch sighed. He had been hoping to spend time with Jack and Beth
later in the evening but now that looked impossible. He hated his job
sometimes.
“Actually, right here in Quantico,” JJ said, watching Hotch for a reaction as
she handed him the case files. “I’ll be in the conference room,” she told him,
before leaving the office so he could read through the files and be ready to
brief the team when they arrived.
Chapter End Notes
     That's it for the preview. This fic started my voyage into the world
     of authorship, but I lost motivation a while ago. If enough interest
     is expressed in it, I might find the inspiration I need to get it
     done. I have most of it planned out, but the ending is a stubborn
     piece of the puzzle that I can't seem to make fit.
     The format of each chapter will be the 3-POV like this one, I'm
     finding it fun to play with.
     Anyway, I'm looking for an extra set of eyes that would be willing to
     read what I have so far and make suggestions. PM me if you're
     interested. Thank you and please review.
***** Bad Things and Good People *****
Chapter Summary
     Summary:
     On a case, Morgan makes the worst decision of his life. The
     consequences may get him and Reid killed unless the team can find
     them in time. Even if they do, Morgan doubts that his best friend
     will ever recover. And he hates himself for it.
Chapter Notes
     Set in Season 2. After "Revelations" but before "No Way Out II".
     Contains spoilers up to then.
     Warnings: Contains graphic depictions of rape/non-con, torture, and
     violence. Some use of strong language. Case-fic. Rated E.
     Working Word Count: 12,148
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Reid, Prentiss, did you find anything at the crime scene?”
"We're not sure, we'd like to wait for the coroner's report to make any
conclusions, but he seems to be getting more presumptuous and more violent,"
Reid answered, going straight to his geographic profile still pinned to the
board.
“So he’s devolving.”
“Looks that way,” Emily remarked drily. “Reid thinks that he might not like
that the FBI were called in. He's definitely angry for some reason.”
“I'm going to call Garcia, she might be able to find something new,” Reid
mentioned, turning away from his map, having marked the latest dump site with a
white pushpin. It was surrounded by eleven other pins of the same color, and
twelve red, the locations of the last known whereabouts of the victims, and the
places their bodies had been found. They were connected by a myriad of lines
tangling over the paper streets. He reached for his phone, but suddenly froze.
Hotch swore he could see the cogs turning in the genius’ brain. He didn’t have
to be prompted this time.
“I know where the Unsub lives,” He blurted out, launching right into an
explanation. “The brain is adept at identifying patterns and will
subconsciously attempt to create their own patterns which show in behavior.
We’ve already established that he has a conscious system for the choosing of
his victims, but the subconscious was not as obvious.” Prentiss raised an
eyebrow, it had taken him half a week to figure out the first pattern and this
one was harder?
“Reid, point please,” Hotch interrupted with a stern glance. Now was not the
time for a lecture.
Reid paused, blinked and then grabbed his marker. He circled an area on his
map, “Here. He lives here.” He drew another smaller circle somewhere else, “And
this is where he works.”
“Get Garcia on the phone. We can start to narrow down a list.”
******
A ding sounded, Reid picked up his phone and read off the address. “Turn left
here.”
Morgan flicked on the SUV’s sirens and made a sharp left turn, roaring off the
highway. Ten minutes later, they skidded to a stop in front of a large house.
Clambering out of the car, Morgan pulled out his own phone and called Hotch,
“Hey, man, how far out are you?”
“17 minutes away. Don't go in without backup.”
Suddenly, both profilers heard a faint scream from inside the house. Reid’s
alarmed gaze met Morgan’s.
“Hotch, we don't have time to wait for backup.” He hung up, knowing Hotch would
try to argue. He looked at Reid again. “I’ll go around back, you take the
front.”
“A-are you sure splitting up is a good idea?” Reid was vividly remembering the
last time he had separated from his partner in the field.
“We can't let Morris get away, just keep your radio on.” Morgan took off,
sprinting around to the far end of the house. Reid drew in a deep breath to
calm his nerves, pulled his gun out of his holster and approached the door. He
tried the knob, and to his relief it wasn't locked, he didn't feel like kicking
down a door right now. Morgan's tinny voice counted down from three through his
earpiece. On one, he flung the door open and swung his gun up to the proper
level. A quick sweep of the sitting room, and then he continued toward the rear
of the house. He passed a bathroom and an office, clearing each one before he
moved on. The next door opened to a set of stairs leading down into what Reid
assumed was a basement. He informed Morgan, and learned that Morgan hadn't
found anything yet.
“I’m going down,” He said into the radio, then he started down the steps,
moving slowly to avoid making too much noise, a tight grip on his gun. His
heart was pounding by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. A woman who
he assumed was Amy Ryder was seated on a sturdy table, her shins dangling off
the edge. Her clothes were torn and her skin was bloody, she was covered in
bruises and cuts. A knife was at her throat. Reid froze, his gun trained on the
man behind her. He ignored the pleading and teary gaze of the redhead, and
locked eyes with the murky browns of the Unsub.
“Ian Morris, put the knife down,” Reid commanded in his most authoritative
tone. Morris just smirked. Reid was about to demand again, when his comm
crackled to life.
“Reid! I found the Unsub. He's running, I'm in pursuit.” Reid’s brow furrowed
in confusion. If Morris was in front of him with the victim, then who was
Morgan chasing? He couldn't answer his friend, doing so would involve taking
his hand off the trigger and his focus off the Unsub.
Suddenly, he was distracted by sudden movement at the fringes of his vision.
Startled, he spun around in that direction, ready to fire. He was tackled to
the ground just as a gunshot echoed loudly through the room. His gun flew out
of his hand and skittered across the floor. Reid scrambled toward it, but just
as his fingers closed around the grip a boot came down on his wrist,
effectively pining him and making him drop the gun. Reid let out a yelp before
he was roughly yanked to his knees by his hair. His eyes shot open and he
briefly wondered when he had closed them, the thought was quickly chased from
his mind by the sight of Morris’ victorious grin. Amy was crying desperately,
the knife still pressed to her throat. Reid knew what was going to happen a
split second later.
******
“Morgan, leave it, that's not our biggest problem right now.”
“So what do we do?” Morgan was having trouble focusing his thoughts into an
order that made sense.
“Right now, the best we can do is use the profile and convince them to let us
go…”
Morgan snorted at that, and muttered “Yeah, like that'll happen.”
Reid continued like he hadn't heard the comment, “Or we can wait for the team
to figure it out, and right now they're only looking for one Unsub.”
That wiped the smirk from Morgan's face.
“What about Amy?”
“Dead. They slit her throat.” Reid whispered. Morgan could see the sadness and
guilt that shone in Reid’s eyes.
“Did you see anything that could help the team?”
“Maybe, but even if I did, we can't exactly call them and tell them can we?
They already took our phones, badges, and guns.”
Morgan stayed silent, he didn't know how to answer.
“Morgan, I don't want to die here.”
The plea was heartbreaking, and once again, the child-like voice reminded
Morgan of just how young his friend was.
“Hey now, kid. We are not going to die here, you hear me? We have the best team
of profilers out there looking for us and they already know who one of these
bastards is. They'll find us.”
“It just feels like Tobias again.” Reid whispered, his voice breaking near the
end of his sentence. Morgan felt a surge of sympathy for the young man, but was
unable to reply when at that moment, the door opened and three men entered the
small space. Reid and Morgan got to their feet, Reid supporting himself heavily
on the wall and Morgan subconsciously putting himself between the threat and
his friend.
“Kidnapping and assault of a federal agent is a serious crime, when my team
catches you, you could go to prison for life. Or you could let us go and I'll
put in a good word with the DA for you.” Morgan warned them.
One of the men stared at Morgan for a couple of seconds, then began to laugh
loudly. Morgan recognized him as the Unsub that they had already identified,
Ian Morris. He noticed one of the younger two never took his gaze off of Reid.
He wore an expression that Morgan had seen all too many times before when he
was a teen at the youth center. Shit. Morgan felt a surge of fear for his
friend.
“Max, Andrew.” Morris gestured to the others and they both moved forward. Reid
automatically backed into the wall despite the pain in his leg and Morgan
fisted his hands, preparing to fight.
“I don't care if you're the fucking president, Derek,” Morris sneered, mocking
him, “If we get caught, we’ll be on death row anyway for killing fifteen
people, we might as well have a little fun first, right, boys?” His two lackeys
both grinned widely and nodded in agreement.
When they were within arm’s reach, Morgan lunged forward, striking the first, a
rather large and heavily muscled man with military-cut chestnut hair, across
his jaw. He stumbled back, but almost immediately, the other Unsub landed a hit
of his own on the side of Morgan’s skull. Stunned, the agent crashed to the
floor.
Dimly, he heard Reid screaming his name, but he was too dazed to answer. His
vision was blurred and everything seemed distant. He was only barely aware of
two pairs of hands grabbing his arms and dragging him through the doorway.
Reid watched helplessly as the men pulled his best friend out of the room,
Morris stood aside, letting the other men pass by him. Reid had started forward
while Morgan had been fighting against Max and Andrew, ready to help, but
Morris had pulled out a gun, Reid's gun, and now had it pointed at Reid’s
chest. If he moved, he wouldn't be able to help Morgan at all.
“What are you going to do to him?” Reid pleaded. Morris’ lips curved upward in
an amused smirk.
“Shouldn't you know that Spencer? I assume you've read the reports after all.”
He jeered, before stepping into the hallway and slamming the door shut. Reid
heard the lock click, the sound draining his hope instantly. Tears threatened
to fall from his eyes but he stubbornly held them back. He could feel himself
begin to panic, so he limped over to the wall and slid down it. His leg
throbbed and he winced and straightened it out, barely managing to keep from
screaming at the pain.
The gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in, he was stuck in a locked
room, badly injured, and three sadistic Unsubs were doing who-knew-what to his
best friend. Reid struggled to take a breath, closed his eyes, and leaned his
head back against the wall. After just a few minutes, actually five minutes and
42 seconds if he wanted to be exact, the lock clicked again and the door
opened.
Chapter End Notes
     While in order, the scenes above are not the complete story. There is
     context before, between, and after. I was trying to give an idea of
     the fic without completely spoiling it.
     Thank you, and please review.
***** Lost Innocence *****
Chapter Summary
     Summary:
     The BAU is called in on a case in Las Vegas, Nevada. Young boys have
     been going missing and they must race to save the latest victim. But
     when they find him, they are in for a surprise. A thirteen year old
     genius by the name of Spencer Reid. She knows she shouldn't, but
     Blake can't help but become attached to the boy...
Chapter Notes
     Set in Season 8. No major spoilers. AU. The only change is that Reid
     is 13 and (obviously) isn't on the team.
     Warnings: Implied/referenced underage rape/non-con. Child abuse.
     Child deaths. Rated M.
     Working Word Count: 14,786
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Prologue
Las Vegas, Nevada
Laurelwood Park
Friday, April 12th, 2013
5:35 pm (EST) 2:35 pm (PST)
“Ty! Hey, Tyler!”
The 14 year-old turned on the sidewalk at the sound of his name.
“What is it, Ryan?” He huffed exasperatedly.
“Mum says we’re supposed to go straight home after school. She’ll get mad.” The
younger boy pouted up at his brother from under the rim of his baseball cap.
“Cindy says you have to go straight home, I can go play with my friends.
Besides, she’s at work today, she won't know if you’re home or not.” The older
boy brushed a stray strand of blond hair back under his skateboard helmet.
“But–”
“You can either walk home by yourself, or I can let you have a go on my board
if you come with me,” Tyler interrupted, adjusting his grip on the skateboard
he was carrying.
“Really?” The younger brother’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.
“Yeah, you comin’ or not?” Tyler turned and continued on his original path when
his brother nodded enthusiastically.
“C’mon, everyone’s waiting for me.” The older boy grinned at the excited smile
lighting up his brother’s face.
“Sweet. Thanks, Ty!” Ryan shouted, hurrying after his brother.
The two boys rushed to the park. When they reached it, Tyler unfastened his
helmet and replaced it on his sibling’s head, clipping the buckle under his
chin, before handing him the board. He watched Ryan kick off and followed his
path around the park. Two familiar people entering the park drew his attention
and he waved at them.
“Hey, Adam! Hi, Matt!” He greeted them, then turned back to watch Ryan do a
spectacular tumble off the skateboard and into the grass.
“Ryan! Are you okay?!” He yelled, worry clear on his features. A split second
later, his brother’s head popped up, laughing brightly. Tyler breathed a sigh
of relief and made his way over to the younger boy.
“Hey, kid. Matt and Adam are here, I need my board back.”
“Sure, Ty, thanks for letting me ride.” Ryan stood up, a huge grass stain on
his shirt and brushed himself off. Then he unbuckled the helmet and handed both
that and the skateboard back to his sibling. They were joined by Tyler’s two
friends, both carrying their own skateboards. Ryan grinned at them, and then
made his way over to the swings to watch.
20 minutes later, Ryan was growing restless, there wasn't much he could do
without another person.
“Hey, Ty? You guys almost done? I'm booored,” He complained. His older brother
wheeled over to him.
“I think we’ll be done in 10 minutes.”
“Tyyyyy,” Ryan whined, “It's almost 3:00, Mum’ll be home in 10 minutes.”
His brother sighed heavily, then reached into his pocket and pulled something
out. He handed the key to the younger boy.
“Here, how ‘bout you walk home? You'll get there before Cindy and I'll be there
soon.”
Ryan frowned, glanced over at the other two boys who were waiting impatiently
for their friend, and then snatched the key.
“Alright, but I'm not the one who gets in trouble if Mum finds out,” He warned
grumpily.
“She won't find out. See ya, Ryan,” Tyler replied. He let his skateboard
clatter back to the ground, placed one foot on, and shoved off away from his
younger sibling.
Ryan watched him go, then spun around and began to head home. He had just
reached the edge of the park when an arm reached out and grabbed him. Startled,
he tried to scream, but a sweet-smelling cloth covered his mouth and nose, and
everything went dark.
Chapter End Notes
     This one is actually going somewhere. Slowly, but I am still actively
     working on it. I am also doing an insane amount of research and my
     browser history is probably looking rather dubious. Oh, well.
     Thank you. Please review.
***** Protection *****
Chapter Summary
     Summary:
     Reid has a secret. A very big, very dangerous secret. And it's about
     to come to light in the worst way possible.
Chapter Notes
     Set in Season 5. Before "100". No major spoilers.
     Warnings: Violence. Uh. I think that's it actually. Wow. Rated T.
     Working Word Count: 2,053
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Are you really going to get him hurt just to keep a secret?” Reid swallowed
heavily and bit his lip. A war was raging between logic and emotion inside his
brain. The objective reasoning that he had relied so much on for most of his
life was been defeated by his connection with his friend.
“Reid. Spencer. It's okay,” Hotch uttered stoically. Reid wanted to scream at
him, ‘No! It's not okay!’ But who would he rather betray? His father who left
him when he was a kid, or his boss and friend who had known for the past eight
years?
“Please, don't hurt him,” Reid pleaded.
“Does that mean you’ll tell?” The young genius remained silent and looked at
his knees.
“Hmmmm.” A flash of silver and sharp intake of breath had his eyes shooting up
again. A knife blade was glinting dangerously near Hotch’s cheek. “I'll start
cutting in five… four… three… two… o–”
“Stop!” Reid yelled, surprising even himself, “I-I’m…” His voice broke so he
took a deep, shaky breath, and continued, more quietly, “I'm Matthew. I'm
Matthew Reese.”
******
4 hours before
Reid flipped through the file in the backseat. The team was headed back to the
hotel after finishing a case. They were in Pennsylvania, and had been
investigating a series of brutal, ritualistic murders of young women. They had
aided the local police in the capture of the Unsub, but it was too late for
them to head back home to Quantico.
Rossi was up front with Hotch. JJ was in the backseat with Reid, and had fallen
asleep on his shoulder. Morgan and Emily had driven ahead so they could pick up
some dinner for everyone. Reid sighed tiredly and closed his file. Hotch
glanced in the rear view mirror to look back at the pair and raised one
eyebrow. Reid shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. Rossi let out a loud snore and
the two that weren't sleeping had to bite their lips to keep the laughs in.
Hotch coasted the car to a stop at a red light. “Do you think they'll wake up
before we get to the hotel?” He half-muttered.
“Probably not. I don't think I've ever seen Rossi sleep in the car before,”
Reid whispered back. The light turned green and Hotch accelerated through the
intersection, he was about to reply when Reid screamed his name and a split
second later a white pick-up truck rammed into the right side of the SUV with
high force.
Their ears were filled with the sound of crunching metal, glass shattering, and
squealing tires. It was over in seconds, but time seemed to drag. Hotch groaned
the seatbelt and airbag had shielded him from the brunt of the crash, but there
were going to be some nasty bruises. He glanced around at the damage, Reid and
JJ were staring at him with wide eyes, Reid had a small cut and a trickle of
blood above his eyebrow, but JJ was seemingly unharmed. Rossi’s eyes were still
shut despite the jolt of the impact. Hotch reached out to him and shook his
shoulder, but the senior agent didn't react. He started to undo his seatbelt
even as he spoke, “Is everyone alright?”
“Yeah,” JJ answered, her voice higher pitched than normal. Reid also replied in
the affirmative. “Rossi?” JJ asked.
“He isn't waking up.” Hotch said, concern seeping into his words.
“He was on the side of the impact, I think he may’ve hit his head pretty badly.
He was leaning against the door,” Reid said. The injured profilers heard voices
and footsteps from outside the car. Reid unbuckled himself. He moved to get
out, grabbing his cane, but the door suddenly swung open violently and he was
roughly grabbed and dragged out with a yelp, the cane clattering to the floor
of the SUV. Hotch was immediately reaching for his gun, JJ a bit slower to
react, but still doing the same. The climbed out of the vehicle quickly, guns
held out the ready, but froze immediately. A terrified Reid was gripped in a
chokehold, with a gun to his temple. Six other barrels, attached to various
rifles or pistols, were directed at the other two agents.
“Drop your weapons, agents, and step out of the car, or I will not hesitate to
kill him.” JJ looked to Hotch, who reluctantly nodded at her and took his
finger off the trigger. She did the same and they let their guns be taken from
them.
Their wrists were quickly bound behind their backs with zipties and the two
profilers were shoved into the back of a large cargo van parked nearby. Minutes
later, Reid and, a thankfully conscious but disoriented, Rossi were shoved in
with them, zipties on their own wrists. Two of their attackers climbed in with
them and one other got in the front. The van rumbled to life and drove away,
leaving the crashed vehicles behind and heading towards a destination unknown
to any of the captured agents.
Chapter End Notes
     There isn't much here. It was mostly just a thought that I had to
     write down before I forgot it. I have a vague idea of where it's
     going, but the specifics aren't fully constructed.
     As always, Thank you and please review.
***** End of the Line *****
Chapter Summary
     Summary:
     Hotch and Reid thought that they had been appropriately discreet with
     their relationship. Not even the team knew, Reid was sure of it, the
     team knew how to profile, but so did he and Hotch. All it took was
     one disastrous evening for their fragile world to come crashing down
     around them. If only Reid hadn't decided to come over to Hotch's
     apartment that night after one of the hardest cases they'd had in
     years, maybe things would have turned out differently. But he had.
     And they hadn't.
Chapter Notes
     Set directly after the end of the Season 4 finale "To Hell and Back".
     Spoilers for seasons 4 and 5. Canon-divergent.
     Some of the dialogue is straight from the episode. No copyright
     infringement intended.
     Warnings: Implied/referenced rape/non-con, violence, canonical
     character death. Rated M.
     Working Word Count: 2,003
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Hotch tossed his bags on the chair by the door and made a beeline for the wet
bar. Pouring himself a glass of scotch, he sighed heavily, trying to banish the
images of hundreds of filthy shoes lined up on a tarp and the sound of pigs
grunting in the background. As he lifted the tumbler to his lips to take his
first sip, he became aware of another presence in his apartment. He wasn’t
alone.
The figure hidden in the shadows stepped forward into the glow of the lights,
throwing their face into sharp relief. Or, what would have been their face. The
intruder was wearing a ballistic mask, black to complement the rest of their
outfit, a dark hoodie and jeans, and they were leveling a revolver directly at
Hotch’s chest.
Two thoughts flashed through Hotch’s mind in that instant. The first: George
Foyet, aka the Boston Reaper was in his apartment. The second: Show no fear.
Only his intimate knowledge of the profile, collected from many late nights in
the office, pouring over everything related to The Reaper that he could get his
hands on, kept him from flinching when the gun discharged loudly. The bullet
left a hole in the wall behind him, as was intended. Hotch prayed that one of
his neighbors would hear the shot and call the police.
“Is this part of my profile; you can't show me fear?”
“If you don’t see fear, maybe it’s because I’m not afraid of you.”
“You said that like you actually meant it.”
For days to come, Hotch would berate himself for not fighting harder. What
happened next was his fault. He had let Foyet overpower him.
He was lying on the floor, trying to force his body to cooperate. Foyet’s knee
pressed into his chest and he moaned. He gasped when the blade of a knife first
penetrated him. The pain was terrible and his jaw clenched reflexively to block
the low scream that bubbled up into his throat. The Reaper paused to smirk at
him before pulling the blade out agonizingly slowly, the torturous burn it
caused nearly reaching the breaking point of Hotch’s resilience.
The knife slipped out of Hotch’s abdomen fully, but almost as soon as it
cleared the flesh, it was being plunged back in to his ribs. Again, Foyet
prolonged the extraction of the sharp metal, it hurt more than when the knife
had gone in.
The fifth stab was interrupted by a rap on the door, a familiar, hesitant
pattern. Hotch’s eyes went wide, for the first time a flash of fear crossed his
features. Foyet raised an eyebrow.
“Expecting visitors, Aaron?” He chuckled. Hotch wanted to deny it, wanted to
shout out for the person at the door to run, but he couldn’t. His mouth was dry
and the only sound he could make was a low groan. The sound of the lock
clicking had Foyet rising off Hotch’s bloody chest, twirling his knife. He
stepped away and blended into the shadows.
“Aaron?” Reid opened the door and came in, placing his ever-present messenger
bag next to Hotch’s go bag which was still on the chair. He quickly entered the
code for the alarm to prevent it from going off. Reid called his name again,
more concerned this time. Hotch could hear him walking towards the kitchen
where he was lying. In three, two, one−
“Aaron!” Reid rushed over to him and fell to his knees, hands frantically
moving to assess the damage. He was babbling almost incoherently, fractured
sentences about ‘call ambulance’ and ‘What happened?’ and ‘Oh my god’ spilling
agitatedly out of his mouth. He froze when Hotch reached up with great effort
and grabbed his wrist.
“Foyet…” Hotch muttered, struggling to say more, to warn Reid of the danger.
But the moment the younger agent had walked in to the apartment he had been
doomed.
“Well, look at this,” Foyet sneered, revealing himself. Reid spun around to
look at him, immediately tensing at the sudden appearance of the threat. The
Reaper was aiming a gun with one hand, in his other he held the knife, still
dripping red. “Doctor Spencer Reid, come to join the party.” He drawled the
word ‘doctor’, voice colored with disdain.
“Foyet.” Reid responded, the name tasting bitter from the fear that he kept
locked inside. He forced his expression to remain stoic, emulating Hotch’s
unperturbable Unit Chief demeanor. A pair of handcuffs, standard law
enforcement grade, were tossed by The Reaper and clattered to the ground right
in front of him.
“Put them on,” Foyet ordered, gesturing with the gun. Reid hesitated, he knew
he should fight, but that could very easily get him killed, Foyet wasn’t
bluffing. If Reid died… He shuddered to think what that would do to Hotch. It
was easier than he thought it would be to reach out, snag the cuffs, and click
them on to his wrists. He refused to look back at Hotch, instead watching as
The Reaper walked up to him and rested the barrel of his revolver on his
forehead. Reid stared straight ahead, his heart was pounding so loudly in his
chest that he was sure the other two men could hear it.
He was unprepared for when the butt of the gun collided with his head and he
was forced into unconsciousness. He heard Hotch shout in the brief moment it
took before the darkness overcame him.
Hotch watched helplessly as Reid was pistol-whipped hard enough to knock him
out. Any movement on his part sent paralyzing jolts of pain through his entire
body. Foyet dragged the limp Reid over to a corner and deposited him there
before coming back over to the older agent.
“They will kill you,” Hotch growled.
“Don’t speak,” Foyet replied, completely disregarding the comment, “You lost a
lot of blood, you’ll need your oxygen.” He paused and kneeled down over Hotch,
positioning the tip of his knife on Hotch’s torso. “Do you know how much you
have to study the human body to stab yourself repeatedly and not die? I don’t
want to brag, but I’m somewhat of an expert. Do you want to see my scars?”
Hotch twitched as the blade pierced him. Foyet left it sticking out of him,
stood up, and pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion. The lack of clothing
revealed numerous pale scars, standing out white and raised against the skin.
The bare skin revealed was marred by thick lines of pink scar tissue, starkly
raised against the background of pale flesh. “What do you think? You like ‘em?
Yours are gonna look just the same.” He gestured to Reid, “His will, too.”
Hotch’s heart jumped to his throats and he struggled to take a breath deep
enough that he could protest. His mind was racing in frantic circles with one
thought: “Not Spencer.” He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud until Foyet
chuckled darkly.
“Oh, Aaron,” he said, squatting down over him once again, “You're the one
predicting my behavior. So, tell me, why wouldn't I?”
Hotch attempted to talk and ended up coughing his lungs out, the sound thick
and wet. The action sent a jolt of agony through his body, cutting off the next
cough. When the fit had abated he tried again, “My team…” He was forced to
trail off with a pained groan as Foyet jerked the knife out.
“Your team,” the psychopath growled, “Your team didn't catch me until I wanted
them to. You're not in charge, so don't be foolish.” Hotch couldn't help the
grunt that escaped him at the next stab. “Now try to relax. Your body will go
numb. And it goes in so much easier if you relax.” The change in Foyet’s
breathing was audible, it turned shallow and excited, he was getting off on the
pain he was inflicting, on the dominance he held over his victim. “The hard
part is not passing out from the pain.”
Chapter End Notes
     I've seen and read all of these fics where Foyet doesn't just stab
     Hotch that night. This is my take on it if Hotch and Reid were in an
     established relationship. I'm trying to keep it as non-graphic as
     possible, but we'll see how that goes. Please note that the case in
     Nameless, Faceless doesn't occur, I always thought it wasn't very
     reasonable anyway. (I mean, the local PD could have easily handled it
     on their own, they didn't need the help of a BAU team who had just
     finished a case like the pig farm case and were probably running on
     very little sleep. Most of the logic/profiling that happened wasn't
     even necessary or meaningful. Sorry for the mini-rant. I'll shut up
     now.)
     Thank you and please review.
***** Life is Not a Fairytale *****
Chapter Summary
     Summary:
     The only life Aaron has known for nineteen years is the inside of a
     lab as experimental avian specimen. The first of the model to survive
     past infancy. He had been followed by Derek, Emily, JJ and Penelope.
     But there's something different about Spencer. Dr. David Rossi seems
     to know, why else would he break them out? Now Aaron has to survive
     in the outside world, a world he has no intimate knowledge of. It
     will take strength, courage, and no small amount of luck to keep his
     flock safe.
Chapter Notes
     Completely AU. No spoilers.
     Warnings: minor violence. Possibly some disturbing themes? Rated T.
     Working Word Count: 744
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Aaron yawned widely and stretched his limbs out as much was possible in the
cramped space. His wings fluttered behind his back, scraping against the bars
of the cage when he ruffled them to align his feathers. The teenager rolled his
head, causing his neck to crack loudly. He winced at the noise and sighed. The
movements had soothed the ache somewhat, so he turned his attention to the
cramp in his shoulder. Sleeping on a floor wasn’t great for his spine, if it
was up to him, he would be spending his nights sprawled out on a soft mattress
on a real bed, but, unfortunately, it wasn’t up to him. Not that he knew any
different. He’d never actually seen a bed, only heard about them.
The rustle of cloth and feathers to his left made him glance up. JJ was
stirring. He waited while she went through the ritual motions of awakening
before coughing lightly, making her look over. She smiled, yawned, and rubbed
the sleep from her eyes with her fists. They weren’t allowed to talk, but their
group had other ways of communication, primarily facial expressions. Aaron
grinned back at her and then cocked his head. She nodded. Aaron relaxed and
they sat in companionable silence for a while.
A low grumble was the first indication that someone else was waking. Without
even having to look in his direction, Aaron knew that it was Derek. The other
boy hated mornings. He probably wouldn’t be fully coherent for at least ten
more minutes. During that time, Penny and Emily arose and stretched. The three
other teens were across from Aaron and JJ in their own cages.
Aaron was the oldest of the five by ten months. He was nineteen. Legally an
adult. Derek was next, recently eighteen, Emily only a month younger. Penny was
fifteen, and JJ was the youngest of their oddball group at thirteen. The only
reason they knew their birthdays at all were the charts that hung outside their
cages. When they’d been taught to read, they kept each other updated on the
contents of the papers of the person across from them. That was how Aaron knew
that it was his turn for the standard evaluation today. Fantastic.
As expected, the door to their room opened and a man in a white lab coat
sauntered in, followed by a couple of the guards. His friends all gave him
meaningful looks. Good luck, they said. Aaron prepared for them to unlock his
cage and lead him out, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he was bypassed by the
scientist and his surly entourage who stopped right in front of the empty cage,
putting Aaron between them and JJ. The children exchanged confused glances.
Some of their questions were answered with the entrance of another scientist,
Dr. Gideon. With him was a small boy, whom he ushered into the cage. The door
to the prison was locked behind him and Dr. Gideon hung up the clipboard with
the newcomer’s chart. Then Dr. Gideon and the three other men left again. The
entire operation had been completed in perfect silence.
Aaron peered through the bars of his cage at the new arrival. The boy looked to
be around ten years old. He had shaggy chestnut hair that hung in a curtain
around his face, obscuring his other features. His wings kept fluttering
nervously, tucked in close to his body. Aaron noticed that they were a
beautiful brown, mottled so that the highlights shone brightly when the light
hit them, revealing flecks of color in shades that Aaron had never known
existed. His own wings were a dull black, the only variation coming from white
bars on the tops.
So entranced as he was by the other boy’s wings, he almost didn’t realize that
a pair of hazel eyes were staring up at him. He blinked, startled, but then
gave the boy a small smile. Emily coughed lightly and they both glanced over at
her. She silently communicated with Aaron the new boy’s name. Spencer.
Chapter End Notes
     Inspired by Maximum Ride, but you don't have to have read the book to
     understand this (although if you want to read the book, I wouldn't be
     against that).
     While I've done other AU fics before, nothing as far from canon as
     this. As such, I really don't know what I'm doing, and therefore this
     fic isn't high on my priority list. When it does get finished, I'll
     probably be posting under a different pen name.
     Thank you. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
***** Jason and the Dragon *****
Chapter Summary
     Summary:
     A long time ago, Jason Gideon made a decision. The Unsub they were
     hunting was elusive, too elusive. They had no leads, and could find
     no more victims. There were more urgent cases piling up, so Gideon
     recalled the team. Years later, the founder of the BAU had left it,
     and the ones he left behind are forced to pay the price for his
     mistakes. Rossi has twenty-four hours to find his old friend and
     prevent the unthinkable.
Chapter Notes
     Not sure when this is set yet, possibly somewhere in seasons 3 or 4.
     Warnings: Rape/non-con. Graphic torture/violence. Strong language.
     Rated E.
     Working Word Count: 2,275
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Rossi scrolled through his emails, noting what needed his attention and
ignoring those that didn’t, like he did every morning when he got in to work.
The subject of one, on this typical day, seemed to stand out, piquing his
curiosity, but also instilling a wariness. ‘Hello Agent Rossi’ it read. His
cursor hovered over the icon for only a second before he pressed the left
trigger of his mouse and opened the email.
“Hello, Agent David Rossi,
We have never personally met, I do not believe, but I have heard great things
about the notorious founder of the Behavioral Analysis Unit and bestselling
novelist. I hope you do not mind, but I would prefer not to fully introduce
myself given the sensitivity of this interaction. You see, I happen to have
something of yours, and I am requesting a trade of sorts. I am sorry I cannot
be more specific, but again, I would not want this to be intercepted by a third
party.
I have included a link in this message that will allow you to converse with me
more easily on a secure connection. I ask that you click on it. There will be
consequences that you may not find particularly enjoyable if you choose not to.
Sincerely,
JD”
Rossi’s gut was sinking with an increasingly bad feeling. He took a deep breath
and opened the link attached to the email. It took him to a webpage with a live
video playing. His stomach twisted into knots and he stared aghast at the
images. He snapped out of the shock quickly and rushed to get Hotch.
The unit chief was predictably in his office and glanced up at his old friend’s
sudden entrance.
“You need to gather the team.” Hotch saw the urgent expression on the senior
agent’s face and didn’t bother to stop and ask why, simply grabbing the phone
and dialing. Rossi, meanwhile, snatched his laptop from his office and began to
set up in the round table room.
“I couldn’t get a hold of Reid. Everyone else is on their way.” Hotch said,
entering through the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“I got an email a few minutes ago from someone who signed it JD. The message
was less than friendly, to put it lightly. Polite, but definitely threatening.
They sent me a link to a private website with a video feed. I don’t know a lot
more than that, but I think the rest should wait until everyone else gets
here.” The Unit Chief still looked dissatisfied, but relented.
It took fewer than ten minutes for JJ, Morgan, Garcia, and Emily to arrive,
they had all been on their way already when Hotch called them. Although he knew
that he was worrying and confusing Hotch, Rossi started to fill the four agents
in on the details. Thankfully, the younger man remained silent, but the
question was clear on his face.
The bubbly tech, unaware that anything was horrendously wrong, helped Rossi
wirelessly connect his computer to the TV on the wall behind him, so that his
screen was projected larger allowing everyone else to see.
Once they had read the letter thoroughly and commented briefly on it, Rossi
clicked on the link for the second time. Someone gasped, but Rossi missed who
as he was too focused on the image. It was grainy black and white footage, but
the subject was clear as day to the team of profilers. A young man, stripped
naked, was hanging limply by his slender wrists from chains that appeared to be
attached to the ceiling. The tips of his toes on his bare feet hardly brushed
the ground, though he was quite tall. There were no indications of
consciousness, and the only things he was wearing were a blindfold and a ball
gag.
“Is that…?”
“Yeah,” Rossi answered the unfinished question reluctantly, voice weighted with
emotion.
“No. No no no no no. Not again, I can’t do this again. It isn’t him. It can’t
be him,” Garcia denied vehemently. Hotch closed his eyes and averted his gaze
from the screen, clenching his jaw. A slamming noise was heard as Morgan
reacted the way he typically did, by abusing the wall nearest to himself with
his fist. JJ and Emily were in stunned states of numbness, JJ had paled
considerably, horror written in every feature of her face.
“Ah, hello, BAU team.” Six pairs of eyes snapped to the monitor. A man had
appeared in the video, looking directly at the camera, a smug grin dimpling his
cheeks. “I figured you had gone to get the team when you signed off, David. No
matter, it does not bother me.”
“You bastard,” Morgan spat at him.
“As I am not the extraordinary technical analyst known as Penelope, just
installing this video connection was difficult for me, and I am afraid I can
neither see nor hear you, which is why you should be receiving a package,” The
man glanced at his watch, “about now, actually.”
He was spot on with his timing, there was an abrupt rap on the door almost
immediately. The mail clerk entered with a large envelope, which he handed to
Hotch. The profiler opened it and slid out a cheap flip phone. On the screen,
the man revealed his own phone and discreetly dialed a number. The device that
Hotch was palming began to ring.
The Unit Chief took a deep breath, knowing he had to control his emotions, and
answered the call on speaker, keeping his intense gaze on the video link.
“SSA Aaron Hotchner.”
“Agent Hotchner, so good to hear your voice.” The voice echoed oddly through
the speakers of the phone and the TV, lending an eerie tone to the words. Emily
had to admonish Morgan with a stern glare when he opened his mouth to growl an
inevitable mix of insults and expletives.
“I’m afraid I cannot say likewise.” Hotch replied coldly, the ice in his voice
making everyone shiver. The unknown man gave an audible sigh.
“Is Agent Rossi there? I was hoping that he would be more agreeable, I find
that quality makes for better conversation.” Rossi held his hand out for Hotch
to be quiet and let the more experienced hostage negotiator take the lead. The
younger man grudgingly allowed it.
“I apologize for my colleague’s rudeness, sir.” A quick glance at said
colleague relayed that he would rather cut off his own hand, if it weren’t for
the need to not antagonize their Unsub. “Is there something I can do for you?”
The man surprised them all when he burst out in a gruff laugh that continued to
echo through the speaker for what seemed like a full thirty seconds. There was
a dark note to the sound that set the team on edge. “So civil, Dave. How hard
is it? To know that I hold the young Doctor Reid’s life in my hands and that
you cannot do anything about it except pretend that you do not want to put a
bullet through my brain. No matter. I am not here to taunt you, as delightful
as it is.” Morgan snarled quietly in the background. “I am here to make a
trade. Doctor Reid for Jason Gideon.”
Chapter End Notes
     *wince* This one is likely going to be worse than Bad Things and Good
     People. I like to torture Reid, a lot. Have you noticed? Really? No?
     Alright then.
     The title 'Jason and the Dragon' is a reference to Jason of the
     Argonauts, particularly the legend of the Golden Fleece. It seemed
     fitting. I think it still needs work though.
     Backstory for this is mostly complete, I have an idea of where it's
     going. All that's left is to write it.
     Thank you, please leave a review.
***** Underestimated *****
Chapter Summary
     Summary:
     A series of one-shots exploring the relationship between Reid and
     Rossi. Some will be canonical, some will not, most will be fluffy
     angst. If that's a thing. There will be times when Reid confides in
     Rossi and times when Rossi asks advice from Reid. Really just a mosh
     pit of ideas.
Chapter Notes
     Obviously set after Season 2. Probably major spoilers for most
     everything after that up to season 11.
     Warnings: Discussion of torture, drug abuse, non-canonical character
     past, PTSD, child abuse/underage/rape, character death, child death.
     Rated M.
     Working Word Count: 2,177
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“You disgusting son of a bitch. You sold your own son into slavery. He trusted
you, you were his father and you sold him. You’re despicable,” He snapped. The
man protested angrily, but he refused to back down, “Shut up. Did you think I
was done? Do you know what James was feeling when they raped him over and over
again? He was scared, and he was in pain, and he was wondering where his Daddy
was and why he wasn’t coming to save him. He was fifteen, you bastard, and you
let that happen. You let them beat him and drug him into submission so that
they could make money off of his living hell and you could pay off your debts.
Have you ever been raped, Mr. Keenan? No? Well, I can tell you exactly what it
feels like, I have interviewed hundreds of sexual assault victims, heard each
one tell me the graphic details with these blank looks on their faces because
they had to lock away their emotions in order to get through the first sentence
without having a panic attack. It hurts, Mr. Keenan, like nothing you’ve ever
felt before. You have no idea what it’s like to be held down by a man twice
your size and forcibly penetrated just for some sick fuck’s idea of a good
time. Rape is the worst form of torture, especially for someone as young as
your son, and you let it happen to him, you did that. And you know what the
worst part is? Each time one man finished fucking your son and left, another
came in to begin that torture again. James was in so much pain that he took his
own life, but you, you took away his childhood, you took away his innocence,
and you took away his chance of ever knowing what it feels like to be loved,
all because you were a selfish, neglectful man who doesn’t deserve to be called
a father.” John Keenan was left with his mouth gaping open in a perfect
imitation of a fish. Similarly, the rest of the audience was also speechless,
though most of them were hiding it better. Reid’s chest was heaving with
suppressed emotion. His knuckles were paper white from how tightly his fists
were clenched and his fingernails were digging little half-moon trenches into
his palms. His shoulders were shaking and his eyes were bright with unshed
tears. Rossi had never seen the kid like this before, it was scary.
Another moment passed, Reid and John glaring at each other, and then the
younger spun around and stalked off. Rossi heard a door slam somewhere in the
building, shattering the frozen scene as everyone scattered, time resuming its
natural passage, unaffected by the monumental occurrences that had just taken
place. Rossi exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Then he
went to find the distraught Reid.
Chapter End Notes
     This final preview is one of the potential one-shots. Another will
     probably be Reid telling Rossi about Hankel, and another about Rossi
     trying to deal with Carolyn's death.
     Thank you. Please review.
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