Previous part of Escalation.

***

Reid tried to walk as slowly as possible. Not that he had much influence on the pace with Tristan's gun pushing into the small of his back.

"Come on," urged his captor as they rushed through the corridor. "Don't wanna keep Jase waiting for too long."

Jase.

Reid didn't know what to make out of this. Obviously a male name. What had Gideon told Tristan? The thought that his former mentor had discussed his love life with this pimp was – euphemistically expressed – unsettling. And what exactly had Tristan meant by 'training partner'? What kind of training? Certainly they weren't going to practice for a spelling bee, as he used to do with his old childhood friend Ethan.

"Here we are," Tristan exclaimed suddenly, forcing his captive's mind back to the here and now. "The door is unlocked," he added and gave Reid another tap with the barrel of the gun.

With shaking hands the agent pushed the door open. Immediately he was shoved into the next white, brightly lit room. This one, however, was much bigger than the previous chamber. The furnishings were different, too.

There was no table and no toilet, but a larger bed with a black metal frame. It didn't appear as ragged as the one in the little spare room. To the contrary, it looked quite comfortable. Almost... inviting. The sight caused a very uneasy feeling in Reid's stomach. On the mattress he noticed some colorful 'paraphernalia'. He decided not to look too closely at these dubious items for the moment.

Even more disturbing to him were the chains that were fastened on the ceiling at the opposite side of the room. They hung loosely in the air, dangling innocently.

Suddenly Reid sensed a movement to his left. He hadn't noticed the person next to the door before. He had been too occupied by observing the new location.

"Finally!" the young man exclaimed impatiently. The guy seemed to be about Reid's age. He was slightly shorter, but stronger in physique. He was only wearing black low-cut jeans that matched his short dark hair.

"Hey, how's it going," Tristan greeted him casually. He stepped back from Reid, but was still pointing his weapon at him. Formally he introduced both young men. "Jase, may I acquaint you with Matt." He indicated to the young profiler.

Jase stretched out his right hand to welcome his new training partner. He'd had so many of them – by now it was the most natural thing in the world to him.

Reid couldn't move. Currently, he felt overpowered by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Shrugging, the other young man drew his hand back.

"Looks as if he's a bit uptight, Tristan," he commented skeptically. "Sure he fits in here?" Jase threw the newbie measuring glances.

"Was a short-run decision," the older man admitted. "But I think he's not entirely untalented. After some sessions he'll unbend. I'm optimistic in that respect."

Both Tristan and Jase were now looking at the young doctor. Reid felt like a circus animal.

Finally Jase nodded. "I'll try to warm him up. But no promises."

"It's probably best if I stay here for the first lesson," the older man said thoughtfully. "Just to make sure Matt complies with all requests, you know."

Jase shrugged again. "I don't mind," he murmured indifferently and started to undo the belt of his trousers. Quickly he got rid of the jeans. He didn't wear anything beneath.

Terrified Reid watched him moving towards the bed in all his glory. He turned to Tristan who leaned against the closed door. Smirking.

He turned around again, only to find his so called 'training partner' lying on the soft mattress.

Jase looked at him expectantly. "You coming?"

The plan was set. Once the raised tempers had cooled down again, the team of profilers and some policemen had gathered again to figure out how to get Reid home safe.

To Morgan's displeasure it turned out that Gideon was going to play a major role in the rescue mission. He had to admit that there was no other way.

It sounded pretty simple: Gideon had already arranged another meeting with Tristan at the same restaurant as the night before. The senior profiler was supposed to 'work' with Reid again.

So all the team would have to do was following the car to the place where Stuart was keeping the genius.

"I don't like this," Morgan grunted when Jason had left the office to get some coffee. He looked at his superior who was scrutinizing the case file. "Seriously, Hotch, we don't know if we can trust him."

"Gideon wants to save Reid as much as we do," the team leader replied calmly.

The younger man started pacing the room. "But do we really know that?" He came to a halt again, waiting for an answer from his boss.

Instead of the team leader it was JJ who responded. "Of course Gideon cares for Spence," she stated firmly. "Reid's like a son to him."

Morgan stared incredulously at the media liaison. "Really?" He asked enraged. "Gideon abandoned Reid to those bastards. What kind of father would do that?"

"That's enough, Morgan," Hotch cut him short. "Whether we like it or not – we have no choice but to trust him."

The younger agent was about to retort something when Gideon entered the office with a mug of coffee in his hands. In order to avoid another quarrel, Morgan left the room – Prentiss and JJ on his heels.

Resignedly the retired profiler sat down. "They're still angry," he expressed the obvious.

Hotch put down the file and looked at his old friend. He sighed. "Sure they are. What did you expect?"

Gideon smiled his all-knowing smile. "But for some reason you don't seem to be angry. Why's that?"

Hotch looked away. "It wouldn't do any good to argue," he explained quietly. "Right now, we have to find Reid. Everything else can wait."

Aaron knew that wasn't the real reason for his calm behavior towards Gideon. And, of course, Gideon knew that too.

The older man just continued staring, an attempt to break down his friend's walls by the use of demanding silence.

It worked.

"I had a dispute with Reid," Hotch blurted finally, wondering why he chose Gideon of all people to talk about the burdening incident.

"What was it about?" the older man asked gently.

Absent-mindedly Hotch rubbed his tired eyes. "It was right before he went to meet you," he began slowly. "I...I think he wanted to tell me about it."

"In hindsight I wish he had," Gideon interjected.

"In hindsight I wish I'd have listened to him," Hotch replied. He cleared his throat. "Instead I reprimanded him, told him not to act like a spoiled child...," he trailed off.

Gideon looked closely at the younger man. "Don't blame yourself, Hotch. You couldn't know what was going to happen."

"Right," the team leader agreed curtly. "But that doesn't make it any easier. I suppose you understand that."

Gideon was glad to have his coffee to hold on to, now. "Yeah," he sighed almost inaudible. "I understand."

Reid was oblivious to his surroundings. Tristan shoved him back into his little room. This time, however, the young profiler hardly felt the gun that pushed into his back.

He'd spent about an hour in the other room with Jase. In the back of his mind he found it amazing that it took only sixty minutes to tear apart a man's world.

Then Reid was alone. He lay on the squeaking bed again. Neither asleep nor awake. As if his brain couldn't decide whether it wanted to rest or stay alert.

The agent tried to think of his team, to recall their faces, their voices.

There was nothing. Only schematic shapes and tones he couldn't arrange in order.

Would his friends come and get him? Would they find him? Reid wanted so badly to see them. But then again... he could hardly bare the thought of facing his teammates again. After all...

Eventually his mind decided to shut down and rest.

***

March the 17th was a lovely early spring day. Around noon the sun had enough strength already to warm up the red-gold lands of the Nevada desert. The pureness of the light blue, cloudless sky was only breached by some impressive black birds that soared gracefully into the air.

No sound disturbed the peaceful silence in this deserted area that was only a few miles away from 'Sin City'.

March the 17th was also the second day of Dr. Spencer Reid's abduction. Around noon he was having his second lesson with his 'partner' Jase. The piercing white light from the ceiling lamps was only clouded by the shadow of a muscular tanned body that was forcing the profiler down onto the soft mattress.

Merely muffled sounds broke through the breathless silence in the secret subterranean room. Sounds that would have been screams, but for the gag in Reid's mouth.

A few miles away, in the headquarters of the Las Vegas police department, Jason Gideon and his former colleagues were discussing options.

The appointed time for the meeting with Stuart was seven o'clock in the evening. Tristan had agreed to pick Gideon up at the same restaurant they'd had dinner the day before.

"You're sure they will take you to Reid again?" Morgan asked the retired agent. The younger man had still a very unsettling feeling about Gideon's part in the rescue mission. However, since there were only few hours left until the meeting, he decided to suppress his doubts regarding the older man's reliability. For the moment.

"Yeah, that's the procedure," the older man explained wearily. "I work with the new recruits every day until they are 'ready' to do the job. It's not possible to break them during the first session."

At this comment Hotch looked sharply at his old friend. He didn't like at all how Gideon was talking about his 'job' in Stuart's company; as if the psychological torture of young men and women was the most normal thing in the world.

"So all we have to do is follow Stuart's car," Prentiss concluded.

"No." Gideon shook his head.

"Excuse me?" The brunette agent was surprised by the negative response.

"That's not how it works," Gideon went on. Before he got the chance to explain further, Morgan interrupted harshly.

"What do you mean? How dare you to tell us 'how it works'?" The dark-skinned profiler arose from this chair and started pacing the conference room once again.

"Morgan, calm down," JJ demanded impatiently. The media liaison was not in the mood for pointless outbursts right now. All she wanted was to get back her surrogate 'kid brother'. Very soon and in one piece, if possible.

"So you're okay with his attitude, JJ?" Morgan asked, deliberately talking about Gideon in the third person. As if he wasn't there.

"No, all I'm saying is..."

"Stop it! All of you," Hotch interrupted angrily. He was getting sick and tired of the repeated battles amongst his team. "Your childish quarrels won't help us to find Reid." He paused to emphasize his statement. "And that's ought to be our primary concern now. Right?"

JJ nodded sheepishly. Morgan sat down again, determined to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the day.

Hotch turned to face Gideon. "You think we shouldn't follow the car?"

"At least not directly," the older man agreed. "It's too risky. Tristan is clever and – to put it mildly – pretty paranoid. He will sense that something's wrong."

Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "So what do you suggest?"

"You give me a transmitter," Gideon replied. "I'll send you a signal as soon as I'm with Reid. Garcia can trace the location."

"No!"

"Morgan!" Hotch exclaimed incredulously.

"No way," the younger agent repeated, no longer caring about his previous vow of silence or other insignificant things, such as code of conduct towards superiors.

Hotch turned to the others. "Give us a minute," he ordered quietly.

Gideon and the women left the office silently. They were almost relieved not to witness the consequent conversation between the two profilers.

Finally alone with his very insubordinate subordinate, Hotch took a seat opposite to his colleague and spoke very calmly: "You can't behave like this, Morgan."

The younger man closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. Not to deny Hotch's saying, but in consideration of this whole damned situation.

"I know," he admitted gently. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Hotch assured. He had no intention of arguing with Morgan now, nor did he have the strength. As senior profiler, however, he did have the duty to hold his team together.

"You know, Gideon is our only link to Reid," he said reasonably.

"Yes," Morgan agreed with gritted teeth. "But he's made it very clear already that his dubious mission is his first priority. Not Reid's safety."

Hotch sighed. "I know that. And I don't like it either," he stated firmly. "But since we have no other choice, we should try to work with him, not against him."

"You're right," Morgan complied eventually. As he raised from his chair, he promised: "I'll try to keep calm until this is over."

Hotch nodded and gave his teammate a small, thankful smile.

On his way out, the younger man ran straight into Gideon.

"Oh, sorry. Everything alright now?" the retired profiler asked tentatively.

"Yeah, whatever. Listen," Morgan began with a cold voice. "If you betray us, if anything happens to Reid under your watch – I swear I will send a bullet right into your forehead."

Gideon stared at him. Taken aback by this high degree of hostility.

The younger man added forcefully: "I'm not kidding, Gideon."

And he left the office to call Garcia. A lot of preparations had to be done before the evening.

About three hours later, somewhere below the desert Tristan and his employee Jase were talking about their newest recruit's progress.

"How was the third lesson going?" the boss asked curiously while peeling a red apple.

"Not too bad," Jase replied casually. "He was little inactive, but I guess that's part of his personality."

Tristan bit heartily into the fruit. He chewed and thought. "Hm, some guys go for that. Shouldn't be a big problem."

"Not my business," the younger man retorted. "When do you want to begin with the next phase?"

"As soon as possible," his employer said decisively. "Don't want to waste more time than necessary with the boy."

Jase shrugged. He didn't really care about Matt. He was cute, sure, but seemed to be very inexperienced. That made Jase's job a lot harder. To work with him felt like teaching a monkey the alphabet. Kind of draining. Plus, he got nothing in return so far. Ungrateful freak.

When he'd finished his apple, Tristan stood up and moved towards the door.

"I better go and tell Matt about the next step of his training," he told the younger man. "As far as I'm concerned you can call it a day. See you tomorrow."

Both men left the room. On the corridor they separated, walking in different directions.

Reid lay flat on his back. He wanted to curl up, but each movement caused an overwhelming feeling of nausea. He wanted to fall asleep again, but as soon as he closed his eyes, all the images, sounds and smells he had been forced to experience over the course of the day returned with smashing power.

So Reid remained on his back, staring at the white ceiling.

He heard the door open. He didn't really care anymore who paid him a visit. Nothing could be worse than what had been done to him in this other room, on the other bed.

"Matt, I see you made yourself comfortable," Tristan greeted. His cheerful self again.

The older man sat down on the worn-out mattress next to his silent employee.

"So here's the latest news regarding your, uhm, education," he began, switching into his business-mode again.

The focus of Reid's empty eyes shifted hesitantly to his tormentor.

"You made great progress today, learned a lot of useful things...," Tristan stated almost solemnly. "Therefore I came to the conclusion to let you jump directly to the next phase of the program tomorrow."

Although he hadn't moved, Reid felt bile rising up his throat.

"You will have your first real client," the suit-guy next to him explained. "Now how great is that?"

Reid looked at the ceiling again. Tristan gave him some sort of well-done-slap on the shoulder.

The older man got up again. Before he left the room, however, he broke some more news.

"Oh, almost forgot," he said hastily. "I'm on my way now to fetch your old friend again. I'm sure he will be very proud when he hears about your development."

Reid heard the door being locked again, Tristan's word were still ringing in his ears.

Gideon? Would he come and get him? Out of this hell?

No, Reid thought sadly, he will leave again. It's what he does.

***

Dead on at seven o'clock in the evening Gideon's cab arrived at the restaurant. He stood in front of the entrance, anxiously waiting for the black SUV to pick him up.

The prospect of seeing his former protégé again caused his heartbeat to quicken. Every ten seconds he rubbed his sweaty palms against his trousers and shifted from one foot to the other.

Finally the familiar car bent into the street. As soon as it came to a halt, the retired profiler opened the backseat door and climbed in; with squeaking wheels it drove on towards its destination.

Due to the blindfold that - once again - covered his eyes, Gideon couldn't see where the journey took him. After a while, however, he could feel that something was wrong. They were longer on the road already and the driver was definitely taking different turns than the last time.

He was just starting to wonder if maybe they were taking him to another new recruit when the car stopped. The nameless goon beside him removed the cloth from his passenger's eyes and motioned him to get out.

Gideon blinked several times to clear his blurred vision. He took a look around and noticed quickly that this was not the environment he'd expected. Then he saw Tristan.

The man with the suit was already awaiting him. Seeing the puzzled expression on Gideon's face, he couldn't quite suppress a light laugh.

"Jason!"

"Where are we?" Gideon asked immediately.

"In the desert."

"Obviously," the older man grunted. "But why are we in the desert? I thought I was supposed to work with Reid today."

"Oh, you are," Tristan retorted, still slightly amused. "Your friend is there." He indicated to the ground.

Gideon frowned.

Tristan gave one of his goons a nod. The guy took some steps forward and bent down.

Gideon frowned again.

Then he saw the other man pulling a door open that seemed to be set into the ground.

Quizzically the former agent looked at the man with the fashionable outfit.

In response Tristan walked over to the mysterious portal and started to climb down the steps.

"Follow me," he simply said and moved on.

Hesitantly Gideon approached the hole. He knew he wouldn't be able to send the signal from the underground. However, there was no way he could make a retreat now. For one thing Tristan would become very suspicious, and moreover he had to make sure Reid was alright.

Lacking any real options, he followed his 'partner' into the dark.

"He should have sent the signal by now, Hotch." Pacing the office.

"He's only a few minutes overdue, Morgan. Give him some time." Staring out of the window.

"I don't like this."

"I know."

Gideon and Tristan were walking along the corridors side by side, turning to the left or the right every now and again. The older man tried to memorize the route so he wouldn't have to rely on other people if he wanted to get out again.

"What is this place?" he inquired suddenly, breaking the utter silence in this godforsaken maze.

"Fallback option," Tristan replied. "The cops arrested Charlie – in the act, so to speak. I'm sure he didn't tell them anything. But, you know, I don't take chances when it comes to business."

Gideon nodded. So Stuart knew about the detention. Disconcerting. Where the hell did he get that bit of information?

"One murder too many," he commented casually, an attempt to disguise his increasing nervousness.

Now Tristan nodded. "Apparently. But I had to send Balazar a message in a plain language. Best way to do that was to slaughter his over-the-hill whores. I just don't like competition." He paused to draw breath. "Vegas is mine. And I'm not known for my willingness to share."

Gideon knew about the heated rivalry amongst the pimps in Las Vegas. By killing his competitor's prostitutes Tristan wanted to regain exclusive control in the city.

The retired agent was just about to say something in response when the younger man stopped short.

"Here we are," he said cheerfully.

Gideon noticed the door at the left side of the dimly lit hallway. Next to the entry was a tag that said 'Observation'.

Tristan opened the door and gestured his partner to step in.

Inside the older man could see several large screens and a lot of technical equipment.

"What am I supposed to do here?" Gideon was clearly confused now.

"Observe," the younger man replied curtly. "But before we get the show started, I'd like to ask you one question, my friend."

The cold tone in Tristan's voice wasn't lost on Gideon. His stomach knotted almost painfully.

He looked guardedly at Reid's captor.

The man with the suit drew his gun. "Tell me," he began slowly. "Did you enjoy your little get-together with your profiler buddies?"

"I knew it," Morgan said. He was very agitated now. "I knew he's gonna trick us."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Hotch tried to sooth his colleague. Inwardly, however, he was beginning to regret his decision to trust Gideon. It was taking him far too long to send the signal.

"But if I'm right," the younger agent stressed. "We have no chance to find Reid."

"That's true," Prentiss agreed quietly.

JJ said nothing at all. The media liaison was clutching her mug of coffee as if it was a life line.

"So what are we gonna do?" Morgan looked expectantly at his superior.

Hotch sighed. "Wait for the sign," he said wearily. And when his subordinate opened his mouth to respond, he added: "I know it's frustrating, but have a little faith."

Gideon felt his heartbeat skip. How did Tristan come to know about his visit at the police station?

He had been so careful.

Think, Jason, think...

"It was nice to see them again," Gideon finally admitted. "And they were extremely delighted to see me again." He gave the younger man a conspiratorial smile.

Tristan raised an eyebrow.

The older man went on with his made up explanation. "I knew they would be looking for the boy. Therefore I deemed it a good idea to go and see how far advanced the investigation was." He paused for effect. "You don't need to worry. They have no clue where you're keeping him."

The younger man's eyes narrowed.

"So you're telling me that you wanted to do me a favor," Tristan summarized, not convinced at all.

"You might say that," Gideon affirmed.

"You're not here to take away the kid then?"

"No, I'm here to work with him," Jason stated. "I really don't care how you're going to make use of the boy."

"Really?"

Gideon smiled half-heartedly. "Really. We're partners, remember? Why would I bust my source of income?"

Tristan nodded slowly, apparently weighing his options. He didn't want to lose such a gifted man as a member of his staff. On the other hand, he needed some sort of guarantee that he could rely on his employees. Right now there was only one way to find out...

"I want to show you something," Tristan announced eventually. He took a remote control from the table and pushed the green button.

Gideon watched how one of the big screens lit up. First it was only plain blue but some seconds later a white heading appeared in the center of the monitor.

Matt (lesson 1)

"What's that?" the older man asked nervously.

Tristan grinned. "Your friend's first practical exercise. Since we're partners, I thought I should keep you posted about his progress."

Gideon felt sick. "You know I'm not much into that stuff," he tried. The thought alone of watching Reid's torture seemed to be unbearable.

"Yeah, but if your words were true, this footage won't bother you at all," the man with the suit and the gun stated slowly. "Maybe you will even enjoy it a bit." A snigger.

Gideon knew what this was about. Stuart was going to watch his reaction to Reid's suffering in order to learn more about his partner's real motives.

"Take a seat," Tristan half-offered, half-ordered and indicated to one of the chairs in front of the screens.

Sighing Gideon sat down. He had to watch the video. And he had to watch it straight-faced. No wince, no hard swallow, no look away. Otherwise Tristan would know he wasn't on the level.

The businessman took a seat next to his partner. "I should have brought some popcorn."

And the black-and-white movie began.

The screen opens on the sight of a big room. The only piece of furniture is a large bed. In the background there are some metal chains hanging loosely from the ceiling. Given the point of view the camera must have been fastened on the ceiling as well. Probably somewhere above the door, since there is no entrance to be seen in the picture.

At the beginning the room appears to be vacant.

Then a young man with dark hair comes into sight. A naked young man who moves towards the bed.

"That's Jase," Tristan commented.

Gideon nodded.

Jase lowers himself onto the mattress and looks in the direction where the door must be.

"You coming?"

Slowly, hesitantly another young man approaches the bed. Reid. He is only wearing dark boxers. As soon as he reaches the edge of the bed, Jase grabs his arm and pulls him down.

At first the profiler struggles, tries to get away from the other man.

Another voice, however, puts an end to the desperate fight. The owner of the voice is not in the field of vision, but easily recognizable. Tristan.

"Behave yourself, Matt. Otherwise I may change my mind and integrate your loony mother in my business. Some of my clients have weird preferences."

After that Reid stops struggling.

Jase turns him onto his back. He grabs something from the pile of paraphernalia. Cuffs. He chains both of Reid's hands to the metal bars of the headboard.

The young man straddles the profiler and bends down to place ever so gentle kisses on the other man's jaw and neck. Reid's face is concealed by his assaulter's body, but soft whimpering noises can be heard.

"Please, don't," he whispers as the man on top of him lets his lips wander over his chest.

"You like that?" And there is amusement in Jase's voice. "You'll get more then."

His mouth moves further down Reid's body. Licking. Nibbling. Biting. Exploring. Hands start to play with the waistband of dark pants. A rag of cloth serving as the one last tiny bit of dignity that's left.

A choked sob now.

A set of relentless fingers wrest that tiny bit away.

And when the mouth fulfills its final obligation the young doctor can do nothing but turn away his head and close his eyes. He tries to stop the unwanted, but inevitable moaning noises that escape his lips.

The first lesson takes precisely one hour. One hour of touching and kissing; of teaching and breaking. One hour until Jase finally lets go of what was once the promising genius of the BAU and leaves the room.

The screen faded to black.

Tristan Stuart turned his head to Jason Gideon who continued staring into the monitor. It was then that the man with the suit and the gun noticed the wetness in his ex-employee's eyes.

He had his answer.

***

It was very quiet in the headquarters of the Las Vegas Police Department. Most of the officers had left the bureau hours ago.

It was 2 am now.

Aaron Hotchner and his team were still sitting in the conference room, waiting, hoping against hope that Gideon would give them a sign.

The signal hadn't come yet and the profilers were beginning to doubt seriously that there would ever be one.

Garcia had pulled out all the stops to try and locate the transmitter they'd given to Gideon, to no avail. "Sorry boss, but there's no sign at all," the tech girl had said to Hotch. "It's as if the earth had swallowed him up."

Some miles away, deep down in the underground, Jason Gideon sat in his very own brightly lit prison cell. After Tristan had seen his reaction to the video, everything had happened very quickly.

"Take him to the room next to Matt's. I'll deal with him tomorrow," the man with the suit and the gun had told two of his goons.

Matt.

By now Gideon had learned that this was the name they had given Reid. He knew it was part of the recruit's preparation. Take away their identity, beginning with the name.

He let out a sigh as he sat down on the ragged bed. If they had actually locked him in the room next to Reid's, then his young friend was only some feet away on the other side of this massive stone wall. So close...

Gideon could hear the goons talking outside the door in the corridors. The walls, however, appeared to be way too thick to allow any sound to pass through.

Reid was probably asleep anyway, the retired profiler mused.

A look at his watch told him that it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. Only few hours more and Tristan would come and kill him – Gideon was sure of that. He was of no use to the man anymore.

Slowly he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Of course, the former agent had no intention of falling asleep, but he needed to shut out the piercing light in order to gather his thoughts.

He wondered what his former teammates were doing right now. Without the signal there wasn't much they could do, he thought wryly. Jason pictured Hotch trying to maintain his composure, Morgan cursing in adult language, JJ fighting back her tears and Prentiss searching for a rational explanation.

Their smart plan had gone straight to hell and right now there was nothing anyone could possibly do about it. It certainly hadn't been a bad plan, Gideon assessed inwardly. Who could have guessed that Tristan would take Reid to an underground training camp? The aged profiler hadn't even known that this place existed. So no-one could blame him...

But Gideon did. As much as he tried to convince himself that this was not his fault - deep inside he knew better. He'd failed. He cursed himself for letting his emotions show while watching the video.

Tristan was certainly going to kill him now. Not that Gideon particularly cared about his own well-being. The thought, however, that not a soul would be there to spare Reid even more pain and humiliation was simply devastating.

Behind closed lids his eyes began to water again. Even if he survived this, he knew that the images of Reid's suffering would haunt him for the rest of his life. And considering that he'd only seen a glimpse of what had been done to the young doctor.

Gideon rubbed his eyes. He couldn't go down that road now. He had to keep his mind focused on the acute problem. The door to his room would be opened again very soon. And when that time came, he needed to be prepared.

On the other side Reid cowered at the very edge of his bed, pressing himself against the cold stone wall. His knees were drawn tightly towards his chest and his arms were slung around his legs. He wanted to disappear, but since this was not an option, he tried to make himself as small as possible.

The actual physical pain wasn't that bad. During the third 'lesson' Jase had done some pretty rough bondage stuff with him that had caused deep sores around Reid's wrists and ankles. Apart from the never-ending feeling of nausea, that was about all his body had to endure right now.

He rested his forehead on his arms, trying to think about happier times. It didn't work. Instead his mind drifted back to the things he'd experienced over the last two days. Images of the young man on top of him came back full force, the smell of sweat and fear and lust and something else he couldn't quite define.

And then there were those sounds still echoing in his head. His own whimpering, pleading noises, coinciding with the other man's encouraging and therefore even more disturbing words.

Jase had been so gentle.

Reid shivered at the memory of the man's tentative fingers, caressing the bruised skin on the profiler's upper body. In the second 'lesson', as he'd been forced to take a 'more active' part, the young agent had almost wished himself back to his prior prison cell with Charlie.

He would have rather taken another beating than this enforced endearment with a complete stranger who was being paid for that kind of service.

It had been only 48 hours since his abduction. To Reid it felt like ages. Once again he thought of his team. Were they looking for him? Hotch had been so hostile to him in the hotel room. The man he admired so much had said some incredibly mean things. Did his superior even want him back?

Perhaps they all were on their way back to Quantico already, enjoying a quiet flight without a freak responding to questions no-one had ever asked...

Slowly Reid shook his head. He knew this was silly thinking, but the latest events were beginning to get to him.

And there was another unpleasant aspect that was nagging at him in the back of his mind.

What the hell was going on with Gideon?

Reid had already lost track of how many times he had thought about that question during his capture. He tried to find rational explanation for his mentor's contact with Tristan, but it was futile. Each scenario his brain came up with was worse than the other.

What if Gideon was really working for Tristan?

No, impossible.

What if Gideon was really using his skills to break innocent people?

Never, you know he would never do something like that.

What if Gideon lured me into a trap?

Stop it! Don't go there!

But, what if...

Shut up!

Reid lifted his head from his forearms, only to rest it against the wall behind him.

Was that it? The inevitable breakdown?

With shaking hands he rubbed his temples. A throbbing headache was developing behind his eyes. The blinding white light in this room was not helping to ease the pain.

It didn't do any good to think about Gideon, or Hotch or the rest of the team right now, Reid concluded mentally. None of them would come to save him from the 'next phase', as Tristan had put it.

Reid wasn't very experienced in that respect, but he could anticipate what was going to happen in a few hours. He would have to deal with a real client who would expect to get his money's worth.

During his 'training' with Jase the young doctor had been touched and kissed and bound and forced to do things in return. Until now no serious damage had been done – at least not to his body.

Still there was one crucial thing left, one last borderline they hadn't crossed yet.

With a quivering sigh Spencer lay down on his side and curled up, trying to get yet a tiny bit smaller than before.

Maybe they'll forget I'm even here then, Reid thought only seconds before sleep finally took him.

***

Jason Gideon had never been aware that time was something one could physically feel passing. Now, after spending over seven hours in his underground prison cell, he knew it was possible.

Nothing had happened since they'd locked him in this little room. Every now and again there had been muffled noises - voices probably - coming from the corridors.

All the time Gideon had barely moved. He was still sitting on the bed, leaning with his back against the wall, thinking. Of course, he knew what he had to do. He needed to send this damned signal to Hotch. The details about how he was going to manage that, however, were still a little vague. After all the aged profiler had no idea what Tristan was planning to do to him.

He would have to improvise...

Suddenly he could hear noises, footsteps approaching, people talking. He wasn't able to understand what they were saying, but he was sure that one of the voices belonged to Tristan Stuart.

They seemed to be right in front of his room now. Gideon recognized the sound of a door being unlocked. Not his door, though.

He strained his ears, trying to figure out what was happening.

Seconds of silence.

Then the voices again, not so calm anymore. Gideon could hear people discussing, arguing.

Then...what? Was that a muffled outcry?

Reid?

The former profiler jumped to his feet and stepped close behind the door, pressing his ear against it. He needed to know what was going on.

Only one moment later, however, he had to back away again, because this time it was indeed his door that was being unlocked.

The first thing Gideon saw coming through the door was a gun. Followed by an arm. Followed by the rest of Tristan Stuart.

"Morning, Jason," he greeted casually. "I hope you enjoyed your last night on earth?" He chuckled. "I guess, below earth would be a more accurate description."

The only answer was an icy stare.

"Come on, Jason. Don't be like that," Tristan said. "After all, it was you who misused my trust, not the other way around. Therefore, I have every right to be mad at you. Consider yourself lucky that I'm not a resentful person."

Gideon raised an eyebrow. Maybe there was a chance that Tristan was not going to kill him?

"Of course, I have to kill you," his captor stated matter-of-factly and noticed with amusement how the icy stare returned. "But since I'm a generous man, I will let you say goodbye to your little friend outside."

With his weapon Tristan gestured Gideon to move. As the older reached the door, he pressed the barrel firmly into his ex-partner's back and murmured: "Don't try anything, or I will shoot the boy - right here, right now."

Hesitantly the aged profiler stepped out of the room and into the hallway.

And then he saw him.

Encircled by two of Stuart's goons, Reid stood in the corridor. He looked at his former mentor with wide eyes.

The pressure of the gun in his back increased, and Gideon took a few steps toward his friend. He forced himself to hold Reid's gaze, but he could hardly stand the hurt expression on the younger man's face.

There was so much Gideon wanted to tell him. He wanted to say how much he cared about him, that he was sorry and that everything would be alright - but he couldn't. He was at a complete loss of words.

The two profilers just looked at each other, both trying to make sense of the situation.

It was Tristan who did the talking eventually.

"Gentlemen," he pronounced cheerfully. "I think it's about time for you to say farewell. Matt has to keep an appointment..." He glanced at his watch. "...in exactly eight minutes. Please hurry."

Reid's eyes darted from his mentor to Tristan, then back to his mentor. His breathing was quick and shallow.

"Gideon?" Spencer's small voice broke the silence. One single word that contained so many questions.

The older man closed his eyes briefly. As much as he wanted to help his friend, he didn't dare to step into action. He knew Tristan wouldn't hesitate to shoot Reid if necessary. Gideon just couldn't take the chance.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, aware how empty these words sounded. It was still the only thing that came to his mind. And it wasn't a lie.

The young doctor didn't reply, but Gideon could see the expression of utter disbelief on his face.

Behind him, Tristan gave a slight nod.

Immediately the two guards grabbed Reid. He tried to pull away, but didn't stand a chance.

"Stop it!" Gideon yelled furiously. "Where are you taking him?" He turned to face his captor.

Tristan smirked as he watched his men drag the struggling boy down the corridor.

"He's going to the lover's suite," he said slowly, as if enjoying each word of this statement.

Gideon could only stare and try not to vomit.

"And you, my friend," Tristan continued and pushed him in the opposite direction of the hallway. "You are going on your final trip to the desert."

The office of the PD was crowded again. It was past ten o'clock and the morning shift had started to work hours ago.

Aaron Hotchner and his team had spent all night at the station, keeping themselves awake by sipping one coffee after another.

They had tried to figure out a Plan B, but the truth was, they had been totally relying on Gideon. The profilers had not the slightest idea what to do next.

Now they were still sitting in the conference room, more asleep than awake. Morgan, Emily and JJ were resting their heads in their hands, and Hotch just stared into the air, his arms crossed before his chest.

They all jumped when the door was opened and Detective Wolfe stormed into the room.

"Agent Hotchner!" he called excitedly. "Your technician is on the phone, says she got a signal from the transmitter!"

"What?" Hotch was on his feet in less than a second. So were the others. They ran out of the conference room. Morgan was the first to arrive at the phone.

"Baby girl, tell me you have an address," he urged impatiently.

"Well, address is not the right word," Garcia began. "But I have a location, yes. I'm sending you the co-ordinates as we speak."

"You're the best," Morgan praised and quit the call.

Hotch gathered his thoughts. "Alright. Wolfe get your officers. We're gonna need as many men as available."

The chief detective nodded his agreement and left the group to round up his policemen.

"JJ, I want you to stay here and coordinate our communication with Garcia," Hotch ordered.

"Okay," the media liaison confirmed instantly, although she would have preferred to go with her team members. JJ knew that now was not the time for debate.

"Morgan, Prentiss, you come with me," the team leader determined.

Emily nodded. Morgan clenched his fists. "Let's get our genius back," he hissed through gritted teeth.

The cavalry was on its way.

Reid had been locked into another room. It was very different from the previous ones. The light was dim and the walls not pure white, but more of an orange shade. There was a bed again, not dissimilar from the one in the 'training room'. There were red and orange cushions neatly placed on the mattress.

Reid shuddered. He was alone. For now. He was also confused; his mind still occupied with Gideon's unexpected appearance in the corridors.

The young agent didn't understand his mentor's involvement in this - whatever 'this' was.

He was completely out of his depth.

The door opened. Instinctively Reid stepped back from the entry and wrapped his arms around his torso.

Fearfully he watched a man enter the room, though 'man' wasn't exactly the word. The guy looked more like a bear. He was huge; even taller than Reid and about twice as broad as the doctor. Just like Tristan, he was nattily dressed in a business-like suit.

"So you're Matt, I suppose," he stated with a low voice, his eyes greedily scrutinizing the younger man's exposed body.

Reid wanted to back away further, but bumped right into the metal bed frame.

"Oh, you don't wanna waste time," the bearlike man said. He sounded both amused and aroused. "All the better."

Three long steps and he was close enough to get a hold of his prey.

Reid panicked. "Let...go!" he cried and struggled to get away from this man.

Without further ceremony he was picked up and thrown onto the mattress. Lying on his front, the young agent tried to crawl away again, but the stranger was already on him, pinning him down with the full force of his immense weight.

Effortlessly he grabbed both of Reid's wrists with his left hand and held them tightly above his head. Virtually immobilized, the only thing the profiler could do was try to draw breath every now and again. It wasn't an easy task, seeing as his face was pressed into the mattress.

With a lusty groan the man on top reached down toward Reid's boxer shorts. He pulled them down a bit with his free right hand. Just enough...

Reid whimpered. Though it wasn't so much a whimper, but rather an indistinct, muffled noise from deep inside.

"Come on, pretty boy," his assaulter urged, continuing to touch Reid in places he had no right to.

The profiler knew what was going to happen. He wanted his mind to drift away, to shut down, to block out what these unknown fingers were doing to him.

It didn't work.

Then the real pain began to rip through his body. And Reid screamed.

One last time he tried to think of his teammates, not knowing that his friends were already on their way to rescue him. That they were almost there.

And as the minutes passed and the violation continued, the images of their faces began to fade from Reid's mind. He stopped wondering whether they would come or not.

To him, it didn't matter anymore.

***

The sky was pure and the sun shone brightly from above. It was one of those rare times when the air temperature was absolutely perfect - neither too cold nor too hot.

Jason Gideon lay flat on the sandy ground, looking at the cloudless, sapphirine firmament. He thought what a wonderful day this would be, but for the bullet in his right shoulder.

He couldn't move. Too much blood had left his body already, the pain of breathing alone was hardly bearable.

From a distance Gideon could hear the sirens. They were getting louder. The rescue team was on its way.

The aged profiler decided to rest for a little while. He'd done everything in his power to let Hotch know where he was. All he could do now was try to stay awake until his former colleagues arrived.

The howling of the police vehicles and the ambulances was coming closer. Gideon wasn't able to turn his head in their direction, but from the sounds of the different sirens he could tell that they were almost there.

Finally the brain-piercing noise subsided. The aged profiler could hear car doors being opened and shut again and then people shouting excitedly. He tried to distinguish the voices in his mind, hoping that a familiar one would be amongst them, but it was getting hard to focus. The blood loss made Gideon feel increasingly dizzy and disoriented.

His eyes were still staring into the clear blueness of the sky when suddenly a well-known face appeared in his field of view.

"Jason, don't move," Hotch said with his smooth voice.

Gideon blinked away the tears of pain that blurred his vision. He gathered all strength he had left and shifted his gaze to his friend's worried face.

"Help...," he began and was surprised by the rough hoarseness of his own voice. He swallowed laboriously.

"Don't worry, Jason. Help is here," Hotch assured quickly.

As if on cue, some paramedics gathered around the injured man, ready to do their job.

Gideon shook his head barely noticeable. "No," he tried again, never taking his eyes off Hotch. "Reid. Help...help Reid."

The medics were just about to start treating the wounded shoulder, when Hotch motioned them to step back for some more seconds. He leaned closer down to Gideon.

"Where is he, Jason?" the younger man urged. Since the signal had led them straight into the desert, he had already lost hope to find Reid in the close proximity of the transmitter. There were no buildings to be seen nearby. So where could he possibly being kept?

"Hotch!" Morgan suddenly called from a small distance. He was crouching on the soil. "Here's some sort of door, I think."

Puzzled, the team leader looked back at Gideon.

"U...underground," the older man confirmed wearily. He didn't think he would be able to stay conscious much longer.

"Alright, we'll find him," Hotch said firmly. He stood up, giving the paramedics space to help his friend. "Hang on, Jason."

He sprinted to the inconspicuous entry Morgan had detected. Prentiss, Detective Wolfe and a respectable battalion of police officers had already gathered around the door. They were obviously waiting for Hotch to open it.

The unit chied took a print out from the pocket of his SWAT vest. It was a photograph of Tristan Stuart. Garcia had obtained it as soon as Gideon had given away the man's name. Each member of the rescue team was provided with an exemplar.

"Okay, everyone," Hotch exclaimed, holding the photo up. "I want this man arrested. Be vigilant. We don't know what to expect."

The search began.

Within minutes the cops turned the underground maze upside down, examining every single room. For Tristan's goons the invasion came completely out of the blue. Some of them tried to flee, others made attempts to fight back, but they were by far outnumbered. The policemen disabled the guards provisionally by cuffing them to pieces of furniture or whatever seemed suitable to prevent them from escaping.

With their guns raised in front of them, Hotch and Morgan went swiftly down the corridor. They rushed wordlessly past the doors that were tagged with run-of-the-mill boy's names.

Nick.

Tom.

Chris.

Matt...

Morgan shook his head. "This is taking too long, Hotch. We have to find him soon," he stated impatiently. "What if he..."

A shout, echoing from the inside of one of these rooms interrupted Morgan in midsentence.

"That's Prentiss," he said needlessly.

Hotch was already running in the direction the noise had come from. Only seconds later he was there and stopped short in the door frame. Thomas Wolfe was aiming his weapon at Tristan Stuart, while Emily was busy cuffing the man they'd been hunting.

"We caught him," the female agent said, apparently relieved to see her superior.

With a stony expression, Hotch approached the man with the dark brown suit.

"Where is he?" the senior profiler asked without preamble. The icy tone of his voice made even Prentiss' and Wolfe's flesh crawl.

Tristan looked Hotch straight in the eye. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said cheerfully, a gloating smirk on his face.

He never saw Morgan coming.

Before either of his colleagues could react, the athletic agent grabbed Tristan at the lapel of his fashionable suit and pushed him forcefully against the nearest wall.

"You're gonna tell me where Reid is, or I swear to God I will drag you by your tie 'til we find him," Morgan hissed through gritted teeth, his face only few inches away from the other man's.

Tristan swallowed audibly. The smirk was gone and his eyes looked imploringly past Morgan to Hotch. The older agent, however, made not the slightest attempt to intervene.

Since he really didn't see any alternative, Stuart eventually acknowledged defeat.

"Hallway down, always keep to the left. The room is tagged as 'suite'. Can't miss it," he murmured.

Immediately Morgan loosened his grip.

"You take care of Stuart," Hotch said to Prentiss and Wolfe. "Morgan, with me."

The profilers raced down the corridor. They couldn't afford to waste time. After several turns to the left they finally arrived at the 'suite'.

Panting, Hotch looked at his team member. Both knew they had to brace themselves for anything.

Nothing, however, could have prepared them for the sight that presented itself after they'd opened the metal door.

There was a huge bed.

On the bed, Reid was lying flat on his front.

A large man was crouching above the young agent.

Dumbfounded, he stared at the unexpected invaders. "What the hell...," he exclaimed and moved slowly off the bed.

For a couple of seconds the profilers just stared at the half-dressed guy. The half-dressed guy stared back at the profilers.

Then Morgan glanced at Reid who lay motionless on the mattress. And Morgan freaked out. With an almost animalistic roar he stormed towards the bearlike man. Although his opponent was taller and heavier, the agent was sure he could deal with him without any weapons. He had a black belt after all, and there had never been a better opportunity to use his skills.

For a moment Hotch watched the struggle. He knew Morgan would win this fight. The half-dressed man hadn't attacked them, so there hadn't really been a need to start this fight in the first place. But the team leader understood his subordinate's fury and was willing to turn a blind eye to anything that happened in this room.

Instead he focused on Reid. He stepped quickly to the bed and sat down next to his youngest team member.

It took him a minute to take in Reid's condition. The shallow rising and falling of his upper body was the only movement. There were dark bruises all over his torso...

Images of the beating flashed through Hotch's mind. He had watched Charlie's attack on the screen at the police station. Now that he saw the direct results of the abuse, his stomach knotted painfully.

The senior profiler was also worried about the fact that the doctor wasn't even trying to change his vulnerable posture. It was unlike Reid to just lie there sprawled out, the arms stretched above his head. He was almost naked, his boxer shorts pulled down to his thighs. And there was blood.

This picture didn't leave much to Hotch's imagination. He knew what had happened here. And his heart broke at the thought of what had been done to Reid.

With trembling hands the unit chief pulled up the disheveled underpants. Carefully. He was aware that Reid didn't like to be touched. Most of the time, the genius didn't even like to be looked at. Hotch couldn't imagine what this violation would do to the young man's fragile mind.

He suddenly noticed that the sounds of the struggle behind him had subsided. He turned around to see Morgan pinning the larger man down to the floor. He had won.

"Get him out of my sight," Aaron ordered. In his voice, the loathing against Reid's tormentor was unmistakable. Morgan glanced at his motionless teammate one more time. He suppressed the urge to hurt the whimpering creature on the floor a bit more and pulled him up to his feet.

Hotch watched his agent disappear and concentrated on the silent figure on the bed again.

"Reid," he said quietly, hoping to get any kind of response. There was none. Very gently he turned him around.

Reid's eyes were open, but he didn't seem to see anything. At least he didn't show any sign that he recognized the face above him.

Hotch stroked the strands of hair out of the young profiler's face in a slow motion. He didn't want to scare him any further.

"Reid, it's me, Hotch." He placed the back of his hand on Spencer's left cheek to get his agent's attention.

This time, he succeeded.

Reid blinked once, and finally his eyes moved to meet his superior's steady gaze. Instead of relief, however, an expression of utter confusion flickered across the doctor's face. The older man noticed with concern how his colleague's breathing became quicker and fitful.

"Reid, it's alright," Hotch tried to calm him. "I'll get you out of here."

In a smooth move he wrapped the bed sheet around his subordinate's thin body and lifted him off the bed. Instantly he could feel the younger man tense in his arms. Hotch looked down. Reid's eyes were shut tightly now and he grimaced in obvious pain.

The slightest movement must hurt him, the senior profiler mused sadly.

"Hold on, Reid. It's over soon," Hotch soothed as he stepped through the door frame and into the hallway. "You're safe now."

***

It had been two days since the police had stormed the hidden underground labyrinth in the desert. Thomas Wolfe had been a very satisfied head detective afterwards. After all, they had arrested Tristan Stuart and his staff and were at the same time able to set free many young men and women who had been held there against their will.

A happy ending for all concerned.

Almost...

For the second time within 48 hours, SSA Aaron Hotchner was leaning over the porcelain bowl of a public toilet, throwing up his marginal stomach contents. The day before it had happened in the Las Vegas PD, after he'd watched some of the tapes they'd found in Stuart's 'Observation Room'.

The team leader of the BAU had insisted on leading the first interview with Reid's captor. Very quickly, Tristan Stuart had spilled the beans and revealed the name he'd given the young agent.

Hotch had watched the videos that were tagged as 'Matt's lessons' together with Morgan. He hadn't wanted JJ and Prentiss to see that – for the women's sake as well as for Reid's.

The two agents had watched their colleague's ordeal in silence, both too terrified to find the right words. Afterwards, Morgan had chosen to go for a walk, while Hotch had spent the next hour in one of the bathroom stalls.

Now, one day later, the unit chief found himself in exactly the same position. This time, however, he was hanging over a toilet in the hospital. For the first time since they'd brought Reid to the ER he had entered the building again. The doctors had told him to give the injured man some time to rest. They had said he wouldn't recognize any visitors anyway – the trauma he'd suffered was too deep.

According to the doctor's advice, Hotch had waited a while before visiting his subordinate.

Today was the day he was going to see him.

Cold sweat covered his forehead. With closed eyes, the senior profiler leaned back against the cold tile wall. He had lost it. As soon as he'd set foot in the hospital, the images of Reid lying broken on the bed had come back with overpowering force. Hotch had made it to the nearest bathroom just in time.

Slowly the agent stood up. He flushed away the remains of his scanty breakfast and left the stall. With shaking hands, Hotch splashed some cold water in his face. He drew one more deep breath and left the bathroom.

First he wanted to go and see how Gideon was doing. He had lost much blood, but the gunshot wound in the shoulder had turned out to be a rather uncomplicated injury. In surgery they had removed the bullet and had given him some blood to stabilize the circulation. Hotch had spoken with his doctor on the phone and had been assured that Gideon was round the corner.

The team leader wandered down the hallway of the traumatology ward, looking for Room 23 where his former colleague was supposed to be resting.

There it was. Hotch knocked lightly at the door and entered the room. To his surprise, Gideon wasn't resting at all. The older man was standing in the middle of the chamber, fully dressed with a sling holding up his arm.

"Jason, I don't think you should be walking around already," Hotch said and watched his old friend packing his bag. He frowned. "What are you doing?"

"I don't feel like lying in bed anymore," Gideon replied casually, while folding his clothes. He looked at Hotch. "You are pale."

"Yeah, I...uhm," the younger man started, still confused to see the older man on his feet.

Gideon continued fiddling with his stuff. He moved very slowly, careful not to make any sudden motion. Every now and again he winced in pain.

"Jason, you should lie down," Hotch exclaimed and stepped closer to his friend who was struggling to press all clothes into the small travel bag. Again he asked: "What are you doing?"

"I'm packing," Gideon answered curtly, but truthfully. "So, did you talk to Stuart?"

"Yes," the younger man replied equally brusquely, irritated by the sudden change of subject. He crossed his arms before his chest and scrutinized the injured man who was now zipping the bag up. "I was wondering why he didn't kill you straightaway. Very unlikely that he missed your heart accidentally."

Gideon nodded. "He wanted me to bleed out slowly. Tristan Stuart takes pleasure in seeing other people's suffering." He paused a second to find the right words. "I guess in this case, he just wanted to punish me for my disloyalty. I'm glad he chose to kill me slowly. Gave me the opportunity to send you the signal."

"Yeah, we were lucky," Hotch agreed, but the words tasted bitter. He cleared his throat. "Did you pay Reid a visit already?"

Hadn't he been the skilled profiler he was, Aaron would've missed the tiny moment when Gideon froze.

Instead of giving an answer, the older man walked around the bed and picked something from the nightstand. Gideon moved back to Hotch to hand it over.

Suspiciously the BAU leader glanced down at the envelope. Spencer's name was written on it.

He stared incredulously at his old friend.

"No. Jason, no."

"Please give it to him, Hotch." Still holding up the letter.

"No, I won't give it to him. You will go and talk to him face to face," the younger man demanded sternly.

Gideon's gaze dropped. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't wanna distress him," the older man said ruefully.

The team leader was furious. "Not distress him? Are you kidding me?"

"Please, Hotch. Don't make this harder than it is already."

"Hard? For whom? You are a coward, Jason."

"You're right."

There were several seconds of silence.

"Don't do this," Hotch pleaded quietly.

Gideon shook his head. "I'm sorry."

He put the envelope on the bed. With his functioning arm he picked up his bag and left without another word.

For a few minutes, Hotch just stood there, staring at the innocent looking piece of paper on the bed. He couldn't believe that Jason had just done this. Again. The senior profiler knew how hard his secret leaving had hit Reid last time. Now, with all that had happened...

Numbly the agent took the envelope and left the room.

Two floors above, everything looked pretty much the same like in the previous ward. Just as Hotch arrived at Reid's room, the door went open and a nurse almost bumped into the agent.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said smiling. "Can I help you?"

The near-collision had been enough to bring Hotch back into the here and now.

"Yeah, I'd like to see my agent." He gestured towards the door. "I...um, I was wondering how he's doing."

The smile on the nurse's face faded. "Not so good. His physical wounds are only minor. He needed some stitches, but it should be all right soon," she explained in a professional, yet sympathetic manner.

Hotch nodded.

"The main problem is that he's not responding to anyone. After two days...," the nurse trailed off. Instantly she put her smile on again. "He probably just needs to see a familiar face." She touched Aaron's arm in a reassuring gesture and walked away to look after her other patients.

The team leader stepped into the room without knocking. He swallowed hard. Once more he found Reid lying motionless on a bed. This time, however, the young man was on his back and covered with a thin white blanket. To Hotch, he looked incredibly small.

He sat down on the only chair next to the bed and just looked at his colleague for a minute. Reid was obviously awake. His eyes were open, staring at a random spot on the ceiling. He didn't seem to notice that his boss had come to visit him.

At first, Hotch wasn't quite sure what to say. Nothing appeared appropriate for that kind of situation. Finally he decided to tell Reid all about the investigation, about their strained search, about Gideon's involvement. The profiler could only imagine how confused the young doctor must be about his mentor's actions.

About thirty minutes the older agent kept talking, without getting any reaction.

"As you can see," he concluded his monologue. "Gideon was only trying to help. He never meant to get you into trouble."

And finally Reid did something. His hands tightened their grip around the bedspread and very slowly he turned his head to face his superior.

The injured man licked his lips before asking: "Where is he?" It was barely a whisper. "Gideon?"

Hotch closed his eyes, trying to force back the tears. "He's not here, Reid. He...he had to go."

If possible, the younger man's eyes widened even more.

His superior pulled the envelope out of his pocket, hoping that Gideon had at least found some comforting words for his former protégé. He gave it to Reid.

Miserably the young doctor looked down at the letter.

"Do you want me to leave?" Hotch asked cautiously. This was one of the rare occasions where he really didn't know what to do.

Reid merely shrugged.

Hotch stood up hesitantly. "I better leave you alone for a few minutes. But I'll stay nearby in case you need me."

Reid heard his boss closing the door from the outside. With shaking fingers he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

He scanned it.

Spencer,

I'm aware that the word 'sorry' is the last thing you want to hear from me. So I won't say it.

No-one should suffer the things you did.

In fact, you're the last person in the whole world I want to see in pain. Yet it is me again who hurts you so badly.

I don't expect forgiveness or even understanding, but I need you to know how much I care about you.

You are strong. Strong enough to survive this. You've proven already that you can't be broken easily. You made it once, you can make it again.

I have faith in you.

Take care,

Gideon

It took Reid only few seconds to read the letter. He read it a second, then a third time, hoping that he could detect something...more if he just looked often enough. There was nothing more. That was it, no matter how many times he would read it.

He leaned back into his soft pillow, with both hands still clutching the meaningless piece of paper. Almost unconsciously he started to crumple up Gideon's letter with his fingers.

Reid turned his head to look out of the window.

The sun was shining. It was a lovely day.

END

Next story in series - Filthy.