Chapter 7

Time seemed to drag by with implausible gradualness. Reid had been unable to stop his brilliant mind from counting the seconds, minutes, hours, as he lay in the dark. It was annoying and tortuous of course, but it gave him some comfort that the drugs had fully left his system and his brain was functioning at its usual level. He was trying to prepare himself for whatever this unsub was going to throw at him; he figured if he could get inside this guy's mind, he might be able to talk him into untying him, letting him go, talk to his team, anything. Reid deduced that the way the Douglas was devolving meant that he would also be less sure of himself, therefore more open to suggestion.

Reid sighed and for the hundredth time he shifted his weight onto his other side so his limbs didn't burn with muscle cramp. He'd learnt that by the 2nd hour he'd been down in the basement. By the 8th hour he'd learnt that even by shifting his weight periodically, he would still get cramp at some point.

There was an unmistakable clicking of a lock in the basement door above him and Reid froze. A door opening. Heavy, deliberate footsteps. He was alone no more.

"Ah good, you're awake. I didn't know geniuses were so lazy," Douglas said mockingly, but Reid realised with a flash of hope that his captor was no longer in the furious mood he had been previously. He was going to see what Douglas would do if he didn't respond or do anything, so he merely lay where he was.

"Let's get you up then shall we?" Douglas said cheerily, but instead of dragging Reid or trying to make him get up by himself, he knelt down and sliced through the tape on Reid's ankles with his pen knife. Reid was unable to supress a sigh of relief as he felt his feet come free; he wiggled them around, the movement feeling better than he could have expected. Douglas grabbed under one of his arms and pulled him to his feet. Reid was unsteady at first but he soon worked out the tension in his ankles and was walking obediently up the stairs in front of Douglas. He was steered towards the kitchen and sat down in the same seat at the previous day.

"Food? You must be hungry, you barely touched your cereal yesterday!" Reid gave no indication that he'd even heard the man, he merely stared down at the table.

"A sandwich, maybe...? I could make a casserole maybe? What would you like?" Douglas was looking expectantly down at the younger man, but still no response, not even eye contact. Reid was scared to even look up at Douglas, in case his plan was back firing and the man was growing angry again. He jumped in surprise as Douglas lunged for his head; the tape was ripped from his lips once more, causing Reid to exclaim and break his vow of silence. At least he hadn't been hit.

"Now, what would you like?" Douglas asked, slowly, deliberately, as if talking to a petulant child.

"Sandwich!" Reid blurted out, almost involuntarily. The truth was, his stomach was growling at him and he was desperate for something to eat, even if it meant being fed by a madman.

"Good, Ok," Douglas said, clearly pleased as he went about preparing a simple bologna sandwich.

Reid could have laughed; this man had kept Reid locked in his basement all night and he was talking about hospitality? It would have been funny, were it not very, very disconcerting.

"Of course, the last time an FBI agent was a guest in my house," Douglas began, causing Reid to inwardly groan, "he took advantage of my good nature and made a fool out of me. Just took what he wanted, and I was left...I was left..."

As the unstable man trailed off, Reid wondered if the last FBI agent he'd had in his house as a guest was in the same position he was right now...

"What did he do?" Reid asked and though his voice was hoarse and his throat was dry, he spoke with a conviction that reached Douglas.

"My wife," was the reply. Douglas swirled round and flew to Reid's side, "But don't you get any ideas! I will kill you! I will kill you."

Reid was shocked to see tears spilling from Douglas' eyes. Everything made sense now. Douglas was seeking revenge for a man stealing his wife. It would explain his desire to degrade and hurt Reid, another FBI agent, and it would also explain the episodical behaviour or one minute torturing Reid and the next treating him like a welcomed guest; this man was torn between revenge fantasies and an overwhelming loneliness that was created when his wife left. Reid heavily suspected something had recently acted as a stressor and had caused Douglas to seek his revenge. He decided to go out on a limb.

"When did they get married, Mr Douglas?"

Douglas collapsed into the chair next to Reid and put his head in his hands. He was sobbing, "Three months ago."

"Around the time you were hired as a janitor at the BAU..." Reid muttered under his breath. Deciding to take his chances as Douglas seemed to be answering compliantly, Reid pressed on, "And how long have you been planning on kidnapping me?"

A sharp smack to the face told Reid that he had pushed his luck.

"How dare you accuse me of plotting something like that! I am a good honest man, better than any FBI agent, including you, you little runt! Come into my home and accuse me of that!" Douglas was bellowing at Reid now, inches from his face. His eyes were wild and furious.

"Here, eat your sandwich," he said as he tossed the snack down in front of Reid and stormed out the room. Though terrified, Reid was also acutely aware of his hunger, so he began eating the sandwich from the table, making a mental note never to tell anyone about this. When he was finished, he quietly stood up and went to the sink, desperate for water. He awkwardly turned the cold tap with his chin and drank the water greedily. Bent over the sink, he was completely unaware of Douglas approaching behind him. He didn't even hear Douglas gently unhooking a frying pan from the wall. But he definitely noticed Douglas bringing the pan down heavily upon his head. He was unconscious before he touched the floor.