Kidnapped! The Musical
Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.
G. K. Chesterton
Prologue – In Which Spencer Reid discovers his co-workers are missing.
Spencer Reid had not slept very well the previous night. He had tossed and turned for hours, and when he finally did drop off, he had nightmares. They were different to the nightmares he usually had. Usually, he saw mutilated bodies, tortured souls – the standard profiler nightmare package. Last night, he had dreamt of his colleagues – his friends – kidnapped. He had seen Hotch taken down by the two tiny electrodes of a taser gun. He had seen Rossi being hit over the back of the head with – of all things – a wooden staff. He saw Emily, Morgan and Garcia being overcome by their attackers as they attempted to fight back, eventually succumbing. He saw JJ struggle against the rag pressed across her lips.
He had woken in a cold sweat, and realized that he was running late. He pulled on his mismatched socks, struggled with his pants, and forgot his tie. Had he been paying attention, he would have noticed a strange tingling in the air, as if someone had given physical form to white noise.
He poured his coffee hurriedly. He knew he wouldn't make it into work at all if he didn't get his fix. He dumped three heaped spoonfuls of sugar into the piping hot liquid. It burnt his tongue when he attempted to guzzle it, as though it were water. He'd be lisping for the next half hour at least.
He rushed out the door, grabbing his messenger bag on the way.
He ran into the bullpen, surprised to find out that he was the only member of the team that was actually there. He had spilt coffee down his pants for nothing.
He checked his watch; it was almost half-past ten. New cases at ten a.m. He checked the conference room. It too was empty. Confused, he went back to his desk. Had they all gone on vacation without telling him? He tried calling Garcia; there was no answer. He called Kevin.
'Hey, Kevin, this is Spencer Reid.'
'Oh, hi Reid. What can I do you for?' Unlike Reid, Kevin Lynch sounded alert – vigilant, almost. Reid suspected that there was probably some form of energy drink involved.
'Have you seen Garcia?' He couldn't help but convey the worry in his voice. It was one thing for a single member of the team to be missing, but all of them? That was unprecedented. Even if the team had left on an urgent case, Garcia still should have been there.
'No, sorry man. Haven't seen her since yesterday.'
He tried cell phones. He got voicemail. He tried home phones. He got answering machines.
He sat down at his desk, and immediately noticed a white envelope. The kind he should have noticed upon entering. Instead, he was too preoccupied with the conspicuous absences.
He tore open the envelope, not considering that it might be needed for evidentiary purposes.
His brain processed the words immediately, and yet he didn't want to believe them.
"Kidnapped your friends," the note read. "See if you can find them."
He blinked once. Twice.
His dreams last night – they hadn't been nightmares. They had been visions.
He sat at his desk, numb with shock.
He was the one that always got kidnapped – why had the tables turned.
Almost unconsciously, he started singing below his breath.
time I'm on my own, They need my help; Now
I've been the one
Who's been so scared.
Who's had to run.
my friends are gone.
I'll have to face
the rising dawn.
I'll have to fight
to save them from
the darkest night.
the game is set.
The tables turn.
I'll take the bet.'
I'm on my own,
They need my help;
He stopped, mildly confused. He hadn't realized he was singing until he had stopped. He hadn't even meant to start. It had just felt so…natural. Was he imagining it? He turned around; saw an agent staring at him wordlessly.
'Was I just singing?' he whispered. The agent nodded, somewhat flabbergasted.
Reid stood there, his mouth open slightly.
Just what on Earth was going on?
A/N: I don't even know what possessed me to write this. This may pan out to be some variety of musical parody. The whole team will appear – ridiculous romance will fit the tone of the story, and I can't be bothered thinking of any, so give me your preferences. Preferably het, but I'm willing to branch out.