Summary: Reid is kidnapped… again. Can the team find him in time? WARNING: has more than earned its M rating

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds. Sad, isn't it?

No pairings intended, but you could imply whatever makes you happy

Rated for violence, torture, non con, and profanity. Don't say I didn't warn you.

This is unbetad so there will probably be a few mistakes. I apologize in advance.

Out of Reach

It was one of those days.

It started with the shower. He loved his little apartment, but the very old building and even older pipes tended to fall to disrepair; and true to form, the boiler was out of commission for the next two days.

Emerging from the icy shower a very cold genius, Reid huddled his lanky frame under a fluffy towel until he dressed his shivering body in extra warm clothes, donning both a sweater vest and a cardigan over his gray dress shirt and tweed slacks. After he was properly clothed and significantly warmer, he decided to look on the bright side. At least he was completely awake now, hell, he almost didn't need coffee.

It escalated when he missed his train. He was just coming down the steps onto the platform when he saw the train depart.

It was on time, Reid thought exasperatedly. It's never on time, not for the last five years.

He settled himself down on a heavily vandalized bench and pulled a copy of War and Piece from his messenger bag. At least he'd be able to catch up on some of his light reading.

He was an hour late for work, the next train having arrived nearly twenty minutes late. Reid tried to slip unnoticed into the office, hoping that no one would be paying close enough attention to realize that he was so late. He ambled towards his desk in the bull pen, glad that Morgan and Prentiss seemed to be occupied elsewhere at the moment, and settled into his desk, lifting the strap of his messenger bag over his head and resting it against the desk. He heaved a self-contented sigh, a small smile on his face as he turned in his chair

Right into SSA Aaron Hotchner.

Reid's wide eyes found the stony face of the man that loomed over him.

"You're late, Reid." Hotch deadpanned.

"Sorry, sir." He squeaked in response before launching into a mile a minute explanation of his tardiness. "Well, you see, I missed my train. It came in early, even thought it's come in seven minutes late everyday for the last five years. I didn't anticipate the break from pattern, which completely ignores Murphy's law; even though statistically 87% of manned commuter trains are on average four to seventeen minutes late, and—"

"Reid," Hotch interrupted the genius and his shpeel came to an immediate halt. "Just don't let it happen again."

"Yes, sir." Reid agreed quickly and Hotch went on his way, leaving him to a veritable mountain of paper work that sat on his desk.

At least Hotch hadn't reprimanded him, he hadn't even scolded him really, just told him not to be late again, a completely reasonable request. Reid let out a breath that he'd been holding, before starting on the paperwork that would keep him buried in mind numbing monotony until it was time to leave.

When the end of the day came around it was raining. Morgan had offered to drive him home, but he'd refused. While he appreciated the thought, it was gestures like that that made him feel like a kid, like someone the team felt they needed to look after as opposed to a colleague.

He decided to walk the two and a half miles home. It didn't rain a lot in Las Vegas, where he'd spent his childhood, nor did it in California where he'd gone to school. The cold and wet Virginia weather had been an interesting adjustment, but one that he was not particularly enjoying at the moment.

Reid made it to his apartment an hour later. He was soaked to the bone and shivering lightly, his black converse squeaking as he emerged from the stairs on the top floor (he almost never takes the elevator since that incident with Morgan) and walked to the end of the hallway to his door. He juggled the mail he'd picked up from downstairs as he rooted around in his bag for his keys before letting himself into the darkened apartment. He only made it three steps past the threshold before he knew that something was wrong.

Reid would never know what it was that tipped him off. Maybe a faint smell that didn't belong, maybe the disturbance of the air currents caused by another breathing body in the small dark space, or maybe he could just sense the foreign presence. Whatever it was, it felt like a cold fist clenched in his gut that sent adrenalin coursing through his veins. The mail fell to the floor, forgotten as his hands flew to the gun at his hip.

A Louisville slugger beat him to it.

He heard a faint whoosh as the bat swung through the air, then felt a blinding pain as it smashed into the hand that had landed on the butt of his Glock not a millisecond before, breaking his hand and deeply bruising his hip where the gun had been driven into his pelvis.

Reid cried out and doubled over, clutching his mid section and cradling his right hand to his chest as his left fumbled to remove the gun from the holster, which was easier said than done since it was designed for a right hand draw. The bat slammed down on his back and sent him to the hardwood floor. He freed the gun from its holster and fired twice in the direction of the dark figure above him. He hoped that at least the sound would bring his neighbors running but remembered that the Jacobis next door were on a vacation in Florida and Ms. Jenkins in the apartment below was traveling on business more often than she was home.

The gun was knocked from his hand with a well aimed kick that sent his gun skittering across the floor and into the thick shadows. His attacker ran for the firearm, but Reid brought him to the floor with a hard kick to the knee. He scrambled on top of the intruder, attacking him with the first solid thing his hand found, which happened to be a blue flower vase that JJ had given him as a house warming gift. The man recovered quickly and deflected the vase and sending it shattering to the floor. Reid made a mental note to apologize to the blond liaison if he survived this ordeal.

They grappled on the floor for a few moments and Reid sized up his opponent. His attacker had over fifty pounds on the lean doctor and soon over powered him with a kick that sent Reid hurtling backwards into the small table by the entryway, his head smashing into the framed mirror above the table which shattered on impact.

Reid felt warm blood run down the side of his face from a cut on his forehead as he scrambled to his feet and pawed at the wall for the light switch, desperate to avoid fighting in the dark.

The lights flickered on just in time to see the fist that slammed into his jaw. Reid saw stars for a moment, fighting to stay conscious before the baseball bat slammed into his ribs. He screamed as he felt two of them break and cried out again when his impact on the floor jarred them. Reid could feel his attacker looming over him as he tried to crawl away, his unbroken hand reaching for his messenger bag and the cell phone that lay within it, desperate to call for help. To call for his team.

He heard the sickening thud of the baseball bat impacting the side of his head and felt a blinding pain erupt in his skull before the darkness swallowed him whole.

"Has anyone seen Reid?" Morgan called to the bull pen, coffees in hand.

Prentiss looked up from her paper work and looked towards the genius's empty desk. "No, I haven't seen him today," she said accepting her coffee from Morgan.

"Me neither, I figured he'd be here by the time I came back from the coffee run," Morgan said, a worried frown gracing his handsome face.

"He's not in yet?" Hotch asked, startling both Morgan and Prentiss who hadn't seen or heard him walk up.

Morgan examined Reid's desk, it looked untouched from last night. "Doesn't look like it." He pulled out his cell phone and hit Reid's speed dial. It rang seven times then went to the recorded voicemail message. "This is SSA Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm unable to come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and contact information I'll return your call at the earliest opportunity. Thank you."

Morgan would have to talk to the kid about that long winded message. "Reid, where the hell are you? Call me as soon as you get this." He closed his phone and saw Prentiss dialing Reid's home phone. She shook her head and hung up.

"It's out of service." She informed them grimly.

"I don't like this," Morgan stated, his voice deepening.

"Neither do I," Hotch agreed.

"Maybe he's just late and forgot to pay his phone bill," Rossi suggested, absently sipping his coffee.

"No," Hotch affirmed. "You should have seen him when I caught him yesterday, he wouldn't be late two days in a row."

Morgan went to Garcia's office and found the techno goddess merrily typing away. "Baby girl, I need you to trace Reid's cell phone for me."

"Spying on my junior G man are we?" She teased with a smirk.

"Just do it Garcia." Hotch ordered, following Morgan into the room.

Garcia's face fell. "Oh god, what's wrong? What going on?" She panicked.

Morgan soothed her with a warm hand on her shoulder. "It could be nothing, but we need you to find Reid's cell phone for us."

She nodded rapidly, "I can do that. I can do that." Garcia attacked her keyboard and a minute later she had a map of the city up on her screen. "242 West Haven."

"That's Reid's apartment." Morgan stated. Hotch nodded, his cell phone to his ear. He hung up.

"He's still not answering." He met Morgan's uneasy gaze.

"I think we should check it out."

"I agree," Hotch said, stowing his cell phone in his pocket. "I'll drive."

Hotch knocked authoritatively on Reid's door. "Reid, open up."


He rapped on the door again but was once again greeted with silence.

"Here, I've got a key." Morgan stepped forward, flipping through his key ring. They made it a habit of giving a spare key to at least one member of the team for situations such as this one.

Morgan unlocked the door and pushed it open. The sight that met them stopped them in their tracks.

"Holy Shit." Morgan swore as he took it all in.

"Signs of a struggle." Hotch stated the obvious. Morgan almost laughed to himself; it looked less like a struggle and more like a knock-down drag-out fight. The table immediately next to the door had been broken and over turned, a side table by the couch knocked out of its usual place. Various bills and junkmail littered the floor along with the shattered remnants of what Morgan recognized as the blue vase that JJ had given him over a year ago and the bloody shards of a mirror.

"There's blood." Morgan stated quietly, squatting by the mirror shards and studying the blood on the floor. There were both smears and fat gravitational droplets. It was enough to worry him but not enough to take someone out. He heard Reid's voice in his head telling him that the average person could loose a liter to a liter and a half of blood before they were incapacitated.

Morgan looked up to find Hotch examining scratches in the wood floor when something beneath the threadbare sofa caught Morgan's eye. He fished Reid's Glock out from under the couch, sharing a meaningful look with Hotch before ejecting the magazine and feeding the bullets into his hand.

"Two are missing." He said before reloading the magazine.

"I'll call in a crime scene unit." Hotch pulled out his phone and began dialing while Morgan searched the rest of the apartment. It was untouched, ruling out robbery, but even more disturbing was the fact that there was no sign of Reid.

The automatic coffee maker had an untouched pot on its cradle, the clothes he wore yesterday were not in the laundry hamper and his alarm clock was still sounding a gentle shrill. Morgan stepped into the small living room lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves and sank onto the comfy brown couch that he'd sat on many a time before, rubbing his stubbly head with his hands. A framed picture caught his eye. It was of the team on Reid's twenty fourth birthday, the kid wearing the ridiculous birthday cake hat, shy smile donning his face. It brought a small quirk to his lips, but it was quickly washed away by the gravity of the situation. "Where are you kid?"