Hey I managed to update a bit quicker this time... maybe not as quickly as you lot would have liked but I'll admit that I had a bit of trouble with the beginning, I mean I have no idea how i would carry on the next chapter from the very dramatic cliffhanger I left last time. But I hope this chapter is to your satisfaction. now i understand that maybe you might find this chapter a little confusing at the end, if you get it, kudos to you, if you dont, dont be ashamed because obviously its my fault and i didnt quite get the scene i was trying to create across. Either way, for those who don't get it, I will put a little note at the end explaining what i meant to do with it x

Thanks for everyone who reviewed, even any negative ones. Also for whoever said that you go to Juvie for killing your parents, i know that but the police dont suspect Harvey of having killed his parents. Sorry if i confused you and i hope that i cleared that up for you. And a special thanks for all those reviewers who have been with me since the beginning of this story... you know who you are XD

Anyway, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, or Great Expectations :(

Harvey turned away from his heaving, gasping, damn near hyperventilating victim to survey his tools. He could hear the agents from the monitor trying to get the attention of their colleague, with no success of course.

"Reid can you hear us-"

"Calm down kid-"

Sob. "Reid honey, please look at us-"

"I can't do this-"

"Reid stay strong now-"

"Come on pretty boy, you can beat him-"

The last one came from a one Agent Morgan. It both amazed and satisfied Harvey to hear the pure desperation in the agent's voice; the panic, the despair… anyone would think that he were the one strapped down to a chair in the middle of no where with a raging psychopath ready to chop them into little pieces.

Ah! But it delighted him so that he was able to cause this much misery without even having to physically torture them all.

'Maybe I should do this more often' he wondered to himself, tilting his head in speculation. 'By showing his team what I'm going to do to their precious agent, maybe their distress will increase that feeling of euphoria and my paintings will be even better than it was before. I'll be destroying 7 people for the price of 1. Wow, maybe I really am a God'.

With that sickly thought in mind, a sickly leer lurched across his face and his eyes glowed in the bask of the raging fire burning the fish guts in the corner, throwing shadows on his face and giving him the demonic image that so rightfully belonged to him.

He had done his research, and had followed the setting to the cabin to a T. He knew that it was the only way to break the defences put up around the agents mind, and only once they were broken could he set about fully breaking in both body and spirit.

Running his hand across the objects in from of him, all equally spaced apart, he hissed at the feeling of the smooth metals, the harsh edges and the fabric grips. It sent a rush of adrenaline through his body, and he closed his eyes to bask in it.

He was taking his time choosing his tool; after all the agent wasn't going anywhere, and no doubt the wait was causing more anxiety to well up inside him. He picked up the whip that he used first and lovingly rubbed his cheek with the leather.

It was normally his favourite weapon; it was the weapon that broke the captives, had them begging, pleading, screaming for their lives. There was no routine to his method. He would generally pick whichever tool he felt like using and then continue through his supply until he had enough inspiration to paint. But 9 times out of 10, it was the whip that gave him that inspiration.

That's why he was so surprised when his victim refused to give up upon being whipped, even starting to count how many times he whipped him. Maybe that's why he started with the whip; he rarely began with it, all too aware that if he did, the fun would be over too quickly. Maybe, sublimely, he knew that this one was going to be much more of a challenge than the others.

Mulling over that thought in his mind, Harvey pulled the whip taunt, enjoying the snapping sound when he heard a brief cry. Looking over his shoulder at the kid, he repeated the action, grinning when he saw him flinch and attempt to pull his legs into his body and curl up into a ball like a flea.

Because that's all he was to him, a flea; that's what all his victims where to him. At first he thought that maybe this one was a little bit more than a flea; maybe he could upgrade him to that of an ant. Either way, he would still be something that could be stepped on but an ant can carry 10 times its own body weight. It seemed to fit perfectly, as from what he could tell this agent had to deal with 10 times the amount that most people had to deal with in a lifetime.

But watching the agent's quaking body and hearing him whimper, he sighed, shaking his head with a grin.

He was still just a flea.

Finally having decided on his weapon, he picked it up and made his way over to the agent.

"Hey, you leave him alone-"

"Back away from my agent-"

"Leave the poor kid alone-"

"Please don't hurt Spence-"

"Oh, my poor baby-"

"If you do anything to hurt him you fucking bastard, I swear to God-"

Harvey felt irritation spark in him as he turned to frown at the monitor screens, a frown marring his face. He could hear their voices mingling with each other as they shouted warnings and profanities at him to 'leave their precious Spencer alone'.

He walked over and leant down so his face was in view of the video camera.

"Now how am I supposed to concentrate with you making so much racket" he asked mockingly but with an underlying tone of anger that told them how unhappy he was with all their noise. "You see, I was going to keep the sound on so I could hear you express your feelings and opinions on my show", he gave an exaggerated sigh, "but I suppose I'll have to put you on mute for now".

"Your little show? Why you fucking bastar-"

"Agent Morgan, may I remind you that your partly the reason why young Mr… Spencer was it? Is in this position. So I kindly ask that you keep your mouth shut" Harvey interrupted smoothly, a bored look on his face.

He heard the agent growl in anger but enjoyed the sudden look of devastation that his words caused. He smirked.

"Thank you" he replied to the silence that befell over the Agent's on the monitor and reaching over to the keypad he pressed a button to turn the sound off.

Satisfied that there would be no interruptions, he picked up his weapon and walked over to Agent Reid, who was no longer whimpering but whose eyes had gone blank and unseeing.

"So, Spencer, are you ready for our next game".

He waited expectantly for a response but the kid remained oblivious to his question. It was almost as if the kid could not see him, but was trapped within his own mind.

Instead of getting angry, he chuckled. He was too excited for this game to feel anger.

"Do you like what ive done with the place" he asked, looking around the room, "I'm quite proud of it if I'm honest with myself. Made sure it was exactly like the previous Cabin, destination and all." His tone of voice was light and carefree, almost as if he were conversing with a friend his opinion on a newly refurbished room.

Seeing the agent still unresponsive, he got bored and pressed a button on his weapon. Blue sparks flew into sight, a buzzing following their entrance and Reid jumped violently at the sound and his eyes instantly zeroed in on the Tazor held in Harvey's right hand.

It was hard not to see the fear in the guy's brown eyes.

"Well that got your attention didn't it" Harvey mumbled. He plastered a cheerful smile on his face. "Why don't we get started shall we."

As he slowly began to descend the Tazor to the young agent's body, he heard his pitiful attempts to plead start up.

"Please, don't do this, I beg you, stop please, please, stop it, no I don't want it, no please stop, stop-"

Glancing at the monitor he could see the agents getting riled up, watching them all scream at the monitor despite no sound being heard, the females with tears running down their cheeks, the males waving their fists in the air trying to resist the urge to punch the monitor.

Finally the Tazor connected with soft skin of the boys stomach, as Harvey listened with increasing glee as the agent's pleas gained volume and became more hysterical.

"W-W-wait a minute, we can talk about this, I'm begging you, no please no-"

He held the Tazor there for a few more seconds, basking in the Agent's panic before he flicked the switch.

Instantly, Reid's body convulsed unnaturally and thousands of volts coursed through his body. An unnatural scream erupted from his mouth as he tried to hollow out his stomach to increase some distance between his body and the object. He writhed in his seat unable to move more than a couple of inches but all the while trying to escape from the torture.

Harvey closed his eyes with a shudder, running his tongue over his lips as he felt that feeling run around his body. He kept the Tazor there for a bit longer, before pulling it away, watching in awe as the lanky body in front of him slumped forward in his chair.

A cold sweat had broken out onto his forehead and he was panting hard as if there was a lack of oxygen in the room. And for Reid there was; despite how many breaths he drew, he could not seem to get enough air into his lungs and his head felt ready to explode. His body twitched occasionally from leftover electricity still sparking around his system.

Harvey was also panting slightly, trying to keep a hold of that same orgasmic feeling that had just erupted in him as the agent's scream had erupted from him. It was strong, but not strong enough. No. He had to do better than that to get a certain level of elation for him to paint.

So he tried again, in different places and for different periods of time. He found that certain spots such as the stomach, chest and neck were more vulnerable that the legs and arms. He found that the longer he held the Tazor in one place, the more the agent screamed and that short, sharp sparks increased the desperation of the screams.

One glance at the monitor saw the agent's helpless faces and this also helped to increase the feeling. Seeing them cling to each other in their despair; some being unable to look at the screen while others being unable to look away. Two of the women had left the room apparently.

But this also wasn't enough. He paused in his torture, frowning in contemplation as the agent lay almost catatonic in his seat.

'Why isn't this working' Harvey thought to himself angrily, 'what can I do to make it stronger'. He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his victim.

Suddenly, a revelation brought a sickening light to his eyes and he snapped his fingers in triumph.

"I'll be right back, don't move" he told Reid, forgetting in his excitement Reid's restrained position.


Reid managed to open his eyes and struggled to focus his vision. He had the intense urge to throw up and his lungs felt like they were on fire. His throat had the roughness of sandpaper, and there was still the issue of increasing convulsions in his body.

Suddenly, he spluttered as freezing cold water drenched him from head to toe, causing him to let out a slight yelp at the temperature.

He heard his captive muttering and the buzzing of the Tazor start up; he felt his heart stop as he realised what was about to happen.

"NO WAIT, STOP-" his pleading proved useless as Harvey held the Tazor to his shoulder and turned it on full blast.

Fuelled by his soaked body, the electricity scorched through his body, setting every one of his nerves on fire. His body convulsed once more, but more so than any other time as his mouth opened in a silent scream, his abused throat unable to utter a single sound. His vision went white and then he fell into darkness as the pain overwhelmed him.


Harvey almost fell over from the force of the feeling as it surged powerfully through him. His pupils dilated as he let himself be swept along. This was it! This was the feeling! Quickly he staggered over to a cupboard in the corner and withdrew his art supplies. Setting them up, he took a hold of his paintbrush and stared at the blank canvas, indecisive about where to start.

Finally, he just closed his eyes and focused on the image the feeling produced. Then he let his hand guide him. So focused in his work he failed to notice that the agent had passed out from the pain. No matter! He had got what he wanted from him. Never before had the feeling been this powerful, this intense! He sat in this same position for hours, just painting. Occasionally he would open his eyes to check the paint was in the right place or that he was using the right colours, but most of the time he kept his eyes closed.

He could feel his soul, his very being try to cling to that feeling, almost afraid of letting it go.

After many hours had passed, he had finally exhausted himself. Heaving a breath and lowering his aching limbs he regarded his new masterpiece with arrogant eyes. Yes! This was it! Picking up the painting, he held it high in the air as if he could see it better from another angle.

The picture was of a wooden cabin, with the main feature being a man from a side profile, chained to a chair. He wore ripped trousers and no shirt, exposing his chest which were littered with bruises. His body was arched out of the chair, his limbs in unnatural positions and his eyes staring hopelessly at the ceiling.

Harvey wrung his hands in triumph above his head. Oh Yes! This was definitely the best painting he had ever done.

Suddenly he became aware of movement from the monitor. Apparently, while he had been so lost in sensations, the Agents had all snapped into action. Desperately trying to find their missing teammates, they were exhausting all possible options they had.

Harvey shuffled over to the monitor, wiping a disgusting hand over his sweating face as he went.

Pressing a button, he switched on the sound and watched as the only remaining agent in the room paced like a caged animal.

"Hello Agent Morgan". Instantly the Agent turned his attention to him, nand he watched in satisfaction as all the muscles clenched in his body. "Did you enjoy the show" he leered.

"You God Damn Bastard-"Morgan's voice was no louder than a whisper. It was a broken tone that spoke of no hope.

Harvey smiled grimly.

"Yes I'll admit I am quite the bastard, but you have to admit that my new work of art is quite the masterpiece". Heaving the canvas in front of himself, up to the camera, he listened for the moment before he heard the delightful sounds of hurling.

He chuckled. "I'm glad you like it. But now it's time for me to say goodbye."

"No-"

He heard Morgan whisper.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill him" he reassured the agent. Looking at his painting again he added, "this piece is so magnificent, I have a feeling that I might be able to squeeze quite a few more out of your young friend".

He looked into the camera one last time. "Now, as the French like to say, Adieu".

He switched the camera off.


Reid looked around the room he was standing in in confusion. Why the hell was he standing in his mother's room in their old house? He could have sworn he was just in a cabin.

Suddenly, memories swarmed his mind and he clutched his head as it burst in pain. He gritted his teeth and tried to wait for the pain to subside.

Suddenly he heard a sigh a swiftly lifted his head to see someone lying on the bed.

"Mom" he whispered. She was wearing her favourite white nightgown, her blonde hair flowing down her shoulders and curling at her chest as she gazed out the window at the morning sun.

The light made her look like one of those angels she was always telling him about.

"Mom" he said a bit louder, trying to gain her attention. However, she remained as she was, not even giving the slightest inclination of having heard him.

He opened his mouth again to call her a little bit louder when…

"Mom?"

… a slightly younger sounding voice beat him to it.

Turning to the doorway of the room, Reid was startled to see a boy of around 10 years of age, wearing thick-rimmed glassed and short brown hair standing there timidly and cautiously.

It was to this call that Diana Reid finally responded, turning her head and smiling warmly at the boy.

"Spencer" she replied, sounding almost surprised to see him standing there.

Reid felt a jolt go through him as he realised that this young boy was supposed to be him many years ago.

He watched in shock as Diana patted the space next to her on the bed invitingly, and as the younger him hurried and scrambled onto the bed to curl up into her side.

"I'm guessing you want me to read to you" Diana asked amusement and love evident in her tone of voice. She chuckled as 10 year old Spencer nodded his head vigorously, his glasses almost falling off his face with the motion.

Diana pulled several books out of the drawer next to the bed, and laid them out one by one.

"Pick one".

Reid watched as his younger self scrunched up his face in thought before gently tapping one.

"Ah, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens! You were always so fond of this book".

Reid wasn't surprised as tears started falling down his face as he watched his mother begin to read to him.

"My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip-"

"I remember this now. This wasn't too long after my father left. It was one of those only days when Mom had complete awareness-"

"-my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip-"

"She was so rarely this calm that I treasured moments like this-"

"-Mrs Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like-"

"But how is any of this possible? What on earth is going on here?"

"Spencer!"

Reid was torn from his thoughts by the sound of Diana calling his name. Looking up he was shocked to find her looking straight at him, smiling as warmly as she did his younger self.

"Mom" he whispered.

"Spencer your smart enough to know this isn't real. My little genius" Diana said, shaking her head in her amusement.

"This is a dream" Reid said in realisation.

"Indeed it is my little one. I am no more than a figment of your imagination".

The bedroom and his younger self was now gone, and Reid was all alone with his mother.

"I don't know what to do mom. I barely got through this nightmare the last time. I don't know how I will cope" Reid whispered as tears now willingly fell down his cheeks.

Diana Reid made 'Shhing' noises as she reached up and cupped her sons face.

"You're my little genius, of course you will figure something out. Just remember to stay strong and think about how many people love you, okay" she whispered gently to him. Gently she kissed his forehead before she began to fade away.

Reid cried out in anguish.

"Please, Mom, don't go. Please don't leave me" he sobbed.

"Don't worry my baby, I'm always with you alright" she said as she began to fade.

"Alright" he whispered back.

Slowly the scene before began to fade as the background of the Cabin swam into view as he opened his tired eyes. Kneeling in front of him was Harvey, grinning hideously and maliciously at him.

"Welcome back to the living" Harvey chuckled.

Reid didn't reply but he didn't need to. His dream had given him his resolve back.

Staring back into the silver eyes of a grinning maniac he had only one thought running through my head.

'I'm going to bring you down!'

So what did you think. I'll be honest i wasnt too sure about the last bit because it seemed much better in my head. For those of you who didnt get it, I was basically trying to make a vision like the ones in the episode of revelations that were caused by Dilaudid. Did I spell that right? But since these ones weren't caused by Dilaudid, i wanted it to be a dream and that Reid got the resolve to stay strong from his mother.

Anyway, for those of you readers who also read my Morganville fanfic, you will have already seen this note. For those of you who dont, im gonna repeat it anyway.

Basically... I hate my writing.

I have all these ideas in my head but i feel that they get ruined when i attempt to write them out. My stories when i read them dont seem to flow like when i read other stories. When i put up a chapter its because im satisfied with it. NOT HAPPY! Satisfied!

SO if any of my fellow writers out there know of anyway i can improve my writing, please PM me or leave me a review on how to do it.

Thanks for listening to my little rant, oh and reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside X)

ChaPow Out!