Title: Decisions of the Heart

Summary: When an unsub manages to capture the team, Spencer's one job is to make sure the team makes it out alive. He could have never guessed the consequences of his decision. Reid!centric, Reid!Whump, Team Fic, Kidnapping Fic. Season four!

Rating per chapter: T+ (honestly, I would label it M but I've seen WAY worse also label T, so I'll stick with this) violence, some language, TORTURE

Disclaimer: I do not own anything…Except my unsub.

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Jennifer "JJ" Jareau's head was spinning.

Penelope was working furiously on the computer, the taps of her nails on the keyboard being a loud background noise; so loud that she found she couldn't think clearly. Her silent tears were not helping. JJ had no words to comfort her friend. What was there to say when she had no answer?

JJ moved over to the board. Only hours beforehand it had been filled with victims of the unsub Peter Collens. They had brought Garcia along due to the man's computer genius. The B.A.U. needed her to crack it right away. Thankfully, with her help, the case was an easy one (if any cases could be called easy), and had a happy outcome. The girlfriend had lived, and only two had died in total. It should have been a quick trip home.

Then, something had happened. Something that wasn't connected to the case at all.

"All of their phones just shut off, GPS included," Garcia's voice was filled with worry. Tears made her usually peppy attitude fade away. "I-I can't track any of them."

JJ gave her an uneasy smile. "We'll find them, Garica."

Garcia nodded, giving back her own version of a smile. "Of course we will!" She began tapping away on the keyboard once again. "I'll be ready to track their phones as soon as they-"

A loud ding interrupted her. It obviously shocked Garcia. "D-Derek's phone just turned on!" She exclaimed. "A-and now Hotch's!"

JJ already had her FBI vest on. "Where?"

More tapping. JJ had never realized how much the noise was blocked out over the phone. It put her on edge.

"H-here!" She replied quietly, obviously more alarmed than anything. "A-all of them are right outside - Blaker's street!"

With that, JJ stormed out of the small police station. Her heart was beating in her chest; everything was going in slow motion. What was wrong with her? No, there wasn't something unnatural going on. She was scared – terrified – to find out what had been done to her team. How could she have let this happen?

By the time she pushed open the doors open the doors, she was too late.

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Derek had woken up with the worst headache imaginable.

It was something unusual for him. Even when he had a hangover, he made sure that it was manageable, and that he would be able to get up and move without too much trouble. It was his job to be ready for everything.

Now? He didn't know how he was breathing, let alone standing. Was he standing? The only thing he could see were... red and blue fireworks? No, that wasn't quite it. Whatever he was seeing, it was too bright to see. He blinked multiple times, but it did nothing to change the outcome.

Worse yet, he could feel himself moving. He could tell that he was in a car, but he didn't know the basic answers? Where, how, why, when…? None of it made sense.

And then he realized…

He was in his own personal hell.

He remembered Reid's – No, Spencer's – face. He wasn't SSA Dr. Spencer Reid at that moment. He was Derek's best friend; practically a brother. In the moments the Derek remembered, Reid wasn't an FBI agent, he was a stupidly heroic family member trying to put on a brave face.

With that, Derek forced himself to will the headache and really looked.

He was standing. In front of him was…No, it couldn't be? Wasn't he just in a car? Once more, he blinked…

He was at the police station that they had just helped finish a case with.

JJ was rushing towards him, her blonde hair making her appear more heavenly than Morgan thought possible. His thoughts her jumbled, and everything was going too slow. JJ was talking to him, even putting a hand on his arm, but he couldn't feel it. Instead, he could only watch in confusion as he registered the hand on his shoulder.

His lack of response must have scared her. She was shaking him a little now, repeating a word over and over again.

"Morgan!"

Everything rushed back to him faster than he could process.

"I'm okay," He told her, now putting a hand on her shoulder. He finally noticed that the rest of his team were coming around too. Emily was still lying on the alley way, clearly unconscious. Hotch and Rossi, however, were standing. Rossi was attempting to rouse Emily, but she wasn't moving. Rossi nodded at him when he found a pulse. Morgan felt his heart start to calm. They were okay.

Most of them were okay.

Hotch was giving orders to JJ. Morgan's hearing (or maybe brain function) was coming back with every second passing. "- and get Garcia to track Reid's phone. I also want to see the surveillance video from the police station. Maybe they caught a plate."

JJ nodded, looking as professional as she could. Her mask was firmly in place. Who had told her about Reid? How much time had passed? "First, I'm calling an ambulance. We have no idea what this guy gave you."

Hotch looked ready to protest, but one glare from JJ and he shut his mouth, shocking Morgan. Hotch must also be feeling the effects of the drug. There was no other way he would allow himself to go the hospital while a team member was down.

He looked around, expecting Reid to come up with a list of half a dozen drugs that would cause these side effects. He felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. Reid couldn't do that. He wasn't with them. He was with the unsub.

"We have to find him," Morgan muttered, looking at Hotch.

Hotch nodded, "We will. But first we need to regroup."

Morgan felt the anger building in his chest. Regroup? They didn't have time for that! Reid could be…God, could be getting tortured right now! They had to stop it!

Garcia was there in an instant. When had she arrived? "Derek," She told him, voice devoid of emotion. Derek had never seen this side of her. The roles had reversed. For once, Garcia was stronger than him. "we'll get him back. I'll search through the videos myself, okay?"

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to get his anger under control. Without a word, Morgan gathered Garcia into a hug.

"We'll get him back," She repeated, now sounding like the Garcia he knew; always hopeful. "We'll get him back."

"I know, Baby Girl."

He looked up just in time to stop the colorful lights of two ambulances coming towards them.

Rossi's eyes found his own. His were filled with unshed tears. "I know." He repeated to her, holding her close.

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Reid woke up to fear.

Instead of the weight of ropes against his wrist, he felt a different, heavier weight on his ankle. Opening his eyes, he forced himself to look down at himself. He was, thankfully, free of anything around his hands, and he gladly moved his wrist, trying to get the blood flowing once again. What was more alarming was the large metal cuff around his right ankle.

The idea of being chained scared Reid more than he cared to admit. He found himself yanking at the chain without even realizing what it was connected to. Looking up, he realized that he was in…A bedroom?

It appeared to be a normal bedroom. He was sitting on top of a hard, twin mattress, the only cover being a thin blue sheet. The four walls were white (no windows, the only light was from a singular ceiling light) and, looking straight ahead of him, he spotted a similar colored bathroom maybe five feet away. It was small and did not have a door. Looking to the left of him, he spotted a different door.

He quickly got up from the bed, only wincing when he heard the horrible sound of metal slid across the old wood floor. He realized that the chain was attached to the wall, literally screwed into one of the beams of the small bedroom. When he walked to the door, he realized that the chain would only allow him to make it maybe another five feet out the door. Even if it wasn't locked (which it was, much to Reid's disappointment), he wouldn't be able to get very far. Not only that, but he no longer had his shoes.

He had never been more grateful for socks in his life.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he picked up the chain once again and tried to pry it lose from the wall. There was no hope. It would take an immense force to get the screws out of the wall. With a sigh, he tested out how far the chain would allow him to go.

The unsub had planned everything. The chain allowed him into the bathroom, but would not allow him any further. He was both fearful and thankful to find a shower in the room. There was no mirror, no toilet seat (which mean no screws he could use to pick the lock), no sink, and no cabinets. The only thing left in the room was one roll of toilet paper and a bar of soap. There was nothing in there to use.

Heart beating in his chest, he dragged himself and the chain back into the "bedroom" and sat on the bed, his back against the wall, facing the door. No doubt John would be here soon to torment him.

Torment. He nearly laughed. That was one way to put it. Reid knew exactly what was in store for him. He had a feeling that an already throbbing face would be the least of his problems soon.

Looking up at the ceiling, he spotted what he dreaded would be in here; and video camera. No doubt John was watching every move of his, eager to see him suffer.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to look away from the camera and do something productive instead.

His team was looking for him. They had a profile already. They even had a face! Maybe they had enough information to find him quickly. But he had been moved. He knew the odds of a victim being found when moved to a new location.

Victim. He was a victim now. The label felt wrong, disgusting even. He was an FBI agent. He shouldn't be a victim. No, wait… He could use that to his advantage. He, thankfully, hadn't killed many people in his line of work. And with the profile, he knew exactly who took him.

Reid allowed himself a small smile. He had something against the unsub that he wasn't expect; his brother's name.

His smile was cut off the moment the door to his prison cell slammed open.

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Considering everything, kidnapping the team that had killed his brother was easier than he had thought. Sure, he had wanted everyone there for when he forced Dr. Reid to make his choice, but he couldn't complain too much. The looks on their faces were worth it.

He was a little mad at the fact that he did not have one of the original team members captured, but he wasn't capable of finding one Elle Greenaway. However, this Emily Prentiss obviously cared just as much for her team member, so he supposed that it worked itself out.

It was extremely helpful having some knowledge in computers. It had allowed him to trick Penelope Garcia, even getting their cell phones to shut of the GPS to shut off when he wanted, and turn back on ten minutes after the rest of the B.A.U. had been dropped back off at the Police Station.

Not only that, but he had bugged each phone, allowing him to listen to each call and even turn on the camera's when he wanted to see them.

He glanced back to his phone. He knew it was risky using an IP camera to view his prisoner (the word sent a thrill through. He finally had him!), but he had set up a server and even had a dynamic IP address that changed every ten minutes. He could live with the system going down for two minutes if it meant that he wasn't caught so early in the game.

Game. What an interesting word to use. It was a game of trying to capture the team. He had to be ahead of a psychopath for once; to figure out where the B.A.U. team would travel next. Luckily, he had heard about some pyscho killing girls in Texas, and he was eager to rush over there.

Even luckier, it was only two hours from his first location, and the LSD he used with the sedative meant that they had no idea how long it took to drive there.

Researching the B.A.U. was also a good idea on his part. He knew about their so-called profiling, and even used it to his advantage. He made sure to walk like he had in military, to say that it was his brother when really it was someone that was like a brother to him, and to appear as 'crazed' as he could. He wanted the team to know who he was, just not as soon as they would normally.

Phillip Dowd deserved better, but at least he would get revenge on the person that had killed him.

Clicking on his phone, he checked to see if Dr. Reid was awake. Finally, after three hours, he was. The good doctor was walking into the bathroom, testing out the chain. John felt himself smile. How…endearing. Soon enough, it would be a struggle for the man to walking, let alone try to escape his bonds.

He allowed the Doctor to calm himself. He waited until he was sitting on the bed for him to enter the small part of the house. He grabbed the knife – the same that he used to cut agent Morgan – and began to walk to the room that held Dr. Reid. Oh, the room he had created was perfect for what he had planned. It was insulated, which meant the doctor could be as loud as he wanted, but no one could hear him. There was no escaping the room even with the chain on. Plus, Reid would have to pass him in order to leave.

He slammed open the door as hard as he could. He wanted to scare the doctor, and it had obviously did. The man jumped, but was quick to school his features. John smiled wide at him. There was no point in holding back his excitement now.

"Good afternoon, doctor," John closed the door behind him, demonstrating that there was no way Reid could escape the room. The doctor paled, "did you sleep well?"

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Did he sleep well? Of all the questions his capturer could have asked, it was that? He recalled Morgan's words "give him what he wants."

Reid knew exactly what he wanted. "No," He answered, his words holding no emotion. He let himself sound defeated. The man wanted him defenseless and beaten. He could do that.

"I'm glad," John replied, moving closer to him. Reid felt himself tense, but he allowed John to get closer to him. He didn't want to anger him. There was no point.

"I-I want proof that my team is alive," He said quickly, his words nearly running together. It was easy to act scared. In fact, it wasn't an act. "Please."

John seemed to consider that. "Seems fair, but it comes with a price."

A price? What was with this unsub and his deals? Would food and water come at a price? And if one of those prices was already staying with him for six months, what would this be? Reid forced himself to nod. It didn't matter what the price was, he needed to know that John held up his part of the deal.

"You see," John revealed to him the knife that was behind his back. Spencer forced himself to not move away from the bed. "Agent Hotchner was there that day too. In fact, he was the one to supply the gun to you."

Reid's heart was beating frantically in his heart. Did John know that Spencer already knew who he was?

"And I would think that Phillip," Spencer wasn't one to curse, but a particular curse word came to mind "would want both of you to suffer." Spencer swallowed. The knife, still slightly covered in his friend's blood, was now mocking him.

"Move, and you don't get to hear your team," John shrugged, showing him just how much he cared about his fears. "Don't move, and I'll call your team allowing you to hear each of their voices." John placed the tip of the knife directly in the middle of his chest. "Either way, you precious agents will see what I've done to you every week."

Reid looked into John's eyes, looking for anything that would indicate some sanity. There was none. The only emotion that John expressed was excitement. Without hesitating, Reid nodded once again.

"Excellent!" John took the tip of the knife off his chest, something Reid found himself grateful for, even if it meant that it would soon cause him more pain. "I think that's a fantastic choice."

Pain – he's been in pain before. He could handle this. It'll be fine. He'll be fine.

"Take off your shirt."

If Reid wasn't looking a John, he wouldn't have believed the words. "W-what?" He asked, suddenly loving the feel of his soft sweater on his arms.

"You heard me, doctor," John waved the knife at him, using it as a threat, "Take off your shirt."

Reid slowly got up from the bed, once again hating the weight around his ankle. He basked in the feeling of being fully clothed before slowly taking off his shirt. It wasn't nearly as bad as what to come, but Reid was never comfortable with anyone looking at him. By now, he had some muscle tone, but that didn't mean it was any better for him to stand in front of anyone half naked, let alone…

He forced himself out of mind. He couldn't over think this. He had to block it all out. He pulled the sweater over his head and let it fall behind him on to the bed. Head held high, he glared down (he was never so thankful to be six one in his life) and waited for…For his fate.

Lance Armstrong, his brain supplied, once said 'pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place.'

"Put your hands on that wall," John gestured to the side of the wall with the door, "your back towards me."

Reid walked over to the wall, the chain once again forced to go with him. He nearly stopped himself. He didn't know if he could allow himself to be in such a compromising position with the unsub. No, he was doing this to see if his team was alive. He needed to know. He couldn't live out these months here without knowing.

With only a small amount of hesitation, he placed his hands on the wall, almost as if he was getting ready to do a push up against it. There was no doubt that he would need the support in order to make himself not flinch.

"I've had a lot to think about over the years I needed to plan this out," John's voice was a whisper on his ear now. He could feel his presence inches behind him. "But the thing always on my mind was how to hurt you the most. You see, I wanted to make sure that even when I let you go-" Reid's eyes widened. The unsub truly meant to let him go? "And, yes, I will make good on our deal, you will be broken."

Reid bit his tongue. He couldn't say anything. He was doing this to hear his team.

"And I thought," He continued. Reid stiffened when he felt the cold blade of the knife lay flat on his left shoulder blade. "What would make him remember this every. Day. Of. His. Life?" John snapped his fingers, startling Reid. "A word that he would never forget."

With that, the blade was forced into his upper shoulder. The pain was intense, nearly sending him to his knees. He wasn't expecting it. There was no way to prepare him for this. He – he had to distract himself. He wasn't going to last long enough if every cut was like this.

What was the word? What was he carving into him?

No, those thoughts wouldn't help – couldn't help right now. He had to send himself somewhere else.

Stars. He saw stars. John was now dragging the blade to the right, closer to his spine. His arms shook. A sudden image of his mother came to mind.

"Spencer," She was smiling at him, one of her more sane days. He was only nine. "Any time you want to escape reality," She had tapped on her favorite books. It had been a poem book by Edgar Allen Poe, "Read. Come on, baby, read with me."

He took a deep breath; escape reality.

From childhood's hour I have not been

The blade was ripped out of him, causing him to hiss and look up at the ceiling. He had to stay still. He had to do this. Focus on the book.

My sorrow - I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone -

And all I lov'd - I lov'd alone -

The sharp edge was now at his vertebra, near his thoracic nerves. Each time the knife moved, Spencer's felt another part of himself die. This was too much. Could he do this?

From the thunder, and the storm -

And the cloud that took the form

The knife was now near his lower right hip.

Of a demon in my view –

Reid turned his head, just in time to see his true demon. This monster held the knife coated in blood in his hand. He was breathing deeply, either due to the strain of carving into his back or the simple exhilarating of hurting him. He didn't know.

"I'm sure," John was out of breath. Spencer felt himself shaking, he could feel his own warm blood slowly drip onto his pants. "You want to know what it says."

Reid didn't answer, only focusing on his breathing and staying upright. This was bad; worse than what Charles Hankel had done to him by a mile. He didn't know how much longer he could stand.

Without any warning, John took his wrist in a tight grip and tossed him roughly into the wall, his back hitting it harshly. If he had enough air, he would have screamed. With a groan, he opened his eyes. John had thrown him onto the bed. thankfully he had landed on his stomach.

He looked up at John, who was writing something on the white wall in his blood, right in his vision point. When he was done, Spencer felt all the air leave his body.

John looked pleased. "I thought about something more meaningful to my situation, but this felt more…" John took out his cell phone and began tapping away on it. Spencer prayed that he was calling his team. "painful, don't you think?"

John tossed the phone into the middle of the room, far enough that Spencer would have to crawl to get to it.

"Just because I'm feeling generous, I'll let you listen for ten minutes." John opened the door to his prison, and slammed it close.

The red word on the wall and on his back didn't leave with him.

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A/N: The Poem is from Edgar Allen Poem. It is titled Alone.

Takes a deep breath! that was a lot in one chapter, oh my gosh. Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! They mean the world to me!

So, how'd I do with Morgan's POV? With John's? With the – erm – torture? Too much?

I think you all guess who John's 'brother' was, so I decided to reveal that already, lol. Nice job everyone!

Now, the knew mystery of the hour! What's the word?

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to feed the author