*See profile update 5/19/11*

If I Run (Spencer Reid)

Chapter 1

Ella Wheeler Wilcox said, "There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul."

May 1996; Grayson, Kentucky

I sat in a pitch black, dank underground room; my wrists and ankles bound with zip ties so tightly that I could feel the sticky blood staining my clothes. There was no efficient way of keeping time in such utter darkness. It could have been days, weeks, or even months. I wasn't sure but it was beginning to feel like an eternity. The last thing I remembered was walking home from school, then I woke up here, like this, him standing over me.

(Rossi P.O.V.)

She was the eighth girl taken, and the only one who was possibly still alive. We arrived here a week ago but she had already been missing for almost a month. Statistically there was little chance that she would be found alive and everyone seemed to be thinking the same.

"We should count our blessings that he hasn't taken anyone else." the sherrif said to me.

"That doesn't mean that we should give up on the girl he still has." I argued.

"Look, this guy doesn't keep his victims. All of the other girls we found had only been kept for two weeks, exactly. She's been gone for twenty six days. You said yourself it doesn't fit. If this guy had her I'm sure her body will turn up soon. Now let's find this psychopath and deal with her later."

"You're making a mistake."

(Original P.O.V.)

I was woken from a restless sleep by the sudden flood of light into my prison. This was the first time I had actually been conscious when he entered the room I now figured to be some sort of storm cellar. He approached me slowly, confidently. He stood looming over me showing no emotion as he threw a bottle of water and a few slices of bread at my feet. I grabbed them clumsily and muttered a quick and sarcastic thank you before devouring it all.

(Rossi P.O.V.)

"Mrs. Macklin, would you mind if I asked you a few more questions?" I asked the mother of the still missing girl.

"Why can't you people just leave us alone?"

"I'm just trying to find your daughter."

"My daughter is dead!" she screamed at me.

"You don't know that." I tried to reason.

"Yes, I do. Now please leave me alone."

She slammed the door in my face and I was left standing on the porch awe-struck. How could a mother believe her own daughter to be dead without proof? How could she just give up on her like that? It was clear now that I was on my own in this aspect of the investigation. I was the only one who believed in the possibility that this girl was still alive. I was her only hope.

(Original P.O.V.)

Another unknown span of time, another lifetime of dread hanging over me waiting to close in. I was almost close to giving up on getting out of here and just letting the dread take me; almost. I don't know how long it was before he came back again but this visit wasn't as pleasant as the last. I began to pray silently as he continued to approach me. All I could see of his face was a smug grin.

He picked me up roughly and sat me in a chair before punching me in the stomach. I gasped in pain but sat up straight. In my time with him I had learned that crying out, or showing pain, only made the beatings worse. He punched me in the jaw and I spit fresh blood onto the dirt floor of the cellar.

(Rossi P.O.V.)

It was a lucky break that led us to Joshua Rider, the man we believed to be the UnSub. It turns out he was a teacher at East Carter High School which all eight of the girls taken attended. It wasn't much of a lead seeing as it was the only high school in the county but they were all taking his class at the time of their disappearance.

We pulled up to his farm house sirens blaring and busted into the house guns drawn. Despite the fact that he had to have heard us coming we were able to take him down easily. The guy was actually laughing as we brought him outside. This was definately our guy. There was just one more loose end.

"Where is Chloe Macklin?" I asked him angrily.

"Who?"

"Where is she?"

"You'll never find her."

(Original P.O.V.)

I sat in the dark, tears streaming down my face as I futily tried to get the blood off of my clothes. I hadn't given up yet but I knew the man was going to kill me, it was only a matter of time now. I prayed that he would end it quickly, painlessly, but I couldn't see that happening. It was then that I heard the sirens. I began screaming and tried to push my way to the stairs of the cellar as I didn't have the strength to stand, even though I knew the door would be bolted.

When I reached the foot of the stairs I scrambled up them as fast as I could not caring about any injuries I may cause myself. I screamed louder as I pounded on the doors praying they would hear me over their own sirens. I screamed myself hoarse, beating the doors so hard that I could feel the warm, sticky blood running down my arms.

The moment before I would have given up I was blinded by the light of a full moon. Through the tears I saw a man looking down at me as he lowered his gun and climbed down to my level embracing me tightly. I held onto him as if my life depended on it, crying into his chest as my legs gave out and I had to fully rely on him to support me.

"Shh." he said softly, running his fingers through my tangled hair. "You're safe now."

Fifteen years later...

I stood outside the glass doors that read "Behavioral Analysis Unit". Inside everyone was pretty much already gone but I walked in anyway, making my way to the office of Supervisory Special Agent and Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. The door was open but I knocked lightly and he lifted his head up to look at me, confusion written on his face.

"Can I help you?" he asked.