Chapter Text
The BAU jet hummed quietly beneath them, the team was on their way home from a particularly grueling case in Chicago. Most of them drifted into silence, lost in thought or half sleep.
But not Spencer Reid.
He sat alone, fingers tracing absently over the cover of the book he had in his lap, he wasn't reading it any more, he hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes. He let his eyes flicker over to the window trying to let the view and predictable hum of the jet settle him. A headache had been building behind his eyes for hours now, but something was off, it didn't feel like a regular headache , it felt like pressure, something else entirely.
Something... Wrong.
Hotch's voice cut through his dazed mind. "Are you alright Reid?"
Spencer blinked away his haze, a little startled by the question. "Yeah, I'm..." cutting himself off from the normal 'I'm fine' he would give knowing that the older profiler could tell that it was a lie. He didn't have the energy to come up with a good lie, even with how fast his brain works, he had to resist the urge to sigh and went with a half truth, not wanting to appear weak in front of his superior. "I'm not sure"
Hotch looked at him for a moment, probably deciding whether or not to push. He eventually nodded. "Get some rest. We'll debrief in the morning."
Nodding Spencer turned back to the window. He didn't mention the tremor in his hands, or the quiet whispering of voices on the edge of his shields, that seemed to be calling his name but he didn't recognize them. He continued to stare out the window, his mind filled with dread telling him. 'Something bad is going to happen.' He just couldn't figure out what.
Upstate New York- Xavier's school for gifted youngsters
Logan walked out onto the balcony of his room that he shared with his lovers, at the moment just being Remy. With practiced hands he pulled out and lit a cigar leaning on the metal railing. Taking a deep breath, scenting the air to see if everything is as it should be, he took a long drag of the cigar.
A few moments later he let out a low frustrated sound, which could only be described as a growl. "Something's off." He muttered in his usual gruff tone.
"Y' say dat every week, Cher " Remy pointed out as he slipped into his usual trench coat moving to join him on the balcony, lighting up a cigarette.
"This time it's different," Logan didn't look up at him, his eyes were distant like he was trying to reach someone internally. "It's Summers.”
Not understanding why this was such a concern to him, Remy raised an eyebrow at him looking for clarification, "Scott? not new for h'."
Growling again Logan turned jaw tight looking at him in his black and red eyes, it being dark enough for Remy to forgo his shades, "No. It's the other one. The one known ones supposed ta know about."
At the mention of him Remy became a little more serious, his almost ever present smirk fading at what he is meaning. "Spencer?"
Logan nodded, turning back to face the balcony. "Haven't heard a damn thing from him in a week." He paused long enough to take another drag of his cigar. "And I ain't talking texts, I mean nothing. No mental ping. No nothing, he's just ... gone."
Logan made his way back inside having discarded his cigar. Remy's body tensed he knew no matter how far away he was Spencer could always reach out to them with his telepathy. He barely made it a day without reaching out to one of them, even if he didn't say anything, just to let them know he's ok. Remy hadn't thought anything of it, he usually checks in with one of them and he thought he was checking in with Logan as his head is easier to reach, given Remy's charge can act as a mental shield alongside his shields for his empathy. He's angry with himself now he knows he hadn't been reaching Logan either. He charged the rest of his cigarette, flicking it away with a little POP. Walking back to Logan he practically whispered and shouted. "Merde. Y' thin' someone found out?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. For the rest of the night they just sat with each other, until they eventually drifted into sleep.
Quantico, Virginia- Three Days later
It started with a red envelope. No return address. No postmark. Just BAU written is block letters across the front. It was left in Garcia's mail box in her office.
JJ was the one to find it first when she went to say hi to Garcia when she got into work. "Garcia? What is this?" holding it up to see it better curiously.
"I'm not sure, my fine furry friend. Let me see." Spinning in her chair back to her desk, with that infectious smile of hers. She opens the letter and not a moment later of seeing the content her smile vanishes, eyes watering. "Ow my God! No!" She cried, dropping the contents of the letter on the ground baking away.
JJ reacted instantly. "Garcia. What's wrong?" Only she was not being heard by her muttering of 'please no's' and the frantic tears falling from her eyes. She moved to where Garcia was a moment ago reaching for the content of the letter. Straining up she looked at it and echoed Gracias reaction. "Ow my god!" Startled, she put her hand over her mouth as she attempted to process what she was seeing.
It was a single photo.
Spencer, unconscious, blooded and beaten, chained to a wall. His shirt torn open revealing an integrated symbol scorched into his chest, still glowing slightly in the way you could tell it was fresh. And printed in black ink across the bottom:
'One less freak in your ranks. Stay out of this.’