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Time	By : cr8zymommy Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 4585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

Chapter List
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Trembles ran up and down his body. It wasn’t from the cold, though. Or, not the cold in the room. A cold that was deep inside of him. He’d been so bad. Punishment was coming, he just knew it. Garcia wasn’t going to be able to protect him from it forever. He wouldn’t let her, anyway. This had to be done. He was a bad boy. He deserved being punished. Plus, if she tried to stop it, Master might hurt her and he couldn’t let that happen. No, oh no.
Her presence was the most soothing thing he could remember in his life. Not that he really remembered anything before Master came. Master was his world now. Master was his life, his family, his everything. There was nothing for him but Master and that room in the house that was his cell. But he could feel vague memories tickling at him, memories of sitting in some strange room with Garcia, looking at screens with pictures on them. He could remember, if he tried hard enough, her boisterous laugh, always able to make everyone—who was everyone?—smile. But nothing more. No other memories. Thinking about those hurt in ways he hadn’t known they could. Instinctively he rebelled against those thoughts. Pain his mind told him. Those are pain.
The boy was glad to see that the pretty lady had gone. Maybe she’d listened to him. Maybe he had saved her. He didn’t want Master to hurt her. No. Master thought it was funny when the boy tried to save them. It never worked.
Except for once. One time. This time, he knew, the pretty lady was still alive. But he hadn’t told these people about her. If he did that, Master might kill them both, him and her. Boy couldn’t let that happen. No, not after he’d worked so hard to save her. He closed his eyes against the memory.
His throat was sore from screaming, but he still forced it to work as best he could. “Take it.” He croaked, holding it out to her. In his hand sat a small paper clip. He’d managed to take it off some papers when Master had brought him upstairs to clean the house.
The pretty lady looked at him, tears in her bruised eyes. She lay before him, her naked body bruised and bleeding. But her eyes were locked onto the Boy. “What?” she whispered. They knew they had to whisper. She’d learned that fast. Master didn’t want anyone talking to Boy.
“Hide it in your hair.” He whispered it so quietly that he wasn’t sure she could hear him. But he knew Master better than her. This was his only chance to do this. Master had actually left the cameras off. Boy could tell because the red light on the camera wasn’t on. Master was upstairs, sleeping, but he could get up at any moment, and he had good hearing. “In the back, in your hair, where he won’t see it. Make it tight. Then, when he hides you, he’ll come back here. I’ll make him mad so he’ll hurry back to punish me. Pull it out, make it straight, use it to pick the locks. Then run. Or he’ll kill you like the other pretty ladies.”
Tears dripped from the pretty lady’s eyes. In the short time she’d been there, those eyes had changed so much. They always did. But Boy could see there was still life there; still some fire. “You use it.” She said. “Get free. We can go together.”
He shook his head. He knew better. This was his life now. This was his hell. He would never leave Master. He deserved this. But not her. She didn’t. She’d done nothing to deserve this. She’d been…kind to him. “Take it.”
A sound came from upstairs, a shifting that Boy knew. Master was waking up. “Hurry, take it!” he hissed.
Hand trembling, the pretty lady reached out and took it. She quickly put it in her hair, making it tight so it would stay. She shook her head, making sure it wouldn’t fall. Master’s footsteps were coming closer now.
“I’ll get help for you.” The pretty lady promised him. “I won’t forget you.”
As Master came down the stairs, he prayed she would forget him. Forget everything about this hell.
Master had never found out. He’d taken the pretty lady away, locking her at another place, because he was afraid that someone was watching him. He was going to wait for things to calm down before he had his fun with her. The boy had done as he’d promised; he’d made Master mad so that he’d hurried back. Made him mad so that he stayed there and didn’t go out to her later on. Until the police had shown up.
His trembles grew and grew. Garcia whispered soothingly to him, rubbing one clear spot on his arm. He wished he could stay like this forever, in her warm arms, with that clean smell of her soap and perfume.
The door opened and the boy couldn’t stop himself from jumping. He tugged away from Garcia, fighting against her hands, forcing himself into the position he was supposed to be in. On his knees, head bowed, hands on his thighs. The tears wanted to start but he held them in as best as he could. His training was branded straight down to the bone; he knew no other way to be.
Garcia tried to move him but a deep voice spoke, one that sounded familiar and yet not. “No, leave him be.” The man said.
Surprise ran through the boy when he found that he didn’t jump from this voice. He almost felt like he should know that voice. But he couldn’t place it. Yet it sent feelings spiraling through him; things he hadn’t felt in…forever. They were so foreign he didn’t know what they were. Deep inside he shied away from those. He didn’t know what they were but their intensity scared him.
There was movement, footsteps coming up on his left. He didn’t move, didn’t lift his eyes. Nothing. Then the footsteps stopped and the person squatted down. He could see the front of his black jeans, straining at the knees. More silence. Yet the boy didn’t tremble. He marveled at himself.
“Hey there.” That deep voice spoke again. It took the boy a moment to realize that the man was speaking to him. He didn’t respond. He wasn’t supposed to be talking. That didn’t stop the man, though. “Is it ok if I talk to you for a minute?” Still, the boy said nothing.
Apparently the man took that as agreement. “Do you remember me, kid?”
The word 'kid' arrowed inside of the boy, tugging at something he thought he should know. But pain came with it, pain in his heart and his mind and he curled back from the thought before it could form and hurt him more. No, no, he didn’t want to think about that.
“That’s ok. It’ll come to you later. You and I, we were best friends at one time. Before your Master took you.”
Before Master? There was no ‘before’, only now. Only hell.
“You and I, we worked together at the FBI in the BAU, the behavioral analysis unit. We’re profilers. It was our job to go and profile criminals and help the police catch them. That’s what these guys want us to do here. They want us to help figure out what happened to all these women.”
No, no, they were going to take him away. He could see the blood on his hands again, making them finally start to tremble.
The man kept talking. “Your Master talked to us. He said there’s another one, one that’s alive. One we can still save. That’s what we want to do. We want to save her, kid. But to do that, he wants one thing first.”
The boy knew what that was. How could he not? He knew his Master. “Me.” The word came out before he realized it. When he did he trembled. He was a bad boy! He’d broken the rules again. Master was right. He needed to be with Master so he could be good. No one else could take care of him like Master did.
A soft gasp from Garcia was the only other sound for a moment. Then the man said “That’s right. He wants to see you, to talk to you. Now, you don’t have to do this. You can say no. But, if you’re ok with this, we’ll let you in there for a few minutes and he’ll tell us where to find her at. Would you like to do it? Would you like to help the pretty lady?”
“Morgan, no!” Garcia cried out. One of the man’s, Morgan’s, hands came across the boy’s vision, held out toward Garcia. Strangely, the boy didn’t flinch. He was lost for a moment in amazement at the feelings inside of him. What on earth was that sensation? So many of them, confusing him.
But one thing was clear in all of this. “Yes.” That was all he had to say. He had to help the pretty lady. Maybe she was free, but maybe she wasn’t. Maybe they could save her.
“Someone will be there with you, kid. We won’t let you go in alone and we won’t let him hurt you, ok? And if you want out of there at any point, you tell us and we’ll get you out, all right?”
He would see Master. Master wanted to see him. Was Master mad at him? Had he found out that he’d talked to the pretty lady? That he’d warned her? God, oh God. Nausea climbed into the boy’s stomach but he held it back. He’d been a bad boy, he’d be punished. It was right.
He’d been so lost in thought that he’d missed Garcia arguing with Morgan. But they stopped now. The boy lifted his head. “Now?” he asked quietly.
A warm face smiled back at him, dark in contrast to his lightness. “That’s right. You sure you’re ready for this?”
He nodded. How could he not?
Garcia was the one to come help him to his feet. She grabbed the clothes from the corner and handed them to him. He understood the message. He had to dress to see Master. So he put the pants on, put the shirt on. He wanted to look to Garcia, felt an almost uncontrollable urge to hold her hand, but he knew that she wasn’t involved in this. She couldn’t be. He wouldn’t let her be hurt.
Instincts that had been bred into him had him looking to the dark skinned man standing in the room. Men were always who were in charge. Big men.
It startled him to see the small smile on the man’s lips. Absently the boy reminded himself that the man was Morgan. Not that he would ever say that out loud, oh no. He didn’t want to do anything to anger this Morgan. Or anyone else. But privately, inside his own mind, he thought that the name suited the muscled man. He would think of him that way from now on—Morgan.
Morgan opened the door of the room and gestured to the boy to follow him out. He did; slowly, hesitantly. His steps were soft and unsure, bare feet padding on the cold floor. Down at the end of the hall a group of people were waiting. Immediately the boy felt the panic start, but then he saw the pretty lady. Emily. She was down there with them. Smiling at him. If she was smiling, it couldn’t be that bad, right? She didn’t look hurt. No bruises, no blood. Master hadn’t got a hold of her yet. Thank God.
“He says he’ll go in.” Morgan said from beside him.
One of them, he looked so stern and serious, nodded. Despite the hardness of his expression, the boy could see something soft in the eyes that looked him over. “Prentiss, why don’t you go in with him? You two dealt well before.”
Almost instant panic hit. The boy stumbled back, his head shaking as his breath tore in and out of his chest. No, no, no! They couldn’t send her in there! No!
Arms wrapped around him. The boy would have fought, but he smelled that scent that told him it was Garcia. It was enough to keep him from thrashing like a wild thing. She pulled him close, bringing his head down to cradle on her shoulder. “Shh, shh, sweet thing. Shh. It’s ok.”
“Can’t…she can’t…” The boy wheezed out his words, praying Garcia would understand, praying she would stop them. They couldn’t send the pretty lady in with Master!
He almost sighed with relief when he heard Garcia whisper “I understand.” Then she was shifting them, keeping him in her arms as she turned to the others. “Emily can’t go in, Sir. He…he talked about the others, called them pretty ladies. Just like he called Emily.”
All of them made the connection quickly. The boy saw it on their faces. Saw the sorrow that Emily had in her eyes. The serious man looked directly at him. “Is there someone you’d like in there with you? One of us needs to go, but I want you comfortable as possible.”
He was being asked what he wanted? Actually being allowed to pick? The biggest part of him thought that it had to be a trick. It just had to. They’d probably let him pick and then force him to go with someone else. Wouldn’t they? He gave another quiver in Garcia’s arms before forcing himself to straighten up. Garcia looked like she trusted these people. Her smile said that she understood his thoughts. “Go ahead, sweetie. I trust them. You can too.”
To everyone’s surprise, the boy nodded before looking them all over and finally turning to stare at Morgan. “You.” He finally whispered. He couldn’t help but cringe for the blow he was sure to come.

It almost shattered Morgan to see that flinch on Reid’s face. More than that, though, was that the kid had picked him. Him. The most muscled of the team; the one they would have all thought would be the most threatening figure to him. Yet Reid was looking at him and there wasn’t fear in his eyes, not for Morgan. It took him a second to realize that the fear was because Reid had spoken and was waiting to be punished for it.
“Come on then, kid. Let’s get this thing over with.” Morgan teased him with a small smile.
He hesitantly reached a hand out to offer assistance. When Reid took a step back, Morgan froze. Then he remembered the tape. Vincent obviously didn’t like people touching what was his. Men, at least. “It’s all right, kid.” He said soothingly. “Just head on over here.”
The two men walked past their team, who were filing into the observation room. Morgan felt his insides twist at the thought of what they were about to do. He understood the logic in this, the benefits that would come, but he hated it. Hated letting Reid anywhere near the bastard that had hurt him like this.
Morgan stepped into the room first, putting Reid behind him. When Vincent looked past him, his face lighting up, it made Morgan’s stomach churn. “Let me make one thing abundantly clear, Vincent.” Morgan used his deadliest voice, cold and hard. “You hurt him in any way, we take him out. You try anything hinky and we take him out.”
“Of course.”
“And you tell us where the girl is.”
“Naturally.”
“I want the location. Now.”
The smile that curved Vincent’s lips was chilling. “So you can take the boy right back out of here, Agent? Tsk, tsk. You think I’m that foolish?” he taunted. Then his eyes drifted beyond Morgan again and over to Reid. “Come, boy.”
There was no hesitation on Reid’s part. He scooted around Morgan before the older man could even think about stopping him and moved directly to Vincent’s side of the table. There he knelt down on his knees, head bowed, hands resting on his pant legs. Vincent chuckled softly. “Good boy.”
“Thank you, Master.”
A rattle of the chains had Morgan stepping forward and Reid cowering. But Vincent just scowled down at Reid. “Do. Not. Speak.” He ordered. The only sign of life that Reid gave was a small tremble. Otherwise, he stayed perfectly still.
“A location, Vincent.” Morgan drew his attention back over to him.
Vincent’s smile was back, just lightly tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes stayed on Reid. “I see you gave the boy clothes. He knows the rules on this. I don’t permit my property to wear clothing. But, I suppose I understand it this time. I can be lenient. See, I can be merciful. Isn’t that right, boy? Tell the agent here how merciful I can be.”
“You are kind and generous, Master.” Reid replied immediately. “You are too merciful with me.”
“Yes.” Vincent stretched a hand out, his chains just long enough to allow him to touch Reid’s hair. “I have been soft. We’ll have to remedy that, boy. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Master.”
Taking another step forward, Morgan fought not to snatch Reid away from the monster. “Hands off, Vincent.” He snarled. “Now, the location.”
“So impatient, agent. I simply want to speak with the boy. As for the hair, well, I must admit his hair has always fascinated me. So soft and long. Silky, like a woman’s hair. He doesn’t mind, do you, boy?”
“No, Master.”
“See?” Grinning, Vincent deliberately kept up his stroking of Reid’s hair. “Now, boy, I want to know the truth. Now. Did you tell them about the women?”
Reid’s body went slightly tighter. To the untrained eye he might have been still, but Morgan saw the tension in that small frame. “Yes, Master.”
“Did you tell them how many there were?”
“Yes, Master.”
“You know what to do, boy. I can’t right now.”
“Yes, Master.”
Morgan yanked the empty chair away from the table, placing his hands palm down and bracing so that he could lean forward. “Enough games, Vincent. You got what you wanted. You only asked to see him. Now, tell us where she is!”
“So rude, Agent. Demanding things, yelling at me. Why, you haven’t even introduced yourself. Such horrible manners.” Vincent shook his head mockingly. “You know my name. Why don’t you tell me yours?”
“Location first.”
“Fine.” Sighing, Vincent stroked Reid’s hair once more. “A shack on the back end of the lot at 2671 Wiltshire drive. She’s locked in there. She may even still be alive, if you’re lucky. Now, Agent, do I at least get to know the pleasure of who I’m speaking with?”
Something seemed odd about the question, but Morgan saw no need not to tell him. What harm could it do? “It’s Agent Morgan.”
Everything about Vincent went taunt. “Morgan?” He hissed out. The hand in Reid’s hair suddenly went tight. “Agent Morgan?”
Shit. Though he didn’t know what it was, Morgan knew something was going to happen. He darted forward, but not in enough time. Vincent used the fist in Reid’s hair to slam his head into the table. The small man gave a soft cry. In an instant, Morgan had Reid up in his arms. Vincent screamed, trying to lunge in his chains and the room filled with cops.
The boy stared at his Master, terror gripping his insides. He let Morgan pull him back, watching his Master. “Don’t you fucking touch him! Get your God damn hands off of him!” Vincent shrieked. One of the cops jostled the boy, breaking him out of Morgan’s grip, almost knocking him to the ground.
Warm, strong arms closed around him, pulling him back. Laughter echoed through the room. It chilled him straight down to his soul. But, as he was pulled from the room inside of Morgan’s arms, the boy finally realized what the new sensation was inside of him. What this man with the strong arms made him feel.
Safe.
- 5
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- 7
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