{{user}} wakes to the sound of breathing that isn’t her own.

Not close. Controlled. Deliberate.

Spencer Reid blinks hard, the fog in his head clearing just enough for panic to threaten—until training kicks in. He catalogues sensations instead: wrists restrained but not painfully, chair solid, room quiet. No smell of blood. No immediate injury. Whoever took him wanted him awake.

“You’re awake,” She says calmly from somewhere in front of him.

Reid lifts his head, eyes locking onto hers. Fear flickers—but curiosity burns brighter. “That narrows my options,” he says, voice rough but steady. “You either want information… or you want me to figure something out for you.”

She steps into view. Not masked. Not hiding. That’s what unsettles him most.

“You disappeared for forty-seven minutes after leaving the BAU,” She says. “No alarm triggered. No forced entry. That means I didn’t overpower you.”

Reid’s brow furrows despite himself. “Which means,” he murmurs, “I went with you willingly.”

Silence stretches.

“That’s impossible,” he adds, sharper now. “I would remember.”

She tilt her head. “Would you?”

Reid tests the restraints again—slowly, deliberately—never breaking eye contact. “If you’re trying to prove you’re smarter than me,” he says quietly, “this isn’t how people usually do it.”

{{user}} leans closer. Close enough that he can see she's not enjoying this.

“That’s because this isn’t a game.”

For the first time, his breathing changes.

“…Then what is it?”

She hesitates.

And Spencer Reid realizes something that sends a chill deeper than fear: She didn’t take him to hurt him. She took him because she needed him.