#@criminallyoddsocks

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free.

Chapter One

Spencer Reid collapsed on the hotel room bed, for once not caring to mill over the folders of case files in his satchel. He pulled his credentials out of his pocket, eyeing the young man in the photograph. He looked so young, carefree. It really hadn't been that long ago, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Reinstatement to the Bureau still felt like a dream as much as Mexico had felt like a nightmare. His brain was determined to deny both realities. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to dispel the memories of the last hotel room he'd been in. In some ways he was desperate to remember, so desperate in fact that he'd been on his way to another hypnotherapy session when Rossi had intercepted him. It was a blessing. Rossi (the whole team) had stressed that point over and over again. Once he remembered, he would never forget and some bones were best left buried. So he'd spent his time with his mom at her new facility, taking J.J.'s kids to the zoo (that hadn't gone over so well), basically anything to keep his mind off of - them. Any of them. Lindsey (or whatever her name was), Wilkins, especially Cat. Wilkins and Lindsey may have been the perpetrators but they never would have done anything without her - her and that poor damned to Hell child she was caring.

The child, the poor kid was going to be raised by drug cartels and mobsters. The kid was never going to have a chance, not even a snow ball's chance in Hell of becoming a decent person. J.J. had told him, Rossi, everyone, even Morgan had told him to drop it, but he hadn't. If only the poor kid could grow up away from...this. Never hear his name, or hers...never come after him for revenge on her behest. Such was his (rational) fear, that he had inquired as to what would happen to the baby. Maybe he could find a couple in the Bureau who wanted to adopt. Someone who would know about the case for security but with no emotional connection...but that had been a bust. Mothers in prison had very few rights, but choosing who had custody of the baby was one of them.

He sighed as he picked through the case files, determined to focus on a problem he could actually potentially solve, but even that didn't give his stressed brain any relief. Two Jane Dos, mutilated, raped and decomposed. Heads and hands chopped off so no ID, wounds were post-mortem and the mutilation was so crude that they couldn't be certain that it wasn't caused by animals. Problem with that theory was the public dump site. Why mutilate a body beyond recognition, then put it on display? The decomposition was so severe that there wasn't even an obvious time of death. Well the team certainly had their work cut out for them. What a way to end a six month leave? A knock on the door gave him a brief reprieve from the depression staring him in the face.

"Who is it?" Never again would he simply open a hotel room door.

"Detective Garrison, Detroit PD." He opened the door, expecting to be given a new set of case files and a team just behind him, but the only person there was another local and they did not look happy at all.

"Can I help you?"

"Spencer Reid?"

"Yes."

"Put your hands where I can see them."

Were those handcuffs in his hand? "I don't -" Such was his shock, that Reid didn't even bother to struggle as his hands were wrenched behind his back.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, you are under arrest!"

*** SIX HUNDRED MILES AWAY ***

Catherine Adams smiled, a victorious smile that was not often to be seen in the frozen hell of FCI Waseca's solitary confinement cells, but today was special.

IT IS DONE

Such a simple, yet profound message. She sat her aching back on her cold hard cot, marveling at the bold red print on the crisp white paper. She would have to find some way to have this 'framed'. "You hear that, Maeve?" She stroked her bulging belly. "We've got Daddy right where he belongs."

Her twisted smile grew as she remembered her last meeting with Spency. 'Watch me.' Those were the last words he'd spoken to her before attempting to walk out of their lives forever. He may have won the battles, but she was about to win the war.

[drspencerweed]

hi everyone! I finally got my shit together and decided to make a google form to actually organize who's on my taglist.

here's the link

I'll tag everyone on my current taglist below, but after this I'm only going to tag people that submit on the form. this list is 18+ ONLY as I consistently post nsfw content.

this link will be added to my masterlist as well as at the end of any fic I post from here on out.

@drreidsconverse​ @criminallyoddsocks​ @aperrywilliams​ @nymeria-targaryen​ @reniescarlett​ @rusticreid​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto

[cherrywineandmagic]

Wings / Feel Your Pain

A/N: So I know I said I would keep wings light and not serious but hahaha who was I kidding. Look at who I am. So here’s a short lil 462 word fic to get you in your feels. I know it’s short but I’ve been super busy so this is just a little filler in the meanwhile!

Also if you had asked to be in the tag list and weren’t tagged, please let me know and I’ll add you! I’m afraid I’m terrible of keeping track of that 

Spencer could feel his heart breaking into pieces that afternoon. His heart felt sunken, and the tears behind his eyes were pooling quickly. In a matter of seconds they were streaming down his face, his choked sobs filling the empty silence of his apartment. He was alone, and he’d never felt the feeling as strongly as he did then.

"Spence?" came a soft voice. He recognized it, looking up to come face to face with Y/N. Her face was riddled with concern, her face absent from her usual amused smile. Her wings were out, something he had only seen once before, but the fact wasn't enough to distract from his current torment.

"My mom," he choked, his hands wiping away at his cheeks. His tears kept pouring, the streaks from his face never gone despite his constant wiping. "She wasn't chosen for the trial."

Y/N nodded in understanding. She had known instantly the second she sensed his despair, having tuned into his thoughts quickly. He had been so positive just days before. He had gone on for hours about how this would be good for his mother, about how she would finally have a fighting chance. Now the hope clung to had been taken from him and he’d been left a shell of the man he had been just the day before.

"Can you-," he sobbed, his breath leaving him as he tried to form a question. Y/N’s own throat closed as she knew what he would ask. "Can you help her? Please?"

Y/N's heart broke at his begging, the desperation behind it clear. She wished she could.

"Spence, I can't..." she replied, her voice just above a whisper. Spencer recognized the genuine sadness behind her eyes as if she shared his pain.

He simply nodded, accepting the fact that his angel couldn't help the person dearest to him. He had hoped, but figured it wouldn't be possible. There would be no sickness, no death, if asking for help from your guardian angel fixed everything.

Y/N took a seat next to him on his worn out sofa, her hand stopping to rest softly on his shoulder. He instantly leaned into her, curling into her side the same way a child would their mother when they cried. His head laid on her chest, his tears staining the fabric of her shirt.

Y/N gently rubbed his back as her wings extended and wrapped around him, shielding him from the weight of the world. She channeled her energy through them, the bright white feathers illuminating softly as they washed away his pain at the moment. They sat there, Y/N's wing wrapped around him like a blanket until he fell asleep, exhausted but soothed by the comfort of her.

Tag List: @smurfielovesyouu @hayleesteashoppe @tillielynn16 @willthecrystalgemflowerchild @itsyeet @sharpshootingsamurai @youre-my-grxvity @criminallyoddsocks @punk-rock-princess-626 @spencerxreiders @ultrarebelheart @chestinfect-me

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

So.......MGG has tweets that deserve inspirational posters.....

So I made one....I am unashamed. 

tagging some peeps: @criminal-minds-fanfiction @criminallyoddsocks @bookofreid @dontshootmespence @litandexciting @tortillachildalyssa @reidoneshots @reid-my-fortune

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free.

Chapter Six - July 27, 2017

"Well you got caught, so someone must have suspected."

"There's a reason I don't trust people. First accomplice I've worked with and he gives it all away."

"Who was that?" This might be easier than she ever thought possible.

"Penelope!" Emily's warning hissed in her ear. They had to tread carefully and Garcia was already throwing caution to the wind.

"That case isn't up for discussion." Right. They only had permission from her lawyer to discuss closed cases, murders to which she had already plead guilty.

"So which case would you like to discuss?" She placed Cassie's photo just slightly off the center as Emily had indicated, by no means hidden but not so central as to draw suspicious attention

Lindsey was positively giddy as she surveyed the line up of brutal photos, picking one out and handing it to Penelope. "This one." It seemed almost as if she was picking out a treat - like a kid in a candy store. Penelope swallowed a lump in her throat, determined not vomit.

Let her talk, Tara had encouraged. Only ask the questions if she stops talking. Lindsey ran her mouth off about the murders in the U.S. to which she had plead guilty, but those cases weren't the reason for her visit.

"Now, I understand, Miss Vaughn-" How she hated treating the snake with any kind of respect "- that you've had dealings with the FBI in the past. How would you say your previous experience with law enforcement affected your decisions?" Keep to open-ended questions - questions that can't be answered with one word.

"You mean when I was kidnapped?"

"Yes, the FBI was called in to look for you and your friend - Katie. Katie Owens?" Garcia pretended to double-check the name in her files, as if she hadn't been there. As if she hadn't listened to all of Katie's blogs about her friend Lindsey and how even at that young age she found Lindsey's dad to be creepy.

"The FBI didn't DO anything!"

Was that what she thought of them? "According to reports, an agent realized you were at the school and -" Don't mention Reid's name. Don't! Tara and Emily had been insistent on that point. If she tried to influence Lindsey's words, coerce a confession, then the tape may be inadmissible. This tape could either be considered trash, or worth its weight in gold to the defense.

"And did nothing! He didn't try to save me! He tried to save - him!"

"Him who?"

"Ryan Phillips!" she spat the name out like sour milk. "He took me! Ryan took me and killed Kate! And what does Agent Reid do? I was the the one threatened and he - he acted like Ryan was the victim. Like we were the bad guys! That's when I knew cops couldn't be trusted. You want justice, you take it for yourself. Just like my dad did. My dad was just protecting me. Self defense, no more no less. That's not a crime."

Penelope felt a chill go down her spine. That wasn't what Reid's report said. He described the stand-off as Ryan on the floor, the knife out of his reach, defenseless. Lindsey had been safe behind her father, no immediate threat to her life. "So you don't believe your father could have aided the agent in bringing Philips in peacefully?"

Lindsey hesitated before shaking her head emphatically. "No. No, Ryan was too dangerous. He would have fought his way out. My father did Agent Reid a favor."

A favor? Reid certainly hadn't seen it that way. According to her Chocolate Thunder, Reid had been shaking in the car the whole way back to the station. But that wasn't in a report.

"They didn't care!" Gone were Lindsey's gloating smirk and proud eyes. Is this a trick? A play for sympathy?

No wonder she hadn't trusted the cops, no wonder she'd agreed to the plot when Reid's name came back into her life. "Of course he cared. He went in without back up to save you. Lindsey, sweetheart, you've got this all wrong." Empathy was key number two that Emily had insisted she fake, but she wasn't faking. The poor girl. Was that why she had been so keen on getting revenge for Cat? She wanted Reid to know how it felt to have the tables turned?

"Don't call me that! Cat's the only -"

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Nothing."

She was close, so close.

"Drop it! Change the subject," Emily's order cam in loud and clear. If she got suspicious about questions pertaining to Cat, she might call off the whole meeting.

"Okay, okay, I didn't mean to upset you. Let's talk instead about Mexico. You plead guilty to the murder of Maria Diaz. What can you tell me about her?"

"Not much to tell, really. She didn't pay her debts."

"That's it? That's why you killed her? Why not hold her hostage and get your money from her family?" Oh how she hated thinking like unsubs.

"Oh please," she scoffed. "like I want to draw attention. A bullet to the back of the head is much more effective."

"Walk me through it. What happened?"

"What do you think happened?" The smirk was back.

"Well according to her file she left her hotel at 8 pm on November 23, 2016. She was reported missing the next day when she didn't meet her family. After that, the trail went cold."

"Because she met me! She wanted drugs for her customers, but she didn't have any money. I had loaned her a small amount of heroin in the past, but she wanted more drugs this time and without paying? What did she think would happen?"

"You had loaned her drugs in the past? She was from Corpus Christie. How did you find each other in Mexico?"

"There are these things called cell phones."

"Right, of course. What I meant was, did you plan to meet her ahead of time?"

"No. She called me that evening, asked if I could meet her the next morning in La Paloma -"

"La Paloma, is that -?"

"That's in Texas. I told her not to worry - that I was in Mexico just south of the border. I could meet her at the Fortinas Motel in Matomoros. I shot her an hour later."

"Don't mention anything else about Matomoros!" Emily's order warned. "Tell her you'll be back."

"Well it's been very nice to meet you, Lindsey. I wish I could stay, but my time here is short. I look forward to meeting with you again."

"As do I." She gave a polite nod in acknowledgement as Garcia gathered up her equipment and left the room.

*********

Emily Prentiss had seen her days of holding another woman's hair as she vomited, but that was usually after a fun night of partying. This was - not.

Garcia looked up from the trash can, wide-eyed and pale.. "I hate psychos."

"Don't we all?"

"How do -? Never mind." She cut the question off. It was something none of them had ever been able to satisfactorily explain to her. How could they talk to these people and look at those photos all day long?

"Are you feeling better?" Emily kept a comforting hand on her back, supporting her as they finished the walk across the prison parking lot.

Did she feel better? A little less wobbly, but her mind? Her heart? "Maybe, I guess. I don't need to throw up any more." Probably because there was nothing else left.

Emily handed the keys to Tara and climbed in the back seat with Penelope. Profiling could wait. "I'm proud of you."

"For what? I got nothing." All of that anxiety and nausea and what had she accomplished?

"That's not true." The objection came from the driver's seat. "You placed Lindsey in Matamoros."

"That's nothing new!"

"She named Reid on her own, no hint or anything. So now the prosecution will know that she remembers him from all those years ago - and you place Lindsey at the hotel where Nadie was killed on a day that Reid was in Mexico. Plus, when you go through Maria Diaz phone records, you can get Lindsey's number to cross-reference. That's a lot!"

"It's not enough! It's not good enough!" The tears were back with a vengeance. "How can you say I got 'a lot'. Reid's still -"

"Garcia?" Emily nudged the head resting on her shoulder. "Did you think you'd get a confession? Oh, Sweetie. You thought we'd be able to bring him home today? Didn't you?"

Penelope didn't even look up from Emily's shoulder. "Stupid, I know but - it worked last time!"

"Penelope, today was a fishing expedition and you've given us a lot to work with."

"Why? Why did you send me? I'm not a profiler! I hate thinking like a profiler." There was a reason, a really good reason why she turned off her webcam whenever the conversations on the jet turned to icky things.

"You know why. No other team is going to believe she's behind this, and your're the only one on the team she doesn't know."

"Do I have to go back in there? For reals?" She didn't want to go back in there, ever! Prisons were the most depressing Hell hole on the planet.

I hope not." She gave Garcia another hug. "Go, go rest."

"Rest? It's only 2 pm." She looked out the window to a familiar sight: home.

"We've got a new case in Indiana. We'll call you when we get there. In the the meantime, go rest. Take care of yourself and we'll call you in a few hours."

As Emily watched her walk safely through the gate, her mind was brought back to their conversation night before Reid's release from Millburn, when they had burned the midnight oil in a desperate attempt to put together a paper trail worthy of exoneration before anything...else happened

Reid dies, I quit. She had assured her that would never happen, not really taking into consideration that they really had no control over it. No matter how many rules they bent or strings they pulled.

Emily, I'm exhausted and it is breaking me. This whole year has been an emotional roller coaster and its like every time something happens, there's a piece of my soul that is chipped away and if one more thing goes down - I don't think there's going to be anything left.

She was going to have to tread with extreme caution or this time, she would loose Reid and Garcia from the team, forever.

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free.

Chapter Eight - September 5, 2017 

Once upon a time going to court had been simply a line on a job description: show up, watch the defense team try to lie their way out and cheer for the prosecution. Before this year, the worst that had ever happened to Spencer Reid in a courtroom was to fall asleep. Morgan had drawn fake tattoos on his arm to teach him a lesson. Now? Well Court was still a snooze fest, but instead of tattoo drawings, he 'woke up' to this nightmare.

Was that a pre-arranged signal to kill my mother? Reid couldn't tear his eyes away from his own face on the courtroom TV screen. He looked almost...deranged. Tell me the truth!

I am! Cat's angry voice shouted back. You want to know the truth? Your mother is an Alzheimer's ridden moron who is getting dumber by the day and if she dies it's your fault!

He put his head in his hands. He didn't need to see himself throw the table across the room or to see himself advancing on Cat, pinning her to the wall. His hands around her throat.

I'm going to kill you. His own soft voice echoed in the empty courtroom. The tape froze and Reid finally looked up, facing the disgust in the eyes of the prosecutor. He kept eye contact, determined not to cower like a kicked dog.

The prosecutor finally turned his piercing gaze towards the bench. "This, Your Honor, is the video clip that Miss Duncan is arguing to withhold from the trial. Solid proof of the defendant's uncontrollable rage, a part of his character which the jury deserves to see."

"Your Honor, my client kept himself composed for nearly an hour while his mother was held hostage. It was not until he thought Miss Adams had ordered the murder of his mother that he reacted in such an uncharacteristically violent manner. I would ask that the Court deem the tape inadmissible after my client says 'I'm done playing games. Good-bye, Cat'. The defense also asks the Court to order a paternity test for the unborn child of Catherine Adams."

Speaking of nightmares, Cat hadn't stopped looking at him...coyly from the Witness Stand. She probably would have tried something more overt if it hadn't been for the warning in the angry eyes of her attorney.

"Objection! This claim is utterly ridiculous as is the fact that my client was transferred hundreds of miles in her present condition to perpetuate this...fantasy."

"Fantasy?" Reid couldn't help himself. "Is that what you call -?"

"Dr. Reid, it is your lawyer's job to speak on your behalf. Speak out of turn again and you'll be held in contempt."

Fiona's hand on his shoulder stopped him from rising and approaching the bench.

"Your Honor, the defense has even said that the defendant did not visit my client in prison prior to the pregnancy test results. Furthermore, the notion that a paternity test could lead to acquittal is..."

"Preposterous, I believe is the word my client used when the claim was first made on video." Fiona turned to him, barely moving her lips. "Stop it!"

"What's the matter, Spency? I thought you you wanted little Maeve to be yours." Cat was smiling...sweetly.

Reid forced himself to look away from Cat, his fists clenched under the table. Don't react, don't react. Half of his brain was itching to react, contempt charge be damned. What were they going to do? Throw him in a double jail cell? He was already in solitary, but the rational part of his brain knew better than to take Cat's bait. He had to hold on to what little credibility was left to him.

"Your Honor, it is Miss Adams who made the claim not my client. When her claim is proven to be true it will show that someone else had access to my client's semen. This would prove ample opportunity for another person to commit this crime. Withholding such evidence would be to violate my client's constitutional right to a fair trial."

Reid didn't envy the judge. He looked like a migraine patient. "With regards to Video Exhibit B, it will be entirely inadmissible."

That had to be the first time there were three calls of protest from the occupied tables: the defense, the prosecution and the witness' attorney.

Fiona couldn't believe it. She had lost more than one night of sleep over this damned tape. On the one hand, Cat mentions sending Lindsey to Mexico to dose Reid and it becomes apparent that she had inside information. On the other hand, there was -well, that. To strike it all out, would be a loss to both sides of the case.

The judge held his hand up, swiftly silencing the courtroom. Even a pin drop could have been heard with a loud echo. "It is my understanding that this tape will not in any way further the search for truth and may even cause further confusion amongst the jury. On the one hand, you have Miss Adams claiming to have somehow impregnated herself with the defendant's baby. On the other, you have the defendant claiming paternity belongs to a deceased guard who is therefore unavailable for cross-examination - which, of course, defies the defense's current claim. Furthermore, the defendant's words and actions are called into question due to the safety concern for his mother. I will, however, allow Miss Adams to be presented as a witness for the defense and the paternity test will be ordered by the Court to be submitted within 24 hours of the baby's birth. Furthermore, with the identification of the first victim confirmed, this case will move into federal jurisdiction. Court is dismissed."

*****************

Would this day never end? Back at the County Jail, Spencer went through the motions, walking alongside Timmons in a daze. His brain may have been misfiring, but he had NOT missed the slightly panicked look in Fiona's wide eyes as he'd been led out of the courtroom again. He'd have to stop looking back. He always hoped for some encouraging body language but all he'd ever gotten was gawking stares that were burned into his retinas.

"What's going on?" he asked, as soon as the door clanged shut behind them. "I'm not going to FCI Milan? Please say no. I can't go there. I can't."

Fiona's color seemed to have seeped out of her pores. "I specifically put in a recommendation against FCI Milan and for protective custody."

"I can't go to Milan, I can't!" He wouldn't make it out of there alive.

"Spencer, are you listening? I said that I -"

"Put in the recommendation? Yeah, I heard. We both know what the BOP's opinion -"

"I know you're worried, but we can't do anything else about that. Right now, though, I need your attention. We have more pressing matters to discuss. Take a seat."

He did, but that didn't stop him from tapping his feet and drumming his fingers. He had way too much anxiety to just sit still. What could be more urgent than impending death threats?

Fiona eyed the nervous ticks. She would have to address that, such behavior would send alarm bells to a jury but she'd have no chance of training that behaviour out of him today. "We've got a problem."

Well apparently this was going to be a 'state the obvious meeting'. "The case is federal, of course we have a problem." A posthumous acquittal meant almost nothing to him. "Shaw is going to have my head on a silver platter."

"That's not the problem. Well, turning federal is, but for a different reason. State and Federal laws differ widely."

She was stalling, this couldn't be good. "Get to the point."

"The point, Spencer," she paused momentarily. "The federal prosecutor is offering a new plea bargain. You don't need to make a decision today -"

"I'm not interested."

"Spencer, be reasonable!"

"I am! I'm NOT guilty. That's my plea, and that's final!" He had some very colorful descriptions for what she could do with that damned paper, but kept his lips pursed in a thin angry line. She was after all, just trying to help him. "What makes you think I'd consider it for a second? I didn't take any of the others. I didn't even take 2-5 years."

"As your attorney, it is my job to make sure you have the tools to make the right choices and you can't know the right one, until you know what those choices are!"

Point well made. He put out his hand, if only to give it fake consideration. He read the paper in two seconds. This had to be a joke. He gave her a raised eyebrow in response unable to articulate...anything intelligible.

"I know it's a lot of time, Spencer."

He gaped at her like a fish out of water until he found his voice - high pitched and terrified. "What kind of a deal is this?" He looked at the paper again, hoping his eyes had been playing tricks on him. 20 to life?

"It's the kind a defendant is given...to avoid the death penalty."

"The what?"

"Michigan doesn't have the death penalty, but the federal courts do. Since this is your third accusation plus post mortem mutilation - they could allege special circumstances."

"You think they will? You think they're going to try to execute me?" Flash backs to Sarah Jean Dawes assaulted his brain. Could he really meet a fate such as hers? To walk into a death chamber knowing he'd done nothing to deserve it?

"Spencer, sit down."

When had he stood?

Fiona held his shaking hands in her own."We can't know for certain yet - it would have to be approved by the Attorney General's office, but we do have to consider it which means there will also be additional considerations to make for jury selection."

How she could be thinking so far ahead was...beyond his comprehension. She did have a point, though. It would be nice to have a jury full of Gideon's type. He had been certain of her innocence before anyone else had even considered it.

"I'm sorry, I -" He was a stuttering, rambling mess of a man who would probably collapse as soon as he stood.

"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for, Spencer." Fiona folded her hands in her lap, resuming a professional distance. This case...his case had tugged at her heart more than any other but she could not allow emotions to cloud her judgement. Someone had to keep a clear head and that someone was certainly not Spencer right now. "Promise me you'll consider it."

Could he? Could he actually plead guilty? "Is it an exploding offer? Like the others?"

"No, there won't be a federal arraignment. You've already been denied bail. You have until jury selection begins so that gives you -" she took the papers back, flipping to the second page - "until November 20th, that's 10 weeks away. Once a federal judge is assigned, I'll ask for a postponement if needed. When is the baby due, again?"

*"December 15."

"That's cutting it close. I'll try to get it postponed until the new year, no one wants to be in Court during the holidays anyway. That'll be time enough for test result to be finalized." Fiona turned around, ready to discuss case strategy only to find Reid with his head in his hands. "Alright, that's enough for now." His head wasn't in the proper order to discuss case strategies. "You go get some rest. If you can. Guard."

********

Luke Alvez slammed a cardboard box on the metal table, startling the shackled occupant in the opposing seat.

Shaw grinned and laughed. A rare, humorless laugh. "Come now, Agent Alvez. You're trying to scare me and it won't work."

Alvez smiled back at him, mirroring his body language with the exception that his confidence wasn't faked and he didn't look like a shadow of his former self. Despite his arrogance, Alvez couldn't help but notice the bruises decorating Shaw's face. "Have something to be scared about, Shaw?"

"Not at all."

Alvez took a seat. Digging into the box, he pulled out a file folder only to return it and pull out one twice as thick. "So, how has Milan been treating you?"

"I get by."

"Hmm. I see you've met the Brahtva brothers."

"My lawyer said you had a deal for me? Or are you playing me for the fool? Because if this is merely a bait and switch -"

"No trick. You can help us out a lot. We need information."

"I'm no snitch. I'm done playing your games. Guard!"

"Not even for your son?"

Shaw stopped, mid step, turning sharply to Alvez. He motioned the guard back, resuming his seat. "Say what?" he asked as the door closed again. "You threatening my boy?"

"Not at all. Quite the contrary. You give me what I want and I will have your transport ready."

"Back to Millburn?" The disbelief in his wide eyes was almost palpable.

"To the East Coast, yes. Millburn, no. The warden wouldn't want you reopening old drug channels. But you would be near your son again, near enough get your weekly visits back."

"Why? You took him away, why would you be so willing to give him back?"

"The thing is Shaw, we have a suspect on our hands, and you're going to help us take him down." He pulled a photo from the top of his large file folder.

The picture was of a very familiar man on a surveillance camera. Shaw sat back down, his eyes wide. "Joel Matthews?"

To the untrained eye, the surprise seemed genuine but Alvez wasn't untrained. He had him, and he knew it. "Know him?"

"Yeah, we worked together at the FBI office in Detroit." Denying such a well documented fact would have been extreme folly. "But I don't know what he's been up to lately. Haven't seen him in months." Alvez could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"We know he visited you in Millburn quite often. He's the only one of your Bureau friends from Detroit to do so, in fact."

"See who's got the better friends. You didn't come once to see Reid. He told me so, after our 'deal'."

Alvez ignored the slight, choosing instead to pull two photos out of his case file. The first one was of a young brunette woman holding a red and white cooler in hand. "Have you ever seen her?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Her name is Lindsey Vaughn. She's a hit woman for the drug cartels who has pled guilty to 11 murders."

"If she's plead guilty, why do you need my help?"

"Because she's got an accomplice who is causing us a lot of trouble."

"I don't know -" Shaw's voice trailed off, his eyes wide and Alvez knew he had him. It was a photo of Joel Matthews now holding the portable red cooler in hand, standing right next to Lindsey Vaughn.

"This was taken at the Brownsville boarder crossing on February 15, 4 pm and before you say it's coicidence, we have a record of him calling her cell phone 10 minutes before this was taken. So either you tell me everything you know about Joel Matthews and get your son back, or you stay silent and get charged as an accomplice in which case, you can forget about parole in 13 years."

"You can't charge me! I didn't do anything -"

"Withholding information is called 'interfering with a criminal investigation' and protecting a criminal is called being an accomplice. So, yes, I could. He visited you in Millburn prison the very next day and I think you were all too...eager to hear what he'd been up to."

Shaw looked up from the from, suspicion and doubt clouding his eyes, even as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Why? You took my son away from me. What could you want that badly that you'd be willing to give him back?"

"This about justice, nothing more or less."

"No. If that was true, you'd be questioning Matthews yourself." His face lit up in a maniacal, almost gleeful smile. "Reid's in trouble again...and you're trying to get me out of here before he gets transferred in."

Alvez said nothing. He handed him a notebook and pen. "It's time for you to decide where your loyalties lay. Do you want to stay in here with Reid and Brahtva brothers forever? Or would your rather keep your release date and reclaim your weekly visits with your son? The choice is yours."

*************

Spencer Reid tried to get comfortable, leaning back in his seat on the prisoner transport flight. It was true, what Matt Simmons had said aboard the jet during his 'extradition transport' that had broken every rule in the book. Once you had the best, it was hard to go back. What he wouldn't give to stretch out on the sofa with a blanket. This plane was like a cattle car compared to the jet.

A series of cat calls and whistles broke his train of thought. The female inmates were boarding, some of them were treating the aisle like a catwalk as if the various prison uniforms and handcuffs were the latest fashion. He shook his head as one of them sat next to him. "Ma'am." Better be polite or she could make this trip even worse than he anticipated. Never doubt that things could get worse. That was the one thing this year had taught him. Rock bottom had a creepy basement.

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free

Chapter Seven - July 27 & 30, 2017

Two hours and a hot shower later and Penelope was back to her usual self...almost. This could not be this hard. Once they'd had one piece of evidence for Nadie's murder, they'd been able to unravel the entire case in a single night! She sighed, practically slamming her mug of peppermint tea down on the table. She chewed on her nails - a nervous habit, courtesy of Emily. Of course that clue had been provided by Reid. Just like the clue in the Hankel case. Why was it that Reid always had to solve his own cases? She was a fellow genius, she could solve this. She could do it, damn it!

Think, Think, Think. She drummed her fingers against the keyboard, biting her lip. She had Lindsey's cell phone number, but it was a burner. She was sure she could crack this case. She had always managed to dive headfirst into cyberspace, and she always found the treasure chest motherload, but to do that she needed a roadmap and for that she needed...parameters. Maybe a fresh set of eyes would help.

She pulled her glittery cell phone out of her purse again, finger hoovering over Derek's number. She so badly wanted to call her Chocolate Thunder and pick his brain, but Boy Wonder apparently didn't want him to be called. Last time, Emily had emphasized the importance of Reid maintaining control over the one part of his life that was still in his control. He hadn't wanted to talk to Morgan for whatever crazy ego reason his brain had conjured up. She stared at Morgan's name on the screen, debating. To call, or not to call.

"Hey, Baby Girl." What the?

Penelope spun on her heels so fast she almost tumbled over her desk chair...there was her hero, magically appearing on her webcam frame. Derek Morgan, lifting his baby boy up to the web cam.

"Hi, Hank!"

"So, a little bird named Emily told me you had a bad day."

Visitation.

The one word could send an inmate through a myriad of emotions: guilt, longing, happiness, despair. There were days of longing for it, and days of dreading it. There were even days where an inmate might prefer to stay in his cell, rather than to have all of his hopes and dreams dangled in front of him - like carrot on a stick. But when a friend - who KNOWS he isn't on your visitation list - shows up after a multi-hour trip, well it would be rude NOT to come.

Upon entering the jail visitation room, Spencer Reid had to do a double-take: booth seating with no partitions? There was a single handcuff dangling by a long chain mounted to the wall. Still, he thought as the guard changed the cuffs, this wasn't too bad. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before a very familiar face came into view. He didn't have his usual exuberance, but his strained smile was still a welcome sight.

"Morgan!" He had to cross his shackled legs under the table to stop himself from attempting to stand for a greeting.

"Hey, there, kid." Morgan took the seat opposing him as he'd obviously been instructed. "How are you holding up?"

"Pretty good, it's been better since Rossi sent a surprise."

"Do tell." It was a pleasant surprise just to see a smile on Reid's face...hopefully he wouldn't have to wipe it off.

"Rossi sent me his latest manuscript for editing. Told me to write down 'everything' I know -"

Rossi must have lost his mind, or Reid's mental state was worse than he was letting on. "Let me guess you've finished two notebooks full of 'notes'."

Reid was grinning from ear to ear. "Yup, sounds about right." He didn't need to tell Morgan that he'd been up to the small hours of the morning adding notes to the margins when he'd run out of pages. It had felt so good to get his brain back in gear. "He said I'll get a new chapter every week."

Rossi was letting Reid write his next book? Rossi never let anyone near his manuscripts with a 10 foot pole, never mind what his publisher would think about that. "Reid - why? I told you when I left that if you needed any help all you would have to do is ask. And you obviously need it."

Reid opened his mouth to deny it, but snapped his jaw shut just as quickly. "Do you have pictures of my littlest godson?"

"Do I have -?"Morgan smiled broadly. He pulled a stack out of his jacket pocket. "Boy, do I have pictures for you!"

Morgan allowed the obvious attempt at deflection, keeping an eye on his watch timer while Reid poured over the photos. It would do the kid's mind some good to have actual pleasant conversation - and nothing did that better than babies.

"Morgan, he is the cutest little thing."

"Cuter even than Henry or Michael?" Reid's look of mock outrage would have been a perfect photo. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

Reid turned his attention to the next photo. "Wait is he-?"

"Yup, climbing all over the furniture and scaring Savannah half - Reid? Reid, what is it?"

Reid stared at the smiling baby, proud of having climbed up on the chair all by himself. He looked so happy, such carefree innocence. Innocence that could be snuffed out like a single candle lighting up the room. He put the photo down, his eyes fixed on Morgan. "You need to leave."

"Reid, I came all the way from Chicago to see you and i still have 53 minutes left and I'm not leaving a second sooner. Why the change of mind?"

"It's not a change of mind, Morgan. There's a reason I didn't write to you in Millburn and there's a reason I didn't write to you this time." He held the picture up. "There's also a reason you left the Bureau."

"Hank? What about him?"

"J.J. and I went to interview Cat to get my mom back when I was released from Millburn and - she threatened him."

"Cat threatened Hank? Reid, she wouldn't. I mean, she got her vices but she's never hurt kids. You said so yourself."

"She was trying to figure out who else she could hurt to get to me and he came up. Mind you, I told her his name is Bobby -"

"-but she still knew about him."

"Exactly. If anything happened - I didn't mention it before because Lindsey was caught that night but under the circumstances.-

"Then I have double the reason to help out. You let me worry about my family. You have enough on your plate right now. Anyway, this isn't totally a social call."

"What do you mean?"

"What happened is you owe Garcia big time, brother. She did a ViCap interview with Lindsey."

There were many possibilities flying through Spencer Reid's slightly dulled brain, but that was not one of them."She what? Garcia interviewed Lindsey in prison?" Reid's eyes went wide. "Garcia doesn't even look at crime scene photos if she can avoid it. Why would she -?"

"Because she cares about you. She wants you home safe and she will do anything she can to prove you're innocent."

"How, though, IA banned the team -"

"From the evidence in the case -"

"-and the suspects."

"But Cruz approved the interview since she isn't officially a suspect."

"She did all of that for me?" he whispered in awe. He knew she would leave no cyber stone un-turned, but to go to a prison? She'd been in tears when she'd come back from visiting Greg Baylor - and that had been for her own peace of mind.

"And I think she's onto something." He picked up the stack of photos and plucked two of them out from the center."Do you know either of these people?" One man and one woman. Reid picked up the one of a tall man with cropped black hair and a small mustache. "Johnny. I met him...at a club meeting."

Morgan's face was frozen half way between a cheer and a groan. "Club meeting?" Their old nickname for 'Narcotics Anonymous'. 10 years on and the topic was still taboo. Damn, again. "How long have you known him?"

"He first came about three years ago. He'd had a relapse after his girlfriend left him and he'd been reassigned to Quantico. Why? You don't think -?"

"I do think."

"It can't -" Johnny couldn't be the mole. He just couldn't be.

"Reid, I don't know why you have so much faith in him, but listen to me. It IS him! It makes even MORE sense now! He transferred from the Detroit office and he worked with Shaw before his arrest."

"He wouldn't."

"He works at the BOP. He visited Shaw at Millburn three days before your transfer. He's the one who put the PC block on your file, he's also the one who arranged for them all - Durerson, Frazer, AND CAT - to be transferred out on the same flight. It's him, and his name isn't 'Johnny', it's Joel Matthews."

Reid stared at the picture, trying to wrap his mind around the thought, but it just didn't compute. Reid had confided to him, things that even the team had never known. As much as the team cared, there were things Johnny - Joel - knew that had never even crossed into conversation with the team.

"Reid, it makes sense." Or as much sense as anything did these days.

"No, it doesn't. If he wanted to destroy my career for - something, he could have -" Could have turned Reid in for his past drug use.

"He'd have to incriminate himself on drug charges, Reid, he couldn't do that." Mutually Assured Destruction. There was a reason it was called 'MAD'. "I don't know why he chose that extreme route, Reid, but he did. He's the only suspect who fits the -"

"-criteria," Reid scoffed. "Like me? If you look at my record now, I look like a -"

"DON'T SAY IT." Like a serial killer.

"How did you do it? How did you find him?"

"Garcia got Lindsey's cell phone number. He called her hours after your arrest and his phone pinged at the Brownsville crossing."

"Is it all behavioral evidence or do you have anything forensic?" Anything that could top the evidence against him?

"Not yet, but team is digging deep. We'll find it, whatever it is."

There it was again, empty promises.

"So what do we do, now?"

At least he had stopped fighting it. "We keeping digging until we find enough dirt to bury him under. Now for the good news." He picked up the photo of the woman, looking apprehensive. "Recognize her?"

"Can't say that I do."

"Well, meet the first victim."

"You got an ID? How? There wasn't enough DNA to make a full match."

"True, but the final autopsy report noted a third kidney and therefore a -" He waved an imaginary baton in Reid's direction.

"A kidney transplant patient."

"Bingo! All Garcia had to do was cross reference missing women with the age and approximate height with prescriptions for Mycophe -something."

"Mycophenolic acid? It's a common immunosuppresent for renal patients."

"And that genius brain is back. That's correct...and there was only ONE that fit all criteria."

"So let me guess, they're going to contact the family for a mitochondrial DNA test which doesn't require as much sample as an exact match."

"Crossing all fingers. Hopefully the ID can be officially made. Julia Kelting, here, is going to be your 'get out of jail free' card -"

Reid froze at the name.

"Reid? Reid, hello. Earth to Reid?"

Reid's eyes darted around the visitation room, it was too crowded, too risky. "I don't - think." He was stuttering and white as a sheet. "I think you should talk to -"

"Reid, don't tell me to call your lawyer! I'm trying to help you." He wasn't going to doubt Reid knew something, his behavior change was textbook for a...a guilty man. "Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not."

"You just changed your story. You said you didn't know her, now you're acting like you've seen a ghost. What's going on? What are you not telling me?"

"It's true, I never met her. She was a PhD student working with Dr. Ramos for her degree in Neuroscience."

"That's a lot of info on someone you've never met before." Almost verbatim info that Garcia had given him. Please tell me you read her books. Morgan wasn't sure he could stomach any more incriminating evidence. Reid was biting his lips, his eyes darting between Morgan and the photo. "Go on." There was no doubt that Reid was withholding something.

"She was supposed to meet Dr. Ramos and I for a meeting at my mom's facility in Houston. She never showed up. Dr. Ramos suspected foul play but there was no evidence. After that, I met her in Mexico. I used my personal passport to attract less attention at the border. I was trying to keep her safe. For all the good that did."

"When was this?"

"October 17, 3 pm. When and where did she go missing?"

Morgan closed his eyes in defeat. Reid could not have given him a worse answer. "She left campus at 2 on the 17th, it's less than 10 miles from your mom."

Reid looked away, slumped in defeat. "So my alibi is that I was meeting the OTHER woman I was accused of killing. The jury will love that." Just what he needed, another nail in his coffin.

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free. 

Chapter 5 - July 28, 2017 

Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen! Damn it! Spencer Reid finally put down the pillow he'd been banging against his cell wall. He had never wanted so much to punch something -anything. He rubbed the tears that were threatening to spill out of his eyes. Crying wasn't going to make anything better. He'd managed not to cry in Millburn for goodness sake, but that was because he knew he would be marked as easy prey if he showed any weakness, but now? Now there was nothing but white stone walls and bed sheets. No one to see, no one to judge. The pounding of the gavel and those damned words reverberated inside his skull, refusing him any peace. Bail denied.

He should not have been surprised. Fiona had warned him that he no longer had a clean record, that two arrests in one year would be counted against him. But he'd been framed! His protests - via Fiona - had fallen on deaf ears. Cat may have confessed but Lindsey was the one in Mexico, and Lindsey's mouth was sealed tighter than Fort Knox. Add to the fact that Lindsey had plead guilty to 11 murders, 9 of which were in Texas and the last 2 were of US citizens in Mexico- but Nadie wasn't among them. Nadie's murder was with a knife and she was fighting it. She was already in for life which meant she was simply toying with him. There was no other explanation.

He threw the pillow again. What on earth had he ever done to Lindsey? He'd saved her, for goodness sake. He had entered that godforsaken bathroom to save her without back-up. He had put his life on the line for her - and this was his gratitude? No, 'thank you, Dr. Reid for trying to save my life!' No all he'd gotten was the 'if looks could kill' stare - and this.

He laid down on his bunk, hoping a nap would help quell his turbulent emotions. Was he being stupid by pleading not guilty? 25-years to life? He couldn't live like this for 25 years! That 10-15 years offer he'd ripped up in front of Fiona was now looking very tempting - especially Garrison's "generous" offer of allowing him to pick his own prison. But that was gone now, gone with his arraignment. He picked up the case files again, only to throw them back down as the tears clouded his vision. It was hopeless.

Penelope Garcia was a splash of color, the light among all the darkness, the positive spirit that lifted everyone out of their depressions. That was how she had survived losing her parents, leaving Shane. How she had survived being shot by a man she thought had honestly liked her. James Clarke Battle had messed with her head, taken away her sense of safety and security, but everything paled in comparison to the mess Boy Wonder had been dragged in to.

She stood at the doorway, Emily's and Tara's calming voices in the earpiece reassuring her.

After taking 10 deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart, she stepped into the interrogation room. She had never felt so out of place in her life, despite the fact that she had never before blended in so well in her black skirt and jacket. The only part of her perky spirit that could be seen was in her ruby red blouse and silver heart-shaped necklace which she twisted between her painted fingernails.

She placed the small tripod stand and digital recorder on the table, fingering the files tucked under her arms. 'You've done this before, you've presented hundreds of cases.' The problem was she'd never done so before the killer herself. She's chained to the chair, Garcia reassured herself. She had confirmed so from the observation window. She couldn't go anywhere or do...anything.

"Hello. My name is Agent Garcia. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me for the FBI's Vicap Studies."

The devil that was named Lindsey Vaughn nodded ever so slightly, her petite form and small smile belying the danger that lurked behind those cold hard eyes.

She picked up the files, giving a half way smile to the victim-turned-criminal. "I must say, Miss Vaughn, I am quite impressed. You've been quite the busy bee, we don't often see women killers who manage to evade law enforcement for so long." Flatter her, Emily had encouraged. Flattery was the key.

Lindsey scoffed, her head held high. "I didn't evade anyone! That would imply that they were after me. No one suspected a THING." Like a snake prowling among the weeds, she could take down even the most formidable prey.

At that moment, she wished more than anything that she was safe in her lair, that it was Reid doing this interviews. He LOVED doing ViCap interviews, he'd even volunteered for them a couple of times, But Reid couldn't do this one, because of her! In that moment, she knew. She knew could do this, she could nail this snake if it meant getting Reid back. To get her Dr. Genius back, she could do anything.

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free.

Chapter Four - a week since Reid’s arrest

Rossi Manor was a place of elegance and sophistication, one did not eat take-out pizza in David Rossi's kitchen. It simply did not happen, until today. Gone were the parties of excellent food and better company, today the team was scattered on various couches and chairs with half empty pizza boxes and coffee cups. Penelope and J.J. were even eating ice cream straight from the carton, but even that amount of caffeine and sugar couldn't break through the brain fog.

"Please tell me one of my furry friends has a clue what's going on?" Garcia pleaded, her eyes on Michael who was playing with Rossi's dog.

"And why did Emily summon us all here? Where is she anyway?"

"Meeting with the Director," Rossi answered, not looking up from his laptop.

"Wait, what? Why would she need -?"

"Someone got wind that I used the Dr/Dr trick at Millburn, plus Reid's prisoner transport from Mexico wasn't exactly by the book, so we're under investigation for misconduct." Tara sipped her coffee and grimaced. It seemed like such a good idea at the time.

"Who told -?" A buzzing from Garcia's phone and the question died on her lips, quickly replaced with a smile. "Yes I accept the charges. Hey, Reid, how's my Dr. Genius doing?"

Reid's voice filled the room on speaker phone. "Wow, I get a witty Garcia greeting? Even from in here?"

"Anything to get a smile on your face, Boy Wonder. So what can I do you for? How are you?"

"Oh, I've been better."

"Reid, that doesn't answer my question."

"Fiona said you're in D.C.? Why didn't you come to visit?"

"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. The morning after your arrest, Emily got a call from the Director. We were ordered home right away or we'd face charges of interfering with an investigation."

"So, you'll come see me on your way home from your next West Coast case, right?" The hope in his voice was almost tangible and it made Penelope's heart break.

"I'm sorry, we aren't allowed. Our visitation application was denied." Silence. Except for the raspy breathing on the other end of the line.

"Reid? Is there anyone else you want to see? Anyone I could call for you?"

"No." He sounded close to tears. "Actually, no, no they're...never mind."

"Reid, who?"

"It's too far, to...never mind."

"Here, let me," Rossi took the phone from Garcia. "Reid, Rossi here, hang in there, okay, Kid. Now that we have a mailing address for you, went sent you some surprises last night."

"Surprises? What kind of surprises?"

"Well that would spoil the surprise wouldn't it? Something to keep that - what did you call it, Garcia? - that gorgeous grey matter working at top notch. And don't use all of that commissary money we sent on phone calls. You call us collect, okay?"

"Commissary money? What could I buy of interest in here?"

"I don't know, ask for the list, I'm sure you could find something to make you more comfortable there. You are in PC, right?"

"Yeah, I'm in Protective Custody."

"You don't sound so thrilled. Isn't that what you wanted last time?"

"Wanted? Who wants to be locked up 23 hours a day? My hour a day rotates between "yard time" in an outdoor cage, 2 showers per week, and..."

"-visitation and phone time, like now."

"Right, like now."

"Speaking of phone time, how much do you have left?"

"17 minutes."

"Okay, back to business. Do you have any idea who Cat could be working with now that Lindsey is in prison? Anyone with a reason to hurt you?"

"No, I mean, yes, but they are in too. Alvez told me Shaw is in Milan which is about 50 miles away….Oh God no!"

"Reid, you are in the state system, Shaw is in Federal. He's not there, you're okay."

"But it's not… it's not that far away what if-?"

"Sounds like you're onto something, Kid, tell me!"

"What if Shaw was working with -? I don't know, but what if he had someone transport bodies across the state line. If they are ID-ed I could -" End up back in with Shaw at FCI Milan! Suddenly finding the ID sounded like just as much a death sentence. "But the rape kit - that still wouldn't -"

"One thing at a time, Kid. We'll look into Shaw. Anyone else?"

"Well he worked with Frazer, Duerson and Malcom in Millburn, but it couldn't be -"

"Why not? Tell me, even if it sounds crazy we can still ask around."

"But if you can't work the case -?"

"We have access to the records, Reid, just not the tangible evidence -"

"Or the suspect," he finished bitterly.

"Unfortunately, yes, but we can still help and we will. So what about them?"

"Okay, J.J. remember when Henry wanted me to take him to the zoo for a late birthday?"

"Yes, I remember. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent that he wanted his Uncle Spence to teach him all about the animals. He had a great time, thank you."

"You remember how that day ended?"

"You mean with Alvez taking over, because…" because Reid being traumatized by seeing so many innocent animals locked up had shown her just how much prison had affected him. "He asked me why I was so upset and could the team help?"

"Who asked you? Henry?" Henry didn't even know Reid had been in prison.

"No, Alvez. I thought...I thought it would happen again, that one of them would have someone kill me. That's why I was so eager to move my mom out of harm's way -"

"You mean out of your apartment and to her new facility in Maryland." And here they all thought Reid had finally listened to reason.

"I thought I was being paranoid, but Lindsey got that apartment down the hall and - I was scared, paranoid maybe."

"It's not paranoia if someone's out to get you." You're not crazy. The unspoken message seemed to get across because his voice sounded steadier. "Anyway, he told me how Shaw was moved after he failed to keep his end of the deal."

"The deal to keep you safe?"

"Exactly, I asked him if he could put in some requests for me." His voice dropped, no doubt so no one else would hear. No inmate in prison wanted to hear that someone had the power to move them. Prison may be prison all the same, but like in real estate: location was key. "Malcom has family in southern CA so he's in Lompoc. He was nice to me most of the time, until...until the last day. Dureson restrained me so he went to Atwater, also in CA. But they're 260 miles apart, so -"

"So none of the guards has dual access" - like Wilkins did - "continue."

"Frazier was the one who actually did...that." He'd seen enough severed carotid wounds in his life time, but the image of it actually happening was burned into his retinas. "He went to Florence, in Colorado. But Cat, she, um, she's in Waseca."

"Wasca, isn't that Minnesota?"

"Surrounded by 15 miles of nothing, yes, that's it."

"Anything else at all? What about Lindsey?"

"That didn't go through. She's still in Mount Pleasant."

"Wait, with Cat?"

"That's why I was in a hurry to move her. I didn't want them collaborating. But it's okay, Cat was the mastermind and she's gone now."

There was a collective hush around the room, even a pin drop could have been heard. Reid taking Cat away from Lindsey had been the primary motivation, but Reid hadn't known that. After his mother had been found, nothing else had mattered to him at all. "Except that she's done it again."

"But how?"

How indeed?

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free.

Chapter Three - July 22,2017

Everyone had to sleep. It was fundamental to a person's health - both physical AND mental, even the strongest minds could not live on adrenaline alone. Spencer Reid's brain had met its match, he realized as he woke to a face full of...papers. Papers strewn over every square inch of his cell. It was only after his first sighting of hope that he'd finally allowed himself the luxury of sleep for the first time in...had it really been days? With no sunlight and no work assignment,the days had blended together. He never thought for one second that he would miss the laundry room of Milburn. But he did - talking to Delgado and Malcom had taken the edge off of his boredom. Now? Now he had nothing, except perhaps a small ray of hope.

The more he cleared his mind and studied the photos objectively, he realized what he should have realized in a heartbeat. The victims had been found off of a popular hiking trail. How had they not been found for months? Because they weren't there for months. Someone must have planted them, dug them up and planted them where they WOULD certainly be found. It couldn't have been him - of course not - he had been in DC when the bodies were planted!

He dropped his head into his arms as the ray of hope disappeared, like a rock slide covering a tunnel entrance. That didn't mean anything. The prosecution would assume he had an accomplice, besides that small alibi wouldn't trump Cat's hand of aces.

His only hope was that these women had been killed while he was in Milburn - no one could deny him that alibi - but he knew he wouldn't be so lucky. Cat wouldn't let her accomplices make such a stupid mistake. It was hopeless. He threw his ball point pen across the cell, wishing he had a plain notebook. If only he could write enough notes on this case to fill a novel, but the only papers he had were official forms which required his signature. Forms he had no intention of signing - some of which he had still resisted reading.

The mail slot opened again.

"I told you, I'm not signing anything!" Timmons had been sent twice already to collect the forms that Reid hadn't even spared a glance at. He was still too busy trying to crack the case to bother.

"Visitation time."

Finally. The only word that could get Reid to willingly slide his hands through the slot for handcuffs.

Timmons led him out and down to the visitation room, but instead of a team member, it was. "Fiona" He breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed.

"Spencer." She replied curtly, offering him a seat. She didn't look pleased to see him, but that wasn't a surprise since he'd jokingly promised to never call her again. People simply did not get framed for murder twice. He had a better chance of being struck by lightening twice: so about 1 in a billion.

"Detective Garrison said you wouldn't be by until the weekend. Its..."

"Saturday."

"Oh. Right. So..."

"What happened?"

"I didn't do it."

"Spencer!"

"I swear, Fiona, I didn't! Don't you believe me?" Was she really not going to take his case? Of course she would, she wouldn't fly out to Michigan just to say 'hi' "You have to believe me. What did the team tell you?" Did they actually think...why hadn't they visited? He hadn't let himself dwell on that question.

"Nothing. Emily stopped by my office..."

"Wait...they aren't here?" He sank down into his chair, his head in his hands. They weren't coming?

"Speencer..." a small voice whistled in his ear.

He looked up at Fiona's sad smile. "There's still this thing you keep forgetting about called 'attorney/client confidentiality'. I told Emily I needed to speak to you first. Most of my clients would frown upon me openly discussing their case with the Feds."

"But I'm not -" he protested.

"I know, You're right. You aren't like most of them. Most of my clients don't get framed once, let alone twice. So what happened?"

"I don't know!"

"Spencer, Emily told me you and the rest of the team were coming here to consult on a case and you were arrested as the prime suspect upon arrival. So you've seen the case file, which means you know something. What's your take on it?"

"The bodies were found near a well-worn hiking trail. Which begs the question why they weren't found sooner when they've obviously been dead for some time. That points to planted evidence, but the coroner didn't have an exact time of death." He took a deep breath to steady his voice. "So we can't provide an alibi. The key is getting an ID, but with that level of mutilation..." And there began the cycle. The point his brain always came back to. Without an ID, the physical evidence alone would convict him. Cat was going to win. "She's going to win," he sighed.

"Who is going to win?"

"Cat!" He bit the name out, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"What does your cat have anything...?"

He laughed. The closest thing to a real laugh he'd had in a long time. "You really don't know anything here, do you?"

Fiona smiled, slightly insulted but she seemed to have lifted Spencer spirits, somehow. "Do me a favor, Spencer. Enlighten me."

"Well after I got out of Millburn -"

"You mean after your team went to the Judge behind my back -"

"Right."

Fiona didn't seem too mad, amused maybe, but only because the tactic had worked. She wasn't going to be too upset about exculpatory evidence, but that didn't mean such misconduct would be permitted again.

"I um, J.J. and I went to confront Cat - Catherine Adams - about my mother's abduction."

Fiona sat back in her chair and listened in rapt attention to a story that was stranger than fiction.

*******

Spencer looked up from his lap to give her a grim look of resignation. "Well, there you have it."

"So, wait...this happened in Mexico! And you thought I didn't need to know about it! Didn't I say that if you withheld information from me, it would come back to bite you in the ass?"

"I was drugged. I don't remember. Honestly, I don't." He was starting to sound like a broken record.

"You don't remember being drugged, sexually molested and having your semen bagged?"

He shook his head, his face in his hands.

"Spencer that's..." She didn't even know what to make of it.

"Preposterous. I know, that's exactly what I told HER! But..." He looked up from the table and held up the one paper that had plagued his mind both day and night for the last three days.

"But somehow someone got access to your semen and planted it INSIDE the victims, so that the rape kit would be matched to you. Is there any other way? Did you ever give a sample to a sperm bank? A fertility clinic? Does anyone else have access to -?"

"No! So how do we prove -?"

"We can't. Not right now."

"We need more victims." He had been hoping that wasn't the case. He hated wishing ill on anyone.

"Not necessarily. If you never visited Cat in prison prior to the pregnancy test, then a paternity test could PROVE that someone else had the opportunity to commit this crime. That baby is your only hope of getting out of here - ever."

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free.

Chapter Two - July 18, 2017

Spencer Reid paced his small solitary jail cell with all the pent up energy of a caged tiger. What in the Hell? He raised his hand to slam it against the stone wall but managed to stop himself. There was no better way to get a bad rep with the guards than unprovoked self-mutilation. How many times had he seen a fellow inmate taken off to psych at Milburn for such a thing? He instead wrung his fingers together so tightly that he may well have dislocated his knuckles. Damn. The team would be here soon. The arrest may have happened at 10 pm, but it had to be morning by now. Surely they would notice when he didn’t meet them by the SUV. Garcia would figure it out, and by her style it would take approximately 30 seconds to unravel the mystery that he’d spent the last what 9 hours contemplating. It didn’t make any sense. The last time Cat and Lindsey had done a brilliant frame up job. He hated to compliment psychopaths, but it really was brilliant. Lindsey practically had to hand the answers to the team on a silver platter before anyone had a clue. But this? The team had kept him on a tight leash for fear of retaliation. It had been mostly paranoia with them in prison, but another accomplice trying to dish out the same twisted justice was still a possibility so every precaution had been taken. In Mexico he’d been at the crime scene, got his blood at the scene and had been caught fleeing - acting the Agent in a place that he KNEW he didn’t have jurisdiction. Quite a stupid move for such a genius, but desperate - and drugged - people did stupid things. Clearly he was no exception there. But this time, he hadn’t been in a compromising situation. What on earth could possibly warrant this arrest?

He decided to count his lucky stars that he’d been put into a segregation cell. At least he didn’t have to sleep with one eye open, but his night of sleep hadn’t been that much better. Jetlag had caught up to him and he’d finally gotten a full three hours of sleep before being awaked to a tray of - slop. To some it may have passed as oatmeal, but he wouldn’t be so generous in his description. He’d managed to choke it down, before count began. If there were only three thing certain in this miserable life, it was: death, taxes and count.

The metal “mail slot” to his cell opened. He knew what that cue meant. He slipped his hands through the opening to allow for the dreaded handcuffs. Did they really need to be that tight? “This way,” the Guard -Timmons- instructed. “Follow me.”

“Do I get my phone call now?” They passed a row of pay phones but he didn’t have an account set up yet. Or did he? He hated being in the dark.

“All in good time”, the guard - Timmons - assured him.

Whatever that meant. “And what time would that be?” Relax, Reid, the man’s just doing his job.

“As soon as you’re done here.” The visitation room door was opened and the cuffs removed. With the dreaded click the lock was sealed and Reid turned around, half expecting to see a team member with information. His luck, however, seemed to have run out. The face that greeted him was familiar. Unwelcome, but familiar. “Detective Garrison.”

“Dr. Reid.” The greeting was curt and professional but that smile was, unnerving. “Take a seat.” He indicated the metal chair at the other end of the table. “Have any questions for me, before we get started?”

“When do I get my phone call?”

“If you’re asking for your attorney -”

“I am.”

“I’ve already spoken to Miss Duncan on your behalf. She is in court with a client but will be out here this weekend.”

That meant they’d already looked at his prison file, which meant they knew he was an agent - an agent with a record. Fiona had mentioned that getting records expunged was a lengthy process which had only just begun. That was beginning to look like a pipe dream. “We’re done here.”

“Sit. Down!”

“I’m not going to talk without my lawyer.” It was true, what Hotch had always said about repeat offenders. Those who had been to jail before knew the drill and rarely talked without an attorney. Theoretically, he fit that profile too now. That thought was more than a little unnerving.

“Well then don’t talk. Just listen. I, for one, am required to inform you of your charges and I intend to do that.”

Reluctantly, he obeyed. The man did have a point.

“Dr. Reid, you have been charged on two counts of murder and rape.”

“I didn’t do it.” Fiona wouldn’t be mad at him for saying that much, would she?

“You don’t sound all that surprised.”

Technically, that wasn’t a question, and they both knew it.

“I’ve been framed before. But obviously, you knew that.”

“What is obvious to me, is that you walked away from the Ramos charge in Mexico, but you won’t walk out this time. Come now, Dr. Reid, your reputation, both good and bad proceed you. So what I’m going to do is something that I never do for an inmate. I’m going to show you a little respect.”

“Respect?” Reid stared at the man in disbelief. An officer showing respect to an inmate. Well, that would be a first.

“Yes.” He drummed his fingers against two case file folders which had been rubberbanded together with a white envelope on top. He pushed the stack toward Reid, with a small smile. He looked quite pleased with himself. “This is my idea of respect. You’re a smart man, Dr. Reid. Act like it.”

Reid frowned, trying to wrap his head around this madness. He was getting used to being confused, and he didn’t like it. “What makes you so confident that I did this?”

The detective didn’t answer and on a professional level, he understood. No officer or agent liked it when the questions were turned on them. He took a deep breath and looked the detective in the eye, hoping to convey the intended emotions. Anxiety could be interpreted as guilt very easily. “You didn’t wait to charge me. No holding cell, no questions. Nothing. What makes you that confident that I’m your unsub? Man, I just got OUT of prison. Why on earth would I want to risk going back? It makes no sense at all!”

“I don’t know why, Dr. Reid, and unlike you, I’m not going to sit at my desk playing guessing games. Guard!”

Timmons walked back in the room. “Escort Inmate Reid back to his cell, and make sure he is given these files to browse at his leisure. Have a good day, Dr. Reid.” He tipped his hat in what could only be describe as a mock salute and exited the room.

*****

Reid laid back on his bunk, twirling the card in his hand. Detective Garrison had been “nice” enough to leave a calling card so he could make his phone call at his ‘earliest convenience’ which probably wouldn’t be until he was let out for his one hour a day. That left him plenty of time to browse the files. His curiosity was driving him nuts. On the one hand, he wanted to see the so-called evidence to put his mind at ease. On the other hand, if the new accomplices were just as smart, the evidence might not have that calming effect. Oh, come now, Spencer, he chided himself. What could they possibly have on you? Well, apparently, something really incriminating to warrant skipping a proper interrogation tactic, and what a strange tactic this was too. He certainly had never been tempted to hand over a file to an unsub to ‘browse at leisure’.

Oh to Hell with it. He picked plucked the white envelope out from the rubberbands. Maybe a letter from the team?

Dear Dr. Reid,

You may not remember me from the arsonist case a few years ago, but I remember you. Your help was very appreciated and I have the greatest respect for your team which is why it grieves me to see you here. But we must do as we must, which is to follow the evidence. Honestly, I did not think you would come, but then again the bodies were unidentified so you must have thought you would get away with it - that you could frame someone else for your murder, inject yourself into the investigation as Agent Hotchner would say.-

Wait just one -! Reid put the bizarre letter down and ripped open the files against his better judgement. Inject himself into the investigation? - but that would have to mean -

It was a trick. Unbelieveable, sneaky bastards. Sh*t!

Of course, it was a state case. They couldn’t arrest him outside of their jurisdiction and what better way to get him to come -? He fisted the papers in his hands, the same papers he had been looking over in his hotel room. Did he really profile as - ? Think rationally, Reid, logic! Logic is the key here. It almost made sense in that he would know how to take extreme forensic countermeasures and post mortem mutilation meant - well, that. It was more about the countermeasures than any torture. That’s what one would expect of a cop-turned-killer. But that still didn’t answer - He picked up the letter again.

Enclosed is the primary evidence against you. The only form in these files that was NOT sent to Quantico. After you have reviewed the case in its entirety, I’m sure you will want to sign the very generous plea offer. I will return to pick up the completed paperwork.

Regards, Detective Garrison

Reid gulped as he fingered the second page, his hand shaking. How bad could it be? Just do it, it’s planted evidence. Whatever it is, the team will figure it out. You have nothing to hide...nothing to fear. You’re innocent. You know that, this paper won’t change anything.

Before he could change his mind, he unfolded the paper and read it in a heartbeat,

He shook his head in denial - no. It couldn’t. It was impossible, preposterous even and yet - I’m screwed. In that one millisecond, he knew the awful truth.

With the stakes at their highest, Cat had just played a hand of aces...and he had nothing.