Title: The Doctor's Patient

Summary: The BAU is called to a small town in the Catskills where five men have been discovered, dead, embalmed and sewn already with a folder containing medical records kept by the UnSub. The UnSub, called The Doctor, is unable to find what is wrong with his medical theories until he discovers a factor that could alter the results of his procedures dramatically. And that leads him to Spencer Reid. With the youngest member of the team in the UnSub's hands, the BAU members fight against time to find him before he becomes like the other victims- and uncover what this mad doctor is trying to discern.

Rating: Currently T, subject to change at writer's discretion.

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.

Chapter One: Touch of Madness

'There is no great genius without a touch of madness.' –Seneca

He was disappointed.

Oh yes, he was very disappointed.

His theory was wrong, his patient was dead and he had gotten no further along in his research than he had been before. Damn it. He threw his papers, neatly organized and meticulously written in small, loopy writing, onto his desk and stood, rubbing his chin in thought. What to do now. Well, he would have to get rid of the body. That was for sure.

Casting a glance to the deceased man, he sighed heavily. His efforts and ideas and thoroughly studied hypothesis were proven wrong once more! Where was he messing up? Why was everything coming back negative? He looked over his notes, his eyes scanning the cramped words quickly and efficiently. Where were the holes? Where was it flawed?

Maybe it wasn't with him, but with his patients? He had been careful to select patients with similar histories and health. He had even made sure that their looks and personalities were parallel to each other! He couldn't risk the variable that would have been created if they were too different!- but what if they were too similar? Maybe he needed to branch out. Not too much, but somewhere.

Scooping down to his filing cabinet, he pulled out his documentation on every patient, studying their intake forms and weighing which change would be the most beneficial. Not the looks- looks weren't important enough to make that his variable. Personalities? No, too important.

As his clear blue eyes worked down the pages, studied all the patients at once, he came across a piece of information, identical on all the intake forms:

History of Mental Illness in Family: None

Was that it? Did he need someone who's family tree grew strong and heavy in lunacy? Where the seeds were already planted and all he had to do were tend to them until they grew into what he desired, what he needed for his theories to work?

It was worth a shot.

Deciding that this was what needed to be altered, he stood from his chair and walked to the dead man, eyes open wide and jaw slack, a dry, pink tongue peeking out from the cracked lips. With a heavy sigh through his nose, the man reached up and tenderly closed the eyes of the cadaver. Reaching down underneath the stretcher the body was lying on, bound to the railings, he found a small, silver box on one of the installed shelves that ran the length of the device so as to provide convenient storage for medical supplies. He removed the box and placed it on top of the stretcher, opening its lid to reveal the contents. Needles of various sizes and eyes, and spools of multiple, flesh colored thread.

After a moment of thought and experimentation in which he held different spools up against the man's cheeks, he finally decided on a long and thin needle, matched with a pale, peach color of thread. He threaded the needle adeptly with quick, well-practiced hands and began to sew the mouth shut, the thread virtually invisible.

He picked the appropriate color.

When the dead man was sewed with mortician-prestige and his cheeks tinted with a pink rouge, he grabbed the hands, settling them on his chest, overlapping the other. Taking a step back, the man admired his work for a moment. But that moment ended the second he saw that everything was in order and the only thing left to do was to inform others of his theories and experiments which had, inevitably, failed.

He walked back to his desk, shuffling together the papers he had been writing on and reforming them back into a neat and organized pile. He then placed the notes inside a manila folder, adding with it a copy of the patient's intake form. When all the required paperwork was together, he returned to the dead man, folder in hand, and carted him off and away from the room.

xXx

'Coffee.'

That was the first word and thought that entered the mind of the young doctor, Spencer Reid, as he rolled over in his bed, slowly moving closer to the cell phone that blinked and rang far too loudly for his liking. It took him a second, now lying on his back, before he reached over to the bed side table, twisting his body so that he could snatch the phone in his right hand.

'I need coffee,' he thought again as he flipped the device open and pressed it against his ear, suppressing a yawn.

"Hullo?" he called groggily into the mouthpiece.

"Reid? It's Hotch. You need to get ready and meet us at the plane as soon as possible. We've got a case in the Catskills we need to do. You awake?" Supervisory Special Agent, Aaron Hotchner said in a voice too awake to have woken up this early. Resisting the urge to growl at his boss for being a morning person, Reid rose from his bed and nodded, feeling foolish when he realized the man couldn't see him.

"Ugh, yeah. I'm up. Getting ready now," he said, yawning shortly and as quietly as possible. The two said their curt goodbyes and then hung up, leaving the younger of the agents to get ready.

Reid walked out into his kitchen, pulling on his tan slacks in the process, and began making himself some coffee.

xXx

"So far, we have five victims," Hotch began, nodding to JJ who then produced letter sized photographs of the aforementioned victims from a folder. "Each victim has been found embalmed and sewn, with makeup done as well. Victims were also found with matching manila folders under their crossed arms. Inside the folders were medical reports similar to a patient intake form and documentation in hospitals. Notes, discussing specific experiments and hypothesis have also been found inside the folders, but they're pretty coded. Local police have yet to decode them fully yet."

Pulling the glossy paper of the photos closer, Reid looked at them, his nose crinkling in disgust. There were numerous injuries- cuts, burns, and stab wounds- littering nearly every inch of the bodies, but they were sewn together, as if the victim received medical treatment shortly after receiving the injuries. That was highly unusual. If the UnSub is torturing them for his enjoyment, why does he heal them?

Before Reid could ponder this any further, he was pulled from his thoughts by JJ, who continued the briefing.

"The police have started calling this man The Doctor. The reason being pretty obvious with his official medical records that he keeps on his victims, as well as because he also takes care of the wounds he gives them."

"Why?" Morgan asked, shrugging his shoulders. "It doesn't make sense."

JJ smiled softly at him. "Well, I guess we'll find out. Anyway, his victims are tortured physically as well as sexually. Each one has been sodomized as well as left naked when the bodies are disposed."

She paused, letting all the information sink into the sleep deprived minds of her teammates and pseudo-family. Then, she added, almost hesitantly, "The amount of time he has each victim for varies though. Some have been kept for as long as eight months, others for as little as six weeks."

The Doctor.

Medical notes.

Medical records.

Intake forms.

Repairing of injuries.

Embalming.

Reid's mind was working fast, running over all the points he had heard on the new case. Was it possible that he wasn't torturing his victims but experimenting on them? Using them as guinea pigs for a medical procedure?

"They failed his tests," he spoke softly, his eyes gazing over the pictures once more, internalizing everything about their appearances and the placement of their wounds.

"Pardon?" Rossi said, clamping a hand over his mouth as he stifled a yawn.

Licking his lips to wet them, Reid looked up and pointed to each sewn up cut and scabbing burn individually on each photo. "The wounds are all in the same place for each of these victims. He's testing them for something. Some sort of medical experiment. He's not using them as victims, but as patients."

The small cabin in the plane was silent as they digested what the prodigy before them suggested. Was that true? Could he really see himself as a doctor?

"That's why he's healing them. He doesn't care or get off on them being hurt, so when the experiment is done he fixes them up," Morgan said slowly, grabbing the photos and placing them in front of him now.

"Exactly. Maybe the reason the time span is so different is because the victims aren't responding to the procedures the way the UnSub wants. They're failing him, proving him wrong, so he needs to start over with a different patient and a different theory," Reid said, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards to a faint smile.

"I think Reid's right. It makes the most sense, even though it doesn't really explain the sodomy," Hotch said as Rossi nodded approvingly at his younger coworker. "The victim profile, JJ?" he then added, turning to the blonde women who huffed in response.

"Right, sorry, almost forgot. All victims were male, between the ages of twenty-three and twenty-seven. Thin but tall build, with an average height of five foot eleven and an average weight of one hundred and thirty two. With light brown hair and hazel eyes and a pale complexion. Family interviews have revealed that all victims have the same generalized personality, type B. Shy, socially observant and withdrawn, awkward around others," JJ trailed off there, letting her eyes quickly flick over to Reid, who had gradually grown more rigid in his stature as she read the profile report.

He fit the bill exactly.

And JJ wasn't the only one whose eyes travelled over to the boy genius. Throughout the report, each agent had turned their focus over to Reid, eyeing him cautiously as if he would drop dead there on the spot. No one could deny that he was the UnSub's type. But no one could say it either.

Clearing his throat, Hotch said, "That's it for the briefing. We'll be arriving there shortly, so nap now if you want." Slowly, the special agents all stood, heading over to selected areas for a short rest, but not before casting worried glances in Reid's direction first.

xXx

The man sighed heavily as he rubbed his eyes. He now sat at his office at work, a spacious, decorative room inside the hospital he worked for. As much as he enjoyed his field, he really hated his job. All the meaningless assignments- set a broken arm, stitch a busted lip- he was lucky if he got something so challenging as actual surgery on his plate! But in a small town with a small population, hospital days weren't so busy as one would find in a city or urban area.

His job, however mundane it had become, did provide at least one benefit.

With access to nearly all the medical files of everyone in the county, he had the ability to gather background checks before taking on a new, personal patient.

Yes, it was his hobby of medical research and breakthrough that really got him through his day. Going back home to work on his own theories, practice his own theories, was the highlight of his life. Of course, his last patient had not responded well to the treatments and had died on the table. A truly agonizing thing for all doctors, as it were. And so now he required a new patient. One who better fit the new qualifications required for his research.

And his computer filled with medical records of thousands would help him do that.

xXx

"Welcome Agents! I'm Officer Heath Varney, and I was running this case, prior to the FBI's intervention, of course," the middle-aged cop said as he walked the BAU team to a small, private boardroom in the back of the Police Station. He was a tall man, with a slight roundness to his belly and thinning to his hair that displayed his age. Yet his eyes were bright and youthful, shining constantly as a teasing smile played permanently on his lips.

"Now, don't get the wrong idea, but I was a little put out when I first heard that they were sending the Feds in to do my case. But then I heard it was that Behavioral Analysis Unit they've got going on in Quantico and thought to myself, 'Well, this could be interesting.' So, I hope you don't mind if I ask lots of questions," Varney explained, almost apologetically as he unlocked the door and held it open, allowing Emily and JJ through first before the rest of the team followed suit.

"Not at all, Officer. It's always a pleasure to be of interest to others," Rossi said kindly as he took a seat surrounding the table.

Reid headed towards the back of the room, his legs still shaking slightly from the victim profile JJ described earlier that day.

Tall, thin…Light brown hair, hazel eyes…pale…

Even the damned personalities were parallel to Reid!

Social outcasts! Type B! Withdrawn!

Had Reid been a more emotionally based person, he probably would've suffered a massive panic attack on the carpeted floor of this foreign police station somewhere high in the Catskills. But he wasn't. He was logical and analytical. Facts first, feelings later.

And so, he took his fear, anxiety, and apprehension, and compartmentalized it, shoving it far down into a chest in his mind to be addressed later at a more appropriate time and date. With a calming breath and a tight shove on the proverbial chest for good measure, his worries were forgotten as his Special Agent took over. He paid focus to the list of suspects, past and current, being named off by Varney as well as all other information.

All he had to do was keep attentive to the case and ignore the chest in his mind as his emotions fought to overcome his logic.

Seemed easy enough.

xXx

Author's Note: So, what do you guys think so far? Let me know, I love to hear all your thoughts!

Reid is my favorite character, I love him so much, but stories that place him in the center of conflict are the most interesting, in my opinion. Don't worry though- this story won't be the type of story where Reid's broken irreparably and it most certainly won't end in a dark manner. I love Boy Wonder too much for that!

Chapter Two: Between Insanity and Genius (Preview)

"Look Reid," Morgan said, as he sent the man in question a look before turning his attention back to the road. "You're going to be fine. We're not going to let anything happen to you, alright? You're in good hands, Kid."

Reid smiled, chuckling somewhat at the nickname. From anyone else it would be indignant. "Yeah, you're right. But I can't help it. I mean me and the victims were-"

"Hey," Morgan cut him off, shooting him a serious look. "Don't think like that, man. We won't let that happen to you." The black Mazda slowed to a stop as it approached a traffic light and Morgan took this opportunity to give his friend a soft, comforting look. "You're good." The traffic light turned again, and Morgan began to move forward.

As Reid was opening his mouth to respond, he felt a sudden, harsh shove hit him in the side as his door crumpled into him. A speeding SUV crashed into Reid's side of the car, causing the car belonging to the two agents to collapse under its more significant weight. And Reid was jostled from his seat, thrown up against the roof of the car where his head made a sickening THWACK against it. He fell back to his seat, his head throbbing as his vision blurred and the sound of Morgan calling to him, seeing if he was alright, became white noise.