Clueless

Demands

"Please, she can't stay here. She'll die." Reid stressed to the man in front of them. Rowan had lasped into silence after her missing her medication.
The doctors warned the both of them against this: the infection caused by the unclean needles her father had used had spread to her lymphnodes and was working to shut down her heart. Without her medicine, ever four hours, she would get sicker and sicker. She wouldn't last more than a week off medication. With every passing hour, she grew weaker.
"My needs will be met or you both will die." The man said. He had a hood pulled up over his head so the two couldn't see him.
"Anything. Just- can't you keep us hostage where there's medicine? I was just kidnapped a week ago." Rowan complained.
"This is a ransom demanded. You will be kept till my ransom is met." He sounded stiff and fake, like it wasn't his words he was using. Rowan had a gun tucked into the folds of the wheelchair, but she was forgetting things. This was a side affect of the medicine. Reid winced as she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Please. Tell us what you want and we'll give it to you." He told him.
"I want for the world to know who I am. I want ten thousand dollars from the government to be left in a specified place with no trackers or explosives."
"We'd have to tell the other members of the FBI. Telling us this will get you nowhere." Reid told him.
"Dr. Spencer Reid. Dr. Rowan Reaves. You have no idea how long I have waited to have both of you in the same room. You will not be permitted access to medicinal treatment until I receive my demands. You have one phone call."
A small, disposable and ultimately untraceable phone was pressed into Reid's hand. Rowan's head tipped back and rested against the wall, her eyes sliding shut.
For a second, Spencer panicked but he knew he couldn't get help from any 911 without their current location.
He typed in Hotch's number.
"SSA Hotchner." Spencer let out a sigh of relief that he picked up.
"It's Reid." Spencer told him.
"Reid? What- are you alright? Is Rowan?" Reid disbanded his questions.
"The man who wants us wants ten thousand dollars unmarked and with no explosives and for the world to know who he is."
"Who is he?" Spencer asked the man and the man answered with:
"That is not of import." Spencer repeated these words to Hotchner.
"How are we going to make you famous if we don't have a name?" Hotch demanded.
"Your time is up." The phone was ripped from Spencer's hand just as Rowan's eyes, which she had been struggling to keep open, slid shut and her breathing grew labored.
"Rowan?" Spencer demanded as the man left them in what looked like a storm shelter.
"Rowan, answer me!"
There was only silence.