"Good throw buddy,"Hotch said.

Jack had recently made all A's on his report cart, so Hotch managed to get a day off of work, and rewarded Jack with a day of fun. They ate doughnuts for breakfast in front of the TV, found a movie to go see, and just had some quality father son time. Hotch had traded his suit, and tie for a T-shirt and jeans, and his gun, and badge for a baseball, and catcher's mit.

They took advantage of the lack of people at the park, and found a place to play catch. Hotch accidentally threw the ball a little to hard, and it flew into some bushes.

"I'll get it," Hotch said.

He quickly ran into the small wooded area, and found the ball.

"Dad help!"

He put the ball down, and ran to his son. Jack was fighting against a man, who then pulled out a gun, and slammed it against Jack's head.

"Hold still, you little brat!"

"Please, let him go," Hotch found himself pleading," he hasn't done anything. He's innocent."

"Nothing will happen to him, if you do what I say," the man said, " do you have any weapons?"

"No," Hotch answered.

"Then get in front, and walk. I'll tell you where to go. Obey, and your son will be unharmed. Disobey, and he will take the pain. Go forward."

Hotch obeyed, as Jack was scooped up into the man's arms. Hotch followed the man'a directions until, they reached a white van.

"Open the door. In the glove compartment, there is a syringe inside. You will inject it into your neck."

"Don't do it dad," Jack squeaked.

In an instant, a hand was clamped over his mouth, and the gun barrel was aimed at his gut.

"Do it, or you can watch your son bleed out in my arms,"he said.

Hotch opened up the door, and found the syringe.

"It'll be okay," Hotch said to Jack," I won't let him hurt you. I promise."

Then he plunged the needle into his own neck.

As soon as Jack's father was unconscious, the man had him in his arms. The gun pressed against his head.

"Jack," he said in a quiet voice, "open the back door, and crawl inside the van. Or I'll shoot your daddy."

With shaking hands, Jack opened the door. There was nothing inside the back. The man stuck his hand inside Hotch's pocket, and puled out his cell phone. Then he threw Hotch's limp body into the back.

"Please, don't hurt us," Jack said.

"Please don't make me," the man mocked Jack by pretending to cry, and sticking out his bottom lip.

Then he slammed the door in Jack's face.

"Dad," he cried," please wake up. I can't do this alone."

The only response was his dad's soft breathing. Somehow, this made Jack feel better. He found his dad's arm, and held onto it, like it was the only tangible thing in the world. Then, he buried his face in his dad's shoulder, and cried his eyes out.

"Please. I need you to be a superhero."

When Hotch woke up, he was lying on a cold, hard surface. One sleeve of his shirt was soaked. He lifted it up, and saw that there was some light bruises on it. There was a child crying in the distance. Hotch stood straight up.

"Jack! Jack, where are you!?"

"Oh, that's not Jack," a voice filled his ears.

Hotch realized there was an ear piece in his ear. Not wanting to let this man interrupt his thoughts, he tried to pull it out. The next sound made him freeze immediately.

"Dad," Jack's scared voice said," I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just scared. I didn't know it would give you bruises. Please, don't be mad."

"I'm not mad, buddy," Hotch said," where are you?"

"Find the crying child," the man's voice made his heart pound," then, I'll give you your next task."

The hiccuping sobs, continued.

"Hello," Hotch said with a soft voice," my name is Arron. I won't hurt you."