Lost & Found
By: Brummie10
First few chapters are short and sweet. Hope they grab your attention. Please leave a comment; my first case fic so happy for all reviews. Thanks!
Acknowledgements:
To Nexis for her initial idea and encouragement, to B, for her suggestions and editing, and to my SIH Vali for her expertise in all matters FBI and creepy Unsub related. Thanks ladies!
Once again, to TG & AW for bringing a fictional character to life in such as way as to inspire creation of more stories for him
I do not own any of the CM characters; wish I did!
Lost & Found
"To understand any living thing, you must creep within
and feel the beating of its heart."
W. Macneile Dixon
Prologue
COOTES STORE, VA.
He watched from a distance through high-powered binoculars. He had come too far to take chances now. Everything needed to be perfect. Everything would be perfect. He knew that, and yet he wanted one last period of observation. It gave him satisfaction. He smirked. Soon. Soon he could put his plan into action. It had been years in the making. He had had to have been patient. Sometimes it had been difficult. But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was the result. It would make all the waiting worthwhile. What had been lost would be found again. He would show them. No. He would show HIM! Lowering the binoculars, he retreated from his hiding place.
Soon.
***
Chapter 1
DENVER, CO.
It was a cold and blustery day in Denver, even for springtime. At Denver International Airport, SSA Aaron Hotchner shook hands with Detective Gregory O'Neil and pulled his 'go bag' from the back of the squad car. He turned up the collar of his coat as an icy draught tried to find its way down his neck. The Detective hunched his shoulders; he had to shout in order to be heard above the wind.
"Thanks for coming, Aaron. It was good to see you again. As ever, your lectures were really informative and will prove very useful. I hope that we can get you back again for the conference next year?"
Hotch handed him a business card.
"I was glad to help, Greg. Feel free to call me directly and we'll see if we can set something up."
Another gust of arctic air hit the two men. O'Neil shook his head in frustration and shrugged as if to apologize for the weather in his city. Pocketing the business card, he waved and got back into the car while Hotch made a bee-line for the entranceway.
Unsurprisingly, all flights out of the airport were delayed. The sky looked very threatening now that dark black clouds had rolled in. Hotch sighed and took out his cell phone to call JJ, the BAU's team liaison. He had been gone for 4 days and wanted an update as well as to alert them that he didn't know when he would be back. According to JJ, the team were all working on separate files, doing phone consultations and catching up on paperwork.
"Sounds like you've had more excitement, Hotch." said JJ. "Everything go alright?"
"Fine, thanks. The delegates seemed fairly open-minded; Greg will let me know once he's received more feedback."
"I'm sure you scored straight A's... no one knows negotiation techniques like you do."
"Thanks." mumbled Hotch. He had never been very good at taking complements. "Ok JJ, I'd better let you go. Please tell Dave I'll phone him from the plane before we take off, whenever that may be."
"Yes sir."
***
Six hours later and Flight83 was getting ready to take advantage of an alleged break in the weather. Hotch stowed his briefcase and suit jacket in the bin above his head, intending on using the four hours to get some sleep. He buckled his seatbelt and took out his cell phone. As he waited for Rossi to answer, his attention was drawn to the window where sleet was now pummelling the small Bombardier Challenger850. He frowned slightly.
'Looks like it will be a bumpy ride.' he thought to himself. 'So much for a nap.'
"Hi Hotch." Rossi's deep voice sounded faint.
"Hey Dave, I can barely hear you. The weather is obviously affecting the connection so I'll keep it short. I just wanted to let you know that we've boarded. I should be back in the office sometime tomorrow."
"Ok Aaron. No rush, not much going..."
The rest of his sentence was lost in a barrage of static. Hotch gave up and ended the call, turning off the phone and slipping it into the seat pocket in front of him. He loosened his tie and stared wearily out of the window while awaiting departure.
As Hotch had expected, the take off was fairly bumpy and even when the plane had reached its cruising altitude and levelled off, the seatbelt sign remained illuminated. However, the agent was accustomed to rough rides, the BAU's small jet being more susceptible to turbulence, so had soon dozed off to the drone of the engines.
He was jerked awake some time later when the plane suddenly dropped in altitude. The flight was only half full, about twenty passengers, and all were casting nervous looks at each other. The crew took their seats as the seatbelt sign came back on and the co-pilot's voice came over the audio system,
"Ladies and gentlemen, as you've noticed, we've hit a patch of bad weather. Unfortunately, the word from flights ahead of us is that it isn't much better at higher or lower altitudes, so we're just going to have to ride it out... Sorry folks. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts securely fastened until we can find some calmer air."
The cabin was silent. Hotch looked out the window but saw nothing but darkness and rain splatters... or was it snow? He couldn't tell. He glanced around at his fellow travelling companions, wondering who would be the first to panic. At times like this, the Unit Chief almost wished he weren't a profiler.
Another very large and abrupt drop caused the agent to frown and grip the hand-rests of his seat. There was a collective gasp from the other passengers as the plane attempted to regain altitude. It was rocking noticeably from side-to-side and even Hotch began to feel the first traces of unease.
'Come on, right this thing.'
The pattern continued for a number of minutes. The plane would fall, the pilots would right it again only to hit another pocket of turbulence. Hotch could feel the aircraft lurching and it was getting worse. He made note of his nearest emergency exits, leaned his head back against his chair and shut his eyes. He tried to think of Jack, recalling his son's laughter and big blue eyes.
'I have to get home to my son...'
All of a sudden, there was yet another drop, but this time the pilots had no answer; the aircraft was unresponsive and began to plunge towards the ground. Oxygen masks dropped from the overhead compartments as the plane continued to lose altitude rapidly. Hotch yanked his mask downwards and put it over his face as the co-pilot's alarmed voice entered the cabin once more:
"Everyone, brace for impact! I repeat, brace for impact!"
The passengers, almost as one entity, moved to assume the brace position. But people were quickly passing out; the oxygen coming through the masks couldn't keep up with the speed of altitude change. Hotch just managed to tuck his head between his arms before he too lost consciousness.
***