Standard-Issue BAU Guardian Angel
By: DemonClowSorceress
Summary: The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit deals with some of the toughest cases in the FBI. But can they solve a case that hits close to home and affects one of their own? They may need some help on this one......
This is my first attempt at a Criminal Minds fanfic, so there will be some OCC moments. Rated T for cursing. Reviews and PMs are appreciated!
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not owned by me. Damn it. And neither do the quotes belong to me.
Customary Beginning Quote
"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." ~ Hebrews 13:2
SSA Hotchner's Home
Thursday, 9:30 A.M.
"Daddy!"
SSA Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner turned around when he heard that wonderful voice ring out from the staircase and managed to catch his young son as the boy ran into his arms. "Hey buddy, what's up?"
"Can I come to the BAU with you today, Daddy?" Jack Hotchner asked, hugging his father tightly.
"Not today, buddy, but maybe another time," the profiler promised, setting Jack back on his feet. "You need to go to school. Hey, but before I go, big hug?" He laughed when Jack promptly tried to strangle his father in a giant bear hug. "Wow, you're strong!"
Hotch disentangled himself from his son's arms reluctantly and patted Jack on the head. "Have a good day, Jack. Listen to Aunt Jessica and do your homework when you get home, okay?"
"All right. I'll work the case with you when you come back, Daddy!" Jack promised, waving as Hotch got into his black SUV and drove off to Quantico.
Hotch didn't notice the young girl walking down the sidewalk towards his house, but Jack did. She looked to be about his age, with long blonde hair that fell to her waist and pretty eyes. Jack thought she looked pretty, so he waved shyly. She looked over to him, and waved back with a small smile.
"Jack! Come back inside! Time for breakfast!" called Aunt Jessica.
"Okay!" Jack yelled back. Looking outside again, he was surprised to see that the girl wasn't there anymore. He looked around but there was no sign of her. Maybe she went home for breakfast, he thought, and closed the front door.
%%%%%%%%%%%
BAU Headquarters in Quantico, Virginia
Thursday, 10:00 A.M.
SSA Jennifer "JJ" Jareau knew the case was a bad one the instant the agent dropped it on her desk.
For one thing, it wasn't remarkable. The folder wasn't too thin or too thick. It looked ordinary. But she'd been the team's liason agent for a good number of years, and she could tell a bad case when it came along.
For another, it was the location. Washington, D.C. A backyard crime. Close to home. Her mind instantly flew to Henry, probably gurgling happily to her boyfriend William LaMontagne while she worked.
Taking a deep breath, JJ reached forward and took the folder. With a practiced motion she flipped the folder open to display its contents.
A whispered yet angry "Damn," escaped from her lips swift as any gunshot. She got up quickly and walked out into the bullpen, heading directly for the conference room.
SSA Emily Prentiss, in the middle of a debate with SSA Derek Morgan over a hockey game from the previous night, caught the blonde woman's rush and straightened up. Morgan also saw JJ's hurry and tapped Dr. Spencer Reid's shoulder to break him away from the government report the younger man was reading. As a group the three agents headed for the conference room while JJ rapped twice on a door.
SSA David Rossi stepped out to meet her. "What's up, JJ?"
"We got a bad one, sir," she said, showing him the photo.
Rossi only took a glance before reaching for his cell phone. "I'll call Hotch. We need to get on this fast."
Fifteen minutes later, the team was assembled in the conference room. JJ's grim face was their only warning before she put the pictures up on the viewing screen. "It's official. There's a serial child kidnapper and murderer in D.C." A picture came up of a small blond girl. "This is Pamela Fischer. She was the first one, taken two years ago at age five. We found her remains in a park in Alexandria, Virginia; local LEOs couldn't ID her until recently." JJ then pointed to two specific shots of two different children, a smiling Hispanic girl and a boy in a Little League uniform. "Amanda Travers and Jason Holland, both six years old. Both abducted six months ago. Amanda was found in a shallow grave in Alexandria, and Jason was dumped at a rest stop near Arlington. No ransom demands were made, the parents were never contacted, and the cases went cold."
"And how did we know the cases are related?" asked Rossi, jotting down notes in his little pad.
"We didn't. The remains were severely decomposed, so D.C. Metro had no idea they were dealing with a serial. Jason was the only one with a partially recognizable face." JJ tapped her remote button to open the new case file. "And then this happened."
"Dear God," breathed Prentiss on reflex, horrified by what was being shown.
"This is Adam Everton, age eight. His body was found off the interstate by a passing motorist, fully clothed and covered with a trashbag." JJ fought to control her voice as a shudder ran through her body. "He was reported missing two months ago. Parents said he was walking to a friend's house for a playdate. He never showed up. M.E. guesses he's been dead for over two days."
"He's been.........mutilated," said Morgan, speaking through shock. He read the words carved into the boy's face, one on each cheek. "Broken Voice. Any sign of.......sexual trauma?"
JJ shook her head. "The body's been washed clean. No prints, no evidence of anything."
Hotch looked over the geographic profile and shuddered. The abducted children were taken within mere miles of where he and Jack lived. That this had happened in his own backyard was a very rude wake-up call for Hotch. It showed, once again, how little he could do to protect his family. And I thought I'd gotten over these feelings when Foyet died.....
For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Then Rossi cleared his throat. "Victimology is pretty specific. Young children, good-looking, between the ages of five and nine, all taken when they were alone or seperated from their parents."
Taking control, Hotch stood up. "All right then. Reid, Morgan, go check out the most recent crime scene. JJ, Prentiss, talk to the victim's parents and see what you can learn from them. Dave and I will go to the coroner's office and look at the reports from Adam and the other children."
%%%%%%%%%%%
Thursday, 3:00 P.M.
After school, Jack was waiting for his Aunt Jessica to pick him up on the front steps, but she never showed up. He decided to walk home, since it was only four blocks away.
When he got home, there was a weird smell in the house. Wrinkling his nose, Jack put his backpack down next to the doorway and looked around. "Aunt Jessica? Where are you?" he called.
"Jack!" screamed his aunt from the dining room. "Jack! Run!"
Jack froze, unsure of what to do. Then he heard his aunt scream again, followed by a man cursing. There was the sound of a hard object colliding with something, and then a thump of someone falling. The young Hotchner immediately ran back out the front door as fast as his young legs could carry him.
There was nobody out on the street except a girl standing on the corner. She was the same one from that morning, dressed in a jean skirt and white blouse with sneakers. Her eyes seemed to look into Jack's own as he tried to run towards her, screaming "Help! Help me!" When she didn't move he yelled, "My daddy's FBI! Help me! My daddy's FBI!"
Suddenly a man's rough arms grabbed Jack from behind. A wet cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth, and when he inhaled it stung to breathe. "Who you screaming at, kid?" the man jeered. "There's nobody out here but you and me."
"Mulp......Mulp....." Jack yelled through the cloth as the chloroform took effect, reaching weakly for the girl. Help.....help.....
She looked at him straight on. Then she ran towards him as he fell unconscious.
%%%%%%%%%%%
D.C. Medical Examiner's Office
Thursday, 3:05 P.M.
Rossi put the folder down and massaged his temples, unable to read any more. The Unsub had been a sick bastard. The coroner's findings showed that the children had been well taken care of - hair and nails trimmed, clothes clean and pressed, fed right. But toxicology had also shown a steady diet of drugs that would've subdued the children enough to make them limp as dishrags. Not only that, but there was evidence that they had been chained to something; Adam's wrist had a rubbed-raw scar where his manacle had chafted his skin.
He glanced over at Hotch, who was still looking through Amanda's file. She had been the toughest one to read. Three broken bones in her arms, and those had happened just prior to death. The girl had been in a lot of pain when she was killed.
"This never stops getting to me," Rossi confessed, taking a sip from his water bottle.
"What?" Hotch asked, his eyes never leaving the case file.
"The depths some perverts go. This guy did this to four children that we know of. He could've done this - still be doing this - to others, Hotch. And we're only learning about it now." Rossi knew he sounded like a newbie agent, but he kept seeing the words 'Broken Voice' in Adam Everton's cheeks.
"The first three victims were found months apart, with no discernable connection to each other. It's not our fault, we just got lucky that we found Adam and Jason around the same time and made the connection." Hotch's phone rang suddenly, breaking his concentration. He checked the caller ID and pressed the connect button. "Hotchner."
"Aaron!"
"Jessica?" Hotch put the folder down, hearing the panic and fear in his sister-in-law's voice. "Jessica, what's wrong?"
"Aaron, I was attacked - came out of nowhere - Jack ran - "
"Where's Jack?!" He saw Rossi standing up, ready to run or stay, but at that moment Hotch didn't care. "Jessica, where's Jack!?"
"He, he took him! Some man came to the house and took Jack!"
"When?"
"A-About five minutes ago."
Before Hotch could say anything Rossi had his phone out and at his ear. "Garcia, call the local LEOs and have police blockades in a one mile raduis around Hotch's house. Jack's been kidnapped."
%%%%%%%%%%%
SSA Hotchner's Home
Thursday, 3:25 P.M.
20 Minutes After Abduction
Hotch nervously fidgeted while waiting to talk to Jessica, glancing from the sidewalk where Jack's jacket had been found, to the broken front door, to the ambulance, and back. Rossi put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hotch, calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down. My son's been kidnapped off my own front porch!" snapped Hotch. Realizing he was biting off Rossi's head, he apologized. "Sorry. Just....jumpy." The paramedic waved him over, so he left Rossi to survey the crime scene.
Jack must've walked home from school, since his bag is in the hallway, mused the ex-retired profiler. Jessica probably told him to run, so he ran. Logically he would've run towards the intersection, but he stopped. Why did he stop?
"Special Agent Rossi?"
Rossi turned to see a girl standing in front of him, about seventeen years of age with long blonde hair and blue eyes. "Yes, can I help you?"
"You're investigating the kidnapping, right?" she asked, noting his badge where it hung, clearly visible, from his belt.
"And you are?"
"Taylor. Taylor Mame Finnegan. I live a couple doors down." Taylor glanced over his shoulder. "Sweet kid. You have any leads?"
"Did you happen to see anything?" Rossi asked, hoping for a break. "He was taken sometime around four this afternoon."
Taylor thought for a second, then snapped her fingers. "Yeah, I saw a van. Black, ugly thing. A guy got out of it and went into that house." She pointed to Hotch's house. "Next thing I knew, the boy's running down the street. The guy grabs him and drags him into the van. As it peeled out I got a couple numbers off the back plate." She handed Rossi her cell phone, which was opened to the Notepad application. There was a partial plate number on the note, enough to start a search.
"Thank you very much," Rossi said, already dailing Garcia.
"Good luck. Don't let this guy be the one who away."
He nodded as Garcia began with one of her customary greetings. "Oracle of Quantico. Speak if you wish to know."
"Garcia, I need you to run a partial plate number for a black van." He rattled off the number. "Search every database. Call me when you get a hit." Snapping his phone shut, he turned to thank Taylor again, but she was gone.
%%%%%%%%%%%
When Jack opened his eyes, he was in a dark, cold place. Weak sunlight filtered through the dirty window above his head. The young boy looked around and saw other children his age lying on the ground, some asleep, some not.
He tried to get up, but two things stopped him. One was the handcuff around his wrist, attached to a ring in the wall. Jack tried to tug himself free, but that was impossible. With what little chain he had, he could only move about five steps away from the wall.
The other thing was the girl. The same girl from the sidewalk that morning, as well as the same one who ran after him when the bad guy took him. She was there, and she made a shushing motion with her hand.
Not yet, she seemed to say. Not yet.
So Jack sat back down. Watching this girl come closer, he scooted over to make room for her. Her handcuff chain was longer than his, since she was chained to the post in the center of the room. She sat next to him and asked very quietly, "Your daddy's really FBI?"
Jack nodded proudly. "Yeah. And Daddy's going to find me. He's working the case right now."
"Hope he's good," the girl said. "The Master only keeps us for a while, until we get hurt. Then he takes us away." She sounded scared.
The door on the opposite side of the room opened, making the conscious children whimper and squirm away from the man, but none of them seemed to be able to move much. He came in, hulking and tall, then walked towards a girl that was slumped on the ground. He fished a key out from his pocket and unlocked her cuff, picked her up, and carried her out the door. When it swung shut the children around the taken girl started to cry.
Jack's new friend shivered, tears coming to her eyes. "She was Amy. She was brought here a while ago."
Even though he was scared, Jack put his hand over hers. "Don't worry. My Daddy and his friends will save us." He smiled at her. "I'm Jack Hotchner."
"Jill," said the blonde girl. "My name's Jill." Her bloodshot green eyes filled with more tears. "I'm scared."
"Don't worry Jill, my Daddy'll save us all."
%%%%%%%%%%%
BAU Headquarters, Quantico, VA
Thursday, 7:15 P.M.
4 Hours 10 Minutes After Abduction
"Amy Quill. She was found three hours ago in a dumpster behind a diner on Fifth Street." JJ swore under her breath. "Two kids found in the space of twenty-four hours. Spence, this is bad, right?"
Reid looked over the boards, his mind going as fast as the proverbial bullet. "Possibly........Amy was taken three months ago. The marks on her face are fresher than Adam's though."
"Worn Down," JJ read bitterly from the photo.
They were running out of time. The odds of finding the child alive dropped dramatically after the first twenty-four hours. Not only that, but they had no fresh leads to go on. Adam's parents had no new information to give, and Amy's family was unavailable.
"Agent Jareau? There's a reporter on line two." JJ rolled her eyes and followed the other agent out, leaving Reid alone with his glass board of photos, scribblings, and his brian.
"Interesting choice of words," mused the genius agent. "Same as with Adam Everton. 'Broken Voice'.....'Worn Down'.....they're odd choices to carve into a child's face post mortem....."
He was so focused on his work that he didn't hear the soft footsteps behind him. So he jumped when a voice said, "Dolls?"
"Oh, Miss Obitnas," he stammered, surprised that she had actually come to the station. Leah K. Obitnas had been the young woman who called the police when Adam's body had been found. A stunning undergrad with hazel eyes and auburn hair, she seemed to have a calming presence in the room, like Reid hadn't just been staring at pictures of gruesome death on the walls.
"Leah," she corrected, coming to his side. Her eyes travelled from Amy's mutilated face to Adam's, then to Jason's. "Poor kids." Reid had no idea why she was even here, but her next words solved that problem. "I had gotten the idea in my head when I first saw the boy, Dr. Reid, and what you said now made it seem almost plausible. 'Broken Voice' and 'Worn Down'......don't those sound like complaints made by doll owners?"
"Excuse me?" Reid asked, not following.
Leah pointed to Adam. "His says 'Broken Voice'. Did his voice box or throat show damage?"
He checked the coroner's reports. Adam Everton had died from asphyxiation brought on by manual strangulation. His throat had been crushed by his killer's hands. "Yeah."
Then she pointed to Amy. "And 'Worn Down' could mean something internal. Dolls with clockwork mechanisms can sometimes fail or break if the mechanisms inside aren't replaced." Leah looked at the pictures of the outfits that the children had been found in. "Puffy Victorian dresses for the girls, sailor suits and tuxes for the boys.......specific clothes, and well-made. Like collector items. Maybe your Unsub is a doll collector."
Reid grinned despite this new knowledge. "You know a lot about dolls."
"I collected them," Leah admitted with her own smile. "My parents didn't approve much, but now it's my business. I hope you find the bastard who's doing this." She squinted at Jason's face shot. "Can you tell what's on his cheeks?"
After a couple minutes, it was decided and agreed on that the words carved into Jason Holland's face were 'Cracked Fingers'. Leah nodded, then sighed in relief. "I'm glad I could help," she admitted.
Reid checked the files and found that two of Jason's fingers had been broken, then splinted crudely with duct tape. "He tried to repair them," he murmured. "Leah, he's - "
But Leah was gone. Reid looked around for another second before whipping out his phone and dailing Morgan.
%%%%%%%%%%%
"He's what?" Morgan couldn't believe his ears. "Are you sure there, Reid? Please tell me you're joking."
"No, the Unsub is most likely a collector. He's kidnapping the children to make them into dolls - living dolls. That's why there were no ransom demands, because the Unsub didn't take them for money." Reid sounded both intrigued and disgusted. "The words carved into the victims' faces are the Unsub's way of justifying why he disposed of them. He sees them as objects, so he lets us know what's wrong with them. Adam Everton had a crushed throat, so he had a 'Broken Voice.' Jason Holland's two broken fingers made him undesireable, hence 'Cracked Fingers', and Amy Quill's 'Worn Down' label came from the fact that she OD'd on the drug cocktail he was using to keep the children docile."
"So that's why they were so clean and well-dressed when they were found," Morgan said, walking under the crime scene tape to check out Amy Quill's dump site. "He's acting out some kind of doll-harem fantasy."
"Exactly. It's thanks to Leah that I - "
"Wait, what? A girl figured this out before the great Spencer Reid?" The former cop couldn't resist teasing his colleague a little despite the gravity of the situation.
"Hey!" came a female voice from behind Morgan, sounding pissed. He turned to see a skimpily-dressed hooker in five-inch heels practically skate over to him.
"Call you back, Reid." Snapping his phone shut, Morgan faced the little hooker. "Can I help you, miss?"
"Yeah, you can tell me when you cops are gonna get that sunnavabastard who's been skulking around here lately!" she snapped, hands on her hips. Even with the added height of her heels, the girl was barely up to Morgan's chin. Her clothes were a little less revealing than most trick-girls, but nonetheless loud and come-get-me, a purple sequined top and a short black miniskirt with a jean crop jacket. Her brown-black hair was teased into two pigtails that made her look younger than she apparently was.
I'm being told off by one of Call Girl Barbie's little sisters, thought Morgan, taking off his sunglasses. "Hey, what're you talking about?"
"Like you don't know!" she scoffed.
"Actually I don't. I'm FBI, miss, Agent Derek Morgan, and I'm looking for a missing child who was abducted yesterday afternoon."
This changed the hooker's tune lickety-split. "Oh damn, I'm sorry Agent Morgan. It's been a rough couple days and I - ya know what, forget it." She tugged down her skirt and looked at him squarely. "LJ Gideon, at your service. What do you need?"
"Did you see anyone in this alley between five and six this morning? A man, carrying something that he might've dumped in the dumpster over there?" Morgan pointed to where Amy's body had been discovered.
LJ scratched her neck. "This morning........night was long, I was stretching my legs over there," she said, pointing to a bench across the street. "But yeah, I saw a guy. Looked like he was carrying a rug over his shoulder, one of them little throw rug things, ya know?"
"Did you see where he came from?" Morgan could hardly keep the excitement from his voice. This was a big break. If she could identify the Unsub......
"Yeah, he came in a big black van from the other side of Fifth." To specify LJ pointed up the road in the general direction of the road.
"Great. Hey, thanks a lot." Morgan pulled out a card and handed it to her. "If you remember anything else, call me." Then he quickly called Hotch with the news.
%%%%%%%%%%%
Jack heard the Master coming back and tried to move, but whatever he'd eaten had made his muscles gooey like jelly. Biting his lip, he tried to be brave like his Daddy had been when the bad man hurt Mommy and focused on waking Jill up.
The door opened and the Master entered. His eyes looked over all the children before settling in the area where Jack was chained. The young Hotchner stared him down, trying hard not to blink like his Daddy.
"C'mon little guy, Lady wants to play with you," said the Master, unhooking Jack from the wall.
Jack couldn't even struggle, so he patiently let the man clean him with a washcloth and dress him in a sailor costume like he was a baby. The boy scowled at wearing the strange hat and outfit, but the man was gentle and didn't do anything to Jack.
Carrying the little boy up some stairs, the Master opened a door and smiled. "Lady, here's your little sailor."
"Aww! How cute!" And then Jack was grabbed up in a huge hug that smelled of weak flower water. He wrinkled his nose as the Lady hugged him tighter before putting him in a chair. "Little Sailor has returned to us. Thank you!"
"Anything for my Lady," said the Master, bowing.
Helpless, Jack watched as the Lady jabbered on about tea parties and adventures and could only wonder to himself, Why's this grown-up Lady acting like a little girl?
%%%%%%%%%%%
Friday, 8:00 A.M.
17 Hours After Abduction
Prentiss listened to Garcia carefully, but the bubbly tech was speaking too fast. "Garcia, I can't understand a word. Take a breath and speak slower."
"I'm sorry, it's just the idea of Little Jack Hotch out there in the grip of some psychopathic kiddie doll collector whose a few puppies short of a pet shop has me a little rattled," Garcia said in one breath.
"We're all scared, Garcia." Prentiss took another deep breath and squashed her imagination, running on no sleep and shi-tons of caffeine, as it tried to bring up an image of Adam Everton, except it was Jack with the words carved into his skin. "Just tell me what you know."
"I cross-referenced all black vans with the license number Rossi gave me, and I got dozens. So I went a little farther and used Reid's deduction that the owner might be in the doll business. I got six guys and three women who make the short list for Wacko of the Day." Garcia took a breath, and Prentiss could just imagine her straightening her glasses. "Gimme a few minutes. My search is being honed. Call you back."
The brunette cut the connection and saw a teenage girl staring at her from across the street. Being professional, Prentiss headed over and politely asked, "Is something wrong?"
"You're looking for the Hotchner boy," she said airily. Her eyes were very blue, almost green, and they had a kind of etheralness about them. Her hair was thin and mouse-brown. "You're not looking in the right places."
"Do you know something?" Prentiss asked, remembering what Rossi's attitude about psychics who wanted to get in on the investigation.
"Of course. Don't you?" The girl smiled vaguely. "My name is Ben. Benee T. Wathmon. So now you know something."
"SSA Emily Prentiss." The pretty agent regarded Ben skeptically and noticed a cross hanging around her neck. "That's a pretty necklace."
"I'll take your word for it," remarked Ben, still not looking directly at Prentiss. That's when it hit the profiler. She's blind.
Ben reached out and met Prentiss' hand halfway. "See, the thing about being blind is that you get to hear things better," she said in a confiding tone of voice. "Two days ago I heard people complaining of not being able to find a doll."
Prentiss blinked. "A doll?" Reid's theory says the Unsub's into doll collecting...
"A boy sailor doll with pretty blond curls. They sounded quite upset. The woman said, 'Find me that Little Sailor doll, Stewart, or we're through.' And he said, 'Very well, dear.' So whipped." Ben smiled again. "If you have faith, mayhap good things will happen to you."
Prentiss's phone vibrated against her hip. Seeing it was Garcia, she answered with, "Please make my day and tell me you have a short list."
"I narrowed to six. Three are out of state, two are dead - and one woman was in the loony bin, but she married a local man."
"The married couple could explain why the children are so well-dressed and cared for," Prentiss mused aloud. "The woman takes care of the collection, but when it breaks, it's the husband's job to throw it out and go shopping for a replacement. Is the husband's name Stewart?"
"Yeah, Stewart and Annabel Finkleton. How did you know?"
"My witness heard - " Prentiss looked back and blinked. Ben was gone. "The hell? Where'd she - "
"Emily?"
Weird. But I'll find her later. "Never mind. Where do they live?"
"Right smack in the middle of the geographical profile." Garcia relayed an address about two hours from where Prentiss was.
"Thanks Garcia. Tell the others, wouldja?"
%%%%%%%%%%%
Friday, 10:00 A.M.
19 Hours After Abduction
Hotch nursed his third cup of coffee, staring into space. So far he'd been utterly useless in the investigation apart from getting a description of the kidnapper from Jessica before she was whisked to the hospital. White male between thirty to forty-five, brown hair, brown eyes, average height but muscular. JJ had gotten the description to the press within minutes, but that had been nineteen hours ago. The tipline wasn't being very helpful.
His team was still splintered, trying very hard to find his son. They were all fighting exhaustion and time and the odds, doing what they did best. But all Hotch could feel was a sense of exhaustion and numbing horror at what was happening.
"You look like you could use a friend."
He looked up. A waitress holding a pot of coffee stood next to him, her head tilted to get a better look at his face. Her brown hair was short, almost a boy's cut, and framed her face very nicely. Chocolate-colored eyes regarded him thoughtfully.
"Then again, maybe some more coffee would be better," she reasoned, topping off his cup. Facing Hotch, she leaned against the table with her hip. "I've seen you around here before. Guessing this case sucks more than usual, huh?"
Hotch snorted despite himself, nodding. "Yeah, it's - it's a tough one."
"Name's Brook," said the waitress. "Brook H. Yales. And lemme guess, you're stuck on something."
What is it with waitresses and knowing exactly what to say? "Actually, you're right. This case - it involves my son. He's.....well, he's missing."
"The missing kid? You're his dad?" Brooke's hand covered her mouth in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. How you holding up?"
Hotch sighed, burying his face in his hands. "It's tough. Partially because I wasn't there to protect him."
"C'mon. I bet you've protected your kid countless times. You can't blame yourself for this." Brooke's tone became softer, more understanding. "I mean, you obviously care about your son. As long as you work your very hardest and don't give up, there's always the chance that you'll save him, right?"
Hotch's phone rang at that moment. He pulled it out and pushed CONNECT. "Hotch." Listening to a few words from Garcia, he nodded. ""Okay, got it."
Brook smiled. "Go. Solve crime. Catch bad guys and rescue your son."
"Thank you," Hotch said gratefully, leaving a tip. "Thanks for listening."
%%%%%%%%%%%
Friday, 11:00 A.M.
20 Hours After Abduction
The house looked quiet. Nevertheless, tension was running high and hot around the Finkleton place. The team Velcroed their bulletproof vests tightly and readied themselves.
The house was a tactical nightmare. Situated atop a hill, there was no quiet way to get in. They couldn't even risk rushing the place without jepordizing the children's safety. They needed another plan.
Morgan's phone rang. He put it on speaker. "Hey Baby Girl, talk to me."
"Okay, well, for starters I've gotten the blueprints for the Finkleton house and let me just say, wowie." Garcia's keyboard plinked in the background. "There's a reason they're up on that hill, sweetie. The basement is extensive enough to make the Labyrinth look like a toy maze. I'm talking winding passages, a real David Bowie-ruled chalk-arrow-marking-but-the-stones-flip-over-to-blank-sides get-lost Minotaur-skulking Labyrinth."
"Is it accessable from the outside?" Hotch asked.
"That's a negatory, sir, and there are no actual blueprints of the maze itself, only vague parameters for spacing. But I do have something else." More keys tapping. "I ran checks on the credit card statements for both Stewart and Annabel Finkleton. Nothing on the wife in over three years, since she got out of the psych ward."
"What was she committed for?" asked Rossi.
Garcia paused, consulting her screens. "Paranoid schizophrenia. She kept thinking she was a princess and that her children were her dolls. She had a fit one day and accidentally threw her four-year-old daughter into her six-year-old son. They hit the wall so hard that she killed them both."
"Explains the age bracket for the abducted children," Prentiss said, nodding. "And the reason she hasn't used any of her cards; a paranoid schizophrenic loose on the town is bad on so many levels."
Morgan shook his head, remembering what Reid had told them about his mother. "Garcia, what's the husband's deal?"
"He's a regular Joe, to be honest. Nothing pops out; he does his taxes on time, pays his bills, takes care of his wife. But he's been continuously purchasing large quantities of bolt fabrics, thread, and other sewing equipment for the past two years."
"Annabel makes the clothes, that's her role in the fantasy," Prentiss exclaimed. "She makes the children new clothes to strip them of their own identity and turns them into her dolls."
"And some perscription drugs can be mixed with over-the-counter meds to subdue a child," mused Rossi. "Probably has to refill her perscriptions every other - Hotch!"
Hotch was already halfway up the hill, ready to storm the house all by himself. He could hear Rossi and Prentiss yelling, but the blood pounding in his ears effectively deafened him. The thougth of his son lying in a drug-induced stupor while a crazy woman played with him like a human rag doll was unbearable. Checking the safety of his gun, the BAU team leader prepared to go in.
Then his phone rang. Hotch answered. "What?"
"Hotch, it's Reid. Don't go in there."
"What are you talking about, Reid?" Hotch snapped, staying still long enough for Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan to catch up.
"The house is booby-trapped. Someone called the tip line and said that Stewart Finkleton had purchased five shotguns and a couple dozens rounds of ammunition. He's expecting you." Reid was speaking very fast, which only happened when he was agitated. "You go in there, you'll get blown away."
Hotch cursed. "Reid, get yourself and JJ down here. We're gonna need your brain and her when the press catch wind of this."
Then Morgan got another call. "Morgan."
"Agent Morgan? It's LJ. We met yesterday, you gave me your card?"
Morgan blinked. "Yeah, what's up?"
"I just remembered something about that van I saw." She sounded excited, as if she knew her information was a case-breaker. "It had mud on the tires. Caked. Like it'd gone off-roading in serious mudslide goo. And it was recent, because it was dripping off the bottom of the van."
Morgan covered the mouthpiece and called to a group of officers, "Is there a dirt road anywhere near here? Marked on the maps or otherwise."
%%%%%%%%%%%
Jack was carried back down into the dungeon-like room after the Lady was done playing with him. He was careful to be very still and very limp, hiding the fact that he could now move his arms and legs again. He was also very hungry, having eaten nothing since breakfast before he had been taken. But thanks to that, the drugs had metabolized in his system faster than usual and worn off.
Jill looked over as he was placed back on the floor and the Master chained him to the wall again. When the Master left she crawled over. "Jack?"
"Almost," he said softly. He looked around and saw another couple of children not moving. "When does he come back to take them away?"
She thought for a few seconds. "After he makes the Lady dinner," she whispered. "Jack....I'm scared."
%%%%%%%%%%%
Reid and JJ arrived with extra backup when the answer was discovered; there was an old service road sidewinding behind the house, almost completely hidden from the windows of the house. Just as Morgan suspected, it was washed out, leaving a thick muddy streak amid the grass. The agents and officers slowly made their way up, being extremely careful not to make a sound.
Hotch's heart was hammering in his chest. Hang on buddy, I'm coming for you. Please be okay. Please, please, please be all right, Jack.
The back door was easily forced open. The house was swept, the booby-traps neutralized, and pronounced all clear; no sign of the Unsubs. There were, however, signs that they had been here - one room was fashioned like an elaborate playroom for a princess, with gauzy pink curtains and oversized white play furniture and tea sets. Hotch was having flashbacks to that one Unsub who kidnapped women to replace her set of dolls; the scene was eerily similar.
In another room Morgan and Prentiss found the sewing equipment and fabric that Annabel used to create the fantasy doll clothes for the children. Several finished pieces hung from the walls with tags on them to identify what and who they were for. Forensics processed them and found one, a sailor suit, with the name Little Sailor - Jack Hotchner on the tag.
"This was worn recently," Prentiss said, feeling the fabric. "It's still warm. Jack just wore this."
"We must've surprised them," reasoned Morgan. "But where did they go?"
Rossi and Reid walked back to Hotch, who was examining the doll scene. "They must've ducked into the passages," Rossi said. "There's no other way out."
The team went into the basement. Hotch cursed again when he saw the entrance to the underground chambers. There were six paths that he could see from where he and the team stood, and each was frequently travelled. For once Garcia had been unsuccessful - no maps of the labyrinth existed anywhere she could find. Which meant that the BAU was going in blind.
And when potential hostages were involved, including an agent's son, you never want to go in blind. Especially when the agents are tired, strained, and ready to crack.
Maybe that's why Prentiss she saw Ben wandering down one of the passages. It was just a brief glimpse, but enough to catch the blind girl's distinct hairstyle. "Ben!" called Prentiss, hurrying down the first passage without her team and one two officers.
Rossi was about to call her back, but from the corner of his eye he saw Taylor, the helpful girl from Hotch's street. She was heading down another passage purposefully. He quickly went after her with a couple of officers. The hell is that girl doing here?
Five seconds after that, Morgan was wondering the same thing when he saw LJ waving impishly from the third passage. "Oh you little - " he started, running down after the redheaded hooker without waiting for anyone. The police officers were starting to get confused as to the tactics of the BAU.
"Morgan?" Reid called after his friend before his attention was likewise distracted by Leah suddenly popping out of the passage in front of him. The pretty undergraduate reached for and tugged his sweater before taking off down the corridor. "Leah, wait!" he cried, running after her.
"Reid!" Hotch yelled, trying to maintain some semblance of order and control. But his own plans were shot to hell when he spied Brook, the nice waitress, when she glanced back before walking away from him down the second to last passageway. "Dammit, what're you doing here?"
"Hotch!" JJ yelled as her boss likewise took off into the labyrinth. She was perplexed as to the sudden departures of her teammates, but it left only one pathway for her to go. She beckoned to the remaining officers and led the way into the darkness.
The next five minutes were the longest in any of the FBI agents' lives. Partially because they were lost, but partially because the girl they were chasing seemed to know exactly where she was going. Occasionally one agent would lose his or her temper and yell at his or her quarry, but no matter what was snapped, the girl only waited until they caught up before taking off again. None of the profilers considered the thought that their respective quarries had no business coming to this place, but still they chased after them.
%%%%%%%%%%%
Jack struggled to stand up. His arms and legs were still shaking, but they supported his weight. Jill watched as he braced himself against the wall, pushing himself to his feet.
"I have an idea," he said to her. "Can you reach the door?"
"Why?" she asked, already on her hands and knees.
Jack showed her the bobby pin he had concealed in his hand from when the Lady had hugged him goodbye. "Can you pick a lock?"
%%%%%%%%%%%
LJ lead Morgan around a corner. When he turned, he didn't see the hooker, but Prentiss and the officers with her. "Did you see - ?" they both started just as a sharp crash echoed behind the door in front of them.
Breaking the door down, they found Stewart Finkleton trying to pull what looked like a pair of restraints from under a pile of refuse. Both agents yelled, "Freeze!" but Stewart threw junk at them, making Morgan and Prentiss jump back. The Unsub then raced out of the room and down the hallway, the profilers hot in pursuit.
%%%%%%%%%%%
Reid's chase brought him to another door, locked, at a dead in. Letting the officers break it open, he entered to find a wall plastered with pictures of Annabel Finkleton posing and smiling with various children, noticeably drugged into a conscious stupor. The children were all different, but the outfits were the same as the ones found in the house.
"They've been doing this for years," he breathed in shock.
%%%%%%%%%%%
Rossi followed Taylor as fast as he could, but he lost sight of her for the space of maybe three seconds when she ran into a door. JJ rounded the opposite corner and saw Rossi. "What the hell, Rossi?" she yelled as he ran through the door after Taylor. When he entered, he saw a door hanging ajar that let bright sunlight into the darkness.
"The Unsubs' escape route!" he yelled back to JJ. "Keep going!"
Just outside was the Finkleton's car, and in the back seat was Annabel. There was no sign of her husband Stewart, however. She was throwing a childlike fit, banging her fists against the seats and screaming, "I want Little Sailor! I want Little Sailor!"
"Jack," whispered JJ as Rossi's eyes widened. "Dammit. Stewart went back inside for Jack!"
%%%%%%%%%%%
Jill's handcuff fell away after a few minutes. She fumbled with Jack's, but he shook his head. "Go to the door and yell," he said. "Yell as loud as you can."
"But nobody's here except for the Master and the Lady," she said, sobbing a little.
But Jack shook his head. "My Daddy's been looking for me, I know it. And if you yell, maybe someone else will hear you." He took her hand. "You have to try. You're bigger than me. You can be brave."
So Jill nodded and slowly inched over to the door. Jack made himself busy trying to open his own handcuff, remembering the game he'd play with his father's cuffs whenever he was bored.
Suddenly there were footsteps, a muttered string of curses as keys rattled, and then the door opened. The Master stood there, framed by the light from the outside passage. He took three steps inside and, to Jack's eyes, looked ready to crush the unprotected Jill beneath his feet.
Jack screamed to catch the Master's attention. Then he continued to scream, "Daddy! Daddy! DADDY!"
%%%%%%%%%%%
Hot on Brook's trail, Hotch heard the scream from down the way. Doubling his speed, he rounded the corner and saw Stewart Finkleton standing in a doorway, paralyzed by the scream emanating from inside. "Stewart Finkleton! FBI!" he yelled, raising his gun to bear. "Step away from the door and put your hands on your head. Now!" he barked as Morgan and Prentiss came around the corner, their own guns up.
Stewart didn't resist arrest, so Hotch slid past the officers and entered the dungeon-like room. "Jack? Jack!" he called. Prentiss and Morgan went in around him and began checking the children, focusing on the ones who were unconscious. "Jack!"
"Daddy!" yelled his son from across the room.
Hotch ran over and scooped Jack up into his arms, hugging the little boy as tightly as he could. "You okay buddy? You're not hurt, are you?" he asked, pulling back to check his son for any injuries.
"No Daddy, I'm fine," Jack insisted, looking back to where Stewart was being handcuffed. "Where's Jill? Did you save her?"
The profiler frowned, confused. "Jill?"
"The girl who was cuffed to the post there." Jack pointed to the wooden post in the center of the room. Hotch looked. There was a chain there, but it was old and rusted. Morgan picked up the end, which was stretched towards the door Hotch had just come through.
There was no cuff on the end.
%%%%%%%%%%%
BAU Headquarters, Quantico
3:00 P.M
Hotch breathed a sigh of relief as he watched his son's sleeping form on the couch in his office. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd been panicking and scared of losing his only son. Now Jack was back and safe and sound, the Unsubs were in custody, and the captive children were being returned to their parents. The BAU had once again closed a case and brought dangerous persons to justice.
"Well that was something I never want to go through again," breathed Prentiss, collapsing onto the chair in the conference room. The team had decided to do the debriefing right away and get out early. Something about this case had thoroughly drained them, not only because one of the persons taken had been Jack, but because it had happened so close to home.
Morgan rubbed his eyes and glanced over at Reid, who was looking at the collection of pictures found in the underground room. "Hey kid, whatcha got there?"
"Something weird," the younger agent admitted. "I was looking through the pictures that Stewart had on the wall, and one caught my attention." He handed the snapshot to Morgan, one of a young girl wearing a Victorian ball gown. "This girl.......she looks kind of like Leah, who helped me out."
"Wait, that one looks familiar," Prentiss said, grabbing another picture. This one had a girl as well, with light brown hair and blank blue-green eyes. "This looks like my witness, the one who heard Stewart and Annabel arguing."
By now Morgan had picked up another picture and was staring at it. The girl was in a puffy purple dress with a red sash and boots, with dark brown, almost black hair in pigtails. "Ya know, dress her differently, and this looks like......but it can't be....."
Rossi had a picture of a blonde blue-eyed girl resembling Taylor in his hand, staring at it like he couldn't believe his eyes. "This is....." he began, but was unable to finish.
Then Garcia entered the room with a portable laptop. "Hey, I was running your witnesses' names through databases and I got nothing," she announced, sounding confused. "And I looked through anything and everything. I mean, look at this." First she called up Leah's name. "No undergraduate programs list a Leah K. Obitnas anywhere in the D.C. area." Then she typed in LJ. "You say hooker, I say never been arrested. No LJ Gideon." Next was Taylor. "No Taylor Mame Finnegan, alone or family, ever lived near Hotch's address." The same went for Benee T. Wathmon. "Nothing. Nada. Zilch." And finally was Brook. "There's no record of a Brook H. Yales ever working in D.C. or the tri-state area." She sat down and typed some more. "And Little Jack Hotch kept mentioning a Jill, but there were no children, past or missing, with the name Jill that the Finkletons had taken."
This announcement left the entire team in shock. Hotch's forehead developed confusion lines as he frowned. Prentiss looked at JJ, but all the blonde woman could do was shrug an I-don't-know shrug. Reid was, for once, speechless. Morgan and Rossi stared at Garcia as if she'd spoken Chinese.
Another agent suddenly entered the room, carrying a sketchpad. Her bouncy blonde hair dropped over her shoulder as she handed the pad to JJ. "The boy provided this sketch of the girl he was with," she said. She started to walk back out the door, but stopped. When she turned back to face the team, a smile was on the woman's face. "You guys did a great job," she said in a heartfelt voice. "I'm sure the children appreciate it. Thank you." She looked around the room, taking in each profiler's face. "Thank you all."
The team watched as she strode down the hallway towards the glass doors of the bullpen. Jack, being escorted by an agent, saw her coming and waved. The blonde woman slapped him a high-five as she walked past, said something to the boy, waved when he waved goodbye, then opened the door and left.
Then Reid spoke up. "Garcia, can you let me see those names?" His voice sounded strange, like he was unable to believe what he was saying. Garcia turned the laptop to face him as he wheeled the glass board over and wiped everything clean to write.
Taylor Mame Finnegan
Leah K. Obitnas
LJ Gideon
Benee T. Wathmon
Brook H. Yales
Everyone stared at the names, each remembering the girl they'd met and the race through the labyrinth. Finally Morgan broke the silence. "So what, Reid? Five girls."
"Six, if you count Jill," Hotch corrected.
Reid wrote her name down at the bottom of the list. "Look really carefully," he said, still sounding awed. "You see anything? Anything.....familiar?"
"Reid, what are you talking about?" Prentiss asked, not getting it but speaking before someone else did.
The genius profiler quickly put a dash beside each girl's name and wrote a letter for each one he crossed out in the previous name. Then he took the pictures the profilers had been musing over. When he was finished, these were written on the board with the pictured taped to the side.
Emma Taylor (Ray) Finnegan
Tobias Hankel
Elle (Greenaway) Jason Gideon
Matthew Benton
Haley Brooks (Hotchner)
When he was done, Reid turned around and met eyes with everyone in the room. "I may be wrong, but...."
"You're hardly ever wrong," breathed Hotch, staring at Haley's name.
JJ looked down at the sketch. And gasped in shock. Prentiss, who was closer, jumped up and went to her side. "JJ?"
"This is...." JJ looked from the sketch, to her friend, to the team, and back. Then she showed them the picture of Jill. "This is.....my sister."
"What?!" Morgan said, eyebrows shooting up. "Are you sure?"
JJ nodded, tears coming to her eyes. "I know my own sister. She looked like this when she was Jack's age."
Jack entered the room, beaming happily. "Daddy, Jill said to say goodbye," he said, crawling onto his father's lap.
This broke his father's focus. "What was that?"
"Jill said bye," Jack said again. "She had to go back. But she said bye, and thanks again."
The entire team stared at the boy. He looked back innocently, remembering what Jill had told him when she drew her picture for him......
"I have to go back after I give this to your daddy and the others. Can you tell them the others say thanks too? We've been waiting a long time to help them."
"She said to say," Jack added to the silent group, "that they've all been waiting to help for a long time."
Each profiler stared at Jack, then at the name of the girl they'd met, and the girl's real name. JJ stared at her sister's picture, then the door, realizing why the woman had seemed so familiar.
Finally Rossi spoke. "T.L. Cuyler once said, 'God always has an angel of help for those who are willing to do their duty.' "
Reid nodded. "Nobody will ever believe this."
"I think it's best that we keep these particular facts to ourselves," Hotch said.
There was a small murmur of assent. Jack, sensing the fact was for him to agree with as well, nodded solemnly. Reid began erasing the board as Garcia took the pictures back to put in the folder. JJ clutched the sketchpad to her chest like a schoolgirl tightly holding her stack of books, then looked again at the anonymous quote written beneath her sister's face.
"When hearts listen, angels sing," she whispered, smiling to herself.
Customary Ending Quote
"An angel can illume the thought and mind of man by strengthening the power of vision, and by bringing within his reach some truth which the angel himself contemplates." ~ Thomas Aquinas
And FIN! Well, whaddya think? Kinda fluffy, but I thought it was okay. Please R&R, because that makes everything wonderful!