A/N: Being as this is a fanfiction, we're all just going to forget about the whole Tobias Hankel thing, okay? As it pertains to this story, it never happened. Thanks!
"Hotch, we can't just sit around! What are we doing to help Reid?" Morgan scolds his boss, a very unusual action for him to commit. Though he doesn't always agree with Agent Hotchner, he does always respect him, as well as the rest of his team.
It's been four hours since Morgan discovered Reid's empty hotel room. He'd been looking for any sign as to where his colleague might have slipped off to when a disturbance at the door caught his heart in his throat. He'd raised his weapon in preparation to take down anyone that stood in the way of himself and his favorite genius. For an agonizingly long second, Morgan thought he'd been hearing things in his paranoid state, until the rest of his team filed into the room, the barrel of their pistols aimed right at his chest.
"What is this? Where's Reid?" Rossi had asked him, being the first to enter the room. Morgan stood in silence, having no idea what to say. He prayed that Reid had just gone down for breakfast, but a sickening feeling in his gut told him otherwise.
"I - I don't know," he'd said, immediately activating the motherly instincts of JJ. Out of all of them, with the exception of Hotchner, Morgan never lost his cool. He treated every case seriously, and never once did he allow himself to be subjective - not even when he himself had been accused of homicide.
JJ stepped forward, guiding Morgan to sit down on the king sized bed that occupied most of the room.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?" She said in a soothingly sweet voice.
"I...um..."
"It's okay," she reassured Morgan, glancing up at the rest of her team with worrisome eyes. In all the years they'd worked together, they'd never seen Morgan so flustered - speechless, even.
"There was no answer at the door. I went back into my room and knocked on the wall. Nothing. So I kicked the door in, and he wasn't here. His phone and his badge are both gone, but nothing else seems out of place."
"And the alarm clock?" Hotchner asked, walking around the bed to shut off the beeping sound that filled their ears.
"It was going off. That's when I knew something was wrong."
"Okay," JJ said, talking to the rest of the team just as much as Morgan, whom she had her arm around. "Let's not panic. I'm sure he's around here somewhere."
"There's no sign of a struggle," Rossi pitched in, looking carefully around the floor and bed for any sign that someone had put up a fight.
His words weren't particularly reassuring to the team, but no one dared to say what they were all thinking. Reid was small, weak, and he didn't have his gun. Of course there wouldn't be any struggling. Any adult of average build could have restrained him with one arm tied behind their backs.
"JJ, take Morgan down to the lobby in case Reid shows up there. Rossi and I will stay up here in case he comes back. Prentiss, look around the hotel. Check the breakfast bar, gym, anywhere Reid might've gone." The team looked around at one another, each of them recognizing the authoritative tone in Hotch's voice. He was treating this just like he would any other case - treating Reid as a victim.
"Any sign of him?" JJ was quick to her feet as Prentiss entered the lobby, her strides wide and quick as she approached the couch where Morgan and JJ were seated. She didn't answer. With the discouraged look on her face, she didn't have to.
"Hotch and Rossi are on their way down," she said, taking a seat next to Morgan while shaking her head hopelessly, mostly to herself. "I don't understand. Where would he have gone?"
"Do you think I should notify the public of a missing person?" JJ asked Prentiss, who was nibbling on her nails and shaking her leg violently.
JJ's main job as part of the BAU is to act as a missing link between the Bureau and the public - that is, holding press conferences, contacting local law enforcement, speaking with victim's families, and acting as a voice of reason. She'd never hesitated to do her job and always followed the team's protocol, but she'd never worked a case involving one of their own. This was different, and she wasn't quite sure how to proceed.
"I don't know," Prentiss hesitated, feeling the angry eyes of Morgan flickering over to her right cheek. She didn't make eye contact with either of them. "I mean, it's only been a few hours. There's no sign of a crime. We don't even know if we have a missing person."
"Emily," Morgan started. She'd been expecting his scorn, but the team only used first names when they really meant business. She cast her eyes down, as did JJ.
"Reid is gone. Something happened to him, and we need to get it out to the public as soon as possible. You guys have worked cases like this hundreds of times before. Each minute that we sit here is another minute that Reid could be out there getting beaten or sliced up or - "
It was then that Hotch and Rossi stepped into the lobby, and the group fell into an eerie silence. Whether it be that no one knew exactly what to say, or that they all knew what needed to be said and just couldn't get the words out, it didn't matter. Reid was gone and they had absolutely nowhere to start.
"Hotch, we can't just sit around! What are we doing to help Reid?"
Agent Hotchner looks up at Morgan, whose eyes are glistening with deep concern for their youngest agent. "It's been four hours, Morgan. I don't believe the locals will take us seriously if we act this soon."
"Screw the locals!" Morgan shoots back. Prentiss and JJ look away, not keen on being caught in the crossfires of Morgan and their boss. "We're here, and Reid isn't. As far as I'm concerned, that's all we need to act on."
Hotchner gives his signature warning glare, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the hotel. Morgan sighs, throwing his head against the back of the couch. He knows better than to talk back to Hotch, but he has to bite his tongue not to.
"Excuse me." Hotchner's phone rings. He stands up and steps off to the side to answer it, but not far enough to be out of earshot of his team. Intentional or not, they make no effort to refrain from eavesdropping on the conversation.
"No, I understand that ma'am, but - " The caller interrupts Hotch, who looks frustrated by whatever he is being told.
"Yes, but...yes. Okay. We're on our way." He spends way too much time hanging up his phone and placing it back in his pocket, dreading what he is about to tell his team and already knowing what their reaction will be.
Hotchner walks slowly back to the group, his head hanging low. He stops in front of them, and doesn't speak until Rossi asks him what's going on.
"That was Strauss. She wants us all back at headquarters. Now."
"What?" Morgan jumps to his feet, leaving just a few inches between himself and his superior. At any other time, he would be severely out of line and reprimanded, but Hotch cannot blame him for the reaction. He raises his head to meet Morgan's eyes.
"I'm sorry," he genuinely states, "but there is nothing we can do at this point. And even if we do have a case, there's no way the Bureau will let us work it. It's too personal. You and I both know that."
"You're damn right it's personal!" Morgan takes another step towards Hotchner, who doesn't even blink in the midst of the advancement. "Hotch, that kid needs us. There is no one in this world who knows him better than the five of us. They can send the whole FBI out here if they want to. This team is his only chance."
Morgan's voice is low and dominant, much like Hotch himself. As much as he knows he needs to scold Morgan, Hotch can't bring himself to do it. His team has been working together for years, and deep down, they all know that Morgan is right. They spend every single day looking into the behavior of both criminals and their victims. If anyone is going to find Reid, it is going to be them.
"Get Garcia on the phone," Hotch finally says. He can almost feel the relief in the room at his words, but it doesn't last. "Don't tell her what's going on just yet. Tell her to get the next commercial flight out here. Tell her if Strauss asks, she's sick and going home early. This stays within this team until we get a better understanding of the situation. Do you understand?"
Morgan nods in agreement, glancing around at the other tense bodies in the room as he unclips his phone from his belt. With the push of just one button and one and a half rings, someone picks up.
"Baby girl," Morgan speaks quickly and with purpose. "I hope you have a go-bag at the ready."
"Does someone want to explain to me what I'm doing here?"
A sassy, quirky blonde strides into the hotel lobby just two hours after she had been called. Wearing a bright-colored floral dress, four inch heels, coral blue glasses, and enough jewelry to supply an entire fashion show, one would have no clue that Penelope Garcia works for the FBI.
"Garcia." Hotch rises swiftly to his feet, offering to take one of the three rolling bins that the technical analyst pulls along behind her.
"Sir, with all due respect, this is not my job. I sit in my dark little cave and scour the interwebs for evil behind the safety of my high-def screens. I'm not even authorized to carry a gun."
"I understand that, Garcia, and I appreciate you coming out on such short notice, but - "
"Again, sir, I had to lie to the Section Chief. Penelope Garcia does not lie to anyone. Well, unless you count secretly hacking into the FBI's network in order to protect you beautiful ducklings, in which case I - "
"Garcia," Hotch says, taking on a more serious tone than before. This prompts Garcia to quieten down, in which she realizes that the rest of the team are staring at her in complete silence, not a single hint of amusement on their faces. This is especially strange for Morgan, who usually encourages her uniqueness.
"This is a key to your room. I need you to casually take your belongings there, and then everyone is to meet in my room, number 206, immediately. Don't raise any flags. We're just a group of friends having a drink, do you understand?"
Garcia's cherry red lips fall into a straight line. She glances around at her team for answers, but no one meets her gaze. She knows that if anyone will tell her what's happening, it will be Reid. As rule-abiding and respectful as he is, he is also the most innocent, and therefore the easiest to crack when it comes to secrets. Just as Garcia is about to ask for his help in taking her things to her room, she realizes he isn't there.
"Where's Reid?" She asks cluelessly. When everyone looks down at the floor in silence, her breath catches in her throat. It only takes a second for tears to well up in her eyes, and a few seconds more for Hotch to reinforce his orders to her, a little more sensitively this time.
"Garcia, please. Prentiss can help you. She'll brief you on the elevator. Everyone else, follow me as nonchalantly as you can."
One by one, the BAU files out of the lobby and into a glass elevator that towers high above the main entrance, leaving just Garcia, Prentiss, and all of Garcia's equipment behind.
"I thought Derek didn't do elevators," Garcia breathes helplessly, watching as the four of them ascend in the glass box.
"Garcia, please. We really need to get to work." Prentiss lays her hand on Garcia's shoulder, picking up both of their go-bags and wheeling one of the analyst's carts behind her, towards a second elevator.
"Work...right. Let's go."
The ride up to the 18th floor is agonizing for both women, yet in entirely different manors. On the left, Garcia stares straight ahead as floor numbers light up on the panel. As each floor passes, the elevator seems to slow down. Her mind is racing with so many possibilities that it is impossible to make sense of any of them. Was Reid shot in the field? Did something happen to his mother, who suffers from schizophrenia? Did he take a case too personally and take matters into his own hands, as each team member does from time to time? There is only one thing Garcia can distinguish about the theories running rampant in her head - none of them are good.
To the right of her, Prentiss is debating in her mind how to break the news gently. She can't imagine what it must feel like, staying behind in Quantico and never knowing if everyone will make it home safely. Though Garcia's job involves little physical movement, it is no doubt that she is the strongest of the seven. Someone once told Prentiss that only the strongest people are capable of showing weakness. She forgets who said it, but knows that it is true.
"Penelope," Prentiss starts. Garcia slowly raises her eyes to meet Prentiss', a trail of eyeliner rushing down both of her cheeks.
"First names are never a good sign in this job, Emily. We don't call each other by first names unless something really bad happens." There is a brief pause. "Oh God," Garcia cries, "something really bad happened, didn't it?"
As much as Prentiss doesn't want to, she knows she has to tell Garcia what's happening - why she was called into the field, why she was ordered to lie to Strauss, and why they are a man down. She is accustomed to informing families that their loved ones are dead, but this seems so much harder than any other aspect of her job. She takes a deep breath, and decides the best route is to just be straightforward.
"When we met to board the jet this morning, Reid never showed up. Morgan went up to get him and he was gone." Garcia inhales sharply. Prentiss winces, but continues. If she stops, she's afraid she won't be able to start back up. "He left his go-bag. His creds and cell phone are missing. Morgan had his gun with him. Something about a stupid bet at the bar last night. There were no signs of forced entry or a struggle."
The elevator comes to a halt. There is a ding, and the door slides open. Neither of the women move. Neither of them speak.
"Is this your floor?" A brunette lady holding the hand of a small child asks, her eyebrows raised curiously at the pair of them as she waits to board the elevator.
"Yes, ma'am. My apologies." Prentiss snaps out of her daze, grabbing the bags she'd been carrying and gently nudging Garcia with her elbow. Garcia takes a deep breath, grabs her things, and quietly exits the elevator.
"Alright, guys. What do we know so far?"
"Nothing," JJ scowls, staring at the cream-colored wall of her boss's room. "We know nothing."
There is a long silence. Hotchner and Rossi sit on the edge of his bed, staring down at their feet in thought. Morgan stands, his back against the wall and head leaning back, eyeballs closed. JJ, Emily, and Garcia are positioned around the small oval table in the kitchenette, with JJ holding the hand of a sobbing Garcia.
"I understand that this is difficult," Hotch continues, forcing himself to make eye contact around the room. As the leader of this team, he knows that if he breaks, they all will. He has to remain strong and clear-headed, for himself, his team, and for Reid.
"Hotch," Morgan says - stern but respectful. "JJ is right. We have no evidence whatsoever. There is literally nowhere to start." He bangs his fist into the wall behind him, prompting Garcia to jump in fright. "I should've looked after him last night. I should've - "
"No!" Prentiss jumps up, striding over towards Morgan in her pantsuit and heels. "Don't you do that to yourself, Derek. That's what the UnSub wants."
"You have no idea what the UnSub wants." With that, Morgan stomps out onto the balcony, slamming the glass sliding door behind him so hard that a painting on the wall shakes. JJ stands to console him, but Rossi recommends against it, insisting that Agent Morgan needs space to cool off.
"What do we do when we have a case with no leads?" Rossi asks calmly, doing his best to guide the shock-stricken team into working mode.
"Victimology," Prentiss mutters, barely loud enough for anyone to hear her. "We try to study the behavior of the victim, find out everything we can about them, and work up a preliminary profile based on why and how the UnSub chose their victims."
"Exactly," Rossi agrees, nodding towards Prentiss, who has reverted back to her seat around the table.
"Yes, but victimology only works when we can compare two or more vi - "
"Don't." Everyone turns to stare at Morgan, who had slipped back in the room so quietly that no one is quite sure how long he's been back inside. "Don't you dare call him a victim."
JJ looks taken aback for a moment, but then a look of shock and disappointment clouds her face. "Oh my God, I - " She starts, raising a hand to cover her agaped mouth.
"Oh no, honey," Garcia reassures her. It is the first time she has spoken since her and Prentiss entered the room. "You didn't mean it like that."
"Look," Hotchner starts, attempting to relieve JJ of whatever terrible thing she must be feeling right about now, "this case isn't going to be easy, but we're not achieving anything by sitting around worrying. I want Morgan and Rossi to head back to D.C. and check out Reid's apartment. Look for anything that - "
"No," Morgan blurts out, shamelessly interrupting his superior. "I'm not about to get on a plane and go home while our boy is out there with some creep."
To everyone's surprise, Hotch continues with his orders. This seems to send Morgan into some form of angry rampage, who slams the door as hard as he can as he disappears into the hallway. As Hotchner directs Prentiss back to Reid's hotel room, himself and JJ to the bar Morgan mentioned they were at last night, and Garcia to the hotel's security office for video footage, he can't help but notice the reluctance in everyone's eyes. He isn't sure which is worse for them - the fact that Reid is missing, or that they have to dig through every aspect of his life to bring him home safely. It is not an easy thing to do, but it is necessary nonetheless.
"Guys," Hotch demands, reminding them all that he is still their boss and that they have a job to do, "the clock is ticking. Get to work."
Just as everyone stands up to head to their assigned locations, a loud knock comes at the door. Hotch is the first to withdrawal his weapon, and everyone - excluding Garcia - follows suit. It is not routine for the BAU to raise their guns at every knock, but it comes as no surprise that the peculiar situation has them all on high alert. Hotch makes a move to open the door. Rossi side-steps around him, covering him as he removes a hand from his pistol.
The door creaks open. A bellhop stands on the other side, clad in a horrendous green suit with a matching hat and looking absolutely terrified at the large, angry man standing behind him.
"Morgan?" Rossi questions, taking a step towards the agent who is holding the bellhop by his collar. "What's going on?"
"Go ahead. Tell them." Morgan gives the shorter man a nudge. He whimpers in response.
"I uh - I'm just here to deliver this package to Aaron Hotchner," he stutters, clearly terrified. "My boss will hear about the assault that your friend here has committed!" He adds, attempting to make himself sound braver than what he actually is.
"That won't be necessary," Hotch informs the bellhop, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out a badge. "Morgan, get him in here."
Morgan does as he is told, perhaps a little rougher than what is typically allowed. The door slams shut behind them, and all is quiet again.