Disclaimer:
Not mine. I really wish it was, but sadly it's not. *sniffle*
Summary:
This time it wasn't an unknown victim they were trying to save; it was themselves…
He'd been taunting the local PD for months, with notes mentioning a game. A game they had no idea how to play... Now here it was.
A/N:
Hi there! I'd like to say a massive thank you to PrincessHotch, teal-lover, LoveforPenandDerek, CrimStudent47 and klcm for their awesome reviews last chapter. Thanks guys! I'll be posting the next chappy soon, so if you could leave a little review, that would be really, really awesome; I'd love to know what you think so far!
Chapter 2
No one moved. They all held their collective breaths.
Waiting. Wishing. Hoping. Praying.
Click
Morgan had long ago sunk to the floor, his head in his hands, eyes closed, only looking up briefly at the sound of each click.
Reid paced the length of the room, mouthing silently to himself, his hands twisting and contorting. He occasionally ran his fingers along his right arm, rubbing inside his elbow. The entire situation reminded him of a time he wished he could forget. He was unable to help, trapped - and scared. She could die and he could do nothing to help.
A profile wasn't going to help them now. They all knew that.
Click
Rossi stood near the glass, leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket. He gently fingered the bracelet in his pocket, hoping he could draw strength from it. Hotch stood nearby, standing squarely in front of the window, arms crossed. Rossi chuckled at the classic Hotchner-stance.
"What?" the unit chief asked, still looking straight ahead, eyes never wavering.
"Even at a time like this, you never... falter" the older profiler noted. "Defiant posture: firm stance, arms folded, glaring; are you glaring? I'll say you are, works well with where I'm going with this. You should get that" he waved a hand to Hotch, "patented. Classic Aaron Hotchner."
"I'll bear that in mind."
He hadn't moved, hadn't looked away. He thought that she deserved that much. His undivided attention. Not much to offer, considering she was risking her life, but it was something at least. The others had closed their eyes, or looked away when ever the gun was raised. He hadn't. He felt that she needed someone there for her, whatever way it turned out. If she died, it wasn't alone. He was there. They were there. He hoped she knew that.
Aaron watched her picked it slowly, never looking away from the UnSub.
"NO!" Reid ran forward, panic and fear etched on to his young face. "No, no, no, NO! Please, no..."
"Reid?"
"Kid? What's wrong?"
He didn't answer but continued to look out through the glass, eyes wide in horror.
"Reid" Hotch said grabbing the young genius by the shoulders and turning him so they were eye to eye. "What did you work out?"
"...so there should be - I mean that if there's the right number of chambers than-"
"What, Spencer?"
Reid lay his hand against the glass, and looked towards the brunette
"If it's- there's a chance it's a six chamber gun, if it is ... there's two left."
They all gathered round, hoping the youngest was wrong.
She paused, holding it in both hands.
"Derek. Your baby girl needs you more than I do."
She smiled sadly. "Don't argue. Garcia needs her chocolate god." she chuckled "You'll do more good out there. Go."
She raised the heavy metal, trying to ignore her trembling hand, her burning eyes.
The door slammed open. The two blondes looked up. JJ had her arms wrapped around a sobbing Penelope.
"Morgan! Oh god. You're ok." The eccentric blonde ran towards him.
"I'm here baby. I'm here."
JJ raised a questioning eyebrow. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her make up slightly smudged, tear tracks marring her usually flawless face. The face of the BAU, Queen of Press Conferences. He and Emily had always teased her for it.
He held out his other arm, not answering.
She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she tried not to let her imagination run away with her.
JJ stumbled into his embrace, and the three stood, hoping the game wasn't over.
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