Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
Hotch sat on the rumpled cot, staring listlessly at the wall. He had been right in suspecting that water might be in short supply; what he hadn't counted on was getting only enough to sustain him and even less food. What must have been several days' worth of beard and grime covered his face, but he had no idea exactly how much time had passed. There was no daylight entering the room, the light bulb shone constantly, and his guards had deliberately staggered their visits at vastly irregular intervals. All of this had jumbled his time sense to the point where he'd given up trying to calculate his length of stay. But however long it had been, not once had he seen anyone other than the two guards with food (or sometimes not). There had been no interrogation, no kidnapper with demands or threats or boasts, and especially no Reid. There had just been endless time spent staring at the walls, sleeping, or trying to come up with a way of striking back at his captors without success. The obvious answer to the situation was that the unsub had no interest in him, which meant that Reid had been the one he was after and he'd been taken simply to prevent a quick start to the search. And unless someone from the BAU tried to call them at the conference (which was unlikely), they wouldn't be missed until they didn't show up back at Quantico.
The door opened and he glared (the only thing he had the energy to do) as the guards entered. He'd given up trying to get them to respond. Only twice had he tried to get passed them. The first attempt had been repelled by a backhand that had flung him across the room and left him with a bloody mouth and a headache the size of Montana. The second had led to his one and only beating and no food for the next three visits. If he was right, it had also left him with two cracked (if not broken) ribs. He could only be thankful that there was as yet no infection.
When the two men had left, he staggered over to the table. The offering consisted only of a cup of water and some soda crackers, but he responded as if it was a four-course meal at a five-star restaurant. He managed not to cram all of the crackers in his mouth at once, but he couldn't refrain from eating every last crumb and draining the glass.
Returning to the cot, he sat down and sagged against the wall. All he could do was endure, and pray that nothing worse was happening to Reid. He closed his eyes and thought of his family, not even noticing as the drug on the crackers swept consciousness away.
Senior Agent Jason Gideon looked at the BAU bullpen. Derek Morgan was teasing Elle Greenway, putting case folders on her desk as quickly as she yanked them off and returned them (sometimes by air mail). Jennifer Jareau – J.J. to her friends - was out of her office for once, enjoying the interplay and egging the combatants on impartially (much to the amusement of the other agents in the area). Gideon was glad that the team had had a few days of relaxation. It had been one case after another over the past few months, and he could only hope that they got a few more days off before the next crisis.
A half smile creased his face as he thought about the two absent agents. He wondered if Aaron had gotten any rest. He wasn't worried about Reid all that much; if he managed to get some sleep every night and ate something, this conference was better than a week on the beach in Hawaii for the young man.
The smile faded, as did the noisy byplay, as an obviously-distraught Garcia hurried down the stairs, a piece of paper clenched in one hand. There was frozen silence for a split-second, and then the others dropped what they were doing and rushed over.
Derek got to her first. "Garcia? What is it?"
The plump blonde looked at him with devastated eyes as she handed Gideon the note. "It came off the unclassified email account, addressed directly to the BAU and to Gideon specifically. Vetted it as a matter of course; we get lots of weird stuff. But when I saw what it said... "
Jason looked at the note, a plain computer printout of what appeared to be a standard email. It is the sender's ID – whodoneit – that sent a spark down his nerves. There were only four lines printed in the message block, but he could feel the chill settle in his gut as he read them aloud.
Two agents away
from HQ and team.
Two agents gone missing.
Now what does it mean?
Gideon looked up in time to see the younger agent paled as much as his African-American heritage would allow, and he heard the dark-haired woman agent suck in a gasp of breath. The pair then spun and half-ran to their desks; Morgan dug through the papers on his desk. Finding what he wanted, he glanced at the sheet and then thrust it at Elle. As the pair grabbed their respective phones, he gestured the computer tech closer. "Any idea where this came from?"
The question snapped her out of her shock and put a steely look back into her eyes. "I started a tracer program to run down its origin before I brought a copy up here. Give me a few minutes to get back to the lab and you'll have it."
"Gideon!" Morgan slammed his phone. "They never checked into the hotel. They didn't make any of the lectures, either."
"They arrived on time at the airport," Elle chimed in, hanging up only a bit more sedately than her teammate. "They picked up their rental car and left."
Gideon nodded, then started snapping orders. "Morgan, contact the Florida FBI office and get a full search started. J.J., same thing with the local police down there; make sure they check the local hospitals for John Does. Elle, call the hanger and have them get the plane ready immediately. Garcia, contact us as soon as you have anything on the sender. I'll inform the Director." He looked at the others, his eyes dark with suppressed emotion. "Meet me at the hanger in half an hour."
Gideon headed for the door as the others fanned out, seemingly oblivious to the whispers and concerned looks of their colleagues. It wouldn't take him long to get ready, but he didn't want to waste any time. The head and heart of the BAU were missing, and he meant to get them back.
The team blew into the local FBI office with a controlled intensity rarely seen even from them. But there was no surprise in the eyes of the few people they'd met before. Only looks of understanding and determination came their way, backed by the realization of the situation and the remembrance of six agents lost in the Boston debacle. Happily, no one offered any words of sympathy; it was doubtful if they would have handled it.
With their usual efficiency, the group went to work. Elle began establish their work area, gathering the tools they would use. J.J. started running interference with the media, hoping to keep this out of the public eye for a time; she also coordinated the effort of sending bulletins to the local police forces and hospitals. Jason and Morgan set out to compile the scant information the locals had managed to gather before their arrival. At least there had been some news on that front. The rental car had been found parked quite normally in a back lot of the hotel. All of the missing agents' gear, including their weapons, was locked in the trunk; the one glaring omission had been their Federal ID badges. The vehicle was currently undergoing complete testing in the FBI's forensics lab for anything that might provide a clue as to the nature of the attack or the agents' whereabouts. That was their best lead, because so far Garcia had had no luck in tracing the email. It had been sent from a generic website and the account apparently had been generated for just this and then deleted immediately. The computer id had turned out to be a public library in Orlando. The computer tech had expressed doubt that anything useful would come out of it, but was still trying.
"Jason!" J.J.'s shout turned every head in her direction as she hung up the phone and rushed over to him. "East Beach Memorial Hospital just called in to report that a man matching Hotchner's description was admitted early this morning. He had no identification, so it was only when they got the photo we sent around that somebody recognized him."
Before he could open his mouth to reply, all three of his teammates were gathered around him, faces both eager and concerned. Knowing there was no way on Earth he would be able to keep them away from their team leader, he simply said "Let's go" and led the way out. When the foursome got at the hospital, however, it was understood that he would see Hotchner alone at first. Not knowing what he'd been through, everyone knew that a mass arrival might do him no good at all. So, while Gideon entered the room alone, J.J. talked to the staff, Elle talked to the police on site, and Morgan paced the hall nervously.
A hospital staffer was in the room as well, taking blood and readings, for which Gideon was grateful. It gave him a few moments as he stared at the pale form in the hospital bed and strove to regain detachment. He didn't remember ever seeing Hotch quite so bad. Even cleaned up, the signs of deprivation and abuse were obvious. The police had given them pictures taken when Aaron had first been admitted to the hospital, and it made him wonder how anyone had seen the likeness between the ID photo that had been distributed and the wild-eyed wreck they were treating. As the nurse left, he frowned at the restraints fastened to the bed frame and then around the agent's arms and legs; he didn't like the implication of their presence.
Hotch stirred, struggling to consciousness. Immediately Gideon was at the side of the bed, grabbing the hand that groped for purchase between his own.
"Hotch, it's Gideon. You're safe now, in a hospital. The others are waiting to see you."
Dark eyes fluttered open, and then locked on his with feverish intensity. "Reid! Is Reid here, too?" Gideon had to restrain him as Hotch struggled to sit up and look around.
"Hotch, lie still!" He hated to say it, but the truth was better than letting the man work himself into a frenzy. "No, Reid isn't here. You're the only one we've found so far."
The shoulders under his grasp went rock-hard as Hotch froze completely. "Not here?" Devastation filled his eyes and, taking Gideon completely by surprise, he threw his head back and screamed; it was a wail of loss that shocked Jason to the core. Hotch flung himself against his hold and the restraints like a wild thing struggling against a trap, and one strap buckle parted with a sound like a gunshot.
As Gideon was flung away from the bed by a blow to the chest, the door crashed open as two male orderlies rushed into the room, followed by the rest of his team. Morgan grabbed him from behind to steady him, and Jason had just enough presence of mind to throw out an arm to stop the two women from continuing forward. "Give them room to work," he managed to gasp.
Reluctantly they obeyed, moving to one side as they watched the men fling themselves on the wildly-yelling patient. It took a few minutes before a new restraint was applied. Then, while one continued to hold onto Hotch, the other grabbed the syringe he'd tossed onto the bedside table and deposited the contents into the IV intake tube. Hotch's eyes started to glaze and the pair stepped back cautiously. One wiped blood from a split lip and the other gingerly touched an eye that was sure to be truly impressive by tomorrow.
"Okay, Gene...Andy. I'll want an observer in the room at all times until we know that those drugs are out of his system." The feminine voice brought the entire team around to face the newcomer, a woman doctor. The lines of a full life marked her still-attractive face, and the bright blue eyes that were framed by spectacular silver hair were as full of the knowledge learned from that life as they were young. She smiled gently at the group as she continued. "I'll allow his teammates to act as observers if they'll be sensible enough to yell for help." A gesture sent the two men out of the room before she turned back and held out a hand. "Dr. Alexandra Harvey."
"Jason Gideon, FBI." He took her hand in a brief but firm grip that was matched on her side. "Agents Morgan, Greenway, and Jareau. What can you tell us?"
"Probably not as much as either of us would like." She moved over and did a quick examination of her oblivious patient. "He's full of some kind of natural sedative, which is how they controlled him for transportation. But it's a companion drug that I'm worried about. As you saw, it's stimulating those centers of the brain that control fear and guilt. No doubt they hoped his reactions would classify him as a nutcase and he'd get thrown into a mental ward. This isn't the first time he's gone off...he broke the jaw of one of the police officers that brought him in."
"And why wasn't he?" Elle asked, moving over to grip Hotch's arm, either for his reassurance or her own. Gideon wanted to know the answer as well; this doctor was more than she appeared.
"Two reasons. First, I've been in this business for 40 years, working with most of the government agencies as well as in the emergency rooms of several different major cities. I know the difference between a drug trip gone bad and...something else. This rang every alarm bell I had, and when your alert came in I was pretty much sure. I ran a few tests I normally don't do and one came up positive. The second drug is a fairly sophisticated psychotic, but for some reason it was given in such a low dosage that the effects are limited."
"And what is the second reason?" This time the question came from J.J.
"This was found when the emergency room staff took his clothes..." she held up a finger to forestall Morgan as he opened his mouth to comment, "...which I saved for your analysis." She picked up a specimen bag from the bedside table and handed Gideon. "The clothes are in there." She gestured to a larger but similar bad on the chair before handing Gideon a pair of surgical gloves. "I thought you'd want these as well."
Jason nodded a surprised thank you and, after donning the gloves, opened the bag and slid the note out. Flipping it open, he went cold as the verse leaped out at him, destroying any hope that Reid would be found as easily.
One man you have back;
I throw you a bone.
The other is mine
and mine all alone.
Replacing it in the bag, he handed it to Elle and he addressed the doctor. "When can we talk to Agent Hotchner?"
She looked at the group, now bunched instinctively in a protective arch around the bed. "I wouldn't count too heavily on getting any really useful information out of him. He may remember something, but pulling the pertinent details out of everything it's mixed in with may be difficult." She gave an encouraging smile. "That's the bad news. The good news is that neither drug should have a permanent effect. The sedative is wearing off by itself; in fact, it's all but gone now...which is why he was conscious enough to go off like that. The other we are treating with a counter-agent; that one is a bit more stubborn, but then so am I." She looked at them each, and then focused on Gideon. "Like I said, you can play attendants, but on two conditions. If there is any sign of a reaction, I want you to call me immediately. And if all of you have to leave the room, make sure an orderly is here before you do. There's no compromise on those two rules; break them and you won't even get on this floor before I release him."
Elle and J.J. both opened their mouths to protest, but Gideon forestalled them with a raised hand. Despite her favorite aunt looks and attitude, he knew she would happily carry out her threat. "Understood, Doctor. In return, if none of us are here when he wakes up and can talk, I want you to call us at any one of these numbers." He handed over a list of phone and pager numbers.
She nodded her agreement and slid it into a coat pocket. "I'll leave instructions with the floor staff." She slid smoothly between Morgan and the bed to perform another check; the taller agent backed quickly away to give her room, which was a measure of how impressed he was. "His latest blood work indicates that he's on course with my calculations, which means the second drug should be out of his system sometime late tomorrow morning. You can stay until then, come back on your own, or come back when we call you. Now I need to get back to my other patients." She hung her stethoscope around her neck and headed for the door. There, she paused and looked back at them with a smile. "Nice to meet you all. And don't worry...we'll take good care of him." With a confident stride, she disappeared out of the room.
Gideon turned to the other agents. "We'll take six-hour shifts here, but we need to get to work on locating Reid as well. J.J., are there any media stories pending?"
"Nothing's been released except for the basic report of Hotch's apprehension and transport here; no identification of him as a FBI agent."
"Elle, what about the local police department?"
"Only thing of interest was that he was found on one of docks that serve the local area and occasionally some of the smaller Bahamian islands." She shrugged. "They've handed off jurisdiction to the local office. They started a routine search, but want to keep things quiet until they have something to report."
He nodded. "Then you take first shift. The rest of us need to get back to base. Morgan, I want you to check and see if forensics has come up with anything. Elle, contact the local P.D. and see if we can get a look at where they found him. Let's go."
The trio left the room, Elle giving Hotch's hand a squeeze and whispering some reassurance into his ear before leaving. Jason paused just long enough to see J.J. pull one of the chairs over to the bed and sit down, starting the long watch. Then he turned his attention to finding answers.
TBC