So I decided to change my ideas up a bit. Another shorter chapter, but they are easier to follow that way.
Emily groaned and she blinked herself awake as rough hands jerked her up, lying her against the wall. She groaned when her legs were cut loose, feeling the blood rush to where it was needed. The bag was ripped from her head and sunlight blinded her momentarily.
"Emily Prentiss," It wasn't a question. The two words were full of hate and confusion.
She blinked again, focusing on the startling sight in front of her. A teenager stood in front of her, his blue eyes cold. He had blond hair, a little darker than JJ's, and was very tall. He looked like your normal school athlete, but the scar across his jaw ruined the image. She held his gaze, not willing to back down.
"So we meet again," He mused.
"Have we met before?" She frowned.
"Yes, we have. Maybe you need a refresher course."
"Maybe you need a reality check. You just kidnapped a federal agent."
"Blah blah blah. Heard it all before. They won't catch me. I learned from the best." He cracked his knuckles before turning back to her. "So you are the famous Emily Prentiss."
"I think we've established that," She rolled her eyes. "And you are?"
He laughed, shaking his head before looking at her thoughtfuly. "How did you catch him?"
"Excuse me?"
"My father. How in the hell did you catch him? Well, killed him, actually, but it doesn't matter. How?"
"Who was your father."
"Like you don't know."
"Kid, you've got some serious problems." She probably shouldn't have ran her mouth, but she was already fed up with the situation. Just after the Doyle incident died down, something like this happened. Would she ever get to live a normal life?
"Really? What gave it away?" He sneered. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"
"No." She frowned.
"I am James Blackwood."
"I don't know any Blackwood's. You are obviously confused."
"That's my mother's name, you idiot. My father never married her. I was a mistake."
"I still don't understand," She scanned the room, trying to figure a way out.
"Foyet."
Emily's head snapped around, her eyes locking on him. George Foyet was dead. She had seen his dead body. The kid looked nothing like him. Were they about to deal with a copy cat?
"George Foyet was my father."
_ _ _ _ _ _
"Hotch!" Came Morgan's cry from inside the apartment. Hotch ran in, JJ on his heels.
"What?"
"Man, this is bad." He dug underneath the bed and pulled out a black mask. The same mask George Foyet had once worn.
"He is dead. There is no way-" JJ began.
"We know it's not Foyet. Do we have a copycat killer?"
"Someone trying to take revenge?"
"But who? No one cared about him."
"He lived so many different lives, it could be anyone who knew him. This is bad. Very bad." JJ frowned.
Hotch stared at the mask that he held in his hands, feeling like he was going to be sick. Was the same man going to be the reason he lost two people he loved? And it was his fault. Or at least Haley's death had been. If he lost Emily, he wasn't sure how he could go on.
"Garcia, it's JJ."
"What's up?" She sounded like she hadn't slept since the case started.
"We need to look at George Foyet again. Now that we know the names he was using, find out anyone he visited more than once. Anyone he might have sent money, letters, emails, IM's too. We need it all."
"Why Foyet?" She said it, a sinking feeling in her gut.
"His mask was lying in Emily's apartment."
"Oh my god. Um, give me twenty minutes. Or less. Oh, um," She hung up, typing away frantically.
JJ sighed, running a hand through her hair. She wondered where Emily was and what she was doing. Was she alive? Or was it too late for one of her best friends?"
_ _ _ _
"Get up," James ordered, yanking Prentiss to her feet. She glared at him, wishing her hands weren't tied. The kid had a knife on his belt, but as pissed as she was, she could knock the hell out of him in one swing. "We are going to eat, before mom gets home."
"Your mother knows?" She was disgusted. How could a mother allow her child to be a monster?
"Of course she does. She wouldn't tell anyone though. She's afraid of me." The laugh he let out was far from innocent; it reflected his demonic self.
He led her into the kitchen and shoved her into a chair. She winced as her hip hit the side, but she quickly regained her composure, fixing her glare on the kid. He grabbed a bowl, pouring some cheerios in it, which striked Emily as ironic. Her situation was far from cheery.
"Eat up," He smirked, adding milk.
"I'm not hungry," She lied. She refused to play into his fantasies.
"Whatever," He rolled his eyes, checking his phone for messages, chuckling to himself. If she could just get ahold of that phone.
"James?" Called a scared, aphrensive voice from the living room.
"In the kitchen, mom." He pulled out his knife, digging lines in the table.
"Emily Prentiss, Susan Blackwood. The brats name is Kyle," He rolled his eyes as a younger boy cowered behind his mother. "Come here punk."
"Don't hurt him," Susan's voice was pleading instead of firm.
"He hasn't given me a reason to. Yet." He sneered, spinning the kid around. He had dark brown eyes and blond hair. Emily decided he couldn't have been much older than Jack. "Now Kyle. Why don't you show Ms. Smart Ass what happens when we don't behave."
"I don't wanna."
"What was that?" He turned back to the kid.
"Nothing," He mumbled, bulling his shirt off.
Emily's rage was fueled as she eyed the child's back. It was covered in bruises a few days old, but scars were on his back where it had been laid open, either by fist or knife. She turned her glare back to James, biting her tongue. She didn't want to say anything that would put the boy or his mother in danger. She then understood something:
The mom had no power over her oldest son. Not while the safety of the littler boy was a question. If she did anything, it was taken out on her son. Emily had a feeling the mother felt the same way she did; it hurt worse watching a child in pain rather than yourself.
"Good boy. Now go upstairs and play," He rolled his eyes, throwing the shirt in Kyle's face.
"Yes James." He scurried off.
"Susan, I am going out," He grabbed the keys from her hand. "Watch her. And don't try anything. Or I will kill them both," He warned Emily. "Tata for now," He smirked before leaving the house.
"I'm so sorry," Susan clamped a hand over her mouth, looking at Emily like she was a ghost.
"I understand," She said softly. "I'm Emily."
"I know…You, killed him, didn't you? You stopped that monster?"
"No. I didn't. I was just working the case. Your son is confused."
"That is not my little boy. That is a monster," She said defiantly. "He changed so much when his father died. He said he wanted to be just like him. He was ten then. Kyle was born seven years ago and after that, there was nothing I could do to stop him. Nothing."
"Mommy?" Came a small voice from the stairs.
"Come here, Kyle."
The little boy padded into the kitchen, hugging his mother's legs. Emily sighed, trying to jerk her hands free. "This is Ms. Emily. Be nice to her, ok?"
"Why is James so mean?" The boy frowned.
"He just is. Just don't make him mad, please?" She pleaded with her son.
"I won't."
"Find a way to help us, please." Was the last thing Susan said before leaving Emily to sit alone in the kitchen.
_ _ _ _ _
"Foyet knew quite a few creepy crawlers," Garcia announced as she entered the bullpen. "Most of the names that kept coming up, well, they are cooling their heels in prision. There are only two who aren't, as well as woman named Susan Blackwood. But here is the thing: Seven years ago, she fell off the face of the earth. This woman has no record. The other two men are Ryan Halters and Josh Hammons."
"JJ, Reid, take Halters. Morgan, Pren-…Rossi, go with Morgan and check out Hammons. I'll stay behind and help Garcia dig. Susan Blackwood can't just disappear."
.
.
"Find anything yet?" Hotch asked, standing behind Garcia.
"Not yet. She has two sons, James and Kyle. She disappeared two days after she was released from the hospital, Kyle was a week old."
"Why? Foyet was dead by then. So why leave then? Who is their father?"
"Kyle's father is a…Rex Plots. He is dead. Stabbed to death. His murder was never solved."
"When was he stabbed to death?"
"Two thousand nine… The day after Foyet was killed."
"Why is he so obsessed with Foyet?"
"Role model? Inspiration? Who knows what the creepers think." She continued typing away, looking for information on Susan. "If we can just find her, I have a feeling we will find Prentiss."
"Then find her, Garcia."
"I will."
_ _ _ _ _
So I am totally winging it now. But it seems to be working out. Might rewrite this chapter later if I don't like it. Let me know if I should keep it or not. Chapter 3 is already wrote for the most part; It was part of chapter 2, but I decided to break it up. This case is about to take a turn!
