Hello! Thank you ever so much for all the wonderful reviews! They are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing. So please, keep reviewing and I'll keep writing!

Anyway, this is a little shorter than I'd hoped but it's all I've come up with in the last three days. I hope to update this story at least once a week. If I'm really motivated, it'll be twice a week. We'll have to see how well my muse is working. However often I update please let me know how I'm doing and please stick with me. I'll finish this story it just might take a little while.

Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting to add this to my story.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters created by the series creator and writers. I'm not making any money off this. I'm just having a lot of fun! I promise to return all characters back where I got them in close to their original condition. All original characters are my own, however.

Susanne

CHAPTER THREE

The darkness seemed even worse than before after looking out into the light. Taking a deep breath, Hotch waited for a heartbeat before heading back towards his seat. There were still a few people shuffling around the ruptured fuselage.

"Make your way outside," Hotch instructed as a young woman stumbled past him. In the dim light, he couldn't make out if she was injured but it didn't matter much. Everyone needed to get out, just in case.

"Screw you," the girl growled as she continued towards the back of the plane. "My dad's back there."

Great, Hotch thought, another one. Ignoring her since she wasn't in any immediate danger by moving away from the fire, Hotch turned his attention back to the woman trapped under the seat. He made his way down the aisle. In the darkness he was forced to shuffle. He bumped into random pieces of luggage and then something softer. Crouching, the Unit Chief felt around the ground until he found the source. It took everything in him not to pull away from the too cold flesh under his finger tips. Whoever it had been, the person was now dead.

Taking another deep breath, Hotch stood up and carefully stepped over the body. Then he was finally there. Kneeling, Hotch reached out to the woman, hoping against hope that she was still alive. He was rewarded with warm flesh when he found her.

"Where's Emily?" the woman asked. She was struggling against the seat that seemed to be holding her hostage. Her left leg wouldn't budge, no matter how hard she tried and she was trying for all she was worth. Her fear for her daughter drove her.

"I took her outside the plane. She appears to be fine. Now let's get you out of here," Hotch responded, trying to calm the woman's terror. It was bad enough that they had survived a plane crash he didn't want to make things worse.

Gently, he ran his hands over the woman's body, trying to figure out what was holding him. The woman stilled under his hands, which helped but it still took far too long to locate the problem. When the wing came off the plane, it bent the fuselage, trapping the woman's leg between the twisted metal and the seat support. He was going to need something strong to bend the fuselage or the support. "What's your name?"

"Laura," the woman responded. Once Hotch's hands left her leg, she began pulling on it again. Maybe this time it would work.

"Stop pulling, you can't get your leg out without help," Hotch said. He was trying to keep the woman calm while fear was gnawing at his own mind. Leaning back onto his haunches, Hotch looked up the aisle. He was truly amazed that the fire hadn't roared through the cabin. At the moment it seemed to have found enough fuel to be content where it was. He only hoped their luck continued. "I have to go find a pry bar or something similar. I'll be right back."

"Please don't go!" Laura pleaded. When she'd awakened in the darkness all alone, panic had overwhelmed her. She wasn't willing to lose the only person who seemed to care that she was trapped. All she wanted was to get lose, find her daughter and get the hell home. After this trip she didn't plan on leaving home anytime in this century.

"Would this help?" Hotch jumped as the voice. He hadn't heard the three people coming toward him from the rear of the plane. That alone was enough to let the Unit Chief know that he too was suffering the effects of shock. His eyes were dazzled by a beam of light. Apparently someone had found a flashlight.

"We need to get everyone out and save as much of the luggage as we can. It's cold out there, we're going to need everything we can scrounge to survive until the search party finds us," Hotch stated. It was a knee-jerk reaction to having been scared. Hotch hated giving in to his emotions, not when they got in the way of doing what was necessary.

"Let's start with her," the voice behind the light suggested. The flashlight moved down to the floor, then the owner of the voice handed Hotch an axe. In the light, Hotch recognized the man as the Air Marshall. His companions were the father and the girl that had sworn at him.

While they fought with the metal to release Laura, Hotch heard the sound of fire extinguishers and then the smell of chemicals replaced the scent of burning seats. From the voices floating back to him, Hotch surmised that the flight attendants had found the extinguishers and were trying to put the fire out. He hoped that they had more success than he expected.

"Okay. I think that'll work," the Air Marshall said after manoeuvring the axe into place. The handle was long enough for Hotch to grab part of it while the Marshall gripped the rest. "On three. One. Two. Three."

Amid much grunting, the two of them managed to bend the metal enough for the now sober father and daughter to pull Laura out. "Get her outside," the Marshall ordered, indicating the father and daughter. "We'll start throwing luggage out. He's right we're going to need everything we can get."

Suddenly a lot more cooperative, the two led Laura out of the cabin. Using the one flashlight, the two men started at the back and began pulling every bag they could find out toward the gash in the cabin wall. Before they were a quarter of the way done, the flight attendants had finished with the fire and were handing the bags out to other passengers. In a matter of minutes, they had the cabin cleaned out.

"How long until we can expect a rescue?" Hotch asked the nearest flight attendant. The young man glanced at him before answering.

"We were diverting to Seattle because of the disturbance. I don't know if the pilot had time to advise air traffic control or not," he admitted. Hotch saw the fear reflected in the twenty-something year old man's blue eyes.

"Have you talked to the captain since the crash?" Hotch asked. He knew the chances were slim but he had to ask. The more information he had the better chance he had to making plans that would work.

The man dropped his gaze to the ground. Silently, he shook his head no.

"Well, we'd better go check on the flight crew," Hotch stated. The metal was still hot from the fire. Standing back, Hotch kicked at the door to the flight deck with every ounce of strength he could manage. The shock of the impact reverberated all the way up to the Unit Chief's hip. Where was Morgan when they needed him? Hotch wondered ruefully as he tried to hide how much the ill advised action had hurt him.

"Are you all right?" the young man asked. He could have told the older man that kicking the door wouldn't work. The big steel doors were reinforced after the events of 9/11. No amount of kicking would break it down. Even shooting it with a gun wouldn't have worked.

"I'm fine," Hotch lied as he rubbed his hip. Great, just what he didn't need. "Let's see if we can get through the front windows."

The dubious look on the man's face told Hotch all he needed to know about that chances of that working but he had to try. Then he was going to go check on Reid. Now that the immediate concern for Laura was gone, Hotch felt the need to know how his young co-worker was doing.

Trying to not step on any of the bodies that littered the cabin, Hotch made his way back to the rip in the fuselage. The flight attendant had all ready tried the door. The frame was too badly twisted for the portal to be opened. That left them using the hole as an alternate route of escape.

Stepping out into the suddenly freezing air, Hotch looked to his right along the hull of the plane. What he found caused him to take a step back. The entire cockpit of the plane was gone.