Chapter 4: Stolen Innocence

"Dammit!" Rossi yelled. The team stood over Erin Strauss' lifeless body.

"You mean to tell me he was HERE this whole time?" Morgan seethed.

"How did he get in?" Blake wondered.

"I don't know," Rossi shook his head, "he made his way up to the bullpen and killed Strauss. He knows this place inside and out."

"Still can't believe he was right here and we didn't see him," Morgan raged.

Prentiss went over to Strauss' computer. She didn't like the lady, but she didn't deserve this. No one did.

"Damn! Another message!"

"What's it say?" Blake asked.

"It's on her computer," Reid noted, "usually he writes his messages in blood."

"Reid!" Rossi exclaimed, "what's it say?"

"It says 'beg me not to.'

The linguist in Blake said, "He wants to see the victim's terror in her eyes. He wants to feel their fear. The only way he can get off on it is if they cry and beg and plead him to stop."

"But he won't stop. Not until he rapes and kills his victims," Reid said.

"Exactly. Now why would this message be left on her computer? What's so special about Strauss?"

"She scrutinized him. Maybe Erin recognized him for who he really was. She suspected he was a psychopath," Rossi said. Rossi usually remained calm, but now—now it was on. He killed his beloved Erin and this man was going to pay.

"Can't believe I called him a friend," Rossi turned to walk away.

"But the computer..." Reid trailed off, "why?"

"He could be taunting us," Blake said, "telling us who his next target is and begging him not to go after her-" Suddenly, time just—stopped. The computer, the message, it all made sense.

"Morgan, get Garcia on the phone—NOW!" Rossi yelled.

"Babygirl?" the phone rang. Voicemail.

"Garcia?" Morgan tried with more urgency.

"She's not answering!" he exclaimed.

Hotchner headed to the office of Penelope Garcia. She'd never been through anything traumatic. Oh sure, there was that guy who shot her while on a date, but nothing she couldn't overcome with her bubbly attitude. Not anymore Hotchner thought I'm going to wipe those smiles and giggles of your face. I'm going to give you something you'll never forget.

Meanwhile, Garcia was finishing up some reports. She couldn't believe it. Hotchner killed Erin Strauss in her own office. That means, he was in the building this whole time. Garcia shuddered to herself. She wanted this bastard more than ever. Suddenly, the door opened. Figuring it was Morgan or Rossi, she turned around. She wish she hadn't.

"Garcia," Hotchner stated, "did you miss me?"

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about," she said moving away from him. This just made the agent-turned-killer move closer.

"Would you mind doing a little favor for me?" Hotchner asked, glazing his knife down her throat.

"Anything, sir," she gulped. She wasn't a profiler, but being a tech analyst taught her a thing or two about negotiations.

"Track down Jenifer Jareau."

"No," Garcia said firmly. She'd be dammed if he went after her best friend again.

"No?" Hotchner growled, whispering in her ear.

"Sir, I'll do anything else for you, but I won't do that."

"Garcia!" Hotchner bellowed, going into his former "Unit Chief" voice, "do you want your team to live?" He pressed the knife in her throat, harder.

"Y-yes."

"Then you will track down Jenifer. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yeah, sure," Garcia said, reverting back to the old days, "I'm sorry. You can't see her. She's at the mall."

"YOU'RE LYING!" Hotchner yelled. Garcia jumped.

"No, sir, I'm not!"

"I know she's pregnant," Hotchner snarled, "I want to know if it's mine."

"No," Garcia got unbelievably defiant with the former Unit Chief, "it's Will's. And believe me Aaron Hotchner we will find you and put you where you belong!" She moved up from her desk and started to run. Hotchner ran after her. He grabbed her and slammed her head on her desk.

"You lied to me," Hotchner growled with sheer ruthlessness, "you lied to me and you will pay."

Garcia whimpered.

Hotchner gently stroked her hair.

"You know I like blondes," he taunted, "it's a shame I have to ruin such a pure and innocent one," he chuckled.

"Please," Garcia cried, "just let me go. No one has to know you're here.

Hotchner thought for a moment.

"No. It's more fun when you beg me like a dog."

Garcia whimpered again and reached out, trying to escape.

He grabbed her hand tightly. Garcia could feel in breaking.

"In all my years of working with you, I've never seen you scared Garcia," he observed.

Garcia slapped him as hard as she could. He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, causing a spiral arm fracture. He pushed Garcia on her own desk.

"No, Hotch! Not here!"

"Beg me not to," Hotchner snarled with pure evil in his voice.

"No, Hotch please! I'm begging you!"

"Beg me again." He thrust himself in her harder than he has before.

"AHHHH!" she screamed. She hope someone—anyone could hear this. Then, Hotchner took out his knife again.

"Are you scared?" he taunted, "You should be." He slit Garcia's stomach and blood oozed out. It was a lot of blood. When Hotchner was convinced that the analyst was dead, he walked off, calmly and coolly, as if he was getting information from a colleague.

Garcia clutched onto her stomach. She wasn't gonna survive this.

"HELP!" she cried, crawling out of her office.

"HELP!" she yelled, "I've been stabbed."

She crawled to the bullpen.

"HELP!" It all went black after that.