AN: Eeek! I don't own Criminal minds. Enjoy!
Chapter 7-Storm
Derek's phone rang at 2am. Never, ever a good thing. Garcia heard it from her room, and was up in an instant. It felt like a case of déjà vu—a late night call following any form of down time. She could see the shadow that was her hotstuff sit up on the couch. "Morgan," he said into the phone.
She went to him, sat down and put her hand on his knee. "Cindy? Cindy, slow down honey." He listened, and in the dim room he met her eyes. "When? . . . Can you tell me exactly what he said? . . . Okay, okay. I'm on the next flight there."
"Ford?" she half asked, half stated as he hung up. She dashed to her room and grabbed her tablet, setting about finding him a flight to Chicago.
"He called her. Told her that her vacation was over. That he was coming for her. She's on edge."
"Pfft, I would be too. Who can blame her. That man is such a piece of work. There is a 4am direct flight to Chicago, if we leave now we can get you there in time."
"Let's go then." He went to change. Looking again at the clock, Garcia decided she would head directly to the office after dropping Morgan off at the airport. She knew he would have some things he wanted her to do right away. As they drove, he seemed to slip into team leader mode. "Call the locals and make sure they know what's going on. Have them add another unit until I get there. It's no coincidence that he did this in the middle of the night, something is up. And have Hotch call me as soon as he gets in, okay?"
"Your wish is my command."
He sighed, leaning his head back in the seat. "Thanks, baby. I don't know what I would do without you. Really."
"No sweat at all, angelfish. Just do what you need to."
"I hope this means that we're going to be able to end this soon."
She glanced at him, saw that he looked troubled. "But?"
"But why call and let her know that he is coming? I don't know, it doesn't feel right."
"Maybe he wants to scare her. You said this particular brand of crazy is all about control, right?"
"Yeah, I don't know. I just want this to end." He sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment.
In no time at all, they were there. Garcia pulled up to the drop off area, and stepped out of the car so that she could give him a proper goodbye. She reached out to hug him. To her surprise, he framed her face with his hands, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She felt her heart stop right then and there. He stepped back, slinging his go bag over his shoulder.
"Stay safe, okay?" She whispered.
"For you, anything," he said with a smile, then turned toward the terminal.
Garcia climbed back in the car and headed for Quantico. There was much to do.
Derek's feeling of unease grew as he boarded the flight to Chicago. Why would Ford call Cindy? He had to know that her very next call would be to Morgan, and that he would fly out and personally ensure her safety. It just didn't make any sense. He leaned back and ran through everything he knew about Malcolm Ford in his mind.
The sun was rising as his flight landed in Chicago. He turned on his phone as they prepared to deplane. Immediately a text from Garcia popped up:
Enterprise for rental. Everything else done. No hotch yet.
He smiled. She always got the job done. Of course Hotch wasn't in yet, it was just after six am. Ten minutes later he was in his newly rented car, headed for his Aunt's. Her place was on the other side of Chicago, and it would take nearly an hour to get there even if traffic cooperated. During the drive, Hotch called. He brought him up to date and asked the team to look over things again to see what they thought of Ford's latest move.
As he pulled up to the sedate one story that his Auntie shared with Cindy and her son, he noted that the officers in the two marked cars took immediate notice of him and acted appropriately. He showed them his badge and identified himself. The officers introduced themselves, then proceeded to give him a sit-rep. There had been no further attempts at contact since the phone call. No suspicious vehicles had been seen. Morgan thanked them and turned to enter the house.
It was then that the yellow van, advertising a messenger service pulled up. Both officers put their hands up and asked driver to step out. A young, twenty something man stepped out, hands raised. "Um, I just have a, uh, delivery for Agent Derek Morgan," he said.
Morgan's senses went on high alert. Something was definitely not right here. "A delivery from whom?"
"Uh, can I check my records?" the kid asked, gesturing to a clipboard on the dash of the truck. Morgan nodded his assent. The kid grabbed the board, checked, and said "It was dropped off early yesterday, in person, paid cash. No information given."
"Let me see it." Derek ordered.
The kid reached to the passenger seat and pulled out a manila envelope, bearing only Morgan's name in a plain type face. Not good, was all Morgan could think. He asked one of the officer's to take a statement from the kid then sat on his Aunt's cold front step to open the envelope.
The minute he did, he knew this was very, very bad. The envelope contained old-school black and white photos, just like the ones Ford had taken of Cindy before kidnapping her. But the subject of these photos was not Cindy, her son, or anyone else in Chicago. The first photo was of him and Garcia. The next was Jack and Henry at the park, being chased by Garcia. The third was of the entire team, sitting at the picnic table sipping coffee. Oh shit.
He picked up the phone and dialed Hotch.
"Hotchner."
"Hotch, man, we have a big problem," Morgan said. "He's in Virginia. He's been following the team. He sent me pictures. He's got pictures of the boys, too."
He could hear Hotch moving into the bullpen. "J.J., is Will home with Henry? Good, have him swing by and pick up Jack. Tell him to get the boys here ASAP. Reid, call Jack's Aunt and let him know Will is coming."
"Is everyone already there Hotch?" Morgan asked.
"Yeah, everyone's here." He said. "Wait, what J.J.?" He heard Hotch put his hand over the phone. "Blake, come with me!" Hotch said, and then he was speaking to Morgan again. "Morgan, Garcia went to get coffee from the Starbucks down the street. We're going to go look for her now."
Oh my God, Derek thought. This was why Ford had called Cindy. "Find her Hotch." He heard Hotch disconnect the call and hung his head in his hands. Ford had called Cindy so that he would sit in Chicago wondering if his family was safe. Please, please let her be safe.
Garcia was so drained from the lack of sleep that only real, hard core coffee would do. Not that watered down junk from the coffee shop in the lobby of F.B.I. Headquarters. She had taken orders from everyone and walked in the brisk cold to the Starbucks down the street. On her right, parked cars lined the street. She had just passed a white van when the door slid open. The world went suddenly, inexplicably dark.
Morgan's phone rang less than five minutes later. "Tell me you have her, Hotch."
The hesitation was answer enough. There was a second or two of dead silence, and Morgan knew he had his answer. "I'm sorry Derek." Nausea rolled in his stomach and blood thundered in his ears. "Morgan?" He could hear Hotch calling him, tried to focus on his voice. "A witness saw her being pulled into a white utility van, not more than a minute before we arrived."
He couldn't focus anymore. Ford had her. The man who had held his cousin captive for five years, who had beaten her, strangled her within inches of her life, placed her head in a head box so that she would "learn her place," had his baby girl. His best friend. The woman who meant more to him than any other in his life. And he was a two hour flight away, just as Ford intended he be. He leaned over and vomited where his Auntie's roses bloomed every spring.
"MORGAN!" Hotch again, trying to pull him together.
"I need to get home Hotch," he said. It came out barely above a whisper.
"I'm going to have one of the officer's drive you to the airport," Hotch said calmly. "We'll get you back here as fast as we can Morgan. Get it together; we're going to need you on this. We will find her." He said the last part with such conviction, Morgan felt the slightest blossoming of hope that it would be true.
Then he remembered that Cindy had been missing for five years before they found her. He remembered what was done to her. The nausea rolled in his stomach again.
In the back of his mind, Morgan heard the door to the house open. He knew he needed to get up and walk to the car parked on the street, so that someone could take him to the airport. But he couldn't manage to get up. Cindy sat down next to him. "What's happened, Derek?" She asked, concern in her eyes.
He scrubbed his hands over his head, pressed his palms into his eyes, wishing that it would blot out reality. "He has Penelope," he said. Cindy had met Garcia in the aftermath of her escape from Ford, when Garcia had flown to Chicago to be by Morgan's side. She was always there for him, and here he was in Chicago while she was being taken by . . .
"Derek Morgan, stop that right NOW!" He looked up, shocked that his mildly-spoken cousin had yelled at him. She was looking at him with haunted eyes. Reaching up, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket. "You will keep it together. You will be strong. Because he wants you to be afraid. He wants you to lose control. If you do that, he wins. You have to be strong, because if he took her, this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you."
He stared up at her, unable to think of anything to say.
"Be smart, Derek. She's smart. She's going to do everything in her power to be okay until you get to her. You can't do that if you fall apart." She stood up, pulling him with her. "Now go."
He hugged her, overwhelmed by her strength. "Thank you, Cin," he whispered.
He went to the squad car, was vaguely aware that one of the officers got in the driver's seat. He leaned his head back and began to pray. Please keep her safe. Please help me keep it together long enough to see her safe. Please.
