Title: Identity
Rating: PG-13
Fandom:
Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing:
Prentiss-centric - gen
Genre: Angst/Drama
Summary:
In the clutches of Ian Doyle, Emily dwells on her past. Meanwhile, the team are forced to dig deep into their colleague's secrets in order to find her.

Chapter Eight

Sirens blaring, Hotch broke at least half a dozen road rules in his attempts to reach the hotel as quickly as possible. Reid's panicked phone call for back-up had been cut short by gunfire; Doyle (or one of Doyle's accomplices) had been waiting for them.

Hotch made a mental note to implement a full disclosure policy: he didn't care how classified something was, or how private – if a member of the team knew something, then he was damn well going to get it out of them.

The job was hard enough without taking personal connections into account.

In the passenger's seat, Morgan was trying as hard as hell not to look freaked out by everything. In the back seat, Seaver was making no such efforts. There were a lot of things they didn't teach in the academy, and that all consuming fear when a friend and colleague was in danger was one of them.

That wasn't something that could be taught by anyone. That was something that had to be lived. This just happened to be a particularly bad day to be doing it on. They couldn't afford hesitation, or doubt; taking down Doyle was a task that required the utmost aptitude.

But with one – possibly three – agents down, Hotch didn't have a choice.

Everything was starting to fall apart.

The hotel receptionist did not look particularly pleased at the idea of a SWAT team storming through the lobby, even if the gunfire and masked men fleeing the building had already scared away almost all guests and potential clients.

With Doyle, though, Hotch wasn't taking any chances – he wasn't going up there without a full contingent of backup, just in case any nasty surprises had been left behind. The paramedics followed, waiting for the all clear.

The door of the hotel room was wide open, and Hotch could see the aftermath of the several dozen bullet holes that had torn up the area.

He could see the blood.

Not a lot – it could have come from a nasty paper-cut, or a shard of broken glass, but realistically, he knew that it didn't.

'Hotch,' a voice called out, and Hotch almost seized up in relief. It was Reid's voice, and it didn't sound as though he was injured. What he did sound was scared. 'Hotch, they're gone.'

'Are you okay?' Hotch asked cautiously. For all he knew, Ian Doyle had a gun to Reid's head.

'I'm fine – Rossi…' Reid stepped out of the room, hands in the air. He'd taken his vest off, and the pale blue shirt that he had been wearing underneath was streaked with blood. 'He needs an ambulance.'

'I'm fine,' Rossi called out, from inside the hotel room. 'It's just a graze.' Hotch could tell from the older man's voice that that wasn't exactly true.

He stepped inside the room to find Rossi leaning against the bed, blood-soaked towel wrapped around his arm. A black cat rubbed up against him.

'You've got a friend,' Hotch pointed out, trying not to let the stress show in his voice.

'He ran into the bathroom for most of the gunfight,' Rossi told him.

'What happened?'

'He shot through the door when we got here, so we figured that the best way to get in was through the door that connects to the next room.' There was a beat of silence. 'It wasn't. I tagged one of them, but they got away.'

'He could have easily killed us,' Reid added. 'I don't know why he didn't.'

'There's something else,' Rossi added, sending Hotch a look of annoyance as the paramedics rushed into the room. He attempted to move his head around them to keep in eye contact. 'One of them took my badge.'

Hotch frowned. It didn't exactly fit the profile of Doyle's group. They killed without mercy. There was something else to this.

'You think he's messing with us?' Morgan asked.

'That doesn't fit the profile,' Hotch said, his frown persisting. 'There has to be a reason for what he's doing.'

There was a long pause. 'You think he's doing it to torture Emily?'

Hotch considered the thought – it was the most likely possibility. If Ian Doyle wanted to destroy Prentiss, then he would do it by threatening her team – her family.

'Call Garcia,' he instructed Morgan. 'We need to find footage of whatever vehicles Doyle's team is driving – both from here, and from Emily's apartment.'

'He's obviously remained in the area, if managed to get to the hotel so quickly.'

'How did he know we were going to be here?' Rossi grunted, steadfastly refusing to be loaded onto a stretcher and carried into an ambulance.

'Dave,' Hotch said pointedly. 'Go with them. Reid – you too.' Before any of the team could argue, he added. 'I don't want anyone going anywhere alone.'

'You think we've got a mole?' Morgan asked quietly. He frowned, staring down at the cat that was rubbing enthusiastically against his leg. The creature meowed as he gathered it into his arms. 'Apart from the team, who knew that Reid and Rossi were going to the hotel?'

'I think it's time we had a talk with Clyde Easter,' Hotch said.