The supermarket was one of Alaric's least favourite places. The lights' mechanic hum set her on edge and shone too brightly on the uninspired signs and packaged food. The aisles were too wide; her shoes echoed on the ceramic tiled floor. She could see her carers further ahead of her near the cheeses, but she stayed close to the cart and played with her coat, listening in on the conversations of other shoppers.

There were only two others in the supermarket at that time – a pair of university-aged women, one a slender and plain-faced brunette and the other larger and more boisterous. The larger one had dyed her hair an obnoxious red which hurt Alaric's eyes, had a smattering of green piercings decorating her face (as well as a septum piercing that reminded her of a charging bull), and a voice that reached only two pitches – low or deafeningly high. Alaric had decided she did not like her. Her friend was more subdued and moved more gracefully, gliding back and forth between the shelves as she spoke. Her footsteps were louder than her voice.

They were talking about her carers.

"Look at them – they obviously are!" said the larger one. "They've even got a kid with them!"

"Gilda! You're being loud!"

The slender one returned from the shelves with a carton of eggs in her hand. Gilda's face wrinkled in disgust as she put them in their trolley, before she reached over and snatched up a few more.

"They could be friends?" The brunette ventured. Gilda snorted.

"Friends! What friends shop together?"

"They're not wearing rings."

"Not all of them do!" she replied; "No need! All of them are cheating on each other anyway. There's no loyalty in those relationships."

Alaric's brow furrowed. She considered arguing with her, but thought better of it. If she were even paid attention to by the red-haired Goliath, she had a feeling she would end up on the receiving end of a long rant; and her energy had already been spent that morning.

"That's rude, Gilda."

"No, that's honest, Rachel. There's no loyal relationships now! Wait until your boyfriend gets a little bit bored of you, then you'll see."

The slender woman eyed her with a look of unveiled weariness, "Can you just help me find everything?"

Their conversation idled for a while and Alaric busied herself with organising their cart. She listened still to their occasional exchanges – a tiff over whether to buy cod or salmon, a thinly-veiled threat of moving from Rachel – until, at length, Gilda turned the conversation to her carers again. Spencer and Derek had at this point moved from the cheeses to yoghurts, and every now and then the agents would look over their shoulder to check on her.

"Do you think the skinny one's looking at me?" Gilda asked; "I keep seeing him glance over here."

"What? No. He's probably just looking at his daughter."

"I don't know, maybe. But, isn't it so weird to be checking someone out in a supermarket?"

"I haven't seen him look at us."

"He has!" Gilda half-pouted at her. It reminded Alaric of a petulant child told to stop playing with her toys. "He's probably shy or something."

"I thought you said they're a couple?"

"That was before he started looking at me!"

Alaric rolled her eyes and turned her back to the pair. She was holding a small tin of custard in her hand, and when she spun on her heel she lost her grip and watched as it rolled down the aisle and hit the end of a shelf further down. The child hurried to catch it.

"Damn it!" she murmured.

"Don't curse, Alaric!" she heard Derek call after her. She let out a little huff as she reached the can and leaned over to pick it up.

"Do you have that list of therapists on you?" Morgan asked his friend. Spencer had been inspecting some of the yoghurts' sugar contents when he spoke, and so the question caught him momentarily off guard. He looked up at him, blinking owlishly, before he nodded.

"I have it all memorised," he said. Derek smiled.

"Of course you do. Maybe we should think about it today – you know, narrow it down to some people we'd like for her? I'd feel better if we had something in the works."

"I would too."

The pair smiled at each other, then turned their attention to their shopping. Once the pair had collected everything up and Spencer had found an acceptable yoghurt, they turned to their cart.

Derek frowned.

"Alaric?" he called. The child was nowhere in sight. The can she had run after was still lying against the opposite aisles' shelf, but she was not there with it. Reid turned his head to the other end of the aisle, but saw only the large and slender woman having an argument about fruits and vegetables. Once his eyes landed on her, the larger woman smiled and waved at him. He was too confused to respond with more than a nod.

Then, he felt the first cold sweat of panic trickle down his spine.

"Morgan, where is she?" he said, looking wildly left to right.

"I don't know. Alaric? Alaric?"

His voice echoed around the supermarket, but there was no response. Derek's frown deepened as he threw the packages in his arms on a shelf to his side and stormed over to the can, as if expecting her to be hiding from them. Spencer hurried after him.

"She's not here," he murmured; "Derek, she's not here. Where is she? She was right here!" Derek crouched to the floor and picked up the custard. He held it in his hand for a moment and closed his eyes, shutting out the noise of the outside world as he tried to control his breathing. The panic that had started to creep up on him ebbed a fraction. The agent stood and clasped his friend's shoulders.

"Reid, listen to me," he said; "Go to the front desk and ask them if they've seen Alaric leaving with anyone. Get their description. I'll call the police now, then Hotch."

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He fought with the terror rising in his chest.

"Good. Go now. We have forty-eight hours before the chance of us finding her alive drops."

That spurred Spencer's limbs into action. Derek watched as he rushed from the aisles and disappeared further down the supermarket, towards the front entrance, before he pulled out his phone and dialled '911'. He steadied his breathing while it connected.

"Police," he said to the operator, and then when the call had been passed through he said; "Hello? I need someone out here right away. My daughter's missing. Someone's taken my daughter."