Author's Note: I've been working on a bunch of (very different) things the last couple of weeks and most of them are about ready to post. But as it was rainy and dreary here two weekends in a row, that really influenced this one getting wrapped up more quickly than the others. But there will be more things going up over the coming days. "Peppier" things :)
Here, we left them on a bit of a cliff hanger and this is a direct continuation of the scene. It is a dark and twisty world and it isn't over yet kids!
The Choices You Make
Hotch's jaw and trigger finger both clenched as his gaze shifted back and forth between the two men lying on the ground.
From the raspy moans to the left, Hotch knew that Tom had passed out again. And given his massive facial trauma, he was . . . for the moment . . . an unlikely threat. But even if Emily hadn't made hamburger out of both his nose and his mouth . . . essentially decimating his breathing . . . that bullet in his stomach was no decoy.
There was no doubt that he was critically wounded.
Not that Hotch was counting him out of the game. The only trustworthy serial killer was a dead one. So he still needed to be tied up before they threw him in the back of the truck . . . but that was just a precaution.
The real threat right now was Lonnie.
Hotch's eyes snapped back to the other body lying ten feet away . . . what to do about him? Was he . . . as they suspected . . . 'playing possum' as he'd accused Emily of doing?
And what to do even if he was?
Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch caught sight of Emily making some sort of gesture to him. When he spared her a glance, his eyebrow rose slightly as she mimed putting an invisible gun to her head and pulling the trigger.
Execution.
His brow darkened. Though he had still not ruled out the possibility that these men might have to die in order for them to live, Hotch had no intention of killing them in cold blood. And Emily's understandable . . . though still uncharacteristic . . . breakdown notwithstanding, he was somewhat surprised . . . and disappointed . . . that she was advocating such a course of action now. He felt a little wave of disgust.
They weren't animals.
So in response to her 'suggestion' he shot her a severe scowl and shake of his head. An action which . . . surprisingly . . . immediately resulted in her own head shake and a roll of her eyes. But before he could do more than wrinkle his brow at her response . . . what the hell did that mean . . . she moved over three feet and leaned up to press her lips to his ear.
"No, not for real. Like he did to us in the truck."
Then she snapped back to attention, keeping her gun steady on their topic of discussion as she let him consider what she'd said. And he had to admit . . . what she'd said was pretty damn good. Do to Lonnie what he'd done to them in the truck.
A game of chicken to counteract his game of possum.
And as Hotch thought about it, he realized it was the only option. Really, it's not like he could just SHOOT Lonnie to see if he was actually awake. Things were bad . . . very bad . . . but still, Hotch's personal ethics had not yet devolved to that point.
He hoped not to see the day that they would.
Though as he took a step in Lonnie's direction, Hotch realized that with the other man's eyes shut, he couldn't do exactly what had been done in the van. That was a straight shot at the head. The shot Emily had seen coming.
Lonnie couldn't see anything coming.
But . . . Hotch's gaze narrowed dangerously . . . if he was conscious at all, dropping a bullet into the ground NEXT to his head . . . yeah, that'd get a reaction.
Okay . . . he did a quick ammo count as he moved five paces closer to the motionless body . . . but just one. Until they had reached civilization again . . . a process that was going to take some time even if they got their asses moving in the next five minutes . . . every bullet needed to count. Especially if Lonnie tried to take off running, which was a not unlikely scenario. And one in which . . . if it happened . . . Hotch would have no qualms at that point about taking out his kneecaps.
Cold blooded execution and defensive maiming were not on the same planet of moral offenses.
So knowing that they had no time to waste fucking around with this guy . . . the grey light was fading, the rain wasn't stopping and he desperately needed to get Emily to the hospital . . . Hotch didn't so much as blink as he fired off one round aimed a half a foot from Lonnie's head.
As the bullet drove into the ground, mud splattered up and onto Lonnie's face. And when it did he bounced off the ground like he had springs in his body . . . as they had surmised, Lonnie was most definitely awake . . . taking off at a dead run even as Hotch pulled the trigger three more times.
God DAMN he was fast!
One bullet went wide, but the other two hit their marks. One entering Lonnie's upper thigh and the other winging his bicep. And though he stumbled . . . and screamed . . . he kept on going.
FUCK!
Hotch cursed as he bolted after him. They did NOT have time for this BULLSHIT! But he couldn't very well keep wasting bullets at a moving target. Not when that target was moving as fast as this one was. He'd already cleared more than half the distance to the mine shaft.
Adrenaline had to be PULSING through his body!
Christ . . . Hotch felt a wave of panic as he slid in the mud . . . he wasn't going to be able to catch up to him in time!
And as Lonnie raced up to the darkened shaft, Hotch's heart clenched as his gun came up again. It was the only choice, he told himself, he couldn't let Lonnie get in there. That was safety for him. It would be suicide for them to follow so he'd have carte blanche to rearm himself before he came after them again.
But not only that . . . Hotch's stomach turned as he flashed on the decapitated heads by the road . . . they were holding other victims down in the shaft. So if Lonnie got in there . . . got back to his pit . . . those people would be gruesomely murdered before he and Emily could return with reinforcements. If he didn't stop Lonnie now, that blood would be on his hands.
"It's the only choice."
Those were the words that Hotch repeated to himself as he squeezed the trigger one more time. The bullet that left the gun was aimed dead center for Lonnie's back. And with a target that size . . . even with both of them sliding as their shoes slogged through the ground . . . there was no possibility of a miss.
And he didn't miss.
Lonnie yelped once . . . it was a sound like a wounded dog. And then Hotch saw the impact of the bullet propel his body forward into the shadows of the mine entrance. There he lay still.
Hotch slid to a stop in the mud, the rain beating down on his face as he looked at what he'd done. And though he knew that what he'd done was right . . . just . . . he couldn't deny the overwhelming horror and disgust at what he'd done either. He'd shot a man in the back.
Like a coward.
'No time for that right now Aaron,' Hotch tried to shake it off as he took a breath and slowly moved forward, 'you can hate yourself later. There are still things to be done.'
Though he had tried not to him dead center . . . severing a man's spinal cord wasn't on his list of life goals . . . it was unclear exactly where the bullet had entered. With the rain soaking into Lonnie's shirt, all Hotch could tell from the dark patches of blue cloth was that there was definitely blood mixed in there.
Still though, he was cautious as he approached, his finger again pressed against the trigger of his pistol. But this time there was no movement. As far as Hotch could tell . . . he took another step as his gaze focused on Lonnie's mid-section . . . no breathing either. His teeth sunk into his lip.
He was just still.
And a little part of Hotch . . . the part that had seen too much violence and too little kindness of the world . . . wanted to weep. It didn't matter if the life lost wasn't worth saving . . . it still wasn't his to take. But again, there was no time for regret or second guessing. He'd made a decision . . . a chain of them really . . . and these were the consequences of those decisions.
A man was dead.
'Are you sure?'
The little voice that came to him . . . his conscience . . . was the same one that had spoken to him back on the road. The one that wouldn't let him leave that woman without checking her pulse. And he tried to himself that that was different . . . that she was a victim . . . his victim . . . and that this was an UNSUB, but he knew in his heart that it didn't matter.
Because once he started making those distinctions . . . that one life was worth less than another . . . then he became no better than the people that he hunted. So for that reason alone . . . to keep what little moral ground he had left . . . Hotch knew that he had to check Lonnie's pulse.
But of course that meant that he had to step into the opening of the shaft.
And though both UNSUBs were down . . . the hairs on the back of Hotch's neck began to stand up . . . for some reason that just didn't seem like a good idea. Not at all. Still though . . . Hotch spared a quick glance over his shoulder to see Emily watching him . . . he'd already come this far.
What was another eight feet?
So he ignored the pull in his gut . . . the sensation that he and Emily had already been separated for too long, and that he should just go back . . . and moved forward instead.
He just had to make sure that Lonnie was dead.
It would only take a second.
/*/*/*/*/*/
Emily's eyes popped in horror as she watched Hotch suddenly begin moving towards the shadows of the mine entrance.
Where the HELL was he going?
"HOTCH!" She screamed as she took two steps forward. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"
For Christ's sake he'd just put a BULLET in the guy's back from ten feet away! And that was the third one that he'd taken. Not to mention the beating. Even if Lonnie wasn't dead yet, he was definitely DOWN!
Of course she understood the reason that Hotch had to shoot him . . . he couldn't let him get into the shaft and kill their remaining hostages . . . but it was clear that Lonnie was out of it now as well as Tom was.
Neither one of them possessed the physical capability to go on a killing spree.
But more to the point, neither she nor Hotch were in any position to go "rescuing" anyone. As much as she hated the thought of leaving those people down there for ANY length of time, it had to be done. They would come back after they'd found lights and backup. And . . . her arm ached in the cold rain . . . medical attention.
So what the hell was he thinking going in there now? Stepping that close to the shaft just wasn't safe.
The thought came to Emily, and then her eyes widened as something caught her attention.
Movement.
Her heart started galloping in her chest.
OH JESUS NO!
"HOTCH! HOTCH! BEHIND YOU!"
A burst of adrenaline shot through Emily's body as she took off at a run, still screaming over and over, "LOOK BEHIND YOU! BEHIND YOU!"
And even as she started to close the distance . . . a good thirty yards . . . Emily could see Hotch whirling around to face the shadow coming up from the depths of the mine shaft. Then her heart skipped a full beat when she saw an object suddenly crack across Hotch's skull.
It might have been some kind of mining equipment . . . something big . . . but it either way it had done the job. And she screamed in fury as Hotch dropped like a lead weight. And then the shadow . . . she could barely make out the figure of a man . . . grabbed him by the arm.
And then he was dragging him farther inside the shaft . . . dragging him farther away.
From her.
"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!"
The words echoed in the woods as Emily fired over and over again at the shadow now scuttling back from the grey area by the opening and into the pitch darkness behind him. With each bullet fired she aimed high . . . not only to avoid hitting Hotch . . . but she was also praying to every God that she could think of to just let her get one clean head shot. Just one shot that would stop him cold and end this new phase to their nightmare.
But it wasn't to be.
Hotch suddenly disappeared into the black. And though her every instinct was to race in after him, she knew that would be signing their death warrants.
Whoever had just grabbed him . . . a third UNSUB in this fucked up game . . . would be waiting for her. Clearly his eyes were acclimated to the darkness, so he'd most likely take her out as fast as he had Hotch.
With just one blow.
So though it broke her heart to let him go . . . she did. With a howl of rage she stopped running and ducked to the side of the shaft so as not to make a target of herself.
Her thoughts were maniacally racing, her arm was throbbing, her head was bleeding again . . . she could feel the warm trickle mixing with the cold rain . . . and the tears burning her eyes were being fed by a nearly overwhelming panic. Hotch was gone.
And she didn't know how the hell she was going to get him back.
The terror that she'd felt earlier when Tom tried to drag her away, came flooding over her again. But this wasn't fear for what would happen to her . . . now she wasn't the one in mortal danger. Her fear was for the man who had hung onto her for dear life.
For the man who had saved her.
And now somehow . . . even with the tattered wet raggedy doll that she had become over the last hours . . . she needed to pay back that debt.
Okay . . . she bent over, taking a ragged breath as she tried to push down the fear and the panic to think rationally . . . first things first. Her jaw set as her eyes snapped to the body lying on the ground ahead of her.
Lonnie.
Still not moving, and his "friend" had left him to take Hotch instead. Well . . . she thought with disgust . . . that's what you get for being buddies with a serial killer.
No loyalty.
But she knew that she couldn't leave him there. It was bad enough that Tom was still alive back up the trail. There was no way in hell that she was climbing down into a mine shaft with . . . potentially . . . two serial killers behind her.
She might as well blow her brains out now.
Of course . . . she bit her lip . . . Lonnie could be dead already. But time was passing . . . at least twenty seconds now since Hotch had been taken . . . so she knew that there was only one option left to her now. Well . . . she swallowed hard as she slowly straightened and took aim at the prone body . . . two actually. But Hotch's earlier pleas for her to stop . . . to not kill Tom . . . were still ringing in her ears.
And she wouldn't betray him now.
So rather than putting a bullet into Lonnie's head . . . the one sure fire way to end that cluster . . . she took a breath . . . and then took two quick shots.
She blew out both of his knees.
It was a horrible thing to do . . . but there were only horrible choices left. But at least she hadn't blown his brains out.
Small offerings to the gods today.
Lonnie was screeching and sobbing . . . apparently that had been another game of possum . . . as she jumped back to the side again to check her ammo. Her regret for what she'd done to him was abstract . . . it was wrong . . . but it didn't matter that it was wrong. Those were concerns for a civilized world.
And she was very far from anything approaching civilization.
All that mattered . . . all the choices she made . . . they were to get her back to Hotch. But unfortunately . . . she checked the magazine on her Sig . . . she only had four bullets left. Not exactly ideal for a rescue mission. She still had Tom's rifle on her shoulder, but that wasn't really a close quarters weapon. Certainly not in the dark.
And not only that . . . she checked off another mental box in the Con column . . . she didn't have a God damn flash light! So how the HELL was she going to chase Hotch down a freaking mine shaft with no lights and crap weaponry?
Oh . . . her eyes suddenly popped as her head snapped up . . . Lonnie's bag! Hotch had pulled their guns out of it, but clearly that wasn't why he'd been carrying it around to start.
He had to be keeping his own supplies in there.
And that meant . . . she spun around and broke into a run . . . maybe a flashlight!
It took her only fifteen or twenty seconds to get back to where she'd left Tom . . . but all of those seconds were adding up. Too many of them now. So she wasted no more time as she dropped down to her knees to dig one handed through the leather satchel that Hotch had left in the mud.
YES!
A burst of elation filled her as she yanked out a Mag light from the depths. She tucked it under her arm before she dove back into the bag again.
. . . Canteen
. . . Some kind of disgusting dried meat
. . . Bloody hunting knife
. . . Cartridges!
Excellent! She pulled out a handful and shoved them into first one pocket . . . and then the other. Then she pulled out the knife . . . wiped it off as best she could on her wet pants . . . and tucked it into the outside flap of the bag. If she had a sheath she'd tuck it into her boot, but as it was it would cut her leg to the bone.
Which meant as weapons went . . . she stood up, throwing the bag over her good shoulder as she did so . . . it was a good one.
As she came to her feet, Emily's eyes snapped over to check Tom. She nearly jumped backwards when she saw that he was staring at her.
Though his face was broken, it looked like he was trying to grin.
It was horrible.
"Our daddy's going to be carving your man into pieces."
The words were choked and garbled . . . hard to talk with a broken jaw . . . but she understood him just fine all the same. And she was horrified by the implications of what he'd said.
Daddy.
Lonnie and Tom were brothers. That explained the alpha dynamic and Tom's clear . . . yet unusual . . . resentment of Lonnie. It wasn't just a normal UNSUB 'follow the leader' relationship. It was sibling rivalry.
And Tom was the oldest.
Oh Christ . . . a fresh bolt of fear shot through Emily's heart . . . Hotch had just been dragged off by the creature that had created these monsters. And he had likely seen what Hotch had done to his boy.
He'd be looking to even the score.
Though she was nearly drowning in panic and fear, Emily kept her poker face firmly intact on as she tucked her sig into her holster and slid the Mag from under her arm and into her free hand. Then she turned to face down Tom.
"My partner is stronger than your father," she said flatly, "he'll survive because we deal with your kind every God damn day of our lives," her arm came back, "and we play to win."
And with that she bashed in what was left of Tom' face.
She knocked him cold. Then she did the same thing she had done to Lonnie moments earlier . . . took out his knees.
Though this time she needed to save her bullets, so she did it with just the butt of the flashlight. It was heavy enough . . . with a few poundings . . . to break the caps though. And that's all she needed.
Him completely immobilized.
At that point . . . the point where she was again pulverizing a man's bones into shards . . . Emily knew that she had crossed another line. But she'd deal with that later. She just had to get to later to hate herself properly. Right now there was no time for the finer points of morality. She was nearing the point of physical collapse. The only thing keeping her on her feet was adrenaline and the fear of what 'daddy' would do to Hotch if he got the chance. And that was enough to justify what she had done to these terrible men.
That was enough to keep her going.
So she slipped the flashlight to her bad hand . . . all she had to do was keep a reasonable grip . . . and took her gun out of her holster.
Then . . . with both mud and blood splattered all over her rain soaked clothes . . . she started running back to the shaft.
'Time to go hunting.'
A/N 2: You didn't really think I was going to set up a big scary killing ground in an abandoned mine shaft and then not even take a peek down there, did you? :) Come on!
If you read The Snake Pit, you can see some parallels here. On purpose :) I find the idea of being stuck underground . . . in the darkness . . . just horrible. On a very basic, relatable level, I think that regardless of your personal phobias, that's a bad dream that anybody can appreciate. But Snake Pit is over, so I need to work out my own mental crap somehow. You guys are unfortunately along for the ride! :)
Given the extreme remoteness of the area, it seemed unlikely that two incredibly disturbed individuals would just happen to hook up and decide to kill lots of people in totally horrible ways. But if it was a family . . . well, the family that kills together, yada yada.
Again, not planning to make this M, but you can see from the choices that Hotch and Emily have taken so far, this world is a moral quagmire. But you got to do what you got to do. This story is about the decisions you make and the places they take you. And that's not just the physical places, but the mental ones as well. This trip to hell is going to F them up.
And I also wanted to turn the tables and put Emily into the hero role here where she has to go after Hotch. It was a little switch up.
Anyway, I had hoped to get 2 things finished tonight but I'm exhausted so, bedtime. If I don't have to work too late tomorrow then maybe I can get the next story cleaned up.
