AN: This sucked to write. Just in case you were wondering! I don't own CM. Enjoy, I guess? I don't know that anyone can enjoy this :-(
Chapter 10-Control
Garcia had, miraculously, been able to sleep for a little while. After her crying jag, she knew she would need rest. Sleep deprivation was not going to help her cope with what was going to come. She had to figure out how she was going to act when she faced Ford. These types of sickos did what they did because they expected people to react a certain way. From what Morgan had told her, Ford liked women to know their place—he liked to dominate them. So Ford would want her to be submissive, to do what he said. Was it better, or worse to do what he expected? If she acted as he wanted her to, she was letting him win. On the other hand, if she didn't act as he wanted, she was fairly certain he would hurt her. He may try to do that anyway. Calm down, baby girl. Derek again. She smiled at his imagined voice.
Behind her, she heard a door that she could not see open. She stared at the brick wall in front of her, willing herself not to cry. She remembered that awful day when George Foyet had taken Hayley and Jack hostage. She remembered what Hotch had said to Hayley, his ex-wife, as he rushed to try and save them. Show him no fear.
"Penelope . . ."he drew out her name, making it a taunt. He walked around the chair, coming into her line of vision. It was, indeed, Malcolm Ford. He looked slightly thinner than he did in the mugshots from his arrest after they had found Cindy. His eyes looked dead, and when he pulled back his dark skin into a leering smile, his teeth gleamed big and white. He was every bit as frightening as she had expected. "I wonder what Morgan will do not that I have his colorful white bitch."
She breathed, in and out, twice, before she spoke. Calm. "I don't imagine that he will care too much. He'll be glad you aren't terrorizing Cindy again." If he was trying to hurt Derek through her, it couldn't hurt to downplay it.
He laughed. It was a deep, menacing sound that gave Garcia goosebumps. "Don't lie. I don't like liars." She noticed then that he had a belt in his hand. She remembered Morgan telling her that Ford would choke Cindy to scare her. He would expect her to be scared. Should she scream, as he expected, or show him no fear? She didn't know what to do. So she closed her eyes and remained silent. She heard him step close, felt the belt wrap around her neck. She felt it tighten. He was going to kill her.
Garcia wanted to scream, wanted to panic, but she heard Derek in her mind. Not words he had ever said before, but what he would say to her now. He's going to try and scare you. He doesn't want to kill you. I will come for you. Tears leaked from her eyes, but she managed not to scream out. As darkness swam in her mind, she felt the pressure release. She gasped, opening her eyes again. He was still smiling. "You aren't going to yell? No begging? No screaming?"
She raised her chin. Whether it was the right thing or not, she realized she would not give him the satisfaction. This man who had terrorized Cindy for so long. "You should know," she said evenly, "That Cindy is amazing. She is going back to school, and she is happy. You can't take that from her. You don't own her anymore. She is free." She smiled at him. She wanted him to understand that he did not ruin Cindy, even if it made him mad. His smile had faded. She saw his nostrils flare in rage. He stepped forward with the belt again. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing, until the belt constricted again and breathing became impossible. Then she thought of Morgan.
"Hey, silly girl. I love you, you know that right?"
She stopped keeping track of how many times he did it. She refused to scream or beg, although tears streamed unchecked down her face. She heard Ford growl in frustration. She knew it wasn't smart, but she wanted to make him mad. Wanted to let him know he didn't own her. "What's wrong, Malcolm? Did you lose your touch in prison?" He yelled then, and came at her with his fists balled. He hit her square in the face, knocking her chair over. He kicked her a few times, and the world faded to black. She heard Derek again as she welcomed the blackness. Too far, baby girl, you pushed him too far. Don't make him angry next time. Give me time to get there.
J.J., Reid, Rossi and Blake had come up with nothing at the buildings they searched. Morgan and Hotch found nothing in their first two buildings either. At the third, they struck the jackpot. One of the inner rooms of the two story building had been converted to a dark room. Hanging everywhere were pictures of the team. There was more of Penelope than anyone else. Derek touched one of the two of them, running his finger along the contour of her jaw. It was from the Sunday after Thanksgiving, when he had returned from Chicago.
"Morgan," Hotch said. "Over here."
Morgan walked over to the wall where Hotch stood. A fresh batch of pictures was hanging to dry. "Oh hell," he groaned. There were pictures of her: unconscious in a van; secured to a chair with duct tape. But it was the last one that made his blood chill far more than the others. She was still secured to the chair, but her neck looked bruised, as if she had been strangled. Because it was in black and white, it was hard to tell exactly how bad the bruising was. Her eyes were closed. There was a horrible bruise forming along her jaw and it looked like there was blood on the yellow dress she had put on that morning, before taking him to the airport. Had it really just been that morning, just twelve hours ago, that he had last held her safe in his arms? He realized he made that guttural sound again as he bent over. He felt Hotch's hand on his shoulder.
"Morgan, there's a note."
He breathed deep, trying to focus on the yellow paper Hotch held out to him.
Your control is an illusion. Mine is absolute.
He had to get out of there. Morgan walked as quickly as he could out of the building, back to the SUV. He would let Hotch be sure there was nothing else of merit in the dark room. If he kept his dark room in this building, and left a note, it was highly unlikely that she was being held at the last building on their list. He sat in the car, regaining control of his breathing and his emotions. He called J.J., asking her to check out the last address, just in case. Then he called Lynch, hoping that he had found another lead. Please God, help me find her. Before it's too late.