A/N: Hellooooo again! Here's another juicy chapter for all you hungry people! Read, enjoy, review. It's that simple XD

Usual Disclaimer: I don't own squat. One day though....

The air hung heavy around him as he struggled to wake up. With a groan he tried to raise his head, wincing at the pain that ran through his back. What the hell just happened? A flash of people chasing him entered his mind as he became more aware of his surroundings. Of course, he thought bitterly. Those men in the van. They had kidnapped him. With another soft groan he lifted his head higher, this time pulling it completely off his chest as he managed to open his eyes. It was like being a rollercoaster for his senses as each one was hit with an almost overwhelming presence. The throbbing in his head increased as his tired mind tried to make sense of what was happening around him. He blinked slowly as the room came into focus. He was facing an old concrete wall, layered with cracks that reached upwards like dead branches on a tree. It was a bleak view and Morgan frowned as he stared. There were dark stains running down the wall and Morgan felt his stomach lurch when he realised it was blood. There was a coppery smell to the air that seemed to get inside his nose and his mouth without the slightest trouble. Morgan realised almost instantly that fresh blood had been spilt here. Well that just makes this seem that little bit worse, he thought bitterly. Turning his head a little, he took in the rest of the room. All four walls were made out of the same thick concrete. Twisting painfully to look behind him, his eyes fell on a large steel door. It was an imposing sight. The door reached to the roof of his cell. It sat on a rolling bar, allowing easy entry for whoever was outside. As Morgan examined it, he realised it could only be opened from the outside.

"Great," he muttered to himself.

Trying to find another means of escape, he glanced up at the ceiling. A large vent pumped fresh oxygen into the room through a grate. Morgan sighed. At least he wouldn't suffocate. He shivered slightly in the cool air. They had removed most of his clothing, leaving him sitting with just his boxers on. His muscles ached as he tried his best to get into a comfortable position. His wrists and ankles were tied securely to the chair, the rope pulled taught against his skin. After finding it impossible, Morgan turned his attention elsewhere. A couple of stitches from the stab wound to his stomach seemed to have com undone, leaving a trail of blood running down his body and onto the floor. It was accompanied by a dull throb that seemed to worsen the longer he sat there. His movements earlier had helped speed up the flow of the blood, letting more sluggishly leak out from his wound. Morgan watched it worriedly. It didn't look life threatening at the moment but he knew how things could go pear shaped in a second. That was how he had ended up here in the first place.

He thought back to earlier. How had they found him so quickly? The phone call he realised bitterly. He knew it was a bad idea but a part of him had been desperate to make the call, to try and find the roots of his situation. More importantly, he had felt like he could trust the man named Hotchner. A loud creaking noise interrupted Morgan's silent debate. It took him a moment to realise it was the door being opened. He turned his neck as best he could, wanting to see who it would be. As the door rolled to the side, an unknown man stepped through the doorway. In his hands he held a small black travelling bag. Morgan felt his eyes drawn to it and as he watched he felt a sense of fear and apprehension, his mind seemed to recall from some forgotten memory upon seeing the bag. As soon as the man had stepped through the door it was pulled shut and a bar slammed down across the door, the sound echoing within the room.

Morgan pulled his eyes from the bag to watch the man's every move. He kept his head turned away from Morgan, so he was unable to see his face. Instead he took in the rest of him. He wore a flash suit, dark in colour with a dark blue shirt to accompany it. He wore no tie but Morgan could see a chain around his neck that fell beneath the collar of his shirt. On his hands he wore black leather gloves with white stitching across the back. Upon seeing them, Morgan felt a shiver run down his spine, accompanied by a short memory.

He was in the same room as he was now. Pain seemed to radiate from every cell in his body as he heavily raised his head to his one and only visitor.

"Who else knows of your involvement with Mr. Stakes work?"

Morgan remained silent. He was feeling extremely weak and was in a lot of pain but he knew he would rather die then answer any questions. However his silence only seemed to infuriate the man further and before Morgan could do anything the man's hand was around his throat, the black leather digging into his skin. He choked as he fought against the unrelenting hold on his neck, his need to breathe becoming stronger with each passing second. The harder he fought, the stronger the pressure on his windpipe became. Morgan's eyes widened as he looked at his torturers face. There was pure pleasure in his eyes and a slight smile on his lips. As Morgan's vision started to darken around the edges, he thought he heard the door open and an angry voice called a name.

"Richard!"

It ended as suddenly as it had started and as Morgan looked around quickly while trying to clear his head, a new sense of confusion hit him as he found himself staring at the lens of a video camera. He couldn't remember it from his last visit but that didn't mean it hadn't been there. The red light blinked at him, indicating it was recording. He tore his eyes away from the camera to look back at the man with gloves. Morgan watched as he searched through his bag for something. He was dreading what Richard would pull out. Several moments of silence when past. Morgan didn't move the tension around him evident to anyone who looked. Richard stood with a casual comfort. In his hands he held a small glass bottle and a syringe. Dread washed over Morgan as he watched. This can't be good, he thought desperately. His feelings of unease intensified as Richard turned around and met Morgan's eyes for the first time. He had a large bruise on the left side of his forehead, with a fresh scar running down his cheek to his jaw on the same side. Stitches held it together in places and Morgan couldn't help but think he might have caused the wounds. Richards face broke into a bright smile at Morgan's confused look.

"Agent Morgan, welcome back. It's good to have you back. I really missed you and all those fun games we played together. I'm looking forward to some more. Aren't you?"

A/N: Ok people that's another chapter done. Look out for the next one soon. It will deal more with Morgan and his memory coming back and the teams frantic searching. Oh and Hotch is going to blow his top off at someone... It'll be awesome and they totally deserve it. So yeah. Hope you liked it and please REVIEW!