Missing.

Summary. . . . . . . . . . . Two agents go missing, one is found, just what has happened to the other? And how long do you keep looking?

Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine, never will be, just playing in this wonderful sandbox.

A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thanks once again to everyone who has taken time out to read this fic, and to those who have reviewed, or added to favs. Your support, as always means a lot. Here's chapter 9, I hope that you enjoy. Peanut x

Previously on Criminal Minds. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

That was all that Gideon needed to hear, those two word to click a switch inside his mind, allowing thoughts to ebb and flow and formulate answers. Liver Birds, city across the sea, Liverpool. Two towers, land they came to be free, Ellis Island was a port of call from immigrants, New York. Peace symbol, a man who fought for a cause, a man that came from Liverpool to New York, John Lennon. Catcher In The Rye, a man who took no time to pause, didn't Mark Chapman allegedly read that book before he shot John Lennon? Didn't he take no time to pause, as he fired twice into the former Beatles body?

"JJ, is Garcia there with you?"

"Yes Sir."

"I need her to run all the victims names, I know the last one does, but check the others, look for a connection to the Beatles, let me know what you find." He cut the call before turning to the three surprised faces before him. "We need to go. We need to get to Manhattan. I'll explain on the way."

16h 26m 14s

Gideon was slowly stewing, working his way up into a full blown rage moment, whilst at the same time kicking himself for getting so optimistic, so sure that they would soon be finding their missing friend. He should have known better, when had life ever gone smoothly for them? Reid had been missing over a year and then had never found him, why should now be any different? Sure they had figured out the clues, figured out a destination, but they still had a massive area to search through, an area that contained hundreds of thousands of homes, they had to figure out a way to narrow that figure down. That task wasn't the reason for his anger though, no that was brought about by the severe snow storm and gale force winds that had grounded their tiny plane, and forced them to risk the drive to New York in white out conditions.

They had been traveling for three hours already, Morgan inching their way down the highway, his Chicago upbringing having giving him more experience than the others in these conditions, but Gideon could tell even he was losing what little hold he had on his famous temper, as they all watched the time slowly creep closer to Reid's captors deadline. They weren't going to make it, they'd wasted precious minutes, hell make that hours, waiting around at the airport, Gideon telling him of his suspicions, Garcia calling and confirming them, the four of them sat collaborating over evidence, until someone had finally come out to them and given them the bad news, no planes would be leaving any time soon. They'd wasted nearly another hour waiting for someone to find their parked vehicle, fill it up for the road trip ahead, and drive it back to them; their first indication of just how bad the weather had become. Now they were stuck slap bang in the middle of it, going nowhere fast, and each beginning to wonder if video links would be the last the would ever see of Reid alive.

"Let's go over the evidence again, we have to narrow the search down." Hotch eventually stated, wanting to do anything that would chip away at the defeat that was slowly consuming all of them.

"Why?" Morgan replied, his highly strung frame finally breaking as his anger and frustration reached boiling point. "What's the point, at this rate we aint going to get there in time anyway."

"That's enough Morgan." Hotch answered back. "We are going to make it." He firmly stated. "Or do you think so little of Reid, you want to give up on him already." He knew he has hit a nerve when his colleagues knuckles gripped the wheel all the more tighter. "Okay, what do we have?"

For the rest of the journey they went over and over links the Beatles had to New York, John Lennon in particular. There were many, but one in particular kept niggling at Gideon's mind, and as the signs for the Lincoln Tunnel finally came into sight, he pushed aside all his negative thoughts and decided to mention it.

"I think we need to concentrate around The Dakota Building. I think that's the area where Reid is being kept. I'd say we check out every building within a two block radius."

"Hell Gideon, that's still a hell of an area to search." Morgan exclaimed.

"Then we get some help. We call in every favor. We are not leaving him behind again." Gideon raged.

"Okay, okay, once we're closer I'll get Garcia and JJ on it."

Gideon allowed the chatter that followed to wash over him, his head turning towards the window, his eyes straining to see the Manhattan skyline through the snow that still fell heavily. Somewhere out there Reid sat waiting for them to take him home, and this time Gideon was determined to make sure he got there.

He was cold, so cold he was barely shivering any more. Deep down he knew that was a bad thing, knew that he needed to do something, anything to preserve heat, but weak and tired and wet he could do little but press he thin body even closer to the bars of his cage in a vain attempt to escape the puddle that had now consumed the whole floor, the icy liquid seeping through his threadbare clothing easily, chilling his limbs, and leaching away what little warmth he had. He wished he could bringing his arms down to wrap around himself, but his attempts at pulling his hands free had resulted in nothing more than wounds that he could tell were now infected, and a loss of blood he could little afford to lose.

No one was coming, he had resigned himself to that now. No one had understood his message, perhaps he had done it wrong? He had to have because the alternative didn't bare thinking about. Gideon should have known it, so if he had done it right and no one was coming, that would mean they didn't care, that they didn't want to save him, that they didn't want him back. Was that the case? Were they even still looking for him? He wanted to believe they were, but it had been so long. He tried to shake away those feeling, tried to believe that they still wanted him, that they were still looking for him, but he couldn't. Defeated, hurt, cold, tired and lost, he gave in, allowing his legs to crumple beneath him and dropped his body to the floor, ignoring the agony the movement created in his still bound wrists.

14h 32m 10s

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . .

A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . Will be back soon with more, Peanut x