AUTHOR'S NOTE: So once again, thank you sooo sooo sooo much to my wonderful reviewers (Dextolan, AceAttorneyFantic, Gawain, Juna Izumi, and Pembie!) I am so happy you're all enjoying this story! Gawain – Thank you for the encouragement. You really spurred me on to get my arse into gear and write you a new chapter sooner rather than later! Really hope you all like this onef.

xox

Chapter 10

The young boy had finally stilled. He lay limp and sweaty, and covered in vomit in the bed. The nurses fussed around him, using wipes to clean his mouth, and stripping him of his soiled hospital clothing. Heart monitor stickers were swiftly reattached to his chest, after he'd ripped them off, and a pulse-ox monitor was reattached to his index finger, as well as an oxygen mask over his face. All things they hadn't been able to do when he was conscious. He'd fought long and hard yesterday when he was first admitted, and resisted every attempt to calm him, so they'd had to sedate him in the end. They'd been hoping he would be more reasonable when he woke up this morning but sadly that hadn't been the case. They'd had to put him out again for his own safety and that of the staff.

"Is he gonna be alright?" asked Hotch, as he gazed down at the newly sedated child. He wasn't much older than Jack. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

The doctor had allowed Hotch to come in, mainly because he'd flashed his FBI credentials, but also because he'd claimed to know the boy and they hadn't managed to locate a family member as yet. "It might be good for him to see a familiar face" he'd said, before leading him into the treatment room, "Maybe having someone he knows will help calm him down?"

Of course, it hadn't helped. He'd snarled and spat, and tried to bite anyone that came near him, so much so that they'd actually ordered a rabies test. Thankfully, it had come back negative.

"We're working on a few theories" said the doctor as he picked up the patient file from the end of the bed and glanced through the notes, "There's nothing showing up in his bloodwork… at least not drugs, anyway… I was thinking meth, or something like that, but so far he's negative for any known narcotic… He does seem to have a mild hormone imbalance but I don't think it would be enough to produce abnormal behaviour like this… so I'm leaning towards him being a psych case… Maybe childhood schizophrenia?"

"Are you sure?" asked Hotch, "No psychotropic substances? Nothing mind-altering?"

"If he did, it's worked its way through his system" sighed the doctor, "Of course, the effects can be long-lasting even after the drug has left the system… I can't rule out drug-induced psychosis."

"There's nothing physical then?" he asked.

"Well, actually, his lungs are in pretty bad shape" sighed the doctor, "I read that he was in an explosion a few months ago, but there's nothing in his notes about the scarring to the lung tissue? Just minor abrasions and a sprained wrist… But this?! This is like he's been breathing pesticide for months."

"Pesticide?" asked Hotch.

The doctor nodded and put the clipboard back at the end of the bed before sticking his pen in the breast pocket of his coat. "Whatever he's been breathing" he said, "It's some pretty nasty stuff… I've seen this kind of thing in sweatshop workers, sometimes when meth labs blow up… that kind of thing…"

Hotch gave a tense little nod. He was starting to connect the dots in his head.

"We're working on some cases where the Unsubs… the uh… 'perpetrators' had severely damaged lung tissue…" he said, "Would you be willing to take a look for similarities? I could have my tech analyst send you the autopsy reports?"

"You think the boy's connected?" asked the doctor.

"The explosion two months ago" he said with a nod, "The bomber had lung damage… I think there may have been chemicals in the warehouse… Something that's affecting the boy's mind as well as his lungs."

"Send me the reports" agreed the doctor, "I'll be happy to take a look."

"Thank you, Doctor" said Hotch, as he took his phone out to call Garcia and began to walk towards the hallway. He stood in the waiting area and pressed call.

"Well, hello there, Bossman" she answered, her fingers still dancing over her keyboard as she spoke, "Ask and you shall receive."

"Garcia" he said, the corners of his lips quirking a little at her greeting, "Got anything for me?"

"Fraid not" she sighed dramatically, "No sign of them. Phones are dead, no emails, no messages… no credit card activity, nothing… Little Matty De Luca was all over social media until 4 days ago, then poof! Radio silence… I hate to say it, but…"

"Then don't" he sighed, "Right now, I need you to track down Fernando Lopez and his family."

"Fernando Lopez?" she queried, as her fingers flew over the keys, "We're talking sweet little Nando Lopez?! That gorgeous little angel, saved by our own adorable little baby genius?! That Fernando Lopez?"

"Yes, Garcia" he said with a little snort, "That Fernando Lopez" He couldn't help but be disarmed by Garcia's mother hen attitude towards the team, especially the youngest.

"Found him!" she smiled, "122 Paradiso Heights…"

"Phone number?" he asked.

"Sending" she replied, "You don't think something bad's happened to him too?"

"I hope not, Garcia" he said with an uneasiness in his voice, "I really hope not."

"Agent Hotchner?" he heard the doctor call from down the corridor.

"Thanks Garcia" he said, as he closed the call and turned to look at the doctor again.

"Where'd you say the poor kid's parents are?" the doctor asked, "We can't get a hold of them."

Hotch gave a sad nod. "We've been trying to get in touch with the mother since yesterday…" he answered, "She's a nurse, a single mom… usually leaves the boy with his older brother Matthew when she's working. She didn't show up to work on Wednesday, and we haven't been able to locate the older boy either… We've got an APB out on them but so far, nothing…"

"You think something's happened to them?" asked the doctor, with a glance of sadness back towards the boy's room, "Do you think he was involved?"

"We can't know that until the family's been found" sighed Hotch, "…but right now, it's not looking good."

ii.

"No!" shouted Reid, as he huddled in the bed and glared angrily at all the worried faces gathered around him. "You can't make me!"

"Sweetie!" sighed JJ, as she sat down beside him on the bed and tilted her head at him pleadingly. "Please?! It's just a couple of scans… They'll be over before you know it!"

Hotch had spoken to his doctors and raised his concerns about possible lung damage. They were taking him down to do a full MRI just in case.

"I'm not doing them without Morgan and you can't make me!" he yelled at her, shaking his head adamantly and pushing at her to get off his bed. "I don't want any of you people poking and prodding at me anymore! I'm so sick of it! …I just want my boyfriend… Where is he?!" he shouted, starting to cry and wiping angrily at his tears. He caught one of the nurses trying to stifle her laughter and glared at her with pure hatred. "You all keep laughing at me too!" he cried, pointing at her and looking decidedly hurt, "This isn't funny!"

Hotch gave the nurse a withering look before turning back to Reid. "We know it's not funny!" he said, in as soothing a voice as he could muster, "It's not funny at all! …But I'm sorry Garcia, we need to check you over physically. All the doctors want to do is an MRI… I won't hurt. I promise you."

Seeing Reid behaving this way was really getting to him and he was finding it hard to hide his own discomfort. He really wished that they could have the real Reid back and then they could all move on and forget about this sorry mess. There was something so heartbreakingly pathetic about him now, balled up at the head of the bed, with a pair of pink pyjamas and a face full of make-up. He hated to think of him as the laughing stock that he was quickly becoming and shuddered to think what would happen if any of this got out around the Bureau. So far, they'd managed to keep Strauss out of things, and no-one at the BAU knew about his identity crisis other than the team. As far as anyone else knew, he was simply recuperating and having intense physiotherapy to regain his strength. Nothing unusual in that! If the truth were to come out somehow, they knew he would be humiliated. Not only that, but they'd certainly share in the blame for going along with it. How was he ever going to forgive them when he found out?!

JJ reached for Reid's hand but he angrily yanked it away and shook his head at her again. "I'm not doing it!" he growled at her.

"Sweetheart, you have to!" said JJ, knitting her brows together and looking at him in concern. "We have to see what's going on inside you… You know that something isn't right."

He pulled his arms across his chest and pouted at her in a childish way. "I don't care! …I'm not agreeing to any scans… or any tests… until I get to see Morgan! I want my boyfriend! …I need him!"

Garcia gave a heavy sigh and shook her head at JJ in exasperation. She'd come in to see Reid with the intention of setting up camp and working from there in order to free up the rest of the team. It hadn't really worked out as planned though! As soon as she'd arrived with her laptop, Reid had insisted that it was his, and tried to take it off her by force. It was only the arrival of Hotch and the doctor that had prevented it turning into a full-on cat-fight!

'Is this really how Reid sees me?!' she thought to herself a little angrily, 'I'm never this whiny! I'm a strong independent kind of gal (hear me roar!), and I sure as hell wouldn't need a man to hold my hand to get an MRI done!' She gave a little smirk at her own thoughts. 'No matter how gorgeous that man happens to be!' she added silently.

"I want Morgan!" Reid whined again, "Why isn't he here?!"

"I left him a message" said JJ.

"I'll get him to come in" said Garcia, giving Reid a little half-smile in an attempt to be reassuring, "I'm sure he'll want to be here".

This had truly gone beyond the point of weird! Morgan had been acting oddly with her since yesterday. She'd called him earlier about the case, and he'd ignored every attempt she'd made to flirt with him. Even her pet names for him hadn't provoked a reaction. Not a 'baby girl', not a 'goddess'…. Nothing! It was almost like he'd turned into an impossibly gorgeous chocolatey version of Hotch. All stiff upper lip and 'by the book, ma'am' responses. This wasn't the Derek Morgan that she knew! Something serious had obviously happened! She just didn't know what.

Of course, she knew that Hotch and he had had a fight. She wasn't proud of herself but she'd used the security cameras to spy on them, and watched the heated exchange that took place between them. She'd never seen the two men face off against each other in this way. It was almost like two silver-back gorillas circling each, sniffing and snorting, and getting ready to beat their chests! It was a wonder it hadn't come to blows the way they were looking at each other. Morgan had left the office, almost taking the door off its hinges, and sat at his desk the rest of the evening with a face like thunder. Even she hadn't dared to approach him when he was like that! She didn't have a death wish…

She just wished that she knew what it was about.

"I'll go and call him now?" she said, looking to Hotch for approval, "If… if that's okay… sir?"

He gave her a curt little nod, obviously not too thrilled about the idea, but giving in for Reid's sake.

Out in the waiting area of the hospital, she took her phone out of her bag and scrolled to Morgan's number. Pressing call for the umpteenth time today, her face fell when it went straight to voicemail, and she left him another message asking him to call back. What was going on?!

iii.

"That's it, breathe in deeply" said a hazy voice, drifting into his hazy mind from somewhere behind his head, "Breathe in… and… breathe out… Just keep looking at the screen… You want to be like him, don't you? You see how strong he is… how brave?"

He tried to do as the voice told him, to breathe in and out normally, but the smell was horrible. It was making him feel sick. It was a strange mix of sweet metallic that set his teeth on edge, and something else… maybe sulphur? Like rotten eggs. Whatever it was, it was making his stomach churn and churn…

He wanted to close his eyes. He tried, but something was keeping them open! Something that hurt! It was like little metal claws were gripping his eyelids, keeping them open wide, and every time he tried to close them the flesh tore a little. It hurt! It really hurt!

He must have whimpered a little because he heard the person behind him come closer.

"It's okay" said the voice, and he saw a hand hover a small white bottle above his face. He stared up at it in fear. What were they going to do?! Were they about to blind him?!

"Mhrrrrmmmm!" he cried, as a cold stinging liquid flooded first one eye, and then the other. For a moment, he thought they'd put acid in there, and was waiting with baited breath for the world to go black. When it didn't, he breathed a sigh of relief, only to realise that he couldn't move either of his eyes! They were frozen in place. Paralysed!

His heart began to race. Adrenalin filling his bloodstream… All he wanted to do was get up and run away!

'No no no noooo!' he screamed inside his own head when he realised his whole body was paralysed, 'This can't be happening!' He couldn't move a thing! He was completely helpless!

All he could do was watch the flickering screen in front of him. The brightness of it seemed to be bombarding his senses. Colours bled out towards him, pulling at him, almost like he was being sucked into the screen. The words were reverberating around his head, again and again, and he found himself repeating the words, over and over. He was repeating what was being said without wanting to, reciting things in his head like a shopping list. It was completely involuntary! Why was he doing it?!

On the screen, he could see a man painstakingly building a bomb, in slow step-by-step stages, and he was explaining with subtitles each component part. He was using home ingredients and detailing what quantities to use. How household objects like nails and broken glass could be very effective in causing maximum damage. He sounded so cheery about it, as though he was giving a recipe for homemade jam!

"You want to be like him" said the voice again, so close to him he could feel warm breath on his ear, "You see how organised he is… How meticulous… You can be just like him… I can make you just like him…"

The mask on his face was relentlessly pumping gas into his lungs. That sickly-sweet chill giving him shivers down his spine with each inward breath, but he couldn't stop. He tried to hold his breath but it didn't work. All that did was make him want to vomit! His heart thumped and thumped, painfully trying to escape his chest, as the panic overtook him. He didn't want this! He didn't!

"Gnnnnoooo!" he called out, when he realised what was happening on the screen. The man had walked into a diner and taken the customers hostage. He had a bomb strapped to his chest and a gym bag loaded with additional explosives… He was ordering the hostages onto their knees at gunpoint… Then he was grinning at the camera with his thumb on a detonator…

"You'll see" said the voice, and a cool hand gently stroked his forehead, "His death was beautiful… Just like yours is going to be… You'll see…"