A/N: That's right! This story is FINALLY coming back from coma. (BEAMS, then winces apologetically) I'm so, so sorry that it took me this long to update! My head was playing tricks on me. (winces) Now I'm back, full of ideas as to how this part of the trilogy should end. (smirks)

THANK YOU, so very much, for your reviews and love! It's you who brought this story back from the dead. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart! (HUGS)

Awkay, because you've already been waiting for AGES… Let's go! I really, truly hope that this turns out worth the wait.

Bargaining With the Devil

The group was large, full of mistrust and on the edge. There were too many sharp minds that wouldn't work well together. That's why the discussion over how they should proceed after the new information had been shared was bound to be long and loud. It was no wonder that none of them noticed how Mycroft disappeared when the man's cell phone began to ring.

Stunningly it was Penelope's voice that finally caught all their attention. "You guys!" Her eyes and voice were full of panic. Whatever little color there'd been on her face disappeared. "I… You should see this." She was showing them her cell phone.

Leaning closer they were all able to see that she'd received a new text message. One from Aaron. The words filled the room with cold.

'I have Danny. Come and get him.' Those chilling words were followed by an address none of them recognized.

In an instant Spencer was on his way towards the door. The look on his face was most definitely that of a protective parent. He wasn't about to let anyone stop him from saving his son.

"Reid." Derek's voice was tight and sharp. "It's a trap."

"I know." Spencer's eyes flashed dangerously. "But I… It's my son. So…"

Derek gritted his teeth. "I'm not letting you go there alone", the older agent announced. He glanced towards the rest of the group. "Try to bring some sense into this, alright? We'll be back as soon as we've checked this out."

With reluctant agreements and words of encouragement from the others the two of them were almost out of the apartment until JJ's voice made them halt. "Spence?" There was a look in her eyes none of them had seen before. "It'll be alright."

For a moment Spencer looked at her. Then nodded with an expression of understanding. And all of a sudden some of the tension that'd been driving them apart since Spencer's return faded away.

As the remaining group tried to formulate some sort of a plan and digest the existance of Ivan Rimakov, while pointedly attempting not to look at the timer counting backwards on the computer screen, Mycroft pulled Sherlock to the side. The detective frowned, instantly realizing that something was badly wrong. "What is it?"

Mycroft sighed. "That phone call I just received… It was from a hospital." There was a pause of uncharacteristic hesitation. "Something's happened to John."

Derek wasn't surprised when Aaron couldn't be found from the labyrinth like building Spencer and he sneaked into. He could only hope that the unit chief was alright and safe, wherever the man was. That they hadn't lost the man they'd grown to consider a member of their bizarre BAU-family.

The fact that they weren't alone wasn't a surprise, either. It was unclear if they'd been expected or if the place had a particularly good surveillance system. But almost as soon as they were inside they were bombarded by attacks. That was where the surprises began.

Because the man facing the attacks with Derek wasn't the Spencer Reid he knew once upon a time, a lifetime ago.

Spencer's kicks and punches were swift and fierce, full of fire and iron. Aside those only five shots were fired, each one of them meeting their target with sniper like accuracy. It was like watching a special trained soldier in action.

In the end all they were up against was a man in his late thirties with shortcut blond hair, scared brown eyes and two broken legs. The man stared at Spencer with wide eyes, shivering when the younger agent took steps closer. "Please…!"

Spencer knelt, a unrecognizeable look in his eyes. "Whatever I have in mind is nothing compared to what your bosses will do to you if they get their hands on you after this." It was spoken in a deviously even, calm voice. "So tell me where my son is… and I'll make sure that they won't get their hands on you."

The man knew that he was going to die. And he also seemed to know that he had the choice if he wanted it to be fast and painless or slow and torturous. So the criminal spoke what he must've known to be his last words. "Room seventy-five."

It was over with a single, monotonous report of a gun. One clean shot right between the criminal's eyes. There was a torn look in Spencer's eyes. A solid proof that not all of the man Derek once knew was lost.

Derek swallowed thickly, unsure what to say or do. He thought about offering his friend a hand but decided against it. "Are you… alright?"

Spencer nodded, visible struggling with himself for a moment before managing to find his composure. "We should split up. You take the right side of the building, I'll take the left."

Derek nodded slowly. It felt strange to receive orders from the man who used to be the baby of the group. They were already about to part ways when he peered over his shoulder once more. "Hey, Reid? Be careful." Although he wasn't sure if he needed to tell that to the Spencer he just saw. That man was clearly more than capable of looking after himself.

Spencer nodded. And for a fleeting moment it felt like no time had passed from the day when they first met. "You too." So saying the genius disappeared.
Derek had no idea how long he'd been walking, his gun constantly prepared and fully ready to face absolutely anything. Well, anything but what he found behind one corner. At first he stared in utter disbelief. Then felt his eyes widen. "What…?"

Stood before him was Will LaMontagne, some tears in his eyes, blood stained face pale and shaking badly. The man swallowed loudly before managing to speak. "Do you… have a cell phone? Because I… I really need to call JJ. Right now. Please."

Sherlock didn't know what he'd been expecting before he barged into the hospital. What he found, though, most definitely went past all of his darkest thoughts. Beyond all his nightmares.

In a large, carefully isolated room John lay motionlessly in a bed, appearing horribly pale, lifeless and small. The doctor was hooked on far more tubes and machines than Sherlock would've liked. The members of staff hovering around John were dressed in protective clothing but Sherlock could still see the sad, tight and hopeless looks on their faces. That was, perhaps, the worst of all. They'd already given up on John.

As though having been invited Mycroft stood beside him just seconds later. His older brother's eyes were solemn upon finding John. "They don't know what it is quite yet", the man announced in a grim voice that held barely any emotions. "He was responsive and lucid until he crashed about half an hour ago."

Sherlock nodded stiffly, folding his arms in a futile attempt to chase away the arctic cold that'd seeped into every single part of his body. His heart was hammering madly. "How long?" He didn't bother to voice more. Wasn't sure if he would've been able to.

Mycroft didn't say a word but the man's expression spoke loudly enough. The British government chose to switch topics. "Apparently it's highly contagious. John tried his best to keep people at bay but there's no telling how many ended up being infected. It's also almost certain that John wasn't the only carrier they've sent to public. This may become epidemic."

"Do you honestly think that I care about other people right now?"

Sherlock had no idea how long they stood there, with him unable to tear his eyes away from the doctors and nurses fighting furiously to stabilize John, until Mycroft's hand moved. He frowned at the sight of a tape recorder being held out for him. Seeing his question the older man spoke. "John… made this for you. I'm sure that he'd like you to have it now." He didn't know or care what made his brother leave but with those words Mycroft was walking away with long, tense strides. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Not paying his brother even the slightest bit of attention Sherlock stared at the tape recorder. Then, with a uncharacteristically unstable finger, pressed 'play'.

There was a moment of static before John's voice carried to his ears. "Hey, Sherlock. I… just saw something, and… Well, there's something I need to say. Although you're not… here, now." The doctor swallowed loudly. "Whatever happens… I need you to know that despite everything I've just heard… I still believe in you and I'll never stop. Even if the entire rest of the world does. I'll always believe in you. So… Be safe, you git. And come home."

Sherlock discovered that breathing was a lot more difficult than it should've been. His eyes stung until they nearly overflowed but that hardly mattered. He swallowed.

His memories… There was still so much missing, far too much. Years and years, most of which he'd probably never get back. Places, people and events that were lost forever. In that sea of gray only John and Ivan Rimakov shone as bright spots. He knew that he wasn't a good man. But John… John still believed in him. Without any hesitation. John was calling out to him, asking him to come back home.

If he'd lose John…

Little as he liked to admit it Sherlock shivered with startle when his cell phone began to ring. He gritted his teeth at the sight of a concealed number. "Who is this?"

He most definitely recognized that chuckle. "Touching, wasn't it? Johnny boy seems to have a way with words."

For a moment all Sherlock could see was red. It took all he had to regain even the slightest bit of composure. "What do you want?"

"Surely that isn't the way to greet an old friend." James Moriarty's voice was smooth as silk and entirely too familiar. "Did you miss me?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed while a shiver crossed him. A boiling took over his veins. "What did you do to John?" he growled in a hazardous voice that would've chilled even the mightiest.

"Apparently throwing you off the roof of a hospital wasn't enough to end you. So I'm going to try something… different. I'm inviting you to join me."

Sherlock's eyebrow arched. Instinctively his eyes scanned the environment but he couldn't see anyone observing him. "Inviting?"

"Let's put it this way. I'm a businessman. And right now I'm giving you the opportunity to choose from two deals." There was a brief pause, without a doubt to add drama. "In a waiting room nearby there's a woman expecting you. Either you give Johnny the medication she has and come directly to the location I give you… or you'll get the chance to stand by and watch your heart being burned right out of you."

Sherlock lifted his gaze towards John. He noticed that the former soldier's vitals were still far from what they should've been. "You already know my answer."

"Yes." The criminal mastermind sounded amused. "I always do."

Aaron Hotchner was running faster than ever in his life, counting seconds as he went. Every moment counted. Every single beat he wasted…

He completed the dark, ominous maze of hallways with stunning ease and speed, finding his way to what looked like a control base. It was a small, box like room with glass made walls and several computers. Absolutely everything inside Aaron froze at the sight on one of the screens.

Jack was there, crying miserably in a nearly completely dark room. Despite the lack of light Aaron was able to see and identify the explosives attached to the room's door. As soon as the door would be opened they'd go off. And then, although looking away from his son was the last thing Aaron wanted to do, he lifted his gaze at the sight of movement. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed Spencer who was right on the other side of the glass, completely focused on a door nearby.

At that very moment everything clicked with a sickening amount of clarity.

With a small, cruel chuckle Eveleen made her way to him. "So you're finally seeing it, aren't you? Now you understand what you must do." She nodded towards Spencer, who kept moving. "If he opens that door you'll never, ever see Jack again."

In an instant Aaron banged the glass and screamed, with everything there was within him. "Reid!" There was no reaction whatsoever. With each step his son's fate was closer to being sealed. Terror squeezed his chest tightly. "Stop!"

Eveleen sighed, appearing almost bored. "You're wasting your breath, Aaron. He isn't going to see or hear you."

Aaron chose to ignore her. "Reid, NO!" he screamed with the sheer power of despair, punching the glass separating them as hard as he possibly could. It didn't even shudder. Spencer didn't give a single sign of having heard him. "STOP!"

Eveleen took a step closer with a small, sinister smile on her face. Her eyes appeared unnaturally dark as they swept towards him. "There's only one way to stop him, Aaron. Only one way to save your son." She offered him a small device that looked deceitfully lot like a remote. There was just one button. "Press, and your son lives. Just one, tiny movement and Jack will be safe. I promise you."

Aaron frowned, his heart hammering a million miles per hour. Dread was rising inside him. "What happens to Reid?"

Eveleen just smiled, glancing towards Reid through the glass. "Tick, tock. Jack's time is running out, Aaron. Quickly."

Reluctantly taking his eyes away from her he indeed looked and felt his heart skip a beat. Spencer had almost reached the door. It was only a matter of time before…

No… No… NO!

"Are you willing to sacrifice your son?" Eveleen asked, like she'd been commenting the weather. "Are you going to let your child die? And to think he considers you his hero…"

Aaron stared at Spencer, a hellish burning taking over his eyes. Spencer's hand was already reaching out towards the door. If he wouldn't act now… Aaron's hands were shaking miserably, almost enough to make him drop the device. He could barely breathe under the weight that was crushing his chest.

I'm sorry. Oh, how he wished that Spencer would've been able to hear him. Would've been able to understand. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me!

Few physical actions had hurt as much as pressing the button did. But in the end he crushed it all the way to the bottom. Pressed, and kept looking although he sure as hell didn't want to see. Watched how Spencer froze entirely for a second before slumping lifelessly to the floor.

"NO!"

TBC, for just a little bit

A/N: Oh… crap! (winces) What the heck happened to Reid? What about John and Sherlock? Things… are quite crazy right now. Is there ANYTHING left of the team once this is over?

(Reid sure has changed, btw, hasn't he? A total BAMF.) (grins)

It's getting reeeeeeeally late so I should head towards the bed. (yawns) PLEASE, do leave a note before you go! The next chapter is the last of this second part of the series, so it'd be AMAZING to hear from you. Pwease…?

Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see you all then. Oh yeah, and…

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!

Take care!