Reid still sat at his desk, he hadn't moved since Hotchner and the others had left. He was resting his forehead in his hand, his eyes staring unseeingly at his cell phone lying on the desk in front of him. He was unconsciously tapping a pen against his lips as he willed the phone to ring. Garcia was sitting next to him, her feet propped up on another desk chair. She had come back from her meeting with Henry with rosy cheeks and glittering eyes. Now she was busy playing solitaire on her laptop, her thoughts miles away.
Dobson had entered the bullpen without either of them noticing, dismissing his team at the elevators. Now he carefully walked up to Reid's desk. "Dr. Reid?" he said politely.
Garcia looked up from her game, alarmed. She had never heard Dobson call Reid anything but 'Doc' before. But Reid, lost in his own thoughts, didn't move until Garcia tapped him on the shoulder.
"Huh? What?" Reid jerked and looked up, puzzled. Then he saw the grim look on Dobson's face and paled. "Hotch?" he asked, fear coloring his voice.
"I'm afraid so," Dobson confirmed solemnly.
"Is he…" Reid trailed off, not quite knowing what he wanted to ask first.
"He was kidnapped," Dobson said, his face unreadable. "But there was nothing that suggested that he was injured in any way."
"How could- I mean, what happened?" Reid asked shocked. "He had bodyguards; he was supposed to be protected. You were supposed to protect him."
"Yeah," Dobson defended himself, "I did. But somehow the terrorists knew where Hotchner was going to be. They used tear gas and overpowered my men. Marcus and Miller are in the hospital, they've both been shot."
Garcia gasped and put her hand over her mouth. "Are they okay?"
"Marcus is in serious condition, but Miller's going to be fine," Dobson answered, spitting out a piece of gum and dropping it in the trash can next to Reid's desk.
"I don't understand," Garcia said bewildered. "Why would the kidnappers do such a thing? I thought they were coming for a hostage exchange, not another kidnapping."
"Well, either they called our bluff and decided to make the best of the situation," Dobson answered. "Or they had set it up as a trap to be able to kidnap Hotchner or it was a test run to check out how we would react and what kind of manpower they would have against them."
"And Hotch has just disappeared without a trace?" Reid asked, hoping that the kidnappers had messed up and left them something worthwhile.
"I still have people out looking," Dobson said, putting a new piece of gum in his mouth, "But so far there is no sign of Hotchner anywhere in the vicinity and we haven't been able to pick up the trace. And that just leaves you, Doc," he finished pointedly.
"Reid," Garcia said, suddenly gripping his hand hard in both of hers. "Don't leave, okay? They're gonna come after you too, I just know it. Don't leave the office; don't go anywhere, just stay here, please."
"Garcia…" Reid pulled at his hand uncomfortably, wanting it back, but she wouldn't let go. "There's work… The others are still missing. I can't just-"
"No, Ms. Garcia's right," Dobson said, once again unusually polite. "You really have to stay here."
"But-" Reid started to protest. He wanted to be proactive, he wanted to be out there, he wanted to look for his team, he wanted to find his team.
"Listen to me, Doc, I'm going to make this very clear." Dobson put his hands on the armrests of Reid's chair and leaned over him, lowering his voice, but still keeping the tone harsh. "I'm in charge. Hotchner is missing. Gideon is missing. You have no one to run to anymore. We're going to do this my way and if you're not prepared to cooperate, then fine, I'll take you off the case."
"You can't," Reid gasped.
"Yes, I can," Dobson said coldly. "But in this case it's entirely up to you. And just to make it clear, on or off this case, and I don't care which, you're not leaving this building and even while you're here, you're not going anywhere without at least two of my men with you."
"But-" Reid tried to protest again.
"No buts, Doc," Dobson said sternly. "No one else is going to disappear on my watch. As of now you're not even allowed to use the men's room unsupervised."
Reid swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat. He had no choice, he desperately wanted to stay on the case. "Okay," he said meekly.
"So we're agreed?" Dobson asked. "No fieldwork, no interviews, no work that you can't do from that chair you're sitting in right now."
Reid nodded mutely.
Satisfied with his compliance, Dobson turned around to leave.
"I have to call Haley," Reid told Garcia, who nodded sympathetically.
But Dobson turned around to face them again. "Already taken care of, Doc. I sent a couple of my guys to her sister's. She was informed an hour ago."
"What?" Reid looked surprised. "Why?"
Dobson cocked his head and studied Reid for a moment. "You still don't get it, do you Doc?" he said condescendingly. "I'm in charge. I'm the SAC. Notifying next of kin is my responsibility. Because I'm in charge. And the sooner you realize that, the better we'll get along."
But all Reid could think of was Haley, getting the bad news from complete strangers. In this case Dobson was wrong. It had been Reid's responsibility. As a friend.
"JJ? Come on, time to wake up. Dinner time! JJ?"
JJ heard Morgan's sing-song voice as from afar, and even though her body protested vehemently, she followed the voice into consciousness. It wasn't a pleasant experience, it never was. She felt hot and uncomfortable and her head felt ready to split in two every time she opened her eyes. And yet, every time they called her, she answered.
She cracked open her eyes to see a double exposure of Morgan's face floating in front of her. Quickly she squeezed her eyes together again before the sight could make her nauseous. When she opened them again, there was only one Morgan smiling down at her.
"Welcome back, stranger. How're you feeling?"
"I'm fine," she tried to say, but the sounds that came out of her mouth didn't really resemble words.
"Okay," Morgan said, winking at her. "Do you think you can eat something? We've got a nice selection of hamburgers or hamburgers. Which do you prefer?"
She appreciated his efforts to keep things light, she really did, but at the same moment as he started talking about hamburgers the greasy smell assaulted her nostrils and she gagged. Large, floating specks of color invaded her sight as she retched miserably. She felt someone's arms around her, lifting her and turning her on her side, steadying her as her body revolted, but she wasn't sure who it was until she could finally breathe again with small, hiccupping breaths and heard Morgan's voice chanting, "It's okay, it's okay," above her painfully throbbing head.
She felt herself being lowered down onto the cot again, though not all the way. An arm stayed behind her neck and kept her head tilted up. The rim of a paper cup touched her lips and she tried to turn her head.
"Shh, it's only water," Morgan said, pressing the cup more insistently against her lips. "Just a little, then you can go back to sleep again. I promise."
The cold water felt wonderful on her lips and in her mouth. She was hot and parched and a vile taste fermented in her mouth. On the way down her throat, her stomach protested a little against the water, but not enough to expel it. She drank a little more before the cup was removed and her head was put down and she closed her eyes again. She actually felt better, only marginally, but still better.
Morgan had been sitting next to her on the cot. She hadn't really noticed before, not until he got up and took the warmth of his body with him, but she was already floating back towards sleep and didn't protest.
"It's okay, at least she drank the water." It was Prentiss' voice, coming from the other side of the room. "And I think her fever is coming down."
"She should be in a hospital." Morgan sounded much harsher than when he'd been speaking to her.
"We'll just have to do the best we can," Prentiss answered him.
The room fell quiet, all that was heard was the rustle of paper bags being opened and hamburgers being unpacked and it somehow sounded homey. JJ felt herself drift further and further away until Gideon's voice suddenly yanked her back out of the tranquility.
"Penny for your thoughts."
JJ frowned and stirred. He wasn't talking to her, was he?
"It's the pictures."
JJ's frown deepened. That was Hotchner's voice. He wasn't supposed to be here, was he? In her muddled mind she couldn't quite remember why, but she remembered that it was very important that he shouldn't be here.
"What pictures?" Prentiss asked.
"When I first came there, they took my picture, right?" Hotchner asked. "I thought I heard them use a camera while I was lying on the floor."
"That's right," Gideon said.
"Have they taken pictures of all of you too?" Hotchner asked.
The conversation interested JJ and in spite of herself she cracked open one eye and got a blurred, sideways vision of the other four sitting on and around a cot, sharing French fries and slurping sodas. She saw Morgan and Prentiss nod at Hotchner's question.
"I'm just wondering what they are doing with the photos," Hotchner continued. "There haven't been any photos in any of the ransom notes. You would've thought that they would've wanted us to see them."
Morgan frowned. "They haven't sent them to you? I was sure that that was what the pictures were for."
"I wondered about that too," Gideon said. "But if they aren't sent to us, then they are probably sent to someone else."
"You mean that the photos are to prove to someone else that they have us?" Prentiss asked.
Gideon nodded.
"You're talking about the HBM, right?" Morgan said. "That Henry is sending them on to the leader or whoever he reports to."
"That's a fair guess," Hotchner said.
"So is he working for them or is he a part of them?" Morgan wondered.
"Terrorist organizations wouldn't hire someone from the outside for a job like this," Prentiss said. "They always keep things close to the family, so to speak."
"Henry has to be a member then," Hotchner said. "Even if we haven't been able to find him in any of the membership registers. Not that we were looking for him specifically, but his name would've raised a red flag."
"He doesn't really fit the profile for an extremist though." Morgan said. "But then again, he doesn't strike me as a mercenary either. Isn't he upper management at some cell phone company or something?"
"Well," Gideon said. "The photos are either sent to HBM or there's a third party we don't know about."
"What kind of third party?" Prentiss asked.
Despite herself, JJ could feel herself drifting away again. While her mind would've loved to have stayed with this discussion, her body had other ideas, and she was soon asleep and never knew if Gideon had a theory about a third party or not.
TBC...