A/N~ I honestly don't think I could be more sorry. I'm sure I've lost all my readers by now, and I apologize, sincerely, I am sorry. But I honestly have not had a spare moment. The next few weeks, and the last few, are hectic almost beyond comprehension. Finals, huge projects... I'm afraid updates of all three of my stories will be sporadic. But they will continue. I'm not giving up on this story. Just wrote this out today, it's hopefully tolerable. Thank you so much for the people who stuck around. All... Both of you. :) Enjoy this. It's hopefully a touch longer. Sorry to those who were disappointed last time.
JJ shot him a murderous glare. He was whistling now. Circling the table and observing them. It sickened her. Bile rose in her throat, and her mind was clouded over with rage. She glanced at her friends. They were dying. Slipping into an abyss that she couldn't pull them back from. The four of them had been so badly injured... she was afraid to look too closely. And she was no longer terrified. She studied the sleeping faces of her teammates, and the frightened expressions of others, then turned finally to face Austin.
"You stupid, stupid bastard."
He glanced at her sharply, his features contorting in momentary rage before it ebbed away.
"Ooh. And mom comes down swinging. Tell me, 'JJ' how do you feel about a bullet in Morgan's brain? Hm. Or perhaps Henry's?"
She scowled deeply, but recognized the empty threat and continued.
"You have an hour... less now until 10 armed agents burst through that door... and all you're doing is working that tired psychological angle. Please. It stopped phasing us an hour ago."
"JJ..." Morgan shot her a warning glance and she opened her mouth to speak once again, but Dowde stepped up.
"That's enough. Fine. I guess I'll just have to step up my game." He circled again. A predator stalking his next meal. Watching... waiting to prey on their weaknesses. To pounce.
He stopped in front of Hotch. Without a word, he slapped him just hard enough to leave a mark. No luck.
He moved on to Reid and gave him the same treatment. His head lulled and his eyelids fluttered.
"There he is. How's the ole' back?" The downed agent remained silent.
"Hm. Not exactly the heart shattering, weepy response I was gunning for, but what can ya do. And the drugs? You know, I hear withdrawals are a bitch..."
A low chuckle filled the room.
"You're a fucking idiot." Dowde frowned.
"That seems to be a popular opinion today." Reid laughed weakly again and Dowde's expression morphed into extreme confusion.
"You seriously think that's going to rattle me? I know what withdrawals are like. Had 'em. Don't care for them to be honest. But are you seriously just going to stand there and torment me for another hour?"
Dowde spluttered meaningless syllables, searching for the appropriate response. Reid smiled a wavering smile. It seemed to be all he could muster.
"As I thought." With that statement, His eyes fell shut. He gave the appearance of a deep sleeper...
Until he spoke again. A weary tiredness colouring his voice.
"Just... get on with it. Do something already." Dowde swallowed. His face twisted into an expression of disappointment. He enjoyed the desperation he had made them feel... liked that he'd taught them a lesson. But he wasn't done yet.
"This..." He paused her for a disgustingly dramatic shuddering breath.
"Will not do. It's not even... I mean... It's not fun any more." He stopped, sneered, then readied himself for his next declaration.
"I need to kill someone." He grinned.
"Maybe that'll get you to react." He turned, picked up his fallen weapon, and emptied the bullets. All but one.
He proceeded to spin the cylinder. swing his arm around, and fire in one swift motion.
A piercing scream echoed.
Followed by a roar. Garcia sobbed. It was the second gun to be pointed so close to her heart... All the better to stop it with...
She desperately tried to remember the words to a prayer, something, anything to guide her. She couldn't stand games. She wasn't fond of the idea of a round of Russian roulette. A little too deadly for her liking. Her heart continued to beat wildly, pumping urgently, sound reverberating in her ears, filling them with the desperate sound. H-he couldn't hear it... could he?
Of course, Morgan had to rage at the guy.
"What the hell was that? You can't just point that thing all over the place! You understand the reprecussions? I mean, aside from the obvious ass kicking you'll receive when we get out of here? Think, man."
"Oh, that's cute. You think you're getting out of here? Ha. Sure. Also, you'd think, being a - supposedly brainy type profiler man, you'd get that I'm already in trouble." He leaned over on the table, tracing lazy lines along it's surface with his pinky.
"One of your team members might well die yet." He casually slid of the table and circled to Hotch, swiping his index finger along the stained fabric, and rubbing the substance between his thumb and finger idly.
" 'S a lot of blood." Another grin. He acknowledged the answering expression only with a with a charming smile. Perfectly normal. Like Joe the neighbour. Dogsits for you every other week. You know the one. He's pleasant. Only vaguely sociopathic...
"Anyway, down to business, all work and no play, am I right?" Another spin of the cylinder. Another intake of breath...
And then the phone rang.
Reid's.
The all too cheerful tinny ringing that his pocket seemed to emit. Dowde turned sharply to the agent, dropping the gun abruptly, forgotten, to the floor. He took a hesitant step towards the unconscious young man. Then leaned down, cocking his head to the side to see where it came from. It was almost amusing how pedestrian a problem it was. Lost phone. After a moment, he reached down to the left pocket, and searched it for the bringer of the incessant noise... After a moment he retrieved it, eyed it, and flipped it open. He said nothing.
A Vague voice could be heard on the other end.
"Hello?" It sounded so serene... so patient.
"Hello, this is Jason again. Is this Mr Dowde? Hello?" Austin hesitated, closing his eyes to give himself a moment to think. When he spoke, it was low and accusatory.
"You gave me an hour." Morgan could imagine the half vaguely relieved expression Gideon would don at contact.
"I'm aware of our terms. But, I'm calling to... negotiate."
A long silenced stretched across phone lines. Then the terse reply,
"Negotiate?"
"I never agreed to that. I refuse to-"
"Just one hostage Mr Dowde. Let a single team member go, and we'll talk about cutting you a deal." There was another beat.
"Okay." He answered simply. He flipped the phone shut on Gideon's shocked reply.
He turned to Morgan.
"You."
"You're not really needed here, are you?" The more he smiled, the more it looked like baring his teeth... Morgan froze. He felt like there should be some relief. Some undertone of happiness at his release. There wasn't even the faintest whiff. Out there, he couldn't protect them. His girl would be alone. His friends... his family would be out of his reach. Of course Dowde had agreed. Further torture...
"No." His response cut through the silence.
"You can't take me." Some part of him knew this would only encourage him.
"No!, Damn you!" He panted as Austin hurriedly released the restraints, no longer working for some kind of connection. He was ready for development. Bored of his tired old angle. He forced a grin, and pulled Morgan up and towards the door as he struggled. Dowde frowned. Slammed Morgan into the wall. He took advantage of the brief window of opportunity to pick up the gun. Morgan launched himself off the wall, poised for attack.
He didn't reach Austin.
At least not before he turned calmly, took aim, and shot JJ in the foot. He ignored the agonized screams, hoisting Morgan into the doorway. He didn't protest. Before the door swung shut, he turned, gaze meeting Garcia's tear filled eyes.
"That was your bullet."
And then his face twisted - into something the devil himself would recoil from.
A/N~ Man, I love how creepy Austin is. ;) Reviews are nice. Hope you liked.
