DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CRIMINAL MINDS OR ANY RELATED CHARACTERS
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LABYRINTH – Chapter Eleven
"Johnnie. Just Johnnie? That's all he said?" Garcia asked, not waiting for an answer as she worked. "OK, there are 314,976 Johnnies, Johns, Jonathans and any other derivative of it you can think of in the good ol' U.S of A. If Reid were with us now, he would inform you that it is the 211th most popular Christian name in the country, but he's not here," She said, sighing. "And that makes me sad so moving on." She typed furiously. "Virginia has 5482."
"That is a lot of suspects." Doakes said, rubbing his eyes. He checked his watch. It was nearly mid-day, and except for few minutes sleep in the conference room, they hadn't stopped working since the Agents had arrived the prior morning. "I'm going to get some coffee, you guys want any?" the three FBI all murmured in response, and Doakes took that to mean yes from each of them. He left the room to head to the break area in the station.
"Ok," Garcia continued, still typing. "Manassas has a population of just over forty thousand, giving us…." She scanned the screen, looking for the figure she was after. "Three hundred and six." She said her voice heavy. That was too many. "I'm sorry, guys. She said, turning to look at them, "Without more information, I can't narrow it down anymore."
"Remove anyone aged under twenty five, and over fifty five." Rossi said, trying to narrow the perimeter. Anyone under twenty five would presumably be too young when the first murders occurred. From what little evidence they had, this UnSub was smart enough to not have been caught yet. He damn well kidnapped four federal agents in broad daylight and got away with it. Anyone over the age of fifty five would possibly struggle a little with the physical side of the kidnapping.
"One hundred, eighty four." Garcia said, after inputting the data Rossi had given her.
"Can you check travel records?" JJ asked. "Eliminate anyone who was out of the area during any of the killings." She cringed at using the word. Killings. That's what was going on right now and they were still so far from finding out who they were looking for, or where the team were.
"Ok," Garcia said, watching the figure on her screen reduce. "This is more like it." She said. "We now have fifty three."
"Eliminate anyone who moved into or out of the area in the last two years." Rossi said. "I get the feeling this means a lot to him. He wouldn't move himself away from it." He explained. "It's an important project to him; he'd want to be close by."
"Thirty seven." Garcia said, a little glow of hope warming her heart as she watched the number get lower with each new piece of information she inputted.
"There has to be something in his past to make him feel this way, like he's cleansing the world of sinners." JJ though for a moment. "Anything from CPS? Foster records?"
"Six of them were the subject of Child Protective Service cases." Garcia answered. Six, they had it down to six.
"Any of those have a record?" Rossi asked. "It's unlikely he'd have a clean record. Not given the sadistic nature of the murders."
Garcia held back a sob. Sadistic. Whoever this sadistic Johnnie was, he had her friends. She tried to compose herself, but couldn't understand how Rossi and JJ could talk about it like it was just another case, an unknown victim. She sighed shakily. "Four." She answered.
"Ok." JJ said, sighing, relieved. Four was much more manageable than five thousands. "I guess we…."
"But wait." Garcia said. "Of those four, two have since settled down, had families, seem respectable. One was incarcerated for the duration of the second killings." She turned to look at the others, just as Doakes walked back into the room. "Only one, Johnnie Higgins, works as a caretaker come security guard for a six acre patch of land, owned but not used by the government."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Doakes asked, placing the coffee's on the table and taking a sip of his own.
"The UnSub needs space. Somewhere he won't be disturbed." JJ answered.
"And why would the government own, but not use land?" Garcia asked, although she knew the answer, she raised her eyebrows at Doakes as if prompting him to answer.
"Because they don't want people going on it?" Doakes guessed, seemed pretty logical to him.
"And that's usually because there's something they don't want people to find." Rossi said, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. "Like and old hanger or military base." He headed towards the door.
"Very roomy." JJ said, following him. "Very private."
"Son of a bitch," Doakes said, putting his coffee back down. "You actually found him." He followed the Agents towards the door.
"I'm sending you the address of the site now." Garcia said, typing again. "I'll send paramedics too." By God, she'd send anyone and everyone that could help.
They'd found them.
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Hotch struggled to make sense of what had happened. The damn ringing in his ears didn't help. They had just unlocked the door. He remembered that much. Panic flooded him, a feeling he didn't relish. He became aware of the weight on top of him. His right bandaged arm was pinned underneath him, while his left arm was spread to his side. He attempted to move it from underneath a slab of what he assumed to be concrete, hissing as pain shot through the limb.
What had happened? They'd unlocked the door, Morgan and Prentiss were near the exit. He'd gone back for Reid.
"Reid?!" He called out, suddenly realising what the weight on top of his was. He remembered somebody pushing him out of the way. Reid had pushed him out of the way. He called again, somehow managing to dislodge his arm from beneath him. He briefly noted that it was bleeding again. That wasn't important.
"Reid!" He called again, managing to turn onto his side. Reid had been lying on top of him, a hiss of pain escaping his lips as he made contact with the floor.
Hotch pulled himself from underneath the younger man. "Oh God," He muttered to himself. He turned to see where Prentiss and Morgan were. Prentiss was sitting up. She looked relativity unharmed, except for a large gash on her forehead. Blood was trickling down her face. She was blinking rapidly as she spoke to Morgan. Hotch noticed she had blood in her eyes.
Morgan was talking to Prentiss. He was on his back, but trying to sit up. Prentiss was stopping him. She looked over at Hotch and spoke, but Hotch couldn't make out what she'd said with the damn ringing.
He turned his focus back to Reid. "Reid?" He said, leaning over so he was closer to the younger man. "Reid?" He tried again, receiving no response.
Reid coughed, before opening his eyes. "You ok?" He managed to get out, trying to recall what had happened. He attempted to sit up, but Hotch stopped him. "I'm 'k." He said. He knew he wasn't. None of them were.
"Let me help you." Hotch said. He was pretty sure his left arm was broken, and the freshly re-opened cuts on his right arm were fast staining the makeshift bandage crimson.
Before Reid could speak, Prentiss appeared. "You guys ok?" She asked, crouching down. She tilted her head to the side slightly when Reid and Hotch took in her injuries. "Head wounds always look worse than they are," She said. "You both know that."
"How's Morgan?" Hotch asked, supporting Reid with his unbroken arm.
"Well, if his ankle wasn't broken before, it is now." She sighed. "Think he may have a broken rib or two." She added. "You guys?"
"I think I broke my arm." Hotch said. "I've not checked Reid yet."
Reid attempted to protest, but his speech had become virtually unrecognisable. Prentiss placed her arm around him, under his arms for support to help Hotch lift him. As they did so, Reid hissed, and crumpled to the floor.
"Oh my god!" Prentiss said, immediately crouching beside him. "Reid!" he was trying to say something, but the only word she understood was 'leg'.
"He ok?" Morgan called from where he was sitting, propped up against a wall. He had been surveying the room, what was left of it. While the walls were still intact, the ceiling had all but gone, obliterated into pieces that had rained down on them. The only explanation the Morgan could come up with was that both the door and timer had been rigged. It was an inescapable trap.
Prentiss moved lower to take a look. She gently patted down Reid's legs. He hissed again when she made it half way down his left leg. "I think his leg is broken." She said. She moved back up to speak to him. "Reid?" She prompted gently, waiting for him to turn and look at her. She wasn't sure he was listening; he had a slightly vacant, far of look in his eyes. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"
Reid tried to answer, then realising he was mumbling, shook his head.
"He may not know." Hotch said. "The hypothermia," He sighed, trying to ignore the pain in both arms. "Right before the bomb or whatever…." He looked directly at Prentiss, wincing a little at her blood stained face. "He wasn't shivering anymore. I think it's…" He paused, not wanting to finish that though. I think it's too late. "I think," he tried again. "I think if he was hurt he wouldn't feel it. Not now."
Prentiss nodded. That was true. He didn't seem to realise he had a broken leg until they'd tried to stand him. "We need to move on." She said, making her way back over to Morgan. "You ok for me to help you up?" She asked.
"I ain't staying here." He said, accepting her help as she placed an arm around his chest to help his stand. He had never felt a pain like it, not that he could recall, in those few moments it took him to stand up. Flaming arrows seemed to shoot up from his ankle, while his chest protested as if it were about to explode. He swore to himself under his breath.
"Sorry," Prentiss said, turning to help Morgan into the next room. She could imagine the pain he was in. her own head felt like it was a giant firecracker waiting to go off. She quickly thanked her lucky starts that she wasn't seriously injured like the others. She also cursed the fact that everything now had a blood-red hue to it.
She placed Morgan down gently on the floor of the next room. It was tiny. And the only door was the one they had just come in through. She quickly returned for Hotch and Reid. She was relieved when she saw Reid in a sitting position, Hotch looking a little confused.
"You ready?" She asked, placing her un-bandaged arm around Reid's middle to help his stand. He nodded, but didn't speak. Hotch stood the other side to help, his own broken arm cradled to his chest. Hotch groaned a little at the effort in lifting Reid. Surprisingly, Reid was quiet. They made their way was quickly as they could to join Morgan, placing Reid down beside him.
"Hotch?" Prentiss gestured for the Chief to follower her to the other side of the room, hopefully, but not likely, out of earshot of the two more seriously injured agents. "What do we do now?" She asked, not expecting an answer. And it made her feel no better for asking.
"I don't know." Hotch said, coughing a little. His throat was dry. The damn dust from the explosion was everywhere.
Prentiss took a deep breath before sighing it out. "Reid's stopped shivering." She said he tone was even. Factual. As if she had simply mentioned that a neighbour had trimmed a rose bush.
"I know." He replied, his tone similar.
"Hotch, if…"
"I know what it means, Emily." Hotch cut her off, he knew the implications. Reid was dying. They were stuck. Morgan was hurt. Hell, they were all hurt. But Reid was dying. He rubbed his forehead with his bleeding arm. "How do we get out of here?" He asked, looking around.
Prentiss walked around the room, if you could call it that. It was more like a large storage cupboard. And it was empty. The floor was worn and covered in dust, and the walls were bare brick. She kicked the dust on the floor. "Hotch?" She called. The dark haired man walked the short distance to her. She pointed at the floor. There was a trapdoor.
"Morgan," Hotch called. "Do you still have that key?"
Morgan rummaged in his pocket. It was a little awkward sitting down, and the movement sent waves of pain through his leg and chest. He managed to find when he was looking for and handed it to Hotch. The older man tried the key in the lock and it opened. He turned to look at Prentiss. "We should check it out." He said, now looking at Morgan and Reid. "You two wait here."
"Not going anywhere." Reid mumbled, raising a hand slightly to wave them off.
Morgan smiled a little. The kid still had a sense of humour. "How you doing?" He asked. He knew it was a stupid question, but what else could he ask?
Reid coughed a little. "'k." He answered. "You?" He opened his eyes a little to look at Morgan.
"Fantastic." Morgan replied. He couldn't shake the feeling something – apart from the obvious – was amiss. Reid seemed more alert now than he had for hours. He'd noticed he had stopped shivering, and knew that wasn't a good thing. In fact, he was fairly confident that medically, Reid should be unconscious right about now. He looked over at the younger man. His eyes were open and he was looking around the room.
"Oh God." Morgan muttered to himself, rubbing his hands over his face. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not after they'd made it this far.
"You ok?" Reid asked. His speech was still slurred. Morgan wasn't sure if he was talking clearer, or if he'd just become used to it.
"Yea, yea." Morgan replied quickly. He'd heard of this happening. Patients on death's door seeming to make a quick and sudden improvement. If it was what he thought it was, he was terrified. He needed to tell the others. As this though came to him, Hotch and Prentiss re-appeared.
"It's just a tunnel." Hotch said, carefully climbing out of the hatch, leaning heavily on his good – well, better – arm. "We didn't go all the way but there light at the other end."
"It has to be the way out." Prentiss said, following Hotch out of the tunnel. "You ok?" she asked Morgan, seeing the look of, what was it? Worry? Dread?
"Yea, fine." Morgan answered. "Hey, Hotch, can you help Reid?" He suggested.
"Ok." Hotch said simply. He knew something was amiss. He could tell by Morgan's demeanour. And Reid. The man who had been virtually unconscious previously was now sitting up and taking in his surroundings, or appeared to be. Hotch looked back at Morgan, fearing the same thing. "Hey, Reid?" He stood, wobbling a little as he did so. "You think you can make it if I help you?"
Reid nodded, and began to stand on his own, putting his weight on his unbroken leg. Prentiss watched as the two made their way to the hatch entrance. "What the hell?" She questioned as she helped Morgan. She knew it was too good to be true. People didn't just improve like that, especially after being crushed with a ton of rubble.
"Prentiss," Morgan began, excepting her help. "Reid, I…." He licked his lips, noticing how dry they were. "Have you ever heard of The Surge?"
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Ooh! What's happening here then?! Well, I already know. Those of you that watch Grey's Anatomy may already be familiar with The Surge. I goggled it, apparently it's a real thing. God Bless Mark Sloane! And yes, there are that many people called Johnnie in America. the Virginia figures are made up though :p xx
