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Please see disclaimers in Ch. 1.

"What?" The tone was more surprised than questioning.

"A photograph."

"Morgan, come on," Reid said, trying to be logical. "How would he get a photograph in here?"

"Just…go with me a second. Do you have one or not?"

Rossi didn't say anything. He did, however pick up the single piece of paper and hold it up, the white back of the photo showing. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"Unh-uh. Someone told you."

"In a minute. Let's see."

Rossi tried to judge the distance between the length of his arm and the width of the hallway separating him from Morgan's cell. "I can't reach."

"Let me," Petr said. "I'm at a better distance."

Rossi hesitated. How well did they really know this guy?

"Do you want him to look, or not?" the younger man asked, though not unkindly.

"Let him do it," Morgan said.

Rossi leaned into the cell door as far as he could, holding the photograph in his outstretched hand. Petr reached for it as well, doing the same in the cell next to him. Once he got it, he casually flipped it over and got a look before figuring out how to toss it across to its waiting recipient.

The image struck him. This would need to be reported, as soon as possible.

"Come on!" Morgan hissed, waiting impatiently.

"Sorry," Petr said. He then attached the photograph to a piece of twine he had lying in his cell—it had been left there by the previous occupant and never removed—and gently swing the small object like a pendulum. When he thought he could make Morgan's cell door, he let go, letting the photograph sail a few feet and letting it land right in front of Morgan's hand.

"Thanks," Morgan said gratefully. Then he turned over the photograph.

"Son of a bitch!" he said, almost a little too loudly.

"Shh!" four voices called out.

"We cause any more problems, they might split us up," Rossi warned.

"We're not the ones causing the problems, are we?! Hell, we can't even take care of ourselves…!"

"Morgan. What is it?" Hotch asked sharply.

The sound of breaths being forced to fall shallow filled everyone's ears. "You don't want to see, Hotch. You either, kid."

"What?"

"It's JJ," Rossi said finally.

"Dave…"

"No. I should have said something earlier. I didn't. Partly because I was taking time to deal with it myself. How you knew though…"

"I was 'paid a visit.'"

"When?" Hotch demanded.

"When I was cleaning floors. They've got keys to this place, Hotch—that's how they could get in to Reid the other night, how they got to me, how they gave Rossi this picture…I saw the guy I fought with just slip out one of those access doors on the end as if it were Alice's rabbit hole."

Now Hotch was even more worried. Two of his people had been attacked, one nearly violated in ways he shouldn't have to think about, and one 'left' a photograph of another…

"Let me see that photo."

"No, Hotch. Trust me, you don't…"

"Morgan." That no-nonsense voice again.

Morgan glared, as if to say are you sure you really want to do this?

Hotch stared back, as if to say you have to ask?

Heaving a sigh, Morgan fought to control his emotions as he reached over and handed the photograph to Hotch. Being on the same side of the small walkway helped matters a lot.

Hotch took the photo and turned it over. He took in the sight of JJ lying on a floor, dressed in orange, with crimson staining certain parts of the jumpsuit. He saw the bruises covering her face, the gashes on her arms, the obvious pain she was in…

"What happened?" he wondered aloud, his voice sharp and cold.

"They said she lost the baby," Rossi said, trying hard not to show the emotion that was desperately clawing in an attempt to get out.

"They?"

"Whoever put that in here, Hotch," the gentleman clarified. "I couldn't tell you who…"

"Guy who tried to jump me said the same thing. Something like, she 'didn't do what she was told' so they had someone attack her."

"The problem is, an attack like that can be explained away," Reid said, his voice now softer than anyone had ever heard it. "It's why they put pregnant women in isolation units—because someone might try to hurt the baby." Only Hotch could see the tear that fell down his cheek, and he understood why—JJ was a friend, and Reid knew she'd been looking forward to her baby's arrival. The thought of his friend having that taken away from her…

"What next, Hotch?" Morgan asked. "Do we just wait until they kill us?"

"We don't know for certain that's what's going on."

"Are you blind?! Two attacks, and then that picture…"

"But we're still living, aren't we?" Hotch understood why Morgan was so upset—truth be told, he was too. But as for a way to stop it…there, he came up short.

"Whoever's behind this is nothing short of psychotic," Morgan retorted. "And patient."

"You were wondering why it took a week to process six people," Rossi mused thoughtfully. "This could be our answer."

"Biding time?"

"Why not? It's not like any of us can really go anywhere. We can't stop these things from happening—they're always at night, and when the lights come on, there's no one there. Everything's easy to explain away."

"I know," Morgan said. "I chalked up my being on the floor to slipping on wet tile."

"And no one's the wiser."

"And it's not like they're just picking at random," Rossi continued. "These…'attacks,' I guess we'll call them, seem to be positioned for a reason…"

"Well, that explains Reid, and JJ," Hotch conceded. "But Morgan?"

"I'd bet a lot that mine was random, Hotch," Morgan said. "They knew they'd get either you, me or Rossi, and because of the 'message,' they didn't care which one it was. It just so happens that it was me."

"You think the block warden is in on this?" Rossi asked, realizing that the man had been 'around' about the time all of the attacks occurred.

"No, I don't think so," said Morgan. "He didn't seem to know what was going on with Reid…"

"And if he were, he wouldn't have put him in here with me," Hotch concluded. "He'd have kept him separate, and likely sent him off instead of Morgan today…"

"What about Emily? Do we know what's going on with her?"

"Nothing. I only heard about JJ."

"Same here."

Now Hotch struck the bars with a closed fist. Reid's eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"Hotch…"

"Everyone I know is being targeted, including me, and there's nothing I can do about it!" he said sharply. "You, then JJ, Morgan…next thing we'll find out is that Emily's lying in a heap too, only not as lucky as JJ."

"You think her losing her baby is lucky?"

Hotch heaved a great sigh. "Of course not."

Only Reid saw the tear forming in his boss's eye. He knew.

Petr, meanwhile, let the chatter continue. He wasn't sleeping anyway. The next day, as soon as they went back to work on painting detail, Petr made a request to use the phone.

"Again?"

"Hey, I get two a week. Collect."

"Fine. Go," the guard said, walking Petr down to the phone bank.

Again, Petr dialed a familiar number.

"Hey, it's me. Whoever's behind this thing, they're good, girlie. I hope you know what you're doing…"

Chase Davis sat in a small room that Mo had taken over at the Chinese consulate. His father approved of the work he was doing, and granted him access to whatever he needed to 'get those people safe,' as his father put it. Li Xiao still felt a deep debt of gratitude towards 'the American detectives' who managed to save his life, the lives of his colleagues and his only child. As far as Chase herself went, Ambassador Li was always fond of her, and found it fascinating that she could reach out to do so much good for others in her profession.

"I've got most of the paperwork done for the initial hearing," Mo told her. "It's standard stuff—they go in, reiterate their pleas, we make arrangements for trial motions and set a date."

"Change of plans."

"What?"

"I said, change of plans."

"Chasie, you can't circumvent the legal system. Not and expect it to work…"

"Someone is doing just that, and if we let them sit in Philadelphia someone's going to kill them," Chase replied. "I got another call from my man inside—seems someone paid 'visits' to two of them, and they got a photograph…"

"A photograph? Of what?"

"Of Jennifer Jareau, looking like something your cat would toss out," chase said. "Only they were told she lost the baby…"

"I thought you said she did not."

"Yeah, but I know that and you know that. They have no idea."

"Still, that doesn't sound like…"

"Look, Mo. It's simple. First these people are going to use intimidation—the attacks on Dr. Reid and Miss Jareau, false information, 'surprise' visits—just to rattle them enough to keep them on edge. Next there'll be an 'accident'…"

"You're not suggesting…"

"I am. Happens a lot. Plus, my man says they're sure these people have keys to the access doors. Apparently Morgan saw one…how'd he put it? 'slip through like it was Alice's rabbit hole?'"

"They're not safe in there."

"No shit."

"Your people, they can't stop this?"

"My people are deep undercover. They're in the same position as our clients are. They do, however, report to me, and that's how I can get a better picture of what's going on. Besides, all the attacks seem to be at night, at least for the men, when no one's supposed to be in their cells."

"And the women?"

"Nothing since JJ's 'incident,' though my girl there has been staying close to Emily," Chase said. "They keep JJ completely isolated—no visitors, no work, no anything because of her condition and the target she presents."

"I have to get them transferred out of there," Mo said. "There has to be someplace they can go, where I can work with them and they don't need to worry about having their throats cut before breakfast."

Chase stared at the walls of the room. They were a bright, cheery red, with gold trim and scrollwork.

"How's your mother?" she asked. Mo was a little surprised by the question.

"She's well. Why do you ask?"

"She in town?"

"No, at the estate. Why?"

"Big place, that estate."

"It is." Mo had a feeling he knew where she was going with this.

"Lots of rooms, large grounds, round-the-clock security that can be padded if need be…"

"Yes. But I still don't…"

"The consulate owns that estate, do they not?"

"They…why, yes, it does." Mo finally got it. "It does…"

"Nice to see you could join me," Chase smiled. "Now, all we have to do is figure out how to get there…"

"You do realize what you're suggesting to me is somewhat illegal."

"Mo, didn't you graduate from law school?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me you took that seminar on consular law…"

"You know I did."

"Then was I the only one paying attention?"

"That part isn't illegal, Chase. Getting there is."

"Oh. Well. There any chance I can get an audience with your dad today?"

"He's in meetings until five, but I think he could be convinced to take supper…"

"Good. I'm buying. Trust me, after I get done, I'll be the one owing him."