Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or the characters. Some "guest stars" are based on or named after people in my life while others are totally made up, as are some places and events.

Heads up: There's intense violence in this chapter and it's sweary

Chapter 13

Alfie unhooked the camera from the laptop and left the room. Garcia flinched as Grant looked up from fiddling with the camera.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he chuckled. Garcia stared at him with hate. "Well, then..." he shrugged.

"Why did you make me do that?" she cried. "My family doesn't need to see that!"

"You're a fed! They're feds! They don't care who they hurt," he yelled back as he pulled a syringe and vial out of his pocket.

"I don't want that," she snarled.

"I don't care what you want," he replied as he walked up to her. "We need to rest and I'm not babysitting you."

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!" she screamed. Grant slapped her across the face.

"Shut up!" he yelled in her face. "No one can hear you." Grant ripped open the packaging and filled the syringe. Garcia slipped the pen partially out of her sleeve and gripped it in her hand as Grant knelt in front of her. He lifted her skirt and looked down and she struck out with the pen. Grant moved at the last second and instead of hitting his neck like she had intended, the pen struck his shoulder.

At first Grant just stared at the pen lodged in his shoulder. Then the shock wore off and he howled in pain. He yanked the pen out and looked as blood ran down his arm. He looked up at Garcia and narrowed his eyes.

"ARGH!" he screamed and kicked the chair out from under her. She fell hard, a loud crack reverberated around the room as pain engulfed her leg.

Grant lunged, grabbed Garcia's shoulders and forced her to her feet. He punched her face, cutting her cheekbone open. He flung her away and another crack sounded as she fell over the tipped chair. He pushed her off the chair and threw it across the room, hitting and shattering the camera.

Grant looked at the broken camera and back over at Garcia. "Do you wanna play, bitch?" He smiled evilly. "'Cause I do." He walked to the door and bolted it. He sauntered over to the barely-conscious blonde and kicked her over onto her stomach. With the utmost gentleness considering his violent outburst only seconds before, he slowly removed her sweater and unzipped her dress. He pulled the dress down her shoulders and turned her over onto her back. His breath hitched as he stared at the lacy black bra. He felt the unmistakable stirrings of lust and for a moment he forgot about his orders. Then he felt a fiery pain in his shoulder and saw blood still running down his arm.

He climbed on top of her, straddling her hips.

"Please, don't... " Garcia groaned as she tried to shove him away. "Don't... rape me."

"Oh, no. That's not gonna happen. That would give you pleasure and you hurt me, so I will hurt you." He put more weight on her and she screamed. "Does that hurt?" he asked sweetly as he stroked her hair. She whimpered.

Grant pulled a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of his back pocket. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "I told myself I'd quit after this last pack. But look... I have two left. I'll give you one and keep the other for myself." He flicked the ashes on her face and stuck the cigarette in his mouth as he forced her hands above her head. He removed the cigarette, leaned in and exhaled smoke in her face. She coughed and her non-injured eye watered. He put the cigarette against her lips, which she pressed closed.

"You don't smoke?" he laughed.

"No, it's disgusting," she growled.

"Good thing I wasn't offering a hit," he chuckled as he brought the lit end onto the inside of her elbow. Garcia screamed and tried to free her hands but Grant put more weight on her hips, causing her to gasp from both pains.

"Do you want me to stop?" he grinned. She whimpered and nodded. "Too bad." He put the cigarette on her other arm. Tears fell from her eyes as she screamed. He burned her, each in a new spot, trading arms, until the cigarette was half-burned.

"Please, stop!" she begged.

"Oh, no, my Black Queen. I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." He laughed as he put the cigarette to her flesh, just above the bra cup. He repeated the action on her other breast. Her voice was hoarse with pain as she cried. Grant tugged her bra cup down exposing more flesh, but not all the way. "I've seen the pretty dresses you wear and how you like to show these off." He burned her, over and over, until he reached the filter, then stubbed it out on her sternum. He was pleased when her eyes rolled back into her head. She stopped screaming and went still.

He pushed himself off and fixed her bra. He turned her over, zipped her dress and replaced her sweater. He was happy to see her clothes covered the burns. He knew Ice would be pissed if he saw them and Alfie was soft.

Grant saw the syringe on the blanket. He wasn't sure how long she'd be out but knew the drugs would prolong it. He was exhausted and they only had a few hours before they had to leave. He quickly shot the drugs into her thigh, picked up the remnants of the camera, and left.

"What the hell was that about?" the voice on the other line screeched. Grant flinched as he let Alfie clean his wound. The peroxide stung but it was the ringing in his eardrums that made him grimace.

"Sorry, I lost control," he mumbled.

"You 'lost control'?!" The already annoyingly-high voice rose several octaves and Grant yanked the phone away from his ear.

"The bitch stabbed me with a pen!" he yelled back.

"I saw. You let a woman with a broken leg and ribs hurt you. You're lucky she didn't get your neck. She was aiming for your jugular, dumbass. You were lucky she only got your shoulder. What happened after you killed my camera?"

"Nothing," Grant lied. "I woke up after I threw the chair and left. Came back a few minutes later and gave her the Dilaudid."

"Is she all right?"

"Yes." Grant rolled his eyes. "I think her hip is broken now."

"I heard two bones breaking. Hip, probably. What broke when she fell over the chair? It looked bad. Even made me wince."

"I don't know."

"Jesus...! What the hell do you know?"

"I'm not a doctor, Ice!"

"For the love of... was she at least moving her legs?" Ice asked, exasperated.

"Yeah, she was moving them, at least the one that's not broken."

"At least you didn't paralyze her."

"Right.'

Ice sighed. "You can't fix the camera, can you?"

"Yeah, but not in time," Grant replied.

"At least you have the body cameras. All right. Get some sleep. I'll be in touch in a few hours."

Grant sighed as he hung up.

"How pissed was he?" Alfie asked as he wound his brother's arm with gauze wrap.

Grant shrugged. "Not bad, I guess. Not as bad as I expected, actually. He's such a drama queen so I was half expecting him to board a plane to Indiana."

Alfie laughed. "Yeah, me too." He secured the bandage with tape. "How's that?" he asked.

Grant flexed and wound his shoulder. "Feels good."

"Here," Alfie held out two pills. "Its acetaminophen."

Grant downed the pills and stretched. "Are you ready to get some shut-eye?"

"Yeah, I'm beat."

The brothers went into their rooms and were asleep in minutes. A few hours later they were awakened by an alarm. They ran into the living room and switched on the closed-circuit cameras. They watched as the cop car and two SUVs stopped in front of the foundation.

"Son of a BITCH!" Grant yelled as the driver of the second SUV emerged. "IT'S DEREK MORGAN!

"And the rest of the BAU," Alfie added.

"How the fuck did they figure out where we are?" Grant whispered.

"I don't think they have," Alfie replied. "They're just looking around."

"I wanna go out there," Morgan announced.

"Where?" Hotch looked up and frowned.

"Scot Cryer's land. Is it just me or does it seem odd that he buys a bunch of land after his house burns down, but never rebuilds?"

"He got the land for a decent price," JJ said. "He passed the land down to his nephews. Maybe he didn't want to rebuild it himself but still kept the land for them."

"I want to see what is so special about this piece of dirt he's hung onto for years."

"All right. We'll all go," Hotch announced. "I'll call the local authorities and get someone to go with us."

"That's a lot of windmills." Rossi looked out the window of the SUV as they drove through a large wind farm.

"They're huge," Kate breathed.

"Damn." Morgan swore as he looked at his phone. "Does anyone have a signal?"

Rossi and Kate looked at their phones and confirmed they also had no reception.

They followed the SUV as it turned down a gravel road. They traveled a couple miles before meeting the sheriff's car. They followed him, turning onto a gravel driveway hidden amongst a grove of tall pine trees. The agents instinctively placed their hands over their guns as they drove through the trees.

The sheriff stopped near an old house foundation. Morgan pulled his SUV beside Hotch's.

"OK. Morgan, JJ, and Reid, go east. Kate, Rossi, and I will go west. Meet back here," Hotch ordered. The sheriff walked with Hotch and the deputy walked with Morgan.

"Wow. Nice garden." JJ stared at the large square of dirt and plants.

"'Nice garden?'" Morgan mocked. "Half of it's empty."

"It's been partially harvested," she explained.

"First freeze can come as early as mid-October this far north," Reid recited.

"I see corn, pumpkins, lettuce, ugh... beets" She shuddered. "Greens... and... potatoes have recently been harvested."

"JJ, I'm a city kid. How can you tell potatoes have been harvested?"

"They used straw to cultivate the soil for next year. It's an old trick to get the soil fertile for next year's crop. This straw is fresh, not rotted," she explained. "When a potato or carrot harvest isn't as good as expected, they use the straw to boost the soil. You don't know how good the vegetables are until harvest because they're in the ground."

"They have a homemade irrigation system." Reid called. "Simple yet very effective. It's connected to the well."

"There's apple and cherry trees, and berry bushes," Hotch said. He bent down and picked up something from the ground. "And walnut trees." He held up the nut for the others to see.

"They have raspberry, blueberry, and strawberry bushes," the deputy elaborated. "Scot used to make jam from them and sell them at the farmer's market. He also sold a lot of vegetables."

"Find anything?" Hotch asked when they met up again.

"A big-ass garden that's been partially harvested and a homemade irrigation system," Morgan replied. "You guys?"

"A bunch of fruit and nut trees and fruit bushes," Rossi answered.

"Maybe that's why Kryer kept the land," JJ mused. "It can take years to get fruit trees to bear edible fruit and that garden is well-tended. Someone knows what they're doing.

"So where could they be staying?" Kate sighed.

"Not here," Rossi replied.

"Excuse me. There's a Kevin Lynch calling the station looking for y'all. He can't get ahold of anyone on their cells. The deputy who talked to him explained we're in a dead zone and hour guy said for someone to call him ASAP," the sheriff said.

"All right. Can we use your department? Something isn't right and I don't want to be to far away," Hotch asked as he climbed into his SUV.

"They're leaving," Alfie breathed.

Grant looked at the screen and a shiver

of fear crept up his spine as Derek Morgan seemed to look straight at the hidden camera. At him.

A/N: The county area I described is the area I spent the first part of my childhood in, complete with the "big-ass" garden, fruit trees, and berry bushes. We also had chickens, a horse, and hogs. The only exceptions are the wind farm and dead zone. The wind farm is a new thing around my husband's old stomping grounds, three counties over. We're spending lots of time this week with my very large extended family. At least on my mom's side. My mom has 30 first cousins and my generation has 65 cousins and half are anti-technology. No TV, cells, or Internet. As Penelope says, "my loony opposites." There is no coverage out there at all. That's the "dead zone" I refer to.

As I wrote this chapter I thought of my great grandmother. She was a kind and gentle soul. Never raised her voice. I didn't inherent much from her. I have the vocabulary of a well-educated sailor and can spin a snappy comeback or corny joke or sexual innuendo in a flash. I did inherit the vertically-challenged trait. She was 4'11 and so am I. She wouldn't approve of the violence (I had a hard time with it myself) but I think she'd like that I'm writing again. Thanks for the prayers and sweet words.

Much love,

PitaCake