Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.
When Aaron Hotchner arrived home, he knew instantly that something was off. Gun in hand, he slowly opened his – unlocked – front door and eased it open gently. Gun and eyes running over the hall, he found nothing.
Glancing at the lounge room, he saw nothing and his sense of foreboding deepened as he entered the kitchen.
There on the counter were the remnants of Emily's craving. There were no choc chips in sight and a pile of dough sat in the middle of the bench. He reached for his phone, his finger reaching for speed dial for Morgan as he stepped around the bench.
Something caught his eye and he switched his speed dial to Penelope Garcia.
He ignored her cheerful greeting as he got to the point. 'What link does a 'Clint' have to Brent Fulham?'
He had the answer in seconds. 'Clinton John Fulham is Brent's identical twin brother,' she spoke breathlessly. 'Also 32 and lives out of state and ... Hotch, he failed medical school.'
'Get the team to my house,' he ordered. 'Now.'
'What's going on?' she asked, but he hung up on her. His eyes were trained on the letters that Emily had drawn in the flour on the bench when fear took hold of him and he realised something else. 'Oh Gods. Please don't...'
He hit speed dial number one. 'Aaron,' came the breathless voice of Jessica Brooks. 'I'm at the hairdressers. Can this...'
'Do you have Jack with you?' he interrupted.
'No I don't,' she replied in confusion. 'I dropped him off half an hour ago. Emily was home.'
'Shit.'
'Aaron, what's wrong?' she asked, now genuinely concerned. Her nephew's father never swore. 'You're scaring me.'
He didn't mince his words. 'An unsub's taken them both,' he said harshly. 'He's got Jack and Emily.'
'Oh no.'
He didn't have time to explain when the familiar ring tone of Emily's phone sounded. He followed the tune to the hall table and hung up on Jessica. With shaking fingers, he noted the two missed calls and picked up the phone. 'Hello?' he began neutrally.
It was a cocky man who spoke. 'You're invited to celebrate the coming birth of Elijah Fulham,' he taunted.
'Where is she you bastard?' yelled Hotch, losing control. 'Where is she? Where's my son? What have you done with them?'
'Tsk, tsk,' said the suave man. 'You've already got one little boy, so I think it's only fair that this one be mine for the taking,' he suggested agreeably. There was a laugh on the other end of the line that chilled Hotch's bones before Clint Fulham hung up.
He didn't even need to call Garcia, his phone ringing already. 'Sir, I've got the position.'
'Talk to me Garcia,' he ordered, running for the car.
Emily bit her bottom lip as she tried to prevent any noise escaping from her mouth as another pain ripped across her abdomen.
When the doorbell had sounded, the man with the gun had been between her and answering. She'd thought of running, but then realised that the best thing she could do was pretend that no one was home, and keep whoever was on the other side of the door safe from this madman.
Clint Fulham had had other ideas though. 'Answer the door,' he ordered. 'Send them away.' As she shuffled forward, he warned her. 'Try anything funny and they're dead.'
Fearing for her life and her unborn baby's life, she eased out of the kitchen and down the short hall. Composing herself, she opened the front door and her heart sunk.
It was Jessica and Jack.
'Hey Emily,' said the flustered blonde woman. 'Sorry. I'm running late, but I've got a hairdresser's appointment, so I can't stay and chat. Jack's just grabbing his bag and art and then I'll be off.'
'Take Jack with you,' begged Emily quietly, keeping her tears at bay.
'I'm sorry, but I'm really late,' apologised Jessica, her head deep in her bag as she searched for something. Emily couldn't beg anymore as Jack flew up the path, dashed past her and into the house. Fearing for Jack's safety, and Jessica's too, she'd ignored Jessica's late 'Emily?', made a swift good bye and shut the door. Turning, she had seen Aaron's worst nightmare.
Clint Fulham held a long needle in his hand as he waved the sharp point warningly at the little boy trapped in his arms.
Jack's eyes were full of terror as he looked at her. Willing him to stay calm, her own heartbeat racing and her unborn child kicking madly, she forced herself to be calm too. 'Don't hurt him. I'll do whatever you want,' she added. 'Just don't hurt him.'
'There's no reason to hurt this precious boy of yours if you do exactly what I say now is there?' he replied conversationally. His tone hardened then. 'Get me your phone.'
Sending Jack a silent promise that she would be right back, she entered the kitchen quickly. Misjudging her pregnant belly, she almost knocked the counter top and nearly overbalanced to counteract it. Her fingers finally grasped the phone.
There was no time for her to do anything as she moved as quickly as she could back to where the unsub was holding her son hostage. Willing to bargain, she held out the phone. 'Give me Jack.'
The little boy was thrown at her dismissively as he wrenched the phone from her grasp. Jack's arms were around her instantly and she held him tight to her side. 'It'll be okay Jack,' she whispered as he gripped her just as tight. 'It'll be okay.'
She'd heard his footsteps next and turned. He dropped her phone onto the hall table and was approaching her with the needle held high. He pressed the end just a little and a drop of liquid spouted out of the long needle on the other end. She shielded Jack, not wanting him to see whatever this madman was about to do.
He'd continued to come to them.
Close enough, she'd felt fear take hold of her as she held Jack tighter with one arm, her other arm coming across in a futile attempt to protect her unborn child. He leant down – a sickening combination of bleach and detergent wafting over – as he whispered into her ear. She'd felt the needle smoothly enter her side. 'Let's go for a drive, shall we?'
The contractions had started instantly.
And they hadn't stopped since: the drive, the walk, the cell – birth was imminent throughout it all. As the latest contraction passed, she made sure not to squeeze the little boy fixed to her side too hard. Thankfully Clint hadn't been interested in Jack and let him be. He only had an obsessive interest in her soon-to-be-born child.
'Are you okay Emily?' asked Jack tremulously, his eyes wide on her face and she could see that he was trying his hardest not to cry.
She couldn't answer as the door flew open. Struggling to rise from her position, she nonetheless pushed Jack behind her.
'So how goes the birth of my son?' asked Clint with a gleeful laugh and rubbing hands to match.
She was tempted to roar out 'the baby's not yours', but she needed to keep him believing his fantasy for as long as she could so that someone could get to them. She knew the very survival of the two – no, three of them – depended on her keeping a cool head.
Sweat was pouring down her face and her hope of keeping the unsub calm (ish) was almost blown when Jack piped up from behind her. 'But, it's not...'
She clamped her hand on his mouth as she spoke loudly, covering any sounds from the little boy behind her. 'I need to be in a hospital.'
'Nonsense,' scoffed Clint. 'I'm a fully trained midwife.' He stepped forward and patted her head. 'You're in good hands.'
She felt the bile rise within her. Anger flashed and her leg kicked, making contact with his shin. 'Bitch!' the unsub screamed, backhanding her. Struggling to stay upright, Emily kept her hand up to keep Jack back.
She could feel another pain building as he stood above them. He looked ready to kill them then and there before the anger left his face and he was emotionless. 'I'll be back soon,' he said lightly. 'That baby is coming out now, one way or another.'
The door slammed and bolts fell into place.
Jack stood behind her, arms around her neck as another contraction pulled her muscles tight. Holding his little clasped hands as she rocked back and forth, the pain in her cheek pounding, tears filled her eyes at her little boy's next words. 'Daddy will come,' said Jack certain, refusing to cry.
'Daddy will come,' repeated Emily, for her own sake as much as his, as another contraction followed fast, more painful than the last.
'Daddy will come.'
Next Chapter: Hotch fights to find Emily and Jack.