"How's Bossman doing?"

Morgan made the call, but the whole team was gathered around, listening as he put Rossi on speakerphone.

"Reid was right. The color red was another one. Now he's running himself ragged mentally trying to second-guess Lewis and predict what other anchors, or triggers, or whatever you wanna call them are waiting to go off."

Reid leaned in, raising his voice over the hum of activity taking place outside the PD headquarters conference room to which the team had retired for some privacy to check on their leader. "What happened when you showed Hotch red? Did he attack?"

"No. Just the opposite. He flinched away and huddled up, trying to escape it. He didn't attack the way the trigger phrase made him."

"That's good! That's good…" Reid's enthusiasm didn't transfer across the miles to Rossi.

"I guess. But all it means is there are more of these things."

"No! Rossi, it means that we're on the right track. I thought Hotch was more of an auditory person than anything else. His reaction supports that. The really good part of that is that I bet any other triggers won't be as violent a reaction as that first one that linked with his dominant sense. If there are more…"

"Reid!" Dave cut into the genius's hopeful outpouring. "His reaction was very violent to his first encounter with red. No…make that his first encountersplural. When he saw your scarf and when he opened up that package with red candy in it, both times he vomited his guts out. That's pretty violent in my book."

"Okay, okay…" Spencer struggled to slow himself down and communicate more effectively. Just because the concept was fully formed and glowing in his brain, didn't mean it was accessible to others. "Maybe 'violent' isn't the right word. Hotch wasn't aggressive with the color trigger. It fired multiple times, but when you disarmed it by naming it…making him aware of it…that wasn't a violent or aggressive reaction. And now he's free of it. This is good, Rossi!"

A despondent sigh ghosted its way over the connection. "Maybe. He doesn't see it that way. And I have to agree to a certain extent. He's a walking time bomb. If we don't know what will set him off, we'll always be watching him…waiting…How's he gonna work if we're scrutinizing him every minute?"

"Just like he always does, man." Morgan's voice was rough with remembered angst. "This sounds like me and Hotch right after Foyet stabbed him. You remember? We went a coupla rounds, you and me, Rossi. And Bossman wasn't himself, but he kept at it. Thing is, this time it won't be as bad, 'cause I won't think he's got ending himself in the back of his mind."

The team couldn't see Dave rubbing his brow and shaking his head, but his tone carried frustrated denial. "That was different, Derek. He was angry and depressed, but he had a goal to work toward: getting Foyet so he could have his family back. This time there's no outside unsub to hunt. The 'bad guy' is inside Hotch. That undermines his faith in himself. Without that…"

The sentence trailed off, leaving each of the Unit Chief's team to imagine how it would feel to have the underpinnings of one's identity unhinged; to have the foundation rotted and weakened from the inside out.

J.J.'s voice broke the silence. "Maybe there aren't any more. I mean Lewis only had Hotch to himself for a few hours. How much could he do?"

"Enough. He's already done enough even if it's only the two triggers." Rossi's words had an unaccustomed note of defeat.

"Hotch doesn't handle drugs well, J.J.," Reid said. "So they hit him harder and made him more susceptible to the unsub's suggestions. In fact…" He drew a nervous breath, unhappy about painting an even darker picture. "…those suggestions went in harder than they did any of Lewis's other victims, I bet. And those others were severely damaged. It takes a lot to make someone who doesn't have suicidal tendencies kill himself. It takes a tremendous psychological shove to make someone abandon their ethics and values and commit murder. Hotch got hit even harder. It went past suggestion to unavoidable command."

"But the worst one was the auditory one," Kate clarified. "And you guys got that. So the worst hurdle Hotch has to get over now is his own self-doubt, right?"

A pause ensued, while each person turned over what, on the face of it, sounded almost hopeful.

"But in an alpha male, that's like the basic building block that everything else rests on." Reid sighed. "If it were me, it wouldn't be so bad. But for Hotch, it's…it's like cutting the hamstrings of an alpha wolf. If he can't run with the pack, he fades away. Gives up. No reason to go on."

"Jack's his reason." Morgan's statement was definitive, allowing no debate when it came to their boss's devotion to his son.

"But that's a double-edged sword, Derek. Hotch'd never trust himself around Jack if he thinks he might lose control at the drop of a hat. So, this kind of robs him of his family again…just like when Foyet happened." Rossi hated being the voice of doom, but it had to be said if they were ever to find Aaron a way out of his seemingly unnavigable, mental maze.

It was too much for Morgan. The thought of his Bossman being shredded emotionally yet again was more than he could hear without a surge of rage on the man's behalf.

"This can't happen, Rossi. Not again. You give me 10 minutes alone in a room with that sniveling little worm. Turn the cameras off and he'll tell me exactly what triggers he set in Hotch. I'll have him begging to be allowed to remove them!" Derek's voice was tight with anger. He kept seeing Lewis's smirking visage when they'd found him. It was bad enough when an unsub hurt one of the team, but when it provided such an immense amount of amusement, openly displayed, it went past a line for him. "Seriously, Rossi. Set it up. We've got leads here on the missing kid; shouldn't take us more than another day or two. Set…it…up…"

Dave knew exactly how his colleague felt. But he also knew if Morgan had his way, his career would never be the same. At best, he'd be demoted and forgotten in some position that would render him bitter as time passed. At worst, he'd be incarcerated right along with the unsubs who'd make his life a living hell when they found out he was a former FBI agent.

"Sorry, Derek. We'll have to think of something else." Rossi's sigh was resigned. "You guys stay focused…I'll worry about Hotch enough for all of us."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Peter Lewis was restless.

He didn't like having to change plans.

Originally, he'd intended to call Hotch after the box from Welchel's had been delivered. He'd looked forward to hearing the emotion in the agent's voice that would tell him he'd hit a bullseye.

But it had taken a lot more work to get the delivery to happen the way he wanted. Because of that, he was more wary about using the phone.

Yet, the urge to dial Agent Hotchner's number was gnawing at him. He knew as soon as he did, his cell would be turned inside out…torn up, down, and sideways as the guards searched for the phone they'd know he must have.

If I could be sure they wouldn't find it, it'd be worth it. C'mon, Peter, you're smarter than all of them. You can figure out a way. And just think of the prize if you do! Sad, little Aaron Hotchner will be a quivering mess.

Lewis hugged himself with glee.

When the swell of happy anticipation ebbed, he began to look around his cell.

The walls were institutional beige, but where damage had been done, a basic white spackle had been applied to fill the larger cracks. Small ones were left untreated, like the one he'd enlarged with such care to serve as a hiding place for his phone.

If I could spackle over that crack with the phone inside, they'd never find it. But I'd need to be able to access it repeatedly. That won't work with real spackle, even if I could find a way to procure some.

The unsub stared at the little fissure where his phone, the key to all his plans and fun, was secreted. His eyes strayed to the small basin that served as a sink…the few toiletries they were allowed…

…and a grin that would have sent a shiver up the night guard's spine…Creep-boy!... spread across Lewis's mealy-complexion.

Toothpaste. White toothpaste. They'll never know…