Imprison

He shifted just a fraction of an inch to the left, enough to hide himself more completely behind the oak tree that was serving as his shield.

The goosebumps prickling the back of his neck told him that his subject was close.

He dared to peek one eye out, but saw nothing.

He had to give it to him, the kid was good.

Hearing a rustling to his right, Morgan smiled to himself and moved silently toward the sound.

The kid may be good, but he was better. He drew his weapon and held it in front of him with perfect form, his hands as steady as a rock, his finger just ever so slightly depressing the trigger. He advanced on his target, making sure to keep behind cover, and counted in his head.

5...4...3...2...

Before he got to one, the same rustling sounded to his left. He spun to face the new source of the noise, and then he heard it again behind him, then to his right, then left, then right again, and before he knew it, Derek Morgan was spinning in a circle trying to cover all of the directions at once, any advantage he'd once had long gone.

A stifled giggle from behind him, then a shot and a growing wet spot on his back, and the world went black.


The hood was unceremoniously yanked from his head and suddenly he was face to face with his captors.

"Was the t-shirt over my face really necessary?"

Both heads nodded, one face contorted in barely contained amusement and the other deadly serious.

"It's a secret hideout, Mowgan. If you saw it, it wouldn't be a secret."

Emily masked her face to be equally as serious and nodded, "Yeah Morgan. It has to be a secret."

She reached out a hand and ruffled the sandy hair of their boss's five-year-old son before straightening and turning her head to listen to the sounds coming from outside the ramshackle shed.

"C'mon, Super-Jack. I hear somebody else."

That same familiar grin stretched across rosy cheeks as Jack reached for her outstretched hand, skipping with her to the door before, seemingly as an afterthought, spinning on his heel to say sternly, "You hafta stay in jail until your team saves you. It's the rules, Mowgan."

A laughing, "Yeah, Morgan. It's the rules," echoed the little boy's assertion and then they were gone, leaving him grumbling in the makeshift jail until someone returned.

He hoped the next person through that door was one of his teammates.


The next person through the door was, in fact, a member of his team.

Being frog-marched with matching t-shirt and water-gun wound back to where Derek was sitting on the floor.

He cursed to himself before turning to glare at Rossi as the makeshift hood was removed from his head.

"Don't look at me like that!" the Italian man spat.

"I am an old man. Too old to be playing War! I've been to war, the real war! And besides, you were caught first, and there's not a mark on you!"

"The hell you talking about, not a mark on me. They shot me in the back, Rossi! I never even saw them coming!"

"You're a trained FBI agent, Derek. You should be able to outwit a five-year-old!"

"He's not just any five-year-old, he's Hotch's. The kid probably practices SWAT moves on his teddy bears! And besides, he's got Emily helping him!"

The older profiler snapped his mouth shut and half nodded, conceding that Morgan had a point. Neither of them had noticed their captors sneaking back out the door until a third person was dragged through it.

"I am perfectly capable of walking to your holding facility, Emily. There is no need for you to manhandle me!"

"Oh come on, Aaron. Get into the spirit of things, it's just a little harmless fun!"

"I'M BLEEDING, EMILY!"

The dark-haired profiler swept her loose curls over her shoulder and cringed.

"I said I was sorry. I really didn't mean to walk you into that tree."

The unit chief's annoyance melted away and he drew his girlfriend into his arms.

"I know, sweetheart. I was just being a little –" he paused for a moment, searching for the right word to placate the woman in his arms.

"Grumpy?"

Both pairs of eyes swiveled to the little boy at their feet, and Emily snickered as she hauled him up to rest on her hip. Hotch sighed and let his head fall against his chest, knowing that any protestations he made now were going to fall on deaf ears, so he chose to ignore the comment made and turned instead to see two of his four teammates leaning against the wall of the shed from their places on the floor, a smirk on one face and a scowl on the other.

He raised one dark eyebrow at them and remarked drily, "You two mean to tell me that Kevin and Reid are now the only players left for our team?"

Sour looks settled on their faces and he sunk to the floor between them, just in time to hear Morgan's "This is unbelievable. We might as well just give up now."

Seeing their captors plotting by the door, Hotch lowered his voice.

"Not just yet. Garcia and JJ are both out, too. We still have a shot."

"Oh c'mon Hotch, it's Reid and Kevin we're talking about here! Reid has to practice for weeks to make seven shots out of ten to get recertified, and I'm pretty sure Kevin's never even seen a gun, let alone held one! We're screwed!"

The click of the door pulled them from their debate, and the three men looked up to find themselves alone once again in the shed in the woods.

"You know, if this was a movie, this would be the part where all the shit starts to go down."


A high-pitched scream fifteen minutes later set every fiber of Hotch's being on edge – it sounded too much like Jack to be a coincidence, and he knew from the sudden absence of grumbling from the men on either side of him that they were thinking the same.

And when a second scream sounded just a moment later, he was out the door and crashing through the woods without a second's thought, Dave and Morgan hot on his heels. The three agents burst into a clearing, their gasping breaths drawing the attention of all four of the people in front of them, and for a moment, they were enveloped in a stunned silence as each of them paused to try to make sense of these most recent events.

Then, "Daddy, you hafta stay in jail until your team saves you. It's the rules!"

He turned a bewildered stare to his son and took in his wide-legged stance, his little fists curled at his sides and a glare to rival his own planted on his face, and felt a weight lift off of his shoulders at seeing him physically fine.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen him that angry, though.

Amusement danced in the lone woman's eyes as she turned to face her young charge, shooting a smirk over the boy's shoulder to her partner and a wink to her boyfriend, and he knew, KNEW, that she was about to embark on one of her favorite pastimes.

She called it a Quantico Quibble.

He called it a headache.

"It's ok, Jack. We won anyways."

Morgan stepped forward from his place behind Hotch, and the Unit Chief prepared himself for what was sure to follow.

"Girl, you can get that idea right outta your pretty head. If anything, we won by default."

"You did not! We beat you fair and square, didn't we Jack."

At hearing his name, the small boy was drawn away from the tantrum he was nearing, and he moved to where his father's girlfriend was standing with her arms crossed to stare up at the tall agent whose annoyance was growing by the minute, nodding his head so vigorously Hotch was a little worried he'd give himself a concussion.

He rolled his eyes as his son chimed in, "Yeah, Mowgan, we won fair and square."

Morgan remained unmoved by the five-year-old's insistence, choosing instead to focus his attention on the woman currently failing to hide her amusement.

"Cheating and lying, Princess? Really, what are you teaching him?"

Emily's temper flared and her eyes hardened, the retort flying from her mouth before she had a chance to censor herself.

"We didn't cheat, Morgan."

She took a step to decrease the distance between them, and Hotch took that opportunity to sweep Jack into his arms, the little boy's attention so focused on the adults arguing like children in front of him that he hardly noticed his change in position.

"Again with the lying."

Morgan mirrored her step, bringing them nose to nose, neither willing to back down.

"We didn't cheat, Morgan!"

"What would you call it then? Because you sure as hell didn't win!"

"We did so win! We shot all of you fair and square!"

Her index finger jabbed her opponent in the ribs, punctuating her point, and Hotch could see the escalation coming from a mile away. Handing Jack to Reid, he sent the three youngest onlookers to rejoin the girls – he had a feeling that things were about to take an ugly turn, and he didn't really want any more witnesses than were strictly necessary. To that end, he turned to Rossi with the intention of sending him away as well, but his old friend just rolled his eyes and shook his head. Before he could say anything, they were drawn back into the brawl brewing in front of them.

"YOU CHEATED!"

"WE DID NOT!"

"DID SO!"

"DID NOT!"

"YOU USED JACK TO LURE THEM HERE!"

"THAT'S NOT CHEATING, THAT'S USING YOUR RESOURCES!"

"IT DOESN'T COUNT!"

"IT DOES SO, WE SHOT ALL OF YOU FAIR AND SQUARE!"

"YOU CHEATED!"

A shrill whistle sounded then, stopping both agents in their tracks before this new round of bickering brought them to blows.

"Enough! Call it a tie and move on."

"But Hotch –"

"Morgan, I said drop it. Now, it's almost dinnertime and I know I'm hungry, so let's rejoin the group and go for pizza."

He shot each of them a glare, standing his ground until Morgan sighed and turned to start walking back out of the forest, Rossi following closely behind, no doubt "poking the bear", so to speak. Hotch shook his head and reached out a hand towards his girlfriend, tugging her closer to him and slinging his arm around her shoulders as they began their own trek back to the group. She sighed contentedly against his chest, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, taking a moment to enjoy the walk before a smirk stretched across his face. Tilting his head closer to her, he murmured, "Well, I guess we know where Jack learned that little Candyland stunt he pulled last week."

"WE DIDN'T CHEAT!"