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AnniKay

Sam/Mercedes/Puck

Disclaimer: I own Nothing…Murphy, Falchuk, and Brennen along with Fox and others own this fandom and all the characters there in…Anything you recognize obviously belongs to them

Summary: As Commune and their friends begin their junior year of college, they begin to understand that they are taking their first real steps into their future.

****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****
Dedicated to Freakygoodgirl.
Thank you for checking up on me & for sticking with me through this journey!
Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:
I appreciate all of you.

Boredom Busting Fic Rec
Souls Abound by RobSt
(Potter Fic)

Chapter 13

Guest Starring:
Diego Catano as Marco

Gabriel Chavarria as Antonio
Mario Casas as Angel (Scrub)

Oscar Jaenada as Juan (Idiota Numero Dos)

Moises Arias as Javier (Bicho)

Joaquim de Almeida as Arturo Casillas

The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get (Morrissey)
Spencer Reid Point of View

"It's not so important who starts the game, but who finishes it." —Erich Fromm

The wings up call had come in at one-fifty-seven in the morning. Despite the early hour, I was already awake. I'd been feeling a sense of disquiet that I was unable to assign to any particular event or activity. I was already showered and getting ready to go to the office to find something to hold my interest. After finally reaching a place of equilibrium in my addiction, I found that being alone, with nothing to do but follow circular thought patterns in the wee hours was a bad idea. When that circumstance began, it was best to break the cycle immediately. As much as I hated it, even going to the firing range and practicing my aim was better than staying in my apartment and allowing my mind to get the better of me.

It was common practice among not just our team, but all the BAU teams to always have a 'Go Bag' ready. I personally kept three different ones ready at all times. One was small, holding only enough clothes for two to three days and a few books. The second was large enough for a five to seven day case, with enough books to help me sleep when the time to do so was available. The final 'Go Bag' was the largest. It contained enough clothes, shoes, and books for a full two weeks in the field. The call is always very simple. "Wheels up in quantity of minutes that is the smallest amount that is physically possible. We'll brief on the jet." That morning we had forty-five minutes to get to the airfield and board the plane. It was one of the longer times. Then again, we were all at home, supposed to be asleep, so it made sense that we would need more time. Though, this must be a very important or time sensitive case, usually we had an hour if the call came in this early, or late, given one's perspective.

Shaking off mental meanderings, I quickly grabbed my mid-sized bag as well as my passport and internationally recognized FBI credentials. Thankfully, one of the people in my building drove UBER. It always cut wait times down to barely anything. Especially on days like that one where, upon getting the information that Roberto was, in fact, my assigned driver. I met him at his car in the parking garage. I had a bad feeling that I knew what the case was. The previous night had been the Tijuana stop of the KAMA tour. It was, strategically, the best shot that Richardson would have at stealing Mercedes away from her friends and family, from my family member, her husband Sam. I knew that we needed Richardson to make that move in order to be able to finally arrest him and have him tried on all the numerous charges that we'd uncovered over the course of the previous six months. But I hated that it was necessary. I could only imagine how devastated Sam and Noah were. I still was not ready to go 'Full Puckett' but Sam and I had been exchanging letters and his mother and the mother of his-our-cousin Samantha had been a blessing in helping my mother. One of her schizophrenia medications, a first-generation anti-psychotic, had extreme physical side effects for anyone with certain genetic anomalies. A genetic anomaly that was a part of the Puckett line's uniquely strong DNA. The Puckett family had discovered their vulnerability to the side effect during the treatment process of one of my mother's sisters. With the new information, her doctors had moved her to a second-generation drug that not only didn't cause the physical side effects…so far it had helped her with the fog that the previous drug had created over her mind.

Both Hotch and Alvez had beaten me to the plane. Alvez because he lived the closest to the airfield and Hotch…well…maybe Jack was spending the night with his Aunt or Grandfather, so he had not needed to expend the extra time to take him to Jessica's house. Rossi appeared just behind me on the ramp…almost as if by magic. JJ arrived soon after we did, with Tara coming in just under the wire to finish us out. Thankfully, whenever we were called out that early in the morning, and the flight was long enough, Hotch allowed us to sleep until the sun rose…or until we were an hour or two out. After waking and refreshing ourselves, it was time to get to work. Garcia's face filled the screen of our tablets as she let us all in on what she knew. The explosions were minor though the explosives were mixed to give the most bang for the buck. The crew had kidnapped thirteen women with the precision of a Hollywood movie heist. Their whereabouts were currently unknown, but the prevailing theory was that the women had been separated and were being shuttled to airports to get them into the international human trafficking markets. We all knew that unlike many of our usual cases, we were not looking at a forty-eight-hour window…but at best eighteen to twenty-four before all the women would very likely be lost to us forever.

Honestly, even going over everything we knew of Corbin Richardson, his schemes and his obsessions, we were at a loss as to how to find the women of KAMA and reunite them with their families while catching the son of a bitch who was trying to steal my cousin's happiness away. But then, then, an obscure domestic terrorist organization gave us our first break. "Dallas-Fort Worth field office led a raid on the homes of the leaders of the American Identity Movement and found Chadwick Evans as well as the other four heads of the 'organization'. They were pulled in for questioning and upon being informed that if they were, in fact, responsible for the bombing…they would be extradited to Mexico to face trial."

"Did they talk?" JJ smirked knowing that Penelope Garcia's joy could mean no less.

"Oh, they didn't just talk, my Beautiful Butterfly Princess, they sang like a flock of canaries." The tech analyst shot back. "It would seem that Misters Evans, Forrest, Johnson and Osborne were paid to say that they were behind the bombing. Right down to having received a script via email from their mysterious benefactor. Can any of my beloved profilers guess who said mysterious benefactor is?"

"Richardson." Tara spat. Ever since she had learned of Richardson's drugging of random young women then leaving them to be raped…their lives inevitably, inexorably changed, she'd carried an unrelenting hatred that she seldom allowed herself to feel for their unsubs.

The image of Garcia nodded quickly. "Exacta Mondo. Now traditionally, it might be difficult to turn those payments into a quick and easy trail tightening the noose on the abnormally long and scrawny neck of Corbin Richardson…but in this case…he chose to pay his lackeys-slash-scapegoats via coin. With a small amount of persuasion, our esteemed colleagues in Dallas managed to cajole the coin info and the date of the initial transaction from the amazingly unintelligent White supremacists in their custody."

"Okay, and that's all a good thing?" Rossi quipped.

Garcia's smile turned positively feral. "Oh, for me…for us…it turned out to be a very good thing. The, oh so helpful, cowards that are the racist assholes Richardson paid to muddy the international incident waters have given me an engraved invitation into the back door of our unsub's illicit coin activity. That backdoor has gleaned, not only more information about our current crisis, though that information is admittedly, less helpful than I would perhaps prefer…but give me another hour and I think we'll have all the missing pieces on his drugging experiments both at home and abroad."

"That's actually possible?" Alvez asked in surprise. "I thought the whole point of coin was anonymity."

"Oh, you innocent little Newbie…to the Queen of All Knowledge there is no such thing as anonymity." Garcia crowed with well-deserved pride.

Alvez glanced around at all of us who were more well versed with Penelope Garcia and her ability to make digital magic. "She brought down an international assassin's syndicate that was hiding on the dark web. We're all fairly certain that she knows more about all of us than we even know about ourselves." Hotch's voice was filled with a strange mixture of both pride and disapproval.

JJ just chuckled. "A guy tried to pretend to be an FBI agent to try and pick us up at a bar. Even though he was unsuccessful, Pen was irritated by his attempt. I don't think that guy has had a credit score above five-fifty ever since."

"Yeah, well, if dear old Brad was going to try and pretend to be FBI, he could have at least done himself the favor of doing just a bit of research into his fictional vocation." Garcia huffed testily.

"Garcia." Hotch warned sternly. "What can you tell us about the current crisis, as you've termed it?"

There was a slight pause followed by the click-clacking of sharp nails hitting computer keys. "Well, it looks like we're looking for one Arturo Casillas and his crew. According to their, oh so well-crafted, dark web presence…they're able to fulfill any fetish or desire with the appropriate woman or man. In fact, the only good thing about them seems to be that they and I quote from the site via Google Translate here, "Do not provide children for sexual service. Anyone requesting children for sexual service will be killed as a service to humanity."

"Everyone has their limits, I guess." Rossi said with a small measure of approval in his tone. It was a well-known secret that in his younger years, Rossi had not shot many people. Yet those he'd felt the need to use his gun in the apprehension there of were all brought in for crimes against children.

Hotch nodded. Then signaled Garcia to continue. "The crew is big, Boss Man. They seem to work throughout the Baja California peninsula and Sornora…but their online connections seem to have them present in Chihuahua, Sinaloa and Durango too."

"Find out what you can and get it back to us as soon as you can." Hotch said quickly. Garcia signed off and went to work doing her magic as we got to work dissecting the information we had available. Given the fact that we'd previously discussed the finer points of our profile of Richardson and tried to get in front of him, there was no need to rehash older info. We were focusing on the current, new information centered around the explosion and kidnapping. It, admittedly, was not as much as we were used to dissecting. But then again, we had been involved a lot earlier in the process than we were usually called in, so that was certainly helpful.

I tried to keep focused on the case and leave my feelings to the side. It was very, very rare for me to have difficulty doing so. But this case didn't just hit close to home…it was directly impacting my recently discovered, but very much emotionally connected family member. I had found that I really liked Sam. I liked Noah and Mercedes and was glad that he had found people who made my cousin so happy. I was angry that our unsub was threatening that happiness. Hotch must have read my mind. "Reid, are you going to be able to compartmentalize enough to handle this?"

We both knew that if my relationship to Sam was known beyond our team, I'd have been pulled for the duration of the case. The fact that he had allowed me to remain helpful was something that would have been frowned upon by Section Chief Cruz. It could cause problems for Hotch, but we both knew that I would never allow that to happen. "I will make sure that I can." I finally responded.

Thankfully, before Hotch could say anything further, Garcia was back. "Boss Man…I think we have a problem of the major variety."

Masters of War (Bob Dylan)
Stephanie Plum Point of View

Contrary to popular opinion in some parts of Trenton, being kidnapped was not my favorite way to spend a Saturday night. Though considering how often I actually did get kidnapped, I could understand how some assholes might have gotten the idea that it was. I did have to state, just for the record, that I was experiencing my first international, as in it didn't happen on American soil, kidnapping. It was also only my second collateral damage kidnapping. 'Huh', I wondered for a moment, 'maybe I should start a bingo game just for all the different kinds of kidnapping experiences'…then I realized that I was probably the only person who could play it so, probably no reason to bother. Those thoughts all added up in my mind to tell me that I'd definitely experienced a drugging snatch and grab rather than a knock down and drag out kidnapping, which would make sense given where and when I'd been taken.

I tried to move around without letting my captors know that I was awake. Moving at all brought me two quick realizations. One, I was almost naked. They had left me in only my bra, panties and socks. That meant that I was down to only one of the multitude of trackers Ranger usually had secreted among my clothes and stuff, if that many. I wouldn't be able to check my hair until I was able to get my hands free. My second realization was almost immediately followed by a third and fourth. We were in a smallish car. I wasn't alone in the back seat and whoever was driving was really fucking bad at it. "Hijo de las mil putas," my neighbor groaned next to me. "Hey assholes, you muthafuckas just made the worst fucking mistake of your entire fucking existences." Santana growled fiercely.

And it was definitely Santana, if the semi-conscious Spanish hadn't clued me in, the super scary…if nonspecific, yet supremely confident, threat certainly did. I allowed myself a moment of relief. I knew from her background check that getting free and returning to Ranger was far more doable with Santana than with almost any of the other women of KAMA. I castigated myself for my thoughts. I knew that Ranger and my job would have been better served by me being the one transported with Mercedes. In fact, the fact that Santana was with me had two very big downsides to it. The first was that I wasn't with my primary and therefore had no clue where said primary was or what her condition actually was. The second, there was no logical reason for Santana Lopez to have been taken at all. It would have made sense if it were Hudson next to me with Mercedes in a different car. We were standing close to Mercedes as she left the stage. Taking the two of us and even separating us from their main goal made sense. I definitely didn't like what two and two were adding up to with the fact that I was sharing a back seat with Santana Lopez. There were only a couple of scenarios that made it make sense. Either the Latina had been closer than I had thought and tried to intervene…which, while certainly possibly, seemed unlikely. Or these guys weren't the usual cartel kidnappers making a little money on the other side of the game. They were actively human traffickers who had been gifted with a veritable smorgasbord of different women to choose from and the connections to be able to sell us quickly and easily. Basically, they'd decided to make like Pokémon trainers and catch us all.

"Hey, Pendejo, Yo culero! No mames! Stop the fucking car. I don't know what back alley bullshit narcos you're using but I've gotta puke." Santana shouted angrily while gagging pretty convincingly.

It was probably something most people had trouble with, but I knew that I was the world's most sympathetic vomiter. The second I heard Santana start to retch, I felt my own stomach start to heave and roll. My own all too real gagging joined hers. The gods were smiling on us. Because in the front seat, the driver started looking a little green around the gills, too.

"Marco, stop being a pussy!" the man in the passenger seat growled sternly.

But Marco heard two more gag from me and Santana, and he immediately swerved over to pull off the side of the road. He was out of the car in a flash. The other goon turned to glare at us, but he too got out of the car. I could only watch in shock as those two idiots got out of the car, the still running car, leaving both of their hostages alone in the running car. I immediately forced myself to push my cuffed hands up to check and see if the small wire hidden in the bottom seam of my bra was still there. Lester, Cal and Hector had been working with me on my escape techniques. I was proud of the fact that I had gotten down to under four minutes to get the wire and free myself out of even police issued metal cuffs. I felt Santana shifting next to me, but I couldn't allow that to distract me. I might not have had enough time, but I knew that I needed to try.

As I worked, I was smacked in the head by a slim, bare foot as Santana clambered way to damn gracefully…and completely unencumbered…into the driver's seat. She closed the doors both of our kidnappers had left open by the expedient method of driving off like a bat out of hell. "How?" I blurted stupidly.

"Sue Sylvester's limbering techniques and a misspent youth." She chuckled as she stopped the car. "I grew up in the Lima Heights Adjacent section of Lima as close to the ghetto experience as one gets in small town middle America. Where most of my cousins…my playmates when I was little…where they grew up, getting out of handcuffs is the play of children." I didn't know what I was expecting, but it sure as hell was not for her throw the car into reverse and accelerate backwards into our shouting, former captives. "Now hurry up and get out of yours. Or are you going to let me have all the fun."

I was seriously shocked. Though I wasn't sure which surprised me more when the crazily capable Puerto Rican cheerleader hit both of the assholes in one swoop, knocking them -at least- down, or when she grabbed the thirty-eight special that was resting in the center console. She calmly got out of the car, pausing only to open my door so I wouldn't have to climb over the seats to get out. I was the professional. I couldn't leave it to Santana to do all the work, so I centered myself and forced my breathing to steady and finally freed myself. As I was scrambling out of the back seat, I heard two quick gunshots. I got out of the car and was kind of relieved to see that she'd only shot each of them once in one of their knees. "Help me find their phones. I do not know where the fuck we are or how long we've been in their piece of shit car. I sure as hell don't know how to get back to the stadium or the hotel. At least one of these hijo de la chingdôs has to have a fucking phone."

Since she really had done the heavy lifting, the least I could do was search the duo while she held them at gun point. For expediency's sake, not for some vengeful pain of my own, I yanked their pants off. It may have been cruel, and I may have been pissed, but really it was just the fastest way for me to search their pockets. I came up with two slim wallets with some pesos and prepaid debit cards, two burner phones, a couple of knives and two more guns. Then, I stripped off their shirts, ripped away two strips and tied up their holey knees. Maybe they would be found before they bled out. I shoved a twenty-two into the strap of my bra and bundled the rest of their crap into one of the shirts, tied it up and put it in the car. I brought back both of the phones. Santana told them to unlock them and once they were unlocked, she did some Gen Z magic and took away the need to unlock them in the future. Since she knew Spanish, and I grew up in New Jersey, I drove while she handled the GPS. "It's almost eight am local time. They were taking us to Chihuahua."

"A dog?" I blurted out. Later I would totally blame the recent drugging for the abject stupidity of that question.

Santana's side eye told me that she would never believe me when I said that it was the drugs fault. "No, the city. From what I can tell from their text messages, we were to be flown from Chihuahua to Helsinki so that we could be sold like that dumb bitch from Taken." She almost growled.

"Is there any information about Mercedes or the others? Anything about their ultimate plans?"

She shook her head. "Whoever was calling the shots was much smarter that the Tweedles back there. They kept their shit well compartmentalized. When they divided us up, the Big Boss had them send a description of which of us they ended up with. Their return text says that they ended up with two gringo brunettes…both with great asses and good legs. Stupid bastards, I'm know that I'm not Mexican, but anyone with eyes can tell I'm not White. Anyway, the Big Boss then texted back with their specific instructions. I don't suppose that you know anyone's phone number off the top of your head. I don't love the thought of having to drive all the way back on an empty stomach and half naked. Because honestly, I only know one number that is still the same as it was when I was six and had to memorize phone numbers. And calling Abuelito won't do a fuck ton of good since he's in New York…or maybe Massachusetts right now."

I didn't have to think hard. Ranger's cell number had been written in indelible ink on my memory banks since the night Morelli had cuffed me to the shower curtain rod in my old apartment. I rattled it off and Santana quickly had it dialed up and on speaker phone. "Who is this?" Ranger's voice sang across my frazzled nerves.

"It's me, Ranger. We just left two bad guys, knee capped and mostly naked on the side of Mexico Two near mile, well, kilometer marker one twenty-seven." I said with feigned calmness.

The relief in his voice was almost palpable. "Babe, you never disappoint."

I chuckled. "I would love to take credit for our escape, but Santana is a self-rescuing princess. She did that thing where you bring your hands under your ass and around to your front. Then she got out the damn things while I was still working on getting out of my cuffs behind my back."

Santana accepted my praise graciously. "Yeah, but I doubt I could have gotten to the driver with my fake gagging. You sounded like you were really about to throw up."

I didn't want to admit it had sounded so real, because it had been all too genuine. "Babe always says that acting is one of her most effective BEA skills." Ranger said hiding my embarrassment. "Where are you two, now?"

"We're following Google maps back to the hotel. But we are pretty close to naked right now. And we're hungry and the GPS is telling us that we need to cross the border. And Ranger, our passports are probably wherever our bags ended up." Panic was not creeping into my voice.

"You don't have to cross the border without your passport. Though, honestly, your pictures have been on the news every few minutes for the last couple of hours, so I don't think you'd have much trouble." He pulled away and said something to Tank or Lester. "Get to Puerto Penasco and go to the Juzgado Municipal y Comisaría building. It holds their cop shop. When you get there, ask for Inspector Jefe Daniel Valenzuela. I will send Lester and Manny. We're chartering a copter so they may even beat you two there."

"Tell them to bring clothes." I stressed.

Santana scoffed. "Fuck clothes. Tell them to bring Artie. I didn't shoot either of those jabronis any place vital. I deserve a god damn reward."

"Oh, and as you can tell, we have their phones. And they are wide open. Hector or Grunt may be able to trace the texts and get more information from them." I reported happily.

"Proud of you, Babe." I felt my irritated nerves calm at the praise.

But we had promised each other honesty when we'd finally pulled our heads out of our asses. No more things left unsaid. "I should have been with Mercedes. She's the primary. That was my job."

His silence was a bit unnerving. "Babe, with taking every female available, they changed the game completely. I think that there is a very real chance that Mercedes is by herself since they already have a committed buyer for her. Best case scenario, she is with Hudson. That theory is supported by what you and Ms. Lopez discovered on your captor's phones. The Scandinavian buyers of this kind are willing to pay more for brunettes."

"So, maybe we should look at it from that angle. We find the girls by looking at which girls have similarities and would be paired together? Where would they make the most money?" I mused.

He returned. "Then we can look for Mexican airports with the most direct flights to those specific countries." I heard him barking a command to someone in the background. "Good job, Babe. I'll speak with the Federales and the BAU. We should be able to figure out the Hubs and which girls would be directed where. We have a good line on where Mercedes is being sent. The suspect-connected roadie is providing far more information than he realizes."

"That, or he knows just how much info he's giving and hoping that it helps his case." I theorized.

"If Sam or Puck get their hands on him…much less Benton Jones…he won't have a case to worry about." Santana laughed darkly.

I nodded. "Glad he's helping…but to be completely honest, Richardson better hope that one of them or Ranger gets to him before I do. I hate being kidnapped. I was supposed to be super professional and stop Mercedes from getting kidnapped. No, he had his goons kidnap all of us and kept me from doing my damn job."

"How do you think I feel? I'm mostly naked with a chick who, while hot as fuck for her age…good job there…is not my female fiancée. All while said female fiancée is in a similar state with who the hell knows who, hopefully not being hurt or molested or whatever the actual fuck has me scared as hell and therefore pissed all the way off. All of those rage inducing feelings are only compounded by the knowledge that I don't know for sure what my male fiancé's physical condition is, but I do know that he is probably freaked out and even more worried than I am."

I took a deep breath. "Umm, thank you for the compliment. We will get your Brittany back to you and both of you to Artie. I promise you that. Hey, if I get my hands-on Richardson…I'll let you get some licks in too." Thankfully, that seemed to please her and lower some of her anxiety. Mine would only truly lower when I had gotten her, and myself, to the relative safety of Puerto Penasco.

Trouble (Avicii)
Sam's PoV

If I had ever had a morning a horrible as that Sunday morning, I did not remember it…and I sure as hell didn't want to know when it had happened. I was almost surprised that Noah and I had gotten any sleep at all. But we did…granted that was only because we'd fucked ourselves into exhaustion. It had been that or destroy the hotel room and get drunk off our asses in an effort not to think of all the messed-up things that could be happening to our woman. Truthfully, we had only slept a grand total of, maybe, three hours. And those three hours were fraught with nightmares of what life might be like if we weren't able to get our wife back. After what felt like the millionth time one of us had jolted both of us awake, we just gave up and got back up. We showered and were downstairs within fifteen minutes after we stopped trying to sleep. It wasn't rock stars that went down to the conference room. It wasn't even well-dressed college students. Without Mercy there, we got dressed in whatever the hell our hands fell on. We just couldn't be bothered to care. We both looked a hot, shitty mess and I was pretty sure that I'd grabbed Puck's jeans because the ass didn't fit right.

When we walked into the conference room, we found that the BAU guys had arrived and were setting up a communications area in the corner. Spencer and Ranger spotted us at the same time and waved us over. I noticed that there was a big iPad set up and Garcia was waiting impatiently for everyone to be corralled so she could give her information. "Alright, as I told the team on the plane…I found a coin trail leading to our Assistant Director of National Security, Linda Barnes. We all knew that we were going to need the IRT crew if any of the women are taken out of Mexico…but she would be our point of contact. They have to be off the plate."

"What kind of link are we talking here?" Ranger asked calmly. "If it is just bribery, can she be turned to an asset?"

Hotch shook his head. "No, the coin was just the tip of the iceburg. While Richardson has definitely been a financial benefit to her, it goes much deeper."

"How much deeper?"

Garcia sighed. "Not just bone deep…bone marrow deep…like they could probably donate an organ to each other if the need ever arose. According to all the records I can find, they've known each other for most, if not all, of their lives. Barnes attended both the Hill School and Penn State during the same time as Richardson. It looks like Barnes was the roommate of one of his Hill School probable victims. And one of the victims of Richardson's frat rapes was in direct competition for, what was basically, the president of the student government association against Barnes. After what she went through, the girl dropped out of the race by the expedient manner of dropping out of college altogether, and Barnes then held the office for two years." We could clearly hear her fingers striking her keyboard as she looked deeper and further into the past of the asshole that had created the hell in which we were all currently stuck. "I had trouble finding anything that would tell me how the two of them got close enough for Richardson to play hitman for Barnes' targets…but then I looked back…and I mean all the way back…Barnes mother and Richardson's mother are cousins. And from the looks of things…those two were as close as Patty and Cathy Lane, if you get the rather old school reference."

"I'll explain it to anyone who didn't, Kitten. Keep going." Rossi directed.

"Well, Barnes' mother married into the Udall family, political powerhouse that they are…and of course, Richardson's father was huge in business. Richardson's father was a major backer of S.L. Udall's run for the US House of reps in fifty-five. Barnes…the husband not the termagant that is making hell of the IRTs lives…he had gotten his pilot's license two years before the crash that ended his life. It was determined to be pilot error. The plane that killed Barnes' husband…it was one of Richardson's small Cesnas."

"How did Pescia, Cruz…hell, how did nobody know about this?" Dr. Lewis asked contemplatively.

Garcia's fingers went flying over her keys once more. "She came over from the NSA when the National Security Branch was formed in two thousand and five. She was at the State Department before then. Her position in the NSA would have found the connection beneficial. Honestly, so would her jobs at the State Department. Richardson's international business connections would have been a gold mine for her and a perfect cover if she ever needed it."

Rossi swore. "We're going to have to work around the usual international avenues. If she's feeding him information or using her connections to keep him off the radar…we cannot use State or IRT resources."

I kind of expected them to look as dejected as the news made me feel. It scared the hell out of me that we couldn't count on the people we were told would be available to help us if the worst-case scenario had occurred. Noah and exchanged a questioning glance, but it was Tank that asked the question running through our head like a chicken with its head cut off. "That sounded like it was detrimental to everything we've done for the last six months. Why are you guys looking like that is a good thing?"

"We have way to contact Interpol outside the usual lines of communication." Hotch told him smoothly. "This won't be a major setback and it might actually help us in the long run."

Morgan nodded. "I'll make the call." He said striding from the room.

Garcia drew all our attention back to her. The tech analyst was smirking devilishly. "Sir, IRT's not the only team Barnes has undermined and sabotaged. Two years ago, she had a hand in the dissolution of a White-Collar crime unit that was investigating securities fraud. While it didn't benefit Richardson super directly, it did benefit Patriotic Apparel in an acquisition that made the company close to a billion, with a capital B, dollars."

"If she used her office to enrich herself or her family member she cannot remain in the FBI." JJ said angrily.

Dr. Lewis seemed to be thinking very heavy thoughts. "We may need to consider this from a different angle. These two are family. They may well have been raised to always take care of each other. Richardson knows Barnes and Barnes knows Richardson. She knows that he's got some sick, twisted tendencies…so she aims those at her enemies. Richardson gets to help out his cousin, while getting a taste of the proclivities he'd only dreamed of until then. From there it just snowballs. He could easily have found other ways to remove obstacles from her path, but she possibly encouraged him to be as brutal as he wanted. Then later on, well, Barnes grew up in affluence and influence. But she married a man who, from what little I can find without bothering Garcia, was just as ambitious, but came from a very different background. He'd have brought debt and baggage into that marriage that she probably didn't understand how to deal with. I doubt that without his income, she could have maintained the life they were living…the kind of lifestyle she has always been accustomed to. At that point, Barnes would have become easy for Richardson to turn. For him to get something he wanted from her. But then again, this one could possibly be the only bribery scheme he undertook without a cost-benefit analysis. My guess, she's probably been enriching herself and her family at the government's expense for a long time. Maybe even most of her career."

Hotchner agreed. "Garcia, we need to make sure that this information makes its way into the correct hands."

"I have created an info dump that shows all the links both familial and financial between Barnes and our Unsub. With your go ahead, the Director and the top three members of the senior staff…along with Attorney General Holder will receive it within the next ten minutes."

"Do it." Hotch authorized. "We'll need change our plans a little. If we follow our usual protocols, we should be able to keep Barnes from realizing that there are any eyes examining her. JJ set up a press conference like we would normally do in an abduction."

Rossi shook his head. "Now we know why Richardson has felt so comfortable buying law enforcement and politicians…not only were he and his cousin exchanging quid pro quos, but he's also seen it done firsthand his whole life. For them, it's a family tradition."

"Speaking of families. Puckerman, Evans, your family should be here in the next half hour." Ranger told us.

I nodded. "That's good." I wanted my mom in the worst way. Why was it that no matter how old we got, if things were truly, horribly bad, we all called out for two beings…God and our mother.

While I was ruminating on that constant, Noah voiced a more pertinent question. "We had Darcy fly the rest of the parents of the other missing women in. Do we know when they'll get here?"

None of us were exactly sure. Thankfully, Adam strolled in with his cell phone. "I know that Cedes is missing…but I didn't know she had taken your brains with her. Darcy has been trying to get up with you two for an hour. Where are your cells?" I shrugged. I honestly had no idea. Puck looked like he didn't give a fuck where his cell phone had gotten to. "Damn." Adam grumbled shaking his head. "Alright, look until we get Hudson back, I've got your backs. Now, Darcy says that your hometown parental crew will be here soon. Not all of the other parents can come because some of them have either let their passports expire or they never had them in the first place. Erika's father and JaJa's mom are both coming. Mr. Calderon should be here within the hour. Mrs. Ramirez won't be here until later this afternoon. Umm, let us see…Kelly's parents are not passport people. Bae's mom is completely freaked out. She hasn't got a passport, but her dad travels internationally for business. So, he is coming. Quina's Aunt or Cousin…your boy Blaine's mom, will be here soon too. She was in LA visiting Blaine's brother and is driving down. Quina's mom caught the first thing smoking, but from Manilla to Tijuana…she's not gonna be here until tonight. Jae's parents are both in the 'no passport clique'. Mr. Plum is coming with Ranger's Trenton, NYC and Boston people…I'm not sure when they'll arrive. I think his Atlanta guys are already on the ground working with the local five-oh. Darcy's still trying to get in touch with Rainbow's family. Sugar's parents are with yours. And none of Xena's people have passports. But a Pimp Named Slickback said he will, and I quote 'pimp slap both of you if any harm comes to his warrior princess'."

"He'll have to climb a ladder to do it. But he probably would. I'm more worried about what Don Motta and Coach Sylvester are going to do to us, though, to be honest." I replied honestly.

"That's because you were never as stupid as you look, Lady Lips." Sue Sylvester's voice sent a shiver of fear up my spine as it rang through the room. "You're lucky that I'm finally willing to acknowledge that your mother is my mother's niece. Otherwise, I would be making you suffer for allowing harm to befall your cousin. But since I know that you have an innate, genetic, predisposition for being overprotective of your relatives, I will assume that you've got all these Army, Navy, Marine & other veterans working their asses off to bring our girls home."

"I can assure you that each of the ladies will be returned to their families as soon as humanly possible." Ranger said calmly. How the hell did he always pop up out of nowhere. He was calm…my heart was racing like Speedy Gonzales was taking on the Flash.

Momma and Dad along with Hell-Bent, Moms D, Bekah, and George soon had me, and Noah surrounded and as happy as that made me, it just made me ache even more for Mercy. She should have been there. I tried to blink away the burning behind my eyes, but too many tears escaped. "We'd left Jake in charge of Triple S and Double A-S…Ryder was going to help him out. But when we called the older kids to let them know before they saw it on the news, Patrice and Kevon decided to take off work to go up and help them. They're driving, but they should be there before the kids can cause too much chaos. Especially since the toddlers are all staying with the Berry's until we get home. Devon and Tonya are going to try and catch a flight to get here to help out with whatever they can. They'll text us with their flight information."

Looking around the room, I tried to find something, anything else to focus on other than the pain in my chest from the missing part of my heart. But even all three of the mothers' presence didn't help as much as I'd hoped that it would. All I could do was pray.

Calm Like a Bomb (Rage Against the Machine)
Erika's PoV

I'd gotten a little bit used to waking up in new and different places. But the back seat of a small SUV with two of the other chicks from the tour was not something I could say was anything I wanted to get used to. Opening my eyes was seriously painful. I did not feel hung over in the usual way, but I was definitely feeling off. "What the actual fuck?" Bae Be said quietly.

"Sssshhhhsssshh." JaJa hissed in quiet desperation. "I'm guessing that the explosions were a distraction." She returned even more quietly.

A slight groan came from one of the others. "Yeah, but why did they take us? Cedes isn't even here. Thank goodness…but, I mean, can they not tell one Black woman from another? Did they fuck up that much?" Bae's whisper told me who had groaned.

I was pretty sure it was far more sinister than just latent bigotry. When my father and I'd spoken earlier that week, I had told him that we were heading to Tijuana that weekend. He had immediately asked me to be careful. "It is a hub for those sex-slavers. According to Jean Robert, the international law enforcement community say that Tijuana is even worse than Mexico City for kidnapping of women. They don't seem to be bothering tourists as much but…I have a bad feeling. I won't say you shouldn't go. I know that you value your musician friends…but please be careful."

I had promised I would take care. I'd assumed that it would be easy. After all, I wasn't the target of an obsessed stalker. "They didn't fuck up. They're increasing their profit margins. Get paid for snatching Cedes and then get paid for selling us on the Black Market. Women and kids are sold all over the world." I whispered. "I don't know where they are planning to take us, but my parents' neighbor's brother is with Interpol. He told my padre that Tijuana was a playground for snatchers."

"Shit," they both gasped as they felt the burden of truth in my words.

"If we can see an opportunity to run, we need to take it." I told them hoping that neither of the men in the front seat could hear me and if they could…hopefully they didn't understand much English.

Both of them looked at each other. "Are you sure you're okay? I came to over an hour ago. Bae not too much longer after that. We were starting to worry that whatever drugs they used had messed you up."

I shook my head to clear the fog that kept trying to take over. "I…I don't feel right. It's like I'm hungover but also still drunk with the added bonus of some residual highness." I may have been a little out of it still, but I wasn't stupid. I knew enough to keep my voice low. "But we need to figure out what's going on. I'll be fine."

Bianca and Elena exchanged a speaking glance. At another time, I'd have probably even been able to tell what they had conveyed to each other. But that was not the day or time for me to practice mind reading. Thankfully, the assholes in the front seat started talking. Though a textbook looking Hispanic, Elena's parents, who had emigrated to America from Guatemala, had banned Spanish in their home to ensure the full assimilation of their kids into their new country. Which meant that she couldn't understand them any better than Bae could. "Man, let's stop and get some breakfast. I'm hungry." The Scrub in the passenger seat was almost whining.

"We need to make it to Nogales by noon. You can eat lunch on the plane." Idiota Numero Dos replied firmly.

The third Bicho in the front decided to be the voice of reason. "We're nearing Santa Ana. We can pull through Elba and get him and the girls some food. They'll need something on their stomachs before we can dose them again anyway."

"Why did we have to go all the way to Nogales anyway? We could have flown from our usual airfield in Ensenada." Scrub asked the wiry little bug I'd nicknamed Bicho. Bicho must have been the leader.

Bicho craned his head back to look at us. Bae and JaJa both looked scared and mad…but it was easy to see that they didn't understand a word from their mouths. I made sure my face conveyed something similar and hoped that the loopiness from the drugs would show through as well. "Look, these girls are something outside out usual merchandize. We don't want to fuck up our normal operation…but the money from this job, it was too good to pass up. Arturo doesn't want to bring anyone to our door if things go wrong." Okay, so their big boss had a name Arturo. "Besides, Miguel and Herberto had that family thing this week. No pilots, so we had to find alternate arrangements."

"What family thing? Our grandfathers are cousins…I didn't hear about any family thing." Scrub whined.

I could almost feel Bicho and Idiota Numero Dos roll their eyes at their compatriot. But it was Idiota Numero Dos that answered. "One of their mother's sister's daughter's cousins is getting married and their mother said that they had to attend and look presentable. Miguel said that it was going to take them an hour just to cover all their visible tattoos."

The three Lambóns shared a laugh. I was hoping to hear something else important, but for the next twenty miles, they just chatted about how Miguel and Herberto's mother, Guadalupe, was apparently the biggest bitch since Kyle's mom on South Park. Before, I realized that we were even in a town, Idiota Numero Dos had pulled into a small, but packed restaurant parking lot. Bicho turned around as Scrub and Idiota Numero Dos were getting out. In HEAVILY accented English, he asked if we had any food allergies that might kill us.

"I can't eat refried beans." JaJa told him honestly. "Actually, beans of any shape form or fashion. Legumes are not a good thing for me."

"Eating beans will kill you?" Bicho said disbelievingly. Despite being the smallest of our three captors, an innate sense of self-preservation told me that Bicho was actually the most dangerous.

JaJa's face turned red. "Maybe not literally. But you're the bad guys, so you'd probably kill me if you were stuck in a car with me too long if I eat them."

Bicho looked for a moment like he really didn't understand what she meant. Then an almost comical look of disgust crossed his face. "Juan, no beans for the girls. Get them something easy on their stomachs." He called out to Idiota Numero Dos. "If we have to drive three more hours with this chick's gas on top of Angel's whining…I really might kill somebody." I had to fight hard not to let him know I understood every word he said. It was good that I made the effort because eyes too intelligent to suit my purposes soon fixed themselves on my face. "What about you, Morena?"

I knew that he was calling me dark woman…but I knew that I didn't want him to know that I knew that. So, I pointed at myself and didn't say anything until he nodded. Then, I affected the most stereotypical 'Black American' accent I could, one culled from hours watching the Cosby Show, A Different World, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Family Matters. "Umm, my name is Erika. And I don't have any food allergies. But can you please make sure it's not too spicy?" I hoped that I didn't over play my hand on that one. Black people tended to be fine with spicy. But people of Latin cultures universally prided ourselves on loving spicy foods. I wanted him to be convinced that I was just a dark skinned American woman.

I didn't realize it, but while I had been plotting and planning on getting all the information we could so that when we got away, we could hopefully help get the rest of our crew back…Bianca had been doing some mental gymnastics of her own. When Idiota Numero Dos and Scrub came back with the food, Bianca asked Bicho if they were planning to sell us. I was a little surprised that he answered her. "In a couple of hours, the three of you will be on a plane heading to someplace where beautiful women like you are worth a mint."

"Look, I get it, you are just a businessman, and to you we're just the merchandise you sell, right. Well…I cannot just disappear. My parents would not be able to survive it. They lost my little brother to leukemia when I was ten. He died six days after his seventh birthday and sixteen years later, my mother still cannot make it out of her bed for most of the month of March." Bae-Be told him with heart wrenching honesty and sincerity. "I have been saving up for a down payment on a place of my own. How much would it take for you to just let us go. A ransom is just as good as selling us right. Even better really because it is guaranteed that you get what you want. What if whoever is on the other side of the plane doesn't get a good price for us? Just tell us what it will take for me to be able to go home to my parents…for us to go home. We will make it happen."

Bicho's entire demeanor took on an air of calculation, but he was interrupted by Scrub's rapid exclamations in their native tongue. "Did she say leukemia? My nephew is in Children's Hospital in El Paso. My English is not so good, but I heard her say seven. Her little brother died at seven…that's how old little Jorje is. This is a sign. Call Arturo and see if he will take the deal. We've ransomed people before. Her brother spirit might help Jorje if we take her deal. Please Javier…let's take the deal."

Bicho rolled his eyes. Idiota Numero Dos chimed in as well. "Actually, Angel may have a good point. If we're only getting a percentage of what they make at auction, we can probably make more money ransoming them off even if it is to themselves. But my brother will gut us all if we don't call him and let him set the terms."

"Fine…it's almost time to check in anyway." Bicho grumbled as he unlocked his phone.

He may not have been as intelligent as I had given him credit for being. He didn't even try to remain quiet on his call, trusting that the language barrier would be protection enough. Even worse, he had the damn thing on speaker phone. I would have absolutely no problem doing a voice identification, if called upon, when these bastardos were caught. "Arturo. We're about ten minutes behind but we can make it up once we're back on the freeway. Angel was hungry and Juan figured it was easier to just feed him than listen to him complain."

There was a bit of grumbling, then Arturo spoke up. "Tell Angel that though he is the son of my favorite cousin, if he makes you all late enough to miss that flight, I will kill him myself." His voice was strong, smooth and deep like a fine merlot or a great piece of dark chocolate. It was definitely far more memorable than he probably would have preferred. I was sure he would not have liked the fact that he was on speaker for the whole car to hear.

Apparently, our kidnappers realized this as well because Scrub said nothing, though Idiota Numero Dos did smirk a bit. "He may have redeemed himself. One of the ladies you assigned to us is willing to ransom herself and her friends. It seems that her brother was taken by cancer as a child and she thinks losing her forever with no answers would be enough to kill her beloved mother. Angel wants us to take the deal because he hopes that doing so will mean a better outcome for his nephew, Jorje, if we do. Juan just thinks we'll make more money off the ransom than we will with our percentage of the money we'll make selling them."

"Javier, Juan may have a point." Arturo replied thoughtfully. "We're only guaranteed ten to fifteen grand a head for the extra chicas. Tell the sister that if she can come up with thirty grand for each of them, we have a deal. But you won't be taking them back to Tijuana."

Making sure that the three in the front seat, I held down three fingers then made an O with my hand to show Bae the amount they were discussing. Then an x and another three fingers to show her that it was for each of us. JaJa and I both nodded that we would certainly pay her back, if she had it. If not, we'd volunteer our own money to add together to reach the total ransom amount. Heck, if she and JaJa would pay me back, I knew for sure that I had all ninety available on fairly short notice. When Bicho relayed the amount, Bae took a second and managed to seem both surprised by the amount and as if she were doing mental math. "Okay, I need to call Saul Mayzer at Barclays offices in Manhattan. He handles my CDs. It probably won't take him much time at all to cash them out so I can pay you. Is there a transfer number or something he needs?"

Bicho and the Head Bastardo in Charge discussed the best way for Bae to be allowed to contact Saul. Soon she had Scrub's burner phone being presented to her. They'd already dialed the number for Barclay's New York corporate office and asked to be connected to Saul. I was just praying that he'd actually gone to work given the kidnapping and everything. It was probably pretty close to lunch time in Manhattan, so even if he did go to work, he may have been out of the office. I prayed harder than I had in far too long that he was there, and he would pick up the phone. "Saul Mayzer speaking." may have been the most beautiful words I'd ever heard.

"Uh, Mr. Mayzer…its Bianca Gorans. Um, I'm in a spot of trouble. Well, me, Elena and Erika. I can get us out of it if you wire ninety thousand dollars to a couple of very specific gentlemen at a routing and account number that they will give you."

Saul took an audibly deep breath. "Ms. Gorans are you, Ms. Chance and Ms. Ramirez physically okay?" he asked cautiously. "Are any of the others with you?"

"We're fine, Mr. Mayzer. We've not been harmed. They even bought us breakfast. But it is just the three of us. We're kind of clueless though seeing as their speaking a language we cannot understand. High school Spanish didn't prepare me for this." She lied, making sure that he would not say anything that might give away my secret. I was just really grateful that he'd only called me by my stage name and not the one that I had to sign every time I did any banking.

We'd been told not to make a sound but then Saul asked for confirmation that we were all okay, so Elena spoke up first. "Mr. Mayzer, can you please call the younger Mr. Harris's wife and ask her to check on Cede's fashion vlogger friend's wife…she was supposed to be meeting up with me at the show. I just want to make sure that she is okay." Not a bad thing to say. Hidden in what seemed like a random request was a definite request that Saul let at least one of the two federal agents we had access to know about our call without hyping our captors to what she wanted done.

When I took my turn, I simply asked that he tell my parents not to worry. "They have so much to worry about with my other three siblings. I will be okay." Everyone knew that my parents had a hell of a lot more than just four kids in total. But I was confident that Saul Mayzer was smart enough to catch that little clue.

"I will, Ms. Chance. I've got the funds readied…where should they be sent." He asked the car as a whole. Bicho was making me wonder if he was a smart person and a dumbass sharing the same body, because this time he was smart enough to show Bae his phone and have her read the texted account information that he'd been sent. A short time later, Saul came back with, "I'll stay on the line until the transfer is completed. If that's okay." Somehow, I was pretty sure that he was stalling for some reason, though I couldn't begin to guess why. I didn't think he'd had time to get the cops there to trace the call or whatever. Bicho nodded and, after Bae conveyed the okay, we all sat in silence for several minutes until a text came in from Arturo saying that the transfer had been successful.

"Their money is good. Drop them at the Tienda Six in Los Janos…it won't open for another hour or so. You should be able to be far away from there before they can get any help at all. If they can even find someone who speaks English in that pitiful place." Arturo said when he called moments later. Unfortunately, Bicho had ended the call with Saul in the meantime.

"Well, ladies, we have about a thirty-minute drive and then we will leave you someplace safe. After a suitable amount of time for us to make the, how you say, clean get away…you'll be able to get help." Bicho said graciously. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you."

I will say this for the assholes, they weren't completely without sense. When we pulled into the empty parking lot of the general store, they opened the trunk, and we were each given a plain blue sundress and cheap white flip flops. The dresses were all the same size. They were a bit big on me and even bigger on Bae and JaJa. They set the clothes and our cups of ice from breakfast on the steps, removed the handcuffs we'd been stuck in for far longer than could possibly have been healthy and then hopped back in the small Fiat SUV that had been our transportation. They sped out of there like the hounds of hell were on their heels. I was able to get the four numerals from the tag and murmured them to myself as we got dressed. "Sixty-one, diez."

"I got the letters at the end of the license plate." Elena said quietly, even though the three of us seemed to be the only people for miles around. "Anyone get the numbers?"

Bae shrugged. "It was a Fiat Palo something that starts with an A but I didn't get the plate."

"Sesenta y uno dash ten." I smiled. "So, we can tell them the make and model of the car and the tag number."

"And their first names…Angel, Juan and Javier…oh and the head honcho's name is Arturo." JaJa muttered. While we waited, we talked through all I had been able to learn from the conversations that Ja and Bae hadn't understood.

It felt longer than an hour when someone finally arrived to open the stupid store. I had to pee so bad all I could do was race to the restroom leaving Bae and JaJa to try and pantomime that they needed a phone. However, when I came back out, I found that we didn't need one after all. The place was crawling with Mexican Federal Police. I thanked God again that I was Puerto Rican because I was desperately needed to translate for everyone. "Saul had his secretary call up their IT guy and he was able to pull the number. That was then communicated to the FBI and they did what sounds like magic except I'm pretty sure it is science to find the phones of Scrubs, Idiota Numero Dos and Bicho. They already have them in custody. Then it was just a matter of getting our location from them and boom, we've officially been rescued." I finished.

"Thank God. How long until we can be back at the hotel? I want to shower then sleep until we can go home." Bianca said happily.

The trip back to Tijuana didn't take the seven or eight hours it had taken for us to wind up in Los Janos, because the Federales had a helicopter. A little over an hour after we lifted off the road in front of the small store that our captors had dropped us off at, we landed on top of the policiá station in Tijuana. The three of us were separated and our statements taken. I wasn't sure how much information the others had, but as soon as they entered, I told the Black lady from the FBI and the dark, swarthy Federales officer. "We made sure that they never realized that I spoke Spanish. It was actually pretty easy. Afro-Latina's are often not recognized as such by other Hispanic people…especially those in Central and South America. Anyway, there were a few words that I may not have the perfect translation for…but I can tell you for sure, the one named Juan, he's the brother of the leader Arturo. If any of the three can lead you to the next level boss, that would be the one."

The two federal agents representing two countries' law enforcement agencies smirked at each other. Dr. Lewis spoke to me. "Ms. Chance…all the information you were able to glean would be very appreciated."

We talked over every single bit of conversation I'd overheard between Bicho, Idiota Numero Dos and Scrub. Then, Dr. Lewis led me through what they called a cognitive interview and we found that in the twilight haze when I was still more than a little loopy from whatever the hell, they'd given us to knock us out, I had overheard that there were a total of six vehicles and Mercedes was by herself. I didn't have much further that was helpful. But I was grateful that at least I'd been able to give them some assistance. I liked my crew, and I was damn sure going to do everything in my power to make sure that we were all reunited as soon as possible.

I so appreciate the all the love & concern that you guys have shown to me.
I love this universe. It is my happy place. I'll be honest, it brings me a lot of joy to know how much everyone enjoys it.

Thanks so much!
Let me know what you think about the chapter & the universe as a whole.
TTFN,
ANNI