Chapter 4

The mood in the room was tense. Hotch's team was staring down Officer Thomas with all the determination they could muster. Morgan was the one to state what was on their minds. "No."

"Try again. You are all exhausted. You need rest."

"We've got coffee," Reid stated. "We're good."

"No, you're not. If you won't go back to your hotel, at least trade off and bunk down here somewhere. But you need to sleep."

A snore interrupted them. Rossi was in his chair, head pillowed on his folded arms on the table, dead to the world.

"And that's the guy who says he's never been able to take a nap," Officer Thomas pointed out. "Come on, you guys!"

"Fine," Morgan snapped. "Reid, you and Prentiss bunk down first. JJ and I will follow, and then Rossi and Garcia."

"I'm not even tired," Reid complained.

"Do NOT pull the 'I'm wide-awake' act with me, Reid," Morgan told him pointedly. "I know how much sleep you've gotten the past few days…"

"It's more than you've had!" Reid shot back.

"And if Hotch isn't here, he'd want us to look out for each other, so you're getting some rest!" Morgan continued, not even catching what Reid had said. "Either that, or I send you back home!"

Reid glared at him. "Oh, no. There is NO way you're doing that!"

"I will if I have to!"

"Nobody made you the head of this team in Hotch's absence, Morgan!"

"Well, Rossi's out of commission!"

Officer Thomas stalked out of the room and returned a minute later with a bullhorn, which he blasted at full volume, making all of them wince and Rossi jerk upright. "Okay, I've heard enough. You're all going to get some rest and none of you are going to argue about it. In six hours I'll wake you up and then you'll be able to press on, but you are going to take a break before you kill each other."

"We have a job to do, and trading off to sleep is fine," Prentiss stated, rubbing at her right ear. "We don't all need to be down…"

"Either you guys get some rest or I'm calling Quantico."

J.J., Reid, Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi all froze in horror.

"You wouldn't!" Morgan growled.

"Try me."

Rossi pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and waved it back and forth. "All right, all right. We give in. If I slept through an argument, then it's a sure sign that all of us need to get some rest. As the most senior member in terms of age here, I'm stepping in and putting my foot down. Show us where we can crash."

It was a good thing that most of the cells were empty. All of them were able to stretch out on cots and actually sleep. When Officer Thomas checked on them in an hour, all of them were as dead to the world as they could be without actually being dead. Reid was hugging a pillow, which was cute. Morgan was asleep on his back with his arms out to his side, and Rossi was wrapped up like an FBI burrito. Emily and JJ were both in the same cell, sacked out. Garcia was in her temporary office, stretched out in her office chair with a pillow under her head. Feeling as if he'd gotten a job well done, Officer Thomas headed back to his desk. He had some paperwork to finish and now seemed like a good time to do it.

He woke all of them with bags of breakfast food and cups of coffee. They got up, made the bunks, straightened their clothes and hair as best they could, ate and drank, and then they went back to work. None of them, not even Garcia, had been able to track down a business called "Odd Jobs & Sundry" or get a track on that van. All of the business in Pacerton that had white vans had checked out already. They had no idea where else to look.

Reid was looking over the lists of businesses and checking the maps of the area where the security camera had captured Hotch. He was trying to build possible routes that the van might have taken and then locate possible places where Hotch might be. It was incredible that a vehicle could disappear so completely, as if some random garage in some random guy's house just opened up and… "Oh, I am an IDIOT!" Reid groaned, getting to his feet.

"With your IQ, that would be too much to hope for," Morgan said, rubbing his left temple. "What makes you think you're an idiot?"

"We checked businesses with white vans, but do you know what we didn't check?"

Emily looked up from her notepad. "Businesses with...black vans?"

"No, individuals," Reid pointed out. "Just because the guy made the van look like it belonged to a business doesn't mean that there was a business! The business thing was a disguise! Hide in plain sight, like Rossi said!"

"That makes all of us idiots and you a genius, Reid," Rossi told him as Reid rushed to the whiteboard and started writing. "None of us realized it."

"I should have realized it sooner!" Reid complained. "Three Ph.d.s and I couldn't figure that out before now!" Reid turned and ran out of the conference room toward Garcia's little corner of the station. "Garcia! We need help!" Reid barely turned in time to avoid colliding with Officer Thomas and a bespectacled man in a bow tie and cardigan.

Officer Thomas poked his head into the conference room. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, we may have a new lead," Rossi told him. "He's excited."

Officer Thomas looked down the hall where Reid was talking a mile a minute to Garcia. "Uh-huh. Well, I brought a friend. This is Richard Quill, a psychological consultant we use. Thought it might be a good idea for you guys to talk to him."

The looks he was getting from the team made Quill back up a pace. "It's...nice to meet you. I'll be happy to help any way I can. Fresh eyes and so on."

"That, and he's my relief," Officer Thomas said. "I need to put in an appearance at home and get some rest of my own. He's gonna be here if you need anything."

"Thanks," Morgan said, fighting the urge to be rude. Looked like Officer Thomas was practicing what he preached and getting some rest. At least the guy had that going for him, but they didn't need a babysitter.

Four hours later, Morgan had to admit that Quill was actually kind of helpful. He brought coffee, arranged lunch for them, and calmed them all down when their tempers rode high. At long last, Garcia came out of her den and delivered five copies of a list. "Here's all the people in Pacerton who have white vans of any make or model registered to them," she said, dropping into a chair. "That is an unexpectedly popular car."

"We've got a lot of families here in town, and some of them are big. Sometimes a van is the only choice they have," Quill told them.

"Let's look at individuals, first," Morgan said, looking at the list. "Profile says he doesn't have a family."

Garcia had taken a seat and was idly flipping through the witness statements when she paused and read something closely. "Oh, I am an IDIOT!" She dropped the file and ran top-speed out of the room, her high heels clacking on the linoleum floor.

Everybody had to chuckle a little bit in the silence that followed. One remark from Rossi made them all lose it.

"So, we're two for two?"

They laughed for almost five minutes before they started to calm down and breathe.

"Wonder what she saw that made her say that," JJ said thoughtfully, looking the way Garcia had run.

"I'm sure she'll tell us with time," Dave told her. "Let's take a look at these lists, shall we?"

Aaron coughed and winced at the pain in his head. Of all things to happen...of ALL things to HAPPEN...being sick sucked. Being sick while being kidnapped? Infinitely worse. It was as if the gods decided to kick him when he was already down and throw in a dash of impossible while they were at it. It was infuriating, but he didn't have too much energy to expend on the feeling. If anything, he had next to no energy to expend at all.

He'd managed to hide his illness for almost five hours, but in the end, Alexander noticed something was off.

The day had started all right. He'd woken up with just a slight headache and he figured it was due to tension. He lay in bed for a while, thinking about things and thinking about Jack, and he only got up when Alexander approached the fencing and said, "Time to get up, Aaron."

It was the first day Hotch had not gotten up immediately when told to. He sighed and pushed his head under the pillow. "No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is," Alexander persisted. "It's eight o'clock, and your breakfast will be ready in half-an-hour. Hurry up, now."

A kidnapper willing to make you a hot breakfast every morning. He still couldn't understand it. Wrestling a little with a mutinous feeling, Hotch got out of bed and started to pull the sheets, pillows, and blankets straight. It was something that Alexander insisted on every morning, that Aaron make his bed and things were kept tidy. He'd stated more than once that a neatened living area would have a positive effect on Hotch's mental state and while Hotch had read studies suggesting something similar, he still felt rebellious each time he made his bed. Alexander wasn't the one being kept in that room against his will, was he? Hotch wanted to leave things messy just for spite, but Alexander was adamant that things were tidied every day, and he could give mosquitoes lessons in how to be annoying. It was easier to just do as he asked.

He washed and dressed, and as he dressed he thought about how Alexander managed to set clothes out for him every morning. Hotch never woke up when Alexander let himself in or when he pulled out the clothes. Hotch had looked through the drawers in the bedroom and sure enough, the polo shirt he was pulling on was one he'd seen folded in the drawer only yesterday. It was a well-known casual brand of clothing, not ruinously expensive but not cheap, either. Given the number of items in the drawers, this guy had probably spent close to two thousand dollars on a new wardrobe for him. Hotch tried not to think about that too much-what did such a gesture mean to the unsub and would he expect anything from him in return? Shaking his head, Aaron pulled on the jeans and sneakers and left the bathroom. No good would come of fretting about things.

The tray was already sitting on the table when he emerged from the bathroom, the food still nice and hot. There were oatmeal waffles, sausage patties, and strawberries for breakfast, along with orange juice and coffee. He dove into it, but after a few minutes he felt his appetite diminish and he left almost one third of everything on the tray.

Alexander noticed. "Usually you eat almost everything," he said as he pulled the tray through the slot. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fine," Aaron assured him. "Really. Just not too hungry today."

Alexander clearly didn't believe him. "All right."

Hotch had noticed that Alexander kept him to a schedule. He knew that schedules would reassure anyone in a situation like his, so it wasn't a surprise that Alexander had set up a schedule for him. What really bothered him was that he found it reassuring. He didn't feel as threatened by the whole situation when he knew what was going to happen next. In the morning, Alexander would wake him at eight and then by eight-thirty breakfast was ready. After eating, Hotch would usually turn on the the television to watch the news and to channel-surf. He didn't often do that at home, but he could usually find something interesting to watch for a little while. After his morning television, Hotch would change clothes and hit the exercise equipment for a while. A treadmill and hand weights were not a substitute for a full workout, but it was better than nothing. Today, though, he felt poorly enough to forego the workout. Since he sometimes did that in favor of more relaxing, Alexander didn't make an issue out of it and let him be.

Lunch was usually soup and a sandwich of some kind, or soup, salad, and bread. Sometimes Alexander prepared him a pasta dish filled with meat and vegetables to change things up and there was always fruit for dessert. Aaron stared down at the chicken tortilla soup, arugula salad, French bread, and mixed fruit as if they were enemies bent on his destruction. He made a good effort, but he wasn't able to finish any of it and left most of it behind on the tray. He felt a bit like a kid who wanted to hide his vegetables so he wouldn't get into trouble for not eating them. Alexander would be sure to notice how much he hadn't eaten as soon as he came for the tray.

He left the table and browsed the bookshelves, settling down with a humor miscellany by a popular radio host. He was curled up in his chair when Alexander came for the tray. He pulled it through the slot, stared at it, and then came around the wall to the fencing. "Aaron?"

Hotch pretended to be absorbed in his book. "Hmm?"

"You didn't eat much at breakfast and you ate even less at lunch. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Aaron looked up at him and tried to radiate innocence. Jack could do it with no problem, but Aaron found it a little more difficult. "Yeah. I feel fine."

"Then why aren't you eating?"

"Just not too hungry. Captivity can sometimes decrease appetite. Surely you've seen that in your guests?"

"This goes beyond that," Alexander insisted. "Trust me, I know."

That...was an interesting statement to make. Aside from watching his "guests" and seeing how much they ate and witnessing any decreases in appetite, did Alexander have first-hand knowledge? How would that have been gained, though? Had Alexander been a kidnapping victim as well at some point in his life? Hotch took a deep breath and then regretted it when the breath triggered a cough.

"Aha! See, I knew it. You're getting sick. You're coughing and you look a little flushed."

"One cough does not an illness make," Hotch protested.

"Uh-huh. How about you prove me wrong?"

Aaron called on all the patience he possessed. "What do you suggest?"

"There's a thermometer in the medicine cabinet in your bathroom. Why don't you go get it and we take your temperature? If it's normal, then I'll stop nagging you about this, but if you have a fever, then you'll agree to get back in bed and let me take care of you."

"You're already doing that!" Hotch snapped. "Twenty-four hours a day, you're taking care of me, and I'm a little tired of it! I want to be let out of here and I want to go home! Do you know how worried I am about my son, what he must think about his father's disappearance and then days going by with absolutely no word?! Doing this to someone only takes your needs into account, but what about the people you take? If you really cared about me, then you would let me OUT!"

He would have continued, but a cough took hold and wouldn't stop. By the time the paroxysm of coughing stopped, Hotch was fighting to breathe, but eventually, his breathing eased and he felt a little better.

Hands came down on Hotch's shoulders, making him sit down on the sofa. "Easy," Alexander said, keeping hold of him. "Slow breaths. That's it. Focus on breathing slowly. There you go. Are you dizzy?"

"A little," Aaron croaked. "You might be right about me being sick." Alexander was in the enclosure with him...geez, he was big up close...wait a moment...

Training kicked in then. Aaron punched up and out with both fists and leapt to his feet, and Alexander toppled over, landing on the coffee table and breaking it in two. Aaron dashed past him to the open gate and slammed it closed, but the lock didn't engage. Damn! He didn't know the combination! He fled away from the gate and across the open space, looking for a door, ANY door! He headed for the nearest one…

"AARON!"

Hotch put on a burst of speed and ignored the burn in his chest and reached the door. The knob didn't turn and the door didn't budge...the door was steel...he couldn't kick it down...where was the nearest window?

He was in the midst of heading for the wall, hoping he could spot a window when Alexander caught up to him. Too late he spotted the windows up above his head, a row of them across the wall, much like a warehouse. He'd just taken in this information when Alexander caught up to him, taking him down in a tackle worthy of a football all-star. They landed in a heap on the floor and Aaron had the breath knocked out of him. Alexander picked them both up and practically wrestled Hotch back into the enclosure. Aaron's heart dropped as he heard the lock engage.

"I'll give you a half-hour," Alexander told him, standing on the other side of the fence. "When I come back, I'll expect you to have changed into some pajamas and gotten back into bed. I'll check you over when I return, and if you let me do that, and you take some medicine, and not try to overpower me again, then I won't tack on an extra week. Do you understand?"

Aaron glared at him, gave a curt nod, and then headed into the bedroom. He pulled out a fresh set of pajamas and went into the bathroom to change. He didn't know if it was his failed escape attempt or the illness, but he felt awful and didn't feel too badly about following Alexander's orders and getting into bed. He just wanted to lie down for a while and forget the world existed.

Usually, after lunch Alexander would bring him a newspaper and Aaron would read, watch a movie, play music, or Alexander would talk with him. He knew he couldn't expect that today; Alexander was probably way too pissed. Still, it would be nice to have a distraction from how he felt.

He was in bed for a total of ten minutes before Alexander arrived. He let himself into the enclosure and made sure to lock the gate behind him before heading into the bedroom area. He carried an old-fashioned, black leather doctor's bag. "Sit up, please, Aaron, so I can take a listen to you."

Aaron did as he was told and what followed was a normal doctor's exam, confirming their theory that Alexander was in a position of authority where he cared for people. Alexander was probably either a doctor or in the medical field. Alexander looked down his throat, in his ears, pressed gently on his sinuses, and listened to his lungs. He asked questions and Hotch answered them, and finally Aaron was allowed to lay back down.

"Looks like you have bronchitis. You'll be down for a couple of days, but you should recover with no problem if you rest, eat, drink, and take your medicine on time." He pulled a bottle and dosing cup out of his bag and filled the cup. "Here, drink this."

"What is it?"

"Cough syrup to give you some rest from the coughing. That will wear you out faster than you'd believe."

Aaron sat up and knocked back the entire dose in one swallow, wincing a bit at the taste. Alexander handed him a bottle of water and he took it gratefully, glad to drink something to get the taste out of his mouth.

"That might make you a little sleepy, so stay in bed," Alexander advised, packing up his bag.

Aaron could have throttled him. "You couldn't have told me that before I took it?"

"You wouldn't have taken it if I had, and right now, you need your rest. I'm going to get you set up so you're comfortable and then I'll be going out to get a few things."

In just a few minutes Alexander had moved the television and remote into Aaron's bedroom and brought several books and placed them on the bedside table. He left the enclosure and came back with several bottles of water and placed them where they could be easily reached. Once Aaron had switched on the television and settled back into his pillows, Alexander left, leaving Aaron to contemplate the latest episode of a crime drama while Alexander went off to do...whatever it was he was going to do. Aaron found himself feeling too sick to care too much what it was.