Author's Note: Hey, all! Thanks so much for reading and your reviews and messages. They make my day! You guys are awesome. Thanks so much!

Chapter 6

Morgan sniffed in misery and sighed, the pressure in his head reminding him yet again that there would be no mercy. Whoever had brought the cold into Pacerton PD would be found out and he would answer for the awful crime of being an evil little germ-spreader. The cold had made its way through the ranks of the police and then had descended upon the unsuspecting BAU team. All of them had it and all of them were miserable.

A cough from Reid made Morgan look up. He was worried about his friend. The cold had settled into Reid's chest almost right away and he'd been doing nothing but cough for the last two days. Sometimes his face would turn red from coughing, but Reid had refused any chance to rest. All he'd done about his cough was put on a medical mask and soldier on.

Officer Thomas had been a godsend the whole time. He kept them supplied with a plethora of hot drinks and soups and crackers and bread to eat, as well as soft sweets that could be eaten without hurting their sore throats. It was pretty nice to be catered to like that.

As if his thoughts had summoned the man, Officer Thomas appeared in the doorway. "How are you guys doing? Would you like me to get anything for you?"

"We're still miserable, and some more of that fruit juice you mixed up earlier would be great," Rossi croaked. "Best stuff I ever tasted."

"Tea for me," JJ sniffled, looking up from the file she was holding. "Or hot chocolate. Something hot."

"I think I can manage that. Any requests for lunch?"

"You've missed your calling," Rossi said. "You should be in the hospitality industry or running a catering company."

"I've heard that before," Officer Thomas said. "How about I surprise you?"

"We can always do with a good surprise," Reid rasped, getting up from his chair. "I'm gonna go check on Hotch."

Reid had been doing that several times a day since Penelope had found the live feed. They could tell that Hotch was recovering well from his illness and that his captor was still fussing over him. The most interesting thing to take place over the past few days was Hotch and his captor sharing that meal together and a chess game.

Reid could remember how determined Hotch had been to find him when Tobias Hankel had taken him. He'd kept moving forward, no matter what, and he wanted to show that same determination in his search for Hotch. Hotch deserved nothing less.

Officer Thomas had to give the BAU credit; they were the most dedicated team he'd seen in all his years working in law enforcement. They drove themselves in a manner that bordered the fanatic, and they were still the most empathetic and sincere team he'd ever witnessed in action. They weren't just trying to figure out where the unsub had taken Hotch or why, but they were trying to understand the man's motivations and feelings, as well. They were learning how to think like him, and while Officer Thomas had often tried to put himself into the shoes of a perp before, these guys took it to the next level.

The thing that impressed the heck out of him was the fact that sick as they were, they were showing no signs of slowing down. If anything, they drove themselves harder and with more determination. Officer Thomas actually found himself feeling a little sorry for the unsub when they managed to catch up to him. He would be shown precious little mercy.

Derek Morgan, JJ Jareau, Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi all worked in a group most of the time, sharing information with one another and bouncing ideas around, consulting maps and diagrams when needed. It was a pleasure to watch them work, almost like watching a well-oiled machine creating masterpieces.

Penelope Garcia was poetry in motion as she tapped away at her keyboards and watched her monitors. She would type, consult her monitors, type, consult her monitors, and when something important popped up, she would print the information for the team and share it with them, leading to more ideas being tossed back and forth, new theories raised, and new plans and leads followed up.

The most surprising team member was Spencer Reid. He was a skinny, lanky, and somewhat awkward individual, but his mind was graceful. It made leaps like a prima ballerina assoluta and drew conclusions like an old master from the Renaissance. He could examine sheets and sheets of information, observe map after map, and come up with new ideas and locations as to how they might find Hotch and where they might find him.

The most reliable source of information they had were the message boards where Hotch's captivity was being discussed. A great many of the comments were disgusting in the extreme, but every now and then there were kernels and nuggets of information as to where the people online thought Hotch was being held. The most promising commenters were those who were from Pacerton and its environs and surrounding areas. A lot of the comments made his blood run cold and a few disgusted him outright, but the team didn't let such things bother them, or if they did, then they didn't show it. Thinking of this, Officer Thomas examined the latest list and thought about what he was seeing.

"Guy's gotta have a warehouse or an industrial facility to keep this guy in. He's got money, that's for sure."

"Must be a place where nobody goes, or else this guy would have been found out by now."

"Looks like the old industrial district in Pacerton. I'm 45 minutes from there."

"The guy in the ski mask's got it BAD for the guy he's locked up. Anyone else notice how he's always watching him?"

"Dang-wish someone would bring me breakfast in bed!"

"Yeah, but locked up?"

"You have a point. Has he gotten close to getting out?"

"Just the once. The guy in the ski mask's been real watchful since then."

That had been true. The few times Officer Thomas had been able to watch the feed, Hotch's captor was always there. He would appear several times an hour, checking on Hotch whether Hotch was reading, watching television, working a crossword puzzle, or even asleep. According to Reid, the unsub was checking on Hotch several times a night while Hotch slept, and even when Hotch was taking a nap.

Everyone thought it was creepy. Still thoughtful, he joined Reid at the monitor. The agent's knee was bouncing up and down as he stared at the screen. "Any changes?"

Reid shook his head. "No. What's concerning me right now is that this is the third nap Hotch has taken in two days."

"Why is taking a nap concerning?"

Reid glanced up at him and then back at the screen. "Hotch doesn't really nap-not to take a nap, anyway. He'll work out, train for a triathlon, practice soccer with his son, goes over files, writes-he does things. He only sleeps when he's tired. If he dozes off or naps, then he's either sick or tired beyond bearing."

"I see." Officer Thomas watched as Hotch's captor entered Hotch's enclosure and approached his bed. Hotch was curled up, deeply asleep, on top of the comforter. The unsub stood there for a moment and watched Hotch sleeping before turning and picking up a folded blanket from the foot of the bed. He spread it out over Hotch and smoothed Hotch's hair before leaving.

Reid gave a tired sigh. "Yeah, that's still just as creepy as the first time I saw it."

"I agree with you there," Officer Thomas agreed. "Looks kind of like what a parent would do for his kid."

"Makes me wonder just how this guy sees Hotch," Reid said, leaning back in his chair and palming his eyes. Reid looked up at Officer Thomas. "You know, it's just hit me that we've been here for days and I still don't know what your first name is."

Officer Thomas smiled. "My friends call me Al."

"Al," Spencer repeated. "Most people call me Reid, but some call me Spencer. You could pick one."

"I'll try out both to see which one I like better," Officer Thomas joked.

Spencer gave a little smile. He liked this guy. He was helpful, tried his best to keep them from getting discouraged, and saw to it they had what they needed so they could work. If he was ambitious, he might consider trying for the FBI someday. God knew that they could use a whole army of Officer Al Thomases at the BAU.

Hotch's eyes opened and he stretched, feeling his joints pop. He must have been asleep for far longer than the twenty minutes he'd allotted himself for this nap. The stress of being locked up had become exhausting, so he'd started taking naps. Whenever he became too tired of seeing the same four walls and the fencing and the accommodations Alexander had made for him, Hotch went to sleep. It was an easy way to give his mind a break and it gave his body a little extra rest, which was good since he was tired all the time.

He didn't like being this tired. He knew that kidnapping victims often suffered from fatigue, both during and after their ordeal, and he really didn't like that it was happening to him. Being so tired made it hard for him to think, and he had a uncomfortable sneaking suspicion that Alexander was perfectly happy with that. If he couldn't think, then he couldn't plan an escape.

Hotch had noticed that Alexander was spending more time with him and checking on him more often. Sometimes he would come to the fence several times in an afternoon just to check on him. He always had a pleasant word for Aaron, but the fact that Alexander was stepping up his visits was worrying and Hotch dearly wished he knew why. He contemplated getting up but instead burrowed his head back into the pillow. He'd close his eyes for just a few minutes and then get up.

"Aaron?"

Hotch jack-knifed into a sitting position, heart hammering. "Aah! Alexander!"

"Hello, Aaron. Did you have a good nap?"

For some reason, the question was embarrassing. "I slept fine. Did you need something?"

"Actually, I was checking if you needed anything. Something to drink, perhaps?"

"That would be nice. Could I have some more of that fruit juice that I had at breakfast?"

Alexander nodded. "Of course. I'll be right back."

While Alexander was gone, Hotch got up and folded the blanket before setting it aside. It was odd that there'd been a blanket over him since he didn't remember using one. He only remembered laying down. Deciding to think about it later, Hotch went out into the living area, and a cold glass of juice was sitting on the table, complete with ice and a straw. He took it to the couch and was sitting there sipping on it when Alexander approached the fence. He'd been a benevolent host a few minutes before, but now he was tense and unhappy. "Aaron, there's something you should see. Turn on channel nine."

Confused, Hotch turned on the TV and switched to channel nine. It was a commercial at the moment, so he sat back and sipped his juice. He was mid-sip when the commercial ended and he saw what he was meant to see. It was the news-he was on it. He choked on his present swallow of juice and started coughing, some of the juice burning its way through his sinuses. "What the hell?"

"Looks like someone down at the station talked to the press."

Hotch's next words summed up the situation perfectly. "Oh, God."

There went his career.

JJ had been in the police chief's office for the past fifteen minutes letting him know exactly how she felt about someone talking to the press and she showed no sign of slowing down. Occasionally the rest of the team could hear phrases such as "...detrimental to our case" and "...may seriously endanger Agent Hotchner's life!" It was a pleasure and a privilege to hear because none of them were happy. Even Penelope was angry about it and was presently in front of her screens muttering under her breath about retribution for the senseless idiot who had talked to a reporter. Officer Thomas, or Al as Reid had started calling him, looked a little intimidated when he heard her snarling about sending a worm that would end all things technological in the Lilliputian-minded doofus's life who had opened his big, fat trap.

"If you wait long enough," Derek Morgan told him that afternoon outside in the hall, "she manages to top herself. The last time someone seriously ticked her off, she sent vacation pictures to someone's boss."

"Was that person fired?" Officer Thomas asked.

"Most likely."

"I'll remember never to tick her off."

"That would be a good thing."

Emily and Rossi were both busy talking to their higher-ups in Quantico about the case and how no, it would not be a good idea to send another team. No, it would be an even worse idea to send more agents to help him. The news broadcast was due to put a lot more pressure on the unsub and increasing their numbers would add even more. The last thing they wanted to do was endanger Hotch.

At last JJ stormed from the police chief's office and to the rest of the team. "Each time I think this case can't get worse, it does."

"Let's hope your words aren't prophetic," Rossi said quietly once he hung up his phone. "We were told we've got another week before they send more people. I tried telling them that it won't be a good idea, but they want this case wrapped up, one way or another."

"Fabulous," Emily muttered. "I got the same answer, no matter who I talked to. I wish I could throw something through their front window."

"You'd probably have to pay for it," Derek reminded her.

"It would be worth it," she said darkly.

"I'm sensing some aggression," Dr. Quill said, stepping into the room. "I saw the news and thought I'd come down. How are all of you doing?"

They all looked at him.

"I see."

"Where's Officer Thomas?"

"Helping elsewhere. Is there anything I can do to help all of you?"

"Find the measly brainless cowpat who talked to the press," Garcia snarled as she marched into the room and headed straight for the coffee pot. "If I ever find out who opened his disproportionate mouth, there will be a reckoning unlike any that has ever been seen before."

Dr. Quill blinked. "Definitely sensing some aggression."

"Aggression would be an understatement," Penelope snapped as she click-clacked in her heels to the door. "Murderous rage is more likely."

Dr. Quill watched her go. "You know, I like the way she expresses herself. It's impressive."

"That's our Penelope," Emily said, smiling. "So, you saw the news?"

Dr. Quill nodded. "I did. I know this doesn't portend well for either you or for Agent Hotchner. I was wondering how you were holding up and how you think he's doing."

"We'll be okay," Rossi said thoughtfully, and then he coughed. "Despite the fact that we all have a cold sent from Hades itself. I'm worried about Hotch, though. He's gonna worry about the impact this is going to have on his career."

"Surely there won't be one?"

"There might not be," JJ said with a sigh, fixing herself a hot drink. "Then again, due to bureau politics, there might be. Some people could use the argument that how good can Hotch be at his job when he ends up being taken by the very unsub we're looking for? Some of us have been in similar situations before, but then, none of us were the leader of the team."

"Yeah, time will tell if someone is going to try using this against Hotch," Derek added. "We might be tilting at windmills, but then, it's something we're all going to have to keep in mind. Anybody seen the tissues?"

"And if Agent Hotchner has seen the news, what do you think he'll be thinking?" Dr. Quill wanted to know as he located the tissues and handed them to Derek.

"I think he'll be worried, but he'll be trying his best not to let it show," Reid stated just as Officer Thomas walked in. "Hey, Al."

"Hey," he said, taking a seat at the table and placing a stack of files on the table in front of him. "I called in a favor down at the city hall and I have some new information for you guys. A lot of the town's records, especially the older ones, haven't been digitized yet, so I got you guys copies. I figured if you review all this, you might find some new leads. I could help, if you like."

They all looked ready to hug the man. Reid snatched at the nearest set of files. "I'll start reading. If I read something out loud, write it down."

Officer Thomas grabbed a legal pad and a pen. "I'm ready."

"Looks like you're off and running," Dr. Quill said, watching them with some amusement as everyone mobbed the files. "I'll make sure I order dinner for you."

No one answered. They were hot on the trail of an unsub.

"Of all the things you've asked me to do, this is one thing that I'm going to say no to," Aaron said, giving Alexander a look. "I'm not comfortable with it."

Alexander returned his look calmly. "I think it would benefit you a great deal, Aaron. With that tension headache you've had, I believe it would help."

"Doesn't matter," Hotch answered, rubbing his right temple. "I don't want to."

Alexander tilted his head to the side and appeared to be thinking. "What if I took off some time?"

Aaron gave a dry laugh and dropped onto the couch. "A day or two won't make much difference. My answer's still going to be no."

He heard Alexander sigh. "Just think about it. I'll be back later."

Hotch stayed on the couch and didn't answer. He's probably off to destroy someone else's career, he thought bleakly. The BAU had been in trouble before due to bureau politics, but this...this might end things altogether. Anyone could argue that Hotch was not competent for his office since he'd been captured by the unsub he'd been pursuing. If some politician was gunning for the BAU, stating that it was a waste of time, then it would only be a matter of time before he or she would try to raze the whole unit. There were plenty of them out there just waiting for a chance to build a name for themselves by cutting corners and saving money. For some reason, the BAU was often a prime target for cuts.

How he loathed and despised politics.

Since watching that news broadcast, he'd had a tension headache to rival any headache he'd ever had. It even hurt to blink. Alexander had watched him rub at his neck and head for about three hours before offering to give him a massage.

Hotch had stared at him in surprise. "A massage?"

"I hold qualifications for massage therapy," Alexander had told him. "I even have a massage table and the supplies we'd need. I believe it would be beneficial for you."

Hotch's answer had been an unequivocal no, but every half hour or so, Alexander had returned to coax him. It was annoying in the extreme, but at least, Hotch reflected, Alexander hadn't drugged him and forced him onto the table. He still had a choice-well, perhaps he had the illusion of a choice. His options were limited while he was locked up. He had a strong feeling that Alexander was going to wear him down until he agreed to it.

Too exhausted to think anymore, he let his thoughts drift to Jack. How was he? He hoped that Jack wasn't too worried about his dad. He knew Jack would be all right with Jessica and, of course, he could count on his team to watch out for his son as well, but...he couldn't help worrying. Jack was still so young.

He remembered the last conversation they'd had and Jack had been hinting steadily that he'd love to go camping sometime soon. Hotch had told him that the weather was not quite warm enough for that, but that they could look into it. Perhaps they could rent a cabin somewhere.

"A cabin's not camping, Dad!" Jack had complained. "You need a tent to go camping, and you cook out over a campfire and you make s'mores, and you go stargazing, and you sing camp songs…"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture," Hotch told him, ruffling his hair. "We can definitely do that. We just have to arrange it, all right?"

Jack had grinned and hugged him. "All right!" He'd scurried away, singing at the top of his lungs. "Oh, what a big, bold man was this desperado, from Cripple Creek way out in COL-ORAHDO, and he horsed around like a big TOR-NAHDO, and everywhere he went he gave his war-hoop!"

That song had been infectious and every now and then since leaving home Hotch had found it running through his head. It was the ultimate ear-worm and even more annoying was the fact that sometimes he would hum it without realizing it. Even as he was sitting there thinking about it, it came back into his head.

Deciding that he would do himself no good by brooding, he found a puzzle book and started working on a cryptogram. He was close to the solution when he heard himself singing the song under his breath.

"My son used to sing that same song. Amazing how some things are universal, isn't it?"

Aaron looked away from his book to where Alexander stood on the other side of the fencing. "Yeah, it is. I heard Jack singing it just before I left, and since then it's been stuck in my head."

"It's the kind of song that sticks with you," Alexander added. He paused and seemed to collect himself. "Two weeks."

This was such a non-sequitur that Aaron was confused. "Sorry?"

"I'll take off two weeks if you'll agree to having a massage."

"Two weeks?" Aaron repeated as his brain started screaming at him to shut up and take the bribe.

"Two weeks."

"How do I know that you'll keep your word?"

Alexander tilted his head and sighed. "Because you've spoken to my other guests, Aaron. I'm far more concerned with your present well-being than keeping you for the whole time."

Aaron nodded. Alexander was right. "I'll agree, but on two conditions."

Alexander's head tilted the other way. "And what are they?"

"The first is that I'm not naked for the massage."

Alexander threw his head back and laughed, one hand holding onto the fencing. It took him a minute or two to get control of himself, but finally he straightened up and took a deep breath. "You weren't going to be naked, Aaron, but I'll grant the condition. The second?"

"You'll give me the next twenty minutes in here alone and you will not watch the monitors during that time, or rewind and review the footage."

Hotch could tell he'd surprised the man. "I see. Might one ask why?"

"You might," Hotch admitted. "That doesn't mean I'll tell you, though. If you want to give me a massage, you'll have to stick to those two conditions."

Aaron could tell that he was thinking about it. Finally, Alexander nodded. "All right. You can have your twenty minutes. I promise I won't pry, and then I'll give you your massage and your two weeks. Agreed?"

Hotch nodded. "Agreed."

A scream from Garcia had them all running full tilt down the hallway and thundering into Garcia's workstation.

"Baby Girl!"

"Garcia, what is it?"

"What happened?"

"Is Hotch okay?!"

Wordlessly, Garcia pointed at her monitor. "It's Hotch! He's talking to me!"

"WHAT?"

They all crowded around the monitor and saw an image of Hotch, facing the camera and holding up a piece of paper saying, GARCIA.

They watched as Hotch started dropping sheet after sheet.

GARCIA.

KNOWING HOW GOOD YOU ARE AT WHAT YOU DO, I'M SURE YOU HAVE EYES ON ME BY NOW.

I'M OKAY. IF YOU'VE BEEN WATCHING, THEN YOU KNOW HE'S TREATING ME KINDLY.

Hotch's eyes saddened when he got the next sheet.

I'M JUST REALLY WORRIED ABOUT MY SON. NEXT TIME YOU TALK TO HIM, TELL HIM I LOVE HIM AND THAT I'M THINKING ABOUT HIM.

Hotch smiled at the next sheet.

YOU CAN TELL HIM I'M OKAY.

Then came the next sheet.

YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE SOMETHING WEIRD, BUT HE PROMISED TWO WEEKS TAKEN OFF MY TIME IF I GO THROUGH WITH IT.

Everyone held their breath.

I'VE DECIDED TO DO IT-ANYTHING TO GET BACK TO MY SON SOONER.

IF YOU DO SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, PLEASE PROMISE ME YOU'LL FORGET ALL ABOUT IT AND THAT YOU'LL NEVER MENTION IT.

EVER.

I'LL SEE YOU ALL SOON. TAKE CARE.

Hotch gathered the papers together and another view on the screen showed him hiding the papers under the mattress. Then he sat down on the couch and waited. A few minutes later Hotch's captor came to the fence and spoke to him. Hotch nodded and went into the bathroom and closed the door.

"I'm going crazy," Penelope muttered, her voice tight. "What is he making Hotch do?"

"If it's anything really bad, at least we'll have evidence." Rossi did not sound happy about that.

It became apparent when Hotch's captor entered the enclosure carrying a folded piece of furniture. He unfolded the furniture and all of them relaxed when they saw it was nothing more than a massage table.

"Hotch was this worried about a massage?" Derek wondered aloud.

"I'd be worried about it," Spencer said, his brow furrowed in thought. "Especially if it was my kidnapper offering one."

"Amen to that," Emily responded.

They watched as Hotch, wrapped in a terry robe, exited the bathroom and with his kidnapper's help, climbed up and settled on the table. His captor positioned Hotch's head and helped Hotch open his robe and fold it back so his back could be worked on. Hotch's kidnapper poured some oil onto his hands, rubbed his hands to warm it, and started rubbing Hotch's back.

"I've studied serial killers, stalkers, kidnappers, and all kinds of criminals, but I have to say that this is the first time I've ever seen a kidnapper do something like this," Rossi said into the quiet that followed. "This guy is a headliner for every abnormal psychology and criminology textbook out there."