The day before New Years Eve, Gideon tagged along with Reid and Hotchner as they once again went door to door among hotels. It was now late afternoon, and after having spent the day in almost complete silence, with only curt questions and answers between them, he was thoroughly fed up.

When they went into their last hotel before dinner he said, "Reid, why don't you go ahead and start looking through the guest registers, we'll be right there." Gideon kept a hand on Hotchner's arm, keeping him from moving.

Reid looked suspiciously between them, until Hotchner gave him a curt nod of approval.

"Okay."

They watched him cross the lobby. Once he started talking to one of the receptionists, Hotchner turned to Gideon, shaking his arm out of his grip.

"What?"

"How long will this go on?" Gideon asked.

"What?"

Gideon looked angrily at him. "Don't try that with me, you know what I'm talking about. This thing with you and Reid. It's messing up the team and it's damaging to the case. You are his boss; you need to be the responsible one and fix this. Not to mention that I can see how much it's tearing you apart."

Hotchner sighed. "What am I supposed to do, Jason? I… I don't know how to talk to him, I can barely look at him without getting annoyed."

"That's your problem, not Reid's. He hasn't done anything wrong."

"What are you talking about? You saw him at the Heller raid. Why would he act like that? It's so unlike him. He was out of line and insubordinate. He was lucky I didn't suspend him!"

"Yes, he was out of line at the Heller raid, and I would have reprimanded him too. I don't know why he acted like that. Something has been troubling him for awhile now, but he won't talk about it. But that's not really what you are punishing him for, is it? Because the things you said? It was so much more. So much pent up anger and worry… We were all there those days in Fairmount when he was missing, Hotch, we know how hard it was, how terrible it felt, not knowing where he was, how he was."

Hotchner deflated, sinking down on a couch, elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his upturned hands. "He could have died."

"But he didn't."

"He could have been killed in the raid too."

Gideon sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, letting his voice go soft.

"But he wasn't. He was just doing his job. He is after all an FBI agent. You cannot keep punishing him because you want to keep him safe. It's not fair and he doesn't deserve it. It's eating you alive too, you care too much about him to let this go on. But I don't have to tell you that, you already know it."

"Yes, I know, I know."

"So, go and talk to him, make life a little more bearable for all of us."

Hotchner sat up straight, drawing a deep breath.

"I guess it's long overdue."

"I'll wait here."

--

Hotchner crossed the lobby. Reid had his back to him, standing a little stooped over the reception desk, scanning through printouts of the guest list with his usual speed. Hotchner hesitantly walked up to him and stood with his hand hovering over his back for some time, not sure it he should touch him, and what he would say. Reid suddenly stood up straight and turned. Coming face to face with his boss he looked startled.

"Reid…" Hotchner began, but he was interrupted.

"Hotch, look. I found her!" Reid excitedly waved a piece of paper in front of his face.

Hotchner was taken aback. "What?"

"The next victim. Look, Tanya Sicks. That's an anagram for Kansas City. He has to be targeting her! We'll be able to save her." The very idea of being in the position to save a potential victim made Reid breathless.

All other thoughts flew right out of Hotchner's mind as he switched mode from guilty friend to dedicated FBI agent. He turned to the receptionist.

"Tanya Sicks. What's her room number? Is she here with anyone? How long has she been here? Have you seen her with this man?" He pulled a copy of the photo they had been given in Arlington from his pocket and showed it to the man.

He looked at it. "Sure, Miss Sicks is right over there, with him." He pointed over their shoulders and both agents turned to follow his directions. A woman who looked about 25 with curly, brown hair and becoming glasses was walking towards the lounge, hand in hand with a man, all too familiar, carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"It's him," Reid whispered.

Hotchner turned to where Gideon was sitting, and gestured, pointing. Gideon immediately understood the situation and had his cell phone pressed to his ear in a second, waiving them on.

"Come on," Hotchner said, tersely, as he pulled his weapon, holding it at his side.

Reid did the same and they started a half-jog across the floor. They didn't dare call out, as the lobby was full of people. The couple walked into the hotel lounge before they could catch up with them and they carefully approached the swinging double doors. Hotchner pushed it open and took a couple of steps in, all senses at the ready, with Reid right behind him. Hotchner immediately knew something was wrong. Many heads were turned in his direction and over the music he could hear an eerie silence. So it came as no big surprise when someone spoke behind him.

"Welcome, Agent Hotchner, Dr. Reid."

Reid and Hotchner both turned, guns in a two-handed hold in front of them. With his back to the doors stood Lance Veld, with a terrified Tanya Sicks in front of him, a gun firmly pressed against her temple. He had a hand over her mouth, which he now took away, letting her sobs be heard. She wore a small cross on a chain around her neck. It trembled with every sob. Veld reached behind him and found the locking mechanisms for the doors, trapping them all inside. He then put his arm back around Tanya's waist.

Hotchner swore under his breath. He'd been sure they hadn't been seen.

"Let her go, Veld," he said.

"Ah, you know my name. I'm touched."

"Let her go."

"And why would I do that?"

Hotchner did not like this. He had not anticipated a gun. A knife, yes, but the gun went against the unsub's established pattern.

Veld smirked at him, wiggling the gun a little. "I know what you are thinking, it goes against my profile, right? Truth is, I've always had it with me, a little extra insurance. I just never had to use it before."

Hotchner was very aware of the people in the room behind him. Were they blocking the only way out? He didn't dare turn around and look. The door rattled as someone tried to open it. Gideon, Hotchner thought. But besides the regular lock, the doors had latches at the bottom, which connected directly to the floor. The doors could not be opened from the outside until those latches were released, and Hotchner had just seen Veld stomp them securely down.

"What are you hoping to accomplish here, Veld?"

"Accomplish, hmm… that's a mighty big word, Agent Hotchner. It seems you are more than just a governmental gun-for-hire after all. How interesting. As to what I want? Why, my freedom of course. This seems like such a dreary place to stay for any extended period of time. What do you say? Shall we let bygones be bygones and just walk our separate ways?" His jovial tone was grating on Hotchner's nerves, but he refused to let the baiting get to him.

"You know I can't let that happen. Why don't you just put the gun down and we'll walk calmly out of here."

"To what? Several years of trials in different states and a couple of lifetime sentences, if I'm lucky? No, I think we can do better than that."

"Even if you were to leave this room, where would you go? Outside these doors are a dozen more FBI agents, and outside this hotel, all of Atlantic City PD will be waiting for you. Just put the gun down."

"That is a though one, I'll admit. But I'm sure it will all come together nicely. Good things come to those who wait, Agent. Now, if you and Dr. Reid would be so kind as to put down your weapons."

"We can't do that."

Veld turned to Reid.

"It is nice to see you again, Dr. Reid, but you are being awfully quiet. Do you really trust Agent Hotchner to make the right decision here? I heard you had a rather nasty falling out."

Reid stood firm, not acknowledging the obvious taunt. Instead he repeated Hotchner's earlier request.

"Put the gun down, please."

The doors rattled again, but to no avail.

The jovial expression suddenly vanished from Veld's face, and before any of them could react he had turned the gun outwards and fired. The patrons in the lounge screamed and dove for the floor, but Veld's target had been the stereo behind the bar. It sparkled and cracked for awhile, but it efficiently killed the music.

Veld turned the gun back on Tanya, who whimpered as the hot barrel made contact with her skin.

"Tell me, Agent Hotchner, how many people in here do you think I can kill before you work up the courage to take me out here behind my little cover?" he said, his face half-hidden behind Tanya's bushy hair.

Hotchner stood firm a few moments more, before recognizing his defeat. As reluctant as he was, this was already a hostage situation, and it would have to be worked out from the outside. He relaxed his stance and lowered his gun, signaling Reid to follow his example. Reid did not look happy about it, but he complied.

The smile was back on Veld's face.

"Good, now we're getting somewhere. If you would be so kind as to back up a little and put the guns on the bar?"

They did as he asked, and Veld shadowed every step they took so the space and angle between them wouldn't change.

"Take off your jackets please, and turn around."

They did, putting their jackets on barstools, and then spun around slowly, with their hands away from their bodies to show nothing but their empty holsters.

"Lift up your pant's legs."

Hotchner swore mentally but complied, revealing and consequently removing his back-up piece.

Once both agents were weaponless and had backed away from the bar, Veld released Tanya, instead pointing his gun at Hotchner and Reid. He raised his voice, "I would like everybody to please sit down at a table behind the dance floor. Mr. Bartender, and Miss Waitress, could you also find a table, but turn on the lights first, please."

Hotchner looked behind him. The lounge was made for couples, with small tables, candles and red leather-upholstered chairs, ideal for looking deep into each other's eyes and sharing drinks. In the middle of the room an area had been cleared for slow dancing to the romantic music, which was now quiet. There were no windows as the room was in the middle of the hotel and only one door. The sudden transition from semi-darkness to harsh fluorescent light made most guests blink and squint as those in the front of the room got up to move behind the dance floor. Hotchner counted 23, including himself, Reid and Tanya.

Tanya stood between Veld and the agents, hugging herself, tracks of mascara on her cheeks, unsure of what to do, when Veld spoke to her.

"Tanya, my dear. Please fetch me my duffle bag."

It had been left by the doors when they had advanced through the room and Tanya scurried back to get it. It appeared to be rather heavy as they watched her heft it over her shoulder and hurry back. She put it down in front of Veld.

"Now, in the side pocket, there's a roll of duct tape, take that out, please."

When she held it in her hand, he asked her to go around the room and secure all hostages by taping their arms to the armrest of the chairs, but first she was to bind the agents' arms behind their backs. She looked apologetically at them as she circled around them. Both Hotchner and Reid crossed their arms behind their backs and let her tie them up.

As Tanya moved further into the room, Veld also circled them, testing their bindings.

"We don't want any surprises, do we?" he whispered in Reid's ear as he tugged on the tape. Apparently pleased with his findings he prodded him in the back with the gun to get him moving. He and Hotchner were moved to a table right next to the dance floor and sat down. He stood with them, waiting for Tanya to finish tying up the other hostages, before he secured her arms behind her back and pushed her down in a chair next to Hotchner.

At that moment Hotchner's cell phone rang, in the pocket of his jacket, by the bar.

Veld smiled. "Now, who might that be?"

He fetched the phone and looked at the display before pressing the on button.

"Agent Gideon, what a pleasure. How might I help you today?"

They could not hear Gideon's side of the conversation, but Veld did not seem to be intimidated or unsure at all. He behaved as if he was talking to an annoying telemarketer who called in the middle of dinner.

"No thank you, I'm fine where I am… uh-huh…no, no, that won't be necessary… Of course, but you don't have to take my word for it, do you? I believe you are watching me right now, aren't you?"

He turned around and waved to a security camera, before raising his gun and shooting it right into the lens, shattering it.

'He's obviously an expert marksman,' Hotchner reflected.

"How about a few words with your colleague?" Veld said into the phone, before pressing it against Hotchner's ear.

"Gideon."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Reid?"

"He's fine," he said, glancing over at Reid to let him know he had been asked for. "We all are."

Gideon sighed, partly in relief, partly in frustration.

"We're doing everything we can, just hang in there." Gideon, as well as Hotchner, knew that they were no longer to be considered FBI agents, they were now hostages first and foremost, and their only responsibility was to stay alive in order to be rescued.

Veld pulled the phone from Hotchner, once again deadly serious. "Agent Gideon? This will be our last transmission initiated from you. From now on, I will call if and when I want to talk. Do you understand me?"

"And why is that?"

"Because I like peace and quiet around me," he said sarcastically. "Make no mistake, Agent Gideon, the next time this phone rings, I will kill two hostages before answering."

He hung up, tossing the phone on the table in front of Hotchner, where it lay still, taunting him.

Hotchner felt disappointment burn in his gut. He had not anticipated this move. If Veld wouldn't negotiate, they were all doomed.

--

Outside the room Gideon clenched his teeth, looking grim. He had just been efficiently blinded and deafened. From now on, it would be anybody's guess what went on inside the lounge.

The rest of the team came closer, having heard the whole exchange on the speaker phone.

"That's never happened before," Elle observed. "What do we do now?"

"We let the SWAT team get ready, and then we'll find another way in," Gideon's answer was tense and clipped.

"I'll talk to the local office, get them to send a surveillance team," JJ said.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed. "It's the 21st century. There's technology we can use against him."

"Do it." Gideon's eyes were still glued to the small monitor, where there was now only static.

--

Veld pulled up a chair and sat opposite Reid, fixing him with his eyes. It didn't take long for Reid to become uncomfortable with the attention. He twisted a little, wanting to look away, but he didn't want to give Veld the upper hand.

"Spencer," he said. "Do you mind if I call you Spencer?"

"I prefer Dr. Reid, actually."

"Ah, but why so formal, my brother?" Reid raised an eyebrow at the epithet, but said nothing as Veld continued. "We have so much to talk about. I have so many questions for you. I'm actually quite glad this little opportunity has presented itself."

"Why?"

"I meant what I said when we met in Las Vegas. Do you remember? I do think you are brilliant. That is why it is so incomprehensible why you would choose to conform to a society that has nothing to offer people like us. You can outthink, outsmart, outtalk any person in here, except yours truly of course."

"Of course," Reid mumbled.

"But, in spite of your intelligence, you let them govern you, tell you what to do, shape your life. You should be with us, not them."

"Us? There's a league of homicidal psychopaths I don't know about?"

The backhand was vicious and unexpected. It toppled Reid's chair, sending him sprawling on the floor, his ears ringing.

Before he had a chance to recover Veld grabbed his arm and dragged him out on the dance floor. He was surprisingly strong. Reid struggled to get his feet under him, but didn't have time before Veld threw him back onto the floor.

"On your knees."

Without the use of his arms it took him longer than usually, but he managed to sit up on his heels.

"I said, on your knees."

Veld grabbed his hair and pulled up, making Reid rise up on his knees.

"And stay there."

He started pacing to and fro in front of Reid.

"You are a traitor to your peers," he spit out, contempt evident in his voice. "You could rise so high, be a leader, someone with respect. But instead you fraternize with the commons, the low-lifes and make your living by chasing down your brothers to force them into the same unnatural life you lead… Don't you see? Don't you understand? We could govern the world, make it out own! You just have to wake up and see your true potential."

"Maybe my megalomaniac gene just isn't as well-developed as yours."

This time the blow to his head was expected, but he had no way of parrying it, so it again sent him sprawling on the floor and again Veld pulled him up until he was on his knees. A trickle of blood was running from a cut on his lower lip. Veld stood right in front of him with the gun leveled between his eyes. He cocked his head and looked at Reid, a snide grin on his lips and a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"You work for the FBI. Isn't this what you do every day? Isn't risking you life for others in the job description?"

"Well, it's getting close to quitting time. Would you mind coming back tomorrow?"

Veld smiled mirthlessly. "You've been held hostage before, haven't you?"

"Yes…"

"What was that like?"

"Like a trip to Disneyland, what do you think?" Reid said, his eyes narrowed with a sneer.

Veld smiled again, lowering the gun and fishing up a cigarette pack from his pocket, lighting one up.

"This… aura of insolence against you captor, does it ever work? Because…" He squatted down until they were face to face and blew smoke in Reid's face, making him snort and cough as it got into his nose and eyes. "… I don't believe it. It's not you. You are a small, insignificant agent, who'd rather hide under your bed than stand up to a confrontation. So tell me, little Spencer. Who are you trying to impress? Me… or him?" Veld's eyes went to Hotchner and Reid's gaze followed. For a moment Hotchner's and Reid's eyes met for the first time in days, before Veld took a hold of Reid's chin and turned his gaze back.

"Because either way, it's not working."

He stood up and went around Reid to stand behind his back and Reid tried to turn his head enough to keep him in his line of sight.

"Poor, insecure Spencer," Veld said. "So desperate for a little respect and appreciation, but what do you get? You get burned at every turn."

And with that he took a strong hold of Reid's hair, turned his head to the front and pushed it down. He then pushed the burning cigarette against the skin at the nape of his neck.

Reid screamed and tried to pull away, bucking his body, but Veld's grip on his hair kept him where he was. Veld kept the cigarette on his neck until it was completely put out. Then he slowly released Reid's hair.

Reid's trembling thighs could no longer hold him upright and he slumped down on his heels, torso leaned over as he panted harshly and tried not to throw up. He could hear other hostages crying around him.

"Sit up!" Veld barked, and Reid tried. He straightened up, but his knees screamed in pain from the prolonged pressure and didn't want to cooperate. This time Veld took a hold of the back of his shirt and pulled, and Reid had no choice but to sit up or be suffocated.

When he was once again balancing on achy knees and tired thighs, Veld placed the barrel of the gun on top of Reid's head, pointing straight down.

"You think you know me, don't you?"

Reid wanted to deny it, but Veld forestalled him.

"No, no, the truth now. You think you know me."

He slowly dragged the gun along Reid's skull.

"You have profiled me."

He jabbed the gun into the skull.

"You have studied my habits."

The gun moved again, slowly downwards.

"You have anticipated my actions."

The gun was jabbed into the back of the head.

"You have mapped my personality."

The gun moved to the base of the neck, resting on the bright-red cigarette burn, making Reid hiss between his teeth.

"So tell me, great Dr. Reid, who knows me so well…"

Veld took a step back, the gun lifting off Reid.

"…will I shoot you?"

Reid hesitated only a millisecond before answering.

"Yes."

And he did.

--

TBC