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Present-day

Aaron walked into his office and sat down heavily in his chair. He stared at the opposite wall for a long moment before shaking his head.

In three days he faced the anniversary of his rescue. Twenty-two years. Aaron shuddered at the thought. He couldn't remember everything from that time but what he could kept him up for hours. He and thirteen other boys got the chance to live again.

Aaron shut his eyes for a moment, images of each of the boys' faces flashing behind his eyelids. The news still enjoyed to call them 'boys' despite himself boasting the age of thirty-six. The other boys had also grown immensely, except Nathanial who killed himself seven years after the kidnapping.

Aaron opened his eyes and found himself staring at the wall again, as opposed to a basement.

He carefully lifted his briefcase onto his desk and snapped open the locks. He left it that way for some time before pushing open the lid. He pulled out a small sketch pad that had been battered through the years.

He glanced out of his half-open blinds. His team was just starting to trickle in. Except for Reid. Aaron smiled softly, that kid was always in first. He paused and pushed the sketch pad aside, opting for a piece of paperwork left in his tray. He read through it quickly before signing the bottom, approving Reid's four-day leave. The kid needed a break.

Aaron stuffed the form away and turned his focus onto the sketch pad. He sucked in a deep breath and opened the first page. The sketch was poor since his hands had been shaking. But Aaron remembered. The sketch had been drawn twenty-two years ago. He turned to the next page then the page after that, all the same face, but each getting clearer the more he skipped ahead until he got to the twenty-first sketch. There was a note instead, from Haley. Aaron clenched his fists. She'd broken off their marriage later that year. She told him that she couldn't live with his obsession with his job and of finding the guy in every single one of his sketches.

Aaron stared at the sad words of his ex-wife.

'He's gone. He cannot hurt you anymore. We love you, Aaron.'

He was about to pick up a pencil to start a new and hopefully more accurate sketch when he stopped. He blinked slowly and saw his son's sad little face.

He opened his eyes and let them wander to the photo he had on his desk. Jack was one in the photo and he was beaming at the camera.

God, Aaron thought, he reminds me of... he shook his head sadly and released the sketch book. The pages fluttered closed.

He had to start realising that the guy who kidnapped him twenty-two years before was never going to be found.

May 1986

Aaron woke up with a start. There was a warm weight on his chest and he jolted suddenly when he saw someone resting there.

An angry grumble followed and Spencer turned his head and squinted at Aaron.

"Oh," whispered Aaron. "Sorry for waking you."

Spencer grumbled something and turned his head back so he could rest it on Aaron again.

Aaron blinked slowly, wondering if he could try and sleep again when the light under the door faltered. Aaron stared at it as something obstructed the light.

"Spencer," he whispered as a scratching escaped from the locked door. Spencer shifted but didn't open his eyes. There was another scratching sound and Aaron sat up suddenly and grabbed the kid on his chest.

"Ow!"

Aaron knew the shadow under the door was a pair of feet and he pushed Spencer behind him, ramming him into a ten-year-old who'd been trying to sleep awkwardly against the wall.

"You hit me," the boy hissed, then his eyes found what Aaron was looking at and he huddled toward them. "It's him."

The other boys were slowly waking and realising that the only light in the room was obstructed. The basement became a beacon of hushed whimpers and sobs from the younger boys and the ones shaking badly.

The door sprung open and Aaron turned away from the guy stood at the top of the stairs. Before he could he saw a nasty looking knife in his hand.

"Evening, boys," he said in a gravelly voice. Aaron looked over at Spencer who was rocking slowly, his eyes blown wide and staring at nothing.

Aaron started to pray in his head, begging the man to not come over.

He thanked god when the man walked to the opposite side of the room.

Sawyer, an eight-year-old who Spencer had described as obnoxious but loyal, and just a little bit off the walls, was still sleeping in a curled position on the floor.

The ten-year-old next to Aaron leaned close to whisper, "meat man's goin for him."

Aaron stared at the younger boy. This hadn't happened yet. Aaron didn't know what the kid meant. What was going to happen to Sawyer?

There was a sudden scream and Aaron felt Spencer tense behind him.

He looked back at the man that the kids had so aptly named 'meat man.' He had Sawyer by the scruff of his neck and the kid was kicking and screaming hysterically.

"No! Help, someone, h-help!"

The other boys stared at Sawyer, quaking for him.

Another boy, one Spencer had told Aaron the name of but which he couldn't remember, stood slowly. "D-Don't hurt him, mi-mister."

Meat man ignored him and lifted the knife to Sawyer's throat. "Sit down," he snapped, yanking Sawyer back with him. The boy scrambled back onto his back side and hid his face in his hands.

All they could do was watch as meat man dragged Sawyer up stairs. The door was slammed shut and the key wrenched through the lock.

There was a harsh, guilty silence as the light under the door returned to normal. The boys glanced around at each other, some of them sniffing. Fifteen, thought Aaron, counting them all again. Fifteen including him and Spencer.

Aaron looked over at the door for a moment before wrenching himself around to check Spencer. The boy was staring at him.

Before Aaron could break his stunned silence Spencer suddenly lunged at him, croaking out a sob as he opened his little arms. Aaron let Spencer hug him and press his watery eyes into his shirt.

Aaron just held the kid, his eyes looking blankly at the other boys.

"He does that all the time." Aaron looked at the boy speaking. He looked a similar age to Aaron himself. "I'm Joe, by the way, Joe Roberts. Been here a month."

Aaron nodded. "Aaron Hotchner." He looked up at the ceiling, listening to the screams above pitch up.

"Poor Soy," mumbled the boy who had stood.

An older boy patted him on the back. "It's alright, Nathanial, you were really brave to do that, but you know what meat man's like. Don't look at him and don't speak."

Aaron could tell Spencer wasn't coping and he pulled the kid back.

"Spencer," he whispered.

"That's the third s-since I've been here," Spencer said and he went back to rocking himself soothingly.

"We'll get out of here," Aaron said, not even convincing himself.

"No, we won't." Aaron turned and glared at the boy that whispered it. He recognised him as Wally, an older boy who Spencer had told Aaron about. He was one of the kids who'd been there the longest and he frightened Spencer the first few weeks with stories of how meat man killed the boys.

"Shut up," snapped Aaron, pulling Spencer up into his arms. "How old are you? Thirteen? There are kids much younger than you and far braver, maybe you should stop tearing them down."

The other boys seemed to agree with Aaron so Wally just folded his arms and huffed.

Aaron looked back at Spencer who continued to rock. There were still screams drifting down to them. He put his hands on Spencer's shoulders and turned him so they were facing each other.

"Spencer, what do you wanna be when you grow up?" Spencer's rocking slowed a little but he didn't speak so Aaron continued. "My dad wants me to be a mechanic," he said. Spencer looked up at him. "I... I don't really wanna be a mechanic though."

"What do you wanna be?" Spencer whispered, staring up at Aaron with sad eyes. The screaming upstairs went muffled for a moment before growing suddenly in intensity.

Aaron shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. What about you?"

Spencer half smiled until he remembered the sounds of the screams and he ducked his head.

"I wanna work for the FBI," he mumbled. Aaron raised his eyebrows and went to ask more when the screaming stopped.

Present

Rossi stepped inside Erin's office. She looked up from her paperwork and waited for him to shut the door.

"Are you okay-" they both asked simultaneously. Erin smiled to herself and put her pen down slowly.

"I'm alright," Dave said, coming to sit in the chair opposite. "How are you?"

"I've been better, David. I can't believe... twenty-two years-"

"I know." They stared at each other for a long time before Erin broke it and looked toward the blinds.

"Have you spoken to Aaron?"

Dave shook his head. "He never likes to talk about it, but... he struggles."

Erin hadn't known who Aaron was when she employed him, it was only after Dave went over the 1986 case that she realised who the man was, linking him quickly to the fourteen-year-old they'd met many years prior. Erin had invited him over for dinner which had been awkward since she and David were still bitter from their divorce in 1994.

Aaron never spoke of 86 and the basement.

"Well... at least we have each other," said Erin and Dave smiled. They'd rekindled somehow in 2000, not before David had his way with several other ladies. Dave doubted a wedding for the two but Erin had boasted her engagement ring for two years already, he wasn't sure she'd let him wait much longer.

"I'll talk to Aaron," Dave said. "See how he's coping."

Late June 1986

"Spencer! Where is he!?"

The boy's jostled forward, shoving past Aaron as he looked back at the house.

"Go! He'll catch up!"

"He's three!" Aaron tried to push back in the direction of the house but a hand stopped him.

"He will have to catch up, mate. When meat man figures we're gone-" Joe took a deep staggering breath and shook his head. He looked back up at Aaron. "We have to go."

Present

"For the last time, I'm not going to talk about it."

Dave sighed heavily and pulled the pamphlet back from Aaron. "It would help. And then... maybe I could understand-"

"No. What is there to understand? I gave my statement twenty-two years ago. You read it. What more do you want to know?" Aaron had his frown set firmly into place as the older man slowly folded the pamphlet, his eyes cast downward.

Aaron shifted a little uncomfortably, waiting for the Italian to speak.

"I want to hear it from you, Aaron. I want you to tell me, I don't want to read it."

"You think you understand this all? Because I'm sorry to say, Rossi, you've no idea-"

Dave turned his head suddenly, his eyes wide with imploreing. "Then make me understand," he said, his voice low and tight... and desperate.

Aaron grit his teeth together then and met David's eyes. "I will never talk about that night. Especially not to you." He was a little taken aback by his own words as was Dave who blinked at him and stood up slowly from his chair. Aaron dropped his head into his hands and pulled them down his face.

"Look, Dav-"

Rossi held up a hand to stop him. He looked at him with shining eyes. "I can understand one thing, Aaron," he whispered coldly. "You came home that night. My son did not."

Aaron felt something akin to nausea swirl in the pit of his stomach and he looked away in shame.

"It was my boy killed that night, my son. You owe it to me... to him to tell me about that night." Dave turned his head toward the door as tears started to roll off his cheeks.

He took a step forward as Aaron watched guiltily. "But you're right. I will never understand. I'll never understand how a three-year-old child couldn't fit through the very same basement window that a fourteen-year-old could. Nor will I understand how thirteen other boys got out while my son was left behind."

Dave snapped his head back sharply, his eyes wet but fierce with anger. He pulled open his clenched teeth, his lips turned back in a snarl. "And I'll never understand how, twenty-two years later my boy's killer still hasn't been found."

Aaron looked down at his desk. He waited until the door slammed shut before looking up again. His gaze soon fell upon his sketch book and he felt his fist clench.

"I'm gonna find you," he hissed. The room hummed with silence as Aaron's fist grew tighter. "For Spencer."

Ooo, what happened down in that basement? All I can tell you is that the next chapter is going to get emotional.

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See you soon.