Reid awoke to a splitting headache as his body slammed against something with a rocking motion. Despite the ringing in his head, he forced his eyes open.
"Hey kid." He was greeted by Morgan's voice. For a moment he thought that maybe he was home. That maybe this nightmare was over, but as his eyes began to adjust to the bright light, he was able to take in his surroundings. They were in the back of a van, white if the exterior color matched the interior, with tinted windows and rough blue carpet on the floor. His hands were tied together and strung up above him while a short length of rope ran from his bound ankles to a hook in the base of the wall behind him, preventing him from straightening his legs. Across from him, Morgan sat against the wall. His hands were tied behind his back and thick ropes lashed his arms to his sides. His legs were tied at the knees and ankles with a short length of rope pulling them around and behind him and securing them to the wall. A knotted bandana hung loosely around his neck. Reid's eyes struggled to focus as they traveled over Morgan...lingering on his split lip...the torn collar of his shirt...the ridges the course ropes made across his arms...the way his shirt sleeve bunched up where his shoulder was pressed against the wall...
"Reid!" Morgan insisted. Reid shook his head, trying to shake the fog from his mind. How long had Morgan been speaking?
Morgan finally caught Reid's eyes and a hint of a smile flashed across his face.
"Hey there kid." He grinned. Reid winced, pulling himself up by his bound hands.
"You shouldn't have come." he snapped, a sudden bought of fear flashing over his face as he fully realized their situation. "What were you thinking! Charging in with no backup, no plan?"
"Hey!" Morgan retorted, "I was trying to keep my friend from getting shot! What the fuck did you expect me to do? Wait outside until they drug your corpse out through the front door?"
"Yes! Because then at least you would still be out there instead of..." Reid's voice broke and he leaned his head back against the jostling wall, eyes closed, fighting off tears.
"Reid look..." Morgan began, his eyes full of concern, "I'm sorry. But I'm here now, and I'm going to get us out of here. I promise. Ok?" he asked, staring worriedly at Reid.
Eyes still closed, Reid nodded. Morgan let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall of the van. Reid, having regained his composure, pulled himself up again and opened his eyes.
"Where's Alex?" he asked, noticing her absence for the first time as the panic of seeing Morgan wore off.
"I'm not sure." Derek replied, "I woke up only about 10 minutes before you did."
"Why the hell was my agent left without any backup?!" Hotchner demanded, the local police chief looking very small next to his imposing frame.
"We don't have that many officers," the police chief stammered, "And that area is in the middle of nowhere, most cell phones don't work that far south." It wasn't a good answer, but Hotch knew he wouldn't get anything better out of the man.
Frustrated, he stormed into the empty back office the BAU had been provided with and slammed the door shut, but the thin glass walls did little to muffle his scream as he knocked a box of files off the table and onto the floor. Defeated, he slid down the wall, coming to rest sitting among the pile of scattered files, head in his hands, shoulders shaking. JJ and Rossi looked at one another with concern, but neither of them moved. After a few minutes, Hotch picked himself up off of the floor and began to collect the scattered files, haphazardly stacking them back on the table, when he froze, file in hand.
"Should we..." JJ asked, her voice laced with concern as she noticed Hotch's face.
"Yep." Rossi replied, already moving towards the glass door. They had barely taken two steps before Hotch burst out of the office.
"The driver's license photo," He stammered, "Where is Alexandra Davis' driver's license photo."
"Here," JJ offered, confused, but pulling it up on her tablet and handing it to Hotch.
"It's not right," he said, "look." he placed the tablet and the file he was holding side by side on the table. On the tablet, a young brunette woman with brown eyes stared back. On the piece of paper was a photocopy of an ID, dated 2005. Though the woman who stared out was several years younger, likely in her teens, but there was no doubt that she bore little to no resemblance to the woman pictured on the tablet, and she definitely was not the woman on the footage with Spencer.
