"Mistress said to bring this over for you." The young (about 14 years old, Hotch guessed) dark-haired young girl was again standing at the door to his cell with a covered tray.
"And she said to tell you that the water has been turned back on to full strength." The wizen man was once more standing protectively behind her.
"But, if I were you, I wouldn't try her patience," he added. "That never turns out well."
"She's used to getting her own way," Hotch guessed.
"You could say that," the man grinned at him knowingly.
"Where am I, exactly?" Hotch was trying to keep the conversation going.
"On our island, at Farm #3," the girl replied as she placed the tray on the floor and slid it across to him.
"Does the island have a name?" was his next question.
"Hutchins's Island," the man continued grinning at him. "And, no, there isn't any way off of it. So, I would suggest that you adjust."
"Come on, now, 602," he told the girl. "We need to get this door locked and get back to the main house. There is work to be done."
And Hotch was again left alone in his cell to think about his son as he ate dinner.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
"So, 751, are you done thinking?" It was the next morning and 415 was standing in the doorway of Hotch's cell staring in at him. There was no indication that he had brought any food but the water was still on, for which Hotch was grateful.
"Are you asking on behalf of Mistress or because you are nosy?" Hotch asked.
"Still feisty, I see," was the reply. "Mistress may not like that."
"But then again, maybe she will," Hotch retorted. "Why don't you let her decide for herself?"
"She generally does," the man told him with a smile. "She generally does."
"You might want to get cleaned up," he added. "I strongly suspect she will be arriving shortly for a visit with you."
After 415 had left, Hotch thoughtfully stroked his chin. He had been unable to shave since he had been abducted and, with no access to a mirror, he had no idea of how he looked. He could feel that his hair, too, had grown considerably longer than he usually kept it. Unbidden, he had a mental picture of Reid with his perpetually unruly hair and smiled fondly at the memory. Reid could probably provide all kinds of information on how fast, on the average, each individual hair grew. Maybe, when this was over with and he had been rescued, the two of them would look like twins. Silently he began to chuckle as he thought about his various team member's reactions to his new 'look'.
Well, a shave and a haircut may be out of the questions, but he still could give himself a good wash; just in case the water got turned off again.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
"Your decision, 751?" Mistress was standing in the door of his cell looking in at him.
"I have just one more question," Hotch was watching her carefully trying to gauge her reaction.
"Only one?" she asked sarcastically. "You do realize that you are trying my patience, don't you? And that's not a privilege I allow many people."
"You're pretty much used to getting your own way, aren't you?" Hotch guessed. "Very few people ever question you."
"I get plenty of questions," was the reply. "And I deal with each one of them appropriately. Now, this time I am asking the question. Have you made up your mind?"
"My question," Hotch continued. "Concerns the anonymity you promise both parties. How, when I am the only man on the island who is chained up, can I remain anonymous?" He shot a glare at the woman.
"The way it usually is done," the woman spoke patiently. "Is that several men are 'summoned' at the same time. That way there are several possibilities. And, as for the being chained, that will be temporarily removed. Just remember that we do keep cattle here on the island and we are in possession of the instruments that are sometimes necessary to control them. I can guarantee you that the men here won't hesitate to use them if necessary."
"Now, am I going to make arrangements for Master Jack, Aunt Jessica, and young Henry to be captured, or are you going to make the right decision?"