Prentiss and Morgan strained toward Hotch's body, pulling with brutally painful force against their bonds.
"Is he breathing? Derek! Is he? Is he breathing!?"
"Can't tell. Too far away. Maybe. I dunno." There was misery in Morgan's voice. He tried to bounce his chair, tried to edge it closer to the bed, but Megan had chosen her furniture wisely. It was a heavy, ornate period piece. Even Derek's strength didn't have much impact. He could probably tip himself over, but that would gain them nothing.
"Hotch! HOTCH!" Bellowing, Morgan made a last desperate attempt to communicate. If their leader, their Unit Chief, Bossman…their friend…could still hear what was going on around him…if he was dying…Derek didn't want him to feel alone. He shouted for all he was worth, hoping that, if these were the last words Hotch ever heard, he'd draw comfort from them.
"Hotch! We're here, man. Me and Prentiss. We're here and I swear to God we'll make that bitch pay. Hotch, if you can hear me…you're the best damn boss I ever had. The only one I ever knew I could trust. I know you think I have issues with that, but, man, I'd give my life for you. And I do trust you with mine. Always have. Always."
Morgan's voice cracked, but recovered. "And all that I said about how it was for you growing up? I only know 'cause I had it rough, too. Different way, but maybe that's why I felt something in you from the first day I met you. Like a brother. Brother I always wanted. You're not alone, Hotch. I know what it's like to keep secrets…and to hurt so deep you can't tell anyone…But you're not alone. Not now. Not ever. Hotch…Hotch, we're with you, man…H-o-tch…"
Ending on a sob of frustration, wrists bleeding into the leather cinched around them, Morgan could hear Prentiss next to him, weeping; a grief-stricken counterpoint to his own words.
Exhausted, now that the unsub was gone and they didn't need to be on point, both agents gave in.
And the room was silent again.
Except for the soft sounds of sorrow.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"We can't stand around doing nothing."
Rossi was becoming more disgruntled by the moment. With Garcia lost in a convoluted twist of legal camouflage, they were well and truly clueless as to where their lost teammates might be. As the senior agent, Dave made an executive decision. "We're going back to that penthouse and doing a door to door." He turned to J.J. "Think you can get us a search warrant for the whole complex, just in case?"
"On it." The liaison pulled out her phone, glad to have something constructive to occupy her mind rather than the worry that had been nibbling away at her; dulling the edges of her usual ability to exude calm when all others were in panic-mode.
All three agents looked worn. They were running on caffeine and adrenaline. They hadn't slept or done more than grab quick snacks from vending machines for going on 48 hours.
And in missing-persons-world, 48 hours had an awful significance.
The statistics kept playing through Reid's mind with unrelenting accuracy. After 48 hours, if a solid lead isn't found, the chances of ever locating Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss decrease by 50%. And our leads at the moment equal absolutely zero.
He glanced at the clock on the wall of the Dallas PD.
And it's already been 44 hours…
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Prentiss couldn't look anymore.
She let her head fall forward and, desperate to focus on something, anything other than unnaturally still Hotch, she took inventory of her own body. Barring the presence of a clock, it was her only gage for guessing how long they'd been held captive. Just as she realized how empty her stomach was, a roiling growl from Morgan's brought a tired, mirthless smile to Emily's face.
"I could really use a bathroom break, ya know?" Her voice was weak, defeated, but after the utter silence that had fallen since Derek's farewell to his boss, it sounded loud and intrusive.
"Yeah. Me, too." Morgan sounded terrible; a combination of grief and of having shouted his throat raw in the hope that his words would ease Hotch to wherever he might be bound.
"Derek, we did the best we could. I don't see any other way we could've played it."
"I know, but…"
"But it didn't help Hotch. I know."
"Thing is, Emily…I really liked him. I mean more than just working with him. There's just something about him. Something…something…"
"Noble?"
"Yeah. Noble. Like if he'd been living in some other time, he'd have been a knight or a prince or something."
"Like we said…a good man."
"The best."
A few beats of silence again as each agent considered the place their leader had occupied in their lives as well as their hearts. Morgan's voice rumbled.
"I'm gonna find that bitch. I am."
"Well, we have to get out of here first." Prentiss straightened, her neck feeling stiff. He eyes couldn't help tracking over to Hotch again. She frowned. "Morgan?"
"Yeah."
"M-o-r-g-a-n? Did he move? Did he!?"
"What?..." Derek's head snapped up, eyes fastening on his boss.
"Wasn't his hand…the one farthest from us…by his side? Wasn't it?!"
Morgan stared at Hotch. The hand in question was resting just below the Unit Chief's ribs. When the unsub had been toying with him, she'd had free access to the entire front of the man's body. He was sure of it.
Both agents' eyes locked on the hand on Hotch's midriff.
Willing it to move and terrified that it wouldn't.