Nearing the end of their search, with only five units left to go, Rossi's worry index was ramping up exponentially.
Not a clue. Not a shred of evidence had turned up that could lead to their missing teammates. And he'd been so sure of his hunch that the unsub had been incapable of transporting them any significant distance. Time was ticking down. Nearly 48 hours had passed since Hotch, Morgan and Prentiss were last heard from. As the odds plummeted, the rest of the team were on the cusp of never finding the missing agents again.
Dave didn't want to let himself consider the rest of the equation: never finding them alive…
Reid, on the other hand, was increasingly perplexed for quite different reasons. He'd begun to frown soon after they started the apartment-by-apartment hunt. Now, whatever was bothering him seemed to have supplanted his sense of urgency. He stood in a master bedroom on the 29th floor and turned in slow, meditative circles.
"C'mon, kid. Times a-wastin'." Rossi let aggravation creep into his voice.
When Reid stopped turning only to train his puzzled gaze on the walls and ceiling joints, Dave hesitated. You could generally depend on every action the young genius took to have a purpose. Sometimes the endgame was discernible only to Spencer's extraordinary intellect. But there was always reason behind everything he did.
Rossi raised his chin, assessing his partner through narrowed eyes. "Reid? What's going on?"
The young agent gave his head the barest shake, lips compressing into a tight line.
Dave pushed. "Kid! C'mon. You see something?"
"I dunno." Spencer stepped back, staring at the wall with the huge, walk-in closet. "Maybe."
"Now isn't the time to hedge your bets, kid. All in or all out…lay your cards on the table."
"It's just…" Reid backed up a few more steps, rubbing his jaw with one long-fingered hand. "Something's not right."
Rossi knew when the magical mind of Spencer Reid needed time to assemble the billions of kilobytes of data revolving through it. He tensed, but kept quiet. When Jeff-the-doorman peeked around the corner with a sour expression that said 'I thought you guys were in such a hurry…what gives?' The senior agent shot him a glare. Jeff's words died unspoken.
"Something…something…" Eyes going wide with recognition, Reid whipped out his phone with the speed of a gunslinger. "Garcia!? Garcia!"
"I'm here! I'm here…" The tech analyst was a little shaken by the vehemence with which her name was being shouted.
"Can you find blueprints of this building? One that includes the penthouse? Original ones?"
"I…uh…uh…Sure! Of course! On it!"
Reid closed the connection, turning to Rossi. "The rooms are all pretty much the same size, except the bedroom…the master bedroom."
"Well, kid…" a note of disappointment entered Dave's voice. He'd thought the young genius had, against all odds, discovered something. "…penthouses don't usually follow the same floor plan as the rest of a building's units. They're supposed to be more luxurious. Of course, the master suite would be bigger."
"No…Rossi, that's not it…I saw every inch of that place both times we went through it. Every room was a little more spacious…except the main bedroom. It's smaller! A lot smaller!"
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hotch was making progress.
But at great cost to himself.
Movement made his nausea and vertigo worse, yet once the sensations attained a plateau of debilitating proportions, they seemed to level off. The same couldn't be said of his panic. What had started as acute alarm at his own condition, had gone past fear and attained terror. If he hadn't had teammates nearby who needed him, Hotch might have huddled in on himself and sobbed his distress.
But eventually he would have accessed the iron discipline at his equally iron core and tried to find a way out.
He just wasn't built to quit.
And he had a son who was always in the back of his mind. Hotch really wanted to see his boy grow up and find a career and a woman with whom he could have a family. Jack was a flame in Hotch's heart and a goad in his soul, forcing him to defy all the signals his body was sending him. Forcing him to ignore Morgan's pleas for him to stop, to put his own welfare before that of his team just this once.
"Hotch! It's not worth it! What're you gonna do if you reach us? Just…lie…still! Hotch! Can you hear me?!"
Hotch could hear.
He just wouldn't do as he was told. If this was some poison sluicing through his veins, if there was a time factor involved that meant he'd lose his life, or his sanity, or what motor function he could muster in spite of the dizzying sickness…there was no time to rest.
Hotch was terrified that lying still…maybe in a coffin…might be all he could do in the end.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The thing was, Derek Morgan had a habit of making promises to himself; of taking oaths that no one else ever heard.
When Morgan first met Hotch, he'd thought his boss was a hard-assed, drill-sergeant, tough son-of-a-bitch. He still thought that. But now he also thought the BAU Unit Chief was a soft-hearted, kind, generous, complicated, loving man who'd be first in line to lay down his life if any member of his team required it.
One of the oaths Morgan had taken in the privacy of his own soul was to give back to Hotch every bit of loyalty and sacrifice that the man gifted his team. Hotch never asked for any favors or understanding, and Derek wondered if that had something to do with the bleak childhood he sensed in his leader's background.
Wherever it came from; whatever had formed it, Morgan treasured such a man. Was proud to work with him and would have his back as long as he lived.
But he would not sit idly by, lashed to an enormous hunk of furniture and bear witness to that man's agony.
With every last ounce of strength he could muster, with effort that came from his heart as well as his muscles, with a surge that popped joints and tore tendons, Morgan made his move.
Megan Kane would have sworn no one could tip over the antique throne chairs she'd brought in at great expense as a joke that the panic room was her 'little castle.' Especially if they were tied to them.
Megan Kane would have been wrong.