The massive chair with Morgan in it tipped to the side, landing with a crash that made the floor beneath Prentiss's feet shake with the force of impact.

Hotch paused, reeling, and tried to regroup, a maneuver that consisted of raising his swaying head up from where he was crawling on his belly in the general direction of his friends. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, and finding his sense of balance no better, the Unit Chief resumed pulling himself forward. He tried to adjust his path to intersect with Morgan. It was more by luck than design that he seemed headed for success.

Once the resounding crash, and both Derek's and Emily's surprised exclamations quieted, Hotch's stuttering respiration was the only sound in the room. Harsh. Sometimes the exhale ended on a whimper.

Morgan ceased his efforts to make his boss stop his painful progress and lie still. Now he coaxed Hotch on, hoping to direct him to where the leather straps cut into his wrists with cruel force, although he wasn't sure how much good someone so debilitated would be. But he'll never stop trying as long as there's breath in his body, and that's the only chance we have right now.

"C'mon, Hotch. Try to head left a little…No! Left! Hotch, you've lost your sense of direction. Must be an inner ear thing…I need you to go left!"

"Morgan, let me try." From where she was bound to her chair, Prentiss had a better view of the two agents on the floor. And she had an idea. "Hotch! Listen to me!" The Unit Chief paused, hugging the ground; pinned beneath waves of nausea. "When I say to, push off to one side just a little. If it's the right way I'll tell you and then give it all you've got. Move as much as you can, okay? If it's the wrong way, no matter what it feels like, when I tell you, make your muscles do the opposite. Got it?"

"Yeah." Their leader's voice was a weak facsimile of its normally rich baritone.

Panting, Hotch moved what felt like left…the way Morgan had been telling him to go.

"No! Stop! Stop!"

Hotch wavered where he lay.

"Remember what the muscles you just used felt like, Hotch. Now do the opposite. C'mon. You can do it."

Against all the signals and instructions flashing through his brain, sending electrical impulses throughout his body, their panting leader moved in what felt the entirely wrong direction.

"Yes! You got it, Hotch! Keep going!"

Swallowing the sob on his own behalf for how damaged his internal circuitry must be, the Unit Chief struggled onward. Torturous minutes passed. Hotch grunted with effort. Both Prentiss and Morgan cheered him on as best their dry throats could manage.

When Morgan felt his boss half-roll against the back of the downed chair, mere inches from his bound hands, for the first time since this whole twisted game began, he felt genuine hope that they might escape.

It was exhilarating.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Send them to me, Garcia!"

"Done!"

Reid bent over his phone, studying plans and blueprints courtesy of Penelope's digital dance through the Dallas Department of Construction Permits. Rossi stood at his elbow. For the older agent to have made sense of the intricate layers of drafts, he would have needed to sort them and spread them and do a meticulous comparison.

Reid's brain moved at a different pace.

Hell, Dave thought. The kid's brain moves in a different dimension! "You see anything?"

"Gimme a sec." Eyes darting, fingers flicking over his cell's display, Spencer's memory caught and held each image, mentally assembling and overlaying them with inhuman precision and accuracy. "Got it!"

He straightened, looking a little wild-eyed. "There's another room, Rossi! In the penthouse! Another room!"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Jeff-the-doorman was cooling his heels in the hallway.

When he heard the young FBI agent's triumphant shout, he gave a long-suffering sigh. Whatever the lovely lady living in the most prestigious unit in the building was hiding, he hoped she had enough friends-in-high-places to fudge financial records or accomplish whatever else was needed to keep her from harm.

He wished he could get in touch with her and warn her, but that would mean leaving these intrusive agents unattended while he accessed records of how to reach the building's owners. Tenant contact information wasn't something that came with doorman territory.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

A small corner of Hotch's mind that could peek out from the terror and exhaustion, mused that along with having no concept of direction or balance, he'd now lost track of time.

He had no idea how long he'd been scrabbling at the stubborn straps of leather digging into Morgan's wrists. He wasn't even sure he was making progress in loosening them. But he was reassured that he must be doing something right by Derek's continuous encouragement.

Prentiss had fallen silent. She was conserving her sandpaper throat in case she was needed again. She'd used up most of her reserves directing Hotch in his journey across the floor. The man's body had had an alarming penchant for going off course.

But it was Hotch. He'd never stop. And he'd reached Morgan at last…for all the good it was doing.

Emily hung her head and imagined a bathroom with the toilet she urgently needed…and running water. Lots of pure, clear, fresh, running water. She was pulled from her reverie by a sudden change in the sounds she'd begun to tune out.

Both Morgan and Hotch were sobbing.

"You did it! You did it!" Derek's rasping cry of victory accompanied his lunging efforts to make stiff joints and muscles work. He pulled his hands, shoulders popping, from the loosened leather slimy with his own blood. Releasing his ankles, he stumbled to Prentiss. Fingers clumsy and nerveless from having the circulation impeded for so long, he spent precious minutes freeing her.

As soon as she was, Morgan scrambled back to where Hotch lay…quiet at last. Eyes closed. Submerged in his own misery now that he had done what he could for his teammates. Used up.

"Hotch…Hotch…Hotch…you did it, man…you did it…" Morgan scooped the still-trembling man into his embrace, pulling his boss's upper body onto his lap.

It never failed to surprise Morgan how substantial the Unit Chief looked layered beneath a shirt and suit jacket, but how slight his build really was.

Hotch felt fragile in his hands.

"You did it, Hotch…you did it…" Derek rocked his boss, holding him tighter as quiet sobs began to shake his depleted body.