GAME
Chapter 7
The Crushing

What fun is destruction if no 'precious' lives are lost? – Kefka (Final Fantasy III)

Hotch crouched low on the floor, his knees under his chest and his arms over his head. He wanted to scream in panic as the ceiling relentlessly lowered onto him. He pressed up with his back, knowing it would make no difference, but unable to stop himself.

He felt the pressure across his shoulders as the mechanism brought the slab right down onto him. He felt his heart racing in his chest and his lungs sucked at the diminishing air as the concrete scraped the backs of his hands where he was protecting his head. The bone in his upper arm braced against the lowering ceiling for a second and then he screamed as he heard the loud crack as the bone shattered, and stuck through his skin, He felt a spurt of blood across his face and mercifully, Hotch fainted.

-0-0-0-

Garcia found another depression in the wall a few feet further round. Like before, though, nothing happened when she pressed it.

She had come across this before. Both had to be pressed together. She kept her hand in one while she reached across to the other.

Too far.

'I need you Hotch.' she said under her breath, and as she said it, she heard his terrifying scream. She ran across the room to the trap door, and hammered on it.

'Hotch! Hotch!' she cried 'I am trying to reach you! Hold on!'

She raced back to the switches. The only way she could do this was to lie down and use her foot in one, and her hand in the other. Pressing one with her hand, she lay down and reached her foot into the second one. As she pressed, the floor beneath her slid away, and she was on a slope, rolling downwards into another level.

She hit the floor hard, and as she did so, the lights came on.

She lay still for a moment trying to catch her breath, then she turned her head and looked around the room she found herself in.

There were several things of interest here, but there was one thing that stood out to her.

In the corner of the room there was a tiny crack between the wall and the floor, and through this crack was seeping a pool of blood.

Oh my good god! Hotch!

She crawled to the edge of the growing pool, and saw that it was fresh and still growing.

Hotch was on the other side of this wall, and was injured. She had to get this door open.

-0-0-0-

Dave brought the rest of the team up to speed in the conference room as soon as they arrived back. He explained to the team that the UnSub was keeping them apprised by sending them distressing video clips. He was half way through the briefing when his phone received the next video message. He passed it to Kevin, who sent the clip to the screen in the conference room.

Hotch was trapped in a tiny cell. It was dark in there, and they were watching through a night vision lens. The ceiling was lowering, and they saw him brace against it. His efforts had no affect on the speed that it was coming down on him, and they watched in horror as he was on his knees and then curled up on the floor. They saw his upper arm bend under the pressure, and suddenly give way, bone stuck through skin, and the clip ended.

Emily and Jordan stared in wide eyed shock.

'Have we just watched Hotch die?' Reid said under his breath.

No one else spoke. They all just stared at the screen.

Dave broke the silence.

'For god's sake we need to get Garcia out.'

'So what do we know so far?' Emily asked, her shaking voice betraying her crumbling compartments

'Everything except the location of the Hangar.' Kevin said. 'We even have a plan of the Hangar, with all the game rooms marked out, but we don't know where it is.'

'We need to go back to Lomax's house. We have to have missed something.'

Dave nodded. 'Let's go then.'

-0-0-0-

There was nothing on the door itself to open it. There was a key hanging from the ceiling, but there was no key hole in the door. The box in the middle of the room was labelled 'map'. She knelt beside it and opened it. The map was on a square of paper, and the map was of the room she was in. The key was shown, and the box, and a pattern on the floor that she could not see.

She smoothed the paper out on the top of the box, trying not to shake, staving off sheer panic for Hotch.

The pattern consisted of numbers. The numbers were blue and woven into a design of lilacs and purple. Numbers two and three were different. not so abstract, and standing out from the plan.

Two and three – why were they different – a clue.

'Just tell me you damned creep!' she shouted. 'What's so special about two and three?'

And it hit her. Prime numbers.

Did she have to step on the prime numbers in order? That seemed logical, but the floor wasn't marked. She was going to have to guess.

She looked in the box again and at the bottom was a small piece of charcoal.

Quickly, aware that Hotch's life depended on her, she drew a grid on the floor to match the map – seven squares by seven. Then she marked two and three. Then five and seven. she stepped on them in order, and tried to remember the next one.

Eleven.

She jumped across to eleven then thirteen, back to seventeen then nineteen.

What was next? Her brain wouldn't work. All she could think of was Hotch bleeding and hurt, and wishing she was better at maths.

not twenty not twenty one not twenty two.......

Twenty three!

That was a big jump back, and she wasn't sure she'd make it. She looked at the square and jumped.

She landed in 23, and started to cry.

twenty seven next? She was about to jump when she remembered three nines!

Not twenty seven!

For heaven's sake, Penelope, concentrate!

Twenty nine has no factors; that was just a step. Next thirty one. Easy. Now........... thirty seven.......... easy again.

Almost there – forty one, three squares away. Next forty three.

That was right over the other side of the room.

She took a deep shuddering breath and jumped. She landed on her hands and hit the wall. She felt something give in her wrist and her hand bent side ways. She stood up on the square nursed her broken wrist. She had no time to waste though. What was the next one?

Forty seven? She wasn't certain, but time was running out for her boss.

She jumped to forty seven.

Nothing happened for about ten seconds. She was about to go back to the map and try something else, when the door where the pool of blood was still growing slowly slid upwards about a foot.

Garcia crawled to the opening and the shock of what she saw froze her in her tracks.

-0-0-0-

Lomax had not been home. Dave had had a cop sit outside twenty four seven since they had been there, just in case he decided to return.

But that would have been too easy and nothing ever was!

They searched the tiny house from top to bottom and found nothing. Lomax had been thorough at covering his tracks.

When they arrived back, Kevin had brought up a map of all the aircraft hangars within a twenty mile radius of Quantico. The twenty miles was just arbitrary, but they had to start somewhere.

'The ones in blue', he said, 'are in use for aircraft. The red ones are disused, mostly left over from the war. The black ones are mainly used for storage, so it is possible that he's used one of these.'

'We'll do the red one's first.' Dave said. 'What do we know of each one?'

'Satellite images of these three', Kevin indicated the map, 'show these as badly damaged. The four here are undamaged, and more likely to be the ones. This one here was used as storage in the past, and was divided into rooms. Now abandoned. Probably the best place to start the search.

'Ok we'll start there.' Dave said. 'We'll take three cars. Not you, Lynch.'

'But Pen....'

'No. You can't carry a side arm. You are more useful here. We might need information.'

Kevin knew he was right, but he wanted to be there when they found Garcia. He didn't have any hope for Hotch and wondered how the team managed to keep it together.

But it was just that they were trained not to fall apart in a crisis. Inside they were frantic.

Spencer Reid had a deep and profound love for their Unit Chief. It was an unspoken love. Spencer knew it could never come to anything. But Hotch knew and was deeply moved by it. Although outwardly calm, inside Spencer was dying.

Dave and Aaron were best friends and socialised outside work – when Dave could get Hotch to leave the office! Dave had been there for him through his emotional divorce, and was Uncle Dave to little Jack. But he was also Acting Chief, and had to keep it together for the sake of the others.

Morgan was enraged by anyone or anything that disturbed the team. When a member was hurting, so was he; his empathy ran deep in his blood, and the thought that they might have lost their boss was tearing him apart. He showed his emotions more than the others, but even so, other than the clenched fists and set jaw, he was the same as usual.

Emily had had a rough start with Hotch and it had taken time for her to be accepted on the team. But now she was part of it she guarded the privilege fiercely, and like Morgan, was affected deeply when a team member was in trouble. She had a great admiration for Hotch, and was terrified they might have lost him. But she was a strong woman and kept her emotions safely in their designated area.

Jordan was new, and had already felt the sharp edge of Hotch's tongue. But although quick to discipline, he was also quick to commend, and she greatly admired him. She hoped to have a chance to work with him some more, and the thought that he could be dead made her very sad.

The three cars drove up the ramp into the traffic, and drove straight out into the surrounding country side. The First hangar they were going to check out had been built in the war and was once on the edge of an airfield, now overgrown and abandoned. The road was maintained, or had been until three years previously when the storage company who rented it went bust. They pulled up a short distance from the hangar, and stood waiting for instructions.

'Our UnSub is likely close by.' Dave said, 'so stay alert.'

They walked in a line, fanned out and guns drawn, ready for anything. Adrenalin pumping, the agents scanned the landscape ahead for any movement.

Suddenly there was the sound of a shot and a cry from Reid, who fell forward onto his face.

'Man down!' Morgan yelled, and the others were on the ground, ready.

-0-0-0-

Was he dead? Was she too late?

Carefully, terrified she was going to hurt him, she put her arms around him and drew him out into the room. His arm was smashed, and he was covered in blood from the compound fracture.

She laid him out on the floor and checked his pulse and breathing.

He had a pulse, although she didn't think it sounded strong, His respiration was slow and shallow.

'Hotch, it's Garcia. Can you hear me?'

He didn't respond, but she wiped blood from his face with her dress, and cradled him on her lap. With one arm around him, she ignored the pain of her broken wrist as she held his hand and talked to him, crying with shock and fear for him.

'Hotch, please wake up. I need you. Please, move if you can.'

Trembling fingers tightened around hers, and very slowly, His eyes opened and he looked up at her.

'You got me out?' he whispered softly.

She combed her fingers through his hair.

'Yes Sir. I got you out.' she sobbed with relief.

He managed a tiny smile for her.

'I'm not......... very good at........ games.' he said, fighting for breath.

'Shh.' she said, touching his face and feeling no embarrassment. 'Rest here for a while.'

Hotch closed his eyes and whispered, 'Hurts.' and fainted with the pain that was tearing into him.

Garcia cradled him in her arms and cried without shame.