Sorry it's so short, had a hard time writing this chapter. Hope you enjoy.


Two gun shots rattled the room, and Lissa screamed involuntarily, jumping towards her mother, before everything went silent.


An hour had passed since the initial two gunshots, since which point neither of the two parties on either side of the glass only two centimetres thick had had any contact with each other.

That didn't mean that the tensions weren't mounting however, it was just the opposite – the FBI and SWAT just metres away didn't want to storm the building for fear of killing hostages in the cross fire, and with the blinds shut, they couldn't just shoot him through the window – and Gorrows understood that with each passing second his chance of survival was decreasing, so he couldn't just leave, he'd be shot on the spot.

His face was drawn and pale, and there was sheen of sweat clearly formed across his forehead as the stress got to the middle aged man, and the perfectly polished silver gun in his hand, which was trained on the seven hostages huddled at the back of the room, got even heavier in his slippery hands.


As that terrifying silver piece of metal was aimed back at her, though not (it seemed) intentionally as the slightly deranged man appeared to be pointing it randomly, Rosie screwed her eyes, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to protect her daughter – the daughter currently curled in her lap, shaking with almost-hidden hysterics, her hands clamped firmly over her ears, and her face buried deeply into her mother's chest – trying to block out the world, and the unnamed man keeping them hostage at gun point.

She glanced around at her fellow hostages, not a profiler in the same level as her Spencer, but having lived with him since they were both around twelve years old and starting university for the first time, she had picked up more than a few of his habits and abilities.

The nice young woman who had been working on the till had silent tears streaming down her face, though it was hidden behind her arms currently wrapped around her upper body, it didn't take a professional profiler to realise she was terrified. The two business men's faces were stoic, refusing to allow emotion to show, else their barrier would break down and they would burst into tears as well, although they were still sat as far away from each other as possible, something the redheaded mother thought was weird considering their position. And the teenagers were just holding each other, as if anchoring the other to the world, and though it didn't look like either of them were outright crying, the young girl's face was deeply buried into the shoulder of the man who was obviously her boyfriend, in a similar manner to Lissa, as if she too was blocking out the world, or at least attempting to.

And finally, Rosie herself (as long as the gun was pointed at someone other than herself and her still a baby daughter) kept her face perfectly, having to stay strong outwardly for her daughter, though internally, she just wanted to scream for her Spencer.

She wondered what he was doing. Whether he knew what was happening to them. If anyone knew if they were in here.

As Lissa let out another little whimper, muffled through her mother's clothing, the man with a gun stopped what appeared to be a conversation with himself to train his gun on the nine year old.

"Shut her up, or I will do it for you," he all but growled at the young mother, the first words she had actually heard him say.

As she rocked her daughter the way she did while she was still a newborn, Rosie thought back on his voice. For though the words were harsh, his voice was ... hurt, and lost.

Rosie almost smiled on the inside. He deserved to be hurt. He would hurt them. But then again, if he didn't have anything to lose, what would stop him from just shooting all of them.

Rosie tightened her grip on the small girl, as she altered her position slightly, moving her daughter as far away from the mad man as possible.

She wasn't going to let anything happen to her baby girl.


"Garcia, you got an I.D on the hostages yet?" Morgan and Emily crowded around the small phone that led back to the one and only Penelope Garcia.

"Morgan, there's only one camera in the building and the seventies want it back. It's difficult to get accurate facial recognition from it. However I am a genius so..." Her voice trailed only to re-appear a minute and a half later, "Told you I was a genius, okay, the two teenagers are Katherine Barker and Callum Waters, both of whom are supposed to currently be at school, cashier is Rachel Wells, got her driving license and not much else, the two men in suits are Alan Jackson and Toby Avery, and red head mother and daughter are ... oh, my god." She just stopped talking.

"What is it Garcia?" Morgan's voice was joking-ly annoyed with the tech.

"Is the resident genius within earshot?" Garcia's normally bubbly voice was almost flat.

"No. Why?" He was truly confused, but Emily's face tightened as she considered the worst outcome.

"The mother and daughter are Rosalind and Melissa Reid."

"It's a fairly common surname, Baby Girl."

But his voice lost its firmness when he noticed Emily's face rapidly paling, and glancing towards Reid, who was maybe five metres away, talking rapidly with Hotch and Rossi.

It had been four months since she stumbled upon Spencer's 'other' life, but she kept in regular contact with Rosie, and Lissa had only recently stopped calling her 'Just' and she was now simply 'Emily' to the little girl.

"No, I've found a marriage certificate and an adoption certificate."

"What do you mean?" Morgan's voice was tight, having put the pieces together by himself easily enough, but needing spoken confirmation of his fears.

"Reid's wife and daughter are in that building. And he doesn't even know."


Thank you for reading, and please review - I want to try and get up to seventeen reviews for this chapter (that's only four more)
Mia