Disclaimer: see chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, read, favorited, and followed! (I think that should just about cover all of you.)

It's really hard to write when you have to watch an episode for research and then another episode and then another... (Also, someone needs to take QI away from me.) Anyway, many episodes later, I have finished this chapter, so enjoy! :)


The radio played softly in the background.

Desperate not to talk about the incident but despising silence all the same, Garcia had turned on the radio the moment Hotch started the engine, and it was fine by him. She had called him after attempts at reaching Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, and even Reid proved fruitless, and he had in turn called the the local PD who was currently processing her apartment.

As they drove along the nearly empty roads to the hospital for Garcia's sexual assault exam, her cellphone rang suddenly startling the both of them. Seeing Derek Morgan's name appear on her screen, Garcia harrumphed in an almost petulant manner. She was tempted not to answer - he hadn't, why should she? - and probably wouldn't have if Hotch hadn't been looking at her expectantly. "Hello?"

"Hey, Garcia," Morgan's voice sounded subdued and tired.

"Hey? That's all you're going to give me? Hey?" Garcia snapped, her emotions getting the better of her as the night's events took their toll.

But Morgan would have none of it. "Woah, pump your brakes. My mama died, all right? I was on a flight to Chicago when you called, and I've only just got the opportunity to call you back."

"Oh," Garcia whispered in a small voice, suddenly feeling guilty for her outburst.

"I'm sorry, Baby Girl," Morgan exhaled, equally as remorseful. "I just... I'm sorry. Are you all right? Your message sounded... urgent." He chose that last word carefully, euphemistically going with urgent though desperate was more like it.

"Nevermind, I'm sorry about your mom," Garcia replied quickly, hanging up before Morgan could inquire further.

"You didn't tell him," Hotch commented without judgment.

"His mom just died," Garcia explained, and she was spared a continued conversation this time by Hotch's phone.

Pressing a button on the dashboard console, Hotch answered, "Hello?"

"Agent Hotchner, this is Detective Bradbury with Metro PD," the women on the other end of the line introduced herself, her voice filling the car.

After the phone call about Sean, Hotch felt his stomach sink. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"I was wondering if you know anything about Agent Jareau's whereabouts."

Hotch's stomach sank even further. "I can't say for sure, but my guess would be that she's at home."

There was a period of silence before Detective Bradbury spoke again, "No more than an hour ago, our team received a call from the Jareau-LaMontagne household. When we arrived, we found Detective LaMontagne on the living room floor. He's dead, having been shot a few times in the chest. There was also a pool of blood next to him, most likely from someone else, possibly Agent Jareau as we haven't been able to locate her. Thankfully, their son Henry was found asleep upstairs in his room. I don't think he heard or saw anything."

Hotch stared blankly ahead. He sank so deep in thought he didn't hear Garcia gasp beside him. If he hadn't been driving on straight, empty roads, he certainly would have crashed or run off the road. He tried his best to process the new information but found he simply couldn't.

He was brought back to earth by the insistent beeping of his phone. "Can I call you back? I have another incoming call."

"Sure, and I'll let you know if we find something," Detective Bradbury said kindly before Hotch accepted the new call.

"Hello," Hotch greeted the new caller.

"Is this Aaron Hotchner?" a deep voice queried.

"Yes." Hotch responded shortly, though his mind screamed, Not again! His stomach felt like it was about to start digesting itself.

"This is Nurse Pittman at St. Sebastian Hospital," the caller introduced himself. "As the emergency contact listed on file, I'm calling to inform you that David Rossi is currently in surgery."

"I'm on my way," Hotch said before hanging up, desperately hoping for no more phone calls. According to the saying, no news was good news, and at this point, he needed all the good news he could get.


"Can I get you anything?"

Hotch's voice was soft. Too soft, and Garcia didn't like it one bit. It just wasn't right. It reinforced the notion that something had gone very, very wrong. They sat in the hospital after Garcia's sexual assault exam, waiting for someone to come and take her statement.

"You don't have to be here," Garcia said quietly in response. "You can go check on Rossi or something."

"They'll let me know when he's out of surgery," Hotch responded. "I can't do anything for him, but I can be here for you."

I can try not being useless, Hotch thought woefully. Some team leader he was. One night and everything had gone to hell.

Finally, a female officer approached. "Ms. Garcia, before I get your statement, I have to ask. Did you bring your badge when you checked into the hospital earlier?"

Looking to Hotch for support, Garcia whispered, "No."

Hotch glared at the officer suspiciously. That wasn't a routine question. "Why do you ask?"

The officer's eyes bounced back and forth between Hotch and Garcia before finally settling on the latter. "Not long ago, a woman was dropped off in front of the ER with your badge."

Garcia's eyes widened. "What?"

"She was stabbed nine times," the officer continued on. "All of them non-lethal."

"JJ," Hotch exhaled.

His mind began spinning. Will had been shot in chest. JJ, if it was indeed her, had been stabbed. All of that screamed Foyet. Sean had supposedly committed suicide just like JJ's sister. Garcia had been molested, just like Morgan had been as a teen. He'd need to check how Morgan's mother died, but he'd be willing to bet it had been because of a drunk driver. Rossi had been impaled like Prentiss, but what about Prentiss and Reid?

His phone rang, and he looked at the Caller ID. Speak of the devil. "Reid, I need you to -"

But Reid quickly barreled over him. "Hotch, Ethan just died in a car bomb. Local PD said they'd be okay with us taking the case. I thought about it, and I think it's targeted at me, Hotch. It wasn't wired to the car's engine because it didn't go off when he turned the started the car. It probably wasn't a pressure bomb because he was still seated when it exploded. Someone triggered it just as he was driving by me, Hotch. There's no reason for someone to do that unless it was about me."

"Reid," Hotch tried to interject gently.

Sensing the unit chief wasn't eager to take on the case, the young genius pressed on. "Hotch, I just spent hours trying to get them to pay attention to me. First I had to deal with the EMTs who said I had a concussion, and they wanted to take me to the hospital for a CT scan, but I'm fine, Hotch. I never lost consciousness. And then the local PD kept using that as an excuse not to listen to me. They kept asking me if Ethan had any enemies, Hotch. I told them they were looking it at it all wrong, but they wouldn't listen. They kept saying I was in shock, but I finally got them to listen to me, Hotch. The case is ours."

"Reid," Hotch said again, though this time his voice was much sharper. "I understand that this is important to you, and I'm glad you're all right, but I need you to come to St. Sebastian Hospital."


Hotch sat at JJ's bedside, waiting for her to wake up from the anaesthesia.

Garcia was taking care of Henry, using the opportunity to distract herself from the memories plaguing her mind and distract Henry from looking for his parents. Reid was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for updates on Rossi's surgery. Prentiss' whereabouts remained a mystery as all calls went unanswered. Fearing the worst, Hotch had called Anderson to have him check her apartment. He'd changed his mind: no news was not good news.

As his phone began to vibrate, he quickly looked at the screen, hoping for the caller to be Anderson with good news. Instead, the area code told him the caller was from New York, and he sighed assuming the call to be about Sean.

He was right.

"Hello?" Hotch said as he moved out to the the hallway, keeping the door open so as to keep an eye on JJ in case she woke up.

"Mr. Hotchner, this is Officer Neame with the NYPD. We spoke earlier on the phone," the unfortunately familiar dull tones of the officer's voice came through the phone.

"I remember," Hotch said shortly, the man's voice already putting him on edge.

"I'm calling to inform you that your brother Sean's death is now officially ruled a suicide."

"Already?" Hotch looked at his watch. "It's barely been a few hours. Has the coroner finished the autopsy?"

Instead of answering the question, Neame continued, "There is ample evidence to indicate -"

"And what evidence is that?" Hotch asked, needing specifics. He needed this to make sense. Well... make as much sense as possible. There were too many deaths in one night. It was too coincidental. Maybe Sean hadn't killed himself after all.

He began to pace.

"It is not uncommon for drug abusers to -"

Hotch could feel himself get more and more annoyed by the second. "I'm guessing he didn't die from an overdose, because then you wouldn't classify this as a suicide. So how did he die, and what about it indicates suicide and not foul play?"

"Drug abuse is often indicative of a very unhappy life." Neame said in response, once again not answering Hotch's questions. "It is not uncommon for -"

Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, Hotch snapped, "I wouldn't call that conclusive at all."

"With all due respect, Mr. Hotchner," Officer Neame said in a voice that indicated there really was no respect at all.

But Hotch had had enough. "Actually, it's Agent Hotchner, Unit Chief of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. If you're going to classify my brother's death as a suicide, give me some hard evidence, and I'll learn to accept it. But if you're going to call it a suicide because you're lazy or because of his life style, I'll go so far up your chain of command the expression 'hell to pay' won't be sufficient to describe your situation, so I suggest you get your act together and inform me only when you've reached a sufficient conclusion based on ALL the evidence."

And with that, Hotch hung up.

"I'm sorry about Sean," a weak voice muttered behind him.

Spinning quickly, he saw JJ struggle to open her eyes. He caught a momentary glimpse of blue before her eyes shut again.

Making his way to her bedside, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"How are you feeling?" JJ weakly shot back.

"JJ," Hotch tried to shift the focus back to her.

But she cut him off. "I don't want to talk about it."

And because he didn't want to talk about Sean either, he said, "It seems the whole team had a rather terrible night."

"Everyone?" Even after her terrible night, JJ's concern for her teammates shone through in her voice.

"I don't know about Prentiss," Hotch admitted.

"Well wonder no more," a voice said from the doorway.


Thanks for reading!