Lost in a Memory

Chapter Ten

Morgan slammed his fist down on the table. "He lied to you! He left you to take the heat!" he roared at the two men.

Hawkins didn't even flinch, his relaxed smile never wavering. "We are deputies following orders within the focus of the law. We are not, in the least, responsible for the actions of the Sheriff nor the assumptions based on those actions."

Morgan rolled forward on his knuckles, leaning toward the deputy. "Do you know what happens to badge toters in prison?"

"We didn't do anything!" Franklin snapped, showing that he had much less self control than his partner.

Hawkins eyes flickered to him, but quickly returned to the agent in front of him. So quick, to the untrained eye, it never happened.

Morgan could have seen it a mile away.

Hawkins was worried about Franklin. Worried about his temper, his lack of control.

Franklin was a loose cannon. Quick to react, slow to think. Big, strong, and mean. A classic slow witted henchman. Left to his own, and he would probably already be serving a prison sentence for some sloppy murder from some drunken brawl over a spilt drink. He would never do anything productive if there hadn't been someone there to tell him what to do.

Hawkins, on the other hand, was cool headed, calculating, and cold hearted. He was a lieutenant, a strong second in command. Always second because he would never stand to be any lower in the food chain. Always second because he hadn't quite figured out how to knock off the top dog and take over the pack.

Not yet anyway.

Morgan didn't doubt that, if given the opportunity, he would kill Franklin as quick as he would cut off a rotting limb.

The question was did Franklin know.

Morgan let his eyes drift to the man in question.

Franklin glared back. "What? You got a problem?" he snarled.

Morgan shrugged. "I don't." He leaned back, letting a self satisfied smile. "You certainly do."

The man's eyes narrowed. "You ain't got nothing on me."

Hawkins sighed. "Franklin, he's baiting you. Just sit back and shut up." he ordered.

Franklin glanced at him and snapped his jaw shut.

"Yea, Franky, shut up." Morgan added. "Not like powerful, smart, high and mighty guys like Jackson's gonna let some small fry, bar bouncer like you get sent up the river for something he did. You're just too damn important to his plans."

"Damn straight!" Franklin snapped back.

Hawkins frowned.

The FBI profile barked out a laugh. "Yea, right. You even know what the plan is?"

"There is no plan." Hawkins quickly said before his partner could answer. "We were doing our job."

Morgan chuckled. "Yea, just a couple of sweet, innocent guys."

"Humph." Franklin huffed arrogantly.

The agent tilted his head. "What? You're not so innocent?" He leaned forward again. "Bull. You don't know nothing." he accused.

"You don't know shit!" Franklin roared.

"Shut up!" Hawkins snapped, finally looking away from Morgan and focusing on Franklin.

"I ain't sayin' nothing'!" Franklin snapped right back at him.

Hawkins glared at Franklin, but told Morgan "We want our lawyer."

Morgan rose to his feet. "Sure thing, Deputy Hawkins. You need one." He nodded to the agents waiting quietly in the corner. "Sweet, innocent Franklin, on the other hand…"

The agents hauled the man to his feet.

"Hey, what're you doin'?" Franklin demanded. "I want my lawyer too! Gimme a lawyer, man! I know my rights!"

Morgan waved a hand at him. "Go find yourself a lawyer." he told him.

Franklin frowned. "What?"

One of the agents released him from the cuffs. The other took him by the arm. "Come this way, sir. I'll take you to your car."

The deputy's nose scrunched up in confusion. He looked down at Hawkins, but Hawkins was watching Morgan again.

Morgan stepped over and opened the door. "Deputy Franklin, go away." He shook his head. "I don't have time to waste on you any more. Go. Leave. Bye-bye."

Franklin took a step toward the door. But he paused. "This some kind of trick?" he wanted to know, eyeing Morgan.

The agent shrugged. "You got something I need to trick out of you?"

"Just go." Hawkins growled. "You go home and stay there." he ordered "And don't talk to no one!"

"What 'bout you?" Franklin asked.

"For crying out loud, you stupid idiot." Hawkins snapped at him. "Do as you're told!"

Franklin balked, but managed to clamp his mouth shut before he exploded right back. Throwing a glare at each of the agents, he slammed his chair away and stomped out of the room.

Getting a nod from Morgan, the two agents quickly followed him out.

With a sigh, Morgan turned back to Hawkins.

Hawkins was watching him again, but his apparent anger was gone from his expression. "You think you're pretty smart, don't you?"

Morgan shrugged. "Have my moments."

Hawkins leaned forward. "You are so out of your league it's like watching a t-ball game at the Yankee Stadium."

A chuckle brought the men's attention to Abby who stood in the open door. "I wonder who's balls are gonna get batted around." she teased.

Hawkins' face lost all color. "Amanda." he said slowly, carefully, as if just saying her name would give away something.

Morgan tilted his head. He looked at the woman. "Amanda, now?"

Ignoring him, Abby smiled sweetly at Hawkins. "Tell me, Hawkins, how does it feel to betray the man who gave you everything?" she purred.

Hawkins tried to hide his struggle for control with a shrug. "Just going with the flow."

Abby lost her smile. Suddenly she looked very much the soldier in some secret war. "You betrayed Senator Dommas. You betrayed your country." she growled. "You will be judged by your peers, lined up, and shot for the traitor you are."

Hawkins' chin came up, his eyes harden, but he said nothing. Turning around again, he set his clasped hands on the table, and stared straight ahead. He had nothing more to say.

Morgan gave him one more look, then headed out the door, waving Abby out before him.

Gideon and J.J. were waiting for them outside.

"Anything?" Gideon asked.

Morgan shook his head. "Only thing he has left for us is name and rank."

"And even then he'll lie." Abby added, crossing her arms over her chest.

The lead agent nodded once. "Morgan, you and Elle stay with Franklin. J.J. work with Garcia. Any property… homes, family… somewhere where they can be alone. Somewhere not obvious."

J.J. nodded. "And condemned or confiscated properties they might have had access to through the sheriff department." she added before turning.

"Keep your search focused on neighborhoods where Franklin heads to or frequents." Abby called after.

J.J. paused to throw her a glare. "I know my job." she growled.

Abby smiled her sweetest. "'Course you do, sweety. Now, run along and play with your little friend." She waved a hand as if she was shoeing the agent away.

Gideon's hand snapped out, snatching Abby's wrist up, turning her away from his people. "That's enough." Gideon warned in a low, dangerous tone seldom heard by anyone, much less his team. Looking over her shoulder, he told the agents "Go."

Without further hesitation the two were off.

When they were alone, Abby stepped into Gideon's space, bumping against his chest. Batting her eyes up at him, she purred "So… you just wanna hold my hand forever?"

He gazed down at her. "I know who and what you are. And I know what you'll do to Reid the first chance you get." He shook his head. "I won't let you have that chance." he promised.

All pretending gone, Abby answered "I am a guardian of a country whose greatest defense is secrets. Dr Reid, as sweet as a kid as h is, is the greatest threat to that defense: he's a code breaker." She jerked her hand free and stepped back. "Do not interfere, Jason." she warned. "Incase you haven't noticed, you had only one agent in this. Now you have them all."

It was a cold metal table, hospital white. Along the edge was a silver gutter that fed down into a clear tube that lead into a drain below. Eight feet long from head to toe, a cross bar near to the top.

It looked like a crucifix.

And his savior was laid out upon it.

Reid squeezed his eyes closed, trying to steal himself away, not wanting to see the reality before him. He wasn't here. This wasn't happening. He was safe. He was blissfully ignorant of the world, remembering nothing, not even himself.

He wasn't here again.

He wasn't watching this again.

He couldn't watch her die again.

Her?

He opened his eyes and looked again.

For a moment, a blink of an eye, a woman laid across the table, her wrists cut, her blood draining down the gutters, down the tube. Her life dripping away down the drain. Her soft blue eyes were filled with panic, but the rest of her expression looked weak, as if she didn't even have the energy left to make her eyes go wide. Her nearly white lips moved just slightly as if she was trying to whisper something.

Squeezing his eyes closed again, Reid shook his head, trying to shake loose from the image.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't her. Not anymore. Not her.

It was Aaron Hotchner.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look again.

Hotch was there, strapped down on the cold, white metal… helpless, vulnerable… His shirt had been removed, his wound cleaned and bandaged. His eyes were barely visible through slitted lids. His breath was slow, even, far too calm.

They had drugged him, Reid remembered suddenly, as if making a discovery.

They thought it would make it all easier… like kicking the crutch out from under the crippled. They thought Reid would be helpless, vulnerable to their demands, without Hotch encouraging him, anchoring him.

Sheriff Jackson leaned over Reid's shoulder from behind and asked "So… how long does it take for a grown man to bleed out?"

The young agent looked up at him. "Three point six seconds with adequate vacuum" he mumbled as if reading it from a book.

Sheriff Jackson waved a hand at Dr. Wesslim, sending her to the head of the table. "Or longer if done with just the right precision. And our lovely Dr. Wesslim is a true master of just such precision."

She tilted her head, showing appreciation for the compliment as she prepared a long, thick syringe.

Jackson stepped away from the young FBI agent to set a laptop on the desk. Then he turned and asked "Do you know what she's doing?"

Reid closed his eyes.

The Sheriff smiled. Slowly walking around the room, he ordered the doctor in soft tones "Tell him."

Dr. Wesslim turned Hotch's head, exposing the main artery in his neck. Speaking as she worked, she explained "I am inserting an IV catheter in the subject's vein. This will allow the blood to drain as slow or as fast as I so deem."

Reid's eyes snapped open when he heard Hotch hiss as the needle was inserted.. "Leave her alone!" he snapped, taking a step toward the table.

But Jackson suddenly surged across the room, one hand snapping out and snatching him by the shirt collar. "Her! You remember!" he accused.

The agent glared up at him. "I remember that the first time you failed." Reid admitted. "You tortured Dommas' wife. And he never told you anything."

The sheriff shrugged. "He gave me you."

Reid held his head a little higher, forcing his jaw to stiffen. "What makes you think I will be different?"

Jackson dragged the smaller man closer, lowering his face until there was only a breath between their noses. "I knew Dommas. He taught me, trained me, made me. You… you are only a whisp of the man he was. A computer in boy form." He dropped Reid so he could wave a hand in the air. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. You're a freakin' walkin' library! You're all brain. And in that is you're failing." He bobbed his head toward the table behind him. "They taught you how to think, how to use that library of yours on the run. But they didn't teach you how to feel… and how not to feel." He stepped back until he was leaning against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you know what he will go through as his blood is drained from his body? What he'll feel as his life is sucked out of him drop by precious drop? What you'll feel as you watch it happen, knowing that you could have saved him?"

Reid couldn't help but glance at the barely conscious Special Agent Hotchner.

The man's eyes were close, but his lips were moving, still trying to encourage Reid.

The sheriff smiled. "Doctor…"

Dr. Wesslim didn't look up from her work as she explained "The average subject has about five liters of blood. The subject won't feel anything until he has lost a half liter or so. After that, his blood pressure will began to fall. The hands and feet will turn pale or even blue, and they will be cold and clammy. This will also effect the earlobes, nose, lips, and nail beds. The rest of the skin would have a grayish tinge and would be moist. The subject will become a little stuporous, sleepy, and lethargic. As the blood continues to drain, his breath will come faster and deeper. His pulse won't be felt in his extremities, and it will be difficult to take a blood pressure. His heart rate will increase as his body struggles to get oxygen, but his pulse will be weak. He will lose consciousness."

"Thank you, doctor." Jackson cut her off. He frowned at Reid. "My, she's a cold bitch, isn't she?"

Wesslim finally paused in her work at that, but, rolling her eyes, she turned her attention back to connecting the siphoning hose to the catheter.

Swallowing hard, Reid tore his eyes from Hotch. "I already told you… I'll help you. You don't need to hurt him any more."

Jackson shrugged. "This isn't to get you to help me. I already know you're going to help me." he answered.

The agent shook his had. "Then why…"

"Consider Agent Hotchner your hour glass." Jackson took Reid by the arm and began to direct him to the desk and the waiting computer. "Just incase you thought you had all the time in the world, that you could put it off until some rescue from your fantasies comes knocking on the door."

Agent Reid looked up at him. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

All signs of Jackson amusement disappeared. Setting a hand on the desk, he leaned forward and growled. "Because I am a strong and you are not. I am resourceful and you are not. I am smart and you are not. And, very soon, I will be rich and you will not." Snapping up right, he ordered "Get to work. 'Case your big, ol' brain hadn't figured it out yet, the clock is ticking." He tilted his head toward the table and the hostage agent. "Drip, drip." That said, he spun about and stomped toward the door.

Reid watched him go, flinching at the sound of the lock being slid into place.

J.J. was just turning down the hall heading for Garcia's office when suddenly the computer tech snatched her by the ponytail and pulled her back into the corner.

"Ooow!" the agent cried, one hand reaching up to defend her hair, the other doubling up into a fist. What the hell…" she started, spinning about.

Garcia held up her hands. "Sorry, sorry." she quickly whispered. "But I had to get your attention without… you know… getting anyone else's… attention?"

Rubbing her sore head, J.J. frowned at her. "And you couldn't just wave a hand in the air or something less… painful?"

"Sorry." Garcia said again, wringing her hands.

J.J.'s head lifted, her own discomfort replaced with concern. "Is everything alright?" she wanted to know.

"Yes." the tech answered just a little too quickly. But then she was shaking her had. "I… I mean no… I…" She frowned. "Maybe… not…?" She looked up at the agent as if she might have the answer for that one.

J.J.'s eyebrows rose. Setting a calming hand on her friend's shoulder, she asked "Garcia, deep breath. What's wrong?"

Garcia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay… so, Agent Hotchner, he… before he left… he told me to… well, I'm not supposed to tell you, but… I mean he's in my office, and I might be in trouble… a little." She held up a thumb and forefinger to show just how much trouble. But, thinking again, she began to spread her arms.

"He?" J.J. grabbed her arms. "You mean Hotch? Do you know where he is? Garcia, is he alright?"

But the tech shook her head. "Noo-oo." she groaned as if it should be obvious. "Kruger Spence."

The agent paused. "Kruger Spence?" Then her eyes widen as the name rang a bell. "CIA Kruger Spence?" When Garcia nodded, J.J. wanted to know "What is he doing here?" Her eyes narrowed. "Garcia, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" the tech instantly defended herself. But then her head tilted slightly and she began to wring her hands. "I mean… well, Agent Hotchner, he told me to do a little poking around. And I was doing the search on Agent Gideon's computer when all hell broke loose." She frowned, her eyes dropping as she thought. "Must have been a Spider Web. Damn good one, too. Never saw it. I should have used a Fly. But who'd a thunk? Man, you gotta be hyper paranoid to lay out a Spider Web and, even then, you have to be hyper…"

"Why were you messing with Gideon's computer?"

Garcia glared up at her. "I told you! Hotchner told me…" She stopped suddenly, clamping her mouth shut.

J.J.'s eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I'm not supposed to say." Garcia admitted.

"Garcia…"

"Look! There's a big, ugly, mean super spy sitting in my, MY, office!" she practically yelled, before remembering she was supposed to be keeping quiet. Glancing around, she took a second to glare dangerously at an agent who veered a little too close in response to her raised voice. Then she leaned close to J.J. and whispered "Super Spy wants Reid's hard drives."

J.J. straightened up. "They can't have them." she answered, coldly. "They're part of an ongoing investigation…"

"You tell him that!" Garcia challenged.

The agent sighed. "Alright." She licked her lips, her mind racing. Just what the hell was the CIA up to? "What did you tell him?" she asked as she started down the hall again.

Garcia fell in step beside her. "Nothing… just gave him my James Bond pen and said I had to go pee."

J.J. glanced at her sharply. But then she smiled a little. "Huh… this should be interesting."