A/N: You guys still out there? Sorry it's been so long...the original readers' grandchildren must have picked up on this by now. Sorry. Anyway, Clay county's internet router's down, it's been a crazy few weeks, my crew has been in and out of more messes than the BAU team, and I'm just generally exhausted. I hope you enjoy it, and please review!

Tears flowed unchecked down Trevor's face, and his whole body ached in sympathy with his sister's agony, as well as with the exertion of trying to break free. Teri had awakened when Doc had injected something (probably Narcan, the paramedic student side of Trevor's brain interjected) into her IV port, and she had started struggling even more than he was.

"Teri," Doc had spoken calmly to her, brushing her hair back from her face in a tender gesture, much as he had when she had pneumonia and had been burning up with fever. Of course, he had been the one to treat her, All three of them camping out in the ER for three days, as Teri didn't have any insurance and begged him not to admit her. It still couldn't compute with Trevor that the same man had now doing these terrible things to his sister.

"Teri, honey, I'm so sorry. You know I don't want to do this." Eyes wide, she shrieked something behind the tape over her mouth, and he met her gaze with compassion-filled eyes. "I'd never hurt you if I had the choice, but They say I have to kill you. They say this project is too important to be stopped."

He took the scalpel and made a shallow but long incision from her wrist to elbow. She squirmed and made a pitiful sound through the tape. And Trevor finally snapped his composure. "Stop it! Just stop! If you're going to kill her, kill her! Stop hurting her!"

Doc turned to his uninjured captive, face twisted in rage. "Just kill her? You want me to kill your sister? What kind of man are you?!"

Trevor's voice broke under the emotional overload he was suffering. "I just don't want her to hurt anymore!"

Doc stepped over and backhanded Trevor, snapping is head back against the chair. "Then you want her to die for nothing! She's spent her life willing to die for others, now that she has her chance, you want me to just kill her? She has the chance to save countless lives, and you want to take that from her!"

Trevor had too much. He was crying so hard he could barely speak. "Then kill me! I can't watch you hurt her anymore. I can't take it!"

Shaking his head, Doc regarded his friend like he was seriously considering the proposal. "If I could put you out of your misery, I would. But without you, her pain is pointless."

He tried to compose himself for one last try. "Doc, I know you care about us. You've been like family to us. Why would you do this to me? Why would you want me to suffer like you did? You said watching Ben hurt was the worst thing you'd ever been through. Why would you want me to go through that?"

Doc winced. "You know I wouldn't choose this. But if I have to kill you two, I can at least let you be a part of this project. I just need a little more data."

Trevor threw himself forward against his bonds, nearly toppling the chair. When he was unable, he slumped, sobbing. "I give! You want data, you win this round! If I had something you wanted, I'd tell you anything! I WILL tell you anything! Just end it! Your plan works! Tell the army! I'll tell the army! Tell the freakin' president for all I care, just end it!"

Doc wasn't quite sure what he was going to say to that, but before he could, he froze. "Did you hear that?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

Trevor shook his head. He hadn't heard anything, but maybe the FBI was there to rescue them. Or maybe the psycho trying to kill them was hearing things. It was hard to be positive right at the moment.

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Hotch and Gideon found the small empty building easily. In a past life, it had been some kind of computer company headquarters, purchased by Robert Newswanger six months earlier. Gideon walked slowly up to the front door, watching as Hotch disappeared around the building, looking for the back door. Giving him a few moments to find it, he paused before he slipped quietly inside.

There was a maze of hallways inside, each leading to small office rooms. Gun drawn, he carefully searched each one. Deeper into the building, he could hear muffled crying. Instantly on the alert, he eased toward it. Suddenly, he heard a masculine yell. A loud struggle came from farther down the hallway. He hurried in that direction.

When he turned a corner, he froze. There wasn't much light in the back, but he saw what he needed to clearly. Doc had Hotch by the throat, syringe poised above his jugular. Hotch looked weak and confused, and a drop of blood trailed down his neck. It appeared as if the doctor had already somewhat sedated him. Only the hand on his throat seemed to be keeping him upright. Gideon's gun was drawn, but Doc's eyes never wavered from his. "Potassium Chloride," he said conversationally. "A swift but very, very painful death. And I assure you that he is nowhere near out of it enough not to feel every second. Drop your weapon."

Gideon tried to look into Hotch's eyes for any hint of a plan, but he was so badly addled that he couldn't even look up. Helpless to do anything else, he dropped his gun.