Disclaimer: See first chapter.
Rain
"It is not enough to succeed. Others must fail." Gore Vidal
Pain pulsated in his temples with each heartbeat as he began to return to consciousness. White light danced before his eyes and he had trouble focusing on the figure that loomed over him.
"Wh…" his mouth felt as though it were stuffed with cotton. For a moment confusion engulfed his afflicted mind. Where am I? What happened? What…? His musings were cut off as a hand roughly covered his mouth temporarily suffocating him, renewing his earlier state of near hysteria. He couldn't remember where he was and momentarily fought against cobwebs of old memories. Try as he might, he could not get his eyes to focus.
"Shh…the brat's asleep," an abrasive voice whispered in his ear, "we don't want to wake him." The vulgar laugh that followed sent tremors through Reid's body. The hand moved from his mouth enabling him to gulp in air that his lungs desperately needed. He felt cold steel under his chin and struggled to remember where he was and what had happened. How had he ended up with a gun jammed up under his chin?
Swallowing hard, he gathered up the courage to attempt speech once again, "Who…are…you? What's…going…on?" He ground out hoarsely, all the time aware of how the hand that held the gun against his throat never faltered for an instant. If anything, the gun was pressed harder into his flesh making it difficult for him to catch his breath.
"I said shut up!" Reid could now make out the red face of the man who hovered above him. Where had he seen that face before? His eyes glazed over with confusion as he allowed his gaze to shift away from the intense glare of the man who had him pinned to a bed. To his left he saw a small boy curled up on the same bed and disjointedly became aware that the boy was pressed up tight against his own body. The boy's eyes were screwed tightly shut as if he were trying to shut out what was happening around him and he reeked of sweat and pee. Reid also noticed that the boy's dirt caked face and arms were littered with whip-like abrasions as though he had been running through the woods heedless of tree branches. The boy had one hand tucked securely beneath Reid's back, knotted in his shirt; the thumb of his other hand was fixed tightly in his mouth. Though the boy was breathing, it was shallow and inconsistent.
Shifting his gaze back to his captor, Reid felt a pang behind his eyes and struggled to remain conscious as his captor's face leered back at him, "Get up!" He grabbed Reid's shirt and yanked him from the bed dislodging him from Aiken's hold. The room swam around Reid in complicated swirls and he strained to keep his eyes focused and the contents his stomach where it belonged. As the bile rose, burning his throat, Reid reached out an arm to try and steady himself only to find his arms pin wheeling in the air and the room darkening at the edges of his vision.
Heaving up the contents of his stomach onto his tormentor sent the man into a blind rage. He tossed Reid to the wall where the agent slumped, unconscious. Pointing the gun at the young man's head, his finger twitched on the trigger. He had planned to play around a bit this time, but things weren't working out as he had hoped and now he had putrid vomit down the front of his shirt. It would be better to kill them both and be on his way. The owners of the vehicles he had seen in the drive would be back soon, he should just end this. When the FBI left town, he would be back for Steve. The son of a bitch had gone back on his word. Randall had contracted him about a month ago to kill his wife and sons so he could get the insurance money, but instead of transferring the remainder of the fee to his account like he was supposed to; the man had closed all of his accounts and bought a ticket to the Caribbean a week ago.
Hardy was grateful he had thought to trace Randall's financial transactions. He would complete the job because he was a man of his word and, if he were honest with himself, he did it more for the pleasure of killing than for the money. It made his blood boil though when he thought of how Randall had proven not to be a man of his word. If he couldn't abide one thing, it was a dishonest man. His daddy had taught him to be a man of his word and to honor his commitments, no matter what. He believed everyone else should live by that same code of ethics as well. Randall was going to pay for his dishonesty with his life and Hardy would make sure that he regretted his lack of integrity with every drop of blood that was spilled. His eyes narrowed and took on a murderous glare as he thought of what he would do to Randall and just how long and hard he would make him pay.
First, he had to take care of the man who had lost the entire contents of his stomach on him and the brat who had curled himself into a tight ball on the bed in the absence of his protector. Perhaps he could kill the brat and then take the young man with him, make him pay for losing his lunch on him. Or maybe he could take them both with him. He could bring them back to his place with him and have some fun. He hadn't had anyone over to his place in a long time.
Most of the time he discouraged visitors, his place was isolated, tucked deep into the wilderness of Montana. The only road in and out was a downtrodden gravel patch barely able to accommodate a single vehicle. His home, a simple log cabin, helped him keep the harassing thoughts that often bombarded his afflicted mind when he was in big cities at bay. He could use some companions to keep him company and knew that he would be able to teach them their place with little effort. Yes, he would bring the boys with him.
Having determined his course of action, the man pulled the oblivious Reid up off the floor and balanced his dead weight against his shoulder. He then plucked the boy from the bed and clasped him to himself. Slapping Reid to rouse him, he smiled viciously when he started coming round. Planting the gun at the agent's back, he ushered the confused man forward, supporting him when he began to topple. It was slow moving, but they made it to the front door when a crackle of lightning split the sky and rain began to pour down.
Shit, he grabbed the agent around his waist and hauled him into the pouring rain, determined to get to the waiting car as quickly as possible. Another flash of lightning revealed a figure crawling toward his vehicle from the nearby woods. Letting Reid crumple to the muddy road and dropping Aiken, he pulled his gun up and shot at the prone form, missing by mere inches. He smiled when the figure rolled away from where the bullet hit and aimed his gun with practiced certainty. He would not miss a second time.
Wiping the rain from his eyes, Morgan snuck closer to the vehicle, unaware that Reid was being ushered from the house by the owner of the vehicle in question. When lightning struck he looked up and caught sight of two dark shadows in the doorway of Savannah's house. Wiping more water from his eyes, he strained to make out who it was, hoping that it was Hotch and Reid. Hope caught in his throat and he swallowed hard as he realized that while one of the men was indeed Reid, he was being dragged by someone who was clearly not Hotch. Reid did not look well. As lightning struck again, the man hauling Reid let him drop to the ground along with something else that he had been carrying and Morgan felt rock kick up and pepper his face even before he heard the shot of the gun ring out. Rolling to the side, he pulled his own weapon up, readying to take a shot of his own.
Damn, the man had picked Reid up and had the young agent plastered against his chest, while he pointed his gun at Morgan. Morgan held his hands up in a gesture of surrender and started to rise to a crouching position when another bullet tore through his bicep. Blood and rain water ran down his arm and the pain nearly toppled him. Determining not to pass out for Reid's sake, Morgan lifted his gun in his uninjured arm and positioned himself behind the car waiting for an opportune moment to take the gun man out. Hoping that Reid would have a reservoir of strength to get away from the man that held him hostage, Morgan ground his teeth against the throbbing of his wound which continued to pour out blood. He needed to staunch the flow lest he lose too much blood and faint. Tearing the sleeve off his shirt, he wrapped it around his injured arm and knotted it, pulling it tight with his teeth, wincing at the sharp stab of pain that it sent through him.
Looking around the edge of the car, he watched as the man pointed his gun at Reid and caught brief snippets of shouts that he was sending Reid's way as the agent bent over to pick something up from the ground. He struggled under the weight nearly taking a nosedive onto the gravel before the man roughly grabbed Reid and shoved him toward one of the vehicles. Oh shit, he could not let the man get Reid into one of the FBI's SUVs, steadying himself, he said a prayer and took a shot, knowing that it would be wide of his mark, but hoping that it would cause the man to pause and give Reid an opportunity to get away.
The gunshot briefly registered in Reid's clouded mind. He still could not figure out what was going on and when he shook his head to try and clear it, bile bubbled up in his throat. Darkness threatened to claim him yet again and he struggled to hold onto consciousness. When another gunshot rang out, he heard a triumphant bark of laughter and felt a rough hand pull him to his feet. He had no strength to push away from the arms that entrapped him and could only nod when a harsh whisper tickled his ear, "You got keys for one of these vehicles?" Reid attempted to answer verbally, but found that his voice wouldn't work; instead he nodded, ignoring the nausea that swept over him.
Feeling an intrusive hand reach into his pocket and grope for something, Reid closed his eyes. Momentary panic gripped him and he gasped. The man's lips brushed against his ear, "Like that?" He leered. Having retrieved the keys to the vehicle, he pulled his hand out of Reid's pocket and ordered the tottering man to tell him which vehicle they belonged to. Reid pointed a shaky hand toward one of the SUVs, unsure himself if it were the right one.
"Pick up the brat!" The man ordered. Reid looked at him, utter confusion written on his face. The man violently gestured to a shaking form hunched in upon itself on the ground. Reid bent down, wobbling unsteadily, swallowing down bile once again and fighting off the darkness that threatened to engulf him. Putting his arms around the boy, he pulled him up, stumbling under the boy's weight. The man grabbed Reid's waist and shoved him toward the vehicle that Reid had indicated. Reid obediently staggered toward the SUV and cried out as a sharp rock bit into his thigh like shrapnel. The man pushed him in front of him, holding Reid and the boy cradled in his arms like a shield until they reached the SUV. Fumbling with the keys in one hand and the gun pointed toward the man that had just taken a shot in their direction, Hardy cursed when they didn't immediately work to open the door.
"Are you sure this is the right one?" He questioned the wavering man who nodded warily and gestured to the unlock mechanism on the keychain with a nod of his head. He hit the 'unlock' button and the lights on the vehicle flashed as a light beeping sound ushered forth. Opening the driver's door, he pushed Reid in and shoved him and the boy over to the passenger side of the vehicle, not missing Reid's wince when he pushed on the man's lower back. He would have to remember that it was a tender spot for later. Locking the key into the ignition, he turned the engine over and mud sputtered beneath the tires as he gunned the vehicle, putting the clutch into drive. He picked up speed as he passed his own car. Another bullet shattered the back window as he drove away from Savannah's place.
Hotch clutched his side when he finally made it to the house and wrenched the back door open. Entering the house, he immediately went to the bedroom. Clenching his jaw in anger, he entered the bedroom and noted the acrid smell of vomit mixed with pee. There was blood with a few strands of brownish hair matted on the wall next to the bed. Reid's cell phone lay abandoned, several feet away. Hotch knelt down to pick it up, ignoring the pain from where the nail had lodged itself in his thigh. Glancing under the bed, he caught a glimpse of Reid's gun. Cursing, he stood, retrieved the gun, and made his way out of the room, through the kitchen and into the living room where he discovered an open front door. Looking out the front door, he visibly deflated when he noticed that Reid's SUV was no longer there. Damn, I should never have left Reid on his own. He limped to where the vehicle should have been and looked around, narrowing his eyes when he caught sight of a white coupe. Catching movement near the white car, he aimed his weapon and called out, "FBI, hold it right there or I will shoot."
Savannah came to, her head throbbing with the beat of the rain against her face. Struggling to a sitting position, she winced when she turned her head too abruptly and pain shot down her spine. Okay, bad idea, move slowly, she thought sluggishly. Where is Morgan? She blanched when she remembered the gunshots and frantically searched around for the missing man. Momentarily disoriented she got on all fours and waited for the dizziness to pass before she crawled out of the forest. As she crawled through the mud, she shivered wondering what the gunshots could've meant and if Morgan were okay.
When she made her way out of the forest, she saw a white car parked in her drive and the memory of what had happened before she bumped into something and passed out came rushing back to her. Catching sight of Morgan's limp form leaning lopsided against the car, she increased her pace, reaching him just before he slumped completely to the side. Alarmed at the sight of blood leaking through a makeshift bandage on his arm, Savannah shakily pulled the man into a more comfortable position, resting his head in her lap. Knowing that she needed to stop the blood flow and get some help at the same time, she put pressure on the wound with both hands and prayed for help to come.
Maybe Reid would come looking for them as they had been gone longer than they should have, she hoped. Or perhaps Hotch would find them. Shivering with cold and shock, Savannah kept up steady pressure on Morgan's wound, noting that he too was shivering, though he was not conscious.
Reid clung to the boy he had been ordered to pick up and glanced weakly at the man who had shoved him into the SUV. He knew that he was about to pass out and was still unclear as to what exactly was going on and who the boy in his arms was. The blood trickling from the wound in his leg barely registered as he allowed his head to lie back on the headrest and his eyes to close, blocking out his reeling vision.
A small hand reached tentatively around Reid's back and the boy in his arms resumed his leechlike hold on him. Resting his chin on the boy's head, Reid murmured soft reassurances and rubbed circles into the boy's back to help calm him. The repetitive motion of his actions served to console his own mind as well. Having nearly forgotten about the man who had unceremoniously shoved him into the vehicle moments before, he jumped when a hand clamped on his thigh just above his wound. He turned glazed eyes toward the source of the hand and noticed a gun sitting on the man's lap.
"Place your hand here," he grabbed Reid's hand placing it just above his wound. Picking up the gun he briefly brushed it against Reid's thigh grinning when the injured man flinched. Returning his hand to the steering wheel, he drove down the deserted road. Reid kept his hand in place blotting out the unwanted feeling that the gun brushing the inside of his thigh had elicited. He kept up a vigilant eye on the man who drove and kept a steady hand in place on his thigh until he blacked out completely. Oblivious to the rain that pelted against the windshield making it difficult to see, oblivious to the boy who continued to hold onto him as if he were a lifeline, oblivious to the darkness that gathered outside, oblivious to the blood that continued to seep sluggishly from his injury, and oblivious to the dangerous man who sat next to him eyeing him and Aiken with bloodlust while alternately glancing out of the rain spattered windshield.