I was so inspired that I wrote two chapters in as many days! Can't wait to continue this, it's like a suspenseful movie in my head!

Tastybitsodp

Chapter 9 Paige's POV

I didn't end up sleeping at all that night. I made coffee, I paced the office, and I worried. I didn't tell Spencer, but I was feeling pretty guilty about Morgan. If I had just asked him to stay, maybe talked with him for a while, something, then maybe he would be safe now. If I hadn't asked him to drive me home when I did, maybe he'd be at home now, sleeping, or maybe he'd be here in the office, working on paperwork. I felt guilty that the team had been forced to make the trip all the way to Maine to find me in order to ask me a few simple questions. In other words, I was a wreck.

When the team finally emerged from the office, around eight in the morning, I winced at the sight of their wrinkled clothes they were still wearing from the day before, their bloodshot eyes and their blank expressions. I wandered into Garcia's office to find her slumped over her keyboard, asleep.

"Garcia," I said softly. "Garcia, wake up," she sat up abruptly, her glasses crooked on her nose and her pigtails uneven.

"What is it?" she asked desperation in her voice. "Did we find him?" Pity surged through me.

"Not yet, hun," I said soothingly. "The team is going to take a few hours to sleep and refresh. You should do the same." She shook her head violently, her hands immediately finding the keyboard and typing furiously.

"I can't, not until I find him." I knew how she felt.

"You won't be on the top of your game unless you go home, get a couple hours of sleep and take a shower," I said. "And you need to be at the top of your game to find your man. What would Derek say to you if he were here?" Her lower lip quivered, her eyes filling up with tears.

"He would say, 'Baby Girl," she said in a shaky voice. "Baby Girl you need your beauty sleep so I have something sexy to look at while we work." She sighed and swiped at her eyes. "I guess you're right," she said to me. "Just a couple hours of sleep, then I'm not resting until he's safe."

"Okay," I agreed, wondering secretly if we would find him safe. Garcia and I walked back into the main lobby to see Spencer and two black-suited serious-looking FBI agents waiting for us.

"Garcia," said Spencer, "This is Ross. He's going to escort you home. Ross is going to check your house when you get there to make sure it's safe." He cast a meaningful glance at the young, but still older than him, agent standing next to him. Ross nodded obediently. He led Garcia away while she asked him if Ross was his first or last name.

The other agent, whom Spencer called Baudler, was to escort both Spencer and I to Spencer's apartment. I must have fallen asleep on the drive there, because the next thing I remember is Spencer gently lifting me out of the car and carrying me into the apartment. I slept harder than I can ever remember. It was almost like I was comatose. When I finally woke it was the middle of the afternoon. I rolled over to see that Spencer was gone. I wondered how he could function, constantly sleep-deprived, with such a high-stress job. Then I remembered that he'd told me once that I was one of his coping mechanisms.

I made myself get out of bed, took a shower, and then fixed myself some breakfast out of the sparse leavings of Spencer's refrigerator. I felt restless and useless. Part of me wanted to go back to the BAU and hang around, but the other part realized the truth in what Spencer had said to me the night before. There really wasn't anything I could do to help.

Then I wondered the last time that the unit had eaten. I'd seen them eat candy bars, simply to make it for another couple hours, but I hadn't seen them eat a full meal. I decided that I was going to get them some quality food. I called a local restaurant and ordered six full meals to-go, guessing on what people wanted, except for Spencer's. I knew his favorite foods. I put on shoes and called a cab, wishing that I had my own car. It would make life so much easier.

Before long I was carrying the high stack of to-go boxes into the BAU. As had become the norm, I found the team in the conference room, pouring over papers and throwing out ideas.

"Hi, everyone," I said as I walked in. "I come bearing lunch."

"Paige Stewart you are amazing," said Prentiss, reaching for the top box.

"Oh, no," I said. "That one's for Hotch." I set down the stack and handed out the boxes, based on what I'd guessed they would like. Hotch opened his box, and then looked up at me.

"How did you know I like salmon?" he asked, surprised. I shrugged. One by one the team members opened their boxes. I'd gotten a salad with grilled chicken for Rossi, a burger and fries for Prentiss, a chicken sandwich and bowl of soup for Garcia, along with a big slice of chocolate cake just for her, spaghetti and meatballs for JJ and of course, a juicy steak for Spencer.

"Wow," said Rossi jokingly, looking over at Spencer's meal. "I guess we know who her favorite is." The rest of the team shared an awkward chuckle. "I'm just kidding," said Rossi. "You got my favorite lunch. Thanks Paige." The rest of the team murmured their thanks through full mouths. I guess it really had been a long time since they'd eaten.

Spencer patted the empty chair next to him, and I sat, grateful to be around him and to have been a help, even in a small way. He captured my chin with a cupped hand and gave me a quick kiss.

"Thanks Paige," he said, his face lingering close to mine. I smiled, trying not to show how rattled I was by that show of affection in front of the team.

"Anytime," I said sincerely. A glance around the table showed that everyone was pretending to not have noticed, but I could see by JJ's and Prentiss's small smiles that they'd seen.

Just then, a man came to the door.

"Excuse me," he said. "There's a man here who says he has a delivery for a Ms. Paige Stewart." The rest of the team looked at me in confusion, but I was even more baffled than they were.

"I'm not expecting anything," I told them. Hotch's brow furrowed.

"Send him in," he said, "but search him thoroughly." Once that was done, the driver of the cab I'd taken was shown into the room. He told the team that a man had given him the note and paid him twenty dollars to take it to the last person he'd dropped off. I unfolded the paper and read out loud to the anxiously waiting team.

Come to your old apartment by midnight, or Derek Morgan will die.

Come alone or Derek Morgan will die.

Give yourself up or Derek Morgan will die.

Do the math.

It was unsigned. I looked up at the team. Spencer's face had gone white, and the expressions of the rest of them were stony. Hotch turned to the agent who had escorted the cabbie in.

"Bring that cab driver in to a sketch artist to get a composite sketch. Rossi, I want you to perform a cognitive interview to get any information you can about the unsub from him. Reid, I want you to examine that letter and draw any conclusions you can. Prentiss, I want you to inform the police they may be at Paige's old apartment. I want surveillance on it as soon as possible."

The team sprang into action. I could feel the excitement coming off of some of the agents. They'd finally gotten a lead. Maybe this was the break they needed to find Morgan. I stood motionless, still holding the note. Reid was staring at me, and our eyes met. I had never seen him so upset.

"No," he said simply.

"What if it's the only choice?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No. You are not going into a situation that dangerous."

"It's my choice, Spencer. If there's even a small chance it will save Derek then I have to do it. If Derek dies…" Spencer took a step forward, plucked the note from my hand and walked from the room with quick angry steps, his shoulders hunched and tense. JJ and Hotch were watching me. I wiped a tear from my cheek.

"What do you think?" I asked Hotch. He sighed.

"It would only be a last resort," he said with finality and turned back to the board they were using to organize their evidence. For the first time, I looked at it too. I read the possible scenarios and looked at pictures of people they had determined to be the most likely suspects. As my eyes swept over the board I got the feeling that there was something missing.

Do the math, my brain whispered. Silently I walked up to the board, picked up a marker and drew a plus sign between the first scenario and the second. Hotch looked at me.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"It makes sense," I said. "You profiled that the unsub was either a woman or a man, with different motives. What if it was both?" Hotch remained silent so I continued. "What if they were a team? The woman stalked him and then lured him into a dangerous situation, and then the man took him down. The cab driver said a man gave him the note. I must have been stalked in order for them to know where I was and who had brought me there, the man did that. They stalk as a team. The woman wanted Morgan and the man wants me." I shivered, feeling violated.

"If that were the case then they wouldn't be willing to trade Morgan for Paige, they'd simply take Paige and keep them both," said JJ to Hotch. Hotch was still looking at me, assessing me.

"You know," he said. "You really would make a good addition to the team." I opened my mouth in shock. Hotch turned away and pressed a button on the phone in the middle of the conference room table. Garcia answered immediately.

"Garcia I need you to look at our two lists again. I need you to find any connection between any two people on those lists, do you understand?"

"Got it," said Garcia. "It's going to take a minute," she said. "These are long lists. I'll get back to you as soon as I know." She hung up. Just then Spencer came back into the room, the note in his gloved hand.

"I think there are two unsubs," he said, then stopped midstride seeing the plus sign I'd drawn on the board. "You figured that out already," he said in amazement.

"Paige did," said Hotch. Spencer looked at me, confused. "She noticed the contradictions in the profile. It wouldn't make sense unless you split the profile into two people." Spencer nodded.

"The wording in the two notes is different," he said, tacking the newest note to the board. "The first one was very personal and talked about her and Derek spending their lives together. It was almost certainly written by a woman. The second note threatened to kill him unless Paige gave herself up. The first note was written by someone in a delusional state thinking that she and Morgan were in love and going to spend their lives together, when in reality she was already in a very unhappy relationship with the male unsub, who is actually the psychopath. They strike up a deal; she gets to keep Morgan if she helps him find a new woman."

"Which is me," I said quietly. Spencer looked at me, horrified. I could tell that he had forgotten I was there and that the situation applied to me while he was profiling. Hotch followed his look.

"Paige, why don't you go stay in my office," suggested Hotch. "Your insights have been very helpful, but I think it will just upset you if you stay here." I wanted to argue, to tell them I could handle it and that I was tougher than I looked, but deep down I knew he was right. I didn't go to Hotch's office though, I went to Derek's.

I curled up on his couch and closed my eyes, trying to make myself relax. So what if there was a serial killer after me? I'd survived the experience once before. I remembered how even though it had been Spencer that had found me; it had been Derek that saved both our lives.

"Do it!" said my torturer; his eyes alight with sick pleasure. "Cut his wrists!"

"No!" I said through my sobs. I was kneeling next to Spencer, knife in hand. I had been forced to torture him for almost an hour now and I wasn't going to kill this young man who had tried to save me, even though he had failed. I knew Master was holding a gun to the back of my head, and that if I didn't do what he said he might kill me. I welcomed death, hoping to escape the pain.

"Slit his wrists!" said Master, angrier now. "Do it or I'll shoot you, worthless bitch!"

"Go ahead," said Spencer. "I don't mind. I don't want him to shoot you." I couldn't do it, even with his encouragement. It made it worse somehow. I heard the click of a gun being cocked, and I braced myself to be shot, wondering if it would hurt a lot to die.

"Reid," said a different man's voice. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't blast his brains out right now." I turned to see a tall dark-skinned man with a gun to the back of Master's head. "Drop the gun," he said, and Master dropped it. Spencer shrugged.

"He didn't kill me yet," he said. "Personally I'd consider it a favor if you killed him. What do you think Paige?" He looked at me and I thought back to every excruciating moment I'd endured since being taken. He gently took the knife from me and tossed it away. He took one of my hands in his, and with the other he cupped my chin and looked into my eyes. "Paige," he asked. "Do you want us to kill him?"

"How many others?" I asked. The two men looked at each other.

"Four," Spencer answered. I nodded, thinking. I thought back to the bed of nails Master had shown me when I'd first arrived, telling me how some night I was going to sleep there. I saw his sick pleasure as I was forced to slice open my own skin. I nodded again, certain this time.

"Go ahead," I said quietly, and closed my eyes. A gunshot rang out in the tiny room and I opened my eyes again to watch Master crumple to the ground. Blood splattered across the wall next to me. The dark skinned man still held the gun, looking down at Master's dead body with contempt, and a hint of regret. It was over…it was finally over.

I snapped back to reality. I owed Morgan my life. Do the math, the note had said. Suddenly, I realized what that meant. Each number was a life. I had saved none, while Derek had saved countless. Derek had saved my life. I was in his debt. My life ending would only amount to one life ended. If Derek was saved, then he would save countless more. I suddenly knew what I had to do.

I walked out of the office, surprisingly easily. No one tried to stop me. Anyone from the BAU was in the conference room or somewhere else out of sight. I walked out, feeling like each step was a mistake, but I didn't turn back. I had done the math, and the answer was -1.