Disclaimer: I do not own anything noticeable

A/N: Thanks to all who take the time to read and review.

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Allie was fixing her makeup and Chantal who'd just come out of the bathroom stall was washing her hands when a voice said, "Well, alone at last." Both women turned. "Well, if it isn't Tweedledee and Tweedledum," Daryl said, standing by the bathroom entrance, his back against the door.

"What the…"Chantal uttered.

"It's Daryl," Allie told her friend nervously.

"No, it's…" Chantal looked more closely at the man.

"He's changed his hair color, grew a bit of a beard but it's him. I heard his voice yesterday at the police station. It's him," Allie said.

"Very good Allie, you always were a bright girl weren't you. Science nerd, quiz bowl team," Daryl fired back.

"W..what do you want with us," Chantal asked, her hands instinctively covered the child still in her womb?

"I want to kill you, you idiot, what do you think?"

"Look, if you want to kill me because I'm working with the FBI, I get that, but Chantal has nothing to do with it. You can let her go." Allie tried to reason with the man.

"You don't get it, do you. I was never after you Allie. Chantal is the one who needs to die. You're just, what do they call it, collateral damage." Chantal's breathing was audible and rapid now; Allie's heart was pounding in her ears but she knew she had to try to stay calm. Daryl continued, "I liked you Allie, I really did. You were always nice to Darcy. I really didn't want to hurt you. I just wanted you to know how it felt, to lose a sister. You two are just like sisters, always together, Allie Graham and Chantal Grant.

"You don't have to hurt Chantal to get at me. Do what you want to me but let her go," Allie pleaded.

"No," he said loudly, "Chantal has to die for what she did to Darcy."

"I never did anything to Darcy," Chantal responded tearfully.

"Do you remember when Cindy Tyson moved away?" Chantal nodded absently, trying to understand why this was important and not succeeding.

"There was an opening for the choir and Darcy tried out. Mr. Morphy told her she had a lovely voice and he was going to give her the spot, but then you rushed in, late as usual, but Mr. Morphy still let you audition because you smiled prettily at him and he gave you the spot that was Darcy's."

"You can't be serious. You can't want to kill me over a spot in a choir five years ago," Chantal was disbelieving.

"He's serious," Allie whispered, "He's devolving."

Chantal looked confused again, "He's he's de..what?"

"Alright, enough chit chat, we're getting out of here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out something which he clicked with his thumb, and a sharp shiny blade emerged from the handle. Allie suddenly wondered if it was the knife that had killed Laurel Jamison. "We are going out of here and down the hall to the back entrance. One word out of either of you and the other gets it. You got that? I've got nothing to lose and if I'm going down, one of you is going with me. You hear me?" The two women nodded.

He motioned with his hand for them to come over to him. He opened the door slightly, looked around, then opened it all the way, pushing the women ahead of him. Allie could feel the sharpness of the knife at her back. She could hear the music and voices coming from the ballroom. She tried to think of a way to alert someone but she couldn't risk Chantal and her baby, so she walked silently in front of Daryl. They saw a plain clothed police officer at the door, dressed as a hotel employee. He looked at them as they approached the door. "Hi," Daryl said in a bored manner. "Is this night never gonna be over. The ladies need some air. Can you believe it; the FBI guy can't even escort his own girlfriend out for some air. Who was his slave last week?"

"I hear ya; I picked up this shift tonight hoping there'd be some excitement in this town for a change. Nada," he said as Daryl, Allie and Chantal made their way out the door.

"That's it, keep going girls, nice and easy," Daryl commanded as the two women walked obediently in front of him. The hotel parking lot was full of vehicles but devoid of people Allie noted as he directed them toward his vehicle. It was well lit but Allie could see no way out of the present predicament, not with Chantal's condition. Allie knew she couldn't hope to fight him alone and Chantal was in no condition to help. If they couldn't get out of the situation she'd have to do something to help Spencer find them, she told herself.

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Craig and Mark had taken it upon themselves to entertain Spencer with stories of their exploits on the football field. Craig had just filled Reid in on one of Mark's finer moments, a field goal against their cross town rivals with only one second left on the clock. "Talk about tense. Man that was tense!" Mark said as his friend patted him on the back.

Tense, Reid laughed inwardly, if they thought that was tense, he wondered how they'd feel about having a madman point a gun at your head and keep pulling the trigger, or watching said madman murder people on a computer screen while you were tied to a chair or maybe sitting in a darkened ER with your hands tied having to make one shot count against another madman with an M4 on full auto, or how about trying to get a Muslim terrorist to reveal the site of a planned anthrax attack that could wipe out thousands; or perhaps entering a train car, to face yet another madman armed with two guns and holding a bunch of hostages, with nothing but a computer chip and a magic trick. Then of course, there was straddling a teenager who'd slit his wrists, trying to apply enough pressure to keep him alive; or, possibly, as a ten year old, needing to lock up all the knives in the house because your mother, when off her meds, sometimes mistook you for a fascist spy. Or lastly, having your bone marrow sucked out of you to be transfused into your little brother in an attempt to save his life. He liked Mark and Craig but, he decided, they did not know the meaning of tense.

"The girls seem to have been gone for a while," Reid said. "I hope there's nothing wrong."

"Oh, you know women, they probably met somebody in the hallway and they're talking." Craig looked at Mark thinking Spencer was one uptight character.

"I'm just going to go have a look," he said, getting up and heading for the ballroom door. There was no sign of them in the hall. He walked along to where the restrooms were and saw an out of order sign on the women's bathroom door. It hadn't been there before. So if the girls weren't there, where were they? He walked a little further down the hall and saw the officer he'd spoken to earlier.

"Oh, you're looking for your girlfriend," he said. "The waiter took them outside." What waiter Reid thought. Had they maybe gone out with Hotch or Morgan?

"When was this," Reid asked?

The man chuckled, "What do you mean, when was this, the guy told me you asked him to escort the ladies out to get some air, so you would know when it was better than I would."

"What guy," Reid said, his voice rising, "I never told any guy to escort Allie outside."

Reid's and the officer's eyes both widened and they ran out to the parking lot. Allie and Chantal were nowhere to be seen. "Allie," Reid called, running through the parking lot, the officer joining him, sensing the urgency. Reid came to an empty parking stall and saw something on the ground. He took the silk handkerchief from his pocket and picked it up. It was a red pleated clutch that matched Allie's dress. Things had suddenly gotten tense!