Authoress Notes: Inspired by the film 'The Hitcher'.
Title: Hitchhiker
By: Clonksholic
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Any original characters belong to me. I gain no profit from writing this, and do so solely to entertain.
Warning: Not recommended for ages under 18. INCLUDES VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL REFERENCES. POSSIBLE REFERENCES TO RAPE. Note the rating and warning dear readers; if such subject matter makes you uncomfortable, don't read it.
Summary: When Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss pick up a hitchhiker on a rural road on the way back from a case in New Mexico, a generous act turns into a fight for their lives.
MESSAGE TO MY READERS: Much thanks to those who reviewed! :) It's great to know that the story's being read by many so far, not to mention extremely motivating. Hope this chapter's just as, if not more, enjoyable than the last.
Hitchhiker
Chapter 3
Agent Emily Prentiss felt disoriented when she finally came to.
Her limbs felt numb; she felt as if she was unable to move them. Her head felt numb, she felt paralysed, as if all feeling and sensation had left her body.
Time had become something that was no longer existent; she felt blank, as if all had come to a stand still. Her sense of smell had finally become habituated to the stench of corpse that had surrounded the place, somewhere during her unconsciousness, and now it was gone as if it had never been there at all.
'Smell's the weakest sense. You should get used to it soon enough.'
'It's the same as sound; give it enough time and your attention spotlight renders averts to a source of greater importance.'
Reid's voice sounded distant, as if in a dream or a long tunnel.
The smell of death was hard to wash off. Her nose might have thought it harmless at its constant presence and rendered it something she didn't need to be aware of anymore, but she knew from experience that the stench clung to everything; fabric, the place, anything it had been on. Anyone who had worked with dead bodies for some time knew; there wasn't much that could successfully mask or remove the smell of a decomposing body. It soaked through everything it had been on, unable to be removed by bleach or water after some time into the decomposition. It was as if death had to make a mark on everything, targeting the sensory perception that would turn everyone away from where it had been present.
Her gaze trailed around the room lazily, searching for a window, a broken clock even, a familiar ticking, anything that could tell her something about the hour, about the minute, the second; tell her that time had not come to a stop.
'Prentiss.'
It felt as if she had been jerked from a dream, that feeling of falling that pulled you away from sleep.
'Hotch?'
She found herself staring into her supervisor's gaze, her eyes widening at the cut beside his cheek. She spotted the SUV keys, still by Hotch's feet and put two and two together.
'Did he cut through the cheek?'
Hotch ignored the question.
Emily tried a different approach. 'How long has it been?'
'Not long enough,' Hotch said, fatigue draining away his ability to mask his worry and fear.
'Hotch –'
'Emily.'
'Yeah,' she replied quickly, fear beginning to creep in at his use of her first name and as Hotch's gaze averted from hers and refused to meet hers again.
'Did you see the girl before you?'
Emily shook her head. Then she paused as she searched Hotch's face. 'This isn't his first, is it?'
'No.'
Emily finally looked around the room, silent as she studied its every nook and cranny. She tiled her head up, her gaze meeting the wall that separated her and Hotch. It was a simple wooden panel, something that they wouldn't have stood a chance against a good, solid kick. She realised that Hotch and her had not needed to raise their voice anything above their usual conversing tones, the room somehow allowing them to echo, so that they sounded as if they were right besides each other.
She wondered how loud it would get if someone screamed.
A sudden beep next to her ear caused her to jerk, the beeps suddenly becoming faster at her sudden movement. She twisted her head as far as she could, finally gaining a glimpse of where the sound was coming from.
A familiar dark monitor with glowing green lines met her gaze.
A heart beat monitor.
She breathed out, unsure why she felt a sudden sense of relief.
'Have you been in here the whole time?' Emily asked, twisting her wrists in their restraints.
Hotch gave a nod. 'He brought you in here I'd say about an hour ago.'\
She gazed up at the mirror above her once more, realizing that she could only see Hotch; but not herself.
'He's a sadist,' she said, testing out her legs and feet. They were restrained also.
She continued when Hotch's gaze met hers in acknowledgement.
'So why can't I see myself in the mirror?' She questioned, this time moving her entire body to check its condition. 'Often sexual sadists like him get off on psychologically torturing their victims.'
'Well playing with two people gives him the same release, if not more.' Hotch hypothesized. 'Even if the victim he is torturing may not be able to watch his actions, they're able to gauge with the partner in this room. It's still a form of psychological torture.'
Emily decided to finish off what Hotch refused to say. 'Because I'll only be able to gain an idea of what's going on by watching your reactions. I'll never know until it hits me; right?'
Hotch refused to answer but continued to meet her gaze, his expression familiar and infallible, the one that was present every single time he delivered a profile.
'Sometimes watching someone's reaction towards something that's happening to you is more grueling; that's why,' Emily continued. A corner of her lip cocked up in a half grin. 'Then it's lucky I'm stuck here with you, Mr. Drill Sergeant. Can't imagine what it could have been like with Reid; though suppose with him the torture might not be as bad as what his expressions would imply.'
A moment of silence ensued, the beeping of the heart monitor now on the outskirts of their attention.
'Hotch, can I ask you a favour?'
Hotch met her gaze, unsure of what to reply.
Emily took it as a yes. 'When he comes back –'
'We'll get out of here,' he wished he could say. 'You'll be fine.' He wished he could reassure; as each and every person who had sat in his position to watch a loved one or friend tortured would have naturally done so.
But in his line of occupation, from the corpse he had seen previously lying where Prentiss was now, from what they BOTH had seen and experienced, he knew it wasn't going to be okay.
'And whatever he does –'
He wouldn't betray his respect for his colleague and friend by lying with possible death knocking at their door; for he knew those words would not work. He knew he had to be realistic, no matter how insensitive it was.
'Whatever he says –'
He raised his eyes and caught a glimpse of her fear, but only just before it disappeared.
'Don't treat me like a victim.'
'I know,' he said, giving a firm nod. 'And when we get through this –'
If. The word 'when' blurted out, completely resilient to his careful wording. Fuck.
'If.'
Hotch refused to break his gaze, a sudden sense of anger rushing through his veins as she repeated the words that had never left his mind.
'When – we get through this,' Hotch tried again. 'Don't treat me like one either.'
.
.
.
When a lion attacks a member of a herd, successfully bringing it down to its death, the others within the herd will often pay it no mind; those who had once bolted in fear of the lion now knowing it as safe enough to continue feeding, even if they stand only a mere few feet away from the predator and the prey that may have once ran alongside them.
The fact that its death prolongs their life for another moment is all the information they need.
.
.
.
'I…'
'you…'
'…your reactions'
'mine'
'…until it hits me'
'Even if the victim…'
'gauge with the partner in his room…'
The moment he tried to distance himself, attempting to rely on the clinical jargon, no different to the other times they had delivered the profile; that's when he knew he was afraid.
That's when Hotch finally raised his head and looked into the face of fear, because he knew Emily already had and was meeting it head on.
Pronouns instead of second person; she had already accepted it and was ready for whatever it was that was coming with a great deal of bravery.
That's when he knew for sure; he was frightened of the fact that he was going to watch her. Watch as a friend, a colleague, all that was Emily lay in the other room was tortured, in some sick way they had once narrated as part of some unsub's profile.
The thought of it sent his stomach churning.
It wasn't just the fear. Hand in hand with the fright came a soft, dangerous feeling of relief, in the manner that the waves at the beach teasingly lap at the sand.
Relief that he wasn't in her position; that he was the one sitting in the chair instead, with a better chance of getting out alive. It was never overt; he would not let it get that far. However, it lingered, as subtle as the soft beeping of the heart monitor that he could see was attached to several parts of Emily's body, only to intensify when he realised the torture he would be spared from.
He wasn't sure what he was more frightened of; the pending doom or this unfamiliar side of him that was animalistic yet completely human.
After all, how really different were they in the end?
.
.
.
Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends.
- Shirley Maclaine
.
.
.
The glowing ball in FBI technical analyst Penelope Garcia's hand stopped moving about as her fingers tightened around its rubbery surface.
Her voice was strained as she struggled to find words, pushing down the fear that bubbled from within by repeating to herself that what she heard may not have meant anything.
As soon as her phone was replaced back onto the receiver, she jumped from her chair, turned on her heel and rushed from her office, leaving her computer screens blaring and the glowing ball she had thrown onto her chair rolling about temporarily until it came to a stop.
.
.
.
'It's one of the six tactics of manipulation,'
JJ smiled as she heard Reid's voice. Enthusiasm was forever in his favour.
'You'd think that creating a product that no one would buy would be counterintuitive, that it would adhere a larger cost than profit, but due to the contrast principle it increases the subjective value of the other products the company markets thus –'
Reid's enthusiastic speech was cut off by Morgan's question as they both walked into the room.
'Where's Hotch?'
JJ stopped in her tracks, her hand that had been placing the files down on the desk now frozen in mid action as if someone had hit the pause button.
'And Prentiss? She's never late.' Rossi added, his brows arched in a worried manner.
'They hadn't contacted me about anything,' JJ said, frowning as her expression turned pensive. 'Can you reach them on their cell?'
'I've already tried them both,' Derek said. 'It just keeps going to their voicemail.'
'I think we might have trouble.'
Penelope's panicked voice caused the team to turn towards her. She forwarded into the room, handing Rossi a note where she had written the details on.
'It's along one of the routes of New Mexico; where Hotch and Emily had driven through before their reception cut out. A man found an upturned car with a female victim inside. It turns out that it spiked a large investigation since the method of her torture and death matches that of a serial killer who's been off the grid since six years ago,' she said, tripping over her words as she spoke quickly. 'Just thought you should know since it's right on the route.'
'Wait, where Hotch and Prentiss had been –'
'I tracked their cells just in case after they told me they'd be driving,' she added at Rossi's question.
'You can't tell us anymore baby girl?' Derek said, his brows furrowing to change his approving look to one of concern.
'Reception cuts out for at least fifty miles,' Penelope said, shaking her head. 'There's no way of knowing exactly when they disappeared.'
'Have we been invited in?' Reid asked, adjusting the satchel he had placed on the ground over his shoulder once more.
'Well I checked the registration plates of the car the man found, and it turns out she's not from the area and was passing through New Mexico. It's across jurisdictions,' Penelope answered.
'The jet's ready,' JJ said, already beginning to walk towards the door. 'We should get going.'
'Garcia, get us the files about this guy to our PDA,' Derek yelled over his shoulder as they rushed towards the jet. 'We need to know as much about this guy as we can.'
.
.
.
One moment she was looking up at the mirror, looking around at the surroundings behind Hotch.
Then. The one second her eyes had grazed over Hotch's face, she caught a glimpse of fear on his expression.
Her head and eyes swiveled to the figure who was suddenly standing beside her.
Then the world went dark and incredibly wet as an icy cold cloth was thrown over her face, tightening to a point she found it hard to breathe. Her head was jerked upwards and held there with great force.
Then came the assault of ice cold water.
Filling her nose.
Her mouth. When she felt the water enter her esophagus she knew it was cold enough to knock her unconscious if it were to reach her lungs.
She tightened her lips, her head instinctively shaking from side to side as it tried to avoid the onslaught of water that immediately induced her gag reflex.
Then, she took a breath, which was soon expelled as she choked on the continued stream of water that assaulted her nose and mouth.
Someone was taking both her lungs into her hands, and constricting them with every single breath that never gave her the air she needed.
Her ears were screaming, the rapid beeping of the heart monitor piercing her hearing.
Her heart beat.
She couldn't scream.
The moment she opened her mouth to do so the cloth, the water, it smothered her.
And another.
'Can you hear yourself?'
She couldn't breathe.
She reached out towards the surface, feeling her insides lurch as she struggled to resist breathing. But it came again, her lungs squeezing in response.
Her vision started to go white.
God please stop this.
'Can you hear me?'
Someone.
Stop this.
She heard herself cough, her lungs filling with air once more. Her body gave its last jerk then she let herself lay, breathing heavily as her vision began to return.
BeepBeepBeepBeep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep. Beep Beep. Beep Beep.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beep.
She felt his breath by her ear, his hand a source of heat on her neck.
'Can you hear it? Our heartbeats are in sync.'
'Fuck you.'
She heard his low chuckle, amused and dangerous.
'Did you hear your heart beat faster, Agent Prentiss? 'Cause I did. Sooner or later, the moment I come in, you'll see. You won't be able to stop it. You won't be able to stop your heart from screaming.'
.
.
.
Please Read and Review!