A/L Noncon warning.
NO SURRENDER
Chapter 5
The End of the Road
Feeling his flesh quiver beneath my fingers is so exciting. He is asleep and dreaming. I wish I could walk in his dreams with him, share his fantasies and hopes. Maybe when he trusts me fully, when he loves me, he will invite me to his hidden safe place. I have dreams too. Mase used to visit me, but now Aaron Hotchner comes to me. I want the dreams to be real, and seeing him lying helpless and sleeping makes me wonder if I am dreaming this.
Some times I even doubt my sanity.
I touch him, stroke him; his cool white skin moves beneath my fingers as he wanders his hidden dreams and he moans softly, shifting his position. I climb on the bed and adjust his clothing so that he is ready for me. I sit astride him and lean down, kissing him gently on his soft cool lips. I nuzzle into him, I put my arms around him and lift him slightly from the bed and hold him close to my bare skin.
Oh god he is so beautiful. I hold his face between my hands and rape him with all my love, gently, soothingly. I tenderly press my face against the soft texture of his neck and I suck his salty skin. I want to bite, leave a mark on what is mine. Brand him with my name. I can't help biting. I sink my teeth into his skin and suddenly he is awake and trying to get me off him.
I can't let him go, but he no longer wants me. I know he is weak and ill. I have not given him any food and hardly anything to drink and this is day three. I know I need to feed him, or he will die. But I offered him food and he rejected it. I will give him water. I stay on him and bite round where the belt is cutting a welt on his lovely neck.
I can taste blood where I have broken the skin. I can hear him softly protest as I move on him, but the dream is over. I lean on his chest and he cries out as I disturb broken ribs and I can feel the vibration of the bones grinding together. His head is turned to the side and he is biting his lip. I can see his eyes water as he is fighting the pain.
I'll give him pain; he should never have rejected me.
-0-0-0-
Aaron was lost in a soft velvet dream – an escape from the horrors of what his life had suddenly become. Floating in sensual nothingness, he can move here, no painful restraints holding him, no agony with every breath.
He reached out his arms. There were lights in the darkness, like stars. People he loved surrounded him, touching him, promising him hope in his hopelessness. He relaxed in the freedom he had found, gently floating painlessly. He cried in his dream, waiting for it to shatter, and a sudden pain tore him away from the peace.
The woman was upon him, raping him, taking what she wanted. His remaining dignity was being torn from him as he lay without hope, captured in a new life of horror and fear.
He squirmed as she sank her teeth into his neck and he felt the blood trickle down his neck into his hair.
'No. please d-don't touch me!' He tried to push her off him, but he felt her press down on his ribs and the pain of the bones moving made his eyes water. He bit down on his lip to stop involuntary screaming.
She slid off the bed and threw the blanket over him.
'You rejected me again!' she said threateningly, her voice low and brittle. Grabbing hold of the belt she jerked it tight. 'Will you ever learn?'
Aaron felt the belt buckle cut into his skin and she pulled it hard. He choked again, and his eyes widened in panic as he lost consciousness again.
-0-0-0-
Emily paced the small room, thinking about how she had practically ignored Hotch since he'd been back at work, and now he was missing and in danger again, the feelings she had for him had risen to the surface. It was difficult for her to understand her feelings – she had never been good at profiling herself, and she was often surprised by her own reactions to things. Her mother had never encouraged her to self analyse.
She had a small photograph of him in her purse, and she took it out to look at it. She was not sure why she carried it, but she could not bring herself to throw it away.
There was definitely something about him; she loved his helplessness, his vulnerability. But she didn't need his strength; she had her own and had no need of his.
She heard the door behind her open and she quickly slid the picture home.
Aaron Hotchner – what is it about you that confuses me so?
-0-0-0-
Reid and Rossi wanted to check out the address that Pouter had given them, but really needed back up in case she was there. Reid called Morgan on his cell and when they arrived at the end of the road where Cynthia Chaucer's house was, Morgan and Prentiss were already there. They stood together in the afternoon drizzle, and decided how to approach the house.
The house stood alone at the end of the narrow street. There was no van in the drive, and from where they were they could see one of the basement windows banging on its frame in the wind.
The four agents moved along the street, keeping to the shadows of the trees that lined the pavement. They saw that the drive way led behind the house, and there was a garage where the van could be hidden.
Morgan and Prentiss followed the drive round to the back of the house, and stood in the shadows. The banging of the lose window and the sound of the rain on the trees gave the house an eerie atmosphere. Slowly and silently the agents crept to the back door and stood either side of it, waiting.
Rossi and Reid went to the front door.
'FBI! Open the door.'
They stood either side of the door, matching Morgan and Prentiss's stance in the back garden. Reid reached out and turned the handle. The door swung open, creaking slightly in the damp afternoon air. Rossi went in low, Reid behind him. Quickly they cleared the rooms downstairs, and opened the back door for Morgan and Prentiss, who went upstairs and checked each room.
Reid opened the door to the basement. The smell was overwhelming. He put his hand over his nose and mouth. He silently drew the door closed again.
'Rossi!' he called softly. 'There's something dead in the basement.'
The four agents stood by the door and Reid opened it again. Rossi stepped through the door and felt for a light switch. The place was bathed in a murky glow.
'Oh my good heavens!' Emily breathed.
The four agents descended into the basement in single file. The sound of flies buzzing against the incessant drizzle and the banging of the open window added to the impression of darkness, even though the room was bathed in light. The corpse was blackened and seemed to be moving with maggots. It was hanging by its arms from a hook in the ceiling. Whoever it was had been dead for a while. Dave went close to it and noted that he or she had been naked when they died.
'is it....?' Emily asked, afraid of the answer.
Reid had his hand over the lower part of his face still, so no one could see the scared expression on his face.
'It isn't Hotch.' Dave said. 'This one has been dead for a few weeks I think.'
Morgan went up the stairs to get a cell signal and called the LAPD. Reid moved around the room, checking to see if there was any evidence that Hotchner had ever been there, but there wasn't any.
'At least we know now that we have the right UnSub.' Emily said, joining Rossi next to the body. She shone her flashlight on the floor below the corpse.
'The feet are touching the ground.' She said.
'That wouldn't help Hotch.' Reid said, a slight tremor in his voice. 'Look here.'
Reid was standing by a bed in the corner of the room. He played his flashlight over the sheets on the bed. 'Semen stains.'
'So in all probability, the body belongs to a man.' Morgan said. There was a pile of clothing on the floor that he was checking out. 'The shirt is intact, the trousers have been cut off.' he said. 'The clothes are old. He could be homeless.'
'A practice run.' Dave said under his breath. 'We need to find Hotch. And quickly.'
-0-0-0-
My favourite weapon is the length of wood. It still has blood and hair on it from last time I hit him, but that time he wasn't injured already. I raise it over my head and bring it down on his abdomen just above his hips. He didn't scream, but he made a sound of pain from the back of his throat. I think I hurt his neck and now he can't even scream!
Something is working out anyway.
I touch the place where I hit him – a reddish mark that darkens as I look at it. It feels hot, and I think he is bleeding.
I hit him again. No sound this time though. The wood makes a different sound as it impacts with his skin. He turns his head and looks at me with those gorgeous dark unfathomable eyes.
'I love you.' I tell him, and hit him a third time. This time he rolls his eyes and passes out.
-0-0-0-
Hotchner was not moving on the bed, and for a moment, she was afraid she may have killed him…The beating she had given him as punishment for his rejection of her had split the wood lengthways, she had hit him so hard. She had tried to keep the area where she hit him as small as possible. She didn't want him dead, but his lower abdomen was blackening now as blood flowed under the skin. She thought he was bleeding internally. She untied him, and with her arms around his chest under his arms, she dragged him back to where the hook was in the ceiling, and she threaded a rope through the loop, the other end between his restrained wrists. She pulled on the other end of the rope, and hauled Hotchner onto his feet. His head hung forwards and his eyes were closed. She couldn't see him breathing. She wondered if he was dead.
-0-0-0-
Enough on the bed, I want to hang him up again like the useless creature he is. I undo his ankles and the knot holding his wrists. I turn him and drag him off the bed and across the floor to the hook. This will be his last position. I think his injuries are fatal. I don't know how long he will last now.
-0-0-0-
'Take a look at these books.' Reid said, taking one off the shelf in Chaucer's living room.
At first the room looked as if it belonged to someone of above average intelligence; there were books lining three of the walls, and an old desk and chair along the fourth. But on closer inspection they revealed something rather sinister.
'"The Corpse Garden"' read Emily. 'What's it about?'
'The Wests.' Reid answered. 'English serial killers of the Folie a Deux kind.'
'All these books are on true crime. Aileen Wournos, Gacy, Dahmer- there're all here.' Morgan said. 'This woman is seriously disturbed.'
Reid was quiet. Hotch was in great danger, and he was no where near finding him. He went to the desk. There had to be something here that would tell them where Hotch was. He saw the image of the corpse downstairs. He couldn't bear the thought of the man he loved being left like that.
Time was running out, but even he didn't know how quickly.