Thank you for reading! Sorry it took me so long to update. The author's notes are now in bold because apparently that's what everyone else does.
"Have you heard anything?" Hotch demanded angrily.
"No, sir. Haven't heard anything yet, sir, sorry."
Hotch was speaking to the new technical analyst, a very thin man named Justin Boyson. He was wearing glasses that seemed too big for his face and kept twitching nervously.
"It's nearly five in the morning. He should have attacked by now," Hotch muttered.
"Yes, sir," Justin muttered nervously. "We're keeping tabs, sir, on all of the hospitals, sir, but we haven't heard anything yet, sir—"
"Has the power gone out at any of them?" Hotch asked.
"No, sir, we would know immediately if it did…sir."
Hotch gritted his teeth. "Alright…keep watching."
"Yes, sir."
Hotch left the office, rubbing his eyes and emitting a loud yawn. Rossi was in his office, staring out the window. Hotch glanced into the bullpen; Morgan was spinning slowly around and around in his chair, tossing a foam basketball up and down aimlessly. Prentiss; who had been in tears on and off all afternoon; had apparently exhausted herself completely and fallen asleep at her desk.
Hotch thought about going into his office and following her example. However, he forced himself to go into the break room and pour himself a cup of coffee. He returned to the bullpen area and called everyone into the conference room.
It took them awhile to get assembled; mostly because it took Morgan several minutes to wake Prentiss up. After everyone was seated, Hotch realized he didn't really have anything constructive to say.
"It doesn't make any sense," he said eventually. "The profile says that he had to attack tonight. But he hasn't attacked anywhere."
Rossi and Prentiss stared at him apathetically. Prentiss' eyes looked like they were about to close again. Morgan got to his feet; he seemed to be the only with any energy.
"Maybe he's waiting," Morgan said. "He probably knows that we've staked out all the hospitals."
Hotch was already shaking his head. "He told me he was going to attack tonight," he muttered, "He has to attack tonight. He'll feel…wrong if he doesn't."
Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Hotch," he said, "Reid's smart. He knows that he can't attack any of those hospitals and get away with it."
Hotch continued to shake his head. "No," he said, "It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't—"
Hotch broke off angrily as his phone began to ring. He glanced at the caller ID; unknown number.
"You guys," Hotch said solemnly, "This could be him."
It rang again.
"If it is, we obviously won't be able to track it. But…"
"Put it on speaker," Rossi advised.
Hotch did just that, then answered the phone.
"This is Hotch."
"Agent Hotchner?" It was a young woman's voice. She sounded extremely frightened.
"Yes?" Hotch inquired, confused.
"He wanted me…he wanted me to call to say…you lose."
Hotch froze. "What?"
"Agent Hotchner, I tried to stop it. I really did. I just…oh, god."
"Who is this? What's happened? Where are you?" Hotch demanded.
"I wanted to s-stop him, Agent Hotchner, but I thought he would kill me, I—"
"Where are you?" Hotch demanded.
"I…I work at St. Emerson's." The voice took a deep breath.
"St. what?" Hotch demanded angrily.
"It's a n-nursing home," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Nursing home?" Hotch said, his blood turning to ice.
The girl's voice was descending into panic. "He just killed them. He killed all of them. They're all dead. I couldn't do anything…"
"Justin!" Hotch screeched, pushing his way out of the office and rushing into the computer lab. Justin whipped around in his chair, looking terrified.
"Find St. Emerson's Nursing Home," Hotch demanded.
"I…okay, sir," Justin whispered, his fingers shaking as he typed the address into the search engine. Twenty seconds later, he said, "It's about fifteen miles from here, sir."
"Send the address to my phone," Hotch snapped, thinking errantly that Garcia could have found it in half the time. "And send an ambulance." The girl on the other end of the line had begun to sob.
"What's your name?" Hotch asked the girl, trying to calm her down.
"Alyssa," she whimpered. "I'm so sorry, Agent Hotchner…"
"Alyssa, we're coming right away," Hotch said. "Just stay where you are. How many people are hurt?"
"No one's hurt," she whispered.
"What?"
"No one's hurt. They're all dead," she gasped, and started to sob again.
"Is there anyone else with you, Alyssa?"
"They're all dead. All of them," she wailed.
Hotch whipped by the conference room, motioning for the other three agents to follow him.
"Alyssa, how long ago were you attacked?" Hotch asked, as the four of them rushed down the staircase.
"I called you right away," she gasped, "I called you as soon as I could. I promise, Agent Hotchner."
"So, ten minutes ago?"
"More…more like five," she whispered. "I…I called right away. As soon as he…gave me the phone. I promise."
"Alyssa, did you see the man who did this?"
"Y-yes. I c-can identify him if you w-want, I saw his face, I…" she trailed off, then began breathing very quickly.
"Alyssa, I want you to sit down on the ground and put your head between your knees. Take deep breaths. I don't want you to hyperventilate. Okay?" By this point, Hotch had already gotten into the car with Morgan, with Prentiss and Rossi in the backseat. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, sirens blaring.
"Okay…okay…" He could hear her breathing deeply, trying to calm herself.
"Alright, Alyssa. Now, did you see which way the man who did this went? After he left the nursing home?"
"N-no. He l-locked me in the c-closet. D-dialed the number, and left, and…"
Hotch frowned. "You're in a closet?"
"He…he locked the door. T-told me to call you, though…I d-don't know where he went…" She trailed off and started breathing too quickly again.
"Alright, Alyssa, just relax. No one's going to hurt you. We're almost there."
Hotch stayed on the phone with Alyssa, still trying to calm her down. When they arrived at the address, everything was dark. There were no cars in the parking lot.
"He's already left," Rossi muttered grimly.
Hotch sighed. "Alyssa, we're at the building. I'm going to hang up now, but we'll be right inside. Okay?"
"O…okay, Agent Hotchner."
Hotch snapped the phone shut; he and Morgan advanced with their guns raised, with Prentiss and Rossi not far behind. Morgan reached for the door.
"It's not locked, you guys," he said. Morgan pushed the door open and the four of them entered the darkened building.
"Oh, my god," Prentiss whispered.
Two young women and a man were lying on the floor; each of them had a bullet hole in their head. They were all wearing scrubs. "Nurses and orderlies," Morgan muttered.
"Come on," Hotch said. They moved towards a room filled with the bodies of five or six patients, each slumped in a wheelchair or lying on the floor.
Prentiss and Rossi rushed in and began checking the pulses of the patients; Hotch and Morgan moved on. It was deathly quiet.
They passed another room filled with bodies; Hotch averted his eyes and moved on. How many could there possibly be?
It was at this point that he heard a dull pounding. "Alyssa?" Hotch said, immediately starting forward. The pounding got louder. "Alyssa!" He turned a corner and approached a small storage closet.
"Alyssa? Is that you?"
He heard a soft "Yes!" from inside the closet, and some relieved sobbing.
"Can you get away from the door? My friend is going to kick it in."
He heard a muffled affirmation. Several seconds later, Morgan backed up and kicked the door in. A young woman who looked no older than twenty was crouched in the corner, trembling. "A-agent Hotchner?" she asked, looking directly at Hotch. Hotch noticed that she was still clutching a phone in her hand.
Hotch nodded. "Are you alright?" he asked. Alyssa burst into tears and ran at Hotch before collapsing, forcing him to catch her. Hotch slowly lowered her onto the ground, maintaining eye contact. "You're having a panic attack," he said, "I just need you to take deep breaths, okay? You're going to be fine."
Meanwhile, Rossi approached them. "The nurses and orderlies died of gunshot wounds," he said, "But all of the patients were injected with a lethal dose of…something." He trailed off. "They all had similar looking track marks on their arms."
"No survivors?" Hotch asked weakly.
"We searched both floors. Prentiss is checking each room separately, but my guess is no."
Alyssa began to hyperventilate again.
"Hey, deep breaths, remember?" Hotch said.
"It's m-my fault," she gasped, "I was the f-first to see him w-walk in. I was afraid he was going to k-kill me…I c-couldn't h-help them…he killed…and he has…"
"It's alright," Hotch soothed her, "Just take a deep breath. There was nothing you could have done."
"Hotch, the ambulance is here," Prentiss called.
"Can you stand?" Hotch asked Alyssa. She nodded fervently, although she was still breathing heavily.
"I can't breathe!" She gasped suddenly, collapsing again. Hotch supported her, then gently lifted her up.
"We're going to go outside," he said soothingly, carrying her out towards the doors.
"Agent Hotchner, will you go with me in the ambulance?" She pleaded, her grip on his shirt vice-like.
Hotch sighed. "I have to stay with my team and look over the crime scene," he said, "Or else the man who did this might get away. But I'll wait with you until the ambulance is ready to leave, okay?" Alyssa looked significantly calmer. She was still holding the phone. Hotch stepped outside, carrying Alyssa across the parking lot.
"I have to call my…mom," she gasped, fiddling with the device.
"Put that away, you can call her later," Hotch said; however, the girl didn't appear to be listening, and Hotch didn't have much control over the situation seeing as her was using both of his arms to carry her. She dialed a number, waited as it rung a few times, then snapped it shut suddenly.
"Oh, no, she's probably asleep!" She gasped, and began hyperventilating again.
"Alyssa, you need to calm down. You're perfectly safe. You can call you mother once you get to the hospital."
"No, no, you don't understand," she whispered, as they got further and further away from the building. They arrived at the ambulance and Hotch sat her down on one of the steps.
"A paramedic will be with you shortly, once they've finished checking the building," Hotch said soothingly. However, this didn't seem to calm Alyssa down. Her breathing sped up again, and tears began leaking down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Agent Hotchner," she whispered.
Hotch frowned. He opened his mouth to speak—but was immediately cut off.
He heard it first; the blast was louder than anything he'd experienced before. Then he saw it; a combination of red and yellow and orange and smoke, pieces of debris flying everywhere; he could feel himself screaming, but he couldn't hear it. Alyssa was crying, mouthing over and over "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"
Hotch couldn't move; he was frozen in place, staring at the smoldering remains of the building, his mouth agape, his chest and lungs constricting in terror; he heard the echo of a voice in his mind, repeating the same mantra over and over.
You lose.
Confused? If you read carefully, you might be able to figure it out. Otherwise, all will be explained in the next chapter. Thank-you for reading! Please leave a review!