Thank you Mummacass for the review.

Rick tapped his pen off the glass of his desk; he was awaiting a call from the FBI field office on the other side of Miami. He was tired of calling people, the Feds weren't hurting anyone staying in the lab, they were in a room that was barely used.

The IA Sergeant knew all too well that Horatio knew where the boy was. The older man had steadily grown more reckless since Cardoza's death. He tended to beat suspects, threaten them, and generally break protocol. Rick had been able to cover his ass, and the department's, and frankly he was tired of it. He stood up, and strutted out of the office to attempt to locate Horatio.

Walking down toward the CSI lab, he got a few dirty looks, and a few newbies tried to make it look like they were doing something very important. The turnover rate in the lab demanded perfection. He saw Horatio talking to Eric, and motioned to him. The red head said something to Eric and followed Stetler back down the hall. Rick shut the door behind them, in the empty AV lab.

"What do you want Rick?" Horatio asked, obviously impatient.

"Do you know where the kid is?"

"If I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"That much I figured Horatio. You need to tell the Feds."

"I don't need to tell the Feds anything."

"If Hotchner figures out what you are hiding, what you have been doing, he will have you arrested, and thrown into the darkest hole he can find. No one will bail you out." Horatio shifted his weight and stared hard into Rick's eyes, getting more angry by the second. "You need to face reality."

"I do?" Horatio laughed darkly. "You need to face reality, if you give those Feds any ideas, I will kill you." With that, he turned and walked out of the room. Stetler jumped as the door slammed shut, and glass rattled. He stood there for a moment, this is the second death threat he had recieved from the man, and he was truly afraid.

0000000

It took another three weeks for the BAU to finally leave the precinct. Horatio was relieved; no one had seemed to catch onto him. He had not heard back from Benny in a while, and assumed Jack was still in Fort Lauderdale.

Rick went back home that night, exhausted from all of the stress he was under. Supervisor O Shea was pressuring him to crack down on Horatio, and Rick figured it would be safer to just quit. He pulled up to the small town house, and locked his car before walking inside. He shut the door behind him, locked it and toed off his shoes before walking to the kitchen. Rick poured a glass of whiskey before sauntering to the living room.

"Goddamit." Rick growled partly in fear and frustration. He was too late to dodge or really react as Hotchner pinned him to the wall. The glass fell to the floor and shattered, whiskey and glass fragments covering the linoleum. "What do you want?"

"Do you know where my son is?"

"No."

"You know more than that." Aaron swung him around and threw him on the floor. Rick landed on the glass, and howled as it cut his back through the shirt.

"I know nothing." Rick couldn't decide if he should fight or not.

"Where would Caine take him?"

"I. do. not. know." Rick growled through the pain.

"I'm not in the mood for games." Hotch pulled his gun from its holster.

"I'm not playing any games. If Horatio took your kid anywhere, I can almost guarantee he's safe."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know Horatio." Rick kicked the other man square in the knee and brought him down. He threw his gun to the other side of the room and twisted his arm behind his back. "I can't believe I remember how to do this." Rick muttered.

"Are you going to call the police?"

"I'm not sure yet. I don't know what to do with you." Stetler could still feel blood running down his back.

"You could let me go."

"So you can kill me? No thanks." Rick decided to call Frank, and have Hotchner hooked up for assualt. In a few minutes the detective arrived at Rick's home.

"Aren't you a Fed stupid?" Tripp snorted and cuffed Aaron.

"Can I go ahead and give you my statement Tripp? I really would like to get this glass out of my back." Rick asked.

"Yeah, let me get a picture of that before you go." Frank jerked Hotch to his feet. "Are you going to press charges against this jackass?"

"I think so." Frank handed the agent over to a uniform. "So, what the hell happened?" Tripp asked, looking at the glass, whiskey and blood on the floor.

"I came home, poured myself a drink. I walked in here, he jumped me and put me against the wall."

"What was he here for?"

"He thinks I know where his kid is."

"Okay, keep going."

"We argued, he threw me on the floor, and pulled a gun-"

"Gun? Where's the gun?"

"I tossed it, in that direction." Rick gestured in the direction of a bookshelf.

"That's when you brought him down?"

"Yes; then I called you."

"Great. Do you know how he got in?"

"Nope."

"Okay, I'll leave this to CSI then."