A/N: Sigh. Okay. There's one, been a lot going on in my life lately, so I have kind of gotten off the story line. Don't get me wrong, I've tried several times to try and save it, get back to where I was going with it, but it just doesn't seem to hold much appeal to me any longer. However, for the sake of my fans, which I thank with all my heart for trying their best to get me writing again, I will continue this story to the best of my ability. I hope not all of you have lost faith in me, and will continue to read and review regardless of my long absense. Love you all. ~ And don't forget to pay attention to the dates; they make sense where there's nothing but a mess. xD

February 7, 2007. 6:41 PM

There was no sound at all to the video Morgan and Prentiss stumbled upon, and yet every single gruesome detail stood out as though it were being played over and over again in mere seconds. Prentiss stared, mouth agape, at the scene as it unfolded before her on the small screen; the way the trucks had corraled Reid in, his being forcibly dragged from the passenger side and hitting his head upon the pavement, the grotesque beating of the defenseless man, and it was then that Prentiss's profiling side started to kick in. In all the aftermath of the gore and shock, she knew she had a job to do. Morgan was probably already way ahead of her in this particular buisness by now, but she could make up for lost time. Her eyes locked upon crucial details as she tried to ignore the rolling of her stomach.

There had been eight men all together; two weilding tire irons, that they used to mercilessly beat Reid's car with. Over excessive anger; brutal and violent in every action. But there was one who stood out, who simply stood back and watched, though every time his mouth moved, issuing orders probably, the men around him would respond in a timely fashion. They weren't scared of him; they respected him. These men followed him willingly. But more importantly than anything like that? They now had a clear shot of each of these guy's faces for Garcia. Prentiss turned to glance at Morgan, but he'd already flipped his cell open; he truely was more on the ball than she this evening..

February 10, 2007.

Garcia's fingers were flying. Quite literally. Words were appearing, probably around thousands every second, screens popping up here and there and everywhere. But none of these factors hindered Garcia; instead, she was actually enthralled at the pace, because every second ( Hopefully ) brought her closer to finding their young boy genius by matching the last places all Eight men, ( Garcia didn't want to know their names; she'd rather them be nameless shadows that needed to be taken down rather than as true people. ) had been in the last three years. It was taking far longer than she wanted; she'd already been at it for about three days, and her eyelids were starting to droop every now and then. She combated this with her usual vigor and what she liked to call Garcia Determination.

She was getting closer, and yet no where at all. When she found one lead, it lead to either nothing, or something that not all the members were in on. Dead ends, essentially. She knew she wasn't looking hard enough, she couldn't have been, otherwise she would have found something by now. But she supposed her Chocolate God of Thunder had been right yesterday; even a Miracle Worker could only do so much most of the time. But damn it, this was one of those times she was going to pull through!

Her sudden determination was startled by a click of the door behind her opening. Hyped up as she was, she spun around in her office chair quickly, her optics flying back to the door only to rest upon Hotch; who was staring at her with something akin to pity.

"Garcia.. You really should take a break. Get some sleep."

She answered with a pout, and despite her will to keep any whining pitch out of her voice, she could still hear her own plea.

"Sir.. I can do this. I just need a little more time, just a little- "

He cut her off then and there with a wave of his hand, and that hard set look of his jaw and eyes. Garcia knew such a look; he'd made his decision and he wasn't to be swayed.

"Garcia, get some sleep."

And that was the end of that.

February 12, 2007

" We're running out of time, and it's like all we're doing is just spinning our wheels! " Morgan cried.

It wasn't so much of a yell as it was a whispered plea for some kind of luck to come their way. Morgan and Prentiss were sitting in the bullpen, basically nothing to do while Garcia continued to run her checks. It was around the evening time, and it seemed as though the days just drug on; days that Reid could be dying, or even dead already. It was with that thought that Morgan slammed his fist down on the desk, startling Prentiss and causing her to jump. She however, said nothing; she was too caught up in her own thoughts about trying to save their boy genius, despite the odds.

It was Hotch that finally saved them from their thoughts and spiraling depression and anger; coming out of Garcia's computer room where he'd spent most of his time, looking over her shoulder, observing quietly. His voice cut across the bullpen and brought both Morgan and Prentiss to full attention,

"We have a few hits; get ready, we're going to check them out."

Morgan and Prentiss were out of their chairs in seconds.