Title: An Honourable Man

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/David Rossi

Rating: M for now, but not sure where it might end up.

Summary: It was just another case, just another broken resolution, that brought them to this.

Spoilers: I've only seen up to series four episode twenty-two so anything up to there is fair game.

Author's Notes: I've never written Criminal Minds Fan fiction before I have loved the show since the first episode. I've written 'Waking the Dead' and 'West Wing' fan fiction before so this seems like a natural progression. I tend to write a few chapters then post one so it may take time to update but it also means I can take on suggestions along the way.

Part Eleven

The team liked to be productive, for some it was more than a need, it was a necessity to be able to do the job and more often than not, make it through the case. When things didn't go quite as well there was chocolate or scotch, or in some cases sex provided an outlet for stress. If the interviews that morning were anything to go by there were going to be one sex addict, two alcoholics and two very overweight FBI agents in the near future. The agents had re-interviewed every colleague, friend and family member of each victim and had only returned with two new pieces of information - none of the men had been dating anyone new and each of them was a testament to the fact chivalry wasn't dead.

The team had met again over coffee and sandwiches, sharing the little information they had and revising the profile, coming up with more questions than answers. Afterwards they had all separated, the confines of the room and the building proving too much for all of them, fresh air, fresh tasks and fresh coffee providing a lure to the outside world.

" . . . well, I can't give you anything conclusive, Director. They will take another victim," Hotch stated, his tone one that barely concealed his impatience. He glanced around the room, his forehead furrowing as he noted the obvious absence. "Well, they have a revised profile, . . . Yes, Director." He hung up abruptly. "Has anyone seen Dave?"

They all looked up from the scattered files on the table and shook their heads in unison.

"I called him on his cell, but it switches to answer phone," J.J. offered, glancing down at her cell as if it was about to ring.

"Bad cell reception?" Emily asked casually, her thoughts momentarily returning to another time, a missing team member and two days of hell .

"When was the last time anyone saw him?" Hotch asked, his face laced with confusion and a little concern. He was closer to Dave than anyone and generally he could pick up when the older man was in trouble or needed to talk. The signals had been missing this time, and if anything he had seemed lighter than normal when he left a little over an hour ago.

"He said he was going for a walk after the briefing," Reid offered helpfully. "He didn't say where but there are only so many places he could go."

Aaron Hotcher's brain went into overdrive. It wasn't like his friend to ignore a call and he wasn't the type to disappear in the middle of a case. "J.J. try his cell again," he ordered, his tone one of urgency.

J.J. pulled out her cell again and chose speed dial one, waiting impatiently as it went straight to answer phone. She shook her head, knowing that something was wrong. "Sir, it's J.J., please call me when you get this message."

"You sure he's not just getting air and some peace," Morgan asked, trying to reign in some of the panic that was now sweeping the room. It wasn't that they were prone to over reaction, it was more that they had each been in situations before that had escalated, and the gut reaction was normally right.

"This doesn't feel right." Hotch began to pace the room, suddenly feeling they were a step closer to the unsub if only for the wrong reasons. "We need to find him. Morgan, get the locals in on this. Find out if anyone's seen him, or taken a message."

Morgan rose to his feet and purposefully strode from the room, the door swinging on it's hinges in his wake.

"What do you want me to do?" Emily asked quietly, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend what was happening, her fingers rubbing against the buttons on her cell as she wondered if he would pick up if she called.

Hotch turned to look at her as if suddenly remembering the team were all there. "Start going over the files, his notes, his room. His disappearance can't be a coincidence, obviously he found something or they decided he was their type. J.J give her a hand." He turned back to the board, his focus now on finding Dave with what they already knew about the unsubs.

J.J. sat for a moment longer before quietly rising to her feet and moving around the table. "Are you okay, Em?" J.J. asked, standing over her, her face revealing little.

"Yeah," Emily offered dismissively, her fingers still toying with the cell phone.

"Because the walls are pretty flimsy . . ."

Emily suddenly looked up." J.J."

J.J. shrugged, her lips tugging up into a brief smile. "It's none of my business but if you need to talk, I'm around."

"How much. . ." she trailed off as suddenly as she had begun, an image of Dave she never thought she'd have springing to mind.

"Enough to know the hype is only half the story." J.J. patted her on the shoulder as she opened her cell, pressing speed dial and leaving another message. "You want me to help you with his room?"

__________________

The room was dark and damp and if the smell was anything to go by, had been used recently for laundry. Rossi felt like an idiot, knowing all that he did and letting himself get in such a position. His first thought when he'd seen the smashed window was to check that the young woman was okay. He'd even offered his cell phone for her to phone the police. It had been seconds before his brain had connected the dots and it was already too late. The street that had been deserted moments before was busy with pedestrians and the gun in his back told him that shouting would only lead to someone getting hurt and not necessarily him. Instead he had allowed them to lead him to their vehicle, in which he had become bound and gagged. The blow to the head had been as unexpected as it was unnecessary as he lay constrained on the floor of the van.

Rossi lifted his hand to the back of his head and the lump he knew was forming there. It was then that he opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was.

"You took a fall, sugar."

The accent was southern, the tone mature and mellow. Rossi tried to adjust the light and the unknown voice, trying to pick up on nuances that he could later use for leverage. "Where am I?"

"Would you like some water?" she asked, her words muffled by the creaking of wood.

His throat felt like sand paper from where the gag had rubbed against his tongue, his saliva drained as he had tried to swallow. As much as he needed a drink he knew what they were capable of, what might be lurking in the depths of the clear liquid. Rossi shook his head, raising his head slightly and catching her silhouette against the door .

"Suit yourself, sugar," she said raspily, her voice lingering long after she had left the room.

With the clunk of a latch, he sank back to the floor, only too aware that he was well and truly in the shit.

___________________

"What about surveillance in this town?" Hotch asked, his eyes seemingly boring into the young trooper as they stood before a large street map. The town seemed even smaller on paper and it was hard to imagine how anyone could just disappear, which was not helping with the anxiety levels of the three remaining agents in the room.

"There's one inside the store, another facing the ATM." He shrugged nonchalantly as he pointed to two squares on the map. "We don't really have any call for it. We're a small town."

As much as Reid wanted to remind him that they were a small town where the bodies of three men had been dumped, it seemed more prudent to keep his mouth shut, and try and be productive. "What about speed cameras on the intersection?"

"We have one in the car."

Reid brushed past the officer as he stomped out of the door. "I'll see if I can pick up the tapes."

"Guys, his phone is still switched on," Penelope announced, her disembowelled voice accompanied by the light clicking of keys. "About a mile from where you are. The signal's pretty strong."

"Morgan, you're with me. Garcia, send. . ."

"Already done, Boss."

The two men ran from the building, heading towards the one spot they knew Dave had been, their behaviour attracting little or no attention as the inhabitants went about their business. The insistent sound of ringing drew them closer until they saw it, the cell hanging amidst the foliage.

Hotch dug in his pocket for a glove and picked it up. Using the latex he pressed the keyboard and answered.

"Dave," J.J. asked, her voice momentarily filled with relief.

"It's Hotch."

She faltered, her eyes darting to her friend, who had stopped her ransacking of the room she had only hours before been lying naked in. "Have you . . .?"

"Just his phone."

She shook her head. "There's nothing here. His notebook is gone. No sign of his gun or credentials. I don't think he's been back here since this morning."

Emily lifted the trash can from the corner of the room, a subtle blush covering her cheeks as she noted the one solitary item.

"Hotch wants us back at the office," J.J. announced, hanging up the call and stepping closer to her friend. "He wants to start canvassing the neighbourhood. You okay?"

Emily nodded. "Let's get out of here." She returned the bin to the floor with a thud.

Time seemed to standing still as he listened to the dripping of a tap against porcelain. Dave blinked his eyes and tried to rise to his feet, stumbling as he tried to combat the numbness. Once upright, he adjusted to the room, the ceiling barely inches above his head, the only cracks in the darkness coming from the door where his captor had left earlier. He was certain it was a cellar, a laundry and by the fact he was no longer bound, a long way from anywhere. A washing machine occupied one corner near the sink and a tin bath along another wall. He had read the autopsy report and he knew exactly what the bath had been used for, He also knew how long the team had to find him before it was too late. The only consolation was that so far they hadn't used the same method twice and he had been a marine, trained to withstand torture. The only problem was that was a long time ago, instead he would have to keep his wits about him and sustain his energy levels. Satisfied that there was nothing else to learn from the room he made his way to the centre of the room, sinking back to his knees, his attention focused on the doorway. They would be back he knew, probably not together at first and probably not until they were ready but then the game would start and he would need to be ready. In the meanwhile there was nothing else to do but let his thoughts wander and he found himself smiling for the briefest second as he remembered why his guard had been down, the smile turning to a grimace as he contemplated the words he had not said.