A/N: With the posting of my previous chapter, I hit 100 reviews on this, my very first story for CM, and I just want to say thank you everybody.

"Hope is the dream of a waking man"-Aristotle.

Chapter 22-Inferno

It was going on ten p.m. when Armitage finally decided to go to bed. He set the alarm for nine a.m. because he wanted to get an early start the following day before he could leave for wherever he was going. He hadn't decided where he would go after he left the area, but it would be far away from Virginia. As he lay awake in bed, he looked at his list of things to do in the morning when he woke up:

1.) Get showered and dressed.

2.) Have breakfast.

3.) Bring cans of gasoline upstairs from basement.

4.) Put DVD in jacket pocket.

5.) Kill Aaron Hotchner.

It was the last item that made him smile the most. He would pour gasoline throughout the lower level of the house, drop a match on it, and watch it go up in flames. And while the place was burning he would get safely away while his captive remained in an upstairs bedroom restrained on a bed with no way to get out or free. He smirked as he thought about it. If the flames didn't kill him the smoke inhalation would. Armitage placed the list on his night table, turned off the night lamp and snuggling under the blanket, closed his eyes.

Unlike the other occupant, Aaron Hotchner was wide awake. He couldn't sleep and he knew why. Kind of hard to sleep when your life was slipping away a little at a time. He sensed it was useless at this point, but he still held on to a tiny shred of hope that his team would still find him. Hotch felt that every minute he lived was one additional minute he had in which his team could show up, break down the door and find him. Turning his head, he glanced at the small electric clock on the night table that Armitage brought upstairs before he left for the night making sure he knew what time it was before we left the room. Hotch felt his captor did that solely so Hotch would know exactly how much time he had left to live. And from looking at the clock, Hotch noticed it was after ten p.m. But he knew there was another reason Armitage put the clock in his room where Hotch could see it. It was so Hotch could actually see how much time he had left; sort of like a condemned man watching the clock. And to Hotch, that was exactly what he was. A condemned man about to be put to death.

Armitage reached out a hand from under the blanket, and shut off the ringing alarm, then slowly sat up in bed, stretching his arms out straight. Afterward, a wide smile appeared on his face. He figured by now his captive must be in a panic wondering when the moment would be upon him. Tossing back the covers, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor.

Getting up, Armitage made his way to the bathroom to first answer the call of nature, then set about turning on the water to the shower. Waiting for the water to heat up, he stripped off his pajamas and underwear, then stepped into the tub and allowing the hot water to cascade over his entire body. As the hot water drenched his body, he went over what he would do when the time came. He would go down into the basement and bring upstairs the two aluminum cans of gasoline and then dump the contents in strategic locations throughout the main level of the house, drop a lighted match and watch the house go up in flames. He would then calmly walk outside through the kitchen door and from a safe location, watch the house become totally engulfed; nobody being aware there was a man restrained in a bed upstairs until it was too late. He imagined Hotchner's terror when the flames made their way to the upper level where he was knowing he couldn't get out and soon he would be overcome by the smoke and shortly afterward, he would burn to death. He became almost giddy imagining it becoming so hot in the room that Hotchner's flesh would start to roast and fall away from his bones.

As he picked up the bar of soap from the dish in the wall, he ran the soap over his body and began to lather himself. He wondered if a person's flesh would fall away from the bones like cooked meat in an oven, if the heat became too intense. If it did, he wished he could hang around and watch his prisoner scream in pain as he was being roasted alive inside and out. He actually began hoping Hotchner would be fully conscious as that happened before the smoke overtook him. He proceeded to stand beneath the hot spray and rinse the soapy lather from his body. It wouldn't be long now, he thought.

Rossi, stretched out and sleeping on the leather couch in his office, cracked open his eyes when he heard knocking on his office door before he heard the door open. A bit oblivious for a moment to his surroundings, he slowly sat up and while yawning stretched his arms out to relieve the kinks from sleeping on the couch. He looked over to see who had knocked and noticed Morgan standing in the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and a coffee cup in the other. He took a sip. Rossi ran his hands over his thick hair as he studied the black agent and noticed he was still wearing the same clothes from the day before.

"Where'd you sleep?" Rossi asked with a tired smirk.

"I crashed on the sofa in Hotch's office. JJ and Prentiss stayed in JJ's office. I just checked with Reid and Garcia. Apparently they worked throughout the night."

"Anything?"

Morgan slowly shook his head. "Not yet."

Rossi hung his head and exhaled through his nose as he placed both hands flat on the sofa on either side of him. He looked up at Morgan again. "I don't have to tell you that I'm beginning to worry. The longer it takes for us to find that location the greater the possibility that Hotch will die before we get to him." He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell. Sighing wearily, he reached into his jacket pocket and removed it; looking at the caller ID, he frowned.

"Who is it?" asked Morgan.

"Strauss," Rossi replied putting the cell back in his pocket. "I'll call her back later. Right now we have to devote all our attention to finding Aaron." He got up and approached Morgan. "Any coffee left?"

"Fresh pot in the break area," Morgan replied jerking a thumb over his shoulder just before he turned and walked away with the older agent following. "You sure you don't want to talk to Strauss now instead of ignoring her? She's gonna be one pissed off individual being ignored like that."

Rossi smirked. "I can handle Strauss," he said as they both emerged from the office. "Besides, she can't resist my charm and bubbly personality." He heard Morgan chuckle. As they walked down the ramp, they both noticed a weary JJ and Prentiss, both holding coffee cups, approaching from the opposite area; Prentiss was holding an extra coffee cup and handed it to Rossi who thanked her before taking a drink of the dark brew and sighed in contentment. Everybody then sat down in the bullpen area with Rossi sitting at Reid's desk. They had all now resigned themselves to the fact that all they could do now is wait for Reid and Garcia as there was no place else to search. It was now a waiting game.

Armitage had finished breakfast and left the dishes in the sink; no need to wash them he figured since the place would soon cease to exist. He had dressed casually in faded blue jeans, a sweater, and a jacket. After sticking the diamond case with the DVD inside in one of the pockets, he went down to the basement and got the gasoline cans. But he had one thing still to do that wasn't on the list. It was something he had decided on while in the shower. He made his way upstairs to the bedroom where Aaron Hotchner was a prisoner, and casually rapped on the open door while standing in the doorway with a smirk on his face while he and Hotch stared at each other with hate. He then leaned against the door-frame and folded his arms. He studied the man restrained on the bed. The prisoner was dirty and in need of a shower, and badly needed a shave due to several days growth of facial hair. His hair was disheveled and his body was a mass of bruises, knife wounds, and small burn marks from the taser and probably from the stun belt on his lower back as well. Also, there were puncture marks on his upper chest and just under his chin. He chuckled. "Just thought I'd say goodbye, Aaron," he said. I'll be leaving you within the hour and from outside, safely hidden, of course, I will watch you die as this building becomes engulfed in flames."

Despite feeling so weak, Hotch managed to lift his head a bit and his dark, deep-set eyes still held an ominous look. "You might succeed in killing me, Armitage, but my team will never stop searching for you. And just out of curiosity, Aren't you going to contact them about the recording first?"

"Oh yeah, about that," Armitage said innocently. "Change of plans. I decided to send it to them after you're dead. That way the farewell recording will mean so much more to them." He chuckled at seeing Hotch's distressed expression at this last piece of news.

"You bastard!" Hotch shouted.

Armitage laughed at his prisoner's last feeble attempt to flex his muscles. His laughter could still be heard as he turned and walked away; and continued to be heard as it faded away down the stairs.

"Got it!" Reid shouted as he quickly jogged towards the bullpen with an excited Garcia attempting to keep up with him. The others all turned in their chairs to look at their young agent as they got to their feet. Rossi took the paper from Reid's hands and studied it.

"Brenda Scoop?" asked Rossi, puzzled. "I don't understand," he said eying the younger agent.

Reid became animated. "It was an anagram of B and S Cooper. Nothing else made any sense."

"Brenda Scoop was the name of Shane Cooper's girlfriend years ago who broke up with him when he became abusive towards her," Garcia continued. "She died several years ago, suicide, and never owned any property. However, a small house was purchased under her name in Fairfax about a year before Jason Armitage broke out of prison. Everything was paid for in cash."

"And how could somebody who's been dead buy a house?" asked Prentiss, her eyes twinkling again. Reid and Garcia's excitement was catching.

"Good work you two," Rossi said with a smile. He quickly checked his watch. "Fairfax is twenty-seven miles from here and it'll take us about thirty-seven minutes to get to this address. JJ, contact the local police in Fairfax and have them meet us at 1313 Allendale Avenue, but not to take any action until we get there. Have a SWAT team is there as well. Tell them we're on our way. And make sure to have an ambulance waiting at the residence. Hotch is gonna need it. Let's go!"

Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss hurried behind Rossi as he raced out the BAU each hoping to get to Hotch.

It took almost sixteen minutes for Armitage to carry the two heavy cans of gasoline upstairs from the basement and proceeded to dump their contents throughout the downstairs before tossing both cans aside. Then, he struck a match, dropped it onto the floor, and smiled as the flames exploded everywhere that had been soaked with the accelerate.

"Goodbye, Aaron," he said softly as he hurried in the direction he was planning on escaping when he suddenly froze. Flames had run along the part of the floor where the gasoline had spread, unnoticed, and caught fire behind him blocking his way towards his exit. He looked around nervously. He was trapped!

Hotch smelled the gasoline and found himself panicking. The moment had finally arrived for him to meet his maker.

"No!" he cried out as he pulled against the restraints trying to free himself. "Don't do this! I have a little boy! Don't!" There was no response from below except the sound of aluminum cans being tossed aside. A few scant seconds went by before he heard the 'whoosh' sound of flames erupting and the fumes of gasoline could be detected as well as the reflection of flames from below appearing on the wall outside his room. Hotch pulled against his restraints with all the strength he could muster without success. He smelled the smoke before he saw the wisps of it floating up the stairs just outside his room. Hotch then pulled with his waning strength as the film of smoke in the hallway grew a bit denser. But he stopped when he felt as if his arms would pop out of their sockets. Hotch finally decided if he was going to die in a fire, he was going to die fighting to get free even if he had to dislocate both shoulders and break both arms in the attempt. The smoke continued to thicken and Hotch soon found himself starting to cough as the smoke began to filter into his room.

Morgan was driving like a maniac to get to the address they had been given by Reid. He glanced over at Rossi sitting beside him, knowing that Reid and Prentiss were seated behind them.

"GPS says we're about seven minutes away," Morgan announced keeping his eyes on the road. He turned a corner sharply causing the SUV to sharply tilt to one side. Suddenly the ringing of a cell phone was heard; it was Rossi's.

Pulling it out from his pocket the older profiler saw it was Garcia. He pressed a button. "You're on speaker. What is it Garcia?" he asked.

"Sir, I was checking to see if there was any activity in the area of 1313 Allendale. There was a call made to the fire department two minutes ago from a nearby building. The house is on fire and the caller reported smelling gasoline. Sir, you don't think…."

Rossi and Morgan glanced at each other as did Reid and Prentiss. "Yes I do. Okay. Garcia, we're less than five minutes away. We'll save him. Don't worry. We'll get back to you after it's over."

"Stay safe, my babies."

"We will, sweetness," Morgan was heard saying. Rossi disconnected the call and the sounds of sirens could be heard close by as he tucked the phone away. He suddenly pointed ahead of them.

"There!" Rossi exclaimed as the sight of flames shooting in the air could be seen as the SUV pulled to a halt across the street from the partially engulfed structure. Rossi, Morgan, Reid and Prentiss hurried out of the vehicle as the first fire engines came into sight. A SWAT team was already there awaiting orders. "Wait here!" Rossi ordered Prentiss, Reid, and the SWAT team, then took off for across the street just as the first firemen were setting up to combat the blaze. One of them, apparently the Chief, blocked the paths of Rossi and Morgan as they headed for the door of the building.

"You can't go in there!" he shouted over the noise and voices. "It's too dangerous!"

"A Federal Agent is trapped in there!" Morgan screamed back. "Get out of our way!" He started to push past the Chief who reached out and grabbed his arm.

"I said you can't go in there. The whole place is gonna go up in flames. It's too late for whoever's in there anyway."

"The hell it is!" Morgan screamed jerking his arm free and with Rossi behind him, raced forward pushing open the door as the Chief who tried stopping them motioned toward several of his men, and ordered them to concentrate on the area around the doorway and the downstairs level.

"HOTCH!" Morgan screamed as loudly as he could barely able to see through the thick smoke. "HOTCH!" His eyes started burning and he found himself fanning with his hand to keep being able to see. Reaching into his pants pocket he removed a handkerchief and tied it around his nose and mouth; Rossi did the same. The heat was unbearable and the flames spreading rapidly. Everywhere he looked there were flames rapidly consuming everything. He jumped aside as a burning beam fell from the ceiling near the two agents barely missing Morgan. It was also now becoming impossible to see. The black agent began feeling like he was being roasted alive and while everything in him cried out for him to run outside, he refused to do so unless forced to bodily. Just the thought of leaving his boss, possibly alive, in this blaze was not an option.

"AARON! Can you hear us?" Rossi hollered looking around. "AARON! Are you here?" Rossi shouted. He had also jumped when the beam fell; but it made him realize how precarious things were. He knew they wouldn't be able to stay in this inferno much longer or they might be trapped and burned alive themselves. He began to wonder if his friend was already dead and the fire simply a ploy to cover it up. He'd rather think that than the alternative. He also was having trouble seeing like Morgan. And despite the handkerchiefs covering their noses and mouths, breathing was difficult. He grabbed Morgan's arm. "We can't stay in here too much longer," he cried out. "This place is going up too fast!" Morgan, hearing a noise above them, looked up and then pushed Rossi out of the way as a portion of the ceiling fell nearly landing on the older profiler.

Quickly realizing what nearly happened as he sat on his backside, Rossi edged away from the still burning portion of ceiling before his hand touched something which he realized was the bottom step of a stairwell. He suddenly felt himself being helped up by Morgan. "Rossi, get out of here!" he said. "I'll find Hotch!"

"Like hell!" Rossi protested. "I'm not leaving!" Morgan looked past him and noticed the stairwell.

"Then we stick together," Morgan replied grabbing Rossi's arm and pointing upstairs. "Let's check upstairs!" Both men took to the stairs, mounting the stairs two at a time.

Hotch lay on his back on the bed, too weak to move anymore. Between the thick smoke, the fumes, and his fruitless struggles, he was thoroughly exhausted to where he could no longer move. His lungs ached from smoke inhalation, sweat covered his entire upper body and his eyes burned. The nausea was overwhelming. His flesh felt like it was baking from the intense heat. For a brief moment he thought he heard his name being called. But it was so faint he figured he was mistaken, so disregarded it as wishful thinking. "So this is what dying feels like," he told himself. His eyelids were getting nearly too heavy to keep open now; the coughing was worse from the smoke; his breathing was labored at best, and his lungs felt as if they were on fire from the smoke. He managed to swallow an imaginary lump as his eyes slowly fluttered closed.

"Haley…Jack…love…you both," he murmured before his eyes closed and he began to fall into unconsciousness. As he did so he suspected he wouldn't live long past unconsciousness as the smoke inhalation would probably claim him before the flames did. It was so hard to breathe. He coughed again as he limply moved his head from side to side trying to find whatever air he could. He could feel his life slipping away slowly; minute by minute. It won't be long now, Hotch thought.

He was so far gone he never felt hands clutching at him, undoing the buckles holding the restraints on his arms and legs; nor did he feel himself being moved off the bed and onto the floor. His eyes fluttered open and he could only make out hazy shadows looking down at him, not people. He was having trouble seeing and thinking. He coughed again and each cough brought more discomfort to his chest. "Who….who…" he barely got the words out of his dry mouth. His voice was hoarse.

"Take it easy, Hotch," someone said. "We're gonna get you out of here."

Hotch couldn't make out the words spoken to him. Whenever he tried to take in a breath he heard himself wheezing. He felt himself being assisted into a sitting position and then something wet being wrapped around his shoulders. Then, he was being dragged to his feet and found all he wanted to do was fall down again but he was being held upright. Maybe I'm being escorted to heaven, he thought with a weak smile.

"C'mon, Hotch," the voice beside him said, but not the same voice as before. "We're gonna all get out of here, but first we have to get downstairs."

Hotch felt himself stagger as he tried to put one foot in front of the other before he collapsed onto the floor in a heap and blackness overtook him completely.

"This isn't going to work," Morgan said. "I'll have to carry him!" That's when both men noticed the flames had spread around the doorway of Hotch's room and were spreading across the ceiling in the bedroom. "We gotta get out now!" he told Rossi who nodded his agreement; he had seen the flames also. He watched Morgan scoop their boss up into his arms.

"He's gonna hate you for this," Rossi grinned.

"He can fire me in the morning," Morgan replied as they cautiously walked toward the door and away from the bed. Moments later there was a noise causing both men to look up and behind them to see a portion of the ceiling fall landing directly on the bed where only moments before their boss had lain.

"Shit!" Morgan cried out. "Let's get out of here!"