A/N: Alright everybody, I can't even begin to describe exactly how sorry I am for just taking an unannounced hiatus from this story. The truth is this: I'm a sucky updater. I just CANNOT seem to stick to a schedule. I've got like bazillion other stories going on at the moment, and it's just hard to be inspired in the off-season.

Fortunately for you, I refused to let myself write anything else until I'd finished this story. And I have. The next chapter (which is finished!) should be posted depending on the response I get on this one. *fingers crossed it's good!*

DISCLAIMER: If I owned Criminal Minds, would I be here writing fanfiction? I think not! (I'd be invading Shemar Moore's personal bubble and demanding he get a Twitter! ;P)

ENJOY!

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Four attacks

Three men unaware of the crime they were about to stumble on to

Two agents unaccounted for and in unknown peril

One man to blame

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Rossi and Hotch, oblivious to what had just occurred only a few floors below them, exited their respective offices. They'd each retrieved what they needed from their desks. For Hotch, it was his gun, which he'd discarded when he sat down to begin his paperwork. For Rossi, it was his pocket-sized notebook that he'd stowed away an hour earlier.

"Ready to go?" Rossi asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Hotch as they made their way through the bullpen.

Hotch answered with a question of his own. "Where're JJ and Reid?"

"Probably already halfway there," Rossi replied, and the response was good enough for Hotch.

As they turned a corner, they came upon a frantic agent who happened to be blocking their way. It was Anderson, and he was doing a curiously good impression of the white rabbit form Alice in Wonderland. The two profilers even heard him mutter 'I'm late' as they approached.

"Late for what, Agent?" Rossi queried as he and Hotch slowed their pace to stand in front of the young man.

Anderson, who'd been pacing in a small circle just in front of the elevator, froze. After a moment, and without preamble, he spilled, "It's my sister. She went into labor and she wants me there, but when I tried to use the elevator, it didn't work!"

"Why not take the stairs?" Hotch asked somewhat impatiently. He had a case to work, and right then, sister in labor or not, Anderson was only getting in his way.

"I tried!" The younger agent exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "But the maintenance people are cleaning them and won't let anyone use them!"

Rossi chuckled in amusement, "Come on kid." He beckoned Anderson to follow them as he and Hotch moved away, "There are some perks to having a reputation in this building."

As the trio of agents moved toward the stairwell, completely unprepared for what they would see, a man in a leather vest drove away form that very sight and toward a distant hospital. One that had just received victims from a shooting at the very same hotel the agents were headed to.

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Two doctors, a man and a woman, walked side by side out of surgery. They didn't speak as they discarded their bloodied gloves and cleaned themselves up a bit. While both of them were young, they'd already had a great deal of heartache in their lives. Working in the ER for any extended amount of time can do that to someone.

Finally, the woman, a blonde, spoke up. "Can you believe it, Jeremy?" She asked, "A shooting at a hotel? A Holiday Inn, no less! Have you ever heard of a shooting at a Holiday Inn? I know I haven't!"

"Yeah," Jeremy, a brunette with sadness in his deep brown eyes, said tiredly.

"And now the FBI is investigating," she continued in disbelief.

This caught Jeremy's attention. "Really?" He inquired.

The blonde nodded her head enthusiastically, excitement clear in her bright blue eyes, "Oh, yeah. My friend, you know, Shelley? She was one of the paramedics on the scene; she told me that one of the victims was an agent."

Now, the woman's interest in the FBI had sparked curiosity in her companion. He couldn't stop thinking about theories as to why the agent had been shot. And which victim was the agent.

There was a beat of silence while he processed this information. "Hey, Lisa," he called, regaining his friend's attention. "Which one was the agent?" He asked.

"Um," the woman, Lisa, thought for a moment, and glanced down at the trash can she'd thrown her bloody gloves into. It didn't seem to help as a reminder. She shook her head, "I don't know, Jer."

"Well, I sure hope it wasn't that one," Jeremy said, nodding his head in the direction of the operating room.

"Why's that?" Lisa asked as she retrieved her white, hospital-issued lab coat. She grabbed Jeremy's as well and tossed it to him. He caught it easily, and the two proceeded to exit the prep room.

"You saw what that bullet did," Jeremy stated. "It just tore up everything in it's path. No one would be out in the field after something like that; at least, not for a long time. And have you ever heard of an FBI agent content to sit behind a desk?" Lisa shook her head and Jeremy agreed, "Me neither."

"Hey," Lisa began, "what happened to the other victim?"

Jeremy gave her a serious look and shook his head. "It was too late."

"Oh."

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"If this guy has a personal agenda, then something had to have triggered him," Rossi said as he, Hotch, and Anderson made their way down the stairs.

"Someone under his employment betrayed him?" Hotch spitballed an idea, "Maybe all the victims were traitors in his mind."

"But that's just it!" Rossi exclaimed in frustration, "We don't know who the victims are! This file," Rossi shook the manila folder that was in his grasp, "is incomplete. It's just a dossier on the guy."

"Ian Doyle," Hotch stated, looking at his own copy as they continued to walk down the stairs. "Former IRA, current terrorist. It says he was locked up, found guilty of terrorism and murder, but it doesn't say where." The frustration Rossi was feeling was mirrored in Hotch. If this was Strauss' way of trying to undermine him yet again, then she very well may be putting innocent lives at risk. And just for her own personal gain, too.

"There's more to this guy than meets the eye," Rossi said, continuing to ignore Agent Anderson, who was oblivious to it since his eyes were glued to his phone. He appeared to be texting, but you never know these days. A little cell phone could do much more than just text, and the younger generation was known for taking advantage of that.

"I'll have Garcia try and find something on him," Hotch decided, reaching for his own cell phone. It rang twice before the flamboyant analyst answered.

"Hello," Garcia's voice sing-songed. "You have reached the ever-fabulous Penelope Garcia. What can I do for you today, Hotch?"

"Garcia," Hotch began in his all-business tone. "I need to know whatever you can find on an Ian Doyle. He was involved with the IRA and was brought in by Interpol eight years ago."

"Gotcha. Anything else?" Garcia asked.

"Just be quick," Hotch added, not unkindly. "And Garcia? Thank you."

"No problemo, Boss-man. Just doin' my job."

The two said their farewells and hung up. Hotch looked at Rossi, "Garcia will get something, but for now, we just have to work with what we've got."

Rossi glanced at Hotch again. "If there's anything on this guy, Garcia will find it," Rossi assured, and Hotch nodded absently in agreement. Something was on his mind, and it was clearly eating at him. Rossi wondered what it was, but didn't ask. Not yet.

Hotch had faith in Garcia. He knew that she was the best. But Doyle had resources, or at least, according to his file he did. His edited file.

Suddenly, Hotch was angry. Angry with Strauss and all the other bureaucrats that had a stake in this. There was vital information missing, and that oculd put his team in danger! Being unprepared to face an unsub like this could very well cost them their lives!

"Agent Hotchner!" Anderson called out suddenly, shocking Hotch out of his stupor. At the sound of Anderson's panicked shout he and Rossi were instantly on alert. They were in full-on field-mode.

Somehow, Anderson had managed to get ahead of the two older agents. When they'd stopped to talk to Garcia, he'd continued down the stairs, still texting. So, when Rossi and Hotch finally came down those last few stairs, Anderson was completely blocking whatever it was that had spurred him to yell for them.

"What is it?" Rossi questioned the younger agent as they cautiously moved forward, hands hovering above their holstered guns.

Anderson turned around to look at them, and shakily took a step to his left, revealing what lay ahead...

At first, neither Hotch nor Rossi saw anything unusual. But as they walked even closer, they noticed the first red flag. The doors to the elevator, the one they previously thought to be broken, were attempting to close. But each time, just before they sealed off completely, they opened again. The agents weren't close enough to see if anything was inside, but they did happen to spot what was keeping the elevator from shutting.

It was an arm.

That's when the seasoned BAU agents rushed ahead, leaving Anderson, who remained stock-still and staring, behind them. Moving closer, the owner of the pale, slender arm was revealed.

It was JJ. She was sprawled on the floor of the elevator, one arm outstretched, the one that was blocking the doors. Her blonde hair was splayed in a halo around her head. She could've looked angelic, but the blood leaking from a wound on her temple marred the image.

At first, the sight of the former media liaison shocked the two men so much, that they could do nothing more than stare, like Anderson was. Then, after a few moments passed by, their FBI training kicked in. Hotch took charge, like always, and Rossi didn't protest.

Then they caught sight of a second body. Reid. He was lying on the floor, in a similar fashion to JJ. Except for one thing. His head wound wasn't his only injury. The others could see, by the awkward way his arm was bent that it was broken in at least one spot.

"Rossi, you check on Reid. I'll take JJ," Hotch barked and Rossi complied.

He they rushed over to the young genius, took two fingers, and proceeded to place them on his colleague's neck. There were a few nano-seconds of fervent prayers before Rossi felt Reid's strong heartbeat. He sighed in relief; one less thing to worry about.

He glanced to his right, at Hotch, and found him doing the same to JJ. They made eye contact; Rossi spoke first, "He's alive, but knocked out cold."

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment in gratitude to whatever God was out there. "Same with JJ," he told Rossi, and sighed; who had done this?

"Anderson!" Hotch shouted, "Call an ambulance!" Anderson only blinked a few times, making Hotch increasingly irritated. "Now!" Hotch's frustration at the young man shocked him out of his trance-like state. Soon, he was frantically punching numbers on the keypad of his cell phone.

"911, what's your emergency?"

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A few minutes later, the hospital hadn't been far away, the trio of agents -plus the two unconscious ones- heard sirens wail in the distance. It couldn't come fast enough; because Reid and JJ had remained in their comatose states the entire time. No amount of prodding and poking could wake them. It worried their remaining teammates. They had a good idea of when the two had been attacked, and they shouldn't have been out for this long. Not if there weren't any complications. Then again, the weapon used to incapacitate them was the variable in the equation. Depending on what it was, they could've woken up minutes ago, or they could be unconscious for longer still. Either way, the signs didn't point to a happily ever after.

Because no matter what, Reid and JJ had still been attacked. In Quantico. Just outside of the BAU. Whoever attacked them, the unsub, was seriously ballsy. He had to be pretty confident, overly cocky, and most likely arrogant as well, to accomplish the task.

"Over here!" Anderson suddenly shouted, and when Rossi and Hotch looked over, they saw him waving his arms unnecessarily. The ambulance had arrived. Well, the ambulances. Hotch had made sure that Anderson directed them to bring two, due to there being two emergencies.

Four paramedics, two for each stretcher, hurried over to the group in the elevator. As they rushed in, Hotch told them what he knew: The victims had been unconscious for several minutes, one had mostly broken an arm, and they hadn't stirred once. That was it. Neither Hotch nor Rossi knew anything else.

An EMT nodded distractedly, focused on the task at hand. They loaded Reid and JJ onto separate stretchers and began carrying them away. Hotch turned to Rossi, a serious look in his eyes, "Dave, you go with them to the hospital. I'll go to the crime scene. We do still have a case, and as much as I'd like to go with, one of us has to do our job."

"It's alright, Aaron," Rossi assured him, and he believed it. There could very well be lives at stake, and right then, it looked like both Reid and JJ would be okay for a while. "I'll call you when I know something," Rossi finished, briefly resting a hand on Hotch's shoulder before turning away. Hotch watched as his friend jogged to meet up with the paramedics. He saw Rossi get into the one they'd just loaded JJ into before he turned away.

Then he noticed Anderson. The man was still standing there, a weary look in his eyes. He wondered what must be going through his mind. In truth, what Anderson was thinking just then, was that there must be something weird about the primary team. Every time he got involved with them, something bad seemed to happen. First the issue with Elle Greenaway's shooting, and now this. Both were definitely on his list of Worst Days.

"Anderson, go home," Hotch ordered. "Go see your sister. She needs you there more than I need you here." Lie, his inner voice told him, but he ignored it. This was his case, not Anderson's. His team, wherever the hell the rest of it might be, would handle it.

His team.

It seemed to be falling apart at the seams. First, JJ was transferred, then she came back, now Morgan and Prentiss were unaccounted for and Rossi was on his way to the hospital with a pair of unconscious agents, Reid and JJ. His team appeared to be on their way to some sort of hell, and Hotch knew they wouldn't go alone. He knew that, no matter what happened, he'd stick with them to the end. After all, a captain always goes down with his ship.

Anderson didn't protest much, and Hotch was sure that the protests he did make were halfhearted at best. He assumed the agent did it out of politeness and professional courtesy. So, Hotch didn't stop him when he left. He knew Anderson wanted to be with his sister, hell, Hotch would've done the same had their roles been reversed.

Then, Hotch shut off the voice in his head, the one that told him something was terribly wrong, and began working the case.

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So, I really hope there are still people interested in reading this! Though I'm thinking there are, seeing as there are still people subscribed to this story...

I just wanted to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed to this story! It means more to me than I can say :)

Originally, this chapter was a part of the next chapter, and there were only going to be three chapters in all. But hey, when do my plans ever go according to, well, plan. This was actually supposed to end after chapter one!

Hey, did anyone hear a rumor that AJ Cook would return to CM as a PROFILER instead of a media liaison? Please tell me no! I like her as a liaison, it's the position they need filled!

Until next time!