Thank you for the reviews! 'Ware typos here – I'm writing quickly as I'm back at work on Monday, so wanting to get ahead of myself!

Thank you for reading and reviewing the other stories I've written recently too. I do want to do updates on Colorado and Maybe Tomorrow, but they'll likely happen once this fic has finished as they're a bit more like 'warming up' if you see what I mean! It seems I'll be taking Hotch and Prentiss to Ireland after this fic has finished; if anyone knows any myths and legends about the place, or wishes me to include a certain town, please PM or email me.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

Where the Blue of the Night

"A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.."

- e. e. cummings

Chapter Forty-Four

November 10th

She'd never much liked the look of blood, particularly her own. It was dripping down her arm now, a thick, red viscous stream pouring from the nasty gash she had managed to inflict upon herself as she broke dense glass in the small window of the cellar. Sophie looked at her arm as if it was some alien limb that bore no relation to her body. She could tell she had gone pale without looking in a mirror and knew her pulse was beating too fast. Part of the issue was that she'd had very little to eat, as they'd been practically nothing left, and now she was totally out of food. She had to get out of there.

Stepping over to the small sink, she took the tea towel and wrapped it just above the deep cut, hoping to slow the blood flow like she had seen on TV. Then she found an old t shirt that looked clean and used her foot to stand on one part of it while she tried to rip it into strips. It didn't work very well, but it would be okay as a sort of bandage. She had to get out of there, somehow. He didn't seem like he was going to hurt her intentionally, but that didn't mean he wouldn't forget about her and she'd end up starving to death.

Sophie bound the rags around the cut. It needed treating properly, probably with stitches and she'd need antibiotics. She had a brief image of suffering septicaemia or some form of blood poisoning – another way to die a nasty death, and she made up her mind then to get out of there, even if it meant injuring herself further.

She was just about to go back to the window when she heard a loud slam that would have made a less substantial building shake. She'd figured that there was a second basement a while ago, based on what she remembered from the house while she was being rushed through it. Working out the dimensions of a place, or imagining something in 3D, was something that came strangely easy to her, and the size of the room she was in told her that there must be a second basement, with its own staircase.

For a second, her heart seemed to stop. She knew he was obsessed with JJ – she'd found evidence of that. Maybe he'd brought her back here. Sophie felt a new resolve within her. She had to get out of here, just in case that was JJ.

She continued to listen carefully, in case there was any sign of him coming down to see her. Realising the broken window was exposed, she made her slightly steadier legs walk over towards it, and pushed the unit back into place, using her back and the strength of her thighs to manage it. Then, thinking ahead, she took a glass from the cupboard near the sink and tried to quietly break it, leaving it in pieces. If he came in, he would see the blood, and if there was no glass, he would be puzzled as to how she had cut herself.

Then she sat back down on the sofa and closed her eyes, listening intently. She was sure she could still hear someone moving around; footsteps, talking maybe. The sounds grew nearer, closer, and she felt her heartbeat quicken.

The handle of the door keened as it was opened so she sat up, hoping she looked as if she had just woken up.

"We're going on a trip tomorrow," he said, so quiet it was almost whispered. "Somewhere nice. Canada maybe. But you will have to tell them things when they find you. If they find you." He laughed, and she couldn't tell if it was a normal laugh or if she was just imagining the strange echo it had. "I guess the bears might be hungry though." He looked puzzled, as if expecting her to reply, or to laugh with him. "It's a joke."

"Oh," she said. She made herself breathe deeply. "That's good. I don't suppose," she bit her lips together before saying the rest. "You have some food?"

He looked startled, and she inwardly cursed herself. It was a risk asking, but she'd be so much better getting out through that window if she had a little more strength. "Sure. I'd forgotten how much I'd left down there. I spent a few days there myself before coming to get you. I used to live down there – almost until I was married. I inherited several properties, you know, and acquired this when my mother died. But you're not interested in that. I'll get you something to eat."

He closed the door and locked it. She wasn't sure if he'd be back; if he'd remember but there wasn't anything else to do until she figured when it would be safe to carrying knocking the glass out of the frame. It would be tricky to get out, even considering her small size, so she needed to make sure there was no glass left in there, otherwise she could risk shredding herself even more than she already had done.

It wasn't long until he returned, the door unlocked and opened, and he came down the stairs carrying a tray of soup and a large sandwich. "I hope mushroom's okay," he said, leaving the tray at the bottom of the stairs on a small table. "And I only had ham for the sandwich, and a bit of cheese, so I hope you're not vegetarian or dairy intolerant or anything." He looked almost concerned.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, not moving towards him.

"Good, good. I hope you enjoy. I need to go see if Jennifer is okay..."

"Hey," Sophie said, speaking without really thinking. It was a reaction, almost like something she'd said to a boy at school a few days ago. "You should get her a gift." She watched his face light up. "If she's just got here, she might not have everything she needs. You could go get her some nice toiletries, maybe something to wear. What time do the malls open round here?"

"Eight in the morning. You think that's a good idea?"

"Sure. Especially if you're going to be out for a few hours tomorrow when you drop me off. She'll need something to keep her sweet. You know how women can be if they feel they're not getting the right amount of attention." Sophie's heart was now racing so much she could hear it in her ears. She had to find a way to make sure he would leave the building before wanting to take her with him.

"Okay," he said. "I think you're right. I should've ordered her something from the internet, but I didn't realise she'd be here quite this soon. Thanks – I'll let you eat then sleep." He walked slowly back up the stairs and Sophie fought the urge to tell him to hurry up.

As soon as she heard the click of the lock, she hurried over to the tray and began to eat, the soup now on the warm rather than hot side, but it didn't matter. She was ravenous, and she knew she needed to build up some strength. There was no way of knowing whereabouts she was and how far she would have to walk – or run – to find someone who could help her, and come back and get JJ.

Unless...

...

Will held on to his scarf as they set off again in the car. JJ had made it for him last Christmas without him knowing. She'd knitted it sitting in various hotel rooms while she had been away from home working, using wool from bag she'd found in her grandmother's closet after she'd died. It had meant more to him than the other presents she'd bought, although he'd liked those too. The scarf was special, and holding on to it made him feel as if he was holding on to her.

"Garcia's given us another address," Emily said, looking at her phone. It's three streets away. She's just spoken to Rossi and he's said that the search parties that were looking for Alfie have agreed to help search for JJ." Emily turned around and looked at Will. "We're going to find her."

He nodded, swallowing a lump that felt the size of a baseball in his throat. "I know." He looked away from her, unable to make eye contact, even though he knew she would have an exact idea of what he was currently going through.

Hotch pulled up outside a house that looked too dark, even against its empty backdrop. Behind the house were fields that Will knew would be overgrown, desolate of anything useful, matching the building they were now studying.

"We going in?" Emily said, looking at Hotch.

"Possibly," he said, looking over her at the property. "We don't have a warrant, but frankly I don't care about that. We'll worry about that later if needs be." He opened the door and got out into the thudding rain.

Emily followed him, and this time Will got out, tucking his scarf into his coat to keep it dry. Will didn't go far; he stood at the edge of the property watching.

They knocked at the door, then Hotch shouted a couple of times, trying to get the attention of anyone who might be in the dilapidated building. There was no answer. Something tampered with Will's mind, a dicky bird of a notion, and without debate, he ran up the driveway and clamped his hand on Hotch's as he was about to pull down the handle.

"Don't," he said, semi-breathless with a foresight that had come from nowhere. "He likes explosives, doesn't he."

Hotch stepped back as if he had been punched by the door. Emily moved away with him.

"You're right," he said. "But if it's wired up, there's no chance of JJ being in here. He wouldn't have had the time."

"Let's call it in. Have a team come out here to check," Emily said. Her phone was already out of her pocket. "There may be outhouses too. We should investigate those."

Hotch nodded. "Let's get kitted up. Will – you could help us here."

He felt relieved. Hotch wasn't just treating him as a victim-by-proxy; if he had he wouldn't quite have known how to handle himself. He wasn't sure he did now, but it was better to be doing something.

There were extra Kevlar vests in the trunk, as well as torches, and he already had his Glock ready. The wind and rain had stopped in his head, unnoticeable now. He followed Hotch and Emily around the side of the house, their torches creating white beams through which the raindrops did a dance macabre.

There were three outhouses in the overgrown garden, two in a worse state of disrepair than the third. Hotch headed to that one first, seeming certain that there was no one else around.

Hotch cursed as he shone his torch through the window, and for a moment Will's entire body froze. Then he felt Emily's hand place gentle pressure on him.

"It's not her, but it looks like her," she said. "You think we were meant to find this?"

"We'll know if that door is booby-trapped or not," Hotch said, looking back to the house now.

An owl hooted, the noise startling them all. Will didn't look in the window. He didn't want to see a dead replica of JJ.

Hotch called the find in, requesting more cops and a forensics team. Emily was speaking to Garcia, pushing for details of missing blondes who looked like JJ, the grimness of the situation illustrated by the shortness of the phone call. Will knew that Garcia was too worried, too scared to say much.

He looked at the sky, its blackness overwhelming. His eyes were pricking with unwanted tears, and he didn't want the others to see his weakness, didn't want to be another victim-by-proxy.

The sirens weren't deafening, the flashes did not light up the night. It was too early in the morning to be waking folk who were sleeping, oblivious to the fears and living nightmares that other underwent.

For a moment Will wished he could run through the streets, the suburbs, the city, calling JJ's name, not caring if he woke anyone.

But he wasn't sure she'd be able to answer, and that would be something he just wouldn't be able to deal with.

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