A/N: Warning that this may be my last update until Monday/Tuesday night. Out of town right now and the wireless internet in the mountains is sketchy. So if I've stopped updating, know that I haven't abandoned the story - at all. I'll try and post a new one either Monday night or Tuesday morning (or sooner!).

To answer reviewer's questions: Nope, not ending anytime soon. They're close, sure, but the team has no idea who they are dealing with. Morgan and Reid know exactly who the team is dealing with but can't give them any information about it.

One request for Reid whump, and two for Morgan whump. I wrote a bit of whump for each and a bit more Morgan whump (since I've been itching to whump the guy for awhile. Sorry, Morgan.)

There were so many of them stowed in a room that Morgan quite frankly found the whole thing overwhelming. He wondered what was going to happen; where things were going to go. What was going to happen next.

Right now approximately 20 of them were packed into a room that was meant to have probably no more than two people, meaning that Reid was literally falling asleep on top of him (or, hopefully, was asleep – Morgan wasn't sure). He knew that there was a small chance that things would work out but he wasn't banking on it.

All he could focus on was the fact that his team was really alive. He and Reid had hoped and hoped and had always tried to find out. They'd tried to get access to phones – that had always gone badly.

The point was, they'd tried so many things and they'd all failed, that he hardly dared to hope now. Even with the team close it felt like they may as well be a million miles away.

Morgan really hoped that the stupid debt thing wasn't legal. He didn't think it was, but all of the others were just so convinced that it worried him. The fact that Hotch didn't refute whether or was or wasn't legal, and just said that they would "take care of it, Morgan" worried him. He suspected Hotch thought their debt could be easily paid down and that he'd just do it. But the truth was that he still owed Michael a lot of money.

He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the Dangerous Book. In the book he'd done the best to detail his earnings and failed miserably. He sighed and ripped the page in half. It didn't matter, he owed whatever Michael thought he owed on any given day.

The system was seriously messed up. Honestly, part of what worried him was that he was thinking Hotch would figure he'd owe less than he really did.

The whole debt thing didn't settle well with him. These men had kidnapped him, but they'd showed him some convincing documents that said he owed them money. And somehow after two years of working he still owed them $175,000. It had to be false. But the lawyer sleezebag had said it'd stand in a court of law, so…

Morgan leaned back against the wall. Reid rolled over and fell asleep on his leg. Morgan sighed but didn't mind; he was just relieved that he was okay and that he and Reid could at least be together.

That said, even if he couldn't get himself out, he'd get Reid out. He owed the kid that much.

The door opened and Michael came in, looking at all of the bodies. "This room is a mess," he muttered. Morgan resisted the urge to retort that was because it was 20 bodies cramped into a small space. "Derek, come," he said, snapping his fingers. Morgan bristled, but adjusted Reid so he (hopefully) wouldn't wake up and followed Michael.

Michael lead him to a corner room and closed the door. "Derek, are you aware of the extent of your contract with us?"

"Um…" Morgan blinked. He was, somewhat, what he was allowed. He'd done some digging and probably knew more than he was allowed so he didn't really want to say what he thought he knew.

"And you call yourself an employee. Pathetic," Michael snorted. "Sit," he gestured. Morgan glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered why Michael was choosing to do this at 2am, but decided that he knew better than to ask questions. He sat down, trying not to wince at the bending motion. A client had taken a belt to his back two nights ago and he was still feeling it – not to mention Rossi had done some pretty good damage to his bones when he'd had him for the 48 hours.

"Yes, sir." Morgan sat down. He had learned that the best way to deal with Michael was to be overly complacent, to the point where even Michael wondered what on earth was going on. Michael loved to be in control, so much so that he'd do anything for it. He and Reid had learned that the best way to deal with that was to let Michael feel like he was in control – even if he wasn't.

"You've been doing well lately, and I appreciate that," Michael said. Morgan resisted the urge to let out a small snort, because that couldn't actually be further from the truth. He'd done nothing obedient lately – he'd even made a damn phone call. "But we need to talk about your debt situation."

Morgan nodded. He knew what this was. This was another attempt by Michael to prove that he was in control of them. That's why he was talking to Morgan about them at 2:00 a.m.; because he wanted Morgan to know he had access to him any time of day and could do whatever he pleased.

"Yes, sir," Morgan said. Michael looked up in surprise at the repeated sir but decided not to address it.

"At the start, you owed us $200,000 for your new life in Amsterdam. We bought you here against your will because you were too blind to see how your life in America was affecting you." Because that's total truth. "So we smuggled you here and you've been adjusting well. You've worked an average of five to six days a week for an average of what has been $200 a day for you. You've bought in more income for us. Has Robin taught you about how things work around here?"

"A bit but I'm struggling to keep up with the brothel-to-brothel adjustments," Morgan said. He could handle the moves fine but sometimes learning how to do things differently in less than a minute was a pain in the butt.

Michael nodded. "That's okay. We're working on that. There's a lot of hopping around right now. I need to know why your team keeps looking after you even though you clearly stated your termination of them."

Morgan winced, closing his eyes. "It's Hotch," he lied. "The rest of the team wants me to be able to move on but Hotch…. He's obsessed. He's like a control freak. I bet if you called him right now and said he could come down and talk to me, he'd be here within twenty minutes or less." And not because he's a control freak. OK, that's part of it. But because he'd be following up a lead, idiot.

"Perhaps a median meeting between you two would be good, help him figure out why you split ways with the team."

Morgan nodded. "Yeah. That'd be great." God, Hotch, I hope you know what I'm trying to do.

"Good, I'll call him. In the meantime you've got a client."

Of course. Morgan unclenched his teeth and said, "No problem, sir."

"First room on the right," Michael said as he made a mark in his book.

Morgan left the room, coming face-to-face with the guy who was supposedly the victim's advocate worker. Nathaniel Barnes. "Hello," he said, his voice slightly on edge.

"Why hello, Morgan," the man said gleefully as Morgan shut the door at the man's motion. The man grabbed his gun and pointed it at him. "We have to talk."

Lovely.

Reid groaned as he shifted awake. "Where's Morgan?" he asked sleepily, looking at Robin, who was sitting awake, reading a book. Technically, they weren't allowed to have personal belongings while working here (even clothes were traded on a whim), but some of them had been able to obtain things. Robin had been great at getting him reading materials.

"Don't know, probably with a client." Robin put down her book. "Your fever is still high."

"Great, just what else we need," Reid muttered. "I feel like –"

Robin reached over and grabbed a bucket. "Here," she said as she stepped over the sleeping bodies in the room. The room smelled like sweat. "Lovely." She stepped into the small adjourning bathroom and got a rag and a glass of water. Reid ended up vomiting in the bucket, wincing as he did so.

"Flues suck," Reid muttered with a shake of his head.

"It's far better that you are sick and vomiting even though it doesn't feel like it. You'll need to expel the waste from your body – or something like that, I think," Robin said.

"Probably," Reid muttered as he rolled over again. "I think something's bleeding on my back."

Robin groaned and lifted up his shirt. "Yup. You're right." She grabbed another rag and made towards him. "Man, you must have really pissed someone off."

"Probably," he muttered before falling into blessed unconsciousness yet again. Robin just shook her head and pressed the rag tighter.

Morgan groaned as he fell to the floor, attempting to protect himself from the belt that the man had. He didn't like this at all. Nathaniel Barnes was no client; he was the shady lawyer's brother. And Robin had him figured all wrong – and so had they.

Damn. He couldn't believe they'd missed something that should have been so obvious. It should – he winced and broke out of his thoughts as the belt hit him yet again. There was a clink and the belt dropped.

"Belts only go so far, Agent Morgan." The man sunk to the floor and pulled out his pocket knife. "Do you know what goes even further?"

"Care and respect?" Morgan quipped. "And did you just call me agent? Could you call me that again? It sounds nice."

The man frowned, "You need to learn some respect."

"But I am being respectful. I haven't called you any names yet!" Morgan retorted even as the knife cut into his skin. He was determined to give this man (if one could call him that) no satisfaction from hurting him. He couldn't believe the man claimed to be a victim advocate. What a fake. "What about you? You should be respectful. You lure victims into talking to you and punish them – ow!" he cried out as another line of blood escaped from his skin.

"Yes, I do. That's my job, surely you understand. I must make sure you all are in line. I mean, what if you suddenly decided you wanted to go back to your team?"

I don't think you've realized I've never stopped wanting to go back to my team, Morgan thought wistfully. But he wasn't about to let on. That was his trump card, in a way. "Right," Morgan said passively. He and Reid had gotten so far by just rolling over and agreeing to things. They would fight back when the time was right and use their compliance to their advantage.

"Anyway," the man said as he drew another line in Morgan's arm, "You're never going back. And you're going to tell your team that."

"I already did though! It's not my fault they won't listen to me," Morgan said, a touch of exasperation in his voice. He let out a small yelp as two more knife marks were made on his arm and his arm continued to bleed. Yeah, this guy had an obsession with blood. Morgan didn't share that obsession.

The man picked up the phone. "Call Hotchner, get him here. You're going to get him off this case, you understand? Because if you don't make Hotchner and the team stop working this stupid, supposed case, I swear to God I will fucking kill Reid myself and make you watch, then sell you to someone who won't care if you serve a hundred clients a day. Got it?" he snapped.

A/N: What'll happen now? Dundundun