Thanks for the reviews so far... I truly appreciate them. :)

Chapter 5

Mason grabbed the beer bottle draining the last of it, shirtless, he scowled at the bruises on his arms and torso, the wound on his head had stopped bleeding a while ago but still throbbed deeply in chorus with the rest of his bruises. Opening another beer he tossed back half a dozen aspirin with the first swig. His sobriety slowly losing itself to drunken anger, he finally looked over to the couch across from him and sneered swiping his mouth with the back of his hand; he had come up with the plan a few hours earlier.

At thirty he was younger than Hotchner and just as tall but more muscular; he had a kind of backwoods back-in-the-day Johnny Depp aura about him according to the whispers he used to hear from some women. Dark hair, brown eyes...he didn't stand out on women's "danger" radar until it was too late for them.

But his looks would come in very handy with the plan he had in mind.

The FBI had found him because they thought they knew him; they thought they knew what he was thinking, why he did what he did and how he did it.

Well…he'd tweak their version of him and the Agent laying on the couch was going to help him do it. He'd play along with Hotchner's I-can't-remember-my-name scenario for now and see how things went. Mason leaned over and closed a nearby drawer that held a vial and an empty syringe which he had used on the man after moving him to the couch; some liquid confusion to help his cause.

He stood and turned on the TV, pressing play for the video to start, soon the sounds of a snuff film started up; the moans and screams making him grin.

He sauntered over to the couch and grabbed the glass of water sitting near it.

After cleaning him up and dressing him in some extra clothing that he had kept stashed in the home, he had dragged Mr. Serious Agent from the cellar onto the couch. Over the past few days, Mason had released his frustration on the handcuffed man, using him as a punching bag. He had loved the pained grunts and the confused and desperate looks the older man had given him between the punches a silent often drunk Mason would bombard him with, punching out any leftover assured looks or esteem the broken man before him may have had still knocking around somewhere deep inside.

"Time to wake up!" he shouted and threw the cold water on the older man's face.

Hotch's world burst from quiet darkness into static chaos as he gasped into wakefulness, swiping a hand across his face trying to clear his vision.

"Wha...s-stop…"

"Hey, you deaf!? It's time to get up!" chuckled Mason.

Hotch blinked rapidly looking at the man standing over him.

"Wha...Whas hap'ning?" he murmured, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position. He felt strange...like his head was plugged with cotton, the room spun around him making him blink rapidly, gasping as he tried to steady himself.

"You were sleeping so damn long, Cullen...thought you were dead..." said the man.

Mason watched as Mr. Serious Agent stared at him.

"I...I couldn't move...you...hurtin' me..."

Hotch winced, slowly touching the side of his face, it hurt to touch, one eye was throbbing, his lips felt swollen.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Had to lock you up for a bit and set you straight after you went crazy on me, don't you remember?"

Mason pointed to the wound on his own head. "You sure pull a good punch, got the bruises to show it too." he said motioning to his torso. "You were a wild man, could barely hold you down!"

He cocked his head to the side pretending to examine Hotch.

"Damn, they really messed you up in there!" he exclaimed pointing at Hotch's head.

He noticed the agent's eyes slowly move around the room, landing on the television, his eyes widening.

"Cullen…you with me?" Mason snapped his fingers in front of Hotch's face.

"C-Cullen?" frowned Hotch turning back to him. "Who...who r'you?" he breathed out softly.

Mason leaned over grasping the man's shoulder, causing Hotch to wince in pain.

"It's me idiot, Mason...your brother."

Hotch slowly shook his head, pushing himself off the couch; swaying heavily he almost face planted before Mason grabbed him by the arm and pushed him back down.

"Nice move…feel like trying that again? Maybe you'll smash your head on the edge of the table or something."

Confused dark brown eyes looked up at Mason who nudged Hotch on the shoulder as he sat down next to him.

"Relax, it'll all come back to you." he nodded at the TV and grinned…"Hey...your favourite part's coming up."

The sound of a woman's guttural scream echoed throughout the room mingling with Hotch's stuttered breath.

Three weeks had passed and the BAU team was back in Quantico.

After the second week Strauss had threatened to replace them if they hadn't returned; Rossi had no plans on leaving and couldn't help but smile to himself when the rest of the team followed suit.

But after too many days had passed with no leads at all except for some more dried blood stains of Hotch's and Ezral's near some generic tire treads found on a back road path that led nowhere. Strauss promised them that the case to locate Hotch would be kept open so the team reluctantly returned with hopes that with the more assets they had on hand back in the home office that their team leader would be found quickly.

Morgan sat watching Reid who for the past fifteen minutes was sitting at his desk, yanking at a rubber band around his wrist with his eyes closed.

"Reid?"

No response.

"Reid, man…what are you doing?"

Reid slowly opened his eyes and turned to him; Morgan frowned at the bags under his friends eyes.

"You know," started the younger man. "There's a high probability that Hotch is dead...that Ezral buried him somewhere we'd never find him and just wants us to suffer with the not knowing."

Morgan frowned at how detached Reid sounded and he walked over and sat on the edge of Reid's desk.

"Yes...and there's a high probability that he's holding Hotch somewhere and we will find him. Remember, Hotch's blood wasn't on the knife we found and Ezral was hurt too, we found his blood too, Reid."

Reid kept yanking at the rubber band.

"Kid, when was the last time you got any real sleep?"

Morgan glanced towards the meeting room where the team had set up a map of the County where Hotch disappeared along with printouts of all the information they had about Ezral and anyone associated with him.

"I took a nap in the break-room."

"No, Reid. I mean real sleep; we need you alert man, we're all running ourselves ragged here."

The team had been working double time, still trying to find Hotch while working other cases. The fatigue Morgan felt, he had also noticed on the rest of the team.

"You're the brains, kid, you can't fizzle out on us; you need some rest."
Reid's eyes widened and Morgan could see the fear and abandonment the young man was feeling.

"But Morgan, what if he is dead?"

Morgan sighed heavily, lowering his gaze to the ground.

Then this team would never be the same again. He thought to himself.

"Come on Reid, I'm driving you home. We'll start fresh in the morning."

-TBC-