Chapter 10
Rossi sat at his desk, head back eyes closed.
A sigh emanated from his lips, his ears picking up the silence coming from the bullpen. He stood up and stretched walking to his doorway and looked out; there was nothing new from Garcia. J.J, was out of her office talking quietly with Prentiss, Reid was pouring through files. Rossi turned to Morgan's… Hotch's office, the door was open, Morgan was sitting at Hotch's desk staring at the framed photo of Jack, Hotch kept there.
They hadn't found anything in Panaqua, there were no security cameras outside the bowling alley and there were no witnesses to the victim's abduction. Her car had been sent to Forensics, but Ezral's fingerprints were not found on them.
They were at a loss...but they'd never give up, they couldn't.
Rossi sighed again, Hotch was like a son to him…
He couldn't lose him.
The following days were filled with blurry agonizing pain for Hotch.
Flickering moments of clarity found him back at the house, strapped to a cot in the cellar, shirtless, Mason hovering over him, knife in hand.
Darkness.
A flicker…
"Betrayer, you are skin..."
Mason holding something thin in one hand covered in blood, Hotch's arm was on fire.
Darkness.
"And screams…"
Did he scream?
A flicker.
"And blood..."
When the knife sliced across his chest he might have screamed, but darkness claimed him too soon to remember.
Try to relax…
Your body will go numb…
And it goes in so much easier if you relax…
…Do you want to see my scars?
Hotch groaned, his eyes opening slightly; unfocused, a blurred figure standing over him.
"My t-team..." he murmured, delirious.
A bark of laughter…
The figure descended, the pain spiraling Hotch into unconsciousness.
Mason trudged down the steps and turned on the overhead light. He moved over to a padlocked door and unlocked it, swinging it open to reveal Hotch who was sitting on the dirt floor of the too narrow closet, knees up, forehead pressed against them.
The blood stained chains around his ankles and wrists, attached to the wall.
Mason had turned his rage on Hotch, angry over what the agent had done in the motel room; he would be the "It" the whore was meant to be. He had found "It" leaving a nightclub, and decided she would do; the streetwalkers he had come across had looked dirty, looked like walking contracted diseases and meth users.
"It" looked cleaner, except her hair was brown.
A quick trip to the pharmacy as she lay unconscious in the back of his van, did the trick.
A box of hair dye. He was going to make Hotchner dye and cut her hair before the fun would have begun, but then he came back to the room to find the man actually un-tying their play thing.
He saw red and was going to kill him right there and then, but something in the man's eyes stopped him.
When the agent had apologized to him, Mason had actually believed him.
After he had got his fill; his cuts adding to the scars from most certainly old knife wounds across the man's lower torso… Someone else hated you too, didn't they?
After his rage had subsided somewhat before he could get to the final smashing of Hotchner's bones, he had cleaned the man up, then chained and locked him away; he had kept him there for two days, no food or water.
"Cullen." he said gruffly, smiling when the man flinched.
Hotch slowly looked up, the bruises on the side of his face and across his body evident in the low light, the bandages Mason used on him in need of changing.
Mason scowled at the smell emanating from the man as he bent and unlocked Hotch's shackles and tossed the bottle of water and protein bar he had in his hand at him, Hotch weakly reaching for them.
"You're forgiven." Mason muttered and turned and walked back up the stairs leaving the cellar door open.
Morgan had asked Garcia to widen her search parameters, as they were having no luck keeping to Ezral's m.o.
The team conducted interviews and interrogations searching ever searching for a clue...any clue to no avail. So the parameters were broadened even more until…something they never expected…
"Morgan, I um…I may have intercepted an email that may have been meant for…" Garcia pointed upwards.
Morgan stared at her, waiting. When she matched his stare in silence, he exhaled loudly. "For..?" he stressed.
"Strauss" she mouthed silently, her lips tight with worry.
"Garcia, what did it say?!" Morgan's voice harsh, impatient, made Garcia jump slightly.
"Sorry...sorry! There was a report, two Unsubs in this one, at a motel…Morgan, Hotch...Hotch's blood was found at the scene...the woman, she escaped!"
The following weeks had opened up a whole new world to Hotch. It seemed so easy, he couldn't figure out why he had made it so difficult. He couldn't bring himself yet to go through with the cult of skin and screams, blood and bone. He couldn't wield the knife yet...but he could help and Mason seemed to be okay with that.
They were up to three now, each in a different town. A happy Mason was a fun Mason; Hotch enjoyed seeing his brother smile.
Mason had showed him what to do...how to choose their prey. The housewife was easy, she had opened her door to them. The real estate agent had smiled at Hotch as they walked around the show home; she never made it home that night. The bartender, in the dive bar, her name was Maya, she was more wary. Hotch had nursed a beer for most of the night as he watched her. He had left an hour before closing moving into the shadows of the parking lot. Across the lot, Mason sat in the van and flashed his lights.
Hotch grinned in the darkness…
His brother was waiting…
Just as they expected, when the bar closed, Maya was the last to leave. As she locked the door she turned and Hotch leaning against the side of the bar in the shadows watched as she tensed up as she spied the lone van in the parking lot, a man in the driver's seat. Stepping out from the shadows Hotch paused for a moment a sudden twinge of…
Stop...stop...this isn't right!
...flicking through his mind. He locked down the thought quickly and moved forward quietly as he watched the woman pull what looked like mace from her bag along with the keys to her car.
So focused on the van, she didn't notice Hotch coming up behind her; which was the plan all along.
Hotch raised the small club he was holding as Mason smiled from the darkness of the van…
Yes… Oh yes, Mr. Serious Agent…that's right.
He snapped one more picture, then lowered his phone as Hotch started to drag the woman's unconscious body towards the van.
-TBC-