Reasonable Doubt

by manwathiel elensar

Reid's life is ripped to pieces when he falls victim to a sadistic sociopath. With his life irreparably damaged, things seem to keep getting worse as the team realises that the picture is a lot bigger and scarier than they initially thought. Will Reid ever feel safe again? And can the BAU do anything against such an intricate web of betrayal?

54. Chapter 54

"What the fuck?!" Morgan said, pacing the conference room.

The faces surrounding him were filled with concern.

"You gotta be kidding me?"

Hotch shook his head in dismay.

"I wish I was."

"Suspended? That's ridiculous. Dammit, man, he knows how important it has been to keep this confidential. He can hardly blame Strauss for doing that."

Hotch shrugged.

"I don't know what to tell you. We knew he wouldn't be happy, but I don't think either of us expected this." Hotch looked completely bemused by the situation.

Laura was stood with her arms crossed in the corner of the room, taking everything in. She was clearly in disbelief.

Garcia frowned.

"You would think that catching these guys would be more important than some stupid Director's protocol."

"It's not like we haven't encountered Bureau red tape before." Hotch said flatly.

"So, what do we do now?" Morgan asked in concern. "This potentially opens up the flood gates again."

"I will have a word with him and try to make sure he only shares details with the essential people. Preferably only AD Stubbs." Hotch said with a frown. "I'm not exactly in his good books right now though either, so that may prove difficult."

"He should know better than anyone the importance of keeping these details within a close knit group. After the Nick Field scenario, I would hope he'll play his cards close to his chest." Laura said, moving herself towards the table.

"Its difficult to say." Hotch sighed. "It depends on how much pressure he's getting. He'll want to show that progress is being made."

Morgan sat down at the table looking slightly defeated. "With him in control of the information, we have no way of monitoring the leaks."

Hotch scowled. "No, we don't, which means we have to work quickly. When the suspects arrive we need to be interviewing them straight away. We get as much information as we can, as fast as we can. And hope that Fickler hasn't already shared information with someone who isn't working in our favour."

Morgan eyed Hotch curiously. "You're thinking Fickler is involved, aren't you?"

Hotch's eyes widened for a split second before he schooled his expression back into his usual stony mask.

"No. Absolutely not. But I am curious about Wilks. He's had regular contact with Maloney in the detention centre, he's been privy to a lot of the information going back and forth and the second we cut him out of the loop, the leaks stop and we make successful arrests. Not to mention that Wilks has been visiting various sites across Virginia and D.C. and has yet to recover a single piece of useful information."

"Yet JJ and Prentiss have led us to 19 arrests in the same time." Morgan observed.

Hall nodded in agreement. "It certainly does seem to add up." She said thoughtfully.

"Fickler hand selected Wilks himself, so this isn't going to be an easy conversation to have, but I will address my concerns with him. See if we can continue to keep him out of the loop."

The others nodded in agreement.

Fickler had managed to completely take the wind out of their sails with the suspension of Strauss. Normally such news would only be welcomed, but during this operation her support had proved vital. A change had taken place in the woman; her walls had come down and she had allowed herself to view the BAU as human beings as opposed to numbers on a spreadsheet. Perhaps it was the seriousness of what was happening, how much trauma had been inflicted or even a sense of guilt for the FBI's culpability in it. Hotch didn't really know and would never dare to question her on it. What he did know was without Strauss acting as a shield between the board and the BAU, things were going to be made that much more difficult.

He sighed, pushing the thoughts away. There was nothing that could be done and, as a man of action, naturally he looked to the next thing.

"Agent Hall, those login details we received from Pittsburgh, has your team had any luck with them?"

She frowned deeply, looking reluctant to say. "They are using them as we speak. However, activity on the website has decreased massively."

Hotch closed his eyes in disappointment. "They know."

"It was always a risk with such a large operation. We see this a lot unfortunately. Raiding the motel was one thing, but the casino? It was always likely to get back one way or another."

Hotch nodded, then looked to Garcia.

"Garcia, anything from your deep dives?"

"Well, I can certainly tell you all about them." She pressed the button on the remote control connecting her laptop to the screen on the wall. A photo of a man was displayed.

"First we have Paul Jackson, 50. He was one of the men JJ brought in from the motel. He has a history of rape and sexual assault; he served 10 years in Mount Olive Correctional Complex. Presumably this is where he met Gerald Green..." She hit the remote and a second photo was displayed. "48. He was also serving a 7-year sentence for the same crime. They were housed on the same wing. Jackson was released back in September 2007. Green was released not long after in March 2008. In January 2009 they were both taken on as door security at the Casino where they are listed as working until February of last year. After that they seem to fall off the map. No known address, no employment records, it's like they just disappeared."

"That's when they became involved in the trafficking ring."

"More than likely, Sir."

"They were probably taken on as security with that goal in mind, I presume their records weren't hidden."

"No, Sir. A quick Google of their names would bring up their history of... icky." She pulled her face.

"They want like-minded individuals who will see the access to all these men as a 'perk'." Morgan said, completely sickened.

"That is often the case. They will actively seek out individuals who have proven they lack the self-control to manage their desires. It makes them easier to control." Laura added.

"Yeah and because of the 'perks' they will be less likely to bite the hand that feeds them." Morgan shook his head.

'Exactly." Laura nodded.

"What else, Garcia?"

She clicked the remote again and another photo was presented.

"Edward Gibbs, 52 years old. Known as 'Ed'. A local businessman, runs a chain of successful restaurants across West Virginia. Multi-millionaire, won West Virginia's 'Leader of the Year' back in 2007 and again in 2009 and topped the 'Best Places to Work in West Virginia' list four years on the trot. He's known for his ethical work practices, paying his staff above average so they don't have to survive on tips. Most of his staff are long-term employees. Many have spoken out about how 'great' it is to work for him. On the face of it, he looks squeaky clean, a real 'good guy'. He has a family, a wife, Priscilla, two boys aged 16 and 19, Jordan and Jack. The real American dream."

"Just goes to show you never know what deviant thoughts are in someone's mind." Morgan said, shaking his head.

"You say that but there have been clues. My deep dive found a sealed civil case against him, which was settled out of court for sexual harassment of two of his employees. This was back in 2008. It looks like the victims were made to sign an NDA as part of the deal. It was all kept under the table so the public was none the wiser. I can see payments to a marriage counsellor in the months after, so presumably his wife was aware."

"Mad what some women will put up with." Hall shook her head in dismay.

"The eight-bedroom mansion they live in might have had something to do with that." Garcia said dryly, pulling up a picture of their home.

"Whoa. Who knew the restaurant business could pay so well. Looks like we're in the wrong job." Morgan said sarcastically.

"You are so right, my Adonis."

"Anything else, Garcia?" Hotch asked impatiently.

She cleared her throat. "Erm, yes." She clicked again to bring up another image. "Karl Phelan, 38, host at the casino. He has worked there for the past 10 years. Started as a server, then progressed to a croupier and eventually became host recently."

"After the executions killed the other host, Michael." Hotch said knowingly.

"Yes, the timeliness would suggest that, Sir. There's no hinky background on this guy. Prior to the casino he worked various serving jobs, he's got a Degree in Business Administration. Grew up in a stable home."

"Any family?" Morgan asked.

"No, he's never been married. No children. His mother died in 2007 and his father in 2009."

"So, he's got no one to depend on. Likely made him an easy target for the operation."

"Maybe." Garcia said not entirely convinced. "Now, this guy..." She clicked onto the remote again. "Michael Toolan, 62. Owner of the casino. He's owned it for the last 12 years. Another multi-millionaire." She pulled her face. "Has friends in 'high places'. His best friend is an AUSA Slater for the Northern District of West Virginia." She gave a meaningful look to Hotch. "Meaning he rubs shoulders with a lot of important people. The casino holds multiple conferences across the year for Congress, the Attorney General's office and the US Attorney's Office. The FBI even held their National Training Conference there last year."

Hotch grimaced. "Dave attended that if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, he's on the list of speakers."

"Come to think of it, we did discuss that it was an odd venue to hold an FBI conference. I'd completely forgotten." Hotch said.

"What about a criminal record, Garcia?"

"This is where it gets weird. He has no background prior to 1998. He just seemed to appear in West Virginia. There are no birth records, no addresses, no medical history. Michael Toolan only seems to have existed since the age of 49 and he has the full works. Passport, social security number, driving licence."

"Witness protection?" Hall asked curiously.

"Possibly. I can try to get access to any records they might have for him, but we all know Witness Protection is notoriously difficult to work with."

"Just do what you can, Garcia. I will speak with Fickler to see if he can use some of his connections to gain access."

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Good luck with that."

Hotch lips tightened, then his phone rang. He flipped it open and answered.

"Hotchner." He listened intently to the person on the other end of the line. The conversation was brief. "Thanks." Hotch said, ending the call.

He turned to the others and stood from the table.

"They are here. JJ and Emily are waiting for us on the second floor." He looked to Morgan. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Morgan stood now. "Hotch, just try and keep me away."

Hotch looked at him a little skeptically. "We all have a lot to be angry about, but we don't need to show that to them. If they see an emotional investment, if they are anything like Maloney, they will use that against us."

Morgan rolled his eyes at his superior. "Hotch, this ain't my first rodeo."

"No. But you know why I'm saying it." He shot him a firm look.

Morgan returned it and then nodded. "Okay, man. I get you... you don't have to worry about me. Let's just get this done." He said, removing any tension from his voice.

"Okay. Morgan, you take Phelan. Hall, you take Gibbs. I'll handle Toolan and Prentiss and JJ can deal with the sellers from the motel. Garcia, be ready."

"Always ready, Sir." She saluted.

---

"Spencer? What are you doing?" Sandy asked, entering his room. She had just started on her night shift and was doing a walk around to check in on everyone when she caught sight of Reid.

He was methodically pacing back and forth, from one corner of the room to the other. He didn't answer her and just kept pacing, seemingly muttering under his breath.

"Spencer?" She closed the door behind her. He kept pacing back and forth, seemingly unaware that she was even there.

She tilted her head to listen carefully to his muttering. She couldn't make out much of it, but she made out the words "could be a trap", "compromised" and "could be dead".

She frowned upon hearing the words. He seemed worried about something or someone. She reached out to grab his arm and he froze instantly.

"Spencer." She said gently and his gaze came up to meet hers. His eyes opened wide and he grabbed her by the arms.

"Oh, thank god, he needs help! I need you to call Hotch, please call Hotch." He said quickly.

Her mouth dropped open. "Uh, Spencer, will you sit down? And you can tell me what's going on."

"You need to call Hotch!" He said desperately.

"Okay, okay. I'll call him. Just sit down for me and I'll get the phone."

Spencer looked at her for a few moments and nodded. His breathing was picking up and his eyes were wild. His fingers dug into her arms.

"Okay, come on." She said gently, guiding him towards the chair, carefully removing his grip from her. She sat him down. "Okay, you stay there for me."

"Don't leave me!" He said suddenly, grabbing her top tightly. He looked terrified.

"Spencer, you wanted me to call Hotch." She had no intentions of calling his superior. She needed to get a doctor.

"Hotch." Reid's eyebrows furrowed and he mouthed the name again as if it was familiar to him. "Yes, you need to call him." He said suddenly as though it all came flooding back to him.

"Okay. I will. But you need to let go of me." She said softly, moving her hand to his to release his grip again.

Reid nodded and pulled his hand back. It went to fidget in one of the hems on his sleeve.

"Yes, call Hotch. He needs to know. He needs to know. He's not safe, they're coming for him. It's a trap." He muttered to himself again.

Sandy frowned unhappily. This was not a good sign. She'd seen many psychotic breaks during her time working at the hospital, and this certainly looked like one.

"Okay. I'm going. Stay there." She approached the door slowly, keeping her eye on Reid. Once she was satisfied that he wasn't going to move, she manoeuvred around the door and moved outside the room, pulling the door to. She looked up the corridor and saw one of the doctors moving towards their office.

"Rach!" She called. She turned and Sandy waved her over.

"Everything okay?" She asked curiously.

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't want to leave him." Rachel looked in through the window at Reid, he looked lost in his own thoughts as he messed anxiously with his clothing. "He's not making any sense. He seems like he thinks someone is in danger and he's wanting me to call Hotch?"

Rachel's brows furrowed. Given his current circumstances, it was dangerous to simply write this off as an episode.

"Okay, have you talked to him at all?"

"Not really. Like I said, he's not making any sense. I thought he'd better be seen by a doctor."

Rachel nodded in understanding. "He's not been violent?"

"No, he's grabbed me but he seems scared, not angry."

"Okay, come in with me." Rachel moved into his room, grabbing a chair and placing it in front of Reid. He didn't seem to register her presence. "Spencer? Are you okay?" When she received no response, she prodded his knee slightly.

He blinked a couple of times as if waking and looked up at her through his hair.

"Is everything okay?" She asked carefully.

He looked at her in confusion. "Yeah." He said with rising inflection, as if querying her question.

"Sandy said you wanted her to call Hotch."

"You said he wasn't safe?" Sandy said.

Reid frowned at her and shook his head like he had no idea what she was referring to. Sandy exchanged a concerned glance with Rachel.

"Spencer, do you know where you are right now?"

He looked around the room for a moment.

"Morgan's house. Where is he?" He said in a small voice.

"Spencer. You are in hospital. You're not at Morgan's house. I'm Doctor Larson, we met last night? And this is Sandy."

He bit his lip and nodded at the woman, there was no understanding in his eyes.

"Spencer, do you understand what I am saying to you?" She looked increasingly concerned.

He just nodded again, not saying anything. Then his brows furrowed and he looked around the room.

"Where's Morgan? He said he'd be here by now."

Sandy looked at Rachel. "Has Agent Morgan been here today?"

Rachel just shook her head.

"He's not coming, Spencer."

This seemed to distress him.

"He said he would be here. Is he okay?" His eyes were panicked now.

"He's fine. He just won't be here tonight." Rachel said reassuringly.

"They got to him, didn't they?" His eyes widened in terror.

"No one got to him, Spencer." She said, taking his hand to try and calm him.

"You're lying to me." His gaze turned hard. Reid's eyes then flicked to the door and he stood up. "Morgan?"

The two women looked over their shoulders and towards the door. Reid was then moving towards it.

"Spencer, stay here please." Rachel put a hand to his arm to stop him moving forward.

"But Morgan-" He was looking straight past her, trying to move around her.

Rachel got right in front of him.

"Spencer! Spencer, look at me."

He distractedly looked at her but she could tell his attention was still on the door.

"Do you see something?"

"Morgan, I saw Morgan." He said frantically. "I need to see him! Please!" He tried moving the woman out of his way but she stood strong.

"Morgan isn't here." Sandy said calmly but firmly.

Rachel shook her head at her. She didn't want her disagreeing with him.

"I just saw him!" He said, entirely convinced and increasingly frustrated.

Sandy looked at him sadly.

"Okay, Spencer. Can you sit down for me?" Rachel put a hand to his shoulder.

"Please let me see him!" He grabbed her arms, practically begging her.

"Okay, okay. Just sit down for me first and I will go and get him." She gently guided him backwards, towards the chair. "Sit down." She said softly.

Reid looked at her through wide eyes and allowed her to push him down into the chair. She sat down in the chair in front of him again, taking his hands.

"Will you talk to me?"

Reid was looking past her to the door again, this time he was just staring.

"Spencer?" She waved a hand in front of his face. "Spencer? Look at me."

His eyes finally rested on her face. They looked empty. He blinked at her a few times as if he'd never seen her before.

"Is everything okay?" He asked innocently.

"Can you tell me what you are seeing?"

He frowned in confusion.

"You saw Morgan?" She asked, trying to jog his memory.

"Morgan's here?" He asked, hopefully.

Rachel exchanged a look with Sandy then squeezed his hand.

"No, sweetie. Not right now."

He looked disappointed.

"He doesn't want to see me." He said sadly. "He's ashamed of me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he never comes to see me anymore."

"When did you last see him, Spencer?"

"Two months ago. He threw me out."

They both knew that wasn't true. It was in his notes that Morgan had visited and had a meeting with Pippa the day before.

"Why did he throw you out?" Sandy asked.

"Because he didn't like me. He doesn't like me."

"And you haven't seen him since?" Rachel asked.

"No. I called but he doesn't answer." His voice slurred slightly. "He's... um..." His voice drifted off and then he just nodded.

"He's what, Spencer?"

"Working. He's an FBI agent... I am too. The Behavioural Analysis Unit." He almost sounded drunk by this point. "You will find him there."

Rachel turned to Sandy.

"Stay with him, please. He needs an assessment." Then she turned to Reid. "Spencer? I'm just going to run to my office to get some paperwork. I'm going to send a nurse in to take some bloods from you as well. Okay?"

Reid just nodded and put his head back against the chair, closing his eyes.

"Are you tired?" Sandy asked.

He nodded making a small humming noise.

"Would you like to get into bed?" She stroked a hand through his hair.

He shook his head, turning towards her hand. Rachel grabbed his blanket and placed it over him, covering him up to his shoulders. He grabbed hold of it tightly.

"I won't be long." She whispered to Sandy.

Reid made an almost childlike moaning noise and adjusted his head slightly, as if giving a signal.

"I don't think he wants you to stop." She smiled slightly and Sandy rolled her eyes good naturedly.

"Why are the men always the most demanding?" She said quietly with a smile, stroking his head again. His features relaxed and he tucked himself tighter under the blanket. Rachel gave her a knowing smile. It helped to be light hearted sometimes. If they couldn't smile with each other, they often wouldn't have much to smile about.

Rachel left the room, leaving Reid to doze in the chair with the comfort of Sandy's hand in his hair.

---

"Mr Gibbs, do you really expect me to believe that you just so happened to come across that website on the dark web?"

Hall leaned towards the man she had been interviewing for the past 20 minutes. He had admitted to intending to meet with the young man they had rescued. He admitted he intended to have sex with him. He had surrendered his login details and then broken down at the prospect of his family finding out. But when it came to discussing how he got into any of this in the first place, he was drying up.

Hall had seen this many times before. Men like him depended on the 'squeaky clean' image, the wife and 2.4 children, the large house, the idea that he had it all and was living the 'perfect' American dream. The thought of anyone finding out about his fetish for exploiting and sexually assaulting men was terrifying to him. He would admit to anything they could prove, which at this point was that he'd met one man with the intent to sexually assault him and he'd arranged it via the website. Anything else was too revealing.

Hall knew he'd been involved in it a lot longer than he was going to let on. But she also knew that if he admitted to that, he couldn't explain it away as a 'moment of madness'. And he needed that security blanket. Otherwise his world was going to come crashing down even more than it already had. His embarrassment was clear.

"I understand this is a difficult thing to talk about. Many men share your fantasies. It doesn't make you a bad person. You can't help what your body and mind craves, right?"

He dropped his face into his hands.

"But what you can help, is the men still trapped in this situation. Each and everyone of the men you viewed on that website needs your help. I know you're not a bad guy. That's obvious. Everyone around you knows that. Your family knows that. Your friends know that. I know you've done some great things to help people, Ed."

"I have tried. But I've messed that all up now. No one's going to forget this. Ever." He said in complete self-sympathy.

Hall had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

"They will, Ed. Everything can be forgotten and forgiven. But people will find it a lot easier to forgive if you can provide some information that will help these men."

"I don't know anything that can help."

"Anything you can tell me will help. So, please, can we start from the beginning? How did you find the website?'

Ed ran his hands through his hair anxiously. His foot was tapping frantically under the table.

"I should call my attorney." He said suddenly.

Hall felt her heart drop.

"You can do that, that is of course your right. But once your attorney arrives, he's going to tell you to stop talking. Which again is your right. But then all we are left with is a confession that you paid money to sexually assault a young man at a motel in West Virginia. And once we've been through your laptop, which we will do - warrants are being served as we speak – then we will have evidence of everything you watched and participated in as well. Sounds like a pretty open and close case to me. But if you can give me something, we can add some survivors to that list too. Men who probably wouldn't have survived without your help. If I was on a jury looking at that sort of evidence, I maybe wouldn't think you were such a bad guy after all." She said manipulatively.

The man groaned a little, pushing his face into hands further and rubbing at his eyes.

"Let's sort that attorney, shall we?" Hall said, standing up to leave the room.

"No!" He said quickly and suddenly. "I want to help. Please tell them I helped." He said in a broken voice.

---

Morgan sat opposite Karl Phelan. Morgan had taken an instant disliking to the man from the moment he saw him. He was too calm. Too relaxed about everything. Given the charges he was potentially facing, he seemed like he didn't have a care in the world.

They had talked about how he'd worked for the casino for 10 years, his progression from job to job and how Michael's 'disappearance' had opened up the position of host for him. Other than that, Morgan was getting very little information from the man. He wasn't easy to profile either. He had very few 'telling' mannerisms, remaining incredibly still during the conversation. His face was an impassive mask and his tone was consistent, just detached enough to give nothing away but not so detached that it could be read as emotionless.

"So, tell me, Karl. How does a guy like you, with no previous criminal history, end up involved with an illegal brothel?" Morgan asked, sitting back in his chair.

The man barely reacted, but he did smile. The first sign of something not quite right about him.

"You think this is amusing?" Morgan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A little." Phelan said calmly.

"What's so amusing about it?" Morgan asked with a bite in his tone.

"That you're wasting your time talking to the guy who hands out cards and directs people to the door." He smiled again, this time huffing a slight laugh.

"And that's the total of your involvement with this?" Morgan asked skeptically.

"That's the total." He said plainly.

"Now, Karl, I find that a little hard to believe given that when our men arrested you, you were found to be watching a live sex show." Morgan corrected himself. "Sorry, let me call it what it really is, a live rape show."

Phelan just shrugged. "Sex, rape – tomayto, tomahto." He said casually.

Morgan felt a pang of irritation but quelled it and smiled. "So, it makes no difference to you whether the people involved are consenting or not?"

"I get paid. I do my job. I sometimes go down and watch if it's quiet. If it's busy I'm upstairs doing my job. It really makes no odds to me what goes on in that club."

"Even though you know people are suffering?"

"Everyone suffers at some point in their lives. It's pretty humane. The guys are usually drugged anyway and it never gets too rough. Doubt they even remember half of it."

Morgan stared at the man in disbelief. His mind took him back to his experiences with Carl Buford and the way he would ply him with alcohol before an assault. Did he somehow think that made it kinder? Or it 'softened the blow' somewhat?

"There is nothing 'humane' about what was going on down there, Karl."

The man looked at him for a few moments and Morgan caught a flash of something in his eyes but before he could place it, it was gone.

"It could have been worse. And trust me, I've seen the worst of what can be done to men like them. What was happening down there was nothing like that."

Morgan furrowed his brows. "And where have you seen these worse things?"

"There are videos. There are some real sick people out there. They are the people you need to be focusing on." Phelan said confidently.

Morgan was starting to realise that this guy had no apparent comprehension of the seriousness of what he was involved in. The fact he hadn't even asked for an attorney told him that.

"These videos, where did you see them?"

"Mr. Toolan showed them to me."

"And why would he do that?" Morgan asked curiously.

"To show me what some people are capable of. He said his club is nothing like that. They wouldn't do that to someone."

"These videos, what was on them?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"It was rape. But really bad rape. The man had been tortured. There was hitting, stabbing, cutting, screaming, begging. It was non-stop. He wasn't drugged, he wasn't looked after like they do at the club. I'm pretty sure he must have died. Mr. Toolan said the men who did that were sick and he would never be involved with something like that."

Morgan felt nauseous. He knew that Reid's video had been used as a manipulation tool across the organisation, but hearing it from someone who had watched it somehow made it all more real. He cleared his throat and pushed down the anxiety that was threatening to creep in.

"What if I told you that video was made by the same organisation you are working for?"

The man smiled again. That same, horrible and detached smile.

"I'd say you are trying to manipulate me."

"Whether you believe it or not, Karl, that is the truth. Those cards you've been handing out to people, what were they for?"

"For the club." Phelan said simply.

Morgan pulled one of the cards out of a file in front of him and put it on the table.

"Do you know what this is?" He pointed to a web address printed on the card.

"It's the website for the club."

"No, Karl. No, it's not. It's a website for an online marketplace where the organisation you work for is selling men for sex and selling videos of men being raped. One of the videos is the one your boss showed you. You have been directing people to that website."

Phelan shook his head in denial.

"No, that's not what we do. That isn't what we do."

He said it almost like a mantra. Morgan frowned. The man genuinely seemed to believe what he was saying. He was either in complete denial, or had been conditioned into thinking what they were doing really wasn't that bad.

Morgan opened the file and displayed some photos across the table.

"These are photos taken from the club. Do you recognise them?"

Phelan's eyes dropped down to the pictures and his eyes showed little recognition, but he clearly didn't like what he was seeing.

Morgan pointed to one photo. "You see this room, Karl? This is a BDSM torture space." He picked up another image. "And you see this here? This is blood. Does that sound like it's humane?"

Phelan couldn't stop staring at the photos. He clearly hadn't seen those rooms before. He just shook his head in disbelief.

Morgan then pulled out a photo from a victim's medical examination. He had whip marks all over his back.

"This is one of the men that was found in your club. This is what had been done to him by someone visiting your club."

Phelan paled and shook his head.

"That's not true."

Morgan pulled out another photo of a young man who was incredibly thin.

"How about this one? Does he look well taken care of to you?" Morgan's voice was starting to become firmer. "Because to me, he looks like he's starving, Karl."

He pulled out more photographs. All showing injuries on the men from maltreatment. The most extreme were the whip marks but it showed a clear pattern of aggression towards the victims.

"And these? How do you explain these? All of these men were found in the club."

"No." Phelan said in complete denial. "I've never seen any of this."

"Just because you've never seen it doesn't mean it wasn't happening. Sounds like you were kept in the dark, Karl."

Phelan picked up the photo of the man with the whip marks.

"Is he okay?" He asked with concern.

"He's alive." Morgan said simply. "But I very much doubt he is okay. He will be extremely traumatised thanks to what your organisation has done to him."

"My organisation? I had nothing to do with this!"

"Karl, you were the one directing the sickos into the club to abuse these victims. You were handing out the cards, directing them to the website. Do you really think a jury is going to believe that you didn't know what was going on in there?"

"I was not directing them to a website! You're just trying to mess with me. He said you would do this!"

"Who said I would do this?" Morgan asked curiously.

"Mr. Toolan. He said you would tell me lies. He was right!"

Morgan stared hard at the man. He had clearly been brainwashed. The influence Toolan had over him was obvious. He didn't even seem capable of thinking for himself. Morgan stood.

"I will be back in a moment." He said and left the room.

---

JJ and Prentiss sat opposite Paul Jackson. They were pleased to find that he refused an attorney and stated he had every intention of assisting with the investigation. His exact words were:

"I ain't going down without taking some of them with me. The stuff I've done ain't shit compared to some of the others."

He'd taken them through his involvement with the trafficking ring and how it began. The women were shocked to hear that Toolan had opened up contact with Jackson and Green whilst they were serving their sentences. He'd opened up communications under the seemingly innocent pretence of being keen to give convicts a chance at another life after their release. He'd offered them both jobs and accommodation.

Initially, they'd had no idea of what the job would eventually entail. They were door security and that's all it appeared to be. But after a few months, Toolan would start inviting them to his private parties during their time off. Discussions would start leaning more in the direction of their sexual preferences and fantasies. It became clear that no subject was taboo.

They started visiting the club in the basement and would be rewarded for their loyalty with half hour slots with some of the men. After 3 visits they were asked to join the operation permanently. Jackson believed everything leading up to that point had been a test of loyalty.

"So, what happened once you were taken on as part of the ring?" Prentiss asked. She was trying to mask how bothered she was by the man's apparent casualness about what he was involved in. Whilst it was helpful, it was also deeply disturbing.

Jackson sat back in his chair.

"He moved us both to a new address. 128 Clay Street in Weston, just outside of Charleston. It was a whorehouse." He said offhandedly. "We had 6 whores with us at a time. Most hadn't been turned out yet and we were to prep them and get them ready."

"And how would you do that?" JJ asked, dreading the answer.

"Well, how do you think, sweetheart?" He smiled.

JJ gave him a look of disgust.

"You would sexually assault them?"

"Sometimes." He said flippantly. "Other times we'd show them videos of what other whores were doing. That was always fun. That was when they used to realise how truly fucked they were."

"What would happen when you deemed them 'ready'?"

"They would be taken to one of the motels, like we did today. If they did alright, they might be moved to a different whorehouse or the casino for work. Others would come back with us for more training."

"So, you essentially acted as their pimp?"

"Noooo. I'm not their pimp." He laughed. "Each and every one of them was owned by Seth. He made the decisions on what happened with them. We merely provided... feedback and moved them around."

"And who is Seth?"

"That's a good question, darlin'." He said jovially.

"You never met him?" JJ asked, frowning slightly.

"Never. And I've never met a person that has."

"If you've never met him, how do you communicate with him?" Prentiss asked.

"Always online. We would communicate solely via the dark web. I would send reports through, Seth would make his assessment and then send instructions. Everything was organised online including appointments for the whores."

"How about phone contact? Did you ever speak with him on the phone or via text message?"

"From time to time but always via a different number. It would only ever be instructions. We were under strict rules never to reply to the messages. They were for information purposes only. You have my cell; you have all my shit. You will see them anyway."

"Will you provide us with your login details for the website?" Prentiss asked.

"Only if you ask nicely." He grinned slightly.

Prentiss stared at him for a few moments, her stomach churned at the expression in the man's face. He was loving every second of the attention this was giving him. He was a clear narcissist.

"Please?" She asked, nicely.

"Seeing as you asked so nicely." He smiled again then mimed a pen and paper to her. She passed one over and the man started scribbling down details. "I'd also suggest that you get to that address quickly. The whores will still be there if you're lucky. Tick tock."

JJ and Prentiss looked at him slightly wide eyed for a moment. Was it just a coincidence that he was using the same taunt as Maloney?

As soon as he handed back the piece of paper and pen, JJ was up on her feet and leaving the room. Prentiss continued to stare at the man then opened a file in front of her.

"So, you had plenty of friends within the ring?"

Jackson scoffed. "Friends? No. There is no such thing in that line of work. Just ask those who were executed. Of course, you'll know all about that, won't you?" He smirked.

"Is that why you're helping us?"

"Is what why I'm helping you?"

"The executions." Prentiss sat back in her chair, regarding the man.

He laughed. "Certainly didn't help. Future tip, honey. If you ever start your own business that requires a certain level of loyalty from those working beneath you, don't execute one fifth of your staff. It can be quite the loyalty killer."

"Didn't you see it more as a threat? I would have thought it would make most people toe the line."

"In a normal business, perhaps. But this isn't a 'normal' business. And we ain't 'normal' employees. Course, none of us want to die, but if we were truly concerned about ourselves, we wouldn't have become involved in the first place. We know the risks. We just don't expect the risks to come from within." Jackson spoke honestly. "They lost a lot of support after doing that. All to protect those at the top. Funny thing is, before that we all would have protected them. But now? I guarantee you, if anyone truly knows who Seth is, they will sell him down the river quicker than you can say whorehouse."

Prentiss nodded in understanding.

"This man." She pulled a photo of Maloney out and placed it on the table. "Do you know him?"

Jackson's eyes flashed with recognition. The next moment the expression was gone and he was looking at her coldly.

"Never seen him before in my life."

Prentiss eyed him carefully for a few moments.

"I thought you weren't protecting those at the top anymore?"

Jackson simply didn't answer.

"We have reason to believe that this man was the mastermind behind all of the executions. That he was cleaning house to keep his connections to the trafficking ring hidden."

Jackson scoffed slightly.

"You know differently?" Prentiss asked curiously.

"All I'm gonna say is if I did know who he was, I wouldn't be telling you."

Prentiss quirked an eyebrow.

"And why is that?"

Jackson just kept looking at her, giving her nothing. She rolled her eyes in response then pulled out another two photos.

"How about these two?"

He looked at the two pictures and smirked. "Now those two, I can tell you about." He pointed to the first photo. "Marshall Richards. One sick son of a bitch. Even by my standards. There is nothing he won't do to get off. And I mean nothing. Torture, somnophilia, minds games. Some real 'Saw' level shit. He's good with the mind games. He runs the online stuff. Most of the videos posted come from him and his buddy, Cain McDonald. What really gets him off is complete control over the whores. If you've watched any of the videos, then you'll know what I mean."

"I haven't."

"Don't get me wrong, they are a turn on. They're very good at what they do, and you can tell which ones are his favourites to mess with. But yeah, he's a sick fuck." The man laughed. "Cain ain't much better. He does the camera work mostly. But he comes out with some pretty sick suggestions sometimes and he makes sure he always gets the best angle. He knows exactly what a viewer wants to see."

"Have you met them personally?" Prentiss asked, trying to quell the nausea in her stomach.

"A few times. Especially when we've had crossover at the motels."

"Did they always film at the motels?"

"Nah, they have a studio set up at their address. The whores living there are under 24/7 surveillance. They do a live show every day. From what I have seen they are mostly left to it. It's the kind of show where Johns come on and tell them what to do and they do it to themselves. Not really my thing. Sometimes McDonald and Richards are there and will punish them if they are new and not doing as they are told. But the whores they seem to have now are pretty experienced and know the drill." He smiled a sick smile again. "The more special videos are done every couple of weeks or so, where they actively get involved with the scene. These are usually the 'in demand whores like 'Masochistic Mike' or 'Cock Slut'. They recently did one with a whore called 'Fuck Toy'. That one proved very popular because most Johns thought he was dead." He laughed again.

Prentiss swallowed. "Why would they think that?"

"Darlin', if you'd seen his previous video, you wouldn't need to ask."

She furrowed her brows, pretending to have little understanding of the situation. "It was bad?"

"Oh, yeah." He smirked again, clearly finding amusement in it. "Not the usual for the organisation, I must say."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we were told to never go too far with them. They were to be kept in decent condition. The worse their condition the more it knocked the value off. But that kid seemed to prove that all wrong. The Johns were begging for it. It seems the 'is he dead or alive' mystery really did reel them in. They made a fuckin' fortune that day. And I'm telling you, McDonald and Richards saw a lot of that dollar. They were better paid than most of us, that's for sure."

"Is that why you're happy to sell them out?"

"Darlin', I'll give you the name and location of anyone you want. I'm not fussy. You tell them I cooperated and I tell you what you wanna know. I know how this whole prison thing works and I ain't going back there without a fight."

"If that's the case, why not just deny it?"

"Because I ain't fuckin' stupid. You've got me and you've got me good." He laughed.

"So, you can tell me where McDonald and Richards are?"

He leaned forward and looked her deep in her eyes. "I can, on one condition."

She met his gaze unflinchingly, a slight smile creeping onto her lips to show him he wasn't going to unnerve her. "And what's that?"

"You tell me why you're so keen to get these guys."

Prentiss laughed slightly. "Given everything you have said, I'd have thought it would be obvious."

"Hmm, maybe, maybe not. If the rumours are to be believed then this is more than a professional investment."

"And what rumours might those be?"

"That a certain 'Fuck Toy' might be an FBI agent." He said, carefully watching her expression.

She tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible, but that appeared to be a mistake.

"Shit. It's true." The man burst out laughing.

Prentiss' expression automatically darkened.

"No wonder they went so hard on him. They fuckin' hate you guys." He spoke through his laughter.

Prentiss steadied her emotions and softened her gaze slightly.

"If you understand who he is, then you understand how important your assistance in this matter will be. It can only work in your favour."

"I'm almost tempted not to give 'em up now." Jackson teased. "I'm so damn impressed. They had him acting like a professional whore."

Prentiss' jaw tightened.

"That's enough." She snapped.

Jackson looked at her in realisation. "Ah, he's not just an FBI agent to you, is he? He's a friend... boyfriend?" He smirked.

Prentiss let her gaze drop. There was no point in pretending. The man already knew and clearly had from the start.

"He's a friend. And colleague. A member of this team."

"Ouch. That's gotta hurt seeing him like that. Between the first videos and the live show, they fucked him good. It was a fine performance."

For the first time, Prentiss was seeing the truly predatory side of the man emerge. Up to now he had remained fairly casual and light-hearted. But something had emerged in his expression. A darkness that had been well hidden.

"For the record, I don't know where he is." He added dryly.

"I don't need to know where he is. Just McDonald and Richards." Prentiss said calmly, masking the shiver running down her spine.

His lips tightened and he seemed to contemplate it for a few moments.

"What are you going to do for me? If I give you the address of your little friend's masters?"

"I have already told you; this will work in your favour in front of a jury. They will see you have assisted a federal investigation and have been key to convicting two men who have attacked an FBI agent."

"Not enough." Jackson said quickly.

Prentiss sighed. She should have seen this coming. It had all been far too easy.

"What do you want?"

"That's more like it. Quid pro quo. I let you find them and you get me a good deal. None of this maximum-security shit like Olive. I won't do that again. I want a nice Federal Prison. 3 years maximum."

"3 years?" Prentiss scoffed. "You'll be lucky."

"Well, if you don't want McCain and Richards, that's up to you."

Prentiss smiled slightly. "You know they're not going to agree to a deal like that for two guys like McCain and Richards. Now... him." She pointed at Maloney's photo. "That's a different matter."

The man's lips tightened and he seemed deep in contemplation.

"As far as I know you already have him."

"We do, for attacking our agent. But nothing to do with sex trafficking. No one is talking. You will be the first and only person with this kind of deal. Of course, I'd need to okay it with the US Attorney's office, but for a guy like him, I'm sure they can make an exception. Of course, the clock's ticking. As no doubt your friend Gerald is being offered a similar deal." She said teasingly, putting on the pressure.

Jackson pursed his lips for a few moments, seeming to consider his options.

"Okay... You get me that deal. I'll give you him."

"And the other two." Prentiss said firmly.

He rolled his eyes. "And the other two."

She smiled rising from her seat. "Let me see what I can do." She left the room.

---

Morgan re-entered the room to be met with a fidgeting Phelan. The man looked increasingly unsure of him and uncomfortable. As Morgan moved towards the table, laptop in hand, Phelan watched him carefully.

Morgan placed the laptop down and pulled his chair around the table to sit next to the man.

"Okay, give me that card, man."

Phelan furrowed his brows then slid the card towards him.

"This browser is connected to the Tor network, see? Like it says on the card." Morgan pointed between the two and Phelan nodded. "I'm gonna type in this address exactly as it is on the card. I want you to make sure I do it right."

He typed, looking back and forth between the screen and the card. When he was done, he turned the screen further towards the man.

"Just check it for me, man. What's on that card is here, right?"

Phelan carefully examined the address on the card and the address on the screen.

"The same, right?"

Phelan nodded. "Yeah, that's it."

"Okay. Watch." Morgan said confidently, hitting enter.

The next moment a webpage full of pornographic videos loaded. Phelan's mouth dropped open.

"This is where you have been directing people. Each and every one of these men is a victim."

"No. No, it can't be."

Morgan came across a top 10 videos feature, listing the videos in order of popularity. His eyes couldn't help but home in on the fact that Reid was featured in 3 out of 10 of them. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his emotions under control.

He clicked on one of the videos clearly taken when he was with Jason. It was in the #4 slot.

He dropped his gaze to the keyboard when the video began to play.

"I assume this video is familiar." The sound of Reid crying out as Jason stabbed him in the leg rang out from the speakers and Morgan closed his eyes again.

"Oh god." Phelan's hand went up to his mouth. "That's- that's the one." He looked away from the screen. "Please stop it. I don't want to see it."

Morgan left it playing, despite how much it was killing him to do so. He needed this man to understand exactly how deep into this situation Toolan had gotten him.

"This is what the organisation you have been working for is capable of. Rape and torture. There is no 'looking after' them. The men you give these cards to get to do whatever they want to these men and your boss lets them. And when they're not in the club, they are at home watching others being tortured online!" Morgan said harshly.

Phelan shifted his chair so he was turned away from the screen. "Please, just switch it off." The sounds from the video were clearly distressing him.

Morgan finally exited the video. To his dismay a thumbnail to the video that was clearly Reid and Rossi popped up beneath with the ominous tag of 'If you enjoyed this..."

Morgan slammed the screen shut and pushed the laptop away from him.

He stood and moved his chair back around the table, taking a deep breath as he did, trying to calm the nausea in his chest.

He sat back down.

"So, what are we going to do about this, Karl?" He said casually, looking at the clearly distraught and shocked man.

"I didn't realise. I honestly didn't."

"Maybe not. But you did realise that men were being raped in the basement of the casino, didn't you."

Phelan put his head into his hands. "Yes." He said almost brokenly.

"And you thought that was okay?" Morgan asked.

"Yes... No." The man said quickly, the doubts were creeping in. "No. I knew it wasn't. Oh my god, what have I been doing?"

"Look Karl, I wanna help you, I really do. I know, deep down, you're not a bad guy. You've been manipulated into this by someone you trusted."

"I'm in so much trouble, aren't I." He said, almost innocently.

Morgan didn't expect to feel sympathy for any of these men, but something about Karl seemed particularly vulnerable. He'd worked with Toolan for 10 years and clearly had a high opinion of his boss. The man had looked after him and taken him under his wing as something of a protégé. No doubt slipping in suggestive language here and there to numb him to the reality of what was going on. If Morgan knew one thing about this organisation, it was that they knew how to manipulate and brainwash people. It was their specialty. He only needed to look at Reid to know that.

"You never touched any of these men yourself, did you?" Morgan asked carefully.

"No, god no. Mr Toolan would ask me if I wanted to, but I'm straight. Always have been. He told me that didn't matter, it wasn't about sexuality, but I never wanted to."

"And he was okay with that, was he?"

"Yeah. He said as long as I keep it quiet and kept doing my job, he was happy."

"Okay, so you never touched any of the men. That works in your favour, but you're still in big trouble."

"I know." He dropped his head into his hands again.

"But there are things you can do to make this better." Morgan said gently, as though he was trying to be helpful. "If you tell us everything you know. People you've seen, regular customers, people who were involved in the ring. We need names. And if you do this, chances are you will avoid a harsh sentence. You might even dodge prison altogether."

"How will that help me?"

Morgan stared at Phelan in disbelief. This man really wasn't a criminal.

"When the courts look at sentencing someone, they take into account how helpful they have been. If someone has fully cooperated and been helpful to the investigation, they will often give them a more lenient sentence. This will help you as it will reduce your sentence." He clarified slowly.

Phelan nodded in understanding. "Mr Toolan said I shouldn't give any names."

"You won't need to worry about him ever again. He's going to be going to prison for a very long time."

Phelan looked troubled by this.

"You don't think he deserves it, knowing what you know now?"

The man frowned and then nodded. There was almost something infantile about him at times. He clearly wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Morgan nodded in agreement.

"You're doing great, Karl. Now, will you help us?" He smiled kindly.

Phelan looked contemplative for a few moments, then nodded unsurely. "Yeah. Okay."

---

Rossi rang the bell at the entrance of the ward and was greeted by a ginger haired nurse with her hair in a plait. She looked to be around 35-40 and had a kind expression.

"Who are you here to see?" She asked with a smile.

"Spencer Reid."

Her smile dropped slightly. It didn't go unnoticed.

"And your name and ID, please."

Rossi showed her his FBI badge and she checked the list.

"Sign in here, please."

Rossi signed his name and then turned to the nurse looking at her curiously. She smiled at him slightly.

"He is just with the doctor at the moment if you could wait."

Concern washed over Rossi's features. "Is everything okay?"

Sandy sighed. "Not exactly. He's had an assessment this afternoon as he didn't know where he was and was seeing things."

"Do you mean a flashback?"

"No, not like that. He was present, but wasn't making any sense and his thoughts seemed muddled. He saw Agent Morgan walking past the door. When we asked him about it, he went off on another tangent."

Rossi breathed out a sigh. "So, what is it?"

"Dr. Larson won't be long; she's just starting him on some medication to help. I'd rather she discussed it with you, as she did the assessment. If you take a seat, she will be with you shortly. I'll let her know you are here." She guided him towards a chair in the corridor.

He sat down sombrely. "Oh, I brought some more clothes for him. Pippa asked for some warmer items as he's often cold."

Sandy smiled kindly. "Thank you. I'll pop these in his room." Then she disappeared behind the door.

Rossi sat wringing his hands. The nurse's news was a punch to the gut. He was already reeling from the conversation he'd had with Pippa earlier in the day. Somehow, whilst he'd been gone, things had managed to get even worse. The saddest thing was, he wasn't surprised. It was only a matter of time before Reid's mind snapped. And it sounded like it had finally happened. He could only hope it would be a temporary thing and hadn't triggered some dormant condition in him like his mother. He still wasn't out of the woods when it came to schizophrenia. And if anything was going to trigger it, it would be this.

Rossi felt like he was sat in that chair for an eternity. Finally, Dr. Larson emerged from the room with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. Would you like to come to my office and we can have a chat?"

Rossi simply nodded and followed the woman depressively. She sat him down in her office and offered him a drink. He politely declined.

"I understand Sandy has told you a little about what has been going on with Spencer today?"

"A little." Rossi confirmed.

"Okay, well I'm just going to come out and say it. Spencer is going through an episode of psychosis."

Rossi paled slightly. Psychosis. This definitely wasn't good.

"And what does that mean exactly?" Rossi understood what psychosis was. But it could mean something different for every person. Every representation was different. And so was every outcome.

"He currently can't organise his thoughts properly. He's not able to hold a conversation as he's jumping from subject to subject. He doesn't know he is in hospital. He thinks he's anywhere from Agent Morgan's house to back at work. His memories are addled as well. When we spoke to him about Agent Morgan, he believed he hadn't seen him for two months."

"Sandy said he'd been seeing things too?"

"Yes, he seems to be experiencing hallucinations. He's seen Agent Morgan a couple of times and also his mother. Thankfully his hallucinations do not seem to be disturbing and he is in a mostly calm state of mind, but obviously this is a major concern."

"So, what's the diagnosis?" Rossi asked, fearing the worst.

"At this point, honestly, it's hard to say. I ran some bloods but they came back normal. I did a long assessment with him where I have confirmed the diagnosis of psychosis, but as for what's causing it, it's too soon to tell. It could be a temporary condition, which we called BPD, a brief psychotic disorder. Which can last anywhere from 24 hours to 30 days. Anything past that we would be looking at a more serious diagnosis. Unfortunately, only time will reveal the cause."

"Could it be schizophrenia? His mother has paranoid schizophrenia."

"Yes, I did notice that in his medical history. As I say, it's a bit too early to tell."

"Best guess?" Rossi furrowed his brows at her.

"I'm not in the habit of guessing." Upon seeing the desperate look in Rossi's face, she continued. "But, thus far, other than this episode I have not been able to identify any signs that would be typical of schizophrenia. But as I say, only time will tell."

"Could this be caused by the trauma?"

"It's entirely possible. If this is a brief episode, it is usually caused by extreme stress. And I'm hopeful that's all it is."

"So essentially he's snapped?" Rossi said plainly.

Rachel gave a small smile. "The pressure may have become too much. The exact causes are not known but typically, it can present in patients who have been under extreme stress for an extended period of time. The only way I can describe it is that the brain becomes overwhelmed and is no longer able to function properly."

"But this could be permanent?"

"It's far too early to tell. It's hardly ever a permanent condition. Psychosis comes and goes in most cases regardless of the cause. If it is BPD, then this could be a one off that never happens again. If not, and there is an underlying condition then it will need to be managed by medications in the long term, but he would have what we call psychotic episodes. Very few people are in a state of psychosis 24/7."

Rossi nodded. He knew all of this deep down. He couldn't not. Psychosis had been a driving force behind multiple crimes he had dealt with over the years. But for some reason, relating that information to Reid was proving difficult. He needed it spelling out for him.

"I have given him a dose of Quetiapine, which is an anti-psychotic."

"That's not a narcotic, is it?" Rossi asked quickly, his voice slightly panicked.

"No, I am aware of his request for no narcotics. It's what we call an atypical anti-psychotic. It's non-addictive and its side effects are relatively gentle compared to other options."

Rossi nodded in relief. "So, what's the plan going forward?"

"All we can really do is monitor him and keep him on the medication whilst he's showing signs of psychosis. The main aim is to keep him calm and reduce any signs of distress in him."

"Am I able to see him?" Rossi asked hopefully.

"You can. But I need you to understand, he's not himself at the moment. If you are likely to find it upsetting or stressful, then I would recommend that you don't visit. It can be distressing to see someone you care about like that and the last thing we want is any of that distress transferring onto Spencer. He needs a calm and understanding environment around him."

"I understand. I would like to see him." Rossi smiled sadly.

"Okay. The main thing is not to contradict anything he is saying or seeing. Don't argue or disagree with him as it won't help. If he does start to show signs of being upset or sees anything that is causing him distress, then please call us in straight away." Rachel said firmly.

"Absolutely." Rossi nodded again; a slight tremor ran down his back. He wasn't afraid to admit, this was a scary scenario. As much as he never wanted to see Reid like this, he couldn't leave him either. He'd sworn to stand by him and that's what he was going to do.

Rachel led him to Reid's room and they found him sat up in bed staring at the ceiling.

"Spencer?" Rachel said gently.

His gaze came down to meet her.

"I have someone here to see you. Agent Rossi." She smiled.

Reid didn't seem to take in what she was saying and returned his gaze to the ceiling. Rachel stepped back and allowed Rossi entry to the room.

"The meds will make him tired when they start to take effect, so if he gets unusually sleepy, please don't panic. It's quite normal. Just press the buzzer if you need me." She said, putting a hand to his shoulder.

Rossi couldn't take his eyes off Reid as he pulled a chair up next to the bed.

"Hey kiddo." He said softly. He stared at him as he received no answer. He looked up to the ceiling and then back at Reid. "Spencer?" He tried again, garnering no response. "What are you looking at?" Rossi asked curiously.

"The stars." Reid said gently. "They are so beautiful."

Rossi's eyes suddenly filled with tears and he looked up to the ceiling with him.

"Can you see them?" Reid asked.

Rossi smiled as a tear ran down his cheek. "Yeah, kiddo. I see them... They are beautiful."

---

Prentiss entered the conference room where she found Hotch sitting with Garcia and JJ. She sighed and sat down at the table.

"How's it going?" Hotch asked.

"Reached an impass." She said simply. "He knows everything. He knows Maloney, where to find McCain and Richards, but he knows Reid was an FBI agent and now he's holding that over us. He wants 3 years in a Federal prison and he won't take anything else. No deal, no info."

"3 years?" JJ asked in shock. "He admitted to raping multiple men and he wants to do 3 years?" She asked furiously.

Prentiss just shrugged and looked to Hotch.

"Any luck with Toolan?"

"No." He said depressively. "He asked for an attorney the second I walked into the room. He's not talking. He's not interested in any deals. Even his attorney is advising him to talk but he's point-blank refusing."

"So, I guess we have to try Green then." Prentiss said with another sigh. They were all exhausted by this point.

Hotch just shook his head.

"You're kidding?" Prentiss said in frustration.

"His attorney's with him now."

"Oh god. Jackson said they were both going to talk."

"Seems Green changed his mind. He's refusing." Hotch said simply.

"Has there been any luck with the others?" Prentiss asked hopefully.

"Morgan is still with Phelan. From what he's said so far, he's not an important character in the grand scheme of it all. He's been largely manipulated into being a part of it. His information is probably limited to those he saw regularly at the club."

"And Gibbs?"

"Hall is getting as much information as she can. Not sure what it will produce but it's unlikely to lead to much. Hes just a customer." Hotch shook his head.

"So, Jackson is our only chance." Prentiss said in annoyance.

"I need to speak to Fickler. What exactly has he said, Emily?" Hotch pressed.

"He can tell us where to find McDonald and Richards and he agreed he would give information on Maloney that would link him to the trafficking ring that will support Matthew's statement. He was angry about the executions that took place, he has no loyalty to the organisation. But he's using the information as leverage."

"Hotch." JJ said suddenly. "Pittsburgh are sending agents to the house now."

"Thanks, JJ."

"That's great news, Jayje."

"Hey, you wanna know something interesting?' Garcia said pulling her face curiously. "The landlord for the property Jackson and Green were staying in has another 15 houses on his books across West Virginia and Virginia."

"And?" JJ said, not entirely understanding her point. It wasn't uncommon for landlords to own many properties.

"What's weird is that there is only a single tenant listed at every property. No families, no couples, just single men and women. Some of these houses have 5 bedrooms but only one person registered as living there."

"That is weird." Prentiss furrowed her brows looking at the screen. "Who is registered at the address Jackson and Green were at?"

Garcia typed quickly into her laptop. "A Lynette Davies... she's a ghost. She doesn't exist." Her eyes opened wide and she looked to Hotch.

"Who is the landlord, Garcia?" Hotch asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"A George Dennis, 60. He lives in Virginia." Her mouth dropped open. "In Fredericksburg!"

"That's only a 30-minute drive!" JJ exclaimed.

"Okay, slow down. We have no evidence of this man's involvement. You know how this works. We need a warrant and probable cause. Garcia, I need you to do a deep dive on these properties. If we can show that he has a pattern of faking his tenant records then we can get him on that-"

"Get who on what?" Fickler interjected, standing at the door. Stood next to him was Agent Wilks. All eyes landed on the pair.

Hotch took a step forward, his eyes flicking between the two. He dropped his voice slightly. "Director, if I may have a word in private?"

Fickler looked offended. "Anything that needs to be said can be said in front of Agent Wilks. He has been excluded from this investigation enough. He was hand selected by myself to take charge of this after the disaster with Nick Field, which I hasten to point out, none of you saw coming despite working directly with the man. And Mr Turner, well... we all know what happened there."

Hotch clenched his jaw at that.

"So, you will forgive me if I want an Agent I can trust on this investigation."

"Sir-" Hotch tried to protest.

"Agent Hotchner. That is my final word on the matter." Fickler said firmly. "I understand you have been interrogating our suspects. I thought I made it clear to you that every step of this investigation was to be run by me first."

"Yes, Sir. It was a matter of time; we wanted to obtain the information before the operation had opportunity to mobilise after the raids."

"And a quick phone call to me would have slowed you down?" He said sardonically.

Hotch sighed. "No, Sir, it wouldn't but we were keen to get started."

"Has anything useful come out of these urgent interrogations?"

"Yes, Sir." Emily stepped in. "One of them is willing to talk. A Paul Jackson. He was running men back and forth from appointments at the motels and brothels. He gave us the address of the house he is staying in, which Agents in Pittsburgh are visiting now. He said there are 6 victims there. He has also said he can give us the location of McDonald and Richards, plus some information on Maloney... but he wants a deal."

Fickler raised his eyebrows. "What sort of deal does a man like that expect?"

She sucked a breath in through her teeth.

"3 years in Federal prison."

Fickler burst out laughing and Wilks blew out an astounded breath.

"If he thinks the US Attorney's office is going to approve that, he's got another thing coming."

Hotch stepped forward now. "You're not even going to ask?" He scowled.

Fickler snorted. "I can ask, but I can also tell you what the answer will be... No deal. The Attorney's office has already decided, no deals with these men. We make examples of them. They cannot be seen to be bending over for these criminals, especially not after the video leaks. The FBI's reputation is already damaged. The US Attorney's office has had some high-profile cases going wrong in the last few years. We all need a success story and some serious sentences."

"But at the expense of the victims?" Hotch said in disbelief.

"We cannot be seen to be housing a serial sexual offender in a Federal prison off the back of a deal just to fulfil a personal vendetta, Agent Hotchner. This operation is bigger than Maloney, McDonald and Richards. You are losing perspective."

JJ dropped her head into her hands and Garcia stared at the man in disbelief. Prentiss stepped forward now, speaking passionately.

"With all due respect, Sir, this isn't about a personal vendetta. Richards and McDonald have been handling all of the live filming that takes place on that website. They have multiple victims. They are a huge part of this operation and if we take them down, we take out a large chunk of the organisation's market and income."

Fickler looked thoughtful for a moment. "And you believe this Jackson is telling the truth?"

"I do, Sir." She nodded, looking him dead in the eye.

"Okay." He conceded. "I will see what I can do. I will get on to Attorney Richard Wood. Have we any news on this elusive Seth?"

"No. No one knows who he is."

"Not even Jackson?"

"No, any communications take place via the website." Prentiss explained.

"I have looked into the text messages he received from Seth but I'm struggling to trace them. I will keep working on it, but these guys are scary good." Garcia interrupted.

"Agent Wilks. I want you to work with the technical analysts. See if there is anything they might have missed."

Garcia's mouth dropped open in offense at the comment, but Hotch shot her a look. They were on thin ice with Fickler at the moment.

Wilks had an equally surprised look on his face.

"What do you expect me to look for, Sir? I'm not an analyst."

"Just oversee what they are doing. You've worked with analysts before. You know the drill."

He furrowed his brows in slight confusion.

"Okay, Sir." He said unsurely.

"Now what were you saying about a warrant?" Fickler continued, looking to Hotch for an explanation. Fickler's phone then rang. He looked slightly irritated but flipped it open regardless.

"Director Fickler." He answered. "Richard, just the man I was going to call. One moment." He covered the mouthpiece on the cell and spoke quietly but firmly to Hotch. "We will continue this later." Then he was out of the room and up the corridor.

They all felt like a tornado had swept into the room, pulled everything to pieces and swept back out again.

Hotch rubbed his eyes in frustration and tiredness.

"So, where does this leave us?" JJ asked in irritation. She looked completely blindsided.

"Exactly where we were." Hotch answered confidently. "Garcia, keep looking at the connections between George Dennis and this operation and hopefully we can get together enough to secure a warrant. As far as the deal goes... we will just have to wait and see." He said with a sigh.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Wilks asked eagerly.

"Yeah, stop kissing the Director's ass." Prentiss said under her breath. JJ heard it and smirked. Hotch shot her a look.

"What?" Wilks asked innocently.

"I didn't say anything." Prentiss smiled.

Wilks looked around the room and sighed.

"Look, I know you guys don't trust me. I can understand that, but I swear to you, I only want the same things you do. To see these bastards pay for the things they've done. I'm truly sorry for everything your team has been through, I've spent enough time with Maloney to know how truly evil the man is. I don't want to step on anyone's toes... I just want to help."

Hotch weighed the man up and down for a few moments, then nodded.

"Okay. We are looking at a potential pattern of houses owned by a landlord who might use false tenant information to hide who is really living there. Pittsburgh are currently entering one of the properties in the hope of finding some victims. Garcia is working through the list of properties. We need enough evidence to secure a warrant. You work with Garcia on that."

Wilks nodded eagerly. "Yes, Sir. I can do that."

Garcia looked worriedly to Hotch. She knew what his concerns were about the man's potential involvement and she wasn't happy to be doing this. Hotch just nodded at her. She bit her lip and then gave a smile to Wilks.

"I'm going to take another crack at Jackson. I have an idea." Prentiss said thoughtfully. "Jayje, can I borrow you?"

JJ looked at her curiously. "Yeah, sure." She stood and followed Prentiss out of the room.

Hotch sat back down at the table, feeling utterly useless. All he felt like he was doing was waiting. Waiting for news from Pittsburgh about the interviews with the victims, which were likely to go on for weeks given the sheer number. Waiting to hear about the raid of the house where Jackson and Green had resided. Waiting to hear if the deal could be offered to Jackson.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting

Fickler's sudden involvement wasn't helping matters. The man was riding him hard. And as usual, the involvement from higher ups always came with a thick supply of red tape and delay. Hotch always played by the rules, but he knew how to bend them to speed up the process. With Fickler involved, things were going to slow down considerably. And a slow pace was not something they could afford. Especially with Maloney's arraignment hanging over them at the end of the week.

Biased or not, he wanted to nail the man. He wanted him to never see the light of day again and he was skeptical that the charges currently against him would achieve that. Technically, he hadn't raped Reid. And he knew that his defence attorney was going to emphasise that point over and over.

Matthew's identification of him was not considered enough to warrant charges. 'Circumstantial' was the term used. Hotch didn't agree, but again, that evidence alone would not be enough to put the man away for life. They all knew what he was capable of. But they needed the proof. And that was seemingly hard to come by.

Hotch looked up as Morgan entered the room and slapped a piece of paper down on the table.

"Names of everyone he remembers. Some are customers, most are traffickers. Unfortunately, the majority are people we already have in custody but there's a couple of new names there. He's no idea where to find them. He didn't recognise Maloney or any of the others." Morgan sighed then sat down putting his head into his hand.

Hotch eyed him carefully for a few moments. "You alright?"

Morgan rubbed his eye. "Yeah, man. This is, uh, just not easy to listen to, you know?"

Hotch nodded with a tight smile.

"They have used Reid's video across the business as a fucking manipulation tool." Morgan shook his head in disgust. "Toolan even used it to influence Phelan. To show him what 'other organisations' are capable of... man, these people just sicken me."

Hotch just nodded in understanding then turned to Garcia.

"Garcia, when you get chance, can you run the names of those who are not currently in custody?"

Garcia nodded slightly frantically. The poor woman was snowed under. "Yes, Sir. As soon as I can. I'm just-"

"It's okay, I know you're busy. Just when you get an opportunity." He said softly. Essentially telling her it's okay. He knew how the pressure could get to her sometimes. She took a lot of the responsibility and pressure onto herself. In a scenario like this, he knew he needed to keep an eye on her. She would run herself into the ground before she would call out for a break.

Morgan looked at her, his face filled with concern. Obviously seeing the same thing that Hotch was.

"Baby girl. I could do with a coffee. Let's take 10, huh?"

"Morgan, I cant take 10. I need to find the backgrounds on these tenants and I need to do it fast, before the organisation realises that we are on to them and start moving the victims around. And need to run background on these guys and some of the names Hall has provided-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down." Morgan said calmingly, standing and moving behind her to put his hands on her shoulders.

"I can't slow down, Derek. There's just too much to go through and not enough time. These victims are all just waiting to be rescued and if they can't be because I was too slow or I missed something or-"

"Garcia. Take a break, please." Hotch said sternly.

Hotch always managed to stop her in her tracks. Her mouth dropped open and she looked at her superior. He gave her a pointed look and he saw the surrender and slight relief wash over her.

"Okay." She said shakily. "Okay, yes, Sir."

"Come on, baby girl. You can tell me all about where you're taking me on our next night out." Morgan grinned. She looked at him and smiled back, feeling like she had permission to lighten her mood a little.

"Where I'm taking you? Au contraire, mon ami." She said, standing up. "You mean where you are taking me, and it's going to involve an expensive dinner, lots of wine and if you play your cards right, you'll get to rub my feet at the end of it." She said flirtatiously.

Morgan let out a chuckle. "How could a man say no to that?" He led her out of the room, dropping a nod to Hotch as he did.

---

"What's your name?" Reid asked, taking his gaze away from the ceiling.

Rossi felt his stomach twist as he looked at his young colleague and saw no recognition in his eyes.

"David Rossi." He smiled.

Reid's eyes opened wide. "David Rossi? As in FBI profiler, David Rossi?"

"One and the same." Rossi gave a sad smile.

"I've read all of your books."

"Have you?" Rossi said with a slight laugh, thinking back to Reid reeling off words from his book verbatim during one of his first cases back. As impressive as he'd found it, it deeply irritated him at the time. Reid didn't seem to have an 'off-switch' and appeared to be a know-it-all. And there was nothing Rossi hated more than know-it-alls. It took time for him to warm up to the kid. It was hard to get past the almost robotic way he would approach things at times. But once he did and actually started looking for the person that was hiding underneath that facade, he'd fallen in love with the kid. There was a strong, yet vulnerable, confident yet insecure, genuinely lovely person underneath the sea of words that would keep people at a distance.

"Yes." Reid nodded with a smile.

"Which was your favourite?" Rossi asked, playing along as the doctor had advised. Telling him that they'd been working together for the last few years and they were actually good friends didn't seem a wise move right now.

Reid looked thoughtful for a moment, then his brows furrowed.

"Are you okay?" Rossi asked gently.

"I'm sorry, this is so embarrassing." Reid's cheeks flushed. "I'm trying to remember."

Rossi felt a lump in his throat and swallowed it down.

"That's okay. It's not important." Rossi reassured.

Reid seemed to accept his words way too easily and nodded, looking back up to the ceiling.

"There's a meteor shower."

"Is there?" Rossi said, looking up at the ceiling again with him.

Reid pointed. "Yeah, look." Reid gasped slightly. "I've never seen one so clearly." A smile rested on his face.

Rossi dropped his gaze to Reid's face. He looked so happy. It was sad that he had to lose his mind in order to feel any sense of peace. Rossi just wanted to reach out and give him a hug, but he didn't dare. He was a stranger to Reid right now.

"When is my dad coming?" He asked, still staring at the 'sky'.

"Your dad?" Rossi said, slightly surprised.

"He said he would come and watch with me."

Rossi's jaw tightened. "I'm – I'm not sure, Reid."

Reid sighed, dropping his gaze down to meet Rossi's. He looked at him curiously for a few moments.

"He's not coming, is he?" His expression was disappointed.

"I don't know, kiddo. I haven't spoken to him."

Reid's features crumpled. "He doesn't love me."

Rossi felt incredibly uncomfortable, but pulled his chair forward and put a hand to Reid's back.

"I'm sure that's not true, Spencer."

"He's always leaving me. Everyone leaves me." He said in a sad, broken voice.

Rossi sighed. Reid's emotions and thoughts were all over the place. He had been warned, so he shouldn't really be surprised. But it was disturbing to watch. He was not a religious man, but he could only pray that this was temporary. Seeing such a powerful mind so horribly shredded was distressing.

"I won't leave you." He said gently, grabbing his hand.

Reid looked at him with wide, watery eyes. "You promise?"

Rossi felt like he was talking to a child. "I promise." He said with a soft smile. He looked up to the ceiling, redirecting Reid's attention. "You're missing the meteor shower."

Reid looked up at the ceiling again, his mouth dropping open slightly as he watched the imaginary scene. Rossi felt him squeeze his hand.

"I'm sorry for everything." He said quietly.

Rossi frowned. "What?"

"For dragging you into everything. You didn't deserve to get hurt." Reid said, still looking up.

Rossi wasn't sure if this was partial lucidity. He put his other hand over Reid's, cupping it between his palms and rubbing comfortingly.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything, kiddo."

Reid took in an upset breath and a small sob escaped. He blinked a few times and then wiped his eyes tiredly.

"Just lie back, Reid and watch the stars." Rossi said softly. His meds were clearly starting to take effect. He could only hope that Reid would sleep and wake up 'normal' again.

Reid nodded and followed his command. Rossi watched as his eyes followed non-existent movements on the ceiling and his eyelids started to slowly droop. When Reid gasped again, clearly impressed by something he was seeing, Rossi's eyes filled with tears again. He moved his hand to Reid's head to stroke through his hair.

"Is it good?" Rossi asked gently.

"Amazing." Reid whispered back tiredly, with a small smile. His eyes blinking as the tiredness was overtaking him.

"You just relax, kiddo. Go to sleep."

His eyes slipped closed. "I don't want to miss it." He slurred quietly as his mind was clearly drifting off.

Rossi kept stroking his head until he felt any tension leave the young man's body and his breathing became shallow. Rossi closed his eyes, taking a large breath in, then he dropped his head down to Reid's hand and let the tears fall.

---

"It's a no deal, I'm afraid." Prentiss said casually as she entered the room with Jackson. She didn't sit down.

The man frowned at her. "Nothing at all?"

"Nope. They won't even approve a more comfortable pillow for you.' She laughed. "Lock him up and throw away the key seems to be the attitude." She shrugged nonchalantly.

Jackson's expression twisted into anger. "So, they don't want to catch the guys who raped and tortured your colleague then?" He snapped.

"Seems they have bigger priorities." Prentiss rolled her eyes.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and their gazes landed on JJ as she popped her head around the door.

"Emily?" She nodded her over. She spoke quietly into Prentiss' ear, gave a pointed look at Jackson, then left them room.

Prentiss smiled. "Well, looks like we don't need you after all. Best of luck at trial." She opened the door and called over Anderson. "Can you take Mr Jackson back to his cell, please?"

"What?!" He said suddenly. "Is that it?!"

"Yes." She said simply.

Anderson entered the room. "You don't want the information I have?!"

"We don't need it now. Green is going to cooperate in the hope of mercy from the jury."

Anderson moved behind the man. "Stand up, please."

Jackson didn't move. "I can provide the same information!"

Prentiss smiled. "Jackson, we only need one of you to talk."

"I'll talk! I'll provide the information you need! I know more than fuckin' Green!" He said in a panic. This was now his only option for a lesser sentence.

"That's great, Jackson, but that's not what Green said. I think he's with one of our agents now."

"2826 North Street, Charlottesville! That's where you'll find them. It's run by the same landlord as the house we were in. George Dennis, he provides all of the houses in the organisation. He is an ex-business partner of John Maloney's from a previous life. They used to do the same thing back in Texas under different identities. It was a much smaller operation back then. Maloney's brother was a part of it too. They stopped when the FBI got too close, selling on their whores and properties. Obviously at some point they moved here and set up again with a much larger operation. I don't know where they've got their funding from. Rumour has it they are funded by some Russian oligarch, which might make sense as they have a large Russian audience on the website."

Prentiss raised her eyebrows and nodded to Anderson to leave the room. She tried not to show the satisfaction on her face that her manipulation had worked. She sat down, clasping her hands on the table in front of her.

"And what is Maloney's role in all of this?" She asked.

Jackson sighed. "He was the go between for Seth and the operation. I think he's the only one who knows who the man is. He's was an operations manager of sorts. He oversaw everything. He had men working beneath him in different areas because he couldn't be everywhere at once, but he travelled around a lot."

"Who are these men who worked beneath him?"

Jackson gave her a look and paused for a moment.

"You are one?"

He nodded reluctantly. "I was demoted recently."

Prentiss frowned. "And why was that?"

He cleared his throat. "A job came through to me that I refused to do."

"What was the job?"

He cleared his throat again and broke eye contact. "I was supposed to kidnap... someone. To me, it was too risky, so I wouldn't do it. It seems off the back of it they changed the plan and got McDonald and Richards to do it." He looked at Prentiss knowingly.

Prentiss' mouth dropped open. "Oh." She said, completely speechless.

"I don't know what the hell they are thinking. The whole fuckin' organisation seems to have gone mad. When that recruiter went rogue and took that agent, they were up in arms. But now, it seems like playing with the FBI is all they want to do. Its fuckin' crazy if you ask me. Look at where we are now. The whole things fallin' apart. Wouldn't surprise me if Seth is using as all as scapegoats, Maloney included. That's why I'm not going down without taking some of them with me. Fuck 'em."

"Do you think Maloney is in danger?"

The man laughed. "Maloney is the biggest risk to the operation that there is. He's the only one who knows who Seth is. They clearly can't get to him, so they're keeping him happy by fuckin' your agent over and over. Mind games, torture and submission are his biggest turn ons."

"But he's in a Federal detention centre. He won't even know what's going on outside." Prentiss said, frowning again.

Jackson laughed. "Yeah, okay, darlin'. You tell yourself that if it helps you sleep at night."

"Someone is feeding him information. Who?"

"If I knew that, I'd have been paid a lot more than I was and I wouldn't be sitting here right now." He smirked.

Prentiss stared at the man for a few moments looking for any tells that he might be lying. She found none.

"So, tell me, did Maloney have contact with the victims?"

"Sometimes. He was able to use the whores whenever he wanted but he has a very specific type. He won't touch them if they're not his type."

"And what is his type?"

Jackson smirked. "You really need to ask that question?"

Prentiss frowned. No, she didn't.

"Since Maloney has been in custody, who has been doing his role?"

"No one. There have been rumours that they might be moving the operation to another state. Seth has been communicating directly and making arrangements. All bookings and jobs come from him now, like I said, through the website or over text message. I don't know why they haven't replaced him."

Prentiss sat back in her chair and looked hard at Jackson. "Would you testify at trial to all of this?"

The man paled slightly, for the first time he looked genuinely scared.

"I- I don't think I could. I'll provide an anonymous statement, but testifying? Man, I'd end up dead. And honestly? Maloney is a friend, I couldn't testify against him."

Prentiss furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Then why are you telling me this at all?"

"Because I know how dangerous the man at the top is. Maloney wants WITSEC, right? Seth's not gonna want him to have it. I don't wanna see him dead. I'm telling you this because he's the only one who can take this operation down. Do you understand me?"

Prentiss stared at him for a few moments then nodded. Her heart sank. Maloney hadn't been lying. He truly was the key to all of this. And that made him the biggest target but also their biggest ally. WITSEC was looking more and more likely now if the FBI wanted to dismantle the organisation. Which meant that Reid was likely to never have justice.

---

Fickler returned to the conference room, wearing a deep frown.

"Attorney's office says no. The most he will do is 20 years in a medium security."

Hotch exchanged a glance with Morgan and Hall. Garcia was working with Wilks in her office. A move designed to keep him out of earshot of any current developments.

Hotch frowned. "He's not going to accept that." He said sullenly.

"I'm sorry, Aaron. It's the best I could get. Like I said, they want to be seen to be nailing these guys. Not taking care of them."

Hall's phone rang suddenly.

"Sorry." She said quickly. "I need to take this." She stood moving out of the room for a moment.

"So, it's all down to Maloney and WITSEC then." Hotch said darkly.

Fickler shifted uncomfortably. "WITSEC is looking more and more likely. It sounds as though the Attorney's Office would prefer to keep it confidential and at least WITSEC is discreet. Deals are not. I am genuinely sorry, Aaron."

Morgan sat back in his chair. "Not a lot you can do if your hands are tied." He sighed.

Hall re-entered the room looking slightly flustered. "They have taken down the websites." She said in frustration.

"What?" Hotch said in shock.

"They're gone! The raid on the casino must have been the last straw. We have seen this before when we get too close to an operation. They pull everything and either set up on another network or dismantle their operation entirely. Sometimes they will set up somewhere else entirely."

"Shit. And what happens to the victims?" Morgan asked.

"They are either sold to another operation or moved to new locations."

"We are running out of time." Hotch said despondently.

"Is there no other information we have to work with?" Fickler asked with a frown.

"We have a list of properties we are looking into as suspected brothels and accommodation for victims and organisation members. But it's taking time to gather the information. And it's time we don't have." Morgan said honestly.

"Send me the list. I will speak with Attorney Wood about obtaining warrants. Without any concrete evidence, it will be a hard sell. But I will see what I can do."

"Thanks, Jack." Hotch said gratefully. "They are across West Virginia too, so we will need warrants from Attorney Scott also."

"No problem. Get your analyst to email them to me and I'll make a start now."

"Thanks." Hotch said with a professional smile.

They watched the man leave the room and close the door behind him and Hotch began to speak quietly.

"We can't afford to wait for these search warrants. It won't be long before Wilks finds out that Fickler is requesting them. With the evidence we will send to Fickler, it's unlikely they will be approved, which is what we want."

"Hotch, you've lost me, man." Morgan said in confusion.

"We need Wilks to think there is no threat of those houses being raided. At least in the imminent future."

"But without a warrant, there is no threat." Morgan answered. Still clearly lost.

Hotch looked at them for a few moments, clearly reluctant to speak his next words.

"You want to raid without warrants." Hall said, her mouth dropping open.

Morgan looked at him in shock.

"You can't be serious."

Hotch looked back at them unflinchingly. "This is not something you need to be part of."

"Hotch, man, it's career suicide." Morgan said in concern.

"We have enough probable cause to raid these properties."

"Then go through the proper channels!" Morgan snapped.

"We can't take that risk, Morgan! If this gets back to them, this whole operation disappears! If we lose these houses, we lose everything!"

"And if we run unwarranted raids and find nothing, we lose you!"

Hotch sighed. "That is my decision to make."

"Are we absolutely sure that Wilks is the problem?" Morgan asked.

"All signs seem to be pointing in his direction. Yes."

Hall nodded in agreement.

"Right." Morgan said, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts. "But Fickler trusts him."

"I addressed my concerns with him earlier. He responded by bringing him back into the investigation." Hotch sighed again.

Morgan dropped his head to his hand.

"And there's no way of cutting them out of this altogether?"

"JJ knows her way around the paperwork well enough, but it's likely to take too long."

"What about Rossi?" He asked suddenly, a hint of hope in his voice. "He's friends with these Attorney types, isn't he? Could he not call in a favour?"

Hotch looked at Morgan thoughtfully for a few moments. "Yes... yes, you're right."

"We could tell Fickler that we've come up empty on the houses and ask Rossi to use his powers of influence to push them through."

"Then hope Fickler doesn't find out." Hall said skeptically.

"This isn't the first raid we have managed to keep hidden." Hotch said with a slight smile.

"Yeah, but you had Strauss as a shield then, man."

"Dave won't be happy when he hears about Erin." Hotch said ominously.

"Hotch, I know we are all desperate to take these guys down. But before making any rash decisions, please, please, speak to Rossi." Morgan looked at him almost pleadingly.

Hotch returned his gaze sternly, then seemed to surrender and nodded.

"Okay. I'll call him."

---

Rossi's phone rang, making him jump. He looked quickly to Reid who thankfully hadn't stirred. He masked the sound of his phone then moved to the corner of the room checking the caller ID. He frowned in surprise.

"Hello?" He answered questioningly. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you." He listened to the voice on the other end, his expression growing darker as he did. "What?" He exclaimed in complete shock. "Right..." He began pacing the room back and forth. He was not liking what he was hearing one bit. "I'm listening."

The voice on the other end continued talking and he kept listening. His face paled and he found himself sat back down next to Reid. "You can't be serious." He said in disbelief. "So-" He was cut off. He nodded as he looked at Reid fast asleep in bed. "And you're sure about this?" He asked skeptically. "Yeah, yeah, okay." Then he rolled his eyes dramatically. "I said yes. Between you and me only. I get it." His jaw clenched as he listened further. "I will speak to AD Stubbs... you have?" He stood back up and began pacing again. "And he agreed?" Rossi stopped pacing as the call was clearly drawing to a close. "Right... yeah." He looked to Reid worriedly. "Uhh... I guess I can... I'll head in now."

He nodded a final time. "Okay, be careful... thanks, Erin."

He closed the phone, ending the call.

He took a few deep breaths while he processed the information he had just learned. His heart was in his throat. He moved to Reid's bedside and put his hand to his.

"Okay, kiddo. I've got to go. There's been some... developments. I might not see you for a couple of days." He said sadly. "But I will call every day to check on you...I'm always here for you, son. Remember that." He stroked his head gently, his voice breaking slightly. "You just get better now. Okay?"

He placed a kiss on his head and stood for a few moments longer staring down at him. He sighed depressively, not wanting to leave him. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand and left.