An Imitation of a Light - Part Five
An Imitation of a Light
Written for cm_bigbang
See the header here for full details.
Chapter specific warnings: depiction of torture, violence (and another unpleasant death)
By the time the effects of whatever the unsub had been giving him wore off, it seemed like it had been hours since the unsub had taken Laura’s body away. Hotch knew that, with his mind clear once more, he should have been trying to find a way out, but the truth was, he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to care.
Hotch spent a long time lying on the floor, away from the various blood stains that marred sections of the concrete, staring up at the ceiling. The door was locked, there weren’t any windows, and the drain cover wasn’t likely to move anymore then than it had when he’d tried it before.
Before Laura.
He had explored the room more, between waking and gaining company, he knew every inch of it, and he felt useless. Helpless.
He thought he knew what the unsub had planned for him, but he was waiting to see if he was right. He was waiting for another victim, again, only this time he didn’t have the benefit of the distance that there normally was.
This time he got to see just what it was the unsub was doing to his victims. Got to experience it first hand, in the field.
That thought almost stirred an emotion, until his mind wandered back to Foyet. A place that it visited daily. Hotch rolled onto his side, gagging. He hadn’t eaten in a long time, there was nothing to come up but bile, what little of that was left in him.
For the first time in months, Hotch couldn’t fight the emotions that thoughts of Foyet tended to evoke. He didn’t cry, but that was only because he couldn’t. Hotch wondered, for a brief moment, if maybe the unsub was going to starve him, the same way he had Keri Osbourne. It didn’t make sense though, and he knew it.
This unsub didn’t do repeats, and Hotch knew that starvation wasn’t a suitable punishment for any of his sins. He had already been punished for his pride, he knew. There was nothing worse than being forced to watch another victim die. Not when, without the drugs, he could have done something about it.
The gun had been right there. His gun, the one he kept in his ankle holster as backup, had been right there. He could have ended it then.
Hotch lay on his side, waiting. It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of the locks being pulled back. He had a visitor.
-
Laura Henrickson, by all accounts, had been a lovely woman. Rossi couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever walk into an interview room and not have a family member tell him that about a dead loved one. It continued to amaze him how death could erase all sins.
You could hate your sister when she was alive, but once she was dead, you would love her more than you ever did. Greif was a funny thing.
Prentiss appeared from the other interview room, looking more haggard than she had before. She met his gaze and shook her head, raising a hand to rub her forehead. None of them, Rossi thought bitterly, were getting any sleep, and it wasn’t helping them any.
Rossi considered sending them back to the hotel in shifts. Better to be rested than to keep going until they ran themselves into the ground. The problem was, he could send them to the hotel, but he couldn’t make them sleep. You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make it drink, as his second wife would have said. She had been rather fond of horses. He hoped that Kevin, Garcia’s boyfriend, was doing his duty and making sure the technical analyst was at least taking breaks.
“Anything?” Rossi asked, though he could tell what her answer would be.
“Nothing, she was the perfect employee.” Prentiss shook her head, “It’s like what Morgan said about Monroe, they know that something was happening, they just don’t want to admit it.”
The newspaper that had been left with Laura’s body had been more forthcoming then the others. There had been an article, one of a long line from what Reid had found, detailing various incidents in one of the local community centres, all involving chemical burns. According to the paper, no one had been able to explain the incidents, but it hadn’t taken Garcia more than five minutes to give them an answer on that.
Laura Henrickson, who worked as an agency cleaner, had worked at various places, including the community centre, where dangerous chemicals had been left out, or used in excess. She hadn’t worked at any of the sites consistently, and on a few occasions she had been the cover for someone else.
The list of people, adults and children, who had been affected was a long one; long enough to make even Rossi feel a little sick. How could someone be so consistently careless and continue to go unchecked?
Rossi shook his head, “Her brother didn’t have anything to offer either, I even mentioned the accidents, he said it couldn’t have been Laura.” Rossi paused, watching Prentiss carefully before he continued, “He said that she wouldn’t have been careless because she has children of her own. She would never do anything to risk anyone else’s.”
Prentiss winced, then sighed, rubbing her eyes, “She worked a lot of nightshifts, and I doubt she had any intention of causing harm.” The first three victims had more or less intended the harm they had caused, had made conscious choices. The most recent two, neither of them had intended harm.
In a way, that made it that much worse.
-
The drugs had been in his food; that was the thought at the forefront of Hotch’s mind.
The unsub had left the food, a plastic bowl of broth, close to the door, his appearance only brief. Hotch hadn’t been able to resist the smell, his mouth starting to water, as much as it could, and he’d managed to drag himself over to the bowl. He had taken a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass before he’d sipped the broth from the bowl slowly.
The unsub hadn’t provided him with any cutlery.
It had been a struggle, after the first mouthful, to force himself to take time. If he had rushed, he would have just thrown it all up again. Slow and steady was best, even as his stomach had rumbled.
Hotch had hated it, knowing that being fed was likely another part of the torture. He could have left the food, refused it, maybe the unsub wouldn’t have reacted well, but Hotch would have been in control; for a short time.
Hotch sighed, closing his eyes. The bowl was long since empty, and the basement hadn’t changed, blurred as it was now that the drugs were taking effect. Hotch tried to compare the feeling to before, to judge whether it was the same combination, but he couldn’t focus.
It was hard to compare when he couldn’t even think.
Hotch blinked sluggishly, registering the sound of the locks, after the door had already opened. The unsub carried another woman, slung over his shoulders. Hotch managed to roll onto his side, watching the unsub lower the woman to the ground. It was hard to tell if she was alive, but Hotch knew that the unsub wouldn’t have brought a dead victim.
The unsub had placed her carefully, away from the blood stains and the soiled bed, smoothing her hair out of her face before he stood. The man’s steps were carefully measured as he crossed to stand over Hotch, meeting his gaze. They stared at one another for a long moment before the unsub kicked Hotch in the knee. The man smiled when Hotch didn’t react, then turned, picked up the bowl and left. The sound of the bolts sliding home seemed to echo.
Hotch frowned, looking down at his knee. The unsub’s boot had left a muddy smear, covering over one of the blood stains. He was sure, if absently so, that it should have hurt, but it didn’t. There wasn’t even a dull throb.
Hotch wondered if maybe the unsub had read their files, all of them; had somehow found out about Reid. Maybe the drug was dilaudid, but then, Hotch didn’t think it could be. How could the unsub know about something that wasn’t in any report, or at least, it wasn’t in any of the reports people could access.
Hotch shook his head, then groaned, swallowing hard. The dizziness had returned with a vengeance, but he refused to throw up what little food he’d eaten.
He could control that much at least.
He hoped.
-
“Looks like your timeline isn’t valid anymore.” Yates commented dryly, from his position to Rossi’s right, his arms crossed over his stomach, the heel of his right foot resting on is left knee.
Out of the corner of her eye, JJ saw Sumner cringe, shifting a little in his chair. She wondered if he was wincing because of the tone of Yates’ voice, or because he knew that they didn’t need the reminder. Hotch, if he truly was a victim of their unsub, and the Sheriff’s department had yet to prove otherwise, had been the second victim to break the pattern.
“It is and it isn’t.” Rossi answered, sounding calmer than JJ thought any of them could.
Yates’ eyebrows shot up, and he cocked his head to one side. He wasn’t accepting that.
“It’s another escalation,” Reid took up the point, in full lecture mode, “before we saw an escalation in the violence he was using to kill his victims, accompanied by an escalation in a sense in relation to the number of people the victims’ crimes had affected. It would have been more unusual if the unsub hadn’t started to kill more often.”
Innes frowned, her hand stilling, she had been taking notes as Reid spoke, “How do you mean?”
“With the type of unsub we seem to be dealing with, they are working their way up to something. They can’t just do what it is they need to, and the reasons for that vary, so they work up to it. In essence, by killing all of these other people, they are building up their confidence for their final act, whatever that is.” JJ had watched his hands as he spoke, following each gesture, she had heard the lecture before, more times than she wanted to think about.
Normally she would have been watching the person he was lecturing, but she can’t seem to quite find the motivation to. Her mind is too busy coming up with scenarios, how they might find Hotch, what might be happening to him. So much of it doesn’t quite make sense.
Not with what they know about this unsub.
“Laura Henrickson was taken after your boss.” Yates said, making it sound like an idle question. Sumner flinched again, his shoulders tensing. “Why didn’t we find his body first?”
JJ bit her lip. The way he said it, it was like they had found Hotch’s body. Like he was already dead. She looked over at Prentiss, who was gritting her teeth, her eyes narrowed as she stared across the table at Yates. Nothing the man did made any of them warm to him.
“We haven’t found Agent Hotchner’s body yet.” Sumner said, not seeming to realise that his words were no better than Yates’. They both kept talking about Hotch’s body, not Hotch. JJ shuddered, she knew, in the years’ she’d been with the BAU they’d been lucky. They might have attracted the attention of a lot of their unsubs, but few of them had died, and she hadn’t been with the team long enough at the time to have known the agents who had died in Boston all that well.
“That’s not a question we have a solid answer to.” Morgan is the one to reply, his temper carefully under control.
Yates snorted, and Morgan clenched his hands into fists on his lap. JJ knew she was the only one who could see them.
“It’s still possible that Agent Hotchner was taken by someone else,” Rossi said, “and we still don’t know why our unsub would have taken him in the first place.”
The deputies exchanged a look, and Yates’ looked doubtful. Sumner just shifted his weight again. JJ got the impression that he wasn’t used to the kind of tension that was present in the room. She doubted many people would have been.
Duncan shifted in his chair, clearing his throat before he spoke, “Look, I don’t want you folks to take this the wrong way, but maybe you just don’t want to recognise there might be a reason. None of the victims’ family and friends have.”
JJ heard the unspoken ‘what makes you think you are so different from them?’. He was right, in a way, but it wasn’t that they hadn’t looked. It wasn’t that they couldn’t list things that Hotch had done over the years that might have attracted the unsub’s attention, it was just that none of it fitted in with the other victims.
“Hotch isn’t perfect.” Prentiss said, and there was an edge to her voice. They might all try not to profile each other, but JJ knew that it wasn’t something that you could always just turn off. Once you started looking at people that way, you couldn’t really stop. “He has done things that people might not understand; might not like. But there’s nothing that matches the other victims.”
“That you know of.” Sumner said.
“You can go question people if you want.” Rossi said, “See if you can find anything we missed. Trust me when I say we want to know why Agent Hotchner was taken. Knowing why, it would help with the profile.”
Sumner frowned, “You talked to his stepmother?”
Rossi nodded, “She couldn’t think of anything.” It wasn’t entirely true, but JJ knew what Rossi was thinking. What Lianne had told them might not be entirely relevant, and it wasn’t something that the others should hear in front of the locals. It was something that they deserved to hear when they could react to it freely.
“He grew up around here?” Duncan asked.
JJ nodded, “Until they moved away when he was a teenager.”
Sumner’s frown deepened, “He’s not been back since?”
“He has, but only to visit family during the holidays.” JJ said, that was a point that Lianne had made clear.
Sumner scratched his eyebrow, and glanced at Innes and Duncan, “It’s worth a quick review, see if there’s any unsolved from those times.” He didn’t sound convinced, and it was a line of enquiry that Rossi had already had Garcia look into. JJ guessed that it was possible, if there were cases that hadn’t been digitized, that Garcia had missed.
Though she doubted it.
There was a pause, then Sumner and the deputies all stood, they still had a few witnesses to chase up who had claimed to have seen Henrickson just before she’d gone missing. They still didn’t have a complete profile to use, but they had the basic one they’d been given, before Hotch had gone missing.
It seemed a long time ago.
Yates muttered something about wild goose chases as he stood to follow them, along with a comment about pushy feds who thought they could do no wrong. JJ wondered how he had managed to keep his job. Yates was a man who seemed to enjoy pushing people’s buttons.
“Is it bad that I hope they find something we missed?” Prentiss asked softly, as the door closed behind Yates. None of them answered her.
Morgan’s hands were still clenched into fists, and JJ could see the tension in his jaw. Rossi was rubbing his jaw wearily, and Reid was staring at the map as though it might provide all the answers they needed.
They all wanted to know why; to have a reason for Hotch not being with them. JJ just hoped that they could find out why before the unsub was finished with Hotch.
-
The unsub hadn’t been gone long when the woman stirred. Hotch watched as she dragged herself upright. There was blood smeared down the right side of her face, the unsub had subdued her the same way as he had Laura.
There was a long moment before she noticed Hotch, and she just stared at him for a long moment, blue eyes wide. He wondered what she saw as she stared at him, he doubted it was anything good.
“Who are you?” She demanded, and Hotch was reminded of Laura. He wondered what this woman’s crime had been. She was well dressed, her hair styled and her attitude reminded him of a lot of the women he’d known as a child.
“Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.” Hotch said, though the words came out slightly slurred, and his mouth was dry.
He just about made out her frown in the dim light, “As in FBI?”
“Yes.” He would have nodded, but he knew from experience that it would just make his nausea worse.
“Here investigating…” She trailed off, her eyes widening. Hotch shuddered, goose bumps raising on his arms. It still wasn’t especially cold in the basement, though he wasn’t quite sure why.
She swallowed hard a few times, losing some of her bravo, “Is it him?”
“Yes.” Hotch answered, though normally he would have held his tongue. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse to know what might be coming. In his experience, there was little difference between the two. You were always imaging the worst, either way.
She pushed herself upright, using the wall as support, and stumbled to the door. Hotch blinked, then pushed himself upright, resting his forehead against the wall. He watched as she pulled the door knob, almost stumbling as her hands slipped.
She was only just holding back her panic.
By the time she gave up on the door, she was panting, fresh blood dripping onto the floor from the head wound, and Hotch was feeling a little woozy. He hated the drugs.
“Sophie Lawson.” She said, her forehead resting against the door, “It’s only fair you know my name.”
Hotch nodded, then grimaced. He didn’t know why he kept forgetting about the nausea.
“I couldn’t find a way out, and no one seemed to hear me.” He hadn’t tried screaming, or yelling, but Laura had, but Hotch didn’t want to say that to Sophie. She didn’t need him to be that blunt.
She swallowed again, nodding, then she moved away from the door, moving slowly to Hotch’s side and sliding down the wall to sit next to him. “Why me?”
Hotch shook his head. He didn’t know her, couldn’t give her an answer, yet; he thought that once the unsub started to torture her, he might be able to make a guess. Sophie didn’t need to hear that though.
Tears ran down her face, and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand. Hotch reached out, taking her free hand and squeezing gently, aware of his own cheeks growing damp.
-
An hour after the locals had all left Reid finally admitted defeat. There were enough data points to work up a geographic profile, but there wasn’t any pattern, there didn’t seem to be any specific areas that the unsub was avoiding. It made sense, Reid knew, considering the way the unsub was choosing victims.
Reid eyed his map, there were patches of various colours all over it, it was just a mess of colour. It did happen sometimes, there was a reason that they only tended to use geographic profiles in conjunction with their main profile.
He sighed, toying with his pen and looking up across the table at JJ, who was just lowering her phone to the table. She was still fighting off the media, feeding them little tidbits. There was nothing for them to say, or at least, there was nothing helpful for them to say.
JJ had been the one to phone Jessica, Hotch’s sister in law, to tell her what had happened. She had needed to know; normally, when he was away on a case, Hotch would call his son during the evening, if there was time. Hotch wouldn’t be doing that for a while.
Reid frowned, dropping his marker onto the table, that was the thing that had been bothering him, before he’d forced himself to focus on the map. Rossi hadn’t said what they’d learned from Hotch’s stepmother. “JJ?”
JJ looked up at him, eyebrows raised, “Spence?”
“What did Hotch’s stepmother tell you?” Reid saw Emily still out of the corner of his eye, lowering the file she had been reading through to the table and looking up at JJ.
Rossi and Morgan crossed the room, claiming he chairs on either side of JJ, and Reid started to worry. It had to be bad if they thought that they needed to hear it as a group. JJ hadn’t even needed to call them over.
“Garcia should hear this as well.” Rossi said, and Morgan nodded, pulling out his phone and hitting the speed dial. Garcia picked up on the second ring.
“Tell me you have good news.” Garcia said, and Reid winced. He wished that they could tell her that, it would make the whole case so much easier, if they weren’t worrying about Hotch all the time.
It reminded Reid too much of when Hotch had been stabbed, when Emily had told him what had happened, but had asked him to keep working the other case they were working. All that Reid could hope was that this time, there was a better outcome. One that didn’t involve himself getting shot, or Hotch almost dying and having to send his family away.
“I’m afraid not baby girl.” Morgan said, and Garcia sighed.
“A girl can hope.” Garcia said, “What can I do to help you guys bring bossman home safe?”
Rossi and Morgan exchanged a look, and Rossi rubbed his temple as he spoke, looking worn, “Garcia, there are a few things Hotch’s stepmother told us that we were wondering if you could take a look at.”
There was a pause, then Garcia spoke, “Ok, sure, I can do that.” She didn’t sound so sure, but Reid knew that she would do whatever she could, though she would dread the results. There was another pause, before she asked the question that Reid had wanted to ask. “How bad is it?”
“It’s,” Morgan paused, then sighed shaking his head, “not great.”
“Oh.” Garcia went silent, and Reid wished that they’d used one of the laptops. He wanted badly to see her face, and the little glimpses of her colourful office.
“What did Hotch do?” Emily asked the question that Reid hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask. Judging from the way the other three were acting, it was bad, and that didn’t make sense.
Reid couldn’t imagine Hotch doing something that would cause that kind of reaction.
“It’s not something Hotch did, exactly.” Rossi answered, “Garcia, can you look for records on Hotch’s mother? Carolina Hotchner.”
Emily’s eyebrows rose and JJ managed a faint smile, “According to Lianne, Hotch’s stepmother, his maternal grandparents decided on a theme when naming their kids.”
Whatever Garcia has found, it startled a giggle out of her, “Oh yeah, they named all of them after US states.”
“That’s, different.” Emily said, and Reid shook his head.
“There are stranger choices.” Reid could still remember the conversation he had with his mother, when he’d asked why she’d chosen ‘Spencer’. She had had quite an interesting list, and Reid had to admit, he was grateful to his father that he hadn’t let her use any of the stranger ones.
Rossi managed a faint smile, but Morgan still looked grim. Reid was pretty sure he knew what was coming next.
Garcia gasped softly, and Reid could imagine her covering her mouth, staring at her screen. He wondered how bad it was. “She was murdered, in their house.”
Reid flinched, his eyes widening. He looked up at Emily, who had paled. Haley, Hotch’s wife who had been Foyet’s last victim, had died in their home, and it had been bad enough then, when they hadn’t known. Reid could remember how broken Hotch had looked, watching JJ carry his son out, then when he’d sat on his bedroom floor, cradling Haley’s body, sobbing.
In all the years they had worked together, Reid had never seen Hotch as broken as he had been that day. Hotch had always been the stoic one, who didn’t show his emotions all that much.
Suddenly, impossibly, Haley’s death seemed even more horrific.
But, and Reid couldn’t escape it, he didn’t understand why it was relevant to the case. Didn’t understand how that information could help them find Hotch. “Why is this relevant? Hotch didn’t kill her…” If Carolina Hotchner had been murdered, there was no way, Reid thought, that Hotch had killed his own mother.
Rossi sighed, shaking his head, rubbing his temple. “It’s more complicated than that.”
-
The unsub was carrying Hotch’s service weapon when he came for Sophie. As with Laura, the unsub hadn’t given them long to talk, just long enough for Hotch to learn her name, and for her to figure out that the only way out of the room was the door.
The door that was locked from the outside.
The only chance they had was when the unsub was in the room, but Hotch doubted that either of them would be in a fit state to make the attempt. The drugs in Hotch’s system would see to that, while the unsub personally made sure that Sophie couldn’t escape.
The unsub cuffed her to one of the bedposts, leaving her laid out on the floor, then dragged Hotch over. Hotch struggled, as much as he could, when he saw the syringe, but it wasn’t enough. Hotch growled as the unsub depressed the plunger, frustrated, hating the loss of control that the drugs brought.
Satisfied that Hotch wouldn’t be an issue, the unsub positioned him so that he was within a few metres of Sophie, facing her, then threw the gun onto the bed. The unsub grinned at Hotch, smug in the belief that Hotch was in no fit state to make a move for it, and Hotch knew, that unless something changed, he was right.
It made Hotch hate the man all that much more.
Sophie struggled, having seen the syringe in the unsub’s hand, her eyes wide. “Don’t you dare come near me with that.”
The unsub laughed, than hit her hard across the face, unconcerned by her attempts to kick out at him. The unsub knelt by her head, on the other side of her from Hotch, watching as she spat blood.
Sophie coughed a few times, then managed to spit blood in the unsub’s face. He didn’t react.
“If you think I’m going without a fight, you’re wrong, you sick bastard.” Sophie said, shaking with rage, even as blood ran down the side of her face from her split lip.
“Do you know why she’s here Agent Hotchner?” The unsub turned his attention to Hotch, eyebrows raised, ignoring Sophie as she struggled, her right foot coming close to making contact with the unsub’s shin.
Hotch didn’t answer. He could feel the latest dose of the drugs kicking in, his vision blurring, just a little, his brain taking just that second longer to process what was happening around him. Fear crept up on him, making his breath catch in his throat.
The unsub smiled, pulling a bundle from inside his coat, and unrolling it on the floor. Hotch recognised the glint of metal before Sophie caught sight of the unsub’s collection. She froze, not breathing for a moment before she renewed her struggles.
The cuffs cut into her wrists, blood coating her hands. Hotch grimaced, curling in on himself a little, but unable to move enough to turn away.
“Secrets,” The unsub said, as though he was a professor teaching a class, “are never good things. Everywhere has its secrets. Some are more damaging than others.”
The unsub selected a knife, one with a serrated blade, and held it up, testing the edge with his thumb before he seemed satisfied. “They aren’t all secrets, not really. Most of them are just things that people don’t talk about.”
Sophie sobbed, tears running down the side of her face, her wrists were open wounds, the cuffs too tight to allow her to slip her hands through them at the angle the unsub had placed them. Everything was so carefully planned, down to the last detail.
Hotch tried to focus on that, but the fear had too tight a grip on him. All he could do was watch as the unsub shifted closer to Sophie, pressing the blade against her cheek, then running it down, making a shallow cut down to the corner of her mouth.
She froze in place, her breath coming in little gasps.
“Do you want to know what I’m punishing Sophie for Agent Hotchner?”
Hotch swallowed hard, shaking, but didn’t answer.
The unsub sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll give you a clue.” The unsub repositioned himself, straddling Sophie’s torso and forced her mouth open with one hand, pulling what looked like a clamp out of his coat with the other. Sophie screamed as the unsub used the clamp to stop her from closing her mouth.
Hotch coughed, almost gagging, he knew what was coming next, and he didn’t want to see it.
The unsub pulled a grip from his roll, then slipped it into Sophie’s mouth, closing it around her tongue.
Hotch did the only thing he could, he closed his eyes. He shuddered as Sophie screamed, agonised, trying to block out the sounds he could hear.
There was a moment of silence, before the unsub struck Hotch hard across the face, and Hotch opened his eyes, startled. He hadn’t heard the man’s footsteps.
The unsub smiled, showing Hotch his prize before he threw it across the room. Hotch gagged, throwing up the remains of the broth as the unsub turned back to Sophie. She whimpered, coughing, more blood bubbling from between her lips, but she didn’t struggle.
“She won’t be causing any more harm now.”
Hotch coughed, wincing, and curling into a tighter ball. He didn’t say a word.
The unsub selected another blade, and used it to strip Sophie of her blood stained top, leaving it in a sorry heap of linen next to her. There was a pause, then the unsub shook his head.
“There’s no point drawing this out.” He leant in forcing Sophie to meet his gaze, “It’ll be over soon for you, just as it was for them. A quick death.”
The unsub pulled a longer sharper blade from the roll, then he guided Sophie to sit up against the bed. Hotch frowned, his mind taking a moment to realise what the unsub was about to do. Hotch gasped, flailing, fighting to drag himself to her.
Not again, he wasn’t going to lie powerless and watch the unsub kill another person.
The unsub ignored Hotch’s struggles, raising the knife and slashing it across Sophie’s exposed throat.
She flailed, sliding back to the floor, hands covered her throat as the unsub placed his tools back into the roll and stood, taking a few steps away from them.
Hotch forced himself to move, somehow managing to drag himself across to her, grabbing the ruined shirt and pushing her hands away. It had taken Laura hours to die, Hotch hadn’t expected the unsub to kill Sophie so soon, had thought the man would have wanted to draw it out.
But that didn’t work, not with the profile. It had ever been about the suffering, never been about getting off on it. It was about the vengeance. The eye for the eye.
Hotch panted, pressing the fabric desperately against the open wound in Sophie’s neck. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she struggled against him, but he pressed harder. It didn’t take long before the fabric was soaked through, more in the way than helping, so he threw it away, and pressed his hands against the wound. He couldn’t feel the blood as it coated his hands, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered what that if he could keep pressure on the wound, then she wouldn’t die.
Hotch didn’t care why the unsub picked her, all he knew was that he couldn’t watch another person die. He needed her to live, and he kept telling her that, as she struggled against him. She stared up at him, eyes huge and dark, she was terrified, and she didn’t want to die. He was breathing hard, tears running down his cheeks, his body shaking.
He didn’t want to die.
He was gasping for breath. It was all too much; all of the emotions; his strength being eaten away by the drugs. He sobbed, his hands sliding in the blood, so much blood.
He knew, he remembered his first aid training. You could survive your throat being cut, provided you put pressure on the wound and it wasn’t too deep. There was a point of no return.
Hotch screamed, unable to help himself. There was too much blood, and he couldn’t press down hard enough and the terror is fading. The other emotions aren’t.
He struggled back from her, desperate now. If he couldn’t save her, he needed to get away, but the unsub grabbed him then, cuffing him to the bed posts beside her.
Hotch didn’t have the strength left to fight, no matter how badly he wanted to; the drugs, lack of food and the overwhelming mix of emotions had seen to that. He panted, trying to edge as far away from Sophie as he could get, even as she twitched, flailing with one hand and finding his arm.
Hotch gasped, his vision blurring. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to be there, wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He could remember, all too well, the first time he had felt someone die.
The first time he had felt death.
Somehow, he managed to shake off Sophie’s hand, even as his body shook, barely under his control. Hotch could sense that the end was near, her terror was fading, vanishing in a way it never should, being replaced by that other, by the feeling Hotch had never had quite found a word for.
Hotch struggled weakly against the cuffs, only vaguely aware of the unsub, his attention so fixed on Sophie and what he knew was coming; what was just moments away. It was quick, so quick, but it didn’t matter, it never mattered.
Sophie gasped, wetly, one last time, then stilled. Hotch’s eyes glazed over a moment, then he blinked, his whole body shaking. He was cold; so cold.
Hotch sagged to the floor, exhausted, everything fading away as the unsub left, slamming the door behind him.
All that was left is the echo of death.
-
Part Six
Written for cm_bigbang
See the header here for full details.
Chapter specific warnings: depiction of torture, violence (and another unpleasant death)
By the time the effects of whatever the unsub had been giving him wore off, it seemed like it had been hours since the unsub had taken Laura’s body away. Hotch knew that, with his mind clear once more, he should have been trying to find a way out, but the truth was, he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to care.
Hotch spent a long time lying on the floor, away from the various blood stains that marred sections of the concrete, staring up at the ceiling. The door was locked, there weren’t any windows, and the drain cover wasn’t likely to move anymore then than it had when he’d tried it before.
Before Laura.
He had explored the room more, between waking and gaining company, he knew every inch of it, and he felt useless. Helpless.
He thought he knew what the unsub had planned for him, but he was waiting to see if he was right. He was waiting for another victim, again, only this time he didn’t have the benefit of the distance that there normally was.
This time he got to see just what it was the unsub was doing to his victims. Got to experience it first hand, in the field.
That thought almost stirred an emotion, until his mind wandered back to Foyet. A place that it visited daily. Hotch rolled onto his side, gagging. He hadn’t eaten in a long time, there was nothing to come up but bile, what little of that was left in him.
For the first time in months, Hotch couldn’t fight the emotions that thoughts of Foyet tended to evoke. He didn’t cry, but that was only because he couldn’t. Hotch wondered, for a brief moment, if maybe the unsub was going to starve him, the same way he had Keri Osbourne. It didn’t make sense though, and he knew it.
This unsub didn’t do repeats, and Hotch knew that starvation wasn’t a suitable punishment for any of his sins. He had already been punished for his pride, he knew. There was nothing worse than being forced to watch another victim die. Not when, without the drugs, he could have done something about it.
The gun had been right there. His gun, the one he kept in his ankle holster as backup, had been right there. He could have ended it then.
Hotch lay on his side, waiting. It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of the locks being pulled back. He had a visitor.
-
Laura Henrickson, by all accounts, had been a lovely woman. Rossi couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever walk into an interview room and not have a family member tell him that about a dead loved one. It continued to amaze him how death could erase all sins.
You could hate your sister when she was alive, but once she was dead, you would love her more than you ever did. Greif was a funny thing.
Prentiss appeared from the other interview room, looking more haggard than she had before. She met his gaze and shook her head, raising a hand to rub her forehead. None of them, Rossi thought bitterly, were getting any sleep, and it wasn’t helping them any.
Rossi considered sending them back to the hotel in shifts. Better to be rested than to keep going until they ran themselves into the ground. The problem was, he could send them to the hotel, but he couldn’t make them sleep. You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make it drink, as his second wife would have said. She had been rather fond of horses. He hoped that Kevin, Garcia’s boyfriend, was doing his duty and making sure the technical analyst was at least taking breaks.
“Anything?” Rossi asked, though he could tell what her answer would be.
“Nothing, she was the perfect employee.” Prentiss shook her head, “It’s like what Morgan said about Monroe, they know that something was happening, they just don’t want to admit it.”
The newspaper that had been left with Laura’s body had been more forthcoming then the others. There had been an article, one of a long line from what Reid had found, detailing various incidents in one of the local community centres, all involving chemical burns. According to the paper, no one had been able to explain the incidents, but it hadn’t taken Garcia more than five minutes to give them an answer on that.
Laura Henrickson, who worked as an agency cleaner, had worked at various places, including the community centre, where dangerous chemicals had been left out, or used in excess. She hadn’t worked at any of the sites consistently, and on a few occasions she had been the cover for someone else.
The list of people, adults and children, who had been affected was a long one; long enough to make even Rossi feel a little sick. How could someone be so consistently careless and continue to go unchecked?
Rossi shook his head, “Her brother didn’t have anything to offer either, I even mentioned the accidents, he said it couldn’t have been Laura.” Rossi paused, watching Prentiss carefully before he continued, “He said that she wouldn’t have been careless because she has children of her own. She would never do anything to risk anyone else’s.”
Prentiss winced, then sighed, rubbing her eyes, “She worked a lot of nightshifts, and I doubt she had any intention of causing harm.” The first three victims had more or less intended the harm they had caused, had made conscious choices. The most recent two, neither of them had intended harm.
In a way, that made it that much worse.
-
The drugs had been in his food; that was the thought at the forefront of Hotch’s mind.
The unsub had left the food, a plastic bowl of broth, close to the door, his appearance only brief. Hotch hadn’t been able to resist the smell, his mouth starting to water, as much as it could, and he’d managed to drag himself over to the bowl. He had taken a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass before he’d sipped the broth from the bowl slowly.
The unsub hadn’t provided him with any cutlery.
It had been a struggle, after the first mouthful, to force himself to take time. If he had rushed, he would have just thrown it all up again. Slow and steady was best, even as his stomach had rumbled.
Hotch had hated it, knowing that being fed was likely another part of the torture. He could have left the food, refused it, maybe the unsub wouldn’t have reacted well, but Hotch would have been in control; for a short time.
Hotch sighed, closing his eyes. The bowl was long since empty, and the basement hadn’t changed, blurred as it was now that the drugs were taking effect. Hotch tried to compare the feeling to before, to judge whether it was the same combination, but he couldn’t focus.
It was hard to compare when he couldn’t even think.
Hotch blinked sluggishly, registering the sound of the locks, after the door had already opened. The unsub carried another woman, slung over his shoulders. Hotch managed to roll onto his side, watching the unsub lower the woman to the ground. It was hard to tell if she was alive, but Hotch knew that the unsub wouldn’t have brought a dead victim.
The unsub had placed her carefully, away from the blood stains and the soiled bed, smoothing her hair out of her face before he stood. The man’s steps were carefully measured as he crossed to stand over Hotch, meeting his gaze. They stared at one another for a long moment before the unsub kicked Hotch in the knee. The man smiled when Hotch didn’t react, then turned, picked up the bowl and left. The sound of the bolts sliding home seemed to echo.
Hotch frowned, looking down at his knee. The unsub’s boot had left a muddy smear, covering over one of the blood stains. He was sure, if absently so, that it should have hurt, but it didn’t. There wasn’t even a dull throb.
Hotch wondered if maybe the unsub had read their files, all of them; had somehow found out about Reid. Maybe the drug was dilaudid, but then, Hotch didn’t think it could be. How could the unsub know about something that wasn’t in any report, or at least, it wasn’t in any of the reports people could access.
Hotch shook his head, then groaned, swallowing hard. The dizziness had returned with a vengeance, but he refused to throw up what little food he’d eaten.
He could control that much at least.
He hoped.
-
“Looks like your timeline isn’t valid anymore.” Yates commented dryly, from his position to Rossi’s right, his arms crossed over his stomach, the heel of his right foot resting on is left knee.
Out of the corner of her eye, JJ saw Sumner cringe, shifting a little in his chair. She wondered if he was wincing because of the tone of Yates’ voice, or because he knew that they didn’t need the reminder. Hotch, if he truly was a victim of their unsub, and the Sheriff’s department had yet to prove otherwise, had been the second victim to break the pattern.
“It is and it isn’t.” Rossi answered, sounding calmer than JJ thought any of them could.
Yates’ eyebrows shot up, and he cocked his head to one side. He wasn’t accepting that.
“It’s another escalation,” Reid took up the point, in full lecture mode, “before we saw an escalation in the violence he was using to kill his victims, accompanied by an escalation in a sense in relation to the number of people the victims’ crimes had affected. It would have been more unusual if the unsub hadn’t started to kill more often.”
Innes frowned, her hand stilling, she had been taking notes as Reid spoke, “How do you mean?”
“With the type of unsub we seem to be dealing with, they are working their way up to something. They can’t just do what it is they need to, and the reasons for that vary, so they work up to it. In essence, by killing all of these other people, they are building up their confidence for their final act, whatever that is.” JJ had watched his hands as he spoke, following each gesture, she had heard the lecture before, more times than she wanted to think about.
Normally she would have been watching the person he was lecturing, but she can’t seem to quite find the motivation to. Her mind is too busy coming up with scenarios, how they might find Hotch, what might be happening to him. So much of it doesn’t quite make sense.
Not with what they know about this unsub.
“Laura Henrickson was taken after your boss.” Yates said, making it sound like an idle question. Sumner flinched again, his shoulders tensing. “Why didn’t we find his body first?”
JJ bit her lip. The way he said it, it was like they had found Hotch’s body. Like he was already dead. She looked over at Prentiss, who was gritting her teeth, her eyes narrowed as she stared across the table at Yates. Nothing the man did made any of them warm to him.
“We haven’t found Agent Hotchner’s body yet.” Sumner said, not seeming to realise that his words were no better than Yates’. They both kept talking about Hotch’s body, not Hotch. JJ shuddered, she knew, in the years’ she’d been with the BAU they’d been lucky. They might have attracted the attention of a lot of their unsubs, but few of them had died, and she hadn’t been with the team long enough at the time to have known the agents who had died in Boston all that well.
“That’s not a question we have a solid answer to.” Morgan is the one to reply, his temper carefully under control.
Yates snorted, and Morgan clenched his hands into fists on his lap. JJ knew she was the only one who could see them.
“It’s still possible that Agent Hotchner was taken by someone else,” Rossi said, “and we still don’t know why our unsub would have taken him in the first place.”
The deputies exchanged a look, and Yates’ looked doubtful. Sumner just shifted his weight again. JJ got the impression that he wasn’t used to the kind of tension that was present in the room. She doubted many people would have been.
Duncan shifted in his chair, clearing his throat before he spoke, “Look, I don’t want you folks to take this the wrong way, but maybe you just don’t want to recognise there might be a reason. None of the victims’ family and friends have.”
JJ heard the unspoken ‘what makes you think you are so different from them?’. He was right, in a way, but it wasn’t that they hadn’t looked. It wasn’t that they couldn’t list things that Hotch had done over the years that might have attracted the unsub’s attention, it was just that none of it fitted in with the other victims.
“Hotch isn’t perfect.” Prentiss said, and there was an edge to her voice. They might all try not to profile each other, but JJ knew that it wasn’t something that you could always just turn off. Once you started looking at people that way, you couldn’t really stop. “He has done things that people might not understand; might not like. But there’s nothing that matches the other victims.”
“That you know of.” Sumner said.
“You can go question people if you want.” Rossi said, “See if you can find anything we missed. Trust me when I say we want to know why Agent Hotchner was taken. Knowing why, it would help with the profile.”
Sumner frowned, “You talked to his stepmother?”
Rossi nodded, “She couldn’t think of anything.” It wasn’t entirely true, but JJ knew what Rossi was thinking. What Lianne had told them might not be entirely relevant, and it wasn’t something that the others should hear in front of the locals. It was something that they deserved to hear when they could react to it freely.
“He grew up around here?” Duncan asked.
JJ nodded, “Until they moved away when he was a teenager.”
Sumner’s frown deepened, “He’s not been back since?”
“He has, but only to visit family during the holidays.” JJ said, that was a point that Lianne had made clear.
Sumner scratched his eyebrow, and glanced at Innes and Duncan, “It’s worth a quick review, see if there’s any unsolved from those times.” He didn’t sound convinced, and it was a line of enquiry that Rossi had already had Garcia look into. JJ guessed that it was possible, if there were cases that hadn’t been digitized, that Garcia had missed.
Though she doubted it.
There was a pause, then Sumner and the deputies all stood, they still had a few witnesses to chase up who had claimed to have seen Henrickson just before she’d gone missing. They still didn’t have a complete profile to use, but they had the basic one they’d been given, before Hotch had gone missing.
It seemed a long time ago.
Yates muttered something about wild goose chases as he stood to follow them, along with a comment about pushy feds who thought they could do no wrong. JJ wondered how he had managed to keep his job. Yates was a man who seemed to enjoy pushing people’s buttons.
“Is it bad that I hope they find something we missed?” Prentiss asked softly, as the door closed behind Yates. None of them answered her.
Morgan’s hands were still clenched into fists, and JJ could see the tension in his jaw. Rossi was rubbing his jaw wearily, and Reid was staring at the map as though it might provide all the answers they needed.
They all wanted to know why; to have a reason for Hotch not being with them. JJ just hoped that they could find out why before the unsub was finished with Hotch.
-
The unsub hadn’t been gone long when the woman stirred. Hotch watched as she dragged herself upright. There was blood smeared down the right side of her face, the unsub had subdued her the same way as he had Laura.
There was a long moment before she noticed Hotch, and she just stared at him for a long moment, blue eyes wide. He wondered what she saw as she stared at him, he doubted it was anything good.
“Who are you?” She demanded, and Hotch was reminded of Laura. He wondered what this woman’s crime had been. She was well dressed, her hair styled and her attitude reminded him of a lot of the women he’d known as a child.
“Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.” Hotch said, though the words came out slightly slurred, and his mouth was dry.
He just about made out her frown in the dim light, “As in FBI?”
“Yes.” He would have nodded, but he knew from experience that it would just make his nausea worse.
“Here investigating…” She trailed off, her eyes widening. Hotch shuddered, goose bumps raising on his arms. It still wasn’t especially cold in the basement, though he wasn’t quite sure why.
She swallowed hard a few times, losing some of her bravo, “Is it him?”
“Yes.” Hotch answered, though normally he would have held his tongue. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse to know what might be coming. In his experience, there was little difference between the two. You were always imaging the worst, either way.
She pushed herself upright, using the wall as support, and stumbled to the door. Hotch blinked, then pushed himself upright, resting his forehead against the wall. He watched as she pulled the door knob, almost stumbling as her hands slipped.
She was only just holding back her panic.
By the time she gave up on the door, she was panting, fresh blood dripping onto the floor from the head wound, and Hotch was feeling a little woozy. He hated the drugs.
“Sophie Lawson.” She said, her forehead resting against the door, “It’s only fair you know my name.”
Hotch nodded, then grimaced. He didn’t know why he kept forgetting about the nausea.
“I couldn’t find a way out, and no one seemed to hear me.” He hadn’t tried screaming, or yelling, but Laura had, but Hotch didn’t want to say that to Sophie. She didn’t need him to be that blunt.
She swallowed again, nodding, then she moved away from the door, moving slowly to Hotch’s side and sliding down the wall to sit next to him. “Why me?”
Hotch shook his head. He didn’t know her, couldn’t give her an answer, yet; he thought that once the unsub started to torture her, he might be able to make a guess. Sophie didn’t need to hear that though.
Tears ran down her face, and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand. Hotch reached out, taking her free hand and squeezing gently, aware of his own cheeks growing damp.
-
An hour after the locals had all left Reid finally admitted defeat. There were enough data points to work up a geographic profile, but there wasn’t any pattern, there didn’t seem to be any specific areas that the unsub was avoiding. It made sense, Reid knew, considering the way the unsub was choosing victims.
Reid eyed his map, there were patches of various colours all over it, it was just a mess of colour. It did happen sometimes, there was a reason that they only tended to use geographic profiles in conjunction with their main profile.
He sighed, toying with his pen and looking up across the table at JJ, who was just lowering her phone to the table. She was still fighting off the media, feeding them little tidbits. There was nothing for them to say, or at least, there was nothing helpful for them to say.
JJ had been the one to phone Jessica, Hotch’s sister in law, to tell her what had happened. She had needed to know; normally, when he was away on a case, Hotch would call his son during the evening, if there was time. Hotch wouldn’t be doing that for a while.
Reid frowned, dropping his marker onto the table, that was the thing that had been bothering him, before he’d forced himself to focus on the map. Rossi hadn’t said what they’d learned from Hotch’s stepmother. “JJ?”
JJ looked up at him, eyebrows raised, “Spence?”
“What did Hotch’s stepmother tell you?” Reid saw Emily still out of the corner of his eye, lowering the file she had been reading through to the table and looking up at JJ.
Rossi and Morgan crossed the room, claiming he chairs on either side of JJ, and Reid started to worry. It had to be bad if they thought that they needed to hear it as a group. JJ hadn’t even needed to call them over.
“Garcia should hear this as well.” Rossi said, and Morgan nodded, pulling out his phone and hitting the speed dial. Garcia picked up on the second ring.
“Tell me you have good news.” Garcia said, and Reid winced. He wished that they could tell her that, it would make the whole case so much easier, if they weren’t worrying about Hotch all the time.
It reminded Reid too much of when Hotch had been stabbed, when Emily had told him what had happened, but had asked him to keep working the other case they were working. All that Reid could hope was that this time, there was a better outcome. One that didn’t involve himself getting shot, or Hotch almost dying and having to send his family away.
“I’m afraid not baby girl.” Morgan said, and Garcia sighed.
“A girl can hope.” Garcia said, “What can I do to help you guys bring bossman home safe?”
Rossi and Morgan exchanged a look, and Rossi rubbed his temple as he spoke, looking worn, “Garcia, there are a few things Hotch’s stepmother told us that we were wondering if you could take a look at.”
There was a pause, then Garcia spoke, “Ok, sure, I can do that.” She didn’t sound so sure, but Reid knew that she would do whatever she could, though she would dread the results. There was another pause, before she asked the question that Reid had wanted to ask. “How bad is it?”
“It’s,” Morgan paused, then sighed shaking his head, “not great.”
“Oh.” Garcia went silent, and Reid wished that they’d used one of the laptops. He wanted badly to see her face, and the little glimpses of her colourful office.
“What did Hotch do?” Emily asked the question that Reid hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask. Judging from the way the other three were acting, it was bad, and that didn’t make sense.
Reid couldn’t imagine Hotch doing something that would cause that kind of reaction.
“It’s not something Hotch did, exactly.” Rossi answered, “Garcia, can you look for records on Hotch’s mother? Carolina Hotchner.”
Emily’s eyebrows rose and JJ managed a faint smile, “According to Lianne, Hotch’s stepmother, his maternal grandparents decided on a theme when naming their kids.”
Whatever Garcia has found, it startled a giggle out of her, “Oh yeah, they named all of them after US states.”
“That’s, different.” Emily said, and Reid shook his head.
“There are stranger choices.” Reid could still remember the conversation he had with his mother, when he’d asked why she’d chosen ‘Spencer’. She had had quite an interesting list, and Reid had to admit, he was grateful to his father that he hadn’t let her use any of the stranger ones.
Rossi managed a faint smile, but Morgan still looked grim. Reid was pretty sure he knew what was coming next.
Garcia gasped softly, and Reid could imagine her covering her mouth, staring at her screen. He wondered how bad it was. “She was murdered, in their house.”
Reid flinched, his eyes widening. He looked up at Emily, who had paled. Haley, Hotch’s wife who had been Foyet’s last victim, had died in their home, and it had been bad enough then, when they hadn’t known. Reid could remember how broken Hotch had looked, watching JJ carry his son out, then when he’d sat on his bedroom floor, cradling Haley’s body, sobbing.
In all the years they had worked together, Reid had never seen Hotch as broken as he had been that day. Hotch had always been the stoic one, who didn’t show his emotions all that much.
Suddenly, impossibly, Haley’s death seemed even more horrific.
But, and Reid couldn’t escape it, he didn’t understand why it was relevant to the case. Didn’t understand how that information could help them find Hotch. “Why is this relevant? Hotch didn’t kill her…” If Carolina Hotchner had been murdered, there was no way, Reid thought, that Hotch had killed his own mother.
Rossi sighed, shaking his head, rubbing his temple. “It’s more complicated than that.”
-
The unsub was carrying Hotch’s service weapon when he came for Sophie. As with Laura, the unsub hadn’t given them long to talk, just long enough for Hotch to learn her name, and for her to figure out that the only way out of the room was the door.
The door that was locked from the outside.
The only chance they had was when the unsub was in the room, but Hotch doubted that either of them would be in a fit state to make the attempt. The drugs in Hotch’s system would see to that, while the unsub personally made sure that Sophie couldn’t escape.
The unsub cuffed her to one of the bedposts, leaving her laid out on the floor, then dragged Hotch over. Hotch struggled, as much as he could, when he saw the syringe, but it wasn’t enough. Hotch growled as the unsub depressed the plunger, frustrated, hating the loss of control that the drugs brought.
Satisfied that Hotch wouldn’t be an issue, the unsub positioned him so that he was within a few metres of Sophie, facing her, then threw the gun onto the bed. The unsub grinned at Hotch, smug in the belief that Hotch was in no fit state to make a move for it, and Hotch knew, that unless something changed, he was right.
It made Hotch hate the man all that much more.
Sophie struggled, having seen the syringe in the unsub’s hand, her eyes wide. “Don’t you dare come near me with that.”
The unsub laughed, than hit her hard across the face, unconcerned by her attempts to kick out at him. The unsub knelt by her head, on the other side of her from Hotch, watching as she spat blood.
Sophie coughed a few times, then managed to spit blood in the unsub’s face. He didn’t react.
“If you think I’m going without a fight, you’re wrong, you sick bastard.” Sophie said, shaking with rage, even as blood ran down the side of her face from her split lip.
“Do you know why she’s here Agent Hotchner?” The unsub turned his attention to Hotch, eyebrows raised, ignoring Sophie as she struggled, her right foot coming close to making contact with the unsub’s shin.
Hotch didn’t answer. He could feel the latest dose of the drugs kicking in, his vision blurring, just a little, his brain taking just that second longer to process what was happening around him. Fear crept up on him, making his breath catch in his throat.
The unsub smiled, pulling a bundle from inside his coat, and unrolling it on the floor. Hotch recognised the glint of metal before Sophie caught sight of the unsub’s collection. She froze, not breathing for a moment before she renewed her struggles.
The cuffs cut into her wrists, blood coating her hands. Hotch grimaced, curling in on himself a little, but unable to move enough to turn away.
“Secrets,” The unsub said, as though he was a professor teaching a class, “are never good things. Everywhere has its secrets. Some are more damaging than others.”
The unsub selected a knife, one with a serrated blade, and held it up, testing the edge with his thumb before he seemed satisfied. “They aren’t all secrets, not really. Most of them are just things that people don’t talk about.”
Sophie sobbed, tears running down the side of her face, her wrists were open wounds, the cuffs too tight to allow her to slip her hands through them at the angle the unsub had placed them. Everything was so carefully planned, down to the last detail.
Hotch tried to focus on that, but the fear had too tight a grip on him. All he could do was watch as the unsub shifted closer to Sophie, pressing the blade against her cheek, then running it down, making a shallow cut down to the corner of her mouth.
She froze in place, her breath coming in little gasps.
“Do you want to know what I’m punishing Sophie for Agent Hotchner?”
Hotch swallowed hard, shaking, but didn’t answer.
The unsub sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll give you a clue.” The unsub repositioned himself, straddling Sophie’s torso and forced her mouth open with one hand, pulling what looked like a clamp out of his coat with the other. Sophie screamed as the unsub used the clamp to stop her from closing her mouth.
Hotch coughed, almost gagging, he knew what was coming next, and he didn’t want to see it.
The unsub pulled a grip from his roll, then slipped it into Sophie’s mouth, closing it around her tongue.
Hotch did the only thing he could, he closed his eyes. He shuddered as Sophie screamed, agonised, trying to block out the sounds he could hear.
There was a moment of silence, before the unsub struck Hotch hard across the face, and Hotch opened his eyes, startled. He hadn’t heard the man’s footsteps.
The unsub smiled, showing Hotch his prize before he threw it across the room. Hotch gagged, throwing up the remains of the broth as the unsub turned back to Sophie. She whimpered, coughing, more blood bubbling from between her lips, but she didn’t struggle.
“She won’t be causing any more harm now.”
Hotch coughed, wincing, and curling into a tighter ball. He didn’t say a word.
The unsub selected another blade, and used it to strip Sophie of her blood stained top, leaving it in a sorry heap of linen next to her. There was a pause, then the unsub shook his head.
“There’s no point drawing this out.” He leant in forcing Sophie to meet his gaze, “It’ll be over soon for you, just as it was for them. A quick death.”
The unsub pulled a longer sharper blade from the roll, then he guided Sophie to sit up against the bed. Hotch frowned, his mind taking a moment to realise what the unsub was about to do. Hotch gasped, flailing, fighting to drag himself to her.
Not again, he wasn’t going to lie powerless and watch the unsub kill another person.
The unsub ignored Hotch’s struggles, raising the knife and slashing it across Sophie’s exposed throat.
She flailed, sliding back to the floor, hands covered her throat as the unsub placed his tools back into the roll and stood, taking a few steps away from them.
Hotch forced himself to move, somehow managing to drag himself across to her, grabbing the ruined shirt and pushing her hands away. It had taken Laura hours to die, Hotch hadn’t expected the unsub to kill Sophie so soon, had thought the man would have wanted to draw it out.
But that didn’t work, not with the profile. It had ever been about the suffering, never been about getting off on it. It was about the vengeance. The eye for the eye.
Hotch panted, pressing the fabric desperately against the open wound in Sophie’s neck. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she struggled against him, but he pressed harder. It didn’t take long before the fabric was soaked through, more in the way than helping, so he threw it away, and pressed his hands against the wound. He couldn’t feel the blood as it coated his hands, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered what that if he could keep pressure on the wound, then she wouldn’t die.
Hotch didn’t care why the unsub picked her, all he knew was that he couldn’t watch another person die. He needed her to live, and he kept telling her that, as she struggled against him. She stared up at him, eyes huge and dark, she was terrified, and she didn’t want to die. He was breathing hard, tears running down his cheeks, his body shaking.
He didn’t want to die.
He was gasping for breath. It was all too much; all of the emotions; his strength being eaten away by the drugs. He sobbed, his hands sliding in the blood, so much blood.
He knew, he remembered his first aid training. You could survive your throat being cut, provided you put pressure on the wound and it wasn’t too deep. There was a point of no return.
Hotch screamed, unable to help himself. There was too much blood, and he couldn’t press down hard enough and the terror is fading. The other emotions aren’t.
He struggled back from her, desperate now. If he couldn’t save her, he needed to get away, but the unsub grabbed him then, cuffing him to the bed posts beside her.
Hotch didn’t have the strength left to fight, no matter how badly he wanted to; the drugs, lack of food and the overwhelming mix of emotions had seen to that. He panted, trying to edge as far away from Sophie as he could get, even as she twitched, flailing with one hand and finding his arm.
Hotch gasped, his vision blurring. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to be there, wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He could remember, all too well, the first time he had felt someone die.
The first time he had felt death.
Somehow, he managed to shake off Sophie’s hand, even as his body shook, barely under his control. Hotch could sense that the end was near, her terror was fading, vanishing in a way it never should, being replaced by that other, by the feeling Hotch had never had quite found a word for.
Hotch struggled weakly against the cuffs, only vaguely aware of the unsub, his attention so fixed on Sophie and what he knew was coming; what was just moments away. It was quick, so quick, but it didn’t matter, it never mattered.
Sophie gasped, wetly, one last time, then stilled. Hotch’s eyes glazed over a moment, then he blinked, his whole body shaking. He was cold; so cold.
Hotch sagged to the floor, exhausted, everything fading away as the unsub left, slamming the door behind him.
All that was left is the echo of death.
-
Part Six