Aaron Hotchner One-Shots

Fever

Eight. It had been eight days since I had been taken. I think. There were no windows, no doors. Only a small vent-type things at the top of the walls that allowed me to track the light from whatever was above me, which I assumed was sunlight. Sitting on the hard, stone floor, chained to the wall, I was slowly losing hope. The only thing I had to hold on to was the hope that the team would find me before it was too late. I felt like crying more, but I couldn't physically produce any more tears. I thought back to the profile we had conjured up and the moments before my abduction.

We sat around the conference table, spouting off thoughts and theories as to why this guy was kidnapping women, all alike in stature and physical appearance, but was holding them for two weeks before killing them. Each body had been found in a dumpster, but had their arms crossed over their chests and a sheet up to their faces. It was a blatant disrespect for the woman, but the arms over the chest and the sheet showed signs of remorse. It made no sense. "Why would he take them, torture them, abuse them, dump them in a dumpster for everyone to see, only to cross their arms over their chests and cover them up to their necks?" Derek said, pacing the room. "Maybe it's not a sign of remorse," I started. This got their attention, and I continued, "what if it's a ritual? Something he has to do? There is nothing in his M.O. to suggest him being remorseful. We profiled him as a sociopathic narcissist," I trailed off. So far, we'd pinned him as such, as well as a male in his late twenties to early thirties, with some kind of work-from-home job, and that had a history of being abused by his mother, but nothing that was ever recorded. It would only show up as hospital visits that ended up in excuses such as falling down the stairs or passed off as a bicycle accident. So far, nothing had shown up.

I was getting frustrated, and decided to go out for some air. The UnSub's type was brunette with blue eyes, around 5'4", and average build. Basically, like me, but I had brown eyes. So far, the UnSub hadn't strayed. I went out front and took a deep breath. It just didn't make any sense. This was a basic, stereotypical case, yet we had no leads. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I ran my hand through my hair. There was a rustling coming from around the corner. I put my hand on my gun and headed over to check it out. A figure came from around the corner quickly and I jumped, pulling my fist back for impact. "Hey, hey, hey, it's just me," I heard a voice say. My eyes focused in the dark and I saw Aaron. I let out a huge breath. "Jeez, you scared the crap out of me!" I exclaimed, playfully hitting him in the chest. His face scrunched up in pain and I immediately apologized. "Remind me never to piss you off," he said, and I smiled shyly at him. "Although, all I'd have to do is pretend I'm hurt again, and you'll forget that you're mad," he said, laughing. I glared at him. He chuckled and looked down at me. "I'm headed back inside. You coming?" I told him I'd be in shortly, and waved him off when he offered to stay outside with me. I could see the concern in his eyes as he reluctantly went inside.

I didn't know what to do. We had less than an hour before another body showed up, and we were no closer to finding out who was behind it than we were during the briefing. I sighed. Coffee. Coffee was calling my name. Thankfully, I saw a coffee shop not far down the road, so I decided that I'd make good use of my break. I crossed the street and went down to the little coffee shop. It was quaint and adorable, definitely something I'd frequent. I ordered my usual, a caramel frappuccino. I wasn't one for hot coffee, no matter the weather. It just so happened to be freezing here, but I didn't mind. I was walking back when someone bumped into me, knocking my coffee out of my hand. I was about to go off on the person when I was hit over the head with something metal. Everything went dark.

That's how it happened. And now, here I was, in some freak's...basement? I think that's what it is. Either way, it's cold. It's been raining every night, and the water seeps into the basement, filling it up about an inch or so, and drenching me in the process. The shaking that had started about four days ago was now uncontrollable. I couldn't feel my feet anymore. My arms were numb from hanging above me. I heard the door creak open as I tried to keep my eyes from closing. "What...do you want?" I asked, noting that breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. All I got in return was a low chuckle.