Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 38. Lost

But when Hotch caught his breath and raised his still-dizzy head, anticipating he'd be on the road leading to the monastery, his expectation of seeing Rossi or Quantico ever again, diminished to a fragile, uncertain hope.

There was no road. He'd been crawling along the ravine, thinking it ran parallel to the route that would lead him back. Somewhere along the line, the road had either ended or diverged. Hotch looked around and saw nothing that would help him direction-wise. The wisest thing he could think to do was to retrace his steps. If he walked back along the rim of the incline, he should intersect with the road.

I'm not lost. I'm not. There's a direction I can take. I'm not lost.

But when he looked up at the sky visible beyond the tops of towering, massive trees, he gave a small, private whimper. Night was falling fast. Even if he could stand upright and run, he'd never reach shelter before dark. He dragged a regretful hand across the remains of his shirt and wondered just how cold it would get.

Gritting his teeth, Hotch tried to stand. His balance wasn't good enough. Yet, he told himself. I'm getting better. And I'm not lost. I'm not. He fell back to the ground and continued the limping crawl that made slow progress, but spared his injured knee and spinning head as much as possible.

Not lost. Not.

xxxxxxx

Reid and Ana were exhausted. Mentally and emotionally wrung dry.

Dr. Bescardi had explained that she wanted to cover as much ground as possible during their limited time away from the distractions of civilization. The tests she administered were similar to those they'd taken at her clinic in New York. She was comparing the results and, judging by her delight, it apparently did make a difference to isolate psychics from the ambient mental noise of the general public.

Reid hadn't had much opportunity to talk to Ana during the day. They were sequestered in separate rooms, except for a few trials where Bescardi encouraged them to communicate telepathically. He didn't know if the doctor was bombarding Ana with the same messages she kept aiming at him. Bescardi took every chance available to pound home her theories about the lamentable history of persecution 'gifted' people suffered. She was pushing for some kind of commitment to jump on whatever agenda she subscribed to. Reid found the constant propaganda almost as draining as the tests.

When it was clear neither of her subjects could continue without rest and some nourishment, Bescardi reluctantly called it a day. She wanted to gloat over her data, but realized she should throw something together for everyone to eat. As she emerged from the room she'd set up as her personal office, Reid waylaid her on the way to the kitchen.

"Did Hotch come back?"

She'd forgotten all about her plans to 'find' the agent in a condition that would require medical aid, effectively removing him from the premises for the rest of the weekend. Bescardi glanced toward a window. It was already dark. There was no way she'd be able to find Hotchner's car until daylight. Night was so complete here, that flashlights were like fireflies trying to illuminate outer space. She swallowed. She really hadn't meant to leave the agent out all night. But by now he's probably climbed back up to the car. He'll be able to stay there for one night. And when we 'find' him tomorrow, it'll make sending him away just that much more necessary, believable. In an instant, Bescardi's concern vanished.

Reid caught the doctor's burst of anxiety. It was short lived, but strong. His eyes widened.

"He's not here!? You haven't seen him?"

Bescardi did her best to continue the charade. "I'm sure your Mr. Hotchner is fine. He probably just lost track of time and didn't want to chance driving back in the dark."

Reid's face hardened. He didn't need to speak. His disgust at her lack of concern was evident. He ran to the main entrance and went as far into the darkness as he dared.

"Hotch!! HOTCH!!" Reid called into the night and listened for any response, but he knew it was useless. When he turned back, Ana and Bescardi were watching him. The doctor spoke in a tone that begged him to be reasonable.

"Dr. Reid, there's nothing we can do tonight. But I promise, as soon as it's light, we'll go looking for Mr. Hotchner, if it'll make you feel better." She watched Reid brush past her. "But I'm sure he's alright."

Ana was staring at her in a most disconcerting way. Damn empath must have picked something up.

Before Bescardi could continue, Reid stopped and rounded on her. "Here's the thing, Dr. Bescardi. All day you've been putting out feelers and making little digs, trying to get me to sign on with whatever program you're developing." Shaking his head, Reid gave an incredulous, little snort. "You know, I might've. I might've bought whatever you're selling. But if you went into your lab and whipped up the most effective repellant you could devise, it wouldn't be half as powerful as the lack of concern you show for the rest of humanity." Reid grabbed Ana's hand and pulled her after him in the direction of their sleeping quarters. "Tomorrow morning we're looking for Hotch. When we find him, we're out of here."

Just before turning a corner in the echoing, stone corridor, he delivered his parting shot. "You talk about how endangered people like Ana and me are because of others' ignorance and fear? Let me tell you the real danger to mankind. It's people like you, Doctor. People who don't know the value of life. Decent, honest, ungifted Aaron Hotchner has done more good in this world and is worth more than a whole battalion of assholes like you."

Blinking at the unexpected vulgarity, Bescardi remained silent, watching the research opportunity of a lifetime turn the corner and disappear from sight.

xxxxxxx

As the sun set, Hotch accepted he'd never find shelter for the night.

He shivered as the temperature dropped a dramatic forty degrees and wrapped his tattered jacket over his ragged shirt. He braced his back against a tree trunk and pulled his good knee up, trying to take advantage of his own body heat. The injured knee was too stiff and swollen to bend anymore.

He told himself he wasn't thirsty. And he wasn't scared. And he'd be fine.

But sometimes Hotch knew when he was lying to himself.

He rested his forehead against his one bent knee and wondered how this had happened. He couldn't remember. If he was going to die of exposure or dehydration or hypothermia, he'd like to know why. He closed his eyes and realized the darkness was so thick, it looked the same as when they were open. He thought about his son and the people he loved...mostly his teammates. He recalled someone telling him that the most frightening thing is the unknown. He didn't want his fate to be a mystery. He didn't want Jack to never know for sure if his father was dead or alive. If he died, lost in these woods, he would become part of the unknown.

Hotch gave a miserable, little whine.

Somebody find me. Please. Somebody find me. Even if it's too late. Even if I'm dead. Find me.

xxxxxxx

In the dark silence of the monastery, Reid and Ana took comfort lying close together in their cell, wrapped in each other's arms. They had talked quietly for a time. Reid mentioned how his brain had felt stretched, like an exercised muscle after his first bout of testing back in New York. He felt it again today. Like something getting stronger from use. Ana agreed. She'd felt it, too. They talked about Hotch and made plans to find him. Eventually, they drifted into uneasy sleep.

...find me. Please. Somebody...

Reid's eyes flew open.

It was Hotch's voice.

He looked around frantically, but nothing disturbed the silence. But it was Hotch's voice. Then he realized.

It was inside his head.