The Long, Lonely Road Ahead

The following events take place after Hotch’s divorce but prior to JJ’s giving birth.

Yes, I know it’s a Mary Sue in some ways, but it was fun to write, so I’m throwing it out there for you to read and see what you think.
I’ve decided that I don’t know if sharing this was a good idea or not. It didn’t get betaed, but then a lot of stories don’t. Meh. I’m posting it anyway, I guess.

The Long, Lonely Road Ahead

Chapter Six

We chatted about nothing on the way to Pen’s place, but the conversation turned a bit more serious when he pulled up in front of her apartment building.
“When can I see you again?” he asked and I grinned.
“Whenever you want,” I answered sincerely. “I mean, I need to spend some time with Pen while I’m here. That’s why I came here. But I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“This case we’re working might take a lot of my time this week, but we’re hoping to wrap it up before Christmas Eve,” he said.
“I assume you’ll have to go home to sleep, eat, and change clothing,” I said and he nodded.
“They do let us do that, yes,” he acknowledged.
“Well, perhaps you can pick me up before you head home and we can share a bite to eat and a bed, at the very least,” I told him.
“It might be very late,” he warned me.
“I’m ready to deal with that,” I replied. We kissed, lightly at first and then more deeply.
“I have to go,” he said, pulling away.
“Say hi to Pen for me,” I told him, as he pulled away from the curb. I watched him go, then headed in to the apartment for a nap and a change of clothing.

Five hours later, I was sitting in the Starbucks, again, noodling around on my laptop. Pen had emailed me to say that she’d never seen her boss look so relaxed and happy, and that the other members of the BAU had remarked on it as well. I sent her back an email promising to reveal all later, although I admitted I might have another sleepover date that night. She seemed okay with that so I didn’t worry about it. Shortly before 5:00 pm, she IMed me.

HackerChick: Where are you?
EarthGirl: Starbucks near your place. Why?
HackerChick: You’ve got to get out of there, now.
EarthGirl: Why? What’s up?
HackerChick: Just trust me on this. Get. Out. Of. There.
EarthGirl: Okay, I’m going. I’ll see you at home later?
HackerChick: Yes. Later. Go.
EarthGirl: Gone.

I didn’t ask what this was about again—if Pen said leave, she must know something I didn’t know. I packed up my laptop and was putting it away in my bag, when the door to the Starbucks slammed open.
“Everyone down! Now!” someone shouted, and there was a burst of automatic gunfire. I dove for the floor, huddling under the little round table I’d been sitting at. “Cell phones and computers in the centre of the room! Now!” I looked up. Four men in black combat outfits with automatics were standing in the entrance of the Starbucks. A fifth man was behind the counter, his gun pointed at my barista friend. Three of the men rounded the room, grabbing phones and computers from everyone on the floor. One of them pointed his gun at me, and reached for my bag.
“Give me your computer, now!” he roared and I gave it to him. I’m no idiot. “Cell phone?”
“I don’t have one,” I lied. “I use my computer for everything.”
“You’re lying,” he said. “Flat on the ground, now!” He prodded me with his gun. I lay down on my front and he frisked me, feeling in all my pockets and taking a little extra time in my jeans pockets, until he found my cell phone. “Liar,” he hissed, throwing my phone into the centre of the room where it hit the floor and smashed into pieces. He kicked me in the stomach and I curled into a foetal position, unable to catch my breath. All I could think was that I didn’t get out on time. Pen warned me and I just didn’t make it out in time.

In short order, the gunmen had the door locked and the sun blinds closed, so that no one could see in or out. They’d gathered us into the centre of the room, where we sat on the floor, backs to each other and hands on our thighs. We weren’t allowed to talk to each other and our electronic devices had been piled together and stomped on, so that there was no chance in hell they would work ever again. There seemed to be a clear leader to the group of men who had taken us hostage, but they didn’t seem to have a clear agenda, which was bizarre.

(… “This group has a leader, who has his own agenda. They may say they want something specific, but what they really want is what he wants. And what he wants, he gets. He’s male, between 40 and 50, but his ethnicity may seem hard to determine. He’s a bit of a chameleon, changing his alleged agenda to whatever group of followers he can gather. With white men, he’s a white supremacist. With Iranians, he’s a Muslim extremist. It doesn’t matter to him, because what he really wants is power and fear…”)

About a half an hour into the drama, while we sat, scared and miserable in the centre of the room, the police and the FBI, who had appeared almost as soon as we’d been taken hostage, called the Starbucks. My favourite barista was made to answer the phone.
“Hello? Yeah, he’s right here,” dreadlocks said (why hadn’t I asked him his name?). The man who was clearly in charge, strode to the telephone and answered.
“Yes, this is he. No, that’s unacceptable. We want our brothers and sisters held by the Israelis released immediately, or we will shoot the American Pigs who frequent this shrine to all things decadent!” He slammed the phone down and turned to us, his black baseball cap pulled low down over his face, so it was impossible to make out his features. “This place… this so-called coffee house, is a symbol of all things wrong and decadent in this country. We stand for the clean, the sin-free, the good… All things Mohammed wanted for this world. And we will burn this decadent, filthy, disgusting place to the ground without a second thought if we don’t get what we want!” he exclaimed. The people around me flinched, but something in his voice didn’t ring true to me. It was rhetoric, but it didn’t sound to me like he really believed it. The men around him cheered him on, so it was clear that they believed him, but something just wasn’t right here. A moment later, my feelings were confirmed.

“We will be taking you into the back, one-by-one, to discover your loyalties. Anyone who displeases us will be very, very sorry,” he stated. And then he walked around to me, and hefted me up by my upper arm, dragging me into the back room. I could smell… cloves? Something about him seemed so damn familiar… He threw me into a chair and shut the door behind him. Then he grinned. “Hello Terra. Your mom says to say hi for her.”