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.

The Long, Lonely Road Ahead

Chapter Seven

“I thought I recognized you,” I spat. “Darrel. What the fuck are you doing? You’re no more Palestinian than I am.”
“To these guys I am. I’m whatever I want them to think I am,” he said, sitting down on a chair opposite me.
“The last I saw of you, and my mom, was, like, almost twenty years ago at the compound. What the fuck are you doing all the way out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. What the fuck are you doing here in Virginia?”
“Visiting a friend,” was all I would commit to. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him we had family out here and that she worked for the FBI. Besides, if Pen was doing her job, she might have put two and two together already. “You’re not a terrorist, Darrel. I mean, not this kind. So what do you want here?”
“What I’ve always wanted, Little Bit,” he said, coming closer. I could smell the cloves he always chewed on his breath. “A bit of this and a bit of that.”
“You don’t think you’re going to be allowed to take advantage of this situation, do you?” I asked, hoping that he wasn’t going to start with me. I’d had enough of him, thanks very much, when I was a teenager.
“I totally intend to take advantage of this situation,” he said. “After all, American women are all sluts, aren’t they? So what’s one more cock between their legs?” He grabbed the back of my head and looked me in the eyes. “Or in their mouths? Eh? You still remember what to do?”
“I’m not going down on you, Darrel! Get the fuck out of my face!” I snapped. He snapped back and slapped me across the face so hard I saw stars. I shook my head to clear it, and then kicked out and up, getting him on the chin, hard. His head snapped back and I took the moment he was disoriented to get behind the chair in a more defensive position. He shook his head and spat out a tooth.
“You were always good at fighting. Made your mom proud,” he laughed, obviously enraged.
“How is mom anyway?” I asked from behind my chair, trying to anticipate what he’d do next.
“Oh, fine, fine… Of course, I haven’t seen her in a while,” he admitted, as we started circling each other. His hand shot out, but I blocked it and brought my hand up for the second time in as many days – and I broke his nose. “Shit!” he exclaimed, his hand going up to his face. “I can’t believe you did that!”
“You deserve a lot worse, you piece of shit! I can’t believe you’re pretending to be PLO or some other fucking stupid thing, just so you can fuck a bunch of strangers,” I said, standing on the balls of my feet, ready for anything. Or so I thought. He stepped back and picked up his gun, pointing it at me.
“Your mother would hate it if I had to kill you, Terra,” he said, lowering the gun. “But just one little bullet, in the kneecap maybe… that wouldn’t kill you, would it?” He grinned. “Now, you can do what I want, or you can get hurt. What do you want?”
“You absolute fucker,” I said, shaking with anger.
“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, laughing.

(… “The unsub’s main goal, we believe, is to create a situation in which he will have access to as many hostages as he can take. While his followers wait for the police to give in to their leader’s ridiculous demands – although they don’t think they’re ridiculous demands, they think it’s completely reasonable to ask for the release of political prisoners in exchange for the lives of twenty Americans at a MacDonald’s – the unsub will manipulate the situation so he can sexually assault the women and terrorize the men. That’s his pathology. He’s a sexual predator on a large scale and a sadist to boot. He needs the fear of others to feel both pleasure and power, and he needs a lot of it.”
“We think the unsub is this man, Darrel Hollowfield. He was a member of the Blackhawk militia, an underground militia that operates out of northern California. They can be identified by this mark,” Reid said, showing a photo of a tattoo shaped like a black hawk in flight, with a black circle around it.
“I’ve seen that mark,” Hotch said and Garcia glanced up at him, shocked.
“I know where you’ve seen that tattoo, Sir, with all due respect,” she said and to the amazement of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner blushed.
“Perhaps we should keep this between…” Hotch began, when Morgan interrupted.
“If you know someone else with this tattoo, Hotch, you should tell us,” he said, seriously. “There might be some connection we need to know about.”
“Is there a connection, Garcia?” Hotch asked. Garcia looked at her computer.
“Uh, maybe…”
“Garcia…”
“Well, it was a long time ago and she was a kid! She didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter,” she said, the words coming out in a flurry.
“I knew it. I asked her where she’d been trained, but she denied it. Dammit, Garcia, you can’t hide this kind of thing!” Hotch said, angry.
“Who has this tattoo?” Rossi asked.
“What’s going on?” Reid interjected.
“Terra, my cousin,” Garcia said, calling up an image of the compound in California. “She’s got this tattooed on her… uh, upper left butt cheek.”
“And you know about this?” Rossi asked Hotch, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Let’s not go into that right now. How long was she with the Blackhawk militia?” he asked Garcia.
“When she was a kid – I was just born when this happened, remember, so this is all second hand family stuff – her mother left her father and took Terra and her baby brother, at the time anyway, to the Blackhawk compound. Her dad tried everything to get them back, but he couldn’t. They’re very… um, well, militant, y’know? They train everyone in the compound in weapons techniques and hand-to-hand combat, including the kids,” she told them. Hotch stood, arms crossed, obviously fuming. “Anyway, long story short, her father finally managed to get them both out when she was seventeen and Brian, her brother, was twelve. Don’t ask me how,” she said, holding up a hand to forestall questions. “She’s never really talked that much about her time there, except to say that her mother’s boyfriend abused her.”
“He abused her,” Hotch said, his voice flat.
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a small voice.
“What kind of abuse?”
“Um, sexual… but you’d be better to talk to her about that yourself. I just know she doesn’t like to talk about those years,” she finished.
“So, your cousin is tied to the Blackhawk militia somehow and the unsub is probably the leader of this group. We should get her here to ask her about how they work, see if she’s got any intel we can use,” Morgan said.
“Makes sense to me,” Prentiss said. “Where is she, Garcia?”
“That’s the thing,” Garcia moaned. “When we learned that a Starbucks or a MacDonald’s in the area might be hit, I IMed her and told her to go home. She was at the Starbucks near my place,” she continued. “But I can’t reach her now. Her cell phone’s off or something and she’s not online. And, well, we know which Starbucks got hit.”
“Are you telling me she could be inside the Starbucks still?” Rossi asked, aghast. Hotch closed his eyes, as if he were hoping to wake up from a nightmare.
“Yes, Sir, that’s what I’m saying,” Garcia answered.
“What I don’t get is why this guy’s gone to such extremes to get what he wants,” Prentiss said. “There must have been some kind of stressor to force him to do this.”)

“I don’t get why you’re doing this,” I said, as he forced me to my knees in front of him.
“You don’t need to know anything,” he said, unzipping his fly and pulling out his dick. He was already erect, the fear of the hostages and the fighting making him incredibly excited. I remembered how he always used to get aroused after any kind of combat drill, or when he beat on my mother.
“Why haven’t you seen my mother? Did you finally leave her?” I asked, trying to put off the inevitable.
“Less talking, more sucking,” he said, pushing his dick in my face. I closed my eyes and took his dick into my mouth. God, I never thought I’d be here again. Blood from his broken nose dripped onto my face as he sawed his cock in and out of my mouth. He grabbed the back of my head to pull me closer. “Oh yeah, you know exactly how I like it, don’t you, you slut… oh yeah. Fuck, yeah.” He started moving faster, and then came, suddenly, in my mouth. I spat it onto the floor and he laughed, his dick still hard. “Very nice. Of course, that’s just a warm-up,” he said, tucking his dick back into his pants and zipping up. “You can go back with the rest of the sheep.” He opened the door, and jamming his gun into my back, pushed me out of the room. “Oh, and by the way… your mom? She’s dead.”
“You said she was fine!” I yelled, turning on him. He just laughed.
“She just couldn’t hack it in the end. Pathetic bitch. She died and they threw me out,” he snapped.
“When? When did this happen?” I demanded.
“About six months ago,” he said, gesturing with his gun. “Now, get on back with the rest of the sheep, Little Bit and shut the fuck up.”


“You complete and utter asshole,” I muttered under my breath. I was going to kill him. Somehow, I would kill him. I had no idea how, but I’d manage it. I walked back to the centre of the store and sat down, just as he grabbed another woman and pulled her into the back room. “I’m so not going to be a victim here.”
“Shut up,” said one of the other men.
“No,” I snapped. “You know he’s not one of you, don’t you?”
“Shut up, stupid American cow,” he said, kicking me. I grabbed his foot and jammed my elbow into the crook of his knee. He hollered in pain, but ended up on the floor, where I slammed my knee into his stomach, and my fist into his jaw, knocking him out. It happened so fast, the other men didn’t have time to react. I grabbed his gun and scuttled behind a table.
“Stop her!” one of the other men yelled, and there was a hail of gunfire that slammed into the table top in front of me. Thank god for stone tables! “Not like that, you idiot! You’ll kill us all!”
“Well, then how do you want me to do it?”
“Just go and get the gun from her! She’s just a woman!”
“Did you see what she did to Ali? I don’t think so. You want to get her, you do it!”

I peeked around the table and saw the four other gunmen standing behind the hostages on the other side of the room. Easy, peasy. I aimed carefully from behind my cover, and squeezed off a single round. It struck the man on the far left side in the kneecap; he screamed and fell to the floor.

(… “We’ve got reports of gunfire, Hotch,” Prentiss said, holding her cell phone to her ear. They were in two SUVs, racing to the scene of the hostage taking.
“What the hell is going on in there?” Hotch demanded into his blackberry, one hand on the steering wheel. “We’re almost there. We need to get those hostages out safely!”
“It’ll be okay,” Morgan told him. “I’m sure she’s at Garcia’s place with her cell phone off or something, that’s all.”
“This isn’t personal,” Hotch muttered at him. Morgan glanced at Reid, who sat next to him in the backseat.
“Right,” Prentiss said, speaking for all of them.)

“Put your gun down or we will kill the hostages!” one of the other gunmen screamed at me. “Put it down and come out, or they will all die!”
“You don’t want that on your conscience, Terra, do you?” said Darrel. I peeked around the table and could see him standing with his followers. He hand a pistol in one hand and was holding the woman he’d been raping in the other. She was sobbing, her blouse opened to the waist and blood oozing from her nose. He held the pistol to her temple. “I’m serious here. You come out or I’m going to kill this bitch.” I sat, indecisive. I knew he’d do it, but I had a chance to end this all right now.
“I can kill you with one shot, Darrel,” I told him.
“You can’t kill me before I kill her. And my men will kill the rest of the sheep before you can even squeeze off a shot.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. “If I come out, you’ll kill me.”
“I might, that’s true,” he said. “But I won’t. For your poor dead mother’s sake.”
“You asshole.”
“Such a pretty mouth you’ve got.”
“I’m coming out,” I said, sliding the gun along the floor towards them. One of the PLO guys grabbed it and I put my hands up, standing up slowly behind the table. One of them grabbed me by the hair and pulled me back with the group, while I kicked and yelled.
“She doesn’t get to stay with the group,” Darrel said, grabbing me by my shirt and hauling me to the back. “I’ll lock you up back here where you can’t cause any more trouble.” He threw me into a back storeroom and shut the door behind him, locking it. I sat in the dark for a moment before I found the light switch. I was in a tiny little room full of boxes and bags… and despite all we’ve seen on TV and the movies, there was no little window at the top of the wall that I might squeeze through. I was stuck, good and proper, but at least I wasn’t dead or damaged. Having to suck Darrel off wasn’t the same as getting shot. Not that I wanted to do it again and again, mind you. I punched a box in anger. I knew he was working his way through all the women in the store, raping and humiliating them one at a time. Until he became bored, that is, at which point he’d turn his attention to the men. I wished there was some way I could convince the PLO guys that Darrel wasn’t on their side, that he had his own agenda and it had nothing to do with them.