“Okay,” JJ begins, turning to face her team once she’d finished scribbling on a dry-erase board behind her. It took a little convincing on her part, but the hotel had finally agreed to let the BAU use one of their smaller conference rooms to work in until they were ready to join forces with the local police.

“Let’s go around the room and discuss what we’ve all found. Nothing is too small,” she adds, hoping that the tiniest of clues will lead them straight to their genius. “I’ll start.” JJ turns back around and writes some more information onto the board, her face showing disappointment when she sees that it doesn’t take up even one sixth of the white surface.

“Garcia couldn’t make out who dropped off the package, but she was able to track down Mr. and Mrs. Hunter. They were standing at the counter waiting to receive a key.” At her words, Rossi shifts in his chair, almost disheartened that the bellhop’s story had checked out.

“They said the man we are looking for kept his head down and had a hood on, but Mr. Hunter remembers him mumbling something about going home to read. He thought he meant a book, but…”

“You think he meant Reid instead? As in Spencer?” Prentiss raises her eyebrows at JJ, who nods solemnly. Even if her theory is true, they still have no way of tracking down who the guy is, so they’re at a disadvantage regardless.

“And that’s when she called us,” Hotch begins, his voice low and controlled. “Nothing seemed out of place at Reid’s apartment. There were books piled up everywhere, but I’d assume that to be typical, given the condition of his desk at the office.” Everyone is silent for a moment, each of them picturing their teammate sitting at his desk in the bullpen, working his heart away without a care in the world. Morgan would never say it aloud, but he regrets slipping Reid all of those extra files just so he could go home early. He can’t help but wonder how many sleepless nights his colleague had, doing work that wasn’t even his. If Reid had ever noticed the extra files - which Morgan is sure he had - he never once complained about them or ratted him out to Hotchner.

“So nothing at the apartment…” JJ mumbles to herself, scribbling away at the board. She knows it seems silly, but the more stuff written on the board, the more hopeful she believes the team will be. “Prentiss? Morgan?”

Morgan averts his eyes to the table, knowing that Prentiss will tell everyone the details of their cognitive interview. It isn’t like he did anything wrong, but he has a habit of becoming embarrassed over personal matters at work. When the group gets together for weekend drinks, he has no issue letting his professional guard down, but at work, it is a different story. 

“Morgan remembered two women who approached him at the bar. One of them hit on him, but he turned her down because he didn’t want to leave Reid.”

“And look where that got him,” Morgan mumbles angrily under his breath, just loud enough for Hotch, who is sitting closest to him, to hear. Hotch makes a mental note to speak to him privately after the meeting. As sensitive as this case is, he still needs all of his agents’ heads in the game.

“Did you talk to them?” JJ asks, writing down the brief description of the women that Prentiss relayed to her from the interview with Morgan.

“No. They can’t know anything. Morgan said they wandered off to hit on some other guys at the bar. He did remember what the bartender looked like though.” Prentiss is careful with this next bit of information, for she knows that Morgan believes the whole situation is his fault.

“We went back to the bar and asked the manager if we could speak with her.” Morgan continues where Prentiss left off, not breaking eye contact from the table in front of him.

“And?” JJ presses, flames of excitement rushing through her. 

“She doesn’t work there.”

Four sets of eyebrows shoot up at the same time, all aimed at Morgan, who rubs the back of his neck in frustration before bringing his fist down on the table with a thud. When he offers no further explanation to his findings, they instead look at Prentiss, who hesitates to continue.

“We gave a description and the manager said he’s never seen her before. They only have three blonde employees and none of them were working last night.”

“Is it possible she was filling in for someone else?” Rossi asks, trying his best to remain optimistic.

“No,” Prentiss shakes her head, “He took a look at the security footage and said she doesn’t work there. She must've slipped behind the counter when no one was watching.”

“Did the security footage happen to show where Reid went?”

Once again, Prentiss shakes her head in defeat. “She led him out on the dance floor. Cameras only cover the bar area. We did get a good shot of her face, though.” She forces herself to perk up, not wanting to dampen the team’s mood even further. “Garcia’s running it through facial recog, but no hits so far.”

“Wait a second.” Rossi stands up, a lightbulb going off inside his head. “If the girl took Reid but a man delivered the package, we’re looking at a team here.”

“He’s right,” Hotch confides. “If that’s the case, then we have a dominant - submissive partnership. My guess is that the girl is the dominant in the relationship. Her partner definitely isn’t an alpha male, otherwise he’d have shown his face when delivering the package. Dominants are proud of their work. It isn’t much, but combined with Morgan’s description of the girl and the physique of the boy, it’s enough to give a preliminary profile. Garcia,” Hotch orders, “Is there any way you could get an approximate height and weight of our two UnSubs using security footage?”

“On it like lightening!” Garcia wheels her chair around to a second laptop, frantically pushing buttons as JJ hovers over her shoulder.

“JJ, I want you to write up a press conference. It needs to be ready for the ten o’clock news. Rossi and Prentiss, stay here in case Garcia gets a hit on the girl. If you find an address I want you to head there immediately. Morgan, come with me.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows at Rossi, who shrugs his shoulders in reply. Across from them, JJ glances at her watch, letting out an exasperated sigh as she realizes she only has thirty minutes until the ten o’clock news. That is barely enough time to get the press here, let alone write up what she’s going to say.

“Sir,” JJ stops Hotchner as he and Morgan head towards the door, “Should I mention that Reid is an FBI agent?”

Hotch tilts his head to the side, as if weighing his options. He knows that criminals do not take well to federal agents, and that they may have less time to get to Reid if his captor finds out who he is. On the other hand, the community and local police agency may be more willing to cooperate knowing that Reid is one of them. “His creds are missing,” Hotch begins in an attempt to validate his decision, mostly for himself as opposed to JJ, “It’s likely our UnSub already knows who he is.”

“Yes, sir.” JJ forces a smile as Hotch and Morgan exit the conference room, with the former praying that he didn’t just order a death sentence for his youngest agent.

***

“Hotch, what are we doing?” Morgan finally asks once the pair have made their way into the hallway. Hotch stops just ahead of Morgan, prompting him to do the same.

“We’re going to the Louisville PD to deliver our profile,” he says matter-of-factly, “But first, I’d like a word.”

Morgan crosses his arms over his chest, looking at Hotch stubbornly. “Look, if this is about what I said back there, you have to understand that I was the last person to see him. What if I…” Morgan trails off, stumbling over his words.

“You didn’t,” Hotch replies sternly, practically reading Morgan’s mind. “We still have time to find him, Morgan. But I need you here.”

Morgan looks away, past Hotch’s head and down the hall towards the lobby. He knows that Hotch is right, but it’s impossible for him to have his head fully into what they are doing while Reid is alone with some insane person - or worse, a group of insane people.

“You’re upset. We all are. But there’s something else bothering you. What is it?”

Morgan rolls his eyes. A long time ago, the BAU had made an agreement not to profile one another for the sake of maintaining a private life outside of work. Noticing behavior is in their nature though. It is in the air they breathe and it is what they do best. They simply can’t help it.

“That profile didn’t sit well with me, Hotch.”

“And why is that?”

Morgan pauses. Hotch has accused him before of not trusting anyone on the team, and doubting the original profile would support his claims. If he doesn’t speak what’s on his mind though, it could have a devastating outcome on the case.

“It’s just...how many cases have we worked that involve teams with a female dominant? It’s almost always two males, or a male and female with the male being the dominant.” Morgan answers his own question without giving Hotch the chance to respond.

“Now, the package deliverer can’t be the dominant because he wouldn’t have hidden his face, and he would have insisted on staying with Reid while the girl brought the box in. It’s all about control, but if he’s here, he’s not in control of whatever is happening there.”

“Go on,” Hotch insists, believing that Morgan may actually be onto something big.

“I saw that girl, Hotch. Reid might not be the strongest psychically, but I don’t think she could subdue him all by herself. The only way she was able to pull him onto the dance floor in the first place is because he had a couple of shots first. Judging by the neatness of his hotel room, I’d argue that Reid never made it back there last night. He was taken directly from the bar.”

“What are you saying?” Hotch questions, not quite following along with the conclusion Morgan is trying to draw out for him.

“The guy wouldn’t have left her alone with Reid with the chance that he could escape. What if neither of them are the dominants, Hotch?”

Trusting Morgan’s instincts, Hotch fishes his phone out of his pocket and calls JJ, informing her of the change in their profile. When he hangs up, he makes eye contact with Morgan, his expression softer than usual. “That’s good thinking, Morgan. You can’t shut down on us. Not right now.”

As Hotch turns to head out the front door, Morgan clears his throat, unsure of whether or not he wants to open up to his boss on an emotional level. What he wants to say has been eating away at him since this morning, and he fears he might burst if he doesn’t tell someone.

“Is there something else?” Hotch has switched back into business-mode, impatient to get to the police station and deliver their findings to every cop within the city. Right now, there are only six people working the case that spans a city with over 250,000 residents. It is already dark outside, and Reid has been gone for almost 24 hours. They do not have time to make small talk in a musty, dark hallway.

“Reid isn’t my teammate, alright?” Hotch’s face twists in confusion at the strange statement, but he takes a few steps back towards Morgan when he notices the glint in his eyes - as if he is struggling to hold back tears.

“I know...I know I give him a hard time at work. I pick on him. And I’ll admit, the kid gets on my nerves from time to time.” He allows himself a giggle, but it is short-lived. “But Reid isn’t just some smart, nerdy agent that sits at a desk next to mine every day. He’s like a brother to me, Hotch. And what kind of big brother let’s something like this happen?”

At a loss for words, Hotch settles for placing a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan’s desperate eyes long for answers - anything to validate his reasoning for treating Reid the way he had over the years. He meant no harm by having a little fun at Reid’s expense, but now he can’t help but wonder if Reid understood why he did the things he did. Did Reid see him as a bully? Did he think that Morgan saw him as weak because he always did his best to look after him in the field? Such thoughts are haunting, but there is no time to dwell on them.

“Hey, look at me.” Morgan snaps out of his thoughts at the sound of his boss’s voice. He makes a promise to himself to explain it all to Reid if given the chance. He won’t be able to live with himself if he’s not given the opportunity to set things straight.

“Let’s go get him back, okay?”

***

“At approximately 11 P.M. last night, an agent of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, Dr. Spencer Reid, was last seen leaving the Holy Grale bar in Louisville, Kentucky with a blonde female believed to be in her late twenties to early thirties.” The BAU holds their breaths as two images flash across the flat-screen t.v. in Hotch’s hotel room.

“Early this morning, hotel surveillance captured this footage of a white male, around six feet tall and 170 pounds. We believe he is connected to this case in some way. Based on the behavior of our two known suspects, we also believe a third person may be involved. This person is likely a male, strong build, and in his late forties or early fifties. If anyone has any information, please give the FBI or local police a call.”

As soon as JJ finishes giving her statement, she is hounded with questions from the press. She is usually advised against answering them, but the team wants to be sure that everyone has a clear understanding of what they are looking for.

“How can you be sure there is a third suspect?” One journalist shouts.

“My team specializes in human behavior,” JJ explains. “Criminals who operate as a team typically have a dominant leader who exerts total control over their submissive partner. Because neither of these UnSubs display the classic signs that fit these roles, we believe they are operating under someone else. He would have to be older and stronger to convince these two people to commit crimes for him.”

“Do you think Dr. Reid was a target?” JJ freezes momentarily. Her, Prentiss, and Rossi had discussed the possibility while Hotch and Morgan headed to the police station, but there had been no evidence to say for certain.

“We are unable to make conclusions regarding the nature of the abduction at this time, but we will not rule anything out. Dr. Reid could have been targeted, or he may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” JJ shudders at the cliche. Reid had always told the team that nothing happens by coincidence, and it feels wrong to assume otherwise while he is in danger.

Reporters yell out questions in all directions. Bright lights flash in her eyes and time seems to stand still for JJ, who is disgusted with the idea of her standing in front of a camera for national television instead of looking for her friend. If they don’t get a lead soon, she decides, she will resort to walking the streets and shouting his name.

***

Agent Hotchner glances at his watch, and then around his hotel room at the team of exhausted profilers. It is nearing midnight, and no one has called with any information regarding Reid’s whereabouts or who their UnSubs may be.

On Hotch’s bed, Agent Rossi is stretched out with his head propped on his elbow, going through file after file of unsolved kidnappings in the area. Garcia is at the kitchen table in front of her laptop, her eyes bloodshot as she struggles to focus on the screen. Next to her, Prentiss and JJ are jotting down victimology on Reid, while Morgan sits on the sofa and appears to be in a whole other world.

“Alright,” Hotch sighs, already knowing how his words will be received, “Everyone needs to go back to their own rooms and rest. We’ll meet here at six in the morning with fresh eyes and a clear head.”

A series of protests emulate throughout the room, and Hotch raises a hand to silence them all. “I know time is of the essence here, and I know it’s difficult to rest with Reid on our minds, but it won’t do us any good if we’re all too tired to think straight.”

“He’s right.” Rossi is the first to agree, though he does so hesitantly. “We’re just chasing our own tails here. Maybe we’ll come up with something after we rest.”

As expected, Morgan’s temper flares. JJ scratches the back of her head awkwardly, part of her understanding and the other wishing he’d stop lashing out at Hotch. “Reid is missing and you guys want to sleep?” He says, his voice rising dangerously.

“Morgan, I’m sure sleep is the last thing any of us want to do.” Prentiss steps in between the couch and where Hotch stands, glaring down at Morgan with his arms crossed over his chest. “But what good will we be to him when we’re drained physically and emotionally?” Her voice becomes softer as she tries to reason with him.

“A whole lot more good than in our dreams!” Morgan shouts, growing more and more frustrated that his team is agreeing with Hotch. “How would you feel if you were taken and we were all curled up in our nice warm beds? Huh?”

“Morgan, that’s enough!” Hotch’s voice booms throughout the room, causing even Rossi to flinch. “If you can’t handle this case and start thinking rationally, I’m going to have to take you off of it!”

Things suddenly become so quiet that you can almost hear footsteps on the sidewalk many stories below the hotel balcony. Morgan and Hotch stare at one another for what seems like an eternity to everyone around them, until Morgan finally strides past him and out of the room, making an effort to bump into Hotch’s shoulder before slamming the door.

“Everyone get some rest,” Hotch mutters quietly, walking over to help gather Garcia’s things, whose eyes remain fixated on the door that her usually flirtatious and confident hero has just walked out of angrily.