Criminal Minds is owned by CBS incorporated and their affiliates.

When we recognize that we don't have all the time in the world, we see our priorities most clearly.
-Suman Rai

Erin rolled out of bed, running her hand through her hair. David must have forgotten his key. She reached blindly for the handle and yanked the door wide. Her stomach dropped, her late-night visitor was not David Rossi.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" The stranger gloatingly asked. "I brought drinks." He held up the brown paper bag.

She stared blankly at the man in the hallway and tried to reach into her memory for a name. His toad-like face wasn't one she recognized. Swiping a hand against her tired eyes she swallowed the knot in her throat, there was something off about him. Maybe it was the way he reminded her of a man in the back alley behind a seedy bar waiting to take advantage of vulnerable young women.

"I think you have the wrong room." She attempted to close the door, but he shoved his foot inside at the last second.

"You've aged well, Erin: I can't say the same for myself, though" he croaked. The smile he gave didn't reach his eyes.

"I don't know you." She tried to ignore the speeding of her heart, fight or flight was taking over. She thought back to her FBI training and tried to find an escape route. Quickly she scanned the passageway for any sign of life, but the hallway was completely deserted; the Yankees were playing the Mets the big game drew most of the guests on the hall to the third floor. No one would hear her scream.

She kicked at the stranger's leg and swung the door but never heard the click of automatic locks. Brutally he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her backwards. The backs of her legs collided with the chair as she fell to the ground. For a second everything went dark. Coming to, she heard the mini-bar being ransacked before the door was slammed closed. "There's nothing in here!"

"I got it."

There were two intruders.

Plastic tops were popped.

She was picked up and shoved into a chair, her wrists and ankles bound. She was still trying to get her bearings, but knew the weight of a low-ball when it was shoved roughly in her hands. She tried to control the ripple of fear that passed down her spine: liquor was not supposed to fizzle.

"Drink up, bitch."

It was finally sinking in, she was being victimized in her hotel room, the plastic ties biting into her wrists and ankles were proof enough. They weren't talking about money or jewelry; they were there exclusively for her. They were here to kill her.

"No." She vowed to be defiant until the bitter end. Come what may.

Hot, rancid breath filled her nostrils and beat against her neck, in wheezy gusts. It was taking everything she had not to vomit. She needed to at least maintain some dignity.

"They will find you," she hissed, the barrel of the gun pushed roughly against her head. The click of the hammer drawing back echoed in her ear. "It doesn't matter what you do to me here. They will find you."

"You always were a talkative bitch spinning lies, twisting stories- anything to get what you want. Now shut up and drink."

Erin held the glass to her lips, silently weighing her options: her gun was inaccessible, hidden in the drawer of the nightstand; the phone was on the other side of the room.

"She should be passed out, by now!" The voice came from behind her. Erin tried to turn around and see who it was, but she didn't dare. But she imprinted that voice into her memory – just in case.

"You're not drinking," her captor spat impatiently as though he was on a time-table. She had to buy time – something – anything – to buy a few minutes so David could arrive and save the day. She counted her heartbeats and tried to draw the moment out.

"It's my first drink in over a year, I thought I'd enjoy it," she deadpanned managing to keep the shake from her voice. With everything she had, she fought to gain control over the hammering against her ribs. The situation was slowly slipping from her grasp, but she wasn't going to give in easily. She closed her eyes and fought back the tears. Where was the team? Where was David?

"You really think they will come for you? Why would they, your team. Why would they come to your rescue?"

"I know they will," the words fell off her lips with conviction. They would come for her, David would come for her. "Even if they don't make it in time, they will avenge me. They are good at what they do-"

"I wish you would let me just shoot her-" the second voice in the room interrupted impatiently.

"No!" Her captor shouted angrily. "Enough of the games!" He snatched the glass from Erin 's hand. Hatred and revenge burned in his blue eyes. Dear God, Erin thought helplessly, those are going to be the last things I see.

Rough, calloused hands grabbed her shoulders while another pair forced her lips open. The strong stench of alcohol assaulted her sense of smell as liquid flames raced down her throat. Coughing and sputtering, Erin fought to maintain her year's sobriety – there was no way she was going down without a fight.

But the fight was quickly leaving her as fire coursed through her veins and she was yanked to her feet. The blindfold was removed and her vision swam. Someone gripped her arms and led her outside the room. She could hear voices and noises, but she couldn't identify them. She tried to call for help, but her voice was gone. Her vision was blurring and her balance was off.

She vaguely remembered being shoved into the elevator and the voices that argued over which floor to deposit her on. She didn't know where she was being taken, but she refused to die alone in some alleyway. Maybe that is what propelled Erin to stumble through the lobby of the prestigious hotel out on to the busy sidewalk of the Big Apple. She didn't know where she was, neither did she feel the pushing and shoving of the crowd that pushed by her.

She was on a mission – probably the last one of her life: She had to find Aaron and tell him The Replicator was here in New York. And he wasn't working alone.