Note: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Also this is loosely based off of "The Ransom of Red Chief" by O. Henry. Takes place in the time that Haley and Jack were undercover.

"!" the brat had been screaming at the top of his lungs for the past ten minutes and nothing George had done had made him shut up. Finally he just decided to go up to his room, close the door and wait it out. This actually worked. Five minutes later silence reigned. He breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over, opening his eyes… and yelled. Jack Hotchner was standing only inches from his face.

"What the fuck do you want, kid?" George snapped.

Jack frowned. "I still think you're mean."

"Is that so?"


"Well guess what? I don't care!"

The kid only pouted more. "I came up here because I'm bored."

"Okay." George rolled back over.

"Will you color with me?"

"If I do will you shut up?" Jack nodded. Foyet sighed. "Okay then." And got up.

"Yay!" Jack exclaimed and rushed downstairs. When Foyet got down there he was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting expectantly. "Where's the paper and crayons?"

"Here's the paper, kid," Foyet said taking some out of a drawer, "And here's some pens. I don't have any crayons."

Jack frowned again. "Do you have any markers?"


"Colored pencils?"

"No, just pens and regular pencils."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Foyet snapped, "I just don't color."

Jack looked resigned and started doodling something on a piece of paper, then stopped and looked up. "Why aren't you coloring?"

"I told you; I don't color."

"You said you'd color with me."

"Fine." Foyet sighed and sat down. For a moment he just stared at the paper then with a smirk he started drawing.

"What are you drawing?" the kid asked, trying to peer to the other side of the table.

"Your old man after I finished with him." George laughed. Jack pouted and started drawing something else. He looked so focused that Foyet just had to ask. "What are you drawing?"

Without looking up the brat replied, "You with your head torn off!" George scoffed and the two went back to work on their art in silence.

After five minutes Jack said, "George?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I'm hungry!"

"Well why don't you eat the Happy Meal now?"

"I threw it out."

"Why would you do that?" George was starting to get really pissed off at the kid all over again.

"I wasn't hungry then. But I'm hungry now."

Foyet sighed, "There's some pretzel in the closet down the hall. Go get them."

Jack leapt up and ran towards the closet. He opened the door, and walked in. It didn't take him too long to find the pretzels; they were right in the back. He grabbed a bag and went to hurry back. It was then that he noticed that the door had a lock. More specifically that the lock was on the outside of the handle. He glanced back at the table and saw that George was still coloring. He didn't like George. George was a bad guy. Jack quickly put the pretzels out of view and called. "George, I can't find the pretzels!"

"Well, they're there! Keep looking!"

"Can you help me?" He heard George say a bad word and get up.

Foyet came over to the door of the closet. Couldn't this damn kid just leave him alone? He headed towards the back of the closet and started to pick up one of the remaining pretzel bags. "There, you see them! They were right-" click. He turned around. The door had closed. He went to turn the handle. It was locked. "Jack! Jackie boy!" he said in his nicest tone. "Open the door now and I won't be mad!" That little shit better do what he said or else…

Jack was on the other side of the door smiling. Daddy would be so proud of him. He'd caught a bad guy! "You were mean to me George! You're in time out!"

Foyet tried kicking and punching the door, but it was solid oak and wouldn't budge. "Come one kid!" There was no sound.

Meanwhile, Garcia had found something. "Sir, there's a Miles Holden just a few blocks over from Haley's place, at 46 Cedar Villas. He was a teacher's assistant but was fired a week ago for having unprotected sex with a minor. She's fifteen. When they cleaned out his desk, they found tramadol."

"Thanks, Garcia." Rossi said. Turning to Hotch he said, "Garcia's got something." And he relayed the information.

"Let's go."

Jack was busy drawing a picture and eating some pretzels from the bag he had taken. George had finally stopped making noise which was good. Maybe he'd become a good guy. All of a sudden the door burst open and there was a loud shout of "FBI!"

"Uncle Derek!" Jack squealed.

Morgan hurried over to him. "You okay, kid? Where's George?"

Jack giggled and whispered "George is in time out!" in a conspirational tone.

Morgan looked back at him confused. By now Hotch had entered the room and snatched Jack into his arms. "Are you all right, buddy? Did he hurt you?" He asked worried.

"I'm fine, Daddy. But George was mean."

"What did he do to you?"

"He wouldn't let me play at McDonalds, he wouldn't sing along with Spongebob or find me a new episode, he yelled at me, and he didn't have any crayons!"

Hotch looked bewildered but managed to ask. "Where's George now?"

Jack giggled again and leaned in to whisper in his Daddy's ear. "He was a bad guy. He needed time out so I locked him in the closet!"