Title: Backwoods Directions
By: LoraLee2
Pairing: gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.
Summary: Hotch and JJ are lost.

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The third time they drove down a mile-long driveway thinking it must be the turn they were looking for Hotch decided it was time to give up and ask for directions. He turned the motor off and motioned JJ to come with him as he approached the rickety old farmhouse (it might be sexist, but if a male was behind that door JJ was sure to get better results than he would, and if it was a woman, JJ's presence would put her at ease.) He knocked firmly, wanting to be heard wherever the house's occupants happened to be.

He put his friendliest smile on face as he heard footsteps approaching accompanied by a wizened old voice hollering, "keep your britches on, I'm comin', but if you're some kinda salesman, you'd better start runnin' now."

The old man who opened the door looked about a hundred and ten, thin, white haired and wrinkled, but he still had his own teeth, half of them anyway. It was definitely a good thing he'd brought JJ to the door, her prettiness would offset his suit.

The man took one look at him and pronounced, "I already got me a Bible, so skedaddle."

"Sir," JJ spoke before he had a chance to respond, "we're not salespeople, we're lost." Hotch noted she had her 'soothe the unfriendly local cops' smile on. "We're looking for Jonas Thompson."

"What you lookin' for Jonas for?"

"I'm afraid we have some news for him, sir. The kind that needs to be delivered in person." JJ was pushing regulations by saying that much, but Hotch was sure nothing less would get them the information they needed. They'd already been warned that "most of the locals had grown up on stories of moonshiners versus revenuers and didn't take kindly to the law."

"Is this about Kelly?"

"Sir," JJ spoke gently, letting the man guess that, indeed, it was about Thompson's runaway daughter, "We really can't give anybody any information until we've spoken to Mr. Thompson himself."

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

"It would help us a lot if you could give us directions to his place."

The old man nodded, "Go back out the driveway, and take a left."

JJ and Hotch nodded to let him know they were listening. "You're gonna drive past Johnson's big ol' red barn."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep going, but watch out for Murphy's dumb-ass dog, he's gonna come right out in front of ya and if'n ya slow down, he'll run in front of ya all day long. Don't know why he ever bought the fuzzball, damn thing's got more fur than brains."

Hotch politely continued listening as the man gave the strangest directions he'd ever heard and debated whether to try again at the next driveway or just head back to the local station and get one of the locals to come with them. Of course, this was a very rural area; 'town' was a little over fifty miles away.

He watched as JJ continued nodding, pretending to understand each and every nuance of the oddball directions. The old man finished giving directions and headed back into the house to "rest his lumbago" (someday he'd find out exactly what that was).

He turned to head back to the SUV and saw JJ standing with a gleam in her eye and her hand held out for the keys. Without a word he dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them over.

He got into the passenger's side and cracked the window before closing the door to prevent the pressure change that after a month still hurt like hell at times. (Which was why he was going on a routine hospitalization notification with JJ, instead of running down leads with the rest of the team.

He sat quietly as JJ revved the engine more than she should be doing to a company vehicle and shot out of the driveway. He grabbed the overhead panic handle as he remembered why they never let JJ drive. She enjoyed it way too much, especially in the country with no traffic.

He noted she swung her head back and forth looking for the landmarks the old man had given. Suddenly she pointed at a huge pile of what he would have felt generous calling scrap wood. "There's Johnson's barn, watch out for the dog I don't want to hit it."

"JJ, that's not a barn, it's a pile of old lumber."

"It's a pile of faded red lumber, Hotch. Trust me it used to be a barn. It probably collapsed in the snow last winter." She slammed on the brakes as a big red chow shot into the road beside them. It quickly took advantage of their reduced speed and ran into the middle of the lane and barked at them over its shoulder.

"Damn it. I should have asked what to do if it got in front of us."

They traveled slowly for a quarter mile before JJ decided to drive a little faster to see if the animal would move aside. Luckily it did and Hotch watched it run behind the vehicle as JJ returned to her normal, nearly suicidal, country speed. He tried not to laugh as he heard her mutter, "dumb-ass dog," under her breath. He heartily agreed.

He thought he might be getting the hang of things when he saw the spotted hindquarters of the 'loosa horse standing at the corner of another unmarked road, "I think we turn here, JJ." He grabbed the panic handle again as he realized, she wasn't going to slow down to turn, as much as throw the rear into a controlled skid and keep going at speed.

He spotted an old bridge up ahead and wondered whether that was the cardboard bridge they had to go over. His suspicion was confirmed when his teeth were nearly rattle out of his head as JJ called out joyfully, "okay, here's the corrugated bridge." Hotch ran the association through his mind, steel-deck bridge, corrugated bridge, cardboard, perfectly logical.

Hotch tried not to be too surprised at the four headstones inside a white picket fence that JJ announced must be the Miller's old family cemetery. His shoulder bounced off the window as JJ 'turned' onto the dirt road and finally slowed down to highway speed. Now, if she'd only slow down to a reasonable speed he'd be in Heaven.

"Okay, start looking for the wishing well in the front yard."

"Any clue what a 'wishing well' is going to look like?"

"Sure, it's probably about three by three by three, with a roof on two support poles and, if we're lucky, a real bucket with a crank handle. Nobody uses them much anymore, but they are convenient when the power goes out."

Hotch shook his head in confusion, "you use a wishing well when the power goes out?"

"You use the bucket when the power goes out. The well house is to keep the kids from taking the cover off and falling in."

Hotch remained silent in his confusion, in his experience drilled wells weren't big enough for anything to fall in, although he did know of that one baby that had fallen into a well some years ago, but --.

JJ seemed to note his confusion anyway, "It's an old farmhouse, it's a dug well, it's big enough for a grown man to climb down in. Think Little House on the Prairie."

Hotch nodded, still confused, he knew what Little House on the Prairie was, but had been too old for the television show when it came on, and had never read the books it was based on.

He grabbed for the panic handle again as JJ slammed on the brakes, "There it is."

Hotch pulled the useless directions from the pocket of his suit coat and confirmed the number painted on the mailbox was correct. JJ pulled into the driveway and smiled at Hotch, "Let's go tell Mr. Thompson we found his daughter and he's a grandpa."

AN: Just a bit of fun. And that dumb-ass dog is real.

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