"Beware lest you lose the substance by grasping at the shadow."
Aesop
---
Thursday.
23.13
This man, this deep, dark, drop dead gorgeous, deity man, this God, he was good. Oh, he was so good. She was glad that between the first kiss and his tongue slipping into her mouth, she threw away all reason and jumped into the deep. His large hands were everywhere, his long fingers trailing her skin, white-hot metal carving into her skin, smoothly following the flows of her body, discovering and marking his territory. She had stopped caring about right or wrong when he left a moist, sensational line of kisses from her collarbone to her crimson red, hungry lips. Abby didn't live in tomorrow, always in today. In the right now and in the right here. She couldn't care less about tomorrow or Hotch or right or wrong or protocol when his fierce lips once again sought hers. His kisses, his devouring hands, his hot breath in her ear were what was right now and right here. Today.
As her hands ran down his bare back, his skin soft like silk and smooth as water, she wondered when exactly she had taken his shirt off. Suddenly, she found herself sitting on her kitchen island, her legs firmly wrapped around Morgan's waist and wearing nothing but her Snoopy boxers and black bra. Her nails dug into his skin as he cupped her breasts and bit down in her neck. As if Morgan could read her mind, he suavely lifted her from the counter and carried her towards the bedroom, his tongue tangoing with Abby's, their breathing irregular and fast, all wrapped up in lust and desire.
They landed on her bed, the cotton sheets brushing against Abby's almost bare back. Their bodies never once lost contact with each other and she found his lips where they belonged; right on hers, vigorous and ecstatic. Swiftly, she managed to roll him on his back and straddled him, quickly moving down his perfectly formed chest as his hands ripped of her favourite bra, one hand running through her hair, the dark brown locks started to curl even more at the exposure of sweat and the moist air, the other gliding over her back. It took her only seconds to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans.
Somewhere between the discarding of their clothes, they had found a way into a position that was far too familiar to them both. She was back on her back, Morgan on top, but she couldn't be bothered by his dominance. One of her hands lingered teasingly over his back and neck, his skin hot and her fingertips tingling with covet and yearn. The other hung in the air, two or three fingers loosely in contact with his neck. She still had her legs wrapped around his waist, moving along, keeping him close and pulling him in deeper. His right hand had gripped the sheets just above her head; the other was buried underneath Abby's neck and shoulders.
His face was a blur. She couldn't see straight, nor hear properly. All she heard were their distant moans and soft gasps for air. Their mouths would meet occasionally, their tongues intertwining, losing themselves into a game neither of them understood. She had climaxed twice before and she could feel her body again responding to Morgan's insane ability to drive her crazy as she was heading down the cliff once more, before feeling his teeth briefly sink into her lower lip, gasping loudly as they had crashed, and now burnt.
---
Friday. The next day.
06.41
Unbelievably calm and pacified, Abby woke up, the first light of dawn creeping into her bedroom, a beam of sunray casting a chimerical glow over two pairs of feet; one light and one dark, legs partly tangled up together. Her body felt smooth and relaxed, as if she spent her day at a spa. She inhaled deeply and craved for a cigarette as the smell of the morning entered her nostrils. It smelled of sex; sweet, passionate, strangely profuse sweaty sex. Abby smiled secretively when memories of the previous night flooded back into her head. When she turned around, her eyes found his body and for a moment, she stopped moving to observe the man in her bed.
His face was peaceful and serene, eyes still closed, mouth partly open in slumber. His muscles smoothly adapted to his position, round in power and shimmering in strength and sleekness. His bare back was a display of affection and worshipment, screaming for a gentle touch. She resisted the urge to run her fingers up and down the silk-like skin and instead, released herself from the warm sheets' grip. She found her Snoopy boxers in the corner of her room, put them on and snatched her robe from the chair on her way to the kitchen. Whilst traveling through the overlapping part of the living room, she found her smokes and lit one. Abby tried to minimize the noise she made as she made some coffee, but cursed louder than intended when spilling ash on the counter when she was looking for an ashtray.
After her second cup of coffee and fourth cigarette, she heard sounds coming from the bedroom. Abby had by then already gotten dressed into a pair of black jogging pants and a dark green sweater. Suddenly, the thought of meeting Morgan, probably still half naked, in her kitchen, in her house, outside of working hours, caused an unset of rattling nervousness and disconcerted sweat. She hurried soundlessly to the front door, taking Bird with her in the process and slipped through without facing Derek. Once outside and far away enough from her house, she laughed at herself and the ridiculous fact that she snuck out of her own house like a sixteen years old rebellious teen. Birdie must have thought the same thing as the dog looked up at her confused yet amused. Halfway through her daily jog through the forest, spotting the lake on her right hand, she decided it was time to face her own personal God and meet the consequences of their late night actions.
Abby had found Birdie in her fourth month at the SCU, three years ago. She was looking for a tossed away five months old baby, but found a young pup instead. She had kept him and named it Bird, because he reminded her of the flying animals. It happened with young birds that they sometimes fell out of their mother's nest and were forgotten. The dog must have seen Abby as his mother ever since, because he was unusually protective and somehow, he knew exactly how to act. For instance, Abby approached the front door of her house again, her fingers fumbling with her keys and her hands shaking. As she opened the door, her dog right behind her, her green eyes immediately met Morgan's. She froze on her spot, not sure of what to do. He held one of Abby's favourite mugs, the one with the little yellow ducks dancing around while singing 'Good morning'; he seemed almost insecure, head tilted backwards, lips parted, eyes saying it all. Bird bolted into the house, pushing against her knees and he entered his home. Abby's knees buckled underneath her weight as the dog stormed past her causing her slam into the doorpost. Bird's actions broke the ice and made both of them move.
"Oi! Stupid dog!"
Morgan smiled at her morning mutterings and followed Abby's movements with catching eyes. Birdie seemed unfazed and barely even looked at her when she filled his bowl, still calling the dog names. She straightened herself up and found Morgan looking at her from the other side of the island. She was unsure of what to say, hence her mind came up with the most obvious.
"Morning."
"Morning."
"How'd you sleep?"
"Good."
"Good."
He smiled at her again, a small parting of his lips, his mien young, playful and seductive. But the sparkle in his eyes told her everything; 'I had fun too last night', 'I had a good time last night', 'I really enjoyed last night', 'Last night was good'. Mutual lust. 'We should definitely do that again sometime'. She walked up to him, reflecting his thoughts in her eyes.
"You took a shower?"
As she got closer, Abby smelled her vanilla body shampoo and spotted the miniscule drops of water on his head. He looked rugged, having not shaved, and she thought it suited him better. Made him less slick and more sexy.
"I had to, people would notice."
"Listen, about last night-"
"What about last night?"
He casually sipped on his coffee and looked at her, blank expression on his face. That was the beauty of it. With mutual lust came mutual understanding. The level of attraction needed to be equal, otherwise one would start making demands to parallel. One would not find mutual understanding if they weren't on the same page and be even. She had never met a man with whom she was on the same page. Somehow, after a period of time, they all became dull and boring. Abby snorted and moved to walk past him but with the protesting sound of his voice and a hand on her stomach, his head lowering, he stopped her. She looked up to him, being only a couple of inches shorter, and leant inward to feel his moist and pleasantly hot lips on hers. Just as they were getting into the kiss, Morgan's phone vibrated and rang, the ringtone cutting through the air like a butcher's knife. Quickly, they broke away, caught like two horny teenagers hiding and making out in her room. Morgan sighed as he looked at the caller display and picked up.
"Morgan."
Teasingly, Abby ran her hand over the skin just above the waistband of his black jeans, tickling him. He grabbed her hand after he abruptly placed the coffee mug on the kitchen island, sending her a playful but warning glare. ("Yeah, no, I'm awake.") As she had lost all ability to resist the moment she met Derek Morgan, Abby leant forward and started kissing his neck.
"What, now?"
Morgan kept talking but had obviously trouble focusing and concentrating, placing on hand on the side of Abby's head. The brunette suddenly recognized the voice on the other end of the cell phone and stepped back, glancing at the handsome man before her with a slightly frightened look.
"No, I'm not with anybody, I'll be there in twenty."
The tone of his voice went up as he pretended to cover it up. He paused, his right hand pulling at her sweater, wanting her to come back. She refused and whispered fiercely. "That's JJ, on the phone, isn't it?"
"There's no woman, JJ" – Abby looked at him and made a face, raising her hands in the air – "No. Bye JJ." The second he hung up, Morgan pulled her back and crashed his lips on her mouth as he placed the phone roughly on the counter. She lost herself for a minute whilst she was reminded of the talents and skills of Derek Morgan, sensation running down her back, desire crawling up her legs. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him backwards, both of them moaning protestingly. When she stepped backwards, Derek stepped forward, once again pulling her back.
"That was JJ."
"Yes, we have a case."
"Then stop kissing my neck."
"You like it when I kiss your neck."
"No, I don't. Morgan, stop."
As he gently started biting her neck, Abby couldn't help and started to laugh, her body bending itself into a position that fitted right into his arms. They were like a forest fire, last night reaching a high point, now most of them was put out. Wind stirred and stoked up the smothering remains of the trees, causing the fire to be re-awoken, hot and passionate. In-between kisses, they managed to talk.
"You should go."
"I should go."
"Go. Get. Shoo."
He broke away and pretended to be hurt and offended, but the passion in his eyes remained and scared Abby to death. She managed to regain her composure just as Morgan put on his coat. Whilst he put on his shoes and eyed her body lustfully, Abby's phone rang and JJ called with the same announcement she had given Morgan earlier. They had to come in right away, there was an urgent case.
"Morgan."
"I'm going."
She turned her head, slightly, almost invisibly, the motion infinitesimal, unspoken words reverberating throughout her house. He listened and understood. He swiftly walked up to her and placed a gentle kiss on the side of her head. With mutual lust came mutual understanding.
"IMR, what does it mean?"
Her eyes flashed up to meet his and within seconds, she heard registered the tone of his voice, his expression and his intentions for as far as she could tell. Morgan had referred to the small tattoo on the right side of her neck, one of four she had, just below her ear. Three simple letters, separated by punctuation points, but they held a diabolic meaning and could be catastrophic effects to the right person.
"Instant Morbid Reality, I'll explain it some time when we're drunk as a dime. You said you'd be there in twenty, I gotta be there before you do."
"Why?"
"I'm always in first."
He laughed, chuckling freely and happily, making Abby's hair stand on end. "Whatever."
Silently, she thanked God he didn't look over his shoulder as he closed the door, for that would have turned him from a sex-driven, lusting, craving man into a young, inexperienced teenager that just fell in love with the person that took his virginity.
Abby had several affairs, some not the most clever move, but always light and enjoyable for the both of them. She and Cuba had a thing for a while, but the moment it was supposed to become something serious, they broke it off because they could never do serious. Ever. They were incapable to be serious and seriousness was something that definitely was not included in their dictionary. Then there was one of her team members of the DEA squad, or two, to be exact. They lasted till the point where the new, still discovering part was worn off and it became familiar and routine. Abby was not a fan of relationships. Never had been. For years she believed that she just wasn't cut out for it, but now she understood that she didn't want to be cut out for it, not yet. She wasn't ready yet. Pathetic if she remembered she wasn't twenty-three anymore, but four years older. Then again, she had married the love of her life years ago, when she joined the F.B.I. Miles often joked that she did in fact married the job; little did he know how right he was. Abby was born to hunt them down and catch them. She was a predator, all wrapped up into a nice disguise, extra senses included.
As Morgan closed the door behind him, she rapidly lit another smoke and let her mind run freely, her thoughts immediately chasing their tails, the rollercoaster starting, taking her for a ride and spin around her world. Deep down, way past the lust and desire, beyond the little bug that had nestled near her head and told it and her consciousness this was something else, deep down into the dark abyss of her mind and feelings, she knew something was wrong. What they were doing was going to hurt them, more than either of them intended, more than either of them could imagine. She ran worst case scenarios through her head, but none matched the peril feeling that was steady with her like her own heartbeat. Especially not when she realised that instead of already, slowly, starting to get familiar which led to the dullness and that caused the boringness, he only started to fascinate her more. Brutally, she realised, he was her forest fire and she was the wind had set them, or herself, on fire. She could make him as interesting as she wanted or lay still and let it be put out. Then again, Abby always had a thing for fire and heat.
---
Friday.
07.56
The young genius leant against Abby's desk, unaware of his surroundings and any other presence, reading a book that seemed too interesting to put down, waiting for his fellow genius. Prentiss and JJ had gathered around the black haired female's desk, snickering as they said something – girl talk. Abby spotted Hotch and Rossi on the higher level in his office, discussing something that required a lot of stern and gruff glares and pauses before speaking. Garcia joined Abby just before she entered the B.A.U. and the blonde smiled at her while holding a stack of files.
"Morning Frankie."
"Morning Garcia."
"How' you doin'?"
"I fine, how are you?"
"Good."
They made it a game to make their morning greetings sound as annoying and daily as they could, pronouncing every consonant seconds longer than needed, their voices higher pitched than usual. After they had done that, they would switch back to normal.
"Hé, I heard you were cleared by the doc, congrats."
Abby smiled.
"Thanks." Both women approached the bullpens and they were greeted by the two other agents that awaited the urgentness of their newest case. Reid was still oblivious to the rest of the world and Abby walked up to him as she put her backpack on the wooden desk. "The Crocco transformation."
Reid looked up at her, not even startled. He smiled and showed the book. "Order reduction and construction of Bäcklund transformations and new integrable equations. It's fascinating, really."
"I don't get how partial differential equations can be fascinating genius."
"Don't you hold a PhD in Mathematics?"
"Yeah. And I always found functional-differential equations much more fun."
"I think both of them are boring." Garcia mingled into the conversation and her eyes went over the open page. "Wow, way too many numbers for my personal taste."
Reid and Abby laughed at the tech before Abby sat down and Reid sat down on her desk, immediately starting to discuss the nonlinear equation of convective thermal conduction with a parabolic, Poiseuille-type velocity profile and the brilliance of applying it to reduce the order of the plane boundary-layer equations. She was too caught up in her conversation to hear Morgan enter, and she and Spencer didn't notice him until the three remaining women assembled around his desk.
"With whom were you this morning?" JJ's question caused Abby to look up at the gorgeous man in front of her abruptly but his eyes didn't meet hers, they were focused on the women before him that watched him like a fly caught in a spider's web.
"Oh, you had a date?" Garcia grinned wickedly as she cornered Morgan behind his desk, Prentiss and JJ doing the same.
"Nobody."
"Nobody. Really?" Prentiss' voice was drenched in disbelieve and she shared looks with JJ.
"That's not what it sounded like."
"Oh my God, you were with her while you were on the phone."
Morgan closed his eyes temporarily and raised his hand in defence in Garcia's direction, who glanced from JJ to Morgan in shock. "Okay, I was with a girl but we weren't doing anything when you called." The last part was directed towards JJ and they chuckled, smiling evilly and wickedly.
"Spit it out handsome."
"Hot?" Prentiss' eyes locked with Morgan and they had a staring battle for a brief moment. Morgan obviously surrendered and lowered his hand. Then again, the smile across his lips that appeared for a split second, unseen by the common eye, said it all. 'I had such a good time last night.' 'Last night was great.' 'Last night was fun.' 'Last night was good.'
"Smoking."
"And the sex?"
"None of your business."
Reid's mien was a mixture of awkwardness and confusion as he realised what they were talking about. In the meantime, the four women of the B.A.U. team looked at each other and started laughing.
"That's code for mind blowing." She did her best not to look guilty nor made a suspect of herself. Morgan threw a pen in Abby's direction which caused them to laugh even more.
"I don't hear any denial there, Morgan."
"Prentiss, shut up."
"Guys." Hotch called out to them from the upper level, Rossi next to him as they marched towards the conference room.
"Once again, his timing sucks. Well, back to work. We'll hear the juicy details later."
The blonde media liaison snorted at Garcia's comment before they broke up their united stand and let Morgan be. He and Abby were the last to follow and she couldn't resist the urge, keeping her voice down as she spoke.
"Mind blowing, eh?"
"Don't start."
"Uhum."
He smacked her head with the case file and jogged up the stairs, Abby close behind, flashes of his naked body in her bed shortly invading her mind.
---
Wednesday, five days later.
04.55
Their case had taken them to Seattle where a rich, wealthy and cheating business man decided to take matters into his own hands when his mistress' united and turned against him. He got to killing five of them within nine days when the first two bodies were discovered. The moment he realised the F.B.I. was breathing down his neck, he got nervous, careless and sloppy. It was actually rather easy to catch him, was it not that he killed another two of his courtesans.
Now, it was almost five o'clock in the morning and Abby stared out the window, watching the clouds underneath the plane, floating around aimlessly. She had tried to get some sleep, but her cell phone had buzzed a couple of hours ago, before boarding the plane, and the content of the email she received had been horrifying. This time, it were several pictures, exposing and deep edged, cutting into her body flawlessly and without any problem. Every time she closed her eyes, they loomed up before her eyes and stole her sleep, leaving her restless and absentminded. Reid laid on a row of chairs before her, hugging the book that he had been reading before drifting off into a deep sleep. She smiled at the image and wondered how someone could remain so gentle, so clean, not at all seeming affected by the terror that they witnessed every day. She knew there was more to him than met the eye, she knew that his always working mind took him places he didn't want to go like an involuntary train ride through Horror Land. And yet, there he was. Two years younger than Abby, sleeping like a baby in a plane at an altitude of over 30,000 feet. Would he become just like her? Did he carry the same curse that came with their vehement intelligence?
Next to her, she heard some muffled sounds as JJ was rudely awoken and grabbed her phone. She was the only one allowed to have her cell phone on during flights. Seeing she was the team's liaison, she needed to be reached at all time. Like now, JJ, still weary and sleepy, answered her phone, a few seconds passed and she was immediately awake, sitting up straight and grabbing a pen and a piece of paper.
"Everything okay?"
JJ had hung up. Abby's voice surprised her and their eyes met.
"No, not really."
"Is it Henry?"
"No, no, not like that." She shook her head and smiled at Abby's concern.
"New case, they need us."
"What, now?"
"Yeah. Now." JJ stood up and woke Hotch up to inform him about the latest activities. Then, she headed towards the cockpit to give them a new destination. Abby stood up, leaving the unfazed doctor Reid behind and walked towards the front section of the flying object.
"Hey Chief."
Hotch had been busy with the laptop, probably getting everything ready for Garcia to talk them through whatever they knew about the case.
"Hey. I thought you were sleeping."
"Ya, so did I." Abby sat down opposite of her boss as JJ returned.
"We'll have to land in Minneapolis to fuel up."
"Okay. Call Garcia, have her find out what she can."
"On it."
"That bad, huh?"
JJ had distanced herself, returning to her seat with the phone pressed against her ear. Hotch glanced at her, his expression unreadable. She couldn't place it. Abby squinted and bit her lower lip. "It's either an old case, the presidents life' is at stake or a terrorist attack."
"Bomber."
"That falls under the category terrorist attack, right?"
The subject wasn't funny at all, the fact that Abby made it a game to figure out what new terrible thing needed their attention was perverted, hence there must have been something in the way she said it. The right side of Hotch' mouth shortly lifted and his lips formed themselves into a sorry excuse for a smile, but a smile nonetheless.
"Would you mind waking them up?"
She looked to the other side of the plane and it just happened that Morgan sat in that chair, wearing his headphones, his legs pulled up underneath him. She looked back at Hotch and grinned.
"My pleasure sir."
---
Wednesday.
05.33
"Sorry guys, looks like that day off will have to wait."
JJ sat in the center of attention, the team gathered around, all holding mugs, steam arising from them, some held back their yawns and rubbed their eyes.
"Boston just called, in one week two local high schools have been damaged by small bombs. Last night, Emerson College was targeted where a reunion took place. So far, eleven people were injured, three dead." The pretty blonde opened her mouth to continue after the laptop showed part of the damage in a few pictures.
"Wait, did you say Boston?" All eyes were suddenly turned towards Abby and she mentally smacked herself for blurting out like that again.
"Yes."
"Is that a problem, Scott?"
She nervously scratched the back of her hand as Hotch's penetrating eyes ate her alive. "No, sir. It's just-... It's snowing in Boston."
"So?"
Abby waited a few seconds before answering her boss, hoping that the plane would crash or Garcia would interrupt them with news or Reid would spit out some statistic. When no one did, she felt their eyes burning into her body and replied. "I hate snow. Really hate it."
"Better dress warm then Frankie." Luckily, Prentiss chuckled as she said it and Abby must have looked embarrassed enough for Hotch to let it slide.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to blurt it out like that."
"How can you not like snow?" Garcia's face reappeared on the computer screen, looking great as always despite the crazy early hour and her abrupt wake up call.
"Hey, I was raised in Atlanta. I like warm weather."
"Do we know what type of bomb we're dealing with?" Morgan's voice echoed through the conversation and both woman stopped talking, being reminded of the case.
"No. But this.. This was a big bomb."
"Not really baby girl."
She dared to glance in his direction, her eyes being filled with the image of the ever so handsome Derek Morgan. It had been six days since their 'encounter' and so far, nothing had happened since. Not for the lack of wanting, Abby's hands were itching to be in contact with his bare skin again and she walked around with a strange sense of sexual arousal whenever he was near, which was pretty much all the time. They hadn't talked about it, as it should, but she had been looking for some sort of recognition. During the late hours of the night, she had let her thoughts chew on the matter, thinking of reasons why or how. Perhaps he thought it had been indeed been a mistake. It didn't explain how he had acted the next morning though. Then, there was the nefarious idea that he had fallen in love with her and was now restraining himself. That would be consistent with how he had acted. Then again, she knew for sure that Derek Morgan wasn't the guy that would fall in love that easily, not after a one-night-stand, and definitely not with a woman like her.
Maybe this was his way of protecting himself against losing it in their downward spiralling abyss of desire and yearns; the lust too wicked for either of them to understand. That could be the case. And then was the other possibility, the one she had spent the least attention too because quite frankly, she didn't really want it to be the case. There was a chance that their night was exactly just what it was; a one-night-stand. One night. One night and one night only, nothing more, just one night filled with passionate sex and that was it. End of story, goodbye, the end. But it wasn't it, it wasn't the end for it needed to go on much longer. At least that was how Abby saw it. She needed more late night sex, more lingering hands, more kisses to devour her, more talents to drive her crazy and over the edge. No man was able to handle Abby like he could and he didn't even notice it.
"Lab says that it are simple pipe bombs filled with homemade TNT." Garcia spoke as her fingers hit the keys, the clattering sound coming from the computer's speaker.
"Homemade TNT?" Rossi leant in and looked at Morgan. He was, after all, their bomb expert. Instead, Reid suddenly started talking.
"It's actually not that hard to make. If you look it up on the internet, like Wikipedia or even Google, you get the complete formula, properties, boiling point, CAS number, even an EU index number. Anyone with a basic chemistry knowledge and knows how to read molecular formula should know how to make it."
"That's great. And they call Boston the 'Athens of America', over a hundred colleges and universities in the Greater Boston Area alone."
Reid smiled at Abby's sarcasm and he added more facts to their lists. "250,000 Students in Boston and Cambridge, in college only."
"That's a long list of suspects."
Both geniuses nodded at Prentiss' comment and Abby figured that the list would only get longer as professors, teachers and researchers would have to be added as well. They needed to build their profile quickly to eliminate people. "It's kinda ironic though, I mean, after the Boston Bomb Scare in oh-seven, there's a serial bomber in Boston?"
"Boston Bomb Scare?"
"January thirty-first. battery-powered LED placards were placed all over the city for a publicity stunt of Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theatres, based on a TV show called 'Aqua Teen Hunger Force'. People mistook them for bombs and mass panic emerged. Nothing really happened but they got a good scare."
Abby and Reid stared at Morgan flabbergasted, for once not being the ones to spurt out the facts, whilst he explained to Prentiss what the Boston Bombs Scare meant. The man looked at the two images opposite of him and raised his eyebrows. "What, you think you're the only ones that know something?"
"So, what do we have on bombers?" Rossi's question remained unanswered as Reid and Abby both looked at Morgan, who in his turn, eyed them back when none of them spoke.
"Why don't you guys pick someone?" - Abby twisted her face as she spoke, before nudging the man sitting next to her – "Reid, go."
"Mostly male, record of criminal activity. Fifty per cent of the bombings are actually just vandalism. They are highly non-confrontational and quick to apologize, even if it wasn't their fault. They are usually very organized and of average intelligence. He would have a job that allows him to work alone. Both Ted Kaczynski and Eric Robert Rudolph were outsiders and were cognitive and socially isolated. Ted Kaczynski, or the Unabomber, even went so far that he complete cut himself from the outside world and lived in the wilderness, without electricity or running water. They are classis narcissists and often psychopaths. The bombers are all about power and control which allows them to be the most important in their self-centered world view. Eric Robert Rudolph called himself the Roman Catholic and believed to fight in a war again the holocaust, which referred to abortion."
"There are three different types for bombers. The terrorist, whom only wishes to spread fear and will mostly attack public places. Then there is the politically motivated who is making a statement and will have particular targets. Last there is the direct motive with particular victims and bombs designed to kill. So far, only during the Unsub's last attack people were killed. It's safe to say that he did not intend to kill at first, which rules out the last type."
All eyes had been focused on Hotch and even Garcia listened quietly. Abby ran the list down in her head and made her notes, making sure she remembered everything she thought. "Not to forget, they could easily blow themselves up by accident so the first victims should always be considered suspects. And, most importantly, they are incredible cowards. Most likely to kill themselves before getting caught."
"If he's politically motivated, he clearly has a grudge against school, education or anything related. Could be a parents protesting against a certain law or school rules."
"We'll have to see if there's a connection between the schools."
Prentiss' followed up after Rossi and added her two cents. Garcia already started typing before Hotch could speak.
"Garcia, start looking."
"On it boss."
"He could also just be a terrorist. Maybe he wants the attention. Student crying out for help, maybe."
Abby shrugged as she spoke, not sure if what she said made any sense. The night train laughed though, hollow and cruel, and she knew there was something in what just had been said that was important.
"Morgan, you and Scott go to Emerson College. Reid, you, me and JJ will go to the station and set up shop. JJ and I will start looking at victimology and the schools, Reid, set up a geographical profile. Rossi and Prentiss, interview the victim's families but visit the hospital first, I want to know what happened last night."
The nodded in unison, like good little soldiers, getting ready for war.
---
Wednesday.
09.07
Abby ran her hands over her face, slowly letting them glide downwards, the arctic touch of her fingers sending shivers over her body. She had managed to keep her swearing to a minimum when the plane landed; only Reid had heard her and had chuckled constantly, causing the rest of the team wonder what was going on. Upon seeing Abby's face, Prentiss started laughing and JJ invited her to make a snowman. 'It's snowing in Boston' had been an understatement. Boston was, way too early in the season, covered under a thick blanket of large snowflakes. The scenery was, to most people, enchanting and beautiful, but when they overlooked the city through the plane's windows, all Abby saw were wet socks, a red and cold nose, freezing fingers and dying toes. It had also been an understatement when Abby said she hated snow. She held an avid sense of execration and revulsion for the type of weather and if it was up to her, she moved to Florida and took the SCU with her to never see anything so white and pure again. Or should it be the BAU, now?
Next to her, in the driver's seat, Morgan chuckled as he looked at her.
"What are you laughing about?"
"Oh, someone is in a bad mood."
"It's friggin' cold, my feet are freezing, I haven't slept in three days and the lack of nicotine in my brain is reaching a dangerously low level. Turn right, here. I might go into anaphylactic shock."
"Anaphylactic shock?"
"My body's used to a certain base of nicotine. Emerson is the other right."
"I heard you. You wanna walk around in your polyester, dark grey jacket?"
"Hey, it matches my trousers. And, it was a gift."
"You look good in a suit."
Abby laughed. "A suit? This is not a suit."
"Fine, then what do you call it?"
"The feminine vision of a career woman."
This time, it was Morgan's time to laugh and she couldn't help to smile at herself as well. She covered it up by placing her hand in front of her mouth, picking up a faint scent of her cigarettes. Despite the snow, even perhaps because of it, the sun shined brightly and both agents wore their sunglasses, gaining anonymity, raising their professional status. The black SUV they drove did help with that. Morgan moved in his seat and next to Abby, her window suddenly went down a few inches, cool air immediately invading the car. She faced Morgan, opening her mouth for a snappy comment, wondering if she was amusing him, but closed it again when he held her pack of smokes in his hand, dangling it in front of her face.
"Just keep the nasty cloud of nicotine away from me."
He said it teasingly but Abby made it a mental note to not blow smoke in his direction and smoke discreetly whenever he was around. Derek Morgan was not a man she wanted to piss off. Quickly and hastily, she placed a fag between her lips, flicking open her Zippo. When the cigarette was lit, she inhaled deeply and moaned satisfied, leaning back into the car seat. The smoke remained in her lungs until she had to breathe again, her eyes still closed and she smiled.
"Enjoying yourself, Scott?"
"That was better than any orgasm I've ever had."
"Really?"
"Definitely."
His finger brushed past the side of her hand, a jolt of electricity suddenly pulsing through her body, her heartbeat rapidly increasing, a wave of arousal overwhelming her and the space in her chest tightened. Unaware, she took gasped for breath and held it, still without her knowledge, as her head span around in sensation. It hadn't been an accident and both of them were too quiet to possibly try to argue that it was. Instead, Abby corrected herself in her head ('That was better than any orgasm I've ever had') and smoked in silence.
---
Wednesday.
09.56
They now sat in the SUV, the car coming to a halt as they parked in front of the school, both wearing thick and warm coats and Abby had bought ten extra pairs of socks, already wearing two of them. Shamelessly, she had grabbed anything that could keep her warm, even an extra blanket for in the hotel, and looked away when paying the cashier. Morgan had watched the woman with an entertained sheer in his eyes, who in her turn ignored his dazzling smile and sparkling orbs. She did, however, managed to threaten to kill him if he ever told Reid about her spastic buying attack, as she had claimed that she would be fine. Abby's partner had raised his hands, holding back his chuckle and swore he wouldn't.
"This place is deserted."
Abby had stepped out of the car, closed the door and taken a few steps into the school's direction. She turned around slowly but was unable to spot any human activity. The street was dark and partially closed with police tape. As she looked around, a familiar feeling tapped on her shoulder. She knew this was the calm before the storm. Inside, it would be worse. The silence would be deafening and the absence of the joy and laughter a college usually brought would cut through the air flawlessly.
"It's kinda creepy."
"Welcome into the world of serial bombers."
"Seriously?"
"How many times have you dealt with serial bombers?"
Morgan had joined her and they walked towards the entrance.
"Had my share, but not too many. One with the DEA, which was actually just a drug lord that got his hands on TNT accidentally. Four with the SCU, over a three year period. You guys kept beating us to them."
He snorted and followed her gaze through the street.
It was a small street, several cars parked on the side, one lane into one direction, two in the other. Opposite of the college laid a park, the trees white and the grass buried underneath snow. Abby could barely distinct the headstones from the rest of the land as she suddenly noticed the park was actually a cemetery. The building was about nine floors high and it looked rather misplaced in such a narrow street. It was as if she had landed in nineteen century Paris; foggy, smoggy and dusty. If she hadn't known she was in Boston, standing before a school, she would have looked for the prostitutes and the men waiting to rob the wealthy, lost business man or the drunken hooker. Still, she had to admit, the edifice was imposing. That is, despite the yellow tape that somehow shielded the building from the outside world.
"Brings up memories, Scott?"
"Ha. No, I was actually lucky when it came down to being a prodigy in school."
"How's that?"
"I dropped out of high school when I was fifteen. Came back a year later to finish it all in one year, including college. I kicked ass, but I was, as far as I could be, a rather normal person. Now, Reid, man, I don't even know where to begin. Twelve year olds do not belong in high school."
"You dropped out of high school?"
"Yeah. Puberty."
They had reached the front door and Morgan opened it, stepping aside to let Abby in first. Inside, the school was just as abandoned. "Last time I checked, puberty doesn't make teenagers drop out of high school."
"I was a terrible teen." She quickened her pace, not enough to make it look like she was in a hurry or trying to get away, enough to remain professional and in control. Morgan didn't need to know. Apparently, he got the message as he dropped the matter and they followed the hallway. At the end of it, a person appeared around the corner and walked up to meet them.
"Are you the people from the FBI?"
"Yes sir."
The man was short and skinny, his beard white and round glasses on the bridge of his nose. He smelled of pipe tobacco and Abby spotted the golden cord of a pocket watch across his chest. The elder man extended his hand and both agents shook it as Morgan did the introductions.
"Agent Derek Morgan, this is agent Abby Scott."
"Professor"- Abby smiled briefly – "Witkinds. I got a call from the director of the school. He couldn't be here himself."
"We understood he got injured last night."
Abby and Morgan followed professor Witkinds as he guided them to what they assumed was the bomb site. "Yes, it's a shame really. It were only minor injuries but the hospital decided to keep some victims overnight because of the smoke and all."
"I'm sorry to hear that professor."
They had reached the large hall but the professor didn't open the door. Abby could still smell the burnt wood and practically hear the screams.
"Well, it's behind this door. It's a shame what happened. This hall is one of the prides of this school, the damage is repairable, but restoring it back to its original shape is practically undoable." – he sighed deeply and stared at the door once more – "If you don't mind, I've got urgent business to attend to."
"Of course not, professor. Thank you." Abby did her best to smile friendly as the man left. She followed him with her eyes before turning back to Morgan. She leant in his direction when he reached out to open the doors.
"That's why I hated school, did all of it in practically one year. I hated the professors. They never liked me neither."
"I wonder why."
She didn't see his sarcastic grin and replied oblivious.
"Because I was smarter than them, always knew better. To be honest, I think I was quite a pain-"
Abby punched Derek's upper arm once she noticed the look on his face. He chuckled, lifted the yellow tape and opened the doors that lead to a whole new world, one that was not supposed to exist in schools.
The main hall was large, the ceiling high and Victorian decorated. Dirty green wallpaper, beige swirling flowers and golden lines. The room was impressive and functioned as a reception hall for new students, gatherings, graduation ceremonies and meetings. Last night, the room was used for a reunion party for students of class 2000. Balloons still brightened the room, chairs pushed aside to make space on the dancing floor. Several large, long tables were still buried underneath plates of food and bowls with pink-like punch screaming high school teen series. Confetti particles were spread around on the dark, solid, teak wood floor. Abby stopped in the middle of the room and glanced around. Festoons, paper lanterns, colourful banners and cheery flags preserved a meaning, a purpose that was supposed to be a big blast. None could have thought that it would have been taken seriously. Abby pictured the DJ on the stage, his hand in the air as music filled up the room, overcoming the steady chattering rush.
She stood still, her back towards the blast site, unsure of wanting to turn around. She was afraid of the memories it might recall upon, the smell alone, already reminiscent of days in the rain, mosquitoes buzzing around her head, silent coughs of exhaustion and still, sharp, shrewd eyes through the bushes. Morgan wandered around the ballroom and she heard the small debris under his feet gnarl, crisping like the snow had done minutes before. As she closed her eyes, she could practically hear the party, the laughter of joy, the chatting, the dancing and the music, reverberating in her ears. They did not have particular details about last night, on the plane they had a few minutes to look at the reports and photos Boston PD had faxed, but they were mostly flying blind. So she closed her eyes and imagined what would have happened.
The air vibrating, light and full of felicity, once again reunited, the summoned memoirs casting a reddish, bright glow over the scenery. Everything was fine, everything was good. Suddenly, out of the blue, a blast with the sound of a freight train came from the corner, behind Abby. Chaos and panic erupted like magma spouting from volcanoes, directionality was jumbled, people ran across the room, trying to get away. After a few seconds, the screaming begun, full of agony, fear and deep pain, skin scorched, sights blinded, curtains on fire, blood flowing and the putrid stench of burning corpses excoriated through Abby's nostrils. Her eyes popped open and she turned around, remaining silent all the while, cocking her head to the side as she approached the dark circle of ash and burn marks, traces of footsteps grouped around where the blood was distinctive.
The blast was big, big enough to leave visible marks, but the building still stood, the high ceiling was barely touched by the licking flames, the wallpaper scrabbled and torn on numerous places and black and parched, but the most damaged had been done to the floor, the table closest to the bomb completely destroyed. Scorch marks and holes told a tale of destruction and impact. Overall, the whole scene didn't make a lot of sense. Morgan had squatted down partly in the circle of dust and Abby put on a pair of blues gloves. She picked up a piece of a structure, wiping off the dirt as she tried to determine what it was.
"We're gonna need pictures of how it looked before."
Abby only nodded and continued to stare at the weird object in her hands.
"What's that?"
"I have no clue, but it's scattered everywhere according to the crime scene photos."
"Could be what contained the bomb."
"Talking about that bomb, how on earth could the UnSub have smuggled it inside?"
"If you look at the blast radius, it wasn't a big bomb. The TNT made the blast this big. He could have easily carried it in a backpack or something similar."
"So, he shows up at a party, walks right in with his backpack, places the bomb, takes off. Boom."
Abby made a motion with her hands, expanding the width of her arms, portraying an explosion. Morgan looked at her shortly before he stood up.
"I'll call JJ about the pictures and if there was a guest list. Otherwise, he would have to have entered through a backdoor or something. There's no real security, I doubt there were more than three security guards last night."
"What makes you say that?"
"They're adults, grownups. There were a couple of teachers, the dean. It's a small school, I don't think they were expecting anything."
"He took advantage of the situation. He could have known all about it."
"That means he could be a student or one of the students of class 2000."
"Or he's been watching."
---
"One is not exposed to danger who, even when in safety is always on their guard."
Publilius Syrus