Hi! Exams are finally over and holiday break has begun…queue time to write!

A few weeks ago I watched The Lovely Bones and Secret in their Eyes, two phenomenal films. This one is inspired by both.

! - This story will be dark. Very dark. Watch the two movies and you'll see.

Warning: Character Death

Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Nobody notices when we leave. I mean, the moment when we really choose to go. At best you might feel a whisper, or the wave of a whisper, undulating down.

-Susie Salmon

1

Derek awoke to the startling scream of his cell, which was resting on the nightstand next to his bed. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes and read the screen: Hotch. He reached for the phone and sat up.

"Hotch?"

"I know it's early, but Harrisonburg P.D. called, they found another body."

Harrisonburg, Virginia. Police noticed a trend, every two years a working girl was found raped and strangled in a relatively public area. Recently, the victims went from high-risk victims to low-risk women. Businesswomen, lawyers, and doctors were his latest targets.

Hotch continued. "I'd like you and Dave to check it out. The rest of us will wrap up the Atlanta case and we'll fly out if needed."

Derek was already out of bed and pulling on a pair of jeans with one hand while he held the phone up to his ear. "You'll call Dave?"

"Yes. He's already aware. He's expecting you at six."

Derek slid the phone into his pocket as he picked out a black t-shirt. He grabbed his go-bag from the floor in the closet, quickly grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen and made his way to the garage.

Then, sitting in his car while he waited for it to warm up, he texted her.

'Going to Harrisonburg. See you later.'

To Emily. It had been no secret that the two had grown much closer over the last few months. They'd passed the platonic friendship and were going full speed towards a romantic one. Sometimes it scared Derek, to be getting so damn close to her. But he could not hold it back any longer, and neither could she.

Yesterday, they had the day off. It was a crisp Saturday, free of serial killers, death and heartache. A break from the horrid crimes they dealt with on a daily basis. He'd taken Emily to one of his projects, a small little cabin on the outskirts of the city. He'd been renovating it for close to ten months now and she had expressed some interest in seeing it, so, he took her.

"You did all this?" She asked, her mouth gaping open.

He smiled. "Yeah. You wanna see the kitchen?"

Her eyes lit up, her mouth closing to form a small smile. "Lead the way."

He guided her around the staircase and into a subtle-blue painted room, the walls lined with wooden cabinets and grey granite tops.

"So, this is where you spend your free time?" She asked as she ran her hand over the counter tops, while she gazed at the freshly sanded wood.

Derek leaned back against the doorframe and shrugged. "I guess. It clears my mind."

"How so?"

"It's about the furthest I can get from killers and death, don't you think?" She raised her eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue. "I come here after a case and get to tear down walls, smash out old cabinets and then get to decorate the place however I want. When I'm done, I sell it."

"Sounds…satisfying." Emily said with a ghost of a smile.

"You want to…help me on my next project?" He asked tentatively. "I already have another property."

"You think I would be good at this?" She said, her hand motioned to the kitchen.

"You kick down doors everyday." He said with a grin. "Besides, you can come to keep me company."

"I think that's more of your job." She took a step towards him.

"That is…?"

"Kicking down doors."

He followed her lead and stepped towards her. "It's easier with two legs kicking."

Before either of them could stop it, their lips engulfed into a passionate dance.

"Why haven't we been called in before? They have eleven bodies now." Derek said.

Dave kept his eyes on the road. "There's only one every two years. That's a span of twenty-two years. Detectives found the first body in 1989, forensic evidence was new. They didn't connect the bodies until the 90's."

"The first eight victims were working girls. Nobody was looking for them." Derek said. "He's only began taking low-risk women in the last six years."

"What do you think made him change?"

Derek sighed. "Maybe he got bored? Wanted them to put up a fight? The working-girls all had a variety of drugs in their systems. Wouldn't give him much of a fight."

"Does the latest one had defensive wounds?"

"I don't know. They haven't sent crime scene photos yet." Derek closed the file. "Hotch said their forensics team hasn't processed the evidence yet."

"What about the body?"

"Still at the dump site. Hotch told 'em we would want to see it for ourselves."

"Smart man."

Derek turned his attention to the scenery passing them outside his window. Trees and shrubs flew past, becoming green flashes. The sun was shining bright, a beautiful fall day.

Two and a half hours later, Dave pulled up to the scene. Yellow tape and police cars protected the essential piece of the puzzle.

"You guys must be the FBI."

Derek stuck out his hand to the older man. "Derek Morgan and David Rossi."

"Your unit chief told us to leave the body," he shifted his gaze to slightly behind him. "she's right over there."

Dave nodded and he walked off to take a look. From behind him, he could hear Derek asking about the time of death and if they had any suspects. Dave walked into the parking garage, passing a few officers on his way in.

The garage was dimly lit and smelled of death. From what they had been told, this was just his dumpsite. There was a second location, which they had not found yet, where he raped and beat them.

Approaching the body, Dave felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over him. Squatting down, he folded the tarp over to reveal her face.

His stomach dropped and he vomited.

…

"Do you have any ideas as to how long he keeps them?" Derek asked.

"Most of the women were reported missing anywhere from six to ten hours before their bodies were found. He's fast."

"He doesn't get off on the prolonged suffering…" Derek observed.

"There's evidence of brutal assault on every victim. Our M.E. speculates it's repeatedly."

"He gets off on the sexual torture." Derek said. "Are all the dumpsites this public?"

The deputy nodded. "He likes parking garages. Or garbage bins behind restaurants. Shelly Thompson, the 2005 vic, she was found in the park."

Before Derek could ask another question, Dave was walking out of the garage.

"It looks like our guy is a sexual sadist, Rossi. He rapes—"

Derek then looked up and saw Dave's wide eyes. "Hey, man, what's wrong?"

Dave looked down, a small, choked sob escaped his mouth.

"Rossi?" Derek's heart raced and panic rose.

"Derek…it's…" Rossi took another breath. "it's Emily."

Derek took a step back, shaking his head. "No." He refused to believe it.

"It's Emily, Derek." Dave reached out to touch Morgan's arm, but the younger agent took another step back.

Derek's body felt numb, like he was floating. He tore his arm away from Rossi and began his sprint into the garage. Within seconds he was standing next to the body. He knelt down and peeled the tarp away, praying with everything in him that Rossi had been mistaken.

It was not a mistake.

When he revealed her face, he felt the most unimaginable pain in his chest. His heart was exploding. He sobbed. "No!"

Without thinking, Derek pulled her lifeless body onto his lap, cradling her head in his hands. "No! No!"

"Derek, Derek!" Rossi called from behind him, logically thinking that he was contaminating the evidence, but realizing that Derek couldn't control himself in this moment. He knew the nature of their relationship. He wasn't sure if the rest of the team knew, but that didn't matter now.

Derek continued to wrap his arms around Emily's body, moving her so her head was resting in the crook of his neck. Sobs and screams continuously poured from his body. He felt the blue rubber separating his skin from hers and an overwhelming need to touch her washed over him.

Rossi watched as Derek ripped of the blue gloves and when they were finally off, he ran his fingers through her dark, damp hair and over her arm, sobbing into her dark locks. His sobs were the only thing audible in the garage. Dave's head hung low, as well as the other officers and what was left of the forensics team. Nobody knew what to do in that moment, other than remain quiet as the grief of Derek Morgan wailed through the garage.

"My sweet girl," He cried, "My sweet, sweet girl."

Dave could not think. Hell, he could not breathe. Because Emily Prentiss was no longer with them.