A/N: I was going to wait until I had a few chapters of the story after this one(yes there's even more to come) but I can't help myself. I miss all your great reviews! More Reid whump, though this story came out a little different than what I'd expected. Eagerly awaiting your reviews!

Chapter 1

Heat washed over the city like a swarm of locust. He waited patiently watching the world move around him. No one noticed him as he sat still as a statue. He loved the thrill of being unnoticed like a leopard in the grass selecting its antelope to devour. Mother's with their children on their way to the geyser fountain to cool down, business people over dressed running to escape into the air conditioning again, and an ice cream vendor circling the park court another predator circling for prey.

"Pistachio gelato if you would please." He savored the cold with the hot and pulled his fedora farther over his eyes. No one noticed as he sauntered into the newly constructed building, still awaiting the painters, closed off from the public. They were all too busy fleeing the heat. He was in no hurry as he climbed the stairs to the twenty fifth floor and wandered from room to room until he found the window perch that felt like home. He hummed while he set up the tripod. He handled the rifle with loving tenderness careful to check that each part was pristine before he put them together. "Hmmm, which one, which one?" he sung peering through the scope at the little ants below waiting for him to fry them. It wasn't going to be that easy though. He hadn't found the perfect combination. It had to be right. It was twilight by the time it felt right. He cut a perfect little square out of the new glass and set the rifle onto the sill. He took slow deep breaths savoring the sweet summer air and cracked it mercilessly with four bullets.

Reid sat crossed legged in silence surrounded by a stack of books. To on-lookers he looked like a child with a fort of books built up around him. The library was blessedly cold compared to the triple digit weather beyond its doors. He finished one book and picked up another, taking a moment to rub his belly to soothe it. He didn't have a reason why stabbing pains coursed through it. A few minutes later he was halfway through the book and paused to wipe sweat from his face. He was determined to deny his illness to the last. The phone bleeped with a text message disturbing the quiet.

We got a case, Sniper.

He sighed disappointed. If it was this hot in the library he couldn't imagine what it would be outside or at the office. It took him no time at all to finish the book then re-shelve the ones he'd finished already. In the parking lot he took a moment to wipe away the sweat with a wet cloth he was keeping in a cooler with ice getting a brief relief from the fever he wasn't accepting existed.

"Good morning my lovelies enjoy the goodies. It'll be better than this case" they sat around the table with cartons of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Reid had cookie dough carton and was eating him slowly trying to ignore the little needles working through his stomach.

"What've we got today baby girl?"

"Okay, we've got four dead in New York. They were shot between the eyes."

"All the victims are black? Could it be some kind of hate crime?" JJ asked.

"Maybe, the ages don't match up. I mean a twenty-three year old, fifty-five, sixty, and nineteen."

"Do they have any commonalities in life?"

"Well they're similar socio-economic status but so far I'm not seeing any direct connections but I'll keep looking." Garcia clicked away her usual chipper self.

"So a sniper in New York, this is going to be a feeding frenzy with the media." Morgan grumbled. They all hated the buzz of the news reporters.

"Wheels up in thirty." Hotch wasn't in the mood for chatter. He had that ache in his bones he got when a case didn't just go bad but went completely off the rails bad.

"Hey man, you alright?" Spencer startled out of his light doze. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm good. Why?" He sat up again catch the book that had been resting in his lap.

"You're sick. Don't think we don't see it. You've been walking around like you're sixty and don't think I haven't seen those pepto bottles you've been sneaking around all week." Derek reached into his bag snatching the evidentiary half-drunk bottle of Peptobismol.

"Maybe I just like the flavor." Spencer just argued.

"So instead of chewing on some cheap bubblegum for the flavor you drink this stuff?" Morgan shot him a queer disbelieving look.

"Yes." Reid tried to stare him down confidently but sweat dripped into his eye and made him blink.

"Get some sleep or I'll have to tell Garcia." Spencer cringed at the threat. Between the kidnapping by Chaplin and Chadwick she'd been over protective. It didn't matter that he was off all his heart meds and deemed as physically fit as he'd ever been. Reid didn't listen, choosing to finish his book instead. He made it a few chapters before he went running to the restroom and spent the last twenty minutes of the flight vomiting. He washed his face and neck then drank the last half of his bottle. Derek gave him that knowing stare as they exited.

"Shut up." Morgan chuckled.

"Drink plenty of fluids." Spencer accepted the water bottle with a bit of a pout ignoring the inquisitive look the others sent them. Water did help with his stomach when it wasn't making him sick. The heat wave had followed them like an unwelcome visitor.

"Did someone move the bodies?" Reid asked circling the scene. It seemed odd to him.

"No Sir the photos show exactly where they were when they were shot." The local officer confirmed. "Why?"

"It's just odd seeing the victims all in a straight line. Normally a sniper jumps around to different quadrants of the kill zone." Reid elaborated.

"Was anyone able say which direction they heard the shots?" Derek looked up at the surrounding buildings. Any one of them could provide a perch.

"According to witnesses there were not shots. They just dropped."

"No shots at all? Maybe he used a silencer?"

"Could be, if he did it shows some serious premeditation. He's probably highly organized as well."

"Aren't all snipers creatures of organization?"

"The discipline required to become a skilled sniper does tend to require a high level of focus and organization but it's not a guarantee." Hotchner explained. Derek's phone rang.

"Talk to me PG. Alright thanks." He turned to the rest of the team. "There's been another shooting."

"It's only been a day. This guy moves fast."

"How many are dead?" Rossi asked stealing the only sliver of shade.

"Two dead this time, both black again."

"Only two this time, that's odd to go down in kills for a sniper." Hotch mused.

"Maybe his signature isn't about how many kills at a long range but the sequence of kills." Rossi suggested.

"Like he's killing in the sequence of pi?" Reid postulated.

"I hope not, then only Robo-Boy will recognize the pattern." Morgan grumbled making everyone grin, especially with his confused pout at being mocked.

"Reid, Morgan you go to the new scene. JJ you get a press conference ready. I don't want the media running wild with this." Hotch instructed grabbing more water. He watched Reid follow Derek to the car. It hadn't gone unnoticed that he was moving like an old man and the dark circles under his eyes were getting darker. It had been a week of him pretending he wasn't sick and Hotch was giving him until the end of this case before he gave Morgan the go-ahead to use force to get him to the doctor.