4/17/18

A/N: Welcome. I hope you click the follow and favorite boxes at the bottom when you're done reading this chapter. This is my newest story, Falling Undercover. This is a story with an almost completely different Christian. In this story, Christian never went to work at Elena Lincoln's home that summer around his 15th birthday. Instead he was sent to military school. Change that and what changes in his life.

Ana was never taken away from Ray when her mother decided to leave him for Stephen Morton, she left Ana as well. How would Ana's life had been shaped if Ray met another woman and remarried? What kind of life has Ana made without the negative influence of her mother in her life?

This story is my project for Camp NaNoWriMo. My goal is to publish a chapter a day until the story is complete, however there may be a day that I fail to post. After the story is completed, it will only remain on FFN for a little while before it is pulled. Falling Undercover is being developed as a wholly original novel, but I'm preposting as FanFiction.

Review, review, review. Let me know what you think. Find a mistake, send me a private message. Trust me these chapters are nowhere close to publish ready. These are first drafts. You are my pre-reading audience.

I don't own these characters in this story, E.L. James created Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey. They will cease to exist when this story is pulled from FFN.

Thank you for being a faithful reader and thank you for supporting me.

***Trigger Alert*** This story contains mentions of abuse, physically, sexually, and eventually emotionally. Details are stated in quick facts. They are not detailed as they are occurring.

Laters

Falling Undercover

Chapter 1

Christian watched the scene below him as the helicopter moved over the area. He'd been in Savannah when the call came in. The Papz had struck again it seemed. Christian and his team were sick of hitting dead end after dead end with this guy. He was purposely sloppy. He left his prints and his DNA all over each victim and their homes. He stalked each and every one of the victims before abducting them for two days. After he was finished with each victim, he killed and mutilated the body before dumping it. Each victim had been a recent local celebrity of some kind. The first being having won some singing competition three weeks before her death in Los Angeles. She'd been found beaten, raped, and strangled. Each murder progressed from there in the intensity of violence.

Sighing to himself, Christian climbed from the helicopter the minute the aircraft was on the ground. He hadn't even waited for the rotors to stop. Christian wanted to verify that they had in fact found the Papz ninth victim in five years. Today marked two months from the fifth-year anniversary of the death of the first victim, Tiffany Miller. Christian hadn't been a member of the task force then. He joined nearly three years ago, after the discovery of the fourth body. Since then, Christian had found bodies in five states. Each murder was more gruesome than the last.

Walking the half block to the crime scene, Christian starts to take note of the area around him. The warehouse is in an abandoned area of town, on the outskirts and away from downtown and the financial district. He's quick to take note of the light pole across the street. Christian would bet his next paycheck that the light was busted out of it. The building next to the pole, was a pile of old charred rubble. It had been burned long ago. He noted a cut in the fence around the remains of the old structure, most likely the home of vagabonds.

The sidewalk in front of the entrance of his designated location was cracked and filled with weeds, dandelions that made Christian think of summers at his grandparents' home. There was a security shack once he turned passed the covered fence. The windows were busted out, and there was a ratted blanket wadded up in the corner under the desk. The shack was equipped with cameras, but the power line the shack had been cut long ago based on the weathered exposed optics. The area beyond is teeming with agents and crime scene technicians. One thing Christian learned quick on the job, evidence is never processed or collected as quickly as it was on television. The technicians were never as good looking either. Well Christian knew one who was, but Mickie was just someone to pass the time with when he was in Chicago.

"Grey, it's about time you get here? I heard you struck out in Savannah." Christian looked at the director of their behavior analysis unit, Jason Taylor. While Christian was a 31-year-old former Army Ranger, his director was a 52-year-old retired Army commander. Like Jason, Christian was recruited straight to the FBI when he elected to not renew his contract with the Army nearly five years ago. The eight years that Christian spent in the service, he worked studiously online to earn a degree in criminology. After his second rotation to Afghanistan, Christian knew he couldn't reenlist, no matter what kind of promotions he was promised.

"I interviewed the girl. She'd only returned to town five days ago. She's been traveling around Europe the last month modeling in runway shows over there. I already confirmed her passport stamps and the flight from Moscow she returned to the states on. She's a lucky one." Tara Quinn had created a program and the woman he'd interviewed that morning was the result of the parameters she'd created. Tara's theory was that if they could predict the next victim, they could find the shit head finally.

"You'll have to let Tara know so that she can adjust her parameters and verify locations before sending you out again." Taylor was a stoic man. He didn't give a shit about anything other than the job. He expected you to do your job and to do it well. If you didn't do yours, he couldn't be expected to do his and when he wasn't doing his, the suits in Washington were breathing down all their necks.

"I'll call her after we're done here. I'm flying back to D.C. with you." Christian didn't want to stick around Atlanta and thought the newest member of their team could hang out for the autopsy. "Prescott can attend the autopsy."

"Negative, you're the primary field agent. You stay with the body. I want that autopsy report before the end of the day. If you want to deliver it personally to me, that is fine, but you stay with her." Christian groaned as Taylor rolled his toothpick between his teeth.

"I'm already regretting taking the latest promotion." Christian was excited six months ago when they offered him the new title and pay raise. He didn't expect the increase in grunt work though.

"You love being primary. You've had a hard on for this guy for years, ever since you were a probie. You're closer now than you ever have been. Tara will work out the bugs in her program. I bet you find him before he claims the next victim." Christian wanted to feel boosted by his boss's vote of confidence, however, Christian didn't have as much faith as Taylor.

"He's never taken less than four months before claiming another victim. I don't think he'll make it two this time. The fifth-year anniversary of Tiffany's death is coming up. I think that he's going to want to celebrate, maybe go after whatever his catalyst was, or try to recreate it. We just need to figure out what or who it was." In every serial murderer case, there is an inciting incident, discover that and you discover the direct path to your unsub.

"You think he'll go back to the scene of the first crime?" Taylor held back his reservations, he didn't think this guy was going to go that way. He still didn't support Christian's main theory.

"I'm telling you, this guy was rejected and he's either going back to his original stomping ground, or he's going to go after the one that got away." Christian was convinced their suspect was a loner in school. Someone who followed his original obsession like a lost puppy dog. She most likely befriended him out of pity, but when he finally got the guts to make his feelings known, he was denied. Christian has been scouring cold cases around college campuses looking for someone who might be their original victim. He's sure she was assaulted and lived to tell the tale.

"You have your theory, but it doesn't fit the profile. Stick with the profile. Let's go inspect the body before they have to move it." Christian and Taylor move to the east corner of the lot and stand next the medical examiner. Pulling a notebook from his back pocket, Christian prepares to make notes on the medical examiners initial findings. Both agents stay quiet and listen to the M.E. while he dictates to his assistant.

"Rigor has set in. Current liver temp is 29.2 degrees Celsius. Estimated time of death is between 4:30 and 5:00 a.m. Victim appears to be approximately twenty-five to twenty-eight years in age. Her brown hair has been shaved in spots, cut in others. Appears to have been initially assaulted over thirty-six hours ago judging by the coloring of some of the bruising on her face. Initial examination is positive for sexual assault. Victim has nine stab wounds of varying depth and sizes in her thighs and abdomen. She has distinct hand prints on her neck indicative of strangulation." Christian stood stock still as he listened to the harm that had befallen their latest victim.

"Any chance of an I.d. yet?" So much for Taylor's patience.

"Within the hour. She looks familiar, but there is so much bruising and swelling on her face that I can't be sure. I'm waiting for someone to show up with a mobile fingerprint scanner. If they don't show before I finish, I'll print her at the morgue." Taylor simply nodded and walked off to talk with a crime scene tech that was collecting rocks. They had so much useless evidence in more than sixty boxes back at the bureau.

"All of the other victims had spent time in the news over the last two months before they were murdered. One woman won a singing competition. A few have been up and coming models, one was connected to a point guard with an NBA team. Another was nominated for Teacher of the year. The last victim, in Chicago, was an officer that had just been cleared in an officer involved shooting. She was abducted a week after the D.A. declared her innocent of wrong doing." Each woman had been prominent on the nightly news and several of their bodies had been found with newspaper clippings featuring the victim. "Was there any paper found in her hands?" That's how they usually found the articles.

"No, but I haven't rolled her over yet. We'll get to that just before we put her in the bag. We should be ready to move her in about ten minutes." Nodding to the M.E., Christian moved around the scene. He noted that there wasn't a drop of blood anywhere. She had obviously been killed somewhere else. There were obvious drag marks starting about thirty feet from the body. Tire tracks had been marked and photographed and a tech was currently making a cast of the tread. Christian would bet his left nut they matched a stolen vehicle or the victim's own vehicle. It was part of the m.o. Five years and he's never rented a car, blown through a traffic cam lights, or been caught on a working camera.

Another tech was picking up a cigarette butt, another one of his calling cards. It would be a Winston Gold 100. The last four victims all had one found with the body. The M.E. would also discover one perfect circular cigarette burn on their feet. Christian's chest ached thinking of his own burns.

"Agents, we're ready to move her." Brought out of his musings, Christian rejoined the M.E. and stood next to Taylor as the assistant ready the body bag for the victim. As soon as they started to roll her over to examine the back, Taylor whistled for a tech to join them.

"Get a picture of that." He was pointing to a plain white piece of paper found under the body. "What do you make of that Grey? That's new." Christian thought the Papz had finally messed up. He was positive that wasn't something he meant to leave behind. While the tech moved around the body snapping photographs, Christian pulled one of the latex gloves that he always carried on scene from his pocket.

Squatting down to retrieve the paper, Christian was able to ascertain it was a photograph before he turned it over. He motioned for a nearby tech to get him an evidence bag. He waited for the bag to be in his hand before flipping it over. It was near impossible to cover his surprise. The coloring on the picture was faded in a few spots, indicating it wasn't newly printed. That wasn't what got everyone's attention though. The young woman in the photograph couldn't be more than eighteen, and she was a dead ringer for each of their previous victims.

"I hate saying you're right Grey." Taylor didn't wait to receive any response from Christian before he had his phone to his ear and was walking away. Christian knew in his gut that this young woman was their unsub's catalyst. If Christian could find her, he could find the man that's eaten away at his soul for the last three years. He stared into the azure eyes of the young woman. Her face was in profile. She was looking at someone on her left and laughing. The background was a party of some sort, but he couldn't find anything to date the photo. He'd have to turn it over to the B.A.U. team to run through facial recognition. It would take days as they ran age progression analysis before doing so.

Christian started to walk away from the scene, set to ride with the medical examiner's team, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. The Papz finally made a mistake.