Title: Mind Games

Summary: What if Dr. Reid's genuis was never recognized by the FBI, and he fell through the cracks? Set in an Alternate Universe, pretty obviously. Experimenting with ideas. Would be set in Season 1- with Gideon still on the team- since I'm still fairly new to the show and haven't met the later characters.

A/N: You'll all probably catch on pretty quickly to who the culprit is, but I don't want to give away too much in case you might still wonder. Please enjoy :)

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"A woman was found dead at her home in Henderson, Nevada. Her name was Cynthia James," Gideon starting their emergency 5:00am meeting with, of course, more good news. "Twenty-five years old. Engaged, no known children," he passed around a series of pictures- obviously crime scene photos taken by the investigators.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Morgan joked, looking at the first picture passed to him. "The crime scene looks pretty clean," he offered, referring to the lack of blood spatter; "What was the cause of death?"

"The coroner found her stomach to be inflamed," he answered. "There was excessive arsenic in her hair, but nothing at the scene that contained arsenic,"

Hotch flicked his picture up between two fingers. "Mine has a picture of something pinned to the wall. What is it?"

Gideon set a sealed, plastic bag on the table with a folded up piece of paper inside. "It's a cryptogram. The unsub, apparently, left us a message that the Nevada police couldn't interpret. In fact, they're completely stumped...that's why they called us,"

"There's something else," Prentiss, looking at three pictures simultaneously. "Something left beside the body," she squinted and tilted her head, angling her line of vision. "Is that-"

Gideon set another sealed bag on the table. "A chess piece. More specifically, a pawn,"

Morgan looked up, passing pictures along. "Could mean she was just an obstacle. Maybe she was some kind of competition for the unsub,"

"Could have been a promotion at work," Hotch suggested, putting his last photo down.

"Or, the most obvious answer- her engagement," Prentiss added. "How long was she engaged?"

"Two months, but before that, she and her fiancee' were high school sweethearts,"

"They were only engaged for two months, but they'd been dating for at least seven years?" Morgan raised a brow. "Someone's got some serious commitment issues. Her or the boyfriend?"

Gideon shrugged in response, knowing he was trailing into a potential motive. "I guess that's our job to figure out,"

Hotch picked up the bag with the supposed cryptogram in it. "Whatever this is, I'm sure it contains something important,"

Gideon nodded and motioned for it, signaling that it was okay to break the seal and open it. He did so, and pulled out a paper that had been very neatly folded into four perfect squares. "This unsub is certainly meticulous,"

"Yes, he is," the team leader agreed. "He clearly has plenty of time on his hands,"

"Yet, this cryptogram...are we sure it's not just numbers? It doesn't look like any code I've ever seen,"

Morgan immediately looked over. "Let me see," he said. After a few seconds of looking it over, he stood up from the table. "This needs to get to Garcia. If anyone can crack it, it's her,"

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While the rest of the team waited for Garcia to get a handle on cracking the cryptogram, they boarded a plane to Henderson, Nevada, and spent most of the time chatting about the case.

Morgan, looking over the coroner's report, was the first to offer his thoughts. "It says here that the body was found six hours after death,"

Gideon glanced over. "It was called in by a neighbor who stumbled in upon the crime scene,"

"Where was the fiancee?" Prentiss inquired skeptically.

"He was out of town," the seasoned team leader handed a manilla envelope over to her that contained the interviews already run by the original investigators. "Over-seeing the construction of a new hotel building. He was over four hours away and, as you'll see, his alibi was rock solid,"

"This guy was loaded," Prentiss commented as she flipped through the papers. "He came into adulthood with a spa and resort already in his name, ready for him to take the cash...looks like he was trying to build it into a chain,"

"Already had two locations," Morgan added. "If he wanted the fiancee killed, I'm sure he could've scraped up the cash,"

"A hired assassin using arsenic?" Prentiss inquired.

"Why not? Leaves no bullet wounds, no ballistic evidence, no fingerprints. Could be just a professional killer who's perfected his craft,"

"Yes," Prentiss admitted; "but don't you have to get pretty close to someone to get them to take arsenic? An assassin who would have left us a chess piece and a cryptogram?"

Gideon spoke before Morgan could interject with another theory. "We're most likely dealing with just one unsub. What do we know about 'em?"

"He's highly intelligent...probably methodical," Hotch flipped through more pages from the file. "It says here that the only thing the victim had consumed that day was a granola bar and some wine,"

"Law enforcement thinks it's likely that the arsenic was in whatever wine she drank,"

"So, whoever it was, she was comfortable enough to drink wine with them,"

"Not necessarily," Prentiss interjected. "There's not a single entry on any of her recent transaction statements that showed her purchasing wine. There's margaritas, mimosas, and a couple of other mixed drinks, but all of those were purchased at bars,"

"I don't see what you're getting at. Elaborate?" it wasn't quite sure if Hotch was asking or demanding an explanation, but he got what he needed either way.

"What she's saying is that this wine wasn't purchased by her, so it may have been a gift,"

"And since we don't even know what type of wine this was," Prentiss continued; "we have no way of knowing exactly who purchased it,"

"All of her other alcoholic drinks were purchased in a bar," Morgan added. "Why would she stay in and drink all of a sudden?"

"Her parents told investigators she'd had a fight with them that day," Gideon answered. "That could have something to do with it,"

Morgan nodded. "Didn't feel like getting dressed up and calling the girls, wanted to get drunk anyways,"

"That means he had no way of knowing when, or even if, she'd drink the wine," Hotch offered.

"So he probably wasn't there to watch when she died. We can rule out sadist- and probably sexual,"

"Good," Gideon expressed his agreement. "What else does this tell us?"

There were a few brief seconds of silence. Their mentor allowed this so they could think, and the first to offer up any information after that was Hotch:

"He didn't need to be in complete control of the crime scene. He just needed enough control to kill her,"

"We should be thankful she had that fight with her parents," Prentiss commented; "What if she had shared it with her friends? Or given it to her boyfriend when he came home? A lot more people could have died,"

Gideon nodded briefly in acknowledgement of her. "The unsub is most likely a highly insecure individual. Doesn't feel comfortable speaking in public or being in a crowd. A lone woman felt comfortable opening her door to him, so he's most likely very small in stature and unassuming, and she interpreted his social awkwardness as honesty- meaning she had some prior experience with him,"

"And, since Nevada police couldn't find anything, I'm guessing nobody saw him," Morgan added. "...hm...this looks like a nice house, Gideon. She probably lives in a middle class community. Everyone away at work from eight to five,"

"So, you think maybe he came to her in the middle of the day?"

"It's possible, and a little more likely that she opened the door in the middle of the afternoon rather than the middle of the night," he shifted through a couple more pictures.

"That's what I thought, too,"

"Still something I don't understand," Prentiss set her handful of pictures down on the table. "If he didn't have control of the crime scene, how did he know to return after she drank the wine? Someone had to take the bottle off the scene. Could he have been watching her? Monitoring her phone calls? Even watching her through a camera in the house?"

"Nevada police did a thorough investigation. There were no cameras found, nothing on her laptop that suggested tampering, nothing unusual in the phones,"

"Maybe the bottle had something on it, and that's why he needed to take it," Morgan suggested. "Some kind of bug or something. Or maybe he took whatever it was out when he took the bottle,"

"Wait a minute," Prentiss interjected; "isn't arsenic traditionally used by women to commit murder?"

"Well, I guess," Gideon motioned his hands as though he was dusting them off, though there was nothing on them; "the rest of it is our job to figure out,"

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June in Nevada. In spite of the melanin that protected Morgan's skin, he came to refer to the dry heat and sunshine as "instant sunburn" within a couple seconds of their landing.

Gideon gave law enforcement officers the run-down of what they had so far:
"Most likely a very well-educated Caucasian; could be male, could be female. Arsenic is traditionally used by women, but wine is usually a man's game. Usually, the unsub and victim are relatively close in age but I'm guessing this one has had a lot of years on their life to collect information. I'd pay special attention to someone nearer to the age of forty, maybe fifty. They most likely had some kind of relationship to the victim, since the arsenic that was used to poison her was most likely placed in a bottle of wine they would have given to her personally, but they probably aren't familiar enough to draw out the length of her death. Since the wine was given to her while her fiancee' was out of town, we can assume they knew she was going to be alone- and since they had no way of knowing when she would drink it we believe they either lived here or was going to be in town for a while because they were able to go back in and take the evidence from the scene," he shifted his stance and darted his eyes over the room. "This unsub's not a control freak and not doing this for show, so they're not likely to inject himself into the investigation. Odds are, they'll be absolutely normal in regards to questioning and searching- they'll open the door if we knock, but they're not coming to us,"

One of the police investigators looked up from the notepad she was writing things down on. "Is there anything else we should know, sir?"

Hotchner answered that question. "The city's cops performed a thorough canvasing of the neighborhood already, but they turned up nothing. Since no one saw the unsub approaching the house, we can assume that the wine was delivered while the neighbors were at their day jobs- meaning that they weren't working a day job at the time. They may work nights, may have odd days off, or- since it was summer- may have been on a vacation from work. They may also have gotten in trouble at work and been suspended, which could be what we call a 'stressor.' Additionally, the unsub may work or may have worked in industrial labor- anything that might give someone an opportunity to get a high volume of arsenic,"

"If you happen across someone who matches this description- and I have very good reason to suspect that you will, at a grocery store or water aerobics class- don't hesitate to contact us,"

"All due respect, sir," the same person to raise the first inquiry spoke again; "How are we supposed to know if we've run into them? The only thing you've been able to tell us is that this person seems completely normal. We don't even know if we're looking for a man or a woman,"

"Just keep your eyes open," Hotchner answered for Gideon. "We'll learn more about what's going on here and keep you all updated, but for now just do what you can,"

And, with that, the meeting concluded.

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"It doesn't even look like a woman lives here," Morgan commented as he moved through the house, accompanied by Prentiss. The general foundations of the house were in good condition- no water damage, windows intact, all appliances in tip-top shape- but it looked...almost like a bachelor pad. There were pit stains on the couch, partially drunk bottles of Jack Daniel's on the end tables, chip crumbs on the carpet. In the bathroom, there were razors left out on the counter, a tooth brush laying on the sink right next to the cup where it was supposed to be an some stubble that had been half-heartedly swiped with a damp rag.

"That's because she's hardly ever home," there were pots and pans soaking in the sink, by now collecting mildew, and she twisted up her face in disgust. It wasn't the guy's fault that his house had been closed off as a crime scene, but that was still an unpleasant thing to walk into. "Gross," she muttered under her breath.

"Really? Why?"

"She likes to travel," Prentiss answered, simultaneously wondering why on earth there were dirty socks on the dining room table. "Or run away. God, men are slobs,"

Morgan chuckled at her and continued on with himself as usual. "Where does she travel?"

"According to her fiancee, she's been on multiple tours of the US and has ventured out to other countries. She wanted to travel- go everywhere, see everything," she checked the sink and found some soap sud residue. "She was probably doing the dishes before she drank the wine,"

"Must've put a strain on their relationship if she was never home,"

"According to her fiancee, they weren't exclusive,"

"Hoh," he let out a small, humorless laugh. "That narrows down our suspect list,"

"Bet we'll find something in the bedroom. Let's go,"

The bedroom was the cleanest room of the house. Prentiss spoke before Morgan even commented; "Either she cleaned it up, or she told him to,"

"Looks like her suitcase was still packed,"

"I'll check the closet,"

Morgan sat down beside the suitcase and opened up the biggest section of it first. "This thing definitely looks well-traveled," he said; "With all the money her fiancee makes, I'm guessing she probably keeps it because it's sentimental...in some way,"

"She doesn't really have much of anything in the closet...a pair of heels, a couple outfits...running shoes..."

"She's a runner?"

"These things don't look like they've seen cement, but it's possible,"

"Alright, let's see...our girl's got a digital camera," he picked it up carefully with a gloved hand and set it inside a sealed bag. "Huh...what's this?" he lifted up a slender wine bottle with a lacey ribbon tied around it in a cutesy bow. The label on the front was written entirely in Spanish.

"It's a bottle of wine, Morgan," Prentiss joked slightly, approaching him to get a look. "It's a Monastrell wine. She was probably just coming back from Spain..." she offered her hand out and he let her take it. "Still full," she moved it around, getting a look at the cap; "never been opened...we should take it back for testing,"

Morgan nodded. "Any idea what part of Spain she'd be coming from?"

"Probably the east,"

He kept looking through the suitcase.

While those two investigated the home, Agent Gideon met up with Travis Bergstrom- Cynthia's fiancee from the days when she was still alive. They met at a moderately-sized diner, and Travis was easy to spot. In a pair of denim over-alls, without even a shirt on, wearing a pair of sandals- he stuck out like a sore thumb in a room full of people in casual business attire.

"Are you Travis Bergstrom?"

When he turned his head, it became evident that he had a lazy eye. He nodded. "And you?"

"My name is Jason Gideon. I'm with the FBI, investigating your fiancee's case. May I sit down?"

It took him longer than usual to respond, but it wasn't really hesitance- he seemed to be processing what was said. Most people wouldn't have noticed the couple extra miliseconds, but Agent Gideon did. "I already talked to the cops,"

"Of course. Law enforcement here has already done their due diligence. But, as you can tell, there are plenty of questions left to answer,"

"You can sit here, but I already told cops everything I know. I can't help you,"

"Thank you," he sat down across from Travis. "You'd be surprised what might help me. I just need you to be completely honest with me,"

"Why wouldn't I be? I didn't do anything,"

"Oh, I know. I've been at this long enough to know you didn't have anything to do with it. But there are plenty of reasons why people try to conceal the truth that don't have to do with guilt,"

As he listened, Travis eased up. "Okay. What do you want from me?"

"Well, why don't you tell me what Cynthia James was like? What attracted you to her, what was she like as a person- anything that comes to mind,"

While Travis tried to collect his answer, they were approached by the waiter- a thin, elderly man- who spoke in a thin but gravelly voice: "Sorry about the wait, sir, the cook is running behind,"

"I'm in no rush,"

"Would you like a refill on the iced tea?"

"Yes,"

"And you, sir?" he turned to the agent. "Our iced tea is made in-home. Most say it's the best they've ever had,"

"Sure, I'll try a glass,"

"Anything else?"

"No, thanks,"

The waiter finished his pleasantries and went back to his job.

"What were you asking me?"

"Tell me what you know about Cynthia," he reminded him kindly. "Whatever comes to mind,"

Travis hesitated this time. Gideon watched his face change slightly as his mind tried to come to a resolve, and when he'd decided he let out a deep sigh. "Guess I do have a confession to make,"

"Go on,"

"... ... ...It was...Cynthia's idea...to get engaged," he admitted. "I wasn't even sure if we would get married. She just wanted me to help her shut her parents up,"

"Why did she think that would help?"

He shrugged one shoulder and answered; "They were on her all the time. They wanted her to get married and have kids, but she didn't want to. She had me propose in front of them,"

"And did that work?"

"No," he shook his head. "Then they wanted a date, wanted us to see their pastor for couples' counseling- they even tried to force me into a GED program so that I could join the army," he gritted his teeth in remembrance of the frustration. "I wanted to reach through the phone sometimes and strangle them," his face immediately changed after he said that. "Sorry, I- that's not-"

Gideon stopped him by raising a few fingers. "I know what you mean. Everyone thinks about killing other people on occasion, even me. That doesn't mean you would do it,"

He nodded. In the pause, the waiter came around with the iced tea and a plate with an omelette and a slab of steak. "Here's your order. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Travis shook his head, but his mouth was already full. When the waiter turned to Agent Gideon, he shook his head as well and mouthed 'No.'

"Did she ever tell you why she wouldn't want to marry Travis?" JJ asked Cynthia's parents at their home. Hotch glanced around the house, taking in the pictures.

"Not Travis in particular," Mrs. James answered. "It wasn't just Travis, she didn't want to get married at all,"

"Do you know why that might be?" Hotch asked, drawing his eye away from the mantel over the fireplace that didn't look like it had ever been used.

"I never understood it," she answered, wringing her hands. "She told me she didn't want to have the same life her father and I had,"

"Was your marriage strained at all?"

Mr. James didn't seem to be fully present in the conversation. He just sat there staring. After a couple seconds, Mrs. James patted his arm and he jerked over- startled.

"Honey, they're trying to ask us questions,"

He fiddled with something in his left ear and said- rather loudly- "What?"

"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly; "he's been losing his hearing for the last few years,"

"No problem," JJ answered comfortingly. "We're just trying to figure out why your daughter didn't want to get married. Were there any issues with Travis?"

"It wasn't just about her getting married," Mr. James explained. "She didn't want to get an education, didn't want a job..."

"We never knew where we went wrong with her," Mrs. James sniffled and tried to get herself back together. "We had plenty of money to send her to college...sent her to private school until sixth grade, we even got a head start on her education," she sighed. "Just...once she turned eighteen, there was this constant argument with us on everything,"

"Do you think Travis had anything to do with that?" Hotchner suggested. Mr. James nodded affirmatively in response.

"She started dating him a little while before she graduated," he said. "He didn't want anything to do with the education system- dropped out as soon as he turned sixteen,"

"He had a job," Mrs. James offered; "He was a construction worker. And he was really good at it, too. We even offered to put him through a GED program and give him some references for the military- he could have done a lot of good there- but he didn't want to hear it,"

"There was no way he could make a decent enough living for two people at a construction site," Mr. James blatantly criticized; "I mean, he was still living off of mommy and daddy's hard work. And that's all well and good, but everyone needs to actively contribute,"

"And construction work wasn't good enough?" Hotch asked directly.

"Not when you want a family. You've gotta understand, we're her parents. If anything happened to that business his parents built, they'd both be flat broke. And that boy didn't have any education in business whatsoever- it wouldn't have hurt him to get something in business management,"

"I see. Was this what you were fighting about that day?"

"Yes," Mrs. James replied. "Well, sort of. It was just our latest fight. Her father and I both wanted grandkids...we wanted her to get her life together before we go,"

"If you don't mind me saying, neither of you look that old," JJ commented.

"Thank you," Mrs. James was clearly flattered by this. "We're not, really. It's just...we wanted to have plenty of time with our grandchildren before we get to be that old, you know?" she looked, for a second, like she might lose her composure, but she never did. "And we didn't want her giving birth to a child who wouldn't know his father or struggling to make ends meet so she could keep a baby fed,"

"We wanted her to find a passion for something. She could have been good at so many things- the world was wide open to her," he shook his head. "She already spoke four languages, she could have gotten her certification and become a teacher..." he sighed.

"That's quite impressive,"

"She traveled so much, I guess it was inevitable that she would learn something," Mrs. James laughed slightly.

"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt her?"

Mrs. James looked down. "She had multiple boyfriends," she answered in a grudging tone; "She had told us she was in an open relationship...I don't know how many she had or who they were, but I'm sure it was one of them,"

"Do you know of anyone who had seen her while Travis was away? Anyone who came by the house? Any strange deliveries?"

"She really didn't tell us much, but I know she saw her friends a lot. Bella was her best friend. But, no, I didn't hear about anything strange that had happened that week..."

"I see," Hotch stood up. "Is there anything else you think we should know?"

"No,"

"Here's my card," he said, offering a business card to Mr. James; "If you think of anything or find out anything more, call me,"

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,"

"It's been my pleasure,"

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The restaurant of the hotel they went to dinner at was hustling and bustling with people. In fact, for the first few minutes, their table was the quietest. The conversation was mostly kept to low-volume discussions of the food; do you think it's really authentic Italian? Anyone could say that. Are these fish even native to Italy? Has anyone ever tried this? -Prentiss was able to answer a few of questions ("It sounds authentic from the menu"), but most of them flew under the radar and failed to be answered.

Gideon was the first one to bring up the case once the orders were taken. "So, Morgan," he started abruptly in the sudden silence that carried on once the maitre'd was gone; "I'm the unsub. I come knocking on your door in the middle of the day- what are you doing?"

He looked up. "Washing the dishes. Travis let 'em pile up way too long while I was away,"

"Why do you answer?"

"I probably know you. Considering the fact that you brought me wine, we're probably seeing each other,"

"Do you let me in?"

"Not likely. The house is messy. I don't think you'd even want to, and I'm too busy trying to get it cleaned up,"

Gideon nodded.

"Once you're gone, I put the wine in my pantry and keep trying to get things tidied up. Since the living room is still kinda messy by the day I drink the wine, I probably started somewhere else first- like the bedroom and guest room. I also spend quite a few days in the mean time going out to bars, hanging with the girls, drinking and partying. If the unsub was stalking her, he was probably at whatever bars she was at to keep tabs on her,"

"Then what?"

"Then I get into an argument with my parents," JJ offered, stepping in as Cynthia. "They won't quit trying to tell me what to do and I can't stand them. By the end of the fight, I'm ready to get drunk- so I start drinking the wine he gave me,"

"Why don't I drink the wine that was already in my suitcase?" Prentiss asked JJ, but Hotch answered.

"Because the other bottle is closer to me and easier to get to,"

"Or maybe I'm saving it for something," Morgan added. "Maybe it's a special gift and I want to save it for a special occasion,"

"The unsub poisoned the whole bottle," Prentiss commented. "But I'm too upset to notice that the bottle has already been opened. I go ahead and drink until the arsenic kills me,"

"No one notifies police for six hours," Morgan stepped back in. "My best friend comes to check in on me, and has to use her extra key to open the door because it was locked. She calls police in a panic when she finds Cynthia dead in the dining room chair,"

"The unsub must have come back during those six hours," JJ said. "There was a police car already in the area when she made the nine-one-one call, he showed up within three minutes. If anyone else had been at the house, they would have noticed him,"

"She didn't normally keep her house locked?" Morgan asked.

"She at least did that day. Police reported that, when they got there, the door was open with the key still inside,"

Prentiss thought for a second. "Could she have come in through a window?"

"You saw those windows, Prentiss. None of them opened from the outside. Besides, if the unsub had come through there, they would have left footprints or clothing fibers. The only reason we don't know who they were already is because Belle's footprints made it impossible for them to get a reading on the other person's,"

"Well, that and the fact that she threw up everywhere," even Hotch gave a smirk at that comment by Prentiss.

"Maybe someone else had the key," Morgan suggested. "You said it might have been a boyfriend. She could have given him the key,"

"She may also have been seeing a woman, that could be why no one else knew about it- maybe she wasn't ready to come out," said Prentiss.

"She was open about having an open relationship, but wouldn't have admitted to being bisexual?" Hotch inquired.

"Maybe the other girl wasn't ready to admit it,"

"Why would she be dating someone who was so much older than her? Travis had plenty of money from his spa and resort, so she didn't need a sugar daddy,"

"Maybe she had an attraction to older women," was Hotchner's answer to that. "She had some obvious problems with her parents, stemming from their lack of involvement in her childhood,"

"How do you know that, Hotch?" even though JJ had been with him while they were there, she obviously hadn't noticed the clues he picked up on.

"They had more pictures of their own weddings and graduations up for display than they did pictures of her. They also both had jobs that required long hours and mandatory over-time, including weekends. She spent most of her early childhood and an early education center and resented her parents for not being there- that's why she wanted to go against everything they stood for,"

"There's something else," Gideon added; "Belle was completely inebrieted when she found Cynthia. By morning, she didn't even remember finding her,"

"You're the unsub," Morgan challenged Gideon back. "Why didn't you just kill me?"

It took him a couple seconds to come up with an answer, but he did. "I wasn't sure I wanted to kill you. I didn't want to feel responsible for your death,"

After that, their food was brought to the table, and their conversation ceased.