A/N - I'm still working on War Crimes, honest! It's going slow at the moment, and I'd really like to have the whole thing complete and polished before I start posting again. I wanted to write this, even though it'll be AU shortly, because the idea just grabbed me. The Scientists in the Field convention is not a real thing (curses, because I personally would have loved to go to something like that as a kid), but I did name it after a real, and altogether awesome, book series for kids. And finally - there WILL be Emily and Reid in this story. Soon. Patience, my pretties.

Prologue: The Phone Call

Dallas Field Office, Federal Bureau of Investigation

Derek Morgan hung up his phone and stared at it. This made the fourth call from his old team members in Quantico in as many hours, and all with the same request.

Talk to Reid.

Morgan was lost to account for it. Although across the country from each other now, they still spoke regularly. The younger man had sounded like himself just last week. He used to go through bad patches every year or so, but not for a long time. Besides, those were generally in March, around the anniversary of the fire, but this was September. And though Hotch's team had just closed an ugly case, there had been ugly cases before.

So . . . what the hell?

He went over and closed his office door before dialing. His friend picked up after the second ring. "Morgan. Hey."

"Hiya, kid."

Normally Reid would have said something about how he really couldn't be considered a kid anymore, and how in Ancient Greece or the Middle Ages or whenever-the-hell, forty-three actually would have been considered quite elderly. Today, he just said, "You need a consult?"

"Not today, brainiac. Hotch asked me to call you."

"Oh?"

"So did Garcia. And Manning. And - "

"I get it," Reid said. "They're concerned."

Well, that was something. At least he realized it. "Awright. Can you tell me why?"

"This last case was difficult."

Penelope had told him it was kids. Raped, killed, dismembered, dumped. Morgan automatically glanced at the picture on his desk. His own daughter was eight, only a few years younger than the girls who'd died in Laramie. His stomach turned over at even having the two thoughts next to each other. "Sounded like a nasty one," he said.

"It's never easy when it's children, Morgan, you know that. We were all affected."

"From the sounds of it, this case hit you hardest."

"Sometimes they do."

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. Jesus, twenty years and Reid still thought he could stonewall him. "Not for no reason. C'mon, man, talk to me."

Silence. Then Reid said slowly, "Do you know the Scientists in the Field convention?"

Morgan frowned, trying to place it. "Atlanta, right? The careers one for high schoolers and college kids?"

"Yeah. The Bureau sent me this year. After my session I got to talking to some of the younger kids. Prodigies, in fact. Startlingly intelligent."

Morgan started to smile. "Sounds like someone I know."

"Then Hotch called me in, and I went right from Atlanta to Laramie."

The smile slid off his face. "Jesus."

"Yeah. These kids, you know, they were so . . . bright. Enthusiastic. Amazing."

He must've really connected with them. Morgan wondered if Reid was looking to settle down finally. Or at least, settle down in a different way than he already was, with a family instead of stacks of books, every sci-fi DVD known to man, and a cranky cat.

Sometimes he thought that all of Reid's hopes for the future had gone underground along with Emily Prentiss. Maybe they were starting to resurrect.

"Then I saw what was done to those girls," Reid continued. "All that potential, all that energy, all that hope. Everything. Destroyed. All it takes is one sociopath."

Morgan sighed. This was why cases with kids were the worst. They all knew it. "Yeah. It's rough. I don't know what to tell you about that. But listen, Reid. That's why they've got us. Right? We hunt down the monsters. It's what we do."

There were several seconds of silence on the line, and then Reid said, "Yeah. They've got us."

They talked for several more minutes, and by the time Morgan hung up, he felt better about his friend's state of mind. He knew he hadn't gotten the whole story, not by a long shot, but he could be patient. And Reid was right, sometimes cases did just hit you harder than expected. Especially one like that.

His phone rang again. He glanced at the caller ID and smiled. "Hey, baby."

"Hi, Daddy. How do you spell photosynthesis?"

"Girl, why you calling me up and asking me that?"

"Cuz you're my daddy and you know everything?"

"Uh-huh," he said. "I do. And what I know is that you should be doing your homework yourself. Didn't your mama and I buy you a big-ass dictionary to look up long words like photosynthesis?"

She gasped, big and dramatic. "Daddy, that's a dollar for the swear jar."

"Put it on my tab," he said. "And use your dictionary."

"I tried. S'not in there." Her voice turned wheedling. "Pleeeease? Pleasepleaseplease for your shiny copper Penny baby?"

He rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the indulgent grin. "I'll give you two letters and you go from there. P-H."

"P-H," she muttered. He could almost see her, keying it into her tablet reader. "Oh! Got it!"

"Who's your best daddy?"

"Santa Claus."

"Uh-uh, try again."

"You, you, you!" There was a muted beep. "Oh, Ree's calling. See you later, Daddy."

"Love you, baby." He hung up and looked at the file that had been open on his computer before Hotch called. It was a report on the last case his team had been sent out on. A sexual sadist who'd killed four men before they'd caught him.

Yeah, they were the ones who hunted the monsters, and in a sunny yellow house thirty minutes away, chattering away to her friend Ree instead of doing her homework, was the reason why.