Part 1: The Profilers

Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. Criminal Minds is the intellectual property of Jeff Davis. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.

Fredorico Garcia Lorca wrote, "To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."

The BAU Jet, somewhere above Virginia

The view outside the plane's window took her breath away; it was both fantastically complex and beautifully simplistic at once. Shapes and colors, geometric patterns surrounded by pools of blue and green, but she knew that intricacies and details were hidden beneath the distance and altitude. She laughed at her own musings, realizing that the same could be said for people.

"You seem particularly pensive, today," a younger man with long, light hair and deep-set eyes stared at her while he raised a foam cup to his lips.

"I am," she replied, offering a modest smile and slight nod. "Just thinking about..." she paused, and then tilted her head slightly. She fingered the simple silver band on her finger. "Reid, have you ever had to keep a secret, one that you knew would cause a lot of damage, when you really just wanted to tell the world the truth?"

The skin between his eyes crinkled as he thought about her question. He seemed to filter through every memory he had to give her an honest answer. "Yes," he said, his face relaxing. "Once. I had to hold back the majority of a profile because one of our suspects was part of the investigative team."

She laughed. "That's...that's not really what I meant, but..."

"Benson," a voice interrupted her. A tragically handsome man walked toward her, his hands weighed down with files and coffee. He sat beside her, nodded once to Spencer Reid, and then looked toward her again. "When we land, I need you go straight to the local PD, see if you can get access to their systems, we need to know if there are any other cases with similar patterns. Look for victimology, MO, anything the might be a signature."

Her eyes narrowed. "I thought they gave us everything," she said, taking the file the man had offered her. "What aren't you telling us, Hotch?"

"Nothing," he said, sipping his coffee. "Just...something in the way the bodies are laid out, the locations. I think I've seen this guy before, and if I'm right this could become a very high-profile case. I want to know, first thing, if there are any cold cases that might be connected."

She read through the file, looking at the photos, and asked, "Isn't that something Garcia or JJ..."

"You," he said firmly, "Handle it personally. JJ has her hands full already, and Garcia needs to be free to run other searches and traces on anything you dig up." He sipped his coffee again and said, "We will be on your turf, Benson. They'll talk to you."

"No," she sighed, rubbing her fingertips into her forehead. "They won't."

"Someone will," Reid said with a knowing smile. He turned the foam cup around in his hand. "You know who," he nodded eagerly at her. "I'm sure he has the authority to ensure you get whatever you ask for, right? He always sounded like an alpha male, and when JJ took the call, she was under the impression we would have the full cooperation of the NYPD."

"Oh, they'll cooperate with the team," she said, "Just not with me. When I left they...well, let's just say some of them are still pretty pissed off at me. I'm not even an…"

"Didn't Hotch tell you?" Reid questioned, interrupting her. He grinned, looking from his supervisor back to her. "We aren't going to Manhattan, Olivia, we're going to Queens." He saw her facial expression change, noticed her gaze shoot down to her ring, and he grinned. Some people, he thought, are just too easy to profile.

Homicide Division, NYPD 105th Precinct, Queens, New York

"I really wish you would wait," a curly-haired woman in a floral dress pleaded as she struggled to keep up with the several official-looking people walking ahead of her. Her heels clicked against the tiles and her arms waved frantically. "It's not like he's just some department head, you know! He has appointments here! At least let me tell him you're going in there."

"He's expecting us," Hotchner said without turning around. He rounded the corner followed by Olivia, who was walking beside Reid. Behind them, Agent Morgan was chatting on the phone with his girlfriend, or at least that's what the context of the conversation suggested. Hotchner pushed through a pair of wooden double-doors, holding it open for his team. "Are we interrupting you?"

"Not at all," came the response. "Elliot Stabler, Chief of Detectives," the man said, holding out his hand to Hotchner. "Thanks for coming. I know you guys were still in Florida when I called."

"Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner," he nodded as he shook Elliot's hand. "This is Doctor Spencer Reid," he said, gesturing to the younger man.

Elliot laughed. "Yeah, I heard about you," he said, shaking Reid's hand as well. "All very good, very impressive stuff."

"Oh," Reid said. "It's all true."

Elliot shot the kid a look, as Hotchner continued the introductions. "That is Agent Morgan, and of course, you know Agent Benson."

"Agent Benson, huh?" Elliot asked mockingly. "You look familiar." He bit his lip and slowly reached out a hand.

Olivia smiled and waved at him, then yelped as she was pulled a bit closer to him in a firm yet playful handshake. "Yeah, I think we've met a couple times," she said, rolling her eyes and swatting him in the arm.

Hotchner let his lips curl into a small smile. He looked again at Elliot. "I wish we were meeting under different circumstances," he said, dropping a briefcase onto the round conference table. "Where's JJ?"

"Oh, uh, is that the blonde?" Elliot asked, scratching his head. "I thought her name was..."

"Agent Jennifer Jareau," Reid explained. "We call her JJ, similar to the way you two never refer to each other by your full monikers, unless you're emotionally agitated with each other."

Elliot stared at Reid with his hands on his hips. "Well, how about that?" he scoffed, impressed.

"JJ? Where?" Hotchner interjected, impatience seeping from every word.

"I'm right here," JJ said as she walked into the room. "I was making copies of these for all of you," she said, tossing around stapled dossiers. "Latest victim is Andrea Nash, twenty-seven years old, from Kew Gardens." She pushed a button on a small remote in her right hand, using her left to point to images that appeared on a screen behind her. "She was last seen coming out of the gym at ten o'clock Sunday night, her fiancée reported her missing Monday morning, after her gym bag turned up on his doorstep with a note." She hit the button again, and an image of the scrawled letter popped up on the screen.

Olivia leaned back in her chair and read, "Two days. Tell the truth, or she dies."

"Her body was found laid out in a pew at Living Hope Christian Church, a few blocks from here, on Tuesday," JJ told the room full of people, her eyes landing on each intense face. Both eyes widened and she sighed as she said, "Two days."

Elliot swiped two fingers of his left hand across his chin, back and forth, as he licked his lips. "Tell the truth..." he mumbled to himself. "Then she's dumped at a church...absolving her of sin? This is religious."

Reid looked at Elliot with a flat smile. "It very well could be. Maybe the un-sub felt she needed to die for her sins, or the sins of someone else. If the note was meant for the boyfriend, he had to confess in two days time or she would be his sacrifice to appease God. Time ran out."

"Fiancée," Morgan spoke, correcting Reid and proving he was paying attention, then turned his attention back to his phone call.

"Morgan, either put it on speaker or hang up," Hotchner ordered, glancing sideways at the devilishly good-looking, younger agent.

Morgan pulled off his sunglasses, said, "Hold on, baby girl," and clicked a button on his phone. He dropped the device onto the table and yelled, "You're on speaker."

"Ah, my adoring fans request my presence?" Garcia, the resident computer analyst, chirped on the other end.

"Something like that," Hotchner said. "What background can you give us on Andrea Nash?"

The group heard clicking and what sounded like the popping of bubble gum. "Graduate of Queens College, had no career to speak of, was living off of her wealthy parents until two years ago when she moved in with her boyfriend Scott Randall," she said matter-of-factly. "When they got engaged six months ago, her parents cut her off."

"Are they Catholic?" Elliot asked, though he wasn't sure who he was actually talking to.

"She was baptized," Garcia said, "And she was registered for Pre-Cana at a church in Queens, but she never showed up for the first class."

"Okay," Reid said, folding his hands. "We should also look into the gym. Could you get a list of members? Cross reference with any of the other victims? It could be how the un-sub is finding the girls." He made an odd pattern in the air with his index finger. "Oh, look at social media platforms, too. Any posts mentioning being at the gym alone, late at night may have given the un-sub the all-clear."

Garcia hummed as she tapped away at her computer. "Double whammy," she said. "Two other victims, Rebecca Tomlinson and Wendy Scarpelli, went to the same gym, and Andrea checked in there on FourSqaure at eight on Sunday night."

"It's a start," Hotchner said. "Garcia, keep looking for other connections between the victims. Three went to that gym, but we've got two who didn't, and if we don't find this guy soon we'll have another one. Call me when you get something useful."

"Your wish is my command," Garcia said, and then the phone beeped. She'd hung up.

Hotchner looked at each person individually, folded his arms, and said, "When Rossi gets in, we need to re-trace the un-sub's steps, starting with where the first victim was found."

"We have to map them, Hotch. Might give us clues to a central location," Morgan said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "I need to look at evidence logs, trace on clothes, fibers, anything that could link them to a single crime scene."

Elliot nodded. "Everything we've got is all yours," he gestured to the piles of file folders on the table, watching as Morgan reached for them eagerly. "What…you're calling him an un-sub"

"Unknown subject of the investigation," Reid said. "And we aren't sure it's a male, since there's no sexual component to the murders." He flicked his hair back and drummed his fingers on the table. "This might be someone suffering from severe delusions. A psychological break as a result of rigid religious upbringing, which explains the churches, or someone impacted by a severe stressor. Maybe this person feels betrayed and is taking it out on other people who've been deceitful. Could be someone lied to him, or her, which caused the un-sub to lash out and punish them via surrogates. I'm going to have check out a theory. Where's the nearest library?"

Having understood very little of what Reid had said, Elliot simply blinked rapidly. "Uh, Two-hundred-and-seventh street, a few blocks over, but there are computers upstairs you could..."

"I prefer books. Tangible and reliable. But thanks! I'll be back in about twenty minutes." He shot out of his chair and ran toward the door, but stopped and turned to look at Elliot. "I heard pretty impressive things about you, too, Sir," he said with a smile, then tugged on the strap of his messenger bag and left the room.

Elliot looked at Olivia, laughing, and then sighed as he flipped through the packet he'd been given. "I think we're on the right track, here, this has to be religiously motivated. They were all found at churches."

"Not all of them," Olivia said, leaning over him. She crossed her right arm over his chest, flipping the pages fast, and then tapped a picture. "Her. She was found at a school."

"A Catholic school," he said, looking at her. "To a devoutly religious person, that's pretty much the same thing."

"How are you handling this" she asked him, a softer tone to her voice. "This is hitting pretty close to home."

He sighed and turned his head, brushed her hair behind her ear, and said, "I'm handling it, but, uh, I'm a lot better now that you're here."

She smiled, her eyes beamed as she looked into his for a long moment, and the pair focused back on the reports.

Morgan looked around the room, and then looked at Hotchner. "Where's Rossi?"

"He'll meet us here tonight," Hotchner answered. "He had to give a lecture at NYU." He turned sharply toward Elliot, clearing his throat to garner his attention. "Pardon the interruption."

Olivia leaned back in her own chair and pulled away from Elliot. "You weren't interrupting."

"When did you realize you had a serial killer on your hands?" Hotchner asked. "And why did you bring us in? Aside from the obvious reason," he nodded once at Olivia.

"Hey, you're just borrowing her, remember that," Elliot told him, crossing his arms. "As soon as you find a full time replacement, she's back here with the NYPD, where she belongs." He glanced at Olivia, then looked back at Hotchner. "When I looked over the reports, there were too many things that...couldn't be coincidental. The notes, for one thing."

"There were other notes?" Hotchner asked, brow furrowed.

Elliot smirked. "You're not one for reading, are you?" he surmised. "I don't have pictures of them, but they're mentioned in every interview...family members were left with personal belongings, the last things the victims had with them, and a note. It wasn't caught right away because the murders were investigated by four different precincts. I'm the one that has to review all of them, so as soon as I noticed...I called you." He shot Olivia another quick look before saying, "I have enough history with the FBI to know when something's out of my jurisdiction, and the last thing I wanted was someone barging in unannounced."

"I have someone upstairs digging through old cases, by the way, like you asked," Olivia said. "I just hope you find what you're looking for. I want to get this guy."

"We'll get him," Hotchner said, nodding and attempting a smile that didn't come off as snide. "Oh, one more thing, Chief," he said as he shoved a stack of papers into his briefcase, "I think we've already found a permanent replacement." He looked deliberately at Olivia, then picked up his case and walked out of the office.

My attempt at a crossover; it works well with these two shows.

Reviews are welcome.

Peace and Love

Jo