Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't own Criminal Minds, Vimes and Jacobson are based off a character from Gary Disher novels. And of course I'm borrowing the name Vimes from the fantastically brilliant Terry Pratchett. While this story is not about him, Ivan Milat 'the Backpacker murderer' is real, his crimes were horrible. May we never see his kind in Australia again.

Oh and by the by I'm aware there are probably some glaringly obvious plot holes in this story. No flames please, just enjoy.

Summary: (Set after Gideon's gone but before Joe Mantenega so maybe AU) With Gideon gone the team is on edge and Reid is spiralling out of control. Now the BAU are sent to the land down under to profile a serial killer and are teamed up with an old friend of Reid's. Can she help catch the killer and save Reid from himself? Or will her own demons get the better of her? (Reid & OC friendship, maybe more not sure yet)

Dr. Evie 'don't call me Evangeline' Vimes swatted a fly away with her hand.

There were two reasons for the amount of flies.

One, it was the height of summer in Australia. Flies were just a part of summer along with the dry heat and the bushfires.

Vimes was currently standing by the side of the Hume Highway the sun beating down on her making her sticky and uncomfortable, the flies adding to her irritation.

The second reason for the flies was that a few metres back in the scrub, in grave where there should be no grave, there was a body.

It hadn't been the first. It was the fourth so far.

Vimes frowned at a passing car that had slowed down to gawk.

Police had sectioned off this part of the road but were allowing cars to pass through one at a time. 'Everybody loves a bit of gore' she thought.

"Bloody bastard thinks he's Ivan Milat"

Vimes looked at the man who spoke "I don't think so Sarge, he's clearly using him for inspiration, choice of location and victims obviously, but no he's very… meticulous".

Detective Inspector Fred Jacobson gave Vimes a sideways glance.

He hadn't been a Sergeant for years so the title was more a term of affection on the girl's part, she was after all virtually his surrogate daughter.

Jacobson didn't like her to see such gruesome sights either but it was her choice, he'd known all along she'd end up something of a criminal profiler.

She's grown up pottering around the local police station but she was far too clever to end up your run-of-the-mill copper.

She was always asking "why?"

"Some kind of genius!" Jacobson remembered her father had gushed to him after a visit with a child psychologist once, "I knew she was a sharp one, can you imagine what she could be when she grows up?"

So there she stood, twenty-five years old, a deep frown on her usually sweet face.

"Meticulous?" he enquired.

Vimes folded her arms and jerked her head towards the body "slashes the throat, stabs the heart, just once. Milat was more frenzied, this guy likes to sit back and watch them die".

Arms still folded she wandered back over to the grave site "it's pretty deep for a shallow grave and you can tell he spent time carefully digging it. Look at the dimensions, perfect. He didn't just dump the body he gave it an almost proper burial".

'So deep, we never would have found it if a family hadn't stopped here for a toilet break' she thought. The family dog had started sniffing around, started digging…

The other three were easier to find, the graves weren't so deep. This had probably been the first one he killed, but no one had found it, nobody gave him any recognition for what he had done.

So the next time, he made sure he'd gotten their attention, and the time after that, and the time after that.

She pinched the brow of her nose, sometimes it did all get to her.

"Well if it's any consolation you'll be getting some help soon" Jacobson said gently, almost reading her thoughts.

Vimes sighed "there's plenty of police and forensic psychologists already pouring through the case. What more could they possibly want?"

"Team of profilers from the U.S" Jacobson replied, "victims one and two were American remember? Bit of an outcry over there. So they're sending a group of F.B.I profilers from their Behaviour Analysis Unit over to help out" he made a face, "I've been put on bloody chauffer duty, have to pick them from the airport later tonight".

Vimes gave a little snicker "you going to remember their names or are you just going to hold up a sign with 'Feds' on it?"

"Oh you should have become a comedian" Jacobson rolled his eyes, then sheepishly he took out the piece of paper on which he had written down the names of all the people he had to pick up, "Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, Senior Special Agent Morgan, Special Agent Prentiss and Special Agent Dr. Reid".

Vimes snickered again at the mouthful of titles then stopped, "wait is that a Spencer Reid?"

Jacobson looked at the paper again, "Spencer Reid yes, why?"

Vimes grinned "when you pick them up tell him that I said 'sorry about your wrist'"..

………………………………………………………………………………………...

A few hours later the sun was setting, Vimes sat in her hotel room deep in thought. Spencer Reid huh? One of the few people to ever make her feel, well not dumb, but not so smart. A profiler too, she had to laugh at that.

She thought about the tiny skinny kid with glasses and wondered how much he'd changed in seventeen years.

Her mobile phone ringing shook her from her thoughts, she flipped it open "hello?"

"Hi sweet pea"

Vimes stiffened at the pet name, "Hi. How are things?"

"Okay, I saw you on the television"

T.V crews had swarmed the crime scene like vultures, "yeah" was all Vimes said.

Silence at the other end.

Then "sweet pea you know I love you don't you?"

"Yes I do"

"You forgive me don't you?"

"Of course I do"

"I'd take it back if I could"

Vimes' tone were terse "I know you would"

"Okay well my time's almost up. I should go"

"Bye"

"Bye sweet pea".

Vimes heard the phone click, she closed her phone and rested it against her chin.

Slowly she got up and headed to the bathroom. She peeled away her sticky clothing and jumped under the shower.

Letting the warm water wash over her, Evie Vimes pressed her head against the tiled wall and cried.