Author's Note: Hey, guys! As semi-pseudo promised, I am back, bearing another chapter. Hoo-rah . . . Now, before forget, I want to thank those who have followed, favorited, and reviews. That made me smile, and now this is my extreme gratitude at work.
Still not a whole lot of action in this chapter – we're building up the story, dearies. So prepare to meet the team! And some more Peter and Sylar of course, because . . . yum.
Warnings: This story is rated T for drug use, violence, language, and adult thinking. Spoilers for seasons 1 – 2 of Heroes. Spoilers for seasons 1 – 2 of Criminal Minds.
Disclaimer: Put it this way; the recipe is mine, but the ingredients and tools were borrowed from some kindly neighbor.
I'm not going to ask for reviews, because I can't guarantee I'll answer them all. But any thoughts are always appreciated, if not required.
Do enjoy!
Chapter Two: Move
JJ thought that, given the circumstances, she was going to be giving the team a relatively easy day. No urgent new cases had come through her desk, so she hadn't had to call the BAU in early, or cut into their weekend. For the first time ever, there wasn't a tremendous pile of files stacked up in her office, so that meant that the people she loved wouldn't be subjected to a long and boring day of paperwork. She'd managed to wrangle them a decent deal; they were going to be looking into a possible link between two cases; which meant that they got the jet and the hotel rooms and the field work, minus quite so much the time constraint, as it looked like their possible unsub was relatively dormant, at least for the time being.
All things considered, this looked like it was going to be one of the better ventures at work, even more so because Garcia had brought coffee and bagels for everyone while they waited to brief.
Or, more accurately, waited for Spencer Reid to show up.
JJ knew that the young man was under stress, that he was bothered and tired and had a lot of things he wasn't saying – but it still frustrated her how he was acting lately. Late to meetings, quiet and broody, less than polite to the people around him . . . he had changed so drastically in the last few months, ever since Hankel. And it bothered JJ.
But the beautiful blonde knew that she would never bring it up with the genius, because, while she suspected what might be wrong (they all did), she in no way wanted to put herself on Reid's target list, or even get confirmation of her suspicions. It would be too much to take.
Besides, she still felt incredibly guilty about the incident. Reid had told her not to, Morgan had told her not to, Emily and Penelope and Gideon and even Hotch had told her that it wasn't her fault . . . but the media liaison would never stop feeling guilty about what her absence had subjected the man who was like her little brother to.
JJ shook her head of the thoughts as said man swiftly entered the conference room, raggedly brushing his hair out of his eyes before sliding into a seat. Everyone's eyes looked up as the genius reached out quickly for the cup of coffee waiting with his name written on it.
Reid took one sip, grimacing slightly at the stale texture of the cold drink, before seeing the looks he was receiving from around the room, and he raised one eyebrow, his shoulders squared.
"I turned off my phone last night, and missed my alarm. I got here as fast as I could."
See, that was what was so worrying. JJ sighed. Before, her sweet little Spencer would have fumbled and blushed and apologized profusely before he's even set his bag down. Now he was just sitting there, looking like death warmed over, and not making eye contact with a single person as he spoke shortly.
Hotch looked at him, about to say something, and then caught the look that Gideon was giving him, and pursed his lips, frowning slightly before speaking up.
"As long as you're alright."
The implication wasn't lost on Reid, and he snapped, "I'm fine." He glanced around, taking another hasty sip of his coffee before continuing, less arduously, "Isn't there a case we're supposed to be working on?"
The frown was still etched in Hotch's face as he turned to face JJ, saying only, "Don't let it happen again," before gesturing to JJ to start the briefing.
"Alright," the blond began, casting one last worried glance in Spencer's direction before turning on the projector.
"This," she continued, gesturing to a DMV photo on the board, "is Alejandro Herrera, 36, recently on the run from the Dominican Republic. He, and his sister Maya, are wanted in connection with a mass homicide; supposedly, the two of them poisoned over one hundred people."
Hotch looked up. " A hundred?"
JJ sighed. "It was at Alejandro's wedding. The authorities think it was something slipped in the food. All the guests found the next morning with lacerations around their eyes, pale skin, signs of bruising and pre-mortem trauma – all dead. Apparently, no one but these two survived, and they've been missing ever since. Until Thursday, no one knew that Herrera was even in the states."
"Possible unsub?" Morgan questioned, scanning over the file in front of him.
"No. Latest victim." JJ clicked the remote, and another picture appeared onscreen, making every member of the BAU team wince.
"He was found last week in a motel off the highway, near Atlanta. He had been stabbed repeatedly, and then the was just left out in the open. The maid found this," she gestured at a second body picture of the gruesome crime scene, "when she went in to clean up. No sign of Maya or anyone else."
"Is that – ?" Prentiss asked, suddenly placing her hand over her mouth, looking nauseated.
"The victim was found eviscerated and the . . . the top of his head had been cut off." JJ added, miserably.
There was silence for a moment, as the whole team tried to take in the disturbingly graphic pictures before them.
"Okay, I'll grant, it's pretty gruesome – classic signs of rage and overkill," Morgan started, getting confirming nods from everyone in the room. "But what exactly makes this a BAU case? It looks like the sister might have had to tie up lose ends, looses it, and kills Alejandro."
"According to witnesses, Maya and Alejandro checked in with a third member in their party – male, tall, dark hair, early 30's, well-built and dressed in all black. They say that the sister kept calling him Gabriel. And, while the brother and sister shared a room, this 'Gabriel' got one by himself – where the victim's body was found."
"And," Hotch cut in smoothly, "there were fingerprints found on the scene." He stood up, gesturing for the media liaison to hand him the remote, which she did so gladly, and began pulling up another group of photos on the scene.
"There was no match found on the DNA and print evidence," he started, answering the unasked question with a slight frown. "However, BOLO identified the both as being found in a series of earlier crime scenes. It was another Bureau case, though not ours, and it was never solved. They were referred to as – "
"– The Sylar Cases." Everyone looked up at the sound of reverie in the young genius's voice, and Reid blushed at the attention.
"Ah – it was a s-series of murders that took place over the course of last June to mid-November. At least thirty-seven known victims, two listed survivors, and no apparent suspects. The unsub was classified as a spree killer; his murders spread from Texas to New York, and he killed across all sorts of demographics regarding sex, age, race, income and risk level, and status. Investigators were never able to find any connections between any of the deceased or ties to any potential persons of interest, all leads petered out, and eventually, the case was declared cold when the murders stopped by December."
Hotch nodded at his subordinate. "That' right. We didn't get it that time, but, with the newest murder, the Bureau has asked our team to take a look, and determine whether or not we need to arrange a task-force to find this guy."
"Is it really that bad?" Morgan seemed hesitant.
Hotch gestured to Reid, who spoke rapidly.
"Every single one of the victims found by Sylar had bean in some way mutilated; heads were cut off, limbs moved around; one couple in Los Angeles was found bled out, impaled on their own staircase, with their eight-year-old daughter in the next room. By the looks of it, every death was long, drawn-out, and extremely painful."
"And with no correlation found between the victims, that makes everyone a target. This guy doesn't care about what evidence we find, because he knows that he's not recorded in any system; he's fast, efficient, brutal, and, if he's back, a lot of lives are at risk. That makes Sylar a priority."
"Sylar," Gideon mused, studying the police reports. "What the Hell kind of serial killer names themselves after a fancy watch?"
"It says here that one of the unsub's first victims, a Dr. Chandra Suresh, had a message on his voicemail from a male who identified himself as 'Sylar.' I don't have the exact transcripts – we'll need to get those from NYPD Metro in person – but it says in the report that 'Sylar' was threatening the life of the doctor. The next week, they found his body in a cab in New York City – he had been stabbed, in a like manner to Alejandro." JJ turned off the screen, and took a seat at the round table.
The entire team was nodding as they took in all of the information, but it was only Morgan who noted the way Reid's face paled considerably at the mention of Suresh's murder. He made a mental not to ask the genius about it later, and turned to face Gideon.
"So what's what?"
"We've been given a week to collect intel," Hotch answered. "Top brass isn't pleased with the way that the case was handled previously, and they want us to review the information we already have and gather any new evidence; our job is to determine whether this is a legitimate threat, a re-emergence of a prolific serial killer, an imposter . . . something."
"And we're going to split up to do it." Everyone looked at Gideon, who met their eyes with an equally challenging stare.
"There are at least three areas of significance; New York, where the first victim was found. Georgia, where the latest victim was found; and Texas, where the only recorded survivors of an attack live; it's also where the investigation started, and was eventually shut down."
Hotch, agreeing, began to assign jobs. "Jason, I want you to go and examine the newest crime scene, see what you can figure out. Take Reid –" he cut himself off, seeing Jason's slight shake of the head, and Hotch could have kicked himself for being so thoughtless.
What was he thinking? It had only been two months; there was no way Reid was ready to be back in Georgia again.
Tossing the thought out of his head, Hotch re-evaluated the situation, and continued.
"Right. Jason, take JJ – she can handle the press and get us invited on the individual case – remember, until we find clear evidence that this is Sylar guy, it belongs to the locals. Morgan, Reid, the two of you are going to Odessa; try and find the Bennett family, and see if they'll talk to us. And get the original case files and statements – if this is real, then they'll be a tremendous help. Emily and I are going to New York – we'll see what we can get from the Headquarters, and find out if there are any potential threats. Garcia," Hotch turned to the laptop in the center of the table, where the tech analyst had been listening in, "I want you to examine any camera footage from nearby places in Georgia, see if we can find something on film of the sister or the third party, Gabriel. Also, start picking through the lives of the newest victim and all the previous ones; if it was Sylar, then there's got to be something connecting Alejandro to the other victims – see what stands out for him, both with his time here and whatever he did in the Dominican Republic." Hotch stood up. "You've all been issued SUV's to drive with. Emily and I are accompanying the CJISD team to the city, so we're taking the jet. Morgan and Reid, when you finish your investigation, join JJ and Gideon in Atlanta. If they've already left, then we're meeting in New York to run point. Leave as soon as possible."
Hotch turned to leave, and then turned quickly, looking at all the members of his team, his eyes lingering on the still-silent form of Reid.
"Take care of one another. Prentiss, wheels up in thirty minutes."
Emily gave him a light salute, and waved goodbye to the rest of the BAU.
Gideon gestured to JJ, saying, "After you," and followed her out the door, stopping behind Reid for just a minute.
"Be careful, Spencer," He said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder and trying to smile encouragingly. One corner of Reid's mouth turned up in an attempt to reassure the older agent, and then he turned to face Morgan as Jason exited.
"C'mon, Pretty Boy," Morgan grabbed the keys and swiftly made his way to the door. He turned back when the genius made no response, and frowned slightly. Reid hadn't moved from his chair.
"Reid."
The younger man looked up. And attempted a grin.
"Shotgun."
Outside of the FBI Headquarters, Peter Petrelli sat just next to the armed security personnel who were blocking the door. He had thought about just using the power he had absorbed from Hiro Nakimura to pop in there and surprise Spencer – and maybe force the damn man to talk to him – but, in the end, decided to use his telepathy instead to try and hear when his old friend would next be available.
The truth was, Peter was furious with himself for being so out of it that Reid had managed to completely slip by him this morning. He knew that he couldn't help it – the emotional stress of the past few months combined with the physical toll that staying invisible had on him left the poor young man in a state of near-constant exhaustion, and sleep was rare enough.
An earthquake probably couldn't have awakened him.
However, realizing that Spencer had made it to work, while taking away Peter's first chance to actually talk to him, did mean that the other man was safe – and so Peter settled for remaining unseen, sitting down by the outside wall of the building, and listening in to the minds of Spencer's team, waiting for opportunity to knock. Telepathy was positively the best when it came to spying . . .
He had gasped when he's heard that the BAU was investigating Sylar.
Of all the damn bad luck, Peter lamented, still keeping an ear out for any mention of where Reid was headed. He's going to be right in the line of fire.
No. I can't let Spence get hurt.
NO.
I'll protect him, Peter vowed, as he suddenly heard that Spencer was being assigned to go to Odessa, Texas.
He thought of his niece Claire, and wondered if the BAU knew that the Bennetts had transferred out of that little town in November; that they would be effectively chasing their tails trying to find someone who wasn't there . . .
"Odessa," he whispered, wondering at all the coincidences in this most marvelous world.
Probably just want to collect case files, Peter mused as he stood up, stretching out his abused limbs. Wonder what they'll find.
Guess I'll just have to go with them, he thought absently as he treaded towards the parking garage. It would be the best thing for all involved; it would give him a chance to talk to Spencer, to warn him of the danger, as well as keep an eye out for Sylar himself . . .
Peter leaned up against a pillar, and watched as Spence and someone else who he assumed was the infamous Derek Morgan walked up to one of the many black vehicles in the compound, and opened the back door. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he saw Spencer smile at the other man and punch him playfully on the arm. They turned and headed back towards the doors to pick up the go-bags they'd left there.
Taking advantage of their absence, Peter tripled his concentration on his invisibility, and scrambled into the back seat of the SUV. Climbing over the top of the leather, he settled in the wide, open trunk.
It might not be comfortable, but this was definitely the best place for him to remain hidden – even if his powers slipped, and they were able to see him for a while, the large seats and the distance from Spencer and Agent Morgan should ensure his presence remaining anonymous.
Peter pushed himself against the back of the seat, and settled in, preparing for a long 8-hour drive.
Ever since waking up in Mexico, and, consequentially, in New York, Sylar had been very aware of the fact that all of his powers, except for his telekinesis, seemed to be fading in and out, leaving him at times with the abilities of a god, and at other times a man who could do no more than move things without touching them.
Which was why he was so incredibly elated that his supersonic hearing had been 'on' in the last few moments while he had been sitting on a bus stop bench just outside of the Quantico FBI Building, trying to catch a glimpse of his prey.
Without the power to hear a pin drop in an ocean thousands of miles away, the man formerly known as Gabriel Gray would have missed the one extremely telling word that came from Peter Petrelli's invisible mouth.
"Odessa."
Sylar stood up, preparing himself to move on.
They're going to Texas, then.
I think I'll go, too. Might get to see that pretty little cheerleader again – maybe, this time, I can . . . 'persuade' her to share that nice little ability she has . . .
Smiling, the man wearing all black walked into a darkened alley, following a pompous-looking gentleman who was gabbering on his cell phone.
Minutes later, a sleek-looking red car drove out, with a darkly-dressed and darkly-grinning person behind the wheels.
In the alley he'd just left, a man dressed in business suit lay dying, his throat slowly bleeding out.
Author's Endnote: Hmmph . . . I dunno, yet. I think I sense a heart-to-heart coming up between morgan and Reid . . . guess I'll just have to keep reminding myself that this is not slash. Ay.
Og, for anyone interested; the CJISD team stands for the Criminal Justice Informational Services Department – which, according to my dear friend Google, would be required to accompany an investigation in cases such as this. The more you know . . .
