Well, the good news is that Paget is staying. Unfortunately that means AJ is leaving. I would like to think that all of this happened for a reason- however twisted that reason might be. But it's nice to know that we showed CBS that we don't take things lying down and we will be heard. Thanks to everyone who stepped up!

On to the story: This UNSUB is one sick bastard! Revenge is what drives him but will it be enough to make Dave drop his guard? But the UNSUB isn't going to stop until he gets what he wants: David Rossi.

I don't own Criminal Minds - though if the PTB want to surrender control, I won't say no.

No Place Left To Fall

Light from a single 40 watt bulb hanging from the ceiling filled the empty dark space he called home. Never one to sit back and wait for things to come to him, he had a job to do. Actually, he had to right a wrong. For too many years his father's name had been dragged thru the mud because of one man. David Rossi. Famed FBI profiler and best selling author. Just thinking the name made him want to vomit.

He had read the book David Rossi had written about his father. How could it be legal for that man to make money off of his father while he and his mother had barely scraped by? There had to be some kind of law against that, right?

Clipping out letters from the various magazines that littered his work table, he carefully arranged them on the cream colored letter size paper. His threat wasn't specific for he didn't want to scare David Rossi- just give him enough of a jolt to keep looking over his shoulder. And when David Rossi was busy looking over one shoulder that is when he would make his move.

Lightly brushing the clear glue over the collage of letters, he let his mind wander a little over what he would do when he finally came face to face with the man who helped put his father to death. Should he give the FBI guy a chance to beg for mercy? His father never begged for mercy. But then again every man had his breaking point and it would be something to see a larger than life figure wallowing around wanting redemption.

Holding the letter up, he blew on it to hasten the drying of the glue - his mind wandering to the last three killings. And he smiled. The first two had been so easy. Tradition was the one thing he could count on the Navy having and after 200 years, they still had no problem putting one person on pier sentry watch. And they still kept them unarmed. He didn't know whether to laugh or feel disgusted that the military had no qualms about leaving an unarmed female on a pier in the middle of the night. In a way, he considered it a gift.

She never knew what happened. But once he settled her down, he managed to convince her that once he was finished he would let her go. All of the anger he had built up over the years was taken out on her. After a while he had to gag her because her screams for her mother was hurting his head. She was his own little play toy and he kept her for two days. He would like to say he felt a little guilt as the knife slid across her throat, but he didn't. In fact, it turned him on.

Disposing of her remains was pretty easy. Another pier sentry who was unable to leave their post made it possible for him to drop the crate off near the pier. Labeled crudely enough to not warrant suspicion, he left his first kill's remains and made a clean get away.

The second kill was almost random. Driving by, he had seen her get out of her car. Was it fate or luck that she would drop her purse, spilling the contents all over the lawn? Stopping the car, he got out to help her -straight into his vehicle. Funny how some people had no qualms about cooperating when a threat was whispered in their ear.

He kept her for three days. She was a tough one. Defiant, rude, and threatening. She also had quite the mouth on her. When she revealed that her old man was a three star Admiral, it was no wonder she could take everything he gave her. But in the end, like the other, she broke down and begged for mercy. Her last words were calls for her mother and father in between sobs. He was almost sad to see her go.

Again, a lapse in security made it possible for him to dispose of her in an area that would not only embarrass her in death, but her father in life. Seeing her lying there naked on the golf course was too tempting to pass. She had been such a bitch toward him, so he took that last opportunity to defile her even in death.

Then he sat and waited for the news to jump on the murders. But nothing came. A week. Then two weeks. It was like the military to cover up for their own. He thought that the murder and defiling of an admiral's daughter would have been enough for the military to bring in the FBI, but they swept it under the rug and tried to keep it quiet. Well, he had revenge to dish out, and he needed to bring his prey in closer. The first two kills had been for his father. The third one was for him.

Young, beautiful, athletic, and a complete fighter, she tried to get a couple of good shots in. But he had had enough of women trying to get the upper hand. Hog-tying her, he kept her that way as he did things that were illegal in all fifty states. She was good, but he didn't keep her long. She wasn't a prize, she was revenge.

As he tossed her out of the car trunk, and threw her in an area he knew the search party would eventually discover, he thought about how his life had come to this. It was inevitable that a son would follow in his father's footsteps. Only he had a purpose: he was going to clear his old man's name by destroying another man's name.

Coming out of his reverie, he folded the letter and placed it in its respective envelope. Carefully he addressed it to FBI Agent David Rossi. Finished, he leaned back, his hands clasped behind his head. It was all coming together. And now that he had time to think about it, he really didn't feel guilty about those women; they lost their lives because of one man. The sin and guilt belonged to David Rossi. Alone.
********

Day two into the investigation, and the team was hitting a brick wall. Master Sergeant Behmer and his mother could provide nothing that would indicate that Celeste knew her killer. The subsequent scan of her computer revealed nothing out of the ordinary - except she did spend a lot of time on instant messenger and loved to play internet games on Face Book.

So, no one was surprised when her profile came back clean. Of course, that didn't make the investigation any easier. Although as much as the team would like to complain about the lack of evidence, none of them envied Hotch and Prentiss who had to debrief the two commanding officers.

If that wasn't enough, Erin Strauss was present through the whole debriefing. Hotch tried his best to explain that there wasn't much at the moment to go on, and the team was going to be working over time to profile and catch the UNSUB responsible. But that fell on deaf ears. It was understandable that tempers would be short and emotions on high, but Strauss putting her two cents in did nothing to ease the moment. She was of the mindset that Hotch was incompetent -as was his team- and she made no bones about suggesting that the case be handled by another FBI team.

Prentiss could handle a lot of things, but the flagrant disrespect of her superior officer in front of military brass was uncalled for in her eyes. It took a lot for her to lose her temper, but this time she gave it freely. And willingly. And when all was said and done, Prentiss had saved the day, saved Hotch's reputation, and put Strauss firmly, but respectively back in her place: in the background.

Now that the team had the full cooperation of the Navy and Army, things were running more smoothly, but that didn't mean they were any closer to finding their UNSUB or a motive. Three different women on two different bases in the course of three weeks. One enlisted, one officer, one military dependent. Very unusual choice of victims since most killers liked to focus on a certain type: blonde or prostitute or adolescent. Very rarely did an UNSUB randomly kill victims so completely different.

And another act he committed completely flummoxed the team: he had raped Ensign Brown and Seaman Thieness post mortem, yet he had not touched Celeste Behmer. It was if he was trying to tell them something -maybe giving a clue into his identity, but they were missing it.

DNA was still waiting back on Celeste, but the results had come back on the first two victims as a match. Unfortunately, there was no hit in the national data base which now put the team back at square one.

Brain-storming until late into the night for a possible motive, the team called it a day by nine o'clock. One by one they filed to their respective desks and offices to close down.

Rossi watched as Prentiss gathered her purse and coat. He knew that what they were sharing was against the rules, but he had bided by rules and regulations for so long that he decided that it was time to fracture a couple of them.

He knew the rules better than anyone -hell, two of them written because of him- so he knew his way around impositions. But technically what he and Prentiss were doing was not a punishable violation, although it could land a letter of reprimand in their permanent record. But he loved her, and he was willing to sacrifice his reputation and job for her.

As he climbed the stairs to his office, he watched the faces of the other team members. Drawn, sad, angry, and confused colored their expressions. He knew where they were coming from because he had been there many times before. All he could do was provide experience and a guiding hand as they tried to break the case.

Sighing from exhaustion, he turned the knob and stepped into the office. He knew that Prentiss was heading out to her car. Nothing had been spoken, but they knew each other pretty well -that is what made them a helluva team- and right now, appearance was everything especially with a group of highly trained profilers.

He should call her and have her pick something up on the way home. Reaching for his phone, Dave started to dial when a cream colored envelope with a registered card on the desk caught his eye.

Flipping the phone closed, he reached for it and tore it open. The bright letters jumped out at him:

David Rossi, you can't run! I know the truth! Soon the FBI will too!

Shaken, Dave scanned the letter for any evidence of who prepared it. Nothing. He thought the first letter was a fluke, but the second one was starting to make him nervous. And that was a hard thing for anyone to do.

Opening the desk drawer, he placed the second letter with the first. He knew he could hide it from Prentiss, but he was going to have to tell Hotch.

His appetite suddenly gone, Dave turned out the light and closed the door.