Authoress Notes:

MorganxGarcia – Glad you enjoyed it :] Morgan/Garcia fan hmm? Perhaps you might like some of their interaction in this chapter? LOL, once can hope :]

JessalynnGSR – Cheers, hope you enjoy this chapter!

JWynn – Enjoy! :]

Ginsensu – Hope you enjoy this chapter, mate.

Ninja Bagel – Thanks so much, hope this chapter's to your liking.

Black Tulip – I'm so glad to hear that LOL. Honestly speaking there were times during the writing of this piece when I felt that it had lost all its potential despite already having written the ending, but I think it's found a definite direction now. But no, never had the intention of leaving this unfinished – I had done that too often with my first few fanfics from years ago LOL. Not fair to the readers either. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Sirnonenath – Thanks, hope you find this chapter just as exciting as the others :]

Title: COVET

By: Clonksholic

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Any original characters belong to me. I gain no profit from writing this, and do so solely to entertain.

Warning: There WILL be geographical mistakes and inaccuracies in this fanfic. I am currently living in Australia, and my knowledge of America, its towns and cities is limited to sources on the internet and the media. Most of the town names are and will be fictional to avoid misrepresentation of real places.

Summary: With Emily Prentiss abducted by the serial rapist responsible for the murders of brunettes in Texas, both the abducted agent and the team must fight to restore order and save the remaining victims.

COVET

Chapter 7 – The Antelope Part III

'H-he set them on the floor, each time. Sometimes it'd be me in their place kneeling as he s-stabbed me with the knife again and again…I- I wanted it to stop, but it never did. It'd go on for what seemed like hours…each time he made me watch, he'd sometimes take me to a room with broken mirrors and make me watch what he did…'

'He made me choose, he tells me, 'If you don't choose I'll kill both of them'…each time they looked at me like they wanted to die…'

'I-I never opened the door. It made a…a noise every time… you try to make the least amount of noise when you're there since you don't want him to remember you. It's all you want. I tried once…… You don't scream…no, no, no you never ever scream when he's doing it to the others…if you scream he'll come for you next…'

'He always wanted us to scream…made us beg, he was in charge…no matter how many times we told him he'd still get angry…'

'There was one woman…She was pregnant. Lisa I think…the-the new ones never stayed for that long…'

'I wished they hadn't told me their names…I-I can't forget the look they had in their eyes each time it happened…they were always looking at me when it happened…they always asked me why-why, why, why!?!'

'I can't forget their faces…I-I-he made me watch – Lisa…her baby…8 months…red-th-the blood….oh god…oh god he made me watch as he…he told me to enjoy but I couldn't-I couldn't do anything!'

'Please…pl-please, no, please don't hurt me again-I-I'll do anything!!'

There was a wet thud as the plastic cup dropped from the medic's hands upon the sound of the glock being fired.

The first thing they saw as they turned towards the interrogation room was the thick crimson liquid spewing from the back of Simone's head that bloomed into a fiery red sea urchin upon hitting the white wall.

Her eyes, now blank like the faded pupils of a dead fish, were facing the door as it opened to greet the agents, the corners her lips turned up in a hint of a smile.

'What happened,' Hotch demanded, sharply turning on the medic who stood behind him with a catatonic expression frozen across his face.

'She...she said she wanted a drink,' came the man's feeble answer, eyes wide open and hands trembling at the guilt of the possibility of having indirectly brought about her death. 'I didn't…I didn't know she had a gun…none of us did…'

'I thought I told you to check her over!' Detective Thompson barked across the station, expressing his frustration towards his carelessness rather than attempting to pinpoint an individual to blame.

'S-sir?' One of the police officers addressed Detective Thompson, the slight stutter compromising his efforts to hide his intimidation.

'What?' Detective Thompson barked, sharply turning towards the officer, his glare making him wish he hadn't spoken at all.

The officer flinched slightly, looking almost flustered, then managed to say, 'You asked me to contact Mr Dallas…he's just arrived.'

A commotion drew their attention to the door, where a large man was in struggle with three police officers attempting to calm him down.

'Let me go! It's my daughter!'

Aaron exchanged immediate, wary glances with the team, rushing to the door.

'Don't let him see this,' he warned Detective Thompson, who gave a nod, forehead creasing in a heavy frown as he lifted a hand to slide it tiredly down his face.

'Simone!?' A father's desperate cry resonated through the station.

'Mr. Dallas, please calm down!' Voices that attempted to calm him along with the anticipated daughter that failed to come forward fueled the man's desperate thrashing, large arms belonging to the ranger flailing away protective advances of the police officers in his instinctive paternal attempt to reach his daughter.

'Simone?!' He tried once more, voice faltering as with another step, the interrogation room came to view.

'Oh god…'

His eyes widened, an animalistic cry gurgling from his throat as he put two and two together, the glimpse of the woman lying face sideways on the desk within the room, a dark red flower splattered against the wall behind her only confirming his initial fears. He lowered his head in a dazed manner, following the line of sight as two officers within the room pulled the shutters down to obscure the scene within it.

'No…'

'Mr Dallas – '

'N-NO!!'

The man's next sounds sent a chill up Aaron and JJ's spine, a cry that they were instinctively able to relate to.

The sound of a parent outliving their child.

'Seven years… seven years…you told me she was back…why?'

The man's knees gave way, his strong arms now like those of an infant clinging to a parent's for comfort as he hung to the sleeves of Aaron's suit, eyes haunted and unmoving from the door of the interrogation room.

Minutes later that same door opened once more, allowing out the woman's figure shrouded beneath a white sheet, to be put away from the world, once again, forever.

Dave sighed heavily. Seven years. One survivor had returned only to drag herself back to hell again.

It was the irony he felt once more, how clearing the bodies was as simple as placing them on a carrier and a white sheet over their faces, whereas their pursuit of finding them before that state was and forever would be infinite.

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'Seven years,' Mr Dallas's head held heavy in his hands as he continued to look down at the surface of the desk. The cup that had been put beside him remained untouched.

'Mr Dallas-'

'Was I too late?' He cut JJ's sentence off mid way, slamming his hands down onto the desk, gaze pleading as he looked up at the blonde agent. 'How was she when she arrived? Was she alright?...'

The man covered his face with his hands once more, cursed and muttered, 'No of course not, what a stupid question that is, she wouldn't have been okay, if she had been' – Mr Dallas once again slammed his fists down onto the desk, his eyes still focused on its surface – 'she wouldn't have bloody killed herself!'

'Is there anyone you'd like us to call?' came JJ's delicate inquiry.

Spencer watched from across the room where the rest of the team members had settled down around a round desk, then turned back to them as his name was softly called.

'…He tortured them to a point where there was no need for him to even lock their doors to ensure their stay. This is about ultimate control,' Aaron said.

'Sick bastard.' Came Detective Thompson's bitter remark.

The woman's death rang clear as day in his mind. Their first witness since the beginning of this case.

Here was hoping that her death wasn't in vain.

'They were essentially like obedient dogs except trained purely by punishment with no rewards,' Spencer added.

Dave was quick in his response, 'no, his absence would be the rewards.'

'He controls every aspect of their lives, choosing when they die, when they eat. It looks as if he continued to keep their hopes up with no actual intention of letting them go,' Spencer continued.

'So how do we find him,' Aaron said, dropping his gaze down to the pages on the desk.

'Well it looks as if the radio's his primary source of connection with the press – Simone was under the impression that he never turned it off,' Detective Thompson ventured.

'The guy's a narcissist – undermining his abductions and works might anger him and cause him to become careless,' Dave added.

'But he also has nothing to lose. He has no reason to give away his position since he's already achieved his objectives,' Aaron said.

'Or it might compel him to establish contact with us,' JJ suggested. 'He has an FBI agent in his hands, there's a likely chance that he may attempt to through Emily.'

'And either way if he's made to think that we're onto another guy completely it'll lessen the chances of him covering his tracks and running,' David said. 'The fact that he's already got the victims he needs means he won't make another abduction. It eliminates the need to inform the public - there's no present danger to anyone but those that he's keeping captive.'

'So the conference?' JJ inquired once more.

That was all their unit chief needed. He gave her a nod. 'Make sure he's given a description of a man that he can't relate to. Suggest impotency despite the evidence of sexual assault.'

JJ was already on her way, with Detective Thompson following behind, as she replied back, 'Got it.'

'Dave,' Aaron called the older agent softly. 'I want you to visit Morgan. Inform him of what's happening.'

Dave gave a nod to indicate that he had understood. He managed a cynical smile. 'What if he wants in?'

'Don't let him.'

'You're the boss.'

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A quick flash of his credentials was all that was needed to obtain a one way ticket to Derek's ward, no questions asked. His shoes made a soft clattering sound to match those made by the nurse's white pumps on the shiny polished floor.

With the same sterlised, white environment returned the same dreamlike feeling; the only thing that seemed to change with hospitals was the victims he visited.

'He's been causing us a bit of trouble, I'm afraid,' said the nurse cautiously, her dark hair that had been pulled up in a bun to sit loosely underneath her cap bopping with each step. 'Rest is of primary importance at this stage and crucial to recovery but it's been difficult gaining his cooperation.'

Dave gave a knowing chuckle, 'He does that.'

'I've told you, I'm fine. I can't be here right now!'

The struggle was loud and evident even as they were a few metres away from the door.

'Agent Morgan, please calm down. You need your rest,' attempted the nurse as she entered the room.

Dave opted for standing by the doorway, watching in amusement as the large man resisted the nurses' advances in replacing his sheets and offering a new hospital garb.

'You don't look like someone who got out of surgery five hours ago,' Dave remarked at last, finally taking pity on the darker agent.

He gave the nurses a smile, as they paused, unsure of what to do. 'I'll take it from here.'

'Struggling only encourages them, you know,' Dave said, once the nurses had left the room.

'Hm,' Derek managed a half smile that did not meet his eyes.

Dave beat him to the question. 'We haven't found him yet.'

'And Emily?'

Dave raised his eyebrows. As expected. 'You think this is your fault.'

Upon the man's silence, Dave decided to continue. 'Morgan, there was no way of you knowing. Or doing anything for that matter. It could have been any of us in your shoes.'

'I –' Derek hesitated momentarily, fists clenching the sheets on his knees and forcing the bitterness from his voice before continuing, 'I know that Rossi.'

'So why do you sit there allowing yourself to think that things could have turned out differently.'

Derek's reached up and swept his hand over his forehead disconcertedly. 'That's why Rossi – We could have changed it. I should have known!' Derek then turned to the older agent, gaze searching for some sort of an answer in the man's stance and expression, one that would justify the guilt that he felt, a sign that would show that he was the one to blame.

A hint that told him he was obliged to carry the weight of his conscience that currently rested on his shoulders.

He found none.

'So what, we sit here and sulk?' Dave's reply was frank, his expression unmoved and blunt. 'You're only human, Morgan. Humans make mistakes. Some of which –' Dave fixed Derek an incriminating gaze – 'They're unknowingly forced into. The difference is that some mistakes are harder to correct and compensate for. That doesn't mean we kneel down and hope that it gets better on its own.'

'I know,' Derek replied softly, turning his gaze towards the window beside him. The sky was clear. Just as it had been upon their arrival in Barlow.

'I know that. Which is why I need to go with you, get out of this place and catch this son of a bitch.'

Another few minutes passed as Morgan's gaze fixed on the older agent in an attempt to engage in a silent agreement.

This time, he found what he was looking for.

'Your ready-bag's in the car,' said Dave, the half smile on his lips almost mischievous. Motioning to a nurse who just happened to be passing by the door, Dave added, 'Didn't think I'd let you have all the fun, did you?'

Then, he turned on his heel and departed first, the darker agent immediately pushing the covers aside with shrewd determination.

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'If you have mistakes, even serious ones, there is always another chance for you. What we call failure is not the falling down but the staying down.'

Mary Pickford

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It was over.

Alice could feel it as her ears rang with the sound of her own gasps, the saliva that had filled her mouth now beginning to dribble down her chin.

What an unattractive way to die.

She resisted the urge to giggle at the superficial thoughts that came in waves. The agent standing in front of her was pretty. Not as pretty as her though. No one could be as pretty as her.

Alice had thought it'd be different – that she would be different in her final moments, the dying experience that she had only ever imagined before. Wasn't scenes from her life meant to be flashing before her eyes?

A sharp pain at her neck caused her to flinch and instinctively jerk away from the wire. She felt a warm liquid trail down from her neck to her shoulders. She guessed it was blood.

Blood.

Red was pretty.

She liked pretty things.

The agent still wasn't saying anything. Was it so hard. Why couldn't she just swallow her pride and give the man what he wanted. It wasn't even a very big deal.

For fuck's sake she was dying here.

'Are you just gonna let her die like this, Agent?'

Yeah, are you?

'Look at her, can you hear her gasping?' Alice could hear the glee almost dripping from the man's voice.

He was enjoying this, the fucker.

'Sweet sounds…come on, Agent.' She could hear the man challenging once more. 'I thought this was your job, saving women.'

She watched as the wire cut around Alice's neck, life fading from her eyes. In a few minutes they would resemble the eyes of the victims she looked into at the beginning of every case. The victims she had always been too late for.

But here was one dying in front of her eyes.

One that could still be saved.

'Please.'

His movements came to a sudden halt as he lifted his head from Alice's face to stare into Emily's eyes. 'What did you say?'

She swallowed, with it repressing the anger that welled up inside her. She knew she had to keep calm.

The victims were her priority.

The victims, not herself.

'I said.' She inhaled deeply, relaxing the fists she had clenched in rage. 'Please.'

The victims before herself.

She watched as a sinister grin crawled across his lips like a caterpillar struggling to escape from a web.

'Again.'

No anger, just the victims.

'Please.'

The man's grin widened and he removed the wire from Alice's neck in a quick, swiping motion, slashing a thin but definite gash in the woman's neck.

The woman coughed, body jerking with each hoarse sound. The blood dripped from her neck. The trail was steady but thin, informing Emily that the string had missed the victim's vital vein.

She allowed herself to exhale deeply, then focused all her attention on the man, who had stood up and continued to gaze at the deep cuts he had previously inflicted on her arm.

She knew what was coming.

Photos of the victims' wounds she had seen at the beginning of the case flashed through her mind. They seemed almost surreal, like a dream. Fresh knife wounds over those that had just healed or had just been healing. Their bodies the victims of continuous, unending physical torture.

Now it was her turn.

The pain in her arm amplified as the man approached, the anticipation of the next strike shattering her attempts to focus elsewhere. It was the waiting, she knew, that was the most painful. Once the blow came however, repeatedly at that, it became easier.

The next strike traveled further up her arm, where the skin had yet to be broken. She could feel the cold steel blade against her scalding skin, the wound throbbing as the sharp object remained lodged within it.

And still she did not make a sound.

Using pain to her advantage was her specialty. With each blow, and each shout that revealed the man's increasing frustration towards her silence, she visualized the faces of each victim.

Forcing herself to connect.

Forcing herself to remain angry as anger meant there was less room for pain.

For how long had the other women endured this pain. If they had the strength to survive it, so could she.

She pushed back the nagging voice in her mind that reminded her of their deaths.

She was not yet a victim.

And never would be.

'I said BEG!'

Her focus, which had been solely on her arm where she had been anticipating the next strike, was sent spiraling as pain swamped her right rip cage. She cursed mentally as she heard the gasp that tumbled from her lips, and upon making eye contact with the unsub, knew he had too.

The triumphant grin on his lips and the burning pain in her side that caused her to curl her torso slightly in an instinctive attempt to protect the wound, sent her head throbbing with regret, the sign of a worse ordeal to come.

The victims, she repeated once more, not herself.

Before the man could attempt another slow, burning strike to her side, a loud shriek caught their attention. Before the man could turn, Alice slammed into the his body with great force, knocking both the unsub and herself off their feet.

Despite her gallant efforts, her bound figure and previously received wounds allowed the unsub to gain his footing first.

Emily breathed deeply in an attempt to regain her stance as the man placed a strong kick towards the Alice's head, who deftly dodged it and fixed the man an angry glare.

His hesitation revealed that he seemed to be taken aback. Retaliating females was something he was unfamiliar with. Not since the new position of power he had imposed upon himself and his abducted victims, in any case.

He still had a trick up his sleeve that served as the greatest threat to them however. He knew this got them all begging for their lives.

Due to their lack of reactions however, he was unable to perform the full deed, but a good scare would force it out of them and do the job.

He gave a confident smirk and tossed his knife aside, deliberately walking up towards Alice and standing above her frozen form.

She gave a defiant jerk of her head, her bruised black right eye not preventing her from perfectly expressing anger through her glare.

'You think you're tough?' He watched, victorious, as the woman's eyes widened at his next actions. He reached a hand down to his pants, attempting to unzip it just enough to scare her into…

'Alice, not a sound. He can't get it up unless you do.'

The agent's firm voice forced its way through his fantasy, robbing him of his power. His hands stilled in their slow, deliberate movements.

He looked down into Alice's eyes. Strength had returned to them once more, the fear, vanished.

He felt his shoulders tremble as anger rushed through his veins.

She knew.

SHE KNEW.

NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW.

Emily stared straight into the unsub's eyes as the knife came at her. A large animalistic scream accompanied the blade's pending strike.

She remained glaring as the knife approached her face, heading towards her eyes…

Slam.

Staring straight into his eyes was the agent's. Unfazed. If she had shown any signs of fear, they had withdrawn the moment he had planted the knife into the wood beside her head.

He could smell her scent. His grip tightened around the knife as he breathed heavily, the impulsive action fueled by anger with no expected rewards temporarily robbed him of his energy.

The man released the hilt of the knife, stepping slowly away from the brunette before him. He turned away, failing to notice the deep breath of air she had exhaled.

He could see the ground beneath his shoes. His shoes were brown.

Two shoes.

Two feet.

A pair.

A PAIR.

When the unsub's head snapped up, Emily braced herself for what was to come.

It wasn't over yet.

A maniacal laughter exploded from the man, sending an icy chill crawling up the two womens' spines.

Emily could see fear creep back into Alice's eyes. The woman looked at her, expression perplexed and terrified.

The man suddenly swerved around, fastening his glare on Agent Prentiss.

'See if you can save this.'

Those were his final words before he forwarded out of the shed, slamming the door behind him.

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Her fingers continued to tremble as she ran them over her keys with proficient skill. The shock she had received upon hearing about what had happened had still not worn off. It clung to her skin, like an invisible body suit of glad wrap that adhered tightly around her body.

He was ok, she repeated to herself. He's okay and that's all that matters.

Despite knowing the risks her companions took with each case, she remained susceptible to the fear, uncertainty and trembling of her fingertips that arrived upon receiving the bad news.

You'd think she'd be able to handle it better by now.

'Thirty seconds till full coverage.'

'Derek, drive to the opening and get the hell out.'

She hated the desperation in her voice.

'Something I really want you to know Garcia.'

How could he remain so damn calm at a time like this?

'Save it, just get out!'

'Ten.'

'Morgan.'

'Just listen to me.'

'Nine.'

'Morgan please.' Penelope heard the number as Lisa continued to count down.

'You know what you are Garcia?'

'We just lost track of him…'

And then, complete silence on the other line.

'Morgan!'

No.

She stopped herself, pushing back the possibilities she had imagined at the time. He was safe. He had been safe that time, and he had pulled through yet again.

That was all that mattered. And now, she thought as she stared at the screen, it was time to work her magic.

To play catch that lead.

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'Garcia, what have you got for us?' Aaron asked, switching the phone to loud speaker to allow her to deliver her findings.

'Okay, after our last delightful little meeting, I decided to search up a lead myself. This guy had dressed his victims in clothes after he had killed them – well, to get those clothes he would have needed women to get them from, right?'

'Go on,' Aaron encouraged, exchanging glances with Spencer.

'So I did some digging and pulled up some files containing the murders of prostitutes within Barlow and its nearby areas, and found that ten years ago, there were several unsolved murders, the bodies dumped in the same area within a twenty mile radius. Plus the number of bodies matches the number of victims he's clothed so far.'

'He hadn't clothed the latest two victims,' Spencer confirmed.

'That must mean he still has…'

'He killed the latest two victims quickly, didn't take his time with them. We concluded at the time it was because he had found new victims,' Spencer said.

There was a slight pause before Garcia uttered, 'So he's saving the remaining articles of clothing for-'

Aaron interrupted Garcia's trail of thought before she could go further, giving Spencer a wary frown. 'Whereabouts?'

'That's another thing – it's in the further rural areas of Barlow, near where they used to have farms specialized in breeding Wynadotte chickens.'

'Used to?' Spencer inquired, frowning slightly.

'Used to as in their production was stopped around the same time the bodies of the prostitutes were found.'

'So that's the stressor,' Aaron said.

'Garcia, were you able to find any connections between the unsub's first four victims?' Spencer asked, leaning towards the phone.

'Simone confirmed that they didn't have any personal connections – none of these women knew each other,' Aaron said.

'Well that's where this comes in. It looks as if these chicken farms also used to personally deliver the chicken to the village markets, and their services included personal, door-to-door deliveries. But asides from the mass orders they were all cash jobs.'

'It's why we couldn't find a connection between these victims,' Spencer said. 'There's no electronic record that suggests how the unsub may have met them.'

'There's a possibility that the written records might remain at the farms,' Aaron stated. 'Garcia, find the list of employees who worked at the farm until it went COB.'

'Pulling it up now…'

'If he lived out in the rural areas of Barlow it's likely that he learnt the abilities similar to the training the rangers receive without going through the actual process,' Spencer commented.

'The profile states that due to his fixation with powerful career women he's likely to be on the lower half of the food chain – he most probably did the deliveries himself,' Aaron added. 'Would explain how he has efficient knowledge in the area, the deliveries might have taken him to the other sides of the town.'

At that moment, the station doors opened, admitting in the expected older agent and another, following.

Aaron's frown deepened despite facing the outcome he had expected.

'Hotch, before you say anything-'

'You're not setting a foot on the field.'

Derek gave a sheepish grin at the unit chief's order. 'You're the boss.' After Aaron had turned away, Spencer's turned towards him a perplexed, slightly skeptical gaze, to which Derek responded with a wink, and held up his right hand to reveal that he had two of his fingers crossed. He chuckled as Spencer looked away raising his eyebrows in an amused manner.

'Okay, I have the list.'

'Hey baby girl,' Derek called out, followed by an immediate silence on the other line.

'Morgan?'

'I'm back, baby,' Derek said, a bright grin adorning his face.

'…You almost left without saying good bye this time.'

He gave a good natured chuckle, leaning closer to the phone. 'I know, forgive me.'

'Not until you come back. Then you're in for a ride of your life.'

'Garcia,' Aaron interrupted, hiding a smile at the small interaction that, for a moment, reminded them the ironic nature of the perils that their job entailed; how despite the risks, it was the danger they worked within that amplified the happier moments such as this.

'Oh right. Well, looks like you'll have to wait a bit longer, my sweet. Garcia at your service sir.'

'Garcia narrow the search down to those with a criminal record.'

'Ten potential suspects,' Garcia said after a few seconds of rapid typing.

'Now which one of them has had a family history of mental disorder or come from a disturbed family background, particularly focus on the mother, there will be something that associates her to the concept of power and control.'

The team waited tensely, as the station doors opened once more to admit JJ and Detective Thompson.

'The press ate it up,' the detective said. 'What have we got?'

'We think the unsub may be using the abandoned Wynadotte farms in the rural area as his residence,' Spencer said.

After hearing the full location, Detective Thompson looked concerned. 'The place is about an hour's drive from the station at the least.'

'Well we'll have to be even quicker than,' Derek said, and urged into the phone, 'Garcia.'

'Got him. Julian Newman. He used to live within that rural area near the farm, he pretty much took over his father's job after he quit upon having his request for advancement rejected both due to his unstable mental condition and poor work ethics…his mother was a career politician, and looks as if she hardly spent time at home after her maternity leave ended.'

'Not much recognition or attention from the primary female figure,' Dave commented. 'He wants control over his female victims – he made them all beg, explains his fixation on gaining attention.'

'The only male role model he had was overshadowed by his mum's successes.,' Detective Thompson evaluated.

'Having taken orders all his life it's understandable he would have chosen the farm as the place he'd impose control over his victims – he's the king of the castle now,' Spencer said.

'And being an abandoned farm in a rural area with not many visitors, the perfect place to execute his fantasies,' Derek concluded. 'You, my angel, are that first star in the sky you wish upon and makes any god damn thing possible.'

'Oh, sugar. Did I tell you you're forgiven?'

As their call came to an end she made a final request. 'Bring her back home safe.'

'We will, Garcia. You can count on it.'

A few minutes later, two black SVUs followed my an ambulance and several police cars left the station, towards what could be their final destination.

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Please R+R!