Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement.

On the evening of Benjamin's funeral Rossi needed a breath of fresh air. Or so he said. Outside it was a glorious night: Deep and dark with no moon but a million sparkling stars covering the ink-black sky. He asked Leonard Carter to accompany him and reluctantly the elderly man agreed. They walked wordlessly for a while, Rossi taking the lead. Carter followed him up to a shallow hill, hardly rising above the cornfields. The starlight was so dim and the darkness around them so deep that they could hardly see each other's silhouettes. Out in the fields small nocturnal creatures were going about their daily routines of eating or being eaten, oblivious to the complicated troubles of the humans' world.

"Why are you doing this?", Leonard finally asked.

"Doing what?", the agent replied, looking over the cornfields. Other people in this situation would have asked themselves if they were really doing the right thing, if they had really drawn the correct conclusions, but David Rossi had never been much into self-doubts.

"Staging the perfect setting for my fantasy."

"According to your file you're living with these fantasies for more than twenty years now and you've never ever tried to fulfill them. You fear you'll lose control sooner or later and that's why you spend your life in self-imposed custody. Did it ever occur to you that you might simply be overreacting? Paying too much attention to what others would dismiss as disturbing, but unreal images? Hypochondriacs have a disturbed sense of self-perception which leads them to believe that they're gravely sick all the time."

"Are you telling me I'm suffering from hypochondria and I'm not a potential serial killer?"

"You should learn to trust yourself, Leonard, instead of running away."

The attack came fast as lightning. Carter's belt was around Rossi's neck before the profiler had even realized the elderly man had taken it off. This was the hardest part. Everything in Rossi screamed to defend himself and it took all his will to let his strong arms dangle limply at his sides. Carter pulled at the leather. Gasping for air, the agent sank to his knees. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. His heart galloped at top speed. A slight, very slight hint of a doubt crept up in the back of his mind. His will power flickered, wavered… what if he had been wrong after all … was it too late?

Carter released his hold on him. Panting and shaking, Rossi removed the belt from his throat. For a moment they both simply stared at each other.

"You couldn't finish it", the senior agent finally said.

"Not this time", Leonard whispered hoarsely. "But you have no idea what I felt inside." He turned and left Rossi alone.

Standing alone in the silent night, the agent realized that nobody, not even one of the world's best profilers could ever truly know what was going on in another person's mind.

The next morning, when the FBI people were finally gone and Dr. Bell was about to call his colleagues together for a conference – they had a lot to discuss; the institution would have to move again – the psychiatrist found an envelope on his desk. It contained a check, signed by David Rossi, and a note, instructing the doctor to use the money for Leonard Carter's permanent stay in his custody.