The Waste Land

Part One: The Burial of the Dead

'All men would be tyrants if they could.'

Daniel Defoe

'April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.'

T.S. Eliot – The Waste Land

Author's Note: Betaed by the awesome Windy City Dreamer. This chapter is fairly short because I just wanted it to be the profile, without any distracting material. If my calculations are correct, we should start seeing the action – the real­ action – next chapter. So stay tuned.

Chapter Nine – The Profile (Other)

The team find themselves all together at the police station at around five o'clock in the evening, ready to give their preliminary profile. They've spent the day talking to witnesses and friends of the victim, looking at bodies, looking at crime scenes, sorting through victimology. It's time to start putting all those puzzle pieces together.

'We're looking for a white male, between the ages of thirty and forty,' begins Hotch. They had re-evaluated their first impressions with every step of the investigation. Every interview, every task taking them a tiny bit further in narrowing down the profile.

'He's narcissistic,' continues Reid. 'Looking for attention. His own crimes weren't drawing the attention he desired, so he decided to imitate one of Boston's most infamous serial killers.'

Emily steps forward, hands wringing. 'He most likely has killed before, but he either wasn't suspected, or police dismissed him as a suspect.'

Their words flow together, as if they are not really five people, but an entity with five different parts. They don't practice this. The way they finish each other's sentences is a skill based upon every single case they've worked together, which, in retrospect, isn't that many. It isn't yet numbering in the hundreds, or the thousands. The victim count is, but that's another story altogether.

The fact of the matter is, their lives are based so solely upon their work that their colleagues have become extensions of themselves. Like a limb or an organ, their colleagues are something they rely upon to survive, something they use as part of their daily functions. They are part of an organic society, each mechanism essential to the overall workings of the machine. Without any one member, they are diminished as a group. Each person has a role.

Rossi speaks next, giving off that air of casual confidence. 'He probably works a menial job, one where his skills go unrecognized. He's looking for the attention that he believes that he rightfully deserves.'

Morgan takes over. 'Due to his narcissistic nature, we believe that he may attempt to contact either the media, or the police at one point – to tell us that he is the one committing the crimes. All of this is worth nothing to him if the Reaper gets all the credit.'

It's going full circle, as Hotch concludes the profile. 'It is likely that his crimes will escalate in violence until he achieves the notoriety that he believes he is worthy of.'

The police officers filter out of the conference room, leaving only the BAU agents. Without any viable suspects, the profile isn't really anything to go on. They'll trawl through unsolved cases, looking for anyone that might fit their bill.

Until they find someone though, the streets of Boston are not a very safe place to be.