Author's Note: Wow, can you believe it? Almost a year later? Honestly, the hardest part was that this story was started when Gideon was still with him and I find his voice now very difficult to get to. A few old eps watched though and it was time to bring this tale to near completion. All that remains is an epilogue. I would very much recommend going from the beginning on this one. Even I had to. There are a few things that probably aren't going as I originally planned, but in the end, this is the story I wanted to let be told.

I thank you for your interest and all of your kind words. I hope you are satisfied with this journey. Your thoughts are always appreciated.

One last note - this chapter is intense. Be forewarned.

J - you are most certainly up now.

April, 2004.

Almost immediately, she wished that she hadn't done it. She wasn't quite sure why she had. Human curiosity probably.

Stupid, silly, damning.

She stared down at the file in her hand and fought back the urge to throw up.

Kelly and Peter Taylor, a once happy couple in Dublin, California. Now both they and their infant child were dead at the hands of a maniac who targeted brunette women with babies. Just four days earlier she'd had the case in her hands. Two murders of the same already.

A pattern.

She had chosen another case instead.

That the case she had chosen was just as dramatic and horrific hardly seemed important.

That this family was dead likely because of her choice was all that mattered.

Their deaths could have been prevented by the team.

By her.

Oh, God.

A knock on the door made her look up.

Perhaps she'd been locked away in her office too long. Perhaps the others had noticed how she'd retreated behind the closed door, hands trembling even if her face seemed calm.

She steeled herself, forced herself to own her nerves.

"Come in."

"JJ?" Hotch called out as he entered. His eyes immediately settled on her. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Cool, put-together, no sign of the turbulence that was currently bending her stomach.

"You've been in here awhile."

She chuckled humorously and pointed to the stacks of files around the room. "Work."

"I know."

They stared at each other for a long beat. Long enough for her to realize that he was onto her. So quickly, she moved to her feet. "I'm hungry."

"You want me to order out for lunch."

"No," she replied, flashing him one of her best practiced smiles. Number 3, in fact. The "everything's just fine and dandy" smile. "I'm just going to head down to the cafeteria. I hear they have tortilla soup. I love tortilla soup."

"Okay," he said. He stepped out of the way and let her pass. Once she was gone, he glanced back around her office. She'd only been in it for a little over two and a half months, but the stacks of files made it look like she lived here.

Two and a half months and already Jennifer Jareau had made an impact on the team.

On him.

He looked down at her desk and saw an open file there. And because half of profiling was seeing things one shouldn't and then using them to explain usual behavior, he picked it up.

Dublin, Califonia. Murders. On the top page was a note that said that the killer had been captured. He had been grabbed less than twenty-four hours earlier. Still not quite sure why his communications liaison was looking at this particular file, he flipped to the next page.

And understood completely.

Because on that next page was a formal request for help. At that bottom of that was her signature and a small short explanation of why the BAU wouldn't be taking on this case.

It was logical. Risk assessment. Resources were needed elsewhere.

Her call.

He looked over the timeline and closed his eyes for a moment.

Between the time she had received and declined the request and the time that the killer had been caught, another couple had been murdered.

She was blaming herself.

Of course she was.

She was too new to the job, too green. She hadn't seen enough yet to understand. To build up protective walls.

That there were too monsters to catch them all was a sad truth that she would have to get used to.

That she'd hadn't been prepared for the guilt? That was on him.

That was his fault.

Apparently she really did like tortilla soup. He filed that nugget of knowledge away for later. He had no idea where he'd make use of it again, but just the same, he lock-boxed it in his brain.

He found her sitting at one of the long tables in the cafeteria, eating by herself. Well kind of eating. She was more staring down at the soup, stirring it relentlessly, almost compulsively.

"JJ?"

She looked up, surprise in her eyes. It took her only a second to recover. "Hotch? Is everything okay? Did something come up?"

"No, I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay." She look troubled, worried. Like she wanted to ask if she had done something wrong, but wouldn't quite dare.

"I saw the case on your desk."

"Oh." She went back to stirring the soup, staring down at it.

"JJ, it's okay to feel the things you are."

"Maybe, but it's not okay to have made that mistake."

"JJ…"

"They're dead because of the choice I made, Hotch."

"No," he said, tone firm enough to make her look up and meet his eyes. "They're dead because Connor Trembly murdered them. And yes, maybe we could have stopped him in time. But you sent us to Alabama instead where we stopped a man from killing other innocent people."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"It needs to or this job is going to destroy you before you even get out of your probationary period."

Her eyes flashed then and he felt a moment's relief. That she wouldn't succeed at this had never entered her mind. She had known of the six month probationary period for specialized departments, but never given it a second thought.

That he was rather pissed her off.

And he was glad of it.

"I can cope," she answered tightly.

"I believe that, JJ. I think you can make yourself do whatever needs to be done. I believe that about you, but my concern isn't your ability to manage yourself; it's you. I'm here to make sure you're okay."

"I am."

He almost smiled then. Because she was stubborn and strong willed. And because in spite of his reservations and the voice in his head that worried, he almost believed her.

Almost.

So again, another attempt to break through just a little.

"Then let me be very clear. Every day, you will get a stack of files. And every day, you will need to make decisions that you can live with. Can you?"

This time she paused. Not long. Maybe two breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

Finally, "Yes."

"Okay. Then I will get up and walk away from this table and leave you to your lunch but before I do, you have to make me a promise."

"What?"

"If you can't, you come to me."

She nodded slowly, but didn't actually say yes. It was another thing he filed away for later. How she could let her actions betray her emotions, but not words.

Still, reasonably assured that she would be okay, he stood up. "I'll see you back in the BAU." He turned his back on her, started away…

"Hotch?"

He turned.

She smiled at him, this one actually real and not quite so refined. This one a little bit raw and uncertain. "You can stay. If you're hungry, I mean..."

"I haven't eaten all day," he admitted.

"The soup really is quite good."

"All right, I'll give it a try."

Another smile from her, brighter, more confident.

He found himself returning it(though he'd never admit it). She was new to this. Young, stubborn, learning.

But in that moment, he knew she'd be fine.

Present Day

She hurt.

Her entire body ached, but the waves of paid radiating from her jaw where he had struck her could best be described as white hot.

She tried to open her mouth and that hurt terribly.

"You deserved that. You know that, right?"

She looked over at the far wall of the room, saw him leaning against it, flexing and unflexing his hand.

"He used to say that to me when he'd hit me. Tyler, I'm only doing this because I have to. Because you need to learn, son. Mom said something like that, too. Different words, same purpose."

For a moment, she said nothing, not quite sure of which path to take with him. Did she humor him and play into his delusion or did she try to force him back into reality?

Either option seemed dangerous.

Either one could cause him to snap at a moments notice.

It turned out he made his decision before she did. He crossed over to her and sat on the bed, causing the mattress to dip and creek. He reached out and touched her face, tracing his fingers over the bruise on her jaw. It took everything she had not to pull away. Not to anger him even more.

"We should get on with this," he said.

"No," she pleaded. "You don't…we don't have to do this at all."

"Yes, we do. I need…I need to stop thinking about you. I need to stop hating you. This is the only way."

He moved in towards her, as if to roll himself atop her.

"Tyler, I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

It stopped him and he rolled back away. His head was slightly tilted.

"You're sorry? For what?" Confusion, uncertainty.

Her mind raced. Yes, for what?

"For her hurting you."

Her stomach seized just a bit. She fought through it.

"She did," he agreed.

"I know."

"She took him away from me. She destroyed my family."

"I know."

"You hurt me, too."

"I know and I'm sorry for that, too," she assured him, biting back on the revulsion that was trying to overtake her. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry.

She wanted to kill him.

But most importantly for now, she wanted to live.

And these were just words.

Just words. She was so good at just words.

He looked over at her and she thought she saw something strange in his eyes, maybe even a bit of moisture. Then, "I believe you, Jennifer. We were both just kids."

She exhaled, not sure what his words meant.

But then, "And I don't think I'll enjoy watching you die as much as I thought I would but you still have to die."

She bit down hard on her lip, just barely managed to stop an anguished whimper from escaping.

He turned then and exited the room.

She closed her eyes tight.

The revelation that nothing she said was going to stop him hit her like a freight train.

And then reality.

Cold and clear.

She couldn't hang around waiting to be saved; there simply wasn't the time left on the play clock for that. Which meant that she had to find a way out of this mess on her own.

"Coffee, son?" Oscar asked, extending a cup.

David Jareau shook his head. "No." Then he turned back towards the group. "How could you let this happen?" His hands slid through his mop of brown hair. He and JJ didn't look a lot alike, but their energy signatures were identical.

Wired hot, always tracked, on top of everything.

Right now, he was also furious.

The team was gathered in the room with him, all of them sitting, watching him pace back and forth.

Everyone else including Detective Palmer was out on patrol, combing every inch of the town, desperately hoping for a break.

Gideon was the first to answer, quietly, directly, "We didn't let this happen."

"You knew she was in danger. Why was she ever alone? For even five minutes? You should have had someone on her the whole damned time."

His eyes flickered around the room and settled on the youngest of the bunch, surely the one his baby sister affectionately called "Spence". He was looking away and down at his hands.

"Yes, we should have," Hotch said, standing up. "But what's done is done and we can stand around assigning blame or we can do something about this."

Silence greeted him. He knew that his words were a bit unfair; who could possibly argue with him.

He continued on, speaking directly to David. "What do you know about what happened to your parents?"

"Everything in the file."

Picking up on what he wasn't saying, Prentiss stepped towards him. "What do you know that isn't in the file? What do you know that JJ doesn't know?"

"Not a lot. Anything that's in the official record, she's seen. We've argued for years about her obsession with this case. I told her to let it go, that we'd both come to a good place, you know? A place where we're making a difference. I'm a DA, she's this…"

"JJ's not one to give up easy," Reid said softly. Then he looked up and for the first time David saw the wide brown eyes, full of pain, full of exhaustion.

"No, she's not. Spence, right?"

Reid nodded. "Yeah."

"She thinks the world of you, man."

"I think it of her."

"Then you never should have let her out of your sight. Do you have any idea how much she had wrecked herself over what happened to you in Georgia?" His fists were clenched tight.

"That enough," Morgan said, stepping between David and Reid.

David looked like he was far from done.

"David," Hotch called out, using his name to force the older Jareau sibling to look over at him. "I know you're upset, but this isn't helping. We don't have a lot of time left. JJ doesn't have a lot of time left."

David swallowed hard, the color draining out of his face. He had stepped into the room looking like a tall and imposing man. Now he looked so much younger. And just a little bit lost.

"Talk to us about the case," Oscar suggested.

"I don't know what you want me to say. You have everything in front of you."

"Tell us what's not in here," Prentiss urged.

"I'm not sure it's all related."

"Now's not the time for doubts, man," Morgan said. "JJ's life is on the line."

David flared again. "Don't you dare…"

"Enough. Focus." Hotch insisted. "Anything and everything, David."

"Okay, okay. About a year ago, after I tried a major case in Philadelphia involving child murders, I was all over the TV and newspaper. I started getting a lot of weird mail from folks. Shit like that brings out the crazies like you wouldn't believe. Anyway, I'm not sure why, but I read it all. Inside of one of the letters I got was a newspaper photo of one of the dead kids On it was written: 'I wish this had been you'. Very childish handwriting. No DNA on it. I put it away for awhile, but I kept going back to it. I guess I just knew there was something about it. Something personal."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope.

"I got another one a couple weeks later. A copy of an old photograph." He pulled out a picture, the exact same one that had been left in JJ's hotel room. On the back was scribbled, "I've found you. I'll find her."

"Did you tell JJ?" Prentiss asked, taking the picture and tracing her fingers over the younger image her of her blonde friend.

"No. I thought about it, but you guys don't understand. I'm not kidding when I say she's obsessed. She is. Over the top obsessed."

"How do you mean?" Gideon asked, frowning slightly. He glanced over at Hotch, noticing how unsurprised his colleague appeared to be.

"Her theory was that this was a passion killing, not a serial killer and so she's been doing checks on everyone she can verify lived in the same city we did when we did. Anyone she thought could have done it, she tagged them and has kept an eye on him."

"Garcia," Morgan murmured.

"Who?"

"Her means to track these men," Hotch put in. Then to Morgan. "Get Garcia on the line. Now."

Morgan flipped open his phone, hit a number and listened to the quick dial. Then, "Tell me you've found her."

"Sorry, Baby Girl, not yet. Putting you on speaker phone."

"Okay."

"Garcia," Gideon said first. "JJ was having you tag cases for her?"

A beat of silence, then "Sir?"

"Now's not the time," Hotch put in. His eyes flickered around the room, taking in his people. Reid was still looking shell shocked, Morgan angry and Prentiss, well her expression was unreadable as always.

"Sorry, yes, she's had be watching people that lived in North Alleghany when she was a child."

"Anyone of interest?"

"I thought we'd figured out who our creep is?"

"We do, but what we don't know is how he's been doing what he's been doing. We have no idea where to find him now. Maybe something in what JJ has been having you watch can help us."

"Right. Good idea. I'll look through everything and be back to you in three minutes."

No mirth, panic. She was scared shitless.

The line disconnected.

"Penelope?" David asked.

"JJ's told you about her?" Prentiss queried.

"About all of you." He shook his head. "Which is why I can't understand how you let this happen to her."

So back to this then.

Hotch understood it. Frustration. Fear.

The inability to do anything besides wait.

They could profile Tyler all they wanted, but at this point, it wouldn't help them find JJ.

They needed hard information.

They needed a miracle.

He returned with a knife.

It was large and crooked, the kind you probably used to gut an animal with.

Or a person.

She noticed that he had changed his clothes, too. He was in all white, which made little sense to her.

Her blood would get everywhere.

But then maybe that was the point.

Maybe he needed to wash himself in…

She shuddered.

"Tyler," she whispered. "You don't have to do this."

"You know I do, Jennifer. You know I have no choice."

"Yes, you do. There's always a choice."

"No." So plainly. So right to the point.

He stepped towards her and sat down on the bed again.

"I wish I could tell you this isn't going to hurt, but that's not the truth. I imagine it will hurt terribly. It needs to."

"Tyler…please…"

"For so long I've been looking for you. Thinking about you. Do you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"When you found out they were dead?"

"Yes."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes."

She desperately didn't want to talk to him about this, but every moment spent speaking to him was another moment alive.

Another moment for her to figure out how to survive this.

She'd managed to make some progress with the ropes on her hands, but even if she could break them away, the ones on her feet were a problem.

She didn't figure to get very far by hopping away.

And still, while she answered his questions, she used the sharp edge of the buckle of her watch against the ropes. Her wrist was badly cut up and if he had bothered to look, he would have noticed the blood beneath her.

But that would have required him to be in the here and now and he clearly was anywhere but.

"Tell me about that moment. Tell me what it felt like."

"I didn't understand it. I was just a child. I didn't realize they were never coming back."

"And when you did?"

"I cried."

"But when did it really hurt?"

She looked up and met his eyes. "When I found out what your father did to them."

He had asked for the truth and she had given it. For a moment, she held her breath, waiting for him to explode again.

But he didn't. "Good." It was all he said. Then he reached out and placed the knife against the top button of her blouse.

She inhaled sharply.

No, no, no.

She wasn't going to let this happen.

No, no, no.

"Tyler, what about the children."

He blinked and pulled the knife away. "What?"

"How did you get in with all of these families?"

"I have a daughter." He touched her face. "She looks just like you."

This time, JJ couldn't control the shudder that shook her frame. She wanted to throw up.

That this man who had so violated these poor little girls could possibly have one of his own seemed like a cruel and unthinkable twist of fate.

"Where…where is she now?"

"At home. Waiting for me to come home. I promised her we'd travel soon. She likes to travel, but she hates all these different schools. I promised her we wouldn't have to keep changing soon. I was thinking when this is over, maybe I'll take her home. Maybe it'll be okay then."

He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I really am. "

"Oh my God," Garcia said softly, her voice coming out of the speaker.

"Baby Girl, what?" Morgan asked, leaning in.

"We had him tagged, Derek. We had Tucker Krause tagged."

"But Tucker's not our guy," Oscar stated.

"Tucker is dead," she replied. "He was killed ten months ago. Murdered there in San Diego. Cold case."

"The son killed the father?" Prentiss speculated.

Looks met hers, but no one agreed or disagreed.

"Okay, what about Tyler Krause?" Hotch asked. "We know he had an apartment on 3rd Avenue…"

"I think I just found out how he's been getting to these families," Garcia told him. "He has a five year old daughter. Her last name is O'Malley. Born in San Diego."

"Where's mom now?" Morgan questioned.

"Went missing."

"People seem to show up dead or missing around this young man," Gideon murmured, more to himself than the others.

"He's been moving his daughter from school to school."

"No one thinks it's strange for a kindergartner to move so much," Prentiss put in. "He just says he's looking for the best one for her."

"Garcia, we need you to pull another rabbit out of your hat, Sweetness," Morgan said. "Any idea where Tyler took JJ?"

"I'm looking," she said desperately.

Hotch glanced around the room. From Reid to David. Both men were mirroring each other, completely silent. Pale faced. In shock.

"Oh my God," she said suddenly. "I have something. I have something."

"What is it?" Reid asked, sitting forward, eyes wide.

"There's a condemned house in downtown San Diego. Demolition is slated for next week. It's owned by Tucker Krause!"

"Look at me," he said. "I need you to see me. I need you to understand."

She looked up at him, stared into eyes that stretched back into an empty soul.

"Good," he said. Then he bent towards her, angling the knife towards her. He touched her blouse with it and then looked down at her, almost thoughtfully.

And then he did something she hadn't expected at all.

He gave her an opening.

He bent down towards her feet, used the knife and cut the ropes that were keeping them together.

"Let's finish this," he whispered, pushing himself atop her.

For a moment, his weight paralyzed her. Everything in her brain went foggy and she couldn't focus. Thankfully, when his hand slid under the hem of her shirt, the rough pads of his fingers coming into contact with her skin, her mind snapped back on.

Closing her eyes, she jerked her head forward and slammed her forehead against his. Ignoring the surge of pain that exploded in her temple, she shoved herself to her feet and he rolled away, howling in pain.

"Bitch." Moaned through a mouthful of blood.

She considered a witty comeback and then decided to just run. He had left the door to the room open so she barreled through it. She saw the stairs and raced towards them, hope surging through her.

Then fate played another cruel trick.

Unable to balance herself, she stumbled on the first step and tumbled painfully down the stairs, settling into a heap at the bottom.

She cried out in pain, feeling the agony of a broken ankle.

The desperation of knowing that she wasn't going anywhere anytime fast crashed through her.

Her body had betrayed her.

She looked up and saw him coming down the stairs, blood streaming down his face, knife in hand.

She pulled at the ropes binding her hands, screamed at them to release.

"That was very, very stupid, Jennifer" he said to her as descended the steps. "I was going to make it quick. I just wanted it over. Now I'm going to make it hurt. I'm going to make you hurt."

She didn't doubt him for a second.

She tried to back up and into the wall, but it hardly mattered. He was atop her in seconds, his fist colliding with her already bruised jaw.

She prayed for unconsciousness.

If it was going to end like this anyway…

He hit her again and again.

And still the darkness refused to come.

Blood stained her vision. She could hear him screaming, saying something, but she couldn't understand the words.

They didn't matter anyway.

She thought of David, thought of Spence.

Garcia, Hotch, Morgan, Em.

Even Gideon.

She prayed that they would find a way to get past this.

Tears streaked down her cheeks.

She felt his weight atop her, shoving her down. Felt his hands on her.

Heard her own voice, raspy and broken.

She didn't understand what it was saying either.

She struggled, pulled, pushed, kicked…

And then suddenly, the ropes around her wrists gave way.

She'd never know how she did it, would never be able to explain what she was thinking or if she even was. Her body took over then, her shredded hand reaching out and taking the blade that he'd dropped on the ground when he'd climbed on her.

It cut into him so easily.

Like butter.

He screamed, pulling up and away from her, eyes wide.

He looked down at her, shook his head, couldn't believe it.

"No…"

She yanked the blade out and forced it back in again.

And again.

And again.

Heard the screaming again.

His and hers.

His in pain.

Hers in rage.

Mixing, merging, combining.

Her eyes locked in his. And watched. Until this was nothing left.

Until his weight was once again atop hers.

Not moving. No longer capable of moving.

She pulled the blade out again, red hot liquid spilling down her arm.

She slammed it back in once more.

Heard only her voice now.

She thought heard a voice. Saying something.

Her name maybe?

Something slamming open.

Voices.

Yes, her name.

The weight lifting off of her.

And then the darkness took her back.

TBC…