As always, I have heaps of gratitude for the reads and reviews!

Kudos to criss128 for the idea for this conversation, and to Shadpup for the inspiration on the choice of character.

So we're diving into the head of an unsub in this one - Joe Belser to be specific. It's tagged to season 5's "Slave of Duty" episode, which is oh-so fantastic.

Happy reading (=

"Murder is born of love, and love attains the greatest intensity in murder." – Octave Mirbeau

"Sit," the officer says brusquely as he shoves me into the chair. I scoff loudly, earning a glowering look from the officer. So much for humane and fair treatment.

I return his angry glare before settling my gaze onto the blank table in front of me. He exhales in frustration before walking quickly out of the room, pulling the door closed roughly behind him. I shift my eyes around the room, taking in the blank and dreary walls before focusing on the reflective glass on the wall in front of me. I tilt my head slightly and raise an eyebrow, shooting whoever is standing on the other side of the wall a challenge.

Several more minutes pass with no activity whatsoever. What they're waiting for, I have no idea, but I have absolutely no intent to make the first move. I press my lips together, fold my hands on top of the table, and let my eyes wander lazily across the room again.

Suddenly there is a click and the door is opening, revealing the very agent who had such strong words for me upon my arrest. My lips curl into a smile as I take the opportunity to really take in her features in detail. Long eyelashes accentuate her dark brown eyes, and her dark locks are pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her posture and intense expression give off a powerful vibe – she is clearly a successful and impressive woman. I should have known as much, after all she holds the very high-powered profession of FBI agent. She's just the type of woman who deserves to be...romanced.

She walks forward briskly, letting the door click closed behind her. She meets my gaze and anger flares in her eyes, but she says nothing. She continues standing for entirely longer than necessary, her eyes seemingly trying to burn a hole through my head. I consider asking her to sit, manners and etiquette from years gone by screaming at me to do so, but before I can she pulls out the chair, drops the file and notepad she was holding onto the table, and sits down, folding her arms across her chest.

I let my eyes continue to sweep over her, taking in every inch, every detail. Her gaze is still piercing, her expression remains unchanged, and power and success practically drip off of her. I can't help but lick my lips at the possibility. She notices this small action, and tilts her head.

"Something you'd like to say, Joe?" she asks coolly. My goodness, even her voice oozes authority. If only...

I smile and give a half-chuckle. "Oh, many things. But none that are entirely appropriate in the company of your" I pause and let my eyes drift back to the glass behind her before finishing, "...friends."

The fire in her eyes flares again, and I see her clench her jaw and take a deep, steady breath.

"I'm here to take an official statement," she says, picking up her pen and poising it above her notepad.

"For what?" I drawl lazily.

"For your involvement in the murders of Bethany Heminger, Melissa Johnson, Grant Franklin, Erika Silverman, and the attempted murder of Ann Heron."

I blink slowly a few times before responding. "Are you implying I murdered them?"

"No, I know you murdered them. But like I said, I'm here to take your statement."

"I told you already, I loved them."

"Are you saying you're innocent of the charges laid against you?"

"All I wanted was to give them a magical night."

She drops her pen and clenches her fists tightly. "And that involves repeatedly stabbing them?"

"We could have been happy together."

"You're really going to sit here and tell me you didn't lay a hand on those women?"

I grin widely. "Now I never said I didn't lay a hand on them," I drawl, shooting her a quick wink.

At this she jumps out of her chair and lunges toward me, a fresh fury in her eyes and expression. "You're a real sick son of a-"

The door flies open and a dark-skinned agent appears in the doorway, his voice firm and full of authority and warning. "PRENTISS!"

Her head turns around quickly at the sound of his voice. They lock eyes for a moment and she breathes in a few calming breaths before nodding minutely and sitting back down. He steps back out of the room and lets the door close.

"You're real wound up, sweetheart. You should learn to relax," I say with a smile.

She tenses even further at my words.

"Like how you wanted those women to relax? To play along with your sick and deluded fantasy?"

"It wasn't a fantasy. I really did love them."

"I'm sure. Tell me though, Joe. Did they love you?" she asks, a glint of something appearing in her eyes.

I feel my composure crack slightly, and my eyes harden.

"I didn't think so. Why do you think that is?" she asks, her tone patronizing, and her head tilting to one side slightly.

I shift in my seat, cross my arms over my chest, and swallow the angry lump that had appeared in my throat.

"Let me tell you what I think," she says in an even tone. "As a woman, that is," she adds, bringing her hands to rest on her chest to emphasize her point.

My eyes narrow in response.

"I think that they knew what a pathetic excuse for a man you are."

I breathe heavily, fighting to keep control of my emotions. She rests her elbows on the table and folds her hands together as she leans toward me.

"I think that they knew there was always going to be someone better than you out there for them."

I uncross my arms and drop them to my lap before leaning forward slightly and rolling my neck to crack it.

"Maybe even the type of person you'd befriend. The type of person you might invite to your wedding, maybe even involve them in it. Say as a... best man," she finishes.

At that point something inside of me snaps. I rise from my seat and slam my fists on the table while lunging toward her, anger flaring in every fibre of my being. She doesn't flinch at all, but locks her eyes with mine. The agent that had interrupted us before bursts into the room and grabs me forcefully, wrenching my arms behind me and pulling me away from her.

"THEY RUINED IT!" I scream in frustration at her as I thrash against his hold, my feet kicking over the chair and shifting the table. "IT'S THEIR OWN DAMN FAULT. THEY HAD IT COMING. THOSE STUPID BITCHES RUINED IT."

She smiles triumphantly and almost chuckles as she shakes her head and rises from her seat. She takes a few steps toward me and stops when her face is mere inches from mine. I struggle harder against the dark agent's hold on me, but allow my gaze to lock with hers.

"They never loved you, Joe. And you're all alone now. But don't worry, you'll find love soon enough. And remember Joey, play along."

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one.

Tackling an unsub's perspective was... interesting and very difficult. I have a whole new respect for authors who can write convincing bad guys.

And of course, my ears are always open to suggestions for future conversations (yes, I hear you about another Morgan chapter. I'm working on it, lol).