Chapter Title: There's Never a Reason Why

Author's Note: Another note from here before we carry on. First off, this story IS finished, so I will publish every three days (give or take one day, as it needs to flow into my schedule), but know it will be published within that timetable. Also, English is not my native language and as I have no beta, all mistakes are my own stupid slip-ups or missed words, so if anything seems horrendously off, please alert me to this, so I can fix it to make the story more enjoyable. I aim to please.

Secondly, I forgot to mention that chapter titles are from the song "Burnout" by Calby. Give it a listen if you need to expand your musical horizon. You won't regret it!

Lastly! I would like to thank all those who reviewed, favorited and are following this story. The support warms my heart and fuels my eagerness to post, so thank you. It is always appreciated!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of anything you might recognize.

Three days earlier

Dr. Spencer Reid examined the photo of the latest crime scene.

The photo depicted a burned ramshackle cabin, nothing but charred wood and ashes left after the flames had torn it apart. Though that particular picture didn't include the details of the victim inside, Reid knew she was present in there. Placed and tied to a chair in the middle of room, helpless to escape as the fire had burned her to a crisp.

The file on the table in front of him was filled to the brim with several more photos of burned victims and charred cabins, all the case files and witness testimonies crammed into several manila folders, copied six times so that each FBI agent on board the BAU private jet could gain the full picture before they landed at their destination of Seattle, Washington. Seattle PD had called them in after finding four people, three women and one man, each tied to a chair and burned alive in small cabins or shacks. Nothing obvious connected the four victims other than being reported missing and later burned to cinders.

Then yesterday, a pro-bono health clinic had been set ablaze, the fire having consumed the entire building along with the 7 doctors and nurses along with one janitor. That had been the final straw.

Morgan, sitting directly across from Reid, eyed the picture of the charred clinic, the walls black with soot and the roof completely caved in. "What makes PD so sure this fire is connected to the rest?"

It was Hotch who answered. He sat on the couch opposite the four-persons seats, the serious expression present as always on his face.

"The accelerant used is the same as the other burnings, so for now, they are treating it as related."

"So, he's escalating?" Prentiss voiced aloud.

"It would seem so, but going from burning single persons in secluded cabins to setting an entire building on fire in public view is a very rapid escalation for this kind of arsonist," Rossi remarked, his trained eye scanning one of the case files in his lap.

"Maybe his intended victim worked at the clinic and it was simply the quickest way to them. In 1990, Julio Gonzalez set fire to a bar in the Bronx, killing 87 people just to get at his ex-girlfriend who worked there at the time," Reid interjected.

"Whether this UnSub is escalating or not, he has already killed 12 people and show no signs of stopping," Hotch gravely stated. "Be ready. We land in 10 minutes."

The peace lasted for about 12 hours since their touchdown in Seattle.

The BAU team split up to visit each crime scene, gleaning what they could from the remote ramshackle cabins in the suburbs along with the location of the health clinic in the downtown area. They gathered every piece of information, analyzed every piece of the puzzle, worked the case to deliver a profile of their UnSub. While victimology and the geographic profile started to get clearer and clearer, all lending to the bigger, final picture, major gaps still remained. There was still something that didn't entirely add up and the gaps were big enough that it rendered their profile incomplete and lacking. Local law enforcement was breathing down their necks, as well as pressure from higher up the chain. Hotch kept them at bay the best he could to allow his team to work in peace but the longer it took, the higher the pressure.

It was immensely frustrating, like the answer was lurking just out of their reach.

And then the sixth call came in.

When Reid exited the rented SUV with Prentiss and Morgan at his heels, he didn't expect the sight that met them. Instead of another blackened office like a normal escalation suggested, it was a simple garage by an abandoned, soon-to-be-demolished house. The smoke was gone, and the Seattle fire department was calmly packing up their gear, glancing at the FBI agents walking past. The arid smell still tore through Reid's nose and the harsh burn stung his eyes as they were cleared to enter the burned-down garage. Water trickled from the torn roof and down what remained of the walls, dripping rhythmically onto the floor. Various debris, from both the fire and the firefighters, littered the ground and crunched under their boots as the profilers moved further into the garage.

There were no mass casualties this time, only another single victim. A crooked chair was positioned in the middle of the room, hot flames having licked the metal black. The charred bones of the latest victim sat leaned over, fabric of singed clothes still clinging onto the skeleton. The stench of burned flesh assaulted Reid's nostrils and made his stomach churn. He ran his eyes over the latest crime scene, bewildered at what he was seeing. The confusion was mirrored in the faces of his colleagues.

"So, we're back to just one victim now?" he voiced his thoughts.

"FD didn't find any other victims," Prentiss continued as she surveyed the scene. "Same MO as the others; small decrepit place, single victim on the single chair in the middle of the room; small controlled fire."

"Looks like a male skeleton," Reid observed as he scrutinized the bones.

"This doesn't make any sense. A de-escalation never happens with these kinds of UnSubs," Morgan supplied.

"So, the clinic fire isn't related after all?" Emily asked to no one in particular.

"The MO deviates, but the clinic fire still fits the geographical profile," Reid countered. "What are the odds of someone just happening to start a fire using the same accelerant within the 20-mile radius of four arson-killings?"

"What? No exact numbers of those odds?"

"Actually, given the likelihood of- "

"Rhetorical question, kid," Morgan quickly cut him off before the spew of numbers that he had no hope of ever keeping track of exited Reid's mouth. "So, same UnSub, different MOs… Something doesn't fit, that's for sure."

"All the fires are small and controlled, in isolated areas, even the clinic was limited and contained, yet there was something violent and different about that fire. Almost like, a spur of the moment," Emily mused.

"Victims of opportunity… Usually a sign that the UnSub is spiraling, or…"

"Panicking," Reid finished.

The three profilers returned to the police precinct.

The rest of their team had already gathered around their designated table in the bullpen. Around it, two boards were filled to the brim with victim overviews, a map of Seattle with various pins and sketched marks as well as written statements and pictures.

Morgan, Reid and Prentiss stalked over to the table, their quick steps fueled by eagerness to share their findings and thoughts.

"We think the clinic fire might have been a response to something gone wrong with victim number five," Prentiss shared the second they were within earshot.

"Stephen Henderson? I thought you just returned from his charred remains," Rossi asked from his position in one of the chairs facing them.

"That would technically be victim number six," Reid said. "We believe he found another victim, only he didn't get the chance to burn them this time. Something happened that interfered with his process – he didn't get the release he needed so he … acted out."

Hotch didn't hesitate as he leaned over the table to the conference call telephone and pressed speed dial to a number, they all knew by heart. It was picked up after the first ring.

"The Oracle of all that is Holy and Good, speak and be heard, my minions."

"Garcia, we need a list of hospitalized people in the 24 hours prior the clinic fire within the Seattle area," Hotch said, not even a twitch in his facial features at the controversial greeting.

"Anything else you wanna sprinkle over that request, oh wise leader, otherwise that's gonna be a mighty long list," came the rapid response, Garcia's nimble fingers already clicking away on her keyboard on the other end of the line.

"Exclude shootings and stabbings, anything related to regular city violence. It might present itself as a mugging or assault, something that would look like a kidnapping gone wrong, but leave the victim incapacitated, otherwise we would have heard about it by now," Morgan suggested.

"But only include those with prominent work profiles or recent professional or educational accomplishments," Prentiss added.

Garcia's efficient typing flowed through the speaker at the instructions. Then, "Nothing, my doves."

"Try widening your search to DOAs or those pronounced dead on the scene," Reid added.

Garcia worked as silence stretched until her cheery voice echoed through the speaker again. "Boy Wonder shoots and scores: I got one Darren Mills, pronounced Dead on Arrival, 6 hours prior to the clinic fire. He was found by the road, looking like he had been dumped from a moving vehicle. Ambulance picked him up and he died of his injuries on route to the hospital."

"And what did he do?" Hotch asked.

A beat of silence. "He was a lawyer and… oh my, he was just nominated for an award by the American Bar Association for his work."

Rossi shared a look with his team members around the table. "I think we're ready to deliver the profile."

TBC