A/N: The story starts right after season 4 episode 24. Everything that takes place in the show after that should be disregarded because the story follows an alternate route of events. The events before and during the story take place modern day and specific dates from the show have been adjusted to reflect that. All reviews are welcome, both positive and negative.

Vera's fingers tapped against the small round table she sat at as she stared out the window, a hard look in her eyes. Her mind was stuck on the email she'd gotten that morning. The council had reached its decision and she was to meet with her mentor, Elizabeth, to discuss it. Twelve years she'd watched him, waiting for their decision and suddenly it didn't feel so welcome.

Elizabeth sat down across from Vera, setting down two cups of tea.

'Thank you." Vera said, drawing her gaze away from the window to look at her mentor.

Elizabeth lifted her drink to her lips, taking a small sip before setting it down and leaning back into her chair.

"I spoke with the council and they approved a location freeze for you." Elizabeth said.

Vera felt a rush of relief knowing that she could remain in the city where her family was buried. "What decision did the council come to this morning?"

Elizabeth paused, her eyes searching Vera's face before she spoke. "He's no longer an acceptable candidate for recruitment."

Vera pushed his face out of her mind as she asked her next question. "What's next? He's off the watchlist; are they allowing him to remain in society or will I be seeing his name in the obituary section this week?"

"The Cleaners are otherwise occupied with a mess one of the other agents made earlier today and they won't be able to make it in time for the deadline on this one."

Vera felt herself emotionally detach from the task that had all but been said. She pushed her tea away from her as she adjusted her posture, sitting up straighter. "When's the deadline?"

"Midnight tonight. Someone's been leaking information to the FBI, so until they find them all watchlist terminations are sameday." Elizabeth finished the sentence with a small shake of her head.

Vera watched her mentor, sensing the pause and waiting for her next words.

"I won't be at his apartment to confirm his death until six thirty, so you can ignore the council's unreasonable time restraint as long as he's dead when I walk through that door." The end of that sentence was followed by the buzz of Elizabeth's phone. She scooped it up and answered the call before it could buzz a second time.

Vera watched her step outside, catching a whiff of her sickly sweet scented perfume as she did so. She'd known Elizabeth for twenty five years and the woman's appearance had never changed. She had straight black hair that she kept dyed to cover any hints of grey that was cut at the same short just below the chin length, sharply framing her pale and narrow face. There was nothing warm about her demeanor and her appearance had always matched. Her lips were thin and pale and her nose short and narrow. Her eyes were a sharp and cold grey that never shone in the light or danced with laughter and her eyelashes were thin and paler than Elizabeth liked, a quality she tried to hide with mascara but never succeeded at doing so. Her makeup was sparing but carefully covered every blemish on her face while retaining a natural look and her eyebrows were pristine, not a hair out of place and this screamed of her need for control that frequently dominated her personality.

The clothing Elizabeth wore was just as carefully handled, just as stiff and strict as her personality. The same thin and pointed shoes that were much more versatile than they looked and the same stick straight pants that were always the same sharp black color as if to match Elizabeth's hair. The only variation came in her shirt; sometimes a button up, sometimes a stiff blouse, it was always muted in color and the fabric always thin. She never wore jewelry, not even her wedding ring and this reminded Vera of the speech Elizabeth would make about never letting your appearance draw attention to your private life, the less the public knows the better.

Elizabeth stepped back inside, sitting across from Vera again. "The details of your next assignment have been finalized."

Vera could sense Elizabeth's disapproval in her voice and wondered if the council had ignored her input.

"You're transferring units. After tomorrow I will no longer be your mentor. Your psychological evaluation indicates you would best serve as a live-in mentor for a small group of juvenile agents. You'll stay in your current house and you'll do three months of training and six months of shadowing before you start. You'll need to resign from your cover job next week and once the juvenile agents arrive in your home they'll increase your monthly allowance." Elizabeth explained.

"When is my final report due?" Vera asked.

"Tomorrow at nine. I'll need the original handwritten copy, so I'll be here to collect it at eight thirty." Elizabeth said, standing up.

"I'll see you then." Vera said.

Elizabeth nodded at her as she slipped out the door. Vera stared down at the two cups in front of her, bracing herself for the events of the night.

.

Fifteen minutes before midnight found Vera staring down at the sleeping form of Dr. Spencer Reid. Her gun was ready in her hand as she stood there, frozen in the same position she'd been in for the last ten minutes. She'd never had this problem before. She'd killed dozens of people before for Chaos and never felt this paralyzing hesitation from her conscience like she was now.

She watched his chest rise and fall softly with each breath and the idea of killing him felt more and more wrong the longer she watched.

She needed to think and she knew she couldn't clearly do that here. Remembering Elizabeth's words she told herself she'd be back before six as she quietly made her way out his apartment and back to her car.

The drive to the cemetery was quiet. She felt the need to sit by their graves, deciding to ignore that she wasn't allowed to be there until dawn. There was always a sort of clarity when she knelt there where they rested and this time was no different.

She ran her fingers along the markers on the ground. First her husband's and then her two daughter's. Everyday she visited them, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. Today was a silent day as she breathed in the cold air, wishing they were there to breathe it in with her.

Oftentimes she wondered how differently things might have gone had she been there that night instead of in a hotel room hundreds of miles away. Would she have smelt the smoke? Would she have called 911 sooner? Would they have made it out alive or would she have died right along with them?

She closed her eyes, imagining he was there with her. What would he say? What would he tell her to do? This she knew the answer to. The turning in her stomach calmed as she recognized and accepted the answer. Whispering goodbyes to the ground where they were buried, she stood up knowing exactly what she had to do.