Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas.
Author: Dana-Maru1
Summary: The team investigate a series of murders in the twelve days till Christmas...

Disclaimer: Sue, Jack and anyone else you may recognize are not mine. But thanks Pax for letting us borrow them from time to time...

Friday, December seventeenth rolled around quickly. Too quickly for Sue whom lazily dragged herself out of bed after Levi had pawed at her for a good five minutes. They'd still had no leads to speak of and she wasn't looking forward to yet another day of following dead ends and getting nowhere. Glancing at the digital clock, Sue's tired eyes read the glowing numbers that told her it was 6:30. An hour and a half before she had to be in the bullpen. Tugging on her robe, she wandered to the kitchen to make coffee, surprised to find that Lucy was already filling the kettle with water.

"What are you doing up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep." Lucy turned around to say.

"Case getting to you?" She asked gently.

"I guess you could say that. I mean, it's so close to Christmas and we're looking for a serial killer."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Those women should be out Christmas shopping, not lying in a morgue waiting to be buried."

Sue took a seat at the kitchen table and the two fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.

"Thanks." Sue said distractedly when Lucy placed a coffee mug in front of her.

"The case isn't the only thing that's bothering you though, is it?"

"What do you mean?" Sue countered.

"You've got something else on your mind, I can tell."

"It's nothing." Sue told her best friend.

"Sue, come on, we both know it's not 'nothing'." Lucy pried

"Really, Luce, don't worry about it."

"Hey if you're worried about it, I have to worry about it."

"I don't want to talk about it." Sue sighed exasperatedly

"It's Jack, isn't it?"

"Why do you always have to conclude that my problems all revolve around Jack?" Sue rolled her eyes.

"Because, I have a feeling I'm right this time." Lucy replied, smiling a little.

"Okay, yeah you're right but I don't want to talk about it."

"Sue, you know you can tell me anything."

"I know that. But I can't ask your advice when I'm not even sure what's going on myself."

The shrill ringing of their telephone interrupted their conversation.

"Phone, I'll get it." Lucy signed.

Sue waited until Lucy replaced the receiver and asked who it was.

"That was Jack, there's been a third victim found. He wants us in as soon as possible."

Sue didn't answer, just rushed to her room to get dressed, as did Luce. And ten minutes later, they were dressed and on their way out the door, with Levi in tow. A further fifteen minutes and Lucy and Sue were rushing through the entrance to the bullpen.

"Glad you could make it." Myles said in his usual sarcastic tone.

Lucy, for once, ignored him.

"Hey guys, like I said on the phone Luce, there's a third victim. Jamie-Lee Fisher was a 20-year-old art student at NYU. Her parents have a farm just outside of the city and she came home weekends. Her parents found her in one of the henhouses. This time there are three stab wounds."

"Anyone else beginning to see a pattern?" D queried.

"It's almost as if he's counting the victims. Marking each one with an extra wound."

"Sounds plausible, Tara have you compiled that list of any cases Nora may have worked on yet? And, could you get me a profile on Jamie?"

Tara nodded in response and he handed her a case file before telling Sue that they were going to question Mr. and Mrs. Fisher.

Sue and Jack had spent an hour or two talking to Jamie-Lee's parents and got nothing very useful. Just that Jamie was a lovely girl, wouldn't hurt a fly and why would someone want to harm a person like Jamie? They went back to the bullpen and poured over the forensic reports again, still looking for something to connect the victims. It was 7pm when the team finally called it a night amidst rumbling stomachs.

Breanna loved taking photographs, she was a professional photographer and took photos wherever she went. Whenever she couldn't carry her professional camera, she had a Polaroid in her bag just in case a perfect picture opportunity arrived. Like now there were a row of robins on the snowy wall of her backyard, four of them, when she got home from her day at the office. And she quickly pulled the Polaroid from her bag to take a photo. Capturing the sun that was setting behind the four robins, she clicked the camera button and waited for the photo to develop when she heard the crunch of footsteps in the deep snow. Whipping around, she accidentally pressed the button again. And that was the last photo she ever took before she was killed.