Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Profiler or any of the characters. I am merely a shameless fangirl who is distraught by the abrupt end of the show, and must naturally continue it through fic. ;)

Five long years after the unfortunate demise of the VCTF, a murder hits too close to home and the VCTF reconstitutes.

Getting Personal

John broke down right there on the spot. He couldn't believe what had happened to whom he considered one of his best friends. Rachel pulled John into a hug, gently moving her hand up and down his back in comfort. "John, it's okay." John nodded and pulled away. "John," Rachel continued. "I don't mean to offend you, but-"

"How do I know it's him when he has no head?"

"Y...yes..."

"You mean there's more than one pair of that ugly kakhi coat he always wears?" John tried jokingly. He sniffed and wiped another tear from his eye. "I gave him that watch for a going away present - before he left the VCTF. It's one of a kind, custom made. There's no way it couldn't be him."

"Okay. Come on," Rachel told gently. "How about you go sit down, I'll take it from here."

"No... he-"

"John," Bailey hollared, Grace next to him. "So what do we got," he asked as he walked closer.

"What are you guys doing here so soon?" Rachel questioned.

"Let's face it," said Grace. "The killer knows how to clean up a crime scene. We figured it'd be easier coming to a... more fresh..."

"Oh, my God," said Bailey. "Nathan?"

Rachel's face only grew more worried. John broke down again, he couldn't hold it in. Everyone was. Even Bailey had tears running down his cheeks.

x x x

George sat at his computer, devastated and depressed. He had gotten off the phone with Bailey half an hour ago, but the news was so damaging he could not get it out of his head. Nathan is dead. A beloved friend of him, and a former member of the VCTF dead. It was hard to believe. Other agencies had had their men die, but never the VCTF. They were always the ones helping the others in the midst of their losses, but now it was their turn to get hit. And they were hit hard. He was not only a respected colleuge, but a close friend as well.

And George sat their for another hour and a half, until he heard Bailey and the others enter.

"It's not true. Tell me it's not true," George stammared, tears pouring down his face.

"It's true," Bailey replied, voice hoarse.

"No," George said. "NO," he turned and looked at John, repeatedly shaking his head.

John nodded.

"No," George breathed.

Rachel forced herself to look at John, sorrow burned in his eyes. She wished she could just put her arms around him and make everything go away. She was scared for him. She was terrified for him. She was feeling for him. She slipped her arm around his waist as they both stood at the head of the table in the command center. "You okay?"

He shook his head, keeping his eyes to the plain black floor beneath him.

"Need to talk?"

"Later," he answered.

"Right, later..." She hated that things were always "later" when it came to the both of them. She knew it was just as much her as him, but she still hated it.

"If everyone will be seated," Bailey tried. "We... we need to continue as much as possible."

They took their usual seats around the table, George unfolded his laptop. John slouched back in his seat, his head as much against the chair as possible, looking up.

As Bailey began talking, John seemed to lose himself in the grief. He closed his eyes and started thinking about Nathan. He hadn't seen Nathan in almost a decade. He'd missed him, and never realized how much.

It's how it always is for John. The people closest to him leave, one way or another. He was sick and tired of it. He began to close people off lately, especially over the last five years. Doing nothing with the only people he'd ever considered close enough to be family. Hurt and pain had become synonymous with himself. He was so scared of people noticing that he'd wonder sometimes who did.

John's first thought of Nathan wasn't when they met, but when Nathan stuck his neck out for him when the VCTF had a mole.

"I can handle it," John said, attempting to reassure his best friend.

"We can handle it," Nathan replied, not backing away.

John felt warmth against his hand, he opened his eyes to find Rachel's hand in his, her's trying to reassure him by squeezing. He squeezed in return as a way of telling her he was fine, but she must be one hell of a Profiler. Because she saw right through it. She only squeezed again. He knew she knew he needed to talk to someone.

He nodded in affirmation. It was weird how well they could read each other sometimes. Rachel never removed her hand from his. Suddenly he felt a little better. It was amazing to him that this girl had such an effect on him. He thought so many times "It's just Rachel", but now he seemed to think "It's Rachel". Sometimes even that she was his Rachel.

"So we've had four decapitations in eight days. A death every other," Bailey spoke loudly, bringing John back to the moment.

"Just when the cops clean the scene - or even discover it - they say another happens," George said, typing God knows what on his computer.

"What are you getting Rachel?"

"I... I don't know. I'll need more time," Rachel said, caught off guard. She had been having a moment all to herself.

"You've got until tomorrow."

x x x

Rachel closed the door behind her as John walked over to her couch. He sat on the leather sofa, his right arm lazily propped on it's. Rachel seated herself next to him, a worried expression across her face. She knew what it was like to lose someone you thought of as your best friend. Even though it was five years ago, Rachel still felt terrible grief when she thought of her deceased brother Danny. She could still remember the excruciating pain within her heart that made her ask herself what was there to truely live for. Even now, five years later, she had trouble answering that same simple question. As she looked into John's eyes, she could see that same pain, even if he wasn't looking into hers. The eyes were the windows of his very soul, and no matter how many times he said "I'm fine", she'd take one look into them and see beyond the words marked meaningless by the feelings that shone through them. John had lost a lot in his life, Rachel knew that, though not really much detail. She knew that losing this man, whom she'd never known but heard plenty about, must be tearing him apart inside.

She wondered if he'd ever finally open up to her; so many times had they fought, and their petty comments had flown back and forth neither of them knowing each other's true feelings. She knew that it was a weak excuse to not share what they were both really feeling. Even as she sat there, her hand in his as he struggled to not break down, all she could think of was that time Danny had died and John had been there for her. Remember his exact words, she leaned toward John enough to put her arms around him, quoting him with a slight change, "When does John get to cry?"

Immediately he broke apart, crying harder that he'd ever cried in his life. He wasn't sure if it was just for Nathan - he wondered if he was crying for all that he'd lost. Rachel simply sat there, offering her shoulder for what must've been hours, because the next thing she knew Bailey had entered her office, asking them to lock up when they were done. He had impecable timing, entering the room during one of the brief periods where John was calm and quiet, simply reveling in the comfort Rachel offered him. Rachel had nodded her head, and Bailey taking one last look at John, turned around and headed out as quietly as possible.

Rachel hadn't gotten a chance yet to talk with him about it, but she knew that first he had to let out all the grief he could. Rachel hugged John tighter, and his reaction was that he put his arms around her and hugged her in turn.

John couldn't even think about how much he wanted Rachel. All that was on his mind was the lives of people he'd loved being taken away. It seemed everyone he ever got close to - or wanted to get close to - left one way or another. It was hard enough that his mom had died a little over fifteen years ago, but it only got worse when his mind rushed foreward to Kate, and then to Rachel, whom he'd thought he'd lost forever. He kept crying, because he knew that if he cried he'd never have to stop and think about anything else going around him. He could wallow in his dismay for as long as possible, stopping every now and then to regain moisture in his throat and eyes, sore from the loss.

He felt her hands slowly moving up and down his back in a comforting gesture. "We should probably get going," Rachel whispered.

"Yeah," John replied. An uncomfortable silence fell in the room. Then: "Do you think you could stay with me? I... I don't want to be left alone tonight..." John trailed.

"Of course," Rachel replied. They slowly got up; John exited the office and headed for his desk to gather the few things he brought with himself to work, and Rachel got hers. After locking up the main entrance doors, John and Rachel headed to the parking garage. Rachel started off towards her car, then remembering she was to go home with John. She quickly turned around, as he was headed in the opposite direction. "Hey John, maybe I should drive..."

"Huh?" John asked softly, lost in thoughts. "Oh, oh yeah, go ahead." John placed the keys in her open hand, and changed his course to the passenger's side of the car.

x x x

Only when John squinted his eyes did he realize he'd cried himself to sleep, forgetting to set his alarm clock. '10:00am,' he read. "Damn it!"

Rachel, still fully dressed, was just as out as he had been. "Rachel," he whispered. "Rach, wake up." He gently shook her. She opened her eyes, and after getting a good look at him, closed them again. "Rachel, it's ten a-m. We're late."

Rachel shot out of bed, not delaying to fizing her hair and makeup in the bathroom John's appartment offered. John walked in sleepily after her, taking out the contacts he had worn the night before and putting in new ones. The others had worn and their time was up.

Neither of them bothered to change into a fresh set of clothes, even though Rachel couldn't've if she had wanted to, and they ran out the door to wok, driving as fast as they could - without breaking the law, of course.

x x x

"We've really gotta get this guy," Bailey said nonchalantly. "We've got practically nothing other than the fact that he's a psychotic son of a bitch – whom I want to kill, by the way. We've got hardly anything to go on."

"No; we have a guy who likes to kill people with a connection to the VCTF," George said as Rachel and John made their way to the open seats. These got odd looks from their co-workers, but nothing more.

"What do you mean, George?" John asked in an attempt to catch himself up.

"Well, Nathan was obviously a former member of the Task Force. But this guy Hal Willis" – George pulled up a picture of the second victim – "was a former member as well. He only worked here for about a month in the security division. He was transferred to Dallas, but he quit and found work as a high school and middle school professor."

"So the connection is us," Rachel surmised aloud.

"So the killer has something against us," Bailey repeated.

"Now," George said. "The first victim we didn't even link to the case until now. Darren Ford, white male, five foot eleven, wife, two boys. The reason we didn't link it is because he didn't take the head – instead he took his left hand. The odd thing was that it wasn't he himself directly linked, but his wife."

"His wife," Rachel echoed. "That explains the taking of the hand."

"Hmm?" John asked, turning his head towards her.

"The other two victims were linked directly to the VCTF. It was their choice, they used their heads; they considered. But Darren Ford was linked through his marriage. So what does the killer do?-He takes his left hand, his proof of marriage that never leaves him. The proof of his connection the VCTF. It was the marriage's fault, so it was the hand he took.

"His proof got him killed," Grace commented.

"Exactly."

"Yeah, but come on, Rach," John started. "You think the killer took off his hand and let him bleed to death? No way! He'd want the killing to go quickly, wouldn't he? In case he got caught...? He was married with two kids; how often do you find hours alone?"

George intervened, "So what do we do?" George asked. "The killer could be anyone from an angry family member of a deceased victim-"

"Could be someone who we put away and was somehow released," Grace interrupted.

"Yeah, or it could be a former member, someone I fired," Bailey said. "Maybe someone I failed to rehire when we reconstituted."

"Great," John said abruptly. "Could be anyone. We've gotten nowhere."

"Come on, John, at least we know the killer has a connection to one of us," Rachel tried.

"Great," he said again. "Now it's personal."

"Why are you always so sarcastic?"

"It's a defense mechanism," he replied coolly with another dose of sarcasm.

Rachel sighed defeated. "Fine. Be an asshole."

"Okay," he smiled brightly.

"Ding, ding, back to your corners. My goodness, you two go through mood swings. John, I swear you can be feisty as hell," Bailey told.

"Shut up," John said dejectedly, without realizing the only thing he'd accomplished was proving Bailey's point.

George added: "Yeah, you can get pretty scary, John. It's like Rosie O'Donnell with PMS." Rachel and Bailey laughed.

"Alright," Grace yelled over all of them. "Sometimes I'm the only sane one... and that's not a good thing," she added.

They cooled off a minute and continued where they left off.

"Okay, fine." John adjusted himself in his seat and motioned that he was now cool as well.

George pulled up even more information. "So based on what we have so far, I'm going to circle back to where we were about ten years ago. I'm going to look at the beginning."

"That's a great place to start, Georgie. They'll have to know a lot about the past to find out things like that."

"Yeah, they're all quite former; from our first year," Grace added.

"So we check all of the people we knew from our first year?" John asked.

"That's the best we've got right now."

"Okay," Rachel chimed in.

"George," Bailey ordered. "Search through everything you can by computer. John, you look by hand. I've got files in my office which you have complete access to. Don't worry, I'll be helping you. Rachel, look over everything you can from the crime scenes, even the photos taken there. I want to know every detail, down to the closest donut store. For all we know, the location could have something to do with it as well. They were all killed in Dallas. Find out what's there. Gracie, I'll get you the three victims' bodies. I want you do go all out. Find out even the day and time of death. Give me everything you can, people."

"Okay," Grace said.

The team dispersed to their tasks.

x x x

"Damn it," George swore. "Yeah, thanks for the call. Yeah, okay... bye." George put the black phone back on the receiver. Then he picked it back up, dialing an extension number. "Bailey, listen. Bad news. There's been another murder."

"Already?" Bailey asked from the other end.

"Yeah. About a block and a half from where the last body was found," George replied.v

"Alright," Bailey hung up, George did the same.

A matter of seconds later, Bailey walked into the command center, followed by Grace and John.

"I've called Rachel. She landed in Dallas about thirty minutes ago, and is heading toward the scene now," Bailey informed.

"What scene?" John asked.

"There has been report of another death only a block and a half from where we found Nathan's body. Grace, you'll be taking the other chopper out there and meet up with Rachel. John, I want you to talk to all your Atlanta PD contacts. Maybe he went there after he worked with us or came from there to work with us. Maybe one of them knows something about this guy."

"You got it."

"George, you keep file searching. If there's something remotely out of sync, I wanna know about it."

"You got it, Bail."

"Why are you all still standing around! MOVE!"

As the team went to their duties, Bailey stood where he had been before. He released a prolonged sigh. "Please, let us catch this guy."

x x x

"Garth Landburg," said a short, stout man that couldn't be taller five foot six. He had thick, round bifocals and the little hair that he had on the sides of his head was brown, and he reminded anyone who glanced at him of a sugar bowl. Despite the lack of hair on his head and the obvious lack of perfect vision he didn't look a day over thirty-seven. "The victim's sixty-three; a widower with two kids both in their thirties.

"Diana Landburg worked with us on a case in our sophomore year," John informed his colleagues. This one got questionable stares. "Couldn't forget a girl like her," John said as his mouth slid into a smile. Rachel took note. It was good to see him smiling already; it was such a change from the previous night.

Grace laughed under her breath at John's comment, but the seriousness of these series of murders had quickly given her a cool, unreadable expression.

The short man continued, "That's the name of his oldest daughter. And, here's something sick for you. The man was castrated."

John winced, and the girls giggled at his reaction. "Yeah, if you had a dick, these kind of cases would get to you, too," he replied. The girls giggles only grew into laughter.

"I hope you realize the seriousness of this case!" snapped the short man.

Rachel and Grace both half regained their composure. Rachel began, "Oh, believe me, we do, Officer Daniels." Officer Daniels eyed her sternly. But as soon as he turned away, Rachel and Grace couldn't contain slight giggles that escaped from their lips.

John was mesmerized by Rachel. She looked so gorgeous, and when she laughed she was only more beautiful in his eyes. He thought of trying to get her out of his head, but he couldn't help it; he felt better just thinking about her. He even thought that any guy who didn't was just crazy. He just wished he had the guts to tell her. Maybe he'd try when this mess was over...

'Maybe not,' John thought as his eyes ran over her again. She is way out of my league, he'd think every time he'd work up any courage to talk to her about the subject of dating.

"Officer Daniels," Grace started. "We'll be flying the body back to my lab in Atlanta. I can study the victim better there." Daniels nodded in affirmation.

"Hey John," Rachel whispered as she brought herself closer to him. "If you had to be castrated or neutered, which would you choose?"

"What kind of a sick question is that!" John exclaimed so loudly that reporters nearby had paused mid-sentence to look at what was going on. Rachel giggled profusely. Then:

"It's a Would You Rather!"

"It's a bad one," he replied. "That's like me asking you if... if-" He paused. "What do you girls love as much as guys love sex?"

"Uh uh! I'm not just going to give away our secret," she said with a mysterious drawl to it.

John half smiled at this. She was not just beautiful, nor just sexy, or smart; she was also the cutest little thing he had ever seen. And it seemed she only grew cuter.

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