Disclaimer: I'm just taking them out for a test drive. I promise not to hurt the Hulk™ or the Waif™ in any permanent way. Just ask CC, I was nice to his creations, and I'll be nice to DW's too, maybe.
Thanks: Everyone, just because you folks are all so cool.
A/N: I'd like to lay the blame someone for this one, but where would be the fun in that. Although I think Mary might be at least a little bit responsible. This is a response to the April AI Fic Challenge. In particular: The Road Not Taken - What if Alex/Bobby had made different career choices? How would they meet? Now, since I have to agree that Bobby's work is his calling, his career will be similar. And it might seem familiar to some of you, depending on your experiences.
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me – Green Day
Supervisory Special Agent (SSA) Robert Oliver Goren sat in the Phoenix field office, running on sugar, coffee and cigarettes. He was on loan from the Behavioral Science Unit (BSU) to assist the Phoenix office with a beauty of a case.
Two months ago, a pair of children had been abducted from in front of their house, while their mother was inside making lunch. There had been no ransom demand, nor any bodies found.
Two weeks after the first abduction, another child was taken, also from in front of the family house, the mother mere feet away.
This pattern continued, a new abduction every two weeks, with no leads. A total of 9 children, all between the ages of five and nine, had been taken. The Phoenix area was paralyzed with fear and demanding action from the police and the FBI.
At wits' end with the lack of progress, the Special Agent in Charge (SAIC), Marcia Bowden, had called Behavioral Science at Quantico and begged for help. SAIC George Williams, a twenty-year veteran of the Bureau and the current head of BSU had promised SAIC Bowden his golden child.
SSA Goren was the best that ISU had to offer, the best that SAIC Williams had ever seen. He had never known a behavioral profiler able to get into the head of a perpetrator as quickly as Goren could. The man had a gift.
The man had a curse.
Goren stared past the crime scene photos taped to the wall in the appropriated conference room. His fingers drummed a staccato beat against the table. His breathing was shallow, his heart rate slow and steady. To anyone passing by, Goren appeared completely lost in his thoughts.
In truth, Robert Goren was simply lost.
TBC
A/N: Just a little bait on my hook. Did I catch you?