Rope Enough

by Brandgwen

Disclaimer: Profiler is the property of NBC and Sander/Moses. The Magnificent Seven is the property of Watson/Densham and CBS. The ATF universe belongs to Mog. I'm not making any money, I'm not worth suing.

Author's Note: This is an ATF/Profiler cross-over, inspired by the challenge put forward by Michelle Naylor. Background is gleaned from a number of ATF fics, in particular "How DID He Get That Car?", by Mog and "Your True Family", by Ruby. Thanks to to everyone who helped me with the background information.

A Swift, Well-Practised Movement

Buck was glad to get away from the labs. Rationally, he knew that, if those places were really that dangerous, they wouldn't let students near them. He also knew Nathan would run a tight ship, with no safety precaution neglected. Buck just disliked being around things he didn't know how to control. He didn't know the first thing about chemistry and suspected that, in a fight, the molecules would win.

The three agents split up to search the offices. Unlike Ezra, who had gone through the social science offices alone, Buck had only to look at a third of the offices. He still thought it was a pretty shitty job. Careful to cover his tracks, the ATF agent rifled through the personal belongings of the various lecturers and assistants. Dull was the only word to describe it. The bookshelves were lined with thick volumes bearing titles such as "Annual Review of Neuropharmacology" and "An Immunologist's Guide to Antibody Assays". Ordering forms littered the desks and posters adorned the walls, demonstrating "The Induction of Apoptosis by the TNF Ligand Superfamily". Buck smiled to himself. He didn't know what the posters were talking about and he didn't care. Thank God you don't need this crap to join the ATF.

A man stood in the shadows, watching the tall agent. He did not recognise Buck right away. Buck was not one of the regulars to the university, certainly not a regular to that time of night, but there he was, picking though the faculty staff rooms. Maybe he was a thief, looking for the marijuana the watcher knew was hidden in the graduate student's lounge. Then, after a few minutes of staring, a shadow passed across the watcher's gaze and settled over the thief's form. He saw, clearly, a figure from his past. A person who had ruined his childhood and made his adult life a confusion of fragmented memories and troubled dreams. At the same time, he saw the man who had held him, played with him. This person could make him believe everything was alright, everything would turn out for the best.

It had to end. The watcher knew that. This time, though, it would be done right. He smiled to think that, after all his work, there would finally be a conclusion.

"Sutter, Michael, born 1969, son of Alexander and Lydia, in the state of Montana..." JD sent the document to the printer, before moving on to the next piece of information.

"That would make him around thirty years old - around the same age as many of the PhD students," Bailey suggested.

"I doubt he would have bothered with higher education," Sam shook her head, "he probably considers himself an outcast. Initially, he would have been ostracised because of his family history, then, later, because of his poor social skills. He would have rejected that kind of institution long ago."

"Says here he never graduated high school," JD sent Sutter's school record to the printer.

Bailey could feel time slipping away from them "Who is around the uni at night? Cleaners, certainly. The library staff, perhaps? Would he be using his own name, or an assumed one?"

"I've looked for uni employees named Sutter, already," JD didn't look up from the screen, but follow the conversation, closely, "nothing."

"He wouldn't have changed it when he began work at the uni. He may have earlier, to distance himself from his father, or if his mother remarried," Sam suggested.

"Okay, JD, look up the records for Montana, then Denver. See if Sutter is still Sutter, then cross-reference it with the uni records, again," Bailey wandered back to the office where Grant and Tanner poured over the father's police and prison records. "You two getting anywhere?"

"This guy was in for multiple rape and homicide. The sorta person we might have been looking at, if we'd been around back then. I guess this kinda thing runs in the family. Other than that, the only remarkable thing about him was the way he died. No help, at all," Grant pulled a frustrated face.

"Maybe we should go down to the uni, check things out," Tanner hated sitting in small rooms and loathed trying to read paperwork.

"And look for what? No, stay here and keep at it, until we have something to look for," something will turn up, Malone kept telling himself.

Buck could feel someone watching him. He would never be able to pinpoint what it was that had alerted him - perhaps a noise too faint to register on a conscious level, but enough to arm his more basic defences. Still, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a shiver ran down his spine. Slowly, the ATF agent turned from the bookshelves he had been inspecting to face the room. No one stood in the office, no one in the doorway. Buck had not expected them to show themselves. Cautiously, Buck pulled his gun from its holster and moved about the room.

The watcher should have known. This man, the one for whom he had waited so long, would sense his presence. He moved farther down the hall, where he awaited quarry. His hand grasped his truncheon a little tighter.

Buck moved out into the hall, his firearm at the ready. He looked left, then right. All of the doors in the corridor were closed, there was no one in sight. A movement caught Buck's eye. A security guard turned the corner and, spotting the intruder, unholstered his own gun.

"Hey, you! Drop your weapon!" the security guard demanded.

Buck raised his hands above his head, his gun hooked over his little finger. "It's alright, Buddy, I'm with the ATF," Buck made sure the guard knew he was cooperating. With all these murders hanging over the campus, security would be jumpy.

"Let's see some ID. Why wasn't I told that you guys would be here?"

Buck flashed his badge and shrugged. Because this is an illegal search, just didn't seem like a good response. "There's someone else in here. I was being watched while I searched this office, but whoever it was snuck out, before I could catch a look."

"No kidding. I didn't see anyone," the guard frowned.

"I guess he must have gone the other way," Buck turned and started down the corridor.

As he turned, the guard saw his chance. With a swift, well-practised movement, he brought his truncheon down upon his victim's skull.