Part Two:
"I'm really sorry Sonia, I'm just not up for the whole salsa dancing thing this evening. Let me drive you home." He says, realising that a night out wasn't exactly the best of plans. As they exit the nightclub that he sometimes frequents with one of his many lady friends to unwind after a trying week, he looks up at the deep purple city night sky. Taking in the full moon in her glory, her silver hue surrounded by the orb of her own light, broken only by the odd cotton candy like cloud. As beautiful as the night sky is, he cannot shake the odd eeriness that creeps slowly down his spine like morning rain trickling down a spiral staircase. After dropping his companion off, he arrives home and pulls his sports car into the underground. Collecting his jacket and the over night bag from the trunk, he presses the lock button and makes his way towards the elevator. The doors part and he quickly walks to his flat. So good to be home, he muses placing the key in the lock and opening the door, flipping a switch that casts the room in a gentle glow.
Dropping his bag on the floor under the table, his keys in a dish kept on the decorative table, and hanging his jacket in the closet, Derek makes his way to the kitchen and the fridge for a beer. Loosening his tie and undoing the top few buttons of his burgundy shirt he sits in the comfortable chair in front of the television to check the news, making sure to keep up with current events and the scores of his favourite teams. Turning off the television and putting the can in the recycling bin under the sink, he makes his way to the bathroom for his evening routine before bed. Nearly falling into bed, he turns out the light and buckles down for a good-nights sleep, for this weekend, his first off in so many, he had planned to spend it running errands and visiting his family.
Funny how quickly plans change when he is awakened nearly chocking on thick smoke and the blaring of the fire alarms and sirens outside. Derek manages to grab his watch, cell phone and wallet from the bedside table and his robe from the foot of the bed as he quickly shoves his feet into the slippers. Crouching as close to the floor as he can manage, he heads to the bathroom and gets a wash cloth from the cupboard, runs cold water over it, and holds it over his nose and mouth. Getting his keys from the hall table, checking the door and finding it cool, he opens it, and joins the other occupants on his floor in an organised dash to the stairwell. Helping his elderly neighbours make their way down safely, Derek keeps everyone calm and quickly checks his pockets for the cell phone. Finally reaching the bottom, he holds the door open for the others who run towards the bright lights of the police cars, fire trucks and ambulances.
Perhaps still dazed and in a state of shock, he shakes his head in disbelief, watching along with the rest of the condominiums residents, as his home continues to be ravaged by the fires hungry flames that lick their way up and through the mid-rise building. Derek hardly hears the cell in his pocket ring and finally clues in.
"Morgan." He nearly barks for the noise around him.
"Hey sweet cheeks. You alright there?"
"Garcia?"
"No, the Easter bunny!" she replies.
"I'm fine. I think everyone else is as well. A few with smoke inhalation. They are taking them by medic bus to the hospital and have them checked out." He replies looking at the scene around him.
"Good to know that you're alright." He can hear both concern and relief in her tone.
"What I don't understand is the fact that they can't seem to get it under control. It doesn't usually take this long for fire fighters to contain a blaze." He says still in a daze.
"Well don't go anywhere there, honey bunny; I'm on my way." She says and hangs up. Derek doesn't really know what he heard as he presses the end button on his phone and continues to stare up at the burning building, the fire fighters still trying to tame it's seemingly endless hunger, and the surrounding scene.
"What will we do?" he hears an older woman say repeatedly in a small voice, her husband wrapping his arms around her as a paramedic attempts to give her oxygen.
"Momma! Momma!" a child screams at the top of his little lungs, Derek quickly scoops him up and makes his way to the child's mother, placing him in her arms.
"Thank you." She attempts to smile through her tears. Like so many, she has to figure out where she's going to stay and what she's going to do in the mean time while finding a new home for her family. Derek does not envy her; happy to know that everyone is all right is enough for now.
"You can't."
"Watch me." Her voice is full of piss and vinegar and the officer doesn't even have the chance to stop her, as she passes under the barrier, dashing towards Derek.
"Garcia?" his words a soft cloud of smoke in the chilled evening air.
"Uh yeah, I told you I was coming to get you." She quips. "Could someone get him a blanket please!" her commanding tone heard over the chaos that surrounds them.
"I'm fine. Someone else needs a blanket more than I do." He protests.
"I spoke to Hotch and Gideon to let them know what's going on. Hotch said that he would try and see about getting you a place to stay."
"I have my uncle here. I'm sure I can stay with him and his family until I figure something out." He babbles as she leads him away to her car. She opens the door for him and nearly shoves him into the passenger seat. "Where are you taking me?" he inquires, suddenly aware that he's in the moving vehicle.
"The goddess' palace." She snaps her gum and turns on the radio.
"Goddess' palace?" his expression is priceless, she really wishes that she had her camera or her cell with her, as she quickly notices how things aren't making much sense to him.
"Yes, my place." She slows the car to a halt at an intersection and waits for the light. Derek shakes his head because it's too hard to think.
"This isn't right. This can't be right." He mumbles.
"Sweetie, everything will be fine. You just need to get some rest." She looks over at him and reaches out, running her blue painted finger nailed hand over his arm. Pulling into the short driveway of her apartment, she drives to the underground and parks her car in her spot. With shaky legs that feel more like rubbery bone, he lets her help him to the elevator.
"I'm sorry." He whispers.
"Hey, it's okay. You're allowed not to function." She opens the door and nearly pushes him through it.
"Which way to the couch?" his voice is groggy, almost as though reality is just starting to really hit him.
"Hun, you'll sleep in the guestroom." She puts an arm around his shoulders and steers him down the short hallway towards the bedrooms.
"Nice place you have here."
"Thanks. The bathroom is across the hall. You might want to grab a shower, you are kind of, how shall I put this? Smoky." She adjusts her glasses then puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'll see what I can find you to wear. I should have some sweat pants and a t-shirt." Adding as she finds him a towel and opens a new toothbrush for him.
"Hey Garcia?"
"Yes sunshine?"
"Thanks."
"No worries Hun. Shower." She commands and tosses the towel at him. Catching the towel, he attempts to smile, albeit weak, an attempt nonetheless, she muses.
An odd sense of déjà vu runs through him as he allows the water to wash over his tense body. Running the soap over aching muscles, he sighs rinsing the suds and standing under the hot water for a long moment. Turning off the water, he grabs the fresh towel and glides it over himself before wrapping it around his waist.
"Garcia?"
"Here. I found these." She hands him a pair of university track pants and a t-shirt that once belonged to her older brother.
"Thanks." He looks down for a moment before meeting her eyes, and turns, heading into the guestroom.
Emerging from the room, he makes his way to the living room to find her sitting on the sofa channel surfing. Sensing him, she turns her head to look at him.
"What is it?"
"Do you think that they will have a cause?" his expression falling with the thought of never knowing what really happened.
"Its way too early for that sweet cheeks. They have to do an official investigation; anything beyond that is usually if they suspect something. Have a seat if you like." She pats the vacant spot beside her and picks up the remote to change the channel. "They may be showing some awful B movie tonight."
"Yeah?" he sits beside her and watches as some scantly clad female runs from what appears to be a mind sucking zombie or something to that effect. Figuring that every great B movie deserves food and beverages, or perhaps something stronger, Garcia gets up and heads to the kitchen. Derek smells the buttery scent of popcorn and heads in to the kitchen to help.
"So, do you do this often?"
"Do what?" her expression one of innocence.
"This? Watch really crappy movies."
"Not every Friday night. My plans happened to fall through and I was watching the news when Hotch called. I must say that you were home early. Even for you." She winks.
"I suppose that the same routine isn't all its cracked up to be. Sonia wanted to go salsa dancing again. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I just really wasn't up for it this evening. We had a pretty tough week." Garcia finds herself wrapped up in his frown, which she cannot help but think oozes pure sex, as they finish gathering their provisions and heading back to the living room.
"I'm guessing tomorrow we have to get you some clothes?" he merely grins and grabs a handful of popcorn.
"I suppose that would be a good idea. I really can't stand shopping though. All my favourite suits." Shaking his head, a look she cannot read caresses his deep, chiselled features.
"Try and forget about it and relax." Her suggestion probably drowned out by his munching on a handful of popcorn.
Slowly opening his eyes, Derek stirs. As he regains focus, he catches the end credits as they roll down the screen and he wonders if he had snored through the entire movie. Trying not to move too much, as Garcia is fast asleep beside him, her cheek pressed up against his chest, her breathing is slow and steady, and he somehow manages to gently lay her out and picks up the blanket from the armchair, carefully draping it over her. As quietly as he can manage, he picks up the empty bowel and glasses and puts them on the sink in the kitchen before padding to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Derek awakes to the glimmer of the suns rays through the sheer curtains, brightening the room and the smell of fresh coffee, that lure him from the comfort of sleep. As his eyes slowly adjust to his surroundings, he cannot help but wonder where he is. The room is unfamiliar, as is the mattress underneath him. Glancing at the nightstand, he also notes that the digital alarm clock has red numbers, not the customary green. With a loud sigh, he allows his reality to sink in with the realisation that last night was not a dream. Peeling the covers off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed in one fluid motion, he sits for a moment before following the hallway into the kitchen.
"Good morning handsome." Garcia greets him happily, pouring him a mug of coffee.
"Handsome? I highly doubt that. Who are you and what have you done with Garcia?"
"First of all, the names Penelope." She giggles as she sets the mug in front of him.
"I knew that." He flashes a suave smile, "thanks." He adds pouring a touch of milk into the mug and stirring quickly. Their brief moment interrupted by the ringing telephone waiting impatiently.
"Hello?" there is a short pause as she turns the cord between her fingers. "Yes, oh your awesome!" she adds happily. "I'll buzz you in." she presses the door button and hangs up the phone.
"Who was?" he doesn't have the chance to finish his question.
"That was our dear Reid. He heard about what happened and called to see if he could help. He's bringing you some fresh clothes so you can go shopping. I'm so going to miss out on that." She says and her smirk morphs into a toothy grin.
"Thank you for letting me stay."
"For you, anything." Her reply cut short by the knock on the door. Garcia opens the door to the young man, who looks more like an academic then an FBI agent, his customary overly warn leather messenger bag is slung over his shoulder, across his lean torso. Holding out the paper bag towards Garcia, who snatches it, he removes his jacket. His thin build hidden under the one size too large sweater, a check shirt underneath and a pair of loose khaki slacks. His longish, dark honey coloured hair is as per the norm, dishevelled, only this time by the wind, which he tucks back in place with an almost too skinny finger.
"Hey Reid." Derek calls from the kitchen.
"Hey Morgan, I brought you some fresh clothes." Slipping off his shoes, he heads into the kitchen.
"Thanks man." Derek takes the bag from Garcia and rushes off to change. Turning towards the resident tech specialist, Spencer Reid brushes the same offending strand into its place behind his ear.
"So I gather the two of you are as thick as thieves." Garcia's comment is an attempt to open the lines of communication.
"I guess you could say that." He looks down at his feet, "when I joined the BAU, Morgan and I got along fairly well." He sits at the table and they wait for Derek to emerge.
"What did you bring him?"
"What do you mean?"
"No offence, but I hardly see him wearing any of your clothes."
"Oh they aren't mine. Don't tell him, but some are Hotch's and the rest are Gideon's." he pauses and her eyes nearly bug out of her head. "Nothing I had will fit him. He moves and it's something akin to the Incredible Hulk or Mr. Hyde." Garcia cannot stop herself from laughing.
"Oh my." She says under her breath as Derek enters the kitchen.
"Not one word." Derek gives Reid a look that literally states if you say anything, you'll be swimming with the fishes or worm food. Reid raises his hand, but that doesn't stop Garcia.
"You look." She stops for a moment as though trying to think of what to say.
"Don't even." Derek shakes his head. "I know how this looks."
"No, you haven't a clue." She nearly has to bite her tongue. "Well the two of you ought to get going now." Almost pushing Derek out the door, Garcia sighs and goes back to tidy up the kitchen, wondering how she's going to survive another moment with Derek in her apartment resisting the temptation to jump his bones.
The rest of the weekend passes without further incident and the return of the grinding workweek begins with the dawning of Monday morning. Derek, having adjusted to being in a roommate situation, quickly gets ready, and makes coffee, scrambled eggs and toast.
"Morning." Penelope says happily sitting at the breakfast bar.
"Morning." Derek puts the plate in front of her and scrapes the rest of the eggs onto a plate for himself, then sits beside her.
"Pass me the technology section." She reaches across the table at the spread out newspaper. Derek sits back and watches her for a moment. "What? A girl needs to know what's going on." She takes another bite of scrambled egg. "By the way, these are good."
"Thank you. I'll be looking for a place to live this week. I hope I won't be too much of a pain."
"A pain? You? Never!" she reaches across the table and covers his hand with hers. He doesn't pull away, but he's unsure of how to react. Their professional relationship, if one can refer to it as such is one thing, this new arrangement while comfortable is something he had never imagined.
Arriving at work, most well aware of the situation, Derek and Penelope exit the lift and part. She goes off to her high-tech kingdom, while he dashes down the stairs to his desk.
"Morning Derek. How are things?" Elle is sitting at her desk, a file open in front of her. He nods.
"Things will be better once I straighten everything out." Her turn to nod a response as Reid slides his chair over.
"Hey Morgan."
"Reid."
"Did you see the other quote, unquote unsolved cases?" he directs his inquiry towards Elle, who flips to the corresponding page.
"I noticed that. I'm beginning to wonder how many more deaths of a mysterious nature will turn up. Thus far I've managed to locate an additional five mysterious deaths in which cases the victims just happen to be a member or leader of an arson squad." She looks over at Derek while he opens the file that had been placed on his desk earlier. He nods as he takes a quick gander at the photographs.
"Normally, a case of this nature wouldn't be brought to our attention, because more often than not, local authorities have the tools to handle such cases." Reid's nose twitches slightly as he somewhat swivels in his chair.
"Regardless, whomever it is has done one hell of a job in covering his tracks, thus resulting in the inevitable layering of those involved in working on the case." Elle comments, Reid's eyebrows furrow in response, as he points to something of interest to her.
"I find it interesting that the lead investigators cited arson as the cause of these fires, and yet the actual reports that support their findings are missing." Flipping through the file, Elle expects to locate the report.
"Check this out. I've noticed that in most of the cases the lead investigator is Thomas Proctor." Reid sits back in his seat as Elle opens another folder. Derek begins to open the files placed upon his desk, looking at the same information.
"Who was the fire official that filed the reports?" he asks as he skims through another file. "I don't see anything here. Arson cases must initially be investigated by fire officials, am I right?"
"Usually they are. In most cases it's easily determined." Reid purses his lips.
"I watched the fire fighters. There was no way in hell that they were going to save that building. It was intentional. Whomever it is that started that fire knew what he was doing. What we need to know is what developing company won the bid for the initial structure, who was the runner up and who gets to develop the land once the investigation is complete."
"There has to be more to this case than meets the eye. Your condominium wasn't the only building torched over the weekend. There were two more to be exact." Reid says as he fiddles with his pen, pulling at the little plastic clip on the lid as he often does with his pens before twirling them between thin fingers.
"Basically, once we turn in our little profile, this is a criminal investigation. With that I would presuppose that we will no longer have our hands in." he turns to look at the office to judge the significance of their recent case.
"Don't forget that that's only assuming that this is what it appears to be." Reid folds his arms in front of him. "An over zealous, can't perform, in desperate need of release un-sub." He even surprises himself that he doesn't stumble over the sentence, one usually reserved for Gideon. Elle turns her attention to him. "In which case, we probably will be involved to some degree." He adds looking down at his brown leather shoes, the hair neatly tucked behind his ear, falling over his eye.
"I almost forgot. Garcia put together all of the information and has given it to Hotch. She said that he might lend her to the investigation. There are some things that she can get that officials are unable to." Derek says, as Elle picks up her coffee cup, finishing the contents and dropping it into the wastepaper basket beside her desk. Reid slides his chair back to his desk.
"J.J. left you a few extra files pertaining to your condo. Right now it's really a matter of playing the waiting game." He raises a brow, his dimpled smile disappearing.
"Morning." J.J. addresses the group. "Hotchner said that he wants to see us in the round table room in about fifteen minutes or so."
"Thanks for this." Derek holds up the file, as she tilts her head, her long blond hair falls over her strong, straight shoulders.
"No problem. After speaking with Garcia, I thought that you might want to know what's in the works." Turning on her heel, she walks confidently back to her office to prepare for their latest briefing. Elle looks over at Reid who appears disturbed by the photographs tucked within the file.
"Somehow, I think this case is going to take a while." Her comment under her breath as she studies the crime scene photos.
Part Three:
With thick fingers, black leather jacket carefully removes the folded paper from his inside pocket and as he unfolds the paper, his grin slowly becoming more sinister by degree. The adrenaline level increasing within him, as he rereads the names on his list, Tim York's already crossed off in his own blood. He now hides in his Cobalt waiting for his moment to strike. The full moon appears to hover protectively over the family home, almost as though knowledgeable of his intention. Folding the list, he places it back in his breast pocket; pops the trunk, steps out of the car into the brisk night, and collects his briefcase of death. Walking up the drive, black leather jacket checks for the tell-tail sign of an alarm system and takes pleasure in his good fortune. He slips the locksmith kit from his jeans back pocket and almost as gentle as a lover's caress opens the door without protest.
Once inside, he creeps upstairs keeping his eye on his prize. He stops at the top of the staircase to gain his bearings before continuing his soundless trek to the bedroom. His grin widens as the door is wide open, allowing him full view of the sleeping couple, his intended victim's arms encircle a sleeping blonde, her hair capturing the moonlight creating a halo around her almost angelic face. A challenge, he muses pausing at the foot of the bed in observation. Not a problem, he almost allows himself to chuckle. Opening the briefcase, he begins to ceremoniously remove the needed contents. Moving to stand on the wife's side of the bed, he positions himself so that if need be; a precise slash across her throat will end her life. Reaching across her, he runs the sharp point of his knife down his victim's arm. He is rewarded by the desired affect, as the other man stirs in his sleep, opening his eyes to allow them to adjust to the greyish dark room. Black leather jacket holds one finger to his lips while the other is poised to stab his wife if need be.
"There was another murder last night." J.J. exclaims, popping her head into Hotchner's office where he and Gideon have already been discussing Morgan's current situation.
"When did you get the information?" Gideon gestures for her to join their meeting.
"About ten minutes ago. I was in the middle of preparing for this afternoons press conference on the Bell kidnapping. His name was Topher Graham and he was also on York's team."
"So our un-sub doesn't have a compulsion, rather a to do list." Gideon shakes his head wondering how he missed that. "My guess is that he won't stop until everyone on that to do list has been taken care of." He adds. Hotchner stares at him from under thick brows and long lashes. "J.J. Do you have a list of the member's of Tim York's team?" she looks down for a moment in thought.
"No, but I can get that information. Maybe we can stop him from finishing his list." She turns on her heel and heads to her office to call the local fire department.
"Do you think that's really going to help? What if more than York's team is on that list? What if the uncounted variables cost more lives?" Hotchner's frown tugs at his lips. Gideon is unsure how to respond. He has known Hotch far too long to sugar coat that pill. He takes one of his deep breaths before looking his college/friend in the eye.
"Honestly Hotch. I don't know. However, what I do know is that it may give us a chance to slow him down, possibly even stop him." Gideon stands and heads back to his own office. At this point, all they can do is wait. Information on the latest murder is similar to that of York's, so Hotch sees no problem in sending Reid and Morgan; with the remainder of the day passing in a series of telephone calls and team meetings.
Staring at the paper, another name carefully crossed off his list, another's blood dried brown upon the page. Three more, his chuckle is low and almost as sinister as his evil grin as he parks his Cobalt in the driveway. Closing the trunk, he makes his way to the side entrance and slips the key in the lock.
"Tony, what took you so long?" a pretty, petite brunette demands with a small hand on her hip. He places his briefcase on the landing and makes his way up to her.
"Hope, I thought I told you I was working nights." He replies kissing her sweetly. She reaches up and runs painted fingernails through his cropped hair. "I have a couple of things to do. I'll be right up." His smile by the light of day, is nothing like that of the nightly hunter. Grabbing his case, he heads down to the laundry room. Closing the door behind, he jams a chair underneath the handle so that she cannot sneak up on him. Opening the case, he removes the sharp instruments and begins cleaning them. Taking special care that the blades never rust, he also makes sure that all trace evidence of their usage not visible to the naked eye.
With the same care that he takes with his blades, he snaps open a smaller case and removes the fountain pen nestled upon a velvety cushion within. Twisting the lower half of the pen, he removes the piston filler and runs the nib under the cool water before letting the water run through the capillaries through the gold tipped nib. Placing the piston filler back in it's place, he then submerges the nib into the cool water and slowly draws it up into the piston filler, then twists it in the opposite direction so that the water is pushed back out. He repeats this step until the water runs clear.
"Hey Hotch, I tracked down that list. Seems that the local fire department isn't too impressed that we've been called in on this." She holds out the printed list. "Apparently that's two of six fire fighters." She shakes her head and her blonde hair catches the florescent lighting, it shines like gold silk.
"That's assuming that these are the only people we need to protect." He puts the sheet on his desk. "I'll make a call to Virginia police and have them put some sort of guard on the remaining individuals. We can't have any more murders. Not under my watch." He adds as he picks up the telephone. J.J. quickly makes her way towards Elle's desk.
"Did you get anything out of him?" Elle inquires, lifting her head.
"Nothing more than I thought." J.J. grabs a chair and sits beside Elle.
"So basically we're no closer to nabbing this guy than local authorities?" J.J. rolls her eyes with a nod. "So what? We're waiting for another one to end up dead?"
"No, from what I gather, Hotch is putting a guard on each of the people on that list."
"Remember what happened the last time he felt the need."
"Need to what Elle?" Hotchner inquires from behind nearly causing her to jump out of her seat.
"To protect the potential victim from an un-sub." She recovers.
"I realise that the guard was murdered along with the un-subs intended victim; however, this time that won't happen."
"You're not thinking of being one of those guards are you?" J.J. let's her question escape her lips. Elle cringes at the thought of their having to do neighbourhood watch, recalling her last time with Gideon.
"I've spoken with detective McKinney and he is adamant that his department can handle the current situation, even refusing our assistance in the area of a profile."
"I was under the impression that we had officially been asked to assist." J.J. looks at him, a puzzled expression caressing her features.
"We had. However, McKinney was not the one who put the request."
"So we're off the case then?"
"No, we are going to shadow." He lifts his eyebrows. Elle smirks as he turns and makes his way back to his office. "They will ask us for official assistance; and when they do, we will be more than ready with our profile." He calls over his shoulder. Right, Elle nearly rolls her eyes. They are no closer to a profile then the local PD is catching him.
"Hope, don't wait up for me. It's another late night shift." He hollers as he slips his black leather jacket over the expanse of his broad shoulders.
"I made you something to take with you." She holds out a bag containing a meal.
"Thanks." He holds out his arms and she wraps hers around him and kisses him goodbye. "See you later." He adds and kisses her forehead.
"Miss me." She seems so innocent to him, so naïve, he muses.
"Always." His smile warm and genuine as he heads towards his car, opening the trunk, he places the briefcase within before speeding off.
Driving through the quiet neighbourhood, he immediately notices the heightened police presence. Coppers think they can stop me, he muses as he parks his car not too far from his next scene. Staking out the local police's stakeout team adds to the tingling sensation travelling throughout his entire body. Deciding on a different approach, black leather jacket exists his car, grabs his case and carefully makes his way around the back of the home. Once inside, he easily rounds up the family, pushing them down into the basement, taking pleasure in causing them fear, while setting about in his preparation that will literally leave a hole where the home stands. Crouching beside his victim, his chuckle is low as he digs an opening large enough to fit the nib of his pen in to fill. Pulling out his case, he plucks the pen from within and pulls off the cap, twists it open and submerges the nib into the pre-cut opening. Using the piston filler, he twists it slowly, allowing the red liquid to be fed into the hungry pen. Quickly reassembling the pen, he carefully crosses the name off the list. Easily exiting from where he entered, he lights a cigarette. Taking in the last drag as slowly as possible, he lets the cigarette fall to the ground, igniting the 'charge'. Concealing himself within the shadows of a tree for a moment, he watches his work amongst the sudden chaos; he easily makes his way to his car and drives off into the night.