BAU Jet | 10:46 AM (EST)

Bell raised an eyebrow as he approached the hangar in a standard-issue FBI SUV. For a country with chronically under-funded public infrastructure, the U.S. sure had a lot of money to spare for a private jet. Morgan finally parked next to another black SUV and stepped out. Reid did the same from the passenger-side front seat, leaving Bell to his thoughts for a few moments.

As he stared out of the heavily tinted window, the Officer reflected upon the subtle cues he'd noticed during the team's interactions with him and one another. For one, they functioned as much more of a familial unit than a federal one, and from the start they'd been trying to profile him, trying to gauge his true intentions.

They'd only see what he let them. A master of facades, Bell could regain his composure within split seconds if need be. No one would ever be able to tell what he was feeling or thinking. Which was a good thing, especially for a reserved, socially-averse person like him.

A sharp knock on the window shook him out of his stupor. SSA Jareau stood outside the car, leaning on the door. Looking down at his Interpol-issued watch, he realized it had been over three minutes since his teammates had exited the car. Hastily, he opened the door, internally yelling at himself for making a terrible impression om his teammates.

Being a sucker for punctuality, Bell started apologizing profusely from the moment he stepped out. Starting with JJ, all the way until Prentiss finally shot him a "that's enough, it's ok" look on the plane. It was enough to shut him up.

It was then that he noticed that every pair of eyes was on him. He awkwardly looked down and started reading through the files he was still carrying in an odd backpack, his facade cracking for a second or two. It was the longest FIO Bell had ever let his true self shine through in his intense career.

It concerned him, knowing that the elite group of profilers before him would not have let it slide. He listened to the debriefing and the delegation of assets, but internally he was hoping that they wouldn't press him on his private life or personality. Those hopes would be crushed.

North Little Rock, Arkansas | 12:34 PM (CST)

"Thank you for coming, agents," said a local detective. "We haven't had a serial homicide case here in over 15 years, and we have no idea how to deal with it. I'm Detective Paulsen, NLRPD."

Prentiss flashed him a small smile and introduced herself. "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss, we spoke on the phone. Our team hit the ground running, but with me I have SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, and SSA David Rossi."

Shaking hands, Paulsen motioned the agents to follow him into the police precinct. "Your technical analyst called ahead and we've set you up in a small room with some evidence boards. Everything you need is in the boxes on the desk, and if you want anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Detective, this will do fine," said Prentiss. Turning to her team, she rubbed her hands together. "Let's get to work."

12:42 PM

JJ and Bell arrived at the latest crime scene after sitting through an awkward, silent drive. Bell almost drove past their destination, he was so deep in thought. This forced JJ to have to tell him to stop.

"Heh. Sorry, ma'am." Bell awkwardly murmured.

Stepping out of the car, JJ instructed, "Stop making me feel old, Bell. No ma'ams, SSAs, or anything of the sort. Just call me JJ, everyone does!"

Bell politely refused. "No can do ma'am, you're much more experienced than me with this stuff, therefore I will address you by the proper title, SSA Jareau."

JJ chuckled. "I hope you know the team won't let you call us that. You'll crack eventually."

Deciding to change the topic, he started reviewing the details of the case, observing, "So we've got a serial killer who decides to not take any trophies, not commit any sort of overkill, and doesn't bother hiding the body? No message, no evidence, all we've got are three bodies."

"He's also crossed racial, age, and socioeconomic boundaries. What are we looking at here?"

While JJ surveyed the scene, she didn't notice Bell crouch down and examine the soil in the back alley. "Ma'am, you might want to see this."

She looked at the brown dust in his hands. "Dirt?"

"Not just any dirt, this is a manured, fertilized farming soil, ma'am. If I had to guess, I'd say a compost + sulfuric ammonia compound. This is highly specialized. We've got an idea of where he works, or at least where he was, now."

"You're starting to sound like Reid, Bell," JJ said, trying to stifle a laugh. "Where?"

"A biotechnology company, a pharmaceutical company, or a grain farm, ma'am. What can I say, that Env Sci degree that my parents said was a waste of a diploma can come in handy sometimes."

12:43 PM

Morgan examined the body in front of him as the M.E. explained a few details to him.

"We couldn't get anything strange off this body. This woman died in the same way as the other three did-exsanguination by way of a severed carotid artery. The same knife was used. No ligature marks, no signs of asphyxiation. We couldn't get any DNA off of the body, and we're running dental records now."

"So what you're saying is we've got nothing but three dead women."

7:34 PM

The team was flabbergasted by the killings when Bell walked in with an Interpol file in one hand and a large bowl of salad in the other. Stumbling and barely balancing the two items, he announced, "I got it."

"Got what?" quirked Rossi, still looking at the evidence board.

"The profile!"

Prentiss spun upon hearing those words. "How? What?"

"I vaguely remembered a team dealing with something like this last year, a spree killer with no victimology, no message, and nothing discernable from the bodies." He looked around the room, at no one in particular. He set the salad down and walked to the board. "They wrote a new profile, because this-this isn't anything the US has seen yet. This is a chemical reaction."

"I remember reading about that!" exclaimed Reid. "In Criminal Psychology, October edition! An extremely rare genetic mutation on the 7th X chromosome. It was called Barker-Porter 7X syndrome. When a person with this mutation comes into contact with a certain gas, they lose control of their prefrontal cortex, losing all-decision making. They succumb to their darkest, most savage and animalistic desires."

Bell shook his head. "The UN intervened to censor the most important part of the profile. If someone is in a BP7X state, it's shoot on sight. They become almost superhuman, with no regard for their own life. There's no reasoning with them. You hesitate, you die."

JJ involuntarily shuddered, prompting Reid to pat her shoulder. She leaned into his touch.

Morgan said, "It's time to deliver the profile."

6:34 AM (CST, the next day)

"Thank you agents. I can't believe that a human is capable of that kind of savagery." Detective Paulsen was grateful.

"No problem, Detective. It was new to us, too. Thankfully, our newest agent was able to crack the missing element," Prentiss replied.

Bell nodded stoicly at the detective, and then at Prentiss. They hopped into their cars, leaving behind the precinct to head to Little Rock, and to the airport. But the team wasn't thinking of their weekend plans, or their families, or the reports they'd have to finish upon arrival in Quantico.

No, they were thinking of ways to crack open the shell that was FIO Bell, in hopes of seeing his true self. They were thnking; no, hoping, that this mysterious man who seemed to prefer shorts to pants would be able to become part of their family.

With Hotch gone, they had a huge hole in their team. Bell more than filled the gap in their heads. Could he do the same in their hearts?