A/N: My heartfelt thanks to everyone reading the story and all those who take the time to review. Your feedback matters and shapes the tone of the story. If you have any suggestions for improvement, let me know.
"I am running away from danger -
I am flying before I fall;
I am going because with heart and soul
I love you - that is all"
- Ella Wheeler
The BAU were studying a series of recent murders in the States. At the round table, Emily said,
"All different MO's. How do we even know they are connected?"
Tara pointed out,
"There is one common thread. All of these, at first glance, look like suicides or accidents. If autopsies hadn't been performed on the fourth and seventh victim, no one would have suspected foul play"
Luke said,
"Yeah, but this doesn't look like the work of a serial killer. They are too random. No connection between the victims, no discernible motive. Except for Kalen Burdeaux and Samantha Taylor, all others are mostly blue collar workers"
Rossi said,
"Hate to sound like a bureaucrat, but do we even have jurisdiction?"
"The killer crossed state lines. It's ours", Emily said.
Rossi argued,
"But we will have to prove first that this is the same killer"
Occupied with his own thoughts, Dr. Spencer Reid compared lists of addresses of the victims. He went through the names of their next of kin.
"Garcia, can you pull up the map for Virginia?"
She did. Spencer walked to the screen and began pinpointing locations on it. His team watched in silence, like witnessing a mad scientist at work.
"The first known victim we have is Alex McCartney. He worked at the construction site near the CIA's base in Langley. Now that's a long shot but the second victim, Rita Munõz, taught at Woodridge High, the public school in Quantico with a significant number of children of law enforcement officers. Samantha Taylor had a desk job with the IRS. And Merriam Clarke was a housewife, but her husband works for the Bureau"
"You mean", JJ said, "All the victims from Virginia had some connection to the US government?"
"Exactly. I think we will find the same connection for victims from other states. It's not an obvious connection but it's the only one we have"
Matt asked,
"But why would a serial killer target people who are somehow connected with the US government?"
Reid said,
"We have seen this type of killer before. There is no psychosexual motive behind the murders. They are just murders. The UnSub does his best to make the deaths look as normal as possible. This is a very specific type of killer, one we rarely come across"
Heather suggested,
"Angel of Death?"
Emily's voice echoed the concern etched over all of their faces. She said,
"Assassin"
After the briefing, Spencer returned to his desk in the bullpen. His phone rang. He saw the unknown number but answered anyway.
"Hey Doc, it's me"
"Monica, where are you? I have been trying to call you all day", he said.
"I lost my phone. I feel so stupid"
"Wow", he shook his head.
"I know, all right? I had it when I was talking to my friend but I lost it somewhere around 3 o'clock"
"Did you call the phone company and try tracking it?"
"I did. They say its signal is turned off, which means someone either switched off the phone or took out its tracker. Stupid, modern, tech savvy thieves!"
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to have to get a new phone. I'm going to change my number too. My old colleagues at Mary Washington, most of them still have it. I can't block them all. So this way, I'll get rid of them forever"
"Okay. Did you at least have a data backup?"
"I think so. I'll check in the morning. By the way, I'm staying over at George's tonight. So if you want to drop in for a surprise booty call, don't"
Spencer asked,
"Why are you staying at your brother's?"
Monica whispered,
"He had a really bad breakup this morning. Guy's a mess. I'm just going to keep him company till he gets out of bed. I'll call you when I get home"
"Okay"
"How's work today? You still here?"
"Yeah. We're dealing with something local right now"
"There's a serial killer at large in Quantico?"
"No. Virginia. And some other states"
"Your garden variety sexual sadist?"
"More like an assassin. It's nothing to be worried about though. Not yet"
"If you say so"
Spencer leaned back in his chair.
"How did lunch with your friend go?"
"It was okay. We caught up on old times and stuff. How did the BAU like my cookies?"
He smiled.
"They loved them"
"Told you they would"
"Rossi has invited us to dinner. The team, you and me"
"They want to meet me?"
"They were pretty insistent about it"
"Well, this day has been long coming. You couldn't have hidden me forever"
"I wasn't hiding you"
"Yeah, right. When is the dinner?"
"This Saturday. Is that all right with you?"
"Yep. Now I just have to find a scandalous dress to wear"
He grinned.
"I know what you're doing"
"I'm thinking - crimson, bloody red, low cut, tight. Like really tight. I will wear my busty bra. And no sleeves. Makeup so dark..."
Smiling and holding the phone, he endured Monica's futile teasing. It erased some ugliness out of his day.
Standing by herself in a dark alley, Monica didn't feel the slightest bit of fear. She was armed with her old Glock 19. And God help whoever tried to attack her in her current state of mind.
"Good evening", Lawrence came to her.
The night shrouded their forms in darkness. Monica asked him,
"Is the FBI investigating the murders?"
"We tried to keep them away, but the Americans aren't exactly known for their cooperation"
"Did you try getting the CIA involved?"
"That wouldn't fare well for us"
"How?"
"The people she has been hired to kill", Lawrence said, "They are ours"
"How did she get her hands on info about British spies in the US?"
"Probably through her employer"
"You think it's the Americans?"
"No. Someone who wants to ruin our relationship with them"
"A very healthy relationship"
"Did you call me here for a lecture on morality?"
"No. I'm just wondering about the job. You only have to catch an American - who was trained by the MI6 - on American soil, while she is getting rid of British spies in the US system"
"Don't waste my time, Susanna"
"I'm offering to serve as bait"
Lawrence stared at her for a long moment. He asked,
"Are you suicidal?"
"Only when I'm drunk"
"On the off-chance that she does come after you..."
"She will. You know our history"
"As I was saying, if anything happens to you, we will not claim any responsibility. You are working strictly off the ledger"
"Noted. I will draw her out but only on one crucial condition"
"Name it"
Monica said,
"She doesn't get anywhere near the Behavioural Analysis Unit of FBI. They don't get anywhere near her. Throw them off the trail. Destroy evidence. Do what you can. But you keep them away from each other"
"You have a contact in that Unit?"
"That's none of your business"
"Who are you protecting?"
"No one you know"
Tuesday -
Monica returned home in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark out. She kept watch for forty-five minutes before approaching her own home. Inside, she pulled up the floorboard by her bed. Her go-box was as she had left it there, almost two years ago. Retrieving the necessities, she put them in a bag and sealed up the floor again.
She watched herself in the mirror while washing her hands. How much had the face changed since Beatrice had seen it last? Remarkably, she could say. But the eyes would help her. She made a mental note to buy the requisites for her assignment. When she looked up in the mirror again, there were tears in those eyes. The person who looked back at her was unsure, terrified. Monica reminded her,
"Do it for him"
At the FBI headquarters in Quantico, the BAU were baffled by the origins of their victims. Luke said,
"These are ordinary people, clean records. It doesn't make any sense"
Garcia said,
"I'm still digging as much as digitally possible into their backgrounds. Other than Kalen Burdeaux, they are all just boring, normie American muggles"
"What about Kalen Burdeaux?", Tara asked.
"He was British. He came here for a semester at NYU, got hooked on American culture, didn't leave"
"Well, that's a dead end", Rossi said.
Emily put away the file in her hand. She sighed.
"We need to put this on the back burner for now. There's a grave robber in Maine who has escalated his fetishes onto live people. Bangor PD asked for us. Wheels up in forty"
Rossi said as Emily left the room,
"Let's hope we catch this guy by Friday. I have a special meal to cook on Saturday night"
Spencer ignored the looks they threw him and walked out of the briefing room. He got a call on his phone before reaching his desk.
"Just checking in. Hi", Monica said.
"Hi", Spencer smiled, "How's your day going?"
"Don't ask. George is in the crying stage right now"
"Sorry to hear that. Is he going to be okay?"
"He better be. I have half a mind to put a pillow on his face when he sleeps"
He changed the topic.
"Anyway... I am glad you called. We're going to Maine"
"New case?"
"Yeah. I am hoping to get back by Friday"
"Okay. Be careful"
"Have you decided what you're going to wear on Saturday?"
"Hm. Do you remember that nightdress I wore the first time we had sex?"
He grinned.
"Yes?"
"That and high heels. How's that?"
"I don't mind. But I was talking about dinner", he looked around before saying, "Not about when we get back to my place"
"Oooh, we're gonna go back to your place, are we? And what are we going to do? Play cheat poker?"
"I...", he couldn't stop smiling, "I had other things in mind"
"Such as?"
"You're not that innocent. You know what I mean"
"I don't know what you mean. You're going to have to tell me exactly what you intend to do to me on Saturday night"
"Monica, I'm at work"
"You started it!"
He laughed.
"And I'm finishing it. I have to go now"
"Ugh. Fine. Be safe"
"I will. Bye"
"Bye. I love you"
She hung up. Spencer stared at his phone. It was the first time Monica had said 'I love you' to him on a call. She never did that.
Never.
Knowing full well what memory that could trigger in him, she purposefully avoided saying those words on phone. And now that she had said it, he felt a familiar sense of impending doom.
Hanging up, Monica exhaled a long breath. Tonight was the night she would step into the belly of the beast. It felt like the last night of her life.
She practised once in the mirror.
"Hello. I am Amelia Kirkham"
No. Softer accent. More posh. She tried again.
"Hello. I am..."
Perfect.
"...Amelia Kirkham. I booked a room through your website?"
The receptionist smiled at her.
"Just a minute, ma'm. I'll check"
"Thank you"
In the next few minutes, she was checking into her room and tipping the bell boy. She listened by the door. When sure that his steps had died away, Monica locked the door from within. She pulled off her jacket and the scarf around her neck, adjusted her clothes and moved to the balcony. The cold blast of wind hit her as soon as she opened the sliding door. Monica stepped out, leaned against the railing, and watched over the city. Like a lizard brain, her ingrained instincts seemed to be screaming danger. She was in direct line of sight of any sniper or shooter who could use a gun. But she needed to be seen. She needed Beatrice to see her, wherever she was.
"If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next - if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions - you'd be doomed"
- Margaret Atwood