Chapter 04

BAU Headquarters
Quantico, VA

"What's this?" Spencer asked when a file landed on his desk.

"Consult on a case, for the western regional CARD team." Rossi replied.

CARD. Child Abduction Rapid Deployment. "Missing kids?" Spencer asked, opening the file.

"They're on their fourth kidnapping in two weeks. Same victimology. I've claimed the conference room for the afternoon."

Spencer got up and followed him in there. "Not precisely the same." The four girls were all Caucasian, nine years old, but hair and eye color varied.

"No, but way too similar. All were low risk victims, good neighborhoods, good schools, both parents in the home, no major financial problems."

"True stranger danger abductions are rare."

"I know, but that's what this looks to be."

"And no word from the kidnappers?'

"No, nothing. Human Trafficking and Innocent Images have been on high alert but they haven't seen anything new cross the wires. These girls just disappeared."

"Any other commonalities?"

"That is the question."

Right. Time to get to work.

1653 Caton Pl.
Georgetown
Washington DC

It was about two weeks after they met that Claire issued her best offer to date. Two weeks of getting together nearly every night, and calling and talking on the phone for hours on the nights they didn't. Two weeks minus four nights away on a couple of cases where he was actually able to focus only by knowing she was either safe in her shop or tucked away in her cottage. Somehow she had become the center of this perfect little world, utterly apart from work and monsters and everything ugly, where he could retreat to literature and music and endless conversation about everything good.

She'd even knit him socks for god's sake, nifty striped ones that matched without matching and fit utterly perfectly and kept his feet toasty warm. He loved the socks.

Yeah, okay, Morgan was right. He had fallen hard.

Then it got worse.

"You know, I've never seen anyone knit through a lecture before." Spencer informed her as he walked her down her path to her cottage.

"I like to keep my hands busy. Besides, the wooden needles didn't interrupt anything. And now that I've got you hooked on hand knit socks I have to keep going to keep you supplied." She stood on her stoop, unlocked her door, reached in to turn on her light, turned back to him. Everything exactly as usual, he thought, and now it would be an awkward moment and then she would kiss his cheek. Except she didn't. "Would you like to come in…for tea?"

Come in? In to that little patch of warm heaven he had only seen through lace covered windows and an open doorway? "Sure."

Once inside tea clearly meant just tea. Her kitchen was all antiques and flowers and warmth, much like the woman who kept it. He stretched his legs under the old farm table and felt the slow, quiet spell of it take over his soul. She was always so quiet when she moved, it was magical. "You know, I never asked if you like to cook." He watched as she silently busied herself with the kettle and the pot. She'd put a small apron around her waist when she came in. He found himself fascinated by the apron.

"Um." She shrugged. "I can avoid burning water most of the time. I can feed myself. But I'm not all that great. Rayna's the cook in the family; she works miracles in the kitchen. Thankfully she shares as often as she can, especially when she bakes." She opened a cupboard and passed him a tin. Cookies, lots of them. "So, I'm not certain I agree with his premise, I don't know that you can lay the entire system of checks and balances at the feet of Oliver Cromwell."

"Really, because I thought he was very persuasive….."

It was two in the morning before he got home.

"Actually I only have a minute." He stood outside her door holding a small stack of boxes. "We're leaving in eight hours to get to Minneapolis on a case, so I really need to get home and get some sleep. I figure you can watch some episodes without me if you want." He placed the boxes on her porch. "I still can't believe you've never seen Mythbusters."

"No, I'll wait." She looked the boxes over. "I'd rather watch it with you, but I can at least get this set up before you get back. You really didn't have to do this, you know."

"I admit, this is entirely selfish of me." She didn't have a TV. How were they supposed to curl up in front of a movie or something if she didn't have a TV?

"You know, I worry about you." She looked up at him "When you're out there hunting, that is."

"Interesting way to put it." Hunting, he thought, he wouldn't have called it that. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I bounce. And if anything does happen Garcia will call."

"I know." She stepped forward and the world went warm and golden as her lips met his. She tasted of tea and spicy cookies and apples and everything good and sweet and for a moment he didn't think he could breathe. "Come home to me." She whispered against his lips.

For the first time, he almost resented having to go.

"Hey. We've got a case." Morgan spoke into his phone as he got into the car. "Let me guess, you're in Georgetown."

"Have I become that predictable?" Spencer answered.

"Yeah, and it's annoying. Where are you? I'll swing by and pick you up."

A few minutes later Morgan was parking in a small alley next to a plain mailbox and an overgrown gate. At the other end of the path behind said gate he found his friend and a cute little blond in garden gloves and dirty jeans. Spencer was clearly making sure she was thoroughly kissed before he left.

Well and thoroughly kissed.

Morgan cleared his throat.

"Um, yeah." Spencer said as he came up for air. Morgan managed not to laugh but he couldn't help but smile as the kid looked over, completely gone. "Uhhh, Derek Morgan, Claire Barlow."

"Nice to meet you." He said to the blond with the dazzled eyes and swollen lips. At least she's as gone on him as he is on her, Morgan thought, he deserves it. "Come on kid." He finally had to grab Spencer to get him moving.

Once in the car he opened the window and skipped the radio. There was no point; the kid was simply going to rave about his girl until someone stuck a case file in his face to distract him, just like he had for the past two months. I never thought I'd be glad for an unsub, Morgan thought, although I can't say I blame him at all.