Disclaimer: Everybody you recognize is... not mine.

Chapter 1

Universe 38468925:

April 7, 2007:

SSA Derek Morgan ducked behind his desk, trying to protect himself from the sudden onslaught.

"I will get you!" his assailant cried, laughing. Analyst Garcia (the aforementioned assailant) then lobbied another round of donuts in his direction. Morgan was about to launch a counter-volley when he felt himself being hit from behind. He looked behind him to see SSA Emily Prentiss smirking at him.

"Help me!" he called, laughing, to the final agent in the bullpen. SSA Matt Carmichael grinned, before shaking his head and casually leaning his feet against his desk, not otherwise moving a muscle. Morgan scowled at him. "Fat lot of help you..."

"Guys," they heard SSA Jennifer Jareau's voice. Hearing the seriousness of it, they all instantly dropped the food fight and stood, practically at attention. She indicated the conference room. Without a word, they all sighed, grabbing their notebooks and following.

SSA Aaron Hotchner and SSA Jason Gideon were already there, studiously ignoring all the newcomers as they hastily removed the food on their clothes. They'd all thought that Gideon and Hotch were in a briefing with Strauss all afternoon.

Without preamble, JJ began the briefing.

"Four days ago, the Las Vegas police department found the body of 46-year-old William Reid was found in his home. There was a... contraption of some sort... which had held his body completely immobile while a small drill slowly drilled into his heart. The device had been placed facing Mr. Reid's computer desk, and this note," here she clicked a button, and a view of the letter appeared, "had been placed in the center of the desk, so Mr. Reid could see it."

She paused to give everybody a chance to read the letter. It read:

Dear Dad,

It's nice to see you again. It's been 16 years since you left, after all. All this time I'd assumed you'd moved someplace really far away, or possibly that you'd even died, and you were just 10 miles away.

I could have used a capable parent, you know. And Mom could have really used the help. Did you know that schizophrenia is a progressive illness, and that it gets steadily worse without professional care? It wasn't until I was 13 that I realized that. Until then, I'd assumed there was something I was doing wrong. And even then, I still had to wait five years to have her committed. Until then, it was just her and me.

Did you know that an 11-year-old child can survive for three days locked in a closet without food or water? You probably didn't know that, did you? Because you weren't there.

Mom was devastated when I had to have her committed. That was... really, really hard on us both. It hurt her so much, but I was so sure it was what she needed...

She's dead, by the way. If you care.

Why didn't you come back? You could have, you know. Anytime. Maybe we would have been angry, but... we needed you! It would have been ok.

You didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye. And the whole time, you were less than 10 miles away.

I'm leaving you the way you left us, the way you left me. Alone, with only a letter for company. And, for what it's worth, I am very sorry for this.

Goodbye, Dad. I loved you. I still do. But, in your words, "sometimes, a man just reaches a point where he must let the things that are killing him go."

"Wow. That's... a lot of pain." It wasn't the most intelligent thing Morgan had ever said, but it was a powerful first impression.

"And some ambivalence, too." Gideon added, looking at the briefing folder. "Evidence of dried tears found on the back of the contraption, on the body, on the letter, on the carpet, and on the door handle to the exit?"

JJ nodded. "Also, it should be noted that he apparently returned to the scene afterward, removed the victim from the device, and, well..." She clicked the button again and a photo of William Reid's body appeared, only it was on his bed, on his back, eyes closed, hands crossed across his chest. Blankets were arranged around him, as were pillows.

"A lot of remorse there." Morgan supplied.

"Or it could simply be that he never stopped loving his father. Although the difference between the two things is negligible." Hotch added.

"Could be male or female, from the wording," Carmichael corrected them, returning to the letter. "Has the LVPD done a check on any of William Reid's children?"

"Yes, and he has one child. A Spencer Reid," here she clicked the button again and a picture of a tall, thin man with brownish and curly hair and brown, intelligent eyes came on the screen. "The police chief actually knew Reid and his family, and supplied a few details. Apparently William Reid did leave his wife and son in 1990, when Spencer was 10. Two months later, he filed for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. His ex-wife, Diana Reid, was a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, and she was committed, by Spencer, in 1998 shortly after he came of legal age. She managed to commit suicide in the sanitarium four weeks ago.

"It should also be noted that, in addition to the tears, which are being DNA tested, Spencer Reid's fingerprints were also found all over the scene."

The team listened in growing confusion. Finally, Morgan asked the question on everybody's minds:

"It seems pretty clear-cut who the unsub is. Why are we being called in, again?"

JJ sighed. "Because they can't find him." Everybody's mouths dropped open. She took a breath to explain. "Spencer Reid is a certified genius with an IQ of 187, who graduated high school at the age of 12. He's 26 years old now, and he has three doctorates, in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. He's actually pretty renowned in those fields, particularly physics – he wrote several innovative papers on the subject of..." she took a moment to read from her notes... "'Measurement and control of transverse photonic degrees of freedom via parity sorting and spin-orbit interaction.'" Everybody frowned in confusion. "And, evidently, he just doesn't want to be found yet. And because he doesn't want to be found, the police... can't find him."

"Yet?" Gideon asked.

"He's not done. Last night, 31-year-old Alexa Marshall and 32-year-old Sam Davis were found back-to-back, naked, and chained to... another device, behind the football field of the old high school. This device appeared to be designed to beat the victims to death. No note this time, and the reason is unknown, although they did attend high school with Dr. Reid..."

Carmichael frowned. "Really? That's quite an age difference. I thought you said he was only 26."

"Again, he graduated at 12. Everyone else at the high school was, of course, normal high school age, so they were much older than he was. Anyway, even though there was no note, the motive in this case is unknown, and the postmortem behavior is different, the LVPD is still assuming it's Dr. Reid, given the complexity of the contraption. Also, evidence of dried tears were once again found, on the devices, and on the bodies. Like in William Reid's case, they're taking the samples to be DNA tested, but they're pretty sure it's Dr. Reid."

"A reasonable assumption." Hotch muttered, looking down at the file and frowning. "Everybody get ready to go, we'll finish this briefing in the air. Wheels up in 15. We don't have much time."

"We don't?" asked Garcia.

"In spite his intelligence, he hasn't made any attempt to hide either the murder or his identity," Gideon explained. "Between that, and the contents of the letter, it looks like we're dealing with an Injustice Counter." Sighing, he continued, "Which means, either he's finished counting injustices and has committed suicide already..."

Morgan interrupted, "...unlikely; people don't become Injustice Counters just because three people hurt them. It takes a lifetime of suffering to create them. Also, they rarely commit suicide quietly..."

Gideon finished his previous thought, "...or, he's just getting started."

… … … …

Note: I used an existing dissertation title (cf Leary, Cody Collin, 1981- (University of Oregon, June , 2010)) for the name of Reid's physics papers. My apologies: I just couldn't come up with a good enough Reid-sounding title on my own.