AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, gang, sorry for the delay in this. Real life and all of that. I'm still quite commited to completing this and I think we're moving towards that end. I hope you'll re-read it all and still discover that you like it. As always, thanks for the kind words.

APRIL, 2000.

She had forgotten how good it felt to be able to take a shower in private. Water dripping down her, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the silence of the bathroom. Normally, she'd be hearing the voices of her quad-mates. Discussing their dates from the previous evening or bitching about some class assignment or another.

She'd learned quickly that being shy when you shared a bathroom with three other girls was only going to cause you problems down the line.

Like the night when post shower, she'd just been standing in the stall, head against the tile, letting the cool air settle against her. She could remember hearing the door to the bathroom open and then hearing two voices. One female and one definitively male.

The female's had belonged to her roommate Amanda. The male had been her date for the evening. And after a heated make-out session on the sink, they'd moved towards the shower.

"I'm in here!" JJ had called out frantically, causing Amanda to scream out. Within seconds the floor's RA and half of their fellow students up and down the hall had been flooding the bathroom.

And she'd still been stuck butt naked in the stall.

Only now with about twenty people huddled together in the bathroom.

She didn't think she'd ever live that one down.

But now, in the bathroom of the house the belonged to her aunt, she was by herself. Quietly enjoying a few days away from college. Home for Spring Break.

David was as well.

Or at least he would be soon.

He was on his way home from Yale, where he'd been studying law.

She didn't get to see him much because of their separate studies, but the holidays always afforded them time for catch-up.

"JJ?" a voice at the door said.

She glanced up, realizing that she'd lost herself in her thoughts. "Yeah?" she called back to her aunt.

"You okay in there?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec," she responded.

"Okay."

JJ could swear she heard her Aunt Kristina chuckle a bit. Everyone had always said that Kristina shared her brother Matthew's slightly strange sense of humor.

Not for the first time, JJ felt a quick pang of sadness when she thought about her father. A man she knew now only in stories and pictures.

Shaking the thought away as she always did("accidents happen"), she turned the water off and climbed out of the shower/bathtub combo. Dripping wet, she pulled an overly fluffy towel(atrociously pink) around her and began to dry off.

As she did so, her eyes strayed to a painting on the wall. Just wild colors. Like a five year old child had just starting throwing paint against a canvas, devil may care like.

On the bottom of the pic was a signature.

Her own name. She couldn't remember painting the picture, but had been told numerous times that both of her parents had adored it. For different reasons apparently.

Her mother had seen artistic value in it, hoping that her young daughter would have a knack for painting.

Her dad, however, well he'd been all about the chaos of it.

Either way, it was a part of her past. A part of a connection to them that never felt quite strong enough for her liking.

It was home.

And then slowly, she smiled, realizing just how glad she was to be home.

"Jen!" he called out, approaching her quickly. He lifted his twenty-one year old sister up into the air and swung her around. She tried not to, but she couldn't quite help but squeal.

"Hey," she grinned at her older brother David. Her eyes moved over him, taking in his physical features. He was only two years older than her, but due his constant studies, he tended to always look a bit tired.

Still, he was handsome, his roguish brown hair slopping around messily. She reached up and ran her fingers through it, moving it out of his eyes. Smiling just a bit, he swatted her hand away.

"I know," he laughed. "I need a haircut."

"You do," she agreed.

"So do you," he shot back, eyeing her too long blonde hair. It was just about down to her butt, which was completely impractical for a soccer player. Still, Rory rather liked it.


Even if she didn't.

She nodded and shrugged. Now it was his turn to touch her hair. "Tell me you're not going hippy girl on me."

"No, Rory likes it."

David couldn't stop himself from making a face. "Rory the football player?"

"Yes," she replied warily.

"The dumb football player?"

"He's not dumb," she protested.

"Uh huh, he's a jock."

"So am I," she reminded him.

He waived that away and threw an arm around her shoulder. "He's not good enough for you. Especially if he's making you not Jen."

"I'm still Jen," she reassured him, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek. "Just more JJ than Jen, you know?"

He laughed. "You've always been more JJ than Jen. It's why I love you."

"I thought you loved me because of genetics."

"Well that, too."

"So," she asked, "What about you? You seeing anyone?"

"Yes."

"A girl?"

He laughed. "Yes. Her name is Kelly. She's a business major."

"Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Smart?"

"Smarter than Rory the football player."

"You're an ass."

"You love me," he shot back, grinning impishly at her.

"Eh, not really." But just the same, she leaned against him and hugged him tight.

Easter Dinner was as always, amazing.

Amazing and loud.

Kristina cooked a ham, David made the potatoes and JJ, who could burn a pot of water, burnt the rolls.

And still, it was a home-cooked meal, which for both JJ and David, was rather a novel thing these days.

Now seated in the Living Room, watching TV, Kristina turned to David and rubbed her hands together. Pennsylvania could get damned cold, even in March. "You think maybe we should start a fire?"

"Yeah, good idea," David nodded. "Wood still out in the garage."

"There's only a little left, but yeah. Against the wall."

David nodded and rose to his feet. "You want some help?" JJ asked.

"Sure," David answered, knowing that there was something she wanted to talk to him about, away from Kristina. Kristina turned her attention, pretended not to notice, but the gently curve of her lips into the upwards position showed that she knew what was going on.

Still, to her credit, she said not a word as her nephew and niece exited to the garage.

"So, what's up?" David asked as soon as the door to the garage closed behind them. He found the switch and flipped the lights on.

"I think we should do something special for Kristina's birthday this year."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Her fiftieth isn't for two more years."

"I know and we both know that she won't want to celebrate it. So I was thinking maybe we'd do the 'big birthday' this year. Then in two years, she can pretend she never turned fifty. Or forty-nine. That's just as bad, knowing you're just a year away."

"Women are so complicated," David sighed.

"Yes, we are."

"Okay," David shrugged. "What did you have in mind."

"A big party with all of her friends and all of our family."

"I'll call Grandma, get some names and numbers."

"I'll steal Kristina's phonebook," JJ offered. Then quickly amended. "I mean I'll borrow it."

"Uh huh," David said as he made his way over to the far wall. There were about twenty pieces of wood left, maybe enough to get through the Easter weekend. He hefted a couple up, then turned around. "What are you doing?"

She glanced up from the box she had started digging through. "It looks like there's pictures and stuff in here. Maybe we can find some stuff to use, you know?"

"You really are going to end up a reporter, aren't you?"

"Shush," she shot back. "Hey, look, an album." She pulled it up. It was a simple brown leather-bound book. She flipped it open to show white pages with sticky plastic sheets. On the first page was a picture of a five year old Matthew Jareau.

Missing two teeth, grinning ear to ear.

"Dad?" David asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Yeah. I wonder why Kristina has never shown us this," JJ replied, flipping the page. The next shot was of David's school photo. Next to it was one of Kristina from the third grade.

"Let me see," David asked, taking the book from her. As he continued flipping through it, JJ glanced back down at the box, her eyes catching on a manila envelope. It was aged, its color closer to white than yellow.

She picked it up, pushed back the brass brads.

"Look, Dad as a Boy Scout," David laughed.

She glanced over, her hands still absently opening the envelope. "Aw, he was cute."

"Yeah."

The door from the house opened. "Hey, you guys coming?" Kristina called out.

JJ and David exchanged a guilty look and then JJ giggled. "Yeah," David said, fighting back laughter of his own. "Just a sec."

"Okay," Kristina said, mirth in her own tone. Then the door shut.

"I'll bring it in," David said, closing the book and offering it to her.

She was just about to put her hand out to get it when she recalled the envelope that she was holding. She glanced down at what she had removed from it – a faded out newspaper article – and all of the color drained from her face.

"What is this?" JJ demanded as she stormed into the room, David quick on her heels. She was waving the article around.

Kristina immediately stood up.

"JJ, what's wrong?"

"What is this?" she asked again, thrusting the article into Kristina's hands.

"Oh, no," the older woman gasped. Then she looked up, pain streaking through her eyes. "Why did you go through the boxes? You shouldn't have done that."

"Kris, you said they died in a car accident," David said gently.

Kristina glanced down at the newspaper article again. Her mind whirled as she was thrown violently back in time. "I…"

"Tell the truth," JJ demanded.

David reached for her, tried to calm her, but she could feel something surging through her. Something powerful.

Something that felt a little bit like destiny.

Once again Kristina stared at the article. The headline read: COUPLE MURDERED IN THEIR OWN HOME. Underneath was a photo of Matthew and Kate Jareau. Both smiling.

Kristina took a breath and then finally, seventeen years after the fact, offered up the truth.

"Your parents were murdered."

Spencer Reid rolled over and looked towards the opposite side of the bed.

The previous night, it had felt a little bit like a cliché come to life. JJ had come to the room, emotionally distraught and clearly scared. She had asked if she could stay with him.

He'd been more than happy to oblige.

Then, of course, they'd argued about who would get the bed.

He'd offered to sleep on the floor.

"Absolutely not," she'd replied. "We can share the bed. We're both adults."

And therein lay the cliché. Partially because he wasn't sure that he was an adult when it came to Jennifer Jareau.

With her lying next to him, close enough for him to smell, well it brought out something in him.

And that somehow during the night she'd ended up curled against his chest, well that hadn't been lost on him either.

Now, however, now she was gone.

Not lying against him or even next to him in the bed.

"JJ?" he called out, wondering if she was in the shower.

No answer. He stood up, wearing flannel pants, and padded over to the bathroom. The door was open, but a damp towel lying in the corner suggested she had been there not long ago.

He frowned, not all that comfortable with the idea of not knowing where she was.

Especially with a mad man out there looking for her.

A man who wanted to kill her.

"Why does he want JJ?" Jason Gideon asked, pacing the room, hands in his pockets. He glanced up at Hotch, who was sitting on his bed, flipping through the Jareau casefile. He'd had Garcia send it over a few hours earlier. "Or more to the point, why JJ exactly."

"I'm not sure," Hotch frowned. "You would think that his main focus would be on the wife, not the daughter."

"Okay," Gideon nodded. "We have a serial killer who is likely in his late forties, early fifties. Obviously still strong enough to be able to subdue adult males."

Hotch nodded. "He went almost twenty years between kills."

"But he only killed once the first time."

"Once that we know of. The original murders, they seemed more accidental than planned. I mean, Matthew's murder certainly was, but her strangulation…"

"And lack of evisceration. That's a new touch."

"Exactly. And the strange part is, that's a touch you'd expect from a strong and youthful man as opposed to an older one with diminished physical strength."

"It also speaks of a rage angle," Gideon noted.

"Twenty years later," Hotch murmured. "Something stopped him."

Gideon shook his head. "No, we're missing something here. Something doesn't fit."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we've seen killers who have disappeared for twenty years. They're usually interrupted by injury or incarceration."

"Okay."

"But this don't feel like that. Twenty years ago he murdered a wife and husband. The children were out of the house. They didn't interfere in any way so what could JJ have possibly done to have incurred this kind of rage? How is this all about her?"

A knock on the door stopped Hotch from answering.

"Come in," he called out.

The door opened to reveal Reid, still dressed in his bedclothes.

"Everything okay?" Hotch asked.

"I…yeah, I was just checking for JJ. She was with me last night…"

He stopped, seeing the arched eyebrows of both of his superiors. He waved them off impatiently.

"No, not like that. She was just…she was…she didn't want to…"

"She didn't want to be alone," Gideon finished for him. "Understandable."

Reid nodded. "She was gone when you woke up?" Hotch asked. Again, the youngest member of the BAU nodded.

"I checked her room, but she wasn't there either. I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe she went to talk to Morgan or Emily…"

Neither Gideon nor Hotch missed the slight note of panic that was rising rapidly in Reid's voice.

"Calm down, Reid," Hotch said. "She may have just gone down to get something to eat from the café."

"Right," Reid breathed, feeling a little stupid.

"Check with Morgan and Emily. I'll check downstairs. I'm sure everything is fine."

Reid nodded, then quickly turned and exited the room.

Once he was gone, Gideon and Hotch exchanged a worried look.

And then they both followed Reid out.

She was sitting at the table alone, enjoying the quiet, sipping a cup of coffee. It wasn't the best, hardly Starbuck's quality, but it served its purpose. She knew that she probably should have left a note for Reid, but to be honest, she hadn't thought about that until she'd been already seated.

And she despised the idea of having her every movement monitored. Or having her friends and co-workers afraid for her. She wanted to be strong. For him and for them. Needed to be.

Had to be.

"Another cup?" a voice said from above her.

She turned to see Tyler, the nervous waiter they'd met the first night. He looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping lately.

She smiled. "Sure." She offered him her cup. He filled it up.

"If you don't mind me asking, how's your case going?" he asked, his eyes still refusing to meet hers.

"Kind of rough," she admitted.

"I saw your press conference yesterday," he told her.

"Yeah, we need to find that little girl."

"You think she's still alive?"

"I hope so."

"You mind if I ask you a question?"

She laughed, didn't bother to point out to him that he just had. "Not at all."

"What did you mean when you said 'her name is not Jennifer.' I don't understand that…"

JJ smiled slightly. "We think the man who took that little girl might be confused about who she is."

"Oh."

She smiled again, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. This young man was intense, even in his nervousness. Then, because he wasn't showing any sign of leaving. "Do you happen to have my bill, I need to get back upstairs."

"Yeah, sure, give me a second." He crossed away, over towards the cash register. She watched him, then flashed another smile as he came back over to her and handed her the piece of paper.

Almost immediately, she felt a harsh coldness surge through her.

Written on the receipt, instead of the amount owed, were the words: I HAVE THE GIRL. IF YOU WANT HER TO LIVE, YOU"LL COME WITH ME. SAY A WORD AND SHE'LL DIE.

JJ didn't move for a long moment, instead tightly gripping the wooden armrests of the chair, her nails biting into the lumber.

"Come with me," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Slowly, she stood.

"Yeah, she was here earlier," the manager replied as he hurried to close out three of his breakfast tables. He turned around. "Goddamn it, where the hell is Tyler?"

"When was she here?" Hotch asked. He was flanked by the rets of the team, including a very nervous looking Reid.

"Maybe about ten minutes ago. Oh and she left something."

"What?" Reid asked, moving forward.

"Her cell, must have dropped out of her pocket," the manager replied, handing them JJ's well-used PDA.

"She wouldn't lose this," Reid squeaked.

"I know," Hotch said, trying to stay calm. Then to the manager, "Where was she seated?"

The manager pointed. "Over there, the table that couple is at." He pointed across the room to where a young man and woman were enjoying breakfast.

Hotch nodded and led the team towards the table. He flipped up his badge. "Ma'am, Sir, do you mind if we look at this table."

"What?" the guy asked.

"It'll be just a moment," Gideon soothed.

"Sure, whatever, but we damn well better get our breakfast comped," the man growled.

Prentiss rolled her eyes, but remained silent as the man and women moved away, allowing the team access to the table.

Morgan saw it first, bent down over one of the chairs. "Guys," he said. "Look."

And sure enough, there they were, looking fresh, long fingernail grooves into the wood.

"How the hell did he get her with all of these people around here?" Emily asked, anger in her tone.

"She left with him," Gideon answered. "Willingly."

Reid shook his head. "JJ wouldn't do that. She knows what he wants to do with her."

"Maybe they have videocameras," Emily suggested.

"Not in here," Hotch said, pointing around.

"But he would have had to have walked her out through the lobby and there should be cameras there," Gideon corrected.

"Good," Hotch nodded. "Let's have a look."

She was scared out of her mind.

She kept replaying the walk out to his car over and over in his mind. How she'd tried to find the cameras, how she'd been looking for anyone to make eye contact with.

But no one had been looking.

After all she'd been walking with a hotel employee.

No reason to worry.

He'd walked her all the way out to the employee parking lot and then forced her into his trunk, waving around a gun that she'd never seen him pull out.

She wondered if it was loaded.

She wondered if it mattered.

She was stuck in a dark trunk, feeling like the air was seeping away, knowing that it wasn't.

Wondering if she would have a chance to escape.

To live.

She didn't want to die.

She took a breath and tried to slow herself down.

Tried to think about.

She'd always imagined a day when she'd come face to face with her parents killer.

But this man, in his late twenties, he would have been five then.

Five. Tyler.

Five.

Tyler.

Oh, Tyler.

And then she remembered him.

The little boy she had played with as a child.

The memories, long forgotten, flooded her brain.

Of afternoons spent at the park with this painfully shy boy. At first she had tried to be friends with him, but he'd been unlikable, even rude at times.

And when the adults had been gone, he'd called her names.

Names a five year old child should never know.

He'd been such an angry child, but one who immediately became a good boy whenever his father had come near.

He'd pulled her hair, kicked her…

All of those things and more.

And the day his father had picked her up and brought her back to their house…

She remembered that now, too.

How she and little Tyler had been up in his room and how he'd looked up at her and said, "I don't want you as a sister."

She'd looked up at him and replied, "Well I don't want you as a brother."

And then returned to playing.

But now she wondered if maybe he'd been serious.

Known something she hadn't.

About his father.

And suddenly, just like that, it all made sense.

The "nice Mr. Krause" as her mother had called the man who had one day come into their lives and then never stepped out.

She wondered why her father hadn't noticed.

Realized that she'd never know that answer.

Not even a profiler could pick a dead man's brain.

Suddenly, the car came to an abrupt stop. Then a door slammed.

She was wherever he intended her to be.

She prayed for strength.

The doors to the apartment ripped open and the men with guns streamed in, many of them yelling "clear" as they went from room to room. Morgan and Hotch, both wearing their bulletproof vests, were at the head of the group.

"She's not here," Morgan said, turning towards Hotch. They were standing in the middle of Tyler Krause's apartment. It was messy and disorganized, full of different shows of mental chaos.

Full of looks into Tyler's mind.

He, the waiter they had profiled on the first night.

He, the young man who had become absurdly nervous around JJ.

It made sense. Not a lot of it, but some.

Not enough to solve this case and bring JJ home, however.

Hotch reached into his pocket and extracted a phone.

"Who are you calling?" Morgan asked.

"Someone who I think can help shed some light on this. If we can get him here in time."

"Why are you doing this?" JJ asked, her voice trembling just a bit. He had blindfolded her and was pushing her through a room and up a set of stairs.

"You did this to me," Tyler answered, looking around the room.

"Tyler, we were both kids. Whatever happened between our parents, neither of us were responsible for it," she insisted.

She felt the rush of air against her face before she felt his palm. Her cheek burned, but it didn't hurt that badly.

"Not me, not my dad, you and that bitch."

Her jaw clenched with anger.

Control, JJ, control, she urged herself.

"I was five, Tyler."

"You were the reason I lost him. You and her."

She felt herself get pushed down into a chair. "Tyler, where's the girl? Where is she? I came with you, you can let her go."

"I already did," he said.

"Good," she whispered.

"I have a surprise for you," he told her.

"Tyler…"

He removed the blindfold and she gasped, another memory hitting her hard.

This room that she was in, it looked exactly like the one she'd spent the first five years of her life.

He had brought her home.

Or at least to a place that looked an awful lot like home.

In any case, he had brought her home to die.

Or considering what he'd done to the rest of his victims, worse.

"Jason," Oscar Baron said, limping into the room.

Gideon looked up from where he was seated at a table with Prentiss and Reid. Morgan and Hotch had gone with Palmer to Tyler Krause's apartment.

"We've found the girl," Baron continued.

"Is she…"

He nodded.

Gideon blew out air, feeling his heart take another punch, feeling the emotional strain of another loss.

The little girl who hadn't been JJ had died for it.

Because even though she hadn't been her, she had looked just like her and perhaps for Tyler Krause, that had been enough.

"How much time do you think we have?" Emily asked in a low voice, trying hard not to look at Reid.

"Not sure," Gideon admitted. "I suppose it matters if he plans to repeat the ritual with JJ."

"Rape," Reid spit out. "And evisceration."

Instinctively, Emily reached for him, took his hand and squeezed it. "JJ's strong," she told him. "She'll find a way to survive.

He nodded, but his eyes plainly said that he didn't believe her.

TBC…