A/N – This chapter's a little different, because it's not told from anyone's point of view— sorry for the weird change in perspective, but it had to be done in order to do the 'flash-back' seen that appears in almost every episode of Criminal Minds.

The full moon cast an angelic glow on the deck of the small boat rocking gently with the waves. A middle-aged man and younger woman slowly made love to that rhythm, the only sounds in the night the water crashing up against the side of the boat and their happy sighs. Neither noticed a pair of ice-blue eyes peeking at them through a cracked door, leading to the hold.

The boy, barely six years old, smiled slightly. He could only see his parent's silhouettes against the blackness of the sky and the brightness of the stars, but he could hear their happy noises. He was old enough to understand that this was a private moment, but too young to know what was really going on, either than they were making happy to each other.

It was very late at night, and as the young boy listened to the waves crashing against the wood, he slowly drifted off to sleep in the position he had been spying in; one hand holding the door ajar, laying up the stairs that led down into the boat.

He was awoken only a few minutes after he had fallen asleep by angry voices, and he once again peeked through the crack, this time in fear more than curiosity.

"Gerald, I don't know what you're talking about," he heard his mother hiss denyingly, sitting against the railing and lighting up a cigarette from her purse. She cradled a glass of wine in the other hand, nearly dropping it while attempting to use her lighter.

"Oh? So you didn't sleep with Vincent while I was at the conference?" Gerald asked accusingly, buttoning up one of his many white-collar shirts. "Tell me, Nicole. Tell me the truth."

Nicole tossed back her head, and her dark-brown hair fell off her shoulders as she laughed lightly, a trail of smoke ascending into the night sky. "The truth? Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Why would you cheat on me? Do you have any idea what you're ruining? What about our son!"

The young watcher's eyes were wide as he sunk back into the shadow of the stairway a little more, scared that he would be discovered, but more scared of missing a word that was being said. He'd caught enough of the conversation to know that his mother had been making happy to someone who wasn't his daddy, and that daddy was mad.

"Well I wasn't really thinking about him while I was doing it, now was I? I was thinking about how amazing Vince—" She was cut off as Gerald grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her against the rail. In her surprise, she dropped her glass. It shattered on the deck, splashing its red contents across the wood.

"Don't. You. Dare," Gerald growled, his voice low and dangerous, like his son had never heard before. "How could you?"

"It's not like you ever would have known, if Vince hadn't told everyone in your office to get back at me for dumping him. You're never around. You're never here when I need you, when your son needs you—"

"You're going to put this on me? You think that it's my fault?" His voice was slowly getting louder and louder, gaining volume like thunder as it came closer and closer. "You're blaming me? Who puts food on the table? Who pays for your coke habit? You ungrateful bitch!"

Both Nicole and her son flinched as Gerald spat further obscenities at his wife. She turned her head away from him, and the boy sunk back into the shadows further to distance himself from the ugly words. Tears were streaming down his cheeks by the time his father ran out of steam, panting and spitting nonsense curses at a woman who was barely listening anymore.

He stopped the stream of words and squared his jaw, eyes blazing. Nicole turned back to look at him, tears in her eyes. "I want a divorce." Her words were quiet, but filled with hate. "I'm leaving you. I'm taking our son with me, and every penny you're worth."

That was the last straw. Gerald snapped, throwing his wife down on the deck and stumbling backward until his back hit the built in table they'd been eating at hours earlier. His hands searched blindly in the darkness, finally finding a steak knife and holding it in front of him defensively. "You can't do that," he growled, "I can't— you can't— I won't let— no—"

Nicole stood up her eyes level with her husband, her eyes no longer filled with tears. She laughed and began to mock him, not realizing that he had gone over the edge, and she was pushing him further. "Aw, wittle Gerald can't form completely sentences? Come on, you can do it! You can d— ughh." She gasped and looked down at the knife embedded in her stomach.

The boy couldn't tear his eyes away from the gruesome seen as he watched his father pull out the knife. He couldn't move as he saw his mother fall to her knees, gasping and holding the stab wound with both hands, stunned. He didn't say a word has his father swooped down on her, raising the knife again and plunging it back into her flesh. He didn't close his eyes as it happened again and again, so many times that he lost count.

Only when Gerald dropped the knife, the job finished, did his son make a noise. A scared cry escaped his throat, sounding more like a wounded, choking animal than a little boy. His father raised his head, his gaze falling on the door.

"John?" he asked, startled. The scared boy retreated further down the stairs, and the door fell closed the half inch it had been open. He began to sob, hugging his knees and sitting on the sixth step down.

The door opened, lighting the pitch darkness of the staircase with the moonlight. "Johnny, shh, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay now." Gerald put a hand on his son's shoulder, and the boy jumped.

"Mommy," John whimpered, looking out the door. He couldn't see the body from this angle, but the pool of red blood had spread across the deck and was reflecting the stars. "You hurt mommy."

"Mommy's been very bad. She wanted to take you away from me," Gerald explained to the young boy, "Women do that. You think you can trust them, but they always desert you." His voice was bitter and hardened from too many rejections, and he sounded older than he really was. "They only want you for money and their own happiness. Mommy's been very bad. She deserved it." He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than the child in front of him, but John still looked up into Gerald's brown eyes with wonder and acceptance. He was too young to know that his father could lie to him. Daddy always told the truth.

"But mommy—"

"Mommy's gone now, don't worry. She can't hurt us anymore."

The man and his son ascended to the deck as it started to rain outside. They rolled Nicole's limp body to the side of the boat, the lifted her over the rail. John watched as his mother hit the water, and the last thing he saw of her was her lifeless green eyes.

"You taught me how to defend myself, the least I can do is buy you breakfast," Leah argued, poking Spencer in the chest lightly. He rolled his eyes, but relented.

"Okay. Fine. Know anywhere good?"

"Yeah, this little place not far from here—"

As the pair loaded into Agent Morgan's car, neither noticed a pair of ice-blue eyes watching them from a thick patch of nearby shrubbery. Neither heard his voice, either, as he said, "You aren't going to hurt him, too, bitch," and they drove in the direction of a little dinner that Leah knew.