*Small Note: The point of view goes back and forth between Ariadne and Derek in this one. That doesn't always happen but for this chapter it just made more sense for it to be that way*


Chapter 7: L.D.S.K.

Ariadne POV:

Today was not going to be a good day by any standards. Spencer had failed his gun qualification test the other day, so he was going to be embarrassed around us as well as the fact that it was safe to say that he was also still slightly agitated with me.

I let a small groan escape my lips at the thought, drawing Derek's attention to me. "What's wrong with you? You were fine like a second ago."

I lifted my eyes up to meet his lazily and noticed that we had gained Greenaway's attention as well. "I'm just reminding myself that in about five minutes Spencer's going to come in here with the worst mood of the century. But you know other than that I'm golden." I couldn't help but be slightly sarcastic, I was kinda stressed about the whole thing and sarcasm seemed to be my only default setting.

Derek's eyes held a whole new spark of interest and I had the renewed desire to groan all over again. "Does this have anything to do with his gun qualifications? Because I thought that he was going to ask you to train him so that he actually had a chance of passing them this time." He tilted his head to the side, "You did train him right?"

I bit the inside of my cheek as I minutely shook my head no. I could see surprise take over Derek's features and quickly began to defend myself before he could say anything. "It wasn't that I didn't want to, it was that I honestly couldn't. Spencer needs someone who is going to be able to be patient with him and be able to give him the time that he needs. I'm not the best person to teach him, not when it comes to shooting guns. I'm more of the classic just point, aim and shoot while he needs to understand everything about the gun first. He tends to overthink everything and this isn't one of the times when he should. I didn't want to get frustrated with him all because I'm incapable of being patient."

It was word vomit at its finest but Derek still understood the basic point I was trying to convey as I painfully stumbled through my explanation.

"So not only did he fail the qualifications, but his best friend in the whole wide world left him hanging out to dry."

I let my head drop to the desk below me. Derek was already cracking jokes and the twinkle in his eyes meant that he was far from being done.

"What? Was it something I said?"

I love my brother, but sometimes he can be a grade A jackass.

Derek and Greenaway laughed as I let out another throaty groan. I was too stressed to even consider Greenaway's presence, so I kept my head down.

The side door behind Greenaway's desk opened and I shot up thinking that it was Spencer but breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was just Gideon.

"Reid failed his qualification."

I throw my hands up in extreme frustration. I mean, really? Was is really necessary for Greenaway to blurt it out like that. Especially when she herself just found out about it by eavesdropping on someone else's conversation.

Gideon just spared a glance at Greenaway before he continued on his path up to his office. "He can re-test in two weeks" he said as he passed us by.

I go to turn my head to face Derek when I notice Spencer pulling open the doors to the bullpen. "Not a goddamn word outta your mouth Derek!" I whisper to him frantically. The last thing that I needed was Derek saying something and putting Spencer in a worse mood than he already was.

Derek held up one of his hands like he was swearing in at court, "Alright, not a word I got it."

Spencer walked briskly to his desk with his hands tucked tightly into his pants pockets, ignoring all of us. I couldn't help but gaze at him sadly. I knew he was upset with me but he had always said hello and given me a hug in the mornings.

I heard a drawer open and turned to see Derek pull something out before he closed it back up, stood and put his hand behind his back as he made his way over to Spencer.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no, no, no.

I quickly chucked a pencil sitting on my desk at the back of his head when he passed my desk. But all Derek did was turn to the side slightly and smirk at me. It was the look of someone who was going to do the exact opposite of what they'd been told.

"Hey." Derek made his voice softer when he addressed the somber Spencer, "We're all here for you."

Spencer turned his head to give me a very pointed stare before looking back at Derek as if to indicate that not everyone had been there for him.

I didn't know what else I could do too fix this. I had already explained my reasons to Spencer, it's not like I just left him in the dark or anything. I'd even apologized on numerous occasions and asked Hotch to teach him instead.

"I'm serious" Derek persisted. "If you ever need anything…" My eyes widened in disbelief as he brought his hands out from behind him to reveal a metal whistle attached to a lanyard. He reached out and placed it around Spencer's neck and blew it real fast. A high pitched sound filled the bull pen, "Just blow on that." Derek chuckled before he turned to walk back to his desk.

I was unable to take my eyes off of the whistle and I waited with baited breath for Spencer's reaction. I didn't dare meet his gaze though, not wanting to see the further anger and embarrassment that would surely be there.

Without another word Spencer fumbled with the whistle trying to rip it off of him before he threw it to the side and turned his back towards Derek and I. I wanted to go over there and cheer him up, let him know that there was nothing to be embarrassed over but I knew that anything I did or said would be unwanted right now.

Before I could move onto scolding Derek, JJ and Hotch made their way down the stairs with a stack of folders in their hands. "Ok, Franklin Park, Des Plaines, yesterday afternoon. Three victims shot at distance. It's the third such shooting in two weeks." While she spoke JJ started passing us the folders of our new case and we all quickly flipped them open to begin skimming them, momentarily forgetting about what had just occurred.

"A sniper?"

Derek cleared his throat at Greenaway's question. "We don't use that word."

Greenaway looked up at him confused, "Why not?"

"To be honest I've always found the reason to be kind of stupid but rules are rules after all." I glanced up in Greenaway's direction as I spoke to her. I was making an effort to be more civil around her. Like I had told her, I didn't want her to get hurt or anything of the sort. And I realized that even though I may not accept her I could still show basic kindness towards her. A sharp fleeting sense of guilt hit me as a look of shock crossed her face. She wasn't used to me showing her any kind of positive attention.

"The public perception is that the FBI doesn't have an exemplary record with snipers" JJ went on to further explain.

"Besides, a sniper is a professional marksman, these guys aren't snipers." Hotch nodded his head in my direction, "While most aren't there is the occasional one who does have a background as a marksman, but we usually defer to Ariadne for those ones because she has the most history with them."

The simple reminder of me knowing my way around guns caused Spencer to send me yet another heated look, and I internally groaned.

No one else saw the exchange and the conversation continued without a hitch. "Well what do we call them then?"

"Long distance serial killers, otherwise known as an L.D.S.K." I turn my head to avoid looking at Spencer. "Don't forget that Greenaway because apparently if you say the word sniper people freak the fuck out and start protests before you can even blink. And let's not even get started on the fact that we have never actually caught one of these guys with a profile before."

Hotch looked over at me with exasperation. This had been a common complaint of mine when it came to these situations. We had the same success rate with L.D.S.K.'s as we did with snipers, so what's the point of calling them different things?

"Debrief in five." Hotch told us and we all began gathering our things to take with us upstairs to the conference room.

I picked up my messenger bag and stood awkwardly to the side of Spencer's desk hoping to get a moment to speak with him alone. I tried to gather any courage I had while I waited for him to notice me. While I stood there Greenaway and Derek left and JJ had gone with Hotch to wait upstairs with Gideon.

When Spencer was finally ready he looked over and his eyebrows furrowed as he realized that we were the only two left in the bull pen. I shot him a tentative smile and for a moment I thought that he might actually give me a chance to talk to him, but he just brushed past me like I wasn't even standing there.

I stood there slightly gaping and let out a small scoff, he really just ignored me. I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around it.

I had explained to him why I was unable to do it, I found someone else who had just as much skill as I did to teach him, I even stayed up all night on the phone with him last week because he was so stressed out about this test.

And he just ignored me. Walked past like I was nothing more than some stranger and not his best friend.

I could feel my fingernails bite into the palm of my hands from where my fists had unintentionally clenched in astonishment. Anger burned hot in the pit of my stomach but I quickly checked myself.

If this is the way he wants to play this than fine. You know I don't deserve this, I did nothing wrong this time.

I kept repeating it to myself like a mantra as I made my way into the conference room and pulled up a seat next to Derek without making eye contact with anyone.

Apparently Hotch was waiting on me to enter the room because as soon as I took my seat he began the debriefing. "Two weeks, three shooting incidents, six victims, all shot in the abdomen. First and only fatality, Henry Sachs." He pointed the remote at the screen and a picture of the man and his family popped up, "Married, father of three, shot in a shopping center parking lot." He clicked the button and a new set of photos took its place on the screen. "Nine days later, Doug Miller and Kevin Parks were playing basketball at a community center." Hotch clicked it one more time before he set the remote down on the table, "Franklin Park four days later, Jerry Middleton, Kate Murray, and Tim Reilly. Des Plaines police have found no link between any of the victims."

"Ballistics?" Derek asked, looking up from his folder.

"He's using frangible rounds which fragment on impact, making ballistics comparisons impossible" Hotch replied.

"Well I can tell you one thing right now." I piped up making sure I held direct eye contact with Hotch and Gideon, "This isn't just some off the street everyday kind of guy. He knows what he's doing and how to avoid getting caught. I mean they taught us a little about frangible rounds in the military, but they had only been approved for training. They weren't sanctioned for actual missions, something about the unreliability of the success rate. So I'm not saying this guy is military, but he's not inexperienced that's for certain."

While I spoke Hotch and Derek each were making their own little notes in their case files and Gideon nodded to let me know that he got it.

If this guy was only using frangible rounds than I didn't actually know how much help I was going to be for this, unfortunately it just wasn't my area of expertise.

"The good news is that all the park victims are gonna make it. The bad news is that none of them saw anything." I shrugged my shoulders at JJ's words. I didn't expect that they would have seen anything. From what it looked like this guy was targeting people who weren't paying very much attention to their surroundings. "However, one of the patients does have an intact bullet lodged in his spine."

That made me pause. Are they waiting to for us to make our way down there before they pull the bullet out or what? Because we don't actually have to be there for the procedure, just as long as we can look at the bullet afterwards. "And what would be the reason that it hasn't been removed yet?"

"Well there's disagreement among surgical staff as to whether they can remove the slug without paralyzing the patient."

There was a small part of me that wanted to laugh at the explanation. I wondered if they had even asked the actual patient for his perspective. Were the staff arguing about it because the man didn't want to be paralyzed, or where they arguing over who among them was most qualified for completing this surgery without any additional complications?

In case it wasn't obvious, I don't particularity like doctors or surgeons. All the ones that I've met have been extremely self-righteous with a god complex on the side.

"Without a useful witness or solid piece of forensic evidence, the profile is all we have to go off of" Derek said letting out a sigh.

I shook my head, he said it as if we haven't had to do the same exact thing multiple times before.


On the jet all of the photos of the victims and snapshots from the crime scenes had been placed on one of the tables and we were all gathered around them. Since at this point in time there was no concrete evidence that we could use, we had to come up with the profile based completely off of what resided in these files. Which in a court of law would be speculation at best.

"L.D.S.K.'s are so rare that we haven't even been able to build a standard profile. However here's what we do know, they're always male and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience as well as always contacting the police or media." Hotch's voice suddenly rang out in the jet and I admit with great embarrassment that it actually managed to startle me.

Once I calmed my racing heart I tuned back into the conversation at hand. "All serial killers attempt to relieve the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site… to interact with the body."

This time there was no hiding the disgust that colored my face. Do you ever wish you could go back in time and not hear what you just heard? Because right now I'm wishing that I had borrowed Derek's headphones.

Gideon goes on to further explain. For a minute I'm actually afraid that he's going to expound on the "interaction", which is something that I am positive that nobody on this jet wants. "Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which by definition long distance serial killers don't have."

I know that I could be taking note of all of this for future reference but I couldn't get over the fact that there are people out there, that the BAU has come in contact with, that actually go and mess around with the bodies of those who they killed. I mean don't get me wrong, I knew it had happened a few times over the course of history, but the thought of actually coming into contact with one of them made me sick.

"The Beltway shooters left a tarot card at one of their crime scenes. Later they called a tip hotline, which ultimately led to their capture." I don't know how Hotch retains all this information at the top of his head, but damn if it isn't helpful.

Derek shifted to look up at Hotch, "But our unsub hasn't contacted anybody."

"Well if we are using the standard profile for this guy then logically he should be doing so in the very near future. However we should plan our next course of action while we wait." Honestly I was trying to keep a low profile with the whole Spencer thing and stay silent and out of the way, but sitting here twiddling my thumbs would help exactly no one.

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile, sometimes it is what they do not do" Gideon reminds us all from his seat.

"He doesn't kill his victims."

It's funny how you can get used to a certain voice and be able to recognize it anywhere. I thought that my days of being captivated by the mere sound of Spencer's voice were over, but I guess if I haven't heard it in a while that all changes. I wanted to look at him, I really did. I wanted to ask him to forgive me, to at least talk things out with me. But the memory of him walking right passed me anchored my feet to the floor and kept my mouth firmly shut.

I knew that I had resolved myself to let him come talk to me when he was over being a child about the whole thing, but that was easier said than done.

"The main question that we have is does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target? Specifically does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot?"

Hotch's question wasn't one that necessarily required an answer, honestly most of them didn't, but my mouth was moving before I could even think about it. "Skill doesn't have anything to do with a head shot. It's not hard to aim for the head, the hard part is making yourself pull the trigger."

Or at least it should be a hard thing to do.


Once we had landed Hotch and Gideon quickly split us all up into teams. One would go to the scene of the last shooting, and the other would head over to the hospital to speak to the surgeons about the bullet lodged in the victim's spine.

As luck would have it I was able to avoid being on Spencer's team, who were headed to the park. However that meant that I didn't get to go with Derek and instead was stuck with Greenaway.

"Come on Barry you don't know that!"

It was rapidly becoming clear that Spencer's silent treatment would have been preferable over hearing what sounded to be a heated argument between the two doctors we were supposed to be meeting with.

The lady who was showing us into the room quickly made our presence known, "Good morning doctors!" She practically had to yell at first to gain their attention. She sounded exasperated, like this was something that she had been hearing for the past day or so.

Once we all walked inside I lifted my head up to look at the two men and was instantly taken aback. Standing in front of me was most likely the creepiest looking man I had ever had the unfortunate privilege of laying eyes upon.

He looked like a tall, dark haired, greasy version of some forgotten Viking from long ago. Add on the vacant look in his eyes and I was without a doubt officially uncomfortable.

In my assessment of the man I almost missed the other doctor's introduction, "Forgive us, we were just reviewing the cases at hand." This one was much easier to stare at, he looked like someone's kind older grandfather.

"This is Dr. Neil Erstadt, Chief of Surgery" the lady said, motioning to the older man who had just spoken. "And this," she said pointing over to the creature lurking in the corner, "is our trauma specialist Dr. Barry Landman."

JJ had opened her mouth to most likely introduce herself to Dr. Erstadt when she too caught sight of Landman. Her mouth promptly shut and she unconsciously shifted backwards into me.

I didn't blame her one bit.

"These are the FBI profilers, Agents Gideon, Jareau, Greenaway, and Morgan." I was glad that this lady had introduced us, because I was too preoccupied with assessing how big of a threat Landman could be. I couldn't help it, this dude looked like he killed people for fun, not helped to save them.

Gideon, the brave man, went and shook Dr. Erstadt's hand before moving on to shake Landman's. Gideon was left hanging though when Landman went on to say, "Ah, you'll forgive me. I don't shake. My hands, you understand?"

No I do not understand, because that had to be the vaguest sentence ever uttered. The way he said it made it seem like soap had yet to be invented and he couldn't simply go and wash his hands.

Gideon didn't outwardly show it, but after studying him for the past year it was easy for me to pick up on his more subtle moods, and this one reeked of suspicion. But all he did was give a little half smile, "Of course."

"So as psychological profilers what exactly are you looking for?" Landman asked Gideon. I couldn't tell if he was genuinely curious or if he was being condescending.

Did I mention that I don't like doctors a whole lot?

"How the victims were shot. That could reveal the shooter's signature behavior."

While Gideon was speaking I moved so that JJ and Greenaway were slightly behind me, not wanting Landman to be able to focus on them if he looked over in our direction. It was almost instinctual for me at this point, and I suppose I must have slowly been getting used to Greenaway's continued presence because I didn't even hesitate to include her with JJ.

Dr. Erstadt was pointing as the various x-rays that covered the board, capturing the men's attention. "These separate wound channels blossom from the entrance wounds. You can see the trauma's extensive."

Gideon walked up to the board to get a closer look at the x-rays, "You preformed the surgeries?"

"I did on patient Miller. I consulted with Dr. Landman on the others. The intact slug lodged between L4-L5 vertebrae. Any attempt to remove it would likely leave the patient paralyzed." Dr. Erstadt went on to explain.

"In your opinion" Landman stated firmly. Clearly this is what the debate we had been informed of earlier had been about.

All of us were watching Landman including Gideon, who now looked more intrigued than anything. "Do you disagree?"

For the first time since we arrived an actual spark of something lit up Landman's eyes. "With the right surgeon, there is no risk" he said, clearly hinting at himself.

Ah, so that spark was arrogance.

"There's always risk" Dr. Erstadt firmly reminded Landman. From the looks of things, mainly the dark circles under his eyes, I would say that this argument had been going on since the victim first arrived here.

The woman, whose name I never got, was swift to interject before what I assume would be a full blown argument could occur. I wondered how long she had been playing peacemaker to these two. "What significance does the bullet have in building the profile?"

This was a question I could answer, but I wasn't going to. So when Gideon looked over at me I just tilted my head in a silent invitation for him to continue.

I didn't feel like pulling Landman's attention over to us just yet.

"Well, even if we can't get a ballistics match we can get a rifle type, and the specific type of rifle the suspect uses, that could be very significant to the profile."

The woman nodded to herself for a moment before looking over at Landman, "You believe you can safely perform the surgery Dr. Landman?"

This guy looked almost offended to be asked such a question, "I know I can."

I rolled my eyes. Overconfidence could be a killer sometimes.


After a few more minutes of arguing back and forth it was decided that Landman would perform the surgery, so the rest of us were allowed to use the conference room to wait in. We were given notepads to write with, which JJ seemed to be using to the fullest judging by how fast she was writing.

I figured that I didn't need to write anything and was just resting in one of the chairs. I was bored out of my mind though, wishing I could be outside with Derek right about now. He always made sure that I was never anything less than entertained when he was around.

Sure there have been times that he's pissed me off, but let the record show that I have never been bored.

"If I'm the unsub, why do I shoot my victims between two fifty five and three fifteen pm?"

I was in no mood to play the "I'm the unsub" game with Greenaway, or anyone for that matter, but I figured that it couldn't be worse than the silence.

"That's when I'd do it. There are fewer cops on the street during that time. The police tend to overlap shifts, so there's always someone minding the store. Second shift starts at three, first shift walks at three thirty."

Gideon's explanation is what really drew my attention in. I couldn't help but be fascinated. I don't think that the public knows just how lucky we all are that men like Gideon are out here catching the criminals instead of committing the crimes.

JJ finally looked up from her pad of paper in confusion, "Wouldn't there be twice as many cops on the street at that time?"

"In theory. The first half-hour of your shift you're in roll call, you're not on the street. And the last half-hour you're at the station, you're finishing reports, you're booking prisoners. So the twenty five minutes around the first/second shift, that's a bad guy's golden window."

It was like his words set off a lightbulb in my brain. Well, I guess that's how it all ties together.

"The only problem with all of that" I begin to speak up, "is that people outside of law enforcement wouldn't know any of that. And in case any of you were wondering, insinuating that there's a dirty cop does not exactly inspire warmth or kindness from a precinct."

And then like a dark cloud of depression, Landman came swooping through the door and dropped the bullet, enclosed within a plastic bag, down in front of Gideon. "Hope you find it useful." He said haughtily before turning around to leave the room.

Greenaway and JJ looked up at him in slight shock that he would do that to Gideon, while I just watched him distrustfully. I mean the man got what he wanted, to do the surgery, it didn't make sense to me that he would take up an issue with Gideon over it.

Before he could walk out the door Gideon spoke up, "Dr. Landman? How's Mr. Middleton?"

That smug look made its way to his face once again and I resisted the urge to smack it off. "The patient will make a full recovery, as I told you he would." Then he looked over at Greenaway and I's direction and threw us a wink before walking out of the room.

I turned over to Gideon, who had silently watched the exchange, "I would like to make it known that I will not be held responsible for whatever I do the next time I see him."

JJ shot me a small smile, "Duly noted."


Derek POV:

There was something definitely wrong with this case. I don't mean that there's anything wrong with the logistics of the actual case, but there is something up with Reid and Ariadne. Usually if she's not with me her and Reid are can be found attached at the hip.

I suppose it made sense why they weren't around each other at this particular moment, considering the whole qualifications test, but I've never seen those two actually hold a grudge before.

Especially Ariadne.

She has always been a firm believer in making sure that arguments never go past a day, except of course when it comes to our father. It's always been a silent issue between the two of us, unable to agree about our opinions. The simple fact is that she didn't get to know him like I did, she didn't get to see the softer side of him. And in no way is that her fault, but it does make things more difficult when he comes up in conversation. So we've just decided to agree to disagree.

That's what made this whole situation feel like some sort of violation to unwritten rules. Typically by now Ariadne would have just attacked the kid in hugs until he gave in and forgave her, but it seemed that this time she was also keeping a firm barrier between the two of them.

Having Reid and Ariadne on opposite teams was just plain wrong on so many fundamental levels.

Oddly enough it was only when I noticed that Ariadne had not voiced a single complaint about not coming with Reid and I that I realized things were worse than they seemed.

Ariadne always had this misplaced conviction that she had to be the one to protect the rest of us. I mean for god's sake I was the older brother in this scenario, it's my job to look out for her. So when she just let us go knowing that we wouldn't be under her watchful eye, I knew it was serious.

She didn't even make a face at having to go with Elle. This whole thing had to be fixed, and it had to get fixed now.

Hotch, Reid, and I had made our way back to the precinct when my ringtone pierced the surrounding air. I excused myself before turning around and hitting the call button, "Yeah, Morgan."

"Isn't this spooky?"

The smile that graced my lips couldn't be helped as the voice came in through the phone. I didn't know what game she was playing but I was gonna play along, "Isn't what spooky?"

"That right now you were thinking about me, and out of the blue, your phone rings? And it's me. Huh? How's that for a spiritual connection?"

The urge to laugh was strong, but I was bound and determined to win this. "Um…" I feigned confusion, "Do I know you?"

Immediately all sense of playfulness was gone from her voice, "Why do you hurt me?"

At that I let a low chuckle escape me, giving up the game. There were five women in my life that I held in high esteem. My mother, my three sisters, and one Penelope Garcia.

I don't even know how she did it either, but one day I just realized that Ariadne and I had formed a strange bond with that woman.

"Garcia please tell me you've nailed down a geographic profile on our guy." He really hoped that she had been able to find something, anything really, that would help lead them to this unsub.

"Yeah, I'll give you the good news first, which is not that good, but it's better than the bad."

I guess that's better than nothing.

However the more Garcia told me the more I was seeing that the gist of her message wasn't good in the slightest. In order for her to know more about the geological profile, she'd need another crime scene.


Ariadne POV:

There had been another shooting.

Forty eight hours after the last one, and three more victims. Granted none of them had fatal wounds, but they had still been shot.

Derek had managed to get some information out of Penelope which had indicated that this unsub knew exactly what he was doing, that the gun he was using required specialized training. Which I mean really made everything all the more fun, cause you know now we'd actually have a more difficult time catching him.

My level of sarcasm seemed to be reaching new heights.

Since we had been closer to the scene our team arrived first, leaving Hotch's team to stay at the precinct. One of my first thoughts at seeing the new crime scene was that this guy was definitely getting bolder in his attacks. This place was what looked to be an outdoor restaurant or café, which was on what I considered to be a fairly busy street.

"The media attention and the FBI presence will only escalate his desire to shoot again."

I had to take a slight pause at Gideon's words. If that were the case then why on earth did we let the media come and make a huge spectacle about it? I thought that we were supposed to be discouraging the attacks, not egging them on.

"Meaning?" I'd been told that the woman currently speaking was Detective Calvin.

You have got to be kidding me. What did she mean? How was Gideon's sentence confusing in the slightest? "He's saying that with all the attention we have placed on this scene can only make the situation worse. None of this," I waved my hand in the direction of all the news casters, "is helping to keep the peace."

"Then we need to give the police a profile immediately. You ready?" JJ asked Gideon.

I turned and looked at the state troopers that were on standby and sighed to myself. The unsub had gone and crossed jurisdiction once again. This was not going to be pretty whatsoever.

We were about to tell them that we believe one of them to be responsible.

Oh yeah, this was going to be a bundle of fun.


We had regrouped with the whole team once we got to the station and tried to come up with a way to tell all the officers about the fact that they were all now suspects. As a group it was a pretty unanimous decision that Hotch do all of the talking while I don't say anything at all. The last thing we all wanted was another replay of my outburst where I accused a Captain of being racist.

A choice that I still stand by if I'm being completely honest.

As per usual we had JJ give off the introduction, seeing as how public speaking was really her major. "This initial profile is not ready to be given to the media. Releasing this profile prematurely can get people killed." And then like the badass that she is, she walked off to the side and let Hotch come up and continue.

This time there was no hesitation, just like ripping of a band aid. "We are looking for a thirty to forty year old male veteran, driving a car large enough to shoot from, but not so large it was noticed. Like the Beltway shooter, it's probably a sedan, customized to conceal the shooter, his weapon, and the sound of his shot. The unsub suffers from both narcissistic and paranoid personality disorders. He works out obsessively and is never without a weapon. He's completely self-centered and cannot empathize with others. Incapable of admitting fault, he blames his shortcomings on those around him. He has no friends, and his career history has been marked by frequent job changes. He's drawn to high-stakes jobs by a need to prove his superiority to a world he perceives has undervalued him. And these shootings are the ultimate expression of that need. We believe he changes jurisdictions intentionally and strikes during the first second shift change, indicating an intimate knowledge of law enforcement."

And there were the magic words.

Just like that the whole room shifted gears as the officers understood what Hotch was indicating.

"You're saying it's one of us?"

Hotch didn't mince his words or try to soften the blow, "We're saying he once was or is now a police officer."

Clearly this was not taken very well among them as one, whose name I found to be irrelevant, leaned back with a smirk on his face and decided that he was going to crack off a joke. "Is he driving a white van too?" A quiet laughter swept throughout the room.

A man who I thought was the Sergeant turned around to reprimand his officer, "Enough. That'll be all for now." Obviously he took the information in with the same serious nature that we had. "We can talk in my office" he told Hotch.

While Hotch had been speaking it was up to the rest of us to watch each individual officer to see if they reacted to anything in that profile. I think that now we were all focused on the same one.

The guy who had begun to mock the profile.


Derek POV:

After Hotch had delivered the profile, Elle, and JJ had all followed him and the Sergeant into his office. I had taken a few steps in their direction when I noticed Ariadne standing off to the side all alone. I followed her gaze to see her watching Reid talking to Gideon.

Her posture was tense and at a first glance you would think that she was angry, however there was a small hint of sadness in her eyes. The sight sent a jolt through my heart, it always made me upset to see her unhappy.

But in this instance I couldn't just go up and punch the person responsible because this was her and Reid's fault, and they needed to be the ones to solve this.

But that didn't mean I couldn't nudge things along.

I walked over to her and slung my arm over her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. The tension fled from her shoulders and she shot me a lazy smirk, as if that were going to distract me from what I had seen.

"So I've never known you to hold a grudge for this long. I mean congratulations, you've hit a new record."

Ariadne's smirk turned into the biggest bitch face that I've ever seen, just that deadpan stare that tells people she is in no way amused.

"I'm about to set an all-time high with the grudge I'll hold against you if you don't stop."

I feigned hurt and clutched at my chest as if she had wounded me, and I could see the faint hint of a smile tug at the corner of her lips. "In all seriousness I've never know you and Reid to just not talk to each other, especially for this long."

There was this guarded look that appeared in her eyes and I knew that if I had been anyone else that she would have slammed every barrier up and closed herself off. But I wasn't just anybody, I was her big brother and we always let our guards fall around each other.

Now I may not want others to see that I have a soft side, or at the very least know how deep it runs, but when it came to my family I didn't care what I looked like. Their happiness was my main priority, and everyone else could fuck right off as far as I was concerned.

I was brought back into the present when Ariadne's weight shifted so that she was mostly leaning on me. "It's surprisingly not all that complicated. He's ignoring me and didn't want to hear me out, and I don't think that I deserve that, thus leading to the silence on my side. If Spencer wants to talk then he's gonna have to come up to me first, not the other way around."

"Well you know I'm going to support you in whatever you decide to do, but I do think it's worth mentioning that this whole silence thing isn't going to make anything better."

"I know" she nodded her head a little and glanced up at me, "I'm just tired of always having to be the one to fix things."

There was a certain type of hesitation within her soft admission. Like she was afraid that I would judge her for wanting someone else to make an effort, that I would somehow think less of her.

Words weren't always my strong suit, so I did the only thing that I knew she would understand completely. I tilted my head to place a kiss on the top of her's and held her to me tightly.

Judging her is the last thing that I would ever do. There is nothing that she could do that I would not forgive.


Ariadne POV:

Talking with Derek had been helpful. Admitting that the only reason Spencer and I weren't on speaking terms was because I was being selfish, wasn't something that I had wanted to say but Derek had a way of making it easy to open up.

The kiss he placed on the top of my head felt like absolution.

We had just stood there, wrapped up in the comfortable silence between us, when Hotch came and informed us that we would be doing a reenactment of the park shooting the next day.

So here I was, watching Greenaway, Spencer, and Derek take the places of the victims while I opted out and chose to remain on the sidelines with Hotch and Gideon. There was something about standing in the exact spot where someone had been shot that just didn't appeal to me.

I had gotten tired of standing and took a seat on the ground that was covered by the shade cast off from our vehicle. It was a pretty sunny day, but there was a nice breeze to help counter the heat.

Gideon, JJ, Detective Calvin, and the Sergeant had all taken refuge in the mobile command center, where they had set up cameras and walkie-talkies. Really the thing was built like a large bus.

"Elle, Jerry Middleton was facing a little further south. Can you give us that?" Hotch spoke into the walkie-talkie. There was no way that Hotch would be found sitting on the ground, so he chose to stand in the heat of the sun in his suit.

The others continued to go back and forth about where the correct placement was and whether or not the unsub could see them from the initial position. I chose to rest, knowing that once we left here things could pick up at a fast pace and then I wouldn't be able to get some sleep in for a while.

It was a light doze, the kind where I wasn't paying attention to what others were doing, but at the smallest hint of trouble could pop right back up and be wide awake.

I didn't get much time to myself when everyone from the command center came rushing out in a hurry, talking about someone leaking the profile. Hotch looked over at me and nodded his head in their direction, telling me to follow after them while he stayed behind.

I mentally groaned and stood up before jogging over to the rest of the group, who were making their way to a news caster.

"Mr. Jenkins, I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau with the FBI." I may not have known what the hell this was all about, but JJ looked pissed. "We need you to identify your source."

Jenkins looked affronted, "No way. I know my rights."

Once again, I may not have known what this guy had done or even what source they were talking about, but JJ needed him to give her an answer and he had refused. And that meant that it was my turn to step in.

Gideon however had moved faster than me and was pulling his arms behind his back, the typical position that would lead to cuffing. "Hey, hey! Vic, shoot this. Get this all on tape." Jenkins cried out indignantly as Gideon fastened the handcuffs around his wrist.

I walked over and put my hand over the camera lens, covering the image that they intended to capture. Yeah they weren't going to be getting any of this on record. The man holding the camera, Vic, looked like he wanted to move my hand but with one well-placed glare in his direction, he quickly assumed that I would in fact break whatever limb it was that he tried to touch me with.

"You should know the FBI considers these shootings an act of terrorism. Under the patriot act we can detain you as long as we need to."

I feel like I don't say it enough, but JJ is a badass.

At the threat of being held in custody for an indefinite period of time, Jenkins spilled, "All I know is his cell number."

Gideon looked over at me and told me to go tell Hotch that he needed to contact Penelope and get the name of who owned the number. So like the good little solider I was, I ran back and let Hotch know about what had just transpired.

I was on edge right now, because someone from the precinct leaked the information, and most of the cops were out here right now where my team had split up in various different directions. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited.

"Scott McCarty" Hotch said, looking at Detective Calvin who had joined us while we waited.

She pulled the sunglasses off of her face and bit her lip in frustration. Both were things that did not make me feel comfortable, those were actions of anxiety. "McCarty's the unsub" she said looking at the two of us.

Okay, not very helpful there Detective, we guessed that when Penelope told us. Hotch was on the same line of thinking cause he continued to looking at her the same way I was, "Yeah, but where is he?"

"McCarty is playing the unsub."

My head whipped around to see the point end of the rifle sticking out of the trunk. A rifle that was aimed in the direction of Greenaway, Spencer, and my brother. The same rifle that the unsub was currently holding.

Hotch grabbed onto my arm, halting my movement towards the car. I understood that we needed to wait and let SWAT come in and make it a clean grab, but the thought of McCarty pointing that rifle at my people for even another second had the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention.

I would never say it out loud, but I knew that if this all went wrong and something happened to Derek or Spencer, that I wouldn't be able to forgive Hotch for holding me back in the first place.

I was told to wait right by Hotch's side while SWAT came in and got set up, I guess no one trusted me not to take matters into my own hand. Which was smart of them, because I don't handle waiting very well.

I watched as SWAT came around the side of the car and threw a smoke bomb underneath the trunk, blocking McCarty's field of vision and sending him into a coughing fit.

As soon as the gas went off Greenaway took off and hid behind a tree while Derek had to physically tackle Spencer to the ground so that he was out of harm's way.

Seeing them all take cover had eased the burden on my heart and I felt like I could breathe again. However now that I wasn't panicking, I moved onto anger as I watched SWAT yank McCarty out of the trunk and throw him on the ground where they handcuffed him.

They got him up and were escorting him away passing by Hotch and I when the sound of a gun went off.

A bullet pierced the air and lodged itself in McCarty's head, splattering his blood in our direction. Straightaway I dropped to the ground, my heart racing as I prayed that there would only be the one shot.


Derek's POV:

Reid and I were watching from our place behind the tree as the SWAT team began to lead McCarty away. I was just glad that it all happened cleanly, and that no one had gotten hurt this time around.

That's what I was thinking until the sound of a gun went off. I watched as McCarty went down, but that hadn't been my main focus.

Because Ariadne had hit the ground the same time McCarty did.

My heart stopped and I could feel a yell get caught in my throat. I felt dizzy as I watched my baby sister's body drop. What if it was Ariadne that got shot? What if because she was so close to McCarty, she got hit instead of him?

I was frozen in fear, my mind going a million different miles as I kept my gaze pinned on her body. When she still didn't move a second later, the yell that had gotten stuck fought through to the surface. "Ariadne!" My voice cracked and I battled the urge to tear up as I waited with baited breath to see if she would respond.

If she didn't than unsub or not I was going to go make sure that she was alive myself. And if she wasn't then I hoped to god that one of those bullets would hit me too.

Her head popped up from the ground and she pierced me with her gaze, the same fear that I felt reflecting back in her eyes.

The sight of her caused my legs to give out on me, and I slouched into the tree that I had been using for cover. I could finally breathe again now that I knew she was okay.

"Oh thank god."

I turned my head to look at Reid, having heard his soft mutter. The kid had turned a deathly white and his eyes shone wet with unshed tears.

Honestly I'm sure that I didn't look much better either.

His eyes were locked onto Ariadne's form and I could easily pick up on the fear that lined his entire body. Clearly he had seen her go down and thought the same thing that I did.

Normally I would tease the poor kid about having to toughen up out here in the field, but I was too anxious to actual hold Ariadne and check her over for injuries with my own eyes to crack a joke.

From the looks of him Reid was ready for this silent treatment to be over.


Ariadne POV:

We had to wait until SWAT gave the okay to be able to get up and move. As soon as we had it Derek came barreling into me and ran his hands over my head and arms, making sure that I was unharmed. I did the same to him before taking a glance in Spencer's direction, wanting to make sure that he was safe even if we weren't talking at the moment. I noticed his eyes locked onto mine and for the first time today he hadn't broke the contact.

I turned away when Derek pulled me into his arms, muttering about how I was going to give him a heart attack one of these days. No words needed to be exchanged between us, we both just needed a few minutes to reassure ourselves that the other was okay and standing in front of us in one piece.

Hotch was kind enough to allow us that time before he reluctantly called Derek over to him. Before I could go and see if JJ and Gideon were alright, a soft voice stopped me.

"Ari…"

I turned to look at Spencer, wondering what he was gonna do. Without another word he walked up and pulled me into a hug. I slowly wrapped my arms around him, hoping that this meant that we weren't fighting anymore.

"I'm still mad at you, but don't ever scare me like that again."

And just like that the moment was ruined.

I took a big inhale and sighed, but I never let go of him. "Look Spencer I told you why I wasn't a good fit to teach you, can't you just let it go already?"

He scoffed a little, but he never released me from his grip either. "I'd let it go if I didn't know that you weren't telling me the whole truth." I tensed at his accusation. "I mean maybe it has nothing to do with teaching styles, maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're embarrassed by me and knew I wouldn't be able to pass no matter how hard you tried to teach me." He didn't say these words in anger, just in a sad accepting tone.

I grasped onto the back of his shirt tighter. Regardless of the recent shooting scare I was heated, "Don't you dare believe I would ever think that. There is nothing you could ever do that would make me embarrassed of you, least of all when it comes to shooting a gun." I loosened my grip on him slightly so that I was just holding a part of his shirt and not white knuckling it. I try to control the tremors in my hands as I struggled to find the correct words.

"The reason I said no was because I didn't want you to learn how to use a gun, at least not from me." I leaned back slightly so that I could maintain eye contact with him, and watched as his features softened somewhat into confusion rather than sadness. "When I pick up a gun I use it with a single goal in mind. For me a gun means death, and it means that while I use it that's what I bring."

I paused and waited for him to meet my eyes and I could feel my emotions try to weasel their way out before I shoved them back into the small box in the back of my mind. "You are not a killer, you're probably the only innocent one on this team, besides Penelope. And if I were to put a gun in your hands and teach you how to use it then I feel like I would be teaching you to be like me. That I would be responsible for whatever you had to do with that gun, as well as whatever that gun would do to your conscious."

Spencer signed before bringing he lifted an eyebrow, "Ari that's my decision to make though. If the gun is not in your hands than you are not responsible for what happens with it. And trust me, we both work to find killers and I can tell you right now that you're nothing like them. Doing what you have to do while serving your country is not the same as going around and killing people. It's sure as hell not the same as what just happened."

Oh if only you knew the things I have done all in the name of my serving my country. They would make you look at me in horror.

The wave of self-hatred that accompanied that thought caused me to let go of him and take a step back. I felt like he could be stained by the deep red of my sins if he held on any longer. "I'm glad you don't see me like that Spencer, but it doesn't change how I feel about it." At the stern look in his eyes I amended my response, "But I will take what you said under advisement and try to see things from other's point of view."

"That's all I ask of you."

"So are we all good now?" All the signs were pointing that we were in the all clear, but I still wanted the verbal confirmation just to be absolutely sure.

He let loose one of his crooked smiles that never failed to make me weak in the knees. "Yeah Ari, we're all good."

And with those words everything felt right again.


Going back to the precinct had been difficult. Not only were the officers mourning the loss of one of their own, but now they were out for revenge. Because this unsub just became a cop killer.

Our entire team and Detective Calvin filed into the conference room to talk about what had all gone down earlier. After the two massive heart attacks that Derek and Spencer had given me, I wanted to go back to the hotel and just sleep for a day straight.

"How did McCarty end up playing the unsub?"

I wondered what JJ's question had to do with the situation at hand. Clearly he wasn't the unsub, the bullet in his head could attest to that, so I didn't understand why we needed anymore time spent on him.

"Sergeant Weigart punished McCarty for mouthing off during the profile briefing by making him the unsub and sticking him in the trunk of the car all afternoon" Detective Calvin clarified for us.

So note to self, if you make fun of a profile then you're punishment will result in taking a bullet to the skull. Good to know. But on the other hand I bet the Sergeant's got a big plate of regret coming up in the near future, cause that's the kind of thing that will weigh heavy on your soul.

"Wait." JJ looked more confused than before, "Then how did the unsub find out about the reenactment?"

Well that answer wasn't very hard to find. And Derek knew it to, "Come on, cops talk. Pissed off cops talk loud, at home, at the bars, at gyms, and to anyone who'll listen."

People these days just didn't understand the simple benefits of tact. They're always mouthing off, not thinking about how what they say can affect them.

"Our unsub went from wounding civilians to executing a police officer, so he's escalated. He's not staying on script."

That was great and all, but we still had one major problem. "There's only one way things end with cop killers Gideon, and it ain't pretty. And we're kidding ourselves if we think for one minute that every cop in this building wouldn't go on a witch hunt right now. So we need to find this guy before their patience with us runs dry."

We had to get on the right track fast if we wanted to avoid a huge unnecessary problem. So Spencer and Derek started shooting off things that this unsub had not done.

"He did not pick McCarty at random."

"He didn't take the gut shot."

"The answer to that is very simple." My words drew all the attention in the room to me, "We thought the unsub was McCarty and that would have gotten out to the public, no matter how tight a lid we would have tried to keep on it. His message was clear, he will not have anyone taking the credit for what he did. Like you said during the profile Hotch, he feels underappreciated, and now he's frustrated on top of that. So we've got a rage filled homicidal sociopath with a rifle and military experience on the loose, not exactly a good look for us."

Sure, we've been stacked with worse odds, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.


When Penelope had called to let us know that she had gotten a geographic profile for this guy, Derek and I had promised to take her out for lunch when we got back.

When the shooting turned out to be centered around the two hospitals, there was a small part of me that hoped Landman was the unsub. Cause if that was the case then things would make so much sense. The dude was skeevy, him being a killer would not be surprising.

The ride over to the hospital had been filled with Gideon and Spencer explaining what hero homicide was to Detective Calvin. It had been decided that we were going to try to keep this whole thing under wraps and not make it a big deal, so while we waited for confirmation about Landman we were all sitting idly in the same conference room as yesterday.

My phone started buzzing from inside my pocket and I opened it to find a message from Noah.

Hey, so my play is set for next week. You're still coming right?

The corners of my lips lifted with every word I read. This kid was way too cute for his own good. I couldn't wipe the grin from my face as I typed out my reply.

C'mon kit, you know there's nothing in this world that could stop me from being there. You're going to give yourself a hernia if you keep worrying. Like I told your mother, I'll be coming in the day before you take the stage.

"Well that smile can only mean one thing." I had almost forgotten that Derek wasn't the kind of person to let someone do anything in peace. He always had to know what was going on. "Tell the kid I say hi."

I relayed Derek's message and put my phone back into my pocket, momentarily satisfied. I'd been meaning to call Noah but since my schedule was so inconsistent it was hard to find the time most days.

I didn't have too many things I held dear in the world, but Noah Santis was one of them. Maria's adopted brother was family to me, and I always made sure that him and his folks were doing okay.

One of Maria's last requests had been that I take care of Noah in her place. The kid had just started high school and I was making sure that I was involved as much as I could be, and that meant going to plays and soccer games. Derek had even made it to a few, which had of course made Noah absolutely ecstatic.

The fax machine spitting out a piece of paper helped ground me back to the here and now. Derek already had a hand waiting to grab the piece of paper, letting me know that this was something he had been expecting. "Ok, courtesy of Garcia. Landman was army, started out in M.P. school. So there's where the law enforcement comes in. But he was smart. Got a degree on Uncle Sam, and ended up a doctor with Special Forces and bounced around from hospital to hospital since his discharge in two thousand one."

I can only assume that the bouncing around was due to his award winning personality.

Gideon looked over at the woman who had introduced Landman to us the other day, "Has Dr. Landman been under any unusual strain? Has he had a reprimand? Uh… has he had any kind of major blow to his ego?"

There was a dawning look of apprehension on her face as she looked up at Gideon. "Last month, he was passed over for chief of surgery."

The facts kept stacking up against Landman. He had the personality to fit a hero homicide, he had the military experience, and he had a trigger.

Gideon sent Derek to go get a warrant to see if they could find the weapon in his house, while Hotch had gone ahead and checked his car to see if it fit the one from the profile. The woman had gone on to tell us that Landman was currently in one of the observation rooms going over brain scans for another patient.

Gideon had been adamant that he speak to Landman alone, much to my displeasure. Which is why I was now standing outside the room looking into it with Greenaway, Spencer, and JJ besides me. None of us could hear what was being said in the room, but we could guess by the smirk on Landman's face that it was not going all that well.

I was told, very directly, that I was not to interfere with the conversation unless things took a turn in a violent manner. The thought of it even getting to that point was making my anxiety skyrocket, and not being able to hear what was being said was only making it worse.

My hands had been tapping on my leg for the past couple of minutes in an effort to help keep me grounded, when Hotch made his way to us.

"You get anything from his car?" Greenaway asked him without removing her eyes from the confrontation going on in the observation room.

"It's a red two seat Maserati, so if he's the shooter he must have another vehicle."

JJ crossed her arms and scoffed, because of course that would be the car that Landman drives.

After a few more seconds of trying to lip read through the window, Landman's voice came out loud and clear as he made eye contact with the rest of us. "I was in my office with Dr. Hannah Pate. I'm not the only one who thinks I'm a god. She's in the E.R. right now. Go on, ask her!"

If this guy had a legitimate alibi then I was going to be honestly disappointed. I know that we're not supposed to "root" for someone to be the unsub, but I couldn't help it. Landman just held a certain quality that one would expect to see in a serial killer.

Also the thought of any woman wanting Landman made me a little sick inside. It must have been that this Hannah Pate had the lowest standards on the face of this earth, as well as potentially being blind. Because I refuse to believe that anyone with a working sense of sight would voluntarily let a man like that lay a hand on them.

"Reid, let's take a walk down to the E.R." Hotch said, about to turn back in the direction that he came from. However while he was turning he noticed my hands, which had not stopped their incessant tapping, and motioned towards me as well. "It's going to do you no good to sit and wait, so Morgan you're with us."

I didn't question it, knowing that the longer I waited the more anxious I was bound to become. I took one last look at Gideon before I turned and trailed after Hotch and Spencer. While we walked I sent a quick text over to Derek, letting him know that when he came back he should go check up on Gideon so that I could have some peace of mind that he would be okay.

I honestly feel a great deal of pity for Landman if he had to go against Derek. My brother was like a whole other breed when it came down to facing the bad guys, never even flinching when having to stand toe to toe with them.

For all my bravado, I was actually terrified all the time. Petrified that one day this job would steal the only people I had left in this world. I'm not a good person, not in the slightest. I would let the world burn if it meant that I could save those I love. And I wouldn't even have to think twice about it.

Entering the E.R. it was clear to see that they were majorly busy, so we walked up to what looked to be a male nurse going over some files.

"Excuse me" Hotch tried to get the nurses' attention as he flashed his badge, "I'd like to speak with Dr. Pate."

The man's eyes were glued to Hotch's badge and it seemed like he had to rip them away in order to look him in the eyes. I didn't blame him, it could be intimidating to have to speak with the FBI. "Yes sir, I'll go find her for you." I smiled at him as he left, thankful for his swift cooperation.

Hotch turned to Spencer and I, lowering his voice so that those around us couldn't hear what was being said and freak out. "The motivations for hero homicide are excitement, power, and respect, and even though Landman's not a star, he still gets respect. Racing against the clock to save someone's life is exciting."

Having this conversation was disconcerting, given the fact that we were currently in the hospital when there were doubts about Landman being the unsub.

"Maybe it's not exciting enough. That's- that's why he shoots three people at a time" Spencer points out.

Hotch didn't seem convinced, "But he can only operate on one at a time, it wouldn't be any more exciting."

Both of them paused and started looking around the E.R. room. I look a quick glance behind me and saw a man sitting down holding a towel to a blood soaked hand, while a doctor and nurse catered to him. I moved on and my eyes categorized every injury in the room, with each one the desire to leave got stronger.

I'd seen my fair share of injuries in the military and was not in a hurry to see anymore. The sight of blood carried a new meaning for me these days, and it wasn't one I liked to think about.

"At least, not for Landman and not in the O.R." I didn't like the sound of Hotch's voice because it sounded like he had just discovered something that I wouldn't like. Lord knows I spent enough time around them all to know exactly what each tone meant.

"The policemen and E.R. personnel are on the exact same twenty-four hour shift schedule."

No, tell me that we didn't screw up this badly.

Hotch looked like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "The unsub wasn't shooting at shift change because there are fewer cops on the street. He works the second shift in the emergency room."

Instantly my eyes are racing across every face in the room, because right now we are standing amongst the second shift employees. Hotch pulled out his phone, most likely going to call Gideon, when one of the female nurses catches sight of him.

"Sir, you can't use the cell phone in the hospital."

My face contorted in my confusion. Why the hell not? What exactly was a cell phone going to do, start a fire? Was it going to pick up a rifle and shoot someone in the stomach?

Hotch, ever the faithful rule follower, closed the phone and put it back into his suit pocket, before walking over to where she was and subtly flashed his badge. "We're FBI agents, and we believe that one of your staff members might be the sniper."

The nurse did a double take at him, which I believed was completely warranted given the current circumstances. Hotch didn't give her a second because we didn't have the time, "Now the man we're looking for works second shift, and he would have transferred from Arlington in the past two weeks."

The nurse shook her head in blatant relief, "We haven't had any new personnel in two months."

"Are you sure?" Hotch's eyebrows were furrowed.

"Yeah" the nurse was adamant that there was no one here who was a recent transfer. "Look I've got patients who need me" she went to turn away, but Hotch gently reached out to grab her arm.

"He's in his thirties. He's vain, rude, and arrogant. He works out, shows up to work late. He blames others for his mistakes, doesn't take responsibility for his behavior. All of his coworkers detest him."

The more that Hotch described him the paler the nurse got. "Oh my god." Came her soft whisper, "It's Phillip Dowd. He's- he picks up shifts at Arlington."

"Is he here today?" Hotch asked the million dollar question.

The nurse repeated her "Oh my god" and began to spin around in search of him.

That was not good, and once again Hotch reached out for her." Okay, your patients need you calm. Now tell me, is Dowd working today?" She shook her head yes and Hotch moved onto his next question, "Do you see him?" This time when she spun it was much less obvious, but still she shook her head no. Hotch placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder, "Go tell Gideon."

Spencer had turned and made to jog when I called out to him, "Hey Spence, just take it easy. One foot at a time." He nodded and slowed down before disappearing around the corner.

The next thing I knew Dowd was coming out from around the corner with a rifle pointed at the back of the security guard's head. He quickly shot out the lights, engaging the emergency protocol ones, before Hotch or I could draw our weapons.

Now that I think about it, that male nurse had been taking his sweet ole' time finding Dr. Pate, I guess he'd been searching for a rifle instead.

The whole room went dark except for the dim yellow, and the alarms started blaring. I didn't think twice before my gun was out and pointed at Dowd, Hotch doing the exact same thing beside me.

"Nobody moves, and nobody dies" Dowd said, addressing the entire room. He made eye contact with Hotch and I, "Better be a head shot. I got this on full auto. Anything less, I go down squeezing the trigger."

Unlike Hotch, who had begun to lower his gun, I was fully prepared to take the shot. Spencer had been behind the same corner that Dowd had come from, and I hadn't seen him come back out from behind it. Not to mention that Hotch was standing right beside me.

If it kept these two safe than I would put a bullet in Dowd's head in a heartbeat.

I held my gun steady and watched Dowd with a steel glint in my eyes. He watched Hotch place his weapon down before turning his attention to me.

While I stared at him in hatred, he stared at me in fascination. "Would you really risk it sweetheart?"

My finger tightened on the trigger at the sound of Derek's nickname coming out of his mouth. This man did not have the right to call me that. "I don't miss."

His eyes roamed down to my stance and his eyes lit up in understanding, "Well there's an army attitude if I've ever seen one, so I don't doubt that." Suddenly his gaze grew dark and hard, as he pushed the rifle closer to the security guard, "But don't test me."

Hotch's hand came down to rest on my gun before he began to push it down slowly. Clearly he didn't want to take the risk. Dowd smirked before kicking the guard down onto his knees and walked over to pick up Hotch and I's guns from where they rested on the counter in front of us.

He pocketed them before walking back and looking to his side, "Get up! Get over here. Double time, let's go!"

My heart stopped as Spencer came running over to us with his hands held above his head. The moment he was within arms distance I reached out and pulled him closer so that he was directly between Hotch and I, which in my opinion was the safest place at the moment. I wanted to look over at him and make sure he was okay but I didn't remove my gaze from Dowd, lest he try something while my back was turned.

"You" Dowd motioned at Hotch, "take your partner's gun, put it on the counter."

Hotch's voice came out completely calm, "He's not armed. See for yourself."

Goddammit Hotch. The whole point of putting Spencer between the two of us was so that Dowd didn't reach him.

There was a moment of silence before Dowd spoke again, "Hands on your heads." The three of us did as we were told and Dowd made his way over and reached out with one hand to rip Spencer's bag from his shoulder and toss it to the side. He patted Spencer down, not finding the hidden gun I'm sure he thought Spencer was hiding. I was silently fuming over the fact that Dowd had put his hands on Spencer.

He pulled back and reached into his pockets before addressing the guard, "Get up Keith. Put those on 'em, then put them on yourself."

As Keith walked over and begun zip tying our wrists together, he shot us all an apologetic look. I wanted to reassure the man that we understood and didn't blame him, but there was no way I was going to start talking.

"Now step back. Back up, back up." Dowd kept repeating it until Keith was back at his side. Dowd then knocked the back end of the gun into his face, causing him to fall to the floor unconscious. The people, who had huddled together in the back of the room, all exclaimed at the sight.

Dowd pointed the gun at Spencer and I, "Get down on the ground." Once we had done so he moved onto Hotch, "Have a seat."

Still talking to Hotch, Dowd went on to make conversation. "Now what kind of FBI agent doesn't carry a gun?"

The kind who doesn't need to because I'm right behind him.

"I'm a profiler." There were tears in Spencer's eyes, but I suspected that they might have been from the hit to the side of the face that he took from Dowd. The bruise would be evident in a few hours' time.

"Profiler?" Dowd lifted an eyebrow in what seemed to be amusement, "They sent you to figure me out."

You could tell that Dowd was under the impression that such a thing was impossible. How I would enjoy bursting that self-absorbed bubble.

He had hurt something of mine, so I would hurt something of his.

"We did. That's how we found you."

"Shut up Reid."

Shocked, I swung my gaze up to Hotch. What the hell had he just said? Spencer's head dropped and rage began to settle in the pit of my stomach.

"No, don't shut up. Tell me what you think you know about me." Dowd was completely focused on Spencer and I hated it with every fiber of my being.

But instead of answering Spencer looked lost, not knowing if he should speak since Hotch, had oh so rudely told him to be quiet.

"Go ahead, genius. Tell him. But remember, get it wrong, and he's gonna kill you."

I bared my teeth and snarled at the threat, enraged that Hotch had even put the thought in Spencer's head.

The tears in Spencer's eyes shone even more brightly as he looked up at Dowd before dropping his gaze back to the floor. I shifted so that my shoulder was pressed against his, hoping that he would take some comfort from my presence. It was also a very clear move on my part. It stated that he was under my protection.

This time there was no mistaking the amusement in Dowd when he turned his head back to Hotch, "Ok. So clearly you're the boss. You tell me. Who am I? What's my plan?"

"I know you shot eleven people in broad daylight and left us nothing, you executed a cop in front of the FBI and got away clean, and I know that your plan is to go down in a hail of bullets." Well way to go Hotch, you would have done brilliant work if our job was inflating his ego.

"What else do you know?" For some reason Dowd was intrigued.

I was hoping that Derek and Gideon were working on a way to get us out sooner rather than later.


Derek POV:

Coming back to the hospital and finding out that Ariadne was locked in a room with the unsub was not exactly what I would call an ideal situation. But I had taken it in stride and kept a level head about the whole thing.

It had only taken three members of SWAT to hold me back from storming into the room. And it took about another five minutes before Gideon was able to talk me off of the ledge and remind me that I still had a job to do.

All it took was one phone call to Penelope explaing that Ari was stuck in a room with this guy for her to send me his entire life story. Our usual banter was missing and she been uncaracteristically serious. There was something she said that did shock me a little though, only because I've never heard her speak about violence in a postitive manner before.

"You get our girl out of there. And if he hurts a single hair on her head, you take that son of a bitch out."

Regardless, it was a promise I intended to keep.

See Ari, now she gets pretty scary if you mess with the people she loves. But me? Do that and you won't even have time to feel fear before I get my hands on you.

This guy didn't know whose family he had just endangered, but he was about to find out.

"He joined the army at eighteen, went to Ranger school, did six years before being dishonorably discharged in ninty five for conduct unbecoming. He obviously lied about it and joined the Arlington P.D., so like the profile said he's was a cop." I was reading off an edited version of what Garcia had sent me.

"For nine months until they found out he lied about the discharge, so they kicked him out. Soon thereafter Dowd got his nursing license. He's been bouncing from hospital to hospital ever since." Elle was reading the folder from over my shoulder.

All we could do at the moment was wait, and it was killing me. No offense to my team, but they didn't understand what I stood to lose here.

My baby sister was in that room. Not a single person here understood just what that meant, and I couldn't help but be frustrated with them. I felt like we were just twiddiling our thumbs, not doing a thing.

Gideon looked over, taking in the uneasy tension that was written all over my face. He sent me a significant look, "Have faith that Hotch'll take care of them."

I held his gaze steady, not in the mood for a pep talk. "The only person I trust to take care of Ariadne is me."


Ariadne POV:

I didn't know what game Hocth was playing, but I swear to all that is holy if he doesn't stop stroking Dowd's sense of self-importance I was going to vomit.

"I know you're the smartest guy in every room you've ever been in, and no one's ever known it."

Hah!

Not in this room he ain't. The smartest guy in this room is sitting right next to me, hunched over on the floor because his self-worth was being called into question.

"People feel threatened by you and try to sabotage you every chance they get. You're not a bad person, you help save all of your victims afterwards." While he spoke Dowd moved so that he was lossely aiming the gun at us. Hotch was getting his attention to sway, I just wish there was another way to do so. "First guy wasn't your fault. If the EMT's had been there on time, he would've lived." There was something so cold in Hotch's gaze, a form of detatchment I didn't know he was capable of displaying.

"Took those guys thirteen minutes. Thirteen!" Dowd was falling for Hotch's act. The only problem was that Spencer was as well.

"You want to barricade the door."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from yelling at Hotch that there was another way to do this, one that didn't include making it harder for the rest of the team to reach us.

"What?" Dowd quickly shot the door a glance. That seemed to be the question of the day.

"Let me and the kids over here do it. Let 'em see that you've got three FBI agents in here doing your bidding." Okay, I could actually work with that. If I could just make eye contact with Derek I could figure something out.

"Right" Dowd said unconvincingly, "Let you give them a signal."

The small inkiling of hope was dashed, but Hotch fought to keep it alive. "What signal? They knew you were in here, they knew you were armed. What can I tell them?"

There was a moment that passed before Dowd brought the gun back up and took aim. People gasped and I fought the urge to sigh, it was just so cliché. I mean why the gasp then, it's not like there was any point in time where Dowd had not been aiming at one of us. "What is this, some sort of profiler trick? New negotiation tactic?"

That first question made us sound like some sort of new breed of wizards.

Dowd and Hotch entered a staring contest, which had apparently resulted in some form of agreement because Dowd nodded his head in contemplation. "No, the barricade's a good idea though." The rifle was once again lowered from his face, "Now why would you wanna help me?"

In no way, shape, or form was this us helping you, you sociopath. But Hotch is clearly willing to say whatever needs to be said to get all of us out of here, "I don't."

"You said they knew I was in here" Dowd looked like he was trying to piece things together.

Hotch put on a show of acting as though he had just been caught in a lie. He opened and closed his mouth and avoided eye contact, hell he even through in a tiny stutter at the start of his sentence. "I said they know you're in here." Screw the FBI, Hotch clearly had lied about where he went to college. I bet it was Juilliard.

That self-righteous attitude came flaring back into existance as Dowd tilted his head, almost in a scolding manner. "No. That's not what you said."

Spencer's fingers had been twitching for the majority of the conversation and I knew that he was dying to say something. I was just hoping that if he sat in silence for long enough that Dowd would forget his importance. But alas, nothing ever goes my way cause I have shit luck.

"Why does it even matter?" Spencer spoke with his head down and only lifted it when Dowd responded.

"It matters because your partner wants to help me even though he doesn't know it. Go ahead, Boss Man."

My bound wrists shot out and smacked against the floor loudly. "You do not get to call him that." I uttered through my clenched teeth, making the words come out harsh and deep.

"So she does speak, for a second I'd thought you'd gone mute over there sweetheart." The words were spoken without feeling, leaving a sense of hollowness in its wake. His response confused me. Everything in the profile suggested that he wouldn't hesitate to hurt someone who insulted him. By all rights he should have shot me during my outburst. The divergence from the profile left me uneasy.

Dowd's main focus of the evening was clearly Hotch, because he just wouldn't leave him alone. "Go on and tell him why. If you lie or leave anything out, pop." A popping sound came from his lips as he indicated that he would indeed use the rifle on him.

At this point I didn't know what the tears in Spencer's eyes were from, but I did know that I would have given anything to make them go away. The fact that no emotion bled into Hotch's eyes let me know that what came next was not going to be easy to hear.

"They knew he was in here, they knew he was armed and dangerous, and they knew that he was gonna fight till the last round. And they sent the two of us in here with an unarmed kid who can't shoot his way out of a wet paper bag."

Ice knotted itself into the base of my spine. The blood pumping through my veins was the only sound I heard as I watched Spencer's face drop. I saw every wall I had managed to knock down over the time I knew him, shoot back up as Hotch's words ripped through his soul.

Dowd and Hotch were still talking but it all faded into the background for me, probably because I didn't want to hear it. I extended my ankle to wrap around Spencer's, wishing not for the first time that I could wrap him up in a hug and tell him that none of this was true.

"Do you know why they took away boy genius' gun?"

Fuck no Hotch. I barely missed the shame that covered Spencer's face before I tried to get Hotch's attention, trying to tell him that this was going too far.

But he didn't see me.

"He failed his qualification. Twice a year, Morgan's gotta listen to him whine about requalifying. She asks me to tutor him, so I do, and he fails again." Hotch spared a glance in our direction and was momentarily taken aback by the blatant murder that was written in my eyes, a silent promise for retribution hidden behind my irises.

Spencer had never been a burden to me.

I was done, this had gone on for far too long. The threat of being shot sounded more appealing than sitting here and watching Spencer try to hold himself together against the words of a man he looked up to.

A loose idea of a plan formulated in my head and I slowly untangled my legs and fingers from Spencer, drawing his attention to the movement. Confusion swirled within the depths of his wet hazel eyes, and it furthered my resolve to get this over with.

"Hey Dowd, how about we stow the touchy feely shit for a moment and get real here." I glared up at him, trying to convey my utter disgust at him.

Maybe Hotch could work with the emotionless agent who's got a vendetta aspect but I was filled with rage, and that was something I was never quite good at hiding.

"You tell your story as if it's supposed to justify the fact that you've killed people. So what someone's annoyed you? Woopdee freakin' do. It happens, deal with it like a man, don't hide behind a gun." With every word I spoke Dowd's teeth ground down harder. But this time it was me who wasn't done.

"You wanna know how I know that I'm better than you?" I knew this was a stupid idea, most likely the stupidest one I've ever had, but I'd be damned if I just sat there and let Spencer take any more of the verbal abuse that Hotch was bestowing upon him. True or not that shit was hurtful.

I made direct eye contact with Dowd before uttering the words I knew would send him into a blind rage, making him forget about whatever it was that kept him from shooting me before. "I'm the one who got an honorable discharge, because I knew how to do my damn job and wasn't a failure or a disgrace to the military like you."

Time seemed to slow in that moment. I watched as Dowd's arm tensed and began to lift the gun in my direction. I didn't couldn't even spare a moment to be concerned because I was too busy being relieved that his focus had shifted from Hotch and Spencer.

I sprung up from my position on the floor and aimed for the knees as I barreled into Dowd, throwing off his balance and knocking the both of us back to the ground. I could hear a commotion going on behind me but I didn't dare turn around until I had gotten the rifle away from Dowd.

The awkward angle that I had started from at my previous position was not working in my favor and before I could grab the fallen rifle, Dowd had gotten up just in time to send a jarring kick to my abdomen that knocked all the breath out of my lungs.

I looked up to see the back end of the gun swinging down towards my face. Pain shot through me and there was yelling coming from somewhere I couldn't quite identify.

The last thing I heard before I gave in to the darkness that beckoned me, was a gunshot.


I had woken up in the back of an ambulance with a medic standing over me on one side and Derek to the next. There was a hand stroking the top of my head and I assumed it was Derek, otherwise this was going to be a very interesting conversation.

"There she is." Derek was smiling down at me softly, and I tried to send one back but a piercing pain shot through my head making me wince. Suddenly I remembered why I was in pain and I tried to sit up in order to look for Hotch and Spencer.

Derek's hand immediately moved to my back in order to help me sit up, "Just take it easy there sweetheart, everyone's fine so don't worry yourself over that." I relaxed slightly, relieved to know they were okay but still wanting to see them. The medic could see that I was in good hands so he let us go after informing me to put some ice on the laceration on my hairline before I went to bed.

At my request Derek led me over to the other ambulance that Spencer was leaning against while speaking to Hotch. Seeing me make my way over to him caused Spencer to get up and meet us halfway. There had been hugging involved and I asked him to explain what happened after I got knocked out.

Apparently after I tackled Dowd, Hotch had reached for his spare gun that he kept around his ankle. I guess because his hands were still zip tied he had dropped it while trying to unclip it, and that had been the commotion that I had vaguely heard. Spencer told me that he had dove for it and had picked it up in time to look over and see Dowd about to shoot my prone form, so he had aimed for Dowd's leg and shot him in the head instead.

By the end of his explanation I was staring at him with a slack jaw. Not only had he shot someone, but his aim was simply god awful. Sometime during Spencer's retelling of events Hotch had wandered over to where the three of us were standing. I indicated to Derek and Spencer that I wanted to speak with Hotch alone and the boys got the silent message.

Before they walked away Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out the whistle that Derek had given him as a joke a couple days ago. He tossed it at Derek before walking away. I couldn't help the small laugh that came out, proud that Spencer had gotten him back somehow. Derek chuckled and moved to follow after him.

Hotch was the first to start speaking, "Morgan-"

"I'm glad you're okay boss man, but next time let me take the goddamned shot." I didn't want to hear anything about what was going through his head at the time, or why he felt like that was his only option. Because for me there was another option, one that would have minimized the injury count. I understood that he didn't want to take the risk in case I had missed, but all I had needed him to do was trust that I wouldn't.

Hotch laid a hand on my shoulder, his eyes softening upon seeing the gash at my hairline. He squeezed my shoulder once and nodded, "I'm glad you're okay too." Hotch wasn't really one for emotional moments, so he left it at that and followed in the direction that Derek and Spencer had gone to.

I looked around me, taking note of all the cops cars and ambulances, and wondered if my life would always include those blindingly bright blue and red lights.


At first Spencer had been fine, but every single one of us knew that there would be a moment where this whole thing would sink in and he would truly understand that he had killed someone. It just came a little earlier than we were expecting.

And later that night when Spencer called me, gasping for air through tears, all I could do was reassure him that he did what he had to do. Reassure him that he wasn't a murderer and that the sick feeling in his bones would fade one day.

We talked until he drifted off, his soft snores echoing through the receiver. I laid awake that night, never closing my eyes in fear that Spencer would wake again and need me again.

I cursed the world for yet again claiming an innocence that it had no right to take.