Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

-William Shakespeare

The attacks were getting more brutal. Angie knelt down, moving the hair out of the young woman's face. She was quite beautiful, this young girl, who couldn't be more than twenty-four. She was dressed in a pink jogging outfit. Angie struggled to hold back tears. She had never cried over a body before, but this one compelled her to. Looking at the young woman's face, still unidentified, she was racked with guilt. If only she had gone to the right park, maybe this wouldn't have happened. If she had only picked the right place, she could have caught the bastard that did those things and put him away forever. But she didn't.

"It's definitely the same guy," she said, hiding her face from the others. "The wounds on her wrists are identical to the others…" Something about this woman nagged at Angie. She felt as if she'd seen her before, somewhere else, but she couldn't place from where, or even if she really had.

"Liver temp indicates she died around three this morning." The M.E. pulled the liver thermometer from the woman's body.

Angie stood, staring down at the body with her arms crossed. "I feel like I've seen her somewhere before."

"Well, she does look an awful lot like the other victims… déjà vu, maybe?" Prentiss knelt down, her eyebrows knit together in concentration. "Looks like there might be a tattoo here…" she lifted the woman's shirt above her bellybutton.

Angie knew those tattoos. There were two on each side of the woman's stomach, each of two snakes twisting around each other. The tattoos began at her hips on both sides, and extended up and over to the back of the body. Angie didn't want to believe she knew the woman, but if the tattoos matched… "Turn the body."

The M.E. nodded, turning the body only enough to see the tattoos coming to an end at a point directly opposite of the starting point on her lower back. Angie released a sigh, her heart throbbing painfully. "I know her."

Spencer placed a hand on her shoulder, placing himself between her and the body. "Where from?" His eyes were wide, questioning.

"Her name is Aurelia Gutierrez. She's a performer for a dance troupe I saw a few weeks back. I spent some time talking to her after the show. Their tour ended a week ago. I didn't know she lived here, since she's from San Francisco."

"Are you sure?" Morgan searched around the body a second time, but there was no ID to be found.

"Positive. I'd recognize those tattoos anywhere. She's a new member of Zaghareet Malay. They're from Pasadena, I used to take lessons from the founder when I lived there. I almost joined the troupe before I went to law school."

Spencer nodded, his eyes cast down in thought. "Zaghareet? Isn't that the sound Middle Eastern women make?"

"Yeah…"

"I don't think I've ever heard that sound before," Tony said, surprising Angie from behind. She had called them as soon as she arrived at the scene.

Angie didn't get the chance to answer him, as Spencer responded for her. "It's this high-pitched lee-lee sound Middle Eastern women make. They place their hand horizontally over their mouth to hide the movement of their tongue."

Gibbs was standing not far behind Tony, his usual cup of black coffee in hand. Angie nudged Spencer to drop the subject. "Boss," Angie started, desperately changing the subject. "The victim appears to be twenty-four year old Aurelia Gutierrez."

"You find ID?" He asked, staring down at the body.

"No… I know her."

Gibbs looked up, his eyes stern. She felt as if he was looking straight through her, unraveling all her secrets. It was a look Gibbs was very good at. "Okay." He didn't push the subject, leaving Angie feeling slightly relieved. She didn't want to talk about it right then. It was strange that she felt so broken up in the first place, considering she had only met the dancer once.

Angie held her camera up to her eye, quickly snapping pictures of the crime scene. "Belly dancers!" Tony exclaimed from behind her, nearly causing her to drop the expensive piece of equipment.

"Excuse me?" Gibbs asked, eyebrows raised.

"Belly dancers. The zaghareet, I have heard it before. Belly dancers make it!"

Angie rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder at the sturdy Italian. "Yes, Tony, belly dancers do make that sound."

"I love belly dancers…"

Spencer and Morgan looked at each other, amused by the NCIS agent. Though they had not known him long, Tony's interest in women was becoming exceedingly apparent.

"Well good," Angie said, irritated and not in the mood for Tony's comments on women. "Because Zaghareet is a belly dance troupe."

"You took belly dance lessons?" Spencer folded his arms, surprised. She was half Lebanese, but for some reason she had never struck him as the belly dancing type. She seemed too into her career to have a hobby like that. But he knew from years with the BAU that profiling wasn't an exact art, and there were things that slipped past even the most experience profilers.

"Yeah," she answered, holding the young woman's head up while Prentiss searched around that area. "My grandmother on my dad's side taught me when I was little, and I decided to take different forms as I got older."

"Interesting…" Tony's face froze in that half grin, half thoughtful look he often used when thinking about a woman. "You never told us that."

"I told Ziva and Abby."

"Of course you'd only tell women…"

Gibbs smiled softly and said, "She told me."

"Well of course boss, I wasn't saying…" he stopped, feeling the hole he had dug getting deeper and deeper.

Angie tried to smile, but found it hard, given the situation. She had yet to come upon a case that influenced her so directly. Aurelia was such a gifted dancer, and a terrific person. Angie had only met her once, but from that short acquaintance she knew that Aurelia was a great person. It was such a shame.

&&&&

Several hours later, after the body had been sent off to autopsy and the crime scene thoroughly investigated by the capable minds of both the BAU and NCIS, everybody went back to their hotels. Everybody was frustrated by the lack of leads in this case. Nobody could find something to connect the victims. Garcia, a hacker that would give a thousand McGee's and Abby's a run for their money, could find nothing. Likewise, McGee found nothing back in DC, and wanted to join them. Gibbs said no, because somebody had to stay behind and work the computers. Ziva was none-too-happy to be staying behind as well.

Everybody knew this killer didn't care about the personal lives of his victims. He just drove around, looking for someone that fit his taste. Angie, laying in her hotel room, wondered what she would say to him when he was caught. It was always a shame when someone was murdered, but when she had a personal connection to them, it felt so much worse.

Sometime around midnight, Angie came to terms with her inability to sleep. It wasn't going to happen, not until they caught the killer. But she didn't want to sit around in her room until morning. Her mind could be put to some use at the police station.

Quickly she dressed herself and left, deciding she'd call Gibbs and Tony in the morning to let them know she had already left. The station wasn't too far, so she opted to walk instead of drive. The night was crisp, and a slight breeze sent chills through her limbs. It was actually kind of refreshing. Everything seemed alright, even though there was a dangerous man on the loose, looking for women that looked like her.

The station was darker than during the day, and there were only a few cops sitting around. The cops said nothing to her as she made her way to the room set up for their use. She was surprised to see that there was a light on inside it.

"Spencer?" She opened the door quietly, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. He looked up from a corner chair, a single lamp sitting next to him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, closing the file he was reading. He looked much thinner in the faint lighting, or maybe she had never noticed just how thin he was.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, closing the door behind her and crossing the room to him. He handed her one of the many files on the floor beside him. "Can't sleep?" She pulled a chair from the table and positioned herself next to him.

He smiled, leaning back in his chair and stretching. "I have a hard time sleeping during cases in general. I hate hotel rooms, though, so I came here. It's not like back home, where I can wander around my apartment. It's just one little room."

Nodding, she opened the file he had given her and scanned over it. Her eyes refused to process any of the information. Only when she realized she'd already read the folder earlier in the investigation did she place it back with the others and sigh. "I read the same sentence over and over again until I realized what it meant."

Spencer chuckled softly. "So… you doing okay?"

She looked over at him, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, why?"

"You knew her. You seemed pretty upset about finding her."

"I was. But it comes with the territory, I guess. It was just so… surprising."

The guilt Angie had been feeling about not being in the right place had yet to subside. She felt responsible for this, even though there was no way she could have known which park was the right one. Spencer sensed this, and without thinking, reached out and took her hand. She looked up, surprised, only to see he was just as surprised as she.

But she didn't pull away. He was so kind and intelligent, and his awkwardness was endearing. Most of the men she had ever dated ended up being jerks, but she had a good feeling about Spencer.

His face turned red. He tried to pull his hand away, apologizing, but she strengthened her grip. What she was about to do would end up doing one of three things: it would do nothing, and everything would stay the same; it would ruin their relationship, and they would have to work around an awkward tension; or what she hoped would happen, and he wouldn't reject her.

"Sorry, you just seemed upset, and I was just trying to help, I wasn't making a pass at you or anything, just being helpful…"

Angie lifted a hand to silence him and leaned forward. He was still trying to talk when she kissed him, but he quickly stopped, shocked. When he didn't kiss back, Angie pulled away, her hands shaking. She felt like she'd made a fool of herself, and that she had jumped to conclusions about his feelings for her.

"I'm going to leave now," she breathed, quickly jumping from her chair and all but sprinting across the room. She was mortified but what she had done. How stupid can I be? The last time I did something this stupid I was drunk and it was New Years. And it was Tony when the ball dropped. But whatever, he was too drunk to remember. Thank god. I would have never lived that one down…

"Wait," Spencer called when he was over his shock, stopping her before she could get out the door. He grabbed her arm when he got to her, spinning her around to face him. Her eyes were wide and apologetic, but they didn't need to be.

In a very out-of-character display of control, he put his hand on the small of her back and pulled her close, his lips pressed against hers. Her heart sped up, but she could feel his beneath his chest, beating furiously, like the heart of a young man who was having his first kiss. She assumed this wasn't his first kiss, but with Spencer you could never tell.

He pressed her into the wall with a ferocity she found exhilarating and unusual. He always struck her as the soft, gentle kind of kisser, but was quickly proving her otherwise. Not that she minded or anything, it was nice to see he had a bit of a wild side.

She felt his hands disappear inside her shirt, his lips trailing from her jaw to her throat. She knew if she didn't stop him now there was a pretty good chance they'd get caught. "Stop, stop," she gasped, pushing him away. "If we're going to do this, let's at least go to my hotel room."

He stared at her for a moment, registering what she was asking him. "Are you sure?" He obviously wasn't opposed to the idea, which wasn't surprising, given that he was endowed with a Y chromosome.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Do you have… um…" he seemed to be embarrassed to say "condoms", but she knew what he meant.

"No, actually…"

"I can run to the store to get them and meet you at your hotel."

She smiled at his enthusiasm and agreed, shutting off the light as he left. She could have gone with him, but wanted some time to prepare. She crossed the street and took off at a run, her heart fluttering inside her chest. It crossed her mind that it might not be the smartest idea to sleep with a guy she wasn't dating, but at that point she didn't care. Several days of pent-up sexual tension was driving her.

Coming to a stop at an intersection, she looked around. She waited for a few cars to pass before she stepped off the curve to cross the road. In sync with her foot touching the pavement, somebody startled her from behind, grabbing her around the neck and pressing a cloth to her mouth. She struggled against him and managed to get a few good hits in before her strength gave out and she lost consciousness.