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Reid walked into the empty Conference room, throwing his bag on the table and sitting down. He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking about the tragedy that lay in his book, which was sitting on the table back at his apartment. He'd unfortunately forgotten it on his way in. Hotch had sounded very solemn when he'd called to tell him to come in. Well, more solemn than usual.

He stared up at the empty screen that adorned the room, remembering each and every face that had appeared on it in the years he'd seen it. Each and every victim. He could remember their stories, their pain… and the satisfaction he'd felt when they were able to close each case. When they'd caught the UnSub, gotten the victims or their families the closure they needed.

He'd been thinking so hard about it, his brain moving so fast, he hadn't heard the door open, and hadn't seen JJ walk in and sit down next to him. Though he did snap out of the reverie when he felt a hand on his shoulder, startling him and causing him to jump.

"Spence? Are you alright?" she asked.

"Of course. Why?" he responded.

"I called your name three times and you didn't hear me."

"Did you? Sorry. I was just, uh, just thinking," he said quickly.

"Uh-oh," a voice called from the doorway. "That can't be good. Who let the genius think?"

"Hey Morgan," JJ said, rolling her eyes.

"Morning Princess. Pretty boy," Morgan said, winking at both of them.

"I've told you before. Don't call me Princess," JJ said, crossing her arms.

"Ooh, alright. Don't want to mess with you, anyway. Not after what you did to that UnSub last week," Morgan grinned, plopping down next to them at the table. "He's probably still nursing those injuries."

"What can I say? I was taught well," JJ said.

"The student became the master," Reid remarked, nodding.

"And the student could probably kick the master's ass," Prentiss said, walking in with Garcia.

"Yeah, sorry gumdrop," Garcia said, patting Morgan on the shoulder. "Our beautiful blonde here could most likely take you."

"Whoa, hold up. I can still hold my own," Morgan said defensively.

"I'd put my money on JJ," Hotch said, passing through the doorway with Rossi just behind him.

"Thank you," JJ said as Garcia began to set up the case for them to view.

"Sorry Morgan," Rossi said, smirking over at the Agent, who was looking slightly bewildered.

"Wait, wait. I-" Morgan started to say, before Hotch cut him off.

"Morgan, we're starting now."

Morgan sat back and crossed his arms as Garcia went around, passing out the files they needed.

"Oh, stop pouting," Prentiss said, before she was too silenced by Hotch's stern look. She kept an amused expression on her face as she flipped open the file she'd received, but it quickly faded as she took in the information contained inside.

Garcia stepped back up to the front and grabbed the remote for the screen, where a few pictures popped up. "In the last two weeks, there's been a recent string of murders in northern Maryland. The first, William Evans, aged fifty seven. He was the founder of a large nonprofit charity benefiting Alzheimer's. He was also found dead in his home office by his wife."

A large picture popped up then, showing a man with slightly greying hair wearing a suit and tie, slumped over a desk full of papers. "It says here that he was poisoned," Rossi said, flipping to one of the pages in the file.

"Correct-omundo," Garcia said, pushing another button and making a picture of a tipped over glass of scotch enlarge. "There was a good amount of poison found in his daily after work evening drink."

"At least he had good taste in scotch," Rossi remarked quietly to himself.

"The next victim was Joseph McAllister, better known as Joey. He was forty two, and a veteran police officer of twenty years. He was shot as he was leaving a bar with a few of his work buddies a week ago, and died before he made it to the hospital."

"What connects it to the other death, though?" Prentiss asked.

"Hold your horses. This gets freakier before it makes sense" Garcia said seriously. "The last death occurred last night. It was that of Alicia Jenson, thirty one. She was a researcher employed at a local university, and she had converted her garage into a home science lab. She was killed when an explosion went off."

"Alright, again. How do we know that was murder? And how do we know they're all connected?" Morgan asked, as the picture of a burned building popped up.

"The roses," Reid said, having read the farthest into the file.

"Indeed. That, my friends, is how we know they're all connected, and they're all murder. Six hours before each of the victims were killed, there were roses delivered to them and their closest family members," Garcia said. "The victims each got a red one with the attached note saying 'My Apologies', and the family members got a white rose with a note saying 'My Condolences'."

"An UnSub who apologizes in advance?" JJ asked skeptically.

"Since when have we had an UnSub that's considerate of others?" Morgan asked.

"It could be a female," Prentiss said.

"That's true. Statistically, females are much more likely to feel remorse for what they've done," Reid said quickly.

"But a female most likely wouldn't be trying all these different forms of killing," Hotch said.

"Then again, who would be?" Rossi asked.

There was a moment of silence, before Hotch said, "It's not far enough to take the jet, so we'll drive. We leave in half an hour."

They all packed up their things and left the room, going to find their go bags, Hotch and JJ calling to say they wouldn't be home. The mood was much more grave than it had been. Reid was the last one to leave, again alone in the room. Before he left he looked back at the screen, where the pictures of the victims and the crime scenes were still displayed. Three more names and faces to add to the ones stored in his brain.


He slowly pulled his car over and parked on the side of the road, producing a pair of binoculars out of the black bag on the passenger's seat. He wished he could have gotten closer, but the entire road was blocked off due to his… handiwork. This would have to do.

He pressed the binoculars to his eyes and surveyed the house and the newly blackened and burned garage, which were surrounded by crime scene tape. A few officers and detectives were still there, observing the crime scene investigators who were picking apart the ruins of the 'lab'.

He watched for a few minutes more, taking pleasure in watching the chaos and the ruin he'd caused, before a large, black SUV pulled up. Two people got out and quickly made their way to the house, flashing badges when they reached the crime scene tape.

Their appearance practically screamed 'FBI'. One was tall and stern, wearing a suit and tie and seeming to be in charge. The other, darker skinned and quite muscled, looked like a force to be reckoned with.

Perfect. He set down the binoculars and laughed. In fact, he couldn't stop laughing.

They'd called in the FBI. He'd have to step up his game. They'd be tracking his every move, of course. But that wasn't a problem. He always ensured absolute perfection.

He was more eager now than ever to have another victim to target. He could do a lot now. He put his car back in drive and pulled away, still laughing, off to see his boss for his next target.

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