Thank you to all who reviewed, including Atie, Kim and (not now a) First Time Reviewer! Thaks to those readers who have reviewed for the first time recently as well. Reviews are very much appreciated at the moment.

This will be the last of my long Criminal Minds fic, for a good six months (just clarifying that this story will be finished first!) as I want to work on some original writing and begin to approach agents. That means my head is wandering off into the next universe and I do need motivation to keep on track with writing this, so please review. I have some amazing readers who review every or most chapters and without them this story wouldn't be written (just to add at this point, I'm sat on my bed with a glass of water next to me, which one of my cats is now drinking from. Yuk!! How many times has she done that and I've not known, then drank from the water... I digress). So big thank you to them, and if you do lurk, now would be a good time to delurk and drop a review.

Thursday's update is in doubt as I've managed to get tickets for the Brian Cox lecture at Manchester Uni. I'll therefore post Friday, then next week post Monday then Thursday.

Thanks to Chiroho for the beta!

Enjoy!

Where the Blue of the Night

"I roamed the countryside searching for answers to things I did not understand. Why thunder lasts longer than that which causes it, and why immediately on its creation the lightning becomes visible to the eye while thunder requires time to travel. How?"

- Leonardo Di Vinci

Chapter Twelve

November 5th

It had been decided that Rossi and Hotch would travel immediately to the safe house, leaving Prentiss and Morgan to interview the parents of Matthew Horsfield and Amber Livesy. Morgan had seen some reluctance at first to leave Emily behind; just a small glance that Morgan recognised as suppressed emotion, but it was there nonetheless. It kind of made him happy to see Hotch like that, and to know that Emily had someone there for her in that respect. They'd bonded shortly after she'd joined the BAU, and she was close to Rossi, but it was platonic. The banter and flirting they had shared had always been enjoyable, but that line had never been crossed; the chemistry wasn't there.

But now Hotch was there, and he had seen in the split second look that had been thrown between the two that neither would be truly content until Emily was at the safe house as well. Although it would be a small contentedness. Morgan glanced at her as she checked her watch. They had sent a car to pick up Mr. and Mrs. Horsfield from their house a few miles away from where Matthew had been taken. They had moved and tried to get on with their lives. Mrs. Horsfield now worked in a school, while her husband had sold his business and begun training as a college lecturer instead. Maybe they were still looking for answers to their own problems, but whatever the case, when they eventually opened the door into the room where he and Emily were waiting for them, they looked a lot healthier than Evangeline Dwyer's parents had.

Morgan stood up at the same time as Emily, offering his had immediately. Their plan was to interview them together for the first ten minutes or so, then to separate them, with Emily speaking with Mrs. Horsfield alone. They weren't recently bereaved, although Morgan didn't know when you got over the loss of a child, so they wouldn't be reliant on each other for support, and given that the letters sent seemed to point the finger at one or the other of the parents, they figured that one of the Horsfields would probably have something to hide.

"I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan and this is Special Agent Emily Prentiss. Thank you for agreeing to come here at such short notice," he said, gesturing to them to sit down. "We know this is going to be difficult for you, but we need to ask you some questions about the days leading up to Matthew's abduction."

Their faces clouded slightly, although he knew they would have been ready for this.

"Have you got a suspect?" Mrs. Horsfield said. "We've been waiting years for this..."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Horsfield," Emily said. "But we haven't yet. Though we believe that we are getting closer."

"Then another child has gone missing. Is that what's happened?" Mr. Horsfield said, an accusatory tone to his voice.

Morgan nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid that's the case. We're not sure it's linked with Matthew's case yet, which is why we need to ask you a few questions."

Both the Horsfields were silent, waiting for the storm to begin.

"In the weeks before Matthew's abduction, did Matthew play out a lot in the garden?" Emily said, asking a question, which according to the file, hadn't previously been posed.

Mrs. Horsfield looked slightly confused and glanced at her husband. "Yes, he played out a lot, even on days when the weather wasn't very good. Why?"

"Did he ever speak to passers-by, people on their way to the park for example?" Emily said, not answering the question in order to keep the parents on track.

"Yes – he was a sociable child. Very chatty. It was worrying sometimes, but he didn't speak to strangers – he knew not to do that – just to people he saw frequently. We often saw the same people when we went to the park ourselves," Mrs. Horsfield said. "One man always used to give Matthew candy; good quality candy, not some cheap stuff."

"Do you remember his name, Mrs. Horsfield?" Emily said, pressing harder for information. This was the kind of thing they were looking for, someone who had befriended the children and not caused the parents any worry. Children often picked up on their parents' apprehension, and would react against someone who their parents didn't trust.

She shook her head. "No. It was only a couple of times, and he always seemed to just have candy on him anyway. I saw his wife telling him off for it once as he must have had a sweet tooth and was putting on a bit of weight."

Morgan exchanged a brief look with Emily. They'd discussed the possibility of the UnSub having been married, or possibly still married. It would provide him with cover; he would be unsuspected, and would have a perfect rouse for settling parents' apprehensions.

"Did Matthew ever talk about having an imaginary friend in the weeks before he went missing?" Morgan said. This would be the last question before they separated the couple.

It was Mr. Horsfield this time who answered. "He did. He called him Ronnie or Johnnie – something like that. I got a bit worried about it – I know better now." His smile showed the loss he'd had, and Morgan felt a pang of pity for him.

Emily stood up. "I think we could all do with a coffee," she looked around at them all. Morgan nodded along with the couple. "Mrs. Horsfield, would you come and give me a hand? I have a tendency to spill things on occasion." She channeled her awkwardness, a blessing at times like this, and had Mrs. Horsefield smiling with her. The two women left the room, leaving Morgan with about ten minutes to find out if the Horsfields had received any suspect mail.

"Women," Mr. Horsfield said. "They're all the same. She's a pretty one, your colleague. I bet she distracts a few idiots when you're questioning them, hey?"

Morgan had a choice here. He could either play the professional and brush over Horsfield's comments, or use them to form a bond. He opted for the latter and hoped both Emily and Hotch would forgive him. "Yeah, she's got a lot more than what it takes," he said, nodding. He wondered whether the remarks were telling about Horsfield's private life.

Horsfield nodded. "Is she single?"

"Why?" Morgan said, deciding that he wasn't playing along with it this far. "You're married? Why would you ask?"

"We swing."

This was going to be easier than Morgan thought.

"My wife will probably be asking your pretty colleague the same thing about you," he said. "But that's probably given you the wrong impression. There's nothing wrong with us, Agent Derek Morgan. We started swinging before Matthew was abducted; in fact we were out the night he was taken; Marissa's aunt was looking after him and she's almost deaf, which is why she never woke up. We stopped for three years after Matthew, then realised it gave us a freedom we didn't have anywhere else. It's safe, you know, and no one gets hurt. Most weekends – anyway, you want me to talk about Matthew..." he looked away, and Morgan could see the bravado that was acting as a screen to stop the real emotion flowing through.

"Before Matthew was taken, did you receive any mail that talked about what you and your wife were doing? Maybe criticising what you did?" Morgan said, cutting to the chase.

Horsfield looked up, he expression frozen. "Yes, but we never told anyone. It never mentioned Matthew, so we didn't think it was relevant. And it wasn't something we wanted people to judge us about."

"What did the letters say?"

"They would say what we had been doing that day; what time I would leave the house and who came round. They then referred to where we went some nights and what we did there – making insinuations. I thought it was some nosy neighbour who disapproved, so we didn't mention it to the police. It didn't seem connected – still doesn't." Horsfield looked at Morgan with an emotion in his expression that Morgan doubted was ever truly shown. "The other people whose kids have gone – did they get the letters too?"

Morgan nodded. "It appears so. Do you still have them?"

"No," he shook his head. "We kind of forgot about them after Matthew, and came across them again when we moved and got rid of them. I should've known to keep them."

"How would you know?" Morgan said. "It's unlikely that there's any forensic evidence on them that we could have traced anyway. But what you have told us helps to identify a pattern."

The door opened and Emily entered with Mrs. Horsfield and a tray of coffee. She shot Morgan a telling look and he gave her a swift nod in return. "I don't think we have any more questions for the moment, although we may give you a call at some point for more information, or to update you with anything we find," Morgan said, standing up. "I'll have Agent Rathmill come see you in a few minutes to arrange a ride back home. Enjoy your coffee in the meantime."

Mr. Horsfield stood up and shook Morgan's hand, then Emily's, giving her the same approving look he had done before. Morgan noticed Emily's almost off-hand stare, and wondered if she had been propositioned by his wife.

He followed her out of the room and into JJ's office. "I do not wish to speak about that interview in any terms other than that they did receive letters, and Matthew's abduction is similar to the other two." She shuddered slightly. "I really need a shower now."

Morgan stifled a laugh. "You heard anything about when the Livesys are coming in?"

Emily nodded. "They're not. Turns out they've moved to Delaware and Idaho – they split shortly after Amber's disappearance. The property in Manassas is rented out, although it's still owned by Jonathan Livesy. I've left a message for Kevin to track down current cell numbers for them both so we can get in touch if necessary."

"Then I guess we should head off to this safe house," he said. "Hotch instructed us to not hang around here any longer than we have to. Who's driving?"

"Me," she said. "I drive faster."

Morgan rolled his eyes; the safe house might be safe, but getting there might not be.

It still looked like a working farm, a tractor sitting stagnant between the barns and the main house. On closer inspection, it looked like any other farm, only one that had been carefully maintained, something a lot of farmers couldn't afford to do. The windows were new, there was no peeling paint, and the door seemed more solid than it needed to be. The single dirt road to it was lined with trees, fairytale like in their character, and the farmhouse and outbuildings were set in a clearing, with fields behind that roamed for acres.

Hotch had no idea how it had come into the property portfolio of the FBI, and knew it was something he would never find out. It didn't matter, really. It was, for however long, a beacon of safety, which only a handful of people would know about.

Rossi drove around the back, parking the Honda CRV in a garage that opened electronically. The renovations to the farm would have cost more than Hotch cared to think, but right now, he was thankful that someone had decided to spend the money that way.

All of his team would be there, including Will and Henry, and Kevin Lynch. Kevin was there for a couple of reasons; he practically lived with Garcia, and could well be on the UnSub's hit list because of their relationship; they also needed another analyst, and it was safer to have him with them than be communicating through lines that could be hacked.

Agent Boyd would be joining them, along with Agent Sylvester and Agent Deayton. Although Mansfield's team had consisted of nine members, only a few had been involved in the initial investigation into the letter and subsequent attacks, therefore Strauss and Mansfield's immediate boss, Ken Bower, had decided that only those three needed to get off the grid.

The building contained nine bedrooms in total, with three sleeping three people, four sleeping two, and two singles. It was a huge, rambling house that had had several extensions added at various times during its past, giving it a meandering feeling, with a couple of unnecessary staircases just there to confuse things. he had no idea who its previous owner was, but could assume it had been a large family with money, given the size of the extensions. The flooring and interior decoration were not in keeping with the design of the building. They had been chosen with a clientele in mind that was certainly not on a level with FBI agents, and under different circumstances Hotch would have quite enjoyed the plush surroundings. He wondered what strings Strauss and Deayton had pulled in order to arrange the use of this place, or what favours were now owed.

"It's pretty decent," Rossi said, once inside. "Better than some hotels I've stayed in. Better than some hotels we've stayed in. Remember that one in San Fran?"

Hotch nodded, suppressing the memory. "Only thing with a hotel is that we can go out where we like. Here, we're almost house bound. I can't see Morgan and Reid doing well after more than a few days."

"Reid's got some Star Trek convention to attend on the thirteenth too," Rossi said. "Morgan doesn't know, but he'll probably work it out before too long."

Hotch looked up at the ceiling, not relishing the torment that would take place once Morgan found out. "We need to have whoever's doing this in a nice, small cell before then, or I'll be going stir crazy. What are your thoughts, Dave?" Hotch sat down on one of the sofas in the main lounge, his bags and briefcase left at the doorway.

Rossi chose an old rocking chair, reupholstered in material that matched the curtains, and rocked slightly, looking out of the windows. "It's someone in the bureau who's able to watch us," he said. "For whatever reason they have a grievance against us. Maybe it's something personal, or maybe it's against the team as a whole. They haven't done anything so far to make me think it's one or the other."

Hotch thought for a moment. "Why do you think they targeted you and Emily this morning?"

"I don't think it was a specific attack," Rossi said. "I think we were followed, or he discovered our whereabouts. The vehicle was a sitting duck – it would have been all too easy for him to use the bushes as cover and attach explosives underneath the car and detonate them remotely when he saw us coming. I don't think it was meant to injure us."

"Then what's his goal? He doesn't want to hurt us, but he's possibly already killed one agent." Hotch dug his fingers into the plump material of the sofa arm.

"He's building up to something. It's psychological warfare. He will be watching our reactions and hoping to see us suffer."

"It's revenge," Hotch said, sitting up. "This is revenge for something. We have done something that's made him suffer slowly, so he's wanted to put us through the same thing. Mansfield must have come close – or the UnSub thought he was close – to working out who it was that had made the threat."

"You like him for the other agent, don't you? The one in Chicago?" Rossi's eyes were focused out of the window, and Hotch knew he was plotting a mental map of the area, making sure he knew all the weak points of the place they were in.

"Possibly. I'm still waiting for the files to be sent over. And for the ballistics report on Mansfield ." He pulled out his cell as a brief vibration told him he had a message. "Emily and Morgan have left. They should be here in just over an hour."

"Good," Rossi said. "Then we can pull straws on who's cooking. Have they provided any food for us?" Rossi stood up, leaving the chair rocking violently. "Do we even know who they are?"

"Strauss said that a range of ingredients had been delivered as soon as they knew the farm was going to be occupied. If we need another delivery we have to email a list of requirements to her and she will forward it," Hotch said, following Rossi into the kitchen.

They opened a couple of cupboards, looking at the array of ingredients. There would be enough to satisfy most appetites, even Morgan's, although he was slightly concerned about the quality of the cooking.

"I might make a lasagne," Rossi said, pulling out a few things. "Nothing like a spot of cooking to focus the mind."

"I'll leave you to it," Hotch said, not sure if he was relieved or not. "I'd best check out the bedrooms and see if I can figure out some form of allocation that will keep Reid and Morgan from maiming each other."

He walked up the first set of stairs he came to; these were a small spiral, the plastering coarse instead of smooth. They led up to an area of the second floor that was one of the oldest parts of the house; the windows were smaller, and even with the recent renovations, it had an eerie atmosphere, probably given by the low ceilings and visible wooden beams.

The bedroom doors were all unlocked, not needing keys, and the doors were open, letting the air circulate. A faint smell of fresh paint still lingered, reinforcing the fact that they were the first set of people to use these premises since it had been refurbished. The first bedroom he found contained a double bed, although the space around it was minimal. There were built-in wardrobes and drawers which made the best of the space and a small en-suite with a walk in shower.

He had a dilemma. It would make sense for him and Emily to take one of the three doubles, with JJ and Garcia having the other two. Or there was the option of giving Emily the double and him taking a single, which would leave either two of Boyd's men or Morgan and Reid to share. Still considering it, he left the room and checked out the others, mentally allocating them, and coming to a decision. Everyone who was at the safe house was aware of their relationship, and for them to sleep separately would seem odd, as if they were trying to hide something. If Emily was happy with it, they would take the smallest double room.

There were three rooms on the second floor designed as study or recreation areas. Two were lined with shelves filled with hardcover books; the third was smaller with a desk and the necessary wires and outlets for a computer with internet access. A tiffany style lamp was on a small mahogany table in the corner, lending a peaceful atmosphere with few distractions.

Hotch looked out of the window, admiring the view back along the almost-road they had driven down. It was hardly visible through the trees that hadn't yet lost all of their leaves, and for a moment, this could have been a holiday home, a retreat from chaos and exhaustion. But it wasn't, and that was why no one would be able to see him right now, if they chose to look up at the window. The windows had all been tinted; there would be no clear shot available to anyone standing outside.

He felt more reassured than he had done a few hours previously, knowing the precautions that had taken place to get them here safely. He also knew that their UnSub would have figured that something unusual was now happening, and was likely to begin to feel frustrated. As far as he was concerned, they had moved off the grid, and he wouldn't be able to track them electronically, or in person.

But Hotch knew they couldn't protect everyone. Their lack of presence put others at risk. He wouldn't want them to think that he had stopped just because they weren't there. He would try to find other ways to punish them, until eventually they had their showdown. And that was what he was aiming for: a captive audience who had to listen, and then pay for the injustice they had caused.

The next few days would be spent looking through specific members of the bureau that had already been narrowed down and considering whether they presented a risk. It would be tedious job, and at the end of it, might not even lead them to whoever was behind the attacks and threats, but it was something to do. There would also be time to look at the reports on Mansfield's murder and see if they led anywhere.

Hotch left the room, wanting to bring up his bags and leave them in the rooms that he had designated for himself. It wouldn't be long before Garcia and Kevin arrived, they being the first to leave, and he wanted to be have organised himself by then, ready to take on what the evening brought.

Please review!

Sarah x