Thank you for the review, and to Atie, notafirsttimereviewer and Kim as well! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter!

The next chapter will be posted Monday, and at this point, I'd really, really like to thank my beta Chiroho. (Since he hasn't had the next chapter sent yet, he'll know why I'm creeping!)

Where the Blue of the Night

"The personal life deeply lived always expands into truths beyond itself."

- Anais Nin

Chapter Fourteen

November 5th/6th

Rossi's lasagnes, he'd made two that were now cooking happily in the oven, should have been creating a warm, comforting atmosphere. He'd used a tried and tested recipe that included alcohol you wouldn't find in a restaurant version, and the smell, as he'd voiced loudly, should have been bottled and sold.

It wasn't, however, creating such an atmosphere. Everyone seemed a little too fractious, maybe due to hunger, maybe through the fragmented and hectic day, but whatever the cause there was more bickering than normal.

Emily sat on the same sofa Hotch had been sitting on earlier, glaring at Reid who had been at his most irritating since getting there. JJ and Will had taken Henry to the room that had been allocated to them by Hotch, the largest of the three, leaving Reid in Emily's care after what had seemingly been a fraught journey. Agent Mansfield's death had not yet sunk in, its ramifications only just rubbing on the psyche of the team after a day that had been unprecedented. Emily could see that Reid was struggling to deal with aspects of what had happened, devolving instead into a babbling fountain of useless information, and clearly agitating for an argument.

"Spence," she said, trying to break into his monologue for the third time. "Why don't you go unpack, check your room out, and grab a little downtime?" She didn't go for subtlety - there was no point with Reid.

Reid fell silent, looking at her with some disdain. "Morgan suggested the same thing..."

"We need time to get our heads around this," she said. "Things have happened very quickly today, and we're going to be spending a lot of time here. Together." She emphasized the final word.

Reid stood up. "I guess I should unpack. I'd like to look over some of the files we have on potential suspects after dinner, and that smells like it won't be too long. Did you..."

"Spence – go," she said quietly, standing up herself. "We all need some time to ourselves." Another wave of exhaustion was hitting her, and she knew she needed to grab some sleep, even if it was just thirty minutes before dinner. The evening was not going to bring respite; they'd want to focus on both cases, ready to formalise a profile now they had more information.

He sighed, avoiding eye contact as he was want to do when struggling with the thoughts in his head and how to verbalise them. "This didn't seem real until we left to come here. It seemed like another case. But now, this place, being in what feels like the middle of nowhere, highlights the situation we're in, and suddenly I keep thinking about what would happen if one of us was attacked and seriously hurt or worse."

She sat back down again, giving an internal sigh. They had all at some point, thought about the same thing; a worst case scenario where one of the team was hurt, but it wasn't advisable to dwell on such a thing, it could induce paranoia which could end up making it worse. "We've been in situations before when one of us has been on the receiving end of something bad," she said. "But we've always got through it. What you've got to think about, Reid, is how we can stop this UnSub before he gets to us, and you've got to think of where we are – he won't be able to track us down here. We're basically in witness protection with bells on."

"I know, it's just..." he thought pensively. "It's just the toll this is taking. We haven't been at home properly in what seems like weeks. I'd just like some semblance of normalcy for a few days; some time to do what I normally do, without Morgan breathing down my neck or trying to get me to admit to doing something." He stopped, seeming shocked at his rant. "I'm sorry, Emily, I shouldn't be venting this at you. You have the same thing to deal with yourself."

Emily shook her head. "Spencer, it's fine. And you may feel like you have to do that again over the next few days, get a few things off your chest. It's not going to be plain sailing being here."

"Have you thought that this might be for more than just a few days? If the UnSub can't get hold of us, or track what we're doing, then he may just go to ground," Reid sounded panicked now. "We could be here for weeks."

"I don't think so," she said. "We still have the other case to pursue. Alfie Fletcher is still missing – we won't be able to stay here all the time, nor are we expected to. And if it looks like our UnSub's going quiet, then I'm sure we'll try to lure him out."

Reid looked unconvinced. He began to walk to the stairs, his expression showing his preoccupation. Emily wondered whether she had said the right thing, or whether she should have directed him to Hotch or Rossi. She stood up again, and made her way through the adjoining rooms to the kitchen, where she could hear Dave singing along to some big band number that he had on the radio.

She paused at the doorway for a moment, watching him mix butter with garlic, then spread it on thickly sliced scali bread. The aroma made her mouth water and she glanced at the clock to see what time it was – Rossi had promised dinner at seven.

"Spying on the cook won't make him work any faster, you know."

She laughed quietly, entering the kitchen properly now. "Have you managed to conjure up a dessert?"

"Zabaglione, with a twist as there was no dessert wine and nothing that resembled lady fingers."

"So it's not really zabaglione then, is it?" Emily said. "What's your take on what's going to happen?"

Rossi shot her a look that made her raise her eyebrows. "Do you and Hotch think I have a crystal ball or something? I don't know," he said, then sighed. "I think we'll get him before too long. He'll either go quiet now he can't see us, or it'll make him find other ways to try to scare us, and I suspect the latter."

"You'll think he'll work out where we all are?" she said, peering into the over where two lasagnes were finishing browning. "As in, we've been moved into a safe house?"

Rossi shrugged. "You can turn the oven off while you're looking. He'll know we've been moved. He's already proved that he's not stupid, but there's no way he should be able to locate us. This place isn't even on the Bureau's books, and there's no computer trail to it because that would defeat the object of it."

"But we're still going to have to leave here to carry on with the Alfie Fletcher case. He may well be able to track us down then," she said. "Although, he'll find it hard to predict our moves."

Rossi opened the second, small oven and turned it onto the broil setting, pushing a pan with all the garlic bread slices under it. "We're just going to have to do what we do best, and work out who it is."

"You been through something like this before?" she said, querying Dave's confidence.

"Almost. It was a good few years ago, and I had a stalker whose behaviour was becoming so unstable I had to stay at a friend's house for a couple of weeks so she couldn't work out where I'd gone. It was resolved in the end – just like this will be." There was something in his words that she couldn't quite believe, and she wished he would stop trying to be reassuring and just be realistic instead.

"You want me to go get everyone for dinner?" she said, her eyes meeting his and she knew he was aware of her lack of confidence in his words.

He nodded. "Yeah. By the time everyone's been separated from their files and laptops it should be pretty much done."

She gave him a quick smile and left the room, anxiety starting to gnaw away.

Morgan had to admit that Rossi was a good cook; the lasagne tasted as good as it had smelled and there wasn't a scraping left. They'd eaten together, although he doubted that it would be a regular occurrence. Three big cases in a matter of weeks meant that they'd already spent more than enough time in each other's pockets, and sharing meal times would be pushing it a bit too far. As a rule, time away together was easy to deal with; everyone got along; there was no antagonism, nothing that was intentional, anyway. But they needed their personal space, and that was now extremely limited, even in a house as big as where they were now.

"We should go through where we are with both cases," Hotch said, an empty plate in front of him. "I know Dave has made something for dessert too, but if his main course is anything to go by, I'll need to lie down and rest after eating it, so we should talk now."

A nod of agreement went round the table like a Mexican wave.

"Let's start with the Alfie Fletcher case," Hotch said, casting a look at Morgan. "What are your ideas so far?"

"All of the families live near parks. They share several things in common; they're affluent; live on roads which are used to reach the parks by both motorists and pedestrians; three out of four have received correspondence from an anonymous writer in the months preceding the abduction that never mentioned the child at all, but recounted the adults' movements, including mentioning affairs. Two families reported clothing going missing, but that seemed to be accounted for," Morgan said. He glanced at Prentiss who was picking her nails nervously.

"There was something else that came up. All three children – Alfie Fletcher, Matthew Horsfield and Evangeline Dwyer – reportedly had a make believe friend named Ronnie or Johnnie," Emily said. They'd figured it out in the car driving to the safe house, going over nuggets of information from each of the three sets of parents, Emily cross referencing Rossi's notes as Morgan drove. "It seems too much to be a coincidence. We appear to have a man or a woman who has befriended these children as they either passes by their houses, sees them in the park, or both. This likely accounts for why no noise is heard when the children are taken – they trust him."

"We're looking for someone older, between forty and fifty five, who has the patience to plan and build a relationship, and who probably has cover in the form of a partner. They're likely to be physically fit and socially adept, keeping themselves well exercised through walking," Morgan said, his finger tapping silently against the side of a glass. "We cannot specify a gender, although this may well be the work of a predatory paedophile and is more likely, therefore, to be male. The abductions have all taken place on different nights, giving no hints as to a pattern of work. They may well work nine to five, or shifts, but what we do know is that they have the time to watch the family and make observations about them." He glanced at Emily.

"The two bodies that have been found so far give no clue as to the cause of death, but do suggest that they were killed around two weeks after being abducted, and then dumped immediately. The killer knows what he is doing, is intelligent, and is well organised," she said.

They both looked between Rossi and Hotch.

"If we look at the victimology," Hotch said. "What comparisons can we see?"

"The children are from a similar background, social class and area. They could certainly be classed as privileged," Reid said, leaning forward. "They're all around three years old, but different genders and physical features, and that's what bothers me. Even if a paedophile wasn't gender specific, and three years old is about the upper limit for that, studies have shown they would still have a preference for looks; blonde hair, blue eyes; brown hair, green eyes – these four children don't bear any resemblance to each other, suggesting he doesn't have a type."

"That's not unknown, Reid," Morgan said. "And it may be that it's not the way they look that draws him to them. It may be their upbringing that he finds attractive, or simply the way they present themselves. He could see himself as their saviour, someone to show them the real world, and after he has built up a relationship with them, he perceives them as being in love with him."

"But we're no clearer to gaining a more thorough understanding as we don't yet have enough information," Hotch said. "The list of names and descriptions you got from Alfie's nanny – can we ask the Dwyers and the Horsfield's to do the same? I know it's a long time ago, but we may be able to get a matching description. It may also be worthwhile canvassing the park where Alfie was taken regularly. See if anyone there recalled someone paying special interest in him."

"What I don't get," Morgan said. "Is the gap between the body being dumped and the next child being taken. What does he do between times? There must be something else to keep his interest."

"That's the worry; there may be children he has access to and that's enough until he meets 'the one', who he pays special interest in," Rossi said. "We should look at the local schools and kindergartens for any reports of inappropriate interest being taken in the children there, particularly ones that have been withdrawn."

Morgan saw Reid look at Rossi questioningly. "If they were withdrawn," he said. "It means that someone may have persuaded them that they were overreacting, or they thought they had taken something the wrong way."

"As a parent," JJ said. "You don't want to think that you have done anything, however inadvertently, to put your child in danger, so sometimes you persuade yourself that everything is okay even if your instincts tell you it's not. Quite often, you can react first, then think you've overreacted."

Reid nodded. "I guess there's quite a lot of avenues we can be pursuing."

"We'll contact the Dwyers and the Horsfields in the morning and have them picked up and taken to a meeting room in Lees Town," Hotch said. "That's about a half hour's drive from here. Agents Manning and Evans will canvas the park, and I'll see who else can be spared."

"Could I not go?" Reid said. Morgan looked at him closely. "It's unlikely our UnSub will think of looking for me there."

Hotch raised his eyebrows and glanced at the table. "I would like you to continue looking into possible suspects for 'our UnSub', as you put it, but I don't see why you shouldn't do that in the morning. Prentiss and Morgan can switch places with you in the afternoon."

"Then I'll go with Reid in the morning," Rossi said. "I wouldn't mind some fresh air, if that's okay."

Hotch nodded. "JJ and I can start sifting through the files on the agents who fit our profile so far. To recap, we think it's a male, between the ages of 30 and 50, who has worked for the Bureau for some time. He has expert knowledge of explosives, and, from the post-mortem report on Agent Mansfield, he is a good shot as well. He is most likely single, or may have suffered a break up that could have been the stresser for his recent behaviour. He is intelligent, but perceives himself to be more intelligent than he actually is. For some reason, he bears a grudge against the team, and is seeking revenge. He is mission orientated, and will not stop until he has completed his agenda."

"We're talking half the Bureau there, Hotch," Morgan said. "Is there nothing further to narrow down the perimeters?"

Garcia nodded. "We've covered that, Derek, through looking at people who are based currently at Quantico, and have undergone training on explosives."

"We can narrow it down by job type also," Emily said. "Whoever it is can't be a current field agent. They need a job that is more flexible. If they were tracking our movements yesterday, they knew when we were taking out one of the pool cars and followed us, possibly through the car's GPS system. That's not someone who has appointments or is out on a case. We should also look at agents who have recently been on sick or compassionate leave and have had the time to plan this, and study us."

"We could be missing the boat completely, and it may not be an agent, although I agree it profiles that way," Morgan said, sitting back in his chair. He was trying to push the situation in Utah out of his mind, knowing he couldn't afford to deal with that right now. "Organised, slightly ruthless, Machiavellian personality type, skilled with technology and weapons – we can assume that – and has the inside knowledge on us as well. Plus he passed on his letter to someone who works here – he knew who the canteen assistant was."

"We need to look at all options, I agree with you Morgan, but like you said, the profile suggests another agent. This is someone we know, someone we have passed on the corridors or shared an elevator with," Hotch said. Morgan say him glance around the table. "We are considering whether this could be a stalker. After looking at us individually, not all of us would be an ideal target."

"I wouldn't," Emily said. "I'm too much of a nerd. I've had the occasional suitor who won't go away, but it's never lasted long. I don't think my behaviour can be misinterpreted, although with a stalker, they will often interpret behaviour to how they want to see it."

Morgan looked at the table, not wanting his colleagues to know how he was analysing them. He listened to what was being said around him as they each speculated on their potential to be stalked. "It's Hotch or JJ," he announced when a speck of silence fell. "They would be perfect targets because both have slightly introverted characters, and are easier to misinterpret than say Prentiss or I. Hotch has a position of authority, while JJ is the face of the BAU. I know we're looking at someone who very likely knows us better than that, but if this is someone who passes us in the corridor occasionally then they might not know that much more about us than what they can research – they just have added resources."

"Thanks, Derek," JJ said, giving him a sideways glance down the table. "That really helps make me feel reassured, you know?"

He chuckled. "You want me to take up some of those files and go though them?" Morgan said. He had seen the pile that had been brought over by Kevin and Garcia, and knew that more had been added to it since Garcia had set up her computers.

Hotch shook his head. "Not at the moment. We need to understand that we are safe for tonight, and the next few nights, until we have caught him. The fewer people who read the files the better, although when the pool has been narrowed down, we'll go through them together. We're hoping that the UnSub tries to get in touch with one of us or Agent Boyd's team soon. It's doubtful that he won't make contact. All emails are being monitored, so we will see what arises." Hotch glanced at his watch. "I think it's time to sample the last of Dave's cooking." Morgan saw a look pass between the two men that suggested Hotch wanted this wound up. There may be more to discuss, but Hotch didn't want to, or wasn't in the position to share.

Morgan put the look out of his mind, and decided that for the next half hour he was going to push aside all thoughts of the case and concentrate in something else instead. Before he went back to his room and researched the evil that some men do.

Emily was reading in bed when he opened the door to the room she had agreed to share with him. Hotch had spent the last two hours in discussion with Agent Boyd and Agent McAllister, the latter via a conference call, going through what had been discovered by forensics from Mansfield's apartment. There were no fingerprints, bar one, a most unusual finger print to have found, and questions would be asked by McAllister in the morning.

"Hey," Emily said as he sat down on the bed. She put her book down and sat up. He caught the title and saw that she was reading one of Rossi's. He suppressed a smile. "I thought you might have been longer than this."

Hotch undid his shoes and pulled off his socks, aiming them in a ball towards the laundry basket that was in the corner of the room. "I think Boyd's at his limit for one day," he said. "And there's only so much of McAllister that anyone can take."

She nodded, picking up the glass of water next to her and sipping from it. "How is Boyd?"

"He's doing what any of us would do; holding himself together until we catch this guy and then he'll probably collapse," he said, undoing his shirt buttons. He could feel Emily's eyes on him and he wondered what she was thinking. He turned around, stretching up the bed towards her. "You're still fine with us sharing a room? There's a single still free - I can take that."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Aaron. Just tired, like the rest of us." She lifted a hand and brushed her fingers through his hair. It was a gentle touch, a comforting one and it seemed to pass on a calmness he hadn't been feeling for some time. He took her hand in his and brushed his lips against her fingers in a soft gesture than made her face break into laughter.

"What's so funny?" he said, sitting up and taking off his shirt.

She shook her head. "You... me... this, I guess. You know, how different we both are."

"Are we?" he said, not convinced.

"In some respects, yes. I think after I speak a lot of the time, while every word you use has been thought about before you lips even open – typical extrovert and introvert examples. I didn't even think when I touched your hair, yet I know you would have made a distinct decision to take my hand," her eyes softened.

He had made that choice, a conscious one, although it had been made quickly. She wasn't used to receiving such gestures, even though she would give them. Hotch rested his head back against the pillow, turning to look at her, but keeping his hands to himself. He could ask her questions, ones that would tell him more about her personality, allowing him to analyse her further. But now wasn't the time; instead they needed to simply let the other be. "I did make a decision," he said. "And that's why you shouldn't doubt that being here isn't what I want."

She nodded. "I didn't doubt it, Aaron," she said. "But however impulsive I can be, it doesn't mean that I haven't reconsidered my actions over and over again. If I didn't want to be here, or you to be here, I would have said so by now."

A small smile escaped his lips.

She switched off her bedside lamp, leaving his as the only light in the room. "Now hurry up and get changed. Then you can get in bed," she said. "And I had thought about that carefully, so you'd better not disappoint me by being slow."

He did laugh this time, quietly, so as not to disturb Morgan who was in the next room. "And that, Agent Prentiss, is something I'd rather not do."

Please review!

In answer to Kim's question, I write crime fiction, hence deciding to write Criminal Minds fanfiction. I wanted to practise balancing plot with character, and hopefully, over the course of these three fics, I've got that balance right.

This story is likely to be fairly longish. I think we're looking between thirty and forty chapters. The chapters aren't as long as usual, mainly because I don't have as much time at the moment (I teach and we're approaching exam season) and I still want to post regularly. The pace of this story is different too, so sometimes it's more appropriate to have a shorted chapter – you kind of know when to end it.

Hope you're enjoying! Please do drop a line and review!