Thank you for reviewing the last chapter – your comments keep me writing! I find it much easier to write in the winter as I'm not tempted to sit outside in the garden, so I do need that extra encouragement.

I'm away at a wedding in one of the most English of English villages – Marlow – this weekend, so there may or not may not be an update on Sunday. I will try to post something on Friday, even if it's just a1000 word chapter, as I'm trying to update frequently.

Thank you to Chiroho for the beta!

If you haven't heard, CBS are cancelling A.J. Cook's (JJ) contract, and she'll be appearing in just one episode next season and then exiting the show. They are also intending to 'significantly reduce' the number of episodes Paget Brewster will be in. A petition is on the internet, and currently has around 40,000 signatures; if you want to keep these actresses and characters on Criminal Minds, please do sign it at world wide web dot

Where the Blue of the Night

"They flee from me, that sometime did me seek,

With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.

I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,

That now are wild, and do not remember

That sometime they put themselves in danger

To take bread at my hand; and now they range,

Busily seeking with a continual change."

- Sir Thomas Wyatt

Chapter Twenty Five

Five years previously

He watched as she came into work for the first time, her hair a strange shade of purple with streaks of peroxide. He didn't understand why Agent Hotchner and Agent Gideon had agreed to allow someone like her on their team, especially when someone said that she'd been recruited because she'd been hacking into systems that she shouldn't have been able to access at all. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

It was three months since he'd applied for the post of working with the BAU as their technical analyst. He was more than qualified for the role, and very flexible as he'd already proved in his current department. But he'd been passed over for it; Hotchner explaining that he hadn't demonstrated the skills they needed, but he'd failed to say exactly what those skills were.

And now they'd recruited someone like her: Penelope Garcia. The name sounded wrong, didn't sound professional enough, or precise enough; and looking at her, he could see that she wasn't professional or precise, shooting a big grin at Derek Morgan.

JJ seemed to like her though, and that made him think that this Garcia was okay, possibly. Of course, JJ was probably too kind to see how unsuitable she was for the team, how she'd end up causing them problems. No doubt those problems would be covered up, else Hotchner's job could end up being on the line.

"Hey," he turned and looked at the object of his annoyance. "I'm Penelope Garcia. I hear you're the resident computer genius. It's nice to meet you." She was offering a hand.

He ignored it, giving her a smile that he knew looked fake. "Hi, Penelope. It's nice to meet you. Give me a shout if you need any help with the systems, but I'm sure you'll be okay given your experience." He let his tone cut sharply.

She looked hurt, and he felt enjoyment at the small victory. "Thanks, Dan. I'll see you around."

He watched her walk away, her rather large backside looking hideous in the pink skirt, and he wondered whether the job he wanted would be up for grabs again in a few more weeks.

November 8th

Rossi hadn't slept much. He'd returned to the safe house later than he'd expected, coming in half way through the meeting. Once it had ended, he'd rustled up something that resembled food and found a quiet spot away from the melee to puzzle over his thoughts. They'd been varied, wavering between the disappearance of Alfie and the murder of Jennifer Keeley.

Geoff Thompson had lawyered up immediately, which had been no surprise, and after the initial declaration of innocence, he'd shut down any form of communication. Rossi had then headed to see Juliet Fletcher, who was seated in her garden with Janine. She'd shown no surprise at what Rossi had told her, that her lover was suspected of murdering Jennifer Keeley, but neither had she said anything.

It had been an uncomfortable half hour, sitting there trying to gain information, and he'd learnt more than what Ms Fletcher had given away. The delay in reporting the abduction to the police had not been because of the threat to Thompson's career or marriage, but because he'd already acted on his gut instinct - that Jennifer Keeley was responsible. They needed more evidence, but it had now been handed over to the local PD, and the investigation would be their responsibility, as Rossi had informed Ms. Fletcher.

Morning hadn't broken well. It was raining, a cold hard rain that fell heavy against the windows and would make sitting in a car feel like being in a tin can. The journey ahead of them was a fairly long one, an hour or more depending on traffic and necessary precautions to avoid being followed. The need for privacy had gone with the body being discovered in Thompson's lake, and they were to brief the local police on the case so far.

Strauss had been against it when Hotch had spoken to her the night before. She was concerned with their safety, and suggested that information was given via a video link instead, and only one or two of them did the talking, provided contact. He could see where she was coming from. The media interest would begin, their profiles would be raised, and then their own UnSub would know they hadn't disappeared off the grid.

It was that which concerned Rossi. He couldn't decide whether it was a good thing to seen again by the UnSub or not. Something told him they needed to find a way to flush him out of the woodwork, to take that risk, otherwise they could spend the rest of their lives cooped up like this.

Footsteps hurriedly made their way into kitchen where Rossi was sitting, half way through a his second cup of coffee. Hotch looked pale, even slightly grey, when he entered, his eyes dry through lack of sleep.

"What happened?" Rossi said, standing up.

"There's been a letter sent to Prentiss, delivered in the early hours of the morning. It has to have been a Bureau employee who delivered it, as it was left on her desk around the time the security cameras went down when someone hacked into the system. It's just been emailed to me now," Hotch put the piece of paper on the breakfast bar next to where Rossi was standing.

"It was addressed to Emily?" Rossi said.

Hotch nodded. "I've been through every employee of the Bureau, and no one stands out, Dave. It shouldn't be that difficult."

"To catch a killer you have to think like one. The issue is we have too many people in that place who have the characteristics of criminals, they just chose to use them for decent means instead." He began to read, noticing how Hotch turned away.

After the first read, he looked at Hotch hard enough to make him raise his eyebrows.

"How much of this have you read?"

"Enough," Hotch said, his voice low so as not to disturb those who were still sleeping.

Rossi flicked his eyes between Hotch and the letter. ""Dear Emily,"" he began. ""I would like to congratulate you on your recent relationship with Agent Hotchner, although I did think it was against the code of conduct to engage in non-work related encounters with a colleague. I find it rather ironic that after many years of unsuccessfully trying to find a man you consider worthy enough to be your lover, you happen upon a man with as much emotional depth as a the ones you were previously dating. The difference is that this one covers it up with a suit.

"You're probably wondering why I've decided to write to you, of all people. You haven't been with the BAU that long, but you have still managed to do as much, if not more, damage as the rest of them. The rule has always been the same: no fraternising between colleagues. It's there for a good reason; if people are infatuated with someone they work with, then they won't do their job properly. I'm a living testament against that theory. I've worked with the person I've been in love with for the past six years, and I have never made a mistake.

"I don't do mistakes, so please don't be waiting for one to happen in order to make your move. You only have so much time left, too, but you don't have the brains to realise that yet, in fact you've not realised a lot. Maybe I need to spell a few things out for you, but I need to start by getting something off my chest first.

"It was your fault in the end, Agent Prentiss. It was all down to you. You probably didn't even realise till now who this was all about; I bet Rossi thought it was all about him as he always does, but it wasn't this time.

"I don't want to hurt anybody, and I'm sorry that yourself and Agent Morgan were injured enough to warrant hospital treatment. But I need you to realise how much damage you, you all, have caused.

"I want an apology. I want my chance. Then everything can be made right. But I don't have all the time in the world, and I'm sick of waiting." "Rossi finished reading the note out loud. "Is this a direct attack at Emily?"

Hotch shook his head. "He's blaming her for something, like he is everyone else. We'll need to speak with Emily, see what she remembers, although this will have likely come from nothing."

Rossi nodded, agreeing. Their UnSub was inherently paranoid, with a fixation on the team, or possibly an individual within the team, as they had summarised before. A stalker, whose object of affection had escaped him. And now he had a plan for revenge. "Do you think this is the same guy who killed Mansfield?"

Hotch looked thoughtful before speaking. "I don't know. It might not be. The fact that he's asking for a chance would suggest he doesn't think he's done anything wrong. But if he's so fixed on this goal, anything lost on the way there is merely fallout, unavoidable wastage." There was a pause.

"You want me to speak with Emily?" Rossi asked carefully.

"I think that would be best," Hotch said.

"You're not avoiding her, are you?"

He looked at the floor. "No. I probably appear to be a complete bastard at the moment though."

Rossi shrugged. "Perhaps. But this isn't because you don't have those feelings for her, is it? This is entirely the opposite."

Hotch's silence told Rossi all he needed to know. "I don't know if I'm the man she needs," he said finally.

"That depends," Rossi said. "On whether you're prepared to be or not."

The hospital was like any other, really. It loomed ominously against the skyline, its 70's concrete never attempting to blend in with the trees that stood around it, looking like Lego models in comparison.

The parking lot was busy, which was the norm, and suited him perfectly. He had spotted the FBI car that was here to collect the remaining agent and take him back to the safe house. It would be his only opportunity to find out its location, of that he was certain. Even if this case they were working on brought them into the public eye, he could be sure that the highest security would be maintained.

They'd know by now that he was a Bureau employee based at Quantico, and all eyes would be on people who were absent at the times events happened. He'd had this day booked as leave for three months, a coincidence maybe, but it seemed as if fate was smiling on him. He'd hacked into the hospital files, having taken several pages from Garcia's book in recent months, and he'd easily worked out that Morgan was a patient here, given the medical information. Anybody looking for him would assume he was at home and logged on to his computer there, given the amount of activity that would be going on with his email and other online projects. He should stay overlooked for a little while longer.

He saw Morgan at the hospital entrance. He was smiling at the agent he was with. Agent Llewellyn – someone you'd only smile at if you were desperate or incredibly happy. He guessed Morgan was happy, having been out of action for the past few days. In his eyes, Morgan should have been out of action and facing a disciplinary hearing after what had gone down in Utah. It was all round the Bureau now, the story being retold in varying forms. Sometimes Derek Morgan was the hero, and in other versions he was the villain.

What would Morgan be next, he wondered, as Morgan got into the car, Llewellyn driving.

He started the engine. This would be interesting.