She sometimes wanted nothing more than to turn to alcohol or perhaps drugs. Just something that would let her escape from her obsession. Another vice would be a glorious escape right about now. He kept baiting her, luring her deeper and deeper into whatever sick game he wanted to play with her. The BAU was her last hope; if they didn't see the link then it wasn't there and like so many said she was just 'grasping at straws'. She doubted her sanity more often than she wanted to. All the logic and training in her told her that nothing was there. These were just sad people who needed to escape. But then something that she couldn't ignore would appear. She'd abandoned everything to follow this case, her husband, her family, her friends and her career. The case now defined her completely and utterly. She was chasing her tail again and again and again knowing she was dancing to his tune but she was under the spell. Something was so intoxicating and alluring about this figure; they didn't fit into any book or trend, this person was… unique. If she could just have five minutes with him, even just a single question. She knew she'd get some of the answers she craved. But for now she stared at the paper clippings on her bed. Looking for a link or pattern that would stick. She knew that if she looked hard enough there would always be links, but she needed the right one.

Flashes of faces blurred in her mind, victims became friends and friends became victims. Her eyes and body screaming for sleep. She forced them awake though. The BAU could and would help her more but after seeing the look on Agent Jareau's face she knew she needed something and that something had to be solid and concrete. They were trying to help but they looked at her like she was going insane, they pitied her single minded obsession. She would too if one of them had come in with a case like this. Her father had his own case as did her mother, that one case that was always with them that their seemed to be no solution too. Of course the fact her father had solved his case while he was retired in the south of France, as always proving he was a far superior detective. She wondered if it was a curse, that one case that stayed with all officers until justice was served. It was just her luck that she'd have a case that nobody else could see. She shifted the papers aside, a mother here, a son there; a charity worker next to a priest that lay next to a hooker… this person had no pattern. She ran a hand through her hair and rested the file she'd been pouring over bed before walking to the kettle that was perched against the TV of her motel room. She clicked it on as she rested her elbows on the counter and grasped her hair.

"Pull yourself together." Her voice sounded weak to even her own ears. She'd been staying at this motel for two weeks now, searching for this monster. A far cry from her comfy two bed-roomed apartment that she once shared with Phillip. He'd be at work now, saving the day one insurance claim at a time. The rain had finally stopped not that she'd noticed it start in the first place, but as always she'd missed a simple joy because her mind was on her case. She pulled her hair out of the band that kept it on a tight bun on her head before putting it into a low pony. Sleep was what she needed now; the victims would still be dead in the morning. She poured the latte mixture into the plastic cup and filled it up as the kettle finally boiled. A series of mundane tasks that reaped a reward that in her eyes was just what she needed. There was a knock on the door and a voice called

"Las toallas limpias." She turned to the door as there was another knock and this time a cry of "Clean towels." Her mind was dulled by the long night and the work, she only realised the fact it was five in the morning when she opened the door. The figure covered her mouth as she panicked they walked in and kicked the door shut behind her. She swung hitting them and they stumbled back but still turned the latch.

"Hello DI Morrison."

"How... don't try anything." Her mind locked into defence mode, she'd been to the self defence classes and now just had to pray they actually worked.

"I don't plan on." He said rubbing he jaw as he pulled the cord on the blinds "Oh no... We are going to have a talk."

"Who the hell are you?" Her eyes went to the mace on her bed wondering if she could grab it in time; she doubted that she could beat this figure in a fair fight, if they even had the courtesy to fight fair. She kept her body positioned to pounce if the figure tried anything at all

"You've been chasing me for a long time." Her face relaxed slightly as she took the figure in, he smiled slightly slipping his hands into his pocket. He was nothing like she expected, thin and well groomed. He looked at her intently saying "Hello Rachel."

"Who are you?" Most people felt like this when met with rock stars or idols of some sort, she was trying to wrap her head around the idea that finally she'd gotten him. He was in her reach less than three meters away from her.

"Call me Robert Letterman. It's not my name anywhere but here. So Rachel... you have something you wanted to ask me? A few things in fact. Actually I've got a jolly good idea, you don't call the police and we have a talk."

"A talk?"

"I'm unarmed... you have little to fear from me. I just want to talk. I'll be honest but will not tell you my name or where I'm from..."

"Why do you do it?" The words tumbled from her mouth; she was desperate to know, to know everything about him. He just chuckled gently and she felt like he was patronizing her, which he was.

"Because they let me." He said "I wish I could give you a story about how they where all secretly aliens or maybe that they raped and killed my mother. But alas I cannot. My turn... why are you so obsessed with me?"

"You killed my brother."

"This isn't some film Rachel." He raised a finger and slowly moved it from right to left and back again smiling at her. "I am not secretly your father or a spy. I never had the chance to meet your brother." He lowered his hand and grabbed a wicker chair by the window; he moved it in front of the door and sat down still grinning. "He just happened to kill himself when I was in town... I did have something to do with you're neighbours death though. So sorry about you finding the body, he kept missing..." He began laughing "I mean he had a shotgun and couldn't aim into his own head." She was horrified if that was the word, his eyes where bright and smile wide but he wasn't human. A human couldn't laugh at the idea of death like him. "So really your revenge was wasted. You could have had a normal life." He leant forward resting his head on his hands. "Shame about that. But then again... your life has never been normal Rachel... poor little Rachel, always the second, your brother was the favourite wasn't he? A lazy, deceitful little boy who mother and father loved more. Did that hurt? Oh wait... it's your question."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what? Please be specific when asking your questions."

"Kill them." Her anger flared as she moved towards her phone, those few centimetres seemed a lifetime all of a sudden, if he saw her he could easily overpower her and she didn't trust his mental stability. At any second he could snap and go after her.

"I don't kill anybody."

"Yes you do."

"Don't raise your tone with me." He stood looking at her, eyes sharp and narrowed, this was Robert or whoever he was, cold, calculated and evil; the whole charismatic and calm persona was a joke. A mask he wore and she saw that. She wondered if anybody ever saw it or just his victims. He settled back into his seat "I have never killed anybody… I think. They do it themselves."

"How?"

"My turn, what did you think about your brother being the favourite?"

"We where loved equally."

"Liar." He yelled laughing slightly "Tell. The. Truth." He said slowly, drawing out the words in order to twist the knife in deeper. "You hated him and it felt good when he got onto the drugs didn't it? The all powerful, always good little boy finally showing his true colours. Come on tell me." His words were tumbling out in rapid pace as his hands dug into the sides of the chair, he was excited and his face sung about the sick fantasies he had inside.

"No… it was… it…"

"There we go... hesitation at last." He licked his lips like he was savouring a great victory on his account, he relaxed back into the chair a much more controlled smile forming on his face "You liked it didn't you? You horrible person, you adored it. Your own brother needed help and you were rejoicing in the fact that your parents were paying attention to you."

"No it wasn't like that."

"Oh but it was… but then he died. Killed himself in fact and all of a sudden you don't like the attention. Mother and father want so much after they ignored you for so long. Admit it you hate them as much as you hate yourself for never matching up."

"No." She snapped as tears glistened on the corners her eyes, she didn't know how he knew about Billy's drug problem after all so few people did. Her father had made sure nobody knew, the shame it brought was enough to make even her father falter.

He was smiling at her internal conflict. He'd grown bored of her, he had new and shinier toys that where just aching and begging for him to ruin them. It was enough to make his mouth water, so many new toys, a little chipped and broken but the fun they would have. The issue was they weren't taking the bait and this called for drastic measures. He'd have to break his old toy in order to get them to listen and pay attention, it was a necessary risk but all the same he wasn't particularly thrilled about it. He'd even leave them a message on the mirror. If that didn't work nothing would and he'd not be in the finest of moods for a long while. But this way she would die a beautiful death and oh how it would be beautiful. She wouldn't be the heroine in the story of his life, her time was up and she had little to fear from him anymore; she'd be the catalyst a way to get his story to move on. A shoddily thought of scenario that seemed inevitable now he considered it. If he was able to read his life like it was a story he'd probably shoot the author for bringing in such an obvious plot device but it worked all the same. It would bring the BAU to chase him at last, he would be able to bring the final chapters to a close and see if any of them was smart enough to take him on. He very much doubted it. After all he was… unique.

Sorry about the long delay I've been very ill recently so have been unable to update, I would like to thank one reviewer for their very nice comments which helped me pull myself out of bed and write this. They know who they are and have my dearest thanks.