B for Beck

by Assbitch67

Beck has had her life planned for her whether she liked it or not... But for some reason it all just keeps going to shit. Maybe it has something to do with her ability to kill a full grown man with a paperclip and snipe a grape inside a shot glass from nearly 6 miles away. But, hey, the cute Doctor at the BAU that doesn't know how to carry his Revolver seems to tolerate her.

4. Blunt

Blunt

•••

"You can find anyone that will tell you want you want to hear, but the only one worth valuing is the one that tells you what you need to learn." - Shannon L. Adler

—

ONE MONTH LATER

—

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

God, what if she said something stupid?

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Or said something she definitely wasn't supposed to?

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Shit- why was it so cold in this fucking waiting room.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Excuse me, Miss...?"

Beck's head shot up from where it was hanging between her legs. The receptionist at the front desk looked... agitated. Maybe she hated the cold office just as much as Beck did.

"Ryder," Beck supplied the woman behind the desk.

She nodded and typed something on her keyboard. "Alright," she turned back to her with a plastered smile. "Chief Strauss will see you know."

Tap. Tap. Tap-

Beck shot up from her chair and straightened out her blazer and shirt.

Fucking finally.

The brunette slowly made her way down the hall towards the glass case Chief Strauss called an office. It reminded her of Hawks' old office at the CTU only... brighter. More windows. Maybe that was a sign of some sort. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should just call this whole thing off and-

"Agent Ryder," the soft spoken blonde woman in a pastel pantsuit greeted her from the office doorway, ultimately thwarting her plans on running away.

Beck plastered on her best smile and nodded to the Section Chief. "Chief Strauss."

"Come in." Beck awkwardly shuffled into the office and stood there, stiff, in the middle of the room as if waiting for Strauss' permission. Eventually, she granted it to her as she made her way to her desk. Before she sat, she gestured to the two chairs in front of her space. "Please, take a seat."

The brunette took a seat- a little too quickly to be considered as someone at ease in her surroundings. Strauss took notice.

"You seem nervous," she noted.

Beck shrugged. "Well, this is my first job interview- like, ever."

Strauss' eyebrows furrowed. "You were never interviewed for you job with the CIA?"

"Not exactly," she winced. "They trained me from when I was a teenager in a special program that I'd been recruited into at a young age, fresh out of the foster system."

"Is that what happened? Your files were very... vague. One might call your background open-ended," Strauss told her. "Though, the tidbits I could pick up on from your time at the CTU were quite impressive. Not to mention the successful results from the job I'd hired you on. Agent Gideon gave you a stellar recommendation in his report on the incident, even after you'd been hired to hunt him down."

Beck shifted in her seat. "Is, uh... is that why I'm here? Because of Agent Gideon's recommendation?"

"Well... that. And because there's been a vacancy within the BAU. One he thought you might be able to fill... with time."

Beck tilted her head in curiosity. "What's the position?"

"Unit Chief of the BAU," she answered her with a boasted chest.

"Isn't that... Agent Hotchner's job?"

Beck watched as Strauss took a deep breath in followed by a heavy, exasperated sigh. That was odd... Did she sense tension within the unit involving the Section Chief and the rest of the team- specifically SSA Hotchner. Perhaps that was what those loaded looks she'd caught the team give one another back at Gideon's apartment when she'd mentioned who had hired her.

"For the time being," Strauss sounded bitter in her answer. "Unfortunately, I along with other higher authorities among the Bureau fear Aaron Hotchner has lost his touch with how things are supposed to work around here. To be frank, we've been looking for his replacement for some time now."

"And you're considering me...?" Strauss nodded. "Ma'am with all due respect- I'm literally the last choice you should be considering for such a position of power... I- I have little to no experience with this kind of specific line of work, nor do I have the extensive experience needed to qualify for this kind of leadership position-"

"Agent Ryder-"

"Not even mentioning the fact that I have no idea who or what this team is all about. What their names are, how they operate, what their group dynamic is-"

"Agent Ryder-"

"And sure- I look great on paper and in what little capacity you've seen of me out in the field. I know my way around military-grade weapons, can talk my way through any yellow tape, and have the resourceful capabilities of nearly half this Bureau-"

"Agent Ryder-!"

"But you throw me in the ring- the field- alongside that team with me as their leader- I can't promise there won't be casualties," the anxious brunette finished with a resigned sigh.

"Which is exactly why I specified the words 'with time', Agent Ryder. This transition of power will take time," Strauss explained in an attempt to calm her nerves. "But first, I'm enlisting your help to push SSA Hotchner into an early retirement, which will take- as I said- time and extreme attention to detail, but I believe you have the skill and patience to-"

"Wait, wait, wait-!" Beck quickly interjected as she leaned forward in her seat. "You want me to work for you within the BAU as some sort of... double agent?"

"Well, you are trained in extensive undercover work, are you not, Agent Ryder?"

"Yeah for special ops and international cases against drug lords or terrorist cells- not a single unit within the FBI," she insisted. "Listen, Chief Strauss... I don't know what kind of domestic dispute you have going on within your own unit, but I want no part in it. Maybe you should just... sit down with the team and have a long therapeutic discussion to settle your problems. Not try to enlist the help of someone like me." Beck was quick to start to leave the room just as quick as she had been to sit in the chair. Whatever this offer was, she wanted no part in it. But for some reason, she was still compelled to stop when she heard Strauss call her name.

"Rebecca!"

She halted in her tracks just before she'd reached the door. Every logical part of her brain told her to just keep going. To ignore this woman's offer and just walk out the door and never think of it again. It was just a stupid job at yet another stupid unit. There would be more opportunities like it knowing her array of skills and how good she looked on paper and on the field (she wasn't wrong about that part).

But this job was different... wasn't it?

This job was gratifying. The feeling of knowing she stopped one of the most prolific serial killers, well, ever, was the most satisfying feeling she'd had in such a long time. This job, in the short time she'd gotten a taste of it, actually made her think. At the CTU, it was all about planning and being a brute and pushing papers and every so often she'd have to calculate a trajectory for a good shot from a couple miles away. But other than that... there was nothing that really challenged Beck. But this job did.

"Agent Ryder..." Strauss called out to her once more. This time, she turned to glance at the Chief from over her shoulder. "After the CTU, you are in dire need of something to do... Your eagerness for this meeting was a clear sign from that. You enjoy what you do, and I can guarantee a spot for you on this team, but only under my conditions."

"Play double agent to get your Unit Chief out of the picture long enough for me to take his post...?" Beck prompted in a dark tone laced with skepticism of the Section Chief's clearly shady deal. God, she wasn't seriously considering taking this fucking deal... Was she?

Strauss slowly stepped around the edge of her desk to take a seat on the corner, her arms crossed over her chest and the ghost of a smug smile gracing her lips. She looked like the cat that caught the canary... or, more like the canary that had somehow managed to put a leash on the cat. "Don't think of it as something to deal... Think of it as a job you're being hired for, but one that comes with benefits for yourself. A quid pro quo..." Slowly, the woman stalked forward... Beck had to think, maybe she was the helpless canary in this situation. "So, Agent Ryder, have we come to an agreement?"

Beck closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath.

This was totally going to come back to bite her in the ass. But honestly... she didn't care much anymore.

When she opened her eyes again, her hand was already gripping Strauss' in a firm shake. "Yes, we do."

Strauss released her hand and smiled. "I'll be in contact with you soon about when you start."

Beck gave the woman a stiff nod, her eyes falling down to her feet as she dragged them towards and then out of the door. As she made her way out of the building, she briefly passed by the receptionist's desk again.

"Have a good day!" The bubbly young lady behind the desk chimed.

"Fuck off."

—

Beck found that Strauss made good on her promise. In fact, she got that call about her official first day at the BAU almost 6 excruciating days later.

She had just been finishing up moving all her shit back into her old apartment she'd had when working with the CTU. She figured she might as well move back in if she was going to be working with the Bureau now. It wasn't the CIA, but Quantico wasn't that much further of a drive in the more Southern direction.

It was a little difficult moving all the furniture back in from the storage unit when all she had was her and her bike, but with enough patience and a rental moving van, Beck had managed to restore her apartment's former glory of what was made from an 18 year old living on her own for the first time. It still held a childlike environment. The pinball machine in the corner was still up and running with her high score she'd gotten when she was 20 still glowing at the top of the screen. Her bookshelf full of sci-fi novels, movies and DVD TV shows all neatly organized by color, series, and alphabetical order was back to it's place on the far wall away from the terrace door. And the dozens of lava lamps and LED fairy lights spread about each and every room that made the apartment seem more like the inside of the Enterprise Bridge. Her kitchen was stocked full of microwavable noodles and frozen pizzas, three entire cabinets dedicated just to chips, candies, and cookies.

Then was her room... All there was in there was a large king sized bed in the center of the room with basic black sheets and a comforter. There were two night stands on either side and a vanity at the far end of the room, but other than that, her room was as basic and underwhelming as they could come. Not even a picture inside.

Beck let out a heavy sigh as she glanced at the room from the doorway. She figured maybe a lava lamp here or there or even a plant would suffice, but she just... didn't want to touch it. Something about the separation between where she slept and where she lived just made her want to keep it untouched.

Her inner turmoil about her sleeping arrangements were interrupted by the feeling of her phone buzzing in her back pocket. She knew better than to check the caller ID and answered after the first ring.

"Ryder."

"We have a case. I want you to join the team for it."

Normally, Beck would've made a witty comment about the lack of the word 'please', but she didn't exactly like Strauss enough to bother. After all, the woman was having her slither into this team as a double agent so it wasn't exactly all fun and games as she'd hoped getting this job would be. If anything, it was a mission. Not one she was fond of either.

Beck answered with a resigned sigh, already in movement to get her go bag from her closet. "When and where?"

"Portland. Today," Strauss replied shortly. "The team has been informed that you'll be joining them. I trust you know the way to the office, but you'll have to use a guest ID until we've issued you your official Bureau credentials. They'll be waiting for you then."

The brunette was already slinging her duffel over her shoulder, her free hand coming out to snatch up her keys, wallet, and gun as she made her way out off the empty room. "Alright. Will I be seeing you there?"

"Briefly. I'll be meeting you to escort you in, but I wouldn't count on me being there long, so no need to manage your micro-expressions when around me, Agent Ryder."

"It wasn't my micro-expressions I was worried about, Chief Strauss," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. Which wasn't a lie. Truthfully, she just didn't feel like having to deal with her anymore than she had to.

"I will be expecting a full report on the case and anything note-worthy about Agent Hotchner's behavior and leadership afterwards." Oh, there was the kicker. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," she begrudgingly grumbled before ending the call and shoving her phone in her jacket pocket. As she was on her way out of the room, she made sure to quickly grab her earphones off her counter and her helmet right beside it. She hoped to whatever higher power was that Quantico had as good of a security presence in their parking garage as the GBC because if her baby had even a scratch on her when she got back, everyone in that building would be a target and she'd be sure to make it look like an accident.

—

Today was the day. Today was quite the day.

Penelope Garcia had had it marked down in her calendar since the beginning of the week when Strauss had first notified Hotch about the new development in an after-hours meeting- that she totally "hadn't" eavesdropped in on. Apparently, they were getting a new team member. All she heard was a last name, though. But, the curious kitten that was Penelope Garcia wasn't going to give up because of her lack of information on this new team member.

So, naturally, the following few days she had been digging and digging through the system for any new credentials that had been entered into the system and low and behold did she finally find someone.

"Rebecca Ryder," she announced excitedly as she rushed into the office space she'd known to call home for the past few years.

"Who?" Her favorite Agent (possibly favorite person) perked his head up from the newspaper he'd been reading as she'd entered. Derek Morgan- or as she affectionately called him; her Chocolate Thunder- furrowed his thick eyebrows as she waved around the small stack of files in her hands. The rest of the agents at their collective desks turned their attention to Penelope as well.

She beamed at her favorite team of people. "That's her name. The new team member that's joining us today. Her name is Rebecca Ryder. And guess what- she's from the-"

"CIA?"

Penelope's smile fell as her eyes darted down at the resident genius in the room. Spencer glanced up at the bubbly blonde, his eyebrows furrowed in a way similar to Derek's. "How did you...?"

"Agent Rebecca Ryder of the Counterterrorism Unit with the CIA," Derek hummed, discarding his newspaper onto his desk as his attention was now fully on this new development. "Yeah. We've met her. She held me at gunpoint the first time we met."

Penelope's brief look of surprise morphed into that of anger. "I'm sorry- she what?" What psycho bitch was pointing guns at her Baby Daddy? And to think she was excited to have another girl on the team.

"Calm down, Baby Girl. It was to catch a mole in the CIA," Derek assured her, his hand coming up to pat her arm to try and calm her down. "Remember that case? You got access to their database for a whole day."

Realization set in then. "With the- with the two security guards that kept watch on JJ and I!" She snapped. Oh yeah, she remembered this case.

"Yeah, you tried to find out what Prince William's phone number was before they locked you out of the system," JJ chuckled fondly at the memory. "You probably added your name to a few other lists that night."

Penelope groaned. "Don't remind me, Jennifer," she retorted to the blonde.

"So, the new team member Strauss talked to Hotch about is someone from a previous case?" Emily chimed in from where she sat at her own desk. She'd swiveled her chair to face towards the conversation just like Derek had.

"Well, you've met her, too, Emily," Spencer told her matter-of-factly. "She was the one leading the team that Strauss had hired to hunt down Gideon."

"What? How horrible is this woman?" Penelope gasped. "First, holding my Derek at gunpoint, now you're telling me she tried to hunt down Gideon? What else did she do? Kill a few puppies along the way?" When no one answered, her anxiety spiked momentarily as panic set in. "Please don't tell me she's killed puppies."

"I doubt it. But I don't doubt she hasn't killed quite a few people in her days with the CIA," Derek remarked as he leaned back in his seat.

"Oh, you're not wrong about that," Penelope grimaced as she held up the file in her hand she had brought in. "Everything about her past with the CIA is sealed. And I mean- someone locked everything about this girl into a box, swallowed the key, burned the box and scattered the remains at the bottom of the ocean. She practically doesn't exist and all that's in this measly little folder is all I managed to dig up after five excruciating days of digging. Honestly- my fingers hurt from all the typing."

The rest of the team all shared loaded glances back and forth. It seemed as though they were as curious as she had been with the mystery that was Rebecca Ryder.

"So," Emily leaned forward in her seat. "What did you dig up on her?"

Penelope smiled at the brunette. "Well, according to her surface profile provided by the CIA, she is 24 years old and from San Antonio, Texas. She was adopted by an Army General- Phillip Ryder- and grew up on base for most of her life, up until she was recruited by the CIA CTU at 18 where she worked profusely until abruptly resigning a year ago for reasons clear to all of you, but not to me. It's- as I said before- sealed," she read off from the papers inside of the file in her hand.

It was JJ's turn to furrow her eyebrows in both confusion and perplexity. "18? Why so young?"

"Also in her file is that she was apart of a special government program that basically trained her from a teenager up until she was a legal adult to be the perfect candidate for the Agency," the other blonde explained. "Something odd- apparently she was provided a private education, only it's also recently been sealed... Manually, too."

"She did it herself maybe?" Emily shrugged.

"Why would she want to hide her education, but not her family?" Derek crossed his arms over his chest as he tried not to think too hard on something he clearly wouldn't be getting an answer on anytime soon.

Spencer shrugged. "I don't know, but I do know she prefers the name 'Beck' instead of Rebecca. She told me when I'd first met her back on the case with John Summers, Hassan Nadir, and Bruno Hawks," he remarked. "I thought it was curious because most women who choose to shorten their more feminine name to a unisex, more masculine, nickname tend to do so reluctantly due to an overuse from a male family member. But she was away from her adopted father and siblings due to her program and I noticed that Bruno Hawks had called her 'Becca' and not 'Beck.'"

The team members around him all glanced amongst each other, unsure of what to make of the Doctor's word vomit... Which was a normal occurrence, of course.

Derek chuckled. "Very interesting, but what does her nickname have to do with who she is?"

"Nothing. I just thought it was interesting that she falls into the small percentage of women that choose to willingly go by a masculine nickname instead of go by nicknames given to them by father figures-"

"Okay, are we seriously trying to profile our newest team member instead of focusing on the case we're undoubtedly about to be briefed on as soon as she gets here?" Emily interjected. "Is this what you did when I first joined the team? Dig up dirt then try to profile me before I even have time to break in my desk?" She shook her head and chuckled as she leaned back in her chair.

Penelope grimaced.

"...maybe."

"Garcia!"

The group all laughed amongst each other, save for Spencer who still seemed to be hyper fixating on a certain letter in his hand in front of him. No one else took notice of the odd behavior from the young doctor because once their laughter died down, their eyes were drawn to the office doors that JJ was gesturing to.

"Look," the blonde jerked her head in the direction. The rest of the team turned their attention to where Strauss was walking in, a large pile of files in her arms as she made her way around most of the desks and up to the walkway leading towards Hotch's office. She was speaking over her shoulder, specifically to the short woman trailing behind her wearing all black. This was her. Rebecca Ryder.

Of course, the first thing Penelope noticed was just how short she was. She looked to be just a little bit taller than five feet, even with the heeled boots she had on. She was just an inch or two shorter than Strauss herself, but from the way she was walking, clearly she had enough confidence to be a seven foot body builder with the way she held herself. Her posture was one thing and her fashion sense was another. Next to the horror stories she'd already heard about this girl, Penelope was terrified even further by her choice of clothing. All dark. Black boots, black skinny jeans, a navy blue V-neck, black leather jacket, even a pair of black sunglasses that sat at the bridge of her nose that she slowly slid off to rest in her pocket the closer her and Strauss got to the office. Even her hair looked to be a dark jet-black pulled into a ponytail, her bangs bouncing with every stride she took.

"She's so... short," Penelope remarked as Strauss and Ryder entered Hotch's office.

JJ snorted beneath her breath. "That's our cue. Come on, guys. Might as well set up the office for briefing our new addition." The blonde pushed herself from off the edge of Emily's desk to start towards the Bull Pen. Emily and Derek gathering their belongings to follow in suit. Penelope was practically shaking in her brightly colored heels with the excitement she was feeling now. Or maybe that was terror, she wasn't too sure. Either way, she was so caught up in her nerves that she almost missed the way Spencer seemed to linger at his desk while everyone else had gone.

"Hey." His floppy head of curls bounced as his eyes shot up to hers. "Everything alright?"

Spencer nodded. "Uh... yeah. Just thinking is all."

Penelope let out a heavy sigh and offered the doctor a sad smile. "About Gideon?"

He nodded again, a small frown forming on his lips as he pocketed the piece of paper he'd been toying with the entire morning. "I miss him."

"Me, too," she replied, her hand coming up to pat him on his boney shoulder. "Now come on, Brainiac, just because Gideon is gone doesn't mean the creepy killers stop."

Oh, how right she was.

—

"Hotchner. I presume you've already acquainted yourself with Agent Ryder," Strauss plastered on her best fake smile as she gestured between the two stiff agents, one of which towered the other by a good two to three feet. God, Beck hated being short.

"We've met, yes." Hotchner extended a calloused hand towards her that she was hesitant to take, but thought back to what Hawks had once told her; that the eyes weren't the windows to the soul, the handshake was. His was firm and short. As soon as he shook her small hand once, he let it drop, making sure not to linger. Clearly he was in a foul mood, whether it was because of her or something else was unseen.

Beck didn't bother to plaster on such a fake smile as Strauss had, but settled for an awkward half smirk that seemed more genuine. "Pleasure to be working with you again. Glad it's under better circumstances than the last time." He nodded in agreement, but didn't seem to relax his posture at all. Hm... he wasn't one for reading between the lines. She'd have to go for a more direct jab... "I heard about Gideon. I'm sorry. I knew how good of an agent he was." Hotchner's jaw clenched if only for a second and Beck had to refrain from smiling. There it was... He was pissed about Gideon, clearly. Which, in turn, probably made him a little upset about her. It was in her best interest to maintain these walls seeing as he probably saw her as some sort of replacement for his old friend. Oh, how wrong he was there...

It wasn't a lie that Beck was sorry about Gideon. Strauss had told her earlier in the week that Gideon had left shortly after giving her a recommendation for the job. Beck figured Hotchner was only willing to allow her onto the team solely because of Gideon's recommendation. Hm... Gideon was both a divide and a bridge between her and Hotchner. An interesting development.

"Well, Agent Hotchner, I trust you to take care of one of the CIA's best operatives. We're lucky to have her," Strauss boasted to the Unit Chief. Beck grimaced at the bragging. God, she hated it. Reminded her too much of how proud Hawks of was her every time he introduced her to high class colleagues that would visit the CTU from time to time. The last thing she wanted was another Hawks in her life.

When Beck opened her eyes again after grimacing, she noticed Hotchner's watchful and stoic gaze on her. He must've seen her reaction to Strauss's bragging. Beck's eyes flew to the ground. Great, he clearly already saw a crack in the wall she was trying so hard to uphold. Why'd she let her guard down to the point where she let him see her so open and blatant distaste towards that little thing. The average person wouldn't think to look too deep into it, but this was a profiler. Someone literally trained to dig deep into the most miniscule of reactions and behaviors. Great... Already, this little mission was off to a rough start and she'd have to be more careful with her micro-expressions. Boy, had she misspoken on the phone with Strauss.

Just then, there was a knock on the door of the office. All three people inside turned to see a slim blonde in the doorway, a stack of files cradled in her arms. Beck didn't immediately recognize her until she suddenly remembered that same head of hair being attached to the woman in the interrogation room with Jane a month ago. Her eyes trailed from Strauss, to Beck, then to Hotch whom she smiled at. "Sir, we're gathering," she stated.

Hotchner nodded to the woman. "Thank you." And like that, she left.

Strauss turned back to look at the agent beside her. "I'll leave you to it." She glanced between both Hotchner then back to Beck. Beck noticed the lingering stare she held with her. A miniscule action that held a double meaning that Beck tried her hardest not to roll her eyes at. She was tempted to groan 'yes, I'll remember to double cross and fill you in later' just to spite the hag. But, she decided against it as she watched the Devil in Prada leave the office just like the blonde had, leaving behind just her and the very tall and very stoic Agent Hotchner.

"I'll take you to the Bull Pin. It's where the team is normally briefed on all of our cases," he explained in his monotone and emotionless voice as he began to walk out the door and follow the way the blonde had left.

Beck, despite how short her little legs were, had not trouble with keeping pace with the man as he led her down the cat walk. It reminded her of the CTU Pit, but then again, so did everything it seemed. She tried not to draw too many similarities between the two because she vowed she'd never go back to that place. Figuratively or literally.

As the pair drew closer to what Hotchner had called the 'Bull Pin,' Hotchner made sure to stand aside in the small walkway to allow her to walk into the office where the team was waiting first. "Allow me to introduce you to them, although, I'm sure you already know know most if not all of everyone here," he exclaimed as they entered. As soon as they did, their presence called upon all attention into the room. Not authority, no one seemed to stiffen at Hotchner's entrance, which Beck found odd. He was their boss and yet they were all so at ease with him, as though he were just one of them. Perhaps that's what his dynamic was amongst them. She'd have to gain a similar dynamic as well if she was going to make this work, but for now, she seemed to be on the outside of this dynamic, seeing as all eyes were on her, the outsider.

"Everyone, I'd like to reintroduce you to Agent Rebecca Ryder, who'll be joining on as our newest team member," Hotchner announced to the group before them. "Ryder, you've already met Dr. Reid, Agent Morgan, Agent Prentiss, and Agent Jareau."

Beck stood stiffly at the back of the room still, her eyes scanning around to find familiar faces. She knew Dr. Reid, of course, who spared her a knowing smile from where sat in the swiveling chair at the table just in front of her. She nodded in acknowledgement to him. Sitting along the table to the left of him was the other woman Beck recognized from the interrogation room with Jane who Agent Hotchner had addressed as Agent Prentiss. She gave her a brief nod, her attention turned back to the file she had been reading when she walked in. Standing up on the opposite side of her, stirring his coffee, was Agent Morgan. And of course, she'd already met him. She was almost surprised at how friendly his smile was as he greeted her.

"Hey there, kid. Glad you could make it to the big leagues," he chuckled as he took a seat, setting his coffee down on one side of his own files.

She chuckled beneath her breath. "Glad I could be here," she replied, ducking her head slightly as she did so.

Just then, the same blonde that had gone to fetch Hotchner and her beamed as she came forward and extended a hand to her. Beck took it. Firm and multiple shakes. She was clearly excited to meet her and had zero suspicions or any negative premonitions towards her, which was a good sign, Beck figured. "I'm Jennifer, but everyone just calls me JJ," she exclaimed.

"Beck," she replied, though not as eagerly, just before the blonde released her hand and set the last set of files down at the table in front of the empty seat between Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid. Beck was quick to take it as it seemed they were about to start and she really didn't want to linger too long on the niceties of introductions as if they were in a kindergarten class.

"Okay," JJ began as she started to walk around the round table towards the front of the room where Hotchner had already been standing. "We have four victims in Oregon. Two male, two female-"

Beck had just started to flip through the paper files the blonde had set down in front of her when Hotchner swiftly cut her off. "I got this." Everyone seemed to be caught off guard by his abrupt interjection. Apparently, this wasn't a normal occurrence.

"Uh, sure..." All eyes were on him as JJ awkwardly took a seat beside Agent Morgan.

Hotchner glanced among his team members, his eyes not bothering to meet Beck's which told her this clearly wasn't meant for her, but for the rest of the group. Once again, she found herself singled out as the outsider. "I know that we've all been wondering what this was all about. And, uh... You know, I've known Jason for many years, and I can tell you... I have no idea."

Ah, it was about Gideon. Figures. They all must've been close with him. Well... not as close as they thought seeing as it was unknown to anybody (even them) about why he left.

"But it doesn't even matter," Hotchner went on to say. "What matters is we're here, and we're gonna continue." It was odd... He almost sounded emotional despite how monotone he was. God, this guy was weird and so frustratingly unreadable. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe that's why he was so good at what he did. If that was the case, she wondered why Strauss wanted him gone so badly. She guessed she would just have to wait and see.

Hotchner then pressed a button on the remote he had in his hand, turning on the screen behind him to project a map of sorts. Beck knew that the minute she had seen every detail on there, she wouldn't forget it. Who knew- maybe it would help her later.

"Portland Field Office uncovered a mass grave with three bodies killed six months ago," Hotchner began to present, putting the meeting back on track. He clicked the button again to project another image. This time of said bodies all laid out among dirt and grass. From there, it looked as though they were just masses, but Beck had seen enough dead bodies to know how to decipher them. "Nearby they found another body." Another click. More bodies. Great. "Causes of death range from burning alive to asphyxiation. No sexual assault."

Hmm... Interesting parameters. Same dump site, different methods of killing, clearly signs of torture and a slow and meaningful death. Definitely a psychopath. And a sadistic one at that.

As if he'd read her mind... "Well, the torture's clearly sadistic," Agent Morgan remarked.

"The lack of sexual preferences could make it hard to tell if the Unsub is male or female," Dr. Reid interjected as well.

Agent Prentiss beside him shrugged. "Typically, female serial killers stick to the same M.O. It looks like this guy's all over the place."

"Pfft. No kidding," Beck remarked as she flipped through the files in front of her, which included autopsies of all the bodies. "Burnt alive, hung, asphyxiation, and- am I reading this correctly- exsanguination? I mean, what's he trying to do? Test out every possible way to kill someone?"

"That's one possibility," Agent Morgan remarked. "A sick one, but one nonetheless."

"Most recent victim is Jenny Wittman. Asphyxiated. Discovered yesterday." Hotchner changed the screen to show a closer look at a the female's dead body sprawled out and covered in dirt. Her eyes still wide open, but clouded over. Like a ghost. Beck figured she must've died slowly. Oh, yeah, this was definitely some sick fuck.

"How long was she missing?" Dr. Reid prompted.

"She was never reported missing," Hotchner replied matter-of-factly. Beck's eyebrows furrowed, as did Dr. Reid's.

That was odd... Judging by her clean cuticles (underneath the dirt, that was) and her nicely shaped and- most likely- regularly plucked eyebrows, she certainly wasn't homeless. She could've been a prostitute, but her modest choice of clothing and lack of any jewelry save for the chunky black watch on her wrist suggested otherwise. So, if she wasn't at risk or homeless... why wouldn't she be reported missing? A mystery within itself, it seemed.

"What about the others?" Dr. Reid and Beck spoke in unison. They both glanced at one another momentarily before turning back to Hotchner for his answer.

"Only one."

"One of four?" Dr. Reid asked. Huh, so not only had they all died, but there was a pattern that none of them seemed to be drawing any suspicion from family members about their whereabouts, despite having been unresponsive for six months for reasons just recently discovered.

"Rick Holland was reported missing nine months ago, but the search was called off." JJ was the one to answer this time as a missing poster for a young man appeared on the screen.

Beck tilted her head. "Do we know why?"

"Family discovered his car at the train station, but more importantly, they received emails from him saying that he needed time to figure things out," Hotchner explained.

"And his family bought that?" Morgan sounded almost offended for the guy at how easily his family gave up. Hell, Beck would've been offended too if her family forgot about her that quick and took a lousy excuse for a reason not to drag her ass back to them.

Hotchner shrugged. "'Guess the alternative was too hard to accept."

"Did any of the other families receive similar emails?" Beck asked.

"We have someone looking into it," Hotchner replied.

Dr. Reid hummed from beside her as he played with the pen in his hands. "Reaching out could be a sign of remorse," he suggested.

"Psychopaths don't apologize for their behavior," Hotchner remarked.

Beck didn't bother to look up from her files as she interjected her own two cents. "You don't have to be a profiler to understand this guy isn't being remorseful. Why else plant the car at the train station?" She prompted. "He's covering his own ass."

"Well, it's working," Morgan muttered beside her, his eyes trained on his own set of paper files.

"So..." Beck watched as Agent Prentiss stood up to examine the physical map at the front of the room as she tried to piece it all together. "Three victims he buried in one grave and then only Jenny Wittman in the other."

Morgan peered at her from over the files in his hand. "You thinking it's a pattern?"

She turned to him with befuddlement. "Uh, it's hard to tell."

Hotchner glanced towards her. "If there is, it's one down... two to go."

"A pattern? With this psycho?" Beck scoffed. "The only thing that's been consistent with him- aside from his inconsistency- is whatever method he's using to keep the attention off his back. I'd be willing to bet that the pattern with the fake emails is something he's privy, too. I mean, clearly if the family knew enough about Holland there to call off the search and actually believe he'd branched out to go soul search, maybe he knows these victims fairly well."

Beck had gone quiet when she realized all eyes were on her. Suddenly, she felt just like she had her first day at CTU. Bright-eyed and only slightly jaded at the time little Beck went in there, thinking she knew her stuff, only to be shot down by all the higher ranking adults. She waited for that to happen here, only... it didn't. In fact, the other team members all looked among one another as if quietly agreeing on what she'd just said. Had she hit it on the nose?

Hotchner seemed to think so. "That's a good starting point." He almost sounded reluctant to admit it, clearly he was still slightly pissed about her being there. "The local office is waiting for our arrival. Wheel's up in thirty." And just like that, everyone around the table began to grab their belongings, prepping for whatever 'wheel's up' meant.

"Uh... my bike kind of speeds up the trip. Is it cool if I leave now and meet you guys there?" Beck asked Hotchner as the rest of the team bustled out of the room as a collective group.

Hotchner furrowed his eyebrows at her odd question. "What do you mean?"

"We're driving there, right?"

"No. We have our own jet. If you need a ride to hangar, we all tend to ride there together," he explained, though his words all seemed to mesh together after Beck heard the word 'jet' leave his mouth.

"J-Jet?" She betrayed herself with the stammering. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. Oh, he knew almost immediately. This wasn't awe, either... "You guys fly?"

"Makes things a lot quicker than driving. Less time wasted while the Unsubs have more time to kill," he replied. "If you need to sit this one out-"

Oh, like Hell!

"No!" She quickly straightened herself out and stood up, grabbing her files as she did so. "My go bag's already packed and waiting downstairs. I can just follow you guys to the hangar."

He seemed almost amused by her fear, but didn't let it show. "Alright..."

"Alright." And with that, she spun on her heel and headed out... To the parking garage... To get her bike... To drive to the hangar... To get on a jet... Shit.

—

The jet was small... Too small. It reminded her too much of just how small the first plane had been.

Flashes of a distant memory were at the forefront of her mind. It had happened years ago, yet the fear still remained. It was so fresh, even now it felt as thought her leg still had that piece of metal still stuck inside of it.

She shifted nervously on the back of her bike as she glared at the jet some more. Carefully, she slid off and tightened her grip on her duffel strap. The rest of the team had come in separate SUVs like Hotchner had said, but she had also said her bike did tend to make things go faster so she'd beaten them there by about fifteen minutes despite having said she'd follow them. She'd spent that extra fifteen minutes waiting by calming her nerves and reassuring herself that everything was fine and that she needed to pull her shit together and just get through this. It was just another plane. This one hadn't gone down, neither had the many others she'd been on since joining the CIA. Only, those were a lot bigger than this tiny one...

God, and here she went again on this downward spiral.

"Ryder." Hotchner was standing at the top of the entryway stairs, waiting in the doorway for her as she approached.

"Sorry, just making sure my baby is gonna be safe here," she explained as she made her way up the steps, being sure not to let the feeling as though her chest were slowly expanding distract her from keeping her micro-expressions under control. She'd already slipped up twice and Hotchner had only slipped up once.

Hotchner moved out of the way for her to enter the cabin. The very small, very narrow cabin.

Take a breath. Take a breath. Take a breath.

She repeated to herself over and over again in her head as she filed in along with the rest of the team. They all had taken their collective seats among cushiony sofas and there was even a couch off to the side. Where were the actual seats that she could strap into because there was no way she was going up in the air without so much as a seat belt on. She saw an empty seat with a seatbelt in the corner of a set of four chairs set around a table in the middle of the cabin. She didn't bother to hesitate as she quickly slid and buckled the belt around her waist. But as the jet began to rumble and the sounds of the engines grew louder, she noticed no one else was bothering to buckle up or even really take a seat.

The blonde- JJ- was leaning on the arm rest of the couch a few feet away, Morgan and Prentiss sprawled out on either side of the couch just beside her, and Dr. Reid- Hell- he was busy pouring himself some coffee just behind where she sat. All of these people were insane... or maybe she was just this scared of flying.

"Everything alright?" Hotchner asked her as he took a seat in the chair across from her. He looked a little too smug when he asked her.

"Fine," she bit out as the jet jolted. She quickly slammed the small window blind closed so not to have anything to look through. "How long until we land?"

"We haven't even lifted off yet," he remarked. She gave him a pointed glare and he relented. "Six and a half hours." Beck groaned and let her head hit the back of the seat. Great... Where were the good drugs when she needed them?

"Are you afraid of flying?" She was broken from her worrisome thoughts by Dr. Reid taking a seat beside her, his cup of coffee in his hands as he did so. He, like the rest of the team, didn't bother to buckle up.

Beck shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she felt the jet start to gain momentum. "What? No." Just as the lie left her mouth, the minute she felt the plane began to lift off, her hand shot out to grab onto the edge of the table in front of them in a death grip as if it would save her if the plane was brought down. Once the plane steadied itself a little more, her grip loosened. When she opened her eyes, she could see Dr. Reid staring at her with a soft smile playing at his lips as if he'd just caught her in her bluff. Which he had, of course, but he didn't need to be so happy about it, that prick. "Maybe..." She relented after a moment.

"You were in the CIA and were apart of a multitude of missions overseas. Didn't you fly then? For longer distances?" He questioned her.

"Uh... Yeah, in bigger planes. Not tiny limos in the sky," she retorted. "Do you have any liquor on this thing, by chance?"

"Little early for drinking, isn't it, Ryder?" Morgan chuckled as he passed by to take a seat on a chair a few feet away, his files in his hand as he did so.

Beck rolled her eyes. "It's five o'clock somewhere..."

"So, is it the fear of the enclosed space, the fear of heights, or the fear of crashing that makes you afraid of flying?" Dr. Reid continued to pester her. What was this? An interview?

Beck shrugged. "I was once locked in a metal coffin for four days without seeing the sunlight and I've sniped crooked foreign diplomats from the roofs of some of the tallest skyscrapers in the world... Take a guess."

Dr. Reid seemed to be even further perplexed by her answer and continued with his questions. "You know, you shouldn't be afraid of crashing in planes. In fact, the probability is-"

"I don't wanna know the probability. Do not tell me the probability." She turned to give him a withering glare. She expected him to shy away out of fear, but he merely chuckled to himself before settling back into his seat again and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Mm," he hummed before unbuckling his seatbelt. "Needs more sugar." Beck watched as he climbed from his seat and headed to the back of the cabin like he had before the flight had begun. After he'd left, she was content to just keep focusing on the file in front of her instead of the slight bumps and shakes of the plane she was hyperaware of.

Hotchner must've taken notice because he then decided that maybe it was a good idea, too.

"Can we go over what Portland found?" He called over his shoulder to JJ who had started to hand out the prints of pictures from the screen now that they were in the air.

She started from Morgan, still in his seat at the far end of the jet across from her, and worked her way back. "One female and two male victims found buried together in the same grave. All 25 to 30. All had been dead... 6 months?" She listed off of what was read on the files and what they'd gone over back at the Bull Pin. Beck had already memorized the words she'd read off the files, the maps from the screens, every detail of the lifeless bodies on the images projected, but she still found solace in just listening to the blonde repeat it. It was better than listening to the engines.

"That sounds like three different M.O.s," Prentiss remarked from her seat just as JJ sat down on the couch arm beside her.

Dr. Reid had taken this time to come back from adding sugar to his coffee, his head reappearing in Beck's peripheral view as he hovered over the back of the seat he'd been in earlier. "Uh, Gary Taylor, the 'Phantom Sniper,' was all over the map- just like this guy," he jumped into the conversation with ease. "He changed his M.O. as his need to control the situation changed."

"He was also driven by pure, unadulterated anger," Beck hadn't even realized she'd spoke until she noticed eyes on her again. She swallowed, her eyes going back to the papers in front of her once more. "This guy... he enjoys what he's doing, clearly. If not, he wouldn't prolong their deaths."

Hotchner tilted his head in curiosity at her words. "What makes you think their deaths were drawn out?"

"The pictures on the screen. I noticed a pattern in his inconsistent M.O.," she began to explain as she pulled out the photos JJ had provided and slid it to the middle of the table. "The first victim- the one that had been hung- there had been multiple marks around his neck. Slight indentions around the actual fatal indention in his neck that crushed his windpipe." She showed said indentions on the neck of their first victim with her finger. It was hard to miss, but she knew what choking someone more than once looked like. "Those slight indentions show that he had been dangling from that noose multiple times. The last time being the try that killed him."

The brunette then pulled out the image from their second victim.

"Then the exsanguination victim... No need to tell you that this guy died slowly and painfully. And then the fourth victim-"

"I think we all understand the point you're trying to make, Agent Ryder," Hotchner cut her off swiftly. She bit her tongue and had to smother a glare at the older agent. It was one thing to be bitter, but she was only trying to help. The atmosphere in the jet stiffened as the tension made it a little harder to breathe after Hotchner's passive aggressive outburst, so he was quick to change the subject as he turned to JJ. "What about the fresh grave?"

JJ hesitated momentarily before glance down at the files in her head and reading off, "Uh, female, 28- dead roughly 48 hours. She was asphyxiated."

Morgan, who had moved to hover behind Hotch's seat- mirroring Dr. Reid's position, leaned over the edge as he chimed in, "If Emily is right about there being a victim pattern with the Unsub, it's a good thing this guy's dump site's been compromised."

Beck nodded in agreement. It would buy them time while he tried to find a new one, which would take away his focus on what he was doing to his victims and could possibly save a few of their lives.

"As soon as the Unsub knows that, he may feel pressured that we're onto him," Prentiss also added. "It could push him to make a mistake." The plane passengers all silently agreed, their eyes falling back to their own collective files

Beck was still a little weary after Hotchner's little scene earlier, but she tried not to glance to much at him through her bangs as she bowed her head down at her paper files and photos before her.

"Hey. You."

Beck's head shot up at the noise of a woman speaking through what sounded like a phone speaker. She glanced around to see who could've been on the phone, but everyone seemed to be looking for the source of the voice same as her.

"Uh, down here."

Beck glanced to her left and finally noticed the laptop Hotchner had set down earlier shortly after take off. On the screen seemed to be a projection of a blonde woman with thick-rimmed glasses and... plastic babies dangling from her ears that matched a plastic baby necklace. Hm. The brunette agent pushed the edges of the laptop so she could clearly see the woman behind the screen that she presumed had been the source of the voice.

"Um, hi," the woman beamed once Beck came into focus. "You must be... the newbie. Well- not technically. You were at a higher position before you joined this one, so you're not really knew. But you're new to our team, so I just called... a CIA operative that probably used to assassinate people for a living a 'newbie.'" The blonde visibly cringed and let out a groan.

Beck couldn't hide the smirk that played on her lips at this woman's antics.

"Technically, 'former' CIA operative, but I'm not too big on titles," the brunette agent replied to her, trying to ease some of the humiliation she'd just single-handedly put herself through with the almost impressive word vomit.

Hotchner cleared his throat from across from her, signaling that he and the rest of the team also needed to talk with this blonde woman. She slowly turned the screen to face everyone else that had gathered around where they were seated at the table just as Hotchner took the time to introduce the two. "Agent Ryder, this is our Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia. Garcia, this is Agent Rebecca Ryder."

The woman on the screen- Penelope- smiled and waved at the through the screen. "Hi. Nice to finally put a name to the face and file." Beck chuckled softly. It didn't come to her surprise that they had looked her up, she didn't blame them for the curiosity and she also wasn't naïve enough not to know they were clearly cautious towards her.

"Attention team members!" Garcia addressed the rest of the passengers then. "This killer guy continues to stoop to an all-time low of lows by posing as his victims. I looked into the email thing you asked me to and found out he's been manipulating two other families into thinking that everything was okay, even after they were reported missing."

Beck took the moment to glance up at Hotchner from through her bangs. He met her gaze and she raised a eyebrow as if to say 'told you so.'

"One of the fake emails was from their daughter. She said she met this guy and was taking him to her favorite place, Australia, for a couple of weeks." Beck's eyes shot up at that detail. "Family contacted the Australian authorities after too much time had passed."

"This guy sure knows a lot of personal information about his victims," Morgan stated. It seems he too had caught onto what Beck had. He knew his victims. Well, it seems.

"Which would explain how he was able to sound so convincing to the third victim's family," Beck exclaimed. "They believed that bullshit lie about him leaving because they believed it to be something he would do. Same for the latest victim as well. If she seemed like the kind of person to disappear, it would be for something like running away with some boy to Australia."

"He knew his victims prior to killing them," Dr. Reid deduced from where he had reclaimed his seat beside her.

Prentiss leaned forward in her seat. "How did he get access to their email accounts?"

"Screen name was the same, but the domain was different. The families never noticed," Garcia explained. Beck wanted to roll her eyes. Of course they hadn't. "When I find more pieces of the puzzle, you'll know. Garcia out." Beck noticed the blonde throw a brief smile to her from the corner of the screen before her face vanished from off the laptop once more.

"This guy's creative." Hotchner briefly raised his eyebrows. Hm... So that was what a mildly impressed Aaron Hotchner looked like. She'd try to keep it in mind for future reference. "Let's see the details one more time just to make sure we haven't missed anything."

Beck definitely didn't bother hiding the way she let her head fall back against the seat at the mention of having to sort through the details again. They were already engrained in her head, how many more times did they need to go over this seemingly cut and dry assessment of the psycho. She turned her head to Dr. Reid beside her as the jet jolted once more. Her nails dug into the cushions between them as a result of the sudden movement. "How long until we land in Portland?"

"Three hours, thirty two minutes and forty seven seconds," he replied nonchalantly, his eyes not even leaving the papers set in front of him to glance at the watch on his wrist.

Beck raised an eyebrow. "You're keeping count?"

He took the time to turn his head to face her, a small ghost of a smile crossing his expression as he replied, "You're not?"

She pursed her lips back at him. Touché, Doctor... Touché.

—

They had landed almost two seconds too late from Dr. Reid's prediction, but they had landed nonetheless so Beck wasn't one to complain. She was shocked with herself that she'd managed not to blow chunks the second her boot-clad feet hit the cement on the ground. But not only had she not thrown up, she'd also managed to walk to the car and sit in silence for a total of fifteen minutes the entirety of the drive to the Portland Field Office where they'd be setting up shop.

She had to admit, she'd never seen such coordination in a team before as they walked into the office as if they'd done so a hundred times. No one stopped to ask questions, no one stepped forward to take charge- Hell, besides her and Hotchner, there was hardly any tension amongst the team. This was a completely different environment than what she'd been so used to back at the CTU. Working her way into this group dynamic in order to gain some kind of trust or even any form of authority was going to be a lot more difficult than she'd initially thought when she had first taken Strauss's job.

Beck tried not to think about it, especially now when she was at the forefront of the battle field with a bunch of people who made a living off of studying people's behaviors. They were all electricians trying to figure out which cord to cut inside the bomb disguised as a radio- her. She was just worried they'd cut the single wire that could set her to explode and blow the whole thing, possibly even the team itself considering their own Section Chief had been the one to orchestrate it.

God, for someone trying not to think about something, she sure was doing a shitty job.

Thankfully, she didn't have to focus on it too hard because everything had started to go at a little bit of a quicker pace the minute they walked through the doors of the Field Office and were led to a conference room where a balding man in a suit and tie was already waiting for them.

"You must be the BAU. Special Agent Bill Calvert," the balding agent introduced himself, shaking JJ's hand as the rest of the team filed in.

"Hi. Jennifer Jareau," Beck heard her greet the man as she passed by them to haphazardly drop her go bag beneath the table just behind them, the rest of the team following in suit. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. These are Agents Morgan, Prentiss, Ryder, and Dr. Reid." Beck momentarily glanced over her shoulder at Agent Calvert so he knew to recognize her when JJ had said her name. He gave her a brief wave as he had the to the rest of the agents as their names were being called on like a roll call.

"I appreciate your help on the case," Calvert told them all in a genuinely grateful tone of voice. Beck picked up an accent definitely not from Milwaukee, and apparently, so had Morgan.

"So, you're from Boston, huh?" He prompted the other balding agent.

Calvert scoffed a bit. "The accent's kinda hard to miss in Oregon, right?" Morgan chuckled, Beck briefly allowing herself to smile alongside him.

Beck knew she couldn't keep up the cold demeanor she had at CTU- these people clearly wanted someone less robotic and emotionless unlike her old team had, and if she wanted to fit in, she had to be the version of herself these people wanted.

The cool and joking atmosphere inside the office was quickly sucked away when Hotchner ran head first into the point of why they were there. "We'd like to take a look around Jenny Wittman's apartment," he exclaimed in his usual monotone voice. Usually, she would've been all for getting straight to the point and to the case, but she noticed that this drill sergeant routine wasn't the usual for any of the team. This must've been new... which meant this must've been because of her... Unless maybe it was still about Gideon as she had figured was the real reason he was so distraught with her presence.

"I'd take you myself, but I'm waiting to meet with her family, so I'll have another agent drive you" Calvert explained apologetically.

"Thank you," Hotchner was short with his reply.

"I'll stay behind and work victimology," Prentiss stated as if she were giving orders. Beck had noticed something similar to that from the Bull Pin. These people weren't all obedient soldiers like Beck and her team had been at the CTU. In fact, rank or power didn't seem to mean very much to any of them. They all just worked as a single unit to solve these cases. Beck actually found it endearing and a brief breath of fresh air.

"Great. I could use some extra hands. Ryder, you're with me."

Fresh air Aaron Hotchner was currently polluting with his presence.

"We'll call you if we find anything," Hotchner called over his shoulder to Calvert as he began to lead Beck, Dr. Reid, and Morgan out of the office that they'd just arrived to only to be leaving so soon. There really were no breaks with these guys. Beck loved it.

"Call shotgun," Beck muttered beneath her breath the moment her and the three other men entered the elevator together to head down.

Beck hadn't ended up taking shotgun. She didn't feel the need to be so close to Hotchner, in fact, she preferred to distance herself as much as she could. Which led to her sharing the back seat with Dr. Reid who had spent the majority of the trip staring out of the window, his eyes moving almost as fast as their surroundings were moving past them in the car. She saw his lips moving as though he were whispering to himself, but she didn't bother to remark on it. He was quite the odd character...

When they finally arrived to the building Jenny Wittman had called her home. Beck could already smell the asbestos from the parking lot and it only got worse when they entered inside.

Reid and Morgan took the lead, leaving Beck to reluctantly follow behind with Hotchner close on her trail.

"Wittman's place is on the fourth floor," Reid remarked as they approached what looked to be just another door in this oddly built building. Beck soon realized that it was a sad excuse for an elevator after Morgan pressed a button off to the side, both men standing idle just before the painted door moaned and creaked as it slid open to reveal a smaller interior. "Can you get in there?"

Beck paused at the door, watching the two men file in one after another. When they were nestled in, they both turned expectantly to the two agents who were maintaining a safe distance from the contraption.

"I need the steps anyway," Beck muttered before swiftly turning on her heel and making a beeline for the sets of stairs just a few yards away to the right. She briefly heard Hotchner tell his two agents that he'd meet them up there as well before his footsteps grew closer to hers.

She shouldn't have been surprised when he managed to catch up to her in less than five strides.

Damn her tiny legs.

By the time they'd reached the second floor, he was right beside her.

She pretended to be focused on her footing as she scurried up the stairs. It was a little difficult to keep up with the man twice her height who somehow galloped up each step... The silence was full of tension until it was cut open by Hotchner around the time they'd gone halfway up the second story stairs.

"He's not a sadist."

Beck halted in her steps once she reached the small curve in the stairway just before reaching the third floor. She turned to glance at the Unit Chief. "What?"

"The Unsub isn't a sadist," he clarified to her, stopping a few stairs down from where she stood with just a slight height advantage. "You'd inferred that he was by using the slow deaths as a possible example for your reasoning to believing he were a sadist. It was a good catch for someone with such detail orientation, only you fail to see something as plain as day. The stronger evidence against your sadist theory is not the way he lets his victims die slowly, but in the way he discards of them so carelessly, as though they're nothing to him after- and possibly while- they're dead or dying. Clearly not in the nature of a sadist."

Beck could barely process everything happening at once. Number one being that he was speaking so much and so quickly it caught her off guard. This was the most he'd spoken since she'd met him and it was all so... unexpected. And number two being that in his fast paced speech- more like rant- was that he was discrediting a minor inference she'd made hours ago.

Hotchner made his way past her on the stairs and had made it just a few steps off the walkway between staircases before Beck had finally gathered her thoughts to form a coherent response. "It was a minor mistake."

She turned to see he had stopped to face her once more. "A mistake that could've cost someone their lives had you run with the theory and led the profile in the wrong direction."

"That's not my point," she bit back. "My point is that you could've just as easily corrected my minor slip up on the jet or even back at the briefing, but instead you chose to stay quiet about it until we were alone so you could scold me instead of help me, like a leader should do."

"I shouldn't have to hold your hand through something as simple as cut and dry as a psychopathic serial killer case, Agent Ryder," Hotchner retorted. "Your 'minor slip up' could have very well cost someone their life. So if you're unable to do what you were hired on to do, then I suggest you catch the next flight back to DC because one thing I won't tolerate on this team is someone who believes they're better than everyone else due to a prior higher ranking position." Beck had so much she wanted to say to that, but bit her tongue. No need to get fired her first day.

Hotchner took her silence as understanding. She watched as he turned on his heel and continued up the stairs.

She paused momentarily before following, allowing herself a second to reorganize herself and her priorities. She replayed the small reminder in the back of her mind that she couldn't kill him, he was vital and the rest of the team wouldn't exactly appreciate it if on her first day she'd murder their Unit Chief. Sure, she'd probably make it look like an accident, but she wouldn't want to risk it, either way.

Instead of going the bloody route, Beck took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. When she opened her eyes again, she could see Hotchner sparing her a glance as he started up the final set of stairs, almost as if to mock her.

"Bastard," she muttered beneath her breath before quickly catching up. It was when she'd reached the top of the last stair that she had started to hear some kind of alarm coming from down the hall. Had someone broken something? Was there a fire? Beck glanced up and down the hall and noticed no one else was really opening their door to see what all the commotion was about. It must've been a normal occurrence. God, this place was a real shit hole.

As Hotchner led the way down the hall to Wittman's place- Beck loosely following him- he'd paused momentarily in front of the elevator where Beck realized the ringing alarm sound had been coming from... Ha, ironic.

Just then, Morgan came bounding out of the elevator doors, nearly tripping on his feet as he stumbled out. "Hallelujah," he muttered as he took hold of the wall across from him and sprawled across it as though it was his anchor to the world.

Beck chuckled, watching as Dr. Reid slowly emerged from the tiny elevator as well, his eyes wide and his legs shaking as he struggled to grab hold of either side of the doors. He looked scared out of his mind and from the sounds of the alarm, she could only imagine why.

"Was that the alarm? You guys okay?" Hotchner asked his two team members, both of whom were still trying to catch their breath after the traumatic experience of whatever happened in that elevator.

"I'll get back to you on that," Reid gave a shaky reply. Beck snorted beneath her breath, disguising her laugh as a cough as she brought a hand up to her mouth to smother her smile. Hotchner couldn't be bother to acknowledge her or whatever had happened in the elevator as he continued on down the hall without them.

Beck continued to glance between both men, her amused smile still in place as she watched them both try to regain their balance and breath. Morgan was the first to push himself from off the wall, stumbling just a bit as he made his way to go follow Hotchner. Beck was close to follow, though she hovered for a moment just to make sure Dr. Reid didn't fall over. "I would tell you to try not to barf on the carpet, but it looks as though a couple of people might've already beat you to it," she told them jokingly as she grimaced down at the stained floor beneath her feet. "I also wouldn't recommend fainting on it either."

"Bite me, kid," Morgan grumbled back to her. She couldn't help but let a laugh escape this time.

As they walked to catch up with their Unit Chief, Beck leaned over to Dr. Reid to pour a little more salt in the wound. "You know, the odds of surviving an elevator free fall-"

"Don't tell me the odds," he cut her off swiftly in a manner similar to the way she'd snapped at him on the plane about his own statistics of survival.

Beck chuckled, turning back to face the front of her as she trailed closely behind Morgan and Hotchner until they eventually made it to the apartment of Jenny Wittman where her landlord was already waiting for them.

"The FBI was already here two days ago. Didn't find anything," he remarked as he opened the door for them to enter. He was a lanky man in a Hawaiin button-up, he carried himself with his arms hung low and his hair mused and messy. Clearly he wouldn't have been one to pry if there was something suspicious or interesting in one of his tenants' life, so she didn't really bother enough to focus on him and what he knew, but he talked to them anyway so she kept an ear open as she took a look around.

"Well, we're from the Behavioral Analysis Unit..." Dr. Reid trailed off as he went in one direction of the living space and Beck went to another.

She tuned out the conversation after that because she noticed a few things as she walked in. Number one: how fucking bright it was. Not a single window had it's blinds closed or the curtains drawn as if she wanted it to feel as open in the living space as she could manage. Number two: all of her furniture was oddly placed in the middle of each room; the dining table, the shelves, even the TV wasn't off in a corner or against the wall. And finally, number three: it was a fucking mess- as though this girl never went outside and just hibernated here like a bear.

Whoever said the eyes were windows to the soul was full of shit because the way a person lived said a lot more than their eyes.

"Guys," Morgan's assertive call grabbed Beck's attention. "Come take a look at this." He gestured to the room he'd come out of and started back in, Beck, Hotchner, Dr. Reid, and the landlord following close behind until they were all squished within the restroom.

At first, she didn't really see what was so interesting about whatever he found in Jenny Wittman's bathroom, until he began to point it out.

"There's bath products all around the tub, but she never turned the shower on."

"What makes you say that?" The landlord asked skeptically as though he were offended that she hadn't used his perfectly good shower.

To answer his question, Morgan pulled open the box shower door to reveal that it had been filled with boxes and belongings. "It's got nothing but boxes inside. She used it for storage."

"Huh," Beck huffed as she crossed her arms. Then it all started to make sense to her. The open windows, the centered furniture, the living as though she never went out.

Dr. Reid turned to glance at the landlord from past Beck's shoulder from where she stood leaning against the doorway, her eyes still trained on the storage shower. "Uh, did anything ever strike you as odd about Jenny?"

She didn't really expect to gain any useful information from the landlord, but he surprised her when he replied, "You know what? When she moved in here two months ago, she walked up and down those stairs a hundred times. She wouldn't use the elevator."

"Pfft," Morgan scoffed. "I don't blame her."

"That's it," the words left Beck's mouth before she could help it. "She's claustrophobic." Dr. Reid pursed his lips and contemplated it, Morgan doing the same thing. Both agent's faces scrunching up before simultaneously shrugging in silent agreement. Hotchner, of course, looked less than pleased but didn't bother commenting, so she went on to deepen the wound. "You think it's a coincidence that she was killed by asphyxiation?"

Beside her, the landlord coughed as though he was covering a choking noise. She winced slightly, having forgotten he was there. Whoops.

Hotchner sent her a glare before pushing past her and the landlord to leave, Beck reluctantly following and throwing a slightly apologetic look to the landlord before dropping her gaze down to her shoes. She cast one more glance at the apartment as she left.

She was just a scared girl, killed in the way she feared most. If her theory was right, that she had been a claustrophobic killed by her phobia, the person that did this to her not only had gained her trust in order for her to open up about her fear, but also betrayed it in the worst possible ways: by using it and killing her in way that she feared the most. When she found this guy, she was definitely going to make sure he got his due punishment... Even if she had to step over Hotchner to make sure of it.

—

Hotchner was cold to Beck the entire ride back to the office and didn't even bother to acknowledge her when she'd asked aloud why there was a large crowd of cops and detectives all gathered as if they were waiting for them in the large room.

Dr. Reid took pity on her and explained, "We're delivering the profile."

"Right," she muttered beneath her breath and followed behind as Hotchner and Morgan took the lead to the front of the room. She trailed closely behind Dr. Reid, making sure not to get in the way or draw attention herself and to allow herself to watch and listen to everyone else. She was curious to see how the team worked so close-knit with the local authorities, and she needed to get a broader look at how the other team member's dynamic worked.

Everyone was scattered throughout the room, photos of what Prentiss had mentioned was the geographical profile was set up on one board and the photos and break down of the other bodies were on the second board. JJ and Hotchner were seated at the table in front of the room of agents, Prentiss was standing off to the side and Morgan opted to take the lead by standing near the boards. They had all already taken their places amongst each other, but Beck still felt out of place herself. She was better off leaning against the wall nearby to observe just as much as the other agents and officers in the room.

"You know, you don't have to isolate yourself." Beck briefly glanced over her shoulder to find Dr. Reid had joined her in standing off to the side.

She shrugged. "I'm new, inexperienced with... delivering profiles," she explained. "I think I'll just go where I'm told and stay out of the way for now." The brunette was content with turning back and going back to listening to Morgan and Hotchner droning on about what a profile was and explaining the likes to the local badges, but she was distracted once more when Dr. Reid attempted to continue their conversation.

"Hotch didn't tell you something, did he?" Beck furrowed her eyebrows at him from over her shoulder, a silent question. "It's just... you two seemed tense back at the apartment. And it took you a little longer than it should have to take the stairs and reach the elevator."

Beck frowned. "I could've stopped to tie my shoe."

Dr. Reid gave her a sly smile, not even needing to glance down at her feet before he retorted, "In your boots- really?"

She shrugged. "Worth a try."

"You're deflecting."

"And you're nosy."

He raised an eyebrow at her and eventually she gave in.

"You're man Hotchner is a hardass, but it's nothing I can't handle," she told him. "So- like I said: for now, I'll just let you guys take the lead on this. You know a lot more than I do."

"You know enough to be here," he challenged. "Shouldn't that qualify you to be here just as much as the rest of us?"

He had a point- and from the almost smug look on his face, he knew it too. Still, she pursed her lips and turned back to the presentation.

"Okay- we know this guy used Wildwood Trail as his personal graveyard for six months. That site's been blown for him now, which means that he's been forced to change part of his M.O.," Morgan explained as he made his way through the tables around him.

"Which won't be easy for somebody who thrives on being in control," Hotchner chimed in from where he sat at one of said tables. Beck rolled her eyes at the irony of his analysis. "The reason that he's gotten away with these first three murders is that he's been meticulous at every stage; from how he chooses his victims to their torture and their burial." Beck noted that and couldn't help but ponder it. If he were so meticulous, especially in just these first three, he couldn't have just come up with such well thought out ways to capture, isolate, then cover up these killings.

Maybe these weren't his first... These were just his found.

But, like she'd told Dr. Reid- she was staying out of the way. If that was what Hotchner wanted, that was what she would do. For now, at least. Beck still intended on making good on what she'd promised to herself- that she'd get justice for these victims even if she had to do it over Hotchner to get it done.

"To us, his victims appear to be nonspecific," Prentiss went on to continue from where Hotchner had left off. "Other than being new to Portland, all they seem to have shared was a torturous death."

"But you think the Unsub chooses them for another reason, too?" Beck glanced down at Agent Calvert where he was seated at the table just to her and Dr. Reid's right.

Prentiss nodded. "We think so."

"Uh, the tortures lack a sexual component, which is incredibly rare," Dr. Reid spoke up from behind her. "I think it's more about, uh, not necessarily about exerting power, but more like overcompensating for a lack of it." When he'd finished his explanation, he made sure to glance down at Beck from where she stood in front of him. It was as though he were telling her 'see, I told them what I though- did that really seem so hard?.' Beck gave a small shake of her head and turned back to the front of the room. Little shit.

"This guy craves control," Morgan stated, ending his odd pacing around the room by taking a seat at the edge of the table beside Beck and Reid. "He's coming from a place of weakness, trying to demonstrate strength. Now we see this a lot in Unsubs who've been abused."

Hotchner took this time to stand up for the first time in the presentation. "The lack of sexual assault could be as simple as the fact that he's impotent- something that he's trying to hide." Beck clenched her jaw when she saw him give her a brief glare. It wasn't too direct, but she knew enough to pick on even the smallest of actions- and she knew enough to know that that one was directed to her. Asshole.

"A man this obsessed with control most likely feels powerless in his everyday life," Prentiss chimed in. "So, he would crave stability- security. He's most likely married. If he is impotent, he could keep up appearances by adopting children."

There was a small pause between explanations. Reid took that time to use his boney elbow to nudge Beck slightly. She gave him a small glare from over her shoulder. He gave her a pointed look. Little. Shit.

Beck groaned and shifted her feet before turning back to the room and finally speaking out- starting with her earlier observation she'd made. "Going off of what Agent Hotchner had said about him being a literal control freak-" There was a small, collective chuckle throughout the room. "If he loses said control- being captured or thwarted- he'd most likely lash out and take his own life in an attempt to still hold onto what little control he'd have left rather than give it up."

Beck looked out over the small sea of agents that jotted down what she'd said in their notes and took note of the more direct glare she was getting from Hotchner. If she weren't so anchored to her professionalism right now, she would've stuck her tongue out at him.

"The victims' lack of defensive wounds suggest that they willingly put themselves in danger, so someone of authority or otherwise easily trusted put them up to this." Finishing his explanation, Morgan glanced over his shoulder at Beck and sent her a wink. She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

"Also, the victims' families were led to believe their loved ones were alive and well through emails written by this murderer," Prentiss continued the presentation. Hotchner adding on, "He's calculated. And he's intelligent, and... we're going to have to do something that he's not expecting."

"Like what?" Beck hadn't even realized she'd asked what she was thinking aloud until Hotchner turned to glance at her from out of the corner of his eye. Oops.

"Like warn his potential victims," he answered. Hm, that was a little bland... Beck still kept that little piece of advice in her back pocket still- about doing something he wouldn't expect. She had a feeling she might need that later.

—

Making good on his 'unexpected move' against the Unsub, Hotchner had JJ hold a press conference where she delivered a small- watered down profile to the public. All throughout the rest of the day, Beck found herself sitting behind a phone talking nonstop with people across Portland- and the greater of Oregon it seemed- who were worried or concerned about friends and family that had just moved to the city. It was as though everyone and their mother was calling in, but all Beck was focused on was her little notepad she had in front of her.

Torture. Slow. Meaningful.

Jenny Wittman- claustrophobic and killed by asphyxiation. Coincidence?

NOT A SADIST

What would drive someone to kill someone so personally?

What would drive someone to kill someone so personally- that was the question.

The Unsub was clearly and unquestionably close to his victims. He knew personal details- like how one of the victim's favorite places to go was Australia, like how another victim was a flake that would be most likely prone to catching a train and heading out. He knew enough to make himself sound like them. He knew enough about Jinny Wittman to kill her via what she feared most.

Beck went back to jotting on her notepad.

Victims went willingly.

Lack of sexual component.

Personal details.

Authority figure- or someone they trust.

Fears...?

"Ryder."

Beck glanced up from her notepad to see Morgan standing at the the officer doorway.

"It's coming up on almost eleven thirty... what are you still doing here?"

The brunette furrowed her eyebrows and spared a glance up to the clock on the wall. Sure enough- 11:30. Huh. Had she really been taking calls for six hours? No wonder her stomach was growling, she hadn't eaten in over thirteen.

"Guess I got caught up in the case," she shrugged.

Morgan scoffed. "Yeah, I feel you on that one... Hey, did you wanna grab something to eat before we head back to the hotel?"

Beck frowned. "Thanks, but... I think I'll stick around here. Try and see if maybe I can piece something together overnight."

Morgan furrowed his eyebrows, but didn't press the subject. "Alright, well... just don't overwork yourself. I'll see you tomorrow." She gave him a grimaced kind of smile before watching him leave.

Her eyes fell back onto her notepad, straining to see any kind of connection... pattern... puzzle piece. Anything...

Nothing.

She dropped her forehead onto the table and groaned.

—

It was around seven in the morning when Beck was back where she had started in that same office again. Following her hours on end of just sitting and staring at her notepad, she'd left at around midnight and picked up a Happy Meal from McDonald's before turning in at her hotel room at around two. She'd only had about three hours of sleep before she'd gotten the call at around five about the fourth body washing up in some small lake a few miles away outside of some suburban.

A jogger had found the body of Patrick Walker.

A young boy, blonde, early 20's, a student... drowned.

Beck tapped the end of her ballpoint pen against the notepad over and over. Subconsciously, she did it in a repetitive beat- not to a song, per say, but in Morse code. She'd learned as a teenager and when she was always stuck on something and couldn't put your foot on it, she'd just tap it over and over again.

Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. Pause. Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Pause. Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. Pause. Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold.

Then start again.

Fuck.

Her adopted father hadn't found it funny, but- for some unknown reason- it helped her think.

She'd jotted everything down on her notepad that she kept staring at intently as though she were trying to memorize it. There was no need; the minute she'd written it all onto the page, she'd had it seared into her memory. Still, there was always something about looking at the words over and over again that was proven to help her see it in a new light or all together somehow.

Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. Pause. Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Pause. Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. Pause. Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold.

Hotchner had sent Prentiss and Morgan to go see the body with Calvert. Apparently, Prentiss had gotten the call off the tip line about Patrick when he'd initially gone missing. Prentiss had followed up at his apartment and the only odd thing she came up with was that aside from following a strict routine every day, the only other odd thing the land lady had told her was that he had specifically asked her for an apartment for a walk-in shower, and not a bath tub.

"Fire. Hanging. Asphyxiation," Hotchner listed off as he stood before the profiling board beside Dr. Reid, his eyes boring into each photo of the bodies on the wall as though he were trying to sear whatever he was missing into his brain, similar to what Beck was doing. "Now we've got a drowning."

"He was afraid of drowning... and he died by drowning." Hotchner, Dr. Reid, and JJ all turned to glance down at her from where she sat, her feet propped up onto the table a few feet away from the boards. She glanced up from her notepad to look at Hotchner through her bangs, "Still think it's a coincidence."

"What do you mean?" The Supervisory Agent prompted her.

"There are six elevator related deaths per year..." Beck and Hotchner both threw confused glances to Dr. Reid as he muttered the odd statistic beneath his breath as though he were onto something. If he was, they had not a clue about what it was just from that statistic.

"Where's that from?" Beck asked.

The doctor's head abruptly shot up as he took a step towards the speaker in the center of the table that was connected to the missing two members of the team back at the lake with Patrick Walker's body. "When Morgan freaked when we got stuck in the elevator- that's it!"

"You got stuck in an elevator?" Prentiss prompted to an unseen Morgan on the other end of the line.

There was a scoff. "I freaked?"

Beck glanced up at Dr. Reid with an amused grin on her lips, recalling the memory of the way both of them looked when they came out of that elevator. "Well, that's not important. Here's what is-" She thought she saw a small blush on his cheeks before he quickly changed the subject. "If you look at the M.O.'s of the victims, what do they all have in common?"

"They could all be classified as anxiety disorders." Beck and Dr. Reid glanced at one another after having come to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Reid was quick to turn back to his head, "It's right out of 'The Diagnostics and Statistical Manual'. It lists five subtypes of phobias-"

"Animal, Environmental, Injury, Situational, and other," Beck listed off as she dropped her feet from off the table to lean forward in her seat.

Hotchner crossed his arms, glancing between the pair. "Most of these are Environmental and Situational."

"Exactly," Reid nodded. He threw a glance back behind him where Beck sat. She imagined he was thinking the same thing about how in sync they were with their explanations, their conclusions and their accidental communication as though they were tuned into the same wavelength: like they were back at CTU when they'd first met.

"So Ryder was right..." Beck could've laughed at how Hotchner looked physically ill after saying those words. "It's all about fear. These people are being killed by their fears."

"Which begs the next important question," Beck stood from her seat to stand in front of the board, only her eyes weren't resting on the bodies. They landed on all the smiling faces of the living versions of these dead bodies. "Who would you tell about your worst fears?"

Hotchner turned to glance at her at the same time that she turned to throw a sidelong glance up at him.

"Ryder and Reid- go meet up with Prentiss and Morgan to canvas the neighborhoods near Patrick Walker's apartment," Hotchner barked out the order as he turned back to the speaker behind Beck. "There's bound to be some kind of service or advertisement to do with fears that draws these victims directly to our Unsub."

Beck turned to her opposite side, Reid was already holding up the SUV keys in his hand as he beamed. "I'm driving," he mouthed to her.

She couldn't help but smile as she rolled her eyes and started on her way out the office door, the doctor not far behind her.

—

"Do you do that often?"

Beck turned to her left where Dr. Reid was seated behind the wheel. His eyes hadn't left the road ahead of him, but she didn't peg him as someone with very good hand-eye coordination so she was grateful for his focus as he drove.

She tilted her head slightly. "Do what?"

"Tap in Morse code when you're thinking," he clarified, this time he did peer at her out of the corner of his eye.

She chuckled, turning her attention back to the road. "Sometimes. Where'd you learn Morse code from anyway, Doctor?"

"Got bored one Summer," he shrugged nonchalantly. Beck snorted. "Where did you learn, Agent?"

"It was apart of my coursework for the... program I was apart of," she vaguely explained. "My dad got pissed when I taught my brother just the one word. When we were bored at the dinner table, we'd just tap it out over and over again; laughing until my dad finally caught on and sent us to bed." She smiled briefly at the memory.

It was odd; talking about her family and personal life. With a coworker, no less. Beck's smile vanished as she shifted in her seat. Dr. Reid must've taken the hint because he didn't bother to push any further and the rest of the ride was spent in silence.

Eventually, they made it to Patrick Walker's apartment building where an identical black SUV was already parked out front, the two familiar agents waiting for them on the sidewalk nearby.

Dr. Reid had a little bit of a struggle turning the large vehicle into a parallel park just behind the first SUV, Beck bit back her smile as her head continued to hit the back of her seat continuously until he eventually put the car in park.

Beck was still struggling to keep her laughter at bay as she unbuckled her seatbelt and had started to exit the vehicle. It was around the time that she had gotten out to inspect his parking job and noticed the almost three yards of space between the two vehicles that she snorted.

The doctor had walked around the front when he noticed the space as well as the smile on her face. "Shut up," he muttered as he passed by her to get to the sidewalk. She was still laughing by the time they'd walked up the sidewalk to meet up with Prentiss and Morgan.

The two agents glanced curiously between Beck and the Doctor. "What?" Morgan prompted.

"Nothing," Reid replied almost as quickly as Beck had managed to sober up from her giggling.

She cleared her throat. "So, where are we starting with first?"

Prentiss and Morgan decidedly let the pair drop the subject.

"Well, Prentiss and JJ narrowed down where we should start looking," Morgan stated.

"Just like we're profiling him, he profiled his victims and the best way to lure them in," Prentiss began to explain. "We're looking for some kind of advertisement in places that new residents frequent- dry cleaners, gyms, coffee shops, the dentist, laundromats."

Morgan gestured to a building down the opposite side that Beck and Dr. Reid had come from. "According to the land lady Prentiss talked to, Patrick Walker frequented a gym not far down the block. Seems like a good place to start. Ryder- you with me?"

Beck shrugged. "Guess so."

"We'll go check the laundromat down the street," Prentiss gestured to the opposite side of the block. "We'll meet back up there."

The gym was large, smelt like sweat and feet, and was filled to the brim with men that were punching away her problems. It reminded Beck of the old gym Hawks used to take her to on the weekends he'd take to visit her in Texas. She was definitely a fighter... and so was Patrick Walker, apparently.

"A boxing gym," Beck murmured as they entered the building. "He had to have been lured into the water; he would've put up a fight if someone tried to physically drown him. But- if our theory is correct- why would he willingly get into the water if he was aquaphobic?"

Morgan scoffed as the pair slowly made their way to the bulletin board off to the side of all the punching bags and boxing rings. "You got me there. You couldn't pay me enough to do what I fear most."

Beck glanced up at all the posters, pamphlets, and advertisements all along the corkboard. The agent ran her fingers along the bottom edge as her eyes ran across every word and photo, date and time. Nothing that jumped out at her that might've been suspicious or had anything to do with fear or even therapy. Therapy. Right, as if any of these steroid heads would be paid any amount of money to take up an ad for therapy they got from their gym.

"You couldn't pay me enough to do what I fear most."

"That could be it..."

Morgan peered down at her, his thick eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"Money," Beck replied. "What if this guy is paying his victims to try and face their fears?"

Morgan blinked once as he processed her explanation. "That would explain... a lot, actually." Beck nodded in agreement. "Let's head back to laundromat. Maybe Reid or Prentiss found something similar to that there."

Beck gave a noncommittal hum before starting on her way out of the sweaty gym. But before she had left through the glass doors, she paused momentarily to glance back at the boxing rings once more.

"You're a natural fighter, kiddo. Dai? Rebecca? What am I supposed to call you now anyway?" A younger Bruno Hawks asked the little ten year old in front of him in the middle of the ring.

Little Rebecca Ryder shrugged. "I dunno... Mom calls me Rebecca, but... I don't like it."

"Why not?"

She shrugged again. "I dunno. Doesn't sound like it's my name."

"How about Becca?" He prompted, his boxing glove-clad hand tapping the side of her head as she bounced past him with a giggle. "You think you're more of a Becca?"

She made a face. "No... But I'm not a 'Dai' either," she grimaced at the old name.

"Hm," Hawks hummed. "Reba?"

"Ewwww," she drew a face and laughed.

"Well, what name do you think you seem more like?" He tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Mm... Not Reba. Not Rebecca. Not Becca." With each name she listed off, she threw a hard punch against Hawks' abdomen. Eventually, she landed a harsh blow against his groin which caused him to double over in pain.

He groaned. "Son of a b-"

"Beck!" The little girl jumped up in victory. "Beck. I like that name."

Hawks began to compose himself again. "Beck? That's the name you want?"

She nodded, her head bobbing as her feet bounced up and down, her fists coming up once more. She was ready for round... what was it- ten? "Beck! I like it."

"I dunno, kiddo. Sounds a little... boy-ish, yeah?"

"I can beat up boys, can't I?" She jibed, running over to throw a smaller jab at his side before jumping back away.

Hawks laughed. "Yes. Yes, you can."

Beck.

Ryder.

"Ryder."

Beck glanced to her side as the memory faded away. Morgan was standing by the door peering after her. "You alright?" He asked.

She nodded and cleared her throat before replying, "Fine. Let's get to that laundromat." With that, she brushed past him to get out of the gym and away from the memories attached to it.

Morgan, once again, didn't bother to push the subject. One thing about profilers was that they could take the hint to drop shit, apparently. Dr. Reid. Prentiss. Morgan. Hotchner was questionable... But either way, it was something she was grateful for as her and Morgan walked side by side to the laundromat in silence.

Eventually, the pair made it to the laundromat where Prentiss and Dr. Reid were standing amongst the rows of washing machines, their attention focused on something plastered to the end of one row.

"Hey," Morgan greeted the pair as he leaned against a machine nearby, Beck following his lead and jumping up to sit on the one next to his. "Well, Patrick Walker just joined a pretty sweet boxing gym, but Ryder here has another theory-" He gestured to her where she sat.

"What if the Unsub is setting up a ruse to get his victims to come to him. Something like a therapist or some kind of a doctor that's paying people to try and face their fears somehow?" She prompted with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Would explain the lack of defensive wounds and why these victims so willingly put themselves into situations that scared the crap out of them," Morgan chimed in.

Prentiss smirked. "Funny you should say that." The brunette handed Morgan a yellow flyer. Beck leaned over his shoulder to read it.

"The Goodman Institute?" Beck read aloud. On it was some kind of advertisement that offered people a chance to be apart of a 'controlled research project' for $100 to get over their 'anxieties'. The stubs on the bottom looked to be untouched, save for the one at the end that had been ripped off. Beck glanced over that ripped edge and frowned. Patrick Walker.

"Well, I think we should go over victim number two's coffee shop," Morgan concluded. "See if any of these are hanging around." He held up the yellow piece of paper to the group.

Prentiss frowned. "If all of our victims saw these fliers, we just figured out how he casts his net, she stated.

"You think we could trace the number on one of those stubs?" She asked Morgan, gesturing to the pieces of paper on the bottom of the flyer with a big, bold phone number at the bottom.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'll get it to Garcia, see what she can find."

The group of agents moved out, Beck jumping down from her spot on the washing machine to follow after Morgan and Prentiss. She fell into step with Dr. Reid who seemed to be eating pretzels.

"Hey, where'd you get those?"

He glanced down at the bag she was gesturing at then smiled. "Oh- snack machine." Beck turned to where he was pointing at over her shoulder. There, sitting in the middle of the laundromat was a snack machine filled to the brim with sweats and baked goods.

"Hold on!" She called to the group before practically skipping over to the thing. She quickly fished out three dollars from her pocket and inserted it in. She didn't even need to debate with what she wanted; she just got down the number, punched it in, and waited patiently for it to fall. The sweet, glorious feeling she got when it eventually did made her beam with joy as she reached in and pulled out the small bag of sour gummy worms she had just bought.

Once she had her snack in hand, she had to jog to catch up with the three agents waiting for her at the laundromat entrance. Beck sheepishly smiled as she popped the bag open and tossed a gummy worm into her mouth.

Prentiss and Morgan both glanced over their shoulders at the pair behind them that were smiling down at their bags of food. It was like looking at two children. The pair of agents exchanged amused looks, but merely shook their head as they continued on their walk.

It had taken less than half an hour for the group to make it to Jenny Wittman's coffee shop. Reid and Beck stayed by the SUV while Morgan and Prentiss went in to check the bulletin board for any of those Goodman Institute fliers.

While they waited, the pair finished off their bags of snacks.

"You know, if you eat over a hundred pounds of gummy worms in one sitting, your body could potentially shut down from sugar overload," Dr. Reid stated abruptly while they leaned against the car on the sidewalk.

"Hm," Beck hummed as she licked the leftover sugar from off her fingers. "If I die by gummy worms- I went out the way I wanted to." She turned to smile up at him. "What about if you ate over a hundred pounds of pretzels? What happens then?"

"Dehydration, most likely," he answered. "All that salt would have a much faster effect on the body than the sugar. You'd most likely start to suffer from lethargy, lack of energy, extreme fatigue- all symptoms of hypernatremia. If left untreated, you'd probably die."

Beck shrugged. "I'd challenge you to see what kills who faster- sugar or salt- but I'd imagine we'd both be too dead to reap the benefits of who wins and who loses," she joked. "Who knows? Maybe the rest of the team could document our scientific findings after we're gone."

Reid chuckled. "Yeah. Maybe Morgan could write the thesis while we're being lowered into our graves," he replied sarcastically. Beck snorted in response.

This was nice. Joking with a coworker. Eating gummy worms without being mocked. She would've never been able to do something like this with the CTU. Maybe that's what drew her to this job, this team. It was the reason why she was doing Strauss's dirty work...

Beck was struck with an idea: she wouldn't be getting much from Morgan in the terms of dirt on Hotchner. He was surprisingly too self aware and suspicious. Same with Prentiss. She could've talked with that bubbly Garcia personality, but something told Beck that she wasn't exactly close to the polar opposite of her personality, Aaron Hotchner.

Dr. Spencer Reid was probably her best bet with getting close to the team and to Hotchner.

"So, Morgan isn't too big on the scientific aspect of things? Or is that more of a you thing, Dr. Reid?" She prompted as she crumpled up the empty bag of snacks and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

"I guess you could say that," Dr. Reid replied. "I do have the highest IQ on the team and about three PhD's under my belt."

Beck blinked in surprise. "Three? How old are you?"

"Twenty-six," he answered. "What about you?"

Twenty four. Four PhD's.

"What about me?"

He gave her a small smile. "It's just... you pointed out the manner of death and picked up on physical forensic evidence from one of the victims just from the photos. You have some amount of education and experience in anatomy and forensic science." Hm. He was pretty good.

"You couldn't find anything about me from your initial online sweep of my files?" Beck taunted him, grinning at the slight blush that blossomed across his face.

He frowned slightly. "I didn't... That wasn't really me-"

"I know. That technical analyst of yours was pretty thorough."

"But not thorough enough," the doctor remarked. "Apparently, someone manually sealed past excursions and the education portion of your file."

"Hm. Odd," Beck hummed, her eyes focused on her feet as she tried not to meet his eyes.

"Yeah. Odd that whoever did it sealed education, but not your personal records. Where you lived, who your parents were, how many siblings you have." Beck's facial expression remained stoic. If he was trying to get a rise out of her, his tactics weren't working. Or maybe he really was just genuinely curious about her like she was him. "Why would someone cover up their education, but not their family?"

Beck shrugged once more. "Maybe they just wanted this job to be different from the last," she muttered as she kicked a pebble along the sidewalk.

Dr. Reid opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else when Morgan and Prentiss came rushing out of the coffee shop, distraught looks on their faces. Morgan was just hanging up the phone when they had reached Dr. Reid and Beck.

"What is it?" Beck asked at the same time Reid prompted his teammates, "What's wrong?"

Prentiss held up one of the same yellow flyers that they had found in the laundromat. "This has been up since last Summer."

Beck felt her blood run cold. "You think he could have more victims than just the few we've uncovered so far?"

"With a time gap that wide since he first set up this lure- yeah," Morgan replied. "I already called Calvert, he's meeting us at the Trail where we found the first couple of bodies now. Hotch wants you two to head back to the Field Office, see if you can start to figure out who this Goodman guy is."

Reid and Beck both nodded in unison as they watched Prentiss and Morgan walk off to the first SUV a few feet away.

Just before they drove off, Reid began to scavenge through his pockets. "Hm.. that's weird. I could've sworn-" That's when he heard the jingling.

He glanced up to find Beck leaning against the side of the car with the SUV key dangling off her index finger, her grin was almost to the ends of her face. "I'm driving."

With that, she skipped along to the driver's side of the SUV, leaving a very confused Reid still standing on the sidewalk. She laughed when she heard him shout out, "How did you even get those out of my pocket without me feeling it?!"

—

Back at the Field Office, most of the agents were on edge after just coming back from the Trail that the Unsub had left his mass grave. They'd dug up at least twelve more bodies, twelve different causes of death.

Beck found herself standing in front of the board that Hotchner and Reid had compiled from all the new bodies found. It was too early to ID the bodies, but with the help of a few ME's and Beck, they were able to deduce all the ways they were killed.

"Blunt force trauma to the head," Beck listed off. "Most likely caused from a fall from high escalation."

"Acrophobia- fear of heights," Reid placed the label beneath the picture of the body recovered on the board.

Beck moved onto the next. "Death by poison. Multiple bite marks from snakes found all along the arms and legs of the victim."

"Ophiophobia- fear of snakes."

"Asphyxiation... again."

"Claustrophobia. Pretty common."

"Strangulation. Physical strangulation, not hanging."

"Pseudodysphagia- fear of choking or strangulation."

"Two more burnt to death," Beck winced at the images.

"Encavmaphobia- fear of burning alive."

"And four exsanguinations..." Beck finished the list with a sigh.

"Hemophobia- fear of blood." Dr. Reid placed the final card beneath the last four photos.

Beck pursed her lips as they both took steps back and surveyed the board of dead bodies. So much death. Slow torture. Fear.

"This guy is... a new breed of all kinds of fucked up," she muttered beneath her breath. "How is he not a sadist? What does he get from killing people in the way they fear the most?"

Dr. Reid's forehead creased as he glanced down at the woman beside him. "What makes you think the Unsub isn't a sadist?"

She shook her head slightly. "Hotchner said something about the Unsub not being a sadist. Apparently, overlooking that he isn't could lead to some catastrophic outcome according to him."

She had tried to mask the bitterness in her tone, but she shouldn't have been surprised when he picked it up almost immediately. "Hotch is giving you a hard time, too?"

It was Beck's turn to glance up at him in confusion. "'Too'? So, he's a hardass with everyone then?" She chuckled as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning her body weight against the table behind them.

He shrugged. "He's always hard on everyone, but... Gideon leaving is really taking it's toll on everyone- him, especially."

That made Beck's small smirk vanish almost instantaneously. Gideon. Of course, she'd made that passive aggressive remark about Gideon leaving earlier yesterday when she'd first met with Hotchner in his office with Strauss, but she hadn't actually factored in how difficult it must've been for the team and it's dynamic after losing one of it's core members.

She let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I know how much Gideon meant to this team," she told him truthfully. "Still- it'd be easier on everyone if Hotchner just pulled the stick out of his ass instead of biting my head off every chance he gets." Dr. Reid awkwardly cleared his throat and she winced. "Sorry... off topic."

There was beat of silence between the pair. Neither spoke as their eyes rested on the board of dead bodies and phobias and causes of death. Beck began to nervously tap the side of her arm while her arms were still crossed.

Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. Pause. Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Pause. Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. Pause. Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold.

She heard a soft chuckle from beside her.

Just then, the office door swung open as the rest of the team came hurdling in. They all looked exhausted, most of them having just returned from the mass grave. She'd been through quite a few mass graves before, she knew how much of a physical, mental, and emotional toll it takes out of people from being around that much death in such a confined area. Calvert looked to be taking it the hardest from the glazed over look in his eyes as he entered alongside Hotchner, Prentiss, Morgan, and JJ.

Immediately upon entering the room, Hotchner's jaw was set and his eyes were already meticulously scanning the pair's work on all the boards. She wasn't sure if he were analyzing what they'd done or looking for more of her mistakes he could tear into open wounds. "You guys find anything new?"

"Aside from a dozen new causes of death and still pinpoint on what his M.O. is-" Beck listed off with a frown. "Nope."

The team all collectively seemed to deflate from the lack of good news. They looked like they could've used it after the sights they all just had to witness as they all took their seats around the table, their separate notes and new files set around for them to look at an analyze now that there was new data.

"Hey-" Beck bristled slightly when Dr. Reid abruptly pushed himself from off the edge of the table where they were both leaning- she hadn't realized his weight had been keeping the table grounded until she fell back slightly. "You said Garcia found an online questionnaire the Unsub had his victims fill out on his website?"

"Yeah," JJ answered as she pulled a sheet from a nearby manila file to slide across the table to him. "We printed it out."

He thanked her before carefully taking the sheet of paper and hanging it up on the white board nearby. He read it fairly quickly before taking a step back and popping the cap off a blue dry erase marker. "Hm," he hummed to himself as he squinted his eyes, deep in thought.

"Find anything?" Beck prompted.

"Yeah- look at this, guys-" he scribbled the word 'Phobias' on the board in big blue letters and an arrow pointed at the paper, following the action by circling words on the printed questionnaire. "He calls them 'phobias' instead of 'anxiety disorders'."

Beck frowned. She was tempted to ask what the significance was in the word usage, but didn't want to sound so clueless. Especially on her first case with this team.

Thankfully, her unasked question was answered by Agent Prentiss. "Yeah, this guy's either an amateur or he studied psychology in the eighties."

"His phrasing of the questions are clinical-" Morgan noted, his own copy of the questionnaire in his hands as he stood off to the edge similar to the way Beck was now. She noticed he did that the same way during the profile, walking and standing instead of taking a seat like everyone else. She wondered if it was a trust thing or because he felt the need to be alert at all times. "This guy's a professional," he concluded.

"Well, he's able to pick the perfect victims," Hotchner remarked without looking up from his own copy. "'Are you close to your family? Easy making friends?' Answer 'yes' and you're spared the torture."

Calvert shifted in his seat the table beside Hotchner. "We figured out how he chooses his victims, but how does that get us his real name?"

"We can use all the information we've gather to deduce and run it through a system to find exactly who we're looking for based on the profile we've put together," Beck explained, seemingly flawlessly based on the impressed look on Morgan's face. Spoken like a true profiler, apparently.

"Alright," Hotchner quickly changed focus. Of course. "Let's review. JJ, can you get Garcia?"

Morgan took a seat as JJ reached over the table to dial someone from the speaker. "I think the guy's a real psychiatrist," he remarked as he sat down.

"Also afraid of being alone," Prentiss chimed in. "So, he's most likely married."

"Could he have children, too, then?" Beck asked.

"Yes, but they'd be adopted," Dr. Reid replied as he made his way around the table, passing behind where she sat on the edge of the table still as he did.

"Why?" Calvert asked in confusion.

"Uh, because the tortures lack a sexual component."

Calvert nodded in understanding. "Oh, right, he might be impotent."

"Ruling out the sadism," Beck muttered. She hadn't meant to be too loud about it, but Hotchner had already glanced up at her briefly at the mention of what he'd told her before. Asshole.

"Hey, guys," the soft spoken voice of Penelope Garcia echoed from the speaker in the center of the table.

"Also, he's desperate for a sense of community, he'd definitely have kids," Reid finished Beck's earlier musing as he took a seat again at the table.

"Okay, I'm crossing Portland doctors with adoptions." Garcia immediately picked up on it all. Ah, she must've been their system.

Hotchner spoke over the soft pitter patter of keys typing at an alarming rate on the other end of the line. "And given the obsession to control his victims with torture, he might have been abused."

There was a slight groan of frustration. "Okay, juvenile records are gonna be sealed, so you gotta give me a minute." Beck almost wanted to groan at that. Back at CTU, she had an entire board of computers and group of techs at her beck and call that had unlimited access to everything they could virtually get their little grimey hands on. This was one aspect of the job she'd have to get used to- not having as many resources. Hopefully, this Garcia girl was as good as this team trusted her to be.

"He uses antiquated terms like 'phobias,' so he's most likely in his forties," Prentiss chimed in.

"And... the Creep of the Moment Award goes to..." Wait- she'd gotten through to the juvenile records? Holy shit, maybe she was that good. "One 43-year-old Dr. Stanley Howard, psychiatrist."

Okay, Beck would admit it. "She's good."

"This guy was killing his own patients?" Calvert asked, clearly confused at how a doctor could be getting away with something as extreme as killing his own patients without having been caught for so long.

"No," Beck and Hotchner replied at the same time. Beck immediately backed off after seeing the Unit Chief's irritated look that he sent her. "Stan Howard's smarter than that. That's why he created Goodman and the research ruse."

"What else do we know about Stan Howard?" Beck prompted the little speaker in the center of the table.

"Married to Jane Howard, has one 8-year-old daughter- Jessica."

"Lemme guess- adopted?"

"Yup," came the reply. "He started a center for abused kids." Beck furrowed her eyebrows. Odd. But maybe that's why he wasn't considered a sadist- because he didn't get off on the torture, of course he'd have empathy for people similar to him.

"Probably because he could relate," Hotchner remarked.

"Oh, one good deed's not fortifying his karma sufficiently," Garcia continued. "Looks like his practice shut down last year."

Beck's head shot up at that. "Last year... wasn't that-"

"Right around the time the killings started," Hotchner finished her sentence. This time she didn't feel as agitated by it, and neither did he, it seemed.

"He still has a lease on his old office building. City permits were pulled due to renovation, but what do you know? They've been delayed..." Beck could practically hear the smile behind her words. She couldn't help but a crack a small smirk herself listening to the technical analysis. She was better than good with all this info she was pulling, and she just kept going like a magician pulling shit out of a bottomless hat. "Yikes! His bank records show a seriously depleted savings account."

"So he's keeping up appearances," the Unit Chief deduced. "Where's the building?"

Beck was already pushing off from the edge of the table by the time Garcia had began to list off the address, "427 Cedars Avenue."

"It's not far from here," Calvert noted.

"Alright- let's go check the building," Hotchner began as the rest of the team followed Beck's lead in rising from their seats. "You two-"

"Talk to the family. Got it." Prentiss quickly caught onto her cue, JJ close beside her, "Thanks, Garcia."

427 Cedars Avenue.

Beck quickly jotted down on her notepad before ripping out the page and pocketing it.

Thank you, Penelope Garcia

Hello, Stan Howard.

—

Beck had finished up strapping in her FBI bullet proof vest by the time Hotchner had begun pulling the SUV down the street where the office was located. She awkwardly adjusted it against her chest, her fingers idly tracing the big, blotchy letters above her breasts. 'FBI.'

Her CTU vest had always been a pitch black, never worn outside of her clothes, always hidden beneath a layer or two of clothes. It felt odd and awkward to have it brandished out for the world to see. Too many risks.

She had to remind herself though that this wasn't Mogadishu, Kuwait, Kabul, Baghdad, DRC, Pyongyang, Aleppo. This was just... Portland, Oregon. The greatest danger to her was a fake doctor killing people by drowning them and burning them alive. They were ten steps ahead of him. And she wasn't going into this alone. She didn't have to check over her shoulder every five steps. She didn't have to hide her bulletproof vest.

This wasn't the CTU. This was the BAU.

"You okay?"

Beck glanced over to her right. Dr. Reid was peering at her, a genuinely concerned look plastered on his face.

She nodded, for his benefit and for hers- she doubted he'd want to hear about her past excursions and she definitely didn't feel like divulging any details, especially not here or now... or ever. "Fine."

Just then, Hotchner had pulled the vehicle just in front of where the GPS had taken them- 427 Cedars Avenue only...

"Are you sure this is it?" Morgan leaned over to Hotchner as he gestured to where office of Dr. Stan Howard was meant to have been.

Hotchner frowned as he exited the car having put it into park with a jerk, Reid, Morgan, Calvert and Beck following his lead until they were all standing just off the sidewalk at 427 Cedars Avenue... where there was nothing but an empty plot of land.

"This is 427 Cedars Avenue," Dr. Reid said as they stood clueless in the middle of the lot looking like a bunch of fucking idiots. "Where's the office?"

"Yeah," Beck muttered as she kicked some dirt up beneath her boot. "Not exactly what I'd imagined it to look like..."

Agent Calvert looked just as pissed as Beck felt at their discovery. "He wasn't luring victims to an empty lot."

"He wouldn't be stupid enough to use the building that's attached to his real identity," Beck muttered bitterly. Should've known.

Hotchner was already dialing up someone on his phone in the midst of their turmoil. "Hey, Prentiss. We're at the office. The building's gone." There was a pause before he swiftly turned on his heel back to the car, everyone else following in his stead. Here they went again...

As soon as the group of agents had settled back into their seats in the SUV, Hotchner was already hitting the gas. The car jerked forward. Beck, who had opted for the window seat behind Morgan was jostled slightly when Dr. Reid lost his balance and was squished against her. She glanced up when he glanced backwards and noted at how close they were to one another. He quickly jerked back, a fumbled apology leaving his mouth as he corrected himself. She could've sworn she saw a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

Hm... Seems like Dr. Reid had a phobia of his own. Germophobia.

"Where are we going?" Agent Calvert shouted over the sirens as Hotchner weaved his way through the busy streets.

"Prentiss just texted me an address-" Morgan exclaimed. "Mrs. Howard's parents have commercial property downtown. We've got a police unit meeting us there."

"You think that's where he would be?"

"It's our best bet," Beck shouted back in reply.

With Hotchner's almost wreckless driving, the team managed to make it to this downtown commercial property in record time. And right on time with them were the police unit cars, swerving into the building entrance just behind them.

They parked, Agent Calvert and the armed police squadron rushing in first to secure the main entrance. Hotchner followed in suit, Morgan, Dr. Reid, and Beck trailing him in a V formation as they entered. Beck's fingers twitched, the weight of her weapon holstered at the curve of her back burning into her skin as she walked. But her guard fell ever so slightly when they arrived into the main lobby of the... 'Goodman Institute' building only to find it... empty. Just like the lot, this place was a lie, according to Calvert.

"There are no tenants in this building. These must be fake names," he stated, jabbing a frustrated finger in the direction of a large black board filled to the brim with fake names.

"Helps with the ruse," Morgan deduced.

Goodman Institute 9th on the list... Dr. Barry Goodman PhD, right next to the room number 501.

"Goodman's on the 5th floor," Morgan listed off the blackboard. Hotchner immediately drew his weapon as they marched forward to room 501, Morgan and Beck doing the same as they trailed behind.

The stairs were narrow, the hallways were mute, cold, and bright. It didn't actually smell like death, but if this were a real workplace building, she'd imagine quite a few souls would be lost to these white walls and stained carpets. She might not have loved what she did, but she found she vastly preferred getting thrown around by grenades and scaling the sides of skyscrapers than having to ever live a cubicle lifestyle eight hours a day, five days a week. She'd probably hire someone to shoot her.

When they reached room 501, Hotchner went in first. Morgan second. Beck third. They fell in line with each other with ease. While Hotchner had a direct line in the center of the room, Morgan immediately rushed forward towards the desk at the far end of the room, his guard down about the opposite side of the office that Beck was covering. Complete trust. Morgan wasn't weary of someone watching his back as he focused on one particular part of the room, he trusted his team to keep the rest of the room covered. And they did, because they found that no one was there.

"It's clear!" Morgan shouted after scaling the entire office space. "Back area's clear!"

It was dark. Someone turned on the lights and Beck winced as she placed her pistol back into it's holster.

"Missy Cassell was the last person to sign in," Hotchner explained as he and Dr. Reid had already began to scavenge through Howard's desk and belongings.

"When was that?" Beck and Reid's voices bounced off the walls as they spoke in unison. They didn't bother to share a knowing glance like the first few times, no time.

"Hours ago."

"She has to still be here unless he's taken her to a second location like he had Patrick Walker," Beck stated.

Hotchner gave her a short nod of acknowledgement. He agreed. Huh, that was the first sign of actual mutual respect and decency he's shown since she first started. Maybe it was because they were in the middle of a crisis at the moment and there was no time for mind games. She figured it would go back to the way it was before by the time they caught Howard, so she tried not to linger on the small gesture and it's connotations.

"Alright- let's split up," Hotchner began. "Calvert, you and Reid take the West side. Ryder- you're with Morgan and I."

Calvert gave small nod to Hotchner, "Copy," before he and Reid were quick to file out.

The second they were out of the room, Morgan took a step forward, his eyes gazing over the unorganized mess of the office. "It definitely looks like he's still here," he noted.

"He's not gonna go quietly," Hotchner uttered before storming off in the opposite direction he'd sent Calvert and Reid. Beck faltered to follow as she remembered what she'd observed herself back during the profile.

He wants control. That's all he wants.

He'd take his own life before giving that up.

She knew it would be important...

Hotchner led her and Morgan out through the side. They'd searched the entirety of the West side of the building before going outside. Maybe they'd get a view on where he was from there.

Then, sure enough, Morgan shouted out. "Stan Howard, FBI! Stay right where you are!"

Beck's eyes shot up to where he was pointing and shouting at. Up at the top of a few outside staircases was a short, stubly man. It looked as though his hair was arched like the McDonald's 'M', he wore large black glasses, a red tie and a beige suit. He definitely looked the part of doctor. Not a cowardly doctor that would take advantage of people trying to get help with their anxieties and fears only to have them used against them and killed in the way they fear the most.

Beck's fists clenched.

He was going up the stairs. He wasn't going to give up his control.

Up the stairs... Take his own life...

A shiver went up Beck's spine as the realization set in. She knew where he was headed. And how to stop him.

She threw caution into the wind, letting the wind whip her messy bangs around as she sprinted in the opposite direction of the West outside staircase.

"Ryder!"

Hotchner's angry shouts were ignored as her short legs carried her around the East side of the building where- AHA! East side of the building also had an outside staircase. She didn't waste a second as she jumped up and started her trek up. She skipped every other step in order to try and catch up. From the looks of it, he only had a few more stairs to go before Howard reached the roof, but assuming he'd want a few last words before he killed himself, she figured he'd stay up there long enough for Hotchner to catch up with Morgan... long enough for her to get justice for Jenny Wittman and Patrick Walker.

By the time she'd reached the roof, she was only slightly out of breath.

Her hair was whipping around in the wind and she slowly reached around her back to pull her weapon from it's holster. She cautiously took a few steps forward, testing to see if the stubly figure at the opposite corner of the roof would sense her presence and turn towards her. He didn't.

Stan Howard stood stiff and proud at the edge of the roof, just above the West stair case. Of course, she predicted correctly about this cowardly little shit wanting to get in a few last words. Why'd they always have to try and have the last words?

"Dr. Howard?" Beck could vaguely hear Hotchner call out to him from somewhere past the edge. They'd finally made it up there. "I'm Aaron Hotchner. I'm with the FBI." He's trying to make a connection to this man, make him feel comfortable to try and talk him down. He won't.

Sure enough- "Don't ask me to come down," was Stan Howard's emotionless response.

"We found at least fifteen people dead," Hotchner amended as Beck grew closer and closer. As she approached, she realized she probably couldn't shoot him- it was what he wanted and they still needed to know where Missy Cassell was. "It's over."

"They sacrificed themselves for science," Howard exclaimed. Huh, so that's why he did it.

His own twisted experiment to try and fix his own anxiety... She wondered what that was. Sick and twisted bastard with an abusive mom. She imagined it wasn't open spaces, heights, sunlight... He was basking in this setting on the corner of the building. He probably wasn't even scared of death. What made his little tick falter- she wondered as she holstered her gun.

"You know this is the easy way out," Hotchner stated, Beck's fingers brushed along the edge of her elastic belt. "If you come down, we'd like to talk to you." Slowly and carefully, she made sure not to make a sound as she unbuckled it and slowly slid it from around her waist. "You know you'll never get over your fear by killing yourself or your patients." He was really pulling out all the stops- throwing every punch- but nothing was eliciting a response. Beck figured that with someone as cold and heartless enough not to care about other people's fears, the only one he'd react to was his own- maybe losing control?

"Most people go into law enforcement because they want to help others," Howard said.

Morgan shouting back in response, clearly not in the mood, "Tell us where Missy is!"

What fear invoked fear and the loss of control? What made someone feel utterly helpless? Well, it could be argued all the fears everyone faced of their own made them feel helpless. There had to be something about the way he was so naturally holding his stance up here, why he chose a building with ugly white walls, narrow hallways, and disgustingly bright lights.

Howard carefully pulled the glasses off his face and tucked them into his breast pocket. "I think your greatest fear is that you can't save everyone."

Disgustingly bright lights... Basking in the sun...

Motherfucker was afraid of the dark. Ha! The oldest fucking fear in the book.

Beck's fingers flexed as she crept just a little bit closer, now only a few feet behind Howard. Her grip tightened on the end of the belt that dangled in her hand as she crouched, ready to strike.

"It is worse than I thought."

Now!

Beck's hand shot out, the belt making a sharp slapping noise as it swung up and around Howard's frail neck, just above his collar.

He had started to lean forward when he was abruply yanked back when the agent pulled the belt in her direction. He made a choking noise as he fell in the opposite direction of his death at the bottom of the ledge.

Beck watched as he toppled to the ground just in front of her, the belt wrapped tightly around his throat now going limp as she released her hold on it. He coughed, gasped, and spluttered for air as he squirmed beneath her. He must not have been expecting that, or her for that matter.

"You- you- NO!" He roared between his coughs.

Beck rolled her eyes, "Shut up." She leaned over to roll Howard onto his back, her free hand coming up to produce the handcuffs in her back pocket that she used to lock his wrists in place behind his back. He was still shouting and cursing by the time she yanked him back up to his feet. Morgan and Hotchner were quick to make it the rest of the way up the stairs to get to the roof.

The shorter agent yanked the handcuffs back having set them the tightest they could go locked around Howard's wrists. Her height was in her favor now as she yanked him down to her height so she could hiss in his ear, "Where is she?"

Howard snarled, "I want my lawyer."

Beck rolled her eyes, the hand latched onto his forearm just above his cuffed wrists pushing her thumb into his arm while her other fingers pulled his forearm upwards. Howard cried out. "Missy Cassell's location- now." When he whimpered, an idea struck. "Unless, you'd rather we just take you back to station. Sit you down in a nice... cold... dark... cell?" He stiffened in her hold. "Yeah. That sounds good, doesn't it, Agent Hotchner?"

Hotchner caught on quickly. "I can arrange that," he moved forward to grab Howard by the upper arm, taking him from Beck to lead him out.

They'd barely made it to the stairs when Howard cracked. "No! No! Please... Please..."

"Where is she?" Morgan grilled him.

"The basement... Buried." Was all he uttered, an emotionless mask plastered on his face. That must've been how he got through the deaths. He put on a facade for his science, himself. He didn't get off on it. Not a sadist...

Beck stole a glance to Hotchner. He glanced down back at her, he must've come to the same conclusion. He was right.

Asshole.

"Let's go," Hotchner growled, yanking Howard down the stairs, Morgan and Beck following close behind.

"Hey, Ryder." Beck glanced up to Morgan as she walked. "Not bad for your first Unsub."

"Technically, he isn't my first," she paused when she saw Morgan's raised eyebrow. "...but thanks. Let's just find Missy Cassell."

After Hotchner deposited Howard with the police downstairs, the team was already in hot pursuit of Calvert.

"Miss Cassell's car is still here-" He'd begun when Beck cut him off.

"He said she's in the basement," she said in a rush of words. "Calvert, where's the basement?"

Calvert nodded back to the other end where he'd come from. "This way." He jogged off, Beck and Morgan on his trail. She imagined Hotchner was calling Reid now with a few paramedics for whatever condition they'd find Missy Cassell in. Beck expected the worse, but hoped for the best.

Calvert led them directly to the basement of the building. It was dark, minimal light- unlike the rest of the office. Stone walls that seemed like they were closing in on the group as they all stormed in. The rooms lit up with the bright white lights of the flashlights each of the agents brought out in their search for Missy.

"Where would he hide her in here?"

Beck glanced up when Hotchner's voice was so close beside her. He wasn't looking at her, but the question sure was directed at her.

"Uh- he, he said something about her being buried," she quickly answered in a rush of breath. "He could've pummeled her with concrete. It is a basement..."

Hotchner glared at her.

"What?"

"You were able to pick up his fear of darkness, yet you were too distracted in trying to break his psyche that you didn't pick up on the physical details," he retorted, frustrated with her. "He had dirt beneath his nails, Ryder. What does that tell you?"

"He buried her with dirt and not concrete?!" She shouted, growing frustrated herself. "What does it matter? It's a small mistake and you're tearing into me for it! Just like the sadist mistake!"

He turned to fully face her now. "There is a life on the line and I am trying to build your profiling skills-"

"No." Oh, she had had it. "You're putting me on the spot and asking me questions to which you know I don't have the answers to. You want me to fail so you have something to put in your little report to Strauss. You want to get rid of me because you don't want me here. And it's not just because you don't trust me- it's because you don't want your team to change." Hotchner's eye twitched and she knew she'd hit her mark. "But it's too late, Hotchner- I'm here. And you're either going to let me do my job my way or help me do it your way."

There was a beat of silence. She glared up at him and he scowled down at her. Nether said a word until there was shout from the other side of the basement.

"I got something!" Morgan.

The pair's argument was dropped, both of them jogging over to where Morgan was standing over a pile of dirt and empty... dirt bags. They were close.

Hotchner dove forward towards the edge of what looked like an empty elevator shaft. Huh, elevators. Back to the start it seemed. That was ironic.

Beck didn't bother focusing on said irony because suddenly she was arms deep in a bunch of dirt that had piled down the elevator shaft. With Hotchner on her right and Morgan on her left, they dug through the dirt, searching for any sign of Missy Cassell. Buried. That's what Howard had said. He'd buried this poor woman alive and left her for dead.

Beck dug faster.

Suddenly, her hand hit something warm... lifelike. She dug in that direction until a pale hand was revealed within the dirt. A watch slapped on the limp wrist that dangled out at them. Missy.

"Oh my God," Morgan uttered as they began to dig faster around to pull her out.

"Be careful," Hotchner chastised. "That's her head." Beck saw what he was talking about as a brown head of hair was revealed beneath more dirt. Their hands began to snake around her form, trying to dig around her to get the dirt to soften. When they'd done that, Beck and Morgan both reached for her arm. "Be careful," Hotchner repeated his previous sentiment.

"Ready?" Morgan asked her as he planted his legs beside hers. She nodded just before they started to yank.

"Not too hard, not too hard- she might be stuck," Hotchner exclaimed as he leaned in to help grab her by her shoulders and helped the two agents pull Missy Cassell the rest of the way out until she was lying down on the ground before them.

Beck leaned over the unconscious and dirty woman lyng before her.

"Tell them to call the paramedics," she heard Hotchner call from over her shoulder. Calvert rushed off.

Beck lightly brushed her hair from her face, her fingers sitting at her nose. There was a soft air flow. "Missy? Missy!" She shouted, her other hand coming up to her wrist that laid beside her head. There was a faint flutter. "Weak heartbeat. She's breathing."

Suddenly, Missy Cassell jolted beneath their hands. Coughing and yelping and whimpering. Her eyes were still closed, the light was probably blinding her and there was still a lot of dirt all around her face- eyes included. Her body was convulsing from shock, Beck took her hand firmly in hers to try and calm her and hold her still, they didn't want her to injure herself further.

"Clear her area," Hotchner directed as he tried to hold her neck still as she trashed side to side. "It's okay. It's alright. We're here to help. It's okay. It's okay. You're going to be alright. We're here to help you." Beck tightened her grip on her hand, still holding it down beside her head as Hotchner secured the other one. Missy squeezed back slightly as her sporadic movements came to a close. Now all she was doing was shaking beneath her touch purely out of shock.

Beck brought her other hand forward to lightly brush the dirt from Missy Cassell's eyelids so she could barely open her eyes. Bright blue eyes brimmed with tears as they stared up at her. "You're gonna be fine. He's gone now." A small sob wracked Missy's body, her grip tightening on Beck's hand.

The thought of what she'd just gone through- having almost been killed in the way she feared most. And Beck knew it had to have taken Howard a while to completely bury Missy alive from head to toe. She'd spent an excruciatingly long time being buried. The pain within Missy's eyes was unbearable to look at after so long, Beck had to look away and she found solace in Dr. Reid who was also looking up from Missy's dirt-covered face to give his fellow team member a soft smile.

'We did it.'

And they had. It was over.

—

Before they'd left Portland, Beck had gotten the privilege of watching Stan Howard writhe inside of a dark detainment cell as the team packed up all of their things from the field office. Calvert and his team thanked them and walked them to their SUV's, he was beyond grateful and offered them a drink at a nearby bar to his treat. But, unsurprisingly, no one took him up on it.

Beck had taken a melatonin pill for the flight back. There wasn't any new case or briefing, so she felt the need to be conscious for the jet ride back to DC was unnecessary and slept the entire time. And from the way everyone had fallen into their seats haphazardly before they had even taken off, she'd imagined she wasn't the only one.

When they'd landed, Beck had thrown a small 'meet you back at the office' to the team from over her shoulder as they walked one way and she walked the other towards her baby.

The bike was right where she'd left it in the BAU jet hangar. Untouched, no scratches, not even a smudge. She was only gone for a few days, but Beck still worried.

She'd beat the team to the office by a good fifteen minutes, just like she had on the way to the hangar. But unlike a few days ago, she hadn't bothered to wait those few minutes outside in the brisk air. She had a report to write up.

The brunette was sitting on the edge of the walkway leading down to the Bull Pen. She hadn't really been assigned a desk yet, but her notepad and laptop were good enough. She'd finished up the first report about Stan Howard- documenting the profile word for word, their findings, how they came to the conclusion, the victims killed, how they were killed, where they were found. Jenny Wittman, Patrick Walker, Missy Cassell. How they caught Stan Howard- what she did to stop him from taking his life and getting him to confess where Missy was that led to his arrest and her rescue.

But once she'd finished the initial report, she started on her own report.

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.

In my first case with the BAU, I was immediately off put by Agent Hotchner's blunt efforts to try to repel and scare me away from his team. He's clearly very protective of his normality and having just been brought in following Agent Jason Gideon's abrupt leave from the team, he's attempting to chase me away in an attempt to maintain normality within his own unit. He's petty, like a child in some cases. There were multiple instances where he inappropriately put me on the spot in an attempt to see me fail, if I hadn't been able to catch myself- he would have jeopardized the entire case.

Entry date- 10/18/07

Agent Rebecca Ryder.

She shut her laptop just as the team was getting in.

Prentiss, Dr. Reid, and Morgan all took their collective seats at their desks around the main walkway in the middle of the office, JJ and Hotchner walking down with their bags in hand still.

"Here," Beck met Hotchner just outside his office door, holding up the manila file she'd finished putting together earlier. "My case report. Finished it while I was waiting," she explained to him. She noticed the small quirk of his eyebrow. Impressed. Hm, that's a first.

He took it from her with his free hand. "Thank you. I'll file it away when I finish my own." Beck nearly blanched. Was that... humor? "I'll also talk to Strauss about how you did today."

Beck tilted her head up at him, perplexed. "How did I do today?"

Hotchner let out a heavy sigh, his eyes trailing down to the file in his hands before glancing back up to her. "In all three cases I've worked alongside you so far, you've managed to exceed my expectations of you every time. There would have been four more casualties had you not taken the profile into account and been ten steps ahead of the Unsubs every time. I'd be lying if I told you that that wasn't an impressive feat."

Beck blinked once. Twice. She opened her mouth to say something, nothing came out so she closed it. Then she opened it again, only all she could manage was, "Uh... thank you. I guess." He looked amused at her reaction, but still didn't smile. "See you... whenever..." With a small nod, the agent turned on her heel to start off down the stairs.

She'd made it about three steps when she heard Hotchner call from behind her, "Agent Ryder." She halted in her tracks and turned back to face him, scared for what he would say next. She wasn't sure if she could take any more compliments after what she'd just written in her log to Strauss about him. "I wanted to apologize for putting you into uncomfortable positions this case."

An apology. Even worse.

"You were right, I don't want this team to change as much as it has been recently," he continued. "But I'd like to to take you on as a new change here. If you're willing to, you're welcome to officially join the team."

Beck couldn't help the small smirk that graced her lips. It wasn't mocking or shit-eating. Purely proud of herself. "Are you saying I profiled you well?"

He pursed his lips together as if to say 'of course, that's what you catch onto.' "You are good at what you do," he admitted. "But, you forget that before you had the chance to profile me, it was my job to profile you when we first met." How could she forget that? That was the day her life kind of exploded in her face.

"Agent Ryder..." She stared up at him, noticing how the humor was gone from his voice just like before. "I'm not Bruno Hawks."

Beck let out a heavy sigh. "You're pretty good at what you do, too, Agent Hotchner," she muttered almost bitterly. She couldn't even be mad at him. He was spot on and she hadn't even realized it until he'd said anything.

"I agreed to take you on as a member of the BAU. I wasn't forced," he told her matter of factly. "I had over a hundred and fifty-two reasons not to allow you into this office, into this team-" Beck's eyes widened. A hundred and fifty-two... how had he-? "-But I willingly allowed you to be here."

A hundred and fifty-two... He knew all of that, yet he still...

"...Why?"

"Because Gideon saw something in you," he answered truthfully. "He did during the Hassan Nadir case, when he was on the run and dropped your information to Strauss, when he hand delivered a stellar recommendation for you just before he left... He saw something in you that was worth having here. I think I know what that was."

Beck scoffed. "Misguided violence, narcissistic tendencies, and severe trust issues?"

"Determination," he corrected her. "You just need a goal to reach."

"And what goal might that be?"

"Helping catch people like Bruno Hawks."

He was good...

Asshole.

He smirked slightly before turning to go into his office.

"Hotchner," she called to him, despite herself. He paused at his door and turned to her expectantly. "...thanks."

This time, he did smile at her. It was by no means a joyful, beaming grin, but it was smile nonetheless. "I expect to see that desk filled tomorrow." His eyes trailed to the empty desk across from where Agent Morgan sat with his head bowed over his own report. Hm, her own desk...

"Yes, sir," Beck replied, sparing him a polite little smile of her own before she started her way to the exit. Her heeled boots made little noise as she walked past the rest of the agents on her way out, she hadn't bothered to make an effort to say goodbye because she didn't want to risk them having to see the complete terror in her eyes.

When she eventually made it to the elevator, it settled in. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the FBI insignia on the glass doors going into the BAU office just before the elevator doors closed in. When she was completely alone with her trouble thoughts, she let out a frustrated scream within the confined four walls of the elevator.

"FUCK!"

---

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

This was a fucking MONSTER to finish. After the last sentence, the doc will have reached over 27,019 words... I think this is the longest chapter of any story that I've ever written and I know there's just going to be more like it with this story. I've tried to cut it up, erase some details, rearrange a few things, but this story just calls for this much detail and description and I don't think I have it in me to stop.

Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please leave your thoughts or feedback in the reviews- I love to hear them and read them because they give me the extra little boost I need to push out these monster ass chapters because they let me know you guys are invested as I am. :)

Also- I totally have a theme song that plays in my head for Beck every time I start a chapter or finish a chapter for her. If you ever wanna go listen to it to just get you in the mood for reading or just to listen to what I hear when I write her sometimes- the song is Toxic by Archimia.