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.

11. Broken Trust

Broken Trust Cuts Deeper Than Broken Glass

•••

"Betrayal annihilates trust. The more trust there is to begin with, and the more deception is involved, the more damage is done." - Sandra Lee Dennis

—

TWELVE YEARS AGO

"Do we have to go?" Eleven-year-old Beck pouted from her where she sat in the passenger's seat of her Dad's old Ford pick-up truck.

General Ryder shook his head, a fond smile playing at his lips as he kept his eyes on the road. "It's your brother's first game of the year. Of course, we gotta go."

There was a pause. He could see little Beck shifting in her seat as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared out of her window at the passing brush as they drove out towards Seguin.

"But do we gotta?" Beck turned to him expectantly.

"Yes, Rebecca, we gotta," he retorted, his free hand reaching out to ruffle her dark hair that had started to grow out more. She'd said she wanted it long and it was certainly coming along well. It was already getting to her elbows... God, she was getting so big already. He sighed. "Look, I know you don't like the kids at your brother's school, but remember what I always tell you?"

Beck blew at the wisps of hair caught in her face and frowned. "Keep your chin high, ignore them, and remember that you'll always be twice the man they are," she cited in a dull tone. "Even though I'm not a man..." she furrowed her eyebrows beneath her slightly uneven bangs.

"No, but you sure are the man, pal," he told his little girl, reaching over to give her a slight shove in the arm to try and cheer her up. He noticed a small smirk that she tried to repress, but General Ryder wasn't satisfied.

But he knew just the solution to get his kid to start smiling again.

He reached out to grab twist the dial of the radio until it landed on their favorite station. As if that station knew exactly what he needed, the high-pitched wheezing and whining of the harmonica accompanied by a heavy bass guitar filled the cabin of the truck as the beginning of Johnny Cash's and June Carter's classic began to play.

"Dad, no," Beck whined, already anticipating what was about to happen as a mischievous grin stretched out on his face.

"Go away from my window... Leave at your own chosen speed," General Ryder began to sing in his mock-deep voice, matching with Johnny's voice on the radio. "I'm not the one you want, babe. I'm not the one you need..." There was a pause between lyrics where the General glanced over at his daughter expectantly. "Come on, pal. You know the lyrics!"

Beck's little surprised grin was suddenly beaming as she picked up where he left off and where June Carter's verse began. "You say you're lookin' for someone who's never weak, but always strong-"

"Whoop! There she is!" General Ryder bellowed out proudly.

"-To protect you and defend you whether you are right or wrong," Beck fell into a fit of giggles through the lyrics.

"All together now-" Ryder cheered, leaning in as Beck did to him, their eyes locking as they sang the next verse in sync.

"Someone to open each and every door~! But it ain't me, babe. No, no, no, it ain't me, babe. It ain't me you're lookin' for... babe."

General Ryder and Beck Ryder fell into fits of laughter as the chorus went into the musical part between choruses.

"See, Johnny Cash is the cure to the blues, pal," Ryder reached out, his hand coming up to his daughter's head to rustle her hair. This time, she took it with a giggle and didn't try and swat his hand away.

"Ironic," she chuckled beneath her breath as she fixed what her Dad had messed up on top of her head. "Considering how much blues he sang."

General Ryder nodded. He had one smart girl under his wing and he couldn't have been prouder.

Eventually, the pair arrived at the away game with high spirits, school pride, and cold waters, with two more innings of the game to go. Jacob's high school team was already down by 3 points, but that didn't stop the visitor's side of the field from cheering like the game depended on it.

"Mom!" Beck shouted the second her feet hit the pavement as she climbed out of the truck and started sprinting towards the side of the bleachers where Mrs. Ryder was standing waiting for her husband and eldest daughter with baby Alice on her hip.

The second Elizabeth Ryder heard Beck calling out to her, she beamed down at her eldest daughter as she came sprinting at her at full speed. Her free hand that wasn't carrying Alice opened up for her to come crashing into her side in an attack hug that nearly sent her toppling over. Thankfully, Elizabeth had gotten used to Beck's notorious hugs years ago. She thought it was a beautiful thing that once Beck had become accustomed to getting hugs when she'd first been adopted by the Ryder family, she was always so excited to give them in return.

"Hi, sweetie," she greeted Beck with a laugh. "How were classes with Professor Aldridge?"

Beck scrunched her nose as she pulled back to look up at her mom. "I didn't see Professor Aldridge today, Mom," she explained. "I already passed my Anatomy and Physiology course with him. They moved me up, remember?"

"Oh. Yes, yes! I remember," Elizabeth nodded as she brushed stray pieces of hair out of her daughter's face. "You're taking Kinesiology classes with that Professor from Oxford now, aren't you, mija?"

Beck nodded enthusiastically. "Professor Copenhagen," she grinned as if there was an inside joke her mom wouldn't catch.

But when she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at her daughter's antics, her husband approached with the bags of snacks and water he'd picked up on his way to get Beck.

"His name is Professor Callahan," he explained exasperatedly. "She just likes to call him Copenhagen because-" he turned to Beck.

She grinned. "He has a funny accent," she shrugged innocently.

"Aye," Elizabeth rolled her eyes, Beck yelping and laughing when her mom reached down to pinch beneath her arm. General Phillip chuckled before pressing a kiss to his wife's cheek and another to Alice's cheek. "Come on, my two troublemakers. Jacob is up to bat in a little bit."

"Oh, we don't wanna miss that-" General Phillip mused as he watched Beck jump in excitement before dashing up towards the bleachers. "And there she goes..." he sighed, shaking his head in fondness as he led his wife and baby towards the bleachers after the little girl.

Beck had already found herself a place on the bleachers close to the visitor's dugout. She was at the edge of her seat, trying to peer through the fence in the small pitch to find her brother somewhere among the black and yellow jerseys of his team.

"I can't see him," Beck pouted as her parents eventually caught up with her in the stands.

"He'll be out soon, don't worry," her dad assured her, bumping his shoulder into hers. She spared him a smile, but didn't take her eyes off the field.

Eventually, after two of the batters struck out, Jacob came up to the home plate. Beck beamed, clapping and whooping for her big brother, even giggling a little at how his helmet was too big on his head.

"Up to bat, Number 27- Jacob Ryder!" The announcer called out.

"Whoo!" Beck jumped up and down on the stands, cupping her hands over her mouth as she called out for her brother.

Jacob, upon hearing his sister's cheers, spared a glance up to the stands and saw his family up there cheering for him. More specifically, he saw his little sister enthusiastically standing up for him, clapping and beaming down at him. Jacob smiled beneath his bangs covering his face from the the helmet matting his hair down. It was hardly ever that Beck was able to pull away from her classes and training to make it out to his games, but he beamed when he saw that she had finally made it.

"Come on, Jake!" He heard his dad call out from the bleachers as he turned back to the field.

Beck watched from the stands as her brother practiced swinging his bat back and forth. The pitcher from the opposite team preparing to throw. When he finally did, Jacob missed it by a split second. Beck found herself holding her breath as she watched the pitcher throw another fast ball. Jacob missed it again.

One more strike and he'd be out. None of the three players from his team on each plate would make it to home to successfully tie up the game. And the final inning would be over, their team losing the game.

It all rested on Jacob now.

"You got this, Jacob!" Beck shouted.

She saw his head bob up and down as if reaffirming her words to himself. He had this.

The pitcher readied his position and threw. But this time, Jacob managed to hit it just out past second base. The field erupted into chaos as the stands erupted into shouts and cheers.

As the players scrambled to either get the ball or get to the next base, Beck jumped up and down as she watched her brother make it from base one...

The player from Jacob's team that had been on the third plate hit home.

One point.

Jacob dashed to base two just as another one of his player made it home.

Two points.

A player from the opposite team managed to grab at the ball that Jacob had hit and tossed it back to the field just as a third player made it home.

Three points.

Jacob was running from third base to home when-

"Run, Jacob, run!" Beck screamed just as the opposing team's players threw the ball to the player protecting home base. Just before her brother reached the home plate, the ball hit it a split second before his foot and the entire audience in the stands deflated.

They were tied at the ninth inning and there was no coming back from that. Especially not after the opposing team went on toe score three more points the extra inning, eventually winning the game.

Following the loss, Beck was still enthusiastic in greeting her brother as she pushed through the departing crowd on the bleachers and jumped over fences to make it to the dugout as the boys were packing up. Her brother had just exited the pit with a glum look on his face when he was suddenly attacked in one of Beck's infamous surprise hugs.

"You were awesome!" She beamed up at her big brother when she finally pulled away.

"I lost the game," he muttered, a frown playing at his lips.

"Bullshit," Beck scoffed, lightly punching her brother in the arm playfully. "You killed it. They never would've had a chance if you hadn't made that hit. Besides, it wasn't like anyone else was pulling their heads out of their ass to play as well as you did."

A half grin finally appeared on his face from beneath her brother's shaggy, unkept hair. "Thanks, Beck."

"I know, I know," she held her hands up. "I'm the best."

Jacob rolled his eyes at her antics before tossing his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in as they started to walk to the stands together. They were just a few yards away from the dugout when another girl who had snuck onto the field skipped over. Her long, brown locks pulled up in a pretty colored bow that stood out from the denim overalls and white shirt she wore.

Beck felt her brother stiffen beside her, his arm nearly falling from her shoulder. Clearly, this girl must've been someone he knew. It especially became clear when Jacob opened his mouth to greet her.

"Hey, Colleen," her brother greeted the Bow Girl- Colleen.

The girl smiled. "Hi, Jacob," she replied.

"I, uh, I didn't know you decided to come," Jacob stammered, nearly tripping over his words. Beck pursed her lips, watching the interaction from beneath her brother's arm. "Were you here the whole game...?"

"Yeah," she answered enthusiastically. She brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear as she smirked. "You played really good."

"T-Thanks," Jacob smiled, blushing a little even. Beck let a small huff escape her lips that Colleen hadn't noticed, but her brother certainly did. She felt him pinch her arm from where he'd had his arm over her shoulders and she yelped.

"Who's this?" Colleen asked, finally acknowledging the third person in the conversation.

"Oh, this is my little sister- Beck," Jacob answered. "Beck, this is my... friend Colleen from school."

Beck smirked, "Your friend?"

"Shut up," he hissed at her through gritted teeth. Beck giggled beneath her breath.

"Hey, Ryder!"

The trio turned back towards the dugout to find a series of boys coming out with their equipment in hand.

"Nice playing out there," one of the boys at the front sneered as the group got closer. "Too bad it didn't amount to shit! Kind of like you, Ryder."

Beck's playful mood was suddenly sucked away. Her scorching glare directed at the boy approaching. She opened her mouth to retort, but she noticed the way Jacob suddenly maneuvered them to push Beck behind him, putting himself between her and the boys. What was he doing?

"Screw off, Hunter, no one's in the mood," Jacob muttered dejectedly, a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. Clearly, from her brother's behavior, Beck could tell this was a normal occurrence with this Hunter fellow.

"No one's in the mood for your shit playing either, but here we are," Hunter retorted. "With yet another loss. Are you good for anything or are you just so used to sucking so bad?"

The players behind him in the group all started laughing, but all Beck noticed was the way Jacob looked worriedly to Colleen. He was being humiliated and he wasn't doing anything. Beck couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Jacob might've let this happen, but Beck sure as Hell wouldn't.

"'Sucking'? Seriously?" Beck scoffed. "What are you, five?" Another 'ooh's and 'ah's chorused from the boys behind Hunter.

He scoffed, affronted and clearly caught off guard by the nerve of the younger girl in front of him.

Beck boasted her chest, fully convinced she'd nipped whatever this kid was trying to start in the bud. But Jacob had thought otherwise. "Beck, it's not worth it. Come on," he urged, trying to push his sister back, but before he could pull her away fast enough, Hunter was already prepared with his retort.

"Why don't you and your freak sister go back to wherever back water you came from, huh, Ryder?"

Jacob, who'd been in the process of trying to drag Beck away, stiffened. His eyes closed and he let out a heavy sigh through his nostrils. "Dammit..."

Beck halted in her movements, her jaw clenching and her fists flexing. She thought she'd been angry with Hunter's words before, but she realized that what she'd felt before had only been a small part irritation. What she felt now was pure rage.

Everything went red for the short girl.

It all happened in three actions; Beck pushing past her brother, bounding over to Hunter in three swift strides, and pulling her arm back before her fist hit Hunter's nose at full-force.

He cried out as he fell to the floor, Beck looming over him with her fists still clenched as though she wanted to go another round with the boy whimpering at her feet.

"You son of a bitch!" Beck screeched as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off her feet in one swift motion. She knew it wasn't her brother, but she still kicked and twisted in the arms of whoever was pulling her away.

The boys that had all crowded behind Hunter were all suddenly gathering around him to help lift him off the ground, his nose gushing blood from Beck's harsh hit.

"That squinty-eyed bitch!" Hunter cried out as he held his nose. "Go back to your country, freak!"

"Argh!" Beck thrashed even harder in her father's arms, the desperate need to go and strangle the boy across the pitch growing with every words that hit her ears.

"No, no," General Ryder hushed his daughter, trying to calm her as he tried to carry her off.

But just when General Ryder thought he was in the clear, he heard another cry followed by a series of shouts. When Ryder spun around, he spotted his son tackling that same boy. He couldn't see much from across the pitch, but he did see his son's fist rising and falling at a brutal rate.

"Shit!" He cursed, quickly setting down Beck before rushing over to go yank his son from the brawl now. He'd gotten there just in time because as he was ripping his son off of that poor son of a bitch, he saw just how much damage both his son and daughter did to the kid.

General Ryder was only a few feet away with his son wrapped in one arm when he eventually had to reach out and grab at his daughter attempting to run back in for round three. "Nope! Come on, you two."

"But- Dad!" Jacob tried to plea with his father, gesturing with his bloody knuckles towards the now knocked out Hunter. "You heard what he said!"

"And you did your damage," General Ryder told him as he dragged both his kids away from the crowded pitch. "Time to go."

"Bye, Jacob!" Colleen called out as she watched burly General Ryder manhandle his teenage son and pre-teen daughter away from the baseball field, both kids with bloody knuckles. Jacob with a look of frustration and his sister with tears trickling down her face.

It was safe to say that that was the last sports event any of the Ryders attended after that day. The last sports event Colleen ever went to, as well.

—

PRESENT DAY

It was way too fucking late for Beck to be expected to be operating at full capacity right now.

She peered through her bangs over at the large red numbers on her alarm clock on her nightstand. 23:45.

Beck ran a clammy hand over her face. There was no way she was going to sleep now. She had to be at the BAU office in seven hours. Even if she tried to turn her brain off now, her exhaustion would only be worse when she'd eventually have to wake up after a brief sleep.

Might as well pull an all-nighter... another one... Okay, so it was the fourth one she'd have in a row, but she'd just have to rely on the power naps she took on the jet to get her through. She hated that stupid plane anyway.

She hated the exhaustion she was putting herself through almost as much. But it wasn't like she was doing it willingly...

She leaned back on the balms of her feet as she stared back at the open double doors of her walk-in closet with papers scattered, pictures taped up, and sticky notes plastered everywhere. After what she'd found tucked away on Penelope Garcia's encrypted file, she'd used what info she'd managed to pull to create this... Her very own 'BAU For Dummies' guide.

It was troubling to say the least.

She'd learned a lot about the team she was apart of that she hadn't realized she didn't want to know. Had Beck had this type of access and information on the CTU team while she was with them, she would've abused it without a second thought. She would've decimated that entire team without losing a minute of sleep over it.

So why was the BAU any different?

That's what was keeping her up at night. Staring at the faces staring back at her tacked to each incriminating file after the other. Beck was well and truly torn, and she couldn't for the life of herself figure out why.

Since the beginning of her time with the BAU, she'd been treated as an outside, less than equal. Hotchner had been making her life Hell for months now. Morgan would throw her sidelong glances when he thought she wouldn't notice the way he looked at her with suspicion. JJ tiptoed around her at times. Prentiss had been starting to question her actions quite a lot as of recently. Even Reid was starting to give her these looks she knew couldn't have been good.

Maybe they knew.

Maybe deep down they knew she was always there to double cross them to save her own ass. They were profilers after all.

Beck's phone buzzed on her bed a few feet away. She deliberately ignored it.

Ever since Beck had fallen behind on submitting her case reports to Strauss, she was starting to get quite annoyed with her. But after Beck had reminded her about a little thing called 'mutual destruction' in their last face-to-face meeting, there wasn't much Strauss could do to reprimand her... Well, other than annoying the shit out of her every waking moment of the day.

But even for Strauss, it was a little late to be giving her shit right now.

Beck's phone buzzed a second time.

This time she knew she couldn't ignore it.

Pulling her attention away from the plethora of information she had laid out in front of her, she crossed the room to her still made bed and plucked her phone from the edge of the comforter.

Hotchner: Case in Texas. Briefing in forty-five minutes.

Normally, at the thought of being on a plane for four and a half hours, Beck would groan out loud and toss her phone out of pure rage. But seeing as she was craving just a crumb of sleep in any form it came in, she suddenly forgot her fear of planes for a brief moment in time.

Ryder: Be there in fifteen.

—

True to her word, Beck had raced to the BAU in under fifteen minutes. She'd been late the past couple of cases due to the fact that she'd been reluctant to drive on Hades ever since she'd gotten stitches in the back of her head which inconveniently got squeezed beneath her helmet she wore when riding.

It had been months and that motherfucker from Florida was still causing her problems... nightmares aside.

As she entered the Quantico building with a quite a lot of time on her hands to spare, she stopped at the coffee machine at the BAU office kitchen and for the first time in perhaps her life, she was ecstatic to find someone had brewed a fresh, hot pot of disgusting sewage water otherwise known as coffee.

Not bothering to ask whose pot it was, Beck helped herself to a piping hot mug. No cream, no sugar- just pure, hot, and disgusting caffeine. She winced as the piping hot liquid slid down her throat and made her shiver in disdain at the bitter taste it left on her tongue.

It'll help you in the long run, she had to tell herself as she downed a few more sips before dragging her feet to the Bull Pin.

As the Agent walked down the walkway towards the small office door, she was fully expecting to get glared at by the infamous Unit Chief for stopping for coffee on her way up to the briefing, but when she got to the doorway, she halted in her steps. As she glanced inside the room, she was shocked to find that there were only two people inside.

JJ was the first to spot her still standing idly in the office doorway. "Hey," she greeted her with a smile. It was a smile that wasn't too genuine, but one that conveyed the sense of friendliness.

Beck inwardly wondered if JJ kept most people at an arm's length because the first person she was ever really close with took her own life and now she's developed a type of abandonment issue...

Fuck. Beck winced. Those involuntary thoughts were popping back in her head with all the information she'd been storing inside her head on the team.

"You're here early," the second person in the room- Agent Hotchner- noted as he turned to acknowledge her presence. "The briefing isn't supposed to start for another-" he checked his watch. "-half hour."

Beck shrugged, her mug still in hand. "Was in the area." A blatant lie. She'd ran several red lights in an attempt to get as far away from that little display in her apartment's closet.

Hotchner briefly frowned before letting her off the hook. "Well, take a seat, it could be a while before the others get here-"

"The one night I have plans," the booming voice of Derek Morgan had all three Agents turning their attention to the Agent walking up to the office. "Should've trusted my gut and asked this girl out for breakfast instead of dinner."

Beck wondered if he regretted also not trusting his gut about Carl Buford when he was younger.

Fuck.

Whoever said knowledge was power clearly never spent time with the subjects of said knowledge. This was slowly becoming torture.

"You're here early," Morgan noted as he passed Beck to set down his go-bag near an open seat at the table. Beck pursed her lips as if to say 'yeah, I've been getting that a lot lately'.

Following Morgan's lead, Beck tossed her go-bag down haphazardly beside her helmet on the ground by an open chair opposite of where Hotchner was. She'd just placed her coffee on the table when another person entered the office.

"Must be pretty urgent if you're here early," Prentiss mused upon seeing Beck. There was no malice in her tone, but the way she said it didn't indicate to Beck that she was being overly friendly towards her. "How bad is it, by the way?" the brunette agent asked as she laid her jacket behind a chair beside Beck, taking the seat between her and JJ.

The blonde frowned as she passed her over one of the many thick files she'd compiled for the team laid out across the table. Beck taking the one closest to her to start to flip through it as she took another sip of her coffee, fighting back the urge to pull a face of disgust.

She'd only just gotten to the pictures in the front page of the file- photos of a fiery house, dead bodies scattered outside, and blood pooling in orange sand- when fifth person entered the room and paused at the door until he commanded every eye in the office.

"Don't any of you have lives?" Rossi sighed in exasperation. Beck chuckled beneath her breath, unintentionally drawing attention to herself. "You're here early."

This time, Beck rolled her eyes.

"Where's Reid?" Rossi prompted as he took a seat on the other side of JJ, just beside where Hotchner was still standing.

"Beats me," Morgan shrugged as he stood up to grab some coffee from the half-full pot near the door Beck had only just noticed now. "Hey, it's a Friday night- maybe Pretty Boy finally got himself a hot date."

Beck wanted to make a comment about how she doubted that was how Dr. Spencer Reid would spend his Friday night, and maybe she would have if she wasn't aware of a hand full of dates Reid had gone on with a certain blonde actress by the name of Lila Archer following a classic stalker case in LA a few years back. Maybe Dr. Reid wasn't as incapable of getting a date as the BAU would have themselves believing.

He also wasn't as incapable of being reckless as the team believes he is.

Beck had to subtly pinch herself for thinking that way. Not now, not here. Her brain was certainly working against her these past few weeks.

"When's the briefing starting?" Beck asked, changing the subject as her eyes trailed the next page of the file. Her eyes meeting the eyes of the victims from the pictures before. All cops, save for some guy with a record who apparently was blown to kingdom come.

Hotchner checked his watch again. "Five minutes," he answered.

"Reid's never normally this late," JJ frowned.

"Technically, the kid's still got five minutes before he's considered late," Rossi replied in Reid's defense. "But, then again, if Beck managed to beat him here-" Beck locked eyes with the Agent seated opposite of her with a glare of her own.

"We'll start now," Hotchner abruptly exclaimed. "We can get Reid up to speed when he gets here or on the jet if we need to. This case is time sensitive."

"Missing persons?" Morgan called over his shoulder from where he was still preparing his coffee.

"Possible terrorist," Hotchner answered.

Beck furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Why do you say 'possible'?"

"It was a bombing," JJ explained, pressing a button on the remote to show a video on the screen. "There was an explosion caused by something inside of a nearby home. Officers responded only to be shot repeatedly after calling for back-up. This was the video one of the officers- Officer Letts shot just before he was killed."

Beck leaned forward in her chair as the video showed a burning and charred house. She tried to spot a central area or source to the fire, but it was hard to tell with such low quality-

"Sorry I'm late."

Everyone turned to find Reid rushing in, his hair disheveled from running and his voice giving away the fact that he was clearly out of breath. Beck checked the time on the clock behind Morgan to confirm. Yup, he is indeed late now.

"I hope she was worth it," Rossi teased, still going off the momentum of Morgan's date comment earlier.

"I hope it was a she," Morgan added with a grin.

"Uh, sorry, I was at the movies," he explained in a huff of words as he took his seat next to Beck, his eyes staying down as if he was scared to meet anyone's eyes.

Beck sighed, remembering when she had to bail Reid out of being a terrible liar back at Jack Vaughn's house. He was a terrible liar then and still a terrible liar now.

"Oh, really?" Rossi prompted, clearly not buying it either. "Why don't you tell us what it was about?"

"Uh, I had to leave early, so I can't really-" Reid cut himself off when he realized he wasn't going to be able to come back from the hole of lies he dug himself. Beck wondered if she'd ever find herself in that position one day with just how many lies she'd used to build her way up.

Beck saw Reid struggle, his eyes finally looking up to dart between Rossi's unimpressed stare, Morgan's mischievous grin, Prentiss's sly smile, and JJ's prying eyes. She sighed once more, feeling almost obligated to bail him out of this once more.

"Chissà," Beck sighed, not looking up from the file as her eyes scanned the police report. "Forse era un film guida." Maybe it was a driving movie.

Rossi furrowed his eyebrows upon hearing the Italian leave her mouth. "Film di guida?"

"Mhm," she hummed, briefly glancing up to meet his stare. "Quello su come rimanere nella tua corsia." The one about staying in your lane.

Rossi leaned his head back, nodding. "Noted," he muttered in English as he backed off.

Reid turned to glance at Beck sidelong, clearly not understanding a word that was said between them, but understanding that whatever she'd said had gotten him- and the others- to lay off of him. He sat back in his chair as Hotchner began to speak, his hand resting on the table beside her scooting slightly before tapping out.

Tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, hold. Pause. Hold, tap. Pause. Hold, tap, hold. Pause. Tap, tap, tap.

T-H-A-N-K-S

"I know it's late, I know we're tired," Hotchner spoke as Beck stared down at Reid's hand, but didn't tap back a response. "But we've got two dead cops."

Hotchner Translation: stop acting like children and focus up.

Beck sat straighter and took a big swig of her bitter coffee as JJ continued what she'd started presenting before Reid's late entrance. "Alright, uh, the resident, Rod Norris, was DOA. They're still trying to ID the remains of the second victim, whom they believe is his 16-year-old daughter Jordan," the blonde held up pictures from the file. One of Rod Norris and the other of Jordan Norris. "From the condition of the remains, she would have had to have been inside the house close to the source of the blast."

Beck frowned. The first thing that came to her mind was: why? Why target this specific house?

"Clearly, they used the bombing to set the officers up for an ambush," Prentiss noted.

Yes, that was viable, but it still didn't answer the question Beck was posing.

"It's a well-established terrorist tactic," Reid muttered from beside her. "First wave takes out civilians, the second wave takes out first responders."

"The locals are thinking terrorism?" Morgan frowned from his seat he finally had taken. "In... West Bune, Texas?"

"Not exactly a tier-one target," JJ nodded in understanding. "but DHS did issue a terror alert for the border states yesterday just due to the timing and nature of the attack."

"I've never head of this place," Morgan said, still not grasping at how terrorism was still being considered. Beck couldn't believe it either, especially not with the looming question of why they had targeted the Norris's specifically. "I mean, the Militia- okay, that I could see."

Out of the question, Beck frowned.

"Yeah, well, it is close to the border," Prentiss added. "Could be traffickers sending a message."

"Only traffickers don't frequent West Bune," Beck muttered, her eyes still trained on the pictures of Rod and Jordan Norris in front of her. "It's not close to any major freeways or any real road to get out of state quicker. It would be easier to be caught if you're going through there so it's easy to rule out traffickers, even easier to rule out the Militia, too. They're all pretty Pro-Cop in that area. They may like their guns, but the most enthusiastic they are about shooting them is at a range, not at each other."

She could see Prentiss giving her a pointed glare from her peripheral vision, but apparently no one else noticed.

Beck had. She'd begun to notice the cold demeanor towards her around the time they'd gotten back from Florida. Despite the fact that Beck had been one of the few people that kept night watch over the BAU's precious Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia, Beck had managed to step on Prentiss's toes somehow to elicit this ongoing response from her every time she so much as breathed during a case.

Great, she thought to herself. I've got Hotchner, Strauss, and now Prentiss to deal with on this team.

"Well, whoever it is," Rossi cut in, an exasperated look on his face as he glanced down at the many crime scene photos laid out in front of the group. "They gunned down two cops and blew up a teenage girl. Till they're stopped, no one in that town is safe."

The group could at least collectively agree on that.

"We need to be cautious with the locals," Hotchner added. "They've lost two of their own, they're anxious, they're scared, and they're gonna want revenge."

Beck noted the way his eyes pointedly flickered in her direction. She rolled her eyes before looking back at the file in front of her. Yeah, yeah- don't make a scene. Warning noted.

But... she had to look back at the violent video still playing on the screen behind them. If this was a single unit of people who caused this massacre with no affiliation to cause or reasoning... did they really deserve her mercy?

"Can you blame 'em?" Rossi prompted, nearly conveying Beck's thoughts.

Hotchner shut his file closed. "Wheels up in an hour. If you didn't have time to grab your go-bags before getting here, now would be the time to do so," he stated as the rest of the team got up from the table. "It's gonna be a long couple days until we catch whoever did this."

Great.

—

Beck slept on the jet.

Normally, she'd stay awake on flights to the case and sleep on flights back because she knew just how much Hotchner liked to see her suffer through case briefings while over three thousand feet in the air in the tiny aerospace limo they called a form of transportation... The masochist.

But today, after nights of being restless, Beck succumbed to the lingering exhaustion that had been prickling the back of her eyes as she went days without a proper night's sleep. She didn't care if they went over case details on the plane or if they woke her up mid-flight or if the jet crashed while she was passed out, frankly she didn't have the mental capacity to care as she hit snooze on her life responsibilities for five blissful hours.

She had to burst her own bubble eventually.

That time came just before they landed in Buttfuck Middle of Nowhere, Texas. It was coming up on almost six am as the jet made landfall at the tiny airport in a neighboring city almost as small as West Bune. Just before the plane jolted her awake with the landing gear, Beck opened her eyes to see the gorgeous Texas sunrise... She wished she could stay in that moment, minus being up in the air in a death machine, for a while longer.

She always did prefer the sun over the moon when considering places to escape to.

It was a nearly forty minute drive from the airport to get to West Bune. The small brigade of black SUV's looked out of place amongst rusty pick-ups and a plethora of cop cars that lined checkpoints every ten minutes getting to the small city.

"They weren't kidding about that terror alert," Morgan mused as they drove through.

Eventually, they made it to West Bune. They had little time to throw their go-bags in their individual rooms and meet back downstairs to meet the local cops at the crime scene about another fifteen minute drive outside of town.

God, Beck forgot how much she hated how big Texas was.

When they finally arrived to the crime scene, it was swarming with about as many cops as the drive there had been. Beck had to watch her step as soon as her feet hit the ground as she made sure not to trip over the many bits of debris from the charred and destroyed house a few yards away.

Beck's eyes narrowed as she took in the sight before her. A charred house, most if not all of the bottom part of it blown out completely, save for the main infrastructure that remained intact. The blast seemed to have originated from the point of the house where the damage was most prominent: the front door. She'd have to get a look at that area first if she wanted to gauge what bomb was used and who she was dealing with-

"Shit-!" Beck cursed when her foot caught on a piece of debris she'd tripped on while distracted. She managed to catch herself with her other foot, but was still a little wobbly until two arms came up to grab onto hers, giving her something to hold onto as she set herself straight.

Instinctively, Beck's hands clutched at the contact of whoever helped her up, but her fingertips were suddenly set ablaze when she glanced up to see who'd come to her partial rescue.

"You okay?" Reid prompted her, his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down at her in concern.

Beck swallowed hard, glancing down at her feet to feign concern for herself when really all she could focus on was that her hands were on the Doctor's arms. Her fingertips only centimeters away from the crease in his elbow where he probably shot up Dilaudid for numerous months. Everything felt hot and stuffy to the point where she recoiled the second her equilibrium was back to normal.

"Yeah, yeah," Beck shook it off, her eyes darting down to her shoes and back over Reid's shoulder to the house as she tried to play it off as distraction. "Fine."

Get your shit together, Ryder.

She shook herself off and stepped past the Doctor to get to where JJ, Hotchner, and the rest of the group was talking to who Beck assumed was the man in charge.

"Sheriff Hallum? Jennifer Jareau," JJ greeted the man with an extended hand that he shook firmly, tipping his head a bit as he went down the line. "This is the team. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Dr. Reid, Ryder, Prentiss, and Morgan."

Sheriff Hallum shook their hands each, Beck opting out of a handshake by keeping herself at a distance behind Reid and Hotchner. He didn't seem to notice or care. Beck figured as much seeing as a good portion of his own men were gunned down just a few yards away and he had an active terror alert and a dead teenage girl on his hands. He didn't have time to play the butthurt Alpha male and Beck respected that.

"We're really sorry for your loss," JJ offered her condolences.

"Thank you," Sheriff Hallum replied in a clipped voice. "Where do we start?"

Beck fought the urge to gesture to the blown up house behind them. Clearly, she knew where to start.

Despite the obvious, Hotchner answered, "First victim, Rod Norris."

"Manager of the Chemical Plant over at IBIS," the Sheriff answered to-beat. "No arrests in ten years since his wife left him." Beck raised an eyebrow, prompting the question if there had been a pretty hefty history of arrests before. "I can't blame her for leaving him, but it's a shame she left Jordan behind."

"What can you tell us about Jordan?" Rossi prompted, moving on to Victim Number Two.

"Sweet girl, a bit slow," Hallum answered.

Beck furrowed her eyebrows at that. "Slow? Why do you say that?"

"Well," the Sheriff grimaced. Already, he was off to a rough start. "She wasn't quite mentally challenged. Special Ed and all that stuff. Takes some talking to her to notice it. I think her mother leaving took its toll."

And with a father with a criminal record and no wife to take out his frustrations on, Beck imagined her father took a toll of his own on the poor girl.

Beck wandered over to the house, making sure to stay close enough to hear the conversation while still observing the damage.

Jordan Norris suffered through her mother's abandonment and most likely her father's neglect or abuse- or both- and now... this.

"Sheriff, I'd like to gather your people back at the office so I can brief them all together," Beck heard JJ say close behind her.

"Sure," the Sheriff answered. "But I'm staying here."

Yeah, so am I, she thought to herself as she began to walk closer to the front door area of the house, seeing if she missed anything in the pictures and videos that she could see now without the fire still burning.

"Of course," JJ nodded. "Thank you."

She could hear footsteps peeling away and footsteps getting closer to where she was. The team was breaking up into groups and it looked as though Beck had inadvertently chosen a side by standing so close to the scene where Reid, Prentiss and Rossi were approaching. Great.

Taking the break-up as a sign to get closer, Beck didn't waste a second to hop into the hallowed out area that used to be the kitchen, or so it seemed. It was burnt and blasted to smithereens. There was a fridge with some food still intact, cabinets broken and charred, and small remnants of what used to be a dining table in the middle of the room.

"The blast was localized here," Reid said, gesturing to a spot near where the front door used to be, but was now only an open hole in the house.

"The room's been sealed off," Prentiss noted from the other end of the room where the door to the rest of the house was. Beck glanced up at what she was referring to. "There's some plastic, duct tape on the doorsills, windows, too."

Rossi sniffed a canister and grimaced. "Cordite. Gunpowder."

"Yeah, they found a dozen canisters, it says," Reid read from the report in his hands as Beck kneeled down beside the demolished oven on the other side of the room.

"Well, the concentration of damage puts those canisters right here by the door," Prentiss continued.

There had to be a trigger. They couldn't just set up gunpowder, seal the room, and ignite it on it's own. Cordite was unpredictable, there was no way it was manual. Something had to ignite this explosion and something had to activate the gunpowder. "Something isn't adding up," Beck frowned from her place by the oven.

"What doesn't add up?" Rossi prompted her.

"The trigger," she answered. "Clearly he sealed the room to trap the gas in from the oven, he used the gunpowder canisters to get a bigger blast that was triggered by the gas being ignited, but... what ignited the gas? Jordan?"

Rossi frowned, placing himself in the center of the room a few feet away from where Beck was by the oven. "If Jordan was here between the charge and the window..."

"Boom," Prentiss muttered. "Rod Norris ends up in the tree, Jordan ends up in the field."

Beck frowned, glancing down at the ground where Rossi was standing. There were remnants of a wooden table and chairs, but no burnt or charred rope, extra wire, or duct tape. Beck spun around to the hole in the wall that went out to the field where Beck could make out a marked off area far off in the field where the cops had recovered Jordan's remains. "They find anything on Jordan's remains?"

"What do you mean?" Reid asked.

"I mean, did they find rope, duct tape, wire, zip ties?" she asked. "It doesn't make sense. Jordan is just supposed to sit her idly as the Unsub takes his time setting this up? He couldn't have knocked her out, she would've woken up in the time it took to not only set up the seals, but also rig the gunpowder and allow the gas to seep in. She would've had time to escape. And without any restraints... there's no evidence she was held against her will so- what the Hell happened here?"

The group was silent, none coming up with any answers. Clearly, they hadn't thought about that aspect of things.

"Jordan couldn't have been the trigger either," Beck frowned upon realizing something herself. "The gas would've killed her before the explosion had. Something else had to be the trigger and it had to be damn good to go off at the exact moment Rod Norris stepped through that door."

"So what was it?" Rossi asked.

"Rod Norris," Prentiss answered. The group spun around to find her holding a charred mega-pack of cigarettes. "He was a smoker."

"Which means whoever did this would know he would be coming through this door," Beck stated, gesturing to the main blast area.

"And that he'd be smoking when he did it," Reid added with a confused look on his face as he glanced in the same direction.

Beck turned back to where Rossi was still standing, mimicking where Jordan would've been. "Was she involved...?" Beck wondered aloud.

"Hard to say just yet," Rossi muttered as he began to walk towards the hole in the wall to get back out. "But one thing's for sure. This Unsub definitely knew his victims."

Beck scoffed. 'Knew' was an understatement. He hated them.

Beck turned to notice Reid heading out the other exit and followed his lead despite her small slip up earlier. She knew if he wasn't heading the direction Rossi or Prentiss were going, he'd be going to find more clues... and she wanted answers just as much as he did.

"This was personal," Beck heard Hotchner utter as he, Morgan, and Sheriff Hallum stood over two spots of blood just outside the house where Officer Letts and Deputy Savage had been gunned down. Clearly, they'd found something else that concluded what the group had just discovered inside.

"They knew each other?" Sheriff Hallum asked aloud, to which Reid felt the need to answer, "Enough to know Rod Norris would enter through the back door while smoking."

"And that Lou Savage was on duty and would respond," Morgan added, gesturing the blood spot at his feet where Deputy Savage's body had been recovered.

The first thing Beck noticed about the splotch of blood was that there was a considerable amount more than the other small splotch a few feet away where Letts' body was. Probably because there was overkill... Overkill definitely signified that this was personal.

"So what are we talking about here?" Sheriff Hallum asked, confused. Beck imagined how caught off guard he was now. First thing he and his men had suspected was a terrorist, now he was being told it was someone within his own close-knit and small community. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to imagine who he knew that was capable of something so violent and malicious.

Hotchner was the one to break the news to him. "This wasn't terrorism, domestic or otherwise. Terrorists rarely know their victims, at least not personally."

"Because they knew Rod Norris was a smoker who used his back door?" He prompted incredulously.

"And shot Deputy Savage in the face at pointblank range," Morgan clarified.

"They weren't being thorough?"

"If they were being thorough, they would've made sure they'd chosen a day where you were on shift, Sheriff," Beck finally snapped, sick of all his speculations and questions. She stood up from where she'd been crouching and turned to him with a bored expression. "Shot the Deputy, but they didn't shoot the Sheriff. Why do you think that is?"

Sheriff Hallum didn't answer, but Beck could see Hotchner in her peripheral vision already staring her down, waiting for her to step out of line. She was already toeing the metaphorical line with her Eric Clapton joke.

"It's because he didn't care about you, Sheriff. Same way the Unsub didn't give a damn about Officer Letts- who was still alive shot on the ground right beside Deputy Savage. Same way he didn't care about the fact that they'd called backup that was already en route," Beck explained as she gestured to the place where Lou Savage had his brains blown out hours earlier. "This isn't just being thorough-" she gestured to the charred house with a hole in it. "This is rage."

"Rage means a close personal relationship," Reid noted.

"Rod Norris and Lou Savage were the specific targets of this attack," Hotchner explained to the Sheriff.

"Sheriff," Morgan cut in before Sheriff Hallum even had time to process the information they were bombarding him with left and right. "Can you think of anyone with a close personal connection to Rod Norris and Lou Savage?"

Sheriff Hallum frowned a bit at first before glancing up at the group with a solemn look. "I didn't think about it because of the terror alert," he admit.

"Think about what?" Hotchner prompted.

"Owen," he answered as if the group knew who that was. Clearly, he knew him enough to refer to him only as his first name. "Owen Savage," he clarified upon realizing that they might not have been as in-the-know as the rest of his tiny town of West Bune was on possible psychotic killers. "Lou's son was dating Jordan Norris."

Beck felt her chest tighten. That did complicate things.

"Sheriff," Beck began. "Are Jordan's remains still at the morgue?"

"What's left of her, sure," he answered.

"Did you find anything on or around her remains that was out place?"

The Sheriff furrowed his eyebrows. "Like what?"

"Rope, chains, handcuffs, wire, zipties, duct tape," she listed off.

Hotchner turned to her then. "What are you getting at?"

Beck frowned, glancing between Lou Savage's death bed and the open hole in the house. She knew something wasn't adding up and Jordan Norris might've held all the answers to her suspicions. "From how much detail and work went into rigging that house up to blow, had Jordan been in the kitchen at the time where the blast originated from, she would've had time to escape at any point before Rod Norris arrived."

"You think she was in on the conspiracy?" Morgan asked incredulously. "That's a bold claim, Ryder."

"That's not what I'm saying," she clarified.

"What are you saying?" Sheriff Hallum asked, getting all defensive once again.

Beck fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm saying something isn't adding up and you should have your officers take a look at Jordan's remains again before you bury whatever you found in that field, Sheriff," she answered in a clipped tone.

The Sheriff looked taken aback, clearly unsure of whether or not to follow what she was saying or not. It irritated Beck a little bit with the way he glanced past her to Hotchner for confirmation on what she was saying as if she herself didn't have the authority to suggest something to him.

Beck assumed Hotchner gave him some kind of permission while she refused to glance over her shoulder at him, but after he turned away from Hotchner, Sheriff Hallum nodded stiffly. Good, at least she was getting somewhere... even if it was with Hotchner's help.

"Where is the Savage Residence?" Morgan prompted.

—

Beck popped her knuckles as she sat silently in the passenger seat of the SUV. Most of the rest of the team had taken the second SUV to the station to start setting up their makeshift headquarters for the time being, so Beck was stuck riding shotgun with Hotchner at the wheel and Reid and Morgan in the backseat as they trailed behind Sheriff Hallum.

Once again, it took them another ten minute drive to make it to the Savage Household. It wasn't a place Beck would've considered to be a home where a psychopath was raised and lived in... in fact, it looked relatively homey. Maybe a little too homey.

Beck climbed out of the car and hopped down to the sidewalk. She narrowed her eyes as she scanned the area, trying to pick apart what felt off to her. The first thing might've been the lawn. It was cut, right down to the very corners. Every piece of grass trimmed not too short and not too long as if someone purposefully went over it with a microscope and a pair of scissors. The bushes clinging to the side of the three story picture-perfect house had also been trimmed to perfection. Clearly, Lou Savage implemented quite a lot of discipline in his home.

And clearly, it didn't work out well for him.

But discipline couldn't have been the only thing that set Owen on a warpath. There had to have been a trigger, just like in the house. He didn't just blow on his own... or maybe he did. It wouldn't be the first time some punk kid with access to guns decided to take out his rage on the people closest to him. Owen killed his dad, his girlfriend's dad, his girlfriend... Anyone that demented couldn't have had that viable of a reason to leave this much of a body trail in the short span of a couple of minutes.

"My deputies didn't find Owen at home," Sheriff Hallum explained as he followed the walkway through the lawn towards the house, passing Beck as she remained idle at the edge of the lawn still lost in thought.

Morgan, who'd noticed her behavior, stopped just behind where Reid and Hotchner had followed after the Sheriff. "Hey, you coming?"

"Yeah," she answered, shaking off whatever lingering feelings of suspicion she was holding on to.

Beck followed after the group, her feet not making a sound as she jogged up the large staircase to get to the porch and through the open front door. Upon entering the house, it was clear Deputy Savage kept the same discipline with the lawn that he did inside his house as well. Everything was in a neat spot, no clutter anywhere, not smudged glass, not even a spot of dust she could see on the lamp next to the door.

She did, however, notice how empty the living room was. For something known as a 'living' room, it seemed kind of... dead. There was only one seat beside a small table at one corner of the room, a tinier TV on the other, a large safe and very minimal amounts of photos on the wall. One of which was a photo of just Deputy Savage in a Marine Corps uniform.

Ah, the discipline was starting to make sense now.

"How long did you know Lou Savage?" Hotchner prompted as Beck made her way towards where the large safe was on the other side of the room.

"My whole life," she heard the Sheriff answer as she ran her fingers along the wide metal frame of the safe. Heavy duty shit. Then again, he was a Marine. Of course he'd demand some of the best for his most prized possessions: his weapons.

"And Deputy Savage's wife?" Hotchner pressed. Dead mom, another factor to his rage but not the trigger.

"Hope?"

"How did she die?"

Beck ran her fingers down the door of the safe to find if there was any way Owen might've been able to pry it open or if he'd left evidence of having gotten it to give-out. None. No scratch marks, no dents, no damage whatsoever. He must've known the code.

"Drunk driver in '02. Lou was in Afghanistan," Sheriff Hallum answered. "Owen lived with us until he got back." So he knew Owen well. She wondered if he might've seen the signs in Owen that could've hinted to what he was capable of. Maybe he hadn't. Then again, it wasn't his fault the kid decided to go off the rails.

"Semper Fi," Beck heard Reid mutter from across the room. Always faithful. She glanced over her shoulder to find the Doctor peering into the kitchen, his back turned to her as he immersed himself further into the Savage Household.

"How long was Lou Savage in the Marines?" Morgan asked, Beck turning back to the safe that was almost the size of her. She was taller... she thought.

"Twelve years. He was discharged so he could raise Owen," Sheriff Hallum answered as Beck sized up with the safe.

She was at least an inch or so taller than it, wasn't she?

"Is that why he resented them?"

Beck turned her attention away from the safe and turned fully to face Reid as he re-entered the room from the kitchen. And here Hotchner was for scolding her on bold claims when Reid was blurting them out right to the Sheriff's face. What was he on?

Dilaudid, a small voice in the back of her head hissed.

"Pardon me?" Sheriff Hallum harrumphed, caught off guard by Reid's abruptness, similar to the rest of the people in the room.

"Uh, did Lou blame his wife and son for ending his career in the Marines?" Reid prompted, taking a tone of disdain as if he were talking down to a child in his explanation. Beck frowned, she'd never heard Reid take this kind of tone of voice with someone of authority, or anyone really... That was usually her shtick.

"Lou was a good man," Sheriff Hallum replied, but didn't answer upfront.

Reid raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief. "A good man that doesn't have a single photo of his dead wife or only son anywhere in his entire house."

Beck crossed her arms over her chest as she tried to make sense of his reasoning. Did he blame Lou Savage for what his son had done? Sure, from the looks of the house, Deputy Savage was a hardass, but so were many military men- military fathers included.

Beck knew firsthand how harsh her own Dad was growing up. He was disciplined with his kids, just like Lou Savage was. And sure, maybe Beck would catch her Dad staring longingly at his old Marine uniform or isolating himself in his old memories back in his office on his days off from being a General, but she never once felt neglected because he missed what once was.

Owen Savage and Beck Ryder were not the same person despite a somewhat similar familial upbringing because Beck wasn't some psychotic asshole with a gun.

"I know this is hard," Hotchner cut in before Sheriff Hallum had the chance to bite off Reid's head. "And if we had more time we would be more sensitive, but we don't."

Beck glanced up and saw the way Sheriff Hallum deflated with a heavy sigh, his hands resting on his belt as his eyes trailed down to the floor. "Hope was the drunk driver," he eventually revealed when he turned back to Hotchner. "I didn't write it up that way, but it didn't matter. Her drinking was no secret in the town."

Beck let out a small sigh. That was a small precedence for Lou to feel some sort of resentment towards his wife and maybe Owen towards his own mother.

"Where's Owen's room?" Reid prompted abruptly.

"Right over there," the Sheriff pointed in the direction over his shoulder before turning to where Beck was standing neck and neck with the safe. "There's your gun safe. I don't know the combination."

Beck smirked slightly, turning to the safe keypad.

"Start with birthdays- Lou's, Owen's, Hope's," Hotchner supplied as he began to flip through the personnel file in his hand beside Beck, but she knew better than that.

Her fingers trailed the buttons before pressing in the digits. 11- 10- 75.

It clicked open with a small beep, granting her access. Beck glanced over her shoulder to find Hotchner, Morgan, and Sheriff Hallum both staring at her in both awe and confusion. Sheriff Hallum spoke first, "How did you-"

"One thing about Marines," she smirked as she slowly pulled the door open. "They're consistent."

"November 10th, 1975?" Morgan prompted in confusion. "What's that?"

"1775," Hotchner corrected him before Beck had the chance too. "Marine Corps Birthday."

Sheriff Hallum turned back to the short Agent before him. "You might've just sold me on that profiling of yours."

She chuckled, but the smile quickly faded away when she pulled the door open to reveal the safe to be empty... Looked like she wasn't the only one who knew the code after all.

"That's bad," the Sheriff sighed.

"How bad?" Hotchner prompted, peering at the empty safe from over Beck's shoulder.

Beck spun to face the Sheriff with wide eyes, "How many guns did your Deputy keep on him?"

"Lou was our tactical trainer," his frown deepened. "He had a whole collection of automatic weapons and handguns."

Beck turned back to the empty safe and shut the door, "A collection that Owen now has."

"That his father taught him how to shoot," Hotchner added, turning away from the safe with a troubled look.

"Great," Beck muttered flatly. "What do we do now? We know Owen's still out there with God knows how much fire power on him. Can you think of anyone Owen might've had a bone to pick with? School bullies? Old teachers? Shitty bosses? Pastors that got a little too twitchy with him?"

"What do you think he's gonna do?" Sheriff Hallum asked, his eyes filling with fear of what she might've had in mind.

"We can't be too sure of anything," Hotchner remedied as Morgan pushed his way past the group to get to the stairs to examine the rest of the house with Reid.

"But it would be smart to know his possible next move," Beck interjected, eyeing the Unit Chief. "He's a kid with enough fire power to take on every cop this side of the state, he didn't take it all only to gun down two cops and blow up two other people. He has a plan, I want to know what it is."

"We can't be sure he has a plan," Hotchner retorted. For the first time, Beck noted that he wasn't solid on his stance. Normally when he was tearing into her for daring to question his authority, he had a solid reason to. But from the lack of any real malice behind his voice or glare in his eyes... it looked as though maybe a part of him knew she was right.

"Hotchner," Beck pressed. "He didn't spend all that time devising and rigging a complex explosion and mapping out when his father would be called out to only stop at a body count of four." Hotchner met her eyes and she drove her point to home. "He has a plan."

The Unit Chief held her gaze for quite some time before there was sound of a commotion outside.

"Ma'am!" someone shouted from behind Hotchner, past the open front door going out to the lawn. "Ma'am, stop!"

"Don't try to stop me! I need to get buy!" A heavy female accent shouted back in response.

"Oh, Lord," Sheriff Hallum muttered from behind Beck before pushing past both her and Hotchner to get out to the lawn. Beck broke away from her argument with Hotchner, but not before giving him a look that read 'this isn't over because you know I'm right.' He seemed to acknowledge it as the pair of them turned back to the front lawn outside where a woman tried to push past one of the officers in the middle of the walkway towards the house.

"Let me by, let me by! Don't try to stop me, let me by!" The blonde woman screamed, finally managing to push past the officer to confront Sheriff Hallum who approached, Beck lingering on the porch as Hotchner followed Hallum down the stairs, but stopped at the bottom. Clearly, this was a job for the Sheriff. "Is it true?"

"Sarah, please," Sheriff Hallum said, trying to deescalate the situation on the lawn. It was becoming a spectacle. Beck glanced past the woman towards the small crowd of townspeople who'd seemed to gather at the sight of the police presence outside the Savage House. They must've put two and two together about who might've been the prime suspect.

"If it's true, you tell me!" This Sarah woman demanded.

"Sarah-"

"Did Lou's freak son shoot Byron?" Beck tried not to wince at her use of the word, but what she did pick up on was that his odd behavior was noted by this woman, and most likely a lot of other people, or so it would seem. So this kind of behavior was extreme, but not exactly out of left field. Good to know.

Sheriff Hallum didn't answer her. "Go home to your kids, Sarah," he told her calmly. "The kids need you at home."

"My children need their daddy," she growled just as Morgan and Reid exited the house to stand beside Beck on the porch.

She glanced over her shoulder at them, "Glad you could join us. Just in time for the shitshow."

"Who is she?" Reid asked, disregarding her joke.

"Officer Letts' wife," Hotchner answered as he climbed back up the stairs to join them upon realizing that while this woman was angry, she wasn't a danger or any help to them now. She was just angry, and grieving.

"You send them home. You don't need 'em," Sarah Letts stated, gesturing to the group of Agents watching the scene play out from the patio. "You know what to do. You find that little son of a bitch. You find him and do what's right!" And with that, she spun on her heel and stormed off and away from the Savage Residence.

A soft silence fell upon the group as they all watched Sarah Letts part from the scene.

It wasn't broken until Morgan let out a soft sigh. "Why do I get the feeling she's not going to be the only one with that sentiment?"

Beck eyed the group of nosey neighbors all standing on the sidewalk who whispered amongst themselves. Some looking as though they might've known all along what type of person was being raised inside this home and the rest looking as though they should've known. "Can you blame them?" Beck muttered.

"Morgan, stay here and work the room," Hotchner cut in, not bothering to acknowledge either of their remarks. "Reid, Ryder and I are going to go to the high school and talk to Owen's teachers and friends-" Bold of him to assume the kid had any friends, Beck rolled her eyes. "-We need to get a profile and figure out where he's going next and who he's targeting next."

Beck almost had to do a 180 at what she was hearing from Hotchner's mouth. 'Who he's targeting next.' He believed her. He admitted she was right... Not outright, of course, but he acknowledged what she'd said before about him targeting specific people. Aha!

Beck had to smother a smile as she climbed down the stairs, trailing behind Hotchner and Reid. She didn't want to ruin this success by laughing in Hotchner's face and ruining this for herself. Everything else about this team might've been going to shit, but at least she was starting to prove that she was right for once.

"He's heading out of town," Sheriff Hallum told them as soon as they'd reached the bottom of the porch steps. Beck furrowed her eyebrows as if to ask how he came to that conclusion. "We found his car out by the interstate," he answered her unspoken question. "Right next to Victim Number Five." Oh, shit.

—

Beck's feet had barely hit the asphalt of the high school's parking lot when Hotchner got the call.

"Sheriff?" He put the phone to his ear. There was a beat of silence, Reid and Beck faltering in their walk towards the school's entrance to try to listen in on whatever update Hotchner was being given. "Got it... I'll let her know." After another pause, Hotchner eventually hung up, a perpetual frown deeper than the one he usually sport let the pair know something was wrong.

"They identify who Owen's fifth victim was?" Reid asked.

"Kyle Borden, an older student from the school. Shot him in the face and stole his car," Hotchner explained, but Beck could tell there was something else... "But that's not why the Sheriff was calling."

Beck frowned when Hotchner turned to peer over at her with a knowing glance. "What is it?"

"The ME's office just called the Sheriff with an update on Jordan Norris's remains," he explained. "It wasn't her."

Beck felt her blood run cold at the thought of Jordan Norris being held captive by Owen, her death being faked... This was now something entirely different than what she'd expected. It wasn't some terrorist attack, it was a lone boy with a plethora of guns and a mission. A mission that somehow involved this poor girl... If she was poor and innocent after all.

"Prentiss and Rossi are still canvasing the convenience store Owen robbed and Morgan is still working on Owen's room, until we figure out what Owen's goal is, we need to focus on his profile," Hotchner stated firmly, gesturing towards the entrance of the school just a few feet away. He wasted no time on lingering over the fact that they could've been dealing with two Unsubs or a hostage situation, but chose instead to focus on the task at hand. And as much as Beck wanted to divert their investigation to include Jordan, she knew they had to focus on Owen first. Whatever was happening, he was the prime Unsub.

Beck shot Reid a look before they both followed Hotchner into the school.

Once inside, Beck could feel the goosebumps on her skin arise. It was cold and sterile, he walls were all white and most of the long empty corridors of the high school were empty. It was a desolate place. A reminder to Beck of what she wasn't missing when she was privately tutored.

"Agents," a man near the end of one hall greeted them, a less than enthusiastic smile on his face as he approached. In fact, he looked a little terrified. "Paul Barter. I'm a counselor here. You must be Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner," he held a hand out to Hotchner.

"Hotch," the Unit Chief corrected before turning to gesture to the two other agents lingering over his shoulder. "This is Agent Ryder and Dr. Reid. Our liaison called about Owen Savage."

Counselor Barter nodded. "Yes. I was in charge of keeping track of Owen's academics here. I took the liberty of compiling his records for ya here," he held out the manila folder he'd had tucked beneath his arm.

Hotchner took it first, but ultimately passed it over to Reid who looked almost too eager to get his hands on them. Just as Reid had begun perusing through Owen's file, a bell rang overhead. Beck flinched momentarily as Hotchner turned to Barter. "Is there someplace we can talk uninterrupted?"

"Of course. Follow me."

Barter began to lead the group down a long hallway. No longer was the school empty as Beck watched several students start to pour out of classrooms and into the hallways. Most of them seemed to keep to themselves, others made sure to stay clear of their counselor speed-walking through the hall with three FBI agents on his tail.

"As Owen's counselor, what can you tell us about Jordan Norris and Owen?" Hotchner prompted as Barter continued down the hall.

"Not much," he admit with a frown. "They started dating last year when Owen moved to Special Ed."

"When was that?" Beck prompted, trying to peer over Reid's shoulders to get a glimpse at what she was missing out on.

"Last year," Barter answered.

Hotchner frowned. "Junior year- isn't that a bit late?"

"Yes, if he'd been put there for academic reasons," Barter explained.

Beck frowned at his wording when Hotchner prompted further, "So what was the problem?"

"Bad attitude, lack of effort." He certainly didn't lack effort in his method of getting away with murder, Beck wanted to spitefully comment, but her will to behave got the better of her. "Owen applied himself in some classes. He did very well," Barter continued as they turned the corner towards the main office. "But... it didn't last."

Beck wondered what the trigger was for that. Had it been something to do with his father? Had he finally snapped when it came to the brutality of Lou Savage? Or had he always been a ticking time bomb that was only faltered by the momentary bliss given to him by Jordan Norris. Maybe that's what this was. Some Romeo and Juliet story twisted to be Owen stealing away the one bright spot in his life while taking what's his and eliminating the people he believed did him wrong.

"The problem wasn't lack of effort or bad attitude." Beck raised her eyebrows at Reid's abrupt statement as they walked through the glass doors into the bustling main office. As they gathered in the front area, Reid turned to them, Owen's file splayed out in his hands. "The A's in math and science tells he's a gifted student. The D's in English and history, that tells us that he had difficulty reading. And the F in geometry, that indicates a severe problem with spatial relation. That's further confirmed by his atrocious, illegible handwriting."

Beck wondered what the bullet hole in Lou Savage's face indicated.

"All consistent with a brilliant, but severely learning disabled student," Hotchner muttered as he took the files Reid handed to him.

Beck felt as though Owen's school records were invaluable to their overall profile of a clearly apathetic sociopath who only wanted to inflict optimal damage on those who caused him pain his whole life. Who gave a shit what his grade in gym class was?

"Yeah but his standardized tests didn't support that kind of intelligence," Barter argued.

"A spatial relations handicap affects your hand-eye coordination," Reid explained while Beck took in her surroundings, drowning out the conversation as it played out in the background of white noise.

The front office was loud. Beck remembered that being consistent with her own brief time ever spent in any public school. After she got back home from visiting the local university where her tutors would meet with her for sessions, sometimes she'd tag along with her Mom or Dad to go pick up Jacob from school. Some of the only memories Beck had of high school were of the inside of a bustling front office.

Ringing landlines, shuffling papers, clicking pens, nails typing on computer keyboards, mouse clicks, printer shifting. It all just sounded like white noise to her.

A part of Beck wished she'd gone to public school, maybe have a normal upbringing. She longed for what her brother had at times. Multiple classes with regular teaches learning amongst people your own age for a passing or failing grade. A group of friends he sat with at lunch and waved 'hi' to during passing periods. Decorations and cool pictures he hung up in his very own locker. The ethereal feeling of victory during his extracurricular sports.

But the more grounded part of Beck knew she would've never fit in in high school. The brief interactions she had with Jacob's classmates was proof of that.

"Why don't you and your freak sister go back to wherever back water you came from, huh, Ryder?"

"Ryder... Ryder!"

Beck snapped back to reality. The reality of having not gone to a normal high school. The reality where she went through tutor after tutor until she got her diplomas and degrees and PhD's. The reality where she never got to be a kid and went from tutoring to the CIA to the FBI where she stood working a case on a possible mass-murderer with a taste for vengeance all because he sucked at math.

"Yeah?" She asked, still a little out of it.

Hotchner stared back at her. He looked as though he wanted to press her on where she had gone for a second, but ultimately dropped it. "I asked if you had any thoughts on Owen's environment since you seem to be so captivated by it," he explained as Counselor Barter pushed past the group to answer the ringing front desk phone.

"No thoughts just yet," she brushed off his bitter tone to spare a glance over at the Doctor currently flexing his fingers, balling them up into fists before releasing them again. Hm, that was new. "The Doctor seems to have a few thoughts, though."

"Reid?" Hotcher raised an eyebrow, prompting him.

"Owen- he was probably the smartest kid in class. He just couldn't prove it," Reid exclaimed. "Being the smartest kid in class is like being the only kid in class. He missed all of it." So did she.

Stop.

"But schools like this can't meet the specialized needs of every student," Hotchner insisted.

"Kids don't just shoot up their father and girlfriend's home because they're failing geometry, Reid," Beck stated.

"That's not the point," Reid snapped back, Beck reeling a little. That was definitely new. "He gives it everything he's got. Over and over and over again, and he continues to fail. And the whole time- the whole time they tell him it's his fault. I mean- it makes sense."

Hotchner furrowed his eyebrows, "No, it doesn't. Ryder wasn't wrong; an undiagnosed learning disability does not add up to this level of violence." Beck blinked in surprise. Two admissions of defeat in one case? Wow, a new record. "At least not without severe emotional abuse. You know that."

Just then, Hotchner's phone rang. As he reached into his suit pocket to fish it out and answer, Beck noted Reid casting her a sidelong glance. When she turned to look back at him, she realized this wasn't just any glance... He was... he was glaring at her. As if she'd done something wrong.

He couldn't seriously be pissed at her for pointing out something vital to the profile, could he? Or was he just pissed at her for remaining unbiased while he projects onto this kid? This kid, who clearly had issues that far outweighed just being a bullied little boy in high school. Beck had dealt with bullies and Beck had dealt with people who liked to play the victim and turn their back to hurt other innocents...

She wasn't about to back down from her stance. She knew who they were dealing with and if Reid was going to be pissed at her for not abandoning her morals in order to catch this bastard, why did she care anymore?

Hotchner hung up the phone. "Morgan found something," he explained vaguely. He stepped towards the desk where Counselor Barter approached from. "We need to use your computer. An agent of ours sent us an mPEG from Owen's computer."

Barter nodded, obliging by signing in and scowering the email.

"What did Morgan say this mPEG was?" Beck found herself wondering aloud as it loaded up on the monitor.

"He didn't," Hotchner answered. "He just said we needed to see it."

Beck nodded, turning back to the screen where a video of Owen popped up. He was shirtless, a towel wrapped around his waist. It was clear he wasn't at home. As the shaking camera zoomed in and out, it was revealed that this was inside of some kind of locker room shower.

"Guys, I'm not so sure I can do this," Owen muttered into his hand as he shifted his weight on his bare feet.

"It's just us," an unseen boy replied slyly. "It's not like you don't masturbate at home, right?"

"Hazing?" Beck pondered.

"No, I- I do it, man," Owen stuttered, glancing up just as the camera moved to be partially hidden behind a tile wall. "I can't- I can't really do it while you're watching me, man."

"It was a set up," Reid replied. "He didn't know he was being filmed."

"You want to be on the team, you gotta do it," another boy called from behind the camera. "We all did it."

Eventually, Owen seemed to cave in. "O-okay. I'll try." Beck felt a twinge of pity for the timid boy she was watching on the screen just before Hotchner stopped the video.

"Did Owen tell you about this?" Reid prompted the counselor.

From the disappointed frown on his face, Beck was guessing he'd known about this for a while. "He didn't have to. It was posted on the school social networking site," Barter answered, not meeting their eyes. "We pulled it down immediately."

Beck shook her head. Yeah, like that did any good.

"Once it's on the internet, it's out there forever. Owen knew that." Reid retorted.

"Did Owen tell his father about it?" Hotchner prompted.

"'Did his father care' should be the real question," Beck muttered beneath her breath.

"Not at first," Barter answered Hotchner's question. "But when Owen quit the wrestling team, his father confronted him. I mean... he blamed Owen for the whole thing."

Reid scoffed. "Owen joined the team to get his father's approval."

"Why would he save this video? It still isn't adding up," Beck stated, gesturing to the frozen image of Owen still shirtless in the boys locker room. "Was it as a reminder for why he's doing what he is? I mean, if that's the case- how is this motive for blowing up the Norris household and gunning down a kid at a gas station? Why not go after the boys in the video?"

Hotchner furrowed his eyebrows and turned back to Barter. "How were these boys punished?"

That same disappointed frown appeared on the counselor's face and Beck could already tell she wasn't going to like what was going to come out of his mouth next. "Owen identified them, but on film, all we have is their voices. I mean- even if they'd admitted involvement, all they'd have to do is say Owen didn't have to do it."

Beck grew irritated, but beside her, Reid grew furious.

"He didn't know he was being filmed!" he exclaimed.

"Look- it's his word against theirs!" Barter retorted defensively as he stood up from his seat, still not meeting their eyes. "I mean- parents will get involved, the school board, lawyers. I mean, cyber-bullying is a hot issue right now. The whole thing would wind up on 60 Minutes... How's that gonna help Owen?"

Beck rolled her eyes the second Barter eventually did look up at them. He was pathetic.

Beck didn't exactly agree that Owen was some victim. Clearly, this level of violence didn't just stem from being bullied. He had already been fully capable of it. But saving the video, being pressured by his dad, ignored by his school... all of these just seemed like excuses to justify his rage and his killing.

It didn't make Beck any less irritated by Counselor Barter and his handling of the situation.

"What did you tell him?" Hotchner prompted.

"I told him that dealing with bullies is a part of growing up."

Beck shrugged. He wasn't wrong there. Even she grew up knowing that.

Keep your chin high, ignore them, and remember that you'll always be twice the man they are.

"Sounds familiar," Reid replied passive aggressively, the same tone he'd taken when asking about Lou Savage back at the house with the Sheriff Hallum.

"Boys have a way of sorting these things out for themselves," Barter exclaimed defensively.

Reid smiled in a way Beck had never seen him do before. Maliciously. It was a look Beck sported herself, but she would've never expected to see it being used by polite Dr. Spencer Reid. "Yeah, they sure do... Right now, Owen's out there sorting it out with an assault rifle."

Beck blanched as Hotchner reprimanded him softly, but firmly. "Reid."

The Doctor turned to face his two coworkers before letting the files in his hands drop to the floor. He turned on his heel and stormed out, Beck looking back at him as Hotchner attempted to apologize to the counselor. Despite the urge she felt to go after him, she knew she had far too many questions about Owen's motives to go after Reid right now.

"I apologize," Hotchner told Barter. "It's just... we- we've heard those phrases before when we interview school shooters."

"This doesn't make Owen a school shooter, though," Beck interjected. "He has no motive to come back here, except maybe to enact revenge upon you and your ignorance..." Hotchner shot her a glare similar to the one he'd sported when Reid made his jabs. "But he's had motive thus far to target everyone else he's killed. His dad for gross negligence. Rod Norris to sneak away with Jordan. But... why keep the mPEG unless..."

She paused. Shit.

Prentiss chose that moment to rush in from interviewing a friend of Jordan's. "Jordan was the motive for Kyle Borden. It was revenge." Victim Number Five- technically, Four since Jordan wasn't dead.

Beck spun around to face Hotchner. "His plan," she stated. Hotchner glanced down at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "He didn't keep that mPEG for a memento, he kept it as reasoning. He's going after those boys next."

A flash of realization glistened in his eyes and he looked above her head to meet Counselor Barter's concerned glance. "We need to speak to the boys who made this video immediately."

Barter looked a little stunned as he stammered out, "I'll check their class schedules." He reached past Hotchner and Beck to grab hold of some kind of sheet on the desk. Prentiss, Hotchner and Beck waited anxiously to hear the class numbers when something Barter's frown abruptly deepened.

Hotchner noticed it as well. "What is it?"

"None of them have shown up for school."

Beck turned back to face Hotchner. "We're too late."

"You don't know that," he shot back.

—

They were too late.

This was one of those moments Beck didn't want to be right, but unfortunately was.

There's a man goin' 'round, takin' names. And he decides who to free and who to blame. Everybody won't be treated all the same. There will be a golden ladder reachin' down...

Beck hated hearing Johnny Cash's raspy vocals in this context. Since she was a kid, she always associated it with long car rides in her Dad's truck with the windows down. Now, she found that this particular song was now tainted with the sounds of gunshots, screams of boys, and splattered blood along a river bank.

Reid recited the lyrics as they stepped down the rocks towards where the three boys Owen had murdered execution style laid lifeless and partially naked, just like he had been in that video.

"Johnny Cash," Rossi mused as he trailed after the agents, Hotchner not far behind him. "From the song Owen played when he did this."

"'The Man Comes Around,'" Beck recalled the name as she peered down at those boys. A song and artist that once held loving memories with her father was probably the last thing these poor kids ever heard. Whatever pity Beck had felt for the timid Owen Savage in the video of him in the locker room was sucked away by the harsh reality of what he was... a killer.

"He's been taking names. Collecting names," Reid pondered, eyeing the scene in front of them as well. Beck still couldn't get that song from out of her head no matter the fact that Garcia had only shown it to the team once after Owen had posted it. "He's acting out his revenge fantasies."

"The family, school, and social dynamics do seem to fit perfectly," Rossi stated.

"Fit perfectly to what?" Beck wondered aloud, her eyes still glued to the various bullet holes shot through these kids' backs.

"He's not collecting names," he explained. "He's collecting injustices."

Beck scoffed.

"Something the matter?" Rossi prompted, almost offended by her disregard for his expertise.

She shook her head. "These weren't injustices," she said, gesturing to the bodies at her feet. "The bastard had a tough childhood- boo hoo. Your mom dies in a car accident, your dad is emotionally unavailable. You deal with school bullies, shitty teachers, and your girlfriend's overbearing father. You don't go around murdering people because you can't take the heat of life." She snapped.

"Sometimes it's not that simple," Hotchner replied.

Beck shook her head, this time forcefully peeling her eyes away from the bloody and brutal scene in front of her. "It will be simple when we find him." She trekked back up the hill from which they came, leaving her words with the three other agents as an ominous warning of what would happen if they got their hands on Owen.

Eventually, the group made it back to the local police department where JJ and Prentiss had already finished setting up the profile board and gathering the rest of the police force. Already, just from sensing the tension in the air, Beck could see just how well this was going to go.

"I still don't understand what you've got all of us out here for," one of the nameless officers exclaimed, his hands on his hips as if he had some kind of authority.

"Once you've heard the profile, you'll understand," JJ insisted, just as firmly with her arms crossed over her chest. She wore authority well.

"We are wasting time," the cop persisted. "Owen is here, and we should be knocking on doors."

"Oh, why don't you go right ahead and do that, Officer," Beck retorted, crossed her ankles as she leaned her butt against the desk behind her. Her eyebrow rose expectantly as her lips rose into a sarcastic smirk. "See how well it goes for you when Owen sees you knocking on doors looking for him and decides to have a standoff that ends with him, Jordan, and maybe a few of your officers in the morgue. After all, you're talking about cornering a boy with an entire arsenal and no real will to live. And seeing how that pans out for you could be really educational for anyone else who feels like talking out of line and offering up shit ideas."

The officer blanched slightly, stepping down from the pedestal he had placed himself on moments before Beck verbally knocked him back down.

The rest of the officers around him glanced down at the ground to evade eye contact with the piercing glare she was sporting, daring anybody else to interrupt with a plan that was going to get everyone involved killed.

"A-alright," JJ picked up from where Beck had left off, a little hesitant on how to start after that. "We're here to help you bring in Owen Savage with minimum loss of life. The profile tells you the best way to do that."

Nobody argued after that, so the rest of the team took it as a sign to continue.

Reid started them off. "Owen Savage fits the profile of a type of school shooter known as an Injustice Collector. He's trying to avenge perceived wrongs."

"If he's a school shooter, why hasn't he hit the school yet?" Sheriff Hallum prompted this time. His outburst stemmed from genuine curiosity, so Beck allowed it.

"Jordan," Prentiss answered. "Most of these guys are so angry and hopeless, they just want to kill as many people as possible and commit suicide. But Jordan gives him a reason to live."

"Otherwise, he's a textbook case," Reid chimed in once more. "His life was one torment after another. His teachers gave up on him, his classmates bullied him, and his father blamed him while giving him access to guns. Given these conditions, you're actually quite fortunate."

Beck blanched, her glare softening into a look of disbelief she cast over her shoulder towards the Doctor. Fortunate? These people just lost two of their officers, and five other civilians. Three of which were still teenagers. And Reid was calling them fortunate to their faces?

The offcers- more specifically, the one Beck had told to sit down and shut up- took offense. "It sounds like you're saying these victims deserved this."

"We're not. Nobody deserves this," Hotchner tried to amend the situation.

But of course, Reid had to twist the knife in deeper. "But you could have prevented it." Beck coughed, trying to mask the tension to no avail.

Eventually, Hotchner had to take control. "Reid, can I talk to you?" Beck heard him whisper before starting off towards a nearby office, Reid reluctantly following after him. This was unseen before. Having a hothead, being disruptive and irritable, and getting scolded by Hotchner were behaviors coined by Beck. Was this some kind of alternative universe where Reid was the team bad cop and Beck was now the voice of reasoning?

Maybe it's the Dilaudid.

That pesky little voice was back. Beck groaned, essentially tuning out the rest of the awkward dismissal Prentiss had to call off just before Reid stormed back out of the office, an exhausted Hotchner coming out as well.

Beck and Sheriff Hallum watched as he left, most likely sent off to either take a walk or go canvas the Savage House with Morgan as punishment.

"He was out of line, and I'm sorry," JJ apologized on Reid's behalf to Sheriff Hallum. Beck wondered if Hotchner ever had her apologize for Beck's behavior as well. "We want to release the mPEG from Owen's computer to the media."

Beck tuned into this conversation now, slowly walking over to hear better.

"He left it because he wants us to know why he's doing this," Hotchner explained. "And by releasing it, it could temporarily dissipate his urge to kill and buy us some time."

Sheriff Hallum glanced up at him. "Time for what?"

"To figure out a way to bring him in peacefully," he answered. Beck highly doubted it would come to that. Owen wasn't going to go down without a fight, not with Jordan still in the picture. And he'd probably still put up a fight if they even got her out. "Jordan's innocent and Owen wants to die, and if you choose to go knocking on doors, I think it's gonna get her killed."

Overlooking that Beck was right once again, she overheard the Sheriff reply reluctantly, "After the funerals tomorrow, I won't have a choice. Until then, you do what you think is best to find him and bring him in."

JJ thanked him before both the lason and the Sheriff peeled away, leaving behind just Beck and Hotchner.

"He isn't going to come in peacefully, Hotchner, you know that," Beck stated from her place leaning on the desk behind him.

He turned slightly, but didn't look at her as he spoke. "We have to try. It's our job."

"Our job is to stop killers with minimal loss of life of innocent people," Beck retorted. "If we don't stop Owen by any means necessary, if we let this sob story he's painted distract us from what he's done, and we hesitate... We could be looking at mass casualties. And I'm not talking about just Jordan, but the rest of the police force that stood by while Lou Savage neglected his kid. The counselors at the school who told Owen to suck it up. Hell- the kid at the grocery store who looked at him funny. There's no telling what he'd be capable of with the arsenal of an entire police department and enough anger issues to last him to the next decade."

"You could be right," Hotchner sighed. "But if you aren't, we'd just be overlooking another life that could be saved and adding to the growing graveyard in this town."

"You're willing to take that chance?"

"We'd be stooping to his level if we discarded his life the way he did his victims'."

"We're nothing like him," Beck stood straighter. She jutted her chin, meeting his eyes in a defiant glare. The words might have come out as 'we,' but both Beck and Hotchner both knew what she'd really meant.

I'm nothing like him.

—

Beck ran a hand through her unruly hair. She'd let it out of the confinement's of her ponytail as she sat alone in the back of the nearly empty Sheriff's Office. A large chunk of the team were still gone, spread out across West Bune as they waited on a break.

Reid had been sent off to join Morgan at the Savage House a few hours earlier, sometime later JJ was called away for a press conference and about an hour ago, Rossi had volunteered to go pick up dinner for everyone as they prepared to hunker down for another night.

So while Hotchner and Prentiss poured over the profile board over and over again, Beck took a step back for a second.

It was a lot easier to breathe without them around. Especially not with the weight of her newfound knowledge still bearing down on her. She had to watch what she said now, careful to tread lightly in case she let even the smallest thing slip.

Beck had been a trained spy for many years, a good one at that. But she dealt with such simple minded people in her days with the CTU. Spying with the BAU felt like doing ballet through a minefield. One small slip and she was doomed.

"Okay," she sighed. "What do we know?" She clicked the end of her ball-point pen.

Jordan- victim or co-conspirator?

Owen-

has an arsenal of weapons

is smart enough to stay ten steps ahead and hidden

pre-planned all kills

has a hiding space somewhere in town

will do anything to stay with Jordan

Beck sat back in her seat, her pen twirling in between her fingers the way she'd fool around with a knife in her hand. She wished it was a knife. The frustration this case was leaving her with made her want to stab something, anything.

Running her free hand down her face, Beck groaned. "What are you planning, Owen?" she asked the paper in front of her. It was as if she had all the pieces of the puzzle, but had a number of pictures that were coming up that didn't seem to fit. The one shitty thing about people with rage and fury was how unpredictable they were.

The one predictable thing about Owen, aside from violence, was Jordan.

Jordan...

Beck's head snapped up when she heard sounds of shuffling and new voices outside the small office. As she peered through the partially open blinds of the office, she could see Reid and Morgan had returned.

Beck shut her notepad and walked over to see what they'd gotten from the Savage House.

Upon entering the station and making their way over to where Prentiss and Hotchner were standing, Reid didn't waste a second to get his findings out. "Owen's mother's death left him with severe issues of abandonment. If we can get Jordan away from him, we'll save her and take away his reason to live."

"You're talking about pushing him to commit suicide," Beck spoke up, alerting the group of her presence.

"It's the only way we can save Jordan," Morgan stated. Beck had a feeling perhaps they were right.

"How can we get her to leave him?" Hotchner prompted, ever the pragmatic.

Reid answered, "He's kept Jordan in the dark. She doesn't know about the murders."

The Unit Chief eyed the Doctor, his expression unreadable and making it impossible for Beck to tell if her agreed with this plan or not. "You want to tell her?"

"If we can," Morgan replied.

"We can get her to turn herself in," Prentiss chimed in.

"How?" Beck prompted. "Jordan's a loner, same as Owen. They only have each other. Who are we to even try to convince her to leave him? The people who want to hunt him." Beck didn't notice the way Reid's eyebrows furrowed at her wording, she was too busy looking expectantly at Prentiss and Hotchner for an actual answer to her very real concern.

Innocent or not in all of this, Jordan still willingly left with Owen for a reason and it wasn't because they were all they had in high school as loners. It was because they were in love. And there was nothing more dangerous than love.

"There's one other person," Prentiss answered, shaking her head as she provided a hesitant answer to the question. "And she might be able to get a message to Jordan."

Beck frowned at first, but it wasn't long before she found herself standing idly in a pink-walled hallway miles away from the precinct. After surpassing a less-than-eager Mr. Bechtold and consulting with a very worried Mrs. Bechtold, the group was able to make up to talk to Eileen, Jordan's apparent best friend.

While Prentiss and JJ tried to get Eileen willing enough to send messages for them to Jordan, Beck and Hotchner waited outside in the hall, quietly waiting for their turn with Eileen as if she was the BAU's new tool. She kind of was at the moment.

"Reid's taking awhile in the bathroom," Beck pondered aloud, her eyes cast down to her boots as if they were the most interesting thing inside the Bechtold's oddly decorated upstairs hallway.

Hotcher, not looking up either, answered, "Give him time."

Beck wanted to ask him if that was the same mindset he had when he'd conveniently overlooked Dr. Reid's dilaudid abuse. Brushing off long breaks, vulgar behavior in professional settings, and isolating him to allow himself moments of private time.

But, alas, Beck couldn't give up what she knew. Once again, she found herself trapped in this game of poker where she was gripping her cards so close to her chest, she could feel her ribs bleeding beneath the weight of what she knows.

"He usually take cases this hard?" she prompted, dejectedly so not to cause any suspicion that she was fishing for answers and info.

"We all have our days," the Unit Chief replied, just as dejectedly.

Beck finally looked up at him, locking eyes with him. "That's not what I asked."

The air tensed in the small hallway like gasoline setting in a pool of water, ready to be set aflame. But, in actuality, it was like a balloon that was popped by Reid's abrupt reentrance.

"Uh, I think they're ready for us," he remarked, gesturing to the open door beside Beck where JJ came walking out right behind a pissed of looking Eileen. Clearly, someone wasn't happy with having to manipulate her best friend, but she'd done what she was supposed to.

Prentiss was waiting inside beside the laptop when the trio walked in. Reid immediately took his seat behind the laptop screen, Prentiss and Hotchner lingering over either of his shoulders as Beck found a place to observe on the other side of the desk. She could see Reid shooting her brief glances from over the top of the screen and fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"Send her the news coverage," Hotchner ordered Reid, pulling him back to the task at hand.

With a few clicks on the keyboard, Reid was in.

"Tell her to look at the pictures. Tell her we know Owen didn't tell her what he did," Prentiss instructed him from over his shoulder, Reid typing as fast as her words left her mouth.

There was a brief pause just before the laptop buzzed with a notification. From the displeased look on Hotchner's face and the disbelieving one on Reid's, obviously Jordan wasn't buying it.

"Send the mPeg," Hotchner ordered. Reid hesitated.

It was brief, but it was enough for Beck to catch. The guilt building behind his eyelids as he glanced up at Hotchner. A silent question passed between them. Do I really have to do this to him?

Beck's nails bit into the skin on her arms.

"Reid, do it," Hotchner reiterated firmly.

Beck watched as the Doctor reluctantly yanked the USB stick from his back pocket and plugged it into the laptop. A few clicks later and a torn expression Beck could see from over the screen, Reid had finally sent it.

"Tell her, 'when the police come for you, Owen will kill you and kill himself,'" Prentiss instructed Reid once more. Reid, not looking very happy with it despite this being his idea, typed out the words she was telling him to.

There was another beat of silence, a moment that was surely spent by Jordan watching the fifteen second mPeg Reid had sent her moments ago. It was up in the air. The feeling of falling that rested in the pit of someone's chest when the fate of everything on the line all falls down to the split decision of one person. Right now, that person was Jordan. Was she gonna make this easy or choose the hard way?

There was a beep.

Reid read the message, "'You lie. Owen loves me.'"

Beck nodded firmly, "Hard way it is."

"She's gone," Reid stated after another buzz notified them of Jordan logging off from the pager. "Now what?"

"We've planted the seed. Now we wait," Hotchner stated simply.

"Do we have the time to wait?" Beck prompted, not expecting much of an answer as she crossed the room and found herself examining the large vanity set up at the edge of Eileen's room. It wasn't the size of the vanity, or the lipstick kisses smeared on the mirror, or the outlandish pink color that coated the dresser it was attached to that caught Beck's attention. It was all the printed pictures Eileen had taped up all along the sides of the mirror.

Beck reached out, letting her fingers trace a small polaroid photo of Eileen and Jordan. It looked to be some kind of pool behind them, it was hard to make it out in the polaroid with the large flash only made it possible to focus on the two blonde girls standing in an embrace wearing different colored bikinis on a hot summer day. They looked close. It was apparent just how close by another photo Eileen had taped just above that one of her and Jordan mid-laugh at what looked to be a bowling alley. They really were best friends.

What was a collage of beautiful moments shared between Jordan and Eileen could've easily turned into a twisted memorial of Jordan now that her life was in the hands of mass murderer Owen Savage at an undisclosed location that could've been anywhere this side of the US-Mexican border.

"She's back," Reid announced, pulling Beck back into the conversation and out of her turmoil thoughts.

Prentiss leaned down, reading the message over Reid's shoulder. "'You were right. What do I do?'"

Oh, shit... It worked.

"Ask her where she is," Hotchner pressed the Doctor.

"You really think she'd give it up that easy?" Beck prompted, this time expecting an answer. Hotchner fixed her with The Look.

Sure enough, there was another message Prentiss read off. "'If I tell you, you will hurt him.'"

Beck glanced up at Hotchner, fixing him with the 'I Told You So' smug smirk. "She's not gonna give him up," she stated.

"Ask her if she can get away," Hotchner instructed, turning back to Reid.

The Doctor typed in the question. Another answer.

"'I can try,'" Prentiss read. The air in the room stilled. Once again, the team found themselves holding their breath, waiting for a single choice, a single risk made by Jordan. Everything was in her hands again.

There was a beep from the screen a few minutes later.

Beck leaned forward on the balms of her feet as Prentiss exclaimed, "She's back."

"What's she saying? Did she get away?" Beck asked, her anxious heartbeat pounding in her ears. She hated not being in control of a situation, and this one was slowly beginning to spiral out of it.

"'You turned her against me,'" Prentiss read from the screen.

Beck felt all her rushing blood fall to the floor along with her stomach and any hope that Jordan's safety would be maintained.

Reid stated the obvious, "It's not Jordan."

It was Owen.

Beck's fists clenched and unclenched.

Prentiss slowly pulled away from the screen, her head shaking as she too tried to process what had just happened. "Somebody please tell me we didn't just get Jordan killed."

No one answered her.

Beck left the room, her fingers idly tracing the many photos of Eileen and Jordan on her vanity as she brushed past it.

—

Hopefully, the team would pick up another Satanic cannibal case soon, Beck was already itching for another PTO break. It didn't help that Alice's 16th birthday had passed the weekend before.

Beck had missed it, one of many important family events and holidays she'd missed due to her demanding job.

Beck had called her, of course. She couldn't be there for her little sister in person, but she'd be damned if she made Alice believe she'd ever forgotten her or how much her big sister loved her. She'd even shipped Alice her birthday present weeks in advance just in case it didn't deliver in time for her big day.

Apparently, it had just arrived because not but five minutes after Beck stormed back into the West Bune Police Department, Beck's phone buzzed. She opened the text message from her mom to find a short video attached.

Beck played it. The perpetual frown on her face slowly morphed into an adoring smile when she realized the video was of Alice opening her gift.

"I love it!" the teenager on the screen screeched as she held up a custom-made Padme Amidala white cat suit, the iconic costume Natalie Portman wore during Star Wars: Episode 2- the Attack of the Clones. A movie Alice and Beck had seen countless times over the years since it's release.

Off-screen, Beck's mom could be heard urging her daughter to open up one more card tucked inside the box Beck had shipped over. "Open the card. Open the card."

Beck pressed a hand to her face, scared that if she uncovered her mouth, her smile would brighten up the dimly lit office space in the back of the precinct. She watched as Alice reached for the card and read the contents before her jaw suddenly dropped to the floor. "D-Disney World?" Alice stuttered. "She bought me tickets to Disney World?! Oh my God!" Alice continued to screech and jump upside down, the card still in her hand as she tried to process what she'd just been given.

"Is it actually tickets to Disney World?" Her father asked from where he sat on the opposite end of the living room in his iconic brown leather chair. Beck smirked, ever the skeptic.

"Yeah, Dad- look," Alice kneeled down to show him the card. He peered down his nose to read. God, he needed reading glasses, but Beck knew the bastard was too stubborn to ever admit it. "'Four tickets to Disney World Resort, all paid access. From Beck, to Alice- be safe, have a riot for me.'"

Her dad didn't say much. "Huh."

Beck chuckled as the video ended, faded to black.

At least there was some happiness in Beck's day after the shit show she just came back from.

Beck, so preoccupied by the cute video her mom had sent her, hadn't even noticed Rossi seated down the table from her, watching most of the interaction. "Family?"

Beck spun around in her chair, her body going rigid at the realization that Rossi had probably heard and seen everything. He raised a hand as if to show he meant no harm, but the damage was done. Beck realized she'd been sloppy, hadn't canvased the entire room before becoming so engrossed in whatever messages her family had left her. And if Rossi had been sitting in on something more incriminating, say a call from Strauss or even just her accidentally somehow giving away the fact she had an entire plethora of info about the team after she'd hacked the system of their Technical Analyst, she'd be done for.

"Relax," Rossi instructed her, but she did no such thing. "It's nice to know you can smile and your face isn't always stuck like that." He joked, gesturing to her glare.

Beck rolled her eyes, turning back in her chair to face away from the older agent. She was in the middle of drafting back a message to her mom when Rossi continued speaking, clearly not taking the hint.

"What's been goin' on with you, huh, kid?"

Beck grit her teeth together. She wondered if Rossi knew just how much she detested being referred to as 'kid,' or if he was aware and did it solely to piss her off sometimes.

Rossi seemed to take her immediate silence as confusion. "What? You didn't think people weren't starting to notice you being more on-edge than ever?"

Beck slowly glanced at him from over her shoulder, still not saying a word. Had she really been so transparent? She thought she was hiding it pretty well. Then again, whenever it came to masking emotions, it came easy when she was around people who did the same thing back at the CTU. Go figure it would be a little more difficult surrounded by people who dissected peoples' psyche for a living.

"So," Rossi set down the book he'd been reading to lean forward in his seat, his laced fingers pressing into the table between them. "What about this case makes your skin crawl? Clearly, you know something about something."

She knew a lot abut everything. And obviously Rossi was oblivious to what she was really hiding which was everything the team was hiding. Maybe she was good at masking the depth of her knowledge as well as she thought she'd had. Now all she had to do was play the part.

Beck shrugged. "I don't know. It just seems like it's all gray area."

Rossi frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I mean cases when it comes to mass murderers are supposed to be black and white," Beck began to explain. "Killers, victims. Good guys, bad guys. They're not supposed to intersect. Hunting down Owen Savage shouldn't feel so... so..."

"Wrong?" Rossi supplied.

"I was going to say 'frustrating,'" she clarified. "I know without a doubt that Owen Savage is no victim. What I don't understand is why everyone else sees him as such."

"Everyone else?" Rossi perked an eyebrow. "Who else is viewing Owen as a victim? As far as I know, everyone is pretty Hell-bent on catching this guy. Unless, you've heard something else. Maybe from a certain Doctor..."

Beck's frown deepened. Rossi knew too much sometimes.

"Look, Reid isn't like you and I-"

"We're comparable now?" Beck cut in.

Rossi shot her a look, but continued. "-he's logical, but he's less pragmatic, cynical. He's an optimist to the fullest extent and he truly believes in what he does in order to save others. The last thing Reid sees when he sees someone like Owen Savage is someone undeserving of mercy."

"Why should we show that bastard mercy?" Beck prompted. "He's murdered seven people in three days- probably eight now that he's lost Jordan's trust- and we're just expected to believe someone capable of that is a victim of any kind? No, no, no- Jordan Norris is a victim. Kyle Borden, those three boys from the locker-room, Rod Norris, Officer Letts- Hell, even Deputy Savage. But not Owen."

Rossi shrugged. "Maybe it's about perspective," he offered. "Some could say Owen's unjustified, but perhaps not entirely responsible for his actions because of his harsh upbringing and constant torments-"

"Oh, please," Beck scoffed. "You get bullied in school, you don't go around shooting people who made fun of you. You pick your head up, walk straight, and keep going like a normal person. If every kid who was bullied in school or maybe even a little neglected by their parents turned out to be like Owen, we'd have a lot more of these cases than just this one. And it'd be a lot bloodier."

Rossi narrowed his eyes at her. "You sound like you've experienced something similar to Owen-"

"Don't," Beck cut him off before he found himself down a very dangerous path that was attempting to figure her out. "This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the simple fact that's staring us right in the face."

"And what's that?" He prompted.

"That when it comes down to it, when it's really up to us to make the difficult decisions, if we let mercy and foolishness deter us, more people end up hurt because of it," Beck answered bluntly. "Is this team really up to making those decisions?"

Rossi tilted his head slightly. "Are you?"

Before Beck even had the chance to dignify his question with an answer, Hotchner came bounding through the office double doors as if there were a fire.

"Jordan just got in. She gave up Owen's hide out," he explained. Perhaps there was a fire, and Beck was going to finally answer Rossi's question. Not with words, but with actions when she finally took down Owen Savage.

Without questioning anything, Rossi and Beck dropped their conversation and jumped into action. Rossi rushed to the nearby desk where'd the team had placed their bullet proof vests nearby in case of this type of emergency. But while he was busy preparing for the raid, Beck was preparing for an attack.

The agent carefully made her way to the back office where she'd deposited most of her bags and supplies for the trip. Usually, she never went on a case without it, but after the case with Frank and Gideon a couple months back, she'd never had the opportunity to use her favorite weapon since then.

Clicking open the large rectangular case she'd set atop a desk, Beck popped it open to reveal the love of her life. Nestled in between the dark foam casing sat Beck's Barett M95 Sniper rifle. She'd only shot if off once when she'd killed Frank months ago, but today... today she'd make those hard decisions no one else would.

—

The brigade that was thrown together by Sheriff Hallum was pretty impressive. Almost every cop within the county that had been pulled from their posts up and down the Interstate had been dragged in to bring one very heavily armed teenager in from his safe house on Stratman Ranch.

Stratman Ranch was only a half an hour out of town and was pretty out of the way. Had it not been for Jordan managing to steal a truck from the property after she'd discovered her boyfriend burying the owner of said property, the team would've never found this hidden spot. Owen was a smart kid, Beck would give him that much and that much alone.

As the large caravan of police vehicles and black SUVs pulled up outside the small house surrounded by gates and fences, the first thing Beck noted was the slightly jarred open front door.

Before Beck had even stepped out of the SUV, she knew Owen was already gone.

So while officers move in on the house, their large shotguns in hand and at the ready, Beck directed her attention to the second thing Beck had taken note of upon pulling into Stratman Ranch: the freshly dug grave beneath the nearby oak.

Morgan had the same idea as the pair of agents approached the lump of dirt. "Ten dollars that the owner of this joint is probably somewhere in there," Beck muttered, gesturing down at the grave with the barrel of her pistol.

"You'd probably win that bet," Morgan replied, holstering his weapon as he leaned down to brush away some of the dirt to reveal a face. It was an older man, a little older than 60, maybe even 70. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was open. He'd been caught off guard when Owen killed him, but Owen had been guilty enough to shut his eyes before burying him.

"Shit," Beck muttered before her and Morgan headed back to the house where the officers had already finished up their initial sweep of the joint.

"Hey Hotch," Morgan called out as they approached. "We got a body back there."

"Partially buried. My guess, it was probably the Stratman that owned this place," Beck explained. "Find anything?" She prompted just as Reid came walking out of the house with a piece of paper in hand.

"He left a note," he explained, handing it over to Rossi who handed it to Hotch.

"'I'm going to return my mom's necklace,'" the Unit Chief read. "He may be going home to get it. We didn't find it, but it could be there. Sheriff-" he turned to Sheriff Hallum standing off to the side with his men. "-you go there."

"You?" the Sheriff prompted, Beck waiting for the next move as she spared quick glances over to the SUV that had her rifle in the trunk waiting to be used.

"Where's his mother buried?" Hotchner prompted the Sheriff.

"A cemetery?" Beck wondered aloud after Hallum explained that it was at the edge of town near the church. "You really think he's gonna have his last stand at a cemetery?"

"He said he's returning his mom's necklace. He believes his life took a turn for the worse after she died, this could be his way of giving up now that Jordan has left him," Hotchner explained.

Beck opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of Velcro ripping had her turning her head to find Reid tearing off his Kevlar vest. Before Beck could tell him that they weren't done just yet, Hotchner brushed past her to talk to the Doctor.

"Reid, what are you doing?"

Reid shook his head, still pulling the vest from off his shoulders. "He's gonna force us to kill him," he answered. "I don't need to be a part of that. You don't need me."

Beck's jaw tightened, but she understood where he was coming from to a certain point. He had an attachment to the kid, one Beck wouldn't understand. And a part of Beck was relieved that Reid wouldn't have to see her be the one to gun down Owen in the final stand off. She didn't want him to see her in that light, not yet at least.

As Hotchner took Reid's vest, Beck made her way back to the SUV. She climbed into the back behind Morgan's seat and spared a glance over her shoulder at the case in the trunk once more. Her fingers twitched.

"You good?" Morgan prompted.

Beck turned back to face forward. "I'm ready for this to be over," she replied.

Eventually, Hotchner joined them back in the SUV behind the wheel. Morgan peered out the window and took note of Reid climbing into the second SUV. "Reid isn't coming?"

Beck dropped her gaze down to her intertwined hands in her lap as she felt the SUV jerk in reverse and start out the gates. "No, he's meeting us back at the station," Hotchner answered as he switched the sirens on and pulled out of Stratman Ranch.

It was only a fifteen minute drive from the ranch to the cemetery right outside the West Bune Church. If Owen was here, he would've been here for some time, but by the looks of the eerily quiet and strikingly open plot of land covered in small marble slabs and headstones, it seemed to be untouched and untarnished.

As Morgan, Rossi, and Hotchner made their way forward into the open field of graves, Beck hung back. She'd put together her rifle and hoisted herself up onto the top of the SUV in a few swift movements.

She slid onto her stomach and pulled the kickstands out. Using the scope at the top of the sniper, the former CIA operative scanned the area all around the brush surrounding the open plot of land and the church. There were a few buildings Owen could've been hiding out in, even the church was a potential hiding spot. But after looking through every window and scanning every inch of the brush and forest, Beck furrowed her eyebrows in concern.

Owen wasn't here.

Beck slid off the roof of the SUV and threw the rifle over her shoulder by it's strap. "He's not here!" Beck called out to the three men standing aimlessly at Hope Savage's headstone, waiting for someone who had tricked them.

As Beck approached, stomping her feet to make up for the weight against her back, she could overhear the conversation already brewing about where they went wrong in predicting Owen would go.

"He said he wanted to say goodbye, give her back the necklace." Morgan stated, peering down at the barren headstone of Hope Savage. "He wasn't talking about his mother."

Beck felt her blood rush from her face. "He was talking about Jordan," she uttered. "Owen's headed to the station- shit!" Beck spun on her heel just as Hotchner picked up the phone, following after her.

"We're on our way," he called into the receiver before hanging up. "Reid knew."

With two words, Beck faltered in her walking for a moment. Reid knew. Reid knew what? That Owen Savage wasn't going to return the necklace to his mother's grave? That he was going after Jordan at the station which was why he hung back...?

Beck's grip on the strap around her shoulder tightened as she broke out into a sprint back to the car. She climbed into the back, not bothering to buckle up as Hotchner, Rossi and Morgan followed suit.

"He could already be there right now," Morgan said, his voice going up an octave as every possible scenario went through his head. He pulled out his phone and started to dial.

"Who are you calling?" Rossi prompted him from the backseat.

"JJ and Emily won't answer if he's already there," Hotchner told him.

"I'm calling the Sheriff," he replied, putting the phone to his ear and explaining the situation and how him and his men needed to get back down there immediately.

Beck threw her head back against the seat, her hands clutching the M95 like a lifeline. "He knew," Beck muttered. "He fucking knew."

Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but from the way Hotchner cast an uneasy glance at her from through the rearview, Beck could tell he'd heard her. Good. She wanted him to know just how fucked they were in this moment where one of their own team members withheld vital information for personal gain that could potential result in mass casualties. This was on Reid. This was on Hotchner's head.

It wasn't but a few moments later that Beck sat up in her seat, one hand on the door handle, the other on her rifle as they got closer to the street. Hotchner yanked the wheel and hit the brakes as the car slid into park against the sidewalk.

Down the street, in the middle of the road, were two figures just outside the PD.

One was Reid. The other was Owen.

Beck was the first out of the SUV, her small body swinging up and over the top of the car using the kickstand. She rolled onto her stomach and assumed her position. She pulled back the safety and settled her aim on the figure in all black.

Seeing Owen Savage for the first time in-person wasn't anything over surreal. He looked like an average kid. Average build. Average face. Average look. White skin, blue eyes, blonde hair. Dressed in a heavy looking black trench coat carrying an assault rifle with both hands. Beck couldn't see whether his finger was on the trigger or not, but it only took a split second for him to lash out and shoot everyone on the road- the first person in his line of sight being Reid.

Beck narrowed her eyes, focusing on her shot.

I never miss...

As the sniper scope came into focus, it landed on Owen's forehead, just between his eyebrows and beneath his curly hairline. Got it.

"Stay back! Right where you are!" the kid screamed, his grip tightening on the gun. Beck's finger slid to the trigger on her own gun.

"Hotchner," she called over her shoulder to the man hidden behind the open SUV door just beneath her with his gun pulled out and aimed towards the same target. "I have a shot."

Her eyes narrowed, her index finger lightly tracing the feel of the trigger beneath it. She could see the back of Reid's head as he gestured wildly with his raised hands. Was he even carrying a weapon- wait- shit!

Beck quickly pulled her finger off the trigger when Reid abruptly came into the direct path of her gun's barrel and Owen Savage. The target at the end of her scope was now the back of Reid's head.

"I lost my shot," Beck growled beneath her breath. She tried to zoom out and reangle it, but they were too far away and were anchored to their spot at the end of the street. The only shot she had was being screwed up by Reid constantly moving.

"What's he doing?" Rossi prompted, catching on to the Doctor's erratic movements.

"He's blocking our shot," Hotchner stated.

Beck's anger flickered and flared up like a fire being lit and gassed up. First, he withholds information and sends them on a while goose chase. And now, he blocks their shot of the man about to go inside a precinct and shoot it up in the name of love?

Beck's finger went back to the trigger as she narrowly and carefully readjusted her shot. Sure enough, she got one. Granted, it would swiftly whiz past Reid's ear and hit Owen in the upper neck, it was still better than nothing. "I got an opening," she reported.

"What, you gonna go through Reid to get it?" Morgan asked, his frustration and anxiousness apparent in his strained voice.

Beck's eyes narrowed through her scope. "If I have to."

As if he could hear the turmoil going on over his shoulder, Reid glanced back at them, his eyes meeting Beck's for a moment through her scope. She faltered for a moment, her finger twitching away from the trigger as his eyes pierced through the scope back at her. A twinge of guilt spread through her chest as a result, but she refused to let him die for his stupid decisions.

"I can take the shot," Beck stated, determined.

"Hold your fire," Hotchner ordered. "He's making leeway."

"You don't know that," Beck snapped, readjusting herself, preparing to take the calculated shot. She'd have to get it just right at a moment where Reid leaned away enough that it'd go past his ear and not directly through it.

"Owen's lowering his gun and Reid is getting through to him," Hotchner shouted back up at her. "Stand down!"

"You don't know that!" Beck shouted back.

"Ryder," his voice lowered in a warning. "Stand. Down. That's an order."

Beck narrowed her eyes, her finger remaining on the trigger as she watched Owen stand still. Even through the scope lens, she could see his rage and his fury. But, past Reid's head, Beck could also see his fear and desperation.

He was dangerous. She knew that in every fiber of her very being which was why she wasn't letting up just yet.

"...I can take the shot," she whispered to herself beneath her breath. I can take the shot. I can make those hard decisions. I can take the shot. I can make those hard decisions.

"Ryder," Hotchner called back up at her, Owen still shouting at Reid on the otherside of the street.

"...I can make those hard decisions," Beck whispered.

But Rossi's voice still hung in the back of her mind.

Can you?

Slowly, tentatively, Beck removed her finger from the trigger and unclenched her jaw.

No... No, I can't.

She let out a heavy sigh, watching through her scope as Reid managed to talk Owen down enough to set down his weapon on the asphalt between them.

Everything happened so quickly.

Morgan dashed forward to cuff Owen as Rossi quickly put himself between the group and the caravan of trigger-happy officers pulling up to their station just now. Beck remained on the roof of the SUV, her eyes narrowed in the sun as she sat up, her rifle still perched with it's safety on in front of her.

Down below, Hotchner cast a glance up at her. She couldn't tell what emotions he was conveying in that look, whether it be disappointment, anger, frustration, or confusion. Beck's eyes were locked on another target as he walked with his hand on Owen Savage's arm walking him into the precinct.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

—

Beck's remembered her dad comparing her bottles up emotions to the core of the Earth. It would bubble and boil beneath the surface of the planet, until one day her poor little heart couldn't contain that much fire and fury inside anymore and she'd... well, she'd erupt.

When Beck stormed into the precinct with her sights set on Dr. Spencer Reid, she was on the brink of a total volcanic eruption.

"What the Hell was that out there?!" she demanded immediately upon bursting into the room just outside the jail room where they'd already processed Owen inside.

Reid, who'd usually flinch away from such an abrupt display of anger, stood his ground. "I was keeping Owen safe."

"You put everyone here at this station at risk to what, prove some sick point?" Beck continued, not letting up even as Hotchner and the rest of the team began to file into the room. "What the Hell were you thinking, Reid?"

"Hey," Morgan cut in, attempting to break up the argument. "Back off, Ryder-"

But Reid wasn't going to let Beck have the last word. "I was thinking that someone like Owen deserves a chance at not dying and knowing someone out there cared about his life."

"Reid." This time it was Hotchner's turn to try and ease the conversation.

It wasn't working.

"So by doing that you put yourself between me and my target?!" Beck shouted back, taking a calculated step forward.

"He's not a target!" Reid snapped back, catching Beck a little off guard by his sharp tone and abrupt raise of his voice. "He's someone we had to save. Our job is to save people."

"No," Beck took another step forward. "Our job is to stop killers. Owen Savage is a killer!"

"You're a killer!"

Beck flinched away. Every flame of anger burning deep inside her chest was put out like someone had dumped a bucket of ice over her head. Her skin went cold and her blood rushed out of her face. She wasn't sure how to explain the feeling of having a gaping void fill her gut, but she was sure there was a word for it... Shame.

Reid looked a little surprised himself by what had just come out of his mouth. He looked almost slightly guilty, but he was able to hide it carefully by ducking his head. His voice came back down to a whisper as he finished off his argument with, "...Owen is just a mislead kid."

Beck didn't even have it in her to argue anymore.

"Alright, that's enough," Hotchner finally put his foot down. But it was already too late. The damage had been done. "Reid, we'll discuss this later." Beck couldn't meet Reid's eyes anymore, but she could see him nod slightly. Hotchner turned to address her, "Ryder-" but she was already out of the door.

—

Beck didn't say anything on the plane ride back to DC. She had popped three sleeping pills, knocked out, woke up when they landed, and sped off back to her apartment.

She didn't care that they still had to send in debrief reports to Hotchner, she didn't care that she still had her work go-bag strapped to her back, and she didn't care how it would look for her to go off on her own the way she had after the Katie Jacobs case. Beck needed to get away.

She'd briefly run into Mrs. Kumar on her way up to her apartment, but even she couldn't stop the young woman on a warpath.

The second Beck walked through the door of her apartment, she'd dropped her bag and keys and rushed into her bedroom. She'd shut and locked her closet before she'd left, but now that she was back, there was no need to keep it hidden away anymore. Beck threw open the closet doors, her eyes resting upon the section dedicated to Dr. Spencer Reid in the bottom left corner surrounded by all the other tidbits of information Beck had gathered on the BAU team.

Beck glared at the ID photo of the young Doctor, anger, shame, and disappointment flowing through her veins as she walked back over to her computer in the corner of her room and began to type up her report she'd been putting off for sometime that she know felt had been overdue.

Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner and Doctor Spencer Reid of the BAU

Over the course of the past week, the Behavioral Analysis Unit has been on assignment in West Bune, Texas about a mass murderer who'd gone on a killing spree throughout the town in a rampant act of revenge. In the days that the BAU profiled the killer and figured out where he could be going, Dr. Spencer Reid had took it upon himself to trick and deceive the rest of the unit to buy Owen Savage time to reach his real target, information Dr. Reid had figured out but failed to inform the rest of the Unit of. As a result, he directly put most of the local PD, innocent bystanders, himself, and his team at an unnecessary risk. SSA Hotchner allowed this to take place beneath his command as well as other things that have recently come to light.

Beck paused.

Did she really want to do this?

I've learned through various means of research that Dr. Spencer Reid previously had a drug abuse problem over the course of four months following a case in which he had been captured, tortured and given copious amounts of Dilaudid. This addiction carried on beneath the nose of SSA Hotchner who was aware of the condition along with several other BAU members who failed to notify FBI Internal Affairs or any other supervisor. This goes to show the recklessness and irresponsible behavior of the whole of the BAU.

Entry Date- 04/16/08

Agent Rebecca Ryder

Beck pulled her hands away from the report, her hand idly resting over the mouse that hovered over the word 'SEND'.

She had every right to send this to Strauss after what had happened that day. It was logical for her to send this report to Strauss to complete her goal. Kick Hotchner out of the picture, maybe jab back at Reid for what he'd said to her.

"You're a killer!"

The words still rung clear in her head like a bell.

She should send it. She knew she should. But... But...

"Fuck!" Beck gasped, her hand jerking away from the mouse.

She couldn't do it.

Why? Why couldn't she just hit the stupid fucking button and do what she was hired on to do in the first place? Had this been the CTU and she was kicking Gina Sanchez out of order while screwing over Kruger Spence in the process, Beck would've done this weeks ago when she'd first gotten the information.

So what made the BAU so special?

Beck kept wondering what it was that made her so damn sympathetic all of a sudden as she deleted every last word in her report and replaced it with a new one.

Unsub, captured and detained. Nothing more to report. Sorry to disappoint.

Entry Date- 04/16/08

Agent Rebecca Ryder

She hit send without hesitating this time.

Slowly, she stepped away from the computer, anger and frustration still prevalent as she made her way across the room towards her closet. One second, she was standing in front of a plethora of information she could've easily used to get what she wanted with a click of a button and a few hours... and the next it was all shit.

"ARGH!" Beck screamed out in frustration as she began to rip down all the papers, the notes, the names, the pictures, the secrets down from her walls. By the time it was all shredded to bits and on the floor of her closet, Beck sat on her knees with tears welling up in her eyes.

"You're a killer!"

Beck sighed, ripped pieces of her collage slipping from her fingers.

"Fuck."

—

A/N: Hello...

...Goodbye...