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baubabble · 4 years

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“Subtle Differences” Final Part - Hotch x F!Reader

PART I PART II

Summary: You and the rest of the team head to take down the Unsub as the search for the killer and Allison Wilson comes to a close. You and Hotch team up to take the loft, having each other’s backs. With all the unresolved tension between the two of you, will you finally make the first move? Or will he? Final Part of Subtle Differences.

Word Count: 4064

Warning: CM Violence, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Next To Me” by Imagine Dragons

Note: Thank you all for sticking with me on this one! I was only planning on making this a one-shot, but I had too much to say! My next CM work is going to be Reid x Reader and will be just one part, but I have other ideas too. REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

-------

Standing in the locker room of the SPD, you struggled with your bulletproof vest.

Frustrated, you tore it off and started again. “Let me.” Hotch’s soft voice reached your ears as he walked up behind you. You let go of the straps and he tightened the vest around your torso. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he fastened the velcro straps, his hands pressing along your stomach and shoulders.

Hotch trailed his hand down your spine and you let your eyes close at his touch. He then rested his forehead against the back of your head, closing his eyes as he took a moment to be calm. Slowly, you reached your hand towards him and after hesitating for a second, you grabbed his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers with his.

This was the most physical contact you had had with him. You stayed like that and something felt so intimate of just being in each other’s space. You could hear his breathing and feel the way he leaned into your back. This was much more than just a few gazes or smiles on the odd occasion.

Aaron was touching you as if he had been waiting to do it for a while. Maybe it was because you were about to put yourself into the line of fire or because he was finally willing to take a step in your direction. Whatever it was, you were drinking it in.

Moving your hair off your neck, he flattened the last strap, letting his hands linger on your shoulders for a moment as he pressed his nose into your hair. Delicate fingers traced the skin at the top of your spine and you shuddered beneath his touch.

Neither of you said anything as you stilled in your small moment.

Eventually, Aaron released your hand and leaned back. “Are you okay?” he asked and at the worry in his voice, you turned around to face him.

He was already outfitted in his vest, his earpiece hanging around his neck while his sidearm sat on his hip as always. He looked down at you with concern in those beautiful eyes of his. In that silent locker room, all you wanted to do was hold his face between your hands, but you had a job to do.

“I’m fine,” you assured him.

“Are you sure? If you need more time, I can have you run communications from here,” he said. You gave him a small smile, fighting to keep your hands at your sides.

“Aaron,” you breathed and his eyes locked onto yours, nearly taking your breath away entirely, “I’m okay. I promise.” Hotch nodded and then handed you an earpiece.

“Alright,” he said, smoothing his hands down your arms before stepping away. “Let’s go. You’re riding with me.”

————

Following Aaron out to the SUVs you placed your earpiece into your ear and double-checked your weapon. Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Perotta were taking one SUV, while you, Rossi, Reid, and Hotch took the other. Sliding in next to Spencer, you pushed up your sleeves and caught a glimpse of the scar that now permanently marked your arm. Spencer was watching you, but you ignored him as Hotch started the engine and began driving towards Belltown.

On the way there, Garcia called the entire team. “Okay, superheroes,” she said in greeting, “I have the 411 on our guy. Alan Rhett, thirty-two-years-old, born in Spokane and moved to the big city only a couple years ago. He’s worked for Ground Express for the past six months and before that never really held a steady job.”

“What else?” JJ asked.

“Well, this guy is smart and by smart, I mean crazy smart! He holds two degrees, one in art history and the other in structural engineering. I wouldn’t put it past him to have his place enforced with some kind of fancy doodads,” said Garcia.

“I hate when they’re smart,” Rossi said and you smirked.

“Garcia, is there any history with a woman in his life?” Reid asked.

“Definitely, my tall friend,” Penelope said. “When Alan was seven, his mother went missing for almost two weeks. It turned out that she had fallen into a vat of chemicals at the factory that she worked at. It ended up preserving her body until the foreman found her a week and half after she died. Yikes, it says she drowned in the stuff.”

“Well, there’s the stressor,” you said. “But what was the trigger? It couldn’t have just been that one painting.”

“From the medical reports I am seeing, it looks like after his mother died, dad just shoved him onto his grandmother who wasn’t the nicest of people. She blamed Alan for his mother’s death and even abused him at times. Oh god, she used to burn him with hot candle wax,” Garcia said.

“Garcia, what happened to the grandmother?” Hotch asked.

“One second,” Penelope said, “oh, she died one week before Mason Walker was killed.”

“There’s the trigger,” Spencer said.

“When we get on scene,” Hotch began, “Dave and Prentiss, I want you to take the Westside while Morgan and Perotta take the East. JJ and Reid take the back. (Y/L/N) and I are going to go through the front. Our priority is finding Allison. There is a good chance she is still alive.”

“One more thing,” Garcia said. “It seems there is a firearm registered in the unsub’s name and according to his bank records, he bought ammo for it just before Mason’s abduction.”

“He won’t hesitate to shoot his way out,” Morgan reminded everyone.

“Which makes him that much more dangerous,” said Hotch. “Everyone needs to be vigilant and remember this usub is smart and is unhinged.”

“Stay safe and come home,” Garcia said.

“Always,” Rossi said and then you arrived at the loft.

————

The team split up into the designated teams and after speaking with SWAT and Perotta’s men, you entered the building.

The loft was a solitary unit on an abandoned street. Everything else around it was either torn down or foreclosed. You kept close to Hotch as you two entered the front of the building. SWAT officers took the side corridors as you and Aaron moved into the main building.

Keeping your guns up, you had his back, keeping the both of you safe as you cleared each room. At the end of the main hallway, a pair of double doors stood ajar. You ran ahead, bracing your hand on the door handle. You waited for Hotch’s signal. He kept his gun balanced and then nodded to you.

With a swift pull, the door opened and Hotch rushed in. You followed close by, ready to cover him at all costs. However, when you both entered the secondary hallway, it was empty of threat. Though, something else had made you both pause. “What the hell…” you whispered as you slowly lowered your gun.

The dark corridor was speckled with electric torches that created an eerie glow. The walls were painted a dark charcoal color and dripping down every inch of them was thick, red wax. The same wax that Rhett had covered his victims in.

“Do you think he considers this art?” You asked Hotch as you began walking again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aaron said, keeping away from the wax. The entire scene looked like something out of a horror movie. You suddenly felt very closed in as if the walls were moving toward you. Swallowing thickly, you tried to stay focused as you followed him.

At the end of the hallway, there was another door. Light was coming from the crack at the bottom and you could smell something...putrid. You and Hotch moved towards it. Aaron’s face was full of determination as he scanned your surroundings. The rest of your team were speaking in your ears, explaining that they were clearing rooms.

The two of you had stayed silent since entering the wax-filled hallway. Pressing your ear against the door, you tried to hear anything that would indicate what was on the other side, but nothing was reading through the thick wood. You shook your head at Hotch. You then tried the doorknob and it didn’t budge. Stepping back, you gave Aaron some room. He braced himself and then with a sharp kick of his right leg, the door gave way and Aaron rushed forward.

The next moment moved in slow motion. As soon as the door flew open, you had a split second to react. Reaching out, you grabbed Hotch before he even realized why you were doing it. Dropping your weapon, you took hold of his arm and pulled him backwards into you. He stumbled but held onto you as you steadied him.

You were flush against him as you gripped him tight. He was breathing heavily, as were you, as you stared at one another. Your breath mingled with his as you tried to keep your heart rate under control. You failed miserably. His eyes were on yours as if he was drinking you in and for a fraction of a second, his gaze turned to your lips that were slightly parted.

You wanted to enjoy the moment, but the air hit your nose and it was near acidic. Breaking the gaze, you looked to your left and your mouth fell open. “Hotch…” you whispered. You reached up and took hold of his chin, turning his face towards the open doorway.

Confused, he fully turned and saw what had you shocked. On the other side of the door, the ground was nonexistent. The floor was dug out significantly and now resembled a very deep Olympic-sized swimming pool. The red wax-filled this room as well and at the bottom of the pit were four skeletons and two other bodies that were well beyond recognition. All six sets of remains had been coated in the unsub’s signature blend of wax and clay.

“Morgan and I were right,” you whispered in horror, “he’s been doing this for a while.” Hotch shook his head in disgust as he looked around the hallway behind you when he spotted something the two of you had missed.

“There,” he said, gesturing to another door that was ajar just to the right of the mass grave you now stood above. Hotch leaned down and grabbed your gun, placing it in your hand. “Are you with me?”

“Always,” you said without hesitation, and then the two of you disappeared through the door as the smell of death and decay followed after you into the darkness.

———

The rest of the hallways were void of the horror show from the first.

Whatever the building had been before Rhett had taken it as his home, it definitely wasn’t usually inhabited by people. Rats scurried at your feet and you fought the urge to shoot every single one. Pushing through the final set of doors, you met up with Rossi and Prentiss who had entered from the other side.

“Anything?” Prentiss asked.

“We have more bodies,” Hotch explained. “He’s been doing this for longer than we thought.” Prentiss grimaced and then a muffled cry drew your attention followed by a crash. All four of you ran towards the sound that came from behind a partition at the far side of the room. Rossi and Hotch tossed it aside and there, lying on a surgical table, was Allison Wilson. A funnel was placed into her mouth as she was strapped down and fighting her restraints.

You ran to her side, pulling the contraption out of her throat as Emily released her bonds. Allison was crying as you held onto her. “It’s okay, Allison, we’re the FBI,” you told her, helping her sit up.

“Thank you, thank you,” she sobbed.

“Where is he?” Hotch asked. Allison pointed to a stairwell.

“Roof,” she croaked out. “He has a gun.” Prentiss took hold of Allison, calling for medics while Rossi urged you and Hotch to go after the unsub while he secured the scene. You and Aaron raced for the stairwell.

“Rhett is heading to the roof,” Hotch said to the others over the coms.

“On our way,” JJ said back. You took the stairs two at a time as you prepared yourselves for what you were running into. Breaking through the roof access door, you were immediately met with gunfire. You and Aaron dove for cover behind the air conditioning unit, hitting the ground hard.

“You okay?” Aaron asked, checking you over. You nodded and then rolled to the other side, ready to fire back as needed. You took calming breaths as the phantom shots were now very much real. Aaron gestured for you to flank Rhett from the left and you move silently along the roof.

“Alan Rhett!” Hotch yelled. “It’s over! We found your other victims and we have Allison!”

“You have nothing!” Rhett yelled back.

“We also have Terry Owens!” you said. “Remember him? The man you tortured?”

“He was a coward. They all are!”

“Who is ‘they’, Alan?” you asked.

“Everyone!” he shouted and you peeked around the corner and saw Rhett was waving his gun back and forth, trying to target you and Hotch. His hands were covered in the wax and his eyes were wild.

“How did you get the women to cooperate, Alan?” Hotch asked. “Did you threaten them?”

“It was easy,” Rhett said with a laugh. “I knew where they lived with their precious families.” You cringed at his words. His ruse was simple, threaten the victims’ family and you’ll get them to do anything. It was textbook. “Doesn’t matter. They were going to leave their families anyways!”

“Like your mother left you?” Hotch asked, getting to his feet and moving to be in Rhett’s line of sight. You followed his movements on the other side of the unsub.

“Shut up!” Rhett yelled. “Don’t talk about her!”

“It was an accident, Alan,” you said as he looked wildly at you. “She didn’t leave you on purpose.”

“She did! They all do!”

“Is that why you kill the women the way you do? To preserve them as art?” you asked, taking a couple of steps closer to him.

“(Y/N),” Hotch warned, but you ignored him.

“You wanted them to be beautiful and for them to be eternal like paintings. Right?” Rhett was nodding. “I saw your work downstairs. It was very nice,” you said, trying to find a thread to pull on.

“You think so?” he asked, his gaze falling on you as if he wasn’t quite looking at you.

“Yes, Alan,” you said. “You are a true artist. Why don’t you put the gun down and you can show me more?” Rhett was smiling at you now, but his gun never wavered.

“They were my best work,” he said. “I worked so hard on them, but I never did seem to be able to get them just right.” Hotch moved in closer as you faced down the killer. “You know what? You would be so perfect,” Rhett said before turning his gun on you. You didn’t have time to react as a gunshot echoed around you.

However, when it was over and you checked yourself, there wasn’t a scratch on you. Instead, Rhett lay on the ground with a single bullet hole in his forehead as Hotch stood with his gun raised, breathing hard. “Hotch!” Morgan’s voice came as he, JJ, Perotta, and Reid came running across the roof from the Southside.

“We’re okay!” Hotch yelled back. Morgan reached you first, grabbing your arm.

“I’m okay,” you promised him. He then went to check on Hotch as Reid and JJ went to you. “Son of a bitch was gonna shoot me,” you said.

“You seem to be making that a habit,” Spencer said, giving you a hug. “Let’s try to break that, okay?”

“Yeah, Doc,” you said, squeezing him back. “I like that idea a lot.”

------

Once you were back on the street, you went to find Allison.

You got there just as the medics were loading her into the ambulance. Emily was with her, holding her hand the whole time. The ringing of the gunshot was still fresh in your mind, but you were slowly calming down as everything was coming to a close. The killer was dead, Allison was safe, and now you had the opportunity to give closure to even more families from the victims you found on the first floor.

“Not a bad first case back,” Rossi said as he joined you.

“If you say so,” you said with a shrug. Rossi pulled you into his side and you rested your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For being you,” you said simply. Rossi squeezed you tighter.

“Any time, kid.”

Spotting Perotta, you excused yourself and headed over to the detective.

“Detective Perotta,” you greeted. He turned to you with a smile.

“Good work, Agent (Y/L/N),” he said. “I can’t thank you and your team enough. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if he had continued.”

“You would have caught him eventually,” you assured him.

“More people would have died without the BAU and for that, I am grateful for your help,” he said and then offered his hand. You took it, shaking it twice.

“Good luck with everything, Perotta,” you said and then turned to go. As you headed to the SUVs, you caught sight of Aaron as he spoke with the police chief. Your eyes met his and you smiled at him. He gave you his signature smirk and nodded. Ducking your head, you got in the car and let all the tension in your body sink into the leather seats. You were ready to go home.

-------

You were the first one on the jet.

You sat in your seat, leaning back as you waited for the rest of the team. When the door opened, you expected to see Emily or Spencer, but instead, it Aaron and he was alone. “Hey,” you greeted, sitting up straighter. Hotch placed his bag down and then joined you, sitting next to you in the plush chairs. “Where is everyone?”

“They’re on their way,” he said, peeling off his jacket and laying it over the back of his seat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed a moment alone, you know? Collect my thoughts,” you said and he nodded.

“How are you really?” he asked with a knowing look. You sighed, unable to resist him, especially when he looked at you with those wonderful eyes of his.

“I’m still a bit shaken,” you admit.

“I figured,” Aaron said softly. The two of you just sat there for a moment, listening to the pilot doing his pre-checks and you were reminded of the moment in the locker room. It now seemed like a lifetime ago rather than just this afternoon. Aaron had never been so...open with you. You longed for his touch now. Even if it was something as subtle as tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. The thought alone made your skin feel as if it was on fire. “You did well today,” he complimented, taking you out of your thoughts.

“So did you,” you said.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, and then his fingers trailed along the scar that spanned along your arm. His touch felt like electricity as he moved back and forth.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you said softly. “Thank you for having my back today.” His fingers stilled on your arm and then they moved towards your hand. His movements were methodical and he was taking his time just as he had earlier at the precinct.

“We make a good team, don’t we?” he asked, looking at you from under his lashes. Just as you had before, you rotated your hand and laced your fingers with his.

“Yeah, we do,” you said and then swallowed thickly. Aaron’s thumb began rubbing circles along the back of your hand and then he slowly lifted his other hand to your cheek. You didn’t breathe as he moved in closer. Aaron pressed his nose against yours, tilting your head up so he could get a better angle, and then, he kissed you.

It was as if fireworks were going off inside your head, replacing the barrage of gunfire with bright colors. Aaron kissed you with a tenderness you didn’t even know he was capable of. His hand left yours and came up to cup the other side of your face. Instead of fire, all you felt was warmth as Aaron Hotchner held you. You kissed him back with as much emotion as you could muster at that moment.

Eventually, he pulled back and his warm breath cascaded over your lips. Leaning his forehead against yours, he smiled. “It’s about time that happened,” you said with a smile of your own. Aaron chuckled, leaning back slightly, but keeping his hands on the sides of your neck.

“I’d have done it sooner if I had picked up on your...subtleties,” he said, his thumbs rubbing against your skin. You tilted your head to the side slightly, looking up at him.

“And I thought you were a profiler,” you teased. Aaron raised a brow, leaning in again.

“Funny,” he said, “I thought the same thing about you.” His lips met yours again and this kiss was anything but tender. Hotch gripped you tighter as he kissed you with a fierceness only he had. You gripped him by the shoulders, pulling him even closer to you. Aaron nudged your lips apart as he explored your mouth further, savoring the way the two of you just fit perfectly together. Your hands crawled up his neck, fingers cascading through his dark hair.

You had imagined many times what it would feel like to be kissed by Aaron Hotchner, but nothing had prepared you for the real thing. He was gentle and passionate and every move he made had you sinking into him further. It was the best kind of high you had ever experienced.

When you both had to breathe, you pulled back, and with kiss-swollen lips, you pecked him once more. “So, does this mean that I pass my eval?” you asked with a smirk. Aaron rolled his eyes.

“It was never in question, (Y/N),” he admitted, “I just needed an excuse to be close to you.”

“Weren’t very subtle about it, Aaron,” you teased.

“I knew you’d catch on eventually,” he said with a smile. Aaron kissed you again until he heard the team approaching and then he pulled back with a sigh. “How long do you think we have before they all figure it out?” he asked.

“Rossi already knows,” you said, leaning away from him.

“Does he?” Aaron asked, amused.

“Apparently, I am a lot easier to read than I first thought,” you said with a shrug. Aaron reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his touch linger before pulling away.

“On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read.”

“Is that so?” you asked, intrigued. He nodded.

“However, I am very much looking forward to learning how.” You smiled at his words just as the team boarded, talking animatedly. The two of you smoothed your shirts and hair before anyone noticed anything, but Dave had caught you immediately. Rossi winked at the both of you and you thought you would die of embarrassment right there, but then, you felt a warm hand on your leg. Hotch gripped your thigh, rubbing it soothingly and you felt calmer already.

The rest of the team followed Rossi onto the jet, completely oblivious to what had just transpired onboard. Rossi sat across from you and Hotch so you could be close to one another just in case another member of the team caught something. You would have liked at least the next six hours to be just about you and Hotch and hopefully, they would be.

Leaning back in your seat, Hotch kept his hand on you at all times and as you flew across the country, light began to shine through the small breaks in the window shudders and at that moment, you had never felt more at peace.

“Sunrise is the reminder that we can start new beginning all over again." - Rupal Asodaria

#Criminal Minds #Cm #cm imagines #CM Season 7 #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #Hotch imagine #hotch #hotch x reader #bau reader #baubabble #BAU #reader insert #profiler reader

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baubabble · 4 years

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“Subtle Differences” Part II - Hotch x F!Reader

PART I FINAL PART

Summary: As you continue working the case in Seattle, you begin to notice more and more that Hotch is staying close to you. With the occasional glance, you start to think that maybe his feelings are real, but doubts start to creep up. When another woman goes missing, you and the team must connect the dots faster to save her and find the unsub before it’s too late.

Word Count: 3743

Warning: Typical CM Violence

Song I Wrote To: “Honest Man” by Ben Platt

Note: Ooh, part 2! This one is the “filler” i guess. Part three is when we get the team in action and a little more hotch x reader moments that I love. That should be up later this week! Also, I have watched this show A LOT, but presenting profiles isnt easy so i did my best. Also, the painting i reference is not real.

-------

The two of you worked in silence for a while as you tried to wrap your heads around the beginnings of a workable profile.

As you both sat alone in the conference room, you could occasionally feel Hotch glancing over at you, but you were determined to keep your focus on the task at hand. This wasn’t like him to keep somewhat distracted while at work. Then again, he was never one to really show any kind of interest outside of work either. Something had changed, but you weren’t what it was yet.

Half an hour later and Spencer and Rossi arrived. “Well, doesn’t this look cozy,” Rossi said as he pushed into the conference room, the doctor following right after.

You didn’t bother in acknowledging his snide comment as you continued to focus on the photos spread out before you on the board. Perotta had brought the maps Hotch had requested and Spencer immediately grabbed his red marker and began his geographical profile.

“All three victims were taken outside of very public places,” Spencer said, gaining the attention of the team. “Mason from outside a church she visited weekly, Rayna from a parking lot across from a major shopping center, and Lisa from outside the public library. Whoever the unsub is, he’s not afraid to take risks in the abduction.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you asked, glancing around at your colleagues.

“It can be either,” said Reid, tucking his hands into his pockets. “However, considering that no witnesses have come forward, he must be using a rather convincing ruse.”

“Or he’s threatening them with a weapon,” Hotch added. Spencer nodded in agreement.

“Something else isn’t sitting well with me,” you revealed. “This method of killing...it seems like you would need to practice it before, right? Maybe not the wax on the body, but at least using it as a method of asphyxiation.”

“You think he’s done it before?” Rossi inquired.

“It’s a possibility,” you said. Hotch nodded and hit the call button on the phone.

“Speak and be heard!” Garcia said.

“Garcia, I need to know if there have been any other murders in the past that resemble the unsub’s method,” Hotch said.

“As in just the wax in the throat or the whole enchilada?” she asked, causing Rossi to smile.

“I think we would have noticed the rest of the ritual, so focus on just the method of killing,” you added.

“I will dig and dig until I can dig no longer. Hit you back!” Garcia said as she hung up.

As everyone got back to work, you got up to get yourself some much-needed caffeine. As you waited for it to brew, you tapped the pen in your hand against the countertop, trying to organize your thoughts. There had to be more to the killings instead of just replicating a piece of art. The woman in the painting had no discernible features so he wasn’t trying to get her exactly right. There had to be another reason for picking three different women from three different places. The mystery was gnawing at the back of your brain.

“You look like you’re overthinking.” You turned to see Perotta leaning in the doorway of the break room.

“Just thinking, actually,” you said, grabbing a cup and pouring your coffee. “There are just a lot of things that are bothering me about this one.”

“Don’t all of them bother you?” he asked with a slight chuckle. You shrugged.

“Unfortunately, you get used to it,” you said, moving past him. Perotta kept close to you.

“Have you always been in the BAU, Agent (Y/L/N)?” he asked, halting you in your step with a hand on your arm. You took a step back, letting his arm slide off of yours.

“No, I used to be a part of an anti-terrorism task force for a while before I transferred,” you explained. Perotta nodded thoughtfully.

“Wanted to get less action?” he asked, with a half-smile.

“More, actually,” Hotch said as he interrupted the two of you. Perotta turned to your boss and you saw him swallow thickly as Aaron Hotchner stared him down.

“Huh, who would’ve thought,” Perotta said, glancing back at you, but you kept your arms close to you and didn’t bother smiling back.

“The others are back,” Hotch said, pulling your attention. You nodded and turned away from Perotta. Hotch followed you back to the crowded conference room. He walked behind you, keeping a hand on the small of your back.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, acknowledging his perfect timing.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured to you as he held open the door and waited for you to walk through before following afterward, letting his hand fall away. As you joined the rest of the team, you instantly knew something was up. Based on JJ’s concerned face, it wasn’t good.

“What happened?” you asked, taking your seat between Morgan and Hotch.

“The unsub has taken another woman,” Spencer revealed.

“Already?” you asked, surprised. “Lisa wasn’t even missing two days. The others were taken a week apart.”

“He’s increasing his abduction time,” Rossi said, flicking through the file.

“Most likely because he thinks he’s running out of time to perfect his replication of the original painting,” Reid said, twirling a pen around in his slender hands. “Though, I am still not sure what connects all the victims together.”

“I may have an answer for you, Doctor,” Garcia’s voice lit up the room from the phone in the center of the round table.

“What did you find out, Mama?” Derek asked.

“Well, honey, I have unearthed something rather interesting. All three of the victims were what you would call art connoisseurs. They all belonged to the same club that focused on fundraising for the arts and preserving historical pieces.”

“Garcia, is the membership for this club exclusive?” Spencer asked.

“Not at all. In fact, the list of members and donators are both available on the club’s website.”

“Considering he didn’t abduct them from their homes, he has to be getting their routines elsewhere,” you said.

“Do we have any information on the newest victim?” Prentiss asked.

“Her name is Allison Wilson, she’s twenty-four-years old from Port Angeles, and she was taken outside of her gym,” said Garcia.

“Another public place,” Rossi realized. “In the middle of the day too while cops are out in higher numbers. And we thought he was being bold before.”

“Was Allison a part of this art club, too?” Hotch asked.

“Yes,” Garcia confirmed. “A newer member from the looks of it as she just moved to the area.”

“Okay, well if they’re not getting their addresses from the site, then the unsub knows when and where they’ll be,” Prentiss said with a sigh. “Garcia do we have any idea how he’s getting their information?”

“Not yet, but I am working on it,” Penelope said. “I will hit you back once I figure it out,” Garcia said in goodbye and there was a collective sigh within the group.

“Okay,” Hotch said, “I think we have enough to deliver the profile.”

------

Once Perotta had wrangled his officers, your team presented the profile.

“We’re looking for a white male in his early thirties,” Hotch began, pulling the whole room’s attention.

“We believe he has created a scenario in his mind based on a single work of art in which he sees himself as a sort of reaper type character,” Emily added.

“He is posing his victims in the same way as the woman depicted in the Italian painting. “Manto di cera” or “Shroud of Wax”,” Spence continued.

“The painting is set to be on full display at the Seattle Art Museum later this week,” you said, stepping forward. “We believe that the final victim he abducted, Allison Wilson, is going to be his final piece of art.”

“So, what was the point of the other three women?” An officer asked.

“Mason, Rayna, and Lisa can be considered his trial runs. All of it in order to perfect his masterpiece,” Rossi said.

“He is an unhinged individual and will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to make sure he gets what he wants,” Derek said. “You should consider him armed, dangerous, and not afraid to die by suicide or suicide by cop.”

“This unsub thinks of these women as less than human so there is a good chance that he has a negative history with one,” JJ added, “maybe a girlfriend or even his mother.”

“Whoever this man is, he is connected to the art community here in Seattle,” Hotch said, finishing up. “We’ve set up a tip line, but we are going to have to rely on his previous victims to locate him and Allison Wilson. Thank you.” Perotta then dispersed his officers and everyone got to work on trying to track down the unsub.

“(Y/N) was right, this guy has to have priors,” Morgan said once you and the rest of the team returned to the conference room. “There is no way that he just woke up one day and decided to kill. Not like this.”

“We should look for any non-lethal incidents,” Reid said, “he may have tried to strangle someone first.”

“I’ll get Garcia on it,” Hotch said as he hit the call button.

“Ready when you are,” Garcia answered.

“Garcia, I need you to look for any past police reports where female victims were strangled or suffocated. Not just crimes that seem similar to the wax," Hotch said, reading through the file again.

You watched as his brows pulled together and all you wanted to do was to reach out and smooth down the crease that had formed. You knew stress was all a part of the job, especially when it came to Aaron. He never got a break and when cases arose like this one where there were more questions than answers, it took its toll.

At that moment, you wished for a Hail Mary. You wanted to save Allison, of course, but a simple answer or even just a bit of good news would lessen the weight on Aaron's shoulders.

As if feeling your eyes on him, Hotch looked up. Your (Y/E/C) eyes met his dark ones and for a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room. His eyes glanced down your face for a fraction of a second before he looked away. You didn't even realize Penelope was speaking again.

"Okay, I've been running searches for both kinds of crimes that correlate with the profile, but so far, I got zilch," Garcia said.

"Great," JJ groaned, "another dead end."

“However, fear not, my friends, as I do have something else," added Garcia.

“You figured out where the wax came from?” Reid asked. You looked at him, unaware he had even asked her to look into that in the first place. You also realized that it was something you should have thought of yourself. Your frown didn’t go unnoticed by Morgan who lightly kicked your foot under the table. You nodded to him, assuring him you were alright.

“Not exactly,” Garcia said. “The wax itself is pretty generic. You can get it from multiple different suppliers, but the pigment used in it to make that blood-red color is not sold by the companies. It is an oxidized clay that is regulated and sold from a local artist and I have just sent his name and address to you...now!”

“Morgan, Prentiss,” Hotch addressed, “go pick up the owner and bring him back. JJ, Dave, get in touch with Allison Wilson’s family. Reid, (Y/L/N), keep working on trying to figure out how the unsub is finding his victims from the club.”

“What are you going to do?” Spencer asked.

“I’m going to call and get a warrant for the owners of the charity club,” Hotch said as he stood and exited the room, followed closely by the others.

You and Spencer sat in silence for a few minutes before he swiveled his chair in your direction. "Is there something going on with you?" Reid asked, peering at you over the knee he had propped up on his chair.

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“I don’t know, something just seems...different about you,” said Reid as he stared at you with that signature confused look of his.

“Don’t profile me, Spencer,” you said, leaning back in your chair.

“I’m not!” he said, “but I am your friend and I can tell there is something up.” You turned back towards, sighing. Spencer never missed anything.

“Hotch is keeping me under evaluation this case,” you said and he immediately understood.

“I know,” said Reid, “I had to do the same after getting shot. Emily had to do it too.”

“I feel like every move I make… I feel as if I am under a microscope.”

“It’s procedure, (Y/N). Look on the bright side, at least Strauss isn’t doing the evaluation,” Spencer said, trying to lighten the mood. That got you to smile and Reid brightened. “See, I knew I could make you do that,” he said, twirling his finger in front of your face. You playfully swatted his hand away.

“Thanks, Reid.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink and got up to go stare at the board once again.

Looking out at the precinct through the glass walls, you could see Hotch in the Captain’s office. He paced while speaking on the phone. Spencer’s words resonated in your mind as you watched your boss. At first, you thought that maybe he had chosen to take on the responsibility of your evaluation to be closer to you, but now you weren’t so sure. What if it was just procedure after all and you were only reading into it? It wouldn’t be the first time that you read signals wrong. For being a profiler, when it came to your own love life, you could be pretty clueless.

Eventually, Hotch rejoined you and Reid. “Did you get the warrant?” Reid asked, looking over his shoulder as Hotch took a seat.

“Judge wouldn’t approve it,” Hotch sighed, “said because the website is public domain, anyone could have access and that it wasn’t enough probable cause to warrant a search and seizure.”

“Great,” you said, “so now we just have to hope the clay guy gives us something.”

“Do you think he’s a part of this?” Spencer asked. You shook your head.

“No, but he has to know something. Considering how much wax has been used, and not to mention Rossi believes the unsub had trial runs… He must have bought more pigment than the shop’s usual customers.”

“But why would he even leave a paper trail for something as easy as a red dye? You can practically make it out of anything?” Reid asked.

“Because not everyone is as smart as you, Reid,” you said and he smiled shyly, turning back to the board to start laying out the hunting grounds. You looked at Hotch and he was smiling at you, thankful for you praising the doctor. You quirked a brow in question but he just shook his head, returning to his work. You turned away before the blush that welled in your cheeks became more apparent.

“You guys need anything?” Perotta said as he pushed open the door and leaned in,

“We’re fine for now,” Hotch said, his tone filled with dismissal. Perotta pursed his lips, but nodded and left, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“I don’t like him,” Spencer said quietly, his back still turned to you and Hotch.

“I second that,” you muttered.

“You are both correct,” finished Hotch and Spencer slightly turned to look at you with amusement in your eyes. You couldn’t help the laugh that flew from your throat. Spencer chuckled quietly next to you as you tried to get yourself under control. Hotch watched you, completely enamored by the way your face lit up with a smile as you found him humorous. It was better than any drug he could think of, seeing that smile of yours.

------

It was a little less than an hour later that the others came back with the shop owner.

The man, Terry Owens, looked nervous as Morgan took him into the interrogation room. His demeanor alone as he walked into the station was enough for you to know immediately that this was not your unsub.

As JJ continued speaking with the Wilson family, you went to observe the interrogation. Spencer and Emily were going over new evidence while you stood next to Hotch on the other side of the two-way mirror. Morgan and Rossi entered the room, taking a seat across from Owens.

You watched closely as they asked their questions. You could tell that both Morgan and Rossi made the man nervous. He would flinch slightly any time Morgan raised his voice or Rossi shifted in his seat. You and Hotch didn’t say anything as you observed, but the closeness to him was tugging at your mind as you tried to stay focused.

You weren’t focusing on what your team members were asking the man, but rather how he responded to each question. Owens was sweating even though they chilled the room for him. He began slurring his words as he struggled to find answers for each inquiry thrown at him. When Rossi presented Owens with the crime scene photos, the shop owner nearly turned green. Pushing up his sleeves, he took slow breaths, trying to calm down. That is when you noticed the burn marks on his skin.

They were slight and faded, but from your time with anti-terrorism, you knew the signs of torture immediately. You turned to your boss. “Hotch, I think I know what’s going on,” you said.

“You saw something?” he asked softly.

“I think he’s been tortured by the unsub,” you explained. Hotch turned his attention back to the interrogation room for a moment before nodding at you. Sweeping past him, you entered the room. Morgan and Rossi looked at you and then got up and stood back, giving you room to work. “Hi, Terry,” you greeted with a warm smile. “I’m SSA (Y/L/N) and I think I know what happened to you.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked nervously.

“The marks on your arms,” you said, gesturing to the exposed skin. He looked down and his eyes closed as his jaw went rigid. “Terry, look at me.” He did. “Those burns are from hot wax, right?” Owens nodded. “He hurt you to get you to not talk to anyone. He poured the wax on you to make sure you knew that if you talked, you would end up like the women he was killing.”

“I didn’t know he was going to kill them,” Owens said. “Please, I just thought he was into something weird, you know? Like a fetish or some kind of performance art. I’ve seen things like that before. I never imagined…” he trailed off, his hands shaking. You reached out and placed your hands over his.

“You’re okay,” you promised him. “Terry, nobody is going to hurt you again. He is not going to be able to get to you anymore, but I need his name. He has another woman with him now. Her name is Allison and she’s only twenty-four-years old. She has a little sister named Cailey and a mom and dad who are worried sick about her. If we don’t find her, she’s going to end up like these women too.” You placed the other three photos before him again. “They didn’t deserve to die like this and neither does Allison Wilson.”

Owens met your eyes, nearly pleading. “I don’t know his name,” he said. “He always paid in cash and he threatened me anytime I asked any personal questions.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about him? The smallest thing can make a difference.” Owens thought for a moment before he straightened up.

“I once heard him on the phone,” he said. “I was preparing his new order and someone called him. He was talking to them on speaker and they didn’t say a name, but they called him by a nickname.”

“What was it?” you asked.

“Galahad,” Owens said.

“Like the Knights of the Roundtable?” you asked, turning over your shoulder to look at Morgan and Rossi, confused. Morgan, however, was shaking his head.

“That’s what Lisa Bracken’s neighbor called the delivery guy that delivered Lisa’s artwork,” Morgan said before he and Rossi were moving out the door. You turned back to Owens.

“You did great, Terry,” you said. “We’re gonna get him.” You didn’t wait for his response as you followed Morgan and Rossi back into the conference room.

“Hey, baby girl,” Morgan was already saying as you pushed through the door.

“Got something for me?” Garcia asked on the other line.

“The unsub is a delivery guy that delivers specialty art pieces. He works for Ground Express,” Morgan said.

“Okay that is a pretty big company, honey, you’re gonna have to give me a little bit more than that,” Penelope said.

“Garcia, look for drivers that are specifically assigned to the dumping zones. He may be dumping their bodies during a route,” Spencer said.

“Okay, one second…” she said as her hands flew over her keyboard. “Okay, I have four men that work that specific route. Two of them are way too young, the third is African American…” she paused for a second. “And the fourth fits our profile perfectly.”

“Garcia, I need a name,” you said.

“Alan Rhett,” Garcia announced. “He owned an apartment downtown but was evicted two months ago and now he rents a loft space in Belltown. Oh,” she said.

“What is it?” asked Rossi.

“He uses his own truck for deliveries and he hasn’t been to work in a few days.”

“Garcia, send us the address,” Hotch ordered.

“Already did,” she said. “Be safe, my friends, and go get him.”

“Will do, Mama,” Morgan said as he ended the call.

“Gear up,” Hotch said, “We’ll leave in five.” The team dispersed immediately. As you headed for the lockers to grab your vest, a phantom pain echoed through your injury site, but you took a deep breath and tried to center yourself. You were ready for the field, you had to be. Shutting out the echos of gunfire in your mind, you secured your sidearm and went to gear up. You weren’t going to let him kill another woman, not if you could help it.

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