#aaron hotchner

[rosenclaws]

nothing sluttier than a man wearing a tight white button up with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone

[jasminekaiser]

Memoirs of an Interloper- Chapter 1: Milwaukee

Fandoms Featured: Criminal Minds Characters: Jasmine Kaiser, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, unsub Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic sexual content, coerced sex under threat, non-con themes, sexual exploitation, voyeurism, threatened gun violence, explicit language, serial killers Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: While searching an abandoned warehouse, Hotch and the new female consultant are caught and held at gunpoint by a deranged unsub. When their improvised cover story escalates into a coerced sexual encounter, Hotch struggles to maintain control.

Garcia gave them an address to an abandoned warehouse in the sketchy part of town. The building was due for demolition, but short staffing in the city of Milwaukee pushed the priority of this project further and further down the list. The building sat for months longer than it should have, falling into a worsening state of disrepair with each actionless day. With only an unkempt row of subsidized housing lining the opposite side of the street, foot traffic in the area was relatively light.

The unsavory atmosphere of this part of town kept most law-abiding citizens away, leaving the building to fall into the mangled throngs of drug users, homeless people and the occasional ill-behaved teenager. The building was plenty big enough to host all of the aforementioned parties at once, however with an active serial killer prowling the streets, anybody with a modicum of sense knew better than to encroach on a stranger. It was impossible to tell who was a potential threat, so everyone was threatening. In this subset of the population, it was second nature to look over one’s shoulder, and just as common to pretend you didn’t see anything even if you had.

This killer needed privacy to carry out such horrific acts, and he was proficient at ensuring it. It’s highly likely that a tweaked out meth addict sitting at the base of the dilapidated brick building would be unaware of the serial killer operating inside, even if they were in the right state of mind to begin with.

“Morgan, we’re here. It could take us hours to canvas this whole building. Tell the team to stand by. We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention. If the unsub is here, any police presence will flush him out before we can find him,” Hotch muttered quietly into comms.

Jasmine closed the passenger door to the unmarked SUV behind her quietly. She and Hotch were without backup in an effort to minimize risk of detection. The unsub knew this area better than they did. They were hoping for a confrontation-less cornering, but at the very least, they were hoping to find him before he found them.

“Hotch, be careful,” Reid sounded in the ear piece. His tone was pleading despite the obvious efforts to keep it even. Hotch knew what he really meant; ‘Hotch be careful with her.’

Hotch glanced over at the blonde as she tied her hair back into a ponytail. Reid had been taken by her the moment she walked into the room, for obvious reasons that he would fervently deny if asked about. Hotch was a lot of things, stubborn, stoic, goal oriented, and ambitious to name a few, but he wasn’t blind.

And he wasn’t a liar so he couldn’t say that he didn’t see what the young genius saw when he ogled the blonde from across the round table.

Simple black clothing, no bulletproof vests. It was Jasmine’s idea and Rossi was vehemently against it. “You two have no idea if the unsub, or anyone else you might encounter, is armed! You have to take guns and vests,” the Italian’s veins were popping out of his forehead as he reprimanded the pair, but they left without them anyway.

“If the unsub sees us before we see him, he’ll know we’re law enforcement right away. If we blend in, we have a chance. He hasn’t killed anyone who frequents the area. This is our best bet. We’ll bring a small camera and live stream footage to the team. We can’t have everyone there, but we can still use your brains. You have to trust me,” she had reasoned confidently. Hotch agreed, albeit unenthusiastically.

She was right, the unsub was killing only rich business-class people, the social elite, if he knew they were agents, might be dead before they turned around. If he thought they were transients, they might stand a chance.

The pair took sure footed steps towards the warehouse, looking for a weak point in the brick and glass. Around the base of the building were several piles of crumbled bricks and broken glass, but the only obvious point of entrance was a gaping hole in the foundation large enough for even Hotch to climb through unhindered.

“Stop,” Jasmine whispered, holding her hand to his chest as he stepped towards it. Hotch shot her a quizzical look.

“If he’s in there, he’ll be watching the entrance. We have to find a different way in,” her tone was final as she skirted around the corner of the building.

The west side of the warehouse proved to be no more fruitful than the south side, and worse yet they were venturing further from their vehicle.

“Jasmine we should-”

“Look,” she cut him off, motioning above their heads to a large window with several broken panes.

“That window is eight feet off the ground, Jasmine. You have no idea what’s on the other side of that wall. I understand where you’re coming from, but I don’t think falling eight feet onto unknown surfaces is any more safe than being confronted by the unsub. Let’s stay on the ground,” Hotch firmly suggested, heading towards the obvious entry point.

But, as he turned to see if she was following him, the blonde was already halfway up the brick wall. His blood boiled as he watched her maneuver her foot into weak points of the wall, creating temporary footholds as her legs heaved her body weight towards the window sill.

“Get down! That is an order,” Hotch snapped. She was just as stubborn as Morgan. Hotch wasn’t one to pull rank, but she was a contracted member of this team, and therefore a greater liability to him. If she got hurt, or worse, Aaron would have to answer to more than just the FBI.

He watched her ignore his command, her leg swinging up to straddle the window. Hotch briefly considered following her, but a quick glance at the wall told him it wasn’t an option. He couldn’t fit his feet and hands into the same crevices, and he was too tall to fit through the mosaic of broken glass.

“I’ll kick out some bricks for you at the bottom,” Jasmine promised before contorting her body through the jagged opening and disappearing into the black.

Aaron stood alone for a number of tense minutes before he saw movement at the corner of the building. Sure enough, Jasmine was kicking at a weak point in the bricks, sending pieces of rock and mortar flying out of the wall.

“Come on, I don’t see anyone,” Jasmine beckoned him. Hotch gingerly stepped through the mess of dusty bricks and squeezed his way through the newly formed hole.

The interior of the warehouse was just as bleak as the exterior. Countless windows lined the walls, most of them were broken, and the ones that still had original glass were warped with time and covered in a thick layer of grime. The dull light from the streetlights outside barely filtered through.

“I’ve never seen a warehouse like this before,” Prentiss commented mostly to herself over comms as Jasmine gave a sweeping pan of the camera. The team waited in a conference room at the police station several miles away, watching the footage with baited breath as Hotch led the way with a flashlight.

In the center of the empty floor, there were walls everywhere, temporary ones built with drywall that were only six feet tall at the most. In the massive expanse of the warehouse, they looked insignificant with almost thirty feet of empty air between them and the ceiling. They appeared to have no real pattern, but they were too tall for most people to see over the top.

Especially women.

“Whoever built this had a lot of time on their hands,” Hotch muttered darkly, “and access to a lot of materials.”

“Garcia, cross reference the tenants in the housing across the street with construction workers, carpenters and home improvement store employees,” Rossi commanded, there was an edge to his voice that did not go unnoticed by Hotchner. His uneasiness was apparent.

Aaron couldn’t blame him, he felt hunted himself. Jasmine, however, seemed unphased. Aaron couldn’t help but wonder how much worse she’d seen before and if she were used to this feeling that left the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

It was Jasmine who began moving towards the incoherent maze of drywall. The building was painstakingly silent except for the sound of water leaking somewhere in the darkness. Jasmine rounded the corner of the wall, her feet making no sounds as she tip-toed deftly across the broken floorboards. Hotch tried to illuminate their field of vision, but each swipe of the flashlight only revealed more uninspired drywall.

After seven turns, Hotch wasn’t sure he’d be able to recount each step they made. Hotch swallowed hard as he imagined being brought here against his will. The area was disorienting enough with a flashlight, it would be completely hopeless with a blindfold or bindings.

There was still no sign of the victim.

From the deafening silence, faint footfalls sounded somewhere near them. It was impossible to tell if they were coming from behind them or in front of them. He took in a silent breath as his heart rate spiked, forcing his body to maintain composure. He cast a cautious gaze in Jasmine’s direction and was met with a quizzical look that confirmed she heard them too.

“Hotch what is that?” Morgan growled from his comms. Hotch ignored the question, frantically shining his light at the dim surroundings, hoping to find the answer to that question before it found him. He turned with barely contained panic, pointing the flashlight behind Jasmine, who was following him closely with the camera.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man’s voice was like gravel, it was obvious he’d smoked a pack a day for several years.

From the light of the flashlight, the man appeared to be in his late thirties, but the rings under his eyes were deep and his hair looked as though it hadn’t been properly washed in his life. He wore a tattered flannel shirt with dark stains. Hotch couldn’t tell if it was blood or something else.

“We uh-” Hotch cleared his throat, forcing his pulse to calm despite the blood pounding in his ears.

“Put the fucking light away! I asked you a fucking question,” the man growled, taking a threatening step closer to the pair as Hotch turned off the light and tossed it to the side. He wasn’t sure if this man was their unsub, or if he was carrying any weapons, but this was not the time for questions.

“Hotch, we’re sending in back up,” Morgan’s voice boomed once again over the comms.

“No!” Jasmine exclaimed, and after half a beat she added, “Please don’t hurt us.”

“What do you mean no?” This time it was Reid who snapped. Spencer’s response was panicked and resentful, but if the team flooded the scene now, they would never find the victim if she weren’t in this building.

They still didn’t know who or what they were dealing with. It was too soon to act. Jasmine knew that just as well as any of them.

“My name is Lola,” Jasmine whispered, “We don’t know who you are…” the blonde’s voice was tentative, but Hotch was almost certain it was a hoax. He hadn’t assessed a better strategy yet so he decided to ride her coattails.

“Lola…” the disgusting man looked the blonde up and down and his eyes sparkled darkly. Hotch’s stomach flipped as the man noticed her for the first time.

She stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this with her perfect skin and shiny hair. Hotch should have thought of that. Suddenly this plan seemed ill-conceived and there was an uneasiness in Aaron’s stomach. He wasn’t sure how, but things were going to go badly.

The man’s shadowed eyes drank her in, and as he was distracted, Hotch began scanning the dimly lit area for an escape route. He was regretting endorsing this idea of Jasmine’s even though he knew it was their only real chance.

“Are you cops?” The man snarled, producing a gun from his waistband and aiming it towards Jasmine’s head, eyeing the camera in her hands.

“NO!” Hotch gasped, reflexively reaching for his waist where his gun and holster were both absent.

“You sure look like one,” the unsub dropped his gun from Jasmine’s direction and pointed it at Hotchner, “Why are you here then, suit?” The unsub spat angrily, cocking his gun menacingly while Hotch focused on keeping his breaths even.

“Take the jacket off,” the unsub demanded. Left without a choice, Hotch let out a ragged sigh before slowly removing his suit jacket.

“Turn around.”

He turned slowly with his hands up, closing his eyes as he turned away from the unsub, the handcuffs on his belt shining in the dusty warm street light.

“You are cops!” He raised his gun again, grabbing Hotch by the arm and yanking him to his body, pressing the barrel of the pistol to his temple. Aaron stumbled over his feet in an attempt to remain upright.

“No, we’re not! Please don’t shoot him! I don’t know what I’d do without him,” Jasmine gasped, throwing the camera to the ground. Hotch watched as it landed right side up and with a wide enough frame to capture all three of them in the shot. Even with a gun to his head, Aaron couldn’t help but admire her foresight. Whether or not this situation elevated, Jasmine was going to get that bastard on camera.

God she was good.

“This your husband?” The unsub’s bitter voice was dripping with disdain. Aaron’s stomach turned at the smell of cigarettes on his breath and something even more volatile wafting from his unwashed clothing.

“No,” she whispered quietly, “No, that man is not my husband. My husband- he could never touch me like he does.”

The unsub’s eyebrows raised half an inch, “Oh, your lover then? Huh? Does he make you feel good? Huh? Your husband ain’t a real man, he can’t make you cum? Is that why you’re here? With him?”

“Yes. Yes, please, we weren’t trying to cause trouble, just… make a bit of our own,” Jasmine offered a tentative smile to the unsub. Hotch’s jaw clenched as he watched her blatant display of feigned flirtation. She was laying it on heavy. Surely this man wouldn’t be that stupid.

“You got a camera and some handcuffs for this?” The unsub motioned broadly to the barren warehouse before leaning in to rasp in Hotch’s ear, “You’re a real man huh? Gonna lock this whore up and make her take your cock? Eh? Gonna tape it so you can watch it over and over again? Gonna show her what a real man can do to her?”

“Hotch man, that’s enough, we’re sending in backup,” Morgan’s voice rang through comms again.

Truthfully, Hotch had forgotten about the rest of the team. His stomach turned as he pictured them huddling around the conference table. Pretniss would be chewing her nails down to the bed and Rossi would be rubbing his head. He didn’t want his team to worry, not yet. This situation was far from out of control. Besides, there was the question of the victim’s location. They had a chance to extract that information as long as the unsub believed them.

“I can’t lose her.” Hotch said firmly, a declaration at first, but he hoped the team would understand what he truly meant. It was still too early to pull the plug on this there was nothing stopping the man from shooting Jasmine and him the moment he suspected someone else might be in the warehouse.

“She really means that much to you?” There was a brief hint of softness in the unsub’s voice. Jasmine did her best to bat her eyelashes,and Hotch watched as her chest heaved theatrically.

“She means everything to me,” Hotch muttered as the cold barrel of the gun just barely came off his forehead. His brown eyes bore into Jasmine’s as he spoke.

If he could appeal to the unsub’s human side, perhaps he would identify with the phony, lust-filled story the two were attempting to sell him. At the very least, it would buy them both some time to figure out their next moves.

“Prove it.”

“What?” Hotch choked out, the unsub’s gun pressed back into his skin roughly.

“Fuck her. Right here, right now.”

“No. I can’t,” Hotch’s heart thumped wildly in his chest.

“Why not? You’re a real man ain’t you? It’s real simple mister, you fuck her right now or I kill you both.” The greasy man shoved Hotch towards Jasmine’s lithe body. He could still feel the impression of the gun on the back of his neck. Hotch wholeheartedly believed the threat.

There was a heartbeat of silence as he stared at the blonde, unable to form a single thought beyond noticing how calm she looked. Hotch’s mind was racing, his eyes frantically searching Jasmine’s for something, anything to tell him what to do next.

“Please baby, I want you so bad. Take me right here,” Jasmine moaned out into the tense quiet.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You heard her, baby. You gonna look at a woman like that and deny her? You don’t want to make the same mistakes as her pathetic husband, do you? Go on,” the unsub pushed Hotch into Jasmine with force this time, confirming what Hotch had suspected all along; it would be impossible to overpower the large man, even with the both of them. “Lock her up and fuck her.”

Aaron forced his hands to be steady as he reached to brush Jasmine’s cheek. She gave a small nod before leaning into his touch, closing her eyes and letting out a breathy gasp. Perhaps he hadn’t made the right call in denying his team’s backup. Maybe if they could collect his prints post mortem they could learn his identity if the prints were in ViCAP, and take their chances with finding the victim. Even with the myriad of flaws to the plan, it still seemed infinitely better than the shit show he just got them both into.

“Hey, baby, don’t worry about him, ok? It’s just you and me,” Jasmine whispered, her green eyes boring poignantly into Aaron’s. She was right. If they had any hope in getting out of this, they’d have to make this as real as possible. Still, her tranquility was both impressive and concerning.

“We’re on the way, Hotch. We’ll stealth raid as he’s distracted, you two just be as convincing as you can be,” Rossi’s authoritative voice gave a small glimmer of hope, while simultaneously making Aaron sick to his stomach.

“Oh and Lola? Make sure you get this on film,” the unsub laughed darkly, “I want a copy of the tape when this is over. You know… as a thank you for being so understanding.”

Jasmine nodded fervently and set up the camera. Hotch watched her hands as she adjusted the settings and the angle. They weren’t even shaking.

Aaron watched as the blonde swallowed hard, but when her green eyes met his gaze, they had no expression other than pure lust. Hotch was taken aback by how wholly she was committing to this. “Take me, Aaron,” she whispered darkly.

Hotch took a sharp breath in, hesitating only for a moment before cradling her jawline with his hands and crashing his lips onto hers. He thought he felt her sigh into the kiss as her hands crawled up his body to rest on his chest. He immediately deepened the kiss, parting his lips to sweep his tongue into her mouth.

For a moment, as his eyes were closed and he felt the softness of her mint flavored lips, Hotch almost forgot where he was and what he was doing. Almost.

When they pulled away from the kiss, her lips were puffy with the force of it. Her cheeks were rosy and her mouth hung open as she panted slightly. Hotch swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the image in front of him. Aaron watched her watch him, wracking the depths of his mind to form an idea for their escape. He hadn’t been this mentally ineffective since the case that took Hailey’s life, and that frustration was beginning to manifest on his face.

Maybe if he and Jasmine made a display with their foreplay, it would be enough of a distraction for the team to sneak in undetected.

“Take off her clothes already, what are you waiting for?” the unsub snarled impatiently, one hand on the pistol pointed at the back of Hotch’s neck and the other palming his crotch through his jeans.

Hotch searched her eyes for any sign of emotion, but he only found the performative lust she wore so heavily. With deep self hatred, Hotch brought his hands to the edge of her shirt and ripped it over her head in one daft movement. He forced himself to lower his gaze to her chest, now bare except for the black lace pushup bra that created contours on her chest that Aaron was sure he’d be unable to resist in any other situation.

But not now, not here and not with her. Now, it just made him feel sick.

Hotch watched in shock as Jasmine reached up and unclasped her bra, letting it fall haphazardly onto the ground next to her. Hotch’s breath hitched, and before he could stop himself, his hands reached up on their own accord to cup her breasts. He ran his calloused trigger finger over one of her soft nipples, taking in the tiny gasps she made as they hardened beneath his touch.

Aaron’s blood turned to ice as he realized the physiological effects occurring on his body at this moment. His mind was fractured with his conscious brain telling him to pull it together and find another way and his subconscious slowly bringing him further into the clutch of their lustful illusion.

Jasmine must have sensed the half second of hesitation because she pulled their bodies together and slipped her hands into the waistband of his black slacks. His jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrowed in the center of his forehead. Part of him wanted to command her to stop, but another part of him knew it would jeopardize their survival.

And yet another part of him, a small part that he was desperately attempting to suppress, wanted to urge her onward.

Hotch’s cheeks burned with shame as she brushed against the semi in his pants, but Jasmine gave no hint of disgust. Instead, she untucked his button down shirt and made quick work of unbuttoning his slacks. He fought to keep his face stern despite the critical blow she’d just delivered to his resolve.

“No!” the unsub’s voice cut through the quiet gasps and panting like a knife, “No. He stays clothed. You,” he pointed aggressively to Jasmine, “get naked.”

Hotch pushed Jasmine against one of the walls, her head bouncing off the drywall with a soft thud as he kissed her neck, his fingers working to unbutton her black jeans. He pushed them down her thighs and let out a silent breath of gratitude when he was able to remove them in one fluid motion. His eyes dragged up the length of her increasingly exposed body without his permission.

Every inch of her exposed skin caused the pleasure center of his brain to light up like a Christmas tree. He forced his face to remain neutral even at the sight of her standing in only a tiny black thong. He couldn’t stop the quiet groan that ripped from his throat at the sight. He brought his lips to her neck, sucking a dark mark into her collarbone. She released encouraging gasps that trailed off into barely audible moans. The smell of her perfume permeated through his nose, a sickeningly sultry scent he couldn’t identify but was suddenly encased in.

Frantically, he peppered kisses all across her exposed breasts, left hot opened mouthed kisses down her abs and brought his hands to her inner thighs.

There was a jagged scar just above her right hip bone. It was so tiny, Hotch wouldn’t have noticed it if his lips hadn’t brushed over the raised skin. He allowed his fingers to trace the outline of it, his mind flooding with possibilities of how she might have gotten it. She saw to it that he knew as little about her past as possible, but it was impossible to hide the evidence of a past as violent as hers. It was hard to tell in the dull light, but he wasn’t sure it had healed properly.

He paused when his mouth reached the waistband of her underwear, allowing his quick breaths to breeze over her skin. This wasn’t right.

He felt her steady fingers tangle into the hair on the back of his head, a silent bid of encouragement. He parted his lips hesitantly, his dark brown eyes fluttering up to watch her face, looking for a reason to stop.

He didn’t find one.

Aaron took the thin waistband of the thong between his teeth and slowly dragged them down her thighs, his nose brushing against her folds on the way down, causing goosebumps to appear on her body.

Without so much as a crumb of thought, he brought his mouth to her dripping cunt and licked a flat stripe from her quivering hole to her clit, her thighs shaking as he sucked on the most sensitive parts of her.

Aaron wanted to call it inspiration, but his higher thinking had faltered the second he got her naked, at this point he was running exclusively on a potent cocktail of instinct, adrenaline and want. He lapped greedily at her sex, using his hands to anchor her hips against the wall as he fought against his grip to grind her clit against his face. Her mouth fell open as she let out several breathy curses. Her hand reached down to tangle his hair, giving it a hard tug and he looked up at her, meeting her half-lidded gaze with his own devilish eyes.

He had to get control of the situation, there was no telling where she would lead this little scene if she had her way. He rose to his feet, reaching onto his belt for the pair of handcuffs he’d forgotten about.

“You’re going to learn to keep your hands to yourself,” his voice came out more like a growl as he grabbed her wrists and pivoted her against the wall, pressing her cheek into the dusty drywall. He swore he heard the unsub let out a grotesque moan as the metal tightened around her, but he couldn’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears.

“Jas, are you okay?” He whispered against her ear.

She glanced at him over her bare shoulder, her green eyes scanning the details of his face before landing on his mouth, “Yeah.”

He whipped her around as gently as he could before pinning her against the wall. She was completely exposed, but Aaron was the one who felt vulnerable under her gaze. He had trouble meeting her eyes so he took a looming step towards her once again, connecting his lips to the base of her neck and bringing his fingers between her legs. Aaron brought two fingers to her clit, rubbing soft, consistent circles there. Her hips moved off the wall ever so slightly, chasing the pressure and gyrating with the movement.

“More,” she gasped.

Aaron was sure he didn’t hear her right.

“What?”

“I need you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering down to watch as his hands disappeared between her folds. The pads of his fingers came in contact with her cunt, sending a white hot flash of heat through his body.

“You’re wet.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation.

His stern face searched hers for some kind of explanation. She didn’t respond, just stared at him with her glassy green eyes as a pink flush crept up the length of her body. She was wet.

Was she actually enjoying this?

Aaron had dismissed the physical reaction from his own body as a mere consequence of the situation and his gender. He could have never anticipated this reaction from a woman, not when there were so many more barriers to their pleasure than his own. The feeling of her slick heat coating his fingers created too much noise in his brain to overcome it.

A small plume of dust erupted from the floor with the force of him dropping to his knees in front of her. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, burying his face between her legs. He moaned against her cunt, sucking her clit with the vigor of a man who might never get to eat again. The stiff collar of his dress shirt dug into his skin as he craned his neck for a better angle, dipping his tongue through the tight ring of muscle.

“Oh, fuck. Oh Aaron,” Jasmine whimpered as he lifted her thigh over his shoulder to give himself better access. Her body began to tremble, and for the first time, Aaron witnessed her lose her composure with a shameful flicker of pride. He barely heard the soft thump of her head hitting the drywall as she melted back into the structure.

But, hearing his name fall off her tongue sobered him almost instantly. He pulled back from his place between her legs and forced himself to look in her eyes.

His stomach turned and sweat beaded on his forehead. This was his coworker and he was eating her out like an animal in front of some gun wielding stranger.

The fact that he even forgot that, even for an instant made his hands start to tremble at their grip on her hips. How had he managed to forget about the unsub? The camera? The gun?

The victim.

Instead, he found himself staring at a new victim.

His chin was wet with saliva and her juices. Her taste danced on his tongue and no matter how many times he swallowed hard, it lingered. How could he have indulged so heavily in this fantasy that he forgot it was all a ruse?

Jasmine must have sensed the minute change in his demeanor, “Come here.” The words came out in a ragged breath.

Hotch rose to his feet, he couldn’t feel his body. He numbly pulled her face to his and noticed the artery on her neck pulsating wildly as she struggled against the handcuffs to touch him back. Despite her compromising position, her green eyes flickered down Hotch’s body knowingly. He realized with bone chilling horror that he had an erection that was straining almost painfully against his underwear.

“Fuck me. Please, please fuck me,” Jasmine begged breathlessly.

His brain was foggy, there was too much input. He could practically feel the blood racing through his body to where it pooled between his legs. There was a heartbeat in his cock as it throbbed in his slacks. He could taste Jasmine on his tongue, feel the dull pain in the back of his neck where she had pulled at the hair there and smell the intoxicating notes of her perfume. He saw the way her chest heaved, the sheen of sweat shining temptingly in the low light of the warehouse. He could hear the faint shuffling of the unsub masturbating behind him. He could feel the dryness in his mouth as he stared at Jasmine, who was staring up at him expectantly, her hands pinned helplessly behind her back.

The words she was saying made his brain feel ill, but his cock twitched with interest. How could his body betray him like this? He couldn’t seriously follow through with this, could he?

What option did he have? He either had to rape his coworker or have them both killed.

Still, he kept racking his brain for other options. There must be something he missed.

The wheels stopped turning the second her hips pushed off the wall and ground harshly into his bulge.

With a sharp gasp of surprise, his knees buckled beneath him and he had to brace himself on the wall behind her to keep from collapsing onto the floor.

Oh god, it’d been so long since anyone had touched him there.

He couldn’t stop the small moans that escaped his throat without his permission as rutted against him slowly, but deliberately. There was a wet patch on the front of his underwear, evidence of the excitement his body derived from this twisted situation.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, his head falling back as his eyes rolled into his head.

This couldn’t be happening.

His stomach coiled with dull waves of pleasure at the sensation of her warm core moving rhythmically against his straining manhood. His body felt like it was being electrocuted with every touch. Her pace quickened suddenly and with a gasp, Hotch looked down at her face. Her eyes stared into his, challengingly, almost greedily.

If Hotch had any capability for cerebral thought, he’d have realized it was all a put on, but he couldn’t think straight. His hand trembled as he brought it to the waistline of his pants. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he dipped into his underwear, palming his own cock as precum leaked out of the tip.

Jasmine let out a small whine that commanded his attention so thoroughly that Hotch almost forgot to feel ashamed. Looking into her lustful green eyes, Hotch was almost convinced she truly wanted this.

He took himself in his hand assertively, relishing in the small sparks of pleasure that radiated from his cock as he dragged his own palm down the shaft. He allowed one hand to rest on the wall next to her head, using the other to line himself up with her entrance. Hotch’s stomach was in knots as he stared at her, the small piece of his brain knew this was a bad idea was so viciously overwhelmed by the desire flooding into his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this.

There would be absolutely no coming back from this.

She leaned forward, her tongue licking a small stripe on the shell of his ear, “Fuck me, Hotch.” Words meant only for him, he was sure of it.

It was all he needed to bottom out in her with one languid thrust. She gasped deliciously as Hotch gave a wordless grunt. The feeling of her velvet walls encasing his throbbing cock was overwhelming; it actually took the breath from his lungs. It took all his strength to not finish at the feeling alone.

Aaron tried to give her time to accommodate his size, but the feeling was tortuous. His hips physically ached as he tried to keep them from fucking into her recklessly. Instead, he gave a tentative thrust, searching her eyes for any hint of discomfort, although Hotch wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself even if he found it.

Luckily, there was no such objection in her gaze, so he began to thrust in and out of her, setting a grueling pace. He felt his ability for conscious thought falter completely as the instinctual part of his subconscious ravaged the pleasure between his legs.

God it’d been so long since he had this feeling.

Her chest bounced tantalizingly as he thrust her, driving her against the makeshift wall. He could hear the metal handcuffs scraping against the unfinished drywall. 

Those are probably hurting her wrists. 

He didn’t have the mental bandwidth for guilt, not with her breasts moving in rhythm with his thrusts. It only made him drive further into her. Harder. Deeper.

The noises she made as his balls slapped heavily against her skin with each stroke went straight to his cock. Coils of pleasure warmed the pit of his stomach and with a frantic gasp he realized what was about to happen. He tried to warn her, but the air was turbulent and breathy as it escaped his throat.

“Oh god, Jas ’m gonna- oh oh oh,” his words devolved into wordless moans as his mouth fell slack. His head fell unceremoniously against the wall, his mouth lazily kissing her neck as he climaxed deep inside of her. He let out deep breaths through his nose as he rode out wave after wave of pleasure.

Sweat flattened Hotch’s hair against his forehead as he lifted his neck to meet Jasmine’s gaze. His vision was hazy. He blinked aggressively against the dust in the air as he attempted to recenter himself. His body was still fuzzy from the orgasm, but his brain was very suddenly firing on all cylinders.

It was only now that he realized they weren’t alone with the unsub anymore. Unfamiliar faces flooded into view as the edges of his vision reappeared, replacing the black fogginess that once clouded his periphery.

“Are you ok?” Hotch’s own voice sounded miles away as it echoed inside his head. He instinctively reached for the suit jacket he discarded on the ground, handing it to Jasmine to cover her alarmingly nude body. His movements felt as if he were moving through water.

“Aaron!” Rossi’s voice was sharp and frantic, Hotch turned to face the man, his head swirling as he did so. He had half a mind to wonder how long Rossi had been calling his name, “Dave?” He was trying to tuck himself back into his pants, but his fingers felt like they belonged to someone else.

“Let’s go, let’s get you out of here,” Morgan’s voice appeared at his side and Hotch shook his head violently to clear the fog that was settled so heavily in his brain. 

I need a minute. Just give me a minute to think, damn it!

Within a few heartbeats, the noises in the room came closer and closer until he was back in the present. He drew in a ragged breath, noting the change in the way the dusty air smelled before.

Something unexplainable snapped in his brain. He simply had to compose himself if he was ever going to move past this. There was no time to dwell on what just happened. There was a victim somewhere and he had to find her or else this was all for nothing.

“Morgan, Rossi, you two run point on the rest of the warehouse. I want every single corner searched for the missing person. The unsub was comfortable here, that means its familiar territory. If she’s not here, she’s nearby. I’m going back to the station with the detectives to interview this bastard,” He fell back into his authority with a loud boom, walking in stride with the men to the edge of the warehouse, even though his thighs felt like gelatin. The aftershock of his orgasm still wired through his nerves, he forced his hands not to shake.

“Hotch, take a breather man,” Morgan said tentatively, jogging to catch up with the unit chief. Aaron straightened his tie as he cast a dismissive glance in Morgan’s direction.

“There’s no time, Derek. Rossi, make sure Prentiss sees that Jasmine gets any medical attention she might require at this time,” Hotch’s tone was firm and his signature glare suggested he wasn’t going to accept any challenges to the plan.

“Alright. Garcia is running the unsub’s face through facial recognition software. We should know anything we can about this asshole soon thanks to Jasmine’s cinematic camera work. Reid is going over the footage right now,” Morgan muttered. Hotch stopped short of his patrol car and swallowed hard. 

Reid.

Masterpost | Next Chapter: Coming Soon | Read on Ao3

[four-little-rules]

Chapter 6

Trigger warning for cannon level violence. Based on episode "Somebody's Watching"

"Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession, friendship is never anything but sharing."

- Elie Wiesel

Being in the bureau opens one up to new experiences all the time. Sometimes those experiences are less than desirable such as the gruesome actions of an individual seeking fame, absolution, or whatever they believe will make their life better. Other times, it leads to a massive art show at an esteemed gallery in LA.

A voice calls out across the gallery, "Spencer, Spencer Reid! Dude, look at you!"

A handsome young man politely side steps the patrons perusing the gallery with the confidence of someone who has navigated the bustling streets of Las Vegas most of his life and now LA.

He brings his hand up and surprisingly Spencer brings his own hand up to meet his. The man brings Spencer close and claps his on the back for a casual half hug.

"You look just the same." He laughs as he takes him in. "Look at you, dude. Nothing's changed." He looks to Josie and Gideon, "Spencer was the only twelve year old in our graduating class. Just the same."

Josie takes note of how he has to look up at Spencer.

"Thanks," Spencer says though his tone is far from grateful. "This is Special Agent Josie Donahue and Special Agent Jason Gideon. This is Parker Dunley. We went to high school together as you can probably gather."

He holds out his hand which Josie then Gideon take in turn.

Gideon greets as he shakes, "Hi, how are you?"

"Hey." Parker returns the sentiment.

"It's a beautiful gallery," Gideon compliments.

Parker bows his head as his gratitude, "Thank you. Thank you."

"Jason's a big contemporary art enthusiast," Spencer explains for Gideon who seems to have had his attention stolen by a painting clearly inspired by Jackson Pollock.

"Well, we're exhibiting four up and coming artists in this show. Everything's for sale and I could definitely swing a nice discount for a friend," Parker explains.

As he finishes his explanation, an extraordinarily beautiful woman enters who seems to get not only Parker's attention, but Spencer's as well.

"Lila," he says more to himself than them before addressing Josie, Spencer, and Gideon, "Hey. Guys, come on."

Before sauntering over, Spencer glances down on himself and with slight insecurity, asks, "Do I look twelve years old to you?"

"Fourteen," Gideon says. While his delivery was straight forward, both Josie and Spencer understand it to be a joke to help lighten his mood.

Josie slings an arm over Spencer's shoulder and says, "He's just jealous you're taller than him."

He offers her a small but genuine smile. Removing her arm, the trio head over to Parker who is chatting with the insanely gorgeous woman who has walked in.

"Spencer," Parker says, "you ever meet a real movie star?"

"Movie star? Please. She has a supporting role on a television series about beach volleyball. Totally blue collar," the alternative friend of the woman says.

She introduces herself, "Hi, Lila."

With a palpable amount of nervousness, Spencer says, "Hi, I'm, uh, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. Uh, I'm Spencer. You don't have to... call me doctor."

"I won't," Lila says, biting her lip at the end of the statement.

Flashes temporarily blind Josie as a camera repeatedly goes off. By the time, she can see again, Parker is already chasing the man out of the building.

As he runs, he shouts, "Excuse me. Hey! You! I told you! No photos in the gallery! All right? Out!"

Seeing how Lila and Spencer are looking at one another, Gideon and Josie sneak a glance at one another. As Lila starts speaking, grabbing the entirety of Spencer's attention, the two quietly slip away. Gideon roams what seems like aimlessly but she notices him stopping at certain exhibits. She supposes those are the ones that interest him.

She doesn't have a goal in mind. When she agreed to come at Spencer's invitation, she had been under the impression they would be together. She knew immediately it wasn't a date but she thought they'd explore the art together. Still, he looks transfixed by Lila, an action that is heavily reciprocated.

She wanders away from Spencer so he can be alone with Lila. Once she is a little way aways, she stops and inspects whatever art piece is closest. It must be the smallest exhibit in the gallery but the vivid colors makes her pause. She could see how some people wouldn't appreciate it, only seeing colorful squiggles but she sees the anger in the red and the sadness in the blue which cumulate into a powerful purple with just a touch of sunshine yellow to signify that no matter the turmoil someone faces, it becomes part of them and might even blossom into something bright and beautiful.

She's still studying the painting when she's approached, "Hi, Josie, right? Or do you prefer Agent Donahue?"

She turns and sees Spencer's friend Parker who has presumably dealt with the photographer they encountered earlier. He has deep brown eyes with a nice smile and Josie's only in LA for a single night. Spencer is having his fun, why can't she?

"Special Agent Donahue, actually," she answers with a playful flirty smile, "So, what led to pursue the arts?"

"The heart of an artist but the mind of a business man," he replies, "It's why there's not many paintings of my own up on these walls. Very few people would buy them."

"At least the gallery seems to be thriving," she says, gesturing to the amount of people milling about.

"I knew it was thriving when you walked in," he says.

Not a bad line, a little cheesy but Josie has a weakness for the corny and the campy. Either way it doesn't matter as she isn't looking for anything serious, especially with someone who lived over two thousand miles away. So, she'll just see where this goes even if it begins and ends with flirty banter.

She turns up the charm and rests her arm on his shoulder, "Quite the sweet talker. Must've had all the girls all over you in high school."

"Not at like you're thinking." He leans forward so she can wrap her arm around his shoulder. "Like I said heart of an artist so I spent most of my time in my art classroom."

"That where you met Spencer?"

"No, lunch room. He was sitting alone and I felt bad. Makes me sound kind of terrible I know."

"Not really." She shrugged. "It's not like you mocked him for sitting alone."

"True," he says, putting his hands on her waist to draw her closer. "What about you? What drew you to the world of federal bureaucracy?"

"I wanted to kick ass and take names," she jokes.

He starts rubbing circles on her hips as he asks, "How long are you in LA for?"

"Well—" she begins but is interrupted by Gideon.

"We're leaving."

Josie realizes the painting she stopped by happened to be relatively close to Spencer and Lila.

"We're still looking at the exhibit," Spencer explains.

"Now." Gideon heads toward the exit pausing at the door for them.

"Sorry, duty calls," Josie says even though she isn't sure Gideon's insistence on leaving has to do with a possible case.

"Wait, you never answered my question," he says.

"Maybe next time," she says, unwrapping herself from Parker.

She follows Gideon, waiting just outside the doorframe for Spencer.

"Yeah, I guess we're leaving," he says to Lila, clearly reluctant to leave her.

"Reid, now," Gideon reiterates.

"Nice to meet you," Spencer says politely.

To Josie's surprise, Spencer offers his hand to shake first. She can still recall the almost frightened way he reacted when she offered hers upon their very first meeting. The tiniest smirk threatens to pull at her lips but she suppresses it. He must be so smitten.

Lila shakes his outstretched hand and says, "Bye, Spencer."

"Bye. Sorry." He turns and quickly walks to the door where Josie waits while Gideon seems to have already left.

As they hurry away after Gideon, Josie links arms with Spencer so she can get close enough to speak relatively privately with him.

She leans in, "Well?"

He follows suit to hear her over the loud LA streets, "Well, what?"

"Did you get her number?" She lets the smile brewing bloom across her face.

This question utterly flusters him, "N-Number? Wha-why would I need her number?"

"Oh, come on," she scoffs, "do you think Gideon and I suddenly disappearing into the crowd was by accident?"

He looks at her perplexed, his confusion scripted in his brows. He remembers them meeting Lila alongside him, getting lost in the warm light of her brown eyes, and suddenly being alone with her. He assumed they had gone to explore the venue and appreciate the art, not for a different reason. He hadn't been upset to spend time alone with her but he didn't realize it was purposeful.

Josie sees the confusion and knows he's recounting the events with the new information. For a profiler, he can miss a lot of pretty damning behavior. There was the way her face lit up when they were introduced, the way she bit her lip upon his conclusion of his doctor spiel, and the fresh faced blush as they left. Then there was his nervous rambling as he introduced himself and the way his eyes refused to stray from hers. It was obvious they both were interested in one another. She's not sure what the two conversed about afterward but she definitely noticed that he not only physically shook her hand but offered his own first.

She rubs his arm comfortingly and says, "You'll get 'em next time, Heracles."

His face unfurls as he comes to the realization Josie had.

The next morning brings the reason Spencer, Gideon, and Josie are in Los Angeles. With the sun bright in the sky and the temperature already rising, they head to a local police precinct.

An officer, Detective Kim, had reached out to Gideon to see if he and some agents would be willing to come speak about an aspect of profiling, Gideon readily accepted and knew exactly who to ask. First was Spencer, he was his protégé and intensely knowledgeable about the subject they would be discussing, victimology. Josie had been ecstatic and surprised to receive an invitation to attend and assist in the seminar. She assumed he would select a more senior agent such as Elle or Derek. Still, she didn't question his decision especially since it gives her the chance to return to her home, the west coast.

The trio had written a detailed outline of all the main points they wished to emphasize such as why this victim and why now? Gideon and Josie elected not to write a formal speech, wanting to keep their part of the presentation fresh and fluid to allow for questions. Spencer, however, wrote three different speeches; wanting to be as prepared as possible.

It goes well, with each outlined point being concisely described. Afterwards, Detective Kim is even kind enough to offer to drop them off at the airport.

Lugging their bags outside, Gideon mentions, "You know, we really can get ourselves to the airport."

Detective Kim is quick to reject the idea, "I didn't invite the FBI here to let them make their own way around town."

Spencer, struggling with his overstuffed bag, says, "We really appreciate it."

"Hey, I can't thank you guys enough for conducting the seminar," Detective Kim says as he unlocks the car.

"Well, don't hesitate to call if there's anything we can help with," Gideon offers.

Gideon pops open the trunk to toss his suitcase inside while Detective Kim takes a call. Josie allows Spencer to throw his luggage inside the trunk before her when she sees how much he is truly struggling.

When Gideon also sees the extent of Spencer's labors, he asks, "You got it?"

"Yeah." He needs to swing his bag to get enough momentum to get it in but he manages.

As Josie put his bag in the trunk, they catch the end of Detective Kim's call, "I'll be there as soon as I drop the FBI agents at LAX."

Gideon asks, "Everything all right?"

"Double murder at a Hollywood bungalow. A celebrity. A young movie star, Natalie Ryan and her fiancé apparently shot to death. It's going to be a major pain in the ass," he explains before pausing and asking, "You guys care to take a quick look before I drive you to the airport? It's on the way."

"Absolutely," Gideon confirms.

Detective Kim slides behind the wheel while Gideon gets in the passenger seat beside him. Josie and Spencer squeeze in the back with his knees pressed painfully against the seat in front of him. She even mentions to Gideon to scoot his seat forward to allow Spencer a modicum of leg room.

When they arrive at the scene, it is already crawling with police and forensic crews. While in the middle of being processed, everything and everyone is where they were found. There's Natalie on the couch with a single bullet wound directly in the middle of her forehead. Her fiancé is on the ground nearby with multiple wounds in his chest.

Spencer inspecting the door frame remarks, "No sign of forced entry."

"Same weapon," Gideon points out as he examines the bodies beside Josie.

"The girl was shot execution style, once in the head. The male three times in the torso," Spencer says as he gets closer to examine the bodies himself.

"It's overkill," Josie says, "The first gunshot killed him based off the fresh blood pooling by the wound while others don't indicating the unsub kept shooting even after he was dead."

"So you have two different MOs," Gideon explains.

"We have an image on the video surveillance camera. Looks like a messenger of some kind wearing a motorcycle helmet," Detective Kim says.

For clarification purposes, she asks, "Full face helmet? Visor down?"

"He's unidentifiable," confirms Detective Kim.

"There's no sign of struggle between the girl and the unsub from the couch. He most likely forced her at gunpoint," Spencer elucidates.

Gideon explains further, "He told her to trust him. "Do what I say, I won't hurt you"."

"Fatal mistake," Detective Kim comments.

Spencer hums in affirmative. "He asked her to sit on the couch and then shot her in the head."

"The fiancé wasn't expected," Gideon says, "His killing's messier. It's less controlled, it's less organized. What do you think?"

Detective Kim thinks over his answer but he offers up the information without hesitation.

"I've had a couple other cases recently. Past few months. Same type of weapon, .22 caliber handgun. Both shot in the head. The first was an established film producer, Wally Melman. The second was Chloe Harris, another young actress but not as well known as Natalie here."

Spencer asks, "Any forensic evidence?"

"No–" he replies and seems genuinely frustrated at the fact– "and the guys have been going through this place all morning and haven't come up with anything."

"So he clearly knows how to cover his tracks," Gideon says.

"He's goal orientated," Josie says, "He knows who he wants to kill and wants to do in the most efficient way possible. He probably wasn't here any longer than he had to."

Detective Kim puts forth the question, "Like a professional hitman?"

"Maybe," Gideon says not wanting to jump to conclusions with so little evidence but it's definitely a possibility.

As Spencer continues to examine the scene, he notices the flashes of cameras as people clamor for a decent shot. "Gideon, Josie, there's actually people taking photographs of us from the next yard."

"Welcome to L.A," Detective Kim says sarcastically.

Gideon ventures to the window where the paparazzi are visible. He immediately shuts the curtain for which Josie is grateful.

She wishes she could say she's surprised that there are so many people attempting to get a picture of the crime scene. After all, vultures scavenge the dead for sustenance. Still, it creates melancholy in her heart because she knows the reason they are here and fervently snapping pictures is because there is a market for them. People will pay exorbitant amounts of money for the dark and macabre. It's incredibly sad and disgusting to steal away what little peace Natalie had in her death for money.

Gideon continues as if the paparazzi aren't there. ".22's are small but efficient. They bounce around inside a person like a pinball."

"Preferred weapon of the mafia," Spencer explains, "You know, there's no obvious sexual component to these crimes which is usually the case with serial murders."

Detective Kim questions, "So, are you thinking this is a serial killer?"

"Well, it's certainly a series of murders. We don't enough yet to call them serial," Gideon elucidates.

"Would you consider hanging out in L.A a little while," Detective Kim asks, "let me lean on your expertise until we do figure out what we got?"

"Yeah, just cancel our flights. We'll have the rest of our team out here ASAP," replies Gideon.

***

The team meets with them at the police station house upon landing where Spencer, Josie, and Gideon divulge their findings from the latest crime scene. Everyone floats ideas around but they come to the conclusion that, even if the unsub isn't connected to the mafia, he is still classified as an assassin.

Detective Kim asks for clarification, "This guy is an assassin?"

"When you look at the victimology, there's no obvious links. All the kills are clean except in the instance of the last victim, Jeremy Collins," Derek explains.

"There's absolutely no evidence left at the crime scene," Elle continues, "There's no DNA, no manifestation of psycho-sexual release, and there's no detectable signature of any kind."

"Remember," Gideon says, "our profiles are formulated not just by what's present at the scene, but also what's absent."

"From all the evidence that we've gathered, we believe that you're looking for a type 4 assassin," Elle further explains.

Detective Kim questions, "Type 4?"

Spencer begins to list the types, "Type 1's are political assassins, like John Wilkes Booth. Type 2's are egocentrics looking for simple recognition."

"Type 3's are psychopaths, cold-blooded killers who leave far messier scenes," Hotch continues, "and type 4, our unsub, suffer from a major mental disorder and is frequently delusional."

"The closer we come to figuring out that delusion is, the closer we'll get to finding the unsub," Spencer finishes the thought.

Detective Kim asks, "What's he going to be doing until we do?"

Gideon, despite not liking the answer responds, "Finding other victims."

There's a small knock on the door which grabs everyone's attention. A man in suit stands in the doorway clearly nervous. Still he summons his courage and addresses the room.

"Excuse me. Hi, is there a Detective Kim here?"

He replies, "Right here."

He follows up with another question, "You're heading the investigation into the Natalie Ryan murder?"

"Yes."

While his courage doesn't falter, he isn't sure how to pose his concern, "My–I have a client. She's, uh, is there any place we can talk in private?"

"We're all working this murder," Detective Kim says, gesturing to the cluster of agents.

"Well, um, she received a note, my client did, and she freaked out. I told her not to worry about it," he says.

Derek, with his interest piqued, asks, "Where's the note?"

He immediately pulls the aforementioned note from his suit pocket and promptly hands it to Derek. He unfolds it and upon reading it, turns it around so everyone else can as well. The note is written on a magazine article regarding Natalie Ryan, the latest victim. Written across the deceased actress's face in red is "You owe me".

Fully understanding the implication, Hotch asks, "Where's your client?"

"She's waiting in the other room," the agent replies.

Derek addresses the two agents closest to him, "Reid, Donahue, let's go."

They immediately follow the him outside where a blonde woman sits with her back to them. There's something familiar about her to Josie but she can't place who it is until she turns around.

"Lila," Spencer says, clearing the nerves from his throat before continuing, "Hi."

If the circumstances were vastly different, Josie might have used his reaction as ammo to tease him with. She's sure Derek would quickly join too even if he doesn't know the full story.

"Hi, I don't know if you recall but we met at the art gallery last night–" Josie gestures to herself and Spencer in turn–"Josie Donahue and Spencer Reid."

"Yes, of course," Lila replies.

Josie gestures to Derek next, "This is Derek Morgan, he's part of our team and we're working the Natalie Ryan murder."

"Oh," her gaze shifts to Spencer, "you didn't mention you were law enforcement."

"Yes, sorry, I didn't get the chance," Spencer says.

Derek directs the conversation back on track, "Why don't we head some place a little more private and we can speak with the rest of the team."

She nods and follows them to an interview room where the rest of the team is waiting.

After Lila takes a seat, Elle begins the interview, "How well did you know Natalie Ryan?"

"We spoke when we saw each other in public, but we were never friends," Lila responds.

Hotch then follows up asking, "How about Wally Melman?"

This question confuses Lila, "What?"

"Wally Melman," Elle repeats, "He's a producer who was killed a couple months ago."

"The paper said that was a robbery," Lila says.

Hotch says, "The paper was wrong. Did you know him?"

"We met a few times about a project but–" she pauses–"I didn't get the part. They went a different way."

This intrigues Elle who asks, "Which way?"

"He cast, um, another act—" a look of realization spreads across her face–"oh my god."

Concerned, Spencer asks, "What is it?"

She replies, "He cast Natalie Ryan."

"You owe me," Derek repeats the message of the note, now making more sense.

Lila sighs, distraught so Josie instructs her to take a deep breath hoping to help calm her.

"I guess that's one way to ice out the competition," Elle says as her eyes shoot up to her agent.

"Don't look at me." He brings his hands up as if surrendering, "I brought her into the police station."

Gideon knows he isn't the unsub based on this behavior, so he asks a separate question, "Have you ever had a sense that someone is watching you, following you?"

"From the moment I get to work, I have hair and makeup and wardrobe people, producers, writers, my agent, my manager, publicist. Not to mention photographers," Lila answers honestly.

"It's part of the life," her manager explains.

Gideon pushes a little further, something specific to her, "Anything seems odd, out of the ordinary? Happens on a regular basis or semi-regular basis?"

She asks, "What do you mean?"

"Repetitive phone calls with hang ups. Gifts left anonymously," Spencer says.

"I receive flowers on the seventh of each month. They just appear in my trailer. Never a note, just a plain glass bowl. Red anemones, my favorite," Lila says, getting uncomfortable now that she realizes who may have sent them.

Elle asks, "And you don't want to know who they're from?"

"Celebrities get anonymous gifts all the time," her manager explains since it's getting harder for her to answer, "She has fans, you know."

Gideon pivots to a different question knowing the date she receives them is not inconsequential, "You remember meeting anyone on the seventh day of the month? Or in July, the seventh month of the year?"

"No," she replies plainly.

"Wally Melman was a producer who considered hiring you but didn't and Natalie was a rival," Hotch says.

"And Chloe Harris?" Elle produces a photo of the actress. "She looks a lot like you, don't you think?"

Shifting in her seat, Lila answers, "No."

"A potential rival," Elle says.

Hotch adds, "She was murdered, too."

In a small voice, Lila asks, "So all these people are being killed because of me?"

"It's possible," Hotch responds.

Josie wants to shoot Hotch a look of disbelief. He knows she isn't at fault because she didn't ask the unsub to do this for her. He took it upon himself to murder these people. Besides, she's rattled from all this information happening at once as well as receiving the note in general. Still, she doesn't, wanting the team to be seen as a single unit, hoping it'll soothe Lila's worries.

It doesn't and Lila grabs her things to leave, "I'm sorry, I can't. I-I have to go."

Josie prepares herself to follow after Lila to offer some sense of comfort about the situation. After all, these people were not killed because of her. The only person responsible for the deaths are the unsub and Josie wants to reassure her they will do everything in their power to find him. Especially since, given that Lila is the object of his affection, it's very likely he won't stop until he, she, or both are dead.

Before she can stand, however, Spencer is out of his seat and after her. Josie hides the surprise from her face at his action. Spencer has a big heart and she knows from first hand experience he can soothe deep concerns but it's how he started after her with no hesitation. Josie saw how well they connected at the gallery but didn't think much of it. Now, he's chasing after her to assuage her worries about the situation and she ponders briefly if he's feeling more than infatuation.

Once Spencer returns, Gideon begins the discussion of building the profile. No one asks Spencer how his chat with Lila went, or what was discussed. Instead, they all dive deep into creating the most accurate profile they can with the new evidence given by Lila. The work through the night until the sun rises signaling a new day. They gather the police officers in the precinct so they can deliver it.

Hotch starts, "With this unsub, we're looking at a compound profile: a type 4 delusional assassin with an erotomania fixation on the actress Lila Archer."

"Erotomanics are a form of a stalker, who possess the delusional belief that another person, usually of a higher social status, is in love with them," Derek explains.

"In the United States, at any given time, there are over 200,000 people being stalked," Elle states, "Our unsub is having a fantasy love affair with Lila Archer the way John Hinkley did with Jodie Foster."

"Mrs. Archer was not aware of her stalker until yesterday. He wasn't trying to impress her. He was more like an unwanted, very violent guardian angel," Hotch elucidates.

Gideon explains the thought process of a stalker, "When the stalker feels as if they've been in some way betrayed by their love object, this often leads to violence against the target."

Spencer lists and an outside example of how this type of stalker might escalate, "In the case of John Robert Bardo, when actress Rebecca Schaeffer took a role where she had to have a sexual relationship with another character, it was enough to force him to snap and seek her out to kill her."

"Though stalkers can be either male or female, it's most likely we're looking for a single male," Hotch says, "A loner, in his late twenties to early forties, very intelligent, with ample time to follow his victim, and study her habits."

"As of yet, the unsub has not directed any violence towards Ms. Archer but he has shifted his focus from those around her to her directly," Spencer says.

"He's growing bolder with each murder but it isn't reflected in the kills, themselves. He's goal orientated with the deaths, killing them quickly. His boldness shows in how he has reached out to her via a note. He believes she owes him for–" Josie does air quotes around her next statement–""getting rid of the competition"."

"This doesn't preclude the fact that anyone who has the vaguest association with Ms. Archer is a potential target," Gideon elaborates.

"And that list should include Lila, herself," Josie adds, "He may know that she has gone to the police which could agitate him. In most cases like these, the stalker may turn his attention and violence toward the object of their affection."

They start with searching for potential suspects at Lila's current job. The list is extensive when accounting for every cast and crew member. They've made a sizable dent in the list when they receive a call about Lila receiving another note. They decide the best course of action would be splitting up. Gideon, Derek, Spencer, Josie, and Detective Kim are elected to go investigate the note while the rest continue combing through the list.

When they arrive, they are directed to Lila's trailer. She's waiting outside and acknowledges their presence but doesn't speak, very clearly in thought.

Gideon reads the note aloud for everyone to hear, "I've always been so good to you. Why would you go to the police?"

Gideon examines the words further, "I'm intrigued by this particular version of the verb "to be"."

"Past participle," elaborates Spencer.

"It's a perfect tense," Josie adds, "which can be used to express conditional statements." Knowing Lila is right outside the trailer door, she keeps her next thought to herself.

Maybe he won't be so good to her now that she's gone to the police.

"Steady state of being. Preceding adverb," Gideon continues.

Spencer finishes the thought, ""Always"."

Detective Kim asks for clarification, "In English?"

"That is English, actually," Spencer responds, missing the sarcastism with which Detective Kim spoke, "We're discussing the verb tenses—"

"Reid, Reid," Derek repeats to stop his ramble before it gets too off topic.

Gideon actually answers the question, "Our stalker sounds like someone she knows."

Spencer, understanding what Detective Kim was actually asking, explains, "Based on the tense of the verb."

"Maybe it's time to get her off the street." Detective Kim glances at Lila as she stands right outside the trailer.

"There's been no physical threat to her," Spencer says, "She might be safe just staying put as opposed to anywhere else."

Josie is quick to add to her thoughts, "He's already angry about her going to the police, if we remove her now especially after receiving a note, it could make him lash out."

"I'm standing right here, guys."

Lila, now standing in the doorway, looks each agent and detective in the eye. Josie is sure to make eye contact when she gets to her because she understands the need to feel like a person and not a victim.

Gideon gives agency back to Lila by having her decide but makes sure to let her know the extent of what she is agreeing to, "If we did remove you, we'd have to take you to an undisclosed location. I'm sure your stalker knows where you live."

Lila's face shifts to determination as she says, "I'm not having the whole show close down. I only have one more scene to shoot. Look, last night I decided I wasn't going to be afraid of this lunatic. Am I safe here?"

"The set's cleared of everyone except essential personnel and we have increased security at the gate," Detective Kim reassures.

There's a polite knock on the open trailer door after which a woman wearing a headset pokes her head inside.

"Lila, they're ready for you," she says but doesn't walk away. Presumably waiting to escort her.

"I'm staying at work, gentlemen and lady," Lila announces before following the woman to set.

"Well, she's one tough girl," remarks Derek.

"Yeah," Spencer agrees though by his volume, Josie isn't sure if he meant to utter that aloud.

Still, Josie agrees with Derek as well. It took her so long to develop her thick skin and she needed assistance to do so. Without her Aunt Alice, she probably wouldn't have been able to become who she is. Then, there's Lila who simply just makes the decision to not have her life ruled by fear. It's hard not to admire that, given that it doesn't involve endangering her life.

Once she is fully gone, Gideon says, "I didn't want to say anything in front of her but his anger about her going to the police suggests he might alter his agenda."

"Typical for a stalker," Derek says.

"She didn't go alone to the police," Gideon reminds everyone.

Spencer says, "Her manager took her."

"You three stay here. Keep an eye on her," orders Gideon.

"I'll hang back, too," Detective Kim says.

Seeing Gideon leave, Derek asks, "Where are you going?"

"To talk to her manager," Gideon explains.

Spencer, Derek, Josie, and Detective Kim walk to set where Lila sits in a chair getting her hair and makeup touched up. Josie keeps her eye out for anyone paying too much attention to Lila. She doesn't see any obvious signs but keeps a lookout for constant subtle glances or anyone sneaking off but she doesn't see anything. Besides her hair and makeup people, the only person to approach her is a PA with a coffee that Lila specifically asked for. While there are a multitude of crew milling about, it is all purposeful and nowhere near her. However, Josie doesn't relax, even getting a coffee herself to keep her mind sharp. Besides, it is completely free, but burnt.

Spencer sidles up to where Josie stands but doesn't say anything, his gaze on Lila.

She sees his open Coke bottle that he sips from and she uses it as a conversation starter, "No coffee?"

He shrugs before answering, "A sealed bottle is safer than a shared coffee pot."

"I've seen you guzzle down gallons of coffee in the office," she says with a chuckle.

"That's vastly different. I can see it being made so I know it's safe," he explains.

She nods but knows there's something he wants to discuss and based on his gaze, it's regarding Lila.

"She's very beautiful," comments Josie.

Spencer chokes on the sip of soda he had been drinking at her remark. "Oh, uh, yes I think so. I mean, in a conventional way."

"Uh-huh, why don't you go talk her?"

"I'm working on the courage. I think I scared her."

"What do you mean?"

He sighs and quickly fills her in, "After she left and I followed her, I laid out how these cases usually end and it wasn't my most tactful explanation."

She lets her lips turn up into a sympathetic smile. He has no idea how smitten she is with him, does he? Josie wants him to be happy and if he needs the help, she'll offer even though the ethics aren't entirely clear on the matter. It's his and her choice to make and he knows which one he wants to make, that much is evident. He just needs a little push which Josie will gladly give to see him smile as well.

"Then go apologize to her," she says, keeping her voice soft, "I mean, I doubt she's mad. She seems like she has a good head on her shoulders and I know if I was in a similar situation, god forbid, I would want someone to be frank with me instead of dancing around the problem."

He doesn't answer but nods and gifts her that smile she had been hoping for.

"Go get her, Heracles," she says as he walks away.

He approaches her once her hair and makeup artists walk away. He clears his throat both in an effort to get her attention and will away his nerves.

"Sorry, if I was, um, insensitive last night," he apologizes.

Lila asks, "You were only doing your job, right?"

Spencer confirms, "Yeah."

"Then there's no need to apologize," she explains, taking a sip of her coffee.

It causes a swell in his chest. Of course Josie was right. It's like a weight has lifted from his shoulders and while pleasant, it's disconcerting. After all, she's a person of interest in a case he's assigned.

Before the thought could continue, she groans at the taste of the coffee and takes the coke bottle from his hand.

"You don't mind sharing with me, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, she takes a sip.

"No," he replies, almost shocked to find he doesn't.

After handing the soda back to Spencer, she removes her robe revealing her bikini she'll be wearing in the show. The sight has Spencer's cheek turning pink. She walks to the faux volleyball court as he watches her go.

Derek and Josie, having witnessed the entire interaction, immediately jump in to tease him.

Derek starts with the question, "You don't mind sharing with me, do you?"

Taking a sip of his Coke, he follows up the question with the reply, "Shut up."

"Go get 'em, lover," Derek says as Spencer rushes away.

Josie's sympathetic smile turns into a teasing one at her command, "He's so cute when he blushes."

There's a beat. The silence isn't awkward but Josie can tell Derek's mind is brewing up a question.

He asks, "So, how're you feeling about this? About Spencer and Lila?"

She pauses to think about her answer. It isn't as simple as when they had met at the gallery. The situation they have found themselves in isn't clear cut but foggy with shades of gray.

"Well, I would wait until the conclusion of the case to make a move," she says, "but it's obvious they are interested in one another when they first met, before she came into the station."

He continues to ask, "So, it doesn't bother you?"

Again, she gives the matter some nuanced thought, "I mean, the dynamic is different now given that we're assigned her case but I don't know. I've never seen him shake a strangers hand or share a glass with someone."

Derek hums in response but doesn't offer any of his thoughts.

She turns the question back to him, "Does it bother you?"

He avoids answering by saying, "Not up to me. Only he and Lila can decide that."

"Then why're you asking me?"

Derek isn't as skilled as Josie when it comes to locking away his thoughts and feelings. So when he replies, Josie knows there's more to the statement but can't pinpoint what.

"No reason."

As the shoot wraps for the day, Spencer goes with Lila to her home to go over security measures, at Josie's suggestion, while Detective Kim, Derek, and herself go to meet with the rest of the team.

As they head to the SUV, Elle calls Derek. He answers while they get in the car, Derek behind the wheel, Detective Kim sitting in the passenger seat, and Josie squished in the backseat.

He greets her but whatever she says causes him to put the call on speaker for all inside the vehicle to hear.

"We found a Manila envelope on Michael Ryer's desk. It's full of photos," Elle says.

"Okay," Derek says, unsure where this is going.

"Well, they're candid shots of Lila Archer nude. I'm guessing he was probably paying someone off to keep them out of the press," explains Elle.

Derek asks, "Do we know who?"

"Um, the name on the envelope was Joe Martinez," Elle answers.

Detective Kim chimes, "The paparazzo?"

Derek questions, "You know him?"

"Yeah, I dealt with him a lot," Detective Kim replies.

"Elle, we're on it," Derek says.

Detective Kim calls ahead to one of his officers to pull up any information they have on him including his addresses. They make a short pit stop to get said address and a few Kevlar vests before they head over.

Not wanting to give him time to run, with guns drawn, Derek kicks the door down.

He announces, "FBI!"

Detective Kim calls out, "Martinez!"

Each person searches a different spot of apartment which isn't very big.

"It's clear," Derek says as they all holster their guns.

With no threat, everyone starts to search more in depth leading to the discovery of a dark room with Lila's photos all over the wall. It's disturbing to witness but there's something strange about them. Yes, there are dozens of her in different locations and they were all taken from a distance but they resemble surveillance more than stalking, there's no romantic undertone. For example, why wouldn't he keep a nude photo or two for himself?

"See?" Detective Kim gestures to the photos hanging on the wall. "This guy's a real scumbag."

"You got that right," Derek says.

"I already deduced that from the blackmail," Josie says.

Spotting a paper on the wall not adorned with Lila's face, Derek examines it closer.

Holding the sheet in his hand, he asks, "What's this?"

"It's a call sheet," Detective Kim explains after getting a better look at it. "It's a shooting schedule for a film or television show."

"That's Lila's show," Derek says upon seeing the title of the show.

Detective Kim confirm, "Yeah."

Despite knowing the answer, Derek asks, "He's not supposed to have that, is he?"

"No," Detective Kim confirms.

Josie stops listening to the pair once she notices the newer photos. Pictures that contain Lila, yes, but she isn't alone in these. Spencer is featured in many of them where he is interacting with her. She's glad not to see evidence of destruction to those photos meaning if Martinez is the unsub, he hasn't directed any anger at Spencer, or Lila. Yet, this doesn't quell her worries at the thought of him becoming his next target.

"Hey, look at that," Detective Kim says, having noticed the photos himself,

"That's Reid," Derek says after examining them himself, "There's a whole bunch of them."

Detective Kim asks, "Is he a target now?"

Josie can't bear to answer because if Martinez is the unsub, then the pictures indicate yes.

Derek is on the same page, "Not if I can help it. Let's go."

All three head outside as quickly as they can without sprinting. While they do, Derek pulls out his phone to call Spencer.

Once he picks up, Derek tells him, "Reid, it's Morgan. Listen to me. You got to watch your back over there. We just found a bunch of close-up photos of you at this guy Joseph Martinez's studio. Looks like he could be the unsub. He had a ton of photos of Lila and Natalie, plus a call sheet for Lila's show. We're on our way right now but I need you to be real careful until we get there, all right?"

Once he has hung up, Derek heads to take the wheel, while Detective Kim goes to the passenger seat and Josie heads for the back but something stops them before they can even open the doors. Gunshots ring out without warning and without much aim. Luckily, Josie was behind the SUV when the person started shooting which acted like a barrier. Derek, who was beside her, pulled her down the moment the first shot fired as well. Once the motorcyclist, with a full face visor, ceased shooting and drove past them, he stands but finds him too far away to shoot.

Soft groaning sounds from the opposite side of the SUV where Detective Kim had been. Derek and Josie quickly walk to him where he lies on the road.

While Josie assess his injury, Derek asks, "You hit?"

"Yeah. It's just my shoulder," Detective Kim confirms.

"All right, I'll call for help." Derek reaches for his radio. "Officer down. We need an ambulance at La Brea and Wilshire."

"It may be your shoulder but unless it disintegrated on impact, it could still travel so remain still," she tells him.

Josie removes her cardigan to wrap around Detective Kim and when she's met with a confused stare, she explains, "It's important to keep warm."

"Sorry about the bloodstains," he jokes back. A good sign.

So she jokes back as well, "I'll bill you later. Morgan, do you have a hanky or some cloth on you?"

Derek replies in the form of a question, "Who carries around a hanky anymore?"

Using her hands to apply pressure to wound, she answers, "Spencer does."

An ambulance arrives not long after and start prepping him to be moved. They wrap his shoulder to further staunch the bleeding and when doing so, realize his collarbone is shattered. The EMTs load him onto the gurney and heap him up in the ambulance.

Gideon, who must've heard Derek's radio SOS call, rushes up to see which officer went down.

He asks, "How're we doing?"

"He'll make it," Derek explains, "Caught one in the shoulder and shattered his collarbone."

While they may not be in the ambulance, JJ still wants to be sure and asks, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," replies Derek.

"Blood's not mine." Josie wipes the blood off her hands with a towel provided by the EMTs.

"Yeah, that's my bad," Detective Kim says from his place on the gurney, "But you'd make an amazing nurse."

"I'd make an amazing doctor," she jokes knowing keeping his mind working is incredibly beneficial in the present moment.

Gideon gets back on track regarding the case, "No sign of this Martinez, the photographer?"

Derek answers for both of them, "No."

"Whoever took a shot at you followed you from the set," Gideon deduces.

"Martinez has a bunch of paperwork in his studio that says where Lila's going to be every day," Derek says.

Gideon's phone rings to which he answers, "Gideon. That's what I thought. Thanks." He hangs up the phone. "Garcia's gone through every article written about Lila. She never says anything about red anemones being her favorite flower."

"Well, we're looking for someone pretty close to her," Elle says.

"This list gets shorter every day," Derek continues.

"He's circling in," Gideon says, "We need to get to her house."

JJ says, "I'll make sure the press doesn't get out of hand with this mess."

Derek and Josie both bid farewell to Detective Kim in their own way. Derek with a respectful handshake and Josie with a playful wink.

The team, sans Spencer, drive to Lila's place but without sirens in case Martinez is lurking nearby. He's already angry she went to the police to begin with and they don't want to make a bad situation worse. Given that Derek already gave Spencer a warning, they decide to case the outside of the building. Derek and Gideon take the back while Elle and Josie take the front.

Elle takes the lead due to her seniority while Josie dutifully watches her back. They stick to the shadows with guns drawn in case the unsub held on to the weapon he fired at them before. Before long, Gideon radioed that they have apprehended Martinez in the bushes.

Elle and Josie holster their weapons and head to the backyard to assist if he tries to run. There they find a sopping wet Spencer drying himself.

Elle informs him, "Well, we found him in the bushes."

Spencer says, "I told her she should cut those."

Elle and Josie simply stare at him. Elle's gaze hold no judgement or malice but amusement. She would've thought that as a profiler, Spencer would practice more care hiding his blooming feelings for Lila. Josie, on the other hand, is fuming though she shows no outward signs of it except for a sliver meant only for Spencer to perceive.

However, Spencer is quick to deflect, "I, uh, fell in."

"Yeah and I'm sure there's plenty of photos of it," jokes Elle to which Josie allows herself a chuckle.

Elle's fun and Josie's anger are cut short as Derek shoves a handcuffed Martinez forward. Even the sliver Josie showcased is gone.

"Stop shoving me, man," he says.

In response to his frustration, Derek talks of some of his own, "You're a suspect in the murder of Wally Melman, Chloe Harris, Natalie Ryan, and Jeremy Collins."

Martinez's eye nearly pop from skull in shock, "Murder? What? Whoa, whoa—"

"Shut up with the whoas," Derek interrupts. "We know for a fact that you have hundreds of photographs of Lila Archer and Natalie Ryan on the walls of your studio. You have Miss Archer's daily schedule on your desk. You've been stalking her."

"Look, guys, look. Hold up. Every paparazzo's a celebrity stalker. If you don't stalk 'em, you don't get the shot. If you don't make the shot, you don't sell no pictures," Martinez explains.

"Well, this one is going to cost you" Elle rips out the tape from his camera thus exposing the negatives and destroying them.

"Wha—no. That's just wrong," Martinez says, defeat evident in his voice.

"Tell it to your lawyer," Derek says.

Martinez questions in disbelief, "I'm still being locked up?"

"That's right. Very least, you're trespassing. Let's go." Derek leads him to one of the cars so he can be brought in for processing.

Elle hands the ruined tape to Spencer, "You're welcome."

They head off with Josie taking a measurable lead. Despite a lack of furrowed eyebrows, a frown, or flared nostrils, her pace is still enough for Elle to can catch a glimpse of Josie's anger.

"You seem angry," Elle says which causes Josie to come to a complete stop.

"I am angry." She whirls around to face Elle. "How could he just let her out in the open like that? He knows the statistics for stalkers murdering the object of their affection, I mean we were just talking about it last week."

Wanting to calm her, Elle redirects her attention with a question, "Were you consulting on a stalker case?"

"No," she replies, noticeably calmer, "I'm writing an academic paper on the subject. Specifically, how it goes under reported and how most police are unable to help. It outlines exactly how stalkers escalate and this unsub is escalating! He just shot at three officers and he's having a pool party?"

Her anger defuses into frustration. Frustration at Spencer, yes, but at their lack of answers. In a strange way, Josie hoped Martinez was the unsub. She would never arrest an innocent individual but she just wants to give Lila some peace of mind which many victims of stalking don't always get.

"Why don't we head inside? Turns out we have a lot more work to do," Elle suggests.

Josie relents and heads inside the house as well to find Spencer taking a piece of art off the wall, briefly explaining how the collage seems to contain hidden information. Desperate for any lead, Josie pushes aside any and all frustration and jumps in immediately to help. They careful take apart the collage as to not damage it after Spencer promises to put it back. Once Martinez is on route to the police station, Elle and Derek offer their assistance as well. They manage to match different slivers together to form locations, people, and moments from Lila's past.

"Lila, it looks like someone's been stalking you for years," Derek says.

Elle agrees, "Yeah, this tells your whole life story. Movie premieres, theater playbills."

"Everything since college," Spencer specifically mentions.

Lila, looking rightfully frightened, looks over the newly formed images in disbelief.

"That's our country house. Right here." She points to the aforementioned building.

Derek asks, "Who gave you this collage?"

Lila notices the person is in the collage, itself, and points him out. "He did."

Derek glances at the picture but has no idea of his identity and asks, "This guy? Who is he?"

Spencer recognizes who he is instantaneously.

"That's the guy I went to high school with. Parker Dunley."

Derek wastes no time dialing up Penelope, "Garcia, Parker Dunley. Email me a sheet on him, all right?"

As Penelope works on gathering intel, Elle, Gideon, Derek, and Josie head to Parker's place to get the full story, and possible confession, from him. Spencer is chosen to stay behind to watch over Lila to keep her safe. If Parker isn't the stalker, then the actual unsub might feel the team closing in causing him to switch gears and lash out at Lila.

Instead of checking his apartment, the information only attainable from Penelope who is still working on it, they go to his art gallery that Gideon and Josie had visited a few night ago.

As they drive to the gallery, Josie allows her mind to wander. She had spoken to Parker, even flirted with him. If he is the stalker, he would've already murdered Wally Melman and Chloe Harris then murdered Natalie Ryan the next morning. She had been relatively interested in him. After all, at the time all she knew was that he was handsome and an art lover. She had trusted that he wasn't a threat of some kind due to his association with Spencer.

She tries to reevaluate the night through a profilers lens to see if he made any remarks or exhibited any behavior that hinted at him being the unsub. The only thing she can think of is his interaction with Spencer. He was friendly and Spencer didn't harbor any hate toward him, especially considering they clapped hands which is something Spencer doesn't do for everyone. Still, Parker treated him like his was still the twelve year old he met in high school but Josie knows sometimes people forget children grow up into their own adult which may differ from the child they once were and it can be difficult to remember they aren't so young anymore. She didn't overlook any glaring red flags but she does note he noticed exactly when Lila walked in.

When they arrive and walk inside, it's empty of the crowd that was present that night as well as some of the art. There is one person boxing up a beautiful watercolor painting. Her face seems familiar to Josie but when she glances at Gideon to tell him, she sees an uncomfortable fear hidden behind his stoic facial expression. Then she remembers her walking into the gallery with Lila that night. She didn't socialize with her that much but based off his reaction, Gideon had at least a little.

Noticing the team's arrival, she sarcastically asks, "Ah, look who's here?"

Gideon cuts right to the chase, "Where's Parker?"

She quirks an eyebrow as she asks, "I don't even get a hello?"

Gideon insists, "Where is he?"

"Guess that follows since I never got a goodbye," she says before shouting, "Parker!"

The exchange is baffling. Sure, given the circumstances Gideon would always want to get to the case instead of trading pleasantries with acquaintances. However, his reaction at seeing her paired with her statements has Josie wishing she had the full story of what transpired between the two.

She stalks off, crate in hand, as Elle asks, "Friend of yours?"

"No," Gideon answers simply.

Josie shares a glance with Elle and she is thinking the same thing. Something definitely happened between the two.

They cease at the sound of Parker's heavy footsteps down the stairs.

"How can I help—" he stops as he realizes he recognizes some people—"hey. Spencer's friend, right? Josie?"

At the very least he remembered her name.

"Yes," Gideon replies but once again, brings focus back to the case, "Did you give Lila Archer a collage?"

Parker responds with confusion, "What?"

"There's a photographic collage above Lila Archer's sofa," Derek explains, "She says you have it to her."

Parker, clearly not understanding the seriousness of the question, says, "So?"

"So, it has your face hidden all over it," Derek finishes for him.

"I didn't make the damn thing," Parker laughs as he speaks.

"So," Gideon starts, "you just happened to give her a work of art that contains most of her life in it?"

"I—no. No." The seriousness of the situation finally dawns on him as evidenced by his cadence and raised eyebrows.

Derek, still unsure what to make of Parker, says, "If there's something you aren't saying, now would be a real good time to say it."

There is a shift in Parker's demeanor. It isn't like when Josie locks her emotions away, instead it is the opposite. Gone is the carefree art lover that she had met that night. Now, there is a sinister look on his eyes as his incredulous smile morphs into a smirk.

When he speaks, even his tone is different, flat and affected, "All right. All right, I lied."

When no specification is uttered, Elle pushes, "What about?"

"I just wanted her to like me," he says, "I met her here. She was a fan of art. I figured if there was hip, young stars coming into the gallery, it would help business."

Still, he dances around the question, so Derek asks in a straight forward manner, "What was the lie?"

So, Parker puts his answer in the simplest of terms, "Someone gave me the piece to give to her but I told her it was from me. I said I found it and I thought she'd love it."

Derek presses further, "And who gave it to you?"

"Her name's Maggie Lowe," he replies, "She, uh, she works on Lila's show. She said she went to college with Li. She's like a PA or AD or some acronym. She wanted to make sure that Lila got the collage but she didn't want Lila to know that she gave it to her. She said to say that it was from a secret admirer. But I told her it was from me, so–"

Everyone turns and leaves now that they have the information they had been searching for.

As they walk, Gideon calls Spencer, "We have a name. Maggie Lowe. She's the unsub. She's on Lila's show. We're on our way."

During the drive, Josie fights back the disgusted feeling overwhelming her. She thought him kind and safe, especially since he was a friend of Spencer. He must've had a more open heart when he was younger especially befriending a young boy who was constantly picked on. When did that die? Was it when he started to run a business and needed to make tough decisions for the benefit of the gallery?

And if so, what does this say about her? Has she not closed her heart off years ago with no hope to reopen it? Isn't her past littered with people she didn't let get close simply because it's easier? She can't deny that truth but she can alter it for the present and future. It will be hard but then she remembers how Lila just decided to not let her fear control her, maybe Josie can do the same.

As Josie arrives alongside the rest of the team, she's surprised to see the unsub Maggie Lowe on the floor with Spencer pointing his gun on her. A few feet away is Lila crouched on the floor crying. Since Maggie isn't resisting and Spencer has the support of the rest of the team to formally arrest her, Josie goes to Lila.

"Hey," she speaks softly while approaching, not wanting to frighten her after the ordeal she just experienced.

Lila notices her and swiftly wipes her tears away but it does little to help because fresh ones take their place.

Josie offers her hand to Lila and says, "Let's get out of here. I think some fresh air will be good."

Lila doesn't say anything but does take the outstretched hand. Josie helps her up and out the front door while Maggie is being handcuffed and mirandized.

Once outside, Lila lets loose a sob she must've been holding back. The sound tugs at Josie's heartstrings. She isn't sure exactly what transpired in the house but Spencer is not the type to whip out his weapon at slight provocations and does so only when needed. He would rather rely on the profile and exhaust that option first before unholstering his weapon. Therefore, she knows it couldn't have been pleasant.

Lila's breathing quickens so Josie places her hands on her shoulders and luckily she doesn't flinch at the contact.

"It's okay, now. You're safe and no one is going to hurt you but you need to take deep breaths or you might pass out. I'll count for you, Josie says as she begins the process.

It doesn't take too long for Lila's breathing to even out though it doesn't stop the crying but Josie doesn't mind.

"I'm sorry," Lila says now that her breathing is under control.

"You don't have to apologize," Josie says, "I imagine this whole situation was incredibly traumatic and while you are safe, it takes longer for the brain to recognize that."

Lila nods in response followed by "You sound like him."

Josie doesn't respond, instead she lets Lila compose herself in relative peace and privacy. The tranquility doesn't last long as a few moments later, Maggie is led from the house into an SUV. She doesn't say anything, only letting her head hang as they load her into the vehicle to be driven to the precinct and processed.

The rest of the team exit as they call in for reinforcements because the house is now considered a crime scene. While Spencer exits alongside them, he doesn't make any calls but heads for Lila.

"Lila," he says while jogging over. "Are you okay?"

Lila doesn't respond at first and Josie realizes she must be intruding. She excuses herself and tasks herself with finding living accommodations for Lila since she won't be allowed in the house for a while. As she walks away, Josie peaks behind her and sees the two conversing quietly and closely. She's glad Lila found some comfort after all that has happened to her. Especially since Spencer is great at offering solace.

***

Back at Quantico, Josie makes sure to stop by and wish Penelope a goodnight with a promise to head home soon. When she arrives at the bullpen afterward, the only person remaining is Spencer staring at a magazine cover. She can tell he isn't reading it considering he hasn't turned the page yet.

During their plane ride home, her frustration at Spencer returned to her. She had decided to get a head start on her report for the case and when shading in details about the investigation, she was reminded about him and his night dip with Lila out in the open. She was also made aware of how Maggie practically strolled in when he was meant to be keeping watch for exactly that.

So, she goes to grabs her things and politely bids goodbye to Spencer.

He calls out, "Josie, wait!"

She does because some small part of herself wants him to explain himself.

"I know you're angry with me." He could tell from the lack of conversation she's attempted to start. "And you're right to be, letting myself get involved with a victim is incredibly inappropriate.

"You think that's why I'm angry?" She tosses her bag back on her chair. "Spencer, I'm angry that you didn't protect her. The unsub entered the house under your supervision. I'm not angry you kissed her but if you're going to, did it have to be out in the pool?"

He has the decency to appear truly repentant as he apologizes. When he does, Josie feels a fissure inside her open up at the sight. She never could resist his puppy eyes.

"Look, just give me twenty four hours," she sighs and picks her bag up again, "I promise I'll have forgiven you by then."

"Really? You're still angry at Morgan for not refilling the coffee pot two weeks ago," he says incredulously.

"That's different. If you use the last of something, you replace it. That's just common courtesy," she explains before her tone softens when she adds, "Besides, Morgan isn't you, Heracles."

She tousled his hair slightly before departing from the office. Spencer looks at the magazine on his desk with a prominent photo of him and Lila on the cover. He's already asked Derek his thoughts which were somehow both helpful and unhelpful in deciding what to do about the relationship. After conversing with Josie, he finds himself chucking it in the garbage bin once again.

"Friendship is another word for love."

- Unknown

[heehawheehawheehaw]

[hotchs-big-hands]

Waowwwww new TG and Hazel pic!!!!

[ssahotchnerr]

THOMAS

[yasministration]

what do i write next!?

while i write an exhilarating jake peralta fic tonight, choose what i write tomorrow out of my next ideas

a) aaron hotchner opens his computer do get some work done to find the photobooth open with dirty photos you took on it

b) kurt kunkle picks up his girlfriend who doesn't care that he's still streaming when she pounces on him

c) kara takes her girlfriend on a planet where no one knows them and wrecks havoc upon everyone

d) broke jake peralta & reader are fresh out of the academy and have no money. they decide to be smart businessmen and make an OF together

e) jimmy olsen needs to know more about lois lane's younger detective sister

can you tell im ovulating

a

b

c

d

e

Remaining time: 7 hours 19 minutes