For Old Times' Sake

Chapter 24

"Good morning, baby." 
You opened your eyes to see Hotch grinning at you from the edge of the bed, cups of coffee in his hands. 

Smiling, you realised you were never going to get used to waking up to this.
One week into the two of you deciding to be together, you had moved into his apartment. Jack had been confused at first but was slowly beginning to enjoy your presence in the house again.
Of course, Hotch had considered not telling the team, but they had guessed it the day you walked in. There was a small celebration on board the plane while returning from a case, and you were happier than you thought it was possible to be.

"Good Morning." You kissed him on the cheek. It was very early still, but your jobs didn't exactly allow sleeping in. As he went to get dressed, you walked over to the window.

A beautiful sunny day, seeming to complement the way your life had been the past week.
You smiled. Maybe what everyone said about happy endings was true after all.

The two of you walked in together like you always did, laughing and talking. But you were greeted by a grim-looking bunch.

"Bad news guys. We have a rather difficult one on our hands today." Emily said.
"It's in Atlanta, Georgia. 4 women over the past 4 weeks. What's absurd is that each killing method was different." Garcia said, pictures of bodies popping up on the screen as she talked.

"So how do we know it's the same guy for sure?" you asked.

She looked at you, a new set of pictures popping up on the screen.

Each of the victims had their eyes gouged out.
"What the hell..." you whispered, unnerved.

"I know, right? As if murdering someone isn't enough." JJ said.
"So is he organized or disorganized? Or is he just playing games to taunt the authorities?"
"Seems like the latter. He wants us to know it's him doing it, and he's giving us a show. These ones are always the worst, they always do unimaginable things. Wheels up in thirty."

On the plane, you read the files on the women. A distant sadness hit you like it always did when you opened up case files- a sadness for people who were never coming back.

Everyone got straight to work on reaching the police station. JJ arranged a press conference, Garcia talked to the authorities, Reid and Rossi went to talk to the victim's families, Hotch and Morgan worked on a profile and Emily and you were tasked with scouring recent cases of murdered women to see if anything matched the new ones.

In the middle of a coffee-fueled haze of reading through files, you yawned.

"Shouldn't Reid be doing this?" Emily laughed.
Suddenly, the phone rang.

"Speak of the devil," she said.
Smiling, you picked up the station telephone.

It wasn't Reid, it was a 911 operator. A woman had just called in, whispering that someone was in her house and was trying to kill her.

All four of you along with some backup sped to the address.
Hotch and you led, with Em and Morgan following behind quietly.

You didn't have to look around for too long, the body of the victim was in the bedroom.

Sighing, you lowered your gun. Hotch put a hand on your shoulder as you closed your eyes, regret hitting you like a truck.

"Clear downstairs," Emily said, walking in.

"Jesus Christ. How did he do it all so quick?" Morgan asked, following her into the room.
"Must've forced her to call 911 when he was nearly done. He knew he'd be out before we got here. He's playing a game with us."

"Well, he's definitely not going to win it," you replied.

***

"What am I missing..." you held your head in your hands. Anger was the reason you'd stayed back to do extra work, but so far you had gotten nowhere.

Suppressing a yawn, you read through the report again. It was pretty late, and the others had gone back to the hotel. You had forcefully sent Hotch back too, knowing he would push himself much harder than necessary. But just an hour later it seemed like you weren't going to be pulling any all-nighters either.

Exhausted, you wrapped up and walked out of the station.
1:21 in the morning but your car was right across the street.
You walked slowly, mind still preoccupied with the case details.

As you got to your car, you reached for the door.

But before you could open it, something hit you in the back of your head with incredible force.

You clutched at the car's roof to stay upright but the pain was coming in waves, and you slid down to the ground.
You wanted to scream, or reach for your gun, just do something. 
But your vision was already fading.

A shadow towered over you.

"Would you look at that. You're just my type."