chapter one \ trying to be someone real enough.

extreme aggressor. / season one, episode one.

There were patterns in everything. Felicity Herman made it a habit to notice them all.

Mostly, she had gotten really good at noticing her own patterns, only to then do absolutely nothing about them. That was another habit of hers, albeit a bad one. But really, why did it matter? These days, it felt like nothing mattered. Felicity thought that after six months she might have been better. She might have broken her bad habits - habits induced by trauma - and become a new person. Unrealistic expectations, she supposed. But God, who could blame her for having wishful thinking?

Part of Felicity was still that starry-eyed girl filled with dreams who started at the BAU only nine months ago. Still twenty-one, fresh out of Los Angeles, ready to take on the world, and still in possession of her beautiful red record player.

Felicity Herman had never hesitated before when it came to answering the question as to what her most prized possession was. The ruby-red record player that sat in the corner of her bedroom ever since she was sixteen was the answer. For six years, it had been her most prized possession. Until she broke it. It had been a complete accident on her part. That was what everyone had told her. Everything she messed up on during this time period is just a big ole' accident. The vase she shattered, the yelling, the crying, the silence, the screaming, the record player breaking... It was all one big accident. Because who was going to pin the blame on the poor girl who watched alongside her unit chief as six agents died when a building collapsed on them?

The answer was no one with a heart.

When Felicity had gotten back home to Washington, D.C. from Boston, the first thing she did was cry. And then she started throwing things and knocking things over, which then resulted in a shattered vase and a broken record player. Despite her impeccable knowledge on how trauma could affect the human mind, Felicity was no expert on how to deal with her own. She never was. But with a little help, she turned to taking long runs on trails and drinking different types of herbal teas that were recommended to her through her teammate.

Doctor Spencer Reid was the second youngest member of the elite BAU, bested by Felicity for title of 'youngest' as her 22nd birthday passed only a few months ago. He's also the closest thing Felicity has to a friend in the FBI. It made it easier for them to get along with all the commonalities their team thought they had with one another.

Though, all it really came down to was the fact that they were so close age, happened to both be geniuses, and came from west coast cities that consisted of the word Los. (Los, Las, they both meant the exact same word.) But they got along well, which helped in Felicity's recovery process. As had Reid's profound knowledge of herbal teas that helped with stress and anxiety. It was why when Felicity received a call about a case that required the full attention of the BAU, she was mostly ready to go back.

Keywords: Mostly ready.

See, being on medical leave had helped her mentally. She didn't have to put herself in the shoes of serial killers for six entire months, which helped clear her mind. Felicity still had nightmares, but they'd become manageable. She still got scared at night, but it became manageable. She was improving, really! Now all she had to do was apply those same things to her day-to-day life at work.

Felicity hadn't worn anything but workout clothes and pajamas in months, and if she were to be completely honest, she did miss breaking into her work closet. Still, she can't resist pulling on the sleeves of her red turtleneck that normally bring her the type of compression comfort that she needs. There was a very quiet clacking noise that followed Felicity as she walked down the hall of the FBI Academy and to where Dr. Reid was seated, waiting for her.

"Hi. How bad is it?" Felicity asked. Reid stood up and began to walk alongside her. "It's gotta be bad if they called all of us in, right?"

"Four victims in four months," Reid answered. A grimace stretched across Felicity's face. "He's kept each of his victims alive for seven days. No physical evidence, no tangible leads. They've got another girl missing, too. They don't want her strangled to death like the others."

The others. Felicity had nothing against Reid's wording, but the cases when they got to the point of using the words 'the others' were always Felicity's least favorites. It was awful.

She took the file from Reid and looked down at it. Her eyes narrowed as a million possibilities ran through her head.

"Is he using the handle as a crank?" Felicity asked, flipping to the next page of the case file in her hands. "Strangulation, Seattle... Oh, God, what'd they call him, the Scary Strangler of Seattle?"

"Seattle Strangler, actually," he corrected. This earned an eye roll from Felicity.

"That's exactly what these guys want. When are they gonna stop with the ridiculous names?" Felicity asked, shaking her head. "Zodiac, BTK, TFK, Bike Path Rapist, Ratcliff Highway Demon- I mean, come on!"

The two come to a stop in front of a classroom door wearing similar expressions across their faces. Jason Gideon definitely earned the title of the most intimidating agent in the BAU. Not only was he the Unit Chief, but he was also... Gideon. Even after months of being his protégé, Felicity was still intimidated by him. She doesn't think she ever won't be. (Granted, she's known him since she was 17. She's only been his protégé for nine months, too.)

Sighing, Felicity turned back to the door and pulled it open. She held the door back with her foot while Reid took a step in. Felicity only had to observe the classroom for a moment to know that Gideon was back on his favorite subject and favorite story, the Footpath Killer.

A serial killer that always came with the unanswered question of 'why did he stutter?' Gideon swore that he knew, but no one else seemed to know. The answer was pretty obvious though, wasn't it? Gideon couldn't know. No one could. What he did know was that it was an anxiety-induced stutter. He used it to his advantage.

Reid timidly tapped the case file after getting Gideon's attention. Gideon gave one short look to his class and excused himself, exiting the classroom with the two doctors. Gideon walked in the middle of the two, Felicity on his left side and Reid on his right.

"They're calling him the Seattle Strangler. Four victims in four months," Reid began. "He keeps them alive for seven days and the handle in the picture serves as a crank."

"Allowing him to control the rate of suffocation," Gideon noted. Felicity raised an eyebrow and looked over at him in curiosity.

"To prolong it?" Reid asked.

"To enjoy it," Gideon corrected. Oh, well that's just peachy. "Seattle's hit a wall?"

"Physical evidence is nonexistent and there are no tangible leads," Felicity answered, holding her hands behind her back as she recalled what she's already read.

"And another girl is missing," Gideon finished, taking the crime scene photo from Reid and entering his office. "I'll look the case file over. I'll get some thoughts to you ASAP."

"You're gonna be with us in Seattle ASAP," another man announced. This caused Gideon to look up from the file and pull his glasses off of his surprised face.

Felicity had been leaning on the arm of the couch in Gideon's office when Agent Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner and Agent Derek Morgan entered. When they entered and passed by, Felicity stood up straighter. Morgan, the younger of the two, stepped forward and held up an image of a young woman, who couldn't be any younger than Felicity was.

"22-year-old Heather Woodland," Morgan stated. Felicity fidgeted with the necklace around her neck as Gideon stepped forward to take a closer look.

Guess that answers that, Felicity anxiously concludes in her mind. We're the exact same age.

"Before she left for lunch, she downloaded an email with a time-delayed virus attached," Hotch continued. Felicity seemed more intrigued by this part, for this was all new information to her. "The killer's virus wiped her hard drive and left this on the screen."

Hotch held out another photo, which was immediately taken away by Gideon before Felicity could see it. He read over the photo for a minute before turning to look at the framed photo he had displayed on his wall.

A crime scene photo from the 1945-1946 killings committed by William Heirens, AKA 'the Lipstick Killer.' Another stupid name, if you asked Felicity. He was one of the first cases Gideon had her study when he took her on as his protégé, though.

"'For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself,'" Gideon read aloud. Felicity exchanged a look with Reid, who was now seated on a table. She then looked back over to Gideon, biting down on the inside of her cheek.

The chances of going to see the Space Needle today kept growing more and more likely. It's not too terrible though. She's always wanted to go.

"He never kept them for more than seven days, which means we have fewer than 36 hours to find her," Hotch pointed out.

36 hours? This just kept getting worse.

"They want you back in the saddle. You ready?" Morgan asked, which makes Felicity sigh. This means Felicity was going to be going back to working cases outside of D.C. and the typical case review.

"Looks like medical leave's over, boss," Reid quipped.

A small smile teased at Felicity's lips, threatening to come out. Admittedly, she was glad that Gideon would be coming back. And that by extension, she also got to go back. Felicity would be lying if she said she didn't miss it. Analyzing minds and putting criminals away... It's everything Felicity was supposed to do.

She just wasn't ready for the hard parts. The parts that consumed her and kept a hold on her psyche. The parts that left her bleeding out as someone she knows she isn't. The part that put a knife that isn't real in her hand, and makes her forget who she is. The job was taxing. She had limits. Gideon always seems to try and get her to break past those limits.

"They sure they want me?" Gideon asked, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. He didn't seem confident with his ability to go back into the field. But no one blamed him on that.

"The order came from the Director," Hotch answered.

Gideon turned back to his wall of framed photos, staring at the crime scene photo from the Lipstick Killer case. "Then we'd better get started."

Joseph Conrad said,

"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."

Whoever decided that the 'one size fits all' FBI jacket was a good idea is no friend to Felicity Herman. Her jacket clung to her small frame as she practically skipped across the tarmac, doing her best to avoid splashing in the puddles and ruining her pants. The cold air bit at her skin and she wondered if it was time for scarf season yet. The welcoming glow of the inside of the BAU jet kept her going. It was much warmer in there.

Felicity hurried up the stairs of the jet, placing her bags down in one area and folding her jacket up. She slid it inside her bag and turned to where Morgan and Reid, mostly Morgan, were pushing the jet chairs together so the five could easily discuss the case.

She took her seat in between Reid and Hotch with Morgan standing beside her and leaning against Felicity's chair.

Reid opened the file and cleared his throat. "His first victim was 26-year-old Melissa Kirsh. Stab wounds, strangulation-"

"Wait, wait. Back up, back up," Morgan said, holding his hand up. "He stabbed her... and then strangled her to finish her off?"

"Other way around," corrected Gideon. "Why do you think he started using the belt in the second murder?"

Felicity narrowed her eyes for a moment. To strangle someone with your bare hands... you'd need to have the physical strength. Otherwise, it would be a long process that would take up most of your energy. The belt, however, provides an easier means of cutting off the airflow. You wouldn't need to be as strong for that.

Her eyes shut. Hands that she must keep convincing herself aren't her own fall across someone's neck. The struggle is unimaginable with the way the victim is fighting back. But it takes most of her energy away. Felicity must remind herself that the knife isn't actually in her hand as it pierces Melissa.

"Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as most people are led to believe," Felicity answered, zoning back into the conversation and opening her eyes. "He tried it out, found that it took too long and required much more physical strength. It didn't efficiently kill her, just left her exhausted in the same way he was, so-"

"So he stabbed her instead," Morgan finished. Felicity looked up at him and nods.

"Duh," she said, sharply. Morgan looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "That's what I was trying to say."

"And realized it would be hours cleaning up the blood," Hotch added, before Morgan can respond to Felicity.

He only responded to Hotch. "Next time, our boy's got a method - the belt."

Felicity couldn't help but wonder why Morgan had said the words 'the belt' so ominously.

"He's learning, perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer," Gideon finished.

Now, all we need is some dramatic music and the classical 'dun, dun, dun!!'

Felicity had never been to Seattle before. Growing up, road trips were common amongst her adopted family, but they never typically ventured up to the Beaver or Evergreen states. Vacations were usually further down south to the border towns or the treat of visiting the forests of Northern California. The sun had just begun to rise in the sky when they land, and thanks to the copious amounts of caffeine the agents had already consumed, the members of the BAU were all still able to function.

Morgan walked ahead of the group, stopping so that he could hold the door open for the other four, and then entered in last. After passing through the security checks, Felicity continued walking, only stopping when Morgan patted her shoulder. He extended his finger to point at Gideon, leaving Felicity with a puzzled expression on her face. This isn't going to be good.

"He never stands with his back to a window. When I was between him and a doorway, he asked me to move," Morgan whispered. Felicity's eyes move from Morgan and over to Gideon. She felt a presence by her side, but upon seeing that it was Reid, Felicity relaxed.

"That's hypervigilance. It's not uncommon in post-traumatic stress disorder," Reid replied, keeping his voice down to avoid the possibility of Gideon overhearing him. Gideon had always seemed like he has super hearing abilities. One of the scariest things about him, but then again that list was way too long.

"Just how much disorder are we talking about?" Morgan asked, turning to look over at Felicity again. "You were there, too. You're not hyper-vigilant."

Felicity frowned.

"You've been on this team longer than I have. Shouldn't you know that PTSD affects everyone differently?" Felicity asked, scoffing as she crossed her arms over her chest. "We went through the same thing, but we're not going to react the same way."

Morgan, in an almost guilty tone that Felicity didn't pick up on, replied, "I didn't mean it like that, Herman."

"Morgan, it's been six months," Hotch pointed out, standing beside the three. "Everything's okay."

Felicity continued walking and Reid quickly followed after her. Even at the fast pace she walks at, Reid was able to keep up. "Are you okay? Being back, I mean. It was kind of sudden."

"I'm fine. Ready to get back to work, actually," Felicity answered, smiling softly.

And after she finishes her sentence, Reid slowed down. Her smile. It was always Felicity's way of being able to reassure everyone that things were okay. Even when things were tough, when Felicity smiled like that... She couldn't fake it.

She was going to be okay.

Entering the main office, Felicity looked around at the many people in the room and frowns. There's a reason Felicity is perfectly happy as just an SSA and didn't ever want to move up the chain of command. Public speaking was enough to nearly knock Felicity off of her feet. Even just being introduced to others was hard, and all Felicity had to do there was give a small wave or nod.

"This is Special Agent Gideon, Special Agent Morgan; our expert on obsessional crimes," Hotch started. Felicity's grip around her bag began to tighten. "Special Agents Herman and Reid-"

Why were they always grouped together? Was it the age? He was two years older than her! The Doctor part? That seemed more plausible...

"Doctors Herman and Reid," Gideon corrected while Felicity flashed a shy smile to one of the agents who was looking at her.

"Doctors Herman and Reid, our experts on, well, everything," Hotch continued again with a small laugh. "And after two years busting my butt in this office, I hope you remember me."

Being so young and having a Ph.D. always earned Felicity a lot of stares and weird glances. That part she was used to. But what was always terrifying to her, for some reason, was having to explain that she couldn't exactly, or legally, perform surgery but could happily tell you weird facts about the skeletal system in humans and various animals. Lucky for Felicity, the lightheartedness at the end of Hotch's introduction got the attention back to him and away from Felicity.

"He's willing to travel with the body," Gideon noted. Felicity paid close attention to what was being said, all while she folded her FBI jacket up and placed it inside her bag.

"Then he drives a vehicle capable of concealing one," Hotch pointed out. Felicity turned back to her teammates and leaned against a desk. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning each board and processing each piece of information that she could read.

"1 in 7.4 drivers in Seattle owns an SUV," Reid quipped while Felicity nodded in confirmation.

"Explorer with tinted windows," Morgan suggested.

"Explorers rate higher with women," Felicity replied, holding her hands behind her back as she walked forward.

"But how do we know it's his car?" Morgan asked while Felicity narrowed her eyes. "Ted Bundy drove a VW Bug."

"What about a Jeep Cherokee?" Hotch asked.

Reid answered, "Jeeps are more masculine."

"We all know how an UnSub feels about asserting his masculinity," Gideon grumbled.

Hotch looked back to another agent, "When did the Bureau become involved in the case?"

"After the fourth body," the head agent answered. "He dumped that one out of state."

"On purpose," Hotch concluded, turning back to his team members.

"If so, knowledge of law enforcement does suggest a criminal record," Reid pointed out.

"Or that he watches T.V.," Felicity replied, a small grin on her face.

Morgan reached for a file from another agent, who asked, "Want to see our suspect list?"

"No, we won't look at a suspect list until after we come up with a profile," Hotch answered, arms crossed over his chest. "It keeps our perspective unbiased."

Gideon asked from his corner, "When do we sit down with your task force?"

"Four o'clock."

Morgan slowly looked up from his file. "An accurate profile by four o'clock today?"

Gideon walked past Morgan and said, "That's not a problem."

"Agent Gideon," Hotch called out, "Where would you like to start?"

Gideon turned and pointed to a picture on one of the boards. "At the site of the last murder."

Felicity trekked through the dirt behind Gideon with her hands behind her back. Morgan and an SPD officer walked a little further back. Felicity came to a stop beside Gideon and stared at the crime scene in front of her.

Morgan walked forward and said, "22-year-old Anne Cushing was found right here. Nails clipped just like the others. He wants them to fight back."

Gideon lifted a picture of the body up and stared down at it. "But not enough to hurt him. And he left the belt around her neck. He's probably in his early 20s."

Morgan gave him a funky look. "What's your reasoning?"

Gideon turned away. "Youthful arrogance."

Morgan sighed. "He clothed the body before dumping it."

"That's a sign of remorse," Gideon said and stepped forward.

"It's not consistent," Morgan pointed out. He held his hands out. "Look where we are. His opinion of women is pretty clear, don't you think?"

"They're disposable."

"Why show remorse by taking the time to dress her but then dump her here?" Morgan asked.

Gideon turned away from Morgan and looked at Felicity instead. "Doctor Herman," he called out. She looked up at him expectantly. "Tell us what you see."

Felicity walked forward and gestured to the ground beneath her. "The imprint here suggests a body was lied in this specific spot," she explained, then looked up at Gideon and Morgan. "He just placed her down, didn't alter her position in any way. He wanted her to be found like that, in a vulnerable state. The belt left around her neck suggests a young perpetrator, someone who is arrogant, and someone who believes women are inferior. That women should look and act a certain way, so that they may be used by him however he sees fit."

"You got all that from an imprint?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah?"

The team members of the BAU all met up again, gathering in a secluded conference room the Seattle Field Office had spared for them to set up in. Morgan was walking around, spewing theories into the air along with a small red ball. Reid sat in a swivel chair, spinning himself around back and forth. Felicity had elected to also sit in a swivel chair but kept changing the position she was seated in. Felicity would move from a cross-legged position, to a position where she was hugging her legs close to her chest, or to another where she had turned in her chair so that her legs could dangle over the side. Hotch and Gideon were the only people in the room acting professionally.

"Okay, then how about the fact that on one hand, we have paranoid psychosis, but the autopsy protocol says what?" Morgan asked, while Felicity looked up at him.

Her head dangled over the side of the armrest, but she quickly slid up and pulled her legs back to her chest.

"Adhesive residue shows that he put layer after layer of duct tape over his victims' eyes," she lazily answered, head resting on her knees.

"He knows he wants to kill them, but he still covers their eyes," Morgan continued. "He doesn't want 'em looking at him, apparently. Okay, but then he takes the body and dumps it right out in the open, murder weapon nearby."

This was really getting to him, wasn't it?

"That's not the M.O. of a paranoid convinced he's being watched or surveilled," Felicity pointed out.

"Paranoid psychosis, but behavior that's not paranoid," Morgan huffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Maybe he's schizophrenic," Hotch suggested.

"Maybe we just don't have enough for a complete profile," Morgan snapped back. Felicity lowered her legs and scooted closer to the desk.

"You are being uncharacteristically pessimistic today, you know that?" Felicity asked, leaning her head against her hand. She looked back over to him, "We have to keep trying to figure this out, but we're not going to get anywhere if we're shouting, Morgan."

"We have enough to narrow our list of suspects," Hotch pointed out.

"We are looking at less than twelve hours to find her!" Morgan exclaimed.

An exasperated sigh left Felicity's mouth as she scooted back again. She sat up in her chair and brought her legs close to her chest, hugging them with one arm as she began to scribble down notes.

"We don't know exactly what-"

"Hotch, we don't know anything!" Morgan argued.

Morgan is right about that. All we have is behavior that is so confusing, it royally screws up the profile! We have nothing to go off of, and if we don't finish the profile, we can't narrow the suspect list. And if we can't narrow the suspect list, we can't save Heather. And if we can't save Heather, she will die! It would be on us.

"All right, enough," Gideon said, his voice cutting through the arguments like a sharp, cold blade. Felicity dropped her pen down and looks over to Gideon. "Let's tell them we're ready."

"We're ready?" Morgan asked in disbelief as Gideon left the room. Felicity let her legs fall down to the ground and began to pull her things together. If Gideon had a complete profile that he made off of almost nothing, Felicity wanted to take notes.

"Herman, Reid. You're good with this?" asked Morgan. She looked up at Morgan with an unamused expression. "We've got a woman who's only got a few hours left to live, an incomplete profile, and a unit chief on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

The door swung open, and Gideon entered the room as quickly as he had left it. He hurried forward to the table, grabbed a pen, and simply said, "They don't call them nervous breakdowns anymore." And he left again.

There was a brief moment of silence before Reid chimed in with, "It's called a major depressive episode."

Felicity hummed as she stood up and adjusted her folders. She began to walk to the door but stopped beside Morgan. "You know, you don't have to call me Herman just because I've been gone for a little while."

"When have you ever told me not to call you Herman?" Morgan asked.

"The first day we met," she answered, a small smile growing on her face. "Herman is too uptight. It sounds too similar to hermit, and I am not a hermit. Nor am I a crab. Flick is fine for the field. I like it much better."

"Flick," Reid repeated, but only after Felicity had left the room.

Having been the first BAU agent in the room, besides Gideon, Felicity had moved to a corner by the American flag, leaning against a wall and preparing to scribble down whatever Gideon talked about. Reid was in next, standing beside Felicity, and then it was Morgan and Hotch.

Felicity silently watched as Gideon walked down the open area between the aligned desks that have come together to make a U-Shape. It was at this moment especially that Felicity was grateful she didn't have to deliver the profile. There were a total of nineteen highly-important agents seated at the desks, along with at least nine more scattered across the room and listening in. The thought of doing it alone makes Felicity wonder how quickly she would've passed out.

After setting up the projector and the computer that is synced up to it, Gideon was ready to start with the profile. "The Unidentified Subject is white and in his late 20s. He's someone you wouldn't notice at first. He's someone who'd blend into any crowd. The violent nature of the crime suggests a previous criminal record- petty crimes. Maybe auto theft. We've classified him as an organized killer - careful. Psychopathic as opposed to psychotic. He follows the news, has good hygiene. He's smart,"

"Because he's smart, the only physical evidence you'll find is what he wants you to find," he continued, rubbing his hands together. "He's mobile, car in good condition. Our guess - Jeep Cherokee, tinted windows. The murders have all involved rapes. But rape without penetration is a form of piquerism, and that tells us he is sexually inadequate. Psychiatric evaluations will show us a history of paranoia, stemming from childhood trauma- the death of a parent or family member. And now he feels persecuted and watched,"

"Murder gives him a sense of power," Gideon explained, beginning to walk around again. "Organized killers have a fascination with law enforcement. They will inject themselves into the investigation. They will even come forward as witnesses to see just how much the police really know. That makes them feel powerful, in control. Which is why I also think... In fact, I know... You have already interviewed him."

Emerson said,

"All is riddle, and the key to a riddle is another riddle."

It was a known fact that Dr. Felicity Herman was impatient. Typically, you're not supposed to be impatient as an FBI agent, but Felicity was. Her mind was constantly a jittering mess, and that went on to greatly affect her ability to sit still and therefore causes her to be impatient. Even after practically injecting herself with coffee, she still can't really sit still.

This was why Felicity rarely goes on stakeout missions. Luckily, the agent they had trusted with bringing Richard Slessman to the house for arrest was good at her job. Special Agent Elle Greenaway had gotten Richard there in only a few minutes, and shortly after, she arrested him.

Once the arrest had been made, Felicity was able to enter the Slessman household with Reid. They do a quick search, but Heather wasn't there. The front door flies open again and Hotch runs in, hurrying up the stairs. Gideon walks toward the kitchen, only to be intercepted by Reid and Felicity, who are both exiting the living room.

"There's no sign of Heather in the house," Felicity began, moving to walk alongside Gideon. "Which means we can arrest him with probable cause, but we aren't going be able to hold him."

"Slessman's been at the top of the suspect list," Reid informed them and Felicity looked over at him. She's reminded of her hatred of being short.

"Is that the mother?" Gideon asked.

Felicity was pulled away from her thoughts and back into reality as she turned to look away from Reid and back to what's in front of her. Felicity studied the elderly woman for a moment, a frown etched across her face.

She sat on a rather uncomfortable looking green plastic chair that looked like it had been around as long as her. Beside the older woman was an oxygen tank along with another woman who holds a toddler close to her chest. They both seem distraught, the kid doesn't. Though, he doesn't seem to have a care in the world. He was more interested in the fact that there were so many new people walking around his house and even one right next to him. This was surely the biggest thing to have ever happened in his entire life.

But the Slessman women wouldn't agree. To them, this might've been one of the worst things to happen. To suggest that Richard might've been a serial killer? Sure, the boy had a criminal record, but to go as far as to say that he killed four innocent women and was holding another captive? They couldn't seem to believe that.

"Grandmother," Elle Greenaway corrected, stepping out from the hall. Felicity observed the woman for a moment. Greenaway was the one responsible for Slessman's takedown, and since then had removed the giant, white, puffy jacket she wore. "The mother died in a fire when he was 13."

"Probably not the only fire in his childhood," Gideon replied, walking down the hall that Elle came out of. Elle followed after him, as do Felicity and Reid.

"Before his Son of Sam murders, David Berkowitz set a multitude of fires," Reid quipped as Felicity nodded a bit too excitedly.

This was a common trait amongst the two young doctors. Reid would say some interesting fact, and Felicity would excitedly listen or nod and add on, depending on how well she knows the subject. It was the exact same pattern if Felicity had something interesting to say.

However, not everyone found their facts interesting. In fact, Morgan was usually the main person to be either annoyed or mildly worried by whatever 'interesting tidbit' one of them had to add to the conversation. And the Son of Sam fire factory was a fact that caused mild worry.

"Exactly how much is a multitude?" Morgan asked.

"According to his diary, 1,400 and..."

"88," Felicity finished for Reid, who was racking his brain for the correct number. That was another thing they typically do.

Finishing each other's sentences and quick facts that they weren't 100% sure about. It was rare for them to forget a number or a name, but when they did, the other person typically had the answer ready.

The two shared a smile.

"Luring him out was your idea, right?" Gideon asked. "Greenaway?"

"Elle," she corrected. "I don't send a S.W.A.T. team into a house with children."

At this, Felicity smiled. She was glad someone else has that same care for children. Felicity had joined the BAU and specialized in two things; anthropology and interpreting the evidence. Child advocacy was her next goal. Though she knew Elle was sex crimes, it was nice to know someone shared a similar ideology to Felicity's own.

"Hotch says your background is in sex offender cases," Gideon recalled. Rather bluntly, he asked, "What can you tell us?"

Felicity stood beside Morgan, watching the two speak back and forth.

Elle seemed to already be prepared, answering without missing a beat, "The last four murders show he's an anger-excitation rapist. He'll keep a victim for a couple of days. He probably records or videotapes them so that he can keep relieving the fantasy."

After Elle answers Gideon's question, his expression turned to a softer one, pleased by her abilities. "You okay with Hotch being in on the interview?" Gideon asked, much less demanding this time.

"I'd like him to lead, actually," Elle answered with a short nod.

"Fine, but hold off," Gideon instructed. This statement resulted in a puzzled expression on Elle's face. "Slessman's done time, and he knows the process. And all you will get now is a demand for a lawyer."

Gideon walked past Morgan and Felicity, stopping by the staircase, "Hotch! Let's check the garage, then show me what you got!"

Morgan slowly turned to Elle, "Next time, show a little leg," he whispered. Felicity turned to Morgan, slightly offended, even if it wasn't aimed toward her. Scoffing softly, Felicity shoved him lightly and walked up the stairs with Morgan.

"Morgan, the only time you're gonna see a little leg from me is when I'm about to kick your ass," Elle called out, following the two up the stairs. Felicity stopped and grins, looking over at Elle.

"I like her," Felicity giggled. "Now I'm not the only one threatening to kick your ass all the time, Morgan."

Morgan snorted softly as he turned towards the two girls, "I still teach hand-to-hand over at Quantico if you need a little brush-up training."

"Seriously... I want that opening at the BAU. You got any advice?" Elle asked, her tone changing from playful to serious as she lowered her voice.

"A ten-minute long song about behavioral profiling, a dance to go along with it, a marching band, and maybe you'll get lucky," Felicity joked, smiling warmly. "Trust your instincts. It's how everyone else got here."

"But not you?" Elle asked.

"I'm special," Felicity answered, walking off and to the stairs leading up to the attic.

Walking up, Felicity looked up and around, carefully observing every crack in the wall and every creak from the floorboard. The attic was very clearly Richard's 'playground.' The opening screen for a first-person POV shooter game was on the T.V. There was a mini-fridge and old soda bottles lying around. The weirdest part though was the board game sitting on a table. It stuck out like a sore thumb.

"What kind of game is it?" Elle asked, now standing beside Felicity.

"In China, it's called Wei-Chi. Here we call it 'Go,'" Reid answered. "It's considered to be the most difficult board game ever conceived."

Felicity moved a piece forward and across the board before picking the black circle up. She examined it and asked, "Hey, Reid. You ever play?"

"Once, but I prefer to stick to chess," Reid answered. Felicity looked back over.

"We'll have to play sometime," she replied, placing the piece back down. "Chairman Mao required his Generals to learn the game. And my best guess is that Richard was playing himself."

"How can you tell?" Elle asked as Felicity stepped forward and spun the board. She crouched down to examine the board better, the faintest smile on her face.

The board kept spinning in her mind, getting faster and faster each time until it all stops.

"I'm psychic," Felicity answered. "It provides an advantage, actually."

Reid nodded, figuring out what Felicity was talking about, "Go is considered to be a particularly psychologically revealing game. There are profiles for every player; the conservative point counter, the aggressor, the finesser."

"What kind of player is Slessman?" Hotch asked, taking a few steps forward. Felicity bounced back up, standing beside Reid. She took a small step to her left to avoid being so close to him.

She had nothing against Reid, but she didn't like being so close to people. And with Reid, when they stood that close together, she felt like the world was ready to knock her off her feet. It was something Felicity didn't have an answer to.

"Extreme aggressor," Felicity and Reid finally answer. They share a look with another, along with a small smile before looking back over to Hotch.

Felicity has always had her own way of standing by people so she wouldn't enter their personal space bubble. Even as she stood over Morgan's shoulder, she still was far back enough to not make herself feel claustrophobic. She narrowed her eyes and looked over the computer screen for a moment, tilting her head to the side upon seeing the huge number 6 at the bottom of the screen.

"Six?" Felicity asked. Morgan looked back at her. "What's six? Six times for what? Is it a brand? Computer brand of the number six? Six what?"

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" Morgan asked. Felicity nodded and smiled. "Six tries to get into the computer before the program wipes the hard drive."

"There could be an email or a journal in the computer, something that tells us where Heather is," Elle pointed out, taking a few steps forward and joining their conversation. "Do you think you can break in?"

"In six tries?" Morgan asked.

"Try again. Fail again. Fail better," Gideon recited. Felicity looked back at him as she began to inch away from the now crowded corner.

"Samuel Beckett," Reid chirped.

"Try not. Do or do not," Morgan replied, turning back to the computer. Gideon's nose scrunched up at this, confused by the quote that Morgan had said, and very unaware of where it had come from.

"Yoda," Felicity said, a pleased smile on her face upon talking about the tiny green alien she had been obsessed with since her younger years. Reid looked down at his shoes, a soft smile of his own on his face.

Felicity watched as Gideon pulled a book from Richard's shelf. It had been titled 'Journal of Applied Criminal Psychology.'

Felicity grimaced at this, for she knows it isn't good. Things get especially worse as Gideon begins to flip through the pages of the book before landing on a news article that had been wedged in between the pages.

BLAST KILLS SIX.

Felicity's good mood had been wiped from her completely. Staring at the photo, she began to feel her heart pound against her chest and her ears began to ring. She took in a shaky breath and blinked, looking back up and as if nothing had just happened. As if she wasn't just reminded about Boston again.

Reid looked to Felicity in concern, but she doesn't look back over at him. She kept her eyes trained forward to avoid showing any emotion toward the photo or the article. She couldn't afford to.

"I wanna talk to him," Gideon whispered, and Felicity nodded. That was probably for the best.

Gideon closed the book with a strong enough force for there to be a noise and leaves.

Richard Slessman's room smelled similar to Felicity's first foster home growing up. Like it was vacuumed excessively and hosed down with air fresheners. Needless to say, it gave Felicity a bad headache. She was a little disappointed when Gideon had Felicity stay back in the house to help Morgan figure out the password. But now, she stood in the middle of the hallway in front of Richard's room, her mind racing with thousands of thoughts a second.

Richard can't sleep. He's meticulous and knows Gideon. He knows our tactics. He's a submissive personality, but he's still a genius. He wants to be an extreme aggressor, he fantasizes about being one. But he still has a dominant partner. He's tiny, both size-wise and muscle mass wise. Even if they went after the most petite of women, which they didn't, he still wouldn't be able to pick them up. He wouldn't be able to pick up me and I'm the size of a twig! There's a secondary location he's keeping Heather at. He'd have to move her, which is probably the dominant partners doing. Richard comes up with the plans. His dominant partner executes the plans. He abducts the women, he knocks them out, he brings them to the secondary location.

Richard... what does Richard like?

"Flick, I've got something," Morgan called out, stepping forward. He tapped her shoulder, which brought Felicity out of her trance and she turned to look at him. "We've gotta go through every CD here and find the one he listens to most. That one is the password."

"Should be easy," Felicity replied as she pulled a few down. "There's only, like, two hundred here."

"I can never tell if you're being serious or sarcastic," Morgan replied, making Felicity grin.

"Good."

Winston Churchill said,

"The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you will see."

Reid watched as Felicity whispered several sentences to herself, unable to quite figure out what she's saying. She'd pulled her curls back into a ponytail when she began sifting through the CDs, and even after they'd gone through every single one, there was no answer. He narrowed his eyes, studying the girl's behavior before the whispering comes to a sudden stop. She lifted an empty CD cover in front of her and grinned, standing up.

"For a bunch of geniuses, we are so stupid," she laughed, skipping over to Reid.

"I don't follow."

"This was the only empty case. It's the Metallica album written by Metallica. I don't quite understand why they named an album after their band name, but I do know how to figure out the password," Felicity explains, her eyes narrowed. She shakes her head and says, "Spencer, it's gotta be in the laptop."

"How did we miss that?" Reid asked, standing up and walking over to Felicity.

"No idea," she answered, picking a paper clip up from Richard's desk. She lifted it and examined it at eye level. "Follow me."

"I need a password. I need a password," Morgan mumbled to himself, pacing back and forth across the attic. "What am I looking for? What could I possibly be looking for?"

"I was thinking about the CDs," Felicity began, entering the attic with Reid.

"Oh, Flick, come on, we already tried the CDs. We searched, sifted, and sorted through every one of this guy's head-banging heavy metal collection," Morgan replied. Felicity crouched down beside the laptop with Reid by her side. "We gotta find something, or this girl is dead."

"I think we may have missed the obvious," Reid hummed as Felicity popped out the laptop's disc tray. She watched as it came out and picked up the CD.

"What made you think of this?" Morgan asked as Felicity handed him the CD. With a proud, confident grin she closed the tray again.

"It was the only empty case," she answered. "I don't like heavy metal, but I do have a brother that does, and the only tolerable song I can think of that would speak to someone like Slessman on that album is Enter Sandman."

Morgan turned to the laptop again and typed it in. They all let out a breath of relief as the screen loaded in, pulling up the desktop screen and then the last opened window. A WebCam Viewer. Specifically, a live feed of Heather Woodland.

"Call Gideon."

Morgan stepped away and called Gideon, informing him of the fact that Heather was alive and still alone. It was a frame-by-frame slideshow rather than an actual video, but watching it, Felicity and Reid both were able to make the same observation. The lightbulb was moving.

Well, it's not like earthquakes commonly happen in Seattle, Felicity thinks. The last 'big one' was in 2001, and now four years later there hasn't been anything that big, and we would know if it was an earthquake, so that's out of the equation. The area she's in is too big to be a large truck that's moving, plus that would mean Timothy Vogel would have to be driving, but he's not. Elle and Gideon are chasing after Vogel, and there's no way there's a third UnSub anyway, that doesn't fit the profile.

Scooting forward and closer to the laptop, Felicity pulled up the last twelve frames. Reid moved closer to Felicity to get a better view of the laptop, and once again, Felicity felt her body freeze up. Reid slowly lifted his finger to the frames and points at it. "Do you see it? The light bulb that's hanging from the wire is shifting positions. Like it's swaying... like the Earth is tilting."

Felicity slowly shook her head. "Not the Earth, Spence. The ocean... Morgan, she's on a boat! Not the middle of the ocean, probably a dock or a pier. We wouldn't be able to watch if it was in the middle of the ocean."

Morgan pulls his phone from his pocket and calls Hotch, informing him of their findings. Felicity took in a sharp breath as she turned back to the laptop, watching. Getting the actual location was now on Hotch, and if he couldn't get it out of Richard, they had nothing. But Felicity was confident in Hotch's abilities.

Felicity let out an audible gasp when Timothy Vogel started to appear in the feed. She yanked her phone out of her pocket and called Elle, beginning to pace back and forth until she answered.

"Timothy's there. Backup is on its way now," Felicity began. "Elle-"

"We have to go in," replied Elle. "If we wait for backup, that girl is dead."

"I'm not telling you to wait," Felicity sighed out. "I told you to trust your instincts, that's what I'm telling you to do now. But if you get hurt-"

"I won't. I'm going to do exactly what you told me to do and trust my instincts, Flick."

After Timothy Vogel was killed and Heather was saved, the team was sent in. By the time they arrive at the shipyard, it was early morning and the sun had just begun to rise. Felicity and Reid both walk in the direction of where Morgan and Hotch were and ended up listening to their conversation.

"You know, Haley and I were looking at a baby names book," said Hotch. "Guess what Gideon means in Hebrew."

"Mighty warrior," Felicity answered.

"Appropriate," Reid added as the two walk off. Once further down the dock, he asked, "So... Spence?"

"Oh. Right," Felicity said, standing up straighter. "I kinda just blurted it out as a nickname at the moment."

"It's okay," he replied. "I actually read that nicknames help pave the way towards stronger friendships."

"Huh. The more you know."

"You can call me Spence or just Spencer if you want," he offered.

"Then you can call me Felicity or Flick if you prefer the shortened version by three letters," Felicity laughed softly.

Felicity was glad to have a friend.

Nietzsche once said,

"When you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into you."

author's note, FELICITY HERMAN NATION WE ARE SO BACK 💪

and if you are new to felicity herman nation: welcome! so glad to have you along for this journey!! felicity is so very dear to me and i hope you all like her so far!

she is the pookiest of pookies 🤗

i hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! BYE!