chapter two \ what comes in threes.

compulsion. / season one, episode two.

When Felicity Herman was six years old, the world drove a knife through her heart and took away her world. At a young age, the world was something she viewed in a specific way, and it was something she understood on her own terms. To have it all suddenly stripped away from her at a moment's notice with no warning was terrifying.

Since then, the world has rarely been kind to her. She remembered the day clearly, despite so many doctors assuming she would block the entire thing out. Felicity's brain could never seem to let her block anything out. She knew every moment of her life from the beginning and she would know every detail until the untimely end. She remembered the moment she realized her mother and father were dead, and that her aunt most likely was, too. She could clearly remember the moment she began to wonder why the monster that did it spared her. And because of this, Felicity could remember the exact moment she was destined to wind up in the position she was in today.

Felicity would take extra care to ensure she stayed where she was.

Her first few days back at the BAU after the Seattle Strangler case were much harder than she originally anticipated. Felicity took the time to clear her desk out and reorganize every little item from old files to her own personal memorabilia. The files had been reorganized by month and year, and after that, in alphabetical order. She color-coded each case by the type of UnSub and by the time she was finished with her drawers, it had only been 27 minutes and 13 seconds.

She took the time to reorganize the top of her desk next, reordering everything and taking some things home. One wall is lined with old photos in new frames. A photo of her and her mother, a photo of herself with her sister Yasmine and her niece Emmy, a photo of her, her brother Vince, and Yasmine, and a family photo of the four of them. Next to the photos was a lamp and a small skeleton. On the other wall, she had lined it with a new set of books and desk organizers. Her pens had all been situated in their spots, along with her sticky notes, and paper clips. She also had a new prized possession - a skull. Was it real? Was it fake? She would not disclose such information.

In another drawer that did not contain work related things, she had hidden her 'goods.' This included chocolate, bubblegum, scrunchies, some pretty rocks she found outside her apartment, and pads.

The world she worked in often disturbed both her peace and environment. At least in the safety of the sixth-floor bullpen, she could have her desk. And at her desk, she had peace.

Happy Felicity, happy life.

It made her feel... yellow.

"Check in two," Felicity suddenly said without properly looking up from her book. Spencer paused as he looked up at her, eyes narrowed.

She looked up at him, then at the board. Felicity slid her bookmark into place and shut her book, leaving two red shoes with striped socks to stick out. She rolled her chair to the side and grabbed hold of a piece, moving it to show Spencer his weak spot.

"Check."

"You saw that while reading?" Spencer asked.

She shrugged. "I have a wandering eye."

Spencer started to pull his pieces off the board. As he reset them, he looked up at Felicity. "Do you want to play?"

"Morgan," Felicity called out as she spun in her chair. "Do you have a watch?"

He looked up from his newspaper. "Yeah, I've got one."

"Great! Can you time us?" Felicity asked. He shrugged and looked at his watch. "I call black, la escoba."

"Escoba?" Spencer asked as he spun the board to give her the black side. "How many nicknames are you planning on giving me?"

She smiled and shrugs. "Morgan, you ready? It's two minutes. I want to try and do a speed round. Standard game, whoever wins the fastest owes the other a cup of coffee?"

Spencer smiled, though small, and nods. "Okay. Deal."

"All right," said Morgan, looking at his watch, "your two minutes start... now."

The game was decided before the two-minute mark. Spencer fell for Felicity's tactic that she'd been using for years in speed rounds of chess. Once she conquered the board and gained his King, she yelled, "Checkmate!"

"And with 8 seconds to spare," Morgan announced, declaring Felicity the winner. He looked up at the board in amusement. "I think I'll stick to my crossword."

"I bet I could finish it before you," Felicity said as she rolled her chair back to her desk.

"Oh, I don't doubt that, Flick," Morgan laughed. He lifted his newspaper again and went back to his crossword puzzle.

Felicity leaned her cheek against her hand as she turned to Spencer. "It's the fall season, so if we're getting fancy, I like pumpkin-spiced lattes. Otherwise, just plain coffee with half-and-half."

"Do you often play Blitz Chess?" Spencer asked as he reset his board.

"Not as much anymore," Felicity answered as she grabbed her book. "My brother used to make me play it so I could take a break in between the periods I was working on my dissertation. I prefer regular chess. It helps you get to know a person, or get to know yourself."

Fast footsteps began to approach the bullpen as Elle walked down the steps. Felicity glanced over as she called out, "Question for you."

"Shoot," Morgan replied.

"The Footpath Killer," Elle started as she entered the bullpen. Felicity opened her book and resumed at her old spot. "Why did he stutter?"

"Come on, Elle, we've all asked him and he won't say," Morgan answered. "He wants us to figure it out."

"Once you do," started Felicity without looking up from her page, "you'll feel stupid for not figuring it out sooner."

Elle hummed as she sat at her desk across from Morgan. "And how long did it take you to figure it out, Flick?"

"It's embarrassing, but," Felicity tilted her head back and sighed dramatically, "seven hours."

Elle snorted softly. "By your standards? Totally. But I'm up for a challenge."

"Good," called out another voice as she charged forward into the bullpen. Felicity looked up as JJ entered in her bright, baby blue sweater and matching shirt while carrying a stack of files. "Because these go to you." JJ slammed them down on Elle's desk. "Special Agent Jennifer Jareau. JJ, if you like."

Elle raised her hand to shake. "Elle."

"Greenaway," JJ said, already ahead of the game, as she always was. "Highest number of solved cases in Seattle three years running. Specialty in sex offender cases."

Elle nodded. "Not bad."

"Well, I'm the Unit Liaison," JJ continued her introduction as she began to hurry off again. It seemed that wouldn't ever change. "My specialty is untangling bureaucratic knots. You'll probably be talking to me a lot. My door's always open, mostly because I'm never in my office. So just call me on my cell, okay? We'll talk."

Elle nodded slowly once she was gone, processing all of that for a short moment. Felicity laughed softly as she closed her book. "She's awesome, isn't she?"

Moments after JJ's departure up the stairs, she came circling back around with Hotch. "BAU Team, can you meet me in the conference room, please? I need to show you something."

Felicity stood and scurried off with the other members, up the stairs, and into the conference room. Felicity silently preferred labeling it as the 'round table room' as the round table in the center of the room would suggest. Plus, she had a thing for Arthurian legend.

Felicity took her seat first and was soon joined by Spencer on her left and Morgan on her right. She flipped open her case file as the other agents on the team filed in. Once everyone was seated, Hotch began without a second to waste.

"This is from our office in Phoenix," Hotch started. "Bradshaw College in Tempe, six fires in seven months."

Gideon asked, "Who recorded it?"

"A student with a digital camcorder," JJ answered. Felicity looked up with a raised eyebrow. "He was watching a fire in the building across from their dorm. The other person you'll see is his roommate, 20-year-old Matthew Rowland."

The clip started and Felicity turned to look at the screen. A window glowed a bright white color as smoke billowed out the window. "This is crazy," said the student holding the camcorder. "Hey, Matt, get over here! You gotta see this."

A boy came into the frame. "Dude, are you seeing this?!"

"Is that the kid?" asked Gideon.

"Yeah, that's him," Hotch confirmed.

"Relax man," the director of the video said, "there's always fires during rush week."

"Yeah, but that's pretty big," replied Matt. As the video progressed, Felicity found herself chewing on the inside of her cheek as she waited for what comes next. "Hey, dude over here. Check this out."

A dark spot had grown on the carpet surrounding the door. Between the lighting and the lack of color in the tape, it was hard at first to distinguish any difference. When she finally saw it, a terrible taste bubbled inside of Felicity's mouth as she realized what it was. Not only was this footage of a fire across the way, but it was also footage of the last moments Matthew and his roommate had before their gruesome deaths.

"Hey, man, you should get away from there," the boy behind the camera warned.

"Oh, my God," muttered Matthew as he looks down in confusion, "it smells like gas."

Within seconds, a bright white light erupted from the floor and traveled up Matthew's leg. Felicity found herself grinding her teeth as she watched the scene play out, listening to the agonizing screams of Matthew as his whole body caught aflame. The fire grew stronger and the camera dropped. Felicity wished she could tear her eyes away. She wished it was just that simple. The screams continued and the fight to put the fire out carried on.

Inevitably, Matthew Rowland wound up dead.

Einstein once said,

"Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world."

Felicity twisted her necklace back and forth as the plane soars through the air. Her eyes were caught on the passing clouds as her mind analyzed everything she read from the case file. Beside her was Spencer, who was setting up his chessboard.

"There are two common type stressors for a serial arsonist," he started.

Elle nodded and clarified, "Loss of job, loss of love."

"When was the first fire set?" Morgan asked from where he sat by the computer.

"March," Hotch answered. "Uh, the next one was in May and the third one wasn't until September. Then two weeks later, there were three in one night."

"He's speeding up," Gideon noted. "Fires are closer together."

"Flick, Reid," Morgan called out and the two looked his way. "Either of you got statistics on arsonists?"

"82% of arsonists are white males between the ages of 17 and 27," Felicity answered without a second to waste. "Female arsonists are far less likely and far less common. A study from 1989 noted that they usually make up 10% of all arsonists, and can fall in any age range. The study also said that their motivations are most often revenge or a need for attention."

Morgan hummed. "Sounds like our boy's a student."

Gideon glanced up from the case file in his hands and squinted. "Oh, don't be so sure. You rely too much on precedent, you never allow for the unexpected. If he went from setting one fire to three in two weeks' time..."

"Rapid escalation," Hotch said, already knowing where Gideon was going with it.

"He's gone from the power to damage a building to something far more satisfying," Gideon continued. "The power over life and death. Who are we talking to first?"

"Dean of Students, Ellen Turner," answered Hotch. Felicity opened her file and looked through it again, finding the image of the woman.

As the black SUVs began to roll up to the front of campus, Felicity pulled her bag closer and prepared to leave. She glanced around at her surroundings as they pulled closer to the front, taking note of everything she sees. A bright, sunny day in Arizona, to no one's surprise, filled with students her age walking around campus.

Once the SUVs stop, the BAU agents all pile out of the car. Felicity pushed herself out and landed flat on her feet, already hurrying after Gideon. The others weren't far behind her, and soon matched her pace, putting her in the center with Morgan and Elle on her right, while Spencer and Hotch walked on her left.

"No badges," Gideon announced. He hurried toward the stairs while he continued speaking, "I don't want to satisfy the UnSub's need for attention by letting him know he got the FBI here. Try not to look official."

Gideon glanced over his shoulder at the five agents that followed him. Morgan and Hotch were dressed in freshly-pressed, dry-cleaned suits, whereas Spencer wore a short-sleeved checkered shirt with a dark red tie. Elle wasn't much better off in her black blazer with gold buttons and sleek black slacks. At least there could be some hope in Felicity, whose wardrobe of a patterned sweater and brown pants finally fit the setting she stood in.

"Try to look less official," Gideon said as he kept walking. "Extra points for Herman."

Felicity smiled and carried on after him, while the others look at their outfits in confusion. By the time they caught up, Dean Turner had already introduced herself to Gideon and Felicity.

"Obviously, I'd rather be meeting you under different circumstances," she continued as they walk through the campus. She gestured to the tall man walking with them. "This is Fire Inspector Zhang."

Zhang immediately jumped in with, "This morning the Chemistry department reported several bottles of highly flammable chemicals missing."

Hotch and Gideon grabbed the dual set of doors as they approach. Turner thanked them and followed it up with, "I'm prepared to evacuate this campus."

"That brings with it its own problems," Hotch replied, shooting down the idea.

Gideon added, "You might evacuate the arsonist as well."

"Then the case goes unsolved," continued Elle. "The campus is reopened, but the fires start up again."

"Wait, Hotch, Gideon, hold up a second," called out Morgan. Felicity stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. "You said the chemicals were missing today. It says here that one of the previous fires was set with diesel fuel that disappeared from the groundskeeping facility. How long after it disappeared was the fire set?"

Turner looked up at him, the same realization now dawning on her. "One day."

Hotch and Gideon shared a look. The two men walk off to speak with one another. When they returned, Hotch sent Felicity and Spencer off to one of the crime scenes.

Spencer carefully lifted the yellow police tape when they arrive. He ducked underneath it and held it up while Felicity did the same. She stood up straight once again and looked around the room. The video began to play in her mind again, recounting every single thing that she had seen happen in this room.

"The door was locked," Felicity started, her mind already working as she looked around the room. Felicity rolled her sleeves back and pulled a pair of gloves on. Spencer watched as she walked around the room, a million different thoughts racing through her brain at once.

She stopped suddenly and turned to where the roommate would have been standing when he recorded the video.

"Matthew Rowland and his roommate watched as the doorknob turned against the lock," said Spencer from his spot beside her.

"But the UnSub couldn't get in."

"So he pours the accelerant into the room from the hallway."

Felicity frowned. "He wouldn't have been able to see the fire. Not from the hallway."

Spencer pointed out, "But he could hear Matthew Rowland screaming."

"Not nearly long enough to satisfy something, though," Felicity replied. She looked toward the hallway. "He wouldn't have been able to stay, he would've gotten caught. It doesn't make any sense."

Felicity looked up at Spencer, only inches away from him. Her first thought was that he smells like coffee, and her second is that there's also some type of cologne on him. The next thing she noticed about him is that his tie is slightly crooked and all she wanted to do is correct it. And finally, her fourth thought hits and she remembered that she was in the middle of a crime scene, and she should not be thinking about the little things a normal person wouldn't notice when looking at Spencer Reid.

But Spencer looked at her and it's hard not to do it. She wanted to. Why? He looked at her like he was analyzing her as well. She wondered what he would notice about her. The subtle smell of her moisturizer she reapplied before landing or the fact that she put sunscreen on, too? Or the way her hair had been pulled back but several strands had already escaped? She wondered if he was even actually looking at her, if his eyes had just landed in her direction. Was that strange to think about?

Was it strange to wonder things about Spencer Reid?

Pink, she suddenly thinks to herself. I feel pink. This makes me feel pink.

He suddenly looked away from her and shifted his stance. Felicity looked elsewhere too, worried she might have weirded him out as the pink turned darker. But he was staring at her too, so could either of them be considered the weirder one?

"Um, Pyromania, uh, as a mental disorder may just be a simple myth, but we do know from precedent that serial arsonists derive pleasure from pathological fire-setting," Spencer explained, almost sounding more awkward than normal.

"Right, sex and power," she whispered, eyes now on the black scorch marks covering the floor. "But why would a serial arsonist just set a fire and walk away when he needs to experience it?"

Spencer crossed his arms over his chest. "But then why would he set a fire he couldn't watch?"

After the examination in Matthew Rowland's dormitory, Felicity and Spencer were both sent to the makeshift command center in one of the university's computer labs. Elle sat with them after Hotch requested that the three of them work together to figure out the intricacies of the device.

Felicity scribbled down a bunch of notes as Elle finalized their ideas aloud, "So, the timer sets the road flare which then lights the chemical mixture inside the canister. Simple."

"Yet sophisticated in its simplicity," Spencer replied as he sat up in his seat. "I mean, there's a meticulous construction to it."

Felicity hummed. "Chemical accelerant could mean chemistry student."

"Could also mean chemical professor," Spencer pointed out.

Elle stood and walked to the coffeemaker. "Mm, I agree with Flick. I say student." Felicity looks up at her. "You need self-confidence to lecture in front of a classroom full of 30 college kids. Arsonists are socially incompetent. This guy, he doesn't go on dates, he doesn't go to parties, he doesn't feel comfortable in front of groups."

Now, Felicity and Spencer both stared at her. Elle stared back at them for a moment before her eyes widened. She'd just described both of them, but in this instance, she'd perfectly described Spencer. "And, of course, he's a total psychopath," she nervously laughed.

Spencer laughed awkwardly. "Of course."

Elle left only a few minutes later to find Morgan. This left Spencer and Felicity in the command center to continue throwing theories back and forth. What was really bugging Felicity about the entire thing was that she couldn't understand why the arsonist set the fires the way he did. Why would he make it so it was impossible to watch? It didn't make any sense when you compared it to any other type of arsonist-

Her thoughts were interrupted as a fire alarm began to blare. Felicity jumped back and slammed her hands over her ears as it screeched and flashed a white light in the corner. The other workers in the command center bolted toward the doors while Spencer ran toward Felicity.

"Come on, we've got to go!" Spencer shouted over the alarm. He pulled his arm around her to get her moving and into the hallway. The noise out there was far worse, as students and employees raced out into the hallway.

Spencer kept Felicity close to him as they both made their way to the exits. Her best attempts to put her focus on moving forward were all failing her. Her arms felt frozen, like her hands were glued to her ears and her eyes wouldn't open. She only seemed to get her legs to move, and if not for Spencer's careful guidance through the hallway, she probably would have gotten trampled.

Outside, the noise was not nearly as bad. Only then did Felicity finally feel the numbness in her fingers start to dissipate, and the feeling return. She looked around at the students there, all staring up with similar expressions on their faces. The alarms were quieter now, farther stretched out in the open area. There wasn't much commotion now that everyone had cleared the buildings.

By the evening, they knew who the victim was. The chemistry professor. Despite all attempts Gideon made to save him, the man was gone. His office burned with him.

Now, all they had were photos of the students there to witness the events. They all sat around inside the computer lab, looking at the images Elle had taken and trying to find who might be the UnSub. But all their faces said the same thing.

"We've been at this all night, and we've got nothing," Morgan said, finally the one to say what they were all thinking. "Look at these expressions. We got fear, a touch of horror, even a little bit of panic. Where's this guy getting off?"

He was right. Felicity groaned softly as she ran her hands through her hair. Not one person in these photos had even the slightest look of pleasure or excitement. Everyone's face said the same thing. It didn't make sense, which was what Felicity was starting to get at before the alarm went off. This isn't their typical arsonist.

"When asked about his motives, Peter Dinsdale said, 'I am devoted to fire. Fire is my master,'" Spencer recalled, seated across from Felicity.

Morgan sighed. "Okay, so who was our boy's master? 10,000 plus students," Morgan flicked a lighter in his hand to life, allowing the flame to dance for a few moments, "and one has a serious fascination with fire." The flames died out as Morgan pulled back his thumb.

"Fire starting is one-third of the homicidal triad," Elle pointed out as she turned away from the whiteboard filled with notes, "an early predictor of adult dissociative criminal behavior. If we looked in his childhood, we'd probably find all three. Bedwetting and cruelty to animals."

Gideon pushed himself off of the wall he'd been leaning on and walked forward. "Absent or abusive father, trouble with the opposite sex, chronic low self-esteem - M.O. would be dynamic." He turned back around to face his team. "Evolving. Fire-setting escalates, they thrive on panic, fear. It's just the standard profile of a serial arsonist."

"Based on hundreds of interviews," Spencer pointed out.

Morgan added, "Based on precedent."

Felicity crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat. "It's everything the UnSub should be according to research. But we're totally off the mark. This isn't your typical serial arsonist. I don't know if we can even classify this UnSub as one."

Hotch sighed, "We're off the mark."

"Because of the two missing elements," Gideon replied with a short nod.

"Sex and power," Morgan said, filling in the blanks. "The two motives that drive a serial arsonist."

Gideon shook his head, wearing a somber and almost disappointed expression. "And without 'em, we do not have a profile."

Later, Hotch brought Felicity and Spencer to the chemistry lab, per Dean Turner's request. Felicity looked over at the students there and when she turned back around, Hotch was right beside her.

"Flick, Reid, since you're their age, why don't you two do the talking?" Hotch suggested. She wasn't sure what face she makes but based on Hotch's immediate response to it, Felicity assumes it's quite telling. "You'll be fine."

Felicity made a noise as he walked off. She looked over at Spencer with a nervous expression before looking at the students.

Oh, God, Felicity thought, already beginning to panic. What floor are we on again? Maybe I can jump out of a window and save myself the embarrassment.

Spencer cleared his throat and started. "H-Hi, guys. Uh, my name's, uh, Dr. Spencer Reid. This is my partner, Dr. Felicity Herman." She awkwardly smiled. "We're, uh, agents with the, uh, the BAU. The Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

Spencer looked at Felicity. Her mind suddenly goes blank and all previous preparations she had made for this speech were long gone. The train had departed the station and all she could see was a puff of steam indicating that it once existed. Why her?

"Did you know it used to be called the BSU?" Felicity asked in a panic. "Um, which stood for the Behavioral Science Unit. But not anymore. Now it's the Behavioral Analysis Unit, which is part of the National Center for Analysis of Violent Crime. And that's part of this thing called the CIRG, aka the Critical Incident Response Group, and-"

"What they're trying to say is we'd love to know how you can help us," Hotch jumped in before Felicity or Spencer could further bore them into sleep.

Felicity gave a thumbs up.

The boy in front closed his folder and stood. He held his hand out to the lightbulb in Spencer's hand and asked, "May, I please?" Once Spencer turned it over, he began again. "See this?" He points to the side of the bulb. "Drill a hole in the side, fill it with gasoline. Or whatever's good and flammable. Turn the light on. Boom. That is what went down, didn't it?"

"This stuff's all over the net," commented one girl in the back. Felicity looked over at her. "Wanna know how to make a molotov cocktail that sets itself on fire? Potassium, sulfur, and normal sugar. Sugar- Sugar, which is-"

"Not exactly plutonium," finished the first boy. "You can get this stuff anywhere."

"Sugar from the supermarket," the girl added.

"But you don't need to be a Chem Major to know that," Hotch replied.

"Do you think it's a Chem student?" asked Inspector Zhang.

"You wanna know what I think?" the boy asked. "I think it would be a good time to take the semester off."

Felicity couldn't stop thinking about the whole thing. The entire case felt off. She knew they weren't dealing with their standard arsonist, but it went on further than that. Fire is my master. What if the UnSub had a different master or what if it was something else entirely? Maybe it was something so freakishly outlandish that they'd never see it coming, like a cult initiation! This was beginning to frustrate Felicity.

Once inside the elevator, she leaned back against the wall with a huff. Her eyes shut as she counted the footsteps coming into the elevator. Spencer, Hotch, and... someone else. Her eyes opened to see the boy, she's pretty sure his name might be Jeremey, who gave them the insight they needed for the case.

He jammed his key in and twisted it. "You need a key to get it moving after 10 P.M."

"So what are you still doing here?" Hotch asked, almost interrogating the poor boy.

"I can't leave," Jeremy answered with a short, dry laugh. "We've all got projects. You know how to solve the 3-body problem?" Behind him, Spencer began to nod. "Computing the mutual gravitation interaction between the Earth, Sun, and Moon?"

Felicity looked at Spencer as he continued nodding. A small smile teased at her lips as the elevator ride came to a stop. She exited with Hotch and Spencer, heading for their SUV so they could go to the hotel for the night.

Felicity raced off to her room the second she got the chance. She didn't bother with putting her dirty clothes in a bag or basket. She threw her sweater into a corner and her pants into another one. Both her shoes were discarded by the front door, and she wasted no time in pulling her Star Wars pajama pants on.

Left only in a bra and pants, she headed to the bathroom to follow her strict nightly routine. No matter how tired she was, it was important she always followed it on cases. She did not want to have to deal with the hassle of her hair when someone was bleeding out, or in this case, burning in a fire.

She wrapped her hair first in a magenta silk scarf. She pulled her bonnet over next and grabbed some pajama shirt she brought. With a toothbrush in her mouth, Felicity finished her routine and was able to clean the toothpaste out of her mouth all before midnight. The second she's done, Felicity flung herself onto the bed and pulled the blanket she brought with her over her body, refusing to use the disgusting and itchy hotel blankets.

What did she look like? Some neurotypical loser who likes the present from hell that came in the form of hotel blankets? Absolutely not.

Her sleep lasted for a total of five hours before she was abruptly awoken by her phone ringing. It Sidney fill Felicity in on all of the details, just that she needed to come back to the college immediately. And thus, her morning with a case routine began.

She was back at the college within fifteen minutes of the call - seven to get ready, eight to get to the school. Once there, Felicity practically collapsed into a seat, the look of exhaust all over her face. Moments later, something warm resonated next to her hand and Felicity opened her eyes to look. Coffee.

Spencer sent her a small smile as he sat next to her. Felicity immediately grabbed it and took a large sip. When she pulled it away, she smiled back at Spencer. Pumpkin... She loves pumpkin flavored things...

"You're the best," Felicity said as she placed the cup down. "Have I ever mentioned that before? You're the absolute best."

"Well, I did owe you, but I guess being the best doesn't hurt either," Spencer replied. Felicity laughed softly as Morgan finished setting up the connection to Garcia and JJ.

A tip on the hotline had been received not too long ago. Garcia didn't waste any time playing it for them, and everyone sat in silence as it started. The caller said only two sentences.

"Karen. I do this for Karen."

But that didn't seem to make sense either.

"Play it again," Gideon instructed.

"The call came from the office right next to Wallace's office, five minutes before the fire was started," Morgan explained as they waited.

"Karen. I do this for Karen."

"Again," Gideon requested. "Louder."

Morgan turned the speaker his way and presses the play button. Again, "Karen. I do this for Karen."

"What is it?" Hotch asked, trying to see what it was that Gideon was hearing.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "Somethin' about it."

"Is this tape clean?" Hotch asked.

Morgan sighed. "I'll find out."

Later in the day when the campus had become busier, Gideon took Felicity and Spencer out to canvas it. She stood close to Gideon, almost like a shadow, while Spencer sat on a tree trunk next to them.

"What if the UnSub is one of the students leaving?" Spencer asked. Felicity looked over at him.

Gideon shook his head. "No, he's not done yet. He's not going anywhere. Keep thinking."

"You mean, out-outside the box?" Spencer asked. "That's what Morgan's always telling me. He says that's why I can never beat you at chess."

"Herman," Gideon called out. "Why have you beaten me at chess but Reid hasn't?"

"Because Spencer sticks to a strategy in each game he plays that leaves him falling to the same loss," Felicity explained. She looked over at Spencer and grinned. "It's the reason I got a free coffee this morning. There's a box, and in that box, there's your chess strategy. I don't play inside a box."

Spencer stared at her in confusion. "Okay, well in this case, what exactly is the box?"

"The standard profile of a serial arsonist," she answered with a shrug. "So we put everything we know inside the box and tape it up. What's left over?"

"What you don't know," Spencer answered. "The unknown."

"Sometimes you have to get creative," Gideon piped in. "Even if you think it's utterly unlikely, you have to think of things nobody else thought of."

"Like a stutter," Spencer suggested.

"Yeah, exactly," answered Gideon.

Stutter... Felicity's first thought was about Elle's question from yesterday. Why did the Footpath Killer stutter? An anxiety-induced stutter, sure, but one that had an unknown cause. No one knew why he stuttered. She thinks about the way Spencer stuttered yesterday. Mostly him forgetting his words, but... What was the cause of that? Was he embarrassed? Uncomfortable? And the girl yesterday. Why did she stutter? Perhaps from social anxiety?

"Herman," Gideon called out. She looked over at him. "What's on your mind?"

"Stutters," she answered. "And ingredients on how to make a bomb. Sugar."

Gideon did not ask for further elaboration. He told her to keep working on it and left only a few minutes later. Spencer and Felicity returned to the computer lab where Morgan was on the phone with Garcia, working to figure out what might be off about the recording. At some point, he mentioned Spencer's name, much to his confusion.

"Hey, Reid, Flick," Morgan called out, actually speaking to Spencer, and Felicity, directly this time. "Garcia says it isn't Karen. It's actually somethin' more like-"

The door flew open. "Charown!" Felicity looked over at Gideon in confusion. He ran in to say... Charown? "Charown. I do it because of Charown. That's Hebrew. It's God's word in anger."

Elle walked forward and asked, "The motive is now religious?"

Gideon turned to the whiteboard, hurriedly erasing the writing on it as Spencer spoke, "Well, you know, in a lot of religions, God is related to fire."

"Well, Brahman is fire in Hinduism," Hotch pointed out. "And the Jewish see God as a pillar of fire, and Christians worship God as a consuming fire."

"Okay, so we're looking for a Theology major," Morgan realized. "Maybe he's punishing the other students for their sins."

"What's the most sinful place on campus?" Elle asked.

"Come on, Elle," Morgan scoffed. "When I was in college, that was everywhere."

Felicity deadpanned.

"A fraternity?" Hotch guessed.

Elle asked, "A campus bar?"

"No," Hotch disagreed, "'cause that's not consistent with the previous targets."

"What about the idea of baptism by fire?" Morgan suggested. "Aren't we all supposed to be tested through fire in Revelations?"

"Look, it's good, it's good," interrupted Gideon amidst their game of spewing out theories, "but let's please not jump to conclusions. Religion might be part of it, but it's not necessarily the prime compulsion."

"Gideon, rush to conclusions, jump to conclusions!" Morgan exclaimed. "Who cares?!"

"We are running out of time!" Elle shouted.

Felicity turned away from the group, eyebrows furrowed as her own theories are tossed around inside of her head. I do it for Charowan... I do it because of God's anger? I do it to... prevent God's anger?

Felicity walked to the closest computer and pulled up the footage of Matthew Rowland's burning. She watched the video again, and halfway through it, Spencer stopped beside her to watch as well. Once it ended, Felicity rewound it and started it again. By the time they're through their third rewatch, the rest of the team had left. Gideon was last out the door, stopping for a moment to watch as the two moved to the whiteboard.

"Keep thinkin'," he called out to them. Felicity looked back at him. "It's like chess. Try not to see just the next move, but three moves ahead."

The door shut with a click, and that was when it hit her. Three. Felicity hurried back to the computer. She rewound to get a perfect image of the doorknob. One twist. Two twists. Three twists.

"Spencer," Felicity called out as she started to head to the door. "Do me a favor and figure out the numbers of the dorms each of the last three burn victims were living in. I'm going to figure out the others and the professor, okay?"

Spencer nodded. "I'll call you when I'm done."

Sure enough, Felicity's theory would soon begin to make sense. Office number three, dorm rooms all ending in three. When Spencer called her, each of the numbers had the number three in them. Not only that, but Matthew Rowland had his classes on Tuesdays at three with Professor Wallace. It all tied back into the number three.

When Spencer and Felicity regrouped, they're ready to share their findings. "We know why the profile never fits," Spencer declared as they enter the command center. "You were right to tell Morgan not to rely on precedent. The fires thus far have been completely task-oriented."

"So once they're set, the UnSub is done?" Hotch asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Felicity answered with a small smile. "I knew the profile didn't fit a typical serial arsonist since we got here. More and more as we began going through this case, it became clearer. We're not dealing with the profile of a serial arsonist, we're dealing with someone who has an extreme manifestation of OCD. Everything has to be done in threes."

"There's a form of OCD called Scrupulosity," Spencer explained, piggybacking off of Felicity's initial theory. "Religious obsession and compulsion. An obsessive fear of committing sin which creates so much anxiety that he's compelled to do something to ease that anxiety."

"Like setting fires," Hotch replied.

Gideon rubbed his forehead and asked, "Where's the behavioral evidence?"

"In the video, and in everything else this UnSub has done. There's a particular order, all ending in three," Felicity explained. She looked at the computer. "In the video, the UnSub twists the knob three times. Not because they're trying to get in, but because they have to. Then there's the first fire, which was set on March 3rd at 3:00. Third day, third month. Professor Wallace was in office number three. And Matthew Rowland was in that class - third day of the week at three. And there's one more thing I noticed."

"What?" Hotch asked.

"It's not a he," Felicity answered. "When we were in the lab, one of the students gave us a recipe. She stuttered. I kept thinking about that. The way she said it. Potassium, sulfur, sugar. Sugar, sugar. She's our UnSub."

Her name was Clara Hayes, a chemistry major who kept to herself. After diving into her history, they learned everything they needed to know. She survived a fire with her mother, who said it was because she was tested by God. A trip to her apartment and it became obvious that her obsession with Charown stemmed from it. Hotch and Gideon had been the ones to take her down before she could kill three of her classmates on the third floor.

Then, it was time to go back home.

Faulkner once said,

"Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself."

Felicity looked up from her book to view the ongoing chess match between Spencer and Gideon. Her eyes scan across the board and she immediately gets what they're both playing at.

"Check in three," Spencer proudly called out. Felicity smiled softly as she looked back down at her board.

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself," Felicity replied. He looked at her. "You've already been hit with a check."

Spencer looked at the board. "What?"

Gideon moved his piece forward. "She's right. Checkmate." Spencer stared at the board again. Felicity hummed as she flips her page. "You're gettin' there. Herman?"

Felicity closes her book. Gideon turned the board, pointing the black side toward her, her favored set. Once he moved, she stared at the board for a long moment. Finally, she moved her pawn forward. Queen's Gambit Declined.

They were going to be here for a while.

author's note, chapter two!! and a happy new year to you all!

this is honestly such an important episode/chapter to me because getting to see how felicity settles into being back at work while also not 100% there means a lot to me. she's so sweet ☹️

until next time, i hope you enjoyed!