WE BOARDED THE JET IMMEDIATELY. Hotch had instructed us to be flight ready first thing this morning, practically dragging us out the door with rantings of a time sensitive case. Which is quite the change of pace from the few other cases I've help on. Normally there is some structure. Normally we meet at the bureau, sit at the round table and listen to Hotch, JJ or Penelope present the case to the group. We can gather our thoughts, brainstorm theories, and prepare ourselves both mentally and physically before heading off.

But today is different.

"We have a unique one." Hotch announces after we all gathered around one side of the jet as soon as it reached cruising altitude. He hands us each a case file and sets his phone on the table. "Garcia, why don't you take it from here?"

"Yes sir-ie." Penelope's voice comes through his phone. "Portland Oregon police department has called for our help after the fifth incident. Over the past two years- five graves have been defiled. At first they had chalked it up to teenagers, pranksters, really anyone wanting attention. Each targeted grave had the headstone etched with the name of a missing person and date. A few days later the missing person would die in the same way as the original represente of the grave... safe to say they didn't hold onto the prankster theory long after the second body."

I begin flipping through the case file. The photographs inside show the residents of fhe defiled graves, each with a written cause of death. Next there are the unsubs victims— their crime scene photos eerily similar to the others. There are also pictures of the five graves, the etching scraggly yet still readable.

"Claudia Fredsten cause of death was an accidental drowning, Brett Nicolsons's name was written on her grave and later he was killed the exact same way." Hotch elaborates.

"Besides the accidental part." I mutter.

"Hm?" Eyes are on me.

"Oh uh— It's Nothing! I-I'm sorry." I clear my throat, eyes focusing on the photos.

"Why are we just being called on this?" Rossi asks, voicing the same question we all were thinking. "This has been happening for two years, and it's high profile."

"The lead detective refused our help when the murders first began, but he has since retired." JJ huffs as she crosses her legs. "The new detective reached out to us once a grounds-keeper for the Springs Field Cemetery discovered another vandalized grave. If this unsub sticks to his normalities we will have a body within the next twelve hours or so."

Two were drowned, one died of internal injuries after a staged motorcycle accident, another was shot, and finally the earliest one died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

"The locals believe this is the work of multiple people." Hotch begins. "Perhaps a local gang trying to cause devision because all of the grave stones belonged to white citizens and the abducted and murdered victims were all of African-American decent."

"Maybe this person has ties to the African-American community." Derek says after a few moments of flipping through his case file. "It's rare for unsubs to kill outside of their racial lines."

"Rare but not impossible, especially if they are trying to make a political, racial, or communal statement." I glance at Spencer on the other side of the couch as he speaks.

"These just don't seem like they are statements though." JJ shakes her head, turning to glance at the rest of us. "The bodies were not displayed publicly or mutilated like you would expect to instill fear in the public. They were left around the same places that the original person died. If they are trying to make a statement they aren't being very obvious about it."

"That could be the very reason the police think it's a local gang." Prentiss adds. "They could be recreating these deaths to shine light on some injustice in the local police system, or the medical help they receive. Like an experiment- see how long it takes for a black man to get help like the white man did."

"But it still ends in death. What would that be showing? A white man died in these circumstances, let's see if a black man is stronger or gets treated better? It just doesn't make any sense." Rossi shakes his head.

"It doesn't have to make sense to us." My voice is soft and unassured. "It just has to make sense to the unsub, right?"

"Right. Well, if this is the work of multiple people- we will see discrepancies in the profile." Rossi continues. "Many organized offenders will have multiple heads struggling for power- we could use that to our advantage."

"Let's not get to engrained in that idea, focus on the facts and we'll see if they point in the same direction." Hotch glances around the jet at us. "We have about another hour before we land, we'll discuss assignments on decent."

Everyone takes his words as an opportunity to take some time for themselves. They disperse to different sections of the jet, lounging on couches, and reclining chairs. Settling into their own space some begin grabbing games, books, and phones, to occupy themselves for the rest of the flight. And others opted to pull on a sleep mask for a quick nap before we hit the ground running.

I follow suit, taking this time to shut off the rest of the world by pulling on my noise canceling headphones. Worn faded metal fitting over my ears, silencing everything immediately. When I no longer can take the constant stream of voices, noises, and stimulation my headphones provide the stability and peace that comes with complete silence. They have kept me sane in some pretty insane situations. After a while I begin to grow bored and I find myself curled up on the side of the couch, sitting with my legs crossed as I thumb through the paperback book that rests on my lap. With work, and work, and even more work I haven't had time to listen to audio books or attempt to read anything lately. I've been meaning to read this book for a while. And what better time than on a plane on our way to track down a serial murderer?

My finger scans the page slowly as I move my lips to each word. I've never been gifted at reading, it takes far to long for me to retain the information if I can't hear it. To memorize text is nearly impossible for me unless I speak it aloud. I normally listen to audiobooks, but it is very difficult to find this on tape, which is why it has taken me this long to get to read it. So if something in the book is important I find myself highlighting it so I can go back and read it aloud some other time.

I had gotten about one hundred pages in when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

My body flinches at the action. But when I look up from my book I see Spencer staring my way with those comforting deep brown eyes of his. He is sat with three large books stacked between us. Each book had to have been over one thousand pages and they appear old, probably with tiny text single spaced as well. He has read those books in time I've gotten through one hundred pages.

Show off. I smirk as the thought goes through my head.

I place a hand over my headphones, preparing to move them so I can hear what he needs, but I'm stopped by a frantic shake of his head. So I settle on giving him a questioning look. Expecting him to mouth something, or even gesture. Instead turns his body in the seat awkwardly to face me more. He takes a breath and wipes his hands on his pants before slowly gesturing his hands.

—Do you want a drink?— He signs using asl.

A wide smile spreads on my face before I could try to stop it. But in all honesty I don't think I would have been able to as I realize- he noticed. He noticed a small gesture, he noticed something I had even brushed aside. On the jet before my very first case he had purposely triggered the team into making fun of him. He had taken the attention off of me when he realized I was getting uncomfortable. And I had signed to say 'thank you'.

I didn't think he picked up on that.

—I would love some. Green tea and honey if we have it. If we don't have any I would love some water. Thank you Spencer.— I sign to him, not bothering to take off the headphones.

He blinks at me. His hands lowering slightly as he bites his lip in thought. I sit up a bit more as I wait for his response. Hesitantly he raises his hands again, doing a slight robotic motion.

—Do you want something to drink?—

I laugh. My hand covers my mouth to muffle the laughter despite my ears not hearing the sound. I can feel my smile grow so wide it almost hurts. He only knows this sentence in asl, which means he did a lot more than notice my usage of it the other day, he went out of his way to learn a phrase.

The realization makes my chest tighten and a warmth spread through my cheeks. No one has done something like that for me before. The bar for niceties is possibly lower than hell.

I nod eagerly to him, not bothering to use any more sign if he can't understand it, but he is a smart man, I'm sure he will figure it out.

He nods, standing and venturing across the jet to get our drinks.

I take my headphones off slowly, allowing myself time to adjust to all the small rhythmic noises of the jet. Prentiss had out a tablet, sipping on what I can only assume is her fourth cup of coffee as she taps on the screen. Hotch and Rossi are both sat at one of the tables by the windows, one flipping through the case file the other thumbing through s newspaper as they talk quietly amongst themselves. Morgan and JJ are on opposite sides of the jet, lounged out and sleeping.

"What are you reading?" Spencer asks as he hands me a glass of water.

"Thank you." I smile up at him as he takes a seat back on the couch, blowing on his coffee. "The Great Pretender- The Undercover Mission That Changed Our Understanding of Maddens." I read the title out to him. "It's by-"

"Susannah Cahalan." He cuts me off, a his eyes sparkling with excitement. "That is a really good read, isn't it interesting how-" he stops when he glances at the book, seeing I'm not finished with it yet. "Never mind... sorry."

"You're fine, Spencer." I tuck the yellow highlighter in the book as a makeshift placeholder before closing the book shut. "No need to apologize."

"You're going to love it! It really makes you question what we actually know about phycology and mental illnesses." I can tell he has so much more he wants to say, but he's holding back. His knee bouncing up and down as he taps his shoe, fingers tapping against his leg, sipping on his coffee to keep from spoiling the book.

He seems on edge.

"Yeah the brain is fascinating and very weird at the same time... then again most important things are." I start after noticing his anxiety. I don't want him to think I'm going to be upset, or criticize him for being passionate about something, or shame him from getting excited. He laughs at that, the tension easing. "For example, my brain is much better at hearing information rather than seeing it. Reading... takes me a while." I gesture to his stack of books as I sip on my water. "Unlike you."

His eyes travel down to the large books between us, his cheeks darkening. "Oh, um." He pauses, thinking about his response. "Yeah, I read fast."

I laugh the action coming so naturally. He cringes immediately after the words left his mouth. "No! I'm sorry- I-I'm not laughing at you," I try to reassure. "It's just... I think 'I read fast' is a bit of an understatement."

He smiles, a chuckle humming though his chest. "Maybe just a little."

"'Just a little'. You're humble, I heard through the grapevine you can process over twenty-thousand words per minute." He shifts, eyes flickering between the me and the floor. "Which is really really cool!"

His eyes shine. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Of course its cool- are you kidding me? I can't really comprehend text as well as I comprehend verbalized information. So twenty-thousand words a minute... that is like a whole superpower to me! The universe knew I'd be too powerful with a gift like that, I'm good with auditory stimulus but alas listening for a long time really makes your head hurt."

"It's not difficult to learn." He starts, dark eyes never leaving mine. "It's a form of speed reading that-" he pauses his brows furrowing. "Wait. Are.. is that confirming you have an eidetic memory?" He asks, confusion, and a bit of skepticism shining in his voice.

I bristle. "I mean... I kind of assumed you had figured it out by now."

"I knew it!" He gasps, his fascination is evident and it makes me giggle.

"It's nice to not feel judged for it." I find myself admitting. "People always said it was an unfair advantage— which very well could be the case, but it comes with its... demons as I'm sure you know."

I can tell just on the way he speaks and acts that he has also had to endure the same persecution, whether that was from going up, in the workplace, or both. It's nice to have someone who can understand. Everyone just looks at intellect as a gift. A one way ticket down easy street. But in reality- Its a crutch that I would gladly give away.

"Oh you definitely would have been relentlessly teased if you joined a few years ago." He snickers, no doubt reminiscing on the past. "I think they got it all out of their system before we met you."

Awe. My heart sinks at his words, and I don't miss the pain behind his smile. Deep down inside all 'gifted' adults, is a wounded child still wanting love and craving validation.

Before he could say anything else, Hotch stands to get everyone's attention.

"We are about to land everyone. Cypher, and Prentiss you two come with me to the precinct. Rossi, and Morgan you check out the latest crime scene. Reid and Jureu, Analyze the latest vandalism." He commands before taking a seat.
••••

We arrive at the Portland Oregon police precinct where Lead Detective Claudia Shaw stands waiting for us outside of the doors. She is a tall woman, nearly as tall as Aaron, with graying dark hair, icy blue eyes, an old wedding band and smile wrinkles that tell of a happy fulfilled life.

"Agent Hotchner." She outstretches her hand as greets him with a kind yet serious voice.

"Detective Shaw." Aaron shakes her hand firmly, nodding his head as he introduces us. "This is Agent Prentiss, and Doc- Agent Cypher." He corrects himself at the end, his eyes looking for my approval at the title he used. I give him a thankful nod as Claudia Shaw shakes Emily's hand. When it is my turn to shake hands, I respectfully nod down to my occupied arms, files maps and my bag happen to be my excuse to avoid her touch.

She waves us to follow her through the station. "I assume the rest of your team is already deployed?"

"As we speak." Hotch confirms. "I have two out analyzing the newest vandalism and two others investigating the latest crime scene. And one other back at the bureau on stand by." He responds.

Detective Shaw nods, moving swiftly in her heeled boots to a large nearly empty room. The room had a large table, a computer, and a large white board. "Erin told me what to expect with you all here." She explains as we settle into the room. "All of our files, evidence and witness statements are there, this room is exclusively for your use. My officers have been instructed to be completely at your disposal. So far we have been able to keep the media from disrupting, but unfortunately nothing lasts forever. The public is worried, and we will have to give them something soon."

"We will do everything in our power to develop an accurate profile for media distribution as soon as possible." Prentiss reassures her.

"Right. We better get to work, if the pattern lives up we are looking for a body in ten hours." Hotch dismisses the detective.

I set the files on the table. Opening one of Portland PD's files on the case. "It says here the latest vandalized headstone was of a woman named Hedi Crestfeild. She was sixteen years old, and died of sepsis." I cringe at the thought of how the unsub will replicate that. He must have had his latest victim for a while. "The name written on it is- Diamond."

"I'll call Garcia." Prentiss pulls her phone out. "See if any one in the African-American community was reported missing with that name, or around that age."

Hotch nods, as he begins reading over the witness statements. "Different cemetery's." He mutters after a moment. I glance up at him, waiting from him to continue. "Three vandalized graves were at Jade-Stone Cemetery, the other two were at Springs-Field Cemetery."

"Perhaps it 's the work of an employee, who recently changed employers?" I ask. "Most cemeteries have night shift security right? Or perhaps the unsub is trying to be clever. Space it out and you may have more time before they take action. After any vandalism the cemetery would have to amp up their security measures, having a serial murderer useing their clients headstones as a creepy foretelling of their crimes wouldn't be good for business. People wouldn't want to have their loved ones laid to rest there, which would mean the cemetery wouldn't be bringing in as much financially. Maybe we can talk to the security at Jade-Stone and Springs-Field?"

"Okay, thanks Garcia." Prentiss hangs up the phone, walking over to the two of us. "She couldn't find any missing sixteen year olds with the name Diamond in the area. There are twenty-seven African American girls under the age of eighteen missing in Portland at the moment. But most seem domestic, the only ones that the local authorities believe to be taken with nefarious intent is one fourteen year old, and one fifteen year old but they both have been missing for over two months."

"Our unsub usually abducts his victim a week before actually killing them." Hotch shakes his head. "It's unlikely it's one of them, they have been missing far to long, and aren't the correct age."

"So this latest victim probably wasn't reported missing." I mull as I begin pacing the room, the long flight taking its toll. "That would point to a possible run away, a foster kid, maybe a sex worker or a drug user? Ones in those categories are less likely to be reported missing."

"Shut up! You're lucky people are actually bidding on you, girl. Your own family didn't report ya' so I'm having to do extra work to get my moneys worth out of you! And you best believe I will get it out of you."

Prentiss hums, drawing the memory away just as my eyes began to water. "Maybe, that wouldn't be out of character for this unsub. Three of the four confirmed victims so far have been high risk. Besides Nina Johnson, and Jerome Hudson. Nina was a residents a care facility. And Jerome was a collage student with no history of drug use, mental illness, and no known enemies." 

"Our unsub would need to have a vehicle that could be seen at a university, a nursing home, and cemeteries without people raising an eyebrow." I look to Hotch who furrows his brows as he thinks.

"It would also... it would.. have to be large enough to abduct and or store the victim for a long period of time. Maybe a uh... low range van, a truck, even a camper?" I suggest, having a very limited knowledge on vehicles.

"Well the fact that he's able to navigate the city, and the cemeteries, without raising suspicion most likely means he is familiar with the area. And he has the ability to blend into his environment as needed." Prentiss says thoughtfully.

"Which makes him extremely dangerous and organized." Hotch nods at us. "I want you both to go over the witness statements, see if you can determine a vehicle or a description. I'll speak to Detective Shaw about our theories and  get some information about their high risk community." He sets down the small stack of papers that he was looking through as he makes his way out of the room.

"Yes sir." We voice at once. My eyes hesitantly met hers as she took a seat across from me. Things have been civil towards us, I dare say friendly. But I still don't know where I lie in the world of Emily Prentiss, so I tred lightly.

"Do you want the cemetery witnesses, family interviews, or the dump site witnesses?" I ask soflty, tearing my eyes away from her and to the papers on the table.

"I'll take the dump sites." She says, taking a folder from the pile.

I nod as she begins flipping through the transcripts. I take the cemetery witness statements, and we sit in silence as we read through the small mountain of paperwork.