"Hey kid, what's taking so long?" Cooper gave me a narrow eyed look as he peeked over my shoulder.

I jumped at the sound of his voice, letting out a tiny gasp as I turned to face him. As I did, I tightened my grip on the scalpel in my hand, moving it towards him threateningly. "Jesus, can you knock?"

He pushed down my hand, letting out a low chuckle as he adjusted his stance and took a step back. As he did, he brought the clipboard he was holding out from behind him and flipped through the pages, curiously scanning the information it held. "Benson wants that tox report from yesterday."

I rolled my eyes and pointed to the desk. Without a word Cooper walked over and found what he was looking for, raising it into the air as he muttered a quick thank-you and returned to my side. "There's isn't a whole lot to go off of. The guy had a shit ton of alcohol in his system, but that was pretty much it," I told him.

"No drugs?" Cooper questioned, raising his brow.

I shook my head and glanced at the body in front of me. "I know they figured overdose, but both guys are clean. If they were drugged whoever did it used a synthetic."

Cooper let out a groan and shook his head, taking a couple of steps towards the body on the table. He gave it a good look, his gaze lingering at the bruises along the man's face before eventually falling to set of defensive wounds along the right arm. "So, clearly there was a struggle," he stated.

"I wouldn't say struggle," I responded with a sigh, "the guy got his ass kicked." I pulled back the sheet to reveal the man's stomach, which like his face, was covered in the same discoloured splotches.

"Huh, poor guy," Cooper gave me a surprised look.

"Maybe let Benson know there's potential evidence he's got a serial," I replied.

Cooper gave me a nod and grabbed the sheet, throwing it back into its original place. After that he sighed and looked at me tiredly, flashing me a look of annoyance. "I swear to god if we get one more body I'm gonna lose my mind." He ran his hand along the length of his face, stopping to grip his chin.

"Yeah well at least we're not in Vegas," I retorted with a smirk.

"What do you mean?" Cooper asked, raising his brow.

"Reid's there. Local PD found some mass grave out in the middle of nowhere." I gave Cooper an uncomfortable look as I recalled the details. After the team had settled in for their first night, Reid called me from the hotel room. It was nearly two in the morning and despite how tired I was I stayed on the line, listening to him ramble about the case and how weird it seemed. According to him, not only were the bodies unidentifiable, but there was also a big indication of overkill, which was obviously never a good sign.

Cooper cringed and shook his head. "I swear, you profilers must be pretty fucked in the head to want to work against a bunch of serial killers."

"You literally cut people open for a living," I retorted with a laugh.

He rolled his eyes and tossed his hand into the air nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, I'm a scientist, not a butcher."

"Yeah, o-"

Before I could finish a knock appeared at the door, causing Cooper and I to look. Immediately after, Prentiss pushed it open, flashing us a sheepish smile as she snuck inside and closed it back up.

"What are you doing here?" Cooper asked.

I shot him a glare and elbowed his side. "Be nice, Dick."

"I am nice," he retorted, holding out his hand defensively, "I was just asking."

Prentiss chuckled and shrugged him off. "Hello Cooper, nice to see you, too."

"Prentiss," he gave her a head nod, flashing her a fake smile.

"Is it lunch time already?" I raised my brow and glanced at the clock, narrowing my eyes once I realized how early it was. Curiously, I turned on my heel and shot her a look, watching her face fall. At that point it was obvious something was up, but instead of asking I just scanned her body, noting the go bag over her shoulder. I bit my lip and returned her gaze, flashing a small frown. "What's going on?" I asked.

Cooper looked between the two of us, his eyes frantically darting back and forth in anticipation, while Prentiss merely licked her lips and and closed her eyes. "Hotch called me," she stated with sigh.

"What's going on?" I repeated. I felt my heart begin to pound not only in my chest, but in my ears. Nervously, I ripped the gloves from my fingers and walked over to the trash, throwing them inside before walking back over and giving my thumbnail a chew.

She reached for my hand and pulled it from my face, her eyebrows knitting together as she did. "I'm going to take you upstairs, okay?" After that, she gave Cooper a quick glance as if to ask if that was okay. Without saying a word he merely nodded and motioned to the door, signally a small smile from Prentiss who tightened her grip on my hand. "Let's go see Garcia."

Even though I already knew what was happening I still felt lost. If Prentiss was being called in it meant things were pretty serious. Agents like her weren't just summoned casually, especially for cases that weren't considered international.

Slowly, I followed behind her, gripping her hand tightly as we wandered out into the hall and towards the elevator. I rested my other hand on my stomach and looked down at my feet, feeling Prentiss's eyes watch me sadly. The way she was looking at me just didn't sit right. Prentiss wasn't the worrying type, which made wonder if something bad had happened to someone on the team. Interpol didn't deal with simple serials and given her already well-established relationship with the team it only made sense to call her if something had happened.

We hobbled into the elevator and leaned against the wall. I continued to stare at the floor as I took a deep breath, letting my mind wander. Unsurprisingly, my thoughts led to the worst case scenario, which was that Reid was dead. Going into this I knew that the possibility was always there. Profiling was a dangerous game and even though we'd talked about what would happen if we were led down that path I couldn't help, but suddenly feel hopeless.

When the doors opened up I suppressed a sob and looked over at Prentiss. Almost immediately she wrapped an arm around my shoulders and dragged me out, whispering over and over again that everything was going to be fine. Deep down I wanted to believe her, but the doubt at the back of my mind clouded over her words and only made things worse. I wiped my eyes and sniffed profusely, feeling her push me towards Garcia's office door, which was already opened and occupied by her colourful frame. Her eyes, like mine, were flooded with tears. As soon as she saw me she opened her arms and scurried over, her heels clicking loudly against the linoleum floors. "Oh honey, it's okay, you're okay."

I clutched onto her tightly, burying my head into hair, which smelt faintly like vanilla. I sniffed again, feeling the various liquids pouring out of my face meet disgustingly above my upper lip. I took my sleeve and wiped my face, letting out another sob as Garcia ushered me into the office and sat me down in her chair.

Prentiss adjusted the bag on her shoulder and glanced behind her, giving Garcia a pleading look. In response, Garcia motioned her away and nodded. "You go. I'll take care of her, okay?"

"I promise I'll call you as soon as I land."

"Okay. Good luck."

Prentiss gave us one final nod before retreating out of view. As she left I cried even harder, feeling even more lost. The sudden urgency of her departure only made the negative thoughts surrounding my brain worse, which Garcia picked on immediately. With a sigh, she reached across her desk for a box of tissues, pulling out a few sheets before handing them off to me with a somber smile. "He's gonna be okay."

"What happened?" I asked quietly. I blew my nose and sniffed again, glancing up at Garcia who's eyes were now closed.

"The unsub took him," she responded sadly. "We... we don't know where he is, but we're gonna find him, okay? We're gonna find him and we're gonna bring him home." Her voice was shaky as she spoke, which only made the sadness I felt grow.

I wiped my eyes and licked my lips, trying to get a hold of myself. As much as I wanted to sit here and cry I knew I needed to stop. I wasn't useful if I was sobbing and if we were going to bring Reid home it was obvious we were going to need all the help we could get. I swallowed hard and wheeled myself up to Garcia's monitor. I narrowed my eyes and stared at the screen, giving it a quick glance before looking back at her and raising my brow. "Can you video call the team? I need to talk to them."

Garcia nodded and pushed me to the side. Casually, she leaned forward and tapped a couple of keys, giving the screen an intense stare that only deepened once the window popped up.

The call rang for a total of ten seconds before Morgan picked up, his eyes softening once he saw my face. Almost instantly he let out a sigh and sat down, readjusting the camera towards his face. "Hey kid," he sighed.

"Hi."

"Hey baby girl," Morgan flashed Garcia a smile, which she immediately returned, along with a wave. "How you holding up?"

"Fine," I responded coldly, "can you bring me up to speed?" Even though I was fully aware of how inappropriate it was for me to hop into a case like it was nothing, I also knew that despite the rules I'd do it anyway. Spencer Reid was everything to me and if he was missing I was going to find him. Whatever it takes.

Morgan blinked and shook his head, his gaze moving to his left. In the background I heard a man's voice speaking quietly, causing both Garcia to lean in and listen. For a while, Morgan sat there silently, occasionally nodding his head until eventually he closed his eyes and looked back into the camera, letting out a heavy breath.

"Can you bring me up to speed or not?" I snapped. I forced myself to take a breath, knowing full well that releasing my anger on Morgan wouldn't do us any good.

Morgan nodded and reached across the table to grab a tablet. Silently, he tapped the screen and let out a sigh. "Last week local PD discovered a mass grave containing nine men; all of which had been murdered in three different ways."

I raised my brow and leaned back in my seat, watching out of the corner of my eye as Garcia brought up a series of photos, along with some information.

"Because Reid is the genius he is, he discovered that the unsub was conducting what is known as a Threefold Death."

"Threefold death," I repeated with a nod, "it was some sort of ritual the Indo-Europeans did. I don't know a lot about it, but I know it was said to be conducted on kings and heroes as some sort of sacrifice?"

Morgan nodded back. "According to pretty boy, during the original Threefold Death, one person would simultaneously die in three ways. Once by hanging, second by drowning, and third by wounding."

As Morgan spoke I scanned the photos, noting that the unsub was definitely working in cycles. For every man hung there was another that was drowned or stabbed, indicating a simple pattern. "Wasn't it used as a form of punishment for disobedience?" I questioned.

"Basically, yeah."

I sat there for a while after that, staring at the photos for as long as I possibly could. Beside me, Garcia sat silently, her eyes moving between Morgan and I, until finally she cleared her throat, causing both of us to look her way. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there's more we haven't told you."

I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned.

"We uncovered a journal," Garcia stated, giving Morgan a knowing look before leaning over keyboard and typing. After a couple of taps another window popped up, showcasing a photo of journal entry from a couple of days ago. "The man we're looking for is Arthur Mooney." With one last click a picture of an older man popped up. As it did I narrowed my eyes and moved forward, my mouth falling open slightly.

"Why does he look so familiar?"

"Because he is familiar," Garcia responded, "Arthur Mooney has not only been on our own radar for a while now, but also Interpol's."

"Back in 2007 he fled Europe in hopes of restarting his cult," Morgan added.

"Wasn't it assumed he was dead?" I asked. At this point I was starting to remember. Back when I was in school I remembered hearing about it on the news. According to the media Mooney was not only considered a leader by his many followers, but also a God.

"Allegedly," Garcia responded, "not long after he fled the the country though, a number of people across America reported seeing him."

"But nobody found him?"

Garcia shook her head. "Whenever authorities were sent to find him he'd just up and vanish."

I shook my head in disbelief, letting out a heavy sigh. A serial killer cult leader with a knack for staying hidden was definitely worst case scenario. "Okay, so, this guy is smart and obviously has the resources to stay hidden. So, why pop up now?"

"We don't know. All we know is that over the years, despite being allegedly dead he's developed quite the following over the years," Morgan responded, "apparently his teachings resonate with a lot people."

"What exactly are his teachings?"

"I'm not really sure," Morgan sighed, "he talks a lot about God and rebirth and how we have to sacrifice a bit of ourselves in order to prove our worth. There's obviously a lot more to it, but in all honestly it doesn't make a lot of sense."

"Well, most cults are generally nonsensical," I retorted.

"True, but what's odd is how everything relates back to the same thing." Morgan narrowed his eyes at the tablet in front of him, while Garcia focused her attention to her keyboard again, furiously typing away until a series of windows showcasing more journal entries popped up on her second monitor.

I looked over and leaned forward, placing my elbows lazily on the desk as I rested my face in my palms. With a sigh, I began to read, feeling Garcia's intense gaze hitting the back of my head as I absorbed what information I could. Like Morgan said, most of the ramblings were basically incoherent and according to Mooney not only was he a prophet, but also a God himself.

"He says he's a communicator?" I scrunched up my face in confusion, reading a couple of sentences to make sure I was getting it right. "And so my children, I must tell you that whatever you say to me you say to Them too, because I am the Holy Communicator; the speaker of peace between these ten worlds."

"The man is straight up coo-coo bananas," Garcia responded.

"He mentions the number ten a lot, too," I added.

"That's what everything tends to relate to. He believes there's ten planes of existence, all pertaining to different values in which he uses in his practices. According to his entries, including himself there are nine other Gods in which he communicates with frequently," Morgan replied.

I let out a groan and ran my hands through my hair. At this point it felt like I was living in some crazy nightmare. Not only was Reid missing, but our only lead on finding him was through this mysterious, messed up Holy Communicator who's brain was truly warped.

"Okay, so, if Reid really was taken by this guy and he's working through a cycle that means he's..." I trailed off, feeling my anxiety bubble again. Even though I knew what would happen at this point I didn't have the heart to say it. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, holding in a breath, while Garcia rubbed my back. The second I felt her touch I swallowed hard.

"We're going to find him, Isla," Morgan said.

I opened my eyes and frowned again, feeling the tears in my eyes start to form. "Wh-what if," I stopped to look up a the ceiling at an attempt to stop myself from crying. When that didn't work I grabbed some more tissues and wiped my eyes, letting out a couple of sobs. "What if we don't?"

"We'll find him," Morgan repeated sternly.

Instead of arguing I nearly nodded my head and turned to Garcia. Feeling scared, I opened my arms and felt her move into me. Tightly, I gripped her back, letting out a couple more sobs as she ran her hands through my hair.

"I have to go talk to Hotch, but I'll keep you posted if I find anything." I looked at the screen and nodded, watching as he gave us a wave and left the call. Once he was gone I only cried harder, feeling my chest ache.

"We're going to find him, Isla, I promise. We're going to bring him home so you can get a house and have beautiful babies and get engaged and married and do all that stuff that perfect couples like you guys do." She squeezed me tightly, pressing her cheek to mine.

I sniffed and nodded my head, trying my best to be optimistic. "Garcia, can I tell you something?"

"Of course, my lovely queen of something," she replied with a smile.

I pulled away and wiped my eyes, forcing myself to smile back. "The day after our first ultrasound Spencer and I, uh, sort of got engaged." I bit my lip and watched her face, which despite the situation managed to break out into a smile. When it did I genuinely smiled back, feeling her pull me into her again.

"You guys are killing me with all these secret milestones," she responded with laugh.

"I know, but it really wasn't that big of a deal."

She pushed me away, her hands still locked onto my shoulders as she furrowed her brow. "A woman's engagement is one of the single most important days of her life."

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, my god, you're like the least romantic person I've ever met," she retorted.

"It's not that I'm not romantic, it's that I don't really care. Our relationship's been pretty unconventional from the start so honestly as long as we stay together I don't really concern myself with details."

"That's something an unromantic person would say," Garcia pointed out.

Before I could roll my eyes again, Garcia's phone rang. Both of us glanced at each other for a second, wondering what could be happening. Slowly, she reached for the speaker button, giving it a quick tap before pulling her hand away and returning it to my shoulder.

"Garcia, we need you to run something for us," Rossi stated.

I jumped out of her chair and motioned her to sit, watching her give me a thankful look before doing just that. "Of course, my love, what can I do you for?"

"Can you run a search on a man named Liam Masters?"

"For sure," she responded. Her lack of witty comment made me somewhat sad. At that point it was obvious that our little moment of happiness was over, which was probably for the best considering the task at hand.

While Garcia worked her magic I leaned against the edge of her desk, reaching for one of the many knickknacks she used to decorate. I grabbed a squishy blue cat toy, and gave it a few absentminded squeezes, focusing my attention on the screen. As her fingers typed a series of popups exploded onto the screen, causing me blink.

"Oh, my god," Garcia stopped at a particular picture, giving it a quick scan before zooming in. The picture was of a group of boys in the desert, all appearing to be in their early twenties and wearing similar clothing. As she zoomed in we both narrowed our eyes, looking through the small sea of faces until eventually landing on a boy near the bottom right who's scary smile I definitely recognized.

"Oh, for fuck's sakes," I mumbled in frustration.