Three years ago

"This is so grueling." Emily sighs, leaning back into her leather seat. She shakes her head, peeking over at the files you are sorting.

You nod, shaking your head in disbelief along with her. The case is of missing children, who's bodies are found in abandoned homes posed in realistic positions as if they were still alive. Carol-Anne Dobson, 9, was found in an abandoned mill house, positioned in the living room  playing with dolls. Across from her, sat Michael Hensmith, 12, holding a book.

"Y/L/N, Prentiss. We set sail in thirty. Shall we?" Hums Rossi, and you look up away from the notes littering your small desk.
"I hear we are all staying at a place called the Grand Hotel. You heard of it?" Emily asks, filing her papers into her suitcase.

You shake your head. You had never heard of it, yet something inside your chest strangely ached at the name. You shake it off, you're more than likely aching over the horrific case you are about to step into. That feeling is nothing new to you. You decide to ignore the small fact that this ache was something... a bit different.

The plane ride is pretty silent, apart from the Italian song Rossi would not stop humming. Halfway through the flight, your co-agent Doctor Spencer Reid pipes up about the profile.

"Obviously this unsub has an immature mindset, the way he is posing these bodies as if they were his dolls. Every abandoned house is his own personal dollhouse, and since he is posing them the way he wants, it's giving him that intense feeling of ultimate control." You nod, biting your lip as you look at the pictures of the victims when they were still alive. So young, so innocent. Absolutely heinous.

"I cannot wait to get ahold of this son of a bitch." Huffs Derek Morgan, his arms crossing against his chest tensely.

"Agreed." Sighs Jennifer Jaraeu. She has always had the worst time when it came to cases involving children. That is understandably so, it's horrible no matter the victim but when it is young children, that tends to strike nerves within the whole team. Including you.

"Reid, Jaraeu; you two are going to go speak to the parents of the victims, get a good mindset on their behavior and temperaments and so-forth. Look for patterns, ask about grades and their popularity in school." Rossi chimes in. He then points his pen at you and Emily.

"Y/L/N and Prentiss will go to the Dobson and Hensmith crime scene and examine the locations, perimeter, and those who live in the area. Morgan and I will go to the two other scenes and do the same thing. First, however, we are going to stop at the hotel we are staying at. Detective Cline is doing a press conference there and requested we join in, as Jaraeu already knows."

You smile knowingly over at Jennifer, who looks pleased. She is always one step ahead whenever it involves media, strangers, conferences, and others. With a nudge from Emily, it's our cue to get off the plane and get to the hotel.

The hotel.

"I hear we are all staying at a place called the Grand Hotel. You heard of it?'

Emily's voice echos in your mind. You feel another soft pang in your chest, this one not as harsh as the one back in your office in Quantico. Uneasy by this sudden rush of new, unfamiliar emotions, you push this thought to the back of your mind as quickly as it came. You follow closely behind the rest, just as Reid catches his pace to match with yours.

"I'm sort of glad Rossi decided for me to stay around here and speak to the families. I'm not sure this is a crime scene I want to go see. Something about it is just really bothering me, more than usual." He blurts.

"I agree. It's messed up in so many ways." You agree, and you both fall silent during the car ride to the hotel. You and the group continue to discuss the possible profile you are going to sort together once the press conference concludes. Your guess is a male, white, in his 30s, with serious issues involving his childhood and possibly even his mother.

"God this place is beautiful!" Cries Jennifer, as we reach the front of the hotel. This catches your interest, as the seat you are in in the van has tinted windows so dark, that the structures outside are unclear. Cars are not permitted on Mackinac Island, however they granted permission for the BAU to bring their vans. You step out of the car and onto the cobblestone platform in front of the hotel, where an extravagant, white building stands in front of you. Dozens of columns wrap around the front, as you cannot even see which direction either end in. Rocking chairs, wooden swings, and more are along the porch. It's stunning.

Another jab in your chest, this one so strong it makes you wince, causes you to clutch your chest for just a moment. A small groan catches the attention of Reid, who's hand is placed gently on your shoulder almost immediately.

"Y/N, are you okay?" He asks, his thumb rubbing your shoulder in smooth circles. It has been discussed between you and the girls that Reid has a thing for you, and that has been noticed within many of his gestures that are a little bit more than just professionally concerning. You sigh, nodding.

"I think the seatbelt might've been too tight or something." You say sheepishly with a smile. Reid returns that smile with one so warming you wish you could just hug him. He has that effect on people.

"Agents. Welcome." Booms a voice from atop the Grand Hotel's stairway. A young man dressed to the nines stands above us. His skip down the stairs is graceful, and his piercing blue eyes meet all of yours instantly.
"I'm Detective Cline, I'm pleased you guys came down here to help us out with this. We are out of our league with this one. This part of Michigan is where dreams are made of, and this isn't something that happens up here. The conference room is just this way, follow me." Without even waiting for a response from any of you, the detective spins on his heels and marches back up the staircase and through the glass doors.

A scoff from Emily makes you snort, and a small huh! comes from Jennifer.
"I just know that man thinks he shits gold." You mutter, and this time it's Emily covering up her snort as you and the rest of the team make their way into the banquet hall.

---

The conference lasted roughly 45 minutes. We gave the minuscule profile the detectives here already provided as well as the team's rough draft profile as well. Morgan is currently telling you the over exaggerated plan he has for when he catches the unsub, and you support his every move. Although it may cost him his job, it still feels good to dream about it sometimes.

"Here, I'll help you with that." You offer, when you notice Emily struggling to hold the two case files she is juggling across the room. You rush over to her, grabbing onto one before disaster struck and pictures of mangled bodies are shown to the public. The look in her eyes says enough of a thank you, and you laugh. But then, her eyes immediately change. She goes tense, then leans in and whispers to you.

"Creepy man at 12 o'clock. He has been here since the conference started. It looked like he was only staring at you, the entire time." She hisses. Your eyes widen, scared to turn around to see this man she was talking about. You hadn't noticed, and you're glad you didn't. Some pervert staring at you would not only make you uncomfortable, but it'd royally piss you off.

"Oh God, he's walking over here." She hisses again, and you stiffen. You can feel his presence before you can even turn around.

Slowly, you straighten your back and turn to face this man Emily was talking about. There stands a tall, elderly man, easily over the age of 90. His dark eyes are soft, as he looks down at you. His gray hair thick atop his head. You're froze, unable to leave his gaze. He says nothing, but you don't even react when he takes your hands into his. That's when the feel of cold metal settles into your palm, and he wraps your hands around the object gently, before clasping both hands onto yours.

"Come back to me, my darling." He whispers.

And just like that, he releases your hands and straightens back up. He turns away, never even glancing at any one else in the room. He walks out in a smooth stride, not turning back around once. And then he was gone.

"What the hell?" Emily gasps. "That was so creepy. Do you know that guy?" She huffs. You stare at the door where the mysterious man had just exited, and slowly shake your head. "What a pervert." Emily adds, as you look down at your hand still clutching the unknown object. You slowly extend your fingers, opening your hand to expose the item.

There sits what looks like an antique necklace, a blue jewel with real, silver diamonds around the crest. The chain is pure metal, in perfect condition.

"Hell, the pervert has taste. Think I might go call him back in here and get his number." Emily laughs, before patting you on the back and walking back over to Rossi. You stare at this necklace, all memories involving your case momentarily washed away. Who was that? What is this? Come back to him? What could that even mean?

You shove the necklace into your blazer pocket, when another pang in your chest hits.

What the hell?

- - - -