CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR:
BAD OMENS
( aka 04x06: the instincts )

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

DALLIS WAS KIDDING HERSELF, but what else was new? There was no possible way for her to forget the touch of another's lips on hers when that other person had taken her heart hostage. Rossi's kiss lingered in her conscious mind during her waking hours then followed her into her dreams. It taunted her with a future she wanted to sink her teeth into, yet the fruit of possibility hung just out of reach.

Was it wrong to change her mind? She had asked him to pretend it never happened (sure, not in so many words, though it was more or less implied) and yet there she was reliving it over and over, imagining what it would be like to kiss him whenever she wanted. Maybe Dallis was just a glutton for punishment but she refused to hurt Rossi in the process. She had to get her shit together.

Another two weeks came and went following her birthday in Sacramento. JJ had finished Agent Todd's training; however, their temporary Communications Liaison was yet to join the team on a case. JJ's pregnancy was creeping past the eight month mark but she clung to these last few weeks with them like they were invaluable jewels. She'd be back after a few months but there was something permanent about starting a family that would rival the importance of your work. It wouldn't really be the same anymore.

"Reid," said Rossi, and just the sound of his voice had Dallis' breath hitching. "Reid."

Reid had fallen asleep not long after getting comfortable on the jet. They were on their way to Las Vegas for a child abduction case and Dallis was surprised that Reid's thoughts had stopped racing long enough for him to drift off. Vegas was his hometown. It was meant to be his element. When Rossi's arm snaked over Dallis' crossed thighs to nudge him awake, his eyes snapped open with a little too much ferocity. The blood had drained from his face, leaving him pale and disorientated.

"You alright?" Dallis asked but she failed to hear his answer when Rossi's hand withdrew and settled on her knee. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Rossi's mouth curled into a smirk. The heel of Dallis' boot tapped an uneven rhythm against the base of the couch, bouncing her knee beneath his hand. Rossi's fingers soothed the anxious tic with a gentle squeeze before he released her and sat back into the cushions.

"I was dreaming," Reid repeated, squinting against the sunlight that poured through the windows.

"No kidding," Emily laughed but her grin was quick to drop when Reid continued, "We found a six-year-old boy who had been abused and stabbed. Your baby was at the crime scene, JJ. I was trying to get him out of there."

"Well, that took a turn," Dallis commented.

"Sorry..."

"It's okay?" JJ frowned, ghosting a protective hand over her stomach.

"You know, Reid, simple dream analysis," said Morgan. "If there's a baby in your dreams, that baby's actually you."

"Oh, I don't believe in dream analysis."

"I don't know. It makes sense," Hotch persisted. "The case we're working on and the case in your dream both involve children. Maybe your subconsciousness is telling you that you want to sit this one out."

Slowly, Reid shook his head. "I don't."

"Well, maybe you're just stressed out about going home to Las Vegas," Emily suggested then. "Did you tell your mum you're coming?"

"Why aren't we reviewing the case file?"

"Maybe because someone fell asleep on the jet," Dallis nudged his arm with a smile he only weakly returned.

"Alright, let's start from the beginning," Hotch decided, flicking through the brown folder in front of him. "One more time."

JJ handed out a photo of the boy whose death she had presented to them earlier that morning. "This is Ethan Hayes. He was five. Two weeks ago, he was abducted out of his own front yard."

"Where were his parents?" Reid questioned.

"His mum just ran inside to grab her purse. When she came back, he was gone. She wasn't away for more than a minute or two. Police found his body exactly one week later in the desert. He was in a new change of clothes, his nails were clipped, his hair was combed."

"That's a lot of remorse," Rossi pointed out.

"How was he murdered?" Dallis asked, chewing on the lid of her pen. "With that level of care, I'm wondering if his death was accidental."

"The medical report suggests he was smothered," Hotch said. "No signs of sexual assault. If it was purposeful, this unsub could see his death as merciful."

Dallis sighed. "There's been another abduction, right? So who's the new boy?"

"Michael Bridges." JJ passed around another picture. "Yesterday, he set out to walk by himself to a friend's house a block away. He never showed up."

Dallis studied the two photos side-by-side with knitted brows. Rossi and Reid peered over her shoulders, noticing the obvious differences between the two victims. Both were young but Ethan had dark hair where Michael's was blonde. Physically speaking, it seemed this unsub had no preference in who they were targeting.

"Are we sure these cases are even connected?" Reid wondered.

"The unsub called each of the families."

"But no ransom demand?"

"It was more like taunts," JJ clarified. "He's telling them it's their fault that their children were taken."

"Okay, so we have an unsub who shows remorse and then projects his own guilt onto the victims' parents," Morgan surmised.

"And if we're lucky," said Hotch, grim-faced. "Six more days to find a boy before he's killed."

When they touched down in Las Vegas, Hotch had them separate. He went with JJ and Emily to meet with the parents of Michael Bridges while Reid accompanied Morgan to the morgue where Ethan Hayes was being kept. Dallis and Rossi drove out to the dump site, and while Dallis tried her best to focus on the task at hand, a small (not to mention infuriating) voice in the back of her mind couldn't help but pick apart every minute of their drive.

The breeze that crept through the cracked open windows tousled Rossi's hair. The linger of his eyes on the side of her face when he thought she wasn't paying attention. Even the way his chest expanded beneath his navy blue dress shirt, like he couldn't inhale enough air from the sliver of space between them. Dallis went around in circles until the SUV pulled onto the side of the road where a few officers hung around the crime scene.

"Not exactly a well-preserved scene," Rossi remarked as he held open the passenger door for Dallis.

"It's the crime scene investigators," she scoffed while stepping over the yellow caution tape that had been trampled into the dry ground. "They all want to play cop instead of focusing on what they're actually here for."

"You don't sound surprised."

Dallis shrugged. "Neither do you."

Rossi merely smiled and gestured for Dallis to take the lead. Together, they navigated the rocky terrain, approaching the patch of bush where more tape had been discarded. With each step, Dallis' hand brushed against his. Each bump of their knuckles, both accidental and purposeful, played on her urge to intertwine their fingers.

"So, he suffocates the boy at another location, prepares the body and takes him out to the middle of nowhere to dump him," he stated as they walked.

Squinting into the bright white light of the sun, Dallis couldn't help but wonder how this was possible. Perspiration dotted her forehead, slicking her baby hairs against her skin. Not for the first time since they left the jet, Dallis tugged at the collar of her cotton shirt, grimacing at the damp texture of the material.

"How were there no traces of the unsub's DNA on Ethan's clothes?" she wondered. "I don't know about you but I'm sweating bullets out here and we've barely walked a hundred metres from the car. If the unsub had to carry Ethan for a distance, then there should've been evidence of sweat."

"But there wasn't," Rossi recalled. "So he wraps him in something?"

"Then there'd be fibres," Dallis pointed out, fixing her lower lip between her teeth. "Ethan was laid out with such care, almost like he was being put on display. If the unsub had wrapped him in something, there's a chance he could mess up the boy's appearance."

"So he took the time to change the boy's clothing and groom him once he got here," Rossi scanned the open space curiously. "If he took that much time, he'd have to do it at night."

Dallis hummed. "Well, according to the weather patterns for Las Vegas over the past month, the change in humidity from morning to night has been minimal. This area's also incredibly exposed. There'd be enough traffic that the unsub would run the risk of someone recalling the model of their car once the body's been found."

Which would go against every indication of a killer prepared enough to kidnap a boy in plain sight before emotionally manipulating his parents.

"I didn't realise you and Reid had swapped brains for the day, Dolcezza," Rossi's eyebrows shot up.

Dallis' heart panged. "I can be smart sometimes."

"Well, that beautiful brain of yours did miss something." With his hand on her back, he led the way further inland. "You're right. Our unsub's calculated enough to consider the threat of someone witnessing him, but nothing's stopping him from driving the car all the way over here."

Parting the bushes, they found a set of fresh tyre tracks imprinted into the dirt. Rossi kneeled down for a closer look while Dallis followed the tracks up until the pathway curved into the hillside.

"Tell me this, if you can just drive out into the desert to dump a body," she said. "Why not go in deeper? The hills provide more coverage. Odds of discovery before animals get to the corpse are slim."

"He wanted to be able to drive by and see the body," Rossi concluded.

"That's why he groomed him. It's like he was preparing him for a funeral."

"Funeral," Rossi repeated thoughtfully.

Dallis stepped closer to him. Out of habit, she'd reached for the necklace he gave her for her birthday. She hadn't taken it off since he put it around her neck. When she was caught up in either her thoughts or emotions, she found herself searching for it, comforted by the weight that was starting to become familiar. He watched her trace the gold links with soft eyes.

"Has Ethan's real funeral happened yet?" she asked, drawing his gaze from her neck to her mouth.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Call Hotch," she said. "This unsub wouldn't stop caring overnight. With how much resentment he has towards the parents, it wouldn't be shocking if he showed his face in person to witness their grief."

"And to see Ethan again," he pieced the rest together.

"Bingo."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, DALLIS rose with the sun to get dressed for a little boy's funeral. She wasn't sure what to feel but her heart sat heavily in her chest as she put on her black pencil skirt and a silk top she'd borrowed from Emily. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she contemplated how many funerals she'd been to in her lifetime. No more than the average person, she was sure, but not everyone she had watched being laid to rest was someone who meant something to her. Hope had taken her and Austin to their grandparents' funerals. Dallis was only a teenager for both and she'd never met them so it didn't plague her. Nor did her father's. She could barely even remember him. Yet Ethan Hayes, she was confident she wouldn't forget. She already felt like an intruder and the team hadn't even made it out of their hotel.

Dallis found Rossi and Emily waiting for her in the foyer.

"Tea?" Emily held out one of the drinks she'd gotten from the coffee shop next door.

"Please," Dallis accepted it gratefully.

She fell into step between the two of them as they set off downstairs to the garage. Hotch and the others were helping Michael Bridges' parents prepare at their house, leaving Dallis, Rossi and Emily to give the profile at the station. The police were also going to be attending the funeral and it was important they knew everything to search for.

"You know, I'm surprised Mr and Mrs Hayes agreed to open the funeral to the public," Dallis said as they waited for the elevator.

"How come?" Emily asked, glancing up from her phone curiously.

"It just feels so intimate," she popped her shoulders. "Having complete strangers witnessing something this personal."

"Well, they know what's at stake," Rossi considered. He stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing at her with bags under his eyes. He must've stayed up half the night pouring over everything they had, perfecting the profile they were about to give. Dallis had originally agreed to stay up with him but he'd sent her back to her room a little before midnight. Now, she wished she'd stayed. "Ethan's death has touched the hearts of many. Look at it this way. At least now the community also gets to honour him."

She tried to remember that as the rest of the morning flew by. Before she knew it, she stood in a sea of black, her hands folded behind her back, watching as four of Ethan's loved ones carried out his tiny coffin.

"There's a very full crowd here today," said the minister. "Which I believe is part of the natural outpouring of grief over losing someone so innocent. It is also a reminder that there is another boy out there who is in danger and in need of our prayers. Let's take a moment and pray for that boy, for his safe return."

The silence that followed provided them with an opportunity to observe the crowd without drawing attention. Hotch had separated them into three sections; Dallis, Rossi and Emily stood beneath the shade of a large oak tree to the right of the coffin. Opposite them was Reid and Morgan. At the back of the crowd was Hotch, and beside him Michael's parents. Dallis had looked them over in passing; Craig, the father, had thick blonde eyebrows that knitted into a constant frown; Amy, the mother, was a fair woman whose blank expression came across initially as cold, but in her eyes was a world of pain that ran to the bone. They weren't holding hands, choosing instead to face their demons alone.

Their presence had gained a few curious looks from people who recognised them but the majority never looked twice. As the minister led a collective prayer, some folded their hands in front of them, others stared at the sky in search of answers from God Himself.

Then Dallis spotted him.

Emily's sharp elbow jutting against her ribs told her that she was seeing the same thing. Only a few feet away, a stocky man in his mid-thirties had his phone raised in the direction of the coffin. He was filming. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Just looking at him made Dallis' stomach churn.

"Dave," she muttered.

"I see him," he said. "Let's go."

Dallis fell into step behind him and Emily, navigating the crowd until they found themselves behind the suspect. He didn't notice them at first, providing them with a perfect view of his phone that he only lowered when Rossi cleared his throat.

"Are you a friend of the family?"

"Uh, no... I just read about it in the paper."

"And you decided to come to the funeral?"

He jerked his head up and down. "Yeah, it was sad. I love kids. I wanted the family to know that people care."

"And videotaping it?" Dallis hummed. "Who's that for?"

Words failed him then. Desperately, he concealed his phone in his pocket, prompting Rossi to latch onto his forearm. "We're going to take a walk, and we're gonna do it very quietly so as not to disturb these people."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

BACK AT THE STATION, Reid and Detective Ashby joined Dallis to watch in cautious silence as Rossi and Emily interrogated the man who'd reluctantly introduced himself as Walter Davis. He hadn't given much else away but he was defensive. It would only be a matter of time and the right amount of pressure before he cracked. Whether or not he had Michael was yet to be determined.

The door opened several minutes into the interrogation. Morgan slipped in with a folder in hand. "How's it going?"

He was looking at Reid but Reid's gaze refused to waver from the two-way glass. Dallis couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with him, because something was bothering her friend. He hadn't told her; however, just one look at him -- at his ruffled shirt tucked loosely into his pants, at his gaunt cheekbones -- screamed discontent.

"He's nervous," Ashby remarked. "They're trying to pin him down."

"What have you got there, Morgan?" Dallis asked, finally catching Reid's attention.

Morgan hesitated then turned to Ashby. "You mind giving us a minute?"

Thankfully, he left without question. As soon as the door had clicked shut, Morgan handed Reid the file. "I had one of the detectives pull it. Does the name Riley Jenkins mean anything to you?"

Reid shook his head. "No."

"Think," Morgan pressed. "Back to when you were a little boy."

"I mean, I had an imaginary friend named Riley when I was little."

"What does this have to do with the case?" Dallis crossed her arms.

"Look at the file, Reid," Morgan insisted.

Slowly, with the faintest tremor in his fingers, Reid flicked the cover of the file aside, holding out the sheets of paper so that Dallis could read over his shoulder. There wasn't much to go on but Dallis was close enough to hear the pause in Reid's breathing when the face of a young boy stared back at them, his wide smile contrasting the word 'deceased' stamped into the coloured ink.

"Riley Jenkins was murdered right here in Las Vegas when he was six-years-old," Morgan surmised. He hadn't been gone for long when they returned to the station but it was clear he'd taken everything he discovered to heart. "My maths says that you would have been around four at the time. He was found in the basement of his own house, behind the dryer. He had been sexually abused and stabbed."

"Reid, is this about your dream on the jet?" Dallis tried to understand but she remained frustratingly empty-handed.

"The dreams haven't stopped," he muttered.

Her initial reaction was to ask why he hadn't said anything but Dallis wasn't sure that she wouldn't have done the same thing if she'd been in his position. Pursing her lips together, she rested a hand on his shoulder, relieved when he didn't shrug her off.

"Where can we find Michael Bridges?" Rossi's voice rose on the other side of the window, putting their conversation on hold.

"You are trying to frame me," Walter scoffed.

Rossi lurched to his feet, caging him in with one hand on the back of his chair and the other splayed out on the table. He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of white button-down, revealing the smooth skin dusted with hair and the muscles flexing from the force of his patience.

"You killed Ethan Hayes and you're holding Michael Bridges!"

"No!"

"Then why were you video-taping a funeral?" Emily snapped from where she paced the length of the room. "Does death excite you?" Walter hesitated. "Oh. Wait. That's it. Death gets you off."

"I told you," he exclaimed. "I don't touch."

"Here we go," Dallis muttered, leaning closer to the glass in anticipation.

On the other side, Rossi's eyes narrowed dangerously. "No, you just kill 'em and find new ways to watch him afterwards."

"I am not sick," Walter protested, starting to shake.

"I think you are," Emily retorted. "And I think you desperately want to tell us exactly how sick you really are, Walter. Don't you? You want us to search your computer and your home because it is eating you up inside and you know you need to be stopped!"

"I never would've molested that boy!"

All at once, Dallis' hope popped like a balloon.

"Which boy?" Rossi asked.

"The one from the funeral."

Morgan ran a hand down the side of his face. Without a word, Reid stepped out of the room to inform Ashby of the breakthrough (and consequent setback) while also calling to notify Hotch and JJ, who were waiting at Michael Bridges' home. Dallis didn't envy them, having to tell his parents they'd captured the wrong man.

"Hotch wants us to meet them," Reid said once he returned a few minutes later.

Dallis grabbed onto his wrist, feeling the flutter of his pulse beneath her thumb. Morgan followed Ashby through the door and into the interrogation room to relieve Rossi and Emily of Walter, who wouldn't be charged for the murder of Ethan Hayes and the kidnapping of Michael Bridges, but he would be arrested as just another sick individual.

"Reid," said Dallis. "Nobody would blame you if you wanted to sit the rest of this out."

Reid huffed. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because we care about you." His throat bobbed with a visible swallow as she gestured to the folder he clutched in his other hand. "Let me know when you decide to look into this."

"How did you--?"

Dallis merely smiled.

By the time the team arrived at the Bridges House, the real unsub had made contact with the parents again. They gathered in the living room to listen to the recording.

"You were trying to trick me," exclaimed the unsub using an obvious voice changer program.

"No one was trying to trick you," Hotch's reply echoed through the speaker.

"You were trying to lock me down but you arrested the wrong person."

Hotch, in present time, reached across to switch the recording off. He turned to acknowledge Craig and Amy. Even then, the couple kept a good few inches between them, listening anxiously to words Dallis knew would be driving them crazy.

"Would it be possible for us to work in private for a while?" Hotch asked, making Amy swallow and shake her head.

"He was at the funeral. I told you."

"He was there and you arrested the wrong man," Craig scowled.

"I don't think it is a man," Reid mumbled. At once, everyone's heads shot towards him. "Did you hear the way she described the clothing? She said the blue shoes. Lime green Oxfords. A male wouldn't reference specific details like that."

"I think Reid's right," Morgan nodded thoughtfully. "She talked about what the child wanted, how he slept, how she took care of him. She said 'I loved him.'"

"A male unsub would've emphasised the competition, not the care-giving. He would have talked about how he was smarter than the FBI, bragged about not being caught."

Dallis leaned forward. "That would explain the voice-changer too.

Amy threw her hands into the air. "So we could have been looking for both men and women."

"The statistics are overwhelming," Rossi said. "Women abduct newborns, men take children."

Dallis' brows furrowed as she repeated those words over in her head. She leaned back into the wooden chair, hooking one ankle over the other, trying her best to step into the unsub's shoes as a female. Behind her, Hotch dialled Garcia and laid his phone on the table.

"Garcia, will you run the licence plates the police gave you and find any that might be registered to a woman?"

The typing on the other end of the line momentarily paused as Garcia took this in, and then, "Uh, that would be zero."

"How's that possible?" Amy carded her fingers through her hair, tugging at the roots. It was the first fracture that Dallis had been there to witness in her previously cold composure.

"The transcript almost reads like she's been institutionalised," Reid muttered under his breath.

"That means she's crazy," Craig stood with his hands on his hips.

Reid barely looked his way. "She describes herself as being 'locked down' not 'arrested' or 'put away.' Plus, most mental facilities are very rigid about the amount of phone time they allow per day. I think her talking about only having three minutes isn't her rule to us. It's what she's been institutionalised to think of as normal."

"Garcia, can you get records of women released from mental institutions this past month?" Rossi asked.

"Look for someone whose case file links to trauma involving children," Dallis added, tapping her fingers against the table. "Perhaps the death of a child or a lost custody battle?"

Garcia's sigh was loud and regretful. "I'm sorry, even I can't do that. To protect patient privilege, there's no central database. I could hack each hospital individually but even then most diagnoses are kept separately by the different doctors."

For a moment, it looked like they'd hit a roadblock, and then Reid stood up. "I think I might have a way."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

OVER THE NEXT HOUR, Reid took the profile to his mother's head doctor while the rest of the team went over the video of Ethan's service apprehended from Walter's phone. In it, Amy pointed out a woman she remembered glimpsing in passing. Dallis wasn't sure how she'd missed her in the crowd when she couldn't stop staring at the back of Amy's head. She was blonde-haired, slim. Her high cheek-bones cut shadows beneath her vacant eyes. She rocked back and forth on her heels in the few seconds of footage they had, not quite able to stop moving. Garcia ran her image through VICAP and somehow managed to get a hit.

"Her name's Claire Bates. She was institutionalised three years ago after assaulting a fellow secretary at a law firm, and by that, I mean she bit off part of her ear."

"Do we have an address?" Rossi asked.

"There's no last known."

"Try running the licence plates again," Morgan suggested.

Garcia let out a gasp. "Oh, that's no good."

"What's wrong?"

"It's registered to her father," she said. "He lived in Reno but he died two years ago."

"Garcia, pull up birth records," said Dallis.

Not long before Garcia had called, they'd also received an update from Reid. It hadn't made any sense to them at first why Ethan's stomach was entirely empty but he was somehow still getting nutrients. Then it clicked. If Claire saw the abducted children as newborns, they would be getting nutrients if she was breastfeeding them.

"There's a chance she could've given birth. If the child died or was taken from her while she was institutionalised, that could be her stressor."

"Here we go," Garcia exclaimed. "Claire Bates gave birth to a son three weeks ago and... oh..."

"What is it, Garcia?" Hotch prompted.

"Social Services removed the baby from her care after a seven-day evaluation."

"That's why she holds the boys for seven days," Rossi declared. "She's recreating the loss of her baby."

"But she's taking five-year-olds," JJ frowned.

"Her psychosis must be projecting her baby onto any children she can get access to," Hotch said, which made sense in theory.

Infants would be a lot harder for this woman to get her hands on without someone noticing. Parents were typically more attentive as their baby needed constant care, but a child-- while young enough to need Claire's love and devotion, yes -- gave her more opportunities to sweep in and out unnoticed.

"Garcia, can you read us the Social Services report?" Emily asked.

"'While it is admirable that the patient stayed off antipsychotic medication for the health of her foetus, we strongly believe that due to a history of violent and delusional behaviour, there is a significant risk to the child if she is granted guardianship. Therefore, the child shall be a ward of the state until such time a full-time guardian can be established.'"

"Is there an address?"

"2509 Brookside Avenue."

Everyone except JJ -- who would stay back with Craig and Amy -- headed for the door, knowing they had no time to waste. Brookside Avenue wasn't far from both the Hayes house and the Bridges house. Dallis wouldn't put it past Claire to have observed them in the days before she followed through with the kidnappings.

"Watch yourselves," Hotch warned as they exited their SUVs geared up with their guns and vests. "If she's truly delusional, she'll have moments of clarity where she'll realise what she's done."

He and Emily took the front doors, leaving Dallis to follow Rossi and Morgan around the back of the house. It was a tiny structure for such a large property. White paint peeled from the walls, a few clay tiles were missing from the roof. The grass was overgrown and whipped at Dallis' legs as she crept beneath the dust-coated windows.

The tentative silence was broken by the crackle of their earpieces. "She's going out the back!"

Dallis darted around the next corner, gun raised. Claire moved in a blur of pink cotton and blue denim. In her arms was what looked to be a baby's blanket. She clutched it to her chest as she sprinted towards the garage, stumbling over loose terrain but determined to keep pushing forward. Dallis charged behind her, trusting the others to be at her back. She had almost reached Claire when the blonde suddenly stopped and the ground at her feet burst into flames.

"Dallis!"

There was a hand tugging at the back of her shirt, knocking the wind out of her as she was dragged back out of harm's way. She'd already been burned once before, she wasn't about to let it happen again. Then Morgan was there, and Rossi, closely followed by Hotch and Emily. For a moment, no one moved. The slick scent of fuel was pungent.

"Claire, back away from the fire and put Michael down," Hotch instructed in a calm but firm tone.

"My baby's dead," she whimpered.

"No, he isn't," Emily insisted. "He's being taken really good care of by someone else. Just like you need to take care of this boy."

Tears streaked through the sweat and grime on Claire's face. "I kept healthy. I did good."

"We know you did," Dallis said, and she meant it. Claire was a deeply troubled woman but anyone could see she cared for her baby so much that it pushed her past the point of return. "Please step away from the fire, Claire. You don't want to hurt the boy."

"My baby's already dead!"

"He isn't, Claire," Emily pushed. "Let us prove it to you."

Dallis could hear Rossi and Morgan exchanging frantic words to her left but she couldn't tear her gaze away from Claire's shattered expression. She rubbed her cheek against the baby's blanket then slowly let it drop just as Reid's voice shouted through their ear-pieces.

"I've got Michael. I've got him."

Suddenly, Claire's arms dropped. Dallis gasped and rushed forward, squinting against the heat of the flames as they ripped through the blue wool but the scent of burning flesh never reached them. Being consumed by the remorseless fire was a brown teddy bear, one meant for Claire's real son. She didn't fight when Dallis approached her, holding out her hands for Dallis to lock her handcuffs around. This didn't feel like a win, though by all means it was one of the better outcomes. Michael was alive and ready to be returned to his parents and Claire Bates was to go back to the mental institution.

As they were packing up to leave, it was decided at the last minute that they would stay one more night in Vegas. Reid was notably absent as they headed out to dinner -- JJ was craving dumplings, and so she found the nearest Asian Restaurant and made them a booking -- but Dallis decided to give him the night before she bothered him.

Switching off her phone, she tried her best to remain present in the moment. The rich scent of food was strong. Her stomach grumbled at every new smell, especially when their orders started appearing at the table. Rossi had also purchased a bottle of wine for the table. He filled up Dallis' glass without her needing to ask, tapping his own cup against hers before taking a sip.

"So who's hitting the casino with me tonight?" Emily grinned while toying with her chopsticks.

"Oh, you don't even need to ask," Morgan rubbed the palms of his hands together. "Emily, you and I are wing-manning Dallis whether she likes it or not."

"Not this shit again," she glowered as the rest of the table laughed. Even Hotch cracked a smile, of course it had to be at her expense.

Morgan pretended not to hear. "Rossi, you in? Maybe we can find you another wife to get married to by the Elvis impersonator."

Their laughter echoed once again but Dallis' own was faint and forced. Against her better judgement, her jaw had visibly clenched as her stomach knotted. She swirled the dregs of her wine around her glass before downing the rest in one gulp. Rossi regarded her for an instant, so quick that no one else noticed, but Dallis felt the sharp nudge of his knee against hers and instinctively looked up in time to see his eyebrows raise towards his hairline.

Well, shit.

"I have more than enough wives, thank you very much," he told Morgan. "But a game of Blackjack sounds good to me. Aaron, you're coming too, of course."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

Hotch sighed. "I thought as much."

"I suppose that's one good thing about Reid spending the night with his mum," Dallis said then. "Isn't he banned from, like, every casino in the Nevada area?"

"Yeah, that sounds like Reid."

Dallis soon forgot about the moment from before, the rush of jealousy that left her head spinning, but Rossi didn't forget. Ever since Colorado, his mind had taunted him. She loved him, she loved him not. ('Loved him' said loosely, of course... It was a metaphor!) He was starting to hope again, to let his thoughts wander to the what ifs. Yet a fun time in Las Vegas uninterrupted by a case was hard to come by, and so those what ifs remained unanswered questions for yet another night.