CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO:
DELUSION
( aka 04x11: normal )

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"THE HYPER-MASCULINE DISGUISE, victim preference and the emasculating trigger of the first attack all tell us this is an unsub suffering a masculine identity crisis," Hotch declared to the attentively listening crowd of officers in front of them. Emily had returned with a contact from the latest road work site that Hotch took Rossi and Salinas to interview. When they returned, he declared with unabashed urgency that they were ready to give the profile.

"A masculine identity crisis?" Salinas echoed with a disbelieving shake of her head. "That is why he's driving around, blowing women away?"

"No, Judy Hannity is just the trigger," Emily corrected politely. "We need to identify the precipitating trauma."

"Something happened in the unsub's life," continued Morgan. "Something so traumatic that it turned a normal man into a serial killer."

"So, he's suffering from some kind of psychotic break."

Rossi nodded. "Which means the world he sees around him has changed and so has his role in it."

"And that of his family," Hotch added with emphasis. "His perception of his home life is the key to his pathology. At home, this unsub feels less than a man, a failure as a father and as a husband. He feels his children don't need or respect him, and that he's unwanted or obsolete in their lives."

Dallis stepped forward. "If his relationship with his children is a point of frustration, then his wife is the trigger that sends him over the edge. As a husband, he feels humiliated by her. She'll match the appearance of his victims; blonde, middle-aged, and dominant enough to challenge him. She takes over the role that he believes is traditionally his but it's one that he doesn't fit and he believes everyone knows it."

"This unsub is delusional," Emily stressed. "He's now dressing in this Road Warrior persona. This gives him feelings of power and purpose that he craves. It is now the single-most important thing in his life and he will die before giving it up."

"His new fantasy persona can't coexist with the everyday reality of his home life."

"Which means, sooner or later, he's going to kill his entire family."

Dallis watched as the serious and thoughtful expressions on the officer's faces morphed into various states of concern and alarm at Morgan's confident statement. Salinas couldn't stay seated anymore. She began to pace the length of the room. "So what do we do?"

"First, we find every small-modelled blue SUV owner in the estimated kill zone," Hotch said. "Two, we set up a single alternate merge scenario in that zone and we manage it with our people, and three is releasing our profile to the public. Somebody out there knows this man and they just don't realise it."

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ONLY TWENTY MINUTES AFTER Todd went live with the profile, their derailing unsub struck again, killing two men in their twenties while stopped in front of a red traffic light. The passenger window of their beat-up car was still rolled down, revealing the leather seats caked in drying blood. Dallis and Morgan circled the vehicle grimly, their gloved hands carefully combing through the scene after confirmation it had been photographed. Dallis counted a vast collection of bullets. It looked to her like the unsub had unloaded his entire clip in a fit of rage.

"Joe Karem and Timothy Calvert," Salinas revealed the identities of the newest victims with an exhausted sigh. "DOA. No wants, no warrants. They work in the area and detectives are notifying their families."

"It's a sawed-off 12-gauge, close range," listed Morgan. "Shot out the driver's-side window while driving a small blue SUV. That's our guy but he went way off script."

"Multiple male victims, surface street, daytime attack and he drove his own vehicle," Rossi continued with a frown. "Something triggered him and pissed him off."

Hotch considered this, turning to Salinas. "What time did this happen?"

"Approximately 2:20," she said with a glance down at her watch. "Single witness says that the shooter was driving a small blue SUV but didn't get a plate. He's a middle-aged white guy who was wearing a tie. Suit jacket hanging in the back."

"Office job," Dallis muttered to herself. "Leaves in the middle of the day, right after our press conference airs at 2pm. I can tell you what triggered him alright."

Salinas glanced between them, studying the pensive lines of their expressions. "You did say the unsub was going to be watching the coverage."

"Twenty minutes from wherever he was watching the press conference to this intersection," Rossi contemplated.

Dallis let out a breath. "No doubt he'd be driving the speed limit. Taking into account red lights and midday traffic, he definitely didn't travel far."

"No more than ten miles?" Hotch estimated.

"So he lives within ten miles of here," Salinas' head turned as she surveyed the area with sharp eyes.

"I don't think so."

"I don't understand."

"We were wrong," Morgan explained, gesturing to Dallis. "But Dallis had it spot on. The suit jacket hanging in the back and considering the time of day..."

"He works in the area," Salinas realised.

Morgan stepped aside to phone Garcia. Dallis listened as he asked her to pull up a map of the ten-mile radius around the crime scene, then finished with a request for her to alert Reid and Emily back at the Sheriff's Department if any calls came from this area to the tip line. It was a smart request, and also an urgent one.

"You think he's going to kill again, don't you?" the Detective stated.

Rossi nodded. "And he's done killing surrogates."

The sound of high heels colliding frantically with the concrete made Dallis' head turn just in time to catch a glimpse of Jordan Todd's furious expression. She cleared a path through the reporters with ease, slipping under the yellow tape with a dismissive flash of her badge. She was gunning straight for Hotch and she had her hands balled into fists at her sides. Dallis made sure to keep well out of her way.

"Did you know?" she demanded, earning a few curious looks from nearby reporters who had their cameras and microphones at the ready.

"Excuse me," Hotch said apologetically to Salinas before latching onto Todd's elbow to guide her away. "This is not the time or the place. Are you seriously going to do this in front of the press?"

"Maybe we should wait over here," Morgan suggested with a grimace.

"He killed those people because of something I said!"

"Good idea, Morgan," Dallis grabbed Rossi's hand and quickly led the way to the other side of the street.

They watched Hotch and Todd go back and forth for a minute before Hotch interrupted her with a stern glare and turned his back to re-join the others. Whatever he said to her must've been enough, because Todd was ready to give another press conference only a few minutes later, releasing new details about the unsub's appearance and the general area of his workplace while also appealing to the husband and father in him that would've once been capable of mercy.

Dallis could only hope it would be successful.

The tip line was firing with calls and one led Morgan, Emily and Reid to the office of someone named Norman Hill. According to his co-worker, Norman was a quiet and unassuming man who disappeared from his desk not long after the first press conference started playing on the television. Six months ago, Norman was changing a flat tire on the side of the road when his youngest daughter climbed out of the vehicle and ran into oncoming traffic.

So they had a trigger and a man who matched their profile in nearly every aspect. Now it was just a matter of finding him.

Dallis was back at the Sheriff's Department with Rossi, Hotch, Todd and Salinas. She had a phone balanced between her shoulder and ear and she was writing down admittedly unhelpful information from an elderly man who'd rang up the tip line before Salinas' personal cell blared to life.

"We have a chase," she wasted no time in declaring. Dallis let the landline drop back to the receiver, giving the Detective her full attention. "Small-model SUV. Blue. Driving recklessly on 117th and Pacific."

Hotch had Morgan, Emily and Reid join the chase as Norman Hill's work was closest to the location. They were to head on over to the Hill Residence, with Hotch fearing that he was on his way there to finish it for good. Todd's appeal hadn't worked. He was too far gone for mercy.

The Hill Residence was dark and void of life when their SUVs pulled up to the curb of its quiet cul-de-sac. The curtains were drawn but a black Sedan was parked in the driveway, indicating that someone was home. Despite this, Rossi's continuous knocking on the locked front door went unanswered until Hotch eventually gave the order to check the backyard.

Dallis scanned the trimmed grass and the neat rose bushes, noticing that for a house with children there were no toys. She tried the back door and was surprised to find it unlocked, turning to Hotch for confirmation on what to do next.

"Behind Rossi and I," he whispered a quiet order that she easily complied with, watching their backs as they entered the Hill's basement.

They found a renovated room of cream walls and wooden floorboards. Opposite the door was a series of hollowed-out shelves showcasing an impressive collection of model cars. Each was carefully positioned, some with their miniature hoods raised, others with a door propped open to reveal the sleek interior. Not a speck of dust marked them, and yet Dallis caught a glimpse of a dishevelled bookcase on the other side of the room.

"A '63 Aston Martin DB5."

"James Bond," said Rossi. "Goldfinger."

"Definitely meticulous," Dallis muttered, kneeling down to admire a bright orange car that she presumed was a Mustang.

"Guys," Todd led the way towards a set of stairs that would take them up to the rest of the house. They entered into the Hill's kitchen where an overpowering scent of decay leaked beneath the crack of the door.

Dallis' stomach twisted. She resisted the rush of bile in her throat with one hand pinned over her nose. The other curled around the sleeve of Rossi's suit jacket, desperate for reassurance as they drew closer to the source of the stench. Each pair approached a separate room. Rossi and Dallis paused outside the one with 'Sasha' labelled across the centre in sparkly letters.

Inside, a blonde teenage girl laid in her bed, soaked in blood with her pale eyes staring listlessly into the ceiling. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, frozen in the last expression of her life when her father put a bullet in the side of her head. The scent of rot expanded from her clammy skin in waves, filling Dallis' senses until she was stumbling away in a desperate search for fresh air. Rossi kept one hand on Dallis' lower back to keep her upright while the other reached for his phone, quickly dialling Morgan's number.

Dallis broke away from him then, only just making it onto the front porch before the acidic burn of bile returned and spilled past her lips. She leaned into the nearest bush, emptying the contents of her stomach until all she could taste was vomit and coffee. The scent of decay remained stuck up her nose until Rossi kneeled in front of her. Wiping the corner of her mouth with a tissue, he drew her face against his shoulder and let her breathe in the typically dizzying scent of his cologne.

"It'll go away," he promised, smoothing down her hair with gentle fingers. "Just breathe, Dolcezza. It'll go away."

She let herself calm down in the safety of his embrace, sighing when his lips found her forehead with a feather-light kiss. They were unfortunately interrupted by the front door banging open. Todd stumbled down the stairs and collapsed to her knees in the driveway. Dallis thought she was also going to be sick, but then she started to cry.

"Go," Dallis urged Rossi.

"You're sure you're alright?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I'm just nauseous. She looks heartbroken."

Rossi kissed her forehead one last time, then he approached Todd and kneeled down next to her. Their voices were too quiet for Dallis to hear but she knew, without needing confirmation, that Jordan Todd's time with their team would be coming to an end sooner than any of them anticipated. Dallis saw the reflection of a little girl's dead body in her eyes and knew it was something that would never truly leave her.

The picture of Sasha Hill lingered in her own mind as, several hours later at the stroke of midnight, the team slowly walked through the bullpen towards their respective desks. Dallis had cleaned up on the jet, brushing her teeth and inhaling every sweet scent she could get her hands on, but she longed for some wine and the warmth of her bed.

"Hey, do you guys ever notice how the trip home always seems to go so much faster?" Emily asked with a loud sigh.

"That's because the tail winds are in our favour," stated Reid factually.

"No, I meant because -- you know what? Nevermind." She spun around to face the rest of the team trailing behind her. If Rossi's hand hadn't curled itself around Dallis' waist in time, she would've sent both her and Emily flying to the ground. "Anybody want to get something to eat?"

"Yes please," Dallis' stomach grumbled at just the thought of food. "Pizza would be so good right now."

"There's someone in the BAU room, guys," Reid was staring up the stairs at a silhouette behind the cracked open blinds.

He led the way to investigate, encouraging everyone but Todd -- who had retreated to her office after a brief exchange with a concerned Morgan -- to follow behind him.

"What are you doing here?"

Dallis' eyes brightened when she rounded the corner and found a smiling JJ cradling baby Henry in her arms.

"Garcia said you guys were on your way back tonight," she said, answering Reid's question. "I thought you could use a surprise."

"You thought right," sighed Dallis, her smile widening when JJ angled the baby towards her and let her ghost a finger over the smooth curve of his cheek. "Oh, he's the sweetest."

"I thought I gave you strict orders to get this place out of your head for a while," Hotch stood with his arms firmly crossed.

JJ bowed her head sheepishly but it was Garcia who answered as she marched through the doorway with a bottle of warm milk. "My bad, I couldn't help myself. Here, my love, I heated this up. Room temp, right?"

"Right," JJ nodded with a smile that had rapidly started to fade. "I just realised with all that we do and see in this room, I never smiled. I wanted at least one good memory to hold on to."

The others exchanged smiles of their own, crowding in around her to give that good memory. A bashful Morgan asked JJ if he could hold Henry, whose little blonde head rested comfortably on Morgan's bicep despite Garcia's doubts.

"Careful, careful!"

"I got it."

"No, you don't, you're smothering him."

"Look, what's he doing?" Morgan held his arms out towards Garcia, who nearly dropped the bottle of milk in fright. "He is smiling at Derek Morgan."

Dallis, Emily and Garcia scoffed teasingly, each muttering the same word, "Gas."

Morgan' eyes narrowed, determined to prove them wrong. "Give me that."

He snatched the bottle from Garcia and carefully held it to the baby's mouth. His laugh was gleeful and triumphant when Henry began to drink, making Dallis shake her head, her face beginning to hurt from the force of her grin.

By the time the team had finished up at the office, the early hours of the morning had dawned. Dallis fell into step with Rossi, whose admiring gaze shamelessly scanned her face as she leaned against the side of the descending lift and let her eyes flutter shut.

"I could fall asleep right here."

"Do you want me to drive you home?"

"I brought my own car."

She forced her eyes open in time to catch him shrug. "I'll pick you up in the morning, bring you back here. When you can drive home safely."

"Then yes please," Dallis answered without hesitation.

It wasn't until she was in his passenger seat, curled up with the heater blasting to soothe the ache of her tired muscles, that she remembered the date they were meant to go on.

"I guess it's too late for dinner," she sighed.

"Just a little," he scoffed at the time that flashed in bright red letters on the dashboard. 2am. "What about Saturday? I'll pick you up. There's a nice Italian restaurant near mine that I think you'll like."

Dallis stared at him for a moment, caught somewhere between apprehension and amazement. "You really want to do this?"

His hand reached across the console and caught hers. "I do."

"Then I'd love that," she beamed. "It's a date."

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"I DON'T KNOW WHAT to wear on a date!" Dallis cried, pacing the length of her living room with Emily, Garcia and JJ (and baby Henry) lined up on her couch. "I'm going to cancel."

"Oh, no you're not!" Emily jumped up to wrestle Dallis' phone out of her hands, ruthlessly elbowing her in the stomach in the process. "Dallis Cohen, drop the phone right now."

"No!"

"It's just Rossi," JJ pointed out with her kindest smile. "You've been alone together plenty of times."

The fight left Dallis at once, allowing Emily to snatch her phone away with a triumphant laugh. She slumped into the nearest armchair, covering her face with her hands.

"Not like this," came her muffled reply to JJ.

"Please," Emily rolled her eyes. "You've kissed this man and now you're nervous about a date?"

Dallis' hands dropped. "How do you know that?"

She didn't recall admitting to anyone that she and Rossi had kissed. Maybe she had and it had gotten lost in the chaos of the past few weeks, but none of the girls seemed remotely surprised that she wasn't denying it. Dallis' face flushed as red as her hair.

"Okay, we're wasting precious time here," Garcia stood from her seat and clapped her hands together. "Up you get, Dallis. No, don't whine at me. I'm about to go diving in your closet."

Dallis faltered at the thought of what outfit Garcia would put together, her beautiful but eccentric friend who had radishes hanging from her earrings that evening. Emily caught her expression before she could hide it and smirked.

"I'll help you," she told Garcia, entrusting Dallis' phone to JJ as she and Garcia disappeared down the hallway to Dallis' bedroom.

"Come over here," JJ dipped her head to the empty spot beside her. "You can cuddle Henry to calm down."

But even cuddling with the second cutest baby she'd ever seen (first place, of course, would belong to her niece or nephew whenever they were born) couldn't keep her calm for longer than five minutes. When Garcia emerged with a green bodycon dress that left little to the imagination, Dallis called for Emily furiously.

"Relax," Garcia giggled. "I'm joking, my love."

Emily rounded the corner with a devilish smirk, ignoring Dallis' narrowed eyes as she held in front of her a black velvet mini-dress, not unlike the one in Garcia's hands but with a bit more material around her thighs. It was form-fitting with a plunging neckline to show off the necklace from Rossi, and when Dallis returned from trying it on, she was met with instant gasps of approval.

"Safe but sexy," Emily explained her choice as Dallis complied with Garcia's commands to give them a twirl.

She had to admit, Emily wasn't wrong. With her favourite black heels to accentuate her long legs, and once she curled her hair and did her makeup, Dallis knew she would look damn good. More than good, even. But would Rossi think so?

"Drink," Emily forced a glass of wine into Dallis' clenched fist as JJ fed Henry and Garcia searched through Dallis' admittedly dire collection of earrings. "You need to get out of your head, Dallis. I promise you, this is going to be a good thing."

"A good thing," she repeated with a nod, clinging to those words as if they were a lifeline.

One wine wouldn't hurt. By the time she'd reached the last step, applying her lipstick, the scathing sting of anxiety had faded into the background, leaving Dallis feeling weightless. The girls were gone for all of five minutes, showering her in praise and wishing her good luck as they went, when she heard a knock on the door. Inhaling, she let the air rush from her lungs in one slow exhale before revealing Rossi waiting on her doorstep.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hi," he said, his lips parting in disbelief.

He wasn't lying when he said Dallis looked beautiful even in her work clothes, but seeing her dressed up, and for him... something tightened in his chest. He didn't understand how he'd gotten this lucky. Even the opportunity to know her, to count her as his friend, was more than he deserved.

"You're stunning, Dallis." The words were too simple. David Rossi was no poet, but he was a man who was tongue-tied over a woman. His cheeks flushed pink, and the last of Dallis' doubts disappeared.

"Thank you," she beamed, twirling one of the curly strands of hair that framed her face around her index finger. "I could say the same about you, Dave."

He wore similar attire to work but the effort he'd put in was obvious. The tie was new -- he had a sparse collection that Dallis had memorised -- and he'd replaced his cuff links with the nice silver ones that Dallis had admired when they first went out to Maldini's together. A glittering chain peeked out beneath the collar of his black dress shirt, disrupting Dallis' train of thought. Her head was spinning in dizzying circles and it wasn't from the wine.

"When you're done admiring me," he chuckled. "Shall we go?"

"Yes," she fought back another smile by biting down on her lip. "Do I get to know where we're going?"

Rossi waited for her to lock the door behind her, then held out his hand so Dallis could intertwine their fingers. He only let go once they reached his car so he could open the door, but Dallis was admittedly more focused on the restaurant he was describing with passionate detail.

"La Capannina," he declared. "Which means 'Little House.' It's the top-rated Italian restaurant in our area, the only place I'd actually trust to give you the proper experience."

Dallis wanted to tell him that she'd have loved going anywhere with him, even something as simple as a McDonalds, but she didn't want to dim the bright spark in his eyes. It touched her how much he cared. She was nowhere close to a traditional woman, but Dallis was enjoying the feeling of having a man put in the effort. When they arrived at the restaurant, he made her wait for him to open the car door. He guided her into the foyer with a hand on her back, a coy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when she stopped to stare in awe.

La Capannina was by no means a Little House. The restaurant boasted floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of glittering water and towering skyscrapers. It was dark outside already but the sky reflected off the water's surface so clearly that Dallis couldn't believe there weren't real stars falling to Earth on the other side of the glass. Warm golden light poured over each crowded table from exposed globes. The walls that weren't windows were covered in various paintings and exposed wooden beams that expanded across the wide black marble bar top.

Rossi said something in Italian to their waiter, who shook his hand like they were old friends, and before Dallis knew it she was sitting in a quiet corner with her second glass of wine in front of her.

"What do you want?" Rossi asked, barely even glancing at the menu.

"I'm not sure." Her brows knitted in thought, struggling to read between the lines of the traditional Italian names for each dish. Rather than admitting her lack of knowledge, she sat back with a red-painted smile. "Surprise me."

Rossi must've taken this as a challenge. He summoned the waiter with a casual curl of his index finger, conversing once again in heavily-accented Italian. Dallis crossed her legs beneath the table, nearly snapping the stem of her wine glass from the force of her grip. He smirked once the waiter's back was turned, nudging her outstretched foot with his calf.

"Shut up," she muttered as she gulped down half of her drink, making him raise his eyebrows and laugh.

"I didn't say anything."

"I know how to read you by now," she persisted. "You're going to tease me."

Rossi reached out and grazed his thumb across the bright red blush on her cheekbone. "You make it too easy. I think I might need to speak Italian around you more often."

Dallis didn't know what to say. She sipped her wine again and let the air rush back into her lungs when Rossi eventually dropped his hand and leaned back in his seat.

"In case you're wondering, I ordered you the Cacio e pepe."

Dallis nodded. "Oh, yeah? Sounds great."

Rossi shook his head fondly. "Our next date is going to have to be a cooking class. You're clueless, Dolcezza."

"Our next date?" Dallis latched onto the opportunity he'd unintentionally given her. Rossi paused, allowing Dallis to take over the conversation.

"Well," he shrugged, ducking his head. "A man can certainly hope."

Dallis nudged her foot against his leg again. "A cooking class sounds good to me."

His expression brightened but something uncertain lingered. Rossi's hands flattened against the table cloth, searching vaguely for something tangible to hold onto. Dallis caught one of them with her own, toying with his fingers with a gentle smile. She waited for him to say what was on his mind, knowing it would plague him for the rest of the night if he didn't ask.

"I know that we've kissed, and that we're both on the same page that this is a date," he said, his voice low. "But I want to make sure. You're not bothered that I'm older than you."

Dallis shook her head. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be, Dave. If an age gap doesn't bother you, then it doesn't bother me. I'm here for you. Because I'm interested in you. Not how much longer you've been on this Earth than I have."

Rossi's only response was a grin. Dallis had been right. As soon as he bit the bullet and asked her, the weight of the world fell from his shoulders. He led the conversation with confident charm, storing away every answer to the mundane questions he asked her. He wanted to be consumed by Dallis Cohen. To forget anything else existed but the fact her favourite colour was blue, and that she loved the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle candles. That the first band she'd ever seen live was her brother's.

"I always forget that Austin is in a band," Rossi said, more to himself than to Dallis.

"With the risk of sounding like a bad sister, so do I," said Dallis just as their food arrived.

Her stomach whined in hunger at the sight of steam rising from her spaghetti. It was topped with what looked to be cheese and pepper, which Rossi confirmed as he dug into his own Carbonara. She was briefly surprised when, instead of indulging only in his food, he returned back to their conversation attentively.

"Has Austin always loved music?"

Dallis nodded. "My dad used to be in a band."

"Anthony?" Rossi said in surprise.

"No, my biological dad. That's how my mum met him. She was estranged from her family and looking for some excitement in her college life. Who better than the broody lead singer of a wannabe rock band?"

Rossi's gaze was sharp, enthralled by every word. Dallis would've thought she was taking up too much of the conversation if he hadn't been persisting with the questions. With every bit of new information, significant or not, he wanted more.

"Were they any good?"

"I don't remember," she shrugged. "They must've been. He was touring America when he overdosed." Before the conversation could head down that dark path, she took control again. "You should come with me next time Austin is playing. I think he's trying for another gig in a few weeks."

Rossi smirked. "That can be our third date."

"It's only fair that I get to plan something."

"So a talent for music runs in your family," he continued. "Has it been passed onto you?"

Dallis' grimace made him chuckle. "I used to sing a bit in high school, but it was more something I did to fill up time. You won't catch me on a stage."

She didn't want the night to end. They were the last to leave the restaurant, entering the cold air with content stomachs and Rossi's arm around her shoulder. Dallis was struck with an intense wave of nostalgia, making her think of Maldini's all those months ago. She accepted his jacket with grace, giggling when he stopped them on the side of the street to roll the sleeves up around her wrists. There, beneath the light of an overhead lamp, with the water on one side of them and Rossi's car waiting around the corner, he kissed her like his life depended on it.

"I want to ask you something," he whispered against her mouth. "But I know it's too early."

Hoping she hadn't misunderstood, she prompted him with a soft whisper. "Ask me."

He hesitated for only a second, then pulled away to meet her eyes. "The word sounds too juvenile, but I want you to be my girlfriend."

Dallis' heart fluttered. She curled her arms around his neck, nodding without a need to overthink it. "I don't care if I'm your girlfriend or your partner, or whatever we come up with. I just want to be yours, Dave. To see where this could go."

She sure had a lot to update the girls on when she got home.

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A/N: I have no self control so enjoy my new favourite chapter!