september , washington d.c. , 2005

AFTER THE THIRD ROUND of knocking on her door, her head started to hurt.

Her feet, which had been kicked up on her coffee table, hit the floor with a smack as she groaned to herself and stood up from her couch. She set her glass of wine down, and moved across the livingroom to open her front door.

As soon as she saw a handsome, stoic face staring back at her from the other side, she tried to slam the door.

She was only stopped by a foot being wedged between the door and the doorframe just in time.

"Ford, stop." Said the stern yet endearing voice that belonged to the face and the foot.

She just shook her head vigorously. "No. You're not 'spost to be here." She said, trying to door in on her unwanted guest, almost breaking his foot in the process.

"Ruth."

She stopped and sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Then she pulled the door open and stared at him properly.

"Please tell me you're not here for why I think you are, Morgan."

Derek Morgan stared at her the same way, but didn't answer her question. "Can I come in?" He asked.

Ruth Ford continued to stare at him for a moment before she stepped to the side, letting him into her apartment. Morgan walked in, his eyes scanning the apartment meticulously. Ruth closed the door behind him, watching him carefully.

Morgan took in the sight of beer bottles scattered on various surfaces, and the smell of vanilla scented perfume and Camel cigarette smoke. As he stepped into the livingroom, he spotted the bottle of red wine on the coffee table, next to the half-full glass. Morgan picked up the bottle of wine and held it up, turning to Ruth.

"Are you even old enough to drink this?" He asked.

Ruth narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not twenty-two anymore, Morgan. That joke's old."

Morgan pursed his lips and set the bottle back down. Then he stared down at the various books and documents littering the coffee table as well. The books were all different; some informational, some biographies, and some were fictions that normal people wouldn't think to read.

"What you studying for?" Morgan asked.

Ruth just crossed her arms. "Why're you here?" She shot back.

Morgan looked up at her, stared at her for a moment, and then sighed quietly, holding the manilla in his left hand up before holding it out for her.

Ruth's eyes flickered down to the folder. She hesitated before taking it, and opening it. Immediately, her eyes widened as she saw the contents: dead bodies, particularly dead, strangled women.

"They're calling him the Seattle Strangler." Morgan told her, stepping closer. "There's been four victims in four months, all kept alive seven days and then strangled, suffocated, and dumped."

Ruth flipped through the pictures before she shook her head, looking back up at Morgan. "No. No, I'm not gonna do it. I told them I wasn't ready to come back." She tried to reason.

"Well, I think otherwise." Morgan stared at her for a moment before he looked around the apartment again. "Three months ago, you only enjoyed wine, the occasional whiskey. Now, your apartment is filled with beer bottles. But you're not drinking because something bad happened; you have a high alcohol resistance - you're drinking because you have nothing else better to do. And you're smoking - it's the stress of being restless."

Ruth shook her head again. "Morgan, stop making stuff up-"

"You're bored." Morgan said. "You're not grief stricken; you didn't give a damn about that man. You're just itching to get back into the game. Don't tell me you're not." Morgan stepped right up in front of her. "This is your chance, Ruth. The Secretary wants you in on this one, and after this...You could be back for good. Listen to me, don't turn this down."

Ruth stared at him for a while, then back down at the pictures in her hands. Eventually, she sighed, closed the folder, and tucked it under her arm.

"Son of a bitch." She mumbled under her breath, walking past Morgan.

Morgan turned and watched her, smirking to himself. "Plane leaves in two hours. Vaction's over, Rutherford!"

Ruth stepped out of the car at the same time as Morgan, swinging her dufflebag over her shoulder as she closed the door. The two of them strode across the tarmac with a purpose, and boarded the jet.

There was already three people on board, when Ruth and Morgan walked in, and they turned their heads. Ruth recognized two of them.

"Dr. Ford." Aaron Hotchner, a professional, stoic man, stood up with the other two and shook Ruth's hand. "It's a pleasure to have you back."

Ruth gave Hotchner a tight lipped smile, biting back a sarcastic comment, and instead just said, "It's a pleasure to be back, all credit goes to Morgan, I suppose."

Hotchner, or Hotch as most of his colleagues called him, knew very well what Ruth wanted to say, but pretended not to know, and just barely let a smirk appear on his lips. Then he turned and gestured to the other two men who had gotten up from their seats.

"You remember Agent Gideon." Hotch said, nodding to the older of the two.

Ruth smiled a little more. "Of course. Wouldn't ever forget. It's great to see you again, Gideon."

Jason Gideon, a middle-aged man with a wise face and eyes and hair that was just beginning to grey, shook Ruth's hand and gave back his small, soft smile. "It's great to see you too, Dr. Ford."

Once they let go of each other's hands, Ruth's gaze settled on the one person on the jet that she didn't know; a very young looking man in a sweater, who had a nervous energy yet a confident face and very knowledgeable brown eyes.

Ruth tilted her head as she looked him up and down, and then glanced over at Hotch. "Who's the teenager?" She asked, sounding skeptical.

"Excuse me. Dr. Ford, this is-" Hotch started, only to be cut off.

"Dr. Spencer Reid." The young man introduced himself. "And I'm, uh...twenty-three." He clarified.

Ruth looked him up and down again, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "...No kidding." Then she glanced back at Morgan with an expression that read: "I'm supposed to be the youngest one, this isn't fair".

Hotch's voice brought her attention back around.

"Dr. Reid is the trainee we spoke about several months ago." Hotch explained to Ruth. "He was brought into the Bureau during your leave, and has been working closely with Gideon."

Ruth nodded. "Oh, of course. Makes sense." She turned back to Dr. Reid, a polite smile on her face. "I'm Dr. Ruth Ford, by the way. Call me Ford, or Ruth - either goes." She held her hand out to shake.

Dr. Reid gave the same polite smile back. "Well, then call me Reid." He glanced down at her hand. "And I don't shake hands...Sorry." Ruth awkwardly lowered her hand back down to her side.

"I assume Morgan went over the details of the case with you?" Hotch said, breaking up the awkwardness. Ruth turned back to him, nodding. "Good. Get situated, we'll go over it together in a few moments."

After she chose a seat and set her bag down, she went to join Morgan, Gideon, and Reid, who were already starting to discuss the Seattle Strangler case.

"The first victim was 26 year old Melissa Kirsch." Reid was saying as Ruth came up beside Morgan's left, Gideon on her right. "Stab wounds, strangulation-"

"Wait, wait, back up, back up-" Morgan held out a hand. "He stabbed her, and then strangled her to finish her off?"

"Other way around." Gideon told him, turning to Reid. "Why do think he started using the belt for the second murder?"

"He started learning." Ruth said, causing the others to look up at her.

Reid nodded. "Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as one might presume."

"Yeah. He tried it once, realized it took too long, was messy and complicated, then he wised up - or just got frustrated - and stabbed her." Ruth said.

"Then he realizes it would be hours cleaning up the blood." Hotch said.

"Next time, my boy's got a method." Morgan added.

Ruth nodded. "Exactly. He's learning." She said again.

"He's perfecting his scenario." Gideon said. "Becoming a better killer."

For Ruth Ford, walking back through the front doors of a field office after two months was like being a little girl walking into her first period class on her first day back at school after having a bad case of the flu.

It was all familiar in a way that was almost comforting, but already immediately stressful at the same time.

She walked beside Morgan and Reid, her bag slung over her shoulder, squinting because it was early morning and the sun glared through the glass doors of the first level of the building. Gideon was in front of them, already walking with a purpose after being gone for six months.

Morgan was staring at the back of his head with narrowed eyes. "He never stands with his back to a window." Morgan said quietly to the two people at his sides. "When I was between him and a doorway, he asked me to move."

"It's hypervigilance." Reid told him. "It's not uncommon in post traumatic stress disorder."

Morgan scoffed quietly. "Just how much disorder are we talking about?"

"Morgan." All three of them turned to see Hotch now standing behind them. "It's been six months. Everything's okay."

Then Hotch walked ahead of them, and Morgan and Ruth exchanged an unsure glance.

Hotch led them all into the room being used for the investigation. It was filled with officers, detectives, and other agents, who all looked their way as they walked in.

"This is Special Agent Gideon, Special Agent Morgan - our expert on obsessional crimes-" Hotch started introducing as they walked in. "Special Agent Reid-"

"Dr. Reid." Gideon corrected from where he was already several feet away, looking at the crime boards.

"Dr. Reid," Hotch corrected himself. "and Special Agent...Dr. Ford. Both our experts on...everything. And after two years busting my butt in this office, I hope you remember me." There were some chuckles from the people in the room.

Gideon, who was already immersed in the pictures and maps pinned to the boards, spoke next. "If he's willing to travel willing to travel with a body..."

"Then he owns a vehicle capable of concealing one." Hotch finished.

"One in seven point four drivers in Seattle owns an SUV." Reid said.

"Explorers with tinted windows?" Morgan asked.

"Explorers rate higher with women."

"But how do we know it's his car? Ted Bundy drove a DW Buck."

"What about a Jeep Cherokee?" Hotch asked.

"Jeeps are more masculine." Reid answered.

"We all know how an Unsub feels about asserting his masculinity." Gideon said, turning away from the boards now.

"When did the Bureau become involved in the case?" Hotch asked as he turned to the unit chief.

"After the fourth body." The chief answered. "He dumped that one out of state."

"He did that on purpose then." Ruth said. "He wanted to catch our attention and he knew how to do it."

"His knowledge of law enforcement suggests a criminal record." Reid added.

"Or that he watches television." Morgan shrugged. He held a hand out for the file the chief was holding. "May I?"

The chief handed it over and then turned back to Hotch. "So you wanna see our suspect list?" He asked.

"No." He answered. "We won't look at a suspect list until after we come up with a profile. It keeps our perspective unbiased."

"What time do we sit down with your taskforce?" Gideon asked.

"Four o'clock." The chief answered.

Ruth raised an eyebrow. "We need an accurate profile by four?"

"Not a problem." Gideon dismissed. Both Ruth and Morgan exchanged a second look.

"Agent Gideon," Hotch followed Gideon as he walked past them. "where would you like to start?"

Gideon walked up to one of the crime boards, and pointed to a picture. "The sight of the last crime scene."

When Ruth agreed to go to Heather Woodland's house with Hotch and Reid, she hadn't been aware that the Strangler's latest victim had a golden retriever names Sandy.

Ruth was allergic to dogs.

Once Hotch knocked on the door and she heard the barking coming from inside, she visibly tensed.

"She has a dog?" Ruth whispered, glancing over at Hotch.

"Apparently." Was all Hotch said back.

Ruth glanced through one of the house's windows, spotting the dog. "You know what...I think I'll just wait in the car-" She turned to walk back down the driveway, but Hotch caught her arm.

"It's only for a few minutes." Hotch said. "You'll be alright."

Ruth stared at him for a moment before she sighed and shook her arm out of his grasp. "Fine."

"You're afraid of dogs?" Reid asked, noticing her behavior.

Ruth looked over at him, hesitating before answering. "No, I'm allergic."

Before Reid could respond, the door was opened by a man with ginger hair - Heather's brother David. They were welcomed inside, and immediately, Ruth's eyes were glued to the golden retriever, rather than the contents of the room.

Sandy barked at the strangers, causing both Ruth to take a step back and Reid to jump slightly. Ruth could swear she saw an amused smirk on Hotch's face.

"Sandy, no, no, no!" David said, grabbing the dog's collar as if to hold her back. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, no, it's okay." Hotch assured. "It's what we call the Reid Effect. It happens with children too." There was a small smirk on his face. Ruth glanced between Hotch and Reid, attempting to hide her amusement. "I'm Agent Hotchner. These are Special Agents Dr. Reid and Dr. Ford."

"You both look too young to have gone to medical school." David said, seemingly joking, pulling Sandy to sit.

"We have PHDs. I have three of them." Reid said as they walked further into the room.

"And how many does she have?"

"...Four." Ruth said, glancing around.

David raised his eyebrows. "What you guys, geniuses or something?"

"I don't believe intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of one eighty seven and an eidetic memory and can read twenty thousand words per minute." David just stared at him. "Yes, I'm a genius."

The brother glanced at Ruth again. "Is she?"

They all looked at Ruth, and she just shrugged as she looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with the dog.

The dog barked again as Hotch looked down at her and pet her head. "Sandy, you get a lot of attention, don't you?"

"Yeah, Heather loves this dog." David said. "I feed her when Heather's away. Usually she's fine, but...clearly she won't eat. It's almost like she can sense something's wrong."

"Not sense. Smell." Reid said, turning back to the others. "Our apocrine sweat glands releases secretions in response to emotional distress."

Hotch turned to David, explaining what Reid said in simple terms. "Sandy's worried because she knows you're worried."

Ruth, who in attempts to avoid the dog had been going through a forgotten pile of mail on a shelf, furrowed her eyebrows slightly. "David, does your sister own a Datsun Z?" She asked.

"No, but she's in the market for one. How'd you know?" David said.

Ruth turned around, holding up a catalog magazine of different brightly colored Datsun Z's. Before either of the other agents could say anything, Sandy barked again, and Ruth jumped.

"Come on, Sandy." David ushered the dog out of the room, taking her outside while Ruth sighed to herself and started flipping through the magazine.

Once Sandy and David were out of the room, Ruth turned to her two partners. "Thoughts?" She asked.

Reid spoke first. "There's an immediate relationship between a buyer and a seller; a level of trust. If I wanna coax a young woman into my car..."

"Offer a test drive." Ruth finished, nodding, glancing over at Hotch.

"Okay. Then how about the fact that on one hand, we have paranoid psychosis." Morgan was pacing the office they'd set up in at the field office, tossing a baseball up in the air and then catching it. "But autopsy protocol says what?"

Reid, who was sitting criss-crossed as he spun around in a swivel chair, answered. "Adhesive residue shows he put layer after layer of duck tape over his victim's eyes."

Ruth was sitting across the table, near Hotch, as this conversation occured. Gideon stood with his back turned a few feet away, either listening intently or lost in thought.

"He knows he wants to kill his victims, but he still covers their eyes; doesn't want them them lookin' at him." Morgan said.

"Maybe he's remorseful?" Ruth suggested.

"More likely it's his paranoia."

"Yeah, but then he takes their bodies and dumps them right out in the open. Murder weapon nearby."

"Any normal paranoid is convinced he's being logical."

"Paranoid psychosis, but behavior that's not paranoid."

Ruth stopped listening as well as contributing to the conversation as she skimmed through the files in front of her. She caught blips of Hotch talking about narrowing down their suspect list, and Morgan talking about how they had less than twelve hours to find Heather. She only looked up when Gideon broke through the conversation, catching all of their attention.

"Alright, enough." Gideon had turned away from the boards. "Hotch, tell them we're ready."

They watched Gideon then walk past them purposefully and leave the room.

Morgon stared after him in exasperation. "We're ready!?" He glanced at the other three in the room, and then stepped up to Reid, who was now writing something down. "Reid. You good with this? We've got a woman whose only got a few hours left, an incomplete profile, and a unit chief on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

Gideon came back into the room. "They don't call them nervous breakdowns anymore." He said, grabbing a pen off the table and then walking back out.

"It's called a major depressive episode-"

"I know, Reid." Morgan cut the younger man off, looking mildly irritated.

Ruth glanced at Reid. "No offence, but the last thing we need is another smartass in the BAU." She muttered.

Reid shot her a look, seeming mildly offended. "Who's the other smartass?"

"You're looking at her, Reid." Morgan said, causing Ruth to turn to him, glare, and punch him in the chest. Morgan let out a pained 'oof' and put his hand over his chest.

"Yeah, was it worth it?" Ruth asked with a glare.

Morgan let out a pained chuckle. "One hundred percent."

"The unidentified subject is white and in his late twenties. He's someone you wouldn't notice at first. He's someone who'd blend into any crowd."

As Gideon delivered the profile, Ruth stood in the back of the room with Morgan, Hotch, and Reid. She listened intently, wanting to know what all Gideon had single handedly decided on to complete the profile that she herself hadn't realized.

"The violent nature of the crime suggests a previous criminal recond. Petty crimes. Maybe auto theft. We've classified him as an organized killer, careful, psychopathic as opposed to psychotic. He follows the news, has good hygiene...and he's smart. 'Causs he's smart, the only physical evidence you'll find is what he wants you to find. He's moble, car in good condition. Hard guess: Jeep Cherokee, tinted windows. The murders all involve rapes, but rape without penetration is a form of piquorism, and that tells us he is sexually inadequate. Psychiatric evaluations will show a history of paranoia, stemming from a childhood of trauma; death of a parents or family member...And now he feels persecuted and watched. It already gives him a sense of power.

"Organized killers have a fascination with law enforcement. They will inject themselves into the investigation. They will even come forward as witnesses to see just how much the police really know. That makes them feel powerful, in control. This is why I also think...in fact I know...you have already interviewed him."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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long first chapter but it's criminal minds so I have no choice but to smush it all together

- Dan<3