"What do you mean the profile is wrong?"

I stared at Spencer in confusion. Weren't they the best profilers the FBI had to offer? How could they had been wrong? I ran through the profile in my mind. They said that the unsub was manipulative, that he toyed with his victims' lives in order to gain control over them. 

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "The incidents aren't incidents. They're accidents."

"He was trying to help her sell her house," Blake said, the realization visibly dawning on her. She shook her head with a small laugh. "They're supposed to be gifts!"

"The sketch artist is here," Hotch announced, approaching us. Spencer immediately withdrew his hands and shoved them in his pockets. I forcibly removed his right hand from his pocket and intertwined our fingers. I needed the comfort. My eyes quickly darted around the police station. JJ and Beth were with Ethan and the sketch artist, and Rossi was at the hospital watching over Ben while Mom was in surgery.

Hotch cocked his head to the side. "Did I miss something?"

"We were wrong," Spencer confessed, squeezing my hand. "The profile is wrong."

"The unsub isn't manipulating his victims' lives in order to gain control," Morgan explained. Hotch's brow furrowed. "He's trying to help but he keeps screwing up."

Blake nodded. "He was baking cookies to help sell Kristen Miller's house, but he must've had to leave them in the oven and eventually a fire started."

"Paige DiLaurentis, he was probably trying to fix her car but he had no idea what he was doing," Morgan continued. "With Mila Grey, he was trying to get her a raise but her boss ended up firing her for asking too much."

I leaned on Spencer. "He tried to make Jennifer Hawkins a romantic meal and her cat got into it, and then..." I drifted off, whirling around to look at the pictures taken of Mom's hotel room. The tense silence stole the air from my lungs. "He was trying to get rid of my brother-in-law for me."

Hotch pulled out his phone and dialed a number. He waited until someone picked up to say anything. "Garcia, revise your search. Keep all the original parameters except the charges. Eliminate any type of assault, prioritize any stalking, harassment, and burglary charges."

"So what?" I asked. "Is he some sort of pissed off 'nice guy?'"

"We originally profiled that the unsub's anger fostered from his mother's abuse," Spencer replied, swinging our hands just the tiniest bit. The action warmed my heart. "Now it seems his mother's abuse actually led to him trying to actively seek out love and the affection of a woman."

"Mommy issues," Morgan simplified. I smirked. I had perfectly understood Spencer's explanation, but Morgan's use of layman's terms was amusing. It was a good example of the juxtaposition between Spencer and Morgan's personalities. My boyfriend didn't care if his jargon confused others because what mattered was that he was getting the information out so his brain could move on to other things. Morgan, however, recognized and acknowledged that not everyone knew the technical language. 

Morgan was so the Gryffindor to Spence's Ravenclaw.

"Okay, so his mom abuses him, he goes looking out for female validation, he tries to help and give 'em gifts but he fucks it up, then he makes a move, gets turned down, snaps," I summarized. The assembled agents nodded in agreement. 

"Wait, is that Reid's girlfriend?" Garcia's voice bubbled through the phone. Oh, I hadn't realized she was on speaker. Spence turned bright red. He started to stammer when she interrupted, "Don't try to lie to me. She sounds just like she did in her valedictorian speech. Not that I conducted a thorough background check and internet-stalked her!"

I shrugged. "I'm actually kind of flattered. Did you follow me on twitter?"

"Yes, I wasn't going to because I thought it would be too creepy but then I saw your thread of Harry Potter headcanons," Garcia gushed. I beamed. That thread was my pride and joy.

"Baby girl, get working on that scan," Morgan interjected.

Garcia sighed. "As much as I would love to continue this conversation Emma, I am but a vessel Derek uses to do his bidding." I laughed. When Spencer told me all about his team, he concluded that Penelope Garcia and I would get along fantastically. He seemed to be right.

I had learned early on in our relationship that he was pretty much always right.

Garcia gave a quick, cheery sign-off. Spencer and I wandered over to the waiting area. We sat down as close together as possible. He traced nonsensical patterns on the back of my hand. I shuddered under his touch, then immediately relaxed. I rested my head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

"Thank you," I murmured, "for protecting me."

"Well I would die for you," he replied, kissing my temple.

I giggled. "I would die for you too."

"I just sent Garcia the composite sketch," JJ exclaimed as she burst out of the office. Beth and Ethan trailed behind her, followed by a sweaty man with a giant sketchbook. Beth sent a smile my way. Ethan sat on her hip, his face buried in her shoulder.

"I can't wait for this to be over," I said. Spencer opened his mouth but was interrupted by the phone ringing. I jumped up out of my seat. Had Garcia already found the unsub? Spence said she was amazing, but holy shit!

Blake answered the phone. "Did you find him?"

"You bet I did!" Garcia bragged. Her tone implied a smug smirk. "This lovely fella has been charged with two accounts of sexual harassment and one account of breaking and entering. He was removed from his mother's house at the age of fourteen-"

"What's his name?" Spencer interjected, scowling slightly. 

Garcia cleared her throat. "Right, sorry. Uh, meet Elijah Bishop-"

"Fuck!" I shouted, my heart dropping into my stomach. No, this couldn't be happening. How could...no. This had to be a mistake.

"Do you know him?" JJ asked. She took a few steps toward me, her brow creasing. I realized I was shaking. Tears slipped down my cheeks. I felt weirdly cold.

I couldn't stand to look at anyone. "Elijah Bishop...he's an English teacher. Fuck, he-he's Annie's English teacher."

"Who's Annie?" Blake prompted.

I finally looked at Spence. "Annie, uh, Annabelle. I tutor her! She's my best friend's daughter."

*

ian harding as elijah bishop