You are under watch by the FBI because of an attempt on your life that resembles that of a serial killer they have been trying to catch for years. Before you are taken to a safe house, they have assigned an agent to keep watch of you and ask you questions on the matter at hand. They need enough evidence to catch this guy before you can go off with no contact.

"Ms. Y/L/N?" Asked a tall narrow faced man with gray specs of hair above his ears.

"Yes," you answered. It had been an hour since you arrived and they finally sent someone to fetch you. I mean it was safe in the waiting room of an FBI building surrounded by agents, but the waiting made you nervous. This made you even more anxious when the man came in.

"I am Detective Hotchner and my team is in charge of this investigation. Please follow me." You quickly threw your phone into your purse and followed behind the detective.

"This is our main office for the Suspect Behavioral Analysis Unit," he said, as you entered a large room full of desks, cubicles, and lots of people moving every which way. When you made it across the room and up the little bit of steps he opened the door and gestured for you to enter. Inside, there was a rectangular table where detectives sat on either side. Two beautiful women sat on one side next to an older fellow with a somewhat old fashioned look. On the other side of the table sat a very attractive and muscular man who was whispering something into the ear of a interestingly dressed woman with adorable glasses. Lastly, right across from where you stood sat a quirky man with blinding eyes and an irresistible smile. He stared your way as you tried with all your might not to stare back.

"Alright," Hotch started, closing the door. "This is Y/F/N. Ms. Y/L/N, this is detective Rossi," he started at one end of the table, "Prentiss, Jareau, Morgan, Penelope Garcia, and Spencer Reid. Detective Reid will be keeping an eye over you while we find a good place for you to stay and catch our unsub. I promise you will be very safe with us."

"Nice to meet you," Reid said, shaking you hand for a little too long.

"You too," you pulled away. Awkward.

Hotchner guestured to the empty chair near detective Morgan and explained the situation as you sat.

Sitting at the table your eyes wandered around the room. It was a very plain and simple room it could be described as efficient for its lack of decor and design. The walls were dark gray with few scratches and many shadows dancing along them. You watched the shadows move in perfect ceremony with the detectives as they moved in their seats or gestured to a board that was filled with papers, notes, and pictures. Your attention was drawn to the one picture directly in the middle. As Hotchner pointed to the man, you recognized his plump face with a patchey five o'clock shadow and, worst of all, eyes that seemed to burn through your very being and send clear shivers down your body. You quickly looked down at your feet as the memories began to eat at your brain.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, are you alright?" Detective Morgan asked, making you pop your head up and the memory subside.

"Yea...yeah, I'm alright." You answered, the whole room paused.

"This is our suspect Marcus Dunger. He is believed to have murdered a young woman however, he has only recieved six months of jailtime for attempted assault and was last spotted near Quantico Creek Bridge. We believe he is connected to the Cutthroat Killer and his murdering of over 50 women between the ages of 18 and 35, most of them being prostitutes." Hotchner continued.

"Looking at the previous victims. The unsubs taste has changed drastically." Reid stood and walked to the board. "Aside from the obvious difference..." He paused and cleared his throat. "His first victim, Brenda Wallace, and the... present victim have no connections. They do not have any similarity except for the fact that Brenda Wallace and Y/F/N have the same eye color, which is different than all of the other victim's."

"Ms. Y/L/N, I know this is a tough subject but, do you know of any complement or anything he might have mentioned about you?" Detective Jareau asked.

"He... he mentioned a similar taste in mu...sic." you stumbled on your words. As your hands began to shake you clamped them together tightly.

"What music?" Jareau continued.

"(Your Favorite Band)." When the word escaped your mouth it felt strange. The last time you spoke of it was with him... You couldn't help but replay every detail in your head.

You were switching the sign on the door from open to closed when you noticed a mysterious figure walking toward the store. He smiled brightly at you and you returned the smile, once you noticed the familiar face. He had come by occasionally for a pack of cigarettes or an Arizona tea, but this time it was a little too late.

"Sorry, we just closed," you said.

"Oh, yeah I was actually coming to ask you sonething." He stated plainly.

"Sure, one second. You locked the door and you two began to walk. "What's your question?" You asked, glancing back at the store where you could see Michelle counting the money through the window.

"I heard you liked Y/F/B."

"Yeah, they're my favorite band."

"That's cool, I actually got tickets to see them tomorrow night, do you want to go?"

"Oh, sorry I have to work." You said, happy that you actually have a good excuse. I mean he was nice, but a little too nice. Like creepy nice.

"Come on, take off! I'm sure your boss won't mind." He said, resting his arm around your shoulders. You shivered and stepped away, making his arm drop.

"I've gotta go, maybe some other time." You turned to walk away when a jolt of pain seared through your head and you collapsed to the ground.

Your head ached and you opened your eyes to see two eyes staring right at you. You quickly scooted away when you realised she was, in fact, dead. You wrestled to get your hands free of the tape that clasped them together and did the same for your feet with no luck. The next step in your mind was to try to scream, but that was short lived. You couldn't muster enough noise from fear and the gag in your mouth. Once you wrestled to get the gag out of your mouth with no success, you looked around to see what else you might try. That was when you noticed the tail lights. It was a tight space and a body lay next to you, but you remembered seeing someone kick out a tail light in a movie once and it was worth a try. You scooted yourself around so that your feet lay crossed over the body's and aimed right for the light. You kicked and kicked as hard as you could until the light budged and began to drag on the smooth pavement. There was just enough space for you to see a blurred sign with the only readable thing being the letter M. The car quickly sped off the road and abruptly stopped. You examined the trunk hoping for some form of weapon with no luck. As the trunk opened, you layed down and closed your eyes, not knowing what else to do.

"What even!" He exclaimed, "What on earth did you do to my tail light?" You could hear him reach for the body and lift it out of the trunk. He then slammed it shut. You looked, hoped, and prayed for a way out, but there was nothing to do. The trunk reopened and you looked to see those piercing eyes full and bright. He smiled as you tried to scream.

"Ms. Y/L/N," you opened your eyes to see Detective Reid.

"What happened?" You sat up.

"You fainted," Prentiss said, handing you a cup of water.

"Thank you." You took it and smiled. Reid helped you up and you took a sip, very confused.

"Why don't we get you to your hotel and we'll finish this later?" Hotchner stated. "Reid," he continued.

"Come with me," Reid said, taking the glass from your hand and sitting it on the table.

You followed him back through the office that was still buzzing and past the waiting room. As you walked by, you saw a little girl and her mom sitting in your previous seat. You smiled and they returned the gesture.

"Oh, Reid!" Rossi stopped us. He pulled Detective Reid aside and tried to whisper, though his voice was the type that could be heard a mile away. "Try to get to know her and see what you find out. I'm not saying interogation, but we need a little more connection between her and the suspect and, in a more comfortable setting, she might talk."

"She can also hear you," you laughed. It was the first time you had laughed since this all started and it felt kind of good.

I'm hopefully gonna be able to put this into 2 parts, but at most it will be 3.