"All Work and No Play."

The last thing Cyra was expecting was to be called in on a Saturday, she was in the middle of a The Nanny marathon, her goal in life was to be the mere embodiment of Fran Fine that woman was perfection at its finest. Of course she had fallen asleep on her couch. Her chair was a few feet away. The 007 soundtrack was heard she stirs a bit before it's heard again and without opening her eyes she feels around for the phone flipping it open.

"Mmm" is all she could say, her voice raspy.

"I'm sorry If I woke you, but it is very important, there's a case."

Cyra straightens up adjusting herself, forgetting he can't see her. "No..it's fine, I am up, I can be there in a few minutes, sir" she pulls herself up and into her chair.

"Cyra...call me Aaron."

"I will be there in twenty Minutes...Aaron." She could hear the smile on his face as they said their goodbyes and she gets ready.

Morning came quickly as she yawned and turned on all the monitors, it was straight to work right away. Several cups of coffee and a few algorithms and she was onto it, her computer rings indicating  a Video call from the Team's laptop she answers seeing the chiseled features of the one and only Derek Morgan.

"Philly PD confirmed that Carla Bromwell's been dead less than 12 hours.  She was 47."

"Victims are getting older." Hotch's voice is heard.

" That is unusual."

"Victimology rarely changes." Elle speaks up.

" Her hands and feet were bound with flex-cuffs."

"Flex-cuffs? No ropes?" A voice she didn't recognize asked.

" That's what they said. They're waiting at the crime scene for you."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"Here  If you need me." and with that the call ends.

//

Meanwhile the team is finding it hard to work with the infamous Max Ryan he was quite standoffish and always has to be correct,

"So older victims and a different mode of binding and killing."

" Maybe the note just means we have a copycat on our hands.:

" The copycat who just happens to have Amy Jennings driver's license? No! No, it's the Keystone killer." Max simply walks off to the otherside of the jet.

" How are we supposed to work with him?" Derek leans forward on the desk as Gideon is staring off into the void. "Gideon, he is not even an active agent."

" He's here because he knows this case better than any of us. We're leading the investigation, he's only consulting."

" Anyone tell him that?" Derek sassed as Gideon stared at Max who was pacing back and forth.

The team splits up to tackle the latest crime scene, Elle, Gideon, and Ryan were upstairs in the bedroom. Max was kinda blunt, rude almost, he knew what he knew and no one could change his mind. Cyra was tackling phone calls making sure everything was set up for the team at the Pennsylvania precinct. Which was annoying, hearing are you sure you're with the FBI a million times a day is frustrating as is. The debriefing took place quickly when they got back and everything was set up perfectly thanks to their favorite tech fairy. They could get to work without needing to do any more work than they already had.

"All right, let's focus on the differences in the crimes. What's he doing that's new?" Hotch saunters into the room, he tucks his phone away having just sent a text to Cyra thanking her for making sure everything was set up at the precinct for them, she of course didn't feel the need to be thanked she was literally doing her job. She always had to call ahead to make sure everything was ready and neat for the team.

" Well, his latest vIctim was hit in the head. That's new."  Elle speaks up as Hotch walks around the table.

" In the word puzzle he said she didn't fight. So, why hit her? Scare her? Show her he's in charge?"

"Well, he never did that before." Hotch takes a sit next to Elle as Reid is scribbling things on the white board behind him, thankful for fresh markers once again courtesy of their favorite tech fairy. If he had older ones they would use up within an hour then he would have to struggle to find more. This way it will take him a lot longer to go through them. 

" And a blow that hard wouldn't scare her, probably just-"

"Probably just knock her unconscious." Derek finishes.

" In order to control her?" Hotch feels his phone buzz from his pocket leaning back in his seat to pull it out, he does so concealing the smile on his face from the message on his screen

"Anything for you James Bond." He kinda liked that she referred to him as James Bond, if only he knew that it was also his contact name in her phone. If only.

"He switched from ropes to flex-cuffs? The intricate knot was a part of his signature." Gideon speaks up.

" Flex-cuffs are easier. Probably saved him time." Derek leans back in his chair as Hotch cles his throat, tucking his phone away figuring he could text her back when he is free.

" No no no, there's more than that. The rope was meticulously tied, it was intimate, completely unnecessary."

" And he abandoned the rope and the use of his bare hands which makes his kill less personal and less controlling." Elle says as Derek runs a hand over his face.

" Okay. Seriously, guys, let's just abandon all this. Let's just treat him like he's a new offender."

Max walks into the room at this time, shutting down any ideas that the keystone killer is this guy named Scott Harbin,

"I interviewed Harbin, twice. He's a pervert. He's a small-time burglar with a fetish for lingerie. I mean he's a creep. But he is not the Keystone killer. Believe me. Our guy has not been in jail for all these years."

"All right, I'm going to call Cyra. See what she can dig up on this guy."  Morgan rises from his chair.

" He's not the guy." Max yells sternly before leaving. Morgan just sighs leaving to call Cyra.

" Jason, what are we doing here?"

" What do you mean?" Gideon looks up at Hotch running a hand over his face.

" Well, is Ryan interested in catching the Keystone killer, or just proving he's right?" Hotch simply says as Gideon sighs before leaving the room. Derek presses four on his phone, bringing it to his ear as he leans back in chair at a spare desk.

"The Lady Lair, where a call is not just all you get. Madam Cyra speaking." Derek laughs.

"Scott Harbin."

"Tsk Tsk tsk, since when did you become? All Business and No Play." She practically purrs as he chuckles again the sound of her keys clicking under her nails were heard. "Scott Harbin was paroled 3 months ago."

" Oh yeah? To Philly?"

"Yeah.. looks like it. And hey, guess what. Bad boy missed his last appointment with his parole officer."

"Well, that right there makes him a wanted man, doesn't it?"

" Uh-huh uh-huh. And I have an address on him." She smirks all big as if Derek was right in front of her. "Now mama wants to play."

Derek breathes out a laugh " You are amazing."

"And Don't you forget it, in that pretty little head of yours either."  Hearing Derek laugh again, before hanging up. She was beginning to think that she should write a book on flirting, because she was just that good.

They of course pick up Scott Harbin at his house.  After Elle basically tackles him to the ground. Harbin's house was clean, organized, everything was labeled and put in order by color or item. Harbin didn't like Elle's presence; she was intimidating,head strong, not to mention just his type. Of course upon further investigation they find a woman under his bed. After calling an ambulance and  crime techs they all regroup outside minus Reid, there was a note on the car.

" Isn't Scott Harbin an inelegant creature? A monster. There is no light with him. No balance. He is pure evil. Balance is what gives one mercy. You'll be reminded of my brand of mercy tomorrow, Max."

" What does that mean?" Derek asks as Max tucks the note in his hand with a sigh.

" Scott Harbin's a predator, just not the one we were looking for. Cordon off the area at least six blocks radius. Someone must have seen this guy." Gideon orders as the team goes back to the precinct with a sigh, they were worn out. They begin their usual brainstorming coming up with the reason why the unsub changed his mo? Max came to the conclusion that he didn't want to change it but he had too, something caused him to change thus the calling of Cyra to look up medical records.

" Maybe an injury."

"Or a stroke." Hotch speaks up.

" Either way you're gonna have to have medical records. Agreed?"

" Yes, so what are we talking about? This had to have happened after the middle of 1988 in Philadelphia?" Derek folds his arm over his chest.

" Somebody who fits the rest of the profile." 

"That's  a lot of hospital records." Reid says, sitting back in his chair.

" Call our girl Friday." Gideon clasps his hands together as Derek gets up to call Cyra, Hotch meets him outside figuring he would call her instead, it was a big lot they were asking. That and it had been two whole days since he heard her voice, and he missed the slight rasp in it.

"Welcome to Lady's Coffee's shop where you can get a little swirl with your mocha. Cyra the Great is  speaking."

"Cyra..."

"Aaron"  she cuts him off and he can't help the shiver that runs down his spine at the sound of his name leaving her lips.

"I have a big favor to ask."

"How big?"

"Medical injuries reported in the middle of 1988 in Philadelphia."

"Aaron.. Hotchner... no favor is ever too big I will have them sent to your location in ten minutes sweetness."

"Thanks Cyra."

"Of course 007." and with that the line clicks leaving both if the two parties with smirks on their faces.

//

It was an entirely new dau before the team called Cyra again, and by the team it was the lovely Derek Morgan, whose voice was smoother than the jazz that was swimming around Cyra's Lair.

" Speak!"

" I need a list, sweetness."

" Ahh, sugar, you're in luck. Lists are my specialty. Go."

" Alright, Philadelphia 1988, I need all car accidents resulting in injuries."

" Wow, there's a lot of them. I guess friends let friends drive drunk back then. Okay, you got 36 injuries in a 12 month period."

"How many were American made cars?"

" Almost all of them, except only 5, were serious enough to send the drivers to the hospital. Let's hear it from American made safety." Derek chuckles.

" Tell me who the drivers were."

" Okay, one happened on I95 by the airport, an ambulance picked up the other driver outside of 32-45 Anders Street. Ouch, broken back, that's not good. Wait, Anders Street."

" Thirty-two hundred block of Anders, that's where Carla Bromwell lived."

" Well, that driver's name is Walter Kern, currently 48 years old, and still residing in the city of brother and sisterly love." Cyra twirls a pen around in her hand.

"If he's 48 that would have put him in his late 20's at the time of the killings. Just like Ryan predicted." Derek sighs for a second fistbumping the air. "Cyra you, my delicious cupcake are divine."

"So i've been told."

Derek finds Walter's file and brings it up to the rest of the team where they discuss it. He clearly seemed to fit the profile,

" Walter Kern had a military background. ROTC in high school, 4 years in the air force."

" Hospital records show that he lost mobility in his right side due to severed nerve damage to his spinal cord."  Reid continues.

"He never got the strength back."

" Kern's been a county worker, claims adjuster, and get this, he installed home alarms with Scott Harbin." Derek lists off.

" Take one to know one."

" All those jobs allowed him access to people's homes." Elle speaks up.

" Explains why there was no sign of forced entry. He had a legitimate reason to knock on the door."

" Women felt comfortable letting him inside." Gideon continues to pace the room.

" He got a degree in criminology from Villanova in 1988. I wonder if he murder anyone on campus."

" That certainly explains his knowledge of law enforcement.  This looks like our guy. Anybody's got a current address?" Hotch finally speaks he was reading over Kern's file for himself.

" 557 Wight Street, Southeast Philadelphia. I got you, you son of a bitch. We got him, let's go bring him in." Max says of course when they get to Kern's house he's not home, his wife is though and she is simply perplexed as to why they are at the door. The wife says he's at the community center and is baffled by the fact that they are accusing her husband of murdering women.his wife explains that Kern has a photo room and upon investigation they find his last target their friend Anne. Derek gets Kern on his knees and shoves him around a bit.  Before handing him to Max who  was very eager to take him off their hands.

Abraham Lincoln once said, "In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years. "

Elle was talking to Hotch about being alone, Max was completely alone, she was completely alone.  Hotch contested that he too was completely alone, well besides Jack obviously. But ever since Hailey died he didn't really bother with dating, the idea never really crossed his mind, why would it? his wife had died.  But in a way he felt bad, like if he did start dating. Like he would be cheating, betraying her. There was a woman on his mind lately, her colorful demeanor and warm sunshiney presence was the only fuel he needed to get through the day.

Of course he was eager to get back to see her, only stopping by her office, it was dimly lit he went to knock on the door which opened more slightly. Cyra was at her desk and he went to approach her seeing her wearing headphones. Of course the closer he got he realized the music was listening to her, she wasn't listening to it, she was however peacefully sleeping, her head leaning against her palm. He takes the headphones off her ears causing her to jump awake a bit. She looks around stretching.

"I'm sorry, I must've dozed off. I promise I was working." She stretches her arms out.

"Have you been sleeping?"

Cyra yawns. "I have been in this office just as long as you have been working the case, so the real question is have you been sleeping?"

"Go home and get some rest."

"I will after I finish up the case reports." She adjusted herself up making it look like she wasn't asleep.

"That is an order Cyra Go home now and If I ever find you asleep in here again, I will not hesitate to take action.'' The playful smirk on his face doesn't go unnoticed.

"Take action? Sounds scary." The pair laugh before Cyra starts shutting off the monitors.

"Goodnight Aaron." 

"Goodnight Cyra."  God they were so in love and neither of them knew it.

Word count: 2700