Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. Criminal Minds is the intellectual property of Jeff Davis. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.

BAU Jet, Landing Strip, John F. Kennedy International Airport, Queens, NY

"One of the things I love most about our unit having a private jet is that we never get stuck in security lines or have to go through the crowds at the gates. I love being able to hop off the plane, into a waiting car, drive off to do what we came here to do without…" Reid stopped talking as he noticed Olivia and Elliot giving him identical almost-threatening looks. He cleared his throat and said, "Sorry, I had a cup of coffee before we took off and since it was only about a forty-minute flight, you're around for the caffeine kick up."

Elliot dragged a hand down his face and covered his mouth as he yawned. "This isn't what I expected to do tonight. Or...you know. Ever." He glanced at Olivia. "I don't even think anyone we know is still there."

She scratches a spot behind her ear, mumbles something he can't quite make out, but then speaking louder, she tells him, "We can stay home, while we're here. Spend some time with the kids, maybe…"

He silences her with a kiss and a smile, and he brushes her hair back. "So aside from what Hotch already told us," he looks over at Morgan. "Anything we need to know before stepping into this? We have solid victimology, but what about the profile? Anything jumping out at you yet?"

Rossi held out a hand, stopping Morgan from answering him, and he gave a knowing smile. "Go ahead, Stabler. Tell us what you think."

"Liv and I have a lot of experience with this...unfortunately," Elliot said, unbuckling his seatbelt. The group started rising from their seats and grabbing their bags, but they were listening to Elliot closely. "This per...un-sub," he raised an eyebrow and looked at Olivia. "I will never get used to saying that." He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Shows a lot of rage. Usually, we see this kind of aggression when it's personal when the vic...tim...was specifically chosen for a reason. Usually, it's revenge or to assert authority or control." He looked over his shoulder, made an odd noise, and ripped Olivia's bags out of her hands. Carrying them with his own, he said, "First thing we need to do is find out if there's some sort of singular connection between the vics, and if one person might have a very personal vendetta against all of them." He closed his eyes and licked his lips and then said, "This is screaming family to me."

"Family," Morgan repeats, something churning low in his gut as repressed memories try to creep up. "What do you mean?" He slapped a button on the side of the craft, opening the door and lowering the stairs. He led the group out as he strained to hear Elliot speak.

"Man, this is...this is going to sound really horrible, but…" Elliot lifted the luggage in his hands over his head to get down the steps. "I looked at those pictures, the vics…" he turned and looked right at Morgan and then Rossi, and then turned to look over his shoulder at Olivia. He softened his gaze but his voice was still dark, still loud enough to be heard by everyone that needed to hear him. "They all have the same eyes." He nodded once at Olivia. "Like, you know, how no matter how badly I want a daughter with your beautiful brown eyes, our kids are fucking going to have my eyes?"

"You think…" Olivia narrowed her eyes as she took the last step, planting her feet on the blacktop. "You think all the victims are siblings?" She watched him nod slowly and then turned to Reid. "You agree with him?"

"Well, it's impossible to tell the exact familial connections from photographs, but I am inclined to agree that they all have the same eye color and shape, as well as the same pattern of freckles on their left shoulders, which could very well be a birthmark indicating at least one common parent." Reid looked at her with a smile and said, "But I disagree with one thing he said."

"What's that?" Olivia asked, waiting to get into the provided black truck.

Reid leaned closer to her. "You have between a twenty-five and fifty-three percent chance of having a daughter with brown eyes, depending on how many concurrent generations of each of your families had predominantly brown eyes. Contrary to popular belief, the trait that determines blue eyes isn't recessive, it's simply a matter of the amount of melanin in the iris. You're actually more likely to have children with hazel eyes than blue, given your skin tone and dark features. paired with Elliot's fairer skin and obviously lighter eyes. So his notion that all of his children will inherit his blue eyes is statistically and scientifically inaccurate. Though, to prove him wrong, you'd need to have at least two more children. Evan has Elliot's blue eyes, so the next one," he shrugged and said, "Could have brown."

Elliot stared, flummoxed, with narrow eyes and shook his head as he helped Olivia into the truck. "Man, I still think you're part robot," he chuckled. He slapped Reid on the arm and climbed in beside his wife, oblivious to Reid wincing and rubbing his shoulder.

One the unit, split between two cars, was settled and strapped in, the trucks began to move off of the runway and out onto the back road of the airport. Olivia dragged one hand down to her stomach, Reid's words ringing in her ears, and she turned to look at Elliot. Before she could open her mouth, Hotchner swiveled around from the front passenger seat. "The two of you know the ropes where we're going. You know people, you know techniques. You've got skills that some of us don't, so as much as you know I like to be in full charge, the two of you...you're taking lead on this." He handed a thick file to Elliot.

Elliot took it carefully, flipping it open and setting it on his left knee so Olivia could look at it with him. He turned up each photo, each file, and then he nudged Reid. "Hey, Doc," he said, using his nickname for the young genius, "Read through these first three, here, tell me if you notice the same thing I...I think I just noticed."

Reid took the folder, scanned rapidly through the first several pages, and then looked up, stunned. "Um, Hotch? Stabler and I just read through the parents' statements, medical histories, and we realized...all of the victims were conceived through IVF. Three victims with the same exact genesis? That can't be a coincidence."

"Maybe it's the doctor," Olivia said, recalling a case from her early years with the SVU. "Or…" she paused, thinking of yet another case that felt all too familiar to their current one. "Elliot and Reid both think they could be related. Do you think they could have…" she struggled to find the words. This was something she once thought a lot about; there was a time which seemed so long ago now that she thought it was the only way she could have children of her own. "Did the women use a donor? They could all have the same father."

Hotchner made an odd grumbling sound, flipped open his phone, and dialed a number that would ring a phone in the car behind them. "Morgan, I need you to get Garcia on the phone, and...because she's still not talking to me, that's why. Yes. Ask her to run our victims through the donor sibling registries and pull up any and all medical and birth records for the victims and their mothers. I think…" he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "I think we're walking into something none of us are fully prepared for, and I need to know if that's the case."

Olivia watched Hotchner hang up his phone, and she looked from him to Reid to Elliot, to Rossi who was driving. She hummed as she wondered why Prentiss wasn't in their car. Why she had been delegated to the secondary vehicle with JJ and Morgan when it was so painfully obvious Hotchner wanted her here for a handful of reasons he'd never admit. Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts, and as she looked down to read the message, her heart and stomach gave simultaneous heaves. "El," she whispered.

"Hmm?" he hummed, looking at her. He kissed her forehead and asked softly, "What?"

She simply handed him her phone.

He dropped his gaze to the text message, his brows knitting as he read the words, and then the name of the sender. "Shit," he breathed out, and he closed his eyes. He could have sworn no one they once knew and loved was still in that unit, in that squad room. He thought nothing of taking the case because he felt confident in the fact that they wouldn't run into anyone with whom they now had bad-blood.

Captain Cragen was still there, and he was waiting for them.

Peace and Love

Jo