I never thought I'd be writing a one-shot because all my story ideas were always in a TV script format or length. But I guess reading all the wonderful one-shots out there inspired me since this idea came to me recently and I had to put it in writing. I also have a long story coming up, so that's balance for you!

This story is set during Season 7 and although it's about the Foyet-Hotch storyline, I'm focusing on Roy Colson, David Rossi, and Jack for this one.

Mille mercis - a million thanks - to my beta, Kitty! Our first experience working on a story together has been wonderful and I'm so grateful for her input and support!

Roy Colson was beginning to regret his decision: Maybe confronting Agents Hotchner and Rossi at a kids' soccer game was not the best way to obtain interviews with them. Both men were busy with the kids and looked quite annoyed by his presence, but Colson'd had to get up much too early on a Sunday morning to get here. So he decided to wait until the game was over to approach them and in the meantime, sat at one end of the bleachers, a distance apart from the cheering parents.

He guessed the FBI men were finding his persistence intrusive, especially since they had failed to return all his phone messages for the past three weeks. Truthfully, they had been away for most of that time, but Colson knew they had been back for the past three days, and he had barely been able to talk on the phone for two minutes with Rossi before the man got "busy" and "had to hang up".

Hotchner had been even briefer: after being reminded of his two-year-old promise to give Colson access to the FBI resources once they caught the Reaper, the agent had refrained from showing his surprise—why wait two years to ask for these files?—but he had reluctantly agreed and stated before hanging up he'd soon send a contact name. A text message had quickly followed with the name of the BAU contact.

Colson could understand why Hotchner was hesitant in helping the author, since he, too, had almost joined the Reaper's long list of victims. He could sympathize with Hotchner's desire to move on and forget what the serial killer had inflicted upon him and his family. He could even see why he would prefer Colson not to write a sequel to his best seller, The Night of the Reaper, which would obviously have to include the Hotchner family's story.

With Rossi, on the other hand, it was most likely his loyalty to his colleague that made him so distant. Of course, there was also the slight possibility that, being a successful author himself, he might be considering writing a book on Foyet, too...

Colson had taken a sabbatical after that faithful night when George Foyet had revealed himself as the sadistic psychopath that he was and attempted to kill his biographer. The murderer had been stopped by the BAU team in the nick of time. A couple of years of therapy had followed that terrifying moment. Colson could not write a word despite the abundance of material from all the tragic events and revelations that had occurred ten years after the Reaper's initial rampage.

As he watched the soccer game distractedly, Roy Colson asked himself the same question he had been asking for the past 3 months: why am I going on with this? And the same answer kept coming back to him: because that's who I am, a writer and crime reporter, and I have to write the end of this story.

And because if he did not do it, his publisher would hire someone else to do it in his place and he would have to tell some stranger how he witnessed the Reaper's capture... No. Involving someone else, letting them talk to the victims, to Hotchner, and the FBI, and letting them write HIS story, do HIS job, that, he could not do.

He was finding it difficult to relive his trauma, and to ask others to do the same, but he felt it had to be done by him. He was the best person to do it; he could empathize, be discreet and respectful like no newcomer would be. Truly, he could not give away his unfinished work without regretting it for the rest of his life.

So Roy Colson swallowed hard and waited patiently until he could speak with Rossi or Hotchner... or both, if they let him. They would have to understand why he was doing this. After all, Rossi shared his trade; he had to understand the situation: a book was going to be written on this, one way or another...

Yet, after all his reasoning, his rationalizations, and his arguments, Colson still felt at odds with himself and his anxiety was building up since he started working on the new manuscript. Maybe he was not as fully recovered as he thought he was. Perhaps the memories were still too fresh, the therapy ended too soon?

Too many bad memories...

Following his arrest, Foyet had quickly escaped from prison and disappeared into thin air. Colson had attempted to do a disappearing act of his own, going into hiding for a while. Unsure of his success, he had not been able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time during that period, up until the day he heard of the monster's death... 'Slaying' might be a better word for it... Nevertheless, on that day, Colson had collapsed with relief on his bed and slept for 18 hours straight, his first night—and day—without nightmares in a very long time.

Slowly, over the course of the past two years, Colson had recovered, slept more, dreamt less, and found himself needing to write again. A few months ago, he started writing about the Reaper, just as his publishing company decided to check on him to see if he was ever going to write the second and last tome about the infamous serial killer. He had since felt the inner drive and outer pressures to produce the sequel, and he was now determined to see that project through.

So he read the police reports and the FBI files, talked to the witnesses and families of the victims... He had decided to keep Aaron Hotchner for last, hoping his own inner dilemma would dissipate before his meeting with the profiler. Not that he needed to know all the intimate details of Hotchner and Foyet's encounters – although it would have been interesting to know them – it's that he wanted to at least get the man's input on the serial killer, and on a couple of things Colson had learnt while working on the story.

David Rossi and Derek Morgan were also on his list, but both men had been as evasive as their team leader when he had called them. Morgan had only made one comment: "If Hotch tells me to talk to you, I'll talk to you, but I'm not interested, and I don't think he will be either..."

He did talk with Jessica, Haley's sister, about the period when the woman was under protective custody, and about how they had adapted since her loss. But she did not know much of what had transpired on Haley's and Foyet's last day... Or if she did, she did not want to talk about it.

"Roy Colson, I didn't expect to meet you here!"

Waking from his deep thoughts, the startled man suddenly found himself facing David Rossi. Looking to the field, he noticed that the game was over and all the kids and parents were assembled at the other end. No sign of Hotchner, but he was probably in the middle of the group, leaning low, or kneeling down to be at the kids' level.

Turning his gaze back to the profiler staring at him, Colson suddenly felt awkward, but maintained his resolve—he was not going to back out of this.

The soccer game had ended. Rossi watched pensively as Hotchner gathered the team around him for a final pep talk.

Having made up his mind, Rossi gestured to grab his friend's attention and pointed with his chin to Colson's small figure waiting in the background.

"Aaron? Don't wait for me."

A moment of tension, then understanding and gratefulness flashed over Hotch's face as he returned his attention to the kids standing around him.

Rossi walked briskly to the far end bleachers where Colson was sitting, but became intrigued when he noticed that the man was staring into space and had not even noticed him approaching.

"Roy Colson, I didn't expect to meet you here!"

Rossi sat next to the quiet man, and they soon were left on their own as the nearby spectators got up to leave or join the small assembly.

"Why are you doing this? Hoping to exorcise some fears, maybe?" Rossi asked the uncomfortable man.

"Do you mean coming here, or writing the sequel to my book?" Colson felt on the defensive after Rossi's opening statement.

"I guess there's no point in me asking you to not write it, is there? My guess is your publisher wants a second book, and although they'd prefer you to write it, they'll find someone else if you can't deliver, right?"

"You deal with publishers yourself, what do you think?"

"I think I'm right." Rossi looked at Colson, hesitant. "Can I ask you to leave Agent Hotchner and his family out of this? Use the information you got from the reports and the witnesses. You don't need to talk to him."

"Yes, I have the reports, the witnesses, cops, victims' family members... But I can't not include him in this. I've read the report on the inquiry, his statements of what happened... I've got all that, but I still need—" Troubled, Colson stopped himself.

Rossi had already guessed the man was haunted; however he now realized it was not by fears, but by something else.

Pausing for a minute, the older agent looked to the parents and kids starting to break up and leave. He saw Hotch and Jack pick up their things and slowly follow the others, Hotch very deliberately keeping Jack distracted and avoiding to look in their direction. Turning to his left to check if Colson had seen both father and son heading to the parking lot located behind them, he frowned as he saw the man staring into space, looking dejected and wincing the way he often did.

Rossi decided to ease up on the guy... a little.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, more gently than he had planned to do.

Colson shook his head, looking puzzled, and remained silent.

"What did you want to ask Hotchner?" Dave insisted.

Colson acknowledged his second question by throwing Rossi a quick look and finally made up his mind:

"Is it true that Foyet offered him the same deal he had offered Shaunessy, but he refused?"

Rossi nodded once, confirming what Colson already knew from reading the FBI documents, and waiting to hear what was really behind the question.

"I wonder what would have happened if he had taken the deal. I mean, I don't understand why Foyet would offer it in the first place; I can't see him willing to stop killing after just starting again. What if Hotchner had said yes?"

Rossi smirked. "Foyet knew Hotch wouldn't take the deal. But even if he had taken it, Foyet had no intention of going on another break for who-knows-how-many decades... Remember, when Shaunessy was offered the deal, he was about to retire, he was in poor health, drinking too much, and he was under pressure to end the terror in his community. Foyet had his own health troubles, trying to recover from his self-stabbing and figure out the cocktail of drugs he had to use. So he tortured one man for ten years, instead of continuing to terrorize Boston.

"Ten years of this was enough, though. When he offered the deal to Hotch, it was to toy with him, just like he toyed with Derek Morgan when he left behind the bullet that could have killed him. It flattered his ego to be able to tease the FBI and get away with it."

Rossi said tease, but knew that Foyet loved to torture LEOs and FBI agents any chance he got; any chance to show his power over them was too good to pass. "You want to know what he would have done if Hotch had made a deal with Foyet?" Rossi continued, "He would have done exactly the same thing he ended up doing: He'd have gone after Hotch with the intent to kill him. The terms of the deal were 'until death do us part,' but the Reaper didn't promise 'I won't kill you myself.'"

"I thought he liked control and power over people?" interrupted Colson.

"He did. His attack on Hotch didn't come from anger, or to punish him for refusing to make the deal. It was planned for weeks, if not months! I believe he planned to kill Hotch, the leader of the BAU, to show Morgan and the rest of the team that HE was in control. He had the power over us, even here, in Virginia, away from Boston, his territory of choice and comfort. He had managed to remain hidden under yet another alias, right under our noses! He was seeking new thrills and the BAU or the FBI was it."

"But he didn't kill Hotchner," said the troubled man.

"I think for two reasons. First, while we were in Canada on a case, Foyet had ample time to search Hotchner's place and profile him. He probably got the idea of going after his family during that time. Second, because Aaron surprised him by not showing fear. He didn't give Foyet what he wanted: power over him. He stared down his attacker, even as Foyet kept taunting him, hoping to break him.

"But if Foyet couldn't scare Hotch by menacing him with pain and death, he knew he could do it through his family; so he decided to keep him alive and show him his power by threatening his son and ex-wife... And that was his new sadistic pleasure, torture Hotch and the team, until he'd make his final move, or until we found him, whichever came first."

Colson nodded slightly, a frown still present on his face. He got up slowly, stretching his legs as he walked a few steps and headed away from the field and around the bleachers. Rossi grew even more curious by the man's strange mood; something was obviously bothering him, but the agent was not sure if he would bring up the subject, or continue to walk away, now appearing to be heading for his car without even saying goodbye.

Rossi got up to follow Colson and found him standing still in the shadow of the structure where they were sitting a moment ago. He was staring into the ground at his feet, intently absorbed in his thoughts.

"Roy, what's wrong?" Rossi called, feeling concerned.

Colson bit his lower lip instead of giving an answer, shaking his head, as if he was trying to figure out something. He wavered, undecided a short while longer, and finally, defeated, confessed his anguish to Rossi.

"I met with George Foyet several times over the course of ten years. I talked with him on the phone, we shared meals, we discussed the Reaper's actions and motives, we talked about other criminals... He picked my brain, I picked his... or so I thought—" The man stopped, unable to go further.

"You think you should have seen that he was really a dangerous serial killer, don't you?" Rossi finished his thoughts for him.

"I guess so." Scratching his head, he continued: "I thought we were becoming friends, I... I actually liked the guy; he was so scared, alone, vulnerable... I wanted to help. I just bought the whole story! I should have seen through the act and the lies! And then, he stabs a knife into the table and gets angry at me, takes me hostage... When your team showed up—he would have killed me..."

"I'm not so sure," Rossi said."I think he was quite relieved we showed up when we did, as I don't think he really wanted to kill you. He wanted to be caught, and he wanted his biographer to get front row seats to the event. I think he would have 'toyed' with you for as long as he could, until we finally found him... found you..."

Colson looked utterly disgusted at the thought of Foyet's plan and how he was so easily manipulated by his games.

"How could I not have seen it? How did I miss the truth for so long? I thought I knew the Reaper, I'd written a whole book on him! And there he was and I didn't know him at all!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, he fooled everyone, including Hotch and me, when we first met him," Rossi tried to appease him.

"Who figured out who he was?" Colson was suddenly curious to know how the spell had been broken.

"We were working as a team at that moment, we figured it out together, although, I think Hotch was the first to come up with Foyet as our man. He's quick, often reaches the correct conclusion faster than most."

"Yeah, he's quick... That's how he managed to save his son, didn't he?"

"And managed to not get killed by Foyet. He had set up a trap for Hotch, you know, with Haley's body to distract him."

Rossi stopped as he noticed Colson staring oddly at something behind the agent. Turning around, he saw Jack, who appeared to have heard their conversation and looked upset.

"Jack? What are you doing here? Where's your dad?" Rossi blurted nervously, hoping to buy some time to deal with this new situation. The boy's face looked flushed; his eyes were becoming red and teary. He had obviously heard them talk about that fateful day when he lost his mother.

"We were looking for dad's whistle," Jack pointed to the far end of the field where Hotch was still scanning the ground at the spot they stood on earlier. "Then I remembered that he gave it to me, and then, you were holding it for me."

"Yes, that's right! I have it here, in my pocket," Rossi quickly retrieved the lanyard from his pocket, a whistle hanging from it, and approached the boy to return it.

Colson also came closer, looking worried and feeling guilty that they had been too casual in their conversation and had not heard the boy get so near.

Jack was blinking and scowling at one man, than the other, and back. He was not angry, just seemed confused that they would be discussing the events from two years prior. He took the whistle offered to him. His lower lip trembled as he tried to say something.

"What is it, Jack?" Rossi asked gently, kneeling in front of him.

Suddenly noticing Hotch running towards them and nearing them with a different kind of upset on his face, Dave discreetly signaled the worried father to not intervene—not yet.

"What do you want to say, Jack?" he asked again, prompting the boy as Colson also squatted to join their level.

"I remember George... and my mom... I knew George was a bad guy... but I was too little, then, I didn't understand."

"How did you know George was a bad guy?" Roy Colson could not resist asking him. Jack turned his scowl to him, surprised by the question and searching for the best way to explain what was so obvious to him. He talked slowly, making sure they understood him.

"His eyes didn't look right. They looked empty. When I looked at my mom's eyes, they were full. I remember her eyes. She had lots of lights in them..." Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he continued. "But George's didn't have any light. His eyes were empty: it was like the bad guys in the cartoons... He was empty."

"Jack..." called Hotch softly. The boy turned a wet face to him and ran into his father's arms as Hotch squatted to hug him and rose up again before walking away without looking at the men, or saying another word.

Colson stood up and commented as he watched them leave the field: "They're still trying to process their loss, aren't they?" His experience interviewing families of victims made it easier to interpret what he had just witnessed.

"Just like you; it takes time," Rossi pointed out.

"His eyes... I never noticed how lifeless they were, it's true. I thought it was the medication. Drugs will do that, you know. George was a shell of a man, but I thought it was because of the Reaper's attack," Colson reproached himself.

"Children see the truth more clearly than adults do," said Rossi, "They just lack the perspective to understand what it means. Jack remembers the love his mom had for him when she looked at him. Foyet knew nothing about love."

"Antoine de St-Exupery wrote: It is only with the heart that we see rightly; the essential is invisible to the eye." The hesitation was gone from Colson's voice, he seemed less troubled, now.

Shaking Rossi's hand, Roy Colson left with one more comment: "I think I finally have the ending for the book. Thank you. Oh! You should know something. I've changed the boy's name to minimize any impact from the public on his life..."

"What are you calling him?"

"Grace Bosner."

Rossi smiled: "Thanks, Colson. I'll tell Aaron..."