Ummmm, so, this is set aroundabouts season seven, with Emily back and everything. There really isn't anything much else to say, I've just had this thought buzzing around my head for a while.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own a criminal Minds, thanks for asking.

*unbetaed* (did I spell that right?)

"He should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Don't not, under any circumstances, approach him, just call our emergency hot line that is appearing at the bottom of your screen now." JJ concluded, finishing the profile for the media.

Their latest victim had been in Iowa, but Garcia had tracked a multiple of killings nationwide, all of whom had had a note left behind at the crime scenes, daring the inspectors to out-wit him. So far, the victims had been poisoned, gassed, shot, impaled with various sharp objects by means of a complex contraption, burnt, and stabbed.

But the notes weren't the only connections between the killings. Each victim had an I.Q. exceeding 150.

As soon as they found out, Hotch had immediately banned Reid from the field, who sulked around the police station, only allowed to leave when they were on their way to the next crime scene or going to the hotel for the night, accompanied by Hotch or Morgan, sometimes both. When Reid asked them if Hotch would be Molly-coddled if an UNSUB started going after lawyers gone to the force, he wasn't given an answer. They all knew he was the child of the team, even though he had turned thirty not too long ago.

They believed that their UNSUB was exceptionally intelligent, and proved so when by being frustratingly three steps ahead of them. The notes were taunting and vindictive, sometimes giving vague details of the next victim before they were dead. They guessed he would be between 20 and 35 to be able to keep up with the changing locations, and get past the numerous defences that his targets had put in place, and for the same reason, very fit. He could be white or black, because he never left his skin exposed. In fact, they weren't sure wether he was a he, aside from a slightly masculine sound of his words, of which he never spoke aloud, which led to either he had a medical condition that prevented him from speaking, or was just avoiding them narrowing down their pool of suspects, which was well over a hundred thousand.

He was extremely jealous of other geniuses, and sought to kill them off until he was the only one left.

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The team were heading in for the night, each carrying a case laden with clothes and the essential toiletries. Morgan kept close to Reid, still remembering scenes from Tobais Hankel's torture. It wasn't as if Reid couldn't look after himself, but he was a magnet for danger, and Morgan treated Reid like a little brother, and simply couldn't envision something dreadful happening to him again, after all he had already been through.

The rest of the team were slightly ahead of them, because Reid's suitcase had been buried under all the others, and Morgan had waited for him. As the crossed the parking bays toward the elevator, a faint sound that he would normally pass for some electrical machine whirring stirred a memory from long ago, before the BAU, when he had first joined the force.

When he was on the bomb squad.

"Get back! Get back!" He bellowed, and took Reid in a flying tackle as a blue Nissan they had just passed ripped itself apart, exploding into a ball of flame, shaking the walls and the very air. The shockwave sent them sprawling on the hard concrete, and set off the surrounding car alarms wailing. Dust swirled thick and heavy in the air, pressing down on them, smothering him. Dimly, Morgan became aware of a shard of metal embedded in his lower back, and the thick rivulets of his own blood running down his body.

It was as if everything was covered by a thick cloth, muffling his fellow teammates yells. He felt completely detached, like he would if he was watching some one else die on television, or perhaps a movie. He then became aware of Reid struggling from underneath him, panicked by the amount of blood he knew wasn't his. Reid tore a piece of his shirt and pressed down around the shard, hoping to stem the bleeding, all the while shouting himself hoarse at their teammates, at God, at the UNSUB, and at Morgan.

Derek wondered why Spencer was pressing down on his wound, all was really doing was making the pain worse, and was yelling at him too. If he was going to die, why was Reid trying so hard to make it worse for him? Shouldn't he be fine with being grateful that he had just saved his life? He was sure he had, or had he just slipped backwards, and landed on some debris? The thought gave him a unreasonable urge to laugh, but that just brought on more waves of pain. Why was he in pain in the first place anyway? Reid was really starting to get on his nerves now, what was he playing at? Maybe this was all a practical joke?

Now someone had turned on a terrible klaxon, disrupting whatever he had been doing in the first place even further. People in crisp white uniforms were lifting him onto a bed, which was ridiculous, he was perfectly capable of walking. Then someone had forced a mask over his face, which was blowing funny tasting air into his mouth, and he felt an unreasonable need to go to sleep.

As his eyelids began to droop, he noticed Reid standing there, covered in blood with an anguished expression on his face, and worried if he was in pain, and when the ambulance would tend to him.

Cliffy! Sorry, I had to, I couldn't resist. I'll try to update as fast as I can, but reviews would make me go a whole lot faster!