Title: Pictures from a Haunted Past
Author: Fitegirl
Pairing: JJ/Reid
Fandom: Criminal Minds.
Rating: PG
Warning: WiP
Summary: A new serial killer holds a grudge against old classmates from high school.

***

On the warped bookshelf, gradually collecting dust, sat an old high school yearbook from 1997. It bothered him. He always kept it open to a specific page, a specific picture. That picture had haunted him for the past ten years. His entire life had been ruined because of it.

He could have been amazing. He could have achieved worldwide fame. He could have made the greatest discoveries and changed the lives of millions. Had it not been for that picture—and who was in it.

Disgruntled, he climbed out of bed and walked over to the shelf. He stared down at the picture, and every feeling he possessed quickly transformed into pure hatred. They would pay for how they had treated him, how they had humiliated him. They would know all the hurt and pain they had caused him those four long, unbearable years together. Those condescending know-it-alls would no longer be his superiors once he was through with them.

There were three others who surrounded him in the picture. Grinding his teeth with intense anger, he grabbed a pencil and scrawled the numbers 1, 2, and 3 on each of them in a specific order until the dull point of the lead pencil snapped. It was his plan.

It was his hit list.

***

Gideon yawned as he brought up the rear of the team walking into the conference room. He closed the door and stood behind Hotch's chair as JJ prepared to inform them about their most recent case. After all, he never sat down in a meeting unless it was absolutely necessary, for he could always think better on his feet. He groaned quietly, recalling the nice break he had just enjoyed, far away from the BAU, airplane flights, and the discovery of newly mangled corpses. Yes, he knew the job came with a price, but the thrill of putting a sadistic serial killer behind bars was simply priceless.

JJ turned back to face her fellow coworkers. "Welcome back from vacation everyone," she said with pretend enthusiasm. Morgan lifted his head to deliver a fake smile then looked around the room.

"Hey, where's the genius?" he asked, this time with a genuine grin.

"Still visiting his mother," Gideon replied. "He's flying home today."

"Good," said JJ, "because I have a feeling we're going to need him on this case."

"When don't we?" Morgan mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee.

"All right, JJ," Hotch cut in. "What do you have for us?"

JJ nodded and clicked the remote. A series of gruesome pictures flashed across the screen. "Dr. Douglass Ross, age 29. He had just graduated med school and was a late-night employee at Philadelphia's Crenshaw Hospital."

"Not anymore," said Morgan, shaking his head.

"Approximately three hours ago, Dr. Ross was found dead in a closed-off private room in the ICU ward. There were countless lacerations along various parts of the body, the largest being across the throat, the upper thighs, and from the wrists to the elbows. Any other cuts and slashes were made beforehand for an extended period of time."

"So he tortures him and then lets him bleed to death?" Garcia asked with a shudder.

"Not exactly," JJ replied. "Not long after the final lacerations were made, it appears Ross was smothered with a pillow, and the unsub used it as a silencer. . . ." She cringed as the following picture appeared on the screen. ". . . Dr. Ross was shot in the face."

Garcia's expression screwed up in a nasty grimace. "Eww. . . ."

"Was there any kind of message left at the crime scene?" Gideon asked.

"This note was found on the body of the victim," JJ explained, and the next photo displayed a crinkled scrap of lined paper, the edges stained with crimson blood. She read it aloud:

"'I'm not sorry for what I've done.

Doug was the one in the wrong, not I.

My life is simply a poetic yet tragic injustice.

His purpose was to die, just as my purpose was to make it happen.

The only crime I have committed is working to fulfill my destiny.

Is that so wrong?'"

The team sat in silence as the note concluded. Then Emily responded, "It's like he's trying to convince us he did something good by killing this guy. But he's also trying to convince himself of the same thing. He must be feeling some sort of guilt."

"Whatever he's feeling, we'll find out soon enough," Hotch said. "Emily, I want you to come with Gideon and me to the crime scene, and JJ can help Garcia keep this news off the Internet and away from the media. And Morgan, give Reid a call and tell him to meet you at the hospital."

As the team filed out of the conference room to prepare for their flight, Gideon secretly gave a slight smile. He was already anxious to find their killer and put him away as soon as possible.

***

Thud. Thud. Creak. Thud. Creak. Thud.

He paced and paced and paced. Shuffling his feet along the wooden floor of his bedroom. Twitching in spasms of fear.

It was the only way. You did nothing wrong.

But he wouldn't have done something that bad to him. Doug never would have hurt him. Not like that.

But he did hurt you. They all did. All through high school. You were never good enough to top them.

Look at the picture. And remember.

He quickly moved over to the yearbook again. His eyes rested on the boy with the number 1 scrawled across his face. Taking the blade from the hospital out of his pocket, he bit his lip as he cut a deep gash in his thumb. The blood poured down his hand as he smeared his crimson thumbprint over the picture of the young Douglass Ross.

Shrugging off the tremors of fear incessantly creeping down his spine, he plunged the knife into the book and through the thin shelf beneath it. One man down, two more to go. He could not prevent it, for now his plan was set in motion.

There was no turning back.

***