CM/WMC Crossover - The Unexpected, 1/?
Title: The Unexpected, 1/?
Fandom: WMC/CM Crossover
Pairing: Emily/Cindy; Cindy/Lindsay and Emily/JJ implied, if you squint really hard.
Rating: Probably PG/PG-13 for right now. There will definitely be some NC-17 at some point, but I’ll forewarn you.
Disclaimer: Don’t own a damn thing except what’s in my head! If I did, I wouldn’t have to write these fics to fill in the blanks.
Warnings: Can’t think of any, except this is un-beta’d. All mistakes are mine.
AN: This idea just popped into my head and wouldn’t leave so I had to start writing it down. I rarely write chapter-by-chapter, but after a little poking from someone who won’t be mentioned, I caved and decided to do this. We’ll see where it goes.
CHAPTER 1
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Lindsay cursed as she stubbed her toe on the table in the hallway. “Whoever’s waking me up at this god awful hour better have a damn good rea…,” her words trailed off when she jerked the door open to find a red-eyed Cindy standing in her doorway.
She reached for the petite redhead to urge her inside, “Cindy? What’s wrong? What happened?”
Wordlessly and with shaking hands, Cindy handed over the tear-stained letter she found in her mailbox. In large box letters was one word: yellow.
Lindsay’s face flashed quickly from confused to scared and finally to angry, “Son of a bitch! When I find this asshole, I’m gonna…” Her words trailed off when she noticed Cindy’s face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. “Hey, come here.” She wrapped her long arms around Cindy protectively. The shock was finally hitting home. Cindy was next on the killer’s list.
For the past six months, Lindsay and Jacobi had been working on a case that had produced no leads. Two women had been killed in the last two months. Prior to the start of the killings, each month like clockwork on the first of the month, a letter was sent to the local TV stations announcing the killer’s plans. Each letter was more angry, detailed in its prospective brutality, and hate-filled than the last. Then on the first day of the month, two months ago, a letter arrived at not only the local stations, but also at homicide, clearly outlining how the first woman would die before the end of the month.
At first, Lindsay had thought it was just some crazy looking for attention. Why else send letters to the stations? But, when the first woman showed up under the Golden Gate with her throat slit and every finger cut off, she knew this was for real. When they searched her apartment, they found a letter open on the dining room table with nothing on it but the block letters that said: red.
The second woman was found in a similar way, throat slit, but this time her tongue was cut out. In her apartment, a lone letter was found on a table that said: orange. Yesterday, letters had arrived as expected with details on the third kill. This time the killer planned to remove the woman’s reproductive organs. Claire had found through her autopsies that both women had been tortured before finally being mercifully killed.
Lindsay squeezed the shaking woman in her arms. Something had to be done. This had gone too far and hit too close to home. Still holding Cindy, she reached for the cell phone on her hall table and hit the speed dial.
“Tom, we have a problem.”
********
“Two women have been brutally killed in San Francisco, apparently by the same person,” JJ clicked through the crime scene images as the rest of the team followed along or read through the files.
“What makes the SFPD think this is the same perp?” Morgan, always the devil’s advocate, had his usual doubts.
The blonde sighed, “Letters, in the same type of lettering, were sent to both victims prior to the murders. The local TV stations were notified by the killer in the same style each time. And, the killing blow for each victim was a clean slice to the neck. However, each was tortured prior to their death.”
Emily stated the obvious next question, “It seems pretty clear that the perp is the same, but why these women? What ties them all together? From what I can tell, neither of them look anything alike, they didn’t work in the same type of job or live in the same neighborhood. As far as I can tell, none of them have anything in common.”
JJ smiled at the brunette, “True, and the SFPD hasn’t been able to identify any connection yet except that they both lived in San Fran. However, the killer has a consistent pattern and that is that he likes to telegraph his next kill. He not only lets the police and the media know his plans, apparently he likes to start terrorizing these women long before he kidnaps them. In fact, he’s already contacted the third potential victim.”
All heads in the room jerked up at the news, “Yesterday, Cindy Thomas, ironically, a local crime reporter, received a letter with nothing else on it but the word: yellow. Being that she works the crime desk, she knows the lead homicide detective on the case…a one,” the blonde looked down at her notes, “Lindsay Boxer. Ms. Thomas went immediately to Detective Boxer with the information and that’s where we came in.”
After a few thoughtful moments while the team processed the information, Hotch addressed the group, “Wheels up in 30. Let’s stop this guy before he covers all the colors of the rainbow.”
*******
Forty minutes later, the BAU team was leaving Quantico. Emily sat in the back, looking intensely over her notes and the files she had spread out around her. She listened half-heartedly to the statements and comments around her. Reid was throwing out tidbits of facts on serial killers, while Morgan deflected each saying that the one they’re after could be an exception to the rule. JJ was at the front of the plane on her cell lining up details with a guy named Tom.
Emily, on the other hand, was trying desperately to focus on the papers in front of her. Hotch’s flippant comment drove home the possibility of what they could be heading into in San Francisco. Saying something could have the consequence of outing Emily to the team, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. But her conscience and her duty to the job wouldn’t very well allow her to keep quiet either. Perhaps trying a subtle approach would work.
“What do we know about the two victim’s personal lives?” Emily called from the back of the plane. “Boyfriends?” She paused and shrugged, as if it would be an afterthought. “Girlfriends?” She looked at JJ, but the blonde was staring a hole in the side of the plane.
“Neither seemed to be involved with anyone,” Hotch stood with a file in his hand, flipping through the pages.
“Whatcha thinking, Prentiss?” Morgan chimed in.
“Well, consider several facts: the vics have no obvious connection to each other, there’s no physical or racial resemblance - first vic was black, the second Asian, they’re all from the same city, but not same part of the city, a city, I might add, that is infamous for one thing in particular, and finally, the choice and order of colors the killer sends on the letters - red, orange, and the next one…yellow. If my guess is right, the next colors to follow would be green, blue, and purple. The colors of the rainbow.”
Morgan chuckled, “Are you saying this guy has a Skittle obsession?”
Garcia swatted Morgan on the arm, while the rest of the team looked on blankly, “No. This is San Francisco, a gay mecca, and the rainbow is a symbol of gay pride and identity. I think our victims were gay or at least bisexual.”