warnings: mentions of drug abuse/addiction, mentions of depression
"I hold doctorates in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering. As well as BAs in psychology and sociology." The room is silent, and Spencer shifts on his feet, heat rising to his cheeks.
"How old are you?"
"Uh, I'm twenty-six. I'm—I'm, um, also completing an additional BA in philosophy." Spencer grins to himself. "Which reminds me, that I have a joke." He gives a breathy chuckle, wringing his hands together. "How many existentialists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"
Rossi leans in, his voice a whisper. "Don't."
Spencer holds up his hand, telling Rossi it's okay. "Two. One to change the lightbulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness." Spencer grins, looking around the room to see if anyone would get it. No one does. "Um, an existentialist would—"
"Okay, before he does his quantum physics knock-knock joke, do we have any other questions about opportunities in the FBI?"
The seminar ends quickly after that, and Spencer and Rossi walk out of the classroom, Spencer's hands shoved in his pockets. He had thought his joke was pretty funny, but he guesses he's the only one who thought that. Sighing, he turns his head to look at Rossi.
"You do know we want them to actually join the Bureau?" Rossi states as the pair turn the corner.
"What?" Spencer asks, confused.
"We want these kids to think it's a cool place to work."
"I understand that!" Spencer retorts.
"Existentialism?" Rossi whispers, raising his eyebrows.
"Existentialism is...that was a funny joke, what do you mean?"
"Yeah, to Sigmund Freud."
"I tell them I shouldn't—they keep on sending me here! I don't know why," Spencer tells Rossi as they turn toward the stairs.
"Because you're young," Rossi tells him.
"Young or—"
"Dr. Reid?"
Spencer and Rossi turn around, facing a man with long silver hair, his round glasses almost too small for his pudgy face. A silver mustache sits right above his mouth, the white suit he's wearing oddly outdated.
"Wouldn't they sit in the dark and hope that the bulb decided to light again?"
Spencer scrunches his brows. "Excuse me?"
"An existentialist would never change the bulb," the strange man says. "He would allow the darkness to exist."
Spencer nods, a smile forming on his face. "Yeah, that's pretty good." He laughs, glancing at an unamused Rossi, who begins walking down the stairs.
"I'm Professor Rothschild. It was a brilliant presentation. Brilliant." He speaks as they walk down the stairs. "You're a remarkably effective recruitment tool. The FBI is very lucky to have you."
Spencer grins at the stranger. "Thank you for saying that."
"May I show you something?" Rothschild asks as they stop on a small platform before the last set of stairs.
"Yeah, of course."
"It's all right here." Rothschild hands Spencer a black, leather folder.
Spencer opens the folder, glancing down, his brow furrowed as he takes a series of pictures out of it. A woman. No. Different women. All of them screaming. Scared.
"I-I don't understand. What are these?" Spencer asks.
"Seven homicide victims."
"Homicide?" Rossi asks, glancing at Rothschild.
"Seven women. The bodies have never been found. Not a fingernail, not a hair fiber." Spencer's blood runs cold as the man speaks, a bad feeling swirling around in his stomach. "Acid is a very tidy way of disposing of something." Rothschild takes the photos and the folder back.
"Acid?" Rossi's voice is firm.
"Are you saying that you killed these women?" Spencer asks, looking down at Rothschild.
"There's still time to save the others, though."
"Others?"
"Five more."
"What do you mean?" Spencer asks, glancing down at the photos.
"In a bit less than nine hours, five other people are going to be dead. Unless you can find a way to save them."
Rothschild throws the photos up into the air, and Spencer watches as they float around before softly hitting the marble steps in front of them.
•••
"So you said you're a professor at Strayer?"
"No."
"You didn't?" Spencer asks, turning back to look at Rothschild.
"No."
"I mean, you did introduce yourself as Professor Rothschild, right?"
"Your degree in philosophy surprises me, Dr. Reid," he calmly states. "It doesn't fit with mathematics and engineering."
"I kind of like it because there's no right or wrong answers," Spencer says, keeping his eyes on the strange man.
"Without right or wrong, how would we recognize perfection?"
"Is this fun for you?" Rossi asks, obviously fed up with Rothschild.
"Excuse me?"
"Are you having fun?"
"It's quite a bit more complicated than that," Rothschild answers.
"What do you mean?" Rossi asks, his eyes staying on the road as he drives.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Spencer watches in silence at the two interact, his brows scrunched together. This man is strange. Why would he turn himself in? Is it like a game to him?
"I read your books, David. You're not of the intellectual capacity to grasp what's going on here."
"If you're trying to piss me off, it's not gonna work. But if you killed seven women without leaving a trace of evidence, why turn yourself in?"
Rothschild raises his eyebrows. "Imagine what the world would have missed if DaVinci never showed his work."
•••
"What's going on?" Spencer asks as he and Rossi escort Professor Rothschild into the bullpen.
"You said there were five more we could save?" Hotch asks, walking out of his office.
"A woman was abducted this morning in Loretto, Virginia. She runs a home daycare center," Jordan says, nodding at the TV screen. "She had four children with her."
"They're all missing," Y/n says softly.
"All five," Morgan states.
"Are those the five more?" Rossi asks, glancing down at the short man.
"Are you pissed off yet, David?"
Rossi clenches his jaw before leading the man away to an interrogation room, and Spencer looks after them before his eyes flick to Y/n. She leans against her desk, arms crossed in front of her. Her eyes flick to his, and her lips turn up just a smidge in the corners, not quite reaching her eyes.
It's been a few days since they slept together, and she hasn't been acting distant or anything. Just...a little detached. Not even to Spencer, just from herself. Spencer crosses over to her, giving her a small smile.
"Come on, we should go watch the interrogation."
She nods, and he places his hand on her lower back as they walk to the interrogation room. They both stop next to Hotch in front of the one-way glass. Spencer removes his hand, letting it hang loosely by his side instead. Morgan's trying to read Rothschild his rights, but the man keeps interrupting him.
Spencer scrunches his brows as he notices the golden pendant hanging around his neck. The golden ratio. Huh. He mentioned DaVinci before. He must be a fan.
Morgan slams his hand down on the table. "Do you understand your rights."
"Perfectly. I can have a lawyer, no thank you." He glances up at Rossi. "Some games are just intended to be played by higher intellects."
"Harming a person weaker than you doesn't take any special ability," Morgan states. Spencer's eyes flick to Rothschild's fingers, his thumbs tapping a sequence every so often. Strange.
"Neither does slamming your fist down on a table, but we all must do what we must do." Rossi looks down at the man before looking back up at Morgan, the pair walking toward the interrogation room door. "Bring Dr. Reid back with you."
Spencer sighs. "I never have any normal fans."
"This guy loves the attention," Morgan says, walking into the small room.
"He has a God complex," Rossi states, standing next to Morgan. "Sooner or later, he'll give up something important about Kaylee and the kids. Guys like him always do."
"Before he hurts them?" Y/n asks, glancing at Rossi.
"It's one-forty-five. He said we had 'till ten," Hotch replies.
"We need a button to push," Rossi sighs.
"The seven original homicides could give us some leverage," Morgan suggests.
"He says we'll never find any evidence. So he has nothing to worry about on them."
Spencer nods. "He made a point of saying there are no bodies, no physical evidence." He reaches over, subtly running his fingers down Y/n's back, trying to comfort her. He might not know what's wrong with her, but he does know she's not okay.
"We just have to show that a crime was committed," Hotch says. "We can do that circumstantially."
"We need to identify the original seven women," Rossi says, turning around and looking at everyone. "Going back in there with names might just shake him up."
"How do we do that?" Y/n asks, and Spencer watches her subtly dig her nails into the tops of her forearms.
"Reverse profiling."
"Learn everything we can about him and his methods and then profile it back to what kind of victim he would choose and from where," Hotch explains.
"From the unsub to the victim." Morgan keeps his eyes on Rothschild.
•••
"I went through ViCAP, there are literally thousands of open missing women cases across the country," Garcia says, twiddling with her pink fuzzy pen.
"It's not the entire country, though," Spencer says, pacing behind her. "Kaylee was abducted at nine-thirty this morning. He had time to take them somewhere, hide them, and make it to Fredericksburg two hours later." He takes a sip of his coffee.
"He'd need a place with a lot of privacy to hide five victims," Prentiss states.
"A house," Hotch says matter-of-factly.
"He's local," Y/n says, tapping her fingers on the table.
"He was late for the presentation," Spencer mutters. "You know, it was more like two and a half hours after the abduction. He got there around noon, which puts him somewhere in that radius."
"Garcia, work up a map. We need the farthest point he could have taken Kaylee from Loretto and still gotten back to Fredericksburg by noon."
"Shouldn't be too hard," she says.
"Alright, what do we know so far?" Rossi asks, standing up from his chair, approaching the clear board they had placed in the roundtable room. "He's obsessively neat and clean." He writes on the board. "He did research on Reid and me at least. He's abducted five people, and then gets to a scheduled recruitment session at a specific time. That's extensive pre-planning."
"Did you find anything in those pictures, Garcia?" Spencer asks, glancing at her.
"I can't even positively say they're dead," she replies, shaking her head.
"What about hair color?" Rossi asks, writing on the board.
"All the ones that show hair, they appear to be brunettes."
"So is Kaylee," Rossi replies.
"I'll start there. Brunettes from Central Virginia that are missing." Garcia writes it down on her notepad.
"IDENT got zip on his prints," Morgan says, sighing as he walks into the room. "He's not in any system. He's a ghost."
"Alright, if he hasn't been fingerprinted, he hasn't been arrested," Y/n says, leaning back in her seat. "Which also means he hasn't had a passport, driver's license, or been in the military."
"He's never been a teacher, either," Spencer says, scrunching his brows together. "You have to be fingerprinted to be a teacher."
"So he's a professor who doesn't teach," Rossi says.
"What kind of professor doesn't teach?" Jordan asks, gripping her coffee cup.
"A researcher? Someone on a grant, maybe," Spencer explains.
"Yeah, a grant would give him the time," Hotch agrees.
"There must be some sort of central grant database," Garcia says, looking up at the team. "I can't imagine the government just handing out money and not—I'll look into it." She closes her notepad, scooping up her things as she stands, exiting the room.
"Alright, from past conversations, we know he's a narcissist and seemingly remorseless," Rossi explains.
"Psychopath," Y/n whispers.
"You know, we can eliminate a lot of these open missing persons cases if we could just figure out how he met them," Prentiss explains.
"Jordan, contact the Loretto PD and get us an invitation to consult on the Kaylee Robinson case. Be nice to them. They don't have to let us." Hotch glances at Jordan. "And then you and Morgan go down there and find out what you can."
Morgan shares a look with her. "Let's go."
The pair exit the room, Rossi walks toward Prentiss. "Prentiss, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything."
"What's our strategy going to be in there with the interrogation?" Spencer asks.
"You're not gonna be in the room," Rossi says, turning toward him.
"What do you mean?" Spencer asks, scrunching his brows.
"That's what he wants. He wants to play with you. We have to knock him off his game. That's all we have right now."
"He's right," Hotch says, arms crossed in front of him.
Spencer nods, glancing over at Y/n. Her eyes are settled on the file in front of her, but Spencer knows she's not reading it. Her eyes flick up to his, and Spencer can't seem to discern the emotion in them. Spencer turns his head, watching Rossi and Prentiss exit the room, Hotch leaving through the other door.
He crosses over to Y/n, sitting down in the chair next to her. "Are you okay?" He pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, her thumb brushing her cheek.
She turns her head, eyes searching his face. "Could we, um, talk about it later? After the case?"
Spencer nods, butterflies fluttering in his stomach when she leans her cheek into his hand. "Yeah, of course."
"Thanks," she whispers, her lips turning up at the corners.
He leans in, pressing his lips against hers for a soft kiss. She returns it, and he pulls away quickly, not wanting anyone to see them at work. He laces his fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb over hers slowly. "Come on, we need to go watch the interrogation."
•••
"He said one of them is already dead," Spencer says, rushing into Garcia's cave, Rossi and Y/n following close behind him.
The interrogation was interesting to watch. Rothschild is a very composed man—and it's starting to irritate Spencer just a little bit. He had revealed they didn't actually have nine hours to find the five missing humans—one would die every two hours. Two o'clock on the dot.
"One of the five," Rossi says, closing the door behind him.
"There are only three children," Hotch says, glancing at the computer screen.
"Is this them?" Spencer asks, bending over to look at the screen.
"An anonymous site emailed to me," Garcia says.
"He said one will die every two hours." Y/n clenches her right hand into a fist. "Not all five in ten."
Rossi sighs. "When he said ten hours, I just assumed—"
"It's a chess game. He's two moves ahead," Spencer explains. He reaches behind him, and Y/n takes his hand, their joined hands hidden behind Spencer.
"Let's not get diverted," Hotch tells the team. "How are we doing with the seven missing women?"
"Huh. So far, I've got thirty-nine missing brunettes in Central Virginia."
"Okay, thirty-years-old like Kaylee. Narcissists tend to be extremely preferential."
Garcia types on her keyboard. "Twenty-eight."
"He said he's been working on this for five years," Rossi says.
"Over the last five years, seventeen."
"Alright, if he thinks he's going to jail for even one of the original seven homicides, maybe he'll tell us where the rest of them are and give himself some deal room," Hotch says, raising his eyebrows. "How long do we have until the next one?"
"One hour, forty-eight minutes," Spencer says, releasing Y/n's hand.
"Dave, can I speak to you for a second?" Hotch says, turning his head to look back at Rossi.
Rossi nods, heading out the door. Spencer looks back at the computer screen, shaking his head. This case is confusing, and there's even more pressure because of the time limit. Y/n rests her hand on his back, almost able to sense Spencer's nerves running high. He smiles to himself at her touch, turning his head back to look at her before his eyes focus on the screen in front of him again.
•••
"Margaret Peters, another Gloucester Point," Hotch says, glancing down at the files of the missing women. "Disappeared in two-thousand four on her way to work. Last seen at the coffee shop she went to every morning."
"Check," Garcia says, writing the name up on the board.
"That's number six. We need one more," Spencer says, tilting his head as he looks at the board.
Movement from the laptop steals the team's attention, and Spencer turns his head, looking at the video feed. Kaylee has the kid closest to the wall switch places with her, putting her at the end instead.
"She put herself closest to the end," Spencer mutters. "Farthest from the camera."
"Why?" Y/n asks.
"Maybe she knows something we don't, like she doesn't have a lot of time," Hotch guesses. "Let's continue."
"Uh, Lindsey Connor," Prentiss says, her picture popping up on the screen. "She was last seen when she stepped out to have a cigarette while having a blown tire fixed."
"Doesn't sound like something routine," Spencer says, brows scrunched together.
"Lisa McDaniel, Saluda, went missing early two-thousand five while on her daily jog."
"Oh, she fits," Y/n says, glancing up at the board.
"That's seven. Including Kaylee, that makes eight."
"Whoa," Prentiss says, staring at the pictures of the women.
"They're all incredibly beautiful," Hotch says, tilting his head.
"Almost unnaturally," Spencer mumbles.
"What are the chances that three out of our seven victims are from the same town?" Garcia asks as she finishes writing.
"What's the population of Saluda?" Prentiss asks.
Y/n looks up at the board, and Spencer watches her studying it, recognition of something flashing through her eyes. He turns back to the board.
"Middlesex County is small, but it's near water," he explains. "A lot of people have boats there and weekend homes."
"And two from Gloucester Point," Hotch notices.
Spencer's phone beeps, and Spencer glances down at the picture. "Hey, Morgan just sent this to me from the Robinson house." He shows the team the photo. Hotch takes the phone, and Spencer turns toward the board.
Y/n stands up, walking over to the board. "I feel like I recognize this pattern."
"Perfection," Spencer mumbles under his breath.
Spencer begins writing on the board, the pieces coming together in his mind. The numbers. He writes down the towns, and next to them, the amount of people missing from each one. The numbers. The sequence.
"One-one-two-three-five," Spencer mutters.
"The Fibonacci sequence," Y/n says, knitting her brow as she watches Spencer write.
"Does that mean something?" Prentiss asks.
Spencer doesn't answer her, instead walking out of the room, heading for the interrogation room. He pushes open the door, Rothschild glancing up, raising his eyebrows.
"Dr. Reid..." He can't get another word out before Spencer grabs his pendant, ripping the chain from his neck. "Hey!"
Spencer holds the pendant of the golden ratio up, looking Rothschild in the eye. "I know where to find them." He walks back to the roundtable room, Rossi following him. "Garcia, can you put up the map of Virginia on the screen?"
"Sure," she says, typing away at her computer.
Spencer pushes the clear board out of the way. "It's an irrational number known as 'phi'. It's based on the ratio of line segments to each other and to the whole."
"It's called the golden ratio," Y/n says, glancing at Spencer.
"Golden rat—that's the web address! Goldenrat.net." Garcia looks up from her laptop.
"It's a ratio found all through life," Spencer explains. "In fact, many people we find conventionally attractive are proportioned based on that ratio." He looks at Rossi. "He, uh, he made a reference to Leonardo DaVinci, remember this? DaVinci used it in a lot of his paintings. As a matter of fact, the Last Supper—"
"Reid, Reid, how do we find them?" Hotch asks, cutting off Spencer's rant.
"Right," Spencer breathes out. "The whole concept is represented by this pendant." He holds up Rothschild's pendant. "Including the logarithmic spiral created by using a Fibonacci sequence. Follow me on this." Spencer holds up the pendant to the map. "You can manipulate this image, right?"
"Tell me what you need," Garcia says, glancing up at Spencer.
"Pull up all the towns that the missing's are from." Garcia types on her keyboard, the towns popping up on the map. "Wonderful. We had one in Richmond. One in Dinwiddie. Then two in Gloucester Point, and three in Saluda. Finally, five in Loretto this morning."
"One-one-two-three-five," Y/n explains. "It's a Fibonacci series. Each number added to the number before it."
"It's what his ticks mean," Spencer says, looking back at the team. "He's subconsciously counting off the Fibonacci sequence in his head over and over again. Now geometrically, it can be expressed as a spiral. It's called a logarithmic spiral. Can you put the spiral up on the map, please?" Garcia places the image up on the map. "Thanks." Spencer looks at the spiral. "Okay, now flip it one-hundred eighty degrees. Now make it bigger. Just a little bit bigger. Stop, stop, stop."
"The pendant is like a key," Y/n mutters.
"Chester, Virginia," Spencer says.
"You're sure?"
"With his level of obsession with these numbers, the ratio will have permeated his entire life," Spencer says, looking at Rossi. "If we took a city map of Chester, the location where Kaylee and the children are being held will follow on of these points on that map as well. The ratio works with any scale at all."
"Morgan and Todd are closer," Hotch says. "Call them and tell them to get to Chester. I'm gonna get a chopper ready. Reid and Y/n, get a city map, and you two are with me." He motions to Prentiss and Rossi.
Rossi glances at the board. "There's still something...bugging me about this."
Spencer looks at Rossi. "What do you mean?"
Rossi shakes his head. "I just don't think the numbers will add up."
"Let's think about it, then."
•••
Spencer exhales as he and Y/n walk up the steps of their apartment complex. They'd saved Kaylee and the kids—killing eleven people wouldn't have been in the pattern of the sequence. It was a trap the whole time, one the team had successfully avoided. Spencer stops outside of his apartment, glancing at Y/n.
"Do you wanna come inside?"
Y/n nods, and he unlocks his door, the pair walking inside of his apartment. He locks the door behind him, and he grabs her hand, moving both of them to sit on his couch. He keeps her hand in his, looking at her.
"Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?" He whispers.
She nods, averting her gaze to look at the floor. "I'm just...really sad. I-I know it's just part of withdrawal but..."
"But it's getting bad?" Spencer asks, scooting closer to her.
She nods. "When I...when I was using, I was depressed. I was just always in a dark place. And after I stopped using, I was fine for a while." She looks up at Spencer, biting the inside of her cheek, almost like she's trying to stop herself from crying. "But lately it's just been getting really bad."
"How bad?"
"Worse than it was when I was using."
Spencer rests his unoccupied hand on her cheek, and she leans into it. "Maybe you should start going to therapy? I know that sounds scary, and I know there's a stigma around it, but it really helps."
Y/n nods, averting her gaze again. "I'm just scared I'm never gonna feel happy again."
Spencer leans back on the couch. "Come here, baby." His stomach flutters again after calling her that, and he feels his cheeks grow warm.
She inhales deeply, sitting between his legs, her back resting against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, and she places her hands on top of his. She leans her head back against his shoulder, and Spencer looks at her.
"You will feel better eventually," he whispers to her. "It'll take some time. I promise. I can...I can give you the name of the therapist I used to go to if you want. She's really nice."
She hesitates a moment before nodding. "Okay." Her voice is quiet, and Spencer moves his hands, placing them on top of hers instead of the other way around.
"Okay," he says softly.
She looks up at him and Spencer smiles softly. He leans down, pressing his lips to hers. She kisses him back, and Spencer holds her a little tighter, her kiss sending a rush of warmth through him. It's almost dizzying the effect she has on him, and Spencer pulls away after a moment, a soft smile on his lips.
"How do you feel about takeout? We could watch a movie or something. You know...just exist together."
She smiles up at him. "I'd like to just exist right now. With you."
Spencer grins, kissing her forehead. "Alright then. Let's just go exist."
——————————————
Author's Note
I HAD to use this episode because the Fibonacci sequence is my favorite sequence of numbers. I've been obsessed with it since I read the Magic of Reason like ten years ago.
This book has 8 more chapters and an epilogue! That's crazy! This has been a crazy journey. I love all of you. :)
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3