Ogunquit, Maine

Today is the Day.

After piloting the Slice of Life into Laura in order to make most of the world believe I was dead, I have drifted from place to place to place as a non-entity; working various labor jobs, keeping my head down, staying off anybody's radar. I'm sure there are several people who would describe me- in whichever identity I had assumed – as being aloof or maybe even antisocial; and that's been okay by me. What they don't realize is that this is by design. This is in part for my own protection; the first rule of Harry's Code is: don't get caught. My anonymity and aloof lifestyle is also for their protection.

I should make it known clearly right here and now that the Dark Passenger has long left me; or at least as much as it ever will. I have seen many opportunities to let him take over and revert to my old ways, and have declined to do so. What is even more important is that this wasn't out of a need for control over the Dark Passenger as it is about the fact that the desire to act on those urges has faded. Even with Hanna and Harrison so far away their love is stronger than my darkness. What I mean by their protection is from my Curse. I've made a point of keeping people at a distance so I don't end up hurting them; or worse. Whether I kill or not, I destroy the lives of those I care most about; the only way to keep that from happening anymore is to not allow anyone get too close. My mother was murdered in front of me, and Brian...Bynie...my brother...ended up an even worse monster than I could ever be. Harry took me in and with the help of Evelyn taught me the Code, but both are dead because of what I became. Harry even killed himself because of his role in it. Rita was murdered by Arthur Mitchell...Trinity... because I let him live much longer than I should have; and because of that the lives of Astor and Cody are ruined forever. In fact, everything I've done has made their lives worse. Astor was right when she said that, even if she didn't know it. All I can hope for them is that maybe 'Uncle Joey' is helping balance that damage out a little. Then there is Deb...my sister; she compromised everything she was and everything she believed in out of love for me, and then she died...no, she was murdered trying to protect me and the truth of what I am. Everyone I ever really care about ends up hurt, or dead, or damned- if you believe in God.

Since that last night in Miami, the only three people who have any idea that I'm still alive are Angel, Quinn, and Matthews. I would have rather not let any of them into this, but I needed them in order to make it work. I needed Angel to coordinate matters from that end, and Matthews to make sure every part of the narrative stuck. Ironically enough, Quinn turned out to be the most important piece of the puzzle. He doesn't like to admit it, but in many ways he's dirty; he's been making every effort to go clean in honor of Deb's memory, but making the change isn't easy. I know that all too well. If my love for Hanna and Harrison can make me change, then maybe his love for Deb can do the same for him. In any case, it was his connections that made it possible to come up with new identities, and it was Quinn who broke the news in as gentle a way can be done to Astor and Cody. From time to time we contact each other, Quinn and I, and he keeps me up to date on their progress. It appears that Astor is a little bit taken with Joe Quinn; I have no doubt that will pass. She's also found a very strong talent with computers and an interest in forensic sciences. Cody wants to be a cop just like Uncle Joey now. To his credit, Quinn is advising him not be like his Uncle, but more like the kind of cop that Aunt Deb was. I know that there are still people around to take care of them and that helps keep me moving. I already know Hanna can take care of herself and Harrison; so as much as I miss them both I can rest easy knowing they are ultimately better off without me.

But today is the Day. It's been two weeks since I arrived in Ogunquit, Maine. It's a pleasant little town; not quite a thousand people in the off season on the shore of the Atlantic. The locals are a nice enough bunch; even if I get the impression I will always be 'Stan Liddy from out of State' no matter how long I'm here. The truth is, I hope for that to be a long time. I even landed a full time job keeping the beach clean. The pay is fair, especially when one considers how quiet and simple life here promises to be. The locals, as I said, are pleasant, but seem to keep 'out of staters' at arm's length. That actually works for me. Today is the day I start on that job.

Dexter Morgan, now known as Stan Liddy, made his way along the beach of the small town of Ogunquit, Maine. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was his newest identity; it was based on the name of the corrupt Narcotics agent that tried to blackmail him and Lumen Pierce, thus nearly ruining their campaign to set things right for Lumen against Eugene Greer aka Jordan Chase and his little rape and murder club. On the other hand, it was just a name. He had his gear ready to begin his work cleaning the shoreline. It wasn't quite the season yet, so he couldn't imagine there would be much of a problem. There were a few tourists, but not nearly enough to cause any real trouble for the municipality just yet. Which was why when he saw the three heavy duty black garbage bags it struck him as unlikely. Almost as if by instinct, 'Stan' scanned the area for likely culprits. The bags probably washed ashore late last night. The beach itself was vacant save for himself this morning, but there was a couple of luxury boats out at sea; about two miles out. It didn't seem like that should be far enough out to him, but then the drop off around here was very sudden. He knew he should probably report the possibility that one of those boats were dropping litter off their bows; but that idea felt a little like hypocrisy.

Especially since my litter consisted of hacked up bodies into the Gulf Stream off the shores of Miami; He thought.

Shrugging, Dexter strode up to the bags, intent on removing them and disposing of them properly so the beach would remain as beautiful as the town's name would indicate. That was, after all, his job now. On the shore, he clutched one of the bags and hefted it up, mildly surprised at how heavy it was. Then it occurred to him; it came in from the sea, it must be filled with water. Lucky for me I have just the thing for a problem like this.

From the pocket of his blue jeans he pulled out a small pocketknife and folded the blade out. Carefully he made a small slit in the bag he just tried to lift; near the bottom but not too close and not too large. He didn't want the bag to break open and make an even bigger mess for him to have to clean up. Instantly water began to rush out of the bag; it had a reddish tint to it. Being who he was, what he had been through, and what he used to do, the tint reminded him of blood. He shook his head sharply to dismiss the thought.

"It's probably just red wine, or maybe discoloration from the contents of the trash." He said aloud. Since Harry never showed up in his mind's eye ever since he made the decision to elope with Hanna and Harrison, there was nobody to contradict this notion. Once the water had run out enough to satisfy him that lifting the bag would be simple enough, he clutched the bag again and hefted it up over his shoulder again. That was when the bag suddenly became feather light as the contents of the bag broke through the bottom of the bag and crashed into the sand behind him.

"Son of a..." he hissed, whirling around to assess exactly what kind of mess he had on his hands.

And then he stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and landed on his ass in the sand. There before him was a sight he never anticipated seeing ever again; there before him on the shores of Maine was a stark reminder of his former life in Florida. It was the remains of a human body; cut up into six parts. He could guess what was in the other two bags.

Quantico

Luke Alvez stood in front of his desk at the bullpen; a little dumbstruck at what was left on it. There was a box, gift wrapped in red with an oversized yellow bow. The box was pinning down a yellow envelope with one word written on it: "NEWBIE". That was enough to let him to know about its origin; it was from Garcia. Was this some kind of peace offering? Curious, Alvez lifted the box and took the envelope. He opened it to find a card, which he opened and read. It said 'lots of love, your goddess of all things knowable.'

"Well, what do we have here?" Dave Rossi said from behind him, "a secret admirer?"

Alvez handed him the card. "Maybe a peace offering from Garcia," he replied. "This could be it; maybe I'm finally getting out of the newbie zone."

"I doubt it." Rossi chuckled. "But hey, maybe I'm wrong. Open the gift and find out."

Alvez opened the gift to find it was a box of milkbones. Now it all made perfect sense; Garcia got Rosie, his dog, something and decided to make a little bit of a game of it. He had to admit; it was well played. He had just come back from a little downtime, and it was strangely comforting to find the social dynamic was exactly as he remembered it. Looking around and saw that Reid was also finally back full time; at the moment he was at the coffee station, catching up with JJ; it made sense they would be as close as they were, they'd been part of this specific unit probably longer than anyone. He caught both Lewis and Walker on the way in as they were on their way out for some downtime of their own. This was a new rotation system Prentiss was trying out as a means to keep the team as fresh as possible.

Right then, Prentiss stepped out of her office and summoned the team to the ready room.

Garcia was already there when Emily walked in; ready to do her technical analyst stuff as the remainder of the team filed in close behind. Dave came in first, then Alvez, followed by JJ; whom Spencer let pass him by; a clear attempt at manners and social etiquette.

"Well, look who's finally back!" Dave shouted. "Here comes the boy genius."

Spencer waved awkwardly as the others applauded his return to full time work with the BAU. At length he sat down and asked Penelope what she had for them.

"As happy as I am to have you back, 187, I only wish I could say that I was glad you asked." Garcia replied. With that she clicked on device which produced a photograph of a beach with two trash bags and a pile of body parts. "Welcome to Ogunquit, Maine. Yesterday morning this beautiful place by the sea was marred when three trash bags filled with body parts washed ashore to be discovered by this man." Another click and the photo changed to one of a man with tousled, medium length hair and a beard that was in great need of some maintenance. "Stan Liddy; he's a retired Narcotics Detective with Miami Metro in the Sunshine State of Florida. Apparently he burned out of the force and first went west to Oregon and then eventually east to Maine where he picked up a job as a maintenance worker on the beach. He found the mess on his very first day on the job."

"Talk about some rotten luck." Alvez commented.

"No kidding," Rossi agreed.

"What else do we have, Garcia?" Prentiss asked, redirecting the team to the actual task.

Garcia clicked again. The image changed again, this time to a three-way split of three different bodies on M.E's tables; presumably at the County Morgue. The three were all male: one Latino, one Caucasian, and one African-American. Each of them cut into six parts: arms, legs, torso and head. The first one looked to be somewhere between 50 and 60. The second one, the Caucasian, was likely in his 30' last one looked like he couldn't be more than 15.

"One thing we know," JJ said, "this UNSUB isn't basing his victimology on race racial or age demographics."

"It could be he's targeting specific people for some personal reason." Spencer pointed out. "Have these victims been identified yet, Garcia?"

"That would be a negative on that, my young beautiful mind," Garcia replied. "Which is why Sheriff Ryan Burton contacted us so quickly; as I'm sure you all know, the State of Maine is sparsely populated, and to be more specific the town of Ogunquit has a permanent population of less than a thousand..."

"892" Spencer interjected. Everyone in the room was able to tell he was indulging them with the exact population of the town. Despite herself, Emily felt a mild smile cross her lips; it was good to see that Spencer was probably about as close to his old self as he was likely to ever get, especially with the condition his mother was in. At least she was in a place where she felt comfortable and safe and somewhat familiar to her.

"Very good, Dr. Reid," Garcia replied. "You may move to the head of the class. Anyways, the ME determined the cause of death in each of victim was a single stab wound to the heart, and that the stomach turning factor of separating the body parts was all done post mortem."

"A single stab wound to the chest," JJ said, "this guy's efficient. That suggests he doesn't waste a lot of time on the kill itself; the chopping and disposal is likely more important to him."

"The garbage bags could be his way saying that he's taking out the trash." Alvez added.

"There's something about this case that feels familiar," Rossi said. "I can't quite place it, but I'm sure the bureau has seen this before."

"It is similar to the Bay Harbor Butcher in Miami," Spencer offered. "Except then the bodies in bags were found by treasure hunters at the bottom of the sea."

"That's right," Rossi concurred, snapping his fingers. That was the last case Frank Lundy took on before he retired."

"Not quite," Spencer corrected. "Lundy went back to Miami after that to try to track down what he referred to as the Trinity Killer and that was when he got shot and killed; as it turned out, the shooter was the daughter of Arthur Mitchell, whom we now know is Trinity."

"I remember that Butcher case." Alvez said. "It was all over the news and made a lot of noise on Social Media across the country. There were lots of people who were calling that guy a hero. Maybe we have ourselves a copycat; a fan trying to replicate what happened in Miami."

"We won't know that for sure until we get an ID on our victims." Prentiss said. "Start packing; we're going to Maine. Wheels are up in ten minutes."