AN: Hello readers! It has been a while but my good friend cutediffterent93 and I have written a new story! This time for Criminal Minds (which we do not own, sadly). We hope you'll enjoy it! :D

Warnings: Uhh, just some smut later on between Hotch and Reid.

Chapter 1

"Alright, my lovelies, we have a new case," Garcia trilled, bustling into the meeting room - files in hand. "Luckily there aren't too many awful pictures this time. I can't look at another picture of a - "

"Garcia," Hotch interrupted, though his tone was not unkind.

"Right! Okay, so, we were called in about Yvette Abbott, a professional ballroom dancer. Apparently she's been sent several…gifts. Of the unsavory kind," Garcia explained, pulling up some pictures on the monitor. The pictures started innocently enough – a pearl necklace, some glittering emerald earrings, a rose; however they quickly grew disturbing – burned flower petals, hair, and a dead bird. "Poor thing," Garcia sighed.

Reid looked across the photos. "At first glance it looks to be a devolution but I don't think that's the case."

Morgan scoffed at the young genius. "Well it's certainly not an evolution."

Reid shook his head, his chestnut locks swishing back and forth over his forehead. "I think it's a kind of threat. Maybe the UNSUB thinks Miss Abbott betrayed him in some way?" he offered.

Gideon gave a small nod. "So we're dealing with a delusional personality?" he asked.

Reid looked up at him. "It's certainly possible; out of everyone in the U.S., celebrities of any kind are the most likely to have a delusional fan," he replied.

"Stalkers are the worst," Garcia huffed.

"Couldn't agree more," Prentiss replied with a shake of her head.

"JJ, get the jet ready to go to New York," Hotch said. JJ nodded and walked briskly from the room. Hotch stood. "Everyone get your go bags."

"This one could be especially hard to catch, so everyone be prepared," Gideon warned, settling into his seat by the window of the jet. Morgan looked up from the report.

"Why do you say that?"

"The population of New York City this year is 8.31 million citizens, Morgan," Reid spoke up. "To interview everyone, we would each have to interview approximately 1.14 hundred thousand people."

"We'll start by focusing on those people that regularly attend dance competitions and performances," Hotch told them. "Our UNSUB has actually given us many clues already as to who he is. Based on the expensive gifts and the fact that it's likely he frequents Ms. Abbott's performances, our UNSUB is an upper class male in his mid to late thirties."

"It would be easy if that still didn't describe such a high number of the population," Prentiss replied with a huff.

"Yes. And we still need to know more if we're going to catch him," Hotch agreed.

Morgan sighed, setting the thin case file down. "Talk about a short file; there's nothing but what this dancer girl has reported. Nothing even remotely related."

"That we know of," Reid spoke up, face still buried in the case file as his finger slid down the papers, reporting how fast he was reading.

Morgan looked at the boy genius with a scoff. Sometimes it was annoying to work with a genius. "Sure, that we know of. This may be his first time," he suggested.

Gideon gave an approving nod. "Let's start there then. Hotch, why don't you, Reid, and Prentiss talk to the police and see if we can get any more information on this. JJ, Morgan, and I will go see Ms. Yvette."

The jet made a smooth landing and soon the team was disembarking.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner, welcome to the NYPD," the chief, a man with a bushy red mustache and small brown eyes, said politely as he held out his hand. "I'm Chief Peterman."

"Thank you," Hotch replied, shaking the man's hand. "This is Agent Prentiss."

"Nice to meet you," Prentiss said, shaking Chief Peterman's hand as well.

"And Dr. Reid," Hotch introduced.

Reid gave a smile and waved. "We were wondering if you had any extra information on this case regarding Miss Yvette Abbott," he explained, pulling the file out of his shoulder bag.

Chief Peterman gave Reid an assessing look before turning back to Hotch. "No, we haven't. It's not exactly a top priority case for us, but since Ms. Abbott's agent was giving us a hard time we called you in."

Hotch's frown was nearly imperceptible. "Stalking is a serious crime," he said. "Do you have a room we can work from?"

Chief Peterman nodded. "Yeah, right this way." He led them to a small room near the back. "Use whatever you want in here, just don't make a mess of it."

After the Chief left, Reid gave a confused look. "It's odd; I would think celebrity stalking cases would take a much higher priority," he pointed out, setting his bag down in a chair and taking out a file on Yvette's history.

Prentiss shrugged, pulling over a white board. "He probably doesn't care about celebrity status. I wouldn't be surprised if he's one of those people that blame the victims of assault for being assaulted."

"Prentiss," Hotch warned.

"What?" she replied. "Are you saying you don't agree?"

Hotch sighed. "That's not it. But he's not our UNSUB. Reid, please set up the board. Prentiss and I will talk to the Chief."

Reid nodded and stood, a small blush dusting his cheeks as he passed Hotch. "Sure." He pulled out his cell and called Garcia.

"You've reached the temple of the All Powerful, All Knowing Queen of Technology. Ask your questions and be dazzled by my brilliance," came Garcia's singsong greeting.

"Garcia I need you to find everything on Miss Yvette Abbott," Reid responded. "Apparently, this police station doesn't take the potential threat of stalking as a high priority so we have little to go on."

"Of course. Anything for you my darling genius," Garcia replied. "I will find anything and everything you could possibly want to know about her and everything you don't want to know about her. Tootles!"

Reid hung up the phone and began pinning the photos of the gifts along with Yvette's reports of each incident to the board.

"So, Miss Abbott," JJ started as she sat on the pristine white couch beside Gideon and Morgan. Everything in the penthouse suite was either white, cream, or chrome and in perfect condition. "Can you tell us when you first noticed the gifts?"

"Um, about two months ago. It started with jewelry, very beautiful pieces I might add. They looked quite expensive. And then..." After a pause, Yvette began to seem unsettled. "And then, I started receiving burned flowers and other disturbing items. I even got a dead bird! I nearly threw up just from the horrible stench alone." Yvette's black bob-cut hair slipped over her face as she looked down.

JJ gave a sympathetic nod. "And before this, did you notice anyone suspicious? Or have you seen any particular fans that are regularly at your performances or competitions?"

Yvette looked up at the team and gave a nod. "Oui. Well, actually, that depends on your definition; regular fans come in all shapes and sizes. I see quite a few who act suspicious from time to time," she replied.

Gideon spoke up. "What about regular fans asking for your autograph every time you see them?"

Yvette gave a small laugh. "I can't say that I have. I see so many fans at once that it is hard to remember each face. I'm sorry."

JJ smiled. "Don't be sorry. Any details at all can be helpful, no matter how insignificant they may seem to you." Her smile disappeared. "It's also possible your stalker might be another dancer. Can you recall any moments between you and another dancer that made you uncomfortable or suspicious?"

Yvette thought for a moment. "Oui, there was one man I danced with about a year ago, Baltasar Suárez. He was very skilled but I stopped dancing with him because he was getting too close," she explained.

Morgan sat forward, his hands folded in his lap. "Miss. Abbett, could you explain him to us? His personality, features, anything would help."

Yvette nodded. "He is very friendly, cooperative. Kind of a, how you say, a horn dog. He is Hispanic, black hair usually in a small ponytail, and he has dark brown eyes, almost enchanting. You are just entranced by them," she explained.

Yvette's agent approached them. "Excuse me, Yvette. I just got a call from Mr. Ellis saying that he needs to see you about the competition."

"I think we'll excuse ourselves, then. Thank you for your time, Miss Abbott. We'll find the man who's stalking you, I promise," JJ said, standing.

Yvette gave a charming smile and stood. "Je vous remercie. Thank you." She followed her agent, walking the three to the door.

Hotch waited until all the members of his team were sitting in the little room at the station before turning to Reid. "Alright, Reid, please explain what Garcia found."

Reid nodded and turned to the board. "Well, Yvette grew up in France and learned to dance by the age of four. She was super popular in school but she wasn't very close to any of her friends. She continued to dance throughout her childhood and at the age of 16, her dance instructor announced that Yvette was a ballroom dancing prodigy and since then, she has been moving from country to country doing competitions and different performances. She moved to the US only three years ago, her parents stayed in France." he explained.

Morgan spoke up. "What about relationships? She have any nasty breakups?"

Reid turned back to the board and grabbed a paper. "Actually yes; 2 years ago she had a boyfriend, Darrin Courts, it appears they broke up because he was extremely jealous of her dancing with other men."

Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "We'll have to look into him of course. Did Garcia happen to get any information on him during her search?" he asked Reid.

"Yes, he grew up in Southern Georgia, mother died of cancer when he was 5, he's been in and out of different AA meetings and therapy appointments since his early 20's and has had 12 run-ins with police from four different states," Reid recited, sitting down.

Morgan gave a short chuckle. "Sounds like a real peach," he said sarcastically.

Gideon thought intently. "It sounds like he wants a female figure in his life. So when Yvette was dancing with other men, he took it as those men trying to steal his property. That's why he got so jealous," he suggested.

Prentiss crossed her arms over her chest. "Wonderful. Do we know where he is now? If he has a viable alibi?"

"Garcia said that he was in New York last time he used his credit card," Reid replied. "A local bar called the Clover Club."

"Then we'll have to check it out," Hotch said. He looked over at Gideon. "Was Ms. Abbott able to provide any information?"

Gideon gave a small nod. "Apparently there was a male dancer about a year ago that got a little too close while they were preforming. Name was Baltasar Suárez. She described him as a smooth-talker but a womanizer. A black-haired Hispanic man with dark brown eyes."

"So, we have two possible suspects," Hotch remarked. He pulled out his phone and called Garcia.

"Whisper all your naughty thoughts into my ear," Garcia purred.

Hotch blinked. "Garcia…"

Garcia laughed. "Sorry, boss man. What can I do for you?"

"I need to know if a Baltasar Suárez is in the area," Hotch explained.

"Right. One sec," Garcia replied. The sound of her tapping away at her keyboard echoed through the phone and after a moment she made a sound of discovery.

"I'm putting you on speaker," Hotch informed her. He pressed a button and set the phone down on the table.

"Alright, so Mr. Suárez was just on a seriously expensive tour around the world and arrived back in New York last week. He's been working with a man named Daniel Ellis who is setting up a ballroom dance competition for….ah! Two weeks from now," Garcia said.

Gideon looked at Hotch. "Let's bring him in and see if he knows anything," he proposed.

Hotch stood. "Agreed." He looked down at his phone. "Thank you, Garcia."

"My pleasure!"

"Alright, Morgan and Prentiss you'll talk with Mr. Suárez. Reid, Gideon, and I will go to Clover Club," Hotch announced.