A/N: Now that I've completed one project, it's time to jump on another. (grins excitedly) This story is the second runner up in my 'Next CM-story' –poll. (The poll's still open, btw…)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all those fantastic people who've voted already! (glomps)

FULL SUMMARY: Derek Morgan has always been a ladies' man who can get anyone he desires. But then a case introduces him to a violinist named Spencer Reid, a witness who apparently has several secrets. Derek whole life is turned upside down in a matter of days. And he'll never listen to violin music the same way again… MorganxReid MILD AU, with Reid not working as a agent

WARNINGS: SLASH, AU (albeit with splashes of canon), sexual themes, gore… Yeeeah, I think the rating 'M' is justified. (sweatdrops) Uh… Anyone still out there…?

DISCLAIMER: 'CM' just returned with season 7. My name's still not in the opening credits. (pouts, and swallows down a sob) (Dang, writing that hurt…)

Awkay… (takes a deep, shuddering breath) I suppose it's time to stop stalling and get going, eh? I REALLY hope you'll enjoy the ride!

The Red Violin

The interrogation room was suffocatingly hot as unit chief Aaron Hotchner stared unblinkedly at the man sitting on the opposite side of the table. "I'm asking you again. After that you will be offered no chance for a deal of any sort. If you don't help us now, I won't be able to help you, either", he announced in a tone that would've chilled just about anyone's spine. His eyes changed, became those of the dangerous vulture. "Where is he?"

The other's eyes finally met his. There was amusement, almost mockery in them. "Do you believe that you can still win this game, agent?"

Aaron squeezed the edges of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white. Fire burned in his veins, and he had to remind himself that he couldn't give the other man the pleasure of him losing his composure. Nothing changed on his face as he spoke again, his tone eerily calm. "Once more. Where is he?"

The other man smiled, revealing a row of white teeth, then leaned closer to him as though about to trust him with a great secret. "Agent Hotchner, I'm sure you've read my file. Do you honestly think you're going to find him alive?"

For a couple of moments Aaron simply stared at the monster before him. Then he did the only thing he could under the circumstances.

He got up, turned around and left the room, his steps betraying nothing of the inferno rising inside him. The interrogation room's door made a hollow sound when closing behind him.

Intro

'It is usually more important how a man meets his fate than what it is.'

(Karl Wilhelm von Humboldt)

Six Months Earlier

Derek Morgan opened his eyes and woke up. As simply as that. Then took a deep breath that filled his surprisingly tight lungs with much needed air. And slowly the nightmares that'd been circling around him only a heartbeat ago faded away.

He groaned and rubbed his face with both hands, exhaustion caused by the sleepless night before crashing down on him.

He should've known that it was a mistake to have a night of pleasure right after coming home from a case.

He finally shifted his hands from his face, only then noticing what'd been drawn to the palm side of his hand. A tiny heart. So he hadn't been just dreaming, after all. He wished he would've been able to at least remember the name of the woman who'd marked him.

Stifling a yawn Derek shifted so that he saw the other side of the bed. He wasn't all that surprised to find it empty. It was rare that his visitors stayed until sunrise.

He stretched, wincing a bit upon discovering that he was still sore from the reminders of the previous case, then pushed himself out of the bed. It took longer than he'd remembered to reach the bathroom.

On the way he took a glance towards his dog Clooney, who lay on the living room's floor looking back at him. He could've sworn the canine was glaring at him. "Hey, I'm not taking any judgements from someone who licks his own ass", he scoffed.

Clooney gave a small bark, then shifted so that his behind was towards him. Derek rolled his eyes and entered the bathroom. He turned the shower's water as cold as he could bear, then stepped in and let the water wash him numb.

It felt incredibly good to not feel a thing for a while.

He didn't even manage to dry himself properly until his cell phone began to ring. With a frown he made his way to the device and groaned upon seeing name 'Hotch' on the screen. "You've gotta be kidding me", was his opening line.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "I know we only just got home yesterday, but there's no other team to take over this case. Get here for a briefing as soon as you can."

"I will", he promised in a far from excited tone, then hung up.

With a sigh he lifted his gaze to find his reflexion on the bedroom's mirror and shuddered.

He loved his job. So where had that empty place inside him come from? Why wasn't his current life enough for him anymore?

Spencer Reid opened his eyes and woke up. As simply as that. Then took a deep breath that filled his surprisingly tight lungs with much needed air. And slowly the nightmares that'd been circling around him only a heartbeat ago faded away.

He blinked twice, feeling exhausted although he knew he must've been sleeping for a long time, and noticed that there was a crack on the ceiling he'd never noticed before. Or no, actually, he had noticed it before – it'd just been a lot smaller. Now it formed what looked almost like a heart, the lines clearly pronounced against the ceiling's gray.

Stifling a yawn Spencer shifted so that he saw the other side of the bed. He wasn't all that surprised to find it empty. It was rare that his visitor stayed until sunrise.

He stretched, wincing a bit upon discovering that the activities of the night before had made him sore, then pushed himself out of the bed. In his small apartment it took less than fifteen steps to reach the bathroom.

Spencer turned the shower's water so hot that it made the skin of his hand red when he tried it, then stepped in and let the flood wash over him. For a moment of bliss it wiped away all thoughts and feelings, even physical sensations.

It felt incredibly good, to not feel a thing for a while. Not having to think was even better.

He dried himself absentmindedly, then headed towards the kitchen. He froze by the doorway upon noticing what his visitor had left to the table.

A single, scarlet rose.

Approaching slowly he picked up the flower and brought it to his nose, then inhaled deeply. As the scent filled his head his thoughts began to spin.

This was how it was supposed to be. His visitor always left him with just a rose. So why didn't this feel like enough?

Spencer frowned.

Yes, perhaps he was a little bit lonely. But he should've grown used to that by now – this lifestyle was his own choice. So where had that empty place inside him come from? Why wasn't his current life enough for him anymore?

The rest of the team was already in the conference room when Derek marched in, hoping that he didn't appear as exhausted as he felt.

Fool's hope.

Emily Prentiss raised an eyebrow at his appearance. "Apparently someone didn't manage to get a lot of rest last night."

David Rossi also seemed openly curious while eyeing him. "Anyone we know?"

Derek cleared his throat while sitting down, not really feeling like answering any questions at the moment. "Let's just focus on the case, okay?

"Whatever you say, loverboy", Penelope Garcia commented, visibly amused.

For once Derek was actually relieved to see the certain look from Aaron that silenced the entire group. For a long, uneasy moment the unit chief's eyes lingered on him – as though evaluating – before shifting to a view of the full team. "Now that we're all here, let's get started with the case." He glanced towards Jennifer Jareau, letting the media liaison step forth.

JJ's eyes gave a warning that brought a sinking feeling to the pit of Derek's stomach. This was going to be a very, very long case. "Chief William Reid from North Las Vegas police department contacted me four hours ago and said that he has a potential serial killer in his hands. He says there's a wave of thirteen murders over the past nine years, the murders having taken place in various states. The four last ones have taken place in Vegas, the newest one a week ago." And then the flow of pictures began, filling the room with sickening splashes of red. The first one was of a white teenage girl, who stared at the sky with half open dead eyes. Derek didn't know what color her shirt had been – now it was all red. "Brenda Ennis, age fifteen. Found stabbed to death on August 11th 2002." The next picture was a lot more gruesome, because apparently this victim had put up a fight. Both of the approximately twenty-years-old, strikingly beautiful hispanic woman's arms had been shot. She had, however, bled to death from multiple stab wounds on her stomach. "Imana Lewis, age twenty-two. Killed April 21st 2004. She was only five minutes away from her home when the killer ambushed her." The next picture had them all confused. This time instead of a girl there was a middle aged couple. They'd been killed into their car. The man had been rendered immobile by a gunshot, and Derek had a sickening feeling that he was forced to watch as the unsub slit his wife's throat before stabbing her repetitively to the chest. Then the attacker killed the man as well, with a neat gunshot right between the eyes. "Hanna Thompson, forty-two, and Phil Thompson, forty-six. They were on their way home from visiting friends when the killer lured them to stop and butchered them on October 8th 2004."

"The victimology changed", David mused out loud.

JJ nodded, her expression grim. "The unsub went on a killing spree soon after that." Another picture, another pair of lifeless faces. This time two young men, one white and one who's skin held a slight touch of mocha. They were both stabbed to death, and there also seemed to be some blood covering their most private parts. Derek couldn't chase away the thought they the killer may have struck there first. They'd been butchered into a large bed, with only their boxers on. "Oliver Hardwick, twenty-four, and Micah Princeton, twenty-five. They were a quite open couple, and for a long time this was considered a hate crime. They were murdered intp Hardwick's home on November 11th 2004." JJ flashed the next picture without giving them a breather. Another couple, this time much younger and dark skinned, in a extremely tiny room. There was blood everywhere and the couple lay in the middle of it, clearly staged into a macabre final embrace. They were both naked, which made the wounds on them stand out. "Pauline Welsh, twenty-nine, and Travis Welsh, thirty, newlyweds. They were found stabbed to death from their basement on December 6th 2004. Again the husband was killed first." JJ took a couple of long seconds before continuing. "The killer took a break after this. The next murder connected to this unsub was on February 2007." This time they were shown the picture of a man at around Derek's age. Again the man had been killed into his own car. There was a gunshot wound, along with a neat cut across his throat. "Rhyes Henry, thirty-one. He worked as a police officer and he was on his way home when something made him pull over."

By then the room was filled with shocked silence. Derek felt sick to his stomach, and Aaron, David and Emily appeared a lot more tense than usual. Penelope had a horrified expression on her face, and Derek wished he would've managed to comfort her. But as it was the picture claimed his attention all over again.

They'd seen a lot of horrific things. But this… He didn't remember facing anything like this ever before.

This killer was a monster brought to life.

When no one else spoke JJ continued although she clearly wouldn't have wanted to. "After this the unsub, apparently, had a long break and moved on to Vegas." A new picture. Another young girl, this time a petite redhead. She was curled into a fetal position in the middle of a desert. Derek could've sworn he saw tears in her dead eyes. Due to her position it was impossible to see the damage and there was no blood on the ground – the killer must've brought her there. "Yvonne Fornel, eighteen. The local police found her body on December 20th 2010." Once more the picture chaged. This time it was a man in his late thirties, lay quite neatly on his couch. Letters F.A.T.E had been drawn to the wall behind the couch with the man's blood. His hand was placed to the stab wound on his chest, as though in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. "Jonah Atkins, thirty-nine. His wife found him like this when she came home with their children. It was March 14th 2011." And then came the last picture. Another couple – the man sitting on the driver's seat, with several gunshot wounds on him, and the woman lay on the ground before the car, stab wounds marring her slim frame. A sigh escaped JJ, and she appeared throughoutly exhausted. "Linda Marsh, forty-two, and Curtis Marsh, forty-five. A flat tire forced them to pull over."

"This doesn't make sense", Emily commented with a frown on her face. "The methods and victimology… They don't match. Is this really a serial killer?"

JJ nodded and swallowed. "The unsub has a couple of… habits that connect these murders. The killer always takes something meaningful from the victims – rings, watches, photographs… The item's always found with the next victim." She glanced towards the last picture before focusing on them again. "The unsub also draws the Eye of Providence to the scene with the victim's blood, or carves it to the victim's body. Sometimes the letters F.A.T.E are added."

It took the team a while to digest these news. Omnivore? That was rare. Rare, and very dangerous. This killer was patient enough to wait for several years, but when the unsub did strike…

"Does the police have any clues?" Derek found his own voice inquiring.

JJ shook her head. "None that the killer wouldn't have wanted them to find." She ran a hand through her hair. "The police calls the killer 'The Reaper'. They asked us to help them find this unsub, before even more people die."

"This is going to be one of the most challenging cases we've faced this far." The look on Aaron's face sent chills through the team. "I know you're all tired, but we need all our focus on this case if we want to stop this killer. We'll take off in half an hour."

Derek barely noticed how the rest of the team left the room.

He'd never believed in fate all that much. But at the moment there was this burning in his veins he couldn't explain. He felt more alive than in ages.

And the unnerving part was that he had no idea why.

TBC, OR NOT?

A/N: Soooo… (gulps) Before I let myself REALLY fall in love with this story, I've gotta ask your opinion. Does this sound any good, at all? Or should I just delete this once and for all?

PLEASE, leave a review to let me know your thoughts! It'd seriously mean a lot – I'm always horribly insecure when it comes to first chapters. (gives puppy's eyes)

Thank you so much for reading this bit! Who knows, maybe I'll be seeing ya again. (glances hopefully)

Take care!