A/N: Here it is! I've been thinking about his one for awhile now. This is a sequel to my other story, "Competition". That one is rated M, but only because of Debra's potty mouth. I wanted this one to be T because it was brought to my attention that M-rated fics do not show up in a straightforward search. You can read that one if you like, but I don't think it's necessary.

Part of the reason that it's taken me so long to get this up is because I wanted it to be better than the last one. (It was one of my very first attempts at writing, so I feel like I've come a long way.)

Universe: Dokes is not around, and the whole storyline with the Bay Harbor Butcher never happened. This is set after Rita was killed by Trinity, and Quinn is not going to make an appearance either. Also, Debra does not know about Dexter's little proclivities. For CM, it's somewhere after Doyle. Prentiss is definitely still around though. (One of my favorite fictional characters of all time.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for a pretty BA 79' Camaro. That's neither here nor there, but I like to tell people...

A conversation with Debra Morgan was always an entertaining affair to say the least. J.J. had only spoken to her for a few short moments, but it had been long enough to convince her into embarking on her current journey.

Aaron Hotchner was nothing if not notorious for the late nights that he spent at the B.A.U. on a regular basis. When his sister in-law was looking after his son though, he didn't really have anywhere else he needed to be. J.J. suspected that he rather enjoyed the quiet that blanketed the normally active building in the dead of the night. It allowed him to allocate an abnormally large amount of focus on whatever task was at hand. Tonight, that was going over his team's individual reports of their actions during their latest investigation.

While she knew that her boss liked to take full advantage of this time, J.J. felt that the information she had just obtained merited his concern. She walked down the dark hallway, opened the glass doors and then moved through the dimly lit bullpen. Making her way up the small set of stairs, she knew that he hadn't noticed her. She knocked to announce her presence, and then came to a stop just inside his doorway. "I just fielded a personal call from Lieutenant Debra Morgan down in Miami."

He looked up from his paperwork, jaw still firmly set in place. He leaned back in his chair a bit, and J.J. saw the recognition wash over him. "You mean the woman that cusses like a sailor?"

Still occupying the threshold, the blonde woman found herself shaking her head in agreement with the colorful description. "She seems to think she's got another serial case on her hands." His brow furrowed slightly, and she took that as her cue. "Men, twenty to forty, all found within 24 hours of being officially reported missing, all with a single gunshot wound to the back of the head and defensive marks. Looks like they were attacked by someone with a blunt weapon."

"And they're certain these murders are connected?" His attention was now solely on the conversation. He had abandoned his pen at the side of his desk, and neatly folded his hands into a point joined at the fingertips. She could tell that he wasn't quite sold on the need for the B.A.U.'s involvement based just on the similarities in the victims and the circumstances surrounding their deaths. She had given him nothing, so far, that indicated that a single perpetrator had committed the acts. "Twenty to forty is kind of a big age gap," he gave reason for his hesitance.

"There's something else." She looked down to the cell phone in her hand and began walking toward his desk. "She sent me these," J.J. extended the phone into her boss' view while scrolling through multiple photos. "They found one with every body. They've only been able to recover one bullet that's been deemed viable for ballistics testing by forensics, but they didn't get any hits. All of the bullets appear to be of the same caliber though."

Hotch studied the images on the phone for a few moments. "J.J., I want you to call in Prentiss and Rossi. Tell them they're going to be consulting on this case with Miami Metro." There wasn't enough evidence to make this case a priority, not anymore so than the others that also required the team's attention, but there was something about it that told J.J. that this one had the potential to develop into something more serious. She was glad that Hotch was sending someone to take a closer look, it was the only way that her conscience would be clear if there were to be anymore murders.

But then she thought of her friends. "Are you sure that you want to put those two in close proximity to one another right now?"

"Dave's been a little gruff as of late," Hotch bobbed his head in agreement, "but Prentiss knows how to handle him." His confidence in Emily was enough to steady J.J.'s uneasiness about the pairing. She nodded curtly, and then retreated from the room to make the calls.

Getting a phone call at three o'clock in the morning wasn't exactly an ideal start to anyone's day, but the profession that they were in demanded that the agents keep odd hours. So, as Rossi shuffled onto the jet, he wasn't particularly stunned to see his partner for the foreseeable future pouring two cups of coffee. He wasn't shocked at all that she had beaten him there, and he was extremely grateful that she already had the caffeinated beverage ready to go. As he accepted the cup handed to him, she spoke for the first time. "Rough morning?"

The older man looked tired. His face seemed to be uncharacteristically sullen, and his gait lacked that patented Rossi pep. "Long night," he offered, along with a mischievous grin. She rolled her eyes and opened the file that J.J. had left on her desk, the smallest of smiles in place. After taking a moment to study her, Dave mimicked her actions. He knew for a fact that neither of them were especially fond of the early morning hours, and they were each comfortable remaining quiet in one another's presence.

As they pulled into the parking lot of the station, where they had been only seven months ago, Dave broke the silence. "You ready?" He was well aware that she might have some qualms about working in this station again.

While the last investigation they had worked with these people hadn't turned out exactly how they had hoped, they had still managed to bring in one of their suspects. With the testimonies of Reid and Rossi, along with that of the lieutenant and her brother, Newfield had been found guilty. He was sentenced to life in prison with no parole. There were still no leads on Adam Fischer's whereabouts, and some of the B.A.U. members had found that particular facet to be increasingly irksome. Since it wasn't considered kosher to harbor the idea that a law enforcement officer could have been behind the speedy disappearance in the most sinister of ways, Spencer, Penelope, J.J., Emily and Derek had tried to keep that little side discussion clandestine. They only brought it up at times when they found themselves alone, so it wasn't a topic that they talked about often. However, it wasn't that easy to get something past Dave. Not to mention the fact that he had been present during their first conversation on the subject.

It had been on the jet ride home. They'd started discussing incongruences, and things that had perturbed each of them about the case. Dave knew his friends, and he knew that they wouldn't let go of their suspicions that easily. That had been the beginning of what was now a full-blown conspiracy theory.

Emily made unyielding eye contact with the man, and then replied. "Honestly?" There was a short pause, but he did his best to convey his open-mindedness on the subject that he was trying to broach casually. "I know that you're aware of my reservations about the Newfield case, and Adam Fischer's vanishing act. There is something about it that's just… fishy." He found humor in her choice of words, and it showed, but she pushed on. "I'm not the only one that feels this way, and I think that we should have given Garcia's concerns more credence when she first brought them up."

He visibly mulled over her words for a few seconds, and then reached for the door handle. "I just wanted to know where you stood before we go in there." He closed the driver's side door on any response she might have had, not wanting to divulge his own thoughts on the matter. Though it would have been considered a rude action by anyone else, no one expected anything less of Dave. Emily laughed it off and jumped out to follow him into the building.

As the elevator doors opened, they were met with a welcome committee in Lieutenant Morgan and Sergeant Batista. "Your tech just called and informed me of your arrival," Deb easily skipped over the formalities of a proper greeting. Dave and Emily shared a look, neither one of them appeared all that surprised that Penelope had most likely tracked their cell phones to be sure that they had reached their intended destination. Instead of disembarking from the elevator, they made room as the other two got on. "You guys are just in time. We got the call from dispatch about two minutes ago."

As far as crime scenes went, this was the most beautiful one that he'd ever been to, sunrise on a sandy beach in Miami. Had it not been for the decomposing body on the rickety old pier, it would have been lovely. As they made their way to the middle of the dock, where the dead man was located, they were greeted with several warnings of where not to step. Apparently the wood was quite dilapidated, and more than one officer had made the fifteen foot drop to the sand below.

Masuka was kneeling next to the body. He was scribbling away in a notebook, and Dave had been around long enough to know what the man was doing. He was recording all pertinent details about various aspects of the state of the remains, and most likely calculating an approximate time of death for his infamously impatient colleagues. Dave smiled imperceptibly, there was something to be appreciated about a group of professionals that were one step ahead of where they were required to be. The lieutenant sure did have a way of keeping her people focused. Before Debra had the chance to handle the reunion professionally, Masuka looked up and beamed with excitement. He shouted out, "Hey, Dex!" though the recipient was nowhere to be seen. "That hot F.B.I. chick is back!"

The statement was offensive, but no one took it upon themselves to make it known to the man. They were all too busy trying to figure out where Dexter Morgan was. Their curiosities were settled when he shouted back. "Which one?"

Dexter's query was answered when the four newcomers stepped closer to the hole that was between them and the body, and then peered downward. He was underneath the dock, and had cordoned off a section of beach with police tape. Had it been level with the pier, it would have encased the corpse and the hole with a good ten feet in any direction. Debra straightened, and then carefully stepped around the gap to get a better look at the decedent. Dave made a move to follow her, but then thought better of it. He looked to Emily and extended his hand. "Ladies first," he said with a wink. She scoffed at him before gingerly following Lieutenant Morgan's lead.

He looked to the man in the fedora next, but Batista just waved him off. "I've got a good view from right here." Dave's eyes crinkled at the edges, a smirk tightening his lips, as he too decided to stay back.

"Same M.O., and Dex confirmed that he was shot on site." Dave seemed to remember the forensic tech being less mission oriented the last time that they were in town. "He's been dead for about eight hours as far as I can tell. The M.E. will have a better estimate after they get a look at him."

"Do we have an I.D. yet?" Deb asked.

"Look lieutenant," Masuka began in a serious tone, "I know that you think I'm capable of some pretty amazing magic acts, but those are mostly restricted to the bedroom." He smiled heinously, and let out a laugh that matched the expression. "Unless I find a wallet, with some form of I.D. inside, I won't have anything on that front until we run his prints through A.F.I.S. But, that's only if he's in the system."

"What's he doing down there?" Debra asked, jerking her thumb blindly in the direction of the hole. She must have been very accustomed to the mild mannered sexual harassment.

Masuka raised his eyebrows, and his entire forehead followed suit. "You know Dex," he said casually. "He's working out one of his theories of what went down here."

The four investigators turned and headed back toward shore. Once they reached the sand, they made a U-turn and then started back in Dexter's direction under the pier. "So what can you tell me about this guy?" Deb broke the silence as they walked.

Each agent looked to the other, not quite sure where to begin. Emily shrugged. "Well, it's a pretty brazen location to shoot someone. Even if there weren't a lot of people around when the shooting occurred, it's out in the open and elevated."

"That tells us that he's confident," Rossi surmised. "Then, take into account the physicality of his victims…"

Emily picked up where Dave had trailed off. "Which would lead us to believe that the UnSub is most likely male, and probably in decent shape himself. He'd have to be pretty strong to overpower some of these men." Her head bobbed from side to side. "But the UnSub did have a gun," she reasoned.

"Of course, this is all conjecture," Rossi stated as they reached the yellow tape. "We aren't even positive that these murders have been committed with the same weapon yet."

"I understand that," Deb admitted, "but I'm glad you're here. I was stubborn with that last case we worked together. I should have called your team in sooner back then. I had the same feeling about this one, and I didn't wanna waste any time."

"We're glad you called." Dave chuckled to ease the younger woman's tension. "It's nice to work with people that actually want our help for a change."

Emily raised the tape, and then stepped under. "Hopefully this bullet will be intact, and we'll finally know if these killings are connected."

"Well, I don't know if the killings are connected," Dexter segued. "But, I can tell you that our suspect knows how to fall." The four investigators stared at him.

When his gaze landed on his sister's face, he could see the frustration there. "Right. What I mean is, you can see how disturbed the sand is here?" He motioned around himself. Stepping away from the upturned sand, he continued. "It's not exactly my area of expertise, but you can see a pretty clear scene from this. Our guy fell," he gestured to the hole in the pier, and then down to the pieces of wood scattered about on their level. "However, when he hit the ground…" He trailed off as he got into position. "He rolled out in order to dissipate the force of gravity." He followed up the explanation doing the best tumble he could manage with no momentum.

When he stood up, he pointed out the similarities in the sand where he had demonstrated the likely maneuver, and where the actual incident had taken place. "I know it sounds kind of stupid, but it's actually a fairly difficult technique to learn."

"So, what?" Emily began, and Dexter could detect just a hint of exasperation in her voice. "Are you saying the UnSub is a gymnast?" He looked at her in an almost predatory manner. She actually doubted his analysis.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe." Of course Dexter knew that the small detail wouldn't be helpful in narrowing down a list of suspects, but when they did have a list, it would be a nice exclusion factor. Even he felt a little awkward at the silence that had followed his flippant answer. "Other than that, there's not much evidence."

"The calling card?" Debra nodded the question.

He'd almost forgotten. "King of spades this time." He retrieved the plastic bag that contained the playing card, and handed it over to her.

She took it, looked it over for a brief second, and then passed it to Dave. "We're thinking that he's assigning different cards to different victims based on value."

"Like the military," Dave deduced.

"If that's the case," Emily said as she took the evidence, "then he's probably targeting specific people. He wouldn't designate value to random subjects."

"I agree." Dave pulled the bottom of his suit jacket back, and then put his hands in his pockets. The older man took a moment to gaze at his partner, and Dexter noticed a flash of pride over Agent Rossi's face. "When we get back to the station, let's take a closer look at victimology. Chances are if the UnSub is predetermining his victims, there's a connection between them that we've overlooked."

A/N: Don't be shy, tell me what you think. I can't believe that there are not more fics for this crossover.