Archive of Our Own ^beta

The belief that one's own view of reality is the only reality is the most dangerous of all delusions.- Paul Watzlawick

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Edward Elric was twenty years old. The elder brother in a set of twins, Jason didn’t need a profile to tell that he had an issue with authority. Elric sat in the interrogation room with his boots on the table, arms hooked over the back of his chair, and murder in his dark eyes as he attempted to break the two-way glass with a glare. 

They hadn’t found anything in the way of physical evidence, which meant that they were relying upon a confession before they had to let him go. They’d made sure to grab him on a friday, extending their forty-eight hours to seventy-two. 

“What do you think?” Hotch asked Jason. 

Jason Gideon stared through the glass with the same intensity as Elric, the only difference being that Jason could see his target. “He knows we don’t have enough to keep him and he’s angry that we’re wasting his time.”

Edward Elric was a difficult case. While driven by the deep need to fulfill an emotional fantasy,  he was organized and methodical. He was also evolving. Each kill had been personal, intimate, but the cause of death had been different as the unsub experimented with which method would maximize the satisfaction of the kill. There were seven bodies and counting, most included only through victimology, the group that had the BAU invited by local law enforcement had all died by strangulation, showing that the unsub had finally found what he believed to be the perfect method. 

Each victim had been caught from behind so the killer didn't have to watch their faces while he killed them, even while the act of killing took longer with each murder. The team was in agreement that despite the rage behind each of the kills there was guilt. Edward Elric might resent his little brother but he also loved him dearly, which was why the fantasy was being enacted over and over again on doppelgangers instead of Elric taking his rage out on Alphonse himself. He was going through the motions of freeing himself from the burden of their codependency without having to suffer through the actual loss of identity. Elric could continue to be a twin and an older brother while leaving a trail of blond haired brown eyed bodies behind him that exorcised his resentment of that role. 

“He still hasn’t said anything,” Jason said as he observed. Elric hadn’t spoken since they had locked him in the interrogation room. He set himself into his defiant pose and hadn’t so much as fidgetted since, as though he was used to this kind of scenario. 

“Provocation or sympathy?”

Elric’s blond braid was thrown over his shoulder, the hair standing out against his bright red windbreaker. A contrast to the muted brown coat his brother typically wore. An attempt to stand out, to separate himself, likely because his brother also went to the University of Pennsylvania. Edward was smart, both Elric brothers were geniuses, and could have gone to any school they liked. One of them had decided to follow the other. 

“Provocation.” Elric blinked slowly, like a large cat that was annoyed by the circumstances. “He’s been in there for three hours and hasn’t even asked why we arrested him. We need to get him talking before we worry about getting answers.”

“Shouldn’t be hard to do,” Morgan added, flipping through the file. “He’s resentful of male authority figures, which speaks to having a turbulent relationship with his father.” One of the few things they knew about the Elrics before they entered the system was that their father had abandoned them and their mother. “Classmates say he’s sensitive about his height,” or lack thereof. Edward was a mere 5’6” to his brother’s 5’9” and he resented the hell out of it. “Criticizing Alphonse is also said to provoke a pretty quick reaction. Oh,” Morgan snapped the thin file closed, “he hates being called Edward.”

“I’ll go,” Hotch volunteered. It was a good choice. Every inch of Hotch, from how he dressed to how he carried himself, screamed that he was a man who was incharge and valued that. His very presence was a direct insult to Elric’s sensibilities. 

Hotch disappeared through the door and Morgan crossed his arms, file in hand. There wasn’t much in it.

The Elrics had been found naked on the side of the road in the backwoods in their early teens, Edward carrying his brother’s emaciated body. Neither of them showed any understanding of English when they were first taken to the hospital and once they learned they were reluctant to speak of their past. It was only through offhand observation that anyone discovered anything about the boys. Mother was dead, father was seen as having abandoned them, though that could mean anything from having walked out before they were born to having died and the child’s mind just not being able to process the trauma. 

The language they spoke had been labelled as a sophisticated form of twin talk that they never grew out of. A psychologist speculated that it was because their mother died young and the boys grew up alone in the woods, seeking help only when Alphonse’s condition started to deteriorate. 

It spoke to a lot of trauma and a lot of tragedy, but a sad childhood didn’t justify seven bodies over a two year period. 

The door opened and Elric’s gaze whipped to Hotch, his eyes narrowing in immediate disdain as the concept of Hotch being the source of all of Elric’s problems cemented into place.

Good.

“Hello, Edward. I’m Agent Hotchner,” Hotch greeted, a file of his own in hand. Elric glared at him as though he could cause Hotch to drop dead from that alone but said nothing. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Elric didn’t so much as twitch. The kid must be fantastic at poker.

“It’s fine if you don’t,” Hotch said in his flatest tone. “I can explain. But first, do you need anything? Coffee? Water? I know these chairs can be a little high, do you need a shorter one?”

Jason had seen people be less reactive after being punched in the face. Elric’s head flew back, his eyes widened and his mouth popped open even as his feet slammed onto the floor, his hands hitting the table. His braid slid off his shoulder so it hung low down his back.

“Well that struck a nerve,” Morgan observed. 

Edward snarled at Hotch, the words flowing in a steady stream of incomprehensible babble. Twin talk, by all reports, and one of Edward’s favorite ways to express himself when he was particularly angry. Not that it did them any good. They needed a confession in a language they could translate.

“Not enough of one.” Jason watched as Elric’s jaw snapped shut so hard they could hear his teeth click. Elric didn’t resume his slouch once he finished his diatribe,  but he did lean forward, hands clasped even as he spread his legs wide on a display of hypermasculinity.

Hotch skipped the chair and sat on the edge of the table, leaning forward so he could loom over Elric, silently asserting dominance and, given the way Elric’s eye twitched, he was not unaffected. “I’ll take that as a no for now, but when you change your mind please let me know.” Elric’s scowl deepened but his face dropped and, instead of trying to stare Hotch down, Elric dropped his gaze to Hotch’s chest, angry and calculating. 

“He’s unarmed, right?” Morgan asked.

Jason nodded though his eyes didn’t flick away, soaking in every reaction. “The LEOs searched him twice when they picked him up. They found nothing.” Even then, Elric was organized. He was young and angry but he didn’t have a history of doing more than verbally assaulting his peers. His victimology for physical violence was very specific. He wouldn’t break it over a few insults. 

“I heard you were smart. A genius, your teachers say,” Hotch continued casually, “which means you should already know why you are here.” He set a hand on the table and leaned, shifting closer to Elric. “We’ve caught you, Edward.”

Elric’s face went blank. It was a good starting point, proof they were on the right track, but they needed the kid to talk. 

Hotch set the file in front of Edward and when the kid made no move to open it, Hotch flipped it to the front page. “You know Donny Smith.” Elric looked down at the body that lay before him. Though he was the most recent victim, his body had been hidden behind a set of stairs and was found when it inevitably started to smell. 

Smith was not a pretty sight. The fact that Elric didn’t even flinch as he stared at the bruised and bloated corpse made Jason that much more confident they had their unsub. 

“You might not have known his name,” Hotch continued, sounding self assured in a way that was calculated to frustrate Elric. “You certainly saw him around campus though. How could you not? How many times did you nearly wave as he passed, looking like Alphonse from the corner of your eye? As many times as you did Angelo Roberts?”

Hotch flipped to the next page. Another corpse. Another lack of reaction that said just as much as a confession. “He was pre-med, just like Alphonse. Soft spoken with a love for animals. He had an older sister.” Hotch leaned closer. “Is that why you picked him? So you could set her free the way you want to be set free?”

Hotch dragged a hand across the files, spreading all the pictures out at once. “Garfield Masterson. Dale Gatling. Hans Schnieder. Clark Greenhill. Francios Martin. They all had bright futures before you killed them.” Hotch slid the picture of Dale closer, so it was touching Elric’s hands. He was the youngest victim and the team agreed that he bore the clearest resemblance to Alphonse. “He was seventeen and had his whole life ahead of him and you killed him.”

Then Hotch pulled back, letting that sit. Elric was studying the picture, all the pictures, and he loosened his hands to tap on the table while Hotch let him percolate. 

“The school newspaper said Dale was stabbed in the back.” Elric, finally breaking his silence. He pulled the picture closer to him before sliding the one with Francios towards himself. “Frankie supposedly OD’d.” He frowned and began arranging the pictures in the timeline the team had created. “Clark was a mugging gone wrong but Hans was said to have committed suicide. Donny, Angelo, and Garfield were all strangled.” He began to group the photos in pairs, though Dale was by himself. “Dale was my first semester, Frankie and Clark my second. Hans and Donny were both last fall and Angelo and Garfield were this semester, making it two per term.” For the first time Elric bothered to meet Hotch’s eyes. “I also did classes during the spring and the summer, which means either your killer was out of town then or you are missing between two and four victims.”

“And who are they?” Hotch asked. 

Elric shrugged. “Fucked if I know.” He traced Dale’s face, his white cotton gloves protecting the picture, and Elric, from fingerprints. “But I can guess why I’m here.” He raised an eyebrow. “You think I hate Al.” 

“Damn,” Morgan said with a sigh. “I hate it when they profile back.”

“Don’t you?” Hotch asked lightly, as though this conversation hadn’t just gotten a hundred times harder. “You had to leave your home because he couldn’t take care of himself, because he was starving. You were never adopted because Al was right there, riding your coattails. When you finally had a chance to be free he follows you to University where everyone can see him and how perfect he is.”

Elric’s lips twitched up as he mouthed perfect. “Hotch is getting to him,” Jason said with grim relief.

“You raised him and he turned into more of a man than you will ever be. He’s smarter, better with people, and taller than you. 

“And you hate that. You’re trapped raising him and he’s out there, living his best life.” Hotch motioned to the door. “You hate that you love him. You want him gone but you’re too much of a coward to deny him anything so you kill these boys to make yourself feel better, and it works for a while. But then,” Hotch tapped a photo, “it builds. That hatred, that resentment, builds again so you kill again.”

Elric was watching with growing amusement. “Come on,” Jason whispered under his breath, waiting for the smug punk to admit it. 

Elric leaned back, boots back on the table though he took care not to set them on any of the pictures. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It’s a good theory but you have a few problems.” Elric raised a hand and put up a finger. “One. I love my brother. I would gladly give an arm and a leg for my brother.” Morgan and Jason both traded a look at the inflection. That didn’t sound like a hypothetical. “Two.” Another finger went up. “I am… uh…” Elric muttered something under his breath. 

“I didn’t hear that,” Hotch said.

“These people are all taller than me,” Elric snapped, obviously pained by the admission. Elric’s profile didn’t leave room for the young man to admit to his deficiencies like that. “How the hell would I manage to snake a rope around someone’s neck from behind, unless you think I am fucking hiding in door frames and dropping down like a goddamn ninja? Stupid fucking cops,” he grumbled before holding up another finger. “Three. None of these guys even fucking look like Al.”

“I’ve met your brother,” Hotch said plainly. 

Elric sighed and tugged off his gloves. “Just…watch.” He brought a finger up to his eye and gave it a delicate poke, removing a thin contact. As  it was lifted away from his face it left him with an eye that was a dramatically different color. One side of Elric’s face framed a deep brown iris that matched the majority of the victims but the other was the most unique eye color Jason had ever seen. 

“Is his eye yellow?” Morgan asked, leaning forward for a better view. 

Yellow, gold, the color of honey; all the descriptions fit but none did it justice. It looked unusual and unnatural and it was no wonder that Elric used contacts to hide the color. His eyes were conversation starters and Elric wanted attention but he wanted attention for the things he did, not the way he looked. 

“That’s a unique color,” Hotch said, and if Jason didn’t work with him he’d say he hit a note of neutrality. 

Elric bared his teeth. “Thanks. It’s a gift from my bastard father. One that Al shares. Which means,” Elric leaned back, hooking his arms over the chair back yet again, “if this was me killing people out of some weird delusion about Al they’d all have lighter eyes. Now if, ” Elric stretched the syllable, “this has something to do with Al you are probably looking for a stalker. You’ve classified this guy as organized, right?” Ed waved a hand dismissively. “Of course you have. You’re wrong. He’s methodical but emotional and he’s on campus which means he knows you’re here. He’s going to get sloppy and his substitutes are going to end up looking even less like who he actually has beef with, which means you should let me go so I can finish my fucking homework. I have a thesis on how gravitational shifts imply there are separate dimensions.”

“You seem to know a lot about deviant personalities.”

Ed grinned fiercely, mismatched eyes sparkling. “What can I say? I’m a fucking genius.”

“We’ll reconvene in a bit,” Hotch said, standing up straight. He left the pictures as he turned to exit the room and paused at the sound of Elric’s voice. 

“And bring me some fucking water, will you?”

The door clicked shut without a response.

Jason and Morgan stepped into the hall to join Hotch. “I need coffee,” he said, making his way to the station’s communal pot. He poured it black and bitter into a cup before taking a sip, no expression betraying whether or not it was half decent. “What did you get out of that?”

Morgan shook his head. “Elric’s Reid levels of smart with better people skills. He’s crude but in a way a lot of people find endearing. I don’t know if his conversation with you made him look more guilty or more innocent, but we should definitely look to see if he is right about there being other victims.”

“And if we find them?” Hotch asked. 

Jason sighed. “We’re no closer than we were. His logic is sound enough that knowing there are more victims would never hold up as a confession.”

“He nearly decked you when you called him short,” Morgan said with a grin. “Kid’s definitely insecure about his masculinity. He did a lot of posturing.”

“Do you think he’s impotent?” Hotch tossed out and Jason hummed as he mulled over the thought. 

“You’re thinking straight up jealousy instead of resentment.” 

Hotch nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s not our-”

“I know it hasn’t been long but he’s missing!” cut a voice through the station. “We were supposed to meet up and he’s never not shown before! If he was going to be late he’d always call!” 

Jason looked around the corner to see a tall blond in a muted brown jacket who looked close to tears. A backpack was slung over his shoulder which showed that he must have come straight from campus when Elric didn’t meet up at their designated time. Alphonse Elric looked like he’d been looking for his brother for days instead of hours. 

“I understand, kid, I do but being an hour late to the library doesn’t constitute missing.”

“What does?” Alphonse said, his voice growing quiet. “Two hours? Ten hours? Or does my brother need to turn up dead in a gutter before you care? Ed is missing,” he leaned forward. “I need help finding him.”

The officer at the desk sighed but Jason reached his side, ready to defuse the situation. He held out a hand and Alphonse took it instinctively. “Agent Gideon,” he introduced. 

“Al.” Dark brown eyes narrowed. “You work with Agent Hotchner.” Their hands released and Al’s slipped into his jacket pocket. “Have you seen Ed? Is he in danger?”

“We need to speak in private.” Jason held out a hand to guide Alphonse by the shoulder but the young man froze. 

“You arrested Ed,” he said in disbelief, revealing he was either suspicious of his brother or simply too smart by half. He studied Jason again, a slight frown on his face. “Does he have a lawyer?”

“We’re just asking him a few questions.”

Alphonse rolled his eyes and opened his cellphone, this time allowing Jason to guide him off to the side even as the boy threw a wrench into their investigation. Jason didn’t know who Marco was but he had a very clear idea as to what his older sister did for a living. 

When the cellphone slid back into Alphonse’s pocket the boy gave Jason his full attention. His gaze was cold where his brother’s was hot and for a moment Gideon wondered if they were investigating the wrong Elric. “Why did you arrest Ed?” he asked as though it was a request and not a demand. 

“You’re aware of the campus killer?”

“You think Ed did it.” Definitely too smart. 

Jason sat, indicating the other chair was for Alphonse. The boy took it gracefully, his body language obviously displeased but showing none of his brother’s temper. “We just want to ask him a few questions. We have a few for you, if that’s okay?”

Jason felt more than saw Morgan come up behind him. Good. Alphonse seemed like the type of person who would be put at ease by Morgan’s kindness. 

Alphonse sighed. “Ed didn’t do it.”

“Hey, kiddo, no one here says he did,” Morgan said gently. “We just need to ask him a few questions.”

Alphonse tilted his head and gave them an expression of utter judgement. “He didn’t do it.” Alphonse’s hand found its way to his face and ran down his cheek, a display of nerves, before the boy puffed out a breath. “He has an alibi for the first attack.”

“You were with him?” Morgan asked, trying to tease the story out. Al could just as easily be a submissive personality to his brother as he could a genuine alibi.

 Alphonse hunched his shoulders. It didn’t take a profiler to see that he did not want to talk about this. “No, he was at the science fair. He was on a kick about whether or not it was possible to transmute elements through nuclear fission,” Alphonse said, puffing up chest in pride. Jason wasn’t a physicist but he could tell the topic was clever. 

“Did he place?” Morgan asked. 

“First,” Alphonse said, smiling brightly. “My brother’s a genius.”

Jason leaned forward, demonstrating interest. “I hear you are pretty smart yourself.”

Alphonse nodded, brown eyes bright. There was no smugness, no jealousy. “I am but I’m pre-med so no science fairs for me.” He seemed reasonably proud. “However Ed was there, which means he has an alibi that isn’t me. There are a lot of pictures. He also went to the after party.” 

“When was the science fair?”

“October ninth,” Alphonse said quietly.

“Alphonse,” Morgan said softly, “the first murder happened in November.” Alphonse shifted. “What do you know?”

“Please don’t tell Ed,” Alphonse said at almost a whisper. “He’ll worry. He already worries enough about me.”

Morgan stepped around Alphonse to kneel at his legs. “Tell me.”  

Alphonse sighed. “I was attacked on my way to the science fair. I told Ed that I had class but it had been cancelled a few weeks before because the prof needed to attend a conference. I bought Ed a book that I needed to pick up.” He dug the heel of his hand into an eye. “I didn’t see who did it, but they hit me in the back of the head.” Alphonse took a shuddering breath, struggling with distress. 

Jason gave him a moment to collect himself. “How did you escape?” he prodded. 

“My Teacher,” Alphonse said.

“There was a witness?” Morgan’s shock echoed Jason’s but the hope of a witness was dashed when Alphonse shook his head. 

“No.” He lifted his gaze. “Teacher taught Ed and I self defense. She would have been ashamed of me if I died from a knock to the head. I kicked back. I hit them at least twice but I couldn’t really see anything.” Alphonse took a moment to centre himself. “I wear colored contacts and being hit in the head caused them to shift. I don’t have any details on who attacked me.”

Jason frowned. “You didn’t report it.”  

Alphonse shrugged, unruffled. “What was there to report? I didn’t see anything and there were no cameras. I figured it was a guy after my wallet and moved on with my life. I went to the University Clinic to get stitches in the back of my head. I’ve been going there since school started so they should have the visit on file. 

“I told anyone who noticed the stitches that I walked backwards into a door.”

“Thank you, Alphonse, for telling us. That was very helpful.” It would have been more helpful at the start of their investigation but the Elrics would have just been eighteen. Given what Jason knew about them he could understand why Alphonse didn’t say anything. “Next time you’re the victim of a crime you need to tell someone.”

Alphonse nodded. Jason didn’t trust it.

“Can I take Ed home now? He has a paper due.”

Morgan cocked his head and Jason gave his the barest of shakes. “There are still a few more questions we need to ask your brother.” After they reworked the profile. Was Alphonse the first victim or the first victim to escape? Were the Elric’s still the centre of this mess? Did the victims all look like Alphonse because Alphonse had survived? Or were they practicing so they could try again?

“Morgan, why don’t you stay with Alphonse.” Morgan nodded and Jason stood, darting until he was at Hotchner’s side. “Alphonse Elric was the first victim,” he said, quickly summarizing what he had been told. “We’re also on the clock until Elric’s lawyer arrives.”

Hotch nodded as he turned back to the interrogation room. “Then we speak quickly.”

They pushed open the door.

The room was a mess. Thick stripes of red marker crossed across the wall, victim’s names and word associations weaving between them. The pictures were spread across the table, lines around them as well. Elric himself stood at the mirror, contact back in, a name written and circled in red. “Where have you been?” he snapped. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Hotch blinked, as off balance as Jason felt. “You’ve been busy.” Where did he get the marker from?

Elric shrugged and sneered at the same time. “Someone needed to solve this fucking case. The asshole you are looking for is Grant Meyers.” Jason opened his mouth but Elric steamed ahead, not caring for any interjections at this point. “All signs point to this person hating Al, right? And you had some weird big brother jealousy thing for your motive, which was fucking stupid but it got me thinking. What if someone else was jealous of Al?” He pointed at Hotch with the marker, red stains noticeable on his gloves. “You said it yourself. Al is kind, smart, and handsome. He’s a catch. But!”

Ed clapped his hands together. “He’s also an obstacle. I love Al but I also shamelessly use him as an excuse to get out of doing whatever dumb shit other assholes ask me to do.” He darted across the room. “Dale was killed November twenty-third, right? On November twentieth Grant asked me to go to his place to study. I told him I had plans with Al.” He tapped the end of the marker on Martin’s picture, smearing it with ink. “The week Frankie was killed was after the President’s Day long weekend. He asked me to go skiing with him and I told him that Al and I were going on a hunting trip. Clark, Grant asked me to go hunting and I said Al and I were going skiing.” He put his hands on his hips before blowing a stray hair out of his face. “So on and so forth.”

“How do you know the timelines?” Jason asked, eyes narrowed and Elric managed to stare down at them from his unimpressive height.

“I told you I’m smart. And I’ve been paying attention.” The hair fell back down and Elric brushed it away with his hand, staining it with ink. “I also keep journals. They’re encrypted but if there is anyone smart on your team I can give them the cipher and they can check if it all lines up. Just don’t steal my research. Now,” Elric said imperiously, “can I fucking leave? Or do you need me to do more of your job for you?”

Hotch tilted his head, passing the ball to Jason. “Ed,” he asked. “When was the first time you turned Grant down?” 

Ed froze and, for the first time he seemed to shrink into something smaller. “He wanted a quickie in a closet in class October third. While gross, Al and I had plans.” He froze before blinking, his face paling. “Who did he attack in October?”

“No one was killed,” Jason tried to start off but Ed cut him off with a string of curses.

“Al didn’t walk into a fucking door, did he? I knew that sounded stupid but I figured if it was a big deal Al would tell me. Last time I give Al any privacy. That son of a fucking bitch. Fuck my paper I am going to make that bastard Grant eat it.” He stormed off towards the door, clapped, and pressed both hands against it as though he could make it move. After a blink he scowled at it. 

“Stand back, Elric,” Hotch ordered softly. 

Elric snarled and kicked the door. “You Bastard. If he has Al-”

“Your brother is safe here, at the station,” Jason assured Elric and the scowl eased by maybe one percent. 

Elric kicked the door again. “Fine,” he said in a tone that made everyone know everything was most definitely not fine. “But bring me Al or a magazine or something. I’m fucking bored.”

“We’ll talk to your brother,” Hotch promised.

“And I want my fucking water!”

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Al came bearing two cups of water and a disappointed frown. “Brother,” he chided, “look what you did to the room.”

Ed took the water and matched the frown. “You were attacked by a serial killer and you didn’t tell me?” 

“I didn’t know he was a serial killer at the time,” Al said calmly, as though that made any sense.

“ Dammit, Al,” Ed said, slipping into Amestrian. They didn’t speak it often just in case someone nosey tried to learn it, but for the most part people here passed it off as something called ‘twin talk.’ Ed and Al had decided to roll with it. They weren’t that far apart in age and people here seemed less likely to attempt to separate them if they were twins. They let the lie stand. “ We’re supposed to look out for each other. I can’t do that if you are hiding when you get hurt!”

“It was just a few stitches,” Al said sheepishly, “and I totally cracked their ribs back. Teacher would be very proud.”

“ I’m very proud. ” Ed scowled. “ I am also super pissed.   We aren’t supposed to hide things from each other.”

Al looked far too much like their mother for that expression to be fair. “ You didn’t tell me when they arrested you. ”

Ed threw up his hands in exasperation. “ I’ve been locked up in this room for hours, Al. How the hell was I supposed to contact you? Telepathy?! ”

“ The state gives you a phone call when you are arrested,” Al said, raising his eyebrow at Ed like he should know this. In Ed’s defense he’d never been arrested before and in Amestris being arrested either meant waiting it out busting your way out. Ed no longer had alchemy so only one of those options really worked for him these days. “ You also can ask for a lawyer and they make them let you out. The police also have to stop asking you questions once you’ve asked for a lawyer.”

Ed was fairly skeptical. “ That sounds fake. ”

“ We don’t live in a military state run by a homunculi trying to murder the entire country anymore. ” 

Well, fair point. 

Ed took a sip of his water. He frowned and chugged the whole cup. “How long before they let me out?”

Al smiled in a way most people thought was sweet, but Ed was his brother. He knew better. “Soon. I called a lawyer and she should be here soon.”

“You didn’t.”

“She’s not that bad.”

Ed groaned and fell back into the chair. “I hate Juliette. She’s just Mustang with boobs.”

“That’s not the insult it used to be,” Al said with fond exasperation.

Ed scowled. It wasn’t. Ed and Mustang didn’t always see eye to eye but the man had tried to do right by Ed when it didn’t fuck everything up. Now that Ed was older and less bitter about the fact that Truth has screwed them over one final time he could find himself missing the man. Not enough to search for a way home. Truth had made it very clear on what the cost of meeting Him again and Ed was willing to accept the bad with the good.

No one died during the Promised Day and they’d left the world in Mustang’s hands. They had their bodies back and Al had managed to survive his recovery, something that likely wouldn’t have been possible in Amestris. The medical technology of the United States, excluding prosthetics, was decades ahead of anything Amestris had. Without the reliance on alchemy, other sections of technology had become the focus. 

And there was so much access to information! Nothing was coded and the internet was the best thing to ever happen to Ed. He already had a paper published under a fake name and he’d been invited to a number of panels to discuss it. He’d had to turn them all down because he did want to graduate before he started globe trotting again, and he wanted to make sure that Al was in a good place. 

Al placed his fingers on the wall, tracing a red line. “Did you have fun?” Al asked. 

Ed scoffed at the very basic detective work he’d done while those idiots locked him in here. “I don’t know how they didn’t figure it out on their own.”

Al only hummed as he traced another line. “It sounds like you had fun.” From anyone else it would sound like an accusation. “You know, you could do this with your life.”

Ed blinked in surprise. “What, be a cop? I’m too smart to be a fucking cop.”

Ed should have expected the eye-roll he received. “No, Edward,” Oh full name, “you could become a profiler. It sounds a bit like what you did with the military but safer. You’d have back up so you’d be safer, and you’d get to travel a lot.” Al smiled in satisfaction as he listed off the perks. “ You said it yourself. You’ve solved this case for them. You could solve other cases for them. Doesn’t it feel good?”

Ed scowled at Al but he was saved from answering by the door swinging upon. 

Juliette took one look at the room, another at Ed, rolled her eyes and said, “For fuck’s sake.”

X-x-x-x-x-x-x

“Anything new?” Spencer asked as he and Elle met the rest of the team in the parking lot. Hotch had been as terse as always on the phone but the fact they were coming back to campus instead of working on getting a confession from Elric said something had changed. 

“Edward swore at Hotch in twin talk before solving our case for use,” Derek said dryly. 

“You know,” Spencer said, “the Elrics are pretty unique in that regard. Cryptophasia tends to run toward more simplistic language conventions that twins eventually grow out of. While it isn’t unheard of for twins to use it into adulthood, like June and Jennifer Gibbons, it isn’t something that's typical.”

“Reid,” Elle snapped. “We have a new suspect to focus on.”

Spencer ducked his head. “Right. Name?”

“Grant Meyers.”

“He is a TA for Honors Physics I: Mechanic and Wave Manipulation,” Spencer said, his brain skimming over everything he knew about the man.

“You’ve interviewed him?” Gideon asked in genuine surprise.

“Ah, no,” Spencer said, bouncing on his heels. “I memorized Edward’s schedule since he started, including relevant educational information like syllabuses, professors, and marks. Grant Meyers works for Professor Isngton. Edward attended her class first semester after testing out of the prerequisites.

“According to Edward, Meyers attempted to engage in a sexual relationship with him during his first semester and has repeatedly sought out social contact with him. The dates of the murders correspond with days that Edward turned down Meyers’ offers of companionship.”

“Let me guess,” Elle said, hand on her hip. “He used his brother as an excuse.”

“Got it in one,” Derek said. “Edward’s theory is that our unsub is murdering people who look like his little brother because he’s been using him to fend off unwanted advances.”

“Do we trust Edward’s theory?” Spencer asked, a little surprised. The profile for this unsub didn’t peg him as someone looking for fame so blaming someone else would be a natural move. 

“No,” Hotch said. “He did say, however, that he has diaries that can collaborate the dates, which is what you and I will locate. I have a warrant to search the Elrics’ apartment. Gideon, Elle, and Mogan will search for Meyers to see if they can get a statement.”

They split apart, Spencer following Hotch. He rolled over the facts of the case with every step, twisting the pieces to see how they fit, but coming up with gaps. “Why do we believe Edward?” he finally asked. 

“Alphonse provided information that, if true, would exonerate Edward. Garcia is looking into it now.” Hotch also paused to look at Reid. “Edward is also exceptionally smart. He might just be trying to shift blame but his theory was also well supported. Unless he’s been preparing since the first attack to deal with profilers, which is doubtful, he’s provided some very strong theories.”

“Has a suspect ever solved your case before?”

Hotch frowned, his lips a frustrated slash. “Unless they were confessing? No.”

“Do you think Edward and Meyers could be acting as a team?” Even as Spencer asked the question he knew the answer, but he wanted Hotch’s point of view. 

“I’d sooner suspect Edward and Alphonse. They’re both gregarious and if one were to play lure while the other goes in for the kill it would explain the lack of defensive wounds. That being said, if Edward was being honest about his journals then we will have enough to get a warrant against Meyers.” 

Either way it was an interesting case. Solved by the suspect while he was behind bars? It was very Sherlock Holmes and while Spencer knew he was supposed to be objective he couldn’t help but hope that Edward was right. It would be a neat story to lecture over, and one students wouldn’t see coming. 

Still, he wasn’t going to let a fantasy overrule justice. If they didn’t get the right person then more people would die. 

Hotch thanked the RA as the grumpy man passed him the key. The Elrics lived on the fourth floor that would have been faster to reach by stairs than by the elevator. Their door was impersonal but as Hotch opened it Spencer had no doubt that they were in the right spot. 

The entire apartment was covered in books. Medical and hard sciences, which were no surprise, but the psychology journals and the book on the history of witchcraft were. There wasn’t much for fiction and, judging by the dozens of post-its marking pages, the majority of the books had been read at least once. It was impressive and showed that the Elrics weren’t just smart but had a strong work ethic in bettering what they were born with. Honestly, having viewed the apartment, Spencer was fairly certain that if Edward was a serial killer he wouldn’t be the type to get caught until he was well and ready to. 

“I’ll take the bedroom. You see if you can find them in here. Don’t,” Hotch warned, “get distracted.” 

As much as Spencer wanted to resent the warning he figured it was fair. He would never have read the Elrics’s books while gathering evidence, but it was tempting to fall into the profile instead. To find out which one of the brothers was reading about paganism and why. An assignment? Or just general interest? 

The Elric brothers were interesting people.

He began to sort through the piles, carefully marking the page of any open book before closing it and stacking it on his left. He made sure to open any book with a slip jacket to make sure that it wasn’t a different title, or a titleless journal, before sliding it onto the pile. He heard a door latch as Hotch finished with one bedroom and went to the next. 

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground had Spencer putting his hand on his gun. “Hotch?” he called, creeping his way to the bedroom, heart hammering. Was there a boobytrap? Had Hotch tripped over a pile of books? It couldn’t be the Elrics. There was no way they could have beaten Hotch and Spencer here from the station. 

Spencer pushed the door open. Hotch was on the ground, blood trickling from a head wound.

By the time Spencer had his gun drawn something tight was wrapped around his neck. 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The Plan was to grab their laptops, a few outfits, and go lay low at Amy’s place until the cops had Grant in cuffs and Ed could wander campus without worrying that the asshole was going to take another swing at Al. 

The plan immediately went out the window the moment Ed opened the door. First, someone had started going through his books. His piles and Al’s piles were now mixed into a singular pile, something they had learned not to do as kids. They also closed Ed’s reference material for his paper and if they hadn’t marked the page he was on Ed was going to bop them in the nose. 

Or at least yell.

But what was really fucking with their decision was the way Grant Fucking Meyers stood at the back of the room, his knuckles wrapped around a belt that wrapped around the neck of some dumb kid. His eyes were lighter than the other victims, but, given the rest of him, that was probably a coincidence. He was taller than Al and a shrimp where Al was broad. His hair was longer than Al had ever let his grow and it was definitely brown, not blond.

His hands were tucked behind his back and, given the empty gun belt, Ed was fairly certain they were held there by cuffs. He’d warned the agents that Grant was going to go off the rails but he hadn’t expected the guy to break into his apartment to do it. 

Ed made a quick hand signal from his days as a State Alchemist and Al silently leaned against the wall, freezing in place and trusting Ed to handle the rest, which was why Al was the better of them. Ed would have stormed in anyway and gotten them both shot by the stolen gun Grant pointed his way. 

“Eddy!” Edward didn’t flinch or frown no matter how badly he hated the name. It was a step below Edward and the first time Grant had said it any chance he had of being friends with Ed went up in smoke. Fucking Eddy. “I’ve been waiting for you!”

Alright, Grant was disorganised and Ed was willing to bet he’d snapped into Delusional, not just delusional. He had an agent who the dude probably thought was Al hostage, a gun, and as far as Ed could tell these guys usually travelled in packs, which meant there was either a dead body in Ed’s apartment or at least, hopefully, an unconscious one. 

Well, Ed had plenty of practice in saving the day. 

“Hi, Grant,” Ed said back, sounding as cheerful as he could manage. “I see you’ve been hanging out with Al.”

The agent was doe eyed and looking fairly terrible. Between the redness of his face from blood constriction and the poorly hidden terror of being caught between Ed and Grant he probably had good reasons. Ed was fairly certain he was still a suspect despite how stupid that theory was and the guy was probably sluggishly chasing theories about teams while calculating his odds of getting out of this alive. 

They were pretty high as far as Ed was concerned. 

“He’s always in the way,” Grant hissed and Ed nodded. Definitely a full on break. Dude’d snapped like a wafer cookie and he’s getting fucking crumbs all over Ed’s living room.

“Which is why,” Ed said, dragging a hand along his books, careful not to knock anything over, “I was thinking we could go somewhere when we’re done exams. Your dad has that cabin in Colorado, right? Or maybe you could take me to that garden your mom always goes to?” 

A smile, bright and genuine, splashed across Grant’s face. “You remember!”

“I always remember.” Ed was a fucking genius who had worked as an investigator. Details were important. 

“I want you to fuck me, Ed.” Ugh. Gross. It took a lot of time before Ed would even start to think about one of his friends in a sexy way and Grant was not Ed’s friend. 

Still, he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” Grant’s eyes darkened and the bastard fucking shivered. “But we need to deal with Al first.” The gun that Ed had been ignoring drifted down towards the agent’s head and the kid shut eyes, obviously freaked out. He was either very new or being a profiler was way safer than being a State Alchemist. “I want to do it.” The agent’s eyes flew open in what Ed was fairly certain was terror, which was less of a problem compared to Grant’s growing suspicion. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. “I never realized how badly Al was ruining my life, Grant.” He rolled the name in his mouth like it was something special. “I was forced to build around him but you’ve shown me how to breathe. But in order to break free I need to be the one to end him.” Ed took a step forward, making his voice soft and hoarse. “Let me break myself free with the strength you’ve given me,” Ed said as he leaned forward, “Grant.”

The man slowly outstretched his arm and Ed took a step closer to take the end of the belt.

It put him in reach. 

His leg swung up, his boot slamming into Grant’s stupid face with enough force to make the man spin. A splash of blond from the corner of his eye meant that Al was hauling the agent clear. While their apartment was a decent size for their books, it was by no means big enough to have a three man fight. 

Not that it was much of a fight. Grant tried to bring the gun up to aim as he stopped his stagger but before he could aim he took another punch to the face, nose breaking. The downside of not having automail was that Ed couldn’t hit as hard as he used to. The upside was that the crunch of a broken nose was way more satisfying. 

Grant gasped, trying to find his feet so he could do something in the wake of Ed’s wrath, but all he did was line himself up for a knee to the solar plexus. 

Grant went down and Ed gingerly grabbed the gun. 

Al appeared, wrapping the belt that had been around the agent’s neck around Grant’s hands before he rolled Grant into a half assed recovery position so he bled all over the floor instead of choking to death, which was fair. Teacher had taught them to kill and if Ed had wanted Grant dead he’d be dead. Instead he could deal with a justice system that was only half as corrupt as that of Amestris. 

Al had dragged the agent to the kitchen, where the guy leaned against the cupboards gasping. “My-ah, partner,” he got out.

“I'll check,” Al said quietly. If the guy was dead it didn’t really matter who found him. Ed and Al were both pretty immune to dead bodies at this point and Grant wouldn’t have had enough time to get creative in a way that would be a bit of a shock. But if he was alive then Al would be in the best position to keep him that way. 

As Al disappeared, Ed guided the guy forward to study the handcuffs. He reached into his hair and pulled a pin from within the braid and began working at the lock. It was a matter of seconds to pick it, a skill Ed and Al both figured they’d need since they couldn’t just transmute their way through locks anymore.

Strangely enough this was the first time Ed had used it for more than a fucking kick. 

The agent rubbed at his wrists, still breathing hard, when he heard Al yell. “He’s okay!” The agent relaxed, his breathing a little easier.

“I’m Ed,” he introduced himself so he didn’t have to do nothing but listen to gasps. “You probably knew that though because your people fucking arrested me. And you went through my fucking books, so thanks for that.” Now wasn’t exactly the time to be bitter or petty but Ed was who Ed was.

“Why-” the agent gasped, “-paganism?” 

Alchemy didn’t work in this world. Transmutation circles didn’t so much as flicker and people knew next to nothing about it. But that was the thing. Next to nothing. Ed wasn’t sure if it was because Alchemy had never existed and these people had great imaginations or if it was some kind of lost art. There had been enough historical periods of violent upheaval where Alchemists would have been targeted that there could have been real knowledge. Ed couldn’t go home but he could maybe have a part of home with him.

But that wasn’t something he was going to explain to a half dead profiler. Ed just said simply, “Why not?”

The profiler clearly wasn’t buying it so Ed shrugged. The guy was looking for a distraction so Ed gave him one, launching into the possibility of advanced scientific theory being held in pagan works in an attempt to preserve information during purges by the church. Ed had actually found a little evidence that it may have been the case, but the one account he had was fairly incomplete and he didn’t know if it meant the science was only ever a half finished idea or if the document was missing pieces. 

The agent gave a little half smile which almost made him look cute. “Do you think Tesla did something like that?” And Ed was off. He only half heard Al bitch about the agent bringing up Tesla. 

Besides, the guy looked like he was having a good time. 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The familiar hum of the jet’s engine enveloping him, Spencer flipped the card in his hand, thumb brushing over the indents left by a ballpoint pen. Flip. Rub. Flip. Rub.

So engrossed, he started when Gideon sat across from him. “Are you doing alright?” The older man asked. Spencer knew he was referring to more than just the bruises. 

“Our suspect and a victim solved our case,” Spencer said. He let and saved my life hang silently in the air. 

Gideon leaned back, folding his hands across his lap and Spencer knew he’d stumbled into some type of test. “They had more information than we did.”

Spencer shook his head. It was an easy out that he refused to take. “We asked the wrong questions. We got the profile wrong.” The reason the victims were killed from behind was because the suspect was scared of them. It wasn’t guilt at all. He was afraid of being seen and terrified of someone fighting back. A search of medical records indicated that Alphonse had broken two of his ribs in the first attack. 

The reason he was targeting Alphonse was because of an obsession with Edward. The rest of the team had found a shrine dedicated to Edward, Alphonse roughly hacked out of every picture they were found in together. They found a silk sash that had been used on the last three victims and once Grant realized that it was Edward who turned him over to the police he’d broken down into a raving confession. 

Gideon nodded. “We did. So next time we ask better questions.”

Spencer nodded as though it was that simple. As though he hadn’t nearly died, as though Hotch wasn’t struggling with the after effects of a concussion. Gideon made it sound like just a simple mistake that could have happened to anyone. 

They weren’t anyone. They couldn’t afford simple mistakes. 

“Get some sleep, Reid. We’ll all feel better with a bit of shut eye.” 

Spencer nodded, his thumb rubbing over the words one more time.

Call Ed. It was followed by a phone number Spencer recognized from the case files. It had been pressed into his hands by Alphonse Elric himself when he’d come to visit Spencer in the hospital. He’d been smiling as he grabbed Spencer’s hand, forcing him to take the paper. 

“Ed knows everyone but he doesn’t have many friends. No one can keep up.” His eyes had looked as deep into his soul as any member of the team. “You look like you have the same problem.”

Spencer flipped the card in his hand before stuffing it back into his pocket. 

It was a problem for tomorrow.