"When a killer uses silence as a weapon, their loudest message is who they choose not to shoot." —Aaron Hotchner
Quantico, Virginia – BAU War Room – 9:12 AM
The photo Jason found sat in the center of the table, unblurred, undeniable.
A sniper's sightline. Crosshairs centered on Hotch.
No bullet fired.
Just one word.
Missed.
Reid paced near the whiteboard, connecting red strings between old case data and the new kills. JJ sat beside Morgan, arms crossed, her jaw tight. Garcia stood by the monitors, pale and focused.
Gideon stood off to the side, arms folded, staring at the photo without speaking.
Jason finally broke the silence.
"He's not just showing us that he had the shot. He's telling us it wasn't the right one."
Hotch nodded slowly. "Meaning I wasn't his message."
Reid turned. "Then who is?"
Gideon answered without looking up. "Me."
The room froze.
Morgan blinked. "What are you talking about?"
Gideon took a long breath. Then walked to the board.
"I interrogated a suspect connected to the Mortician case back in 2009. Not the killer. But someone who wrote about him. Glorified him. Guy named Vincent Vale—former military contractor turned journalist. Thought the Mortician was a necessary evil. That we needed men like him."
Jason crossed his arms. "What happened to him?"
"He vanished after I leaked a fake story. Told the press Vale had agreed to testify against an anonymous killer. I figured it would draw the Mortician out. But the trail went cold, and the case got shelved. I never found the body."
Reid's face tightened. "So you lied to bait a ghost killer… and the man you used disappeared."
Gideon looked down.
Jason understood the silence.
"You don't think Vale was killed," he said.
Gideon nodded. "I think he became the Mortician."
Elsewhere – Unknown Location – 10:03 AM
The man now known only as the Mortician sat in a sparse motel room. No personal belongings. No notes.
Just a list.
Five names.
Four already crossed out.
The fifth: Jason Cole.
He stared at it, thoughtful.
"Not yet," he murmured to himself. "The wolf still has questions."
Then he added a sixth name to the bottom.
Jason Gideon
Quantico – BAU HQ – 11:21 AM
Jason and Gideon walked together in silence down the rear corridor. Their footsteps echoed like distant shots.
"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Jason finally asked.
"I didn't want to believe it," Gideon admitted. "I thought… maybe the case just ended. That sometimes, the monster doesn't come back."
Jason stared ahead. "Monsters don't rest. They wait."
Gideon stopped walking. Turned.
"I put a man in the crosshairs without ever confirming who he was. I told myself it was for the greater good."
Jason didn't look angry. Just sad.
"Feels familiar," he said.
Gideon gave a faint, haunted smile. "Is that what I've made of you?"
Jason answered honestly. "No. That's what made both of us."
Public Square – Washington D.C. – 1:07 PM
An envelope arrived at the front desk of a local news station. No return address.
Inside was a photo.
The same crosshair photo of Hotch.
And beneath it, a hand-written note.
"The Bureau shelters rot. The ghosts still walk your halls.
I will clean what you won't."
—M
The anchor turned it over to police.
And the countdown began.
Quantico – War Room – 2:33 PM
"Why go public now?" Morgan asked, staring at the blown-up image on the screen.
Reid answered. "To make the Bureau accountable. He's calling us out. Not to provoke us… but to dare us."
Jason stepped forward. "Because he wants us to know who's next."
JJ frowned. "You think he's targeting Gideon?"
Jason nodded. "This guy doesn't just kill people for what they've done. He kills them for what they could do. Gideon knew who he was before he became this. That makes Gideon his mirror."
Gideon stood silently by the window, arms crossed.
"He won't come for me with a rifle," he said quietly. "He'll come closer."
Hotch turned. "Why?"
"Because it has to be personal."
That Night – Gideon's Cabin – 11:18 PM
The wind rustled the trees outside like whispers. Inside, Gideon stood by the fireplace, shotgun in hand, eyes locked on the door.
He wasn't waiting out of fear.
He was waiting because he understood.
The man would come tonight.
He'd built his life around anticipation. Around waiting.
Jason had insisted on staying nearby—hidden in the woods outside with tactical support. JJ and Morgan were minutes away.
But Gideon knew this was his burden.
And then—
The door creaked open.
A man stepped inside.
Dressed in gray.
Unarmed.
A ghost.
"I'm not here to kill you," the Mortician said softly. "I'm here to give you a chance to end it."
Gideon raised the gun, unflinching.
"You've already ended enough."
The man nodded once.
"I gave you a story once," he said. "And you told the world it was fiction."
Gideon's hands tightened around the barrel.
Jason's voice crackled in over the comm.
"Target confirmed. Do not engage. Do not fire. We're five seconds out—"
The Mortician raised his hands.
And smiled.
"Sometimes, the cleanest kill is the one you make inside."
Then he stepped back into the night.
Jason burst through the side door seconds later, gun raised.
Gideon stood frozen.
No blood.
No shot.
Just silence.
And one bullet…
…still unfired.