I do this all the time. Some people are bad at summaries. I am bad at titles. So I changed the title of this story from Now I Lay Me Down to Bare Witness. I'll be updating this from now on.

I should probably give a shout out to the X-Files cause I got a lot of ideas are the same, but with a OTH twist guess I could say. I used to write a fanfiction series for the X-Files waaaay back in the day and I'm a little rusty on my FBI and crime scene lingo so bare with me. I don't own anything or anybody, although towards the end of season 4 I wish I owned OTH and not Mark. grrrrrrr...

Flashback

Tensions were as high as they could be as the stand off between the FBI and the serial killer, Thomas Crow. The ex-cop had left a long and gory trail across the Bible belt, leaving the police gloating riddles and racking up enough bodies and public fear in his wake that the FBI had to be called in.

He'd been with the bureau for two years by the time Crow had taken his fifth victim and it had been his profile that had led to his identification. The cat and mouse game had finally ended at a warehouse with two agents working on fifeteen hours of sleep apiece and a cold blooded killer with no remorse, nothing to loose, and a hostage.

His partner had taken the front and he had gone around back after they'd called for appropriate back up.

He'd had him in his sites. His partner was trying to talk him down.

"Where's the golden child? Where's my boy!" Crow had cried. He knew he was talking about him. He'd been the first to decipher the riddle Crow had left and eventually put together a profile. He hadn't been sure how Crow had found out that it was him who'd written it, but since that moment, every note since had been left addressed specifically to him, always attached with a safety pin to the victim's bloodied clothing.

"Crow, there is no way out of here." Sirens. They were coming upon the warehouse. They just needed a few more minutes. "Let that girl go. You have control here, you can walk outta here."

"But I'm not done with my work son. You know how it is," Crow had explained calmly over the soft whimpers of his young captive. He had known it was not a safe sign, though. In his profile he'd written Crow could turn on a dime but all he's been thinking was he had to get that little girl out of there. He had to get her out by the book.

He saw his partner well out of his line of fire and he knew that their back up was there. He could've taken that shot. Crow was agitated. He was getting caged in.

He could've taken that shot. He'd had it and he knew that Crow wouldn't leave this place without making someone bleed. Crow had one purpose. To fill his quota and this little girl-

He could've taken the shot. But he hadn't…and Crow had started firing. He had started firing faster than he'd thought possible. He saw that little girl fall and all hell broke loose.


Two years later

Her three inch heels clacked loudly and rhythmically against the linoleum floor of the Hoover building, adding themselves to the sounds that made up that building the eight thirty in the morning. Flashing her badge, she checked her gun, walked through the metal detector smiling at the guard who's name she would later learn was Pete.

Stepping onto the elevator she pressed the button she needed and kept her even stare cool and straight forward, ignoring the stares she felt on her back. So was the life of a girl in the boys club. It was why at 5 foot 8 and a half she felt the need to wear heels. It was bad enough she had to prove herself daily because she was a girl, and a blonde and a beautiful one to boot. She'd be damned if she had to look up at anybody.

She didn't work her ass off at in the academy to get written off as some air headed twit who some had mistakenly given a badge and a gun. In fact she had graduated at the top of her class, getting her doctorate in forensic pathology just a year before.

She could out shoot every man in her class and was trained in hand to hand combat. It was the reason no one called her the nickname she'd acquired in the Academy to her face. Doctor Stems. She had made the mistake of wearing a skirt one day and the nickname had been born. It was just one more thing she had to fight against, so she began wearing slacks and heels so if any little smart ass wanted to call her Doc Stems they'd have to look up at her or straight into her eyes to do it. She was smart, clear headed, capable, and trying to stay afloat in a sea of testosterone.

She stepped off on her floor and her hand unconsciously smoothing out her hair, which was pulled into a tight no nonsense ponytail, as she made her way to the section chief's office. Adjusting her forest green suit jacket she knocked on the door and opened it after hearing a terse "Enter."

"Section chief Hartman, special agent-"

" Peyton Sawyer," the large man finished for her, looking up at her from his paper work to regard the young woman in front of him. "Your reputation proceeds you agent. You come with the highest recommendations."

"Thank you sir," Peyton replied, graciously. She shook his hand and then sat, crossing her long legs.

"Let's get to the gut of it agent Sawyer. I'm sure you're anxious to see what your new assignment will be. I can tell you it's not quite what you're used to at Quantico."

"I'm sure I'm up for the challenge sir," Peyton replied confidently. Hartman raised an eyebrow at the young woman and nodded.

He wasn't so sure this Sawyer girl would be right for this assignment at all. First off she was far too pretty. Her suit was tailored well and unlike the unflattering, boxy suits some female agents chose to adorn themselves with her suit actually fit her and complimented her shape. She barely had any make up on and then there was the severe ponytail that made his own forehead ache just looking at it.

"Are you familiar with an agent named Lucas Scott?" Peyton was taken aback.

"Yes sir, but purely by reputation. Graduated from Yale with a doctorate in psychology. He's considered one of the best analysts in the bureau. His profile led to the capture of the Sacramento strangler several years ago."

Peyton had never met Lucas Scott. His reputation certainly proceeded him wherever he went, though. Not only was he considered, at a young age, one of the best profilers the bureau had ever seen in years, but he was also a loose cannon. Special Agent Lucas Scott thumbed his nose at rules and was considered FBI's bad boy. He had scared off four partners in the last six months and when he was seen in the halls, his hands were shoved deep into his pockets with his eyes glued to his shoes, gaining him the nickname of Broody at the academy. Peyton had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going.

"We want to partner you with him in the violent crimes section. You'll write field reports tracking Agent Scott's progress."

"With all due respect sir, am I babysitting or just spying?"

Hartman once again rose an eyebrow. This girl had some spunk. Maybe this would work after all. He hid a smirk and replied, "I see you know more about his reputation than you said. Agent Sawyer, Lucas Scott was a damn good agent, but he's a loose cannon. We need someone we trust to keep him line."

"I see." So I'm to be his mother, she thought. The fact that he said Agent Scott was a good agent wasn't lost on her either.

"Agent Scott also works on a side project. Are you familiar with Project Hill?"

Peyton felt her blood pressure beginning to rise. She cleared her throat. "Yes sir. I believe it deals with unexplained phenomenon, but I was under the impression that this section of the FBI was an urban myth."

"Not entirely agent Sawyer. These files do deal with…unexplained phenomenon and it is also where many of our unsolved cases get buried. Agent Scott has taken an interest in this cases and has been granted permission to pursue them. Your field reports will also track the validity of these cases."

Peyton kept herself from shaking her head. This was unbelievable. "So this isn't a VCS assignment. I'm being assigned to discredit agent Scott's work on Project Hill."

"We are asking you, as a medical doctor to give us a scientific analysis of your findings agent Sawyer. You know what they say, if it looks bad, it's bad for the FBI. Can we count on you agent Sawyer?"

Peyton rose. She could exactly chuck her size 7's at him and tell him to screw himself. She was a girl in the boy's club and that meant playing the game. "Yes sir."

I know what some of you are thinking. Sounds a bit like the X-Files. I gotta say that is where my inspiration came from, but this story won't be so much about the paranormal and conspiracies as it will be about the affect the work has on Peyton and Lucas's private lives.

Plus, I feel like most of the Leyton stories I read have the same plot. They either A: Haven't seen each other in years and broke up for some obscure reason or B: Haven't seen each other in seven years and now Peyton is back in Tree Hill with the son/daughter she didn't tell Lucas about. It wouldn't be that big a deal if they were all well written and had some creative original twist to it. Not to say some of them aren't well written and made original. When I come across an entertaining story I like, I will review and let the author know.

I just wanted to do something compleletely different by Leyton standards and I encourage other Leyton authors to do the same. Thanks!

Review please!