#agent almost referring to victim as sir

[thir10th]

2x20- Honor among thieves

Summary: Emily is scared to tell her mother about her relationship. This is a one-shot inspired by 2x20 because I love this kind of dynamic. It's a whole episode insert. TW: some suggestive content, fluff, coming out, I really can't think of anything else but let me know if I'm missing something A/N: I love making these, and I've realized there's almost no episode inserts for Emily in a one-shot format and why is that??? i love these sm please people write more like this. English it's not my first language and it's 4am so sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy, any feedback is appreciated, please like and reblog if you like it.

“Excuse me, agent. I need to speak to agent Prentiss and one of her superiors” a commanding voice can be heard from outside the room. You don’t recognize it, so you look at Emily, sitting next to you, her almost horrified face tells you she does know who the woman speaking is. She shoots up from her seat, and looking down you can hear her asking “Mother?” You had never meet Emily’s mom, but you had heard some conversations with her daughter over the phone. You could always tell she wasn’t in a good mood because her mom had called. In a way it reminded you of your own relationship with your mom. Emily and you were open about your relationship, everyone on the team knew and they supported you. Once you had promised to limit the PDA, even Hotch had let you share hotel rooms during cases, and change desks with Spencer so you could be next to each other. However, families were always a different area. You knew how strict Emily’s mom had been with her, and still was. She hadn’t told her about you yet, so to her mother’s eyes, Emily was still single, and hadn’t been in a relationship for a long time now. You didn’t mind it, Emily wasn’t close to her family, or any other relatives. The BAU was like your family, it was her choice after all.

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

Whatever happened inside Hotch’s office convinced him to take the case. You kept an eye on Emily the whole time you were discussing the case. She stays by the poor woman’s side who can’t stop crying over her husband’s chopped off finger, Emily keeps trying to calm her talking to her in Russian. Hotch divides the team, sends Reid, Morgan and Gideon were sent to Baltimore, and you stayed there along with Emily and Hotch.

You knew your girlfriend and her mom weren’t exactly close, what you weren’t expecting was how her presence would affect Emily. You want to comfort her but you can’t do it in front of her mom, so you just keep sneaking to rest your hand on her thigh behind the table, maybe to caress her shoulder when no one is looking, she leans on your touch accepting it. Emily and you both walk up to Hotch when he gets out of his office “Your mother’s got feelers out. She’s confident she can get results” he tells Emily “Well, if anybody can, it’s Ambassador Prentiss” she answers “How is she doing?” Hotch asks referring to the victim’s wife, who is still crying in the chair Emily just left her “How would you be?” She answers JJ finally arrives accompanied by the translator, who she has already briefed, and takes her to talk with the family. “Thank god. I’m really not very good at Russian” Emily tells us, and even Hotch smiles “If it would be all right, I would like to go help my mother” Hotch accepts, but she just stands there, looking at you, almost as if trying to say something she doesn’t dare to say. You know she wants you to come with her, but doesn’t know if you’re ok with it, and won’t ask the question. “Hotch, may I-“ “Yes, go” you don’t even have to finish asking, he accepts and you see Emily’s expression change and relax “Thank you, sir” you say, but he has already turned around and you follow Emily

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

“Hey you” you say with a soft voice, entering the rest room, you were dying for some alone time with your girlfriend and it seemed like that was the only place you would find it “how are you coping?” You ask, as you stepped closer to her. She was standing in the mirror, looking at her reflection grabbing her hair with her hands “I’m great!” She says sarcastically, and made you chuckle, you wrap your arm around her waits, pulling her close to you, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek, she smiles weakly in approval.

"I know this is being hard for you Em" you tell her, running your hand through her back soothingly.

"It´s just... when I'm with my mom... It doesn't matter if it's at work, or at home, I could be anywhere and still feel like I'm 16 again" she lets out, resting her head on your shoulder and pulling you closer. "I can't be who i really am... i mean, we have to hide in the bathroom to even touch" she says referring to the current situation

"Wait, -be who you really are?- Em, you haven't come out?" you ask, feeling a mix of surprise and sadness, telling her mother about her relationship is one thing, but not telling her she was gay at all, it's a completely different business.

"No, I'm sorry.... it never felt like the right time to do it, and you saw her, I mean how am I even supposed to do it? Does this...change anything?" You would obviously never pressure Emily into comin out, you knew very well yourself how hard it could be, and everyone's case is different, even tho this only confirmed your previous worry on not being able to have a relationship of any kind with Emily's mother, you could also feel how frustrating everything was for her, how much she needed this.

"Hey, no, of course it doesn't, how could it? mph?" you tighten your grip around her waist to avoid her letting go, resting your other hand on her cheek, caressing her face with your thumb, she closes her eyes relying on the touch, moving her lips to kiss the palm of your hand, you bring her face close to kiss her. Her lips grazing yours softly, you caress her face with your hand, she touches your face with her hand, pulling you closer, deeper.

The sudden noise of the door opening surprises you, you quickly pull away from each other, you turn around to see her mom just entered the restroom. She mutters a soft "hello" mostly for Emily, more than for you. You try to play it cool as well as you can, finish washing your hands as fast as you can and leave, praying that she hasn't seen anything.

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

You try to keep quiet as you overhear a conversation between Emily and her mom on the other room. Emily seems upset at how her mom is -turning the conversation into an interrogation- as she just said, and you casually walk in which shuts them up suddenly. A call comes in for Ambassador Prentiss and she picks up right after the first tone.

"Gregor! My daughter Em's in the room with me" she greets the man on the other line "Ah! little Emily" he says. you can't contain the smile that forms on your lips, looking at Emily and mouthing the nickname to mess with her, she smiles back, mouthing you to keep it down, but she can't contain the smile that forms on her lips as well. Unfortunately, the man can't give us any new information, so he says goodbye to Emily, and she hangs up the phone in defeat.

"We should head back to the office and let them know" Emily says, and you rush to go with her, her mom makes you stay, she insists she needs to ask you a few questions about the list of names you had called Garcia to run earlier, and you tell Emily you'll meet her outside.

Your whole body tenses as you see the d¡way Emily's mom is looking at you, you can tell she's trying to decipher you, maybe she saw something when she entered the restroom earlier, maybe she'll tell you she wants wyou away from her daughter.

"Agent y/l/n, are you by any chance close to my daughter?" she asks, you can tell she's genuinely curious, it's not a rethorical question, so you try to answer with as much sincerity as you can.

"well, yes, almost since the first time we met, I mean, you could tell we are pretty close" it's the most honest you can be without saying -actually, we spend a lot of time together, mostly in bed-

"and would you say she's happy?" this one takes you by surprise, you can hear the concern in her voice, she's just a worried mother.

"from what i know Emily, and i believe i can say it's a lot, i would say she is very happy, but with all due respect, if you really wanna know maybe you should ask her yourself, just like that" she takes a couple of seconds to look at you, analysing what your answer and yourself, then, dismissing you with a "Thank you" you leave.

"what did she want from you?" she asked, you could read the worry in her eyes

"she wanted to know if we were close, and if you were happy" you tell her straight away. "and what did you tell her?" she asks, confused. "i said we were quite close, and from what i could tell, you were pretty content" she nods, accepting your answer. "She seemed pretty defeated, maybe she isn't infallible after all"

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

It didn't take much longer to solve this case. The victim's daughter being involved in the kidnapping came as a surprise to all of you, but as always, you let it go, and finished for the day.

You and Emily went back to her apartment, there were very few nights you spent apart, and this was no other. You were specially happy tonight to have some alone time to spend with one another.

Emily was quick to flop on the couch as soon as you entered the apartment, it made you happy to see her as her usual self in the confort of her apartment.

"I'm so glad this one's over" she breathes out as she struggles to take her shoes off. You headed towards the kitchen to grab something to drink for the both of you, looking at Emily and chuckling at her efforts. "Need a hand with that?" you said suggestively as you grab two wine glasses of the counter.

She gets up the couch and heads your direction "Here you go" you say offering her a glass of red wine. She takes a sip and smiles, turning her head to look at you.

"I'm sorry if i was a bit frisky today" she says "It's ok, you had a rough one, we all do, you were also under a lot of pressure" you added, trying to take it off her mind, and taking another sip of your glass. "Well, I think i know how to make it up for you" she smirks and rises her eyebrows, taking your glass and leaving it along with hers on the counter again, she grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer and kissing you deeply.

You breath out in release, thankful to finally be this close after the stressful day. She grabs you with both her hands, leaving you on the countertop, moving to your neck, leaving wet, soft kisses all over the sensitive skin there, you wrap your arms around her neck and hers find their way underneath your shirt.

You pull your head back, allowing your girlfriend a better access to your neck, which she uses to cover all your neck in kisses, nipping at your skin there which would for sure leave purple marks by tomorrow. You moan when she finds your pulse-point, and run your hands through her body, getting rid of her shirt as fast as you can, going back to kissing her lips.

She starts unbuttoning your shirt, not wanting to waste any second. She pushes you further onto the countertop where she has a better access to your body, you wrap your legs around her waist, running your hands over her back, trying to reach every square inch of skin you can get to.

She's right about to start unbuttoning your pants when a knock on the door surprises the both of you

"Did you order dinner?" You ask her, she shooks her head. She grabs her shirt and rushes to get it on, when you hear the knock again, you start buttoning yours too.

"I'll go check it out" You say, as you get to the door and open it in a hurry. You were ready to make go away whoever was trying to interrupt your night, but instead your mouth just flew open as you saw who was knocking on your girlfriend's door. "Ambasador Prentiss?"

"Hello? Agent y/l/n I thought this was my daughter's adress" she says in confusion, you can't even respond, you've siemply freezed.

"Mom?!" Emily chokes out behind you "What are you even doing here?" she rushes towalk next to you, when you look at her you notice how she hasn't placed her shirt right yet.

"Well, i thought now that I'm here, i could pay my daughter a visit, but I didn't think you had guests, what is she doing here?" she asks, almost ignoring the fact that you're also there, and asking her daughter directly. However, and considering Emily's shocked face, you take it upon yourself to answer.

"I came in because i needed to return a blender i borrowed form Emily last week, i was almost in my way out tho, so don't worry" you say trying to save the situation.

"No, y/n, wait" Emily started, as she took a step closer to you

"Wait, Em, you don't have to" you say, trying to stop her from making a mistake

"I actually do" she says looking at you, her eyes full of fear and excitment reflecting on yours

"Mom, Y/n is, well, she is my grilfriend, we've been daiting over a year now, I'm gay" she grabs your hand, and you hold her tight, trying to clam her down, and showing her your support.

"And I am telling you because I don't want to hide, not anymore" she adds, and you can feel how her hand tights around yours.

"well... i don't know what to say" you both wait for an answer, but it takes a long time for it to come. "I mean, I can't say I'm surprised" she finally says, and Emily can't contain her impatience "how- i mean- what do you mean?"

"Well you really thought you could wonder around all these years without your mother knowing a thing?" nether of you could hide your surprise. "I don't care that your gay, Emily, could i please come in now? I could really use a glass of wine, I hope I'm interrupting something now, of course".

Your girlfriend and you look at each other in awe "No, not at all" you both say at unison, and you can feel yourself blushing when you realize your shirt was still open this whole time.

You let the woman in, and Emily and her move to sit on the couch as you go to the kitchen to serve her another glass of wine, and grab yours.

"Here, Ambassador" you say, offering her a glass

"Oh please, call me Elisabeth" she says to your surprise, accepting the wine. You and Emily smile at each other as you move to sit next to her.

You knew you were in for a long night, just not the kind you had expected.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 1

Summary: You’re new to the BAU and get along well with everyone, almost. You can’t figure out why the infuriatingly handsome Dr. Spencer Reid seems to hate you so much.

Word Count: 2222

Reader: Trans man, he/him pronouns, no physical description.

Warnings: Alcohol, brief description of a case and therefore murder. Nothing graphic.

(Part two)

~~~~~~~~~~

It was your first day at the BAU, and you were so excited. It took all of your willpower not to skip from the elevator to your new boss' office. You definitely caught a sideways glance from an incredibly handsome man with very expressive eyebrows, but you didn't let it concern you; you'd worked too damn hard for too damn long to let anyone bring you down today. You got to the door and knocked sharply. 

"Agent L/N, please, come in," came a voice from inside the room. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

You'd heard stories about Aaron Hotchner and the BAU- everyone had. Most people only heard the good parts- the heroic tales, the happy endings. But you liked to be prepared, to know the truth of what you were going after, so you'd also paid attention to the quieter whispers. The imposing boss who never smiles, the weird and maybe-pseudo-sexual relationship between the exuberant tech analyst and one of the profilers, the betting pool on whether or not the two female profilers were secretly gay for each other, true crime writer extraordinaire and profiling legend David Rossi leaving retirement to mostly be snarky, and the young agent with multiple doctorates who is smarter than seems humanly possible. You would never admit it, but you were particularly eager to meet the genius. He guest lectured once in your friend's linguistics class your last semester before graduating, and xe wouldn't shut up about him for an entire week. When you told xem that your transfer was approved, xe begged for "a full rundown on what he's like up close and personal" after your first case. But first, you needed to meet with SSA Hotchner.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. 

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You thanked your lucky star that your voice didn't shake.

"It's a pleasure to have you. I heard nothing but the best about you from your previous supervisor. Officially, all the paperwork has gone through for your transfer, but I would like to ask a couple of questions before we get started." 

"Of course, sir. What would you like to know?" One corner of his mouth ticked up slightly for a fraction of a second, and you counted that as a major victory.

"First and foremost, why are you interested in the BAU?" You relaxed slightly; you'd prepared for this question.

"Human behavior is nothing short of fascinating. Everyone is shaped by a unique set of experiences, but at the end of the day, we all behave in documented patterns. Everything matters, because it shapes who we are, but also nothing does, because we all end up in one of a finite number of 'shapes', so to speak. No one is the same, but we all exhibit set behavioral patterns. No matter what someone's gone through, at the end of the day, they are still understandable and predictable. I find that absolutely fascinating, and the work that the BAU does with that is incredible. I want to be a part of it, and I have the skill and drive to do so. After all, the BAU essentially wrote the handbook for Crisis Negotiation."

"That is a very interesting perspective, agent." His face was neutral, but you detected approval in his tone. "I only had one other matter to bring up- I see two different first names in your paperwork, and two of your references refer to you with different pronouns. Which name do you prefer, and what are your pronouns?"

You were floored; you'd never had a supervisor so casually look past paperwork outing you. "Y/N, sir, and he/him/his."

"Wonderful. Well, Y/N, welcome to the BAU. Let's go meet the team, shall we?" You nodded and followed him out his door into the meeting room, where the rest of the team was assembled.

"Everyone, this is Special Agent Y/N L/N. He has just transferred from Crisis Negotiation."

"Oh! New guy! Hi hi hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, just call me Penelope, and I do all the tech-y, research-y stuff." She made her way across the room to you as she spoke, talking with her hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Penelope! I love the look you're rocking, by the way. Those shoes in particular are magnificent." You knew you were being the gay sterotype that you'd spent your career trying to avoid, but shoes that good could not go uncomplimented.

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" she said to you before stage-whispering to the rest of the team, "I like him! Let's keep him." The team laughed, and you blushed. It seemed that Hotchner had wordlessly passed on the duties of making the introductions to her, because she pointed to the agent closest to her, handsome-guy-with-the-eyebrows from earlier, and continued on. 

"Okay, so, this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, but we all call her JJ, David Rossi, and Dr Spencer Reid." They all nodded, smiled, and/or waved slightly when they were introduced, with the exception of Dr Reid, who looked almost like he was looking at a puzzle. You chalked the feeling in your gut it gave you to first-day nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, and I look forward to getting to know you all better as time goes on." You were addressing everyone, but something about the way Dr. Reid was staring at you made it difficult to look away from him for too long.

"Wonderful! Now, as much as I wish we could all chit-chat and get to know Y/N better, we do have a case. Last night, a body was found in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park."

The case was interesting, twin injustice collectors, one more mission oriented, the other interested almost entirely on experimenting with different forms of torture on the victims. The former, over the weeks between kills, had started dating one of the local detectives, neither of them knowing of the other's involvement in the case. You were there when that information came to light at the killer's arrest, and you were able to diffuse the situation, ensuring that no one was harmed.

On the flight back, Prentiss insisted on the whole team going out for drinks to welcome you to the team. Hotchner declined, because he needed to get back to Jack, and Rossi said he had "plans with Tony Bennett", but everyone else agreed, mostly enthusiastically. It took significant persuasion from JJ to get Reid to agree to go out with you all. For the whole case, he was abrupt and distant with you, despite your best efforts. You knew it was silly, but you really wanted your coworkers to like you, so you decided you were going to do your absolute best to get him to like you by the end of the night.

-

"Hey, doc, first round's on me. What'll it be?" You'd noticed during the case that he shrugged off all of your attempts to start a conversation, but you figured that even he wouldn't ignore you under these circumstances.

"Uh, white wine would be great, thanks."

"White wine? At a dive bar? Does this bar even have white wine?" You'd intended to be charming, but, seriously, white wine? Who was this guy?

He opened his mouth, clearly indignant, but he was interrupted by Morgan chuckling from behind you both.

"That's why we go to this dump, newbie. It's the only bar in the area that serves white wine, which is all Pretty Boy here drinks." He winked at you and playfully elbowed Reid in the ribs.

You threw your hands up in mock surrender and chuckled. "Okay, okay, white wine for the good doctor it is. What's your poison? I'm sure word's gotten around that the first round is on me."

"You know, I might have heard something about that, and I most definitely wouldn't say no to a dirty martini." He winked at you, and your chuckle turned into full-on laughter.

You got the bartender's attention and ordered their drinks and a Jack and Coke for yourself. "It's a damn shame you're straight, Derek. Truly a crime against queer men everywhere, although I'm not so proud I can't admit that I'm a bit glad you're not competition."

"Wait wait wait, how do you know I don't like a little meat on the side?"

"So, sidestepping the fact that not all men have penises and some women do, you are so hetero that it's almost painful. Look around; men of all shapes and sizes outnumber women 2 to 1 at least. But you've spent the whole night making eyes at those women over there." You pointed to a table on the other side of the room. "Plus, I may or may not have received a very detailed string of texts from Penelope that essentially amounted to a crash course on all of y'all. I get a feeling that she might like me a little bit."

"My bad on the meat comment- I'll definitely fix that. And speaking of Penelope being a font of information, she's been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. What's your big secret, new guy?"

You raised an eyebrow and sipped your drink. "All you need to know is that Hotch, who strikes me as even more protective of this team than he lets on, which is really saying something, knows, and he cares less than any brass I've ever met. And I know for a fact that if Penelope thought it was concerning, she'd have at least voiced some suspicions about me, if not told you outright. I'm not ashamed of it, it's just none of y'alls business. Anyway, the blonde from the table you were eyeing earlier is coming over to see if we've been flirting this whole time so she knows whether to flirt with you or gush about how she's always wanted a Gay Best Friend oh my god. If I'm still here, it'll be both, and I'm allergic to that particular brand of cishet nonsense. Have fun, good-lookin'." You chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as you left, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Reid roll his eyes, down his drink, and walk in the other direction. What is his deal? Whatever. I'm not about to let him wet blanket all over tonight. You took out your phone and sent out a couple of quick texts.

[To: Penelope]: Thank you for not outing me. It means the world to me. Let's get brunch sometime?

[To: Nerd <3]: you sure Reid seemed pleasant when he lectured? that has Not been my experience with him so far. you were right about him being Cute cute, though, damn. a Gay could get lost in those big brown eyes, and in different circumstances I'd climb him like a tree. shame he's Like That lmao

Looking up from your phone, you saw Emily and JJ nearby, so you went over to join them. 

"Oh em gee Y/N you're gay? I had, like, no idea! We should, like, totally get brunch and then go shopping! This is gonna be so much fun; I've always wanted a gay best friend!" You rolled your eyes and laughed at Emily's terrible Valley Girl accent. "Unfortunately, I did not spend my time in the closet learning anything about clothes. I only dress halfway decently for work because my friend dragged me to the mall and updated my wardrobe when I applied for this position. It's all xir doing."

"Well, xe has excellent taste." You mentally filed away JJ's effortless use of neopronouns.

"I'll be sure to let xem know! I'm so down for brunch, though." You checked your phone. "Looks like Garcia is too!"

"Damn, you work fast. You'll fit right in here," Emily laughed.

"Honestly, I'm a little bit blown away by how awesome and welcoming you all are. Well, mostly. Is Spencer like this with every new person, or did I somehow do something to offend him?" Emily and JJ shared a look you couldn't quite read before JJ answered.

"Spencer…" she hesitated, "He's going through something right now. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon, and things will smooth out." 

So you waited. Weeks passed, and you fit in well with the team. You ended up getting close to Derek and Penelope in particular, and you kept trying to make nice with Spencer. Weeks of cold shoulder and as few words as possible to you while being his normal, verbose self with everyone else. So, three weeks into your new job, on a night out with Derek and Penelope you made a decision.

"Look. It's been weeks, and the guy still won't say more than 5 words to me. I'm done trying to… I don't know what I was even trying to do," you slurred, you’d probably had one drink too many. "Make a friend, maybe? I don't even know. But I'm done. He wants to give taciturn bordering on rude? Then that's what he'll receive. Let's see how Pretty Boy likes a taste of his own medicine. No more Mister Nice Guy." You wouldn't remember the look they shared until much later.

And so, your silent war with Spencer truly began.

[hotchley]

“sometimes you do everything right, everything exactly right, and still you feel like you failed”

morehotchcontent day two: whump (in a hostage situation/hurt on the job)

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

why should the team look for him? he was nothing. he would die for them, because they were his team and they deserved the world. but he was not the world. he was just one broken, old man and they could do better. they could do so, so much better than a drill sergeant, sexist, narcissistic bully.

an unsub kidnaps hotch. in his mind, he isn’t worth saving.

warnings: torture (choking, forced to choke on water, caning, punching, stabbing), depictions of violence, implied/referenced child abuse, non-consensual removal of clothing, references to the events of george foyet, references to tobias hankel and reid's torture, references to ian doyle and what he did to emily

read on ao3!

Hotch had taken one look at the case-file and immediately known it was going to be a bad case. The victims had all been kidnapped and tortured, before being dumped in the local park, stripped down to their underwear as a form of humiliation. A word- always a personality trait- had been carved into their back.

For the BAU, it was pretty standard.

For Hotch, it was like looking at a mirror. All the victims fit the same criteria, which on the one hand he was grateful for because maybe it would mean they would find the damn unsub without any more bodies appearing, but on the other hand made him want to be sick.

The victims had all been the leaders of their respective teams. The first was the manager of a supermarket, the second a senior partner in a law firm, the third a headteacher. He had no idea what the fourth was. He’d read it, but without ever really processing the words.

But their subordinates hated them. Deemed them bullies, narcissists, dickheads, evil bastards. When they’d been informed of the deaths, not a single one had cried. One had laughed. They had all been relieved enough to be considered suspects.

He looked out at the bullpen. JJ was sat with them, sat on the edge of Reid’s desk as she laughed at something Emily- Agent Prentiss, he corrected mentally- was saying. The case had come directly to him, the file lying on his desk as though it was mocking him because the previous day he’d told the team it was likely they’d be spending the weekend at home.

Morgan was watching the scene unfold with a wide smile, yet his eyes darted round the area, always watching over the other members of his team like it was his duty. Not for the first time, Hotch wondered if he should have stepped down permanently. Morgan had done well as Unit Chief. And he wasn’t hated by the team. They didn’t look at Morgan and think of a boring, misogynistic, horrid narcissist. They looked at Morgan and thought of a protector.

He sighed. Part of him wanted to ask Rossi to inform the team they had a case but that was just being unfair. It was his stupid comment about getting to spend time at home that had undoubtedly landed them in this situation. The least he could do was own it. At the last moment, he decided to read through the casefile one more time. It would give JJ enough time to finish showing them the pictures of Henry at the beach.

When JJ tucked her phone back into her pocket, he stood up. Took a deep breath and exited. Almost immediately, the laughter stopped and they all turned back to their reports. JJ slid off the table and started to head back to her office. Hotch tried to disguise his hurt as indifference and he knew he’d succeeded when Reid swallowed and Morgan looked disappointed.

It had been five years since Tobias Hankel, and yet nothing had changed. The team still hated him. Cases still ruined their everyday life.

“We have a case. Roundtable in ten,” he said. The rest of the words wouldn’t come. Because if he said more than the bare minimum, he would reveal too much and they would hate him even more than they already did. It was bad enough that he was everything they’d called him, but it would be even worse if they realised just how weak he was.

He went back up to his office to pack things away and send a quick text to Jess and Jack, before he realised that they’d benefit from having Garcia with him. He had always wondered what Garcia really thought of him, but he’d always been too afraid to ask. A part of him liked to think she liked him, but that was impossible.

JJ thought he was a bully, and when he thought of the number of times he’d snapped at Garcia for not being fast enough, he understood. Morgan considered him a drill sergeant, said they weren’t friends, and he was always breaking up their fun, teasing comments. It didn’t matter he was doing it for professionality, that was one of their only reprieves and he was constantly taking it from them. Prentiss accused him of not trusting women as much as men, and there had definitely been times when he’d looked at Garcia and felt the urge to ask where she’d got the information from. Reid told Hankel he deserved to die because he was a narcissist. How many times had he asked Garcia to look at the worst of humanity, knowing she was too good for that?

Garcia never told him what his worst quality was. He’d heard enough by the time it would’ve got to her. Jason had opened his mouth, probably to tell him to stop, but he’d had enough. He wished he hadn’t stopped him. Maybe if he’d known, he could’ve changed and then Gideon would still be with them and Reid would have someone who was actually competent as a father figure.

It was with a heavy heart that he took the elevator down to Garcia’s lair. As he’d passed through the bullpen, he saw the haggard faces of his team, and he wondered, not for the first time, how many more crime scenes they could suffer through before their hands stopped going cold and they lost their humanity.

He knocked on the door, once, slightly hesitant.

“You don’t need to knock Kevin!” Garcia called out.

Hotch swallowed the lump in his throat. Yet another relationship he was ruining. He coughed once before saying it was actually him.

Almost immediately Garcia flung the door open. “Sir! I didn’t realise it was you. What is it?”

“We have a case. And, well, I’d like you to come with us. It’ll be easier,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course! Just give me sixteen minutes to pack my stuff and then I’ll be up, okay?”

He nodded, then the Southern manners kicked in. “Would you like any help?” he asked, slightly hopeful that she’d say yes.

“Oh no, of course not. It’s much simpler if I just do it myself. I know where everything goes and it’s just easier.”

“Right. I’ll err, I’ll see you in a bit then,” he said, trying to not take it personally. Garcia probably wouldn’t let anyone touch her computers or equipment. It wasn’t just him. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it. He was about to exit when she called out his name and he turned.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed distant recently. And normally I wouldn’t comment, but I’m worried about you. You know you can talk to us? Any of us. I know the others weren’t particularly fond of Haley, but you didn’t have to be a profiler to realise you loved her.”

He started fidgeting, stuffing his hand in his pocket as he brushed his thumb over his fingers.

If Garcia noticed his discomfort, she didn’t comment. “It doesn’t matter that you got a divorce, you still loved each other. Recovering from that is hard. Add in the fact that you’re going back to the same job, and it’s a recipe for disaster. What I’m trying to say is: are you okay, and do you want to talk about it?”

He wanted to say yes. He so desperately wanted to hug Garcia, fall apart in her arms and confess all his fears to her. He wanted to tell her how ever since Hankel, he’d hardly been able to look at the team, or how the list of people he’d failed to save- Elle, Jason, Kate Joyner, countless innocent victims, Megan Kane, Haley- seemed to be growing with every breath. He longed to finally tell someone who horrifying it was when Foyet was in his apartment, how he could hardly look in the mirror without gagging, how he had blinked because he was human. He wanted to say that there were nights where he couldn’t comfort Jack because how dare he touch his son with the same hands that had killed a man?

But he couldn’t. The only value he held as a member of the team was being stoic. Unshaken. The one that dealt with the politics, played bad cop, spoke to Strauss and the higher-ups, dealt with unruly lead detectives without flinching. If any of them knew just how choked up he got every time Strauss asked to see a report, how every case that involved him playing the role ended with him sat in the shower, water numbing his body as tears rolled down his cheeks, they’d cast him out.

And he would have nothing.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just a little tired. Jack was keeping me up. He’s excited about starting school soon.”

Jack had kept him up, but not because he was excited about starting school. Because he was scared he was going to come home and daddy wouldn’t be there.

“Wow. I remember when he was just a little baby coming in to visit. Back when the Reid effect was still a thing.”

Hotch faked a laugh, ignoring the bile that was rising in his throat. He didn’t want to think about that. How the team had done nothing more than be polite, all stood a respectful distance away, as though he was poison. Or how just minutes after he said goodbye to Jack and Haley- who was still happy and in love- they were called out on a family annihilator case.

“Yeah. The time has gone by so fast. I’ll let you pack up,” he said, needing to get away from the lights and brightness.

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry,” Garcia said, as though she had only just remembered why he’d come down.

“You have nothing to apologise for Penelope,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

Forty minutes later and they were in the air.

JJ was on the phone to the local P.D, convincing them that releasing any sort of information to the public, especially the name of a suspect, would not be beneficial to the investigation. Hotch wanted to intervene because it wasn’t fair that she had to be fielding their phone calls when she should be resting, but he didn’t want to overstep so he settled for keeping one eye on her and the other on the casefiles.

When they landed, JJ said that the local PD had wanted them all to head straight to the precinct, so they piled into the government SUVs. Hotch tried to not let it sting when Morgan sighed before getting into the passenger seat. Once upon a time, he would’ve said they were friends. But now he knew better. Morgan had only wanted him around because he could lead the team. But after Foyet, he’d proven that he couldn’t even do that, and that Morgan was clearly the better leader.

Why he was still on the team was a mystery to him.

“Miss Jareau, hello. I’m Sheriff Finkelstein, we spoke on the phone?” the sheriff greeted.

“It’s Agent Jareau, Detective,” Hotch corrected, voice betrayed his tiredness.

JJ looked over in surprise. She could have sworn she saw him drift off.

Hotch wouldn’t meet her eyes. He corrected people when they called Dr Reid agent. Of course he would do the same for the rest of them, regardless of what their opinions on him were.

“Of course, my apologies, Agent Jareau. We’re very grateful to have you here, we’re completely in over our heads. Our lead detective just took early retirement as his wife had a baby and he wants to be at home with the two of them- an admirable decision- but it just means that we’re now overwhelmed and still looking for a new lead,” Finklestein explained, leading them to one of the conference rooms. He held the door open for the ladies, who all gave him small smiles.

Hotch tried to nod. Yet another person who’d managed to do the one thing he had failed at. If he had taken the transfer, or left when Jack was born, then Haley would still be alive. There would be a tan line on his ring finger from where his wedding ring sat.

“Do you have any clues who it could be? It’s a very specific MO and victimology, which should help us narrow things down,” Morgan asked, always eager to get straight into things.

Sheriff Finkelstein sighed. “Unfortunately not. There’s no DNA anywhere. All of the team members have been questioned, and although they all hated their respective bosses, there’s no indication that any of them would’ve done it.”

“We’d like to see the recordings of their interviews,” Rossi said.

“And if I could have a map of the area to start creating the geographical profile, that’d be great,” Reid added.

“Whatever you need,” Finkelstein said, leaving.

Hotch left with him to gather some of the extra information they needed. The team- bar Morgan and Rossi, who had left to go to M.E’s office, were skimming through the files created on each of the members and their victims.

“I’m not saying they deserved it, but these men were disgusting,” Emily commented.

“Prentiss,” Hotch warned, but he knew she was right.

She stared at him, daring him to go further. He dropped his gaze and walked over to Reid. “How’s that geographical profile coming along?”

“Well it’s interesting. See, their workplaces are all the ones in red. The places in blue are the last locations they were seen in- which is another common factor actually because they were all in restaurants, cafes and takeaways which is actually similar to a previous case we solved so I may look into that to see if there are any links- and I’m doing that rambling thing again aren’t I?”

“You’re okay,” Hotch said, not wanting to cut Reid off when they didn’t really have a time crunch.

“No I’ll just get to the point, we all have more important things to be doing. Look at the area where the victims work and then where the unsub takes them. They’re all within five minutes of each other. Our unsub probably work somewhere where they can watch their targets from, otherwise how else would they be able to find them?”

“We need to deliver the profile,” Hotch said.

Two days after they delivered the profile, and the unsub still hadn’t been found. Garcia’s tech skills had given them a suspect, but he’d been out of the country during the last murder. Since the development with the geographical profile, they hadn’t been able to find anything. Hotch had felt like someone was watching him since they landed, but he hadn’t said anything, not wanting to distract the team.

Morale was low. Patience was running out and tempers were going to be lost if there wasn’t a break in the case. Officers had started joking with each other in the macabre way only people that dealt with these things on a regular basis could that they were lucky none of them were evil as the station was extremely close to the other workplaces, bur Finkelstein had shut them down almost immediately.

Hotch had cried in the shower that night. Reid had wanted to say something, but ultimately refrained because it was Hotch and Hotch didn’t blink; he’d be okay.

So things weren’t going great, and the team were exhausted. They needed a pick-me-up.

Hotch picked up his jacket. “I’m going to get us food. Does anyone have any specific requests, or is donuts and coffee okay?”

“You’re going to go?” Prentiss asked, a little confused. Hotch had gone yesterday. It was supposed to be Reid’s turn.

“Yeah. I am. Reid’s busy, and it’s not fair to ask him to go and it’s unfair to get someone else to go because they’ve all be running themselves into the ground. And before you say it, I’m not saying that you haven’t, because you have,” Hotch said, his own temper also fading. He was trying so hard to be good, to not treat anyone the way his father had but the lack of progress, combined with the way Emily seemed to get off on undermining him, even now, after everything that had happened, was beginning to wear on him.

“Hotch? Are you okay?” JJ asked, entering with another stack of files. As it turned out, the town was full of white males in their mid-to-late 20s that worked jobs where the person in charge had a bit of a dodgy history, and they were still trying to narrow it down.

“I’m fine. Any requests for dinner? I’m probably going to go to that café because Reid will want coffee as soon as he gets back from the workplace with Morgan, and Rossi likes their croissants but I don’t mind making another stop if you want me to,” he said.

JJ smiled at how well her boss- well, family member- knew their team, and also at how willing he was to go out of his way for all of them. But her smile faded when she took in his appearance. The circles under his eyes were getting worse and his suit seemed to be looser. She knew Reid was having trouble sleeping as the fifth anniversary of his abduction approached, and she knew Emily was still struggling with her place on the team in a world without Doyle, but their trauma was not Hotch’s responsibility. She just wished he would stop blaming himself.

“Surprise me with something from the café. But are you sure you should be the one going?” She didn’t tell him it was because he looked exhausted; she liked her job.

But she had her back turned to him. She didn’t see him clench his fist, rubbing his thumb over the nail of his index finger in a self-soothing motion. She didn’t see the tears form in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine JJ. Tell the others I should be back in thirty minutes,” he said, voice cracking slightly as he fled.

“Is something going on with him?” Prentiss asked.

JJ shrugged. “Jack mentioned him being unwell right after you came back, but I thought he was doing better now.”

Emily watched the space where he’d been previously stood. “I just wish he would talk to us. He has to know we love him and wouldn’t think any less of him for struggling.”

JJ nodded in agreement.

Hotch was driving, unable to focus on the road properly. He knew his team thought they were being subtle with the way they hated him, but he was a profiler. He knew JJ was only questioning whether or not he should go because he was just like all the other victims and it had been a week since the last body was found, meaning there was bound to be another abduction soon.

It wasn’t going to be him. He wasn’t deserving of even that attention.

“Oh hello again. I was wondering if I was going to see you again,” the barista said when he entered.

Hotch noted that there was nobody else there. “I’m so sorry, is it really close to closing time? I saw that the light was on and I just assumed it was okay.”

He laughed. Hotch shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“We’re still open, don’t worry about it. What can I get for you?”

“It’s another long order,” Hotch warned. The barista just shrugged, used to it. When Hotch was done, he took a brownie out and warmed it up.

“This is on the house because you look like you need it and your order will take a bit of time,” he said, sliding it across the counter.

Hotch stopped observing the artwork. “I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes you can,” the barista said, his tone so much like JJ’s when she was mother-henning them all that Hotch silently took a bite. It was a good brownie. He took a few more bites, wincing when his head started to feel fuzzy.

“Do you like it?” the barista asked.

“It’s really good. But my head- I have- my head feels, not right,” he whispered, vision starting to blur as well.

“It’s not supposed to,” the barista responded, jovial tone gone.

The world went black.

The first thing he noticed when he came round was that he couldn’t move his arms. Or his legs. He struggled, unable to see what had happened to him as his eyes were taking forever to adjust to the darkness, but there was no movement to be had.

He was tied to a chair. He struggled even more, but his bonds held.

“You’re awake.”

“You,” Hotch whispered. “It was you the whole time.”

“Yep. And my name is Jonathan. You would know that if you had just bothered to read my nametag,” he said.

Hotch scanned the room, searching for anything that would act as a weapon. There was nothing. He tried to calm his racing heart and think logically but he couldn’t. The last time he’d been this vulnerable was under George Foyet. George Foyet who had destroyed all feeling in the lower part of his stomach, who had killed Haley, who had made damn well sure Aaron would never be able to look at himself without seeing the victory on Foyet’s face right before his eyes fluttered shut from the blood loss.

“I’m sorry for forgetting,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

Jonathan slapped him across the face. Hotch recoiled as much as he could, not making a sound. It was always worse when you made a sound.

“Stop lying to me. I know who you are. I know how you people work. You think that if you convince me that it was all just an honest mistake, then I’ll forgive you and let you go running back to your team. Well I won’t and nothing you say will make me change my mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispered. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Jonathan scoffed, slapping Hotch again. Both his cheeks were red now. “You’re all the same. You do one small thing for your team, and you think it will make up for the lifetime of pain you caused them. Well it won’t.”

He turned. Hotch tried to see what he was picking up, but he couldn’t. Before he even realised what was happening, pain blossomed in his stomach. Above him, Jonathan bought the cane down again, and again, and again.

Tears were streaming down his face now. “Please, stop. Please, I’ll do anything, just stop with the cane.” He hated begging. He hadn’t begged since he was a child. He hadn’t flinched when George Foyet fired a gun at him. But he wasn’t that man anymore. He was tired now. More tired and more broken that he’d ever been before.

Jonathan laughed. “Okay. I’ll stop. But I’m going to release you from the chair, and you’re going to raise your arms high enough for your hands to touch that chain on the ceiling. If you fail, I’ll cane you till you’re curled into a ball, begging for mercy.”

Aaron was half-delirious now, but he managed to follow the instructions given.

When Jonathan ran the cold metal of his knife, the same knife he’d used with all the other victims, down his cheek and across his chest, Aaron flinched. Minutely, but he flinched.

Jonathan smirked. “Normally I killed them quickly. I made them die quickly because they didn’t deserve to live. But you, you I want to have fun with.” He cut down the centre of Hotch’s shirt with one clean cut. Aaron closed his eyes, unable to look at the scars.

“My, my, someone must really have hated you,” Jonathan laughed.

Hotch didn’t respond. Jonathan pressed the metal to the scar over his chest. Hotch jerked at the coldness, straining his arms even more.

“You’re a bad man Aaron Hotchner. I’ve been watching you since you landed. You’re very bad. Do you want to know why you’re bad? You’re a bully. I saw the way you shouted at your technical analyst over the phone because she wasn’t fast enough.”

Hotch hadn’t meant to shout. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to remember it.

“Oh are you ashamed now? You don’t get to be ashamed. Open your eyes.”

Hotch shook his head.

Jonathan wrapped one hand around Hotch’s throat and pushed down. Hotch opened his eyes, panicked as he tried to inhale. He relaxed his hold then.

“Good boy. You shouted at her. And then you undermined the blonde one by taking over her interrogation. And the other one by interrupting her conversation with the officer. Sexist pig.”

The plan had always been for him to take over. The officer had been making Prentiss uncomfortable with his flirting. Hotch tried to say that, but Jonathan just laughed, then punched him in the stomach. Claimed those were just lies they told him to protect themselves so they kept their jobs.

“You tried to control their every move. You wouldn’t let Mr Strong do the right thing and come look for me. Drill sergeant. You cut off the baby because you needed to speak, acted like you were better than him. Like you were better than all of them.”

“I’m not a narcissist,” Hotch protested.

Jonathan dropped the knife, opting to punch him in the stomach again. Hotch let out a groan. “That’s what they all say. It’s been half an hour. They’ll be expecting you back now. I wonder what will happen when you don’t come back. Will they look for you? I think they will. Not because they love you, but because they’ll be afraid. What if you’re the one to survive? What if you escape?”

“They won’t come,” Hotch said.

Jonathan, who had gone back over to the table, turned. “What did you say?”

“They won’t come,” Hotch repeated.

Jonathan stormed over, holding a bat. Before Hotch could prepare himself, he was hitting him with it. In the knees, across the back of his thighs, everywhere that would cause the most pain. Hotch didn’t want to know what the crack he’d heard when that bat had hit his ribs was.

Jonathan liked the bat. When he heard the crack, he grinned. And then he Hotch over the head. For the second time that day, the world went black.

“He should be here by now,” Reid said, pacing up and down the conference room. “It’s been fifty-seven minutes. The journey should have taken an average of thirty minutes, forty with traffic, but it’s now after eleven when there’s virtually no traffic on the road.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Reid. There was probably some cute barista he got stuck talking to. You know how Hotch is. Never knows when people are flirting with him, and then when he does realise, he gets stuck in an awkward conversation,” Morgan said, but it was all an act. He knew there wouldn’t be a cute barista. But for the sake of Reid, he had to stay strong.

“Look Aaron wouldn’t want us to worry. In twenty minutes, we’ll go back to the hotel. And if he’s not here tomorrow, then we’ll start to investigate okay?” Dave said.

The others nodded, all feeling uneasy, but having the utmost faith in their leader.

Their leader that was still unconscious, Jonathan having moved him to the floor. The back of his head was coated with blood. He almost looked like Haley. But Haley had looked peaceful in her coffin, face void of any expression. Aaron was in pain, despite not being awake.

Jonathan didn’t try and force him to wake up. Aaron Hotchner was going to be his masterpiece.

“Is Agent Hotchner not with you?” Finkelstein asked once they got to the precinct.

They all turned to each other. Dave immediately dialled his cell.

“Voicemail,” he said.

Emily turned away, not wanting to think about the last time his phone had gone to voicemail. She still couldn’t get the image of him, so weak that he couldn’t even sit up without assistance, his face so defeated as he said goodbye to the one good thing in his life, out of her mind. It haunted her nightmares more than Ian Doyle did.

“We need to find him,” Morgan said.

“I’ll have Garcia track his phone,” JJ said.

She tracked his phone to the coffee shop. There was nobody there. No signs of a struggle. Nobody outside had seen anything strange or suspicious.

When Morgan and Rossi returned, faces grave, Reid excused himself. When he returned, his eyes were red. JJ hugged him, words not enough to convey how sorry she was for everything that had happened between them. Emily watched, biting her nails. Hotch had put everything on the line for her multiple times. He didn’t get to go missing like this.

Jonathan was bored of watching Aaron sleep. He kicked him in the stomach, grinning when he let out a soft groan of pain, but managed to open his eyes.

“Morning sunshine,” he greeted.

Aaron tried to flinch away, but found his legs and arms were bound. His head was pounding, his ribs ached, his stomach was bruising from where Jonathan had kicked him and there were angry welts from where the cane had struck.

“You’re a bastard,” Hotch spat, trying not to panic when blood splattered onto his clothes.

“You give me the sweetest compliments, I’m starting to wonder if you really are like the rest of my victims.”

Hotch tried to glare up at him.

Jonathan laughed. “And then you do things like that, and I remember that you’re all the same. You know, I wanted to have a conversation about what you said earlier, but now I think I’ll save that for tomorrow. There’s a few things I want to do before then.”

Hotch had choked on water before. It wasn’t pleasant. But having it forced down his throat was worse. He couldn’t keep swallowing it, and most of it ended up on his shirt. That angered Jonathan. It led to more pain. More torture. Hotch couldn’t feel anything though. He didn’t think that was a good thing. A part of him was holding out hope that the team would find him, but with every passing moment, it seemed to fade slightly.

Why should the team look for him? He’s nothing. He would die for them, because they were his team and they deserved the world. But he was not the world. He was just one broken, old man and they could do better. They could do so, so much better than a drill sergeant, sexist, narcissistic bully.

There were no windows where he was being held. But at some point, Jonathan forced him to eat. And at some point later than that, he told Hotch to get some rest as the next day was going to be big.

Hotch closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.

Nor did any member of the BAU. A whole day of searching and there were still no clues that would lead them to Hotch. Nobody had been reported missing either, which meant either nobody cared enough about the person that had been kidnapped or the unsub was developing a new pattern. Either way, it wasn’t looking good.

Rossi forced them all to get some sleep. He told himself that if they got Aaron back safely, he would make sure that man knew just how much he was loved by all of them. He would finally tell Aaron how he had always viewed him as the son he’d lost, and how he had never once regretted returning.

Morgan knew his relationship with Hotch would never be perfect, but at the end of the day, they were a family. He would spend the rest of his life convincing Hotch that he deserved all the happiness in the world if he needed to, as soon as he’d lectured him about being an idiot.

Garcia was already planning what she was going to make for him. She remembered when she had first started in the BAU, and Hotch had been the only person to treat her like an actual employee. They would eat lunch together because neither of them really had any friends within the unit. Morgan and Reid were still trying to adjust to her, and Gideon had always loved Reid more than he loved Hotch, which had made her sad.

Reid couldn’t lose another father. He lay awake, thinking of stories that he could recommend for Jack. He wanted to be in his own bed, where he could look at the constellations on his ceiling. Hotch had somehow found out about his fear of the dark, but instead of mocking him, he said he’d understood. A day later, he found glow in the dark stars in his bag with a note from Hotch saying he wanted to see a picture of the constellations he made.

Reid had returned the favour after Foyet.

JJ held Emily and they both hoped that he- the man that had already lost so much and struggled through it all for the sake of their band of misfit profilers- would come home safely.

“Rise and shine Aaron,” Jonathan said, throwing a bucket of water over Hotch, who immediately jerked awake as he started to shiver.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

“You’ll see. But first, I need to make you a little bit more… presentable, shall we say?”

Hotch knew better than to hope that would mean a change of clothes. Jonathan removed the rope around his hands, but only to slide Aaron’s shirt off his shoulders. He pushed down on the bruises, only stopping when Hotch gasped.

“They’re going to be distraught,” he commented, punching Hotch in the face.

His eyes immediately started watering. Jonathan punched him again. Hotch recoiled, feeling the blood drip from his nose. He was dead weight now, but they had been right in assuming that their unsub was incredibly strong. He pulled Aaron into the chair before tying him up, bloodied and beaten and bruised and broken.

Hotch saw the camera.

And he suddenly understood what Jonathan meant.

“No,” he shouted, voice hoarse.

But it was too late.

“Hello Agent Hotchner’s team. I apologise for not knowing your first names, but Aaron only ever used your surnames. Maybe he wanted to detach himself from you all. Let’s see. Ah, the whole team is there! I don’t actually know who you all are, but that’s no worry. I bet you’re trying to work out where he is. It’s not going to work. You should watch the show instead. I bet you really want to see your fearless leader.”

Jonathan stepped back to reveal Hotch.

Morgan had to put his hand on the screen to stop Garcia from closing it. Reid whimpered, JJ shouted, Rossi cursed loudly. Finkelstein grabbed a whole bunch of officers and told them to do whatever it took to find that man.

“Now, Agent Hotchner talks in his sleep. Did you know that? And he’s said some quite interesting things. But first, we’re going to unpack something he said to me on our first day together. Do you remember what that thing was, Aaron?”

Aaron looked up at him, dazed. “No,” he whispered.

“You told me, they weren’t going to come and get you. I killed four people. All of them laughed and told me their colleagues, or their friends, or their families would find them. You didn’t. Why? Tell me. Tell them. They’re all watching.”

Hotch closed his eyes, needing to ground himself. When he opened them, tears were pooling in them, threatening to spill. “They already failed once. They didn’t- we had a case. But they never found me. I didn’t answer my phone, but they didn’t come looking until it was too late to save anyone. They failed to save me once. Why would they try now?”

Garcia was crying. She was trying to find him, but the unsub was right. It was impossible. They’d already dispatched officers to the man’s work and home addresses, but they all knew it was just a formality. They weren’t going to find anything.

“He’s right. We didn’t find him. We should have gone the moment his phone went to voicemail,” Emily said.

“That’s in the past,” Rossi said. “We need to focus on now. Where is he, now? How are we going to save him this time?”

“He’ll send us a message. Some sort of code. He has to,” Reid said, intently watching the screen.

Jonathan looked at Hotch for a few long moments. And then he took the knife he was holding and he cut one deep line from Hotch’s knee to his ankle. Hotch begged for mercy the whole time, but it never came.

“How tragic. Did you ever wonder why they didn’t try?”

“I’m not worth saving,” Hotch whispered.

That caused Jonathan to pause. “What?”

“I’m not worth saving. I’m a narcissist. A bully. Drill sergeant. I have trust issues, I don’t trust women as much as men and they don’t want to be my friend,” Hotch said.

Rossi frowned. “Kid, what’s the message? I don’t get it.”

Reid was shaking. “I don’t- I called him a narcissist when Hankel told me to choose someone to die but I didn’t mean it. I didn’t, I said it because I knew he would understand. He never puts himself above the team. But when I said that it gave away my location. There’s nothing with what he just said. Nothing. I don’t even know where the other things came from.”

Prentiss pressed her hand to her mouth. “He genuinely believes that. He’s not lying. I know his tell. He’s not doing it. He’s telling his version of the truth.”

Rossi turned. “What do you mean he genuinely believes that?”

All three of them swallowed, unable to form a response.

“When Reid called Hotch a narcissist and then quoted the Bible, Hotch went off. He told everyone to say what his worst quality was. And in the moment Morgan called him a drill sergeant. JJ said he was a bully. Em said he didn’t trust women as much as men. He cut them off after that and it was never addressed. I told- when we got back to Quantico, I told him he didn’t wear casual clothes enough and he- he smiled,” Garcia explained.

Rossi had never been so angry at his family. “Why would you say that? You know what he’s like. You know how personally he takes things. It doesn’t matter that it was just in the moment, he needed to hear it from all of you that you didn’t mean it.”

Prentiss lunged forward. “Aaron,” she shouted. When Hotch turned slightly to face the camera, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Aaron, it’s Emily. I know you’re not sexist. I know that you trust me just as much as anyone else on the team. I promise. And Morgan loves you too. JJ doesn’t think you’re a bully. We love you, but we need you to help us. Please.”

Jonathan turned to face the camera too. “Stop ruining all the fun, Emily.”

Emily flinched. Jonathan said her name like it was something dirty, but Aaron had only ever said it like it was something to be cherished.

When Jonathan slapped Hotch, Reid closed his eyes.

“What do you think Aaron? Do you think she’s correct? Are you worthy of their love? Or are you exactly like the other victims, maybe even worse?”

Hotch shook his head. “I don’t know. Please, I just, I don’t know.”

Jonathan picked up the cane. Hotch curled in on himself as much as he could. For everyone else, it was like watching Hankel torture Reid all over again. When the cane made contact with Hotch’s stomach, the sound he let out made the tears in Rossi’s eyes fall.

“I think I’ll let you all struggle for a few hours before the grand finale. But, I am nothing if not generous. Aaron, is there anything you want to say to them?”

He looked directly at the camera. Not even Morgan could look into his eyes, so full of pain and anguish. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for everything. I’m- I never meant for any of you to become so damaged and I am so- I will spend every last minute making up for the pain I caused you, but please, just, please forgive me. Forgive me. Please.”

Jonathan ended it all. There was no way of tracing them.

Reid repeated the words to himself. He needed to find the clue. He needed to work out what the message was. He refused to believe there wasn’t one. Morgan and Rossi slipped into their respective leadership roles, commanding everyone and barking orders. Garcia’s fingers were like lightning, she was finding everything she could on Jonathan. JJ dealt with the media, who wanted to know exactly what was going on. Prentiss flitted between the various groups, offering support. It was weird. Coming back had felt like coming home, but then there were moments like these where she wasn’t sure she’d ever been part of the team.

Hotch was confused. He knew Emily’s tell. She couldn’t hide it from him. He’d been searching for it as she spoke, but it wasn’t there. Which would imply she was telling the truth. But that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t let himself believe it was possible. Only, there was no other logical discussion. Maybe they loved him. Maybe they cared.

“What are you?” Jonathan hissed.

“Their friend,” Aaron whispered, momentarily forgetting where he was.

Jonathan kicked his bare foot. Aaron winced.

“No, you aren’t,” Jonathan said. “You’re a narcissist. You’re a bully. And a drill sergeant, and a sexist prick. I’m assuming- by the looks on their faces- the blonde with glasses and the old man never said anything against you. But I think I know what they would say. You’re rude. And you’re a failure. So what are you?”

“A narcissist,” Hotch replied. But he knew that wasn’t the truth. They were going to find him. They were going to save him, somehow, because that was what their family did.

Dave saved him by offering him the spot. He saved Penelope from a life of crime. Penelope saved Emily from doubting herself too much. Emily saved Jennifer from carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Jennifer saved Spencer from thinking he wasn’t worth loving. Spencer saved Derek from getting too cynical. Derek saved Dave from getting too cocky. And the cycle continued.

Reid was pacing, wringing his hands, still mouthing the words to him. Everyone else had stopped because there was nothing left to do.

Without warning, Reid turned and punched the wall.

“Spence!” JJ shouted.

Reid stared at his hand, where blood was now covering his knuckles. Shaking, he fell to his knees, sobbing. Hotch would know what to do. Hotch would take his hand and gently wrap it before talking to him about whatever it was that was going on. He would help him sort through the information overwhelming him.

But Hotch wasn’t there. And it was all his fault.

JJ and Morgan ran over to him. Reid wanted to push them away but found himself powerless to resist their coddling.

“Guys,” Garcia said, answering the call.

She let out a gasp. Hotch’s stomach was worse. There were more cuts on his leg. His face was covered in bruises. But there was something else that hadn’t been there before. A defiant, hopeful glint in his eyes. Like he knew something else now.

“Hello again,” Jonathan greeted.

Garcia immediately started trying to trace the call, not even hesitating to try thousands of other methods when it failed.

Reid pushed Morgan and JJ away, taking the seat next to Garcia to try and find the hidden message.

“I’ve trained Aaron very well,” Jonathan commented. He was holding a gun. Hotch’s gun. Hotch’s back-up gun he’d kept holstered against his ankle ever since Adrian Bale had left him defenceless.

Under the table, Reid fiddled.

“What are you?” Jonathan asked Hotch.

“A narcissist,” Hotch replied, but there was something different about the way he said it when compared to earlier. Reid leant forward, determined to work it out.

“What are you?” he asked again, now pointing the gun at his head. Reid felt bile rise in his throat. It must have been like that for everyone else, watching him with Hankel.

“A bully.”

“And?”

“A drill sergeant.”

“He doesn’t believe what he’s saying,” Reid shouted, then covered his mouth, just in case Jonathan heard. But he was too busy taunting Hotch with the negative things that had been said about him.

“What?” Rossi asked.

“Look at his body language. He doesn’t believe it anymore. Emily convinced him. We just need to work out where he is. If he knows we love him, he won’t do anything stupid.”

Garcia started typing even more furiously.

“Tell them again what you are. Let them savour the moment. Let them always remember this as the moment where Aaron Hotchner finally admitted how dreadful he was.”

“I’ve got a location!” Garcia whispered. Everyone looked at each other, then nodded. Finkelstein and his team would arrest Jonathan and get Hotch out. They would follow as soon as the call had ended.

“I’m a narcissist. A bully. A drill sergeant. A sexist prick. A failure. And I’m rude.”

“I suppose you get the smallest amount of credit for admitting it. But it’s not enough to say it. I want you to prove it. Choose one of them to die.”

Reid dug his nails into the fabric of his trousers.

Hotch’s eyes widened, and for the first time his confidence wavered. “What?”

“You heard me. If you’re truly all of these things, choose one to die. Choose one of those team members that hate you so much to die by your own gun.”

“Come on Hotch. Give us that message that tells us how to get you out safely,” Reid muttered to himself.

Hotch wasn’t answering.

“Wasn’t Agent Reid in a similar situation to this? And didn’t he say that he chose Aaron Hotchner? That must have hurt.”

“It’s Doctor,” Hotch responded, voice weak, the adrenaline waring off as he lost more blood and as his previous injuries went untreated.

“Oh god,” JJ said, the first to realise his mistake.

Hotch’s eyes widened.

Jonathan smirked. “Oh dear. Have you been lying to me? Are you not actually these things?”

“Finkelstein is three minutes away,” Rossi updated.

“I am!” Hotch exclaimed. His voice was hoarse, his eyes glazed over and unfocused.

“Then choose.”

“No.”

“My patience grows thin Aaron. Choose.”

“Two minutes,” Rossi said.

“Hotch please,” Reid pleaded. JJ rubbed his shoulder, just as tense.

“I can’t,” Hotch said, pain starting to overwhelm him as he tried too hard to think of a solution.

“Do it,” Jonathan said, fingers fiddling with the trigger.

“I choose myself,” Hotch said.

“No,” Reid whispered. “There has to be a message somewhere in there. He said: it’s doctor, but before that he said what and after that he said no and- there’s no message. Rossi there’s no message. What are we supposed to do?”

“Finkelstein is a minute away. Hotch will keep him talking. And then we’ll get him back. I promise.”

“Why? Why do you choose yourself, when your team hate you?” Jonathan was angry and holding a gun. A dangerous combination at the best of times. But Hotch had no weapon. No vest.

Restrained and already weakened by his injuries.

“Because they don’t,” Hotch said.

“Yes they do,” Jonathan said through gritted teeth.

“They just need our signal to go in,” Rossi said.

“I can’t make that call,” Morgan confessed.

Rossi looked at him. “We can’t afford to wait.”

“No, they don’t. Your team did though, didn’t they? And then you lost your job for all the bad things you did and ended up being the victim of a person that was exactly the same as you had been. Aren’t I right? You’re not exactly hard to profile, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment.”

“How fucking dare you-” Jonathan started, then sighed. “I want you to tell me. Tell me why it should be you and not one of them.”

Rossi turned away. “Now.”

“Because they are my family. I love them unconditionally. And they love me back. And when you love your family, you do everything you can to keep them safe.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“They’re your family? Who love you?”

Aaron used the last of his strength to look up into his captor’s eyes. “And I love them.”

Jonathan hmmed.

The gunshot that rang out was nothing compared to Reid’s cry of horror.

[brave-clarice]

“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 3

Maybe Wednesday is just destined to be my watch night? At any rate, here are some more comically late hot takes for you all.

I really do not like that Clarice’s Bureau-mandated therapist is recurring character, nor do I like the way these scenes are framed.

And the name of this episode is “Are You Alright?” which...oop.

“He was a marshal.” Good to know that the sheriff BS she gave Mr. Cult Leader was made up after all.

This is a little thing, but enough with the boring monochromatic button-ups on Clarice! Where’s my girl who hides copies of Vogue under her mattress??

I don’t love this constant-flashback thing one bit.

To be 100% clear, if I haven’t been already, it’s not that I want Clarice’s mental health to be ignored. I just don’t think this is the best or most in-character way to address it.

Also: Clarice Starling is not defined by her trauma.

“Buffalo Bill...a wound I believe will never heal unless you open up about it.” Honestly?

Thanks, I hate it!

I hate to even bring up the NBC show.....but this scene is reminding me, intensely and unpleasantly, of that.

That show made Will Graham way too unstable and mentally ill as it is...and Clarice’s character is a hell of a lot stronger than book!Will, never mind NBC!Will. So having Clarice hallucinate and lash out in similar ways feels really OOC.

“Maybe your perceptions aren’t as solid as you think.” Yay, gaslighting. As if Clarice doesn’t face enough obstacles in the books.

I’ve always interpreted Ardelia as a bit of a neat freak, so that was a nice scene with the boxes!

Were most politicians wearing American flag pins in the early 90s? That feels way too modern. (iirc it became the “norm” only after 9/11.)

“Imagine someone field-dressing one of [your daughters] like a deer.” I’m getting strong and very unwelcome NBC vibes again. Stop it, show!

More gaslighting, but this time from the suspect.

“Well, I’m Army, so I’m actually a good shot.” For some reason this feels like shade at ex-Marine John Brigham even though he doesn’t exist in this show, and I’m offended on his behalf.

Speaking of, when is Clarice’s sharpshooting talent going to come up??

Krendler’s supporting Clarice? Saying she has a good idea???? WHO IS THIS GUY?!

The implication here is that...the president will fire AG Martin over bad press...? Or what?

What I’m getting from this: this Krendler is just some guy who hapens to have the same name, not the infamous King Scumbag we know and love to hate. (And those clothes...1993, where are you?!?)

Ardelia called her “Starling”! Though it was tongue-in-cheek.

“I’m aware I have the palate of an eight-year-old.” Somewhere, Hannibal is dying inside. (Hmm...wasn’t she about eight when her father was killed?)

This line/delivery was super cute!

But being unable to cook doesn’t necessarily mean you have unsophisticated tastes...

Is Catherine going to have any kind of personality? Beyond “is traumatized”?

And where is Catherine’s cat???

“It’s from the 50s.” “I’m from the 50s! ...I still work.” Cuuute.

Her sheepish little smile when the Baltimore cop tells her they’re “big fans” of hers...I would die for this girl, folks.

Hey, remember phone books?! And a nice nod to Ardelia being the bookish one of the pair.

Another homage to Silence’s cinematography (but this time she’s the reflection).

Krendler’s back in Asshole Boss mode again. Make up your minds.

Thanks, I still hate it!

Okay, yes Clarice has a temper! And she does act “impulsively” re: Krendler in Hannibal...at the END of her by-then failed career. But a fledgling female agent who’s already viewed as a kind of “loose cannon” could NOT afford to chuck a mug full of coffee at her boss (with whom she’s already butting heads/struggling to coexist) when she’s upset! Very unprofessional and unlike Clarice.

“You think I’m the one who wants to play politics?” In Hannibal, Krendler wants to run for Congress, so...yeah, I do.

Krendler wouldn’t be wrong to send Clarice home after that, tbh.

“He thinks I’m the weak link.” “You might be.” *angry noises*

Busting through doors while armed: Just Clarice Things

Krendler telling Clarice she was right...his characterization’s giving me whiplash.

Catherine’s not an actual character so far, and it’s sad.

Glad they’re acknowledging that AG Martin’s “field-dressing” comments were incredibly bad.

“I think I have some memories I need to look at...but not with you.” Oh! Oh! I know who she’s going to look at them with! ;)

“You’re trying to gaslight me, sir.” Not sure they would’ve used that term as commonly in the early 90s, though Clarice has a therapy license, so maybe?

But also: yes! CALL! HIM! OUT!

“I wish you luck finding someone who’s better at it than I am.” *shrieks* That is a Hannibal reference, and I’ll fight anyone who says it isn’t.

I’ve liked all these episodes more than my nit-picking might suggest, I swear. I enjoyed the middle half hour or so of this one a lot! It’s got a few charming little funny moments that I particularly appreciated. 

That said... This was, as a whole, probably Rebecca Breeds’ weakest showing to date (through no fault of her own). And I’m getting a little antsy about (lack of) character development. I’m on board with exploring Ardelia and Catherine Martin in greater depth...but Ruth Martin, too--even Krendler? And seemingly at the expense of Clarice’s own character?

What do the non-book readers in the audience really know about Clarice so far beyond what’s shown in Silence? (Some early interviews emphasized that the film didn’t have time to delve into Clarice’s character intimately. What has the show done to remedy that so far...?) She likes junk food, she has a brother...I can’t think of much else off the top of my head. Not to be a broken record, but there’s more to Clarice than childhood trauma. More than her career. If this show is genuinely about her--well, by episode 3 and 4, it’s high time for them to start exploring who she is beyond those things.

Clarice is a sharpshooter who competes and wins. She’s a runner. She loves horses and muscle cars. She has a therapy license. She graduated at the top of her large undergraduate class. She’s interested in fashion (though she probably doesn’t let on about that to many people). I haven’t seen any of that so far, and it’s beginning to make me sad. 

They also need to end the “Clarice is mentally/emotionally unstable and sometimes even hallucinates” subplot right now!

I’m dropping all my expectations for this Paul Krendler. They won’t commit to making him as intolerable and awful as he was in the books. Instead, we have an OC with a canonical name. Fine. But that choice is going to be awkward if the show goes forward and they, by some miracle, get rights to Hannibal’s character...

If Catherine Martin’s sticking around, I hope to God they give her a personality. Of course she’s suffering, and no, I don’t want them to belittle that--but right now, she’s coming across as a one-dimensional caricature of a victim rather than as a sympathetic real person.

And finally...where is my 90s aesthetic?! It’s one of the elements that I was most excited about, yet it’s barely present. Some of the tech and the cars look right. A lot of the clothes and hairstyles, though, leave much to be desired. (Clarice’s wardrobe is especially boring/disappointing so far. I was looking forward to an improvement on Jodie’s movie costumes! Clarice doesn’t have to dress just like Dana Scully--but at least Scully always looked straight out of 199x.) And there are little anachronistic things that take me right out of the early 90s.

I didn’t hate it. I didn’t love it. It wasn’t as exciting or as full of novel/film allusions as the first two (I guess they can’t all be). It also felt unfocused when it came to the characters, ultimately developing almost none of them, including the heroine. This is the episode I think I’m least likely to rewatch of the first three. 

I’m hoping for better from #4!

[zoequeenz]

Compulsion (Part 1)

A/N: SO, a little bit of this chapter and all of the pilot is a bit different from how I have written some of the newer chapters. It is a bit funky but I like to say I have changed it and now have a better writing style. I would also like to mention there is a flashback at the beginning that is why the first part is a little odd. Enjoy :)

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER 

(TRIGGER WARNING: mentions sexual assault)

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Previously on Criminal Minds…

‘Anyone recognize these faces?’

‘Victims of the footpath killer”

“That’s what Virginia newspapers are calling him.”

“We refer to him at the “unknown subject” or “Unsub.”

“I told Virginia P.D., they’re looking for a white male in his 20’s, who owns an american-made truck, works a menial job.”

“I told ‘em when you find him, don’t be surprised to hear him speak with a severe stutter.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

(Jason Gideon’s POV) (Still in flashback)

I had just finished paying for my gas and I knew I had caught him.

“Have a n-i-nice day.” stuttered the Footpath Killer.

I then walk out, only to be followed.

“The gun.”

“T-ta-take out the gun.” he demands in a non-threatening voice. But I do.

“Th-throw it.” he says.

“Any particular direction?” I ask. He then hits the back of my knee sending me to the floor. He takes me inside then slams me up against a wall.

“Who-who are y-”

“Who are you?”

Who are you?” he asks over and over.

“FBI.” I admit.

“T-t-t”

“Take out your w- your w-wallet.” he demands and I do.

“Wh-what- what do you kn-.”

“What do you know?” he asked.

“About you?” I question.

“Or about the people you’ve murdered?”

“I know a lot about you. I know how you do it. I know you can’t stop. And I know something that no one’s ever been able to tell you… I know why you stutter.”

(Back in the Office)

“Weren’t you a little bit worried he might just shoot you?” a trainee asks.

“I was a lot worried.” I tell her.

“But how did you find him?” another asks.

“I was just stopping for gas.” I say.

“I walked into that store, and saw pieces of a profile that I’d given to Virginia P.D. almost a year ago. Truck in disrepair, a devilish young man, severe stutter.” I say.

“James Reese once said, “there are certain clues at a crime scene which, by their very nature, do not lend themselves to being collected or examined.” I tell them.

“How does one collect love, rage, hatred, fear?” I asks.

“These are things that we’re trained to look for.” I state.

“So anyone else would have just seen a guy who stutters, but you saw the footpath killer.” the third trainee says.

‘Right. But sometimes these guys are still found by just dumb luck.” I say.

“Berkowitz was caught because of a parking ticket.”

“Except the cop wasn’t staring down a shotgun like you were.” Elle says.

“This is true. This is also good time to stop.” I tell them.

“Thank you sir.” a trainee says.

“Thank you.” I say.

“Okay, I’m curious. Why did he stutter?” Elle asks.

“You’re on your way to becoming part of the behavior analysis team now, Elle. You tell me.” I tell her.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Persephone Chase’s POV

“Spencer this is boring, chess is not a fun game.” I tell him as I watch from the desk across from the genius boy.

“Percy, it passes time quicker and builds my logic skill.” he replies.

“Like you need to build on that.” I say sassily.

“Check. Checkmate 3 moves.” Gideon says moving a piece off the board. I laugh.

“What…” Spencer says confused.

“You know you’ll beat him when you start learning.” Derek says making me laugh harder, which also leads Spencer to make this weird face.

“Learning what?” he asks.

“To think outside the box.” Derek tells him.

He looks at me and all I can do is give him a sympathetic look.

“Hey, you can still beat everyone else on the team.” I say.

“Yeah, except Gideon.” Spencer sighs in defeat.

“Question for you.” Elle says walking in.

“Shoot.” Derek says.

“The footpath killer, why did he stutter?” she asks.

“Come on Elle, we’ve all asked him, and he won’t say.” Derek tells the brunette.

“Yeah, even our favorite genius doesn’t know.” I say mocking Spencer.

“He wants us to figure it out.” I continue.

“Okay. I’m up for a challenge.” she speaks confidently.

“Good, because these go to you.” JJ says putting down a plethora of files.

“Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you like.” JJ says introducing herself.

“Elle…”

“Greenaway-highest number of solved cases in Seattle 3 years running, specialty in sex offender cases.” JJ says.

“Not bad.” Elle comments in a surprised tone.

“Well, I’m the unit liaison. My specialty is untangling bureaucratic knots. You’ll probably be talking to me a lot. My door’s always open, mostly because I’m never in my office, so just call me on my cell, okay? We’ll talk.” JJ explained.

“Did you watch?” she asks Hotch how hastily replied “Yeah.”

“Think everybody should see it.”

“BAU team, can you meet me in the conference room, please? I need to show you something.” Hotch more like tells instead of asks.

We all walk to the conference room, of course like always I sit next to my best friend.

“This is from the Phoenix office, Bradshaw College in Tempe, 6 fires in 7 months.” Hotch tells us.

“Who recorded it?” Gideon asks.

“A student with a digital camcorder.He was watching a fire in the building across from their dorm. The other person you’ll see is his roommate, 20 year old Matthew Rowland.” JJ says.

(VIDEO)= Underlined

“This is crazy. Hey, Matt, get over here. You gotta see this. The buildings on fire.” one of the students said.

“Bro, you getting this?” Matt asked in amazement.

“Is that the kid?” Gideon asks. “Yeah, that’s him.” Hotch answers.

“Relax man. There’s always fires during rush week.” the unnamed student says.

“Yeah, but that’s pretty big.” another student says.

“Dude, over here. Check this out. What is it?” Matt asks.

“I don’t know, but it’s coming underneath the door.” the camera kid says.

“Is someone in the hallway?” Matthew asks.

“Hey, someone’s trying to get in.” Matthew continues.

“Hey, man, you should get away from there.” the cameraman says.

“Oh, my god! It smells like gas.” Matthew said,

“Oh, god! God! Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” both boys said as Matthew went up in flames.

“Put me out! Oh, my god! Oh, god! Help.” exclaimed Matthew.

“Einstein once said:”Imagination is more important than knowledge.Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”

“There are two common stressors for a serial arsonist.” Spencer says as he plays chess.

“Loss of job, loss of love.” I say engrossed in his game.

“When was the first fire set?” Derek asks.

“March, Uh, the next one was May, and the third one wasn’t ‘till September, then 2 weeks there were 3 in one night.” Hotch answers.

“He’s speeding up. Fire’s are closer together.” Gideon says.

“Hey, Reid, you got a statistic on arsonists?” Derek asks.

“Derek what do you think.” I say mocking him earning an eye roll from Derek.

“What do you got Reid?” Derek asks annoyed.

“82%, are white males between 17 and 27. Female arsonists are far less likely, their motive typically being revenge.” Spencer informs us, and I can’t help but fall for my partner even more. I guess scrawny genius nerds are my type.

“Sounds like our boy’s a student.” Derek concludes.

“Don’t be so sure.” Gideon says out of the blue.

He continues “You rely too much on precedent, you never allow for the unexpected...if he went from setting one fire to three in two weeks time…”

“Rapid escalation.” Hotch said for him.

“He’s gone from the power to damage a building to something far more satisfying...the power over life and death.” Gideon says.

Derek sits down to a pamphlet about about the school whilst Gideon and Hotch continue on.

“Who we talking to first?” Gideon asks.

“Dean of students, Helen Turner.” Hotch answers.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

We have landed and made it to the college. Everyone gets out but I hesitate, I hated college. I didn’t hate the learning no. I hated the people. Mostly my boyfriend and his stupid frat brothers. I of course being the dumb freshman fell in love with the most popular guy there. Wrong choice!! He ended up drugging me at a party, he and his friends ended up taking advantage of me whilst I was vulnerable. Even worse was that was my first time too. I was mortified when I found out but like most people I was too scared to bring him to court and never did, I ended up switching colleges. I have yet to tell anyone besides Derek who I know shares a similar past. That is why I am scared to get out of this car. It's like a safe haven at the moment.

“Hey, where is Chase?” Hotch asks.

“Still in the car.” Reid says.

“Well tell her to get out we have a case.” Hotch says annoyed.

“I’ll get her.” Morgan says.

“But I-” Reid begins.

“Trust me pretty boy, I need to handle this one.” Derek says walking to my car door.

“Hey little one, you need to come out.” he tries coaxing me out.

“Derek please, I can’t...you know what happened.” I plead.

“Hun I know but you’ve got to put on that facade and help with the case it’s your job.”

“Besides, no one is gonna hurt you anymore. You’ve got Reid and I to protect you.” He tells me.

“Fine.” I say and take a deep breath.

We walk over to the team.

“Sorry, I got side tracked.” I announce.

“Tell me later Chase.” Hotch says and I nod.

“No badges. I don’t want to satisfy the unsub’s need for attention by letting him know he got the FBI here. Try not to look official.” Gideon says while we walk into the school.

We stop at the steps and he turns then looks at us then says…

“Try to look less official.”

I giggle. Derek, Elle, and Hotch are in formal clothing and here is Spencer and I in what I would call casual clothing. He brings Ellen out and we being to speak with her while walking.

“Obviously, I’d rather be meeting you under different circumstances.” she says.

“This is fire inspector Zhang.”  she adds on leaning her head towards an asian man.

“This morning the chemistry department reported several bottles of highly flammable chemicals missing.” he informed us.

“I’m prepared to evacuate this campus.” she tells us adding on a “Thank you.” to Gideon and Hotch for opening the doors.

“That brings with it its own problems.” Hotch says.

“You might evacuate the arsonist as well.” Gideon adds.

“Then the case goes unsolved.” I say.

“The campus is reopened, but the fires start up again.” Elle finishes for me.

“Hotch, Gideon hold on a second.” Derek says.

“You said the chemicals went missing today.” he asked the fire inspector.

“Uh huh.” Zhang answered.

“It says here that one of the previous fires was set with diesel fuel that disappeared from the grounds keeping facility.” Derek stated.

“How long after it disappeared was the fire set?”

“One day.” Helen answered.

“If he’s holding to a pattern…”Gideon says walking away with Hotch.

“Who’s to says the next fire won’t be today?” Hotch finishes.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

We then get to the crime scene. It actually wasn’t that bad. Of course there are clear signs that a fire was here but it wasn’t burnt beyond recognition.

“Door was locked.” Hotch says.

“Matthew Rowland and his roommate watched as the door knob turned against the lock.” Spencer adds.

“But the unsub couldn’t get in.” I say.

“So he pours the accelerant into the room from the hallway.” Spencer adds.

“Which means he couldn’t see the fire.” Hotch says with a confused expression.

“ But he could hear Matthew Rowland screaming.” Spencer adds.

“Yeah, but not for long.” I say.

“He would have left quickly.” Hotch says.

“Yeah, to avoid being spotted.” Spencer states.

“It doesn’t make sense.” I say.

“Pyromania as a mental disorder may just be a simple myth, but we know from precedent that serial arsonists derive pleasure from pathological firesetting.” Spencer informs us.

It makes my knees grow weak for a second. This boy is gonna kill me before I am even close to death. I still have no idea why I like when he says random facts.

“Sex and power.” Hotch adds.

“But a serial arsonists wouldn’t just set a fire and walk away.” I state.

“He needs to experience it.” Hotch tells us.

“So why would he set a fire he couldn’t watch?” Spencer asks.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“He turned the water off just before the fire.”  Zhang says while opening a box with a phone, a flashlight, and another item inside.

“The last three were set with these. Two devices, simultaneous ignition.”

“There was no device used on Matthew Rowland.” Gideon says.

“Unsub set that one manually?”

“He wanted to be there to enjoy the kid’s death.” Derek says.

“Not necessarily.” Hotch argues.

“Well, if the target was Matthew Rowland, then why set the other two fires?” Elle asks.

“The motives for arson are relatively simple.” Spencer says.

“There’s vandalism, crime concealment, political statement, profit…”

“And revenge.” Hotch says finishing Spencer’s sentence.

“We interviewed Matthew Rowland’s roommate. No reason for revenge.” Zhang tells us.

“What about vandalism?” Ellen asks.

“No. The fires are too sophisticated, and if he’s trying to make a political statement, he’s not being too clear about it.” Elle says.

“There’s an underlying strategy in this case.” I add.

“Matthew, firefighters, injured victims.” Gideon begins.

“To the unsub, they’re not people. They’re…”

“They’re objects.”  Hotch finishes.

“More like, uh…” Gideon beings only to be cut off by Spencer.

“Chess pieces.”

“Exactly.” Gideon says throwing a burnt MP3 player back on the table.  

NEXT CHAPTER 

[sammy-black87]

Same as always

Narrates Hotch

I woke up at 6 in the morning and I was tired of sleeping alone I can't stand the pain of the stabbing anymore, the guilt that I was carrying by not protecting Haley ... Again I want to go with her but ... Jack needs a father who cares for him a lot and loves him, I would not make the same mistake again ... * let out a sigh * I wish I was dead but I will not let them win me again, I will not leave this position also sooner or later I will find Foyet late or early well as I was saying I woke up, I saw that Jack was awake, I went with him and put him to bed again to make him fall asleep, I managed to do it, I grabbed my things and Foyet's file and I went to the BAU, I remembered everything about Haley, after a few hours I arrived at the UAC and well I did the same as always, I was a little tired, I didn't sleep well and good work is work

Aaron: * he came early and I go to my office and I review the case of Foyet over and over again until I hear my Equip come here like this, I keep the file and he acted normal * what is it Garcia?

Penelope: well my friends today we have a new case that involves self-harm in the arms the first victim is Ashley Park, Joselyn Miller and Jeff Thomson, all 15 years old, were found dead in their homes at 3 am in a fetal position and well this is weird, but they left this * I show you the image *

Morgan: cut her veins that is rare when leaving her in the fetal position * seeing the image *

Penelope: the strangest thing is that she left a pencil sharpener next to her * makeover *

Spencer: a pencil sharpener? that is rare but at the same time normal, people who commit suicide use a lot of Swiss knives or pocket knives but this is like a teenager or a person who suffers depreciation * analyzing *

Rossi: or cutter, others prefer razors * I look at them all *

Emily: yes but why kill a Girl of only 15 years old? *doubtfully*

Jennifer: no bumps, no scratches and not even self defenses

Morgan: I should always see, this is weird

Aaron: the pencil sharpener is his hallmark

Spencer: I thought I was the weirdo here

Morgan: that's why you don't have Girlfriends * he muttered *

Spencer: what did you say Morgan? * I watch him as I close the file *

Morgan: I said where is the case?

Penelope: they want us in Texas dallas

Morgan: next stop Texas dalla

Aaron: we leave in 30 * I see that they get up and leave for their things, I look on both sides and take out the file from Foyet * sooner or later I will find you damn son of a bitch * I get up and put my things away and go to the jet *

* in that they fly to Texas *

Spencer: "The healthy man does not torture others. Generally, it is the tortured who become a torturer" -Carl Jung.

Aaron: * thinking about Foyet *

Morgan: * looking at Hotch * Hotch okay? You haven't said anything all day until we leave, is there something wrong?

Spencer: that happens if you drink a lot of coffee

Aaron: It is true what Spencer says should not take caffeine

Penelope: here your hostess García brings you something new

Aaron: what is Garcia? * I look at her from the laptop *

Penelope: we will work with the New that will be transferred to the BAU and well it is a brain equal to the Boy wonder * I look at Spencer *

Spencer: a Genius like me ?, is a good thing * I look at Morgan * the last betrays better

Penelope: She is a pretty Girl, very smart Lord, they are going to profile him * referring to Hotch *

Aaron: well that's a good thing and it must be very cute * without paying attention *

Emily, Jennifer and Morgan: oh love in the air

Spencer: * watching the air * I don't see anything

Morgan: you wouldn't understand Genius

Aaron: * on that he reacted * what did they say?

Jennifer: * at that I laugh silently *

Aaron: well I don't think I fell in love easily * I look at them *

Jennifer: yes of course heh heh

Narrator

When they arrived they went to the police station where ____ Dwitt was, she was nervous and excited about the case since it has been a few days without solving a case with the FBI, she was already analyzing the case where the FBI would be, when Hotch arrived she was still thinking about a plan to find Foyet, everyone started working while Hotch went outside to take outdoors with Rossi for a while so while he was on the case

Rossi: Hotch come on fate is giving you another chance, this is your chance come on you need to turn the page and start your life from scratch new air

Aaron: I don't know Rossi I'm not sure what if it happens again?

Rossi: it won't happen my friend you were with us * I look at you *

Aaron: well what do we have these you see? * I look at everyone and see that they are not *

Rossi: I forgot to tell you that ____ I send them to the crime scene and well I will be with you

____: * looking for a pattern in the file *

Rossi: Dra. ____?

____: yes? * you turn to see like this in front while you were holding the file *

Rossi: how am I Agent David Rossi and he is Agent Aaron Hotchner

____: * at that you look up and see them * it is a pleasure to meet your team I speak highly of you Agent Hotchner * I shake your hand *

Aaron: * I blush a little without being noticed * t-the taste is mine

___: * you saw I was nervous * okay?

Aaron: y-yeah it's just hot in here you know how the weather is

___: I know but one gets used to it over time hehe

Rossi: well I'll leave you alone * I'm leaving *

___: * smiled *

Aaron: * blushes a little *

___: you know something you are not as I thought

Aaron: really?

___: if you thought it was going to be a bad thing but I was wrong you care about your team

Aaron: if I do that I try to do it and well what do we have in the case?

___: the same but the position changed from fetal to as if it were praying

Aaron: it's evolving

___: that the bad thing if it changes of seal we will never find it

Penelope: * I call Aaron * Sir, I found a lot of information, but it's strange

Aaron: * I put my cell phone out loud * What did you find Garcia?

Penelope: many teenagers died at the hands, but one survived

___: can you tell us the name?

Penelope: who said that?

Aaron: Garcia she is the Agent ____

Penelope: it is a pleasure to meet you

___: the pleasure is mine García, Agent Hotchner has told me wonderful things about you, I like you hehe and can you tell us the names please?

Penelope: sure nice girl * I start to press buttons on my keyboard * WOW there is a very long list it would take to give their names

Aaron: Garcia reduces the list in 2014 to 2017 if they have reported suicides and homicides

Penelope: axis see me * I keep looking and that gives me the result I want * of course there is 1 person who survived and ... WOW this is bad

___: what did you find?

Penelope: she has had several blood transfusions throughout her life and boy is she lucky, but * I keep looking * this is very sad

___: let me guess child abuse right?

Penelope: Nice girl bingo, her parents took them to prison, but then they were released in court because if Son Gabriel Vargas is only 13 years old, I can't win in court, nor did the police believe them

Aaron: look if you have a record

Penelope: if she has, but it is a lot, I rob armed hand, drug trafficking, I rob a bank and * I see at the end * I kill her parents on her birthday

Penelope: her parents killed them at 17 years old, she is now 25 years old and works in a veterinary

___: the biggest trigger was his parents

Aaron: you have to give them the profile

* as we all meet with the police *

Aaron: We are looking for a 25-year-old Caucasian male named Gabriel Vargas, we know that he suffered child abuse from his parents

___: the police did not believe him when he told the truth that he suffered child abuse, they believed that he was lying, now he attacks women and men, which remind him of his parents

Spencer: leaves a razor in each body, knowing this that his parents were released from prison, he was so enraged that he cut his veins to such an extent

Morgan: do not stop talking maybe it is nice but it is not like that it is in the streets it is like saying "here I am come for me" it is exposed does not fear the police

Jennifer: be very careful and stay alert

Rossi: he likes to see his victims I suffered slowly leaving them in different options

Emily: one of her positions is fetal and praying

___: this unknown person believes he is a god and believes that he is in hell, he works in vets he likes to attack at night

Aaron: that's it

*everyone leaves*

Narrator

Acting on the man they wanted, everyone went home, ___, he went with the FBI, he felt happy and at the same time happy, but Hotch more since he fell in love but was not sure, he still feared for Foyet, but he would not let him win , Rossi already became suspicious of Hotch since he almost fell in love

Aaron: * seeing ____ *

Rossi: you are in love right?

Aaron: why does Rossi say it? *I look at you*

Rossi: you haven't stopped seeing her for a long time

Aaron: I still have my doubts

Rossi: love at first sight

Aaron: * just gave a little laugh *

Rossi: that giggle says yes

Aaron: ok you discovered me

Rossi: I suggest you wait for the perfect moment for you to tell him

Aaron: ok I know you have experience and I will follow your advice my friend * I keep seeing the file *

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ • ⋆ • ✧ • ⋆ • ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ • ೖ ୭⇢ * will continue * • ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ • ⋆ • ✧ • ⋆ • ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •

[companionjones]

Friends Made Along The Way

Requested by: @damedevon

Request: This is the second request in case you don't want to do the first one :)  NCIS universe: Reader, genius level IQ that is a talented artist (painting, sculpting, all the things) is brought in to consult on a case. (S)he meets Spencer and they hit it off, talking about cultured literature and time period specific art and history.

Fandoms: NCIS, Criminal Minds

Pairings: Spencer Reid x NCISAgent!Reader, Platonic!BAU Team x NCISAgent!Reader, Platonic!NCIS Team x NCISAgent!Reader, Specifically Platonic!Gibbs x NCISAgent!Reader

Warnings: Extreme descriptions of blood and gore

Author’s Note: This takes place around season 5 for both NCIS and Criminal Minds. Idk if that lines up chronologically, sorry if it doesn’t.

*******

    “We got a case,” informed Gibbs as he headed to his desk for his gun and badge.

    Yourself and the rest of your team moved to gather your individual things and meet in the elevator.

    Gibbs gave more details about the case. “A former marine was found dead outside a Cheesy Cheese.”

    Timothy McGee asked, awkwardly, “Uh, Boss? Don’t you mean Chuck E. Cheese?”

    “Does it look like I know the difference, McGee?” Gibbs returned.

    The younger agent was clearly uncomfortable. “No, Boss. It’s just...I didn’t--”

    Ziva’s voice was as sly as ever. “It’s best to stop now, McGee.”

    As you headed out of the bull-pen, you opened your mouth to say something.

    DiNozzo cut you off instead. “L/n, I swear to God, if you make one more Shakespeare reference today, Ziva’s driving to the crime scene.”

    “Tony,” you rolled your eyes, “How could I possibly make a reference to the Bard from this?”

    All DiNozzo had to do was give you a look.

    “Fine, I’ll shut up,” you sighed, exiting your team’s area.

    Abruptly, Gibbs turned and stopped you. “Not you.”

    “What?” You were shocked.

    Gibbs gruffly explained, “Fornell called. Apparently, a friend of his wants you on his case. It’s ten miles out.”

    Forgetting your usual respect for your superior, you groaned.

    Again, all it took was a look.

    “Yes, sir,” you childishly agreed.

***

    “Excuse me, Agent Aaron Hotchner?” I’m Agent Y/n L/n, from NCIS.” You stuck your hand out when the man confirmed his name.

    He took your offer, and shook your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances.” The senior FBI agent spent the following few minutes explaining the details of the case to you.

    So far, three murders had been committed. The odd thing about the murders was that the killer was recreating paintings by an artist from the 1800s by posing the victims how the muses were posed in certain paintings. You had read about the strange murders in the paper.

    “Gustave Courbet,” you named the original artist. “I realized that after the first murder. I didn’t think it was going to take you guys this long to figure it out.”

    Hotchner knew not to take your words personally. “That’s why we called you in. We need an expert on Courbet on this case.” He noticed an agent from his team walking up to where the two of you were in the living room of the apartment/crime scene. “This is Dr. Reid. He’s the one on our team who recognized the pattern in the first place.”

    The younger man greeted you by giving you his first name. “Spencer.” He then admitted, “I don't shake hands.”

    “Oh, okay. Call me Y/n,” you politely offered.

    Another agent was making his way to the three of you. Two female agents and an older male agent were trailing behind him.

    The darker-skinned agent smiled. “We’re very proud of our Dr. Reid, here. Kid has an IQ of 187.”

    “You’ve got me beat, then,” you admitted, turning back to Dr. Reid. “My score is 186.”

    Everyone seemed pretty blown away by that. You could tell it was rare that the team came across anyone that was as smart as their resident genius.

    You never liked the term ‘genius,’ especially when it was used on you. On the contrary, you mostly kept your skills under the radar. Except for a few literary references here and there, you rarely talked about your smarts. Actually, you never really got the chance to.

    The rest of the agents on the team introduced themselves, and Hotch explained, “We’re the BAU at the FBI. It stands for--”

    “Behavioral Analysis Unit. I know. But here’s an acronym you guys probably don’t know-NCIS. It’s where I work.”

    Hotch obviously knew what it meant. He was the one who called you in. You got a marine vibe from Rossi, so he probably knew, too. They weren’t the kind of men to just blurt out the answer, however. The rest of the team seemed to be having trouble with the acronym.

    Spencer was different. “Naval Criminal Investigative Service,” he said almost immediately.

    “Good! It’s rare someone just knows that. I’m assuming you don’t have any prior connections...Maybe you do know what you’re talking about.”

    You noticed a prolonged look Agent Morgan gave Spencer. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, and moved his gaze elsewhere. You didn’t understand the exchange.

    Hotchner began, “Okay,. Now that introductions are out of the way, we were hoping you could take a look at this crime scene.”

    Two minutes later, you were two inches away from a body. The poor woman was a hunched over in a chair. She was a brunette, and looked to weigh about 200 pounds. Like the other victims, she was dressed in middle class mid-1800s clothing. The chair she was in was next to a spindle. She had some raw wool wrapped around a distaff sitting on her lap. You swallowed hard when the thought crossed your mind that it almost seemed like she was sleeping.

    Agent Jareau (she preferred the nickname JJ) informed you, “She was found early this morning by a mother and daughter returning from a trip. This apartment is theirs. They don’t own a spinning wheel.”

    Rossi continued, “We got a positive I.D., her name is Suzanne Welling. No relation to the family that live here.”

    “I hope the daughter is young. There’s more of a chance of her forgetting this tragedy when she gets older,” you quickly added that last part when you realized how harsh you sounded. You never broke your studying of the remains.

    JJ confirmed, “The girl’s 4 years old.” It was a tone you could tell clearly was a mother’s. You wondered how many kids she had. You also hoped your words weren’t too harsh.

    “The painting this is based on is The Sleeping Spinner, painted in 1853. It looks like he’s going in chronological order.” You dragged your index finger over your bottom lip. It was a thinking habit you had.

    Emily Prentiss, the other female agent on the team, inquired, “Why do you think he’s male?”

    “The first painting--er...murder.” You straightened up onto your feet. “The Wounded Man, originally painted in 1844. It’s a self-portrait. A lot of Courbet’s early works were. The killer sees himself as Courbet. The first muse--victim probably looks like the murderer.”

    A new voice entered the room. “Unsub.” It was Spencer. “Unknown suspect. We call our suspects unsubs. You can, too...if you want to.”

    “...Unsub.” You smiled slightly while you tested out the name for Spencer.

    He expressed the same sentiment to you.

    The rest of the day was spent working the case. It was explained to you that the team would usually split up with some of them heading to the local police department when first arriving for an assignment. It was just how things worked out in that particular instance that the whole team went straight to the crime scene.

    Soon enough, you found out Spencer was the agent who spent most of his time in the local police stations. You were the agent who spent most of your time with Spencer.

    “What’re you up to, Agent Reid?” you asked with a somewhat playful tone.

    He had been pinning a map to the board you and the BAU team had borrowed for the case. He started marking it up. “I’m making a geological profile of the area. We usually see if the locations of the crime scenes give us any clues to where the unsub is living or where he might kill next.”

    “At NCIS, we do the same thing to see if we can find out where the killer lives--”

    Spencer distractedly corrected you, “Unsub.”

    “Unsub. But we don’t really have cases where we have to predict where the unsub may strike next.”

    The young FBI agent reasoned, “It’s crazy, but you get used to it. Soon, it’s just another part of life.”

    “I don’t think I would want to get used to this kind of stuff.” You couldn’t help your mind from drifting to the deceivingly peaceful form you had observed earlier that day.

    For a moment, Spencer stopped his efficient actions. He was thinking. “... ‘Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me. The Carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.’ Emily Dickinson.”

    “She looked at death like it was such a peaceful thing. Like it was a new beginning.” Your tone was more bittersweet than you had ever heard it sound.

    He turned toward you. Spencer headed for a seat next to yours at the conference room table. “Maybe that’s what it is: just another part of life.”

   “We investigate death everyday...but we never talk about what comes after.”

    The young man smirked slightly, “They obsessed over it enough in the 1800s. Is there even a need to think too much about it anymore?”

    Surprisingly, that got you to laugh. You and Spencer Reid sat there in the conference room, laughing about your elders’ morbid curiosities.

***

    “Happy Monday,” you greeted as you descended the stairs into the basement.

    Gibbs looked up from his fifth boat-in-progress. “Happy Monday, L/n.”

    Similar to everyone else on the team, Gibbs had a unique relationship with you. You hadn’t known Gibbs as long as he’d known Ducky, but the two of you were very close. However, you didn’t think you’d ever be as important to him as Abby.

    Anyway, you and Gibbs had a standing arrangement for dinner every Monday night. It was never anything fancy, nothing with Gibbs ever was. Dinner with the senior agent usually consisted of two orders of Chinese food in his basement.

    “Making slow progress with this one, aren’t you?” you questioned, referring to Gibbs’ latest woodwork.

    He responded, “Doesn’t matter how long it takes, as long as it’s done right.”

    “Yes, sir,” you chuckled. You pulled out the meals while Gibbs set up a makeshift table and chairs.

    About ten minutes later, your boss interrupted what you though was your usual, comfortable silence. “You seem preoccupied.”

    “I am,” you admitted, “It’s the FBI case.”

    He looked you over, then went back to eating. Then, Gibbs easily stated, “It’s not just that.”

    You stared at him hard, trying to come up with something else to say besides the truth. You sighed and repeated him, “It’s not just that, but this isn’t your area of expertise.”

    Once more, all it took was a look.

    “It’s a guy, Gibbs. A cute, kind, and smart guy.” You met his gaze because you expected that that would be enough for him to back off.

    Jarringly (for you, anyway), Gibbs didn’t give up. He continued to stare is Gibbs stare right into your soul.

    “Agent Spencer Reid,” you gave in, revealing the boy’s name. “Has a higher IQ than me...Eh, he has 187. I have--”

    He gave your score for you, “186.”

    “So, it doesn’t really count.”

    Gibbs chuckled, then agreed, “No, it doesn’t.”

    After about an hour, dinner was done. You headed home, but not before mulling over the fact that you had just talked romance with Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Maybe you were closer with him than you had previously thought.

***

    The next morning, you were woken up at 5 A.M. with a phone call from Hotch. At first, you were concerned as to why you weren't notified earlier. You launched out of bed and began to quickly get dressed. Hotch grew hesitant. He didn't seem to want you to go to the crime scene. You didn’t know why. You insisted that you were a federal agent just as he was, and that you had every right to be at any crime scene that had to do with a case you were legally working.

    On your way to where the BAU was, you continued to think about the team. They apparently took you in as one of their own after just one day of working with you. It reminded you of your connections with your almost-family at NCIS. You didn’t mind it, and you were actually warming up to the idea. The only thing you had a problem with was when it interfered with your job. Hotch did that when he tried to keep you from a crime scene. You knew he was trying to protect you, but you were wondering from what.

    The newest crime scene was an abandoned warehouse. Spencer was standing outside, on the phone with someone as you pulled up. When you got out of your car, he handed the phone to Agent Morgan.

    Morgan smiled to himself as he walked away. “Baby, how you always bring such beautiful light in this world is beyond me...Love you, sweetheart.”

    “Who was that on the phone?” you inquired.

    Spencer answered, “Penelope Garcia...Our technical analyst.”

    “Co-workers are allowed to date each other on your side?”

    That last question made him smile. “Nope. And they’re not dating.”

    “...Huh.”

    “Huh indeed.”

    Sighing, you then cracked your neck. “Alright. In we go.” You brushed around Spencer and headed toward the entrance of the warehouse.

    You were surprised when Spencer took hold of your shoulders and stepped back in front of you.

    He seemed as concerned as Hotchner, if not more. “Listen, Y/n. Remember that conversation we had yesterday? You said that you didn’t think you ever wanted to get used to the death that we see. Y/n, there’s a lot of death in there.”

    “No one in this hemisphere can tell you what the unsub is aiming for in there besides me. If we catch this guy, it’ll save everyone from more death than what could be in there.”

    Still, Spencer didn’t let you go.

    “...Please, Spencer.”

    The boy gave you a look that reminded you of a puppy. He stepped aside.

    A few steps later, you were inside. Turns out, a few steps were all you could take. Fifteen people. Three of them were children. It was a long time before you were able to breathe again.

    When you did take a breath, JJ and Emily were at your side. Not that you were complaining. You would need someone to steady you if your knees buckled.

    Hotch came up to the three of you. “This is why I didn’t want you coming here, L/n.”

    “...I’ve never seen a massacre like this...” You still weren’t sure you could remain on your feet.

    Rossi approached. “Do you need to leave for a second?”

    “The Preparation of a Dead Girl...and/or Wife...all the public knows is that it was released sometime in the 1850s,” you slowly breathed out the words after you swallowed. With your knees shaking, you made your way closer to the scene. “He put rods in them to pose them correctly compared to the painting...They were still alive when he put the rods in place.”

    It was hard for you to understand how, but you made it through the rest of the day. Everyone in the BAU could obviously tell you continued to be affected by the most recent crime scene, and you hated that they were all walking on eggshells around you. The bottom line was that you didn’t let it affect your job, and you didn’t see why everyone was treating you differently. Okay, maybe you did see why. It was the same reason why Gibbs let Abby ramble on about the little things sometimes. Family. You were already part of the BAU’s family.

***

    Later that night, you were back home. Your apartment was small, but you didn’t mind. You still found a way to fit all the books and art supplies you wanted in your home.

    There was a knock at your door.

    “Hiya, Spencer,” you softly greeted. You left your door open for him to enter through. You returned to your seat at your pottery wheel. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep working on this while you’re here. It centers me.” You got quieter. “...It calms me down.”

    For a moment, Spencer was silent. “How long have you been in the field?” His question was gentle, unaccusing.

    “Do people get annoyed when you profile them in social situations, Dr. Reid?” Your tone didn’t hold any malice, either.

    He smirked, “All the time.”

    It was your turn to be silent as you resolved to answer Spencer’s question. “Gibbs and I first met when he and his team were working a case at the University I taught at. He came to see me for some time after that. Most of the time it was to use my intellect on other cases he was working...I’m quite proud to say I was one of the few friends he had outside of the agency. Well, until I joined the agency.” You paused as you chuckled. “He recruited me back in ‘03, and I’ve been with the team ever since.”

    Spencer waited. He could tell you weren’t finished.

    “Only...,” you sighed, accepting that you couldn’t hide the following fact from him. “I’ve only been allowed at crime scenes for about a year or so. Gibbs is fiercely protective of me, and it took me years to get him to let me into the field...Man, I hope he doesn’t find out I acted today. He would never let me see a dead body again...not even in Ducky’s autopsy.” You said that last part more to yourself.

    He smiled at you from his chair. “I think you acted perfectly fine today, Y/n.”

    “Betcha Agent Rossi didn’t think so,” you chuckled, “He was read to dodge my vomit when I showed up today.” You stopped talking for a moment when your mind jumped back to the bloody warehouse. “...Your team doesn’t think I’m fit to be in the field.”

    Spencer almost matter-of-factly stated, “They don’t think that.”

    “Well, what do they think?” The vase you had been working on was thrown off balance on the pottery wheel. You set to work fixing it.

    The male agent never moved his eyes from you. “They care about you, Y/n...I do, too.”

    You were thankful you had your craft to focus on, it helped you hide your smile. “I know that, Spencer...I know that.”

    Spencer stayed for the next few hours. Nothing physical happened. You eventually put away your pottery and broke out some wine. The two of you spent the night talking about arts, literature, and maybe other things that the two of you needed to discuss.

***

    The following day, you made it to the local police station by 7 A.M. You first stop was the conference room where Spencer was already studying the map as closely as the last time the two of you had been in that room.

    “Did you even sleep last night?” You inquired as you set your things down in one of the chairs.

    As expected, Spencer barely glanced in your direction as you found a seat for yourself. He was already too immersed in his work. “I actually kind of slept in today...I have you and Walt Whitman to thank for that.” Surprising you, Spencer glanced over his shoulder and caught your gaze.

    His inside joke got you to throw your head back in laughter. “Alright, Spencer. Here’s what I want you to do.” You hurled yourself out of your chair, and moved to stand next to the young agent. “I want you to explain this map to me. You don’t even have a key for it.”

    Spencer shrugged, “It’s easy enough. These are parks, these are obviously areas of water, and this right here is a Chuck E. Cheese, so these marks mean places entertainment--”

    “What?”

    He pointed to a part of the map that was less than five blocks away from the second crime scene. “This mark right here is a Chuck E. Cheese. Which means--”

    “No Spencer, you don’t understand. NCIS had a body at a Chuck E. Cheese. There can’t be too many of these in this area. This is very close to the second crime scene, but not close enough that it would make sense for the unsub to still be on foot. What if the unsub was walking home and the former marine saw the weapon? The unsub has used the same gun in every killing. He would have to take it home with him. The unsub could live in this area!” You drew a circle with your finger of a quarter mile radius around the second crime scene.

    Spencer didn’t agree. “I don’t know, Y/n. All of this seems highly circumstantial. Couldn’t this all be a coincidence?”

    “There are no such thing as coincidences,” you shook your head.

    It was enough to get Gibbs and the rest of the team to work with the BAU on the case. Within the hour, most of your NCIS family were present in the local police department.

    Hotch greeted Gibbs with a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Agent Gibbs. I wish it could be under better circumstances.”

    Gibbs nodded, “The feeling is mutual, Agent Hotchner.”

    “Your Agent Y/n has proven to be very impressive.”

    There was a blink-and-you-miss-it twitch of the lips for Gibbs. For half of a moment, he smiled. “That’s why I recruited them.”

    Meanwhile, you were still in the conference room with Spencer. Tony, Ziva, and McGee had joined the two of you. You were explaining the details of he case to your three coworkers.

    As usual, Tony got off topic as soon as he could. “So, Agent Reid” Tony was nose to nose with the uncomfortable FBI agent, “you’re just a hybrid of McGeek and L/n, aren’t you?” He sniffed the air. “I think I smell a bit of Palmer on you as well.”

    Spencer looked anywhere but Tony. “I don’t know who Palmer is.”

    “He’s our medical examiner’s assistant, Spencer,” you clarified, “Tony, what the hell are you doing?”

    Ziva tried to help you out. “Leave the poor kid alone.”

    Suddenly, Gibbs entered the room with Hotch. The rest of the BAU were behind them. Before Tony noticed their presence, Gibbs was already behind the movie expert. Tony received a slap to the back of the head.

    Gibbs leveled voice suggested, “Yeah, Tony. Leave Agent Reid alone.”

    Tony grimaced, “Yes, sir.” As he moved to the conference room table, Tony passed by you. He whispered in your ear in his usual, quick way, “You’ll be the dominate one in the relationship.”

    Naturally, you were mortified by his words. How had he figured out so quickly what was going on between you and Spencer? Was it really that obvious? Was it distracting from the case? You hoped it wasn’t. You glanced around. No one seemed to notice Tony’s exchange with you. Except for maybe Gibbs, whom you could’ve almost sworn that he’d shot a knowing smirk in your direction.

    Hotch directed, “Agent L/n, could you tell everyone what you’ve put together?”

    "NCIS’s victim was murdered less that five blocks away from the BAU’s second crime scene. Eleven of the fifteen victims in the fourth crime scene were taken from the same quarter mile radius.”

    Emily Prentiss added, “All of our earlier victims were from all over the state. Do you think our unsub is devolving in that he can’t wait long enough to go too far to find his victims anymore?”

   ��“Yes,” you agreed, “It would also explain how Colonel Wilfred, the victim from NCIS connects to the other murders without reflecting any of Courbet’s paintings.”

    JJ, suddenly got a notification on her phone. “There’s been two more reports of missing individuals in the same area. Both were white women in their twenties...about 220 ponds...they look like our second and third victims.” She looked worriedly from her phone to you.

    “The Hammock and The Sleeping Spinner...,” you whispered the second and third crimes to yourself in order. “...He could be going after Young Ladies on the Banks of Seine. It makes sense with his running chronological theme. The reason why they look so alike with the previous victims is because it was rumored Courbet used his sisters for a lot of his portraits. Out unsub might be trying to replicate the likeness in Gustave’s muses.”

    Hotch directed, “Alright. We may have some time to save these two women. Spencer, stick with the geographical profiling. Rossi, Prentiss, canvass Jones Avenue through Tenth Boulevard. JJ, Morgan, take Damien Road through Johnson Street. I’ll stay here and run point.”

    Gibbs instructed his own team, “Y/n, stay here and work with Reid. McGee, Tony: Dischem through Clark. Ziva, you and I will take Harren to Williams.”

    With the whole police department, along with most of Gibbs and Hotch’s team canvassing, it was likely the unsub’s house would be found within the following few hours.

    Meanwhile, you and Spencer were back in the nearly empty police station. The two of you were in separate conference room chairs, and you both were staring at that map. It had delivered an extremely helpful break in the case, but it seemed to have done all it could. Hotch was in another room with the police captain, so you and Spencer were left to your own devices.

    That was, until a secretary came running into the conference room. “Help! We need help!”

    Both you and Spencer launched out of your respective seats.

    “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, alarmed.

    The secretary elaborated, “A girl called the tip line. She sounds terrified. She claims to be Samantha Hawford, one of--”

    “the missing women,” both you and Spencer finished with the secretary.

    “Connect us, please,” you requested as calmly as you could.

    She silently nodded, and quickly left the room.

    Seconds later, a line lit up on the phone in the conference room. It turned out to actually be Samantha. She was hysterical, but you eventually got her to calm down enough to communicate.

    Earlier, she had stolen the unsub’s phone, and she was waiting for a safe time to call the tip line she had seen a lot on T.V.

    While you encouraged Samantha to keep talking, Spencer called Garcia. She traced the phone call for the two of you.

    A minute later, you knew where Samantha was. You were on your way out with Spencer when Hotch gave you his blessing to go. It was obvious neither you nor Spencer were going to wait for Hotchner’s agreement.

    You and Spencer were able to get to Samantha's location in fifteen minutes. Which was good because five minutes into your journey, the unsub found Samantha and hung up the phone. You prayed the unsub kept her alive long enough for you and Spencer to get there.

    When the two of you did arrive, the unsub was about to stab the other girl with the first metal rod when you and Spencer found them. He had both the girls tied up as he prepared to stab them with the metal rods and shoot them in the heart.

    At first, Spencer tried to talk him down. It was obvious that it was going no where.

    “I can make sure the world knows of your works of art,” you suddenly lied, surprising yourself. “People took pictures of your crime--masterpieces. They could be hung anywhere and everywhere. You could become even more famous than Corbet. But let me tell you: if you hurt these two girls, no one will ever know who you are. Not your name, and not your face.”

    Chillingly, there was hope in the killer’s eyes. As you’d guessed, he looked a lot like Gustave Courbet himself. You could see why he wanted to use Courbet’s image to make himself famous.

    Eventually, you got the killer to turn over his weapons, and turn himself in. You cuffed him yourself. By then, your team, the local police, and the BAU had arrived. You turned the killer over to the local P.D. The two girls were crying as they thanked you profusely for saving them. You tried to push their attention away from you. It didn’t work too well.

    Once all the chaos was over, you were back at the police station, gathering your things.

    Hotch addressed you, making you turn around. “Agent L/n.”

    “Uh...Yes, sir?”

    His whole team was with him. “We would like to thank you for your work on this case.”

    Morgan complimented, “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

    “Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” you reasoned, “I mean, you guys have Spencer. He probably would've figured things out just as fast as me.. Well, almost as fast  as me.”

    Spencer smiled in a way that was contagious. “Don’t try to brush this off, Y/n. You know how important you are.”

    Hotch continued, “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about. You’ve shown promising capabilities as a profiler, and we want you to know that there’s a place for you on our team.”

    “Wait. On your guys’ team? In the FBI?” You were nearly in shock. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

    JJ offered, “Well, we would really like it if you agreed.”

    “...I can’t. I’m sorry guys, but NCIS is my home. They’re my family there. I mean, honestly, in these past few days, you guys have kind become my family to, but I don’t think I could leave NCIS. At least not right now.”

    For the first time, you saw Aaron Hotchner truly smile. “It’s alright. The job’s here for you whenever you want it.”

    “Thank you.” You were sincerely grateful.

    Thee rest of the team left, but Spencer hung back.

    “You know,” you sweetly took his hand in yours, ”my not joining has nothing to do with you.”

    He squeezed your hand in his. “I know, but it would’ve been nice to see you more often.”

    “I guess we’re going to have to make it work as is,” you smirked.

    Keeping his gaze on your intertwined hands, Spencer chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

    Slowly, you leaned in to kiss the boy.

    At first, Spencer kept his hand in yours. Then, he moved both arms around you, pulling you in close.

    Your hands were o his chest, but you soon snaked them around his neck to get lost in his hair.

    Okay, so you were beginning to regret your choice not to join the BAU just a little bit.

***

    Before you went home that night, you went back to NCIS. Spencer had to go back to Quantico to get some paperwork done, so you couldn’t spend the night with him. You decided to go back to NCIS to do the same thing.

    “Y/n! Y/n, Y/n, Y/n!” Right outside the elevator doors, a certain adorable forensic scientist was waiting for you.

    Practically catching the incoming woman, you tried to keep her steady on her feet. “Hi, Abby! How’ve you been?”

    She was almost vibrating with excitement. “I’m completely fine. It’s you I wanna know about! How were Fornell’s friends at the FBI? Were they mean? They treated you nicely, right?” Abby continued on with the onslaught of questions until you got to your desk.

    When you sat down, you looked up to Abby as you searched your mind for a way to tell her you needed quiet right then.

    Gibbs beat you to it. He had been sitting at his desk. You only noticed him when he gathered his few things to leave. He stopped by your desk and explained, “Abby, it’s late and they’re tired. Leave them alone.”

    With a quick, slightly intimidated glance to Gibbs and a “Sorry, Y/n,” and wave to you, Abby was gone.

    However, Gibbs stayed behind a bit longer to knowingly ask, “So, you didn’t take the job, huh?”

    “No,” you tiredly smiled, “I’m staying right here, boss.”

    It was then that Gibbs did something that he very rarely did. He returned a smile. “Good,” was his final statement before Gibbs left for the night.

***

    In the end, you made sure the killer’s name was never released to the public. You didn’t want anything to be given to the distributed criminal mind. However, you knew that some name needed to be given to the person behind the painting-based murders. You just expected it to have something to do with Gustave Courbet himself. You didn’t expect the previously unknown subject to be called The Chuck E. Cheese Killer. The nickname ended a pizza franchise.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! If you would like to read more, I have more fics over on my page. You should go check it out. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I take requests for one-shots, multi-chapters, headcannons, and preferences. No smut, please. I write for a variety of fandoms. If you’re wondering if I write for a specific fandom, please ask me. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you.<3

*******

(Behind the scenes stuff)

Proofreader: @girl-of-many-faces

Crime scene #1 here

Crime scene #2 here

Crime scene #3 here

Crime scene #4 here

What would’ve been crime scene #5 here

[phinnsyreads]

Item #: SCP-009

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Object is to be contained within a sealed storage tank of heat-resistant alloy with dimensions not less than 2m x 2m x 2m.

Under no circumstances should SCP-009 be exposed to temperatures in excess of 0°C when not undergoing testing, and no water-based solutions shall be allowed within 30 meters of the object's containment area. Object's chamber is to be fitted with temperature sensors which must be monitored at all times, and is to be kept refrigerated by no fewer than three (3) redundant cooling units. Any malfunction of sensors, or of coolant systems, is to be reported and repaired immediately. If at any time the temperature in the containment area climbs above -5°C, the chamber is to be locked down and flooded with coolant until temperatures return to safe levels (-30°C to -25°C).

Containment area is to be kept in total vacuum during testing, and personnel interacting with SCP-009 must wear full environmental protection gear. Following testing, all equipment, personnel, and other materials must undergo dehydration procedures and be quarantined for no less than 12 hours. Any moisture found displaying properties of SCP-009 is to be quarantined and added to the containment area as soon as possible. Living organisms found to be contaminated by SCP-009 are to be terminated by chemical dessication and extracted molecules of SCP-009 added to containment.

Description: SCP-009 is approximately ███ liters of a substance which superficially resembles distilled water (H2O), except with a distinct bright red hue. This red hue is discernible in all phases, and serves as the most expedient method of identifying contaminated matter before its anomalous properties manifest. In contrast to mundane water, SCP-009 assumes a liquid phase at temperatures between -100°C and 0°C, and a solid state above those temperatures. At temperatures below -100°C, SCP-009 vaporizes into a gaseous phase similar to steam.

Examinations of the atomic structure of SCP-009 have proved inconclusive. The substance appears to be identical to normal water molecules, with the exception of [REDACTED] in contrast to standard laws of enthalpy. Dr. █████, Site ██'s resident expert on Xenospatial Physics suggests that SCP-009 may originate in a universe with alternate physical laws.

The most hazardous property of SCP-009, however, is its ability to contaminate normal H2O. When in contact with any aqueous solution, SCP-009 will, through unknown mechanisms, transfer its anomalous properties to other objects and creatures. Testing has shown it capable of assimilating ice, steam, tea, fruit juice, seawater, blood, and [DATA EXPUNGED]. The time it takes for this process to occur varies depending on temperature and the exact chemical composition of affected matter, and had been observed as taking between 3 minutes and ██ hours.

Experiments on D-Class personnel have illustrated the process of conversion by the substance, which has been found to follow a consistent pattern:

1. Initial Exposure: Subject is exposed to SCP-009, and it begins assimilating any moisture present on the exposed surface. Creatures in this stage do not commonly notice any unusual symptoms except for a slight warming sensation.

2. Surface Conversion: Frost begins to form on the exposed area as the heat produced by the subject and SCP-009 itself raises its temperature above 0°C. This stage can take anywhere from one (1) minute to █ hours, during which time subjects begin to feel [REDACTED] crystals from the epidermis.

3. Deep Tissue Conversion: Exponential increase in temperature of SCP-009 causes runaway reaction throughout subject's body, resulting in [REDACTED]. Actual blood loss is minimal due to ice crystals [REDACTED], allowing subjects to remain alive and conscious for up to ██ hours.

4. [DATA EXPUNGED]

Testing on D-Class personnel was discontinued as of 4/23/20██.

Addendum: Circumstances of Retrieval: Subject was found in ████, Alaska, on 11/05/19██. The Foundation became involved after reports were obtained from the native ████ Tribe, who came across the mangled bodies of a team of seal hunters which had apparently been ship-wrecked ██ kilometers from the village.

All victims were found encased in red ice. Cause of death recorded as internal bleeding, though closer examination found [REDACTED]. It is surmised that the low ambient temperatures in the area retarded the freezing process. This prolonged the time to total conversion by ██ hours, and allowed the victims to remain conscious until [DATA EXPUNGED].

Origin of SCP-009 is currently unknown. Investigation into similar events or materials in the area is ongoing. Evidence at the scene suggests [REDACTED], possibly involving SCP-███.

See Exploration Log A009-1 for details.

— Exploration Log 11/05/19██ —

Situational Report: Mobile Task Force Beta-7 (The “Haz-Matters”) was deployed to recovery site to catalogue and safely retrieve samples of SCP-009 for transport to Site ██. Agent ████ Bryce (MTF-B7) made a visual inspection of the area and noted three (3) bodies, all male, between the ages of ██ and 40 years. Dr. ███, also on-site, surmised from the relative position of subjects that Mr. ██████ (Age 32; hereafter referred to as Subject Zero) was the origin point of [REDACTED]. Subsequent subjects are presumed to have been exposed to SCP-009 while attempting to help Subject Zero back to the wreckage of the boat. During standard perimeter sweep, Agent ██████ Hewes located what appeared to be humanoid tracks leading Northeast. After brief deliberation, a three-man team consisting of Agents Hewes, Whitmore, and Cassidy was dispatched to investigate potential security breach.

<Begin Log - 6:42:43 EST> Agent Hewes: We’ve found something, Control. It’s a cave. The tracks lead inside. Control: Copy, Hewes. What do you see? Hewes: Looks like a crack in the ice, its… maybe a meter tall. The opening’s not very wide. Agent Whitmore: Cap’n, we got a body!

[Unidentified shuffling noises are heard.]

Control: We didn’t copy, Hewes. Repeat. Hewes: There’s a subject here, control. Frozen in the Skip. Male… about 15. Looks like he was trying to crawl away from something. There’s a spear-gun here… also frozen. It’s been fired. Control: Any signs of trauma?

[There is a pause.]

Agent Cassidy: Without touching him, I can’t be sure. But it looks like he was stabbed by something. See how he’s gripping his chest here? Right where this spike is growing out… he might’ve been attacked. Hewes: Did you hear her, control? Control: Affirmative. Tag the coordinates for recovery, and proceed into the cave. Whitmore: We usin’ live fire, cap’n? Hewes: There might be hostiles, so yes. But keep ‘em in single-shot mode. Don’t want the guns getting too hot. Cassidy: Good call. Don’t wanna’ end up like this guy. Whitmore: [unintelligible] … that’s for sure.

[Agents ready their weapons and proceed. Approximately two (2) minutes pass.]

Whitmore: [unintelligible]. Control: Please repeat, Hewes, we didn’t copy. Hewes: Its… there’s a chamber in here, control. I’d say… 5 or 6 meters in diameter. It’s filled with red ice. In the middle… there’s a pool. Looks about 3 meters wide. Depth unknown. Cassidy: ‘The fuck hap- [screams are heard]

[Gunfire]

Control: Hewes, come in! Are there hostiles?

[There is a brief pause]

Hewes: Fuckin’ hell… negative, control, just- … Jesus, a fucking polar bear. Its dead. There’s dozens of bodies here. Not human. I see a few seals, a snow fox… and a… What the hell? Whitmore: ‘Da fuck is that? Cassidy: No, no, no, no… oh, god. Control: Hewes? Do you copy? Hewes: Cassidy found a… um… a spider. A giant spider.

[There is a pause, during which shuffling and hard breathing are heard]

Control: Is it alive? What do you mean by giant? Hewes: I mean fucking huge, control! At least a meter leg span. Its frozen… wait, no… shit, I don’t see anything inside. It almost looks like its made of this stuff. Cassidy: [unintelligible] not possible… we’re nowhere close to Germany. Whitmore: What? What about Germany? Cassidy: Cap’n, I’m pretty sure that’s thirty-twenty-three. Control: Repeat, captain? Hewes: Cassidy said the spider is SCP-3023, control.

[There is a pause.]

Control: That’s not possible, Hewes. Why would she think that? Cassidy: [Voice elevated] I’m sure, Control! I’ve worked with 3023. It’s an instance made of Skip-Nine! Whitmore: Wait, what’s 3023? Control: That is classified. Agent Cassidy, you are to speak no more of this. If the specimen is destroyed, there is no reason to worry about it. Please continue your search. Cassidy: [Mumbling] But how the fuck did it get here? Hewes: We copy, control. Cassidy, sweep the perimeter. See if there’s any side tunnels. Cassidy: But- Hewes: ████, that’s an order. Cassidy: [Unintelligible]. Hewes: █████, check these corpses. See if there’re any humans. Whitmore: On it. Control: Agent Hewes, how deep is the pool you mentioned? Hewes: Can’t see the bottom. God… I’m having SCP-354 flashbacks… this is not cool. Control: Focus, captain. Is there anything nearby you can use to measure the depth? Hewes: [Pauses] Well, the spider has a spear sticking out of it. Control: Can you safely retrieve it? Hewes: The suit should protect me, right? Control: All the same, try not to touch the affected material. Hewes: Alright… I’ve got it… should work. Looks to be about 1.5 meters long. Control: Copy that, Hewes. Proceed with caution.

[There is a pause.]

Hewes: Well, it’s definitely more than a meter deep. I could go further, but I’d have to get my hand closer to that stuff… suit or no suit, I’d prefer not to do that. Control: Affirmative, Captain. We’ll dispatch some D-Class with gear to test that out. Continue your search. Hewes: Copy that… Well, I guess I’m- Cassidy: [Voice distant] Captain! Hewes: Stand-by, control. What is it, Cassidy? Cassidy: [Voice distant] I think you’re going to want to see this, sir! I think I know where the spider came from! Hewes: Control, I’m going deeper in the cave. Control: Affirmative, proceed.

[Approximately one (1) minute of boots crunching on ice and packed snow]

Hewes: … Oh, that's not good. Control: What do you see, captain? Hewes: A… an aperture. About a meter in diameter. It's covered in the stuff… Cassidy!

[10 seconds of silence]

Hewes: ████, report! Control: Do you have a visual of Agent Cassidy? Hewes: No. Shit, she must've gone inside! Control: Please remain calm. Describe this aperture. Hewes: I- uh… it just looks like a tunnel, but there's no ice past the mouth - red or otherwise. I can make out a dim light coming from somewhere inside. Might be Cassidy's torch. Control: Is there anything else unusual? Hewes: Cassidy! Cassidy! Control: Captain Hewes, please respond. Is there anything else unusual about the tunnel? Hewes: Yeah, it's… it's wet. The walls are… and the floor. There's a puddle about a meter down. Shit, it's… the puddle is red.

[A few minutes of breathing and shuffling noises]

Hewes: Control, did you get that? Control: Affirmative. Stand-by.

[30 seconds of breathing, followed by approaching footsteps]

Whitmore: Yo, what's up? Where's Cassidy? Hewes: She went in there. Whitmore: … Yo, Cassidy! Holla' back, girl!

[30 seconds of Silence]

Hewes: [unintelligible], Control, I'm going in there. Control: Negative, Hewes! We're rerouting a team of D-Class for recovery. Your orders are to withdraw the rest of your team and await further orders. Hewes: [DATA REDACTED] Whitmore: Whoa, hold up! Take it easy! Control: You have your orders, Hewes. I don't think I need to remind you [DATA EXPUNGED].

[45 seconds of silence]

Hewes: Copy, control… let's go, █████, <End Log>

Addendum: 11/09/19██ After initial report and retrieval of specimens, it was confirmed that the arachnoid entity found by MFT-B7 (see attached file) was indeed a previously unknown instance of SCP-3023. Investigation has revealed the instance originated in [REDACTED] as a result of [DATA EXPUNGED].

Addendum: 12/06/19██ After repeated inquiries, it should be noted that the portion of coastline upon which the initial victims were found was barren rock approximately █ meters from the seashore, and was sufficiently dry and cold to prevent significant contamination of the surrounding area. Had the site been closer to the water, there is little doubt an extinction-level event would have ensued.

Consideration of upgrading SCP-009 to Keter class under review.

Addendum: 12/16/20██ Super-cooling of SCP-009 for the purposes of experimentation is disallowed until further notice. Personnel are advised that liquid nitrogen is only to be used on the subject in controlled amounts, and only until temperatures have reached acceptable levels.

Related note: Possible application of SCP-009 in cold fusion research pending evaluation.

Memo from O-5 Command: 1/09/20██ We've decided to keep this thing Euclid for now. We understand the concerns raised, but as long as you keep the power on and nobody goes near its containment area, there shouldn't be a problem. That's why we're keeping it in Site ██, after all.

As for the cold fusion research, we're putting a pin in that for now. Frankly, we don't have it in the budget for another SNAFU like Site ██. The salvage team still hasn't found Dr. █████'s [REDACTED]

Cross-Testing report 9507F23

The following experiment record was recovered via a chance occurrence of SCP-507 shifting into a universe in which the described test was carried out using SCP-107. The applicability of the reported findings to our own universe is pending review.

Input: 10mL of SCP-009 Result: "Red snow" fell in test area for 27 minutes with moderate intensity. Grass growing in test area began runaway reaction which ended with entire area being "frozen" within minutes. Notably, anti-enthalpathic reaction of SCP-009 did not extend past the effective radius of SCP-107, for reasons still under investigation. Non-grass plants in area turned bright red in color, greatly expanded, and mutated to display cyan-colored "tentacles" similar to those of species Drosera capensis. Mucilage produced by these tentacles later found to be tiny beads of SCP-009. How the plant is able to survive with SCP-009 integrated into its cell structure is currently under investigation, with preliminary hypothesis being the plant is a reflection of flora from the substance's native universe.

[The voice of Agent Hewes was provided by @iridethedirt.] [The voice of Agent Whitmore was provided by @navox-the-weary.] [The voice of Agent Cassidy was provided by Brittany █████ █████.] [The voice of the O-5 Command memo was provided by @ryanvoid.]

[creedofpoetry]

Hell's Assassin

As soon as John got of work, he realized he was missing something. A file? Journal? “What am I missing?” He asked himself. Right, his rifle. You see, John was an assassin. The day was the 15th of July, and John had just finished assassinating Tom McCartney, a lawyer who was also a witness to a client's crime. The crime was murder, but that's all John knew, as he avoided asking too many questions...quietly and discreetely is how he liked to work.

John packed his rifle into his suitcase and traveled home by car back to his wife. As soon as he got home, his wife, Tiffany was waiting by the door. John walked in and gave his wife a kiss. “How was work honey?” Tiffany asked. “It was alright,” John replied. He laid a sports bag full of cash on the coffee table. Tiffany's eyes lit up. “Oh baby, I love you!” “I know you do baby.” John said, kissing his wife again.

“Your work is so dangerous John, isn't there another way for us to make money?” Tiffany has asked this before, she was afraid for him, nonetheless the illegality of it. John pondered this and looked at his wedding ring. “Do you really want me to find another job?” Tiffany cuddled up to him and looked at him with begging eyes, nodding. John smiled and agreed. “Well, wife, anything for you.” Tiffany rested her head on his lap and fell asleep, thanking him.

After a few moments of closing his eyes, John woke up somewhere...odd. Where am I? John thought. It was as if he was somewhere in a desert, upon closer inspection, he realized it was his neighborhood, yet the buildings, they were desolated. The roads were covered in sand. It looked more like Hell than anything. It occurred to John he was dreaming, the same dream, over and over again for a week now. Suddenly, the sky turned red, blinking red, with a siren that sounded like an air raid.

Suddenly, he woke up in his bed, the alarm clock blaring. He shut the alarm off and got out of bed. Tiffany woke up a few seconds later and looked at John. “Ready for some coffee?” She asked. “Hell yeah.” John said, tightening his robe and walking out the door. Downstairs, Tiffany placed two cup of coffee on the kitchen table. John poured a shot of whiskee into his. Tiffany chuckled, “You're going to be an alcoholic.” “If I was headed toward alcoholism due to a shot of whiskee, I wouldn't deserve testicles.” Tiffany laughed. “Well, drink up!” “Damn straight,” John said, sipping from his cup.

“I had that dream again, last night,” John said to Tiffany. She nodded, “Before we analyze your dreams, tell me what you're going to do for a career, now that you're out of the business of killing.” “Well, after college, because of joining the Navy SEAL's, killing was all I knew, but I could fall back on my engineering degree and double my military training for a government job, maybe FBI?” John explained. Tiffany smiled, “That'd be great for you!” she said. “Awesome, I have a cousin in the FBI, he'll be a good reference.” Tiffany started clapping.

Tim's phone started ringing. He answered, “Hey John!” Tim knew nothing of John's previous career. “Hey Tim, I was thinking about joining the FBI, think you can get me in?” “Sure thing, swing by the office and we'll get you started.” “Thanks, see you soon.” John said, hanging up. He looked at Tiffany and gave a thumbs up. She hugged him. “Alright Tiffany my phone will be on, if you need anything, just call me.” “Yes, husband,” she smiled.

Tim's door knocked a few times. He answered and John walked in. “Welcome to my office!” Tim said. There was an expensive wooden desk in front of the window, with a bookcase full of law books to the right. To the left there was a painting of a mountain. “Is that Mt. Everest?” John asked. “Sure is, me and a few buddies went hiking there for a few days, snowboarding and all.” “Right, so how do we do this? An interview, resume?” Tim laughed, “I guess if you weren't related to the FBI Director.” John simply nodded, waiting for more. “So, when do you want to start?” Tim asked. “It'd be nice to start the training today, if that's alright.” “The training is in the field...” “Sounds good,” John said. “Come along partner,” Tim said. John smiled, being excited to be a government agent. “How much do agents make?” “Not much, but enough.” “ As long as my wife is satisfied.” “Women do enjoy cold hard cash.” “Mhm,” John said, lighting a cigarette. As he took a puff, his phone started ringing. He picked up, “This is John.”

Tim saw John's facial expression, bewildered. All John could here was crying, screaming, fire crackling, and the sound of sand blowing in the wind. John cleared his throat and hung up. “Who was it?” Tim asked. “Nobody, it sounded surreal, almost like a dream.” Tim told John to ignore it and invited him to his car. “We got a call about an assassination, victim identified as Tom McCartney,” Tim said to John. John rubbed his eyes. “Any leads?” John asked. “Ballistics, motive, and a witness.” John doubted there could be a witness, seeing how professional he was at being an assassin.

They arrived at the crime scene and exited the vehicle. They walked up to the body and there he was, yesterday's target. A bullet wound in his chest and blood everywhere. Tim told John about the angle of trajectory and location of the shooter. “This was the third assassination this month. The motive was obviously a paycheck-" “And the witness?” John asked. “Me,” Tim replied. John shuddered. “Look John, I'm not one to give up my family, but this has John Paul written all over it.” “What do you want?” John asked. “Simply for you to be quiet while we cover this up, then we head out to lunch.” “Sounds fair,” said John.

At lunch, John was eating a tray of chicken wings and Tim a hot dog with fries. “You're lucky I was the witness John.” “A simple tying of loose ends could have saved the day.” Tim nodded. “I'm assuming Tiffany wanted you to find a more...stable job?” “She was afraid I'd get hurt.” “The FBI isn't the safest job in the world,” Tim said. “But it is legal,” said John. Changing the subject, Tim asked John about his dreams. “It's as if there was a fallout and there's a purpose for me being there, but I don't know what.” John said. “Hm, anyway, I don't want to stress you out, so take the rest of the day off, go enjoy.” “Yes sir,” said John.

John got home and greeted his wife. “So tell me what happened!” exlaimed Tiffany. “I got the job, but Tim knows about the assassination yesterday.” Tiffany gasped. “He got me out of trouble, but I'm afraid word may get around.” “Would Tim tell on you?” She asked. “He's always been a gossip, but I think enough cash can cool the fire.” Tiffany sighed in relief. “Anyway, I need a shower,” said John. “I'll take one with you,” replied Tiffany.

In the shower, John was caressing Tiffany's breast, giving her kisses on her neck. They sudded each other with soap and rinsed off. Before getting out John brushed his tongue on Tiffany's lips and they massaged each other's tongues, kissing every few seconds. He hugged her and pecked her on the cheek. “I love you,” said Tiffany. John tapped Tiffany on the nose and said it back. Getting out of the shower, John put on his jeans and cracked open a beer and turned on the news, and there was a report on the death of Tom McCartney, John quickly turned the channel to the game.

Tiffany sat down next to him, wearing a jersey. After a couple beers, John nodded off...”Come to me John, come to me!” he heard, somewhere beyond that cliff. He walked forward, into the sand. “Are you ready John? I've been waiting for you...” He jumped after a snake slithered across his boot. He looked up at the cliff, there was a woman standing there, blue jeans, boots, a white t-shirt and leather jacket. Her hair was black and down to her shoulders. She beckoned him and walked forward. “Aren't you that assassin, who got caught by the FBI?” She asked. “I guess, who are you?” “Ariel,” she replied. “What do you want?” He asked. “I need your help,” said Ariel. She handed John a piece of paper, “Meet me there.” John felt a chill run up his spine. “John, John...” he heard, “John!” he woke up to his wife, saying his name.” Still on the couch, he sat up, “You've been out for an hour!” Tiffany laughed. “I'm sorry honey,” John replied. He could feel something in his coat pocket. He reached in and pulled out a piece of paper.

The paper had an address on it, some coffee shop downtown. He looked at the time, 2:30pm. As his wife slept, he got in his car and drove to the address, might as well. And there he saw her, Ariel. He parked in the parking lot and got out of his vehicle. He walked up to her and said, “I'm sorry, but don't I recognize you? I have this paper telling me to meet someone here, you look like her.” “Sit down John...” He was surprised as he sat down. “You're good looking for a man your age,” she said.

“Thanks, that's what my wife tells me.” “Aw, always the good ones who are taken.” John nodded and beckoned to the waitress, “Can I get a small coffee please? Black.” “Same,” Ariel said. “Let's get through this quickly John, I'm not here on a date and in no way am I trying to fuck a married man...but I do need your help.” “How do you know who I am?” John asked. “FBI database,” she said. John nearly spit out his coffee. “You're a government agent?” “Yes,” said Ariel. “What’s the deal?” He asked. “You're FBI now, that's why I need you. I need a sniper to help my team in a drug bust, it's a SWAT team. After the drug bust we need to take the coke, and bring it to Mexico, posing as smugglers.” Ariel whispered. John thought it over, “Do I need to convince you at all?” Ariel said. “No, let me talk it over with my wife, do you have a number?” “Sure,” said Ariel as she wrote it down and handed it to him. “Don't wait too long,” Ariel said, winking to him.

John arrived back home and woke his wife, Tiffany. “Baby, I have a question to ask you.” “What is it honey?” I found this in my pocket, he handed her the address. It was odd, I dreamt about someone giving me that and when I got there, it was the girl from my dream.” “Weird,” Tiffany said. “Mhm, she wants me as a sniper for some drug bust, they're SWAT apparently.” “You must get a mission bonus or something, will you be safe?” She asked, concerned. John rubbed her back, “I've been in way worse situations in the Navy honey, it seems like a simple get in, get out operation,” John said. “Alright, go for it,” Tiffany said, “...and John, please be careful.” John gave his wife a kiss.

He called the number on the note, “Hello?” Ariel answered. “I'm in.” John said. She told him where to meet tomorrow. It was night, and John fell asleep next to his wife. John was lying atop a desert like cliff with his sniper. He doesn't recollect how he got there, but the target was closing in...and there he was, Officer Kimble of the known terrorist group, RPT, or Russian Prophets of Truth. He took the 2 mile shot, and down went Kimble. ‘Call of Duty ain't got nothin' on me,’ John thought. Suddenly, the ledge of the cliff caved, and John could feel himself falling, falling. He woke up in sweat. He looked at the time, 7am. He was careful getting out of bed, not to wake his wife.

After getting ready, John drove to the meeting point. There he saw two SWAT trucks, a few police, and Ariel waiting for him. She waved for him to get out of the vehicle. He got out and walked up to her. “We have you here, a humvee, there's an old tower a mile away, where you'll provide sniper cover during the bust. Just follow us and divert toward the tower on the GPS.” “Seems simple enough.” John said. She handed him a suitcase. “There's your payment, 500k, this operation is a bit off the record, so be careful.” John entered the humvee and buckled his seatbelt. After 20 minutes of driving, John reached his destination and climbed the tower. He said through his mic, “Cover in position.” “Let's do this,” Ariel's voice buzzed through the mic.

Through his sniper he could see the empty part of the valley where the bust was going down. Everyone was in position. Here they came, the Mexicans smuggling the cocaine. Ariel handed one of the smugglers a dufflebag. All seems to have been going smoothly, when suddenly one of Mexicans called out, “Police! Police!” Their cover was blown. Shots rang out through the air. Everyone jumped behind cover. John took a shot, one down, another, two, and another, three. SWAT took out the rest. “Everyone alive out there?” Said John. “Can't say for the smugglers.” Ariel said. “Alright, pack this shit up and get it ready for Mexico...John,” Ariel said, “You're free to go.” “Hooyah,” John said, and got into the humvee, driving back to his car.

As he entered his vehicle, he gave Tim a call, “I just got done with a SWAT operation, 500k, they paid me.” “Under the table?” Tim replied. “Over the top, more like it.” John said. As Tim was about to reply, John saw in his rearview mirror, a shadow creeping up from the back seat. John gasped as he felt a bag cover his head. He heard the sound of his car door open and was pushed out of his car as he felt himself being beaten by several people. He could hardly hear Spanish as he passed out.

He came to...”The cocaine...where is it?” Said a random voice. “What the fuck is going on?” John asked. “The cocaine, Agent Paul.” “Mexico, it's going to Mexico...let me go!” John shouted, through the bag. “In due time, John, first...” the stranger pulled the bag off of John's head, he could see his wife tied to the chair next to him, tears dripping down her face...”Tell me why operations have to run smoothly.” “Look, if it's money you want-" the stranger interrupted, “Operations have to run smoothly, so everybody gets paid. And John, I didn't get paid...did I?” ”I was just doing my job!” John said, “Please, let my wife go...” “John!” She cried out. “Shh, Tiffany, shh, men are talking.” “I'm not an asshole, John, just an entrepreneur of sorts.” “I'm going to let you and your wife go, I just want your word that you'll stay out of the Cartel’s business.” “Fine, just let us go.” John said. They were let outside by the stranger. Sitting in the driveway was their car. Tiffany hugged John, “You handled that well honey.” John sighed in relief. “Let's go home, honey,” he said.

They were quiet on the ride home. They got out of the car and walked inside. Tiffany laid down on the couch and John turned on the TV. John called Tim, “You know that SWAT operation? They know where Ariel is going, my wife and I were taken hostage, they let us go after I told them the cocaine was headed toward Mexico.” John could hear cursing from his cell phone. “I think it's safe to say the FBI isn't for me,” John said. Tim understood, “Take care John.” John stroked his wife's hair, falling asleep.

To be continued...

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition's elite [196]

(253): Don’t get me wrong—I love silver and bracelets—but handcuffs are not a good look on me…

"Would I, as your commanding officer, be able to take you to HR for making me read this? Do I need to report sexual harassment?” Cullen asks, dry like untouched reference books in the library’s back archives and the even dustier records that detail what reference books are listed there.

Rylen rolls his eyes in a display of what Cullen can only label as gratuitous attitude. Maybe discipline has been slipping in the Inquisition. Or maybe it’s the influence of the Valos-kas and the Chargers. Maybe Cullen should request requisite training reminders for proper behavior between officers and their superiors.

Or maybe he shouldn’t respond to Rylen's eye rolling with an eye roll of his own. Maybe he’s the reason why the Inquisition’s structure seems to slip more and more every day. He’s sure if he mentioned something like this to Cassandra not only would she roll her eyes, she’d also swat him upside the head. And if he mentioned such concerns to Leliana or Josephine they’d laugh him out of the room. No doubt, they would also tease him ruthlessly to the point of stammering incoherence.

“Don’t be obtuse,” Rylen says, waving the tablet at Cullen, “Read the rest of the text log.”

“Why am I reading this?”

“Because our spies worked very hard to get this evidence and the least you can do is read it,” Ryeln replies. “Leliana’s people have been working diligently for two months to get a lead on this fraud scheme.”

“I am aware. Contrary to what Leliana likes to say I do pay attention to her department’s projects even when they don't overlap with mine. Why does this need my attention?”

“Because the source of the information our intelligence department compiled here is one of ours,” Rylen replies. “Their bail fraud scheme is overlapping with our missing persons case. They can’t move in without risking our own operations.”

Cullen clicks his tongue, sitting back in his chair. He drags a hand over his eyes, cupping them and feeling a momentary blip of relief from the darkness and pressure before he opens them again to resume scanning the text log.

“They want to handle this jointly or they want a hand off?” Cullen asks. “We’ve had three squads working this case for almost half a year now. Are they sure it’s related?”

“Ninety percent positive. You know how Intelligence is, they don’t like to commit to anything. But they’re sure enough about the overlap that they wanted to bring us in on it.” Rylen folds his hands behind his back. “I think they’re edging towards a complete hand off, but if we were to refuse that I don’t think there’d be too much push back. We technically have jurisdiction since it’s already our case and we’ve been working it longer. And missing persons comes out over bail fraud.”

“Missing persons cold cases,” Cullen points out. “If they wanted they could push for it to be moved to their side of things since the bail fraud is more recent and currently in play. The oldest missing person file is almost a year out now. Speaking of, what progress on the latest? We’re two weeks in?”

“One and a half,” Rylen corrects, “Give or take a day based on inaccurate reporting of the last sighting.”

Cullen sets the tablet down, eying it before moving to pull his cell phone out. His thumb hovers over Leliana’s contact.

“Do you think we’d be able to do a successful joint operation on this, or will one interfere with the other?”

“Frankly speaking, Intelligence is going to want to drag this out to gather more information and to see how deep whoever’s behind this can dig themselves. But for missing persons — with a possibility for more abductions and disappearances — our clock is ticking. We’ve already taken too long with this as it is, sir. The prerogatives between the departments don’t align. A joint operation would be tricky. Best case scenario of both of departments getting what we need is slim. We’re looking at worst case scenarios where either Intelligence gets to play things out and we lose track of whatever victims are still alive, or we move in for the rescue and charges and Intelligence loses the thread on any bigger picture.”

All things Cullen already knows, but it’s good to confirm that Rylen is thinking the same. Rylen’s got a much steadier head on his shoulders than Cullen does most days. If Cullen could get away with it he’d toss the title over this minute but Rylen’s a slippery bastard and would figure out how to toss that right back in Cullen’s face.

“Has a joint session been set up with Intelligence about this?” Cullen asks.

“They’re asking for us to schedule it on our time. They’re being very polite about this, given how eager they probably are to get started on this.”

“Do we know which agents are handling this on their side?” Cullen asks. If Leliana’s going to get involved herself Cullen should probably show up as well. But Leliana hasn’t said anything to him about this. If she wanted him to pass her an assignment she wouldn’t be shy about it. She’s come barging in on him before with such requests. And he hasn't exactly been polite about doing the same to her, either. Really, the only one they’re polite to is Josephine.

“I can get the names, I don’t think Leliana is going to be handling this. Her hands are full with other things. But if the agents on this push hard enough she might add her name to the request. It seems like something they were eager enough to work on they might go for it.”

Cullen hits the call button, switching to speaker immediately.

“This is about the fraud-missing-persons case,” Leliana says immediately. “Take it or don’t. I’m not getting involved. I won’t push for a hand of or joint-operations. We both know the Inquisitor would rather you handle it anyway. Preservation of life takes precedence.”

“Are you sure?” Cullen asks.

“I know when to cut my losses and it’s a lesson all of my agents need to learn,” Leliana replies. “If this fraud ring is as big as we think it is then we’ll be able to pin them from some other loose thread. No one’s that good. Were you worried I’d put up a fuss? I’m surprised it went to your desk so fast.”

“If there’s a possibility for you to be involved of course it’ll get to my hands faster. Alright. If you’re sure that this won’t be a problem — I’m enforcing our claim to the case. It stays with us and the missing-persons angle comes first.”

[aion-rsa]

Marvel’s WandaVision Episode 7: MCU Easter Eggs and Reference Guide

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains WandaVision episode 7 spoilers and potential spoilers for future episodes and the wider MCU.

WandaVision episode 7 is probably the final episode that is going to adhere to the sitcom format. As we’ve seen in recent episodes, the show is spending more and more time in the confines of the “real” MCU, and with its TV homages now brought up to modern day, it can spend its final two episodes bringing more surprises and wrapping up its incredibly ambitious story.

But WandaVision episode 7 is ambitious enough in itself, and like previous episodes, it’s positively full of Marvel Comics Easter eggs and pieces that will likely expand the scope of the MCU as we know it.

Let’s see what we found…

Sitcom Influences

This episode takes WandaVision up to the mockumentary era of television, which featured shows like The Office (U.K. and U.S.), Parks and Recreation, and Modern Family. Characters routinely talk to producers offscreen in confessional-style interviews. The Vision’s microphone is even visible in one instance, clipped to the chest.

The episode draws most of its inspiration and look from Modern Family, probably merely because the premise of Wanda’s “modern family” fits more closely to Westview than an office environment would. The Office does get a major shoutout in the twee opening credits though.

We wrote more about the sitcom influences of this episode here.

Wanda

Wanda wakes up still wearing most of her “Sokovian fortune teller” costume from Halloween, so this episode takes place on Nov. 1st, the morning after the previous episode. Elsewhere in the episode, we learn that just about the entire scope of what we’ve seen (other than flashbacks to Monica’s return from “The Blip”) has taken place over one week.

“Don’t let him make you the villain,” Monica pleads with Wanda. There is some legit commentary here. Assorted “hims” have been making Wanda the villain of her own story since John Byrne did it with a run on West Coast Avengers in the late 1980s. We remain unconvinced that Wanda is actually a malevolent force.

Of course Wanda’s weakness is someone asking her to kill them. That’s where a big chunk of her recent trauma comes from!

The cereal Wanda is fetching in the kitchen at the start of the episode is called Sugar Snaps, though you’d think Wanda would have had quite enough of Snaps. It also had a clown on the box! In the previous episode, Wanda turned a bunch of SWORD agents into clowns. The cereal’s name is also a subtle anachronism, lots of cereals used to prominently have “Sugar” in their names before they were replaced with more innocuous words like “honey” or “corn.”

The Commercial: Nexus

As usual, the fake commercials have a lot going on, and this one for an antidepressant known as Nexus is no different.

The Nexus of All Realities is a magical area in Marvel that acts as a gateway to various other dimensions. In the comics, it’s located in a swamp in New Orleans and is guarded by the mute creature Man-Thing.

Wanda herself is also a Nexus Being. It is incredibly convoluted, but the shortest explanation possible that doesn’t involve telling you about the time John Byrne quit Avengers West Coast mid-storyline for being edited is: Wanda’s probability altering powers make her capable of altering the future, even once it’s set. That allows Wanda to change the paths that would lead to the creation of, for example, the Time Keepers we saw statues of in the Loki trailer.

At Agnes’ house, Billy and Tommy are watching Yo Gabba Gabba on and they’re singing “Jumpy Jump” though “Puppet Master” would have been more on the nose. “Jumpy Jump” might just be a hint that The Hex is a Nexus multiversal jump point. 

There’s another potential Nexus connection, too. NEXUS is where Tony found JARVIS in Avengers: Age of Ultron.

We wrote more about the Marvel significance of “Nexus” here. 

Billy and Tommy

Billy and Tommy, like most kids their age, seem to love video games. Since this episode is modeled after Modern Family (2009), it makes sense that they’re playing games on the Nintendo Wii console, the Japanese publisher’s main platform from 2006 to 2012. 

But the sudden shifts in reality mean that the Wii doesn’t stay a Wii for long. We watch as Billy and Tommy’s Wiimotes transform into GameCube controllers (2001) and then Atari 2600 joystick controllers (1977), both of which seem to fit the eras in which previous episodes of WandaVision are set.

Both of the boys continue to wear their comic book colors. Tommy’s not just wearing green like his “Speed” alter ego, but he’s straight up wearing a tracksuit.

The Darkhold?

It appears that Agatha is keeping the Darkhold in her basement. Well, it WOULD if it weren’t for the fact that this book looks very different from the way that it was represented on Marvel TV shows like Agents of SHIELD or Runaways. 

But if it WERE the Darkhold, this incredibly powerful book would have been written by Chthon, a demon/elder god who has figured prominently in various Wanda and Agatha Harkness stories over the years. It’s said that this book is what created the first vampire (hmmmm…the MCU does have a Blade movie in the works), created werewolves (surely it’s only a matter of time before Werewolf by Night shows up…on the upcoming Moon Knight series, perhaps), and more. If the MCU is going down a more supernatural route for some of its future installments, then the Darkhold would be a key piece of that.

But again, this looks very different than the Darkhold we’ve seen on these other shows.

Reed Richards…you coming or what?

Still no sign of the mysterious “aerospace engineer,” but does the mockumentary/sitcom tone this episode shares with The Office tease John Krasinski’s arrival as Reed Richards?

Monica Rambeau

The official uniform Monica is wearing under her space suit looks very much like some of the outfits she has worn in various superheroic identities in the comics, including when she was Captain Marvel. It’s appropriate since this episode is another big step in her superheroic origin story, and now there’s no more question that she’s gaining powers from her repeated trips through the Hex.

It’s almost certainly Monica’s new powers that allow her to make it through the Hex this time, and when she comes out she can see energy patterns and signatures.

Monica sticks the trademark “Superhero Landing” when she’s confronting Wanda. As Deadpool will attest, it’s really hard on your knees. Totally impractical, but they all do it.

When Agnes is dragging Wanda into her house, Wanda points at Monica and the whole thing is framed like the “two ladies yelling at the white cat” meme. Impossible to unsee. Fun fact: the white cat’s real name is Smudge.

Contact

Monica’s journey through The Hex pays homage to the special effects technique Robert Zemeckis used in the wormhole sequence for 1997’s Contact. During the scene in question, versions of Jodie Foster’s face appear to ghost out from her body, voicing her internal thoughts and memories. By the time Monica emerges from the Hex barrier, she is “ok to go” as a superpowered being. 

Contact’s central character, Ellie Arroway, is a woman who has lost her whole family but suppresses her grief and feels all alone in the universe. Can’t see a WandaVision connection here, no sir!

Is this just a tribute to the cult Zemeckis sci-fi movie or is there more to it? Maybe those wondering if the mysterious aerospace engineer will turn out to be Blue Marvel/Mister Fantastic/Doctor Doom have never considered Contact star Matthew McConaughey as a possibility for one of the latter two roles? We might remind you he’s been desperate for a part in the MCU for years.

Wundagore

Did we see a flash of a Wundagore Everbloom when the plants in Wanda’s house were changing? In Marvel Comics, the Everbloom was a wedding present from Agatha Harkness to Wanda and Vision, and only grows on Wundagore Mountain (where Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver were raised). It lets you see the future if you put a dab leaf on your tongue.

The fact that whatever this is seems to have taken over the basement makes us think of the Yo Magic commercial from last week, which implied that someone (or something) is perhaps feeding off Wanda’s powers.

Agatha Harkness

Agnes is finally revealed as Agatha Harkness in this episode, complete with an absolutely perfect theme song. The brilliant “Agatha All Along” tune is absolutely a pastiche of the Munsters theme, only with lyrics.

At the end of the song, “And I killed Sparky too!” is a good take on the infamous Wizard of Oz Wicked Witch line, “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!”

This show has been about Wanda finding her own agency through pain and about counterpointing all the misogyny in her history. For it to be Agnes manipulating her would be a betrayal of the point of the show so far. Not only that, in the comics, Agatha Harkness is generally depicted as an ally of Wanda’s. So we’re betting that “It was Agatha all along” is a red herring, and either Agatha is also being manipulated by an outside force, or Wanda is just putting that villainy on her without knowing the whole story.

Read all our speculation about who the REAL WandaVision villain is here.

In the comics, Agatha’s familiar is a cat named Ebony. Her rabbit being named “Senor Scratchy” is enough of a nod to that while also referencing Agatha’s evil son Nicholas Scratch.

While Agnes was able to trick Vision by pretending to be another victim driven insane by being in the Hex, Billy is unknowingly able to see past that by noticing that there isn’t any psychic pain underneath her performance.

Agnes’ brooch is clearly visible in all of the shots of her. That brooch has three sisters on it, but we still don’t know what it means. It feels so prominent that it has to mean something, though. 

The Post Credits Scene

Wanda is pretty certain that the “Uncle Peter” we met in the previous episodes is most certainly not her brother. The Agatha reveal would seem to back this up, as does his kind of menacing presence (“snoopers gonna snoop”) in the post-credits scene. But if he isn’t Pietro Maximoff, then who the heck is he?

We have some theories here.

Random Stuff and Unanswered Questions

When we saw the first flashback to the borders of the Hex expanding, the drums sound a little bit like The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil.” We can’t be sure, though…so we’re not putting this down as a Mephisto clue. THIS TIME.

In the middle of the intro, one of the screens says in cut-up letters, “I know what u are doing Wanda.” Creepy.

As Darcy chats Vision through his past, she tells him she’s been watching WandaVision for the past week. We’ve been watching it a lot longer than that, Miss Lewis, and we’re still not sure what’s really going on.

The calendar in the intro has a heart over the 10th, but the first episode had it over the 23rd. Probably means nothing, but worth thinking about.

Right after Agnes leads Wanda away from the conversation with Monica, we see Dennis the mailman wearing a logo that says “Presto.” Perfect exclamation considering who Agnes is and what she was trying to do in that scene. Also, with Presto being an Amazon knockoff, the logo appears to be a rabbit running.

We’re looking, but so far we’ve been unable to find a Marvel Comics parallel for Major Goodner.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

At the circus, the butterfly lady on the unicycle looks a little bit like the X-Men‘s Dark Phoenix.

Spot anything we missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s WandaVision Episode 7: MCU Easter Eggs and Reference Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3bCcTvd

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds s06e04 “Compromising Positions” review - or more aptly named, my goddess steps up to the challenge and descends from on high to help the mortals, loses her shit a bit, but then my puppy calms her down XD

Episode 04 – Compromising Positions

Hey guys! So last episode was all kinds of gross, and I’m hoping this will purge my retinas because I don’t think I can take it out of my head … that image of an old dude peeing his undershorts.

Bah.

Anyway, let’s see what happens.

Oh baby, sexy music. I like this one already XD

Sex in a car? Steamy.

Wait. The unsub is making them have sex in front of him? Well, that’s creepy. Fuck.

Damn.

And I’m still jealous of that fucking mug.

“Hey, good news.”

What?

“Ellie just got placed with a foster family, so, fingers crossed.”

Aw, that’s so awesome!

“Oh, that’s great. I’m happy for her.”

Me, too.

Wait. That couple wasn’t the only one? Oh damn.

 “One week? That’s not much of a cooling-off period.”

Stating the obvious much?

“The Son of Sam had a short cooling-off period. He also attacked couples in cars.”

So it could be a copycat?

“Yeah, but the first couple were killed in their house.”

Guess not.

“He crosses racial lines.”

So not a racist asshole.

“And socio-economic ones.”

Well, that unchecks another box.

“That’s a big chance in crime scenes, car versus house. Two radically different MOs.”

“Not to mention he subdues two people. That takes a lot of skill.”

Gross.

“Is this right? They found a used condom on both the husbands?” What now?

“And both had Viagra in their systems and neither had a prescription.”

You need a prescription for that? Okay, good to know. And also, that unsub is one sadistic fucker that I don’t care to meet at any given moment.

“So the unsub gives the men Viagra and then forces them to have sex before he kills them.”

“And given the timetable, he’s gonna strike again soon.”

“Wheels up in three hours.”

Oh damn.

 Hello, my darling goddess!!!!

“Garcia. What’s that?”

“My go bags.”

Your what bags?

“Where are you going?”

“With you, hopefully.”

Oh my darling honey, I love you so fucking much.

“Sir, I think we’re all still reeling since JJ left, and we are a man down, and you need a communication liaison.”

Wow. Seriously? AWESOME!

“Garcia …”

“Sir, please, hear me out. My job overlapped with JJ’s the most. I created the program that she used to present cases.”

Oh my god, I love her so much and how she’s eager to please and help.

“When you guys were out in the field, she coordinated your needs through me. It makes sense.”

“Garcia, there are aspects of the job for which you have no training.”

Well, I guess, but …

“You’re totally right, but … I’m willing to learn. “I’ll learn how to interact with families and local law enforcement and the media.”

“Sir, I’m willing to tone down my wardrobe choices.” NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“I’m ready to make that sacrifice if you just please give me a chance.”

WHOA.

“All right.”

YES!

“We could explore this on a trial basis. We’ll see how things go.”

“Are you up to speed on the case?”

“Yes.”

XDDDDDD

“Can you be ready in three hours?”

“I’m ready now.”

I love you so fucking much, gorgeous.

“See you on the plane.” YES!

“Okay.”

And then she actually realizes she’s coming in. LOL.

Abraham Lincoln: “Whatever you are, be a good one.”

Okay? So if you’re a killing sicko, you should be a good one? That makes no sense.

“I’m just waiting on a few last-minute details.”

Like what?

“I keep bumping on the fact that he makes a married couple have sex before he kills them. What is he accomplishing with that?”

“You know, the stabbing of wives is almost certainly piqueristic.”

Ew.

“The unsub gets sexual gratification from penetration with a knife.”

Do they have to make Gubler say those words?

“Most piquerists are impotent – men like Albert Fish, Iain Scoular, Andrei Chikatilo – so for him, it could be a substitute for sex.”

Hmm. Still weird hearing him talk about sex.

“The unsub could also be playing a mind game. Neither shot to the husband is clean, so they have to watch what he’s doing to their wives as they’re dying.”

Fucking a.

“So this guy challenges their manhood by forcing them to have sex, and then mocks them with the overkill. That kind of psychological torture makes him a sexual sadist.”

Well, yes, but you also shouldn’t be talking about sex, honey, cuz I’m getting wet over here.

“It would explain the amount of control he exhibits over the crime scene – the handcuffs, the condoms, the silenced weapon. He plans out every detail.”

Again with the poodle talking about adult content.

“If he’s that precise, he would be just as precise in his victimology. But he’s all over the map in terms of class and race.”

So what do we do now?

“Well,  there must be something else about the couples that attracts him. Something that he couldn’t learn by stalking them anonymously.”

“Maybe the couples met the unsub before.”

Oh fuck.

“Rossi and Reid, will you handle the family interviews?”

“Morgan and Prentiss, go to the latest crime scene.”

And enter my goddess. Oh my god, what has she done to herself? BRING BACK THE ORIGINAL GARCIA!!!

“Well, look at you, look at you.”

I love how she turns every head on the plane.

“Meet your new communications liaison.”

Backtracking at seeing Hotch’s face.

“Trial communication liaison.”

“Garcia, I don’t get to say this often, but I had no idea there was this side of you.”

God, I love them so much.

“Well, I figure since I’m going to have to interact with the mass populace, I should dress in the traditional costume of a mere mortal.”

My goddess descends from on high.

Oh my darling is in pain, why?

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s my contact.”

My honey, that’s why I don’t wear them.

“It keeps getting weird and …”

“There it goes.”

“No.”

“Yes. No.”

XDDDD

Genius bit of comedy.

“Detective Crowley?”

“Hi. Miss Garcia.”

So weird hearing them refer to her as Miss Garcia XD

“It’s Doctor, not Agent. She was specific about that.”

I love how efficient and special my goddess is.

“What else was she specific about?”

“Excuse me. Are you Miss Garcia?”

Oh my god, I love this woman so much.

“You contacted the family members already?”

“Yes. Only two responded back immediately. That’s Robert Keppler’s dad, and then Scott Hartway’s mom will be here in about an hour. Is that enough time?”

“Yes. Perfect.”

Exactly.

“Okay, I’m gonna set up the boards unless you need something else.”

“No, we’re good.”

“And you were worried.”

XDDDDDDDDDDDDD

“He could have been lying in wait in the backseat, though.”

“No.”

Why not, honey?

“If they were facing forward, the unsub’s back here down low, he pops up with his gun, there’s no chance for them to fight back.”

Hmm.

“He could have used a Slim Jim to get in.”

He could have used a piece of processed corned beef to open a car window?

Gonna try it next time I get in a car.

“How did he force two people to have sex at gunpoint?”

“Viagra’s a vasodilator.”

A what now?

“It takes at least thirty minutes to get the blood vessels to relax properly. I mean, Scott’s fight or flight response would have kicked in.”

“His heart’s racing, his blood’s flowing to all his extremities, but not the right one.”

Right one? Oh you filthy boy.

“Maybe he got them to relax. He tells them he’ll let them live if they do this.”

“This guy has to control everything. That would include the environment, right?”

And he cranked up the heat to suit the mood.

“He didn’t want them getting cold?”

“This station wasn’t one of the presets. That means he tuned it for them.”

“It’s almost like he went out of his way to make sure they were comfortable.”

Yup.

“A sexual sadist wouldn’t do that. We need to take a look at the first crime scene.”

Yup.

So the guy’s son was a workaholic.

“So he was driven.”

“So both victims were alpha males?”

Whoa.

“It’s the only trait we could find that connects the couples.”

“We know that female type isn’t specific to this unsub, but what if it is?”

“Typically, alpha males only attack other alphas. That’s how the unsub sees himself.”

“He’s proving his dominance over his rival by obliterating their mate.”

Fuck.

“I’ll have Garcia pull up more personal information.”

Now, where is she?

“Detective, have you seen Ms. Garcia?”

“She’s outside talking to a reporter.”

A what now?

“Excuse me.”

Oh that reporter is an asshole.

“Okay, first of all, no comment means no comment. Second of all, that name of the killer – you came up with that name. We didn’t come up with that name.”

“You’ll hold the story?”

Yeah right.

“Have you cleared that with your editor?”

Don’t mess with them.

“Can you get him on the phone?”

“And the hold also applies to your blog that the paper hosts?”

Oh, he played her. Fuck.

“You sneaky son of a …”

“You’ll have your story when the Akron police make an arrest.”

Yup.

 “Until then, the FBI has no comment, as Ms. Garcia stated. Thank you.”

“He lied. He lied to me.”

“No, he just counted on you not asking the right questions.”

Oh my darling, don’t beat yourself up about it.

“Why didn’t you check with me before you talked to him?” HEY! HEY! DO NOT GET MAD AT MY GODDESS!

“I looked everywhere and I couldn’t find you.”

“And I figured it was one of those things that you would just count on me to handle.”

I love you so much.

“Garcia, I appreciate the initiative, but when it comes to dealing with the press, let me handle things for now.”

Oh god.

“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

“I need all the credit card and phone records  for all the husbands. We think the unsub is targeting them first.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Hotch, there’s something you need to see.”

Oh boy.

“This is the second crime scene. The unsub took the Hartways to lovers’ lane. Then he turned the heat up in the vehicle and turned the radio to a soul music station.”

“This is the first crime scene.”

“Al Green was in the CD player, candles had been lit.”

Romantic. “He’s staging the scene. Control is critical to him. We know this.”

“But to a different end than we initially thought.”

Huh?

“These murders are about the fantasy, only the fantasy isn’t sadistic, it’s romantic.”

“Well, we profiled from the interviews that he’s picking the husbands first. How’s that romantic?”

“Alpha males marry the most attractive females.”

“Once he meets the husband, he knows the wife is gonna fit his needs.”

“We know this unsub is impotent, but what we’re seeing here isn’t the usual psychological block keeping him from getting aroused. This is physiological.”

“He brings Viagra to the crime scenes. If he wanted, he could pop a pill, let the drug take effect. Instead, he gives it to the husbands. Why?”

“It’s not working for him anymore.”

“Something definitely happened to this guy. Prostate cancer, surgery, something.”

Oh boy.

“So why does he make the husband wear a condom?”

“Well, we don’t know the connection yet.”

“He’s going to kill the husbands anyway. He can’t perform on the wives. The condoms are redundant.”

This is so fucking weird.

“He’s acting out a fantasy in which contraception plays a key role.”

“Until we understand what the role is, we’re not gonna find him.”

So the fucker attacked again. God, that woman is brave.

“I just heard. The unsub shot both victims last night?”

“His routine was disrupted. That means he made a mistake.”

“It also means he’s out of control. He’s enraged. He’s going to attack again soon.”

“Alpha male just like the others.”

“Can you just hold on for a moment?”

What?

“The offensive and defensive wounds all over his body. He was cuffed behind his back.”

“He still put up a hell of a fight.”

“Because he knew how.”

“That’s full-contact training.”

“Now, where would he learn something like that?”

“My assumption would be a mixed martial arts gym.”

Hmm.

So he might find them at gyms.

“I’ll follow up with the families.”

“Maybe she went for the gun in the drawer, forced the unsub to shoot her, and stopped him from following his ritual.”

“No, ‘cause there was a muzzle burn on her chest.”

So?

“He shot her at point blank range.”

Oh god.

“Okay, you’re the unsub, I’m Debra Wilson.”

“I have to get past you to get to that gun.”

Okay, Prentiss and Morgan roleplaying shouldn’t be this hot.

“Now, your 9-mm is right here at my chest.”

I want that chest.

“What am I doing?”

“She offered herself to him?”

“Well, why would she do that? Why not lock herself in the bathroom or run out the door?”

“Well, survival isn’t logical, it’s instinctual. Her instincts probably told her that this was her best shot.”

Yup.

“So she’s just seen her husband die in front of her. Then she comes on to the unsub?”

“An overt sexual expression.”

“Yeah, it’s almost flexible. She’s gone from one man to the next without hesitation.”

“He makes the husband wear a condom. What does that say about him?”

“That he’s protecting himself?”

“It’s a sexual scenario where you’re sharing a woman with another man.”

Wait. Are they seriously talking about swinging?

Oh damn.

“Am I crazy, or could this guy be a swinger?” Yep, they are.

“He could have been a part of that scene until the impotence kicked in. And now he’s just trying to recreate it.”

“These couples could have been his old partners.”

“Okay, so here’s what I found out. Only Paul Wilson trained at the MMA gym, but all the other husbands worked out regularly, from the local YMCA to expensive fitness clubs.”

“Makes sense. Alpha males care about their appearance.”

Ah-hem. Does that mean that Rossi doesn’t consider himself to be an alpha male? Damn.

“The gym is also a good place to stalk victims.”

“It still doesn’t tell us how he goes from finding husbands in a gym to getting inside their house.”

Nope.

“No, but it does give us a list from which we can eliminate.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a bigger problem here. The unsub’s fantasy was interrupted. At the least, he’s hunting again tonight. At the worst, he’ll escalate his violence.”

Frack.

“Garcia.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve got a possible lead in the husbands’ gym and health clubs. I need a list of everyone in and out.”

“Okay, so employees and members.”

“No, wider than that. Outside vendors, maintenance, trainers, everybody.”

Whoa.

“That’s a lot.”

Has my baby reached her limit? Oh boy.

“And I’m not done cataloging husbands’ records like you asked me to ‘cause I keep getting delayed.”

“Delayed how?”

“Uh, family members calling back, cops with questions. Also, I’m helping Morgan call swing clubs ‘cause we thought some of the victims might be swingers. They’re not. By the way, there’s more swing clubs in Akron than there really should be.”

Oh wow, that was fast.

“Garcia, I need you to prioritize this. We need to get ahead of this guy. He may strike again tonight.”

“Sir, may I please bring Kevin Lynch in?”

You want Lynch the Bitch?

“It could help me get it done, like, bang.”

“That’s fine, and if for some reason you get stuck, just let me know.”

“And tell Morgan and Prentiss we’re releasing the profile. Have them give it to everybody they’ve met in the swingers’ community.”

“Yes, yes, I can do that.”

My desperate honey.

“Jehovah’s Witnesses?”

LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

“I’m Special Agent Prentiss. This is Special Agent Morgan. We’re with the FBI.”

“We heard that you ran Fabulous Fun and Over Forty?”

Wow. They’re chipper about accommodating the FBI. Damn.

“Sir, I totally appreciate the confidentiality your gym provides for its members, but this is a murder investigation, so obviously …”

“Hello?”

Oh hells no.

“Uncooperative.”

My frustrated lovely.

“Kevin, honey, say something helpful.”

“I’m almost done with members and employees. Outside vendors are gonna be tough, thought. It looks like a lot of these guys are paid under the table.”

“I know. W-2s are useless. Look at original service records only.”

“What is this operating system you’re working?”

Oh hell no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Okay, first of all, I created that program, and second of all, it is a poor carpenter and hacker who blames his tools.”

Do not, EVER, criticize my lovely’s work.

Wait. The family is here for interviews? Oh boy.

“But we’re about to deliver the profile. And there’s no one here to talk to them.”

“Can you ask them to wait?”

Oh dear.

“Kevin, compile!”

And don’t interrupt her again! “Detective?”

“I’ll talk to them.”

Wait. What?

“Oh, I miss you, JJ.”

Me too.

“And because of the repetition of details at the crime scenes, we know that his ritual is essential to him.”

“These patterns are how he maintains dominance in a world he feels powerless in, both sexually and socially.”

“The man we’re looking for is a troilist. Do you know what that is? It means that he gets off on staging a scene and participating in it.”

Ew.

“Such as recording sexual acts on camera or coming to parties like yours. The point is the performance.”

“Partner?”

What now?

So they require the men to come with women? Smart.

Kind of.

“Paul Wilson’s attack showed him how physically weak he was, and Debra Wilson’s enticement reminded him of how futile his fantasies were. And as a result of this, this unsub is what we call decompensating.”

Huh?

“We use it to describe the collapse of OCD patterns that mentally ill patients use to cope. Once one fails, they generally all do.”

Oh frack.

“The unsub’s ritualized fantasy has stopped working, and that makes him incredible dangerous.”

So he was into MMF. Damn.

“Wait a minute. This guy is an alpha male. Wouldn’t he be too possessive to share his partner?”

So he was getting off on the fact that he saved his wife from a married man?

I want to barf.

“Because the erotic charge of the role play is the consensual cheating.”

“Then at a certain point, he steps in. and shows his sexual superiority. He proves to the room and his wife that he’s the only one who can satisfy her.”

“Until his impotence destroyed his ability to do that.”

“Suddenly he’s not the only one questioning his manhood, she is, too.”

Fuck.

That shouldn’t be this hot to me.

“So maybe she cheated on him, or maybe she left, but either way, his wife was his first loss of control.”

“And if he’s decompensating, she’s the pattern he’ll attack next as part of the breakdown.”

Oh crap.

“The end result of decompensation is temporary psychotic break. He’ll revisit old patterns to see if they still work.”

“And when he finds that they don’t, he’ll be compelled to destroy them and anyone engaging in them.”

Fuck.

Swingers party. Fuck. They actually show it.

“Do you have a last name?”

“So you have sex, but you don’t ask for last names?”

Gimme a break, lady. That is seriously the most dangerous thing ever.

“All of the victims here tonight were men. Do you happen to know why?”

Nope.

That lady is no help whatsoever.

“Ms. Sanders, if the door was locked, how did he get in?”

Makes no fucking sense.

 “Morgan says the hostess locked herself in here. It didn’t seem to slow him down.”

“This is a deadbolt.”

Whoa.

“The unsub could have easily shot his way through.”

“He picked the lock?” Why?

“He’d only do that out of habit. The deadbolt’s designed for security. It takes expertise to get past that.”

“You think he’s a locksmith?”

“We knew he was stalking his victims at the gym, but we never knew how he got into their lives. But when you’re working out, where’s the one place you leave everything personal?”

“In a locker.”

Oh my wonderful poodle.

“Garcia’s already ruled out gym employees and members.”

“How’s he getting in?”

“Could be a third-party vendor called in to install the lockers. And called back when someone loses their key.”

“All right. Come back to the station. We’ll work this up.”

“Garcia, I need you to pull all the locksmiths that the gym contracts out to.”

“That’s gonna take some time.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m still gathering the vendors, and not all the websites list the trainers that work there.”

“Did you call them?”

“Of course I called them, but some were cooperative and some weren’t, so I …”

“Garcia, I told you to come to me if you got stuck.”

Oh no, he didn’t!

“Look, you know usually I can do this kind of thing in no time,”

“But this office is a revolving door of people bugging me, and I cannot do two jobs at once!”

WHOA.

“Oh, my god, sir, I’m so sorry.”

Oh my darling.

“Garcia, there are eight new victims as of tonight, and more people are going to die. I need you to shut out all distractions and give me everything you’ve got.”

“Yes, sir. I’m here.”

Oh my darling honey.

“I’m present. Hit me.”

“I need employee rolls …”

“Of lock and key companies. I’m so on it.”

I love you.

“We need to rethink this unsub’s decompensation.”

What now?

“We thought his wife would be the next logical target, especially if she left him, but if it’s other men, he could blame them for breaking up his marriage.”

“It’s the same thought process that started him hunting alpha males to begin with.”

“And what does that tell us about where he might be going?”

“Nothing. But it might tell us where he’s been.”

Okay, where?

“After his wife left, he sought out some of her partners and killed them.”

“You want to look at unsolved murders?”

“Crowley can pull them for us, match them based on the unsub’s caliber.”

Oh boy.

“Good. You might also need to give Garcia a hand working the locksmith angle.”

“Is there some reason she can’t cover that on her own?”

Well ….

“She’s juggling two jobs. She might needs some help.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I appreciate that. Thank you for the information. Okay, bye-bye.”

She’s so cute!

“How are you holding up?”

Oh my darling boy.

“The gyms found out about the massacre, so now they’re giving me information on the locksmiths, and that’s a whole other can of worms. And … I’m fine.”

No, she isn’t.

“Garcia …”

“JJ did so much. I am in so over my head, I’m swimming …”

“Oh, my god, I hate these things.”

“Here, let me help.”

Oh my chivalrous honey.

“Take them out.”

“Where’s your saline?”

How does he know about that?

“Front pocket of my bag.”

“You know what your only mistake has been since you started?”

“Oh, hooray. More criticism.”

“You are trying to replace JJ. No one can replace JJ.”

“Now take the other one out, too.”

“I’m not trying to replace her. I’m trying to do this job the way she’d want it done.”

“You know what JJ would want? She’d want you to find a way to do this job on your own terms.”

“Play to your strengths.”

“Okay, all my extensive knowledge of operating systems and internet protocol is not really gonna help me out here.”

Oh come on, honey.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You need to go OG. Original Garcia.”

“Derek Morgan, I’m a little blind right now, but it appears the rough blur that is you just threw out my only pair of contact lenses.”

“There she is. I know you.”

Oh my god, I love those two so much.

“How often do I tell you I love you?”

“Every day. It’s implied.”

I love those two and they need to make out and fuck already.

“Now … the locksmiths. Can I help?”

“You just did. I know what to do.”

XDDDDDDDDDDDDD I love them so much.

“Hello. This is Penny Garcia. I’m with the phone company.”

AND SHE IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Oh, we’re the phone company, so we know that.”

“I’m calling because one of your employees is past due, and he listed you as his most recent employer.”

Uh-oh, he’s trying to evade her.

“Well, that settles that, then. I’m just going to turn this over to the IRS.”

I love this lady so much.

“Well, I’m glad you asked, ‘cause this is my pickle. I have a gentleman that uses a bunch of different last names, but he keeps using the same first name, James, over and over. And the password is Maryann on all of his accounts.”

“He wouldn’t happen to be working tonight, would he?”

“Okay. Thank you very much. Bye-bye.”

I love you, Garcia!

“I got it!”

“Got what?”

“The unsub!”

I love how Crowley’s like, who the fuck is this and what happened to Miss Garcia? XDDDDDD

“His name is James Thomas. He did work at all the gyms the husbands went to.”

“Is that not enough information? Oh, I have so much more.”

“Last year he suffered from a condition called prostatic hyper dysplasia. Routine surgery took a wrong turn, snip snip, they had to remove the whole prostrate tamale. Boss says he didn’t show up for work today, but this … is his home address.”

“Garcia, you should have let me know before you contacted his employer.”

SERIOUSLY???????????????????

“Otherwise, well done.”

Oh god, I’m so happy right now.

She’s literally patting herself on the back.

I love you, Kirsten!

“We need a SWAT team at this address.”

“FBI! We’re coming in!”

“Clear.”

“Show me your hands.”

Whoa. Hold up. Is that lady his wife? And is she pregnant?

Are they off the mark?

“Where’s your husband?”

“There’s a gun locker in the closet. It’s empty.”

Oh boy.

“Get up. you’re gonna help us find him.”

“This is who your husband has killed so far.”

“Recognize that last crime scene?”

Oh, they’re trying to go all alpha male on her. It’s hot.

“He would because he’s not the father of your baby.”

Oh damn.

And yet she is adamant it is.

“She’s not going to give him up.”

“She’s the wife of an alpha male. She depends on him psychologically.”

“Is there any chance that the unsub is the father?”

“Garcia said the prostate surgery was over a year ago, and there’s no record of insemination.”

Nope.

“We need to ground her back into reality, give her something to hold on to for truth.”

“Did you get those files we asked for, the unsolved murder?”

“Great, thanks.”

Where is my poodle going with this? “If the unsub did kill someone in those files, it’s more likely the father of her child. If it’s an old swinging partner, he’d be easy to track down.”

“If we show her the files and he’s not in there, we could lose her for good.”

“Yeah, but if the father is in there, it could shake her loose.”

Oh wow.

“That baby is the only thing she would prioritize over her husband.”

“I think I can do it. I can get her to cooperate.”

“How?”

Yeah, how?

“Right now, two alpha males are in there attacking her marriage. She’ll react the same way to anyone challenging her husband’s dominance.”

“But I’m not a threat. I think she’ll listen to me.”

“So, I read this pretty fascinating theory recently.”

“It said that humans weren’t designed to be monogamous, that in our hunter-gatherer phase, women took several mates. The idea was that if the men in the tribe didn’t know who the father was, they’d all be more invested in the child. Interesting, huh?”

To you.

“Truthfully, your lifestyle is, um, it’s a sociological marvel.”

Seriously?

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t judge you.”

“But I do think that the only reason you got into that was to make your husband happy. Just like you only got pregnant after his surgery to make him happy, only, I don’t think that it’s working.”

“So he didn’t change around, like, month four or five of the pregnancy when you started to show?”

Whoa.

“He didn’t get moody or withdrawn or anything?”

“How about last night, when he came home with cuts and bruises? Didn’t you ask him about that?”

“How about killing the man who got you pregnant? Do you think he’s capable of that?”

“These files are recent unsolved murders, men who have been killed since you conceived. Now, if I’m right about your husband, I think that the father of your child is somewhere in here.”

Oh god.

Boom. They got the truth.

“Maryann, we need you to tell us what you and your husband used to do before you got married. What your habits were.”

“No, your sexual habits.”

Oh boy.

So he made her flirt and then go in and assert his dominance? Seriously? Oh god, I want to hit him.

“He’s in the middle of the bar. There’s no way to take him down without risking collateral damage.”

“This guy’s looking for a spark.”

“Then we’ll need a distraction.”

A what now?

“What are you doing?”

“He’s gone back to his old patterns. He wants to play the game he played with his wife.”

“Debra Wilson played that game and it got her killed, Prentiss.”

“All right, keep his focus off the crowd long enough for us to take him down.”

“You guys better have my back.”

“We will.”

Good.

Oh god, Prentiss flirting shouldn’t make me this horny.

Hotch in the club is weird.

Morgan in the club is hot as fuck.

And he’s made her. Fuck.

Yes.

She got him.

Fuck you, asshole.

“FBI! Nobody move!”

“This situation is under control.”

Andre Berthiaume: “We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing our own skin.”

Powerful stuff, dude.

My lovely back in her lair.

“Garcia …”

“Sir, I’m scanning the open case files. My plan is to have this office paperless in a month.”

My green goddess.

“That can wait.”

Can it?

“When Gideon left the BAU, I found myself taking on too much responsibility. And I quickly realized that I could only do the job that I was good at.”

“I’ve seen you give everything to this case and to this team for the last few days, but the truth is, we need you here.”

“Oh, thank God.”

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, KIRSTEN!

“Sir, I do not want that job. I mean, I want part of the job.”

“I want the part that keeps me here, ‘cause here I’m Mozart, but out there, I was like a monkey playing the trumpet, and you guys need Mozart.”

“You did fine.”

I love you.

“What if we split the job? You can handle intake and resources here at Quantico, we can cover the rest in the field, and when we need you, you’ll still travel with us?”

“You can do that?”

“Of course.”

“But I let you down.”

“In no way whatsoever.”

XDDDDDDDDDDDDD “I kind of lost my marbles out there.”

“Garcia, when you applied for this job, you gave me your resume on homemade pink stationery. I realized than that you were … unique.”

Damn straight.

“And I wouldn’t want you to change that.”

I love this show so much.

So this episode was awesome. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the deaths are awful, and emily putting herself out there like that had me nervous as fuck. But this was awesome in every other aspect regarding my honeys, talking about sex and stuff and Penelope losing her shit, I love this episode so much.

Can’t wait to see what this season has in store for us.

I’ll see you next time, my lovelies <3

[stunudo]

Teamwork Makes the Dream Work:

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction Case 1 Part B

Featuring: Female Reader as she joins the Team

Setting: Early Season 12                Beginning

A/N: This is a piece about how someone with some quirks fits into the BAU. xoxo Stu

Your name: submit What is this?

They had a jet! She was a gorgeous example of engineering and simple luxury.

“Shiny! How can you fly commercial after using this beauty?” Your approving eyes were flitting through all of the leg room. Alvez and Jareau snickered behind you. You continued inside, quickly counting seats. You didn’t have to sit next to anyone! There were plenty of buffer seats for everyone.

You hummed pleasantly as you found a window seat towards the back. The relief of personal space made you almost forget the embarrassment of the morning. Rossi sat down opposite you, watching you observe the workers on the sides of the runway. His reputation was one of the most noteworthy on the team. But you always held personal interactions above gossip and, even, bureau legends.

“The jet is possibly my favorite addition to the team.” Rossi stated, “Just don’t tell the kids, they’ll be jealous.” He added in a mock whisper.

“Good to know, I would hate to have to live up to all she has done.” You teased. “Penny says you have quite the games collection.”

Rossi smirked, “Does she? Well, that’s it, all of my mysteries have already been revealed.”

Hotch was last on the plane, he sat beside Rossi with his tablet at the ready. “Garcia, what did you find?”

“Sir, sirs and sisters too! Waupaca County Sheriff just got word that state troopers located Abigail Brown’s car in, or near rather Pelican Lake.”

“That expands the comfort zone. It is 93 miles from her last known location.” Spencer jumped into the conversation, leaning down to speak to Garcia over Hotch’s shoulder.

“Alright, Rossi take Alvez to the victim’s car. JJ, I want you to take Y/L/N and Reid to the parents’ house near Waupaca. Lewis and I will coordinate with the locals. We will have rental vehicles, please behave with them.” Hotch emphasized, which made you wonder who was in trouble with “dad” for reckless driving in the past.

“For now, rest up. We have two hours in the air and another hour, hour plus on the road.” Hotch thanked Garcia and the team dispersed to different corners of the jet. You slid your earbuds in, picking up where Simon Pegg’s voice had left you giggling last.

The plane landed on a small airstrip in Oshkosh, WI located on the same campus as the world famous EAA Aviation Museum. The clear skies and bird’s eye view had left a beautiful impression of the surrounding lakes and towns. You waited in your seat to be the last off of the jet, so as not to have anyone behind and not to slow anyone down.

The stiffness of flying twice in such a short time frame left you yearning for a jog. Unfortunately the crisp autumn air rushed your face as you descended from the hatch. You shivered against the wind and followed your new team to the waiting assortment of rental cars. JJ had snagged the first set of keys for a dark four door sedan. You cautiously hauled your Go-bag and messenger to the rear of the car. As JJ popped the trunk, Dr. Reid tossed his bags inside the trunk before you registered his presence. The shock of having him there without catching him in your periphery locked you in place.

You shook your head to clear the unsettling tinge that remained on the air. You looked deeply into the trunk and slowly inserted your belongings while keeping your head down. You made your way to the back door and slid onto the leather seat. Reid was already sitting in the backseat behind Jareau. He glanced at you, surprised.

“Dr. Reid, you can sit shotgun. I prefer the back, backseat.” You tried to look reassuring. “With limbs like yours, I imagine, the front will be more comfortable. For you.” His big eyes taking in your slow to calm nerves. He made a half smile, accepting your offer with a nod. Once Spencer was situated up front, JJ typed in the address for the Brown family and headed out of town.

“So,” you began, “I’m going to pry, full disclosure. Why was the chief so huffy about the team having rental cars?” You leaned between the front seats, ensuring the other agents could hear you. You never meant to mumble, but it happened on occasion.

JJ laughed, “First off, it’s Hotch. Sir is fine, I guess. But everyone calls him Hotch.” You nodded, storing that detail for his approval later.

“You see, Y/L/N, our former colleague, Morgan, had a thing about “vibing” while he drove. There was a pedophile ring, we were on the task force near the end of the case. And Morgan, he, well he-”

“Derek drove into a marsh.” JJ concluded. “The car was unsalvageable and it set back the investigation-”

“An additional eight hours,” Reid continued. “Hotch was not pleased. He hates things that get us billed unexpectedly.”

You sensed the closeness between Reid and Jareau, interpreting their relationship to be greater than simply teammates. As Jareau was clearly married and Reid did not give off any sexuality hints you assumed they were “besties”. Riding in the backseat was refreshingly entertaining. People watching was a specialty of yours, as you tended to fade to the background anyway. You learned about JJ’s family. Spencer’s mother was mentioned briefly, but you could tell it was a touchy subject. He was studying a map, marking it diligently with details from the case.

“Y/L/N, what’s your story? Besides transferring from cyber crimes, of course.” Jareau asked after a patch of quiet. “We’re going to find out eventually. Might as well spill.” Her eyes caught yours in the rear-view mirror, prodding yet kind.

“You tell me, between Reid’s eidetic memory and your past profiling and negotiation experience. I am quite obvious, I suppose. I am curious what you’ve gathered.” You leaned back, waiting for the inevitably judgmental insights.

Jareau and Reid exchanged a look. “We don’t, uh, we have an unspoken rule not to profile each other.”

“Alvez says you all do it. You just don’t talk about doing it.” You explained. Reid pursed his lips, from where you sat you couldn’t deduce if it was in amusement or annoyance.

The family was a mess. Their emotions in dark contrast to their small, cookie cutter, ranch style house and manicured lawn. The Brown’s house interior had no visible blemishes as well. Abigail was their oldest child. Missing her were her father, Mark, her mother, Sandra and brothers Danny and Benji. The boys were at school, so there were more of your agents than family members occupying the cubical shaped dining room.

“Ma’am, would it be alright if Dr. Reid and I see Abigail’s room?” You asked rather abruptly after being introduced by Jareau, the question had been burning in your mouth. You wanted to get to work, but had to tell yourself to be considerate of the family.

“Why would you need to go in there?” Sandra asked defensively. “It’s not like she is hiding under the bed.” You glanced up at Spencer, letting him take over.

“I know you are upset, but we are trying to get to know Abigail. When we investigate we start with the victim. Why her?” Reid explained, his crisp reasoning held both parents’ attention.

“Hey, Doc?” Mark Brown chimed in, “When you figure that out, let me know. I want to reason with the bastard as it is.” You watched Reid hold the father’s stare, knowing words were not involved with his intentions. Reid cleared his throat and Jareau resumed the standard victim’s family questioning. You stepped widely around the compact table, waiting until Reid was in the hall before following his puff of hair.

Abigail Brown’s room was fairly standard college freshman material. She had a Klimt poster on one wall and a bookshelf dedicated to YA novels. The girl had good taste: Clare to Riordan, Steifvater to Rowling. Her desk was cleared of her laptop, as she would have packed it with her to return to school. Dr. Reid’s hands loomed over her dresser, the vanity astonishingly bare for your modern, small town young woman.

“Y/L/N, what don’t you see here?” Reid quizzed you. Your eyes glanced over the space once more before answering.

“There is no jewelry, make up or anything personally or monetarily valuable.” You concluded.

“She wasn’t coming back home.” Reid agreed.

SPEAKERPHONE

Rossi: Everything this girl owned seemed to be jammed into her hatchback.

Hotch: Reid and Y/L/N are suggesting she knew she wouldn’t be coming back.

Alvez: There was no sign of a struggle in or around the car. Maybe she was meeting someone?

Garcia: Sir? Once we get Abigail’s laptop connected to WiFi, I can start digging. Rossi please don’t let the new kid hurt the tech.

Rossi: Y/L/N’s with Reid and JJ.

Garcia: You know who I mean! But, now that you mention it, if Y/L/N is close by, she can dig too.

There was no good place for the team to sync up. Victims went missing counties apart from where their cars were parked. Evidence was in three jurisdictions. According to Reid, the eye of the storm was in Shawano County, but Hotch booked the hotel in Antigo, one county north. Fortunately the hotel had internet access, unlike every restaurant, diner or cafe you had come across.

You plugged your headphones in to Abigail’s lap top and got to work uncovering this victim’s dirty laundry. While you did your “tech thing” the team round tabled. You overheard the highlights, comfortable to be invisible and an eavesdropper once again.

-Victims had all packed above and beyond the usual weekend laundry run of a college student.

-Parents hadn’t heard much from the victims over the few weeks leading up to their disappearances.

-No signs of struggle and no more bodies had been found.

Dr. Lewis was extremely insightful, pulling references to human trafficking rings that ran from Green Bay to Chicago. You reminded yourself to touch base with the sultry voiced agent once you had a decent question for her brilliance. Abigail’s computer was full of malware. But other than that she had an active, yet not obsessive level of social media profiles. She checked her school email inbox between each class.

This victim was a good kid, you didn’t know why she was targeted. It wasn’t until you found reoccurring references to Night Owls that you felt the computer was a dead end. Night Owls was a evening group chat that Abigail had found on a banner ad. It was a chat room coupled with a confessional. It was in Night Owls that Abigail started communicating with a Nocturne1995. It was in one of these very emo and very lengthy chats that you found where Nocturne1995 suggested that they go to the Cabin for an Escape from Everything.

Finally turning off Abigail’s most listened to list on iTunes, you returned to your awaiting teammates. Hotch and Rossi watched you approach the table. Their dark eyes held you and you fumbled trying to wipe the sweat from your palms.

“Sir?” You began, whispering just to Hotchner. “I am going to call Garcia to trace a chat ID, its a long shot, but there are mentions of an escape and a cabin in their conversations.”

“You do what you need to, Y/L/N.” Hotchner agreed. “Y/L/N? Good work.”

To Be Continued...

[thorne93]

Nerves

Prompt: Imagine being Garcia’s sister and meeting Spencer after all these years of hearing about him to help on a case, but your reaction surprises both of you

Warnings: idk, maybe language. If you watch Criminal minds, think of that sort of stuff

Word Count: 4664

Note: “What’s with you? You need a hug or something?” for @hanny-bananny This was so fun! Beta’d by the ever fabulous @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d been out of graduate school for about four years now, with quite a bit of experience as a forensic psychologist. However, that didn’t stop any of the surprise when SSA Hotchner called you yesterday to ask if you wanted to assist a case.

“Dr. Garcia, I know you’d be a valuable asset for our team on this. This is your area of expertise, correct?”

“Yes, sir. But I’m not sure I have the correct skill level that your team does,” you had answered as you gathered ingredients for your dinner.

You’d never met any of Penelope’s team, mainly because there was never a chance to. The day she had the Day of the Dead celebration, you were in a conference in San Diego. And every other event that happened with her team, you were busy working on your degree, working with a patient, or lecturing some class somewhere. You were on the move just about as much as her team was.

But you knew all of them by her explanation of them. Derek Morgan was her best friend. You had heard a million wonderful things about him and definitely wanted to meet one day. Agent Hotchner, or as Penelope referred to him - Hotch, was a man of confidence and power, you’d admired him from afar. Mr. David Rossi sounded like he could be your dad with as much as you had in common of classic cars, good italian food, and fine liquor. JJ sounded like a woman you could respect. Dr. Tara Lewis was a woman after your own heart being in the same field. But then there was Dr. Spencer Reid, or boy genius. Penelope had confided that he held three PhDs and his IQ, his eidetic memory, and to her, these were abnormal facts. Something she marveled at, little did she know, you were absolutely in love with Dr. Reid’s mind, you just had yet to meet him.

“You’ll do fine. Could you meet us at nine tomorrow?” he asked, his voice never showing any emotion or inflection.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Garcia can show you where we’ll be.”

“Thank you.”

Now, you were standing right outside of the FBI headquarters waiting on your sister Penelope to show up. You wore black slacks with white pin stripes, a gray satin long sleeved blouse, and diamond choker. You were pretty sure you didn’t blend in, but you were a doctor, not an agent.

She saw you and literally squealed. You loved her with all of your heart, but you weren’t quite as bubbly as her. While she surrounded herself with color and bright things, you seemed to be a bit darker and more cynical. Maybe it was the job. She was behind a screen, while you sat face to face with killers, listening to detailed renditions of ownership they had murdered their victims.

“You’re here! You’re really here!” she exclaimed as she ran up to hug you.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” you questioned innocently with a frown.

“Because I only see you a few times a year,” Penelope reminded with a stern look.

“I know. I’m sorry work just…” You let the idea go, not wanting to have to explain yourself again.

“I know, I know. Come! Come meet my team! I can’t believe this is finally happening! It’s been ten years and you have never met them.” She grabbed your hand and hauled you inside as you got a visitor pass and she took you up an elevator to her office.

“This is the bat cave,” she explained happily. “This is where all the magic happens.”

“Oh, wow, Pen. You really went all out, huh?” you asked as you went up to her desk full of pretty knick knacks, playing with all of them.

“It helps to distract me.”

“I know.”

“Well it’s only 8:40, I’m not sure anyone besides Hotch will be here…” she started, but as she finished the thought, a man walked in the room.

“Baby girl, do you have--oh, hi, you must be baby girl’s sister here,” the coffee skinned man said as he came up to shake your hand.

“Yes, I’m Dr. Y/F/N Garcia.”

“Man, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said with a smile.

“I would say likewise but I’m not sure who you--” you started as your eyes shifted to your little sister.

“This is Derek Morgan,” Penelope explained.

“Ah, I should’ve guessed. Sorry, I’m out of it.” You laughed and he grinned at you.

“Hey, I feel you. I don’t start thinking until well past 10 am.”

“Did you need something, chocolate lava?” Pen asked.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I need the case file for that Atlanta case. And Hotch wants us in five minutes.”

“Roger that,” she said and he smiled at you one more time before leaving.

“He seemed really nice,” you remarked once he left.

“Yeah, but hands off, he’s got a pretty serious girlfriend,” she replied.

“I just said he was nice. I wasn’t even going there--”

“Garcia, Hotch wants you and your sister in there now. Here’s a file the director wants you to look over,” a young man said as he came in, his eyes glued to the file. In an instant, you were shot by a lustful arrow. This man’s hair, outfit, and lean body immediately made your mouth go dry and your knees weak. He dropped the folder and left in a flash, his eyes never noticing you.

“Holy shit,” you thought to yourself.

“Who was that?” you asked almost as if you were out of breath.

“That was Reid, wh--” She stopped and started to laugh that knowing laugh of hers. “Oh, ho, ho, ho. You like him don’t you?”

“No,” you lied as your eyes snapped to hers.

“You do!” she nearly shouted before you could shush her. “Oh my god, you like him.”

“No, I don’t. Your boss is waiting for us. Let’s go.”

Her eyes narrowed on you. “Fine but we aren’t done with this yet.”

She escorted you from her room down the hall into a small conference room with the whole team. They introduced you quickly and you finally matched faces to names, except for Dr. Lewis, she was at her other job.

But the only one you were concerned with was Dr. Reid.

“And this is Dr. Reid,” Penelope said with a cheeky grin as you extended your hand but he didn’t take it.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” he said. “Sorry, I have a thing about germs,” he apologized as he held his hand up.

“Ah,” you breathed, your analyzing skills kicking into overdrive.

“Let’s get started,” Agent Hotchner suggested which broke the magical spell you were under.

“Right. Dr. Montoya is the fourth victim to show up in the southeast region that’s had their necks slashed, dropped off in a wooded area of a park, covered in painters tarp,” your sister explained as she pulled up pictures.

“Dr. Montoya, as in, Richard Montoya?” you questioned.

“Yes, do you know him?” Agent Hotchner asked.

“Yes, we worked together for about six months. Who could do something like this?” you asked while you frowned at the screen.

“That’s what we’re hoping you could shed some light on.”

“The other victims were Dr. Marcy, Dr. Esteves, and Dr. Hollinger,” Pen continued. “All disposed of the exact same way, just in different states. Each one week apart.”

“Where they dumped near their homes?” Derek asked.

“Yes, they were all dumped within thirty minutes of their residence.”

“So he attacks them at their home, most likely,” JJ said.

“So...he’s killing all psychologists?” you asked, your head spinning. You didn’t look at crime scene photos much, much less of your colleagues. You felt sick.

“Are you alright, Dr. Garcia?” Hotchner questioned.

You nodded weakly. “I just...I know these people.” A tear ran down your face. “I’m sorry.”

“You can go get some air. Morgan and JJ, wheels up in 10 for us. We’re going to look at the latest crime scene in Austin. Reid, Rossi, Garcia, and Dr. Garcia, stay here and figure out any link you can between them. Figure out if there were any dinner guests, corresponding emails, texts, or phone calls between the victims or any that come up between them.”

“Yes, sir,” Pen responded.

The team dismissed, leaving you alone with your part of the team.

“Who was the first...victim?” you questioned.

“Dr. Marcy,” Reid answered as he led you to the board with all of the case facts all over it. You saw your friends and coworkers faces up on the board, alongside gruesome photos and your stomach turned.

“Wrapping them means remorse, right?” you asked, grasping for some semblance of sympathy for the person doing this. It was easy to separate yourself when you talked with patients, but when they killed friends….it made it much harder to rationalize their behavior.

“That’s right,” Agent Rossi confirmed as he got up from the table to stand beside you. “Are you okay? You look a little...pale.”

“I’m not sure,” you answered truthfully.

“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a water?” he asked.

“Yes, please, thank you.”

You sat at the table as Dr. Reid joined you and your sister tried to look for a link and Agent Rossi left the room.

“I’m not seeing anything that relates these doctors together except their profession. It looks like all of them have interacted with each other through a few brief, meaningless emails, a few phone calls scattered over the years…” Pen explained.

Rossi returned with your water and you sipped the chilled drink slowly, trying to calm yourself and focus. The FBI, your sister, was asking for your help and you needed to get your head in the game. Your friends deserved that from you.

“Okay, so what do you need me for?” you questioned as soon as your wits were gathered.

“Did you ever hear them talk about any troubling patients? Anyone they reported?” Rossi asked. “Garcia, check for patients that they reported to authorities.” She began clacking away as you searched your mind.

“No, no more than the typical shop talk.”

“No one stood out?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Do you think he’ll kill again? Why is he killing so many psychologists?” you asked, desperation and exasperation in your voice.

“We don’t know,” Rossi said.

----------

The team returned, and with them came the files from Dr. Montoya’s office. They were working on getting the other files from the other doctors to you. You and Reid began poring over them, he going much faster than you. You were looking for any clue of an unbalanced patient and after forty case files between you, his notes weren’t making much sense, and now it was late at night. You pushed the file away from you and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Are you alright?” Reid asked as his eyes never left the page.

“Yes, I just need a break is all.”

“I’m sure this is hard, being your friends and all. We appreciate you doing this.”

“Do you think I’m next?” you blurted out, your eyes searching his.

“I don’t know. Did you ever treat patients that may have been theirs?”

You shook your head. “No, not unless it was in tandem. But those were only a few cases.” You sighed. “I just….They wanted to help people, that’s all they wanted. Why did this have to happen to them?”

Reid pursed his lips in silent sympathy for you. “So how did you become a doctor?”

“I went through medical school,” you answered.

He furrowed his brow at you. “I understand that but I guess I meant, why did you become a doctor?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Curious, I suppose. You and Penelope don’t seem all that much alike,” he observed.

“We aren’t really,” you noted. You sighed. “I just wanted to help people. The criminal mind has always fascinated me and I wanted to do everything I could to understand it, and help them get past their issues and become functioning members of society. And if I couldn’t do that, the least I could do was try to understand them.”

“It’s funny that Garcia was the way she was before the FBI found her and you took the complete opposite path.”

Getting lost in his appearance, his looks, you almost forgot to answer him. You felt like you’d known Reid for a good portion of your adult life thanks to Penelope.

“You’re full of questions and observations, Dr. Reid,” you noted.

“As are you. Part of the job, right? It’s up to us to watch people, observe every detail of them…” He stared at you as the idea trailed of his lips that you were yearning to kiss. You’d been in love with Dr. Reid’s mind for years now, and here he was, in your ideal body type, better than you’d ever imagined. Penelope did not do him justice.

“Okay, well let’s put that BAU training to the test,” you urged with a flirtatious tone. “You want to know so much about me, why don’t you give it a whirl? Tell me some things only someone of your caliber could catch.”

Reid smiled gently at you. “Alright, let’s see. You’re right handed,” he started.

“Oh, stop right there, I want an explanation for everything you decipher about me.”

“Very well. You’re right handed because even though you haven’t picked up a single writing utensil since I’ve met you, you walk forward with your right foot, you lean on it more, you lean to your right when you sit, and you grab everything with your right hand.”

“Alright, one point. Go on. Impress me, Dr. Reid,” you said before you bit your lip.

“You have a nervous habit you’re trying to break. You have a tendency to put your hair behind your ear, then immediately uncover it. My guess is you are insecure about your ears, but it’s just recently come about, either a coworker or a boyfriend teased you about it and it’s come into fruition recently.”

Your eyes darted away, which you knew was a tell sign that he was right.

“You grind your teeth at night, because I can see you relaxing your jaw every time you frown, another habit you’ve been told to break. Your jaw clenches, you frown, then your jaw loosens. Which means you’ve been to the dentist in the last two months. Statistics show we’re more likely to keep to a routine or suggestion that’s been given to us within 6 to 8 weeks.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

“You also listen to music a lot and the fact that there’s none in here has you on edge,” he continued.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you unwittingly hum to yourself and shake your leg when there isn’t noise in the room, meaning that silence makes you uncomfortable.”

“And why do you think Penelope and I chose different life paths?” you questioned.

“Because her defense mechanism was to shield herself from hurt, so she adopted the gothic look, appeared hard to others so they wouldn’t think they could hurt her. She wanted something she could control, so she got into hacking. You wanted to make your parents proud, so you became a doctor. At first, you wanted to do the usual medical endeavors, save lives like your parents couldn’t be saved, but somewhere along the way you didn’t want to hold that much life in your hands, so you opted for psychiatry. You started in grief counseling, but it became too hard for you to bear, so you thought it would be best if you did a job that stopped bad people or at least understood them.”

You sat stunned into silence at his words. They were the truth.

“Uh,” you started in a shaky voice. “Yeah...How did you know all of that?”

“Little movements you made,” he said with a half shrug. “It’s my job. Plus I know Garcia’s past and I know a little bit about you already.”

“Oh? Well then tell me what I’m thinking right now,” you challenged, staring into his eyes as you slowly leaned forward. But before you could get too close, the team came into the conference room, spoiling the moment.

“So this unsub has to be unemployed, right?” Derek suggested. “I mean, it’s been a month and he’s hit four different states each week, calculating these kills so he’s not interrupted. So he must have a lot of time on his hands. So he’s either unemployed or he’s taking a leave of absence or sabbatical.”

“Meaning that the first kill, was close to his house,” you said suddenly.

“What makes you say that?” Derek asked.

“Because he only had a week with the other three, right? That’s including travel time and getting settled into lodging, and eating. The first kill, he needed more time to sit and watch his target, trying to figure out when to strike and how to do it the best way. He must live in Alabama, or he just moved,” you answered.

“Garcia, check patients --” Hotchner started.

“I’m on it,” she said through the speakerphone then hung up.

“She’s very good, huh?” you asked with wonder. You knew Pen was amazing with computers but you never quite knew just how good.

“What if...What if the unsub went after the first doctor because they failed him in some way?” you asked. “Is that possible?” You were so out of your element, but it was a thought.

“But why go after the other doctors?” JJ asked.

“That’s a good question. Considering we all sort of overlap at some point, it could mean they all encountered him or never did,” you said.

Dr. Reid looked around the room and asked, “Guys, what if the first doctor failed someone he knew, and the others failed him?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“What if someone close to him was working with Dr. Marcy, and they committed suicide, so then he went to the other doctors and they weren’t helping him cope with the suicide? So he took it out on them?”

“Could be, but what’s the stressor?” Derek questioned.

“Losing his job? You said yourself he has to be unemployed.”

“So we’re looking for someone who lost someone, lost a job, and is in sessions themselves?” Rossi questioned.

JJ frowned. “But Garcia already ran all the patients, none of the patients that fit the profile overlap.”

“We’ve been looking for cutters, not someone with a suicide in the family,” Dr. Reid retorted before he dialed your sister’s extension. “Garcia, look for anyone who came in for dealing with the suicide of a family member for our victims.”

“Okay, give me more, that’s a long list.”

“He’s between eighteen and thirty,” JJ added.

“And look for anyone who lost a job within two months,” Derek commented.

“Okay...Nothing. We have a few patients that committed suicide themselves for each of them but none that fit the parameters.”

“Pen, do any of those suicide victims have close family that’s still alive that is in sessions?” you questioned.

“Uh, yes! We have one. Amanda Ivris. She committed suicide after being in Dr. Marcy’s care for over two years. She killed herself five months ago and has an older brother Charlie….Oh lord, she cut her own throat and Charlie found her.”

“Did Charlie ever see those other doctors, baby girl?” Morgan questioned.

“No, it doesn’t look like it.”

“Then how is he tied to them?” JJ wondered.

“Could’ve used an alias,” Derek offered as he shrugged.

“What about a job, Garcia?” Rossi questioned.

“No, he lost it...six weeks ago,” she answered.

“Address,” Hotchner ordered.

“On your phones.”

The call ended but you were puzzled. “Wait, but what about his ties to the other doctors?”

“Odds are he used an alias or asked to remain anonymous,” Reid answered as he started to leave.

“Wait, what do I do?”

“You come with us,” Hotchner answered.

“What?” you asked, panic and alarm bells screeching inside you. “I’m not trained for the field.”

“You don’t have to be, we just need a trained psychiatrist there to help calm him down.”

“But I -- “ you started.

“Now. We need to move,” Hotchner commanded.

The address wasn’t too far away as they grabbed you a bulletproof vest and your heart sped out of control. What if this unsub shot at you? What if you couldn’t talk him down? What if he shot at this team?

“You took Y/N with you?” Garcia suddenly said over the car speakerphone system, her voice filled with panic and concern. You were riding with Derek and Dr. Reid.

“Yeah, baby girl but I’ll keep her safe.”

“I know you will but what if--”

“Momma, calm down. I need you calm and focused in case I need you, okay? Y/N is going to be fine.”

“Okay...okay,” she said between deep breaths.

“Alright?” Derek asked as he drove.

“Alright. Just be careful.”

With that, she hung up.

“She’s a bit of a worrier,” you said from the backseat.

“You’re telling me. When any of us goes into the hospital, she’s the first one by our side, ready to spring into action,” Derek commented with a little laugh and shake of his head. “Where did she get that from?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think it stems from wanting to keep anything she loves safe, I mean, don’t we all?” you asked, but you were met with silence.

You arrived at the house and followed Spencer and Derek onto the porch.

“FBI. Ivris, open up!” Derek shouted and when there was no response, Derek kicked in the door and they nodded for you to follow them. You stayed on Spencer’s heels until Derek noticed movement in the kitchen and he and Spencer took off running. He eventually ran from the kitchen right where you stood. Stunned, you couldn’t react or respond. So he grabbed you and put a knife to your throat. The guys caught up to you, their guns drawn toward you and Mr. Ivris. You had no idea what to do.

“Get back or I’ll cut her! She’ll bleed just like the rest of em!” he shouted, his knife digging into your jugular.

“You don’t want to do that,” Spencer insisted calmly.

“Oh yeah? How would you know what I want?”

“Because I know you want to make everyone feel like you felt,” you suddenly said, cutting off Spencer. You weren’t sure what you were doing, you were just going off what you knew from your patients. You were scared, sure, but something about the situation, you kept your heart rate down. Possibly because you knew getting upset wouldn’t help anything.

“What?” he asked, as if he was impatient.

“That’s why you killed Dr. Montoya, Dr. Marcy, and all those others. You hold them responsible for losing your sister. I get that. Because the doctors failed you, they failed her. That’s not her fault or yours. They should’ve tried harder to save her. I know that,” you said. “It’s a doctor’s job to take care of their patients.”

He loosened the grip on the knife and pulled it away slightly.

“Yes. Yes,” he agreed fervently as he spun you around to face him, his hands hard on your shoulders. “Did someone fail you too?”

“No...I failed them,” you answered solemnly and while he realized what you said, Derek was handcuffing him.

-------------------------------------

The case wrapped up but Agent Hotchner asked if you’d like to assist on more cases. You immediately agreed. You wouldn’t work at the FBI full time, but you would have the proper training with a gun, stances, situations, language. For the most part, you would be there to fill in when Dr. Lewis couldn’t.

This meant that you had plenty of time to get to know Spencer Reid. He and you often sat together on cases, he even went with you to the gun range. But the only issue was that after a month of working with him, you had flirted heavily and he wasn’t picking up on any of the signals. You’d asked him out to coffee and while he agreed, he didn’t really seem to get the hint. You often tried to gently touch his arm, or even go as far as to play with his hair and he seemed completely indifferent to your cues, signs, and advances.

You had talked to Penelope about it and she even tried to assist by pushing you and Spencer together, dropping hints of her own. You even dressed scantily a few days with an extra tight blouse and skirt and spiked shiny heels, but it was like you were hitting on a robot.

One day, shortly after another one of your failed attempts to flirt, you went into the conference room with Morgan to look over a case, throwing the file down and huffing, your coffee spilling as you angrily sat it down.

“Shit,” you growled, your emotions getting the better of you. You were at the end of your rope with this whole Spencer thing. You were trying everything you knew of and you were out of ideas.

“Damn, bad morning?”

“Why would you think that?” you asked in a smartassed tone.

“What’s with you? You need a hug or something?” Morgan asked with a half smile since he never saw you like this.

“No, I just need Spencer to notice me,” you responded in a low tone, more to yourself than him.

“Oh, so pretty boy has you frazzled. What’s up?”

You sighed as you turned to face him. “I’ve done everything I can to make it clear that I like him. I’ve asked him out, flirted with him, touched on him…”

“Have you just tried telling him?” he asked, his brows pulling together.

“No…” you answered sheepishly.

“Well maybe you should give that a whirl. The kid isn’t always keen on social cues.”

“You’re telling me,” you huffed.

“And here comes your chance,” Morgan said as he glanced up and Spencer was smiling at you two as he walked in.

“Hey guys,” he greeted.

“Y/N has something she wants to tell you, Reid,” Morgan said before he jumped up and left, a huge grin on his face.

“You’re an ass,” you said in a hushed whisper as he disappeared out of the room. You turned back to Spencer, your face red.

“You had something to tell me?” he inquired, those wide, innocent eyes on yours.

“I--uh--yeah…”

He stared at you a moment then said, “Okay. What is it?” He smiled at you, waiting.

Your nerves were bundling inside you, about to make you burst. You finally decided to simply go for it.

“Spencer, I like you,” you blurted out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Oh, thanks, Y/N. I like you too,” he answered with a grin.

You smiled half-heartedly, realizing he didn’t take in what you’d just confessed.

“No, Spence...I have a crush on you.”

“Oh...Oh!”

“Yeah,” you said awkwardly. “Well this was fun,” you quickly said, starting to gather your things.

“Wait, don’t go. Do you mean that?”

“Well of course I do. Spencer, I’ve been trying to flirt with you heavily for a month now.”

“That’s what that was? I thought you were just overtly friendly.”

Suddenly, you let out a cackle.

“No,” you laughed. “No, I did all that because I want to date you.”

“I want to date you too,” he informed. It took a second for you to register that he just agreed that he liked you back.

“You do?” you breathed.

“Of course, Y/N. You’re highly intelligent, you’re sweet, you’re funny, you understand my jokes. I just didn’t want to ask you out because I didn’t think you liked me like that.”

“For the smartest guy in the room, you can be quite foolish, Dr. Spencer Reid,” you teased.

[hollywritesinstardust]

Sister Sinner: Chapter Two

Request: Do you do cross-overs? I was thinking Neal Caffery’s younger sister works with the BAU, her brother, Mozzie, and Peter on a case, and ends up crushing on Derek Morgan.

A/N: Chapter 2/?; sorry this took so long! @bestillmystuckyheart wanted to be tagged, so here you go!

Fandom: Criminal Minds/White Collar

Characters/Pairings: Derek Morgan/Reader; Neal Caffrey, Mozzie, Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi

Words: 2,351

Y/N - Your Name

           You still had a stitch in your side from your almost mile-long sprint away from a beat cop when you heard a knock on the door.

            Neal taught you many things, but one thing he hadn’t had to teach you was to watch your back. You were a fourteen-year-old living on the run with your brother, who was still so young most people wouldn’t place him any older than twenty. You looked like easy victims. Living as criminals also meant that not only did you make enemies from the people you conned and stole from, but it also meant you had to be extra careful of what you did and said around police. You had to be sure they couldn’t misconstrue anything you said or did.

            The first thing you did was look through the peephole, checking for a uniform. No, it wasn’t the cop you’d ditched. It was a short guy, who looked very physically unimpressive – he had an ugly fake wig and a loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt, and white khakis – but looks could be deceiving. After all, you looked like a sweet little girl, but you’d just gone around Central Park, pickpocketing enough money to pay the rent.

            “Open up!” The guy called. He didn’t yell, just knocked on the door again, maybe a little harder.

            You hesitated before you did as he said. Maybe he was just the landlord.

            The door opened slowly. You leaned on the frame so that you could close it quickly if you needed to, and the man couldn’t see very far into the apartment. He was old, easily ten, possibly twenty years older than Neal.

            He blinked at you, surprised. You were not who he had expected. You took it to your advantage, made your most confused and nervous face, and adopted a quiet, anxious, meek child’s voice.

            “I – I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered to him, looking apologetic and stricken at the same time. “I’m not supposed to let people in when my daddy’s not home.” Neal often played his good looks to his advantage. You’d lost weight without having parents to feed you, despite Neal’s best efforts, so you looked smaller than you were. You chose to utilize that.

            Just then, your brother came out from the hallway, toweling off his damp, dark hair. “Y/N?” He called, looking around for you. You panicked, but just for a second, and hoped it didn’t show on your face.

            You sniffled and rubbed your nose. “I’ve gotta go,” you told the stranger at the door, making a sad face and starting to close the door. For effect, you started talking to Neal while still sure you could be heard. “How much longer until mommy and daddy get home?”

            But it was too late. Although Neal realized you’d been talking to an uninvited visitor, he had already spoken and let his voice be heard. The man in front of you started to push the door open. “Hey, just wait a minute-“

            You felt the door being shoved back at you and did the first thing you thought of: you punched him in the jaw as hard as you could.

            “No,” Neal muttered, reaching for your shoulder. He pulled you back out of the way and tried to set you behind the door and out of view. Petrified, you let him move you back. Neal stepped up to the door, towel clenched in one hand, and started to hold it half-closed again. “Look, I’m sorry. Forget she’s here, please. You can have your money back.”

            The man’s answer sounded very pained. “I don’t want the money.”

            By now you realized that Neal must’ve stolen from him, and he’d tracked you both down. Although you were afraid of what he might want, if not restitution, you moved back into view, standing just behind Neal and watching the two older men with trepidation.

            Neal tightened his grip on the door. “You did the job perfectly,” he said tensely. “I just cheated. I’m no one. You won’t ever see me again.”

            The man, who you would shortly learn to call Mozzie, turned his eyes past Neal and to you. He looked over your defensive stance and then looked back up to Neal. He surveyed both of you, looking intently at your faces, before he came to a conclusion.

            “Oh,” he said simply, dropping his hand from his bruising jaw. “Your sister can sure pack a punch. Good thing I’m on your team.”

            Though you were pleased with your assignment, Mozzie definitely was not. The Gambinos were a big target. If a Caffrey helped take down a Gambino, maybe the bureau would be a little more lenient on Neal. You could hope.

            “Are you insane?!” Moz yelled at you from the couch while you leaned forward to the mirror, sliding your earrings in. “Clearly, you must be, because there’s no other explanation for why you would willingly walk into this – this – this death trap!”

            “Relax, Moz,” you said over your shoulder, standing up straight and dusting off your blazer. You smiled at your reflection and then gave a small, excited wave to Neal, who was standing back in the kitchen sipping on coffee. “I know what I’m doing. I’m going to wear a very discreet microphone courtesy of their techie, I’m going to make friends, and then I’m getting out as soon as I have something linking them to the murders.” You turned around, twirling to show off your form-fitting jeans. You wanted to look like an adult, but you didn’t want to be taken as seriously as, say, a fed. “Easy-peasy. Besides, Neal got Keller, Dorsett, and Wilkes, all within a year. I’m falling behind.”

            “It’s not a points system,” Neal objected, his brow tightened. He had already voiced his concerns. You knew that neither of them were exactly happy with your decision, and admittedly, it made you a little less optimistic. You preferred when your friends had your backs. You knew that Neal would drop everything for you if you asked – Mozzie, too – but you’d like to be treated like an adult. Moz didn’t throw tantrums when Neal started in on loan sharks that resorted to arson when they weren’t paid.

            “Look, the Gambinos are the type that hire contractors,” you reasoned, simply enough for it to feel understandable and safe. “As long as no strange players come in, I figure I’ll be okay if I watch my back, watch my drinks, and lie well. Which I learned to do from the best.”

            Mozzie cleared his throat and put his empty wine glass down. “I want the record to show that I detest this idea. That Ruiz guy has some nerve, asking you to do this!”

            “Moz, relax,” Neal rolled his eyes. “Besides, Ruiz is the last one that wanted to ask Y/N. Y/N asked herself, more or less, and Ruiz was just more like a messenger that there was an opportunity.”

            You sent him a grateful smile over your shoulder. “Exactly,” you agreed. “I promise I’ll be careful. Their team is going to have my back the whole time. If at any time I ever need a way out, they’re on standby. Morgan’s ready to raid, Jareau will stage a phone call, Hotchner will have a distraction provided by the on-site team. Whatever the situation calls for.”

            You didn’t mention that you were secretly more than a little worried about this first meeting. You knew that if you admitted to being anxious, Neal would fret that your nerves would get in the way of your performance, and he might fight you more on this. There was very little he could say to change your mind – people were dying, you had to do something – but you always preferred to have him in your corner.

             You also neglected to mention that there was a degree of inevitability that if something did go wrong, you would likely be dead before you had the chance to send any sort of signal to anyone in the BAU. The mafia didn’t become the mafia by playing fair or giving advance notices. They became feared because they were dangerous, and you were voluntarily going into a meeting with a lion roused from the den.

            You gave the conference room door a solid knock before you opened it. You entered before giving anyone the chance to hide what they were doing. It was customary for Caffreys to get their noses in everywhere, even without invitation. You found that knocking and then quickly entering was accepted in the bureau more often than you’d have expected; if it seemed like you were in a rush, no one cared as much about politeness as much as they cared about something that may or may not be a matter of urgent response. Such is the life of agents where they make a lot of enemies and handle general public safety.

            “There she is,” Rossi greeted you. The agents of the BAU were all sitting around the table with the exception of Garcia, who was standing by the front of the room, holding a remote to the on-screen projector but covering her eyes with her arm. “Miss Sofia.”

            “Sofia?” You asked, interested, casting Hotchner one of your patented excuse me, sir smiles as you pulled out a chair and sat down next to him.

            “We’ve had a fake ID made. We think if you use an Italian name, you could be accepted into the group faster.” Reid explained. You nodded; it made sense. People trusted their own sooner than they trusted outsiders.

            “So, Miss Sofia,” Rossi repeated with a smirk, “Welcome to the Italian crime scene.”

            “Grazie,” you grinned, neglecting to mention that you’d been on the scene before – robbing the Italian Consulate would probably just get you arrested. The statute of limitations hadn’t passed on that yet. “So, fill me in on my cover.”

            Garcia, Reid, and Morgan all told you everything you would need to know. They believed the Gambinos were getting involved in arms trafficking to supplement a future comeback of La Cosa Nostra as the dominant family, so Sofia was an Italian-American arms trader with planted references from Sicily, Naples, Amsterdam, Nice, and British Columbia. Ruiz had his department’s own CIs start rumors that Sofia was in the city looking to make a trade on military-grade weapons before she was flagged by American customs, which meant there was a degree of rapidity required in making a deal. Hopefully, according to Morgan, it would cut back the time frame, allowing you to get in and out of the op sooner and preventing the body count from rising higher than it already had. Reid was sure to throw in, however, that it meant you wouldn’t have as long to build a rapport before they had to let you in or risk losing their supposed weaponry, and that meant you were in a more precarious situation if you were compromised.

             “Hey,” Morgan said softly across the table, intentionally catching your eyes. Your confident smirk dimmed slightly. “Last chance to back out now, Y/N. We start this at eleven tonight. Once you’re in, you have to see it through. If you stop halfway, they’ll look into you and find you’re not who you say you are.”

            And then they’ll kill me, and possibly my brother. You thought to yourself, almost – almost – second-guessing your willingness to do this.

            Then again, Neal had taken down Lao Shen, even though the Chinese could’ve had you killed if Neal had been made. You used to both be very, very cautious, but since Neal had been incarcerated, that had changed. You needed money, which meant larger schemes. Then the FBI forced Neal at worse targets, and him saying no would’ve gotten him imprisoned again. It was by your own insistence that Caffreys had become high-profile targets, because you wouldn’t let him be caged just because he was worried about you.

            “Thanks,” you told him honestly. You hated how sometimes it felt like the bureau only saw you and Neal as tools. It was nice to be treated like a person and have agents recognize the danger you were volunteering for. “But I’m the most qualified consultant you have. Say what you will about my brother and I, but we’re anti-violence. Killers need to be stopped.”

            “Alright then.” Hotch (as he preferred to be called) stood up from his seat slowly, moving to close the door to the conference room. “The meeting is covert. You go in, you respond to your alias, and you wait to be approached.”

            “And then try to convince them to take me back to wherever their hideout is.” You reasoned. “So when I get probable cause, you guys can get a specific address on your warrant.”

            “But don’t be the one to suggest it.” Prentiss told you sternly, shaking her head. “If you can steer it in that direction, that would be great. Just don’t ask to go there. No matter what we need, don’t do something that could make you into a threat.”

            “You need a help signal, just in case something goes wrong.” Morgan leaned onto the table, tapping a capped pen over a document summarizing your alias’ history. “Is there a word or a phrase that you can remember under pressure, that can be slipped into conversation without alerting them?”

            You opened your mouth, but stopped and leaned back. With your toes, you rocked your chair, thinking seriously. Neal was usually assigned his phrases, but you supposed that choosing your own ensured you would be able to think of them even if you had a gun to your head.

            It took you a moment, but you were able to come up with two words that held such suspenseful and terrorizing associations to you that you would never in your life be able to forget.

            “Music box,” you told him simply, neglecting to expand on your answer, even when Prentiss, Reid, and Garcia all looked at you in confused inquisition. “Trust me,” you told Morgan, who had arched an eyebrow in reluctant skepticism. “There’s no way I’d ever forget ‘music box.’”

[notgonnarememberthis]

Their Children

AKA: 5 Times Phil Coulson was Their Dad and 1 Time Melinda was Their Mom

Funny story: This entire fic actually stemmed off of a tweet Clark posted a few weeks ago. Someone had compared a photo of him to a photo of a $10 bill and he responded “What’s your name son?” in classic dad trying to be cool fashion. Thus this fic was born. I hope you guys enjoy cause I had a lot of fun writing this!

What’s Your Name, Son?

“Oh my God.” Phil can hear Daisy snickering from the common room, Elena is seated next to her. The speedster is leaning on her shoulder looking at something she had pulled up on her phone now giggling into her leader’s jacket. He takes a moment reminiscing in the sound of their bubbling laughter. It’s infectious really. Laughter was such a rare thing on base and to hear it so uninhibited made his heart swell a bit. Especially from Daisy, whose wide smiles were replaced with half sarcastic smirks. He spies May sipping a beer across from them. Elena seizes the laptop turning it towards May and he swears for half a second it looked like she was about to choke on her beer.

“Anybody wish to let me in on the joke?” He asks stepping into the room. As if almost automatic Melinda holds up the beer that had been settled by her side. She had grabbed it for him. He accepts the beer standing behind her.

“Hablando del diablo.” Elena laughs.

“You know I speak Spanish right?” Phil asks.

“Yes but it’s fun to watch Daisy try to figure out what I’m saying.” Elena jokes shoving Daisy with her elbow.

“I know what diablo means!” Daisy scoffs in protest.

“Only because you wanted your Twitter bio to be ‘Donald es el diablo naranja.’” This time it’s his turn to choke on his beer.

“Coulson thinks it’s funny!”

“I never said it wasn’t funny.” Elena teases.

“Well what were you two joking about?” He asks again.

“Oh!” Daisy turns her laptop showing it to him. On the laptop was a photo of him next to a photo of a ten dollar bill. “Maria sent me those two photos and I have to say the likeness is uncanny.” Daisy snickers.

Phil let’s out a small laugh. He has to say there is a certain resemblance. He can’t help himself, he has to make the joke. “What’ your name, son?” He says in a sing-song tone.

“What?” Daisy’s smile fades from her face as she stares at him.

“You know, the musical Hamilton. All about-”

“I know what Hamilton is Coulson.” Daisy interrupts. “The lyrics are ‘What’s your name, man’ not ‘What’s your name son’”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m right.” He denies. His gratification in himself only lasts a few seconds before Elena has already pulled up the song playing the section of it. He let’s out a laugh shrugging slightly. “Oops.”

Melinda gets up suddenly leaving the room. He watches her go trying not to be sad at the change. Suddenly Daisy’s laptop makes a noise.

“Huh that’s weird.”

“Who is it from?” Elena asks.

“Says it’s anonymous.” Daisy’s back straightens ready to hack if necessary. Suddenly her face crumples as boisterous laughter escapes her throat. Elena looks over next joining in on the noise. He can’t help his curiosity walking to the back of the couch.

The photo was kind of blurry but it was obviously of his, his glasses perched on his nose. His pants were rolled up to his knees, wearing some graphic tee with bright red shoes. Sure enough it was a photo Melinda had snapped of him on a skateboard.

“May!” He shouts running after her.

The Bearer of Bad Jokes

‘Hey DC I was thinking-”

“I thought I smelled something burning.” Daisy freezes, a glare that scarily similar to May’s shadowing over her face. That’s when Phil had begun.

For months Phil began to terrorize the base with what Daisy referred to as “dad jokes”. He’d take the opportunity to snarkily reply whenever he got the chance. It had become his personal mission to get everyone on the base at least once.

“Fitz,” He calls over the scientist one day with a grim look on his face. They were surveying a cemetery for signs of an inhuman that frequented there visiting her family. “Do you know why I’m not allowed to be buried here?”

Alarm flashes over Fitz’s face. First concern, then mild curiosity, then slight fear. “No sir, why’s that?”

“Because I’m not dead yet.” Yet another one down. He’d fallen for it flawlessly.

Elena is next, cornered in a church after a mission. “Do you know how they make the holy water?” Phil asks suddenly.

“Sir it’s water.”

“They boil the hell out of it.” It was definitely worth getting shot with an ICER by Melinda for that one.

Mack was simply fixing up Melinda’s motorcycle one day when Phil advanced. “I had a dream that I was a muffler last night, you know.”

“Sir?” Mack looked startled and a little freaked out by the odd statement from the normally serious man.

“I woke up exhausted.”

The next came Jemma who sat back after eating a meal that he’d specially prepared for the team as a birthday celebration for Daisy. She sits back suddenly a hand on her stomach.

“I’m full.” She announces with a laugh. Everyone seems to freeze at once recognizing the sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“No you’re Jemma. I’m full.” Everyone proceeded to groan and leave the room, the remaining two only being him and Melinda. His soft laughter is the only thing filling the silence. “Come on that was a good one.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

His Girls

Yet another undercover mission, Phil sighs to himself as he settles onto the park bench. It was an easy one today, just a stake out. Observe a suspected Inhuman and make deductions of whether or not they could be a potential danger to themselves and others. Even if they figured they were a danger, extraction wasn’t their mission today. Today they were to relax and would it really hurt anybody if they caught a ride or two?

Melinda sits across from him with her sunglasses covering her eyes from him. He knows she’s staring at the family just over his shoulder. The mother turned out to be an Inhuman after being caught on security tape with a random burst of powers. She hadn’t hurt anyone or caused chaos. Just a mere startling. It’s not clear if she’s even aware that she’s exhibited signs of her powers.

He takes a moment to observe Melinda. She’s wearing a flowery dress that barely brushes past her knees. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail and her makeup is light. She’s absolutely breathtaking.

Suddenly she tenses, it’s all in her frame. That’s the look she gets when she’s ready to fight. Phil spares a glance over his shoulder, the woman is leaning over a baby carrier cooing at the small human inside. Not even a sign of the sparks echoing from her fingers. He turns back to Melinda who continues to stare straight past him. His eyes fall on Daisy and Jemma this time. The two girls stand in line waiting for ice cream. They were all posing as a family on vacation, both girls were wearing blue jean shorts and loose fitting tanks. He could tell by their composure both girls were incredibly uncomfortable.

Finally he finds the victims of May’s death glare. There are two guys, one has arm wrapped around Jemma. God bless her, she’s smiling politely and doing her best to maintain cover. He can see the twitch of Daisy’s fingers. If they don’t leave soon Daisy will make them. Phil reaches over placing a hand on Melinda’s as a sign of “I’ll be right back.”

“... You can ditch them. It wouldn’t hurt anything. It looks like you could use someone who can show you a good time.” The taller one is leaning into Daisy now. He’s invading her space. “I think I could show you a good time, what do you say sweetheart?”

Phil clears his throat catching the attention of the four. Jemma’s eyes reveal her entirely. She’s unsure of what to do or say. “Dad?” She chokes out.

“This is the old man?” The one with his arm around Jemma scoffs. “Get out of here pops.” Phil offers his best fake grin. He reared back punching the man in the nose. He immediately releases Jemma and she scrambles over to Melinda. Daisy stomps on the other’s foot twisting his arm as soon as Jemma is out of reach.

“You’re lucky it was me and not my wife.” Phil growls at the boy. He’s holding his nose as it bleeds profusely. “If you come near my girls again I will be sure to let her handle you next time.” He nods to Daisy and she pushes his friend to the ground.

“Thanks Dad.” Daisy smiles nudging him playfully on the arm. His heart swells a bit in his chest. He knows it’s for their cover but it’s something she’s said low enough that only he can hear. He leans in placing a soft kiss on the side of her head.

“Anything for my girls.” He’s pretty sure he could get used to the sound of that.

His girls.

Friendly Competition

Phil purses his lips watching the two of them talking rather animatedly from just outside. Mace had been bonding with the agents much more since the whole LMD thing blew over. It seemed his new favorite buddy was Fitz. He nearly jumps when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Stop being so jealous. You’re practically transparent.

Phil looked around but he was the only one in sight anywhere. Very funny Mel. Where are you?

He waits a beat before the phone buzzes again. Madrid. Got a lead on where Vijay could have disappeared to. Since the LMD thing we set monitors in the zephyr. Your face is as red as the bricks.

He feels his face flush even darker now. Of course Melinda can see right through him even when she’s hours away.

Go in there. Against his instinct he steps into the common room. He can almost feel May’s told-you-so smirk from here. God he really is transparent.

“Agent Coulson, good to see you.” He’s not sure why but Mace’s smarmy grin still burns a fire in his stomach. “I was just discussing with Agent Fitz some improvements that can be made to his lab.”

“Jemma and I’s lab actually… sir.” Fitz corrects offering a kind smile.

“Yes of course.”

“On the bus Fitzsimmons had their own private lab. They work most efficiently when together.” Coulson suggested. Out of the corner of his eye he swears he can see Fitz light up at the idea. “Keeping the separate isn’t beneficial to the team.”

“I think you of all people will understand, Phil, that there are plenty of good agents that work well within SHIELD. It simply isn’t efficient to have a small team of expert agents. We need to spread our assets as much as possible and equalize our training.”

“Yes but Fitzsimmons are an exception. They work exceptionally well alone but their difference together is incredible. If one can’t solve a problem they will find a way to talk the other through it.”

“Yes well-”

“Hello Fitz.” Phil hears Jemma greet.

“They’re doing it again.” He hears the young scientist mutter under his breath.

“Oh dear, another dad battle?”

“Another dad battle.”

“I will look into your suggestion Coulson. We’ll have a test trial and see if your statement holds true. If so, I will work on making a private sector for agents Fitz and Simmons personally.” Mace stands with an amicable smile, “Now if you excuse me.”

Phil watches him go with a sort of pride in his chest. He feels his phone buzz yet again.

Round: Phil. Victory dinner when we get back?

He smiles to himself shooting back a quick text. You bring the whiskey, I’ll order Thai?

Sounds like a deal to me.

Something Borrowed

Phil entered the office only to find Jemma and Fitz waiting for him. The sight was a tad unnerving.

“Why do I feel like I’ve been called to the principal’s office?” He jokes.

“Sir, as you know Fitz proposed about a month ago…” Jemma drones off.

“Yes and congratulations.” He smiles.

“Well originally we had planned on eloping to Ireland so that we can get the family together. I mean of course we still are but it’s a little inconvenient for an entire team of spies to all travel to Ireland for a wedding, and that places our family in harm and-”

“What Fitz is trying to say is we’re going to hold two weddings. One for our family in Ireland. One for our family here.” Jemma squeezes her fiancee’s hand as a sign of support.

“Yes. That’s right.”

“And you called me here because?” Coulson asks. “I’m not really one for wedding planning. Though I do make a mean cake.”

“Well, I proposed this to Fitz the other day. I was wondering for our wedding here… Would you walk me down the aisle?” Jemma asks biting her lower lip.

For a few seconds he swears his heart stops again. He would know after all, he’s experienced it before. He’d always wanted kids but never got the opportunity to have them. There were moments when he regretted not being able to teach his boy how to play baseball, teach his little girl how to dance, walk his daughter down the aisle… Now that he’s here it sort of dawns on him that he’s had this all along. Sure he missed out on their childhood but he’s just as much their father as the legal one.

“Well?” Fitz asks hopefully.

“I’d be honored to walk you down the aisle.” Jemma cheers throwing her arms around his neck. In the small sentimental moment, he swears he can hear her small voice against his shoulder.

“I love you Dad.”

A Mother’s Love

Elena was about a fraction away from pacing footsteps into the cement, that much Melinda could tell. Her hands were wringing together at super speed while she stayed pacing just slow enough for Melinda to be able to clearly tell the young woman’s outline. Something was obviously bothering her but she had no idea why she was here. The woman had obviously been waiting for her. It was 5 in the morning, just in time for her Tai Chi and Daisy was out of the country fetching a new inhuman.

“Elena?” The girl stops suddenly almost startled. The bags under her eyes are significant and Melinda almost wonders how long she’d been pacing in here. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitates and for a second Melinda is positive she’s about to run away. She opens her mouth and let’s out a small whisper, “I’m pregnant.”

Melinda freezes for contemplating how to move forwards with this new information. She places her water a towel on the bench and moves back towards her. “How far along are you?”

“About six weeks.” Elena breathes.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Just you and Simmons. She wants to do an ultrasound tomorrow to check on the baby.” Elena frowns.

“And Mack?” The look on her face is enough to give away her true motives behind this visit. “So that’s why you’re here.”

“He told me about what happened to Hope.” Her eyes fall to the ground. “I know you and Coulson know.”

“Records.” Melinda nods, “We’re required to know.”

“I don’t know how to tell him. He already lost one child and now-” Elena sucks in a breath her hands falling on her stomach protectively.

“You’re worried he’ll not want this child.”

“No.” Elena almost looks offended. “Just… What if something horrible happens?”

Melinda purses her lips at the thought. “Something terrible always happens. I swear to you we will do everything in our power to protect both of you.”

“What if they’re…”

“Inhuman?” Melinda asks. “Then we teach them as you and Daisy learned. This is a gift. Not a curse. So many people used their powers for bad over fear of themselves.” She states calmly. “He or she will have nothing to be afraid of.”

“And Hope?”

“He has to let the girl go.” Melinda smiles sadly. “Have faith in him.”

Quicker than she can react, Elena has her wrapped in a crushing hug. Hesitantly Melinda hugs the girl back. “Thank you May.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Hey.” Phil snakes his arms around her waist from behind, kissing the back of her neck. “Have I ever told you how good you look in my shirts?” He purrs nipping lightly at the juncture of her neck. She was clad in nothing more than his shirt when she’d heard a small knock on the door in the middle of the night. “Why did you leave bed?” He buries his nose in her neck possessively.

Melinda had asked the same question herself when she’d come out. Her gun lays dormant on the table beside the door, in replacement she clutches a photo in her hand. The photo is blurry but she can trace the outline of the small baby.

Faith. The name was written in familiar handwriting on the back. It had been a few months since she’d talked to Elena about her situation. Now not only did she have a photo, but a name as well.

“Apparently we’re grandparents.” Melinda smiles showing him the photo.

“Faith?” Phil laughs lightly. “Mack has always been a sentimental man.”

Four and a half months later, Melinda sheds a tear for the first time in years as Faith Mira Mackenzie grips the tip of her finger in her tiny little fist.