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confused-pyramid · 1 year ago

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Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

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You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 4 months ago

Text

The Popular Kids

Season One Masterlist

Derailed

Bloody Hungry

Summary: Apparent Satantic rituals brings the team to a small town where a high school jock is killed and his girlfriend goes missing. Meanwhile Spencer starts having nightmares.

Warning: Death of teenager(s); Misunderstanding, Spencer drinking too much sugar, Zoe being a little mean to Spencer, Nightmares, Guilt, Schizophrenia statistics (not sure if they're totally correct); ADHD rant in the bottom notes; Talk of post-mortem C-sections

youtube

"I'd rather be a lone wolf than a popular sheep."

November 30, 2005

Spencer poured more sugar than usual in his morning coffee in his labeled coffee mug.

"Easy there, tough guy." Morgan teased, "Have some coffee with your sugar."

"I need something to wake me up." Spencer said.

"Ooh. Late night?

"Very."

"My man." Morgan praised.

"Not that kind of late night." Spencer blushed, being very much a virgin. Never having so much as kissed a girl and barely been on a date with one and increasingly falling in love with his best friend who is closed off to romance or normal relationships in general.

Morgan chuckled, pouring his own cup of coffee, "Okay, so tell me, what does keep young Doctor Reid awake at night?" Spencer drank his more sugary than usual coffee and turned around to watch Morgan tease him. "Wait, let me guess. Memorising some obscure textbook? No, no, no. Working on cold fusion. No, I got it, I got, I got it. Watching Star Trek and laughing at the physics mistakes."

"Actually, there aren't that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering how long ago it was made. There are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors." Spencer informed him.

"Right." Morgan said and went to leave.

"Hey, Morgan?" Spencer asked and Morgan turned around. "Do you ever have dreams?"

"I'm sorry?" Morgan asked.

"I guess, uh, nightmares would be a more accurate description." Spencer said.

"Is that what's keeping you up?" Morgan asked, his tone was now rarely serious from his concern for Spencer.

"I used to get them occasionally, but lately it's like I have them every night." Spencer confessed.

"What are they about?"

"This. What we do." Spencer replied and after a moment he asked, "Do you have nightmares?"

"Reid, I'm not sure if I'm the right person for you to talk to about this." Morgan said.

"Why not?" Spencer asked.

"It's just, uh... Did you ask Gideon about it?" Morgan asked.

"No." Spencer shook his head.

"You should."

"I'd normally ask Zoe but I think she's mad at me about something but I don't know what."

"Good luck with that." Morgan said, Zoe seemed to always be mad about something.

Spencer just gave him an unamused look and Elle interrupted the conversation, "Hey. Hotch wants everyone in the Round Table room." She looked between the two, the tension wasn't like it usually was with Morgan teasing Spencer and Spencer annoying him with facts Morgan deemed useless. "Something up with you two?"

"No." Spencer lied and turned to move to the round table room.

JJ entered with Hotch, Gideon, and Alexander on the other side of the room, "McAllister." She said, "Western slope of the Massanutten Mountain in Virginia. Two bodies discovered in the woods, both with apparent blunt trauma to the head."

"Skeletons?" Spencer asked.

"One of them." JJ said. "The second victim was just killed this morning.

"How do we know there's a connection?" Elle asked.

"Found about seventy-five feet apart with nearly identical head wounds." Hotch said.

"Where's the rest of the case file?" Morgan asked, picking up the thin file.

"There isn't one. The sheriffs are on the scene waiting for us."

"The location's only a half-hour away by plane. We're just waiting for Zoe to come in." JJ said.

Zoe entered, she had her purple helmet with small devil horns still on her head with the visor flipped up and her hair was messy from the short motorcycle ride.

"Zoe's been here." She said, she sounded annoyed to be called in on her day off.

"How'd you get here so fast?" Morgan asked.

"It's called a motorcycle, Grandma Morgan." She sassed. "Come on, get in your little scooter and let's go."

"What's the rush?" Morgan asked.

"Well, there was evidence on the scene that could cause a bit of public uproar." Hotch said.

"Satanic cult." Alexander said, "Your specialty, Zoe."

Zoe smiled but it was full of bitter sarcasm rather than actual mirth or even her usual deadpan sarcasm.

They started to disperse, except for Zoe who finally took her helmet off and was fixing her hair and Spencer who stared at her, while shifting his weight on his heels slightly as one does when extremely socially awkward and preparing to talk to their crush who was rather intimidating.

Morgan gave him a gentle push and went to speak to Gideon and Hotch.

Spencer took a few moments to gather his courage before going over to Zoe.

"About this specialty in Satanism?" Spencer asked Zoe.

"It's nothing." She said, coldly. "It's none of your business."

Spencer blinked at her tone, it was even colder than the tone she had been using towards him since the train incident.

"I just... I thought we were friends."

"We're work friends, Reid. There's a difference." She said and he flinched at her calling him by his surname.

She was peeved at the way he described Bryar as a "delusional psychotic", not being anywhere close to stable herself. She was so determined to find a reason to hate Spencer to push him away. Communication had never been her strong point.

"Oh." Spencer said, more hurt than he wanted to admit. "Well, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." He got up and walked to the other side of the plane.

———————————————————————————

Sir Peter Ustinov said, "Unfortunately, a superabundance of dreams is paid for by a growing potential for nightmares."

Hotch placed a photo in front of JJ as he addressed her, "JJ, we need to obviously keep this out of the press for as long as possible."

"I'll do what I can."

"Why is that so important?" Elle asked.

"There was a nationwide scare in the nineteen-eighties involving Satanic ritual killings and abuse. The 'Satanic Panic,' it was called. It began after the publication of a book about repressed memories being recovered through hypnotherapy. Memories of growing up with devil worshippers who used children in their rituals and ceremonies." Spencer explained, with not as much enthusiasm as usual.

"Most of the claims were later found to be false or just impossible." Zoe added, without looking up at her file.

"Still, numerous therapists accepted the assertions as true and began searching for similar signs in their own patients. After one year, thousands of people reported the exact same 'repressed' memories."

"But the Bureau conducted an investigation and concluded that most of the ritual killings or abuse were more urban legend than anything else." Alexander said.

"You're saying that there's no such thing as devil worshipping?" Elle asked.

Zoe had a sardonic snorting scoff sound.

"Not at all." Gideon said, ignoring Zoe. "But most of the Satanism we've seen is juveniles damaging property, desecrating churches, cemeteries. To my knowledge, there's never been a proven case of a Satanic ritual killing in the United States."

"Well, maybe there is now." Morgan said, looking at the picture of the scene with the skeleton.

———————————————————————————

Gideon, Spencer, JJ, Zoe, and Alexander arrived at the scene. Zoe met quite a few Satanists in those eight months, now the cult that had formed around her hadn’t been explicitly Satanist, in fact, a large part of them were like so many UnSubs and twisting the word of God to suit their own agenda so much that it was essentially Satanism. But Zoe hadn’t gotten a lot of chances to see or at least, she had no memories of seeing anything.

There was a tilted pentagram and under it written into the tree with red was: Satan Lives LOD

"It does look like a ritual site." Alexander said.

"Eh." Zoe shrugged.

"What's that mean?" Alexander asked his daughter.

"There's... something off about it. I can't tell what though." She said, staring at the star.

"Morning! John Bridges." The sheriff introduced himself to JJ.

"Hi. Yeah, we spoke on the phone." JJ said, I'm Agent Jareau, this is Agent Gideon, Agent Noble, Doctor Reid, and Doctor Noble-Valdez with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Thanks for coming out so fast." Bridges said.

"Yeah, of course."

"There was an in-service in Charlottesville last year. Said if we ran into any unusual homicides we were supposed to call you folks." Bridges told them, "Sooner rather than later."

"Yeah, they were right." Gideon said.

"So, is this unusual enough?" Bridges asked.

"It certainly is interesting." Spencer said.

"You guys must get a lot of this, huh? Satanic stuff?" Bridges asked.

"Not really." Gideon said.

"Some more than others." Zoe said, she still hadn't looked away from the pentagram.

"What does that mean?" Spencer asked her but was ignored

"Who found the body?" Alexander asked.

"Hiker found the first one at the trail." Bridges replied, " "My deputies located this one while searching for evidence. Don't even know if it's a man or a woman." Bridges said and Zoe finally looked down at the skeleton where Spencer was using a stick to lift the clothing covering the pelvis.

"It's a man." Zoe and Spencer said.

"Male pelvis is more narrow and the opening at the bottom is heart-shaped as opposed to oval." Spencer explained.

"I'd say this guy died about a year ago. He decayed much quicker due to the elements. Animals. Bugs." Zoe added.

Spencer poked the wax with the stick, "Melted wax?"

"Candle wax?"

"Candles are used in rituals." Spencer said.

"Also used on birthday cakes." Gideon said.

"Actually, they were originally used to protect the birthday celebrant from demons for the coming year. As a matter of fact, down to the fourth century, Christianity rejected the birthday celebration as a Pagan ritual." Spencer said.

"What kind of doctor are you?" Bridges asked.

"He has three PhDs, he's kind of our go-to guy on... everything. I'm the medical doctor." Zoe said.

"Does 'L.O.D.' mean anything to you two?" Gideon asked Spencer and Zoe. Zoe was still staring at the star

"Mmm-mmm." Spencer said, "I don't know of any significance in Satanism either."

"Zoe?"

"Never heard of it before." She said

"Well, I'd have Garcia research this L.O.D. thing if I could get a call out." JJ said, trying to get a signal.

"Not much of a chance of that out here." Bridges said.

"Are there any cults in the area that you know about?" Alexander asked.

"Secret groups? People you see you don't know much about? People who stay to themselves mostly?" Gideon added.

"This is a very religious area. Church on Sundays, fellowship on Wednesday, Bible classes." Bridges said, "If there was a secret group I'd probably know about it.

"That's an inherent contradiction." Spencer chuckled.

"Excuse me?" Bridges asked.

"He means, if there was a group being secretive, you probably wouldn't know." Zoe clarified.

"Look, people out here just want a quiet place to raise their kids." Bridges said, "What I know is none of them are capable of doing this."

———————————————————————————

Zoe climbed up the steep hill with little problem while Gideon, Alexander, JJ, and Spencer struggled.

"Find anything interesting down there?" Hotch asked them.

"Yeah, it does look like some kind of ritual site." Gideon said, helping JJ up the hill and leaving Alexander and Spencer while Zoe helped Alexander and then Spencer with a somewhat steely look.

"Have any of you ever heard the expression 'Lod'? Or the acronym 'L.O.D.'?" Spencer asked.

Morgan shook his head and Elle said, "Not me."

Suddenly a woman started shouting, "Cherish? Cherish!" An officer stopped her, "Sheriff Bridges!" She shouted when she saw him.

"It's okay, Harris. Let her in." Bridges said.

"Was Adam Lloyd killed out here?" She asked, ducking under the police tape.

"Who told you that, Veronica?" He asked.

"Was he? My daughter was with him! They went out running together this morning." The woman cried, "Oh, my God, I can't find her. Cherish is missing! Cherish is missing! Help me, please!"

———————————————————————————

The officers took Veronica home once she had calmed down a little, as much as she could given the situation. Morgan and Elle had gone to scout the area.

Gideon approached the team, "We're looking for someone who can overpower a victim. Abduct a girl from a traveled path without being seen."

"Certainly fits with the cult theory." Spencer said, "More than one UnSub to control multiple victims."

"But if the attack were ferocious enough, a single UnSub could, too." Zoe pointed out, "Kill Adam and grab the girl while she's in shock.

Morgan and Elle came back, panting slightly.

"This is some rough country. We only went a quarter of a mile and we almost got lost." Elle said.

"The UnSub has to be from this area. You don't just stumble onto a place like this." Morgan said.

"JJ, where did the Sheriff go?" Gideon asked.

JJ looked up from her phone, still trying to get ahold of Garcia. "He's setting up a search party."

"Tell him we want him to use volunteers from the area. Locals." Gideon said.

"Do you want him to know why?" JJ asked.

"No, not yet."

"Is it wise to alienate him?" Hotch asked.

"Well, he thinks we're looking for a monster. If we tell him we're looking for volunteers so we can profile who shows up, he might call the whole thing off." Gideon pointed out.

Zoe, Alexander, and Spencer soon followed after JJ as Bridges was about to get into his car.

"Hey! Can we come with you guys?" Spencer asked, running oddly like he always did again, "I need to call Quantico and have them research that whole L.O.D. thing."

"I'd like to help spread word about the search party and maybe speak to some of Cherish's friends if they come?" Zoe said. She usually took her motorcycle but she left it at the police station. "I can also help make a geographic map of the area for the search party and assign certain clothing to make it easier to move through the area."

"Yeah, sure. Hop in." Bridges said.

———————————————————————————

They arrived at the police station and a man asked Bridges, "What's happened, John?"

"Reverend Paul Burke, this is..." Bridges stepped next to the man to look and introduce the agents. "I'm sorry, I forgot your names."

"I'm Agent Jareau. This is Agent Noble, Doctor Reid and Doctor Noble-Valdez." JJ introduced.

"Everyone calls me Zoe." Zoe said.

"They're with the FBI." Bridges said.

"FBI?" Burke asked. "It's true, then? Adam's dead?"

"Cherish Hanson is missing, too." Bridges said.

"Is there anything I can do?" Burke asked.

"Actually, yes. We're putting together a search party. Could you call the congregation?" Bridges asked.

"Of course. Of course, I'll go make some calls." Burke said and headed off to do so.

"Thanks, Reverend. This way." Bridges said and he escorted the four agents into

You can use any phone, Doctor Reid. Just dial nine to get an outside line. I've got an emergency phone list back here in my office." Bridges said and turned to Zoe, "I'll get you some maps, Doctor Noble-Valdez."

"Please, just Zoe, it's less wordy." Zoe said, "thank you."

Zoe took out her phone, finally able to get some service, checking to see if she missed any texts.

"Did you play ball?" Asked a voice and Zoe turned to see Spencer checking out a football.

Spencer let out a scoff-laugh at the idea of him ever playing football. "No."

"Yeah, I probably wouldn't have either if not for my father."

"Oh, yeah, I get that." Zoe joined in and she smiled, "Zoe Noble-Valdez."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Cory."

He turned to Spencer as he introduced himself. "Spencer Reid."

He looked at Cory's books, "Who's that, Nietzsche? 'Thus spake zarathustra' was rather antagonistic of the Judeo-Christian world view for this town, isn't it?"

"I don't think too many people here would've bothered to read it." Cory said, "if they had, they wouldn't have bothered to read it. Might as well be a Hawking essay on Quark Theory."

Both Spencer and Zoe got the reference and chuckled.

"Yeah, well people don't like to be told that heaven's not real or really debate the basis of good and evil or live up to his recommendations." She held out a finger with each view of the philosopher, "Own up the envy, don't be a Christian, never drink alcohol and God is dead. People like to live in bliss ignorance."

Cory was impressed and so was Spencer but he didn't show it, only with a slight smile.

"Hey, nobody's ever got that reference before or known really anything about Nietzsche."

“Yeah, well, when most kids were having their parents read them bedtime stories, my dad read me philosophy and grisly crime cases.” Zoe said and then she reconsidered. All three of her father figures (Alexander, Gideon and Rossi) had started out with normal bedtime story books, well for genius twins, they had only briefly done the thick children's books that were made of some kind of board so they wouldn’t be easily ripped by the pudgy hands of developing babies and children, before going to chapter books, the favorites being “Well, Uncle David did and I annoyed my dad into doing so.“

"Is my father around? The sheriff?"

"He's in his office with another agent." Spencer gestured the football in the direction behind his shoulder.

"Agent?" Cory asked.

"Yeah, we're with the FBI." Spencer said.

"The BAU. Behavioral Analysis Unit." Zoe added.

"Profilers." He said, slightly surprised.

"Yep. Runs in my family. My dad's with your dad, he's a profiler too."

"This is mad cool. I got like a hundred questions I go..." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait, why would FBI profilers be here in McAllister?"

"There was a murder and a kidnapping outside of town on the mountain." Zoe said.

"A murder and a kidnapping?"

"It's Cherish, son." Bridges said from behind Spencer.

"Cherish Hanson?" Cory asked.

"We're putting together a search party. I need you to get the rest of the team together and meet us out at the trail about a half mile south of the Point."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Cory, do you mind if I ask you who Cherish's friends were?" Zoe stepped up to ask, "So I can inform them of the search party?"

———————————————————————————

Later Zoe departed in the group assigned to her and JJ and Alexander went back to the station to talk to Garcia about the background check on the volunteers.

"Man, this is one Peyton Place of a town. Most everyone lives well above the median income of the country. You have doctors, lawyers... One guy owns a bunch of shoe stores up and down the Eastern Seaboard." Garcia said.

"Is he married?" JJ chuckled.

"Yeah. Story of my life, sunshine. Reverend Paul Burke. Looks like he became born-again in prison."

"Prison?" JJ asked.

Reverend Burke was in Spencer's group.

"Yeah. Two years as the guest of State of Ohio for embezzlement."

"Inmates converting happens more often than you think. Zelena did a paper on it." Alexander said.

"I'm seeing a lot of tax sheltering and various hanky-panky here, but I'm not sure what would suggest potential Satanic cult members." Garcia said. "Hold on."

"What, you got something?" Alexander asked.

"Yeah, I got a guy with a ton of debt. Spotty work history. His house is in foreclosure. He's got a record, too. Assault with a deadly weapon three years ago."

"Wait, does it say what the weapon was?" Alexander asked.

"Baseball bat."

"Our UnSub used a blunt object." JJ said.

"Bats are blunt, aren't they?"

"What's this guy's name?" JJ asked.

"Dent. Henry Dent.

"Okay, here he is." JJ found him on the list. "Grid B-5." She looked on the map. "That puts him with... Zoe."

"I'm sorry, are you telling me that my daughter who was kidnapped by Satanists is with potentially the satanic murderer."

"Zoe was kidnapped by Satanists!?"

——————————————————————————

Zoe walked along the forest floor, she was wearing purple mid-calf hiking boots. She bent down to readjust the knife sheath hidden in her boot when Henry Dent approached Zoe and reached hand out.

"You all right?"

Zoe had sensed his presence and hadn't flinched.

"Yeah," She stood up, "I was readjusting my boot."

"My name's Henry." He smiled.

"Zoe." Zoe introduced. "Short for Xiomara."

"That's a different kind of name."

"It's Spanish. It means battle or inner beauty or most beautiful star in the universe. And my mom and her sister had ‘Z’ names.”

"You're with the FBI, right?"

"Yep. I know I seem young and well, I am, Doctor Reid and I, but we're geniuses."

"That must be exciting. Being in the FBI."

"Yeah, my mother and father were FBI, all my mom's side is in law enforcement, just about.” Yeah, the sides are criminals or in mental hospitals. “A legacy." Still she had a hint of pride in her tone.

"It's dangerous too."

"That's why I like it, that and the good I get to do."

"I mean, you have to go after killers and things. Bad guys. You ever have to shoot..."

"Hold on a minute, I see something." She said with her gloved hand took down a bloody letter and read it, 'Satan commands the virgin be sacrificed at the next full moon'."

"That's tonight, isn't it?" Henry asked and pointed at the red on the letter, "what's that?"

"Blood."

———————————————————————————

That was all they found from the search and went back to the police station. Spencer yawned, still a bit tired from the nightmares, as they prepared the profile.

"Tired?" Hotch asked.

"I'm fine." Spencer lied.

"We all get them sometimes." Hotch reassured him.

"Get what?" Spencer asked.

"Nightmares." Hotch said.

Spencer looked at him and then he glared a mistrustful look at Morgan who was on the phone and he looked back at the profile, his guards up and slightly embarrassed.

"It's not that bad." Spencer dismissed.

"If you want to talk about it, you know where I am." Hotch told him, patting his arm.

"They're ready." JJ said.

Hotch went to the front to address the room, "Contrary to popular belief, there has never been a proven case of Satanic ritual killing. Never a verified human sacrifice. Having said that, there have been isolated cases of animal sacrifice. And many, many cases of vandalism in the name of Satan."

"Now, that doesn't mean that ritual Satanism is impossible." Morgan said, "And, more importantly for our purposes, there have been cults that killed. Just not in ritual fashion."

"The Reverend Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple." Spencer said and he took Hotch's place in front of the room, "His followers killed a U.S. Congressman and three people before committing mass suicide, leaving over nine hundred people dead. And perhaps the most widely known of the killer cults, the Manson Family, under the direction of Charles Manson, killed nine people in a four-day period in an attempt to initiate a race war."

"Killer cults do exist. And they all have one thing in common." Elle said, "Invariably, they're headed by charismatic megalomaniacs."

"You're looking for that leader. He's who will stand out. He'll be memorable to somebody. People who aren't in his group will see him as strange, weird, scary." Spencer said.

Hotch stepped next to Spencer, "Since we're dealing with professed Satanists, which is often practiced by younger males, we may be looking for teenagers. Heavy metal music is often associated with Satanism, and these kids and their leader may reflect that in their look."

"Most likely there'll be sex, drugs and alcohol." Morgan said. "Now, the leader, he'll be older. It's part of his charm.

"And he is from this area." Hotch confirmed and Bridges looked up. "He's definitely local."

"These woods are too thick and confusing for a visitor to get around in." Elle explained.

"You think one of our own people is doing this?" Bridges asked.

"We're sure of it." Hotch confirmed.

"I would know if someone was capable..." Bridges said.

"Dad? I know somebody like that." Cory interrupted.

Bridges brought the team and Cory to his office for Cory to tell them who it was.

"His name is Mike Zizzo. He graduated about five years ago. He's in his twenties, but he still hangs out with high school kids. He's got a group of them. They follow him everywhere. They all get high and listen to heavy metal. He calls them 'The Lords of Destruction'."

"L.O.D." Spencer said.

"How do you know this, Cory?" Bridges asked his son, Cory hesitated, looking down, "It's all right, son."

"I've been there. Where they hang out. Drinking beers. He talks about Satan all the time. Says he's the one true God." Cory said.

"Where is this place?" Gideon asked.

"On the other side of the mountain. The old Jenson house." Cory said.

"It's out of my jurisdiction." Bridges said.

"Not ours." Zoe said, standing up, flipping her hair so it slapped Spencer in the face and waltzed out.

Alexander gave Spencer a look like, good luck with that, as he passed him.

———————————————————————————

Zoe insisted on going on the raid while Alexander argued the whole time. Gideon had seen a girl watching and passed on the raid to talk to her.

They pulled up to the place where loud heavy metal music played.

"Ugh, what is that noise?" Zoe groaned, covering her ears. Zoe was a fan of rock music but not this kind of music where it sounded like the singer was yelling rather than screaming.

The front door was unlocked and it seemed like this was more of a beads place. Morgan entered the room first shouting, "FBI! DON'T MOVE!"

"Chill out, man!" A girl shouted. She had a point.

"McAllister County Sheriff's Department." Bridges shouted.

"Where's Zizzo!?" Morgan grabbed someone, pointing his gun at him, "Where's Zizzo?"

"Morgan!" Zoe shouted, pushing his gun down, "Chill the hell out! Excuse me, where's Zizzo!?"

Someone pointed and Zoe moved past another beads thing and found Zizzo standing with his arms extended in front of a correctly painted pentagram. Zoe's first impression was that Zizzo did not scream maliciousness but more rebelliousness.

They arrested Zizzo and Zoe's eyes landed on the symbols drawn on the wall. she had no violent reaction until her eyes landed on an eye symbol. Flashes appeared behind her eyes and she shook her head, looking down. She breathed sharply and headed out of the house.

———————————————————————————

Zizzo was in the interrogation room with Hotch, Elle, Zoe, Alexander, and Bridges.

"Is someone going to tell me why I'm here or are we just going to play staring games all night?" Zizzo asked.

"This was found where Cherish Hanson went missing." Hotch said, take the baggie with the note out.

"No wonder everyone's all freaked out. McAllister's perfect debutante is in trouble." Zizzo snarked as Hotch slid it in front of him.

"Read the note." Elle said.

He sighed and picked it up and read it and he chuckled, softly.

"You think someone threatening to kill this girl is funny?" Hotch asked.

"No. I think someone calling Cherish Hanson a virgin is funny." He corrected.

"You a Satanist, Mike?" Bridges asked.

"Sure."

"You worship the devil?" Bridges asked.

"You even know what Satanism is?" Mike asked him.

"Educate us." Hotch said.

“The word Satan comes from ancient Hebrew. It just means 'opposer’ Satan opposes the hypocritical morals and dogma of the so-called Holy Church and its followers. If you grew up in this town with God shoved down your throat every day, you’d oppose it, too.” He said. He had a point, some Satanists didn’t even believe that the devil was an actual being but take on the title as an ideal choice when confronting Chruch versus State sides. Their religion is largely focused on secular humanism and hedonism. “It’s all hypocrisy. Do this, don’t do that, and all the time the adults are the ones screwing up. So basically, we’re just atheists. Aggressively atheist.”

Elle placed the photos of Adam's body, the skeleton, and the "Satan Lives L.O.D." down in front of him.

"How aggressive, Mike?" Elle asked.

Zoe examined his face, there was evident horror in his eyes at seeing the pictures of Adam's body and the Satanism of it.

"What the hell is this?" Zizzo asked.

"Why don't you tell us, Mike?" Hotch asked.

Zizzo looked up, looking properly scared, he looked around, realizing why he was there. "I've never seen this before."

"Pentagram, body, candles, L.O.D." Elle pointed as if that wasn't already obvious.

"Lords of Destruction." Bridges said.

"I've never seen this." He repeated.

"From where I stand, Mike, it looks like you signed it." Hotch said.

"Look, we draw stars upside down, get drunk and listen to metal." He insisted. "That's it. Okay? We don't kill people."

"This is your chance to make this right, Zizzo." Bridges said.

"You don't want to make it right." Zizzo snapped, " You want to blame someone who doesn't conform to your view of how people should act and think."

———————————————————————————

"I've got to give the Sheriff a report. I'll be back as soon as I can. You guys need anything?" Deputy Harris said to Morgan and Spencer who were watching by the house.

"Coffee would be nice." Spencer said.

"He takes about a quart of sugar in it." Morgan joked.

"Two teaspoons is fine.

"You got it."

"Uh, and Zoe—Doctor Noble-Valdez—should be coming soon. She'll take a hot chocolate if it's not too much trouble." Spencer said, even when she was upset with him, he was considerate towards her.

While some studies stated that sugar was bad for ADHD, the overall research is inconclusive. Despite society's popular belief sugar DOES NOT cause ADHD (neither does bad parenting or video games or any other the other things not supported by, you know, research). Also a lot of research for ADHD were on children rather than adults and many studies rely on information from questionnaires given to parents or caretakers of kids with ADHD rather than direct observation or interviews with kids with ADHD.

Zoe however seemed to feel that sugar helped her think, which made sense since sugar intake can increase norepinephrine or noradrenaline which people with ADHD tended to have a lesser amount of than those without ADHD (along with dopamine). Norepinephrine affects alertness, affective arousal (which is a state of being activated, feeling awake, and highly reactive to stimuli), and attention. Her personal preference was hot chocolate.

Then as Deputy Harris drove off, Spencer went to confront Morgan, "Morgan, you knew I didn't want you to tell Hotch about my nightmares."

"Reid, that's something they need to know about." Morgan said, calmly.

"What do you mean 'they'?" Spencer demanded.

"Hotch, Gideon, Alexander, and Zoe."

"You told Gideon, Mister Noble, and Zoe too!?"

"It's okay, kid."

"What if they think I can't do this job? What if they want to pull me off the team? Zoe's already pissed at me for something I have no idea about!"

"They won't." Morgan reassured him.

"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?" Spencer demanded.

"I just do."

"You had no right, man. I-I confided in you. This is—you know, this is exactly what I get when I trust someone. It gets thrown back in my face."

"Mine started six months after I got into the BAU." Morgan told him. "Yeah. Mine." He stepped to the car and leaned back on it. "We were working a strangler case in Montana. Four victims. Me? I was still pretty young at the time. So, you know, I was feeling myself. I was cocky. I was arrogant. The locals, they didn't have anything, so I stepped up. I said, 'I can nail down a profile for you just as soon as I get what I need'."

"More victims." Spencer knew.

"She was found the next day. So I went down to the scene to do my thing. And as I was looking over the body,that's when I saw them. Her eyes, Reid. They were wide-open. And there was something different about them. It was like they were looking right at me. Like she knew. I asked for a victim. Well, here she was. That's when they started for me. Night after night I would fall asleep and I would see those eyes. They were dead eyes, accusing eyes. And it got to the point where it was happening even when I wasn't asleep. Reid, everywhere I went, I saw those eyes."

"What did you do?" Spencer asked.

"Gideon. He knew. I didn't tell him. I was like you. I didn't want anybody to know. He just... He knew. And he sat me down and he... He just kind of talked me through it. I still have the nightmares to this day. Just not nearly as often. But when they come back I know how to handle them better."

"What did he say?"

"I think you need to talk to him first." Morgan said. It was silent for a moment before Morgan spoke in a teasing voice, "So lady trouble with Zoe, huh?"

"Shut up." Spencer groaned, throwing his head back as he blushed, furiously, "Zoe isn't... she's not my type."

"Uh, no, she's exactly your type. She's beautiful, she's a genius, she's funny." Morgan corrected. Spencer looked at him. "Not my type and she's literally told me she'd rather be 'serial killed' than date me."

"She's my boss' daughter, not only that, he's extremely overprotective of her. You saw how he was when she was held captive.”

"She's your best friend."

"Yeah, well I'm not hers. We're just work friends." Spencer said, sharply, "She told me so herself."

"Reid, how much do you know about women?" Spencer opened his mouth and Morgan interrupted, "not statistics but being around women."

"Practically nothing." Spencer said, bluntly.

"Word of advice, women are never direct. Especially Zoe. She's stubborn and traumatized and she thinks she’s cursed or something and runs from her feelings. Not only that she jumps out of windows to avoid them like fire. Alexander’s sworn she’s done that before. You just need to talk to her and break through that mean thing she does."

Some lights lit up the area and Zoe's MTT Y2K pulled up and she got off it, "So, any sign of her."

"What are you doing here?"

"Dad was being fussy." She said.

"Get anything out of Zizzo?" Morgan asked.

Zoe opened her mouth but then a green car pulled up.

It was Cory. "Did you find her? Cherish?"

"No."

"Did Zizzo say anthing?"

"Uh, just that he's more of an atheist. Satanism is more refusal to conform but I don't think he's the UnSub. But when he saw the photos, he looked genuinely horrified. I don't think he did it. It seems like someone's trying to frame him." Zoe replied.

"No. He is. He has to be." Cory said. He kept pacing around.

"Cory, calm down." Spencer said.

"How am I supposed to calm down? Cherish is missing. Did you check all over?" Cory asked.

"We searched the whole house." Spencer confirmed.

"There's not a lot to hide in there, there's only one door in the whole place." Zoe said.

"What about the outbuilding?" Cory asked.

"Outbuilding?" Morgan asked.

"Did you check the other area? Back in the woods?" Cory asked.

"No one told us there was another area." Zoe said.

Yeah, it's like a sluice structure or something." Cory said, "He took me there once. It's this way." And he started to move further into the woods and the three agents followed him.

"It's up here." They came upon a building that was far from structurely sound, "This is their secret place."

Morgan and Zoe shined their flashlights until Zoe's landed on the door, revealing another pentagram with "LOD" written under it.

"Guys." She said.

She looked at the others and they nodded. She stepped towards it

"Is it structurally sound?" Spencer asked.

"Uh," Zoe said and she bent to the side to look under the house and Spencer's cheek burned a little before she brought herself back up. "Doesn't look like it but I'm the lightest person here. I'll try not to be murdered."

She entered the building, the floorboards creaking under her weight.

"I can't believe this is happening. This kind of thing, it doesn't happen in McAllister." Cory said to Spencer.

"You said you read the profiling books. You know bad things happen anywhere. Anywhere at any time."

Zoe was engulfed in darkness but she didn't sense anyone in her surrounding and she was pretty good at that. Her flashlight hit the back of the room and lit up a pair of white running shoes, her light shone on the brown leggings attached to it until it hit the paled skin of a hand splattered with blood, another hand and arm, showing more blood and then her beam of light reached Cherish Hanson's face, her unseeing eyes, her neck splattered with blood, blood had trickled out of her house, and the source of the blood was a head wound.

"Morgan! Get in here!" She shouted.

When Morgan entered, Zoe was mchecking Cherish's pulse, not necessarily looking for a pulse but feeling her temperature.

Zoe exited the building, hesitantly behind Morgan.

"She in there? Is she alright?" Cory asked.

"Cory..." Spencer said.

"She's in there." Morgan said.

"Is she dead? She can't be dead."

"It wasn't Zizzo." Zoe said.

"What? Of course, it was." Cory said.

"A body takes twelve hours to feel cool to the touch after death and twenty-four hours to cool to its core. This body is barely cool. She's been dead for barley twelve hours and witnesses place Zizzo in his crackhouse passed out from the drugs and alcohol the night before" Zoe said.

"That's impossible. Maybe you're wrong. Shouldn't we get an actual medical examiner?" Cory insisted.

"I'm a medical doctor. I am an actual medical examiner." Zoe said, slightly offended and Cory, seeing the way she narrowed her eyes at him, backed off.

Morgan had walked past them, trying to call Hotch but getting no signal. "Reid, Zoe. I want you two to go to the house and see if the deputies have come back."

"What?"

"We need the Sheriff and the crime scene team here." Morgan said.

"But..."

"Reid. Do it. And fix whatever's goin' on between you two." Morgan said.

"Morgan!" Spencer hissed, blushing.

Zoe slowly turned away from the building, she had been staring at the star on the door.

———————————————————————————

Spencer and Zoe walked through the woods in relative silence. When Morgan told Zoe about Spencer's nightmares, she went over all she knew about Spencer and came to a conclusion she had overlooked the past week and realized she wasn't being fair to him.

"I'm sorry, you're having nightmares." She said.

"I didn't want Morgan to tell you."

"I know. You're stubborn and clearly scared of what your mind can conjure. And I'm sorry for acting like a bitch."

"I-I wouldn't call it that." He stammered.

"Yeah, you don't curse a lot or ever."

"Why? Why were you hating me?"

"I misunderstood you. When you called Bryar a delusional psychotic. I hate that term. I thought you were like Morgan. Morgan can be aggressive towards our UnSubs and a lot of them, it's not their fault. I thought that's how you see them... but there's a reason I can understand them so well."

"Zoe, you're not delusional or a psychotic."

"Yeah, you say that now." She looked down.

"Zoe, you can tell me anything." Spencer said, softly.

“Spence, did you know that babies can start dreaming as early as to up to two weeks? Studies say they can have nightmares as early as four to six months, but I know different. I was almost two months old when I started having them. The doctors said it was unlikely because they require an imagination and rational fear but… I was never like other babies. I was always more advanced and not always for the better. As genius as Zarah turned out to be, I was always described as being noticeably advanced beyond her. I would wake up screaming but after a while I realized I was bothering Zarah and Dad so I stopped, I think I was about five or six months old, again rather early for a baby to develop empathy. So when I’d wake up, I’d just lay there, silently crying but sometimes not so silently.”

“Do-do you know what the nightmares were?”

"Yes. I remember having nightmares of Mom. I had PTSD and I hadn’t even been born for the thing that traumatized me. I can still hear her voice from the womb, my memory of it. Not her last moments but her begging. Not for her to live but for me to. But one day when I was about eight months old, Gideon’s son had woke up Gideon and told him that I was crying and Gideon talked to me like I wasn’t a baby. Like I was just a person. He talked to me about my mom and whenever I would have a nightmare about my mom, I’d wake up or call Gideon, Rossi, or Dad… until I stopped.”

“Why’d you stop?”

Zoe hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Things happened that I couldn’t talk to people about. I could talk about it to Dad but he blames himself for what happened and besides, I don’t know what happened but it still traumatized me."

"I'm sorry. My nightmares they used to be occasionally, now I seem to have them every night."

"Yeah, but at least, you only see them when you're sleeping. I see mine even when I'm awake. Perks of having C-PTSD your whole life. Just because I don't remember what happened those five days when I was twelve, doesn't mean I don't have trauma for it and then I was missing for eight months and... the cult that formed around me, it... it wasn't strictly Satanic but their methods were very similar, brutality wise. There wasn't a leader like most cults, it was like a mix of all of them centered around me but they did do Satanic cult things, the bad kind, so it was categorized as it, based off my memory."

"Zoe... what happened?"

"Do you... do you know what a headbox is?"

"Oh God..." Spencer breathed.

Of course, he knew what a headbox was. Colleen Stan had been a twenty-year-old hitchhiker and the last victim of the couple Janice and Cameron Hooker—Cameron Hooker had been an unclassified killer, a ephebophile, and a serial rapist who kept Colleen as a sex slave for seven years keeping a twenty-pound headbox on her while Janice had mostly been an accomplice. "I rarely got to see the people, I only heard their voices and... it enhanced my other senses and I had to make a world in my head. You know, the memory technique, method of loci, the mind palace technique. I did that by imagining people to help me get through it. I filled in the blanks that my vision wasn't seeing. And it stuck with me just as much as the nightmares have."

Spencer got an idea of what she was hinting at. That she could see things. That she could see hallucinations as a possible a part of her PTSD.

“You know schizophrenia’s not as genetic as people think.” She said suddenly.

“What?” Spencer’s voice cracked. Did she know? How did she know?”

“Only six percent of children of schizophrenic parents develop it. And some research says there's only a ten to fifteen percent chance of them getting it despite others saying there's a ninety percent change because we just don't know enough about the inherence pattern."

“Why-why are you saying this?”

“No reason. I’m a doctor with trauma hallucinations and ADHD and cyclothymia. Who know why I could be talking about something or other?” She shrugged. "And can you do me a favor? One day will you tell me about your past?"

"I... Zoe..."

"I know. It's not easy but it's not easy for me to tell someone about my past. I'm here for you. Let me know that you know it. Talking about my sister, about Zarah's it's not easy but you make it a little better. A little easier. I have another best friend again, I didn't think I'd ever have that again and I’m not trying to replace Zarah with you, she's still alive, I know she is."

"I believe you." He said, softly.

"But you, I don't know, give me hope because she's as smart as you are and I know she can get through that hell..."

"You did."

"She's not me. I-I was weak. I am weak. I couldn't protect her."

"You're not weak. You're far from weak. You're the strongest person I know. It's not your job to protect her or me." Spencer said, "We protect each other, because we're a family. I know you've only really known me for eight months but... honestly, you're more family to me than my dad ever was. Can I ask you a question?"

She hummed in confirmation.

"Why… why did you feel the need to protect Zarah and do feel the need to protect me?”

“My mom was kidnapped by an axe-wielding maniac after she gave birth to Zarah but not to me. She wasn’t locked up or chained up or tied up. She could’ve gotten out but it would’ve risked my life. At the least, that’s the best we can predict. She died moments after my dad found her. I killed her.”

“No, Zoe…”

“Yes, I did. I killed her and they had to do a post-mortem c-section before I died in her body. I’m the reason Zarah and I don’t have a mother. The reason my dad’s alone. The reason he had to raise his perfectly normal if slightly ADHD eldest twin daughter and his rebellious little monster with ADHD and Cyclothymia who couldn’t sit still or listen or focus on one thing and heard hallucinations.”

“Zoe!” Spencer shouted, grasping her shoulders, “No. You did not kill her. She chose to do what any good mother should do. She chose to give her life for yours and… you help me too. I’ve never really had a best friend before, well, there was Ethan but he dropped out of the FBI academy, I’ve never had anyone be as smart as me. My whole life… being the smartest kid in the room is like being… being the only kid in class. Everyone just looks at you like you’re another species but not you. Even if you refuse to take any IQ tests, you remind me, I’m not alone. I’m not the only kid in the class anymore. I’m not fighting in the world by myself anymore.”

“You know, when I was a kid, no one understood me, Zarah didn't have it as bad. Her's was more the typical internal symptoms for girls with ADHD while mine was a bit external. Dad, I didn't want to bother him, I didn't want to distract him from helping someone who needed it more than me, he already brought us along to towns with rapists and murderers and kidnappers and that…that didn’t always end too well. My mom’s family… there’s some mental health history there but they either hate me for killing my mom, would kill anyone for making me think I was less than, criminals, worse off mentally-wise, or refuse to understand how much of a toll, ADHD and Cyclothymia has on me. I longed for someone who is as sympathetic and empathetic and understanding as you are, Spence. You... I feel as long as there's people like you in the world, Zarah will be all right, one day."

"And we're going to find her." He reassured, warmth spreading within him. "I..." He pulled out a small notebook, "I've been writing down everything I've learned about those guys who had you, I've been trying to find any signs of them through America, where Zarah is. I just learned today that brutality equal to Satanism was involved so... I'll cross-match that when we get back home... I-I... Zoe..."

Zoe was hugging him and he felt his heart pound and despite the cold November night air his face burned and he felt warm inside as he hugged back. Then she suddenly pulled back, looking down, looking a bit embarrassed.

"I-I'm sorry. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one still looking." She suddenly looked up, "Mars is bright tonight." He didn't get the Harry Potter reference. "You need to read more fiction books. Zarah and I used to stargaze. I continued to do so after she..." She sighed.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"The pentagram's wrong again." Zoe said.

"What do you mean?"

"First of all, the pentagram was originally used in ancient China and Japan to symbolize the five elements of life: fire, Earth, metal, water, and wood as they were believed to have magical properties. Then Christians used it as a representation of the Star of Bethelhem which represented harmony, peace, and health. And now it represents Satanism and Pegan witchcraft, but no real Satanist would draw it this way. Uh, Zizzo, he referred to God being shoved down your throat in this town, and Neitzsche, he didn't believe in God, he was an actual atheist and so is Zizzo, that's why he has the pentagram in his house because he doesn't know it's not an actually Satanic symbol,”

"His works have been associated with Satanism due to his beliefs." Spencer recalled.

"Cory's been sort of, butting himself into this crime. He keeps being right. Could be too much of a coincidence. Cory did it. Come on."

Spencer and Zoe came back and saw the scene between Cory and Morgan.

"You also knew about Zizzo and the Satanism."

"I was only trying to help."

"Well, you did that. We couldn't have found this place without you

Spencer moved forwards to intercept before Zoe could stop him.

"Hey Morgan, no one's up there." Spencer said, coming back to the now tense and confrontational scene.

"Get over here!" Cory growled and pulled Spencer to him, holding a gun to his head.

"Reid! Reid!" Morgan cried out, taking out his gun and pointing it at Cory.

"Don't move!" Cory told Spencer.

"Cory!"

"This got all messed up." Cory stated the obvious.

"Don't be stupid." Morgan said calmly.

"She wasn't supposed to be with him. It was his run. He runs it every day, not her!" Cory shouted.

"Cory, listen to me. We can fix this. But you've got to let Reid go."

"I never meant to hurt her. But make no mistake I will shoot your boy right now." Cory said as Zoe slowly approached him with a dark predatory look in her eyes like a predator who took thrill in the chase and the kill on the hunt. Zoe's steps were silent, quiet as a ninja's.

"No, you won't."

Cory cocked the gun. "Tempt not a desperate man. Put the gun down!"

"Okay all right. You win." Morgan said, putting his hands in a surrender while still holding the gun.

"Drop it. Drop the gun!" Cory shouted.

"Ok. Ok. You win. I'm putting the gun down. " Derek said and he dropped his gun. "You're in control, Cory. Let him go."

"For the evil is man's best force. Man must become better and eviler." Spencer blurted out.

"What?" Cory asked, understandably confused as to why Spencer was quoting Nietzsche.

"That's what this is about, right? Zarathustra? The superman? There's no moral obligation for killing someone if you're superior to them? But Nietzsche was speaking metaphorically about evolving as a species. " Spencer said, distracting Cory.

"You're just a horny kid who wanted to get rid of the cheerleader's boyfriend." Morgan spat.

"No!" Cory shouted.

"Yes!" Morgan shouted.

"That was never my intent—" Cory shouted and Spencer pushed Cory's arm away from him to escape his grip.

Zoe grabbed Cory's arm, jerking it to the side, making the gun go off harmlessly into the woods, he pressed her pointer and middle finger against his wrist, making his grip loosen and she pulled the gun away from him and she threw it on the ground after clicking the saftey on, she twisted and circled his arm until it was locked behind his back as she kneed him in the groin from behind.

Apparently in the confusion, Morgan had accidentally tackled Spencer when he thought Cory almost escaped.

"You all right?" Morgan asked as Zoe handcuffed Cory's hands behind his back.

"What happened?" Spencer asked.

"Him bringing us down here was way too much of a coincidence." Morgan explained.

"No, I got that. I mean, why'd you tackle me?" Spencer asked.

———————————————————————————

Playwright Eugène Ionesco said, "Ideologies separate us, dreams and anguish bring us together."

On the jet, Zoe was curled up in a double seat next to the window with The Handmaid's Tale open on her chest. Spencer looked at her as she slept in an observational fashion but not in a creepy way but like he was wondering if he could ever get the full story on her past or if she'd always be a puzzle to him while Gideon sat across from him.

He took out his wallet and got Spencer's attention, "Reid." He showed Spencer a picture of a blonde woman with her family. "Deborah Louise Addison. Her husband, Tim. The kids are Amber and Keith. Eight and six. 1985, Deborah Louise was walking home from school, she was abducted. She was thirteen. We profiled the UnSub and we were able to locate her before he harmed her. She writes a letter to the BAU every year. She updates us on her life."

"That's nice, but..." Spencer trailed off, still confused.

"We all have bad dreams. Everyone on the plane. Who wouldn't? We hunt the worst of humanity, we see the depths of depravity. We dream of monsters..."

"In my dream, there's a baby in the middle of a circle and there's someone on the other side and I can't get to her before I..." Spencer trailed off.

"Every night I look at Deborah. Helps me. Helps me go to sleep thinking of the victims we've saved. Don't always beat the monsters to the babies, but we do enough to make the job worth it. Keep the nightmares bearable." Gideon said.

Spencer smiled, appreciatively. "Can I ask you a personal question? Zoe said she had been having nightmares since she was two months old and you somehow got her through it. How?"

"Zoe was always an intelligent child. She always looked like she knew what we were saying. She said her first word when she was six months old. By the time she was a year old, she had the cognitive understanding of an eight-year-old. My boy, Stephen, is just a year and a half older than her and would sleep in the same room as the twins in the early days. One day he told me that Zoe was having trouble sleeping that she would cry silently as opposed to her screaming so one night I was working a case when I went to check on them. She was crying but silently. I took her out and she was calling for her mama. That's when I knew she remembered. Her intelligence and memory has often been a curse on her, she wanted to help too young, made her first profile when she was three, but this was perhaps the worst one. So I just talked to her about her mom. All the wonderful things Zelena did. How she, while six-months pregnant took down the UnSub who kidnapped Deborah, and comforted her all the way back to the BAU where she was reunited with her parents. All the good memories I had about her mother to help replace the bad one she had. She's very much her mother's daughter. So was Zarah. Zelena had a way of seeing the good in everyone, Zoe's hardened over the years but she still has that."

———————————————————————————

*I posted this but while it doesn't seem this series is very popular (I write it because I enjoy it and have had this idea for almost as long as I've been watching Criminal Minds which is like over a year) no one seemed to be liking this one and when I brought it up the first time, it said there was an error while when I X'ed out and brought it back up again, it did bring it up, I wasn't sure if it was for everyone else, so I decided to delete it, edit it a little and then repost it. I haven't posted the past few days because I've been copying and pasting my written episodes of the rest of season one and the first episode of season two (since it was part of the season one finale two-parter) and I took all of yesterday to write an original scene between Zoe and Spence because I was originally going to have it be sooner but I changed my mind, which I'll explain when we get to the episode I was going to have it in.*

*There is no evidence that sugar directly influences ADHD, I've never believed that sugar was bad for ADHD, even I was a child. (I've had ADHD since I was three but technically I wasn't diagnosed until I was five, back then they couldn't test until you were five... ugh, that makes me sound so old) ADHD is also not caused by bad parenting, while I didn't have the best parenting. My dad was the one with ADHD and he was... neglectful... I mean before I was two years old I had to get stitches in my head twice because he wasn't paying attention (once in the bottom on my lip because I fell out of my crib because I was reaching for the light switch and he kept pushing the crib away even though my mom told him not to, and I climbed out of my playpen while my mom was getting ready for work and my dad wouldn't get out of bed and I had to get stitches in my head) and also I locked myself in the dryer when I was like eight (I was trying to do that Scooby-Doo hiding thing and didn't realize that when you close a dryer door it locks... my mom didn't find out for ten more years when I causally mentioned, I just assumed she knew). This not the cause of my ADHD, despite ADHD being one of the most common disorders in the world, perhaps second to Dyslexia, it is not researched enough (Dyslexia is not researched enough either. What are doctor-scientists doing all the time? What do you call that? Google says a psychologist but that seems more like people who diagnose disorders not actively research them?) Playing video games also not does cause ADHD, that is very stupid. I didn't play many video games, growing up, mostly at my dad's place until I was around nine or ten and we got a Wii at my mom. My mom didn't like video games because my half-brother never played them until my dad got him into them and she seems to not like things that he did out of principle (Like XBox or video games or Bluetooth ear pieces). The real cause of ADHD is unknown but research suggests that it's likely a combination of genetics and environmental factors. Children with a parent or siblings with ADHD have an increased chance of developing it (my dad has ADHD). Problems with the central nervous system during development may also play a role as ADHD kids have lower levels of dopamine and lower brain metabolism is area that control attention, movement, and social judgement. Now for the environmental factors, it's NOT BAD PARENTING. That is stupid and sounds like an excuse that other parents say just to gossip. These factors include: exposure to lead as a child (I'm not sure what that has to do with anything though), brain injuries (early brain can be a cause, not the cause but one of the possible causes), low birth weight, smoking/alcohol/drug use during pregnancy (my dad was the only one who ever smoked, my mom doesn't drink alcohol now or ever in my memory, I'm almost twenty-four—ugh—and I've never drank, smoked, or done drugs, even if I wanted to which I don't, I have no possible way of getting my hands on any), and being born prematurely (I was supposed to be born on November 14th but due to something which my mom blames on the doctor, they didn't an C-section on Halloween, but I was completely fine, there was no complications other than the C-section and this way my birthday is on Halloween—yes, that's why Zoe's birthday is on Halloween but is there a cooler day to be born on?). But genetics are considered to be the primary cause, according to Google, genetics are likely responsible for up to 75% of ADHD cases

I know a lot of this is "kids with ADHD" but if you look it up, most ADHD research seems to be towards kids, which is odd because ADHD when you're a kid versus when you're an adult is different, I'm not sure if whatever scientist studies ADHD think that studying ADHD in kids is more important than in adults or something, but it's just odd and it kind of enforces the neurotypical belief that only kids have ADHD. Or maybe, it's like with me, I have a hard time describing my ADHD because I don't know what it's like not to have ADHD. I've had it basically my whole life, so ADHD is my normal while it's not normal to other people. The only reason I know these lesser-known things about ADHD is because I do research and I think a lot and because of my ADHD, I think in ways that other people don't but at the same time I am oblivious to what is obvious to other people. This is why I love Spener Reid so much, he has a very neurodivergent way of him, perhaps it's his autism or slightly schizophrenic nature or even because his character grew up with a schizophrenic mother, but I always love characters like him that make me feel like I'm not so alone.*

Link I used info from in ADHD info dump in story: The Link Between Sugar and ADHD

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