ot72018

[ot72018]

Mini Masterlist

Mini bc I don't write for shit!!!

BAU!Reader x BAU Odd One Out pt 1. pt 2. pt 3 ( pt 3 is Hotch focused)

Aaron Hotchner Best Mistake...tbw Derek Morgan Emily Prentiss Jennifer Jareau Spencer Reid Penelope Garcia

[ot72018]

Odd One Out pt.3

BAU x BAU!Reader

WARNINGS : ANGST OMFG ANGST BC IM A FUCKING WHORE FOR ANGST, usual criminal minds violence, light SA, hotch morgan and spence being a total dick, POST EMILY FAKE DEATH, emotional hurt/comfort, JJ BEING AN ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART UGHHH JJJJJJJJJJ, EMILY COMES BACK YALL, female reader, mentions of readers past, military reader--kind of self indulgent of my past but wtv. also did i mention angst?

a.n : alright yall again remember italics are y/n's thoughts, bold is what shes saying. okey. ALSO.AGAIN.this does not correlate to the timeline of like the OG criminal minds. OMG ALSO. IM PRETTY SURE THE TIMELINE FOR SOME EVENTS WONT MATCH UP IM SORRY PLS DONT HATE ME

Word Count - 15,284

July 5th, 2011

18:30

"We'll all head to the motel in 15 minutes. Our rooms are on the second floor next to each other. We make no indication that we know Johnson is there. The floor plans for each room are identical. The bed is directly to the right of the door on a frame, so there's enough room for someone to hide underneath. The closet can hold two people, but the shutters are too far apart to be concealed properly. Our best option is for one of us to hide underneath the bed and the other to wear all black to hide in the closet. Y/N will give the signal when she needs us to step in. You choose what it is."

My anxiety morphs into rage. I sharpen my senses to focus on catching this bastard.

"I love you. I'll say I love you when I need you guys to step in. I'll leave my cell on call with all of you, and we have micro cameras with audio that I can plant around the room. He'll be excited that he thinks he's caught me off guard; he won't bother to search the room." I look around the room to make sure everyone understands. Everyone nods in approval before turning back to Hotch.

"Alright, everyone understands. I love you is when we step in. JJ, you're small enough to fit under the bed, and Rossi, you wear a jacket over your vest. Y/N, you place your gun underneath your pillow and make no movements towards the gun until any weapons are away."

I nod one more time, and we all gear up. Except me.

"Let's go. We need to go now before he gets impatient."

Everyone heads to their SUVs. Rossi and JJ are paired with me, so we drive to the motel together. It seems Rossi has some reservations about using an agent as bait. But we can't dwell on that now.

"Rossi, what is it. You look like you got told off by your ex-wife again." I turn my head just enough to see him give a faint smile.

"I'm just... Worried about you. I feel guilty that I didn't stop the team from treating you poorly. If I did, maybe you would've trusted us enough to let us know before it escalated." His eyes are turned forward, focused on the road. I can't see his face, but I can see the unshed tears, threatening to escape.

"Rossi, you can't blame that on yourself. There is no blame. Everyone is grieving, and they didn't know how to cope..." I urge him to look at me when he finally reaches my eyes. I can see he understands, but the hesitation won't leave his expression. "Y'know. Garcia ended up patching me into the call. I heard everything. I know you called them out for the way they treated me. And that is one of the reasons I love and trust you."

Both JJ and Rossi turn to me in shock, so I give them a reassuring smile. I know they feel even more guilty now, but our focus is on the plan.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I don't even know how Garcia could've missed that. I-." JJ lets out a deep exhale. She knows she can't apologize for someone else's mistake.

But it's one of the qualities I love about JJ.

We stop in the parking lot and put on a smile as we exit the car. We're talking about the most random things to pass the time until we get up to the second floor. Collectively, we can see the white pickup in our peripherals, but we deliberately ignore it. We say our goodnights to the rest of the team before Rossi and JJ split up with me to head into my room.

"Hey, you and Y/N go in first. I'm going to talk with Hotch for a minute. I'll knock four times." With that, Rossi heads towards Hotch's room while JJ and I head into mine.

I look at JJ, and we both let out soft sighs. We know what's about to go down, but we're prepared. "Jayje. Can I ask you something?"

My back is turned towards her as I draw the shades and lock the door before shedding my vest and heading to the bathroom with my go-bag.

"Yeah, always." I come back out of the bathroom in a sweater and pajama pants.

I sit on the bed and look up at her with expectant eyes. I know there's a chance of her avoiding my question, but I need some indication to confirm my thoughts. "It's about Emily."

She takes a deep breath and sits down next to me. "Yeah, I figured. What about her?"

"I know she's alive, Jayje. I know there's an unofficial rule that we don't profile each other, but. That was the only way I could get to know you all." Our eyes meet, and she gives me a resigned smile; she understands she doesn't need to answer. And that's an answer in itself.

"Let's start putting up the cameras and microphones."

We work with fast efficiency and set everything up. A ding interrupts the silence, and we look down at our phones to see a text from Rossi.

Rossi He stepped out of his car. There's no time for me to get into your room. We can see the feed. Get ready. NOW.

JJ gives me the go, and we settle into our respective places. JJ slides under the bed with her vest and gun, while I tuck my piece under my pillow and pretend to sleep. Only the soft, muddled light on the table illuminates the room. Before I close my eyes, I whisper to both myself and JJ. "Let's do this."

Footsteps are heading towards my door. It's like he's trying to be quiet, but there's a pep in his step, almost as if he's skipping with joy. There's clicking against the door, and I recognize the lock being picked.

I steady my breathing and force myself to calm down, lowering my pulse. I'm surprised by the stillness in my body; it's as if I'm trying to sleep.

The soft click of the door opening sharpens my focus as my breathing gets deeper. His footsteps are nearing the bed, and I can feel a dip in the bed.

He's sitting on my bed. Right behind my back.

He's moving a strand of hair out of my face, the ghost of his fingertips moves across my jaw. I let a hum escape my lips and pretend to stir, so I turn to face him. He freezes in his movements in case I wake up, but I let out another sigh and settle further into the pillow.

"I've been waiting for you for so long, my love. I can't believe you're here. I'm gonna treasure you for the rest of my life, y/n. I'll never let you go again." He slowly moves his hand against the dip in my waist, almost like he's trying to memorize the shape of my body, sending a shiver up my spine. I take this as the time to 'wake up' and slowly flutter my eyes open.

I quickly mask the fear on my face with a look of relief. I know he's too distracted to realize my reactions are a facade.

Time for the most memorable acting of my life.

"John-Johnson? Oh my god, is that really you?"

I can tell he's shocked, but his face changes into a look of pure adoration. In his twisted sense of reality, his queen is finally loving him back.

"It's me. It's really me y/n. I missed you so much. I knew you would accept me." Resisting the urge to gag, I continue to play into his fantasy before signaling my team.

"How, how did you find me? I thought you stayed in the Navy?"

I feel bile forming in my throat from the artificial excitement in my voice. God, it's as if I actually want to know how he's doing.

"I left the Navy 3 years after you left, but I never forgot you y/n. I told you I'd always find you, sweetheart. I knew you would do great things with your life. I knew that your team would come for me. But I saw everything, baby."

He's inching towards me now, trying to hold me and caress my hair. It's about time to wrap this up, but I need to know how he found me.

"I saw the way those horrible people treated you. They would never care for you the way I did. I saw how they iced you out; they would never treat you the way they did with each other. I know you don't trust them. That they'd never have your back. And you know I can give that to you. I can give you the trust and love that you would ever need. Wouldn't you like that?"

His hands run up my body as I sit up against the wall. Now is the time to respond. I can't stand his hands on me anymore. I need him gone, NOW.

"I never got to tell you before I left Erik." I let a pause linger to take a deep breath and try not to audibly gag at his eagerness. I let my hand slide behind me underneath my pillow and get ready.

"Erik, I never got to tell you that, I love you." I steel my nerves and push his gun off the side of the bed where he left it and quickly pull out my gun. I can hear JJ pushing herself out from underneath the bed, and we both corner him against the wall.

"FBI, put your hands up and do. not. move."

"NO. YOU TRICKED ME. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU." He rushes forward to attack me, but I expected that.

I kick him in the chest as hard as I can. He falls back but recovers quickly and jumps at me again. This time I don't freeze.

I grab his arm and duck behind him to pin him against the bed frame, but he pushes his other arm out from underneath him and shoves us both against the wall.

Using the leverage, I use his arms and put him in a chokehold. He drags himself forward to free his arms, but in doing so, he falls face first onto the ground. I use this position to my advantage, so I can grab his arms and pin them against his back with a knee over his wrists.

JJ throws me cuffs, and I click them on a little too tight.

I give JJ a nod of reassurance, and we hear the door bust open. Somebody takes my place and yanks him up on his feet. People look at me, expecting me to read him his rights, but I feel like my vocal chords are glued shut. I can't force anything out of my mouth besides calling out for JJ

JJ reads the Miranda Rights to him before I feel someone turn me around and pull me into a hug. I can't do anything else besides melt into their arms, sobbing. I cry out even harder when I hear Erik yelling at me.

"YOU BITCH. YOU BETRAYED ME AGAIN. I TRUSTED YOU. HOW FUCKING COULD YOU. I COULD'VE GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING. I COULD'VE TREATED YOU SO MUCH FUCKING BETTER THAN THIS TRASH OF A TEAM. HOW C-" He gets no chance to finish his rant because Rossi and JJ shove him out the door. There's more unintelligible yelling, but I only focus on trying to calm my breathing. It's not working. There's a muffled voice telling me to breathe.

"Y/n, it's alright. Breathe with me. Deep breath in." I force myself to suck in a breath through my nose and hold it.

"That's good, let's hold it in for six seconds, yeah?" Blindly following their direction, I hold in my breath and count to six in my head.

"Alright, slowly let it out through your mouth for eight seconds. Slowly." By now, I've calmed down, my senses are coming back, and the tingling in my hands is going away.

"Thank you," I say, but my voice is raspy from hyperventilating, so it comes out as more of a whimper.

Working up the courage to look up, I see Hotch bending his neck to scan me for any injuries. His face is riddled with relief and concern. I break off eye contact and take a deep breath before walking out to the rest of the team. I can feel Hotch walking close by, and we walk out in time to see Erik being shoved rather roughly into a cop car.

"You did good. Y/n. Once he's processed, we'll interview him and head home, okay?" He lays a hand on my shoulder and retracts slightly when I jump.

I settle for a nod and walk down to JJ and Rossi once the cop car drives away.

"Hey, Y/n. Are you doing alright now?"

"Yeah, I uh. I'm fine now. Thank you, Jayje. I owe you." I give her a smile, but it falters as she shakes her head.

"No Y/n. You don't owe me anything. I'll always have your back. Okay?"

"Thank you. Both of you. You guys are the closest thing I have to a family."

"You're my family, too, kid. I'm sorry I couldn't get into your room beforehand. But you handled it like a pro. Complete badass." I let out a small giggle and thank him one more time. JJ holds my hand and takes me to her room for a break.

"You want to sit in the SUV and take a break? Seems like you need some alone time." I tear my eyes away from the shabby carpet to see she already has our go-bags. I let out a small smile and hum in agreement.

"You know me so well."

Time skip to the SUV with JJ!

"JJ. Can I ask you another question?" I sit down in the car with a crappy cup of tea from the motel lobby and place a bag of Cheetos in front of her.

"Of course. What is it?" Her body language is relaxed, but her expression says the opposite. She knows we have an unfinished conversation.

"Hotch knows, too, doesn't he?" JJ was expecting this, but I don't think she expected me to be so blunt.

Sigh. "Yeah, he does." I already confirmed what I knew. But that was only the first question.

"He knew I wasn't trying to replace Emily. So why is he treating me like shit?" I don't say this with hostility. Rather genuine curiosity with a knowing expression.

"Hotch is...Never good with change. He was blindsided by your transfer request, and he and Strauss are. For lack of better words, on shitty terms. She didn't let any of us know about it, and it was less than a month before you got here. I think he just wanted you to prove yourself and get a feel of what you're like."

I let out a small chuckle, and she chuckles back. Not because I find the situation funny, but because I assumed so anyway.

"You know, the funny thing is." I take in a deep breath. "Is that, I never asked for this transfer."

JJ's smile falters a little and raises her eyebrow to ask what I mean.

A puff of air escapes me before continuing. "Strauss and the director hand-picked me. I never asked for a transfer. I was only with my previous unit for less than a year. The people in my unit also lost someone, and they viewed me as a replacement...Same as you guys."

"Oh, shit." I flash a smile at JJ to let her know that I don't blame her. This seems to absolve her from some guilt.

"Yeah. But they were welcoming, albeit a little on the cold side. But they valued my experience, my work ethic. Sooner or later, they accepted me. Not as a replacement, but as a new addition to their team."

"Jesus, we messed up, didn't we?" I shake my head.

This isn't all their fault. It's no one's really. Just people who grieve differently and haven't accepted their loss.

"It isn't anyone's fault. I just think maybe some therapy would do you all some good." We enjoy some much-needed laughter, but it's cut short when JJ's phone rings.

"Hotch? What is it?..." She nods at me before continuing the call. "Okay. You guys are heading out now? Alright, thanks." JJ turns on the engine and tells me the good news she got from Hotch.

"Erik Johnson is going to be put away for 35 years. He'll be a pruny old man by the time he gets out. He'll never see you again." At this news, I visibly relax and the tension in my body melts away. I can feel my eyelids getting heavier.

"Get some shuteye. We're going to pick up Rossi, and we'll be back at Quantico in 5 hours." I can feel JJ draping her jacket over me before I let myself succumb to sleep.

Time skip back to Quantico!

I'm woken by a series of small taps on my shoulder. I'm still half asleep, so I don't fully process the stimuli. I try to go back to sleep and nuzzle my head onto the other side of the seat.

It's warmer than usual, though? Why does the leather seat unusually feel like....skin?

I don't dwell on it because no sooner had I realized it, I was being carried out of the SUV. I hold onto the closest thing I can feel, anything to ground myself. My eyes are adjusting to the light, and I'm lowered onto a couch, still holding onto something which I realize is a striped cotton shirt.

"Oh shit. Hotch, I'm sorry. You didn't have to carry me." I'm starting to get up, and as I stand to walk to the door, Hotch stops me with a gentle tug on my elbow.

"Y/n. I need to apologize." I guessed this would happen sooner or later, I just didn't expect it less than 2 minutes from when I woke up. I sigh and turn around anyway.

"Hotch, really, there's no need. I unders-"

"No, y/n. I really do." He gestures for me to the couch, and he sits down next to me.

"I'm supposed to be the leader of this unit. Someone to ensure everyone's safety and wellbeing...And I didn't do my job. The team didn't know how to grieve, and I'm not saying that as an excuse but.. I should've mandated counseling or some type of evaluation."

I can't muster up a response, so I settle for a nod.

"Hotch. I don't blame any of you. I know what it's like to lose a part of your family. The Navy taught me that grief can lead you down one of two paths. One toward isolation and self-blame, and the other towards comfort and acceptance."

Hotch looks at me with thanks. Knowing that the team should've handled their grief better.

"The team needs to apologize as well. They're waiting in the briefing room if you're up for it?"

I take a deep breath before getting up to head to the briefing room. We stop in front of the door when Hotch pushes the door closed from behind me.

"Y/n, one more thing. Uh, JJ told me about your transfer. I should have asked you about it before assuming. I apologize, Y/n."

I turn back around to look up at Hotch and give him a tight-lipped grin for reassurance before turning back to the door.

We walk side by side towards the briefing room where everyone sits around the table. Before I sit down, JJ hands me a cup of black tea with honey. Just how I like it.

"Thanks, JJ." She nods back to me before we all sit down. Hotch starts the impromptu meeting with a group apology.

"Y/n. We all need to apologize for the way we treated you and for the assumptions that we made. Especially for the lack of trust we've given." He looks towards Morgan to add on.

"I shouldn't have doubted you y/n. I took my anger and sadness out on you, and that was wrong of me. Emily was like family to me, and it's been hard letting new people in. I should-. We all should have read your file and realized you weren't a threat, but an asset to our team." Morgan pauses in case I want to respond, but I only give him a slight nod to let him know I heard him. He squeezes Garcia's arm when I don't respond.

"I uh. Y/n, I really am sorry. I know you didn't deserve it. But Emily was just such a big part of our lives, and I-I didn't... I don't like change. I don't do well with it, and I don't know how to deal with it so fast and so close to one another, but I never-" I interrupt her, calling out her name and a reassuring squeeze of her hand to let her know it's alright.

With watery eyes, she shakily tears her eyes away from mine and looks expectantly towards Reid.

Spencer's expression seems almost pained, but he pushes on with what he needs to say.

"Emily left a big impact on all of us. Um, she uh. She was someone I opened up to about a lot of things. And her death was so sudden, it just. I didn't get to say goodbye. I know everyone already said this, but I shouldn't have underestimated you. I put you down because I thought you were inferior, and I know that you aren't. I'm just really sorry that you couldn't trust us enough to help you."

He looks down in guilt, so I take this time to finally speak up. "I understand. It was never my intention to make you all feel that I was replacing Emily. I should have let you guys know about my transfer, although I blame Strauss for not telling you all beforehand."

Everyone smiles at my statement since they know firsthand how irritating Strauss is to deal with.

"I had no choice in the transfer. I didn't choose to join this specific unit or any other unit, for that matter. Strauss contacted my unit chief directly and asked for my transfer asap. I had less than three days to uproot my life and move here."

The news shocks Morgan, Reid, and Garcia. The only ones who hadn't known yet. Hotch, JJ, and Rossi just sigh and send sympathy smiles towards the unknowing team members.

After a beat of silence, Reid takes this as the time to ask why Rossi and JJ didn't speak up.

"Wait, why aren't you guys saying something?" JJ and Rossi give each other amused looks, and JJ speaks up.

"Spence, we weren't the ones with attitude. We save that for Hotch." The room falls into warm camaraderie, filling the space with laughter and jokes.

Maybe this time it'll be alright.

January 12th, 2012

The team dynamics have changed for the better; Rossi and JJ have just amped up their friendliness, but the others have started letting me in...Morgan's eased me into flirtatious banter, I've gotten to see the sparkly side of Garcia, Spence and I ramble on about the different statistics we know and we've even gone to a russian film festival...And Hotch, well...he definitely trusts me more, includes me in team decisions, but there's been a change in his demeanor. More soft, caring, almost flirtatious with me.

It's almost my one-year anniversary with the BAU, resulting in a team dinner being promised. The team has stuck to their word and fully integrated me into their team. I've been invited to girls' nights with JJ and Garcia. We've had three team dinners at Rossi's house, and I've gotten the opportunity to babysit for both Hotch and JJ in our spare time. My birthday's also coming up on the 14th, but there's a more pressing matter to attend to right now.

Emily was still a sore topic. No one really talked about her unless the team got nostalgic and wanted to share good memories. What no one told me yet was that the team was investigating Doyle under the table. They only let me know that the international terrorist who killed Emily has been surfacing, and they needed my help.

Morgan cornered Ian Doyle on the roof. The team is split up, either in Doyle's apartment or at Declan's house. Rossi and Reid are at Declan's house, letting the rest of us know through the earpiece that he's missing.

Time skip back to briefing room! (THIS IS NOT AN ACCURATE TIMELINE BUT THE SAME SCRIPT FROM THE EPISODE)

We're all gathered in the briefing room with files on Doyle spread across the table. Hotch stands in front of everyone before speaking.

"Twelve months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her, and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security."

The team looks confused, angry, and surprised.

"She's alive?" Garcia speaks up when no one else does.

"But. We buried her." I can tell Spencer is hurt. He's in denial, like he refuses to believe him.

"As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me."

Morgan does what he says and directs his anger towards Hotch.

"Any issues? Yeah, I got issues." He's cut off when Penelope speaks up. "Oh, my god."

Emily walks into the briefing room to explain herself and talks to everyone. Everyone is confused, angry, and relieved.

I've never seen photos of Emily before, only her first and last name and whatever the team has told me about her. I can't look at her. I can't let her see me either. I hear Hotch call after me, but I ignore it and walk to Penelope's den.

Flashback to 2009 - Marine Corps

"Fox, you're going to Italy for a year. One of our old contacts needs intel, and they can't risk using modern technology. You'll be the main point of contact. We don't know their identity, but they know yours."

General Smith slides a thick manilla folder towards me.

"You have a villa set up less than 2 clicks away from the meeting point, 16:00. There's everything you need in this file to live comfortably but safely for over a year. Offshore accounts under the identity 'Lillian Bianchi' with the password set up. They will sit next to you and give you a code--you respond with Alpha, Golf, 5, 1, Lima."

Tuscany, Italy 2009

I've been undercover before, but never in a foreign country. I have no backup for an entire year. Even if I'm blown, support can't reach me for at least 2 days, even if they rush.

Reaching the villa was easier than expected; the directions my superior gave me were extremely precise. Precise enough that I wouldn't need to second-guess my directions, so I wouldn't seem like a tourist.

All my 'belongings' were being moved into my villa. The movers kept shouting over each other, trying to fit a box through the front doors, albeit unsuccessfully. I have less than 4 hours to set up and walk to the meeting point. Less than 2 miles away, a walk or bike ride would do the job of getting me to "Caffè Gilli".

"Mi scusi. È possibile lasciare le scatole al primo piano."

(Excuse me. You can leave the boxes on the first floor!) I'm glad I can finally put my Italian to use.

"Va bene signora. Andiamo ragazzi." (Okay, ma'am. Let's go, guys.) The movers start hopping into the truck, ready to get to their next job.

All the clothes in my boxes are authentic Italian clothes, all made to make me fit in with the locals. I grab an outfit and make my way through the house to get familiar with the layout.

It takes me 3 hours to get ready, study all remaining intel, and set up my temporary home to be as I prefer. I'm getting ready to leave, and I slide on my overcoat and a pair of authentic Italian leather black boots.

God, these are comfortable. I'm definitely keeping these, I don't care what anyone says.

Time skip to Caffè Gilli!

As I step into the cafe, the smell of tiramisu and espresso surrounds me. I step up to the counter to order.

"Mi scusi. Posso avere un caffè ristretto e i biscotti al cioccolato? Grazie." (Excuse me. Could I get an espresso and some chocolate cookies? Thank you.)

I can tell why General Smith chose this place, enough patrons to mask suspicion, and plenty of choices to sit. I take my order and head to the specified table in the file--the farthest one from the bar, closest to the door.

I'm sitting, stirring my coffee before placing the spoon back onto the saucer plate. I'm about to take a sip, but I see someone sit in front of me with an espresso.

This might be the contact, but I need them to confirm before I speak. I look up with a smile.

"Buonasera, signora." (Good evening, Lady/Ma'm)

Is this a test? I was instructed to not speak before the contact does. I assume it is anyway and give her a nod hello. They smile back before leaning in to whisper -- "Romeo, Sierra, 4, 2, India."

It was a test. I lean forward to start talking and discreetly grab a flash drive from my coat pocket.

"Alpha, Golf, 5, 1, Lima." This time, she breaks out into a soft smile and introduces herself.

"My name's Lauren. We don't need to exchange the package now. Just keep smiling, and we'll make small talk until we finish our coffee. I have a tail on me; he's by the restaurant behind the fountain. He won't do anything unless we act suspicious, yeah?"

"My name's Lillian. I was looking forward to meeting you. Has the tail been on you the entire way here?" I say this with a teasing tone; it's like we've known each other for years.

"Yes, but he doesn't know I've made him. I'm not sure if you're aware, but we're going to have regular meetings from now on. Your identity is supposed to be my best friend who recently moved from Napa Valley. You know nothing about the arms dealing. Only that I run a consulting firm for 'contractors'."

"I think for this to be believable, we have to find a common interest to talk about for the next couple of months. Laurie." We share small laughs about the quick use of a nickname. The next thirty minutes are filled with shared stories, common interests, and plans to meet next week.

As we step out of the cafe, we share a tight hug, and I take the opportunity to slide the flash drive into her pocket.

"Ci vediamo la prossima settimana, Lily! Ciao bella." (See you next week Lily! Bye beautiful.)

Lauren finishes her goodbye with an air kiss, and we part ways.

This is gonna be a fun year.

Time skip 6 months in!

"C'mon, Lily. You're telling me you've never thought about it? You could be one of the best. Oh my god, WE could be the best. Matter of fact, you could be my twin in another lifetime." I laugh and sip at my wine, but the thought lingers.

For the past 6 months, 'Lauren' and I have learned pretty much everything about each other--obviously never about any real identities, but we talked about who we were as people. Not the facade we were assigned to.

"Maybe, but I don't know Laurie. The 'club' scene isn't something I've ever considered." We never used the exact words, but we referred to the FBI as the 'club'. Laurie told me about how she's been thinking about joining after the operation is over.

"I'm just saying. If you were by my side, I'd go to the 'club' every day with a smile on my face." She sends a wink my way. We both laugh in good fun at her tipsy brain. Laurie always gets a little flirty when wine is in our system.

We've started a little tradition of our own. Every Friday, we gossip about our week and try new wines way past sunset. Our bond has grown into a relationship sisters would be jealous of. It's as if our jobs don't put us at risk of dying every day.

"Don't tempt me, babes. You know I'd follow you to the ends of the earth." We laugh again, this time more boisterous and hearty than before. Seems like Laurie's personality is rubbing off on me.

"How about this? In three years, if we're not satisfied with our lives, we meet up and join together." Laurie gives me a soft smile, eyes pleading with a soft squeeze of my hand.

"Oh? Are we saying we won't see each other before that? Oh my sweet, I can't believe you don't want to see me anymore." I say this with a dramatic flair, pretending to be absolutely torn apart.

She lets out a giggle at my antics, but focuses my attention on her question again.

"Hey. What do you think, though? Really."

"Yeah, Laur. Of course I would. But this better not be your way of saying you don't want to see me until then." She lunges forward, almost knocking my wine out of my hand, tackling me with a hug.

"Oh my sweet girl. I would never. You know I'd never leave you hanging."

We settle into the couch, enjoying each other's tipsy company.

Time skip to the end of the operation!

I'm being pulled out of Italy now. I don't know how the operation ended, but I know it was done successfully. The end of the op ended less than two weeks before the end of my joint contract with Interpol and the Marine Corps. I lost contact with Lauren Reynolds a week before I was pulled, but we made a promise. After everything was done, we'd meet up in San Diego by the pier, and we'd figure out our plans afterwards.

But she never showed up. Someone else did, though.

"You must be Lillian." I whip around at the unknown voice. The salty air hurts my eyes, so I squint across the pier.

"Excuse me? What? How do you know my name?" My cover name. Lillian Bianchi is supposed to be dead. All traces of me and pictures of 'Lillian' were erased and shoved deep into an encrypted system.

"You're here for Lauren, right?"

"How did, how. Who are you?" I'm wary now. This random British white dude is referring to a classified mission where I'm supposed to be dead.

"My name's Clyde Easter. Lauren was one of my operatives. And, I'm sorry to say that although the mission was successful... Lauren Reynolds is dead."

"What? No, no. That can't be. We were supposed to meet here after we were done. You-you're lying, someone would have told me." Clyde settles himself next to me, looking out towards the view.

"She had a note left for you. Told me if something happened to her, that I should come to San Diego to give this to, and I quote, 'The sexiest lady in red'." Although sad, he lets out a small chuckle at her interesting choice of words.

A pathetic laugh escapes me as I look down at the red scarf I'm wearing—her scarf. Tears freely run down my face now as I accept the note. I thank him and watch him walk away before walking back to my car to read the note.

My hands are clammy but freezing at the same time. I let myself bawl in the safety of my car until no more tears come out. Once I'm calm, I open up the folded note with shaky hands. When I finally unravel the page, I can see dried tears, smudging some of the letters--readable nonetheless.

-

Dear L, This sucks, right? If you got this letter, that means my beautiful face isn't gracing this world any longer. Yeah, I know. You're probably thinking now isn't the time to joke around with you, and it isn't. But I wanted to let you know that I wanted to be there. I wanted to join the FBI with you and see your lovely face every day. I'm sorry that you have to do this alone. I know you're probably crying, but come on. Suck those tears up and buckle up. You and I both know that this was a possibility. Now isn't the time to mope around a binge on sweets like I know you might do. Chase your dream, OUR dream. Let me live on through you. Do it for both of us, yeah? I'm sorry I'm not there. I'm sorry we can't continue our Friday wine nights. Most of all, I'm sorry we didn't get more time together. Thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for being one of the best people in the world. Thank you for letting me get to know you in the short time we've had. I love you, whoever you are LOL. You were my family, my sister, the best person I've ever had the privilege to know. I love you. Take care of yourself for me, okay? And remember that you're stronger than you let yourself think. Thank you for being you. Love, L.R P.S. Did I use LOL correctly? I tried remembering what you taught me but I'm not sure. Anyway sorry about the jokes and stupid comedy. I love you!

-

I knew this could happen. It's the risks of being a spy. I just hate that the statistics proved true.

I thought I couldn't cry anymore, but clearly the universe thought otherwise. The human body works in the most mysterious ways.

I drive home with a plan. Our plan.

Flashback over!

I'm interrupted in my thoughts by a tap on the shoulder. I don't move, so Hotch walks around to face me, concern riddling his face.

"Y/n, what's going on?"

I can't tell him now. That's at least an hour-long explanation.

"I'm fine. I just. I'm fine. Let's go work on the case."

Hotch knows a talk is needed. We both know now is not the time, so he relents and walks me back to the briefing room with a hand on my back. I stop by the entrance to take a deep breath before walking in behind Hotch.

He interrupts the reconciliation and turns the focus back onto the case.

"I am so sorry, I really am. Not a day went by that I didn't want to. Really, you didn't deserve that, and I'm so sorry. There is so much I want to tell you guys, and I will, I promise, but right now, I really need to know what's going on with Declan."

Emily hasn't seen me yet, only focusing on the board of evidence and leads. Spencer turns his attention back to the case and asks. "Emily, was there a man living at the house?"

"Yes, my friend Tom Koehler. He was raising Declan as his own." "Where is he? I never saw him go in or out of that house." Emily and Spencer go back and forth for answers. "Uh, he was on assignment overseas. But, but he's all right?"

"Yes, he's on his way back now," Hotch reassures Emily. "He got a call from Declan, he called me, and when I landed, Hotch told me that you had Doyle in custody." "And because of Tom's line of work, that's why you enrolled Declan in a boarding school." Morgan follows Emily's train of thought. The team looks into leads about a man named Gerace who's presumed to be working with a woman. I welcome the distraction and head to Garcia's den to comb through potential suspects, unaware of Hotch's gaze following me out.

Back in the briefing room!

"Hey, so how's Will? Still working long hours?" Emily is catching up with JJ now while everyone else looks into possible leads.

"That's a long story." JJ makes two cups of coffee and a cup of tea with honey. She hands a cup to Emily and scans the room for you, but there's no sign. "Oh, I haven't seen Seaver." Emily notices the cup of tea, but doesn't point it out. "Well, she transferred to Andi Swann's unit." The tea is set down as both of them sip their coffee. "So, who replaced Seaver?" JJ starts to ramble off about you, describing your wit, your background, and especially the way the team treated you at first.

Back to the den! "These women are associates of Doyle's, who may have crossed paths with Gerace." I take a deep breath and rack my brain for a possible lead. "Does anyone have a deeper personal connection with Doyle? Whoever took Declan showed a lot of rage at the nanny." We're trying to look for the one woman who hated Doyle more than any other. "Who is Declan's mother?" Of course. This has to be it. Right?

I ask Garcia to be the one to ask Emily, not yet ready to face her. I can hear footsteps heading towards Penny's sanctuary. I've learned to recognize the team's footsteps, so I call out for JJ. "Hey. You doin' alright? I haven't seen you since Emily got back. Is something wrong?"

I know that it'll be a while before we have a real lead on Declan, so I take some time to think about everything.

"No one ever told me, but um. What was Emily's cover name while undercover?" JJ looks confused, but she lets me know either way.

"Lauren Reynolds, why?" The unshed tears finally break, and I drop my head to my hands.

"Whoa, Y/n, what's going on?" She lets me cry in her arms, not asking questions until I'm ready. My eyes are still trained on the ground, head between my knees. That's when Emily walks in to tell us about a lead.

Emily peers into Penelope's den with curious eyes, clearly sensing the tension, but refocuses on Declan. "Oh, uh, we have a lead on Declan's whereabouts...Is she okay?"

She whispers the last part to JJ, but I hear it anyway.

"Yeah, she'll be alright; she just needs a minute. Let's tell the team, I'll let Hotch know Y/n will stay back with Garcia." JJ tells Emily as she rubs her hand up and down my back. They both walk out of the den to talk about the lead, but not before JJ flashes a sympathetic smile my way and closes the door.

Once I've collected myself, I check my phone when a vibration shakes me from my trance.

Hotch JJ, let me know. Stay with Garcia and help her find possible locations where Declan could be. We're heading to Chloe Donaghy's house now.

Just as I finish reading his text, Garcia bursts in with concern.

"Oh my sweet butterfly, JJ told me you were upset, and I thought it was because of something we did again, but then she told me it was probably something to do with Emily, so Hotch told me you'd be staying back, so I just wante-" This brings out a smile. I know Garcia's panicking, so I stop her in her tracks.

"It's not anyone's fault. It's just some...memories. Now come, let's find this kid."

We communicate with the team on a group call as we narrow in on Chloe's whereabouts. We can hear Hotch make a deal with McDermott about trading Doyle for Declan, and we listen for commands. The team heads to the strip landing for the trade-off with Doyle, while Garcia and I watch through the security cameras.

McDermott shoves Declan towards Hotch and Emily as they hand over Doyle. There's no audio, but we can see McDermott arguing with them. There's not enough time for us to warn the team about Chloe stumbling out of the plane, and we see Doyle and McDermott hit the ground seconds before Chloe falls down the steps. Emily lets Declan say goodbye as the tension visibly leaves the team.

I tear my eyes away from the screen and scramble to take out my earpiece. The sound of Emily's voice physically pains me to listen to. All our old memories resurface, bringing tears to my eyes. I can't help but think back to her goodbye letter, still tucked away in my dresser.

I should've known. You can never trust a spy.

Time skip back to the BAU!

Garcia and I wait in the bullpen, ready to greet the team. She convinced me to go to O'Keefe's with everyone for drinks and a formal introduction with Emily.

Although I'm not sure 'introduction' is the right word.

The team walks piles out from the elevator, relaxed and laughing, from what I can only assume is the result of catching up. Garcia, though, is a little upset at being left out of the fun.

"Alright, my lovelies, we can giggle and joke later at O'Keefe's. We mean's everyone, no excuses. Ooh! That reminds me, Y/n come meet-", Garcia's head is on a swivel, looking for any sign of me.

Unknown to her, I'd already started walking towards the stairwell when the elevator opened.

I feel bad for leaving Garcia hanging, so I sent her a text to let her know I'll get us a table and to meet me there.

She looks down at her phone, reading my text before her attention is back on the team. "Okayyyy. Never mind, Y/n's going to head to the bar first. Let's go, let's go, let's go, she's probably already halfway there!"

Everyone laughs at her excitement and rushes back into the elevator, already calling for babysitters and cancelling plans.

Time skip to O'Keefe's!

I'm already nursing a double shot of whisky when my phone buzzes on the table.

Garcia My lovely, where are you! xoxo Oh, wait, our freakishly tall resident genius spotted your pretty little head. COMING!!!DON'T MOVE THIS TIME.

Deep breathing is my choice of focus. I know it'll take them at least 30 seconds to reach my table, factoring in the crowd and Reid trying to find the most optimal route without rubbing up against sweaty bodies. I take this time cycle through at least 2 rounds of diaphragmatic breathing and plastering on a fake smile.

I don't turn around when I hear Spence rambling about the statistics of the possible diseases in a bar, but it calms me to know there's still some normalcy in my life.

"Hey, sugar, why did you go? I was lookin forward to seeing your pretty face when we got back." Morgan's flirtatious nature allows me to loosen up as I brave myself to look around.

"Oh, don't worry, baby. I would never leave you hanging...Where's the rest of the team?" I can't help looking for Emily, but I'm grateful Morgan doesn't pick up on my animosity.

"They're ordering some drinks. Tonight's goal is to get drunk, hot stuff...which I see you've gotten a head start on." He flashes his signature smile.

I'm not tipsy yet, but I can feel the whisky churning in my stomach.

"Well, if that's our goal, I think I got a pretty good start. And I very much need this." There's no time for a response when I see the team stumbling towards the table as if they're already drunk.

I knock back the rest of my glass, welcoming the burn as a nice distraction from what's to come. By the time my head tilts back down, everyone settles around the table. Hotch settles in next to me, a hand resting on my waist. He takes this time to 'introduce' me to Emily.

"Y/n, this is Emily. Emily, Y/n. She joined us about a month after you left."

She finally meets my eyes and falters, nearly spitting out her drink.

Gasp. "Lily. I-I."

"Laurie. It's...nice to see you again." The smile doesn't reach my eyes, but it is genuine. I don't reciprocate any of the team's curious looks, only focusing on Laurie...or rather, Emily.

"Yeah, it is. I-I'm so.." She takes in a shaky breath and bites her lip before responding--that was always her tell. Her way of showing she was anxious. "You did it. You followed our dream."

I'm not mad anymore. Just somber. I understood why she couldn't tell me. I just hate that I couldn't read through Clyde.

It's clear the team is now more than confused, but we're only focusing on each other.

"You knew I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. Even if I was chasing a ghost. Interesting choice of words, you told Clyde, by the way. You probably knew I would need a laugh." We both share a small laugh at this. It's void of humor, rather guilt.

We fall into silence once the laughter fades. Not comfortable but not uncomfortable--a grey area. Hotch fills the silence with a question of his own.

"Y/n, you already know Emily?" The team, including Hotch, is now skeptical. They've known and accepted Emily's past as a spy; they know the people who were involved in the op, but not everyone.

The atmosphere had warped into something of an interrogation. Suspicion, hostility, and confusion...previously directed towards Emily months ago, were now being directed at both of us.

"Guys, please. This isn't the time. Can we just enjoy the night, and I will-...We will tell you about it tomorrow. Please." Everyone's eyes switch between Emily and me, not quite angry, but not happy about the sudden turn of events. They relent once Hotch speaks up, "Tomorrow, 08:00 in the briefing room. For now, let's try and let loose for tonight."

I can tell they're still trying to figure us out, but when the drinks arrive, we all cheers our drinks--courtesy of Rossi breaking the silence.

"It's decided, no more profiling tonight, only drinks and more drinks. To Emily's return and the means to an end. Salut."

As the night goes on, the team catches up with Emily, and we all share stories about cases that've gone by since she's left. I'm not as cheery as the rest, but I'm thankful no one's mentioned it...except Hotch.

I excused myself to go back to the bar for a drink, unaware of the 6'2 figure tailing hot on my heels.

"Can I get another double. Thanks." I drop my head to my hands as the bartender pours another double. I've had 3 in the past hour, not enough to have a blinding hangover the next morning, but maybe a dull headache.

"Might want to slow down on those." I turn, expecting to see a 30-year-old douche with a wedding ring mark. Instead, I'm pleasantly surprised to see Hotch, minus the permanent scowl embedded on his face.

"You saying that as my friend, or my boss, hmm?"

A mix between a scoff and a laugh sneaks through his lips. The mixed laughter between us fades into a comfortable silence.

"Excuse me, can I get a cup of water? Thank you." I sip my drink as the bartender places a cup of water in front of Hotch.

As the fourth double shot of whiskey enters my system, I am acutely aware that this should be my last when I start seeing two of Hotch. It seems he knows as well because he slides the glass of water my way.

"Drink."

"Yo-you're an angel, Aaron Hotchner." His eyes are trained on me, in case I fall off the stool or, god forbid, choke on the water.

He gently chastises me to drink more slowly, which I do until the cup is empty.

"Are you sure you're okay?" My mind racks through possible excuses, but it's like my mouth is ahead of my mind.

"No. But I will be." He doesn't push, but he doesn't leave it alone.

"Do you want a ride home?" I take a minute to decide, and I ultimately settle for a nod.

He leads us back to the table to let the team know we're calling it for the night before heading towards the door.

"Aren't you drunk. I-I can call a cab."

"I've had one drink, y/n. Plus, I wouldn't feel right letting you take a cab in this state, especially in our line of work." He chuckles softly before leading me to the passenger seat of the car.

"Wooowwwww. What a gentleman." I emphasize each word with a dramatic flair.

The door shuts, and I can see his shoulders shake as he laughs. He rounds the front of the car to the driver's side and slides in. He's about to speak, but I unknowingly interrupt him with drunk rambling

"Did you know that in the last year alone, drunk driving accounted for 31% of all fatalities, and it's been reported that 4.2 million US adults drove drunk." I'm blatantly staring at him as we drive, which he probably notices, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

"Oh really? I'm surprised you can remember statistics right now."

"Mmmhm. This big brain isn' for nothin hot stuff. OH. Another thing. Did you know that your chance of being killed by a stranger in the United States is about 1 in 23,000 per year. Buuuttt, the risk triples if you work in certain public-facing jobs. Oh my god. Just like ours." I go wide-eyed at this drunken revelation. I don't dwell on it because I realize I haven't given him directions to my place yet.

Hotch notices my confusion as I whip my head around, trying to figure out where I am. "I remember where you live, I've dropped Jack off before, remember? Also, I don't know if you realize, but our risk is significantly raised; we chase serial killers every week. You went face-to-face with the piano man just last month."

He takes in my expression, content and starry-eyed.

"What is it. Why are you pouting?" I didn't even realize I was pouting, I suck in a deep breath and slid further into the leather seat.

"I didn't know she was Laurie. None of you showed me any photos. I thought she was dead." I'm getting teary-eyed now. The combination of 4 double whiskeys and Emily coming back is finally hitting me all at once.

"Y/n, we don't have to talk about this tonight."

"No. No, we don't. But I need answers, and so do you." I feel the car come to a stop. I can tell he feels conflicted, flitting between letting the talk happen and waiting until tomorrow.

"You should be the first to know anyway. Considering you're the boss man. Now, can we go inside before I end up throwing up in your car?" Hotch gives me a slight nod before walking to the passenger side and opening the door.

I tell him thanks before we walk up the path to my door. I'm fumbling with my keys, trying to find the right one.

"Here, let me." He finds the correct one first try, making me scoff as he opens the door--letting me in first.

"Ever the lady's man, aren't you, Hotchner." He shakes his head at me, but I can see the smile he tries to hide.

"It's your own house y/n. I'm being courteous."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going to make some tea. You want any?" I say as I shrug off my coat and let down my hair. I feel him grab my coat and hang both of ours up.

"Please, and som-."

"Honey, yes, I know."

We both share a laugh, both at the insinuation and Hotch's predictability. I turn on the electric kettle and raise two types of tea, letting him choose which one.

"Green tea, nice choice." Placing a small handful of leaves in two cups, I add honey in both cups before pouring the boiling water into each cup. I hear a little taps on the floor running from my office.

"Hey Max, you still sleepy?" I look down and see Hotch playing with my dog, who, clearly from his bed hair, just woke up from a nap.

"He's always sleepy." I bend down to rub his belly and give him a treat as he retreats back to his little cave.

I hand Hotch his tea before motioning towards the living room couch. We sit down on either side, letting a beat of silence fill the room.

Hotch notices my hesitation and starts the conversation for me.

"When did you meet Emily?" He asks me softly, the same tone he reserves when talking to Jack.

I respond with a question. A necessary question.

"Have you read my file?" Raising his eyebrows in confusion, I tilt my head, urging him to answer.

"Yes...4 years in the Navy, then 2 years afterwards working in intel with the Marine Corps. Then one year with the San Diego unit before transferring to the BAU."

I nod and bring my knees to my chest, but my heels are in the way. I'm about to set down my tea to untie the strap, but he stops me and replaces my hand with his. He undoes the straps with ease, motioning for me to talk.

"That isn't my full file. Just like Emily, um. Some of my files are locked or even destroyed. I need you to promise me. That this won't reach anyone outside of the team."

Just as he slides the last heel off, he leans back and nods as an affirmative.

"Hotch, please, I need words."

"I promise y/n." I nod and curl into myself before continuing.

"When I was with the Marines...I uh, I worked with Interpol. I went undercover during my last year, and I was assigned the identity 'Lilian Bianchi', or what Emily called me, Lily."

I take a sip of tea as Hotch asks me another question.

"You were a spy?" I stay silent, and he takes that as an answer in itself. The gravity of this discussion sobers me up completely.

"The time I worked in San Diego was a cover-up. Interpol couldn't risk letting me face the public so recently after an op. So I worked with the CIA. My true history was only known by a handful of people. I was handpicked by the director; he knew what I was capable of and knew my true past. I assume Strauss knew, but never told you due to pressure from higher-ups."

He looks hurt, but understands my position. "I always thought your file had some gaps, but I get it."

"I was assigned to get intel to Emily and her team in Tuscany. We met weekly, when it wasn't about work; we still met up. I wasn't allowed to know about the operation or what intel I was giving, but I got to know Laurie...or I guess Emily."

"You two never knew each other's real identity?" Shaking my head, I licked my lips before speaking.

"It's part of the territory. You don't reveal any real information about yourself. We both played by the rules as if it were religion. We knew the possible consequences of disclosing such information, so we only got to know each other as Lauren and Lillian."

"What did she mean by 'our dream'?" I work up the courage to meet his eyes. He's engaged and focused on the conversation, but still, he's confused.

"We made a promise, a month before the op was supposed to end. We were supposed to meet in San Diego after it was over to make a plan together. Work our way up to the FBI. But she never showed. Clyde Easter did." There's a flash of recognition in his eyes at the mention of Easter.

"He told you she was dead?" I poke at my cheek with my tongue and affirmatively nod.

"She left me a letter. She told me to follow our dream and that she was sorry it went down like that." Hotch squeezes my hand in sympathy.

"I knew Emily was alive, the way you and JJ acted whenever she was brought up...It didn't add up." With a resigned sigh, Hotch knew the gig was up.

"But you didn't know Emily was Lauren, so by default, both were dead." I set down my cup of tea, wrapping my arms around my body.

"I should have known. I should've seen through Clyde. Looking back on it now, I realise he was way too calm. He wouldn't meet my eyes when he told me." Hotch rushes into fix-it mode. Trying to alleviate my self-blame.

"Don't do that to yourself. Clyde knew you would be too emotional to see through you." It helps to some degree. I know that I couldn't have changed the outcome either way.

"I understood why they did it. More than ever now. It just sucks that I only knew until now." I wrap my arms around my knees, trying to make myself as small as possible as I tear up.

I can hear Hotch scootch towards me, offering a hug with his arms open. I look up, perplexed as to why our stoic, unaffectionate boss was willingly offering physical contact.

He doesn't say anything, instead raising his eyebrows and pulling me into his lap. I take a quick breath, but let him move me anyway.

We sit like this for ten minutes, head tucked under his chin, hands rubbing up and down my back; just breathing in silence.

"I knew you were secretly a cuddler." The calmness is broken by a fit of giggles at my quiet statement.

We've moved into a lying position, although still curled up, the couch doesn't permit much space--meaning I was splayed on top of him, arms on his shoulders.

"I've always been one, just never got around to cuddling with the team." At this, I burst into a boisterous chuckle, silently imagining the image of Hotch cuddling with our team. I prop myself up to look up at him.

"Oh my god, we can totally make that happen. Imagine a team sleepover, we could make a fort in your office and binge-watch movies on your laptop." We're both sleepy, half-lidded eyes watching each other.

"Sounds like a totally logical idea, sweetheart." I don't fully process the use of the new nickname; apparently, neither does Hotch.

"Really?!" I ask with confusion and drowsy excitement.

"No, of course not. I'm tired, not crazy." Pouting, I lay my head back onto his chest, sighing dramatically.

His fingers tilt my head back up, meeting his eyes again.

"Let's get some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow." I smile and nod against his chin--subsequently making him nod too.

Our mixed laughs fill the room as I settle deeper into the crook of his arm. He wraps his arm around me, grabbing the blanket wedged underneath his head with his other hand to spread across us both.

As I drift to sleep, I hear Hotch whisper, "Goodnight y/n. Sweet dreams." Punctuated by a quick peck on my head.

Time skip to the BAU bc i can't think of ideas leading up to the meeting!

On the ride to the BAU, we made small talk, neither mentioning the events from the night before. The only indication that something may have occurred was prolonged eye contact or lingering touches.

Hotch and I walk into the BAU, keeping our distance but not straying too far. Professional, but intimate.

We part ways at the top of the stairs, letting his hand stay a little too long at my waist. Hotch enters his office to finish paperwork, and I walk to the briefing room. Opening the door felt like walking into a lion's den, but I quickly let out the breath I was holding when I saw that no one had arrived yet. To be fair, Hotch and I got here over 30 minutes early; I'd at least expected our early bird Spence to be here. Either way, I take the grace period to make a cup of coffee. The sacrifice of a lovely cup of tea in place of coffee was a very necessary switch. The more caffeine, the better...right?

"The amount of sugar you're putting in makes me think you're turning into Spencer."

"HOLY MOTHERF-. Jesus Rossi, you just reset my entire nervous system." My hand clutches over my heart, afraid it'll jump out otherwise. Rossi holds up his hands to show he's no threat and pulls out a chair around the table.

"My Italian leather boots, cushy and silent as a ghost. La migliore qualità." I bring my coffee over to sit next to him and take a peek at his boots.

I raise an eyebrow at the brand. "Ferragamo? Best quality, my ass, Rossi." I want to take back those words just as they leave my mouth. Clearly, I've ticked a nerve because he looks like I just told off his mother.

Before I can respond, Morgan and Spence walk in all smiles, coffee in hand.

"Well, well, well. Looks like you had a rough night." I am so god damn thankful that Morgan isn't mad at me, but I can't say the same for Spencer; he said anything yet. "You can say that again, honey. Next time, cut me off after 3 whiske-uhhhhh. Spence, that's my coffee, pretty boy."

I stop mid-sentence when I notice Spencer taking a big sip from my cup of coffee. He looks between the coffee and me, then back at the coffee again.

"You don't usually drink coffee, I thought you'd made it for me like you normally do."

"Yeah, I know I don't, but the fact that Hotch scheduled the meeting for 08:00, I thought the more caffeine the better...Annnddd you're still drinking it." My face falls flat at his unbothered actions, sipping and sitting down next to Morgan.

"Y/n, this has like 3 crap load of sugar in it. If I didn't know better, I'd think this was made for me." I stand up, glaring at the doctor before getting up to make a new cup of coffee.

With my back still turned, I resume my talk with Rossi. "By the way, Rossi. No offense, but if you want shoes, and I quote from my good friend 'da morire', you gotta get a pair from Santoni." I mix in a crap load of sugar, as Reid called it, and I turn around to see Rossi raise an eyebrow.

"Kid, I wasn't offended. I just didn't know you spoke Italian. And I have shoes from Santoni, they're just not my style." Now all three men are staring at me and taking in this new revelation.

"Jesus, there is so much we don't know about this girl. Did you know about this, Reid?" I listen to the guys ramble in surprise as I sit back down with a new cup of coffee. Their question makes me anxious, though. There is a lot they don't know about me, and it's all about to come out.

The next few minutes are spent waiting for Hotch, Garcia, JJ, and Emily. Hotch walks in first, swapping pleasantries with the guys before settling next to me. Next comes JJ, walking in with Penny, coffee, and a tea for me, which I gladly take and set alongside my coffee--something JJ gladly points out.

"My, my, is our y/n turning into another Spencer Reid?" JJ says with a teasing tone while sitting down.

"Girl, if you were in my position, you would do the same." My tone is less playful, but still joking. She gives me an understanding look that I return with a smile.

The team makes small talk, waiting for the last person needed. Our chatter dwindles as we hear the familiar clicking come down the hallway.

"Good morning, everyone. I got here a little late, sorry." I peer at my watch to see that it's only 3 minutes past 08:00, and I gladly point that out.

"Lau-. Emily, it's only 3 minutes past." Her body tenses just a tad at the mention of her spy identity, but recovers quickly as she sets down her belongings.

"You always said, a second late is still late, Y/n." I send her a soft smile as we both reminisce about lost memories.

Emily makes the next move, asking me to join her at the front of the round table. I squint at her, but I do so anyway. Hotch gives my knee a firm squeeze of assurance as I get up to walk to Emily, grounding my feet next to her, but not before she pulls me into a rib-crushing hug.

"Oof, okay, Emily, please, you're gonna kill me." She relents and lets me go and squeezes my shoulders with apologetic eyes. Returning the sentiment. I whisper, 'It's okay,' before we both turn to the team.

"To start, I'd like to apologize again. I really did not mean to leave you all hanging. If anything, blame me, not Hotch or JJ. They genuinely could not tell you; it was a matter of life or death--you all knew that. And Y/n...I just. I-I am so sorry. I never wanted to do that to you. I hope you know that. I fought with Clyde and our supervisor to at least let me explain, but they said it was for both our safety. I really am sorry." We're both tearing up now, Emily more than I.

"Em, I understand. More than ever now. It's okay, I forgive you." It's like Emily and I are in our own little bubble, only focused on each other.

"I saw you that day, when you were at the pier. Clyde told me to wait in his car. I wanted to come out, I did, I just-" I cut her off as she tries to explain again.

"You'd get in trouble, I know. It's alright, really. I'm just glad you're back, Em." She looks at me with such tenderness that it makes me tear up.

"You were always quick with nicknames. I'm glad you're still you."

We share one more look before Morgan interrupts our sentiment with a playful jab. "So are either of you going to tell us what happened, or are we gonna sit here and look pretty?" Rossi slaps him on the back of the head before motioning us to continue while the team lets out barely contained giggles.

"Now that Emily said what she wanted to say, I um. I need you all to imagine yourselves in my shoes before you judge or get mad at me. And you all need to promise that this never leaves this room. Ever." I look around the room for everyone's confirmation before continuing. Emily sits down, but pulls the chair out enough to be next to me.

"My files say that I did 6 years in the military--4 with the Navy and 2 with the Marines, then a year with our San Diego unit before transferring here. But um, that's not the real file." Confusion fills the air like a dense fog; the team exchanges perplexed looks.

Emily pipes up, clearing the air while letting me take a moment.

"When you all uncovered my files, it was hard to bypass, right?" Garcia retells her experience in trying to dig up buried information.

"Yes, yeah, the files were wiped, but then I dug deeper, and I had to request access from 3 different people to unlock your classified ones, and even then, it-it didn't have the full story, we had to threaten Clyde." Everyone recounts the memory, solemnly nodding at the past.

"Anyone who was involved in the operation had all relevant files and history wiped. Everyone was required to stay hidden or on the sidelines for at least a year--a necessary step for protection. The people who did so had their cover stories appear as their main file." She turns her head towards me, signaling me to elaborate further.

"My files were also erased. During the last year with the Marines, I was sent undercover to deliver intel in Tuscany... to Lauren Reynolds." I let this new information sink in as realization dawns, and they glance between Emily and me.

"I worked with Emily for a year. During that time, we became best friends. The last few weeks before the op ended, I lost contact with her. We were supposed to meet in San Diego after everything was all said and done. Instead, Clyde Easter showed up in her place, telling me that the mission was successful but cost the life of one of their operatives...Emily." Spencer reaches my eyes, understanding the pain I felt, losing a best friend.

"You didn't get to say goodbye." No, I didn't.

We both smile at one another, knowing we faced the same circumstances.

"I tried my best to move on. The year I spent with the San Diego team was a cover. I was working with the CIA. They'd just lost a team member, and I was sent to train and stay hidden for a year. The plan was to join the FBI; oddly enough, we accomplished it on our own time." Emily and I shared a smile, understanding we both sought out each other in our plan.

Morgan seems a little ticked. "Why didn't you tell us? I mean, a year you've been with the team and you didn't think we oughta know?" Emily and Hotch glare at Morgan for questioning me and the accusatory tone.

"Morgan, the first half of the year you all spent pushing me away, treating me like an outsider, and demeaning me and my skills--then spent the other half trying to make up for it. Tell me this: would you willingly share classified information about yourself with a team where no one trusts you? As a matter of fact, let me do you one better. Why didn't any of you ask? I know you all had doubts about how little experience I had and the minimal information my file contained. So, before you ask questions, ask if you would do the same." This definitely shuts him up. Anger turns into guilt as he closes himself off by crossing his arms. The team glances around, clearly disgusted at themselves at the reminder of their early treatment.

"Listen, I don't blame any of you. But this...this is huge. I can't give out this information on a whim. It's not the type of information you discuss over tea. I trust you guys, I do, which is why I wanted to let you all know." The team all nod in understanding. Rossi pipes up to ask a question.

"Sooo....Was that the only mission you've been on?" I make a face that screams 'really', before sighing and answering.

"No, I was on three missions in total. In the Navy to extract an operative when they were blown, another for the CIA, and for around half the year I was there, to go undercover to infiltrate a hit-man group. Then the other half, I spent interviewing and studying psychopathic patterns and methods of execution. Oh, and the operation with Emily." I finish my explanation with a flat smile, looking around at the slack-jawed, wide-eyed agents.

Emily, included, ogles me like I've just confessed to being a serial killer. "What. The. Fuck?" Now I'm the one who stares.

"Hey, whoa, language missy. Why is this so surprising? I'm sure you guys have your fair share of action. And probably encountered agents with a longer history than I have." Am I missing something? Did I just blow a top secret or what?

JJ answers my unspoken questions, still taken aback. "Y/n, you're like what, 25 now? Besides Reid, you're one of the youngest agents to join the team, with more experience than an ordinary agent could have in five years. And you've been on more missions in three years than we have in ten. Well, besides maybe Emily." The mention of her name, she nods, mouth still wide open.

"When you infiltrate a hit-man group, that would mean they had to test your skills. So did-. Or do yo-. Are you a sniper?" The team has its eyes on you, focused on whatever answer you're about to drop them.

"Well...yeah. The military teaches you marksmanship, but I took a course with the CIA, basically sniper 101." The only people on the team who know how to use and operate a sniper rifle are Rossi, Hotch, Emily, and Derek, all of whom have their eyes trained on me. The latter asks a question of his own.

"Hotch, Rossi, Emily, and I have been through marksmanship training, but you're a full-on sniper. You technically outrank us, and you're literally ten years younger than me." Damn, I do outrank them. I purse my lips as I drop my eyes to the floor.

"Okayyy, how about this? For the next-" I glance down at my watch to check the time "-thirty minutes or so, you guys have free rein for any and all questions which I will answer to the best of my ability, yes?" I tilt my head and scan the room for agreement. Once everybody nods at each other, Rossi pipes up with the first question.

"Where did you learn Italian?" I laugh at the simplicity of the question, thankful for an easy first question.

"I learned in my free time, just had a knack for languages. I was just thankful I knew otherwise, Tuscany would've been a death trap for me." Emily nods in agreement, knowing her life was much easier knowing Italian and French. Spencer, ever the curious man, asks the next.

"Wait, so how many languages do you know?"

"I know Italian, conversational French, Chinese, Korean, Spanish, Greek, Arabic, some Albanian, and English." The team stares in awe, amazed at my linguistic diversity. Knowing how difficult picking up different languages is, Emily's surprise is palpable.

"Holy crap, you know 9 languages? That's 2 more than I know--not competing, of course, but Jesus, I know how hard it is to retain that knowledge." I shrug off the hidden compliment, suddenly turning shy at the attention. Thankfully, Hotch notices and veers the conversation back with a question.

"When you studied psychopathic tendencies, did you interview serial killers?" I eagerly answer this question, appreciating the change of topic.

"Yeah, I interviewed a couple. Sydney Manning, Theodora Bryar, Billy Flynn, and Herman Scobie." Spence's eidetic memory kicks in, sitting up straighter.

"Wait, those were unsubs we put away. Don't you guys remember? Uh, Billy Flynn--Morgan, do you remember the little girl he kidnapped? She came to the BAU after running away from her foster home!" Morgan tilts his head to think, leaning forward when he remembers and confirms Reid's statement.

"Yeah, Ellie Spicer. She ended up living with her mom." I nod at the new information.

"I interviewed them about how and why they started killing. Oh, and if they ever regretted killing. Some said yes, others said no." Again, with the eidetic memory, Spencer pipes up and adds to the conversation.

"Oh, I think I read an article on that. It was this brilliant piece by L. Y. B., I wanted to email her and pick her brain, but I guess it was a Pseudonym because I never found any contact information--but the piece itself was extremely well written, it's like put themselves in the shoes of the killers and wrote exactly what they were thinking an-...I'm rambling, aren't I?" All of us collectively say yes. We're all amused, yet I am more than the others.

"I don't think you have to worry about looking for her anymore." Reid and I lock into a staring contest. He looked confused, while I sported a barely concealed smirk.

"L. Y. B., L, l...OH MY GOD, LILLIAN Y/N BIANCHI. YOU WROTE IT? HOLY S-. I have so many questions, did you ever look int-" JJ cuts him off from his excited rant, noting my shocked expression.

"Okay, Spence, let's maybe save the inevitable hour-long conversation for later. I think the rest of us have some more questions." He nods but gives me two thumbs up with barely hidden glee.

"Alright, we've got around 15 more minutes, let's do some rapid fire questions that don't take over 10 minutes each to break down."

Thank god, today's a paperwork day because we ended up 24 minutes over my presumed timeline. On top of the 15 minutes we had, the next 39 minutes were spent asking about both serious and unserious questions. Hotch asked the more serious questions, like how many injuries I've had, which I answered somewhat truthfully. Morgan and Garcia asked the more unserious questions, like if I've ever dated while working, or what hobbies I like. The time passed rather easily until Hotch reminded us of the stacks of paperwork that needed to be done.

We all groaned and moaned, but made our way to the bullpen to start working...finally. JJ and I helped Emily adjust her new desk, since I took her old one--which I offered to give back, but she insisted it was fate's way of saying it was the perfect spot for me.

Everyone sat down with their caffeine fix and got started on the stack of files piled on each desk.

Time skip to 18:00!

People started to file out in exhaustion. Spencer and Emily went first for coffee to catch up. Next are JJ and Garcia--the latter babysitting Henry so Will and JJ can have a date night. That leaves Rossi, Hotch, and me.

Rossi saunters out of his office, stopping in front of my desk, pulling my attention away from my last file of the day.

"Come with me, y/n." I squinted at him, but got up to walk with him.

"Am I in some kind of trouble, Rossi? What'd I do?" He shakes his head and closes the door behind us before grabbing his special edition 12-year-old single malt scotch and two glasses.

"I think we could both use a little drink." I chuckle at his words of wisdom. Both thankful, yet curious as to what needs to be discussed.

"What is this, scotch therapy night?" He settles down on the couch in front of me, popping open the bottle with a flourish.

"Well. Technically, we haven't gotten to the therapy part yet, but scotch is definitely a part of it." Pouring a hefty amount into each cup, he slides one across the table--which I take.

"Isn't this against the rules? Ergo, get us suspended?" I take a sip of the scotch, letting it trickle down my throat, burning the path it leaves.

Rossi swirls his scotch and takes a sip before responding. "Not unless we get caught," he punctuates his sentence with a wink, and I let out a scoff.

"Okay, spill, what is it, Rossi?" I lean back, crossing my legs, and tilt my head for him to explain.

"Well, I assume you know about Hotch's 3-year cold streak with romance?" God, does he know about my feelings?

I feign innocence as I respond, "Yeah, no dates, no relationships, not even a fling since Haley. Why?" He raises his eyebrow, studying me for any indication of deception.

"Are we really playing this game, kid? I see the way he looks at you, even when you first started--although he was being an ass--he still treated you differently. More protective, more cautious, more everything. Now, are we going to keep beating around the bush, or is the scotch loosening up your lips?"

I flash him a deadpan expression, both of us knowing the gig is up.

"I don't know Rossi. And this genuinely isn't deflection, but looks don't say anything. Sure, we flirt from time to time, but he's not a very vocal person, and I'm the type of person who needs reassurance and words. So, as much as I appreciate you being his wingman, I need him to actually talk to me."

He holds eye contact for a minute, then glances down at his lap and sighs, taking in another sip of scotch.

"Yeah, he isn't the most vocal person. You know, behind his tough guy exterior, he also needs reassurance. We had a talk a while ago, and he said he didn't believe you were interested in him, that he was too old and complicated for you." Knocking back the rest of his cup, he stands to grab his bag and coat, leaving me sitting on his couch, very confused and annoyed. But that all dissapates at his next sentence, replacing my feelings with shock.

"Which is why I've taken the liberty of leaving him on call-" raising up his cell, showing a continued call for 8 minutes 34 seconds. "-so Aaron, come to my office before I drag you. And kid, don't ruin my couch." I gape at him, watching his figure walk towards the exit.

Traitor.

There's a soft knock on the door--although it's already open--and Aaron walks in, hesitant as if I'm an injured little animal. My jaw is still slack, wide open, searching for words to conjure up. Only one word comes to mind...well, two.

"That bitch." This drags a hearty chuckle out of Aaron, walking towards the couch and pouring a new cup of scotch.

"So, I guess I should ask you to dinner then?" I'm brought out of my rage-filled stupor, now making eye contact with him. I don't say anything for a few seconds, watching his expressions change from hopeful to a look of regret. Finally, I smile and respond, "I thought you'd never ask."

This breaks us both out into smiles, ear to ear. I realize this could technically be a first date, or rather a warm-up date--which I point out.

"You know, this could count as our first date. No people, just drinks. I think it's the perfect setting." He grins at my comment, letting himself relax and take baby sips of his drink.

"How about we call this an introductory date. Then, if you let me, I'll take you out to your favorite restaurant." I nod at him and finish my drink, reaching out the cup to let him refill it.

"I think that's a perfect idea." We spend the time making small talk, rambling on about each other's likes and dislikes. One hour becomes two, then three, then four. Once my eye catches the clock on Rossi's desk, I bring the time to our attention.

"Oh crap, Aaron, it's already 22:00. Don't you have to go home to Jack?"

In our tipsy haze, we end up back in the same position as last night--splayed across the couch, my head tucked under his chin--although now with much more room. "No, Jack has a sleepover today, and they're going to a theme park with their class tomorrow."

"Mmm, that's nice. I would say you should go chauffer, but...duty calls." He nods against my head and sighs. Both of us are starting to get sleepy, our voices getting softer and more raspy.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for Jack, like I can't provide everything for him." I push myself up on my elbows, furrowing my brows while looking at him.

"Aaron, you are more than enough for Jack. He has a loving home, a caring father, and obviously Jessica." We both smile in thanks to Jessica, knowing life would be much harder without her. "There is one thing. He's not like you, Aaron. He needs to hear that you love him. Be more vocal about your affection. He may be strong, but he's still young."

He nods in understanding before settling my head back down onto his chest. "Thank you, Y/n. For reassuring me and giving me advice. It's one of the many things that made me fall for you."

I hum as to say 'no problem', eyes getting progressively heavier.

"You think Rossi would get mad at us for sleeping in his office?" He lets out an airy sigh/laugh.

"No, only if we drink all of his scotch." A loud snort, followed by an obnoxious snicker, cuts through the air, thinking about the look on Rossi's face if that occurred. The silence settles back in after my laughter dwindles.

He tilts my head with his fingers, letting his other wrap around my waist. "Let's get some sleep, hmm?"

My eyes flicker down to his lips before looking back up. My tongue flicks out to wet my lips, and his eyes follow the movement. I don't know who initiates first, but the words die in my throat before they come out.

"Hotch.." He cuts me off as he leans in and presses a soft kiss onto my lips. His hand moves my head further back, deepening the kiss. It's slow, but intense; I moved from his side to straddle his waist, cupping his face with my hands while he moved to my waist.

After what seems like hours, I break the kiss, not straying far from his face. Hotch breathes out his words, "Honey, what is it?"

I failed in suppressing a breathless chuckle as I let out a single word.

"air." We both laugh at this, letting a comfortable silence stretch between us.

I lean my forehead against his, breathing in each other's mixed air. Finally, I moved myself back into the crook of his arm, adjusting Rossi's quilt across our bodies. "You know, deja vu is hitting real hard right now."

He combs through my hair, diligently untangling strands with precision. He gently shushes me before mumbling something about sleep as I allow myself to succumb to sleep.

Time skip to morning!

The light coming through the blinds wakes me first. I stretched my neck to look down at the tangled mess of legs and look up towards Aaron, still sleeping...or not.

"You're staring." I immediately settle my head back down under his neck. His morning voice is making my stomach do somersaults, and I cannot afford to lose my job over indecency in the office.

"Was not." He chuckles against my hair, hand going over to smooth over the stray strands. Our morning harmony is interrupted by slow, dramatic clapping.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here." Aaron and I both freeze, tilting our heads up just enough to see the entire team crowded around Rossi's doorway--Morgan smirking and whistling, Emily barely concealing a sly grin, Spencer making sure JJ and Garcia get the best angle for photos, tilting their phones to get the optimal position, and Rossi, standing like a proud dad.

We look at the team, then back at each other with deadpan expressions.

"Oh crap."

"Oh crap." Aaron slides the quilt over both our heads as the team lets out woops and low whistles. Rossi's distinct, proud matchmaker voice pokes through the crowd.

"You two have 10 minutes to get ready for our briefing."

Under the quilt of protection, we groan as we listen to the team file out and shut the door.

"This is going to be a long day."

Yes. Yes it is.

LMAOO OKAY YALL IT'S DONE. IM SORRY NO SMUT IM NOT EXPERIENCED ENOUGH TO WRITE IT SORRRYYY. OKAY ANYWAY THIS TOOK A LOT LONGER THAN I THOUGHT BUT I HAVE ANOTHER SMALL BLURB I WANT TO WRITE SO LIKE.....IDK READ IT OR DONT ITS FOR MY AMUSEMENT. OKAY BYE THANK YOU LMK HOW THIS IS.

omg sidenote, if you like BTS fanfics which i do here is an amazing fuckin writer who you should absolutely go check out. @kithtaehyung

anyway bye bye see yall next time! I will probably be editing as time goes on but yeah lmk how it is!

p.s i fuckin love this photo of Hotch.

[ot72018]

Odd One Out Pt.2

BAU x BAU!Reader

Alrighty yall this will be pt 2 and definetly longer.

WARNINGS : ANGST OMFG ANGST BC IM A FUCKING WHORE FOR ANGST, usual criminal minds violence, light SA, hotch morgan and spence being a total dick, POST EMILY FAKE DEATH, emotional hurt/comfort, JJ BEING AN ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART UGHHH JJJJJJJJJJ, female reader, mentions of readers past, military reader--kind of self indulgent of my past but wtv. also did i mention angst?

a.n : Okay, remember yall, italics are y/n's thoughts, bold is what shes saying. yes? we got it? okey. ALSO. this does not correlate to the timeline of like the OG criminal minds.

post edit - Guys I didn't realize the amount of effort it takes to write holy shat. Okay anyway I'm going to effen combust.

Word Count - 5106

July 5th, 2011

It's been a little over 7 months with the team now. They've somewhat accepted that I'm stuck with them. But they still doubt my abilities and work ethic. The only people I would consider close friends are JJ and Rossi. Although Rossi seems to be doing it out of pity or another similar reason.

Through my work experience and PHD in Psychology, I can tell that JJ knows something. Whenever the topic of Emily comes up, the rest of the team looks somber, depressed filled with grief. JJ is an exception; her left eye twitches, and it looks like she's trying to be sad, but her eyes betray her expression. I haven't pressed her for information because I have a feeling I already know the answer.

Garcia is presenting the case at the round table, clearly disgusted by the aftermath and disturbing methods.

"Okay, ew times a thousand. There have been 5 victims close to us, thankfully and unthankfully. You're going to Richmond, less than 5 hours away. All of the victims were asian, black medium-length hair, and aged 24 to 27. All are single, no family close by, enrolled in different universities or some other schooling. They were all killed in their apartments, each stabbed 10 times in the heart, and they were sexually assaulted both anti and post-mortem." She hands out files to each of us and basically throws the file towards me.

I don't take it personally, knowing they're still mourning the loss of someone they consider family.

I feel a little icky about this case. Everything feels so personal to me. They look similar to me, but I can't say so without seeming too egotistical. I have a little weiner dog, Max, and I'm enrolled in an online school due to our hectic work life. But of course, this could all be a coincidence.

"I see pet toys in each of their apartments. Did they kill all of the victims' pets?"

Garcia makes a face at my question, which I can understand due to her love for animals. "Okay, ew again, but no, there was no sign of the pets anywhere. Each of the victims had a small dog, none of the same breed. Shitzu, toy poodle, pomeranian, maltese, and our latest victim had a weiner dog."

I make a face of shock but quickly mask it with readjusting my reading glasses. Obviously not quick enough because JJ flashes a face of concern. I cover my tracks by talking about the case.

"Okay, so the unsub either took the animals or let the door open so they can run away." Spencer follows up my thought with another, pointing out something Garcia hasn't gone over yet.

"The unsub wrote on their mirrors with their makeup. Some of it is smudged from the cops messing with the scene, but I-I think I can make it out. It says, Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart."

Oh my god. No, no, no, no, no. NO. This can't be. No. I can't overreact. Not now. This can't be him. It can't.

"It's a quote by Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment Part III, Chapter V." I look up, and the team can see my shock and worry, but none of them pry, only with looks of confusion.

"This quote clearly means something to the unsub; the quote is about longing and unrequited love on either side, or like the quote says, pain and suffering, so something happened that made them suffer." I draw into myself as Spencer rambles on, but my mind is still in a state of denial. I can't accept this, that this is my reality again. I just can't.

"Everyone, wheels up in 15, we're driving this time." Hotch says as we all get up and grab our go-bags.

JJ corners me before we leave, clearly still concerned about my reaction. "Hey, you good? You seem a little shaken up."

"Yeah, Jayje, I'm alright. Just a little tired. Max kept me up because he wanted to play." I say with a forced chuckle. I can tell she doesn't believe me, but lets it go anyway.

Time skip to driving out to Richmond!

We all head towards the three parked SUVs. Rossi pairs off with Hotch, Reid with JJ, which leaves me with Morgan.

I know Morgan still doesn't fully trust me, but I don't dwell on it. I have a more pressing matter on my mind. But it leaves my thoughts as I see Morgan walking with Rossi and Hotch, leaving me alone with just me, myself, and I. Great.

Everyone hops into their respective cars, even Morgan, who usually hates the middle seat, gets in anyway.

I jump into the driver's seat and connect my phone to aux so I can try and drown out my thoughts. "Alright, guess this is some me time."

Brief POV Switch

In Rossi and Hotch's car, Rossi senses the abnormality in Morgan's change of seat. He doesn't hesitate to call out the team, including Garcia.

"Hello, my favorite Italian bachelor, what can I do for you?" Despite the bright greeting from Garcia, Rossi makes no effort to beat around the bush.

"Garcia, patch everyone but y/n into the call. Now." There's some surprise in Rossi's demand, but she does so anyway. Once everyone gets the call and answers, Garcia checks in with Rossi. "Oh-okay everyone's in. Do you need me to stay on call?"

"Yes. This goes for everyone except JJ. I know how hard Emily's death was on everyone; it's hard on me, too. But you can't all take it out on y/n just because you all refuse to learn to grieve."

Morgan starts to cut in and defend himself, but Rossi beats him to the punch. "Derek, you are part of the problem. You know you were supposed to pair off with y/n, but instead, you decide to hop in with us to avoid talking to her for 5 hours. Garcia, you have been constantly passive-aggressive towards y/n, and you treat her with disdain and like she's inferior." This gets a choked response about how it isn't true from Garcia, like she's trying to refute it, but she knows it's true.

"Hotch, you constantly shoot down her ideas, and you treat her like she's a trainee when you KNOW if you'd read her file, that she's more than capable and probably better than any of us at her age. Reid, you keep doubting her skills, and you doubt her knowledge about everything. Now, just because you have an IQ of 187, doesn't mean she's any less than you." Spencer goes quiet in the car during Rossi's confrontation but pipes up when the heat is turned towards him. "Actually, people with an IQ of-"

"REID. Have you even read her file? As a matter of fact, has ANYONE? I know I did. And it's extremely impressive. She has an IQ of 182 and has years of combat training and has glowing recommendations from her previous unit chief." At this, everyone goes quiet. JJ speaks up when no one else does, saying the one thing that everyone already knows but needs to hear.

"Guys, y/n isn't here to replace Emily. I talked to Strauss, and she said she chose her to help with our workload, which we all know was piling up by the second. I miss Emily too, but we can't take our grief out on her." The team goes quiet once again, no one refuting any claims because they know they've done it.

Hotch finally speaks up and gets everyone's focus back onto the case. "We'll talk about this after the case, but right now we need to head to Richmond PD. Everyone discuss what we have and call each other if we have any theories. We all need to apologize to y/n when we can, but our focus is on the 5 women right now." Everyone seems to hum in agreement and hangs up the call.

What they didn't know and what they should've is that Garcia patched y/n into the call as well. Leaving her in stunned silence, sitting with everything she already knew.

End of POV Switch

I hung up the call, knowing that they wouldn't apologize to me until JJ or Rossi dragged it out of them. I can't dwell on that, mostly because the case has taken up all the space in my mind.

My mind flashed through all the possibilities, not wanting to accept the inevitable. Knowing if I did, I would break. And I couldn't. I can't. Not when it took me this long to build myself back up again.

Flashback of y/n's past (DONT READ IF SA TRIGGERS YOU)

"Alright, everyone, get you're tasks done. PT is over. Sergeant Y/L/N, a word, please." I walk with Commander Johnson, who's already on the way to his private office. My mind is racking with the possibilities of what I've done or what I might need to do.

"Commander Johnson, to what do I owe the pleasure?" My palms are sweaty, feeling my fight-or-flight response kicking in, but I convince myself I'm overthinking and I don't need to be scared.

"C'mon, call me Erik. No need for the formalities right now." He let's out a laugh that doesn't quite feel genuine. "Y'know you can sit down right? I won't bite. Unless you want me to of course" He says with a wink that makes my skin crawl.

My fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and I'm ready to bolt but I steel myself and stay standing with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes.

"Commander Johnson, what is this meeting about. I have some tasks that need to be done before 18:00. This doesn't seem appropriate sir."

This seems to tick him off because he stands up and walks towards me with a predatory glean in his eyes.

"Don't be so uptight sweety. Y'know you can unwind sometimes. No need to be so formal." He's getting closer until there's a foot between us and leans back with a smug grin. "I can help you with that."

"Sir I think it's best if I leave now." My nervous system is on overdrive right now, I'm slowly inching back towards the door. But before, I can touch the handle--he jumps at me.

"Where do you think you're going, huh? Come on y/n, don't tell me you haven't seen it." My mind and body are at war right now. My mind telling me to fight back, but my body is completely frozen. I'm yelling at myself to move, anything, fight, scream. But the iron-tight grip he has on me is keeping me still.

"Commander Johnson please, I won't tell anyone. Just let me leave please."

He turns me around and brings his face close to mine to the point where I can smell the cigarette he smoked this morning. "Let you leave? No, no, no, no, no, no. I can't let you leave." He sounds almost pleading. "You're too precious, honey. My darling, my soulmate. I've always loved you. And I know you'll learn to love me too, right?"

"No, NO. HELP, SOMEONE HE-" He clamps his hand over my mouth so I can't scream, but I try to fight out of his grip. All my training wasn't for nothing because I got two good hits in, a crack to his nose and one to his chin.

"YOU BITCH. If you don't shut your mouth, I'll find a way to demote you to the bottom of the ranks. Even lower than the new graduates," He keeps his grip on me, but his anger calms once he cradles my head. "Why must you do this to me? Huh? I love you, honey. I'll never leave you. I can treat you like my queen."

I keep my mouth shut, and my eyes glaze over. I keep telling myself it'll be over soon. I'll switch batalions. I'm in my happy place. This never happened. I'm safe and in my room. But deep down, I know it happened.

Flashback of y/n's past over (DON'T READ IF SA TRIGGERS YOU)

I pull up to the local precinct and step out of the car. My hands are shaking as I open and close the door.

A local officer greets me, and it seems like I'm the first one here.

"Captain Riley, I'm SSA y/l/n. The rest of the team will be here in about" I check my phone and ask JJ for an update. "10 minutes. How about you show me the victims first, and I'll catch my team up when they get here."

"Of course, Agent y/l/n. We set you guys up in our meeting room, all the files and photos are spread out."

I look over the photos, and each one makes my skin crawl. Each victim is an uncanny resemblance to what I look like, and each of their lives reflects in one way or another, similar to mine. But there's one detail that scratches my mind. The number of stab wounds. It's the same number of times he kissed me on my heart. It was his way of saying I was his to claim.

"Captain Riley, I'm going to go to the M.E to look at the bodies. When my team gets here, let them know I've gone. Thank you."

Time skip to team getting to the local precinct

The absence of the third SUV confuses the rest of the team but they push on and walk into the station.

"Captain Riley, SSA Hotchner." He shakes the Captain's hand and briefly introduces the rest of the team.

"Ah, yes, SSA y/l/n said you guys would be here. She's gone down to the M.E to look at the victims. The meeting room is where all the files and photos of the victims are. Sorry, excuse me, I need to go."

The team all look at each other and note the absence of any texts from you. "Morgan, ask one of the detectives to drive you to the M.E and meet up with y/l/n. Rossi, you stay here with me to look over the files, JJ and Reid go ahead and talk to the families."

Time skip (ik again) to Morgan getting to the M.E

"Hey, y/l/n. Why'd you go without texting one of us?"

"Agent Morgan. I wanted to get started on the case so we don't waste any time. I know how urgent this case is." I respond to Morgan before turning my attention back to the examiner.

"So, do any of the victims have drugs in their system, or any internal bruising? Abnormal marks?"

"No, sorry, the only marks were the stab wounds and some ligature marks, but we've already established that he used rope or twine to hold their hands together. Otherwise, no strangulation marks, no drugs, nothing." I sigh because deep down, I've already accepted that this is him. He said he'd never let me go, so why did I think I was free from his hold on me?

"Y/l/n, you good? You seem a little pale."

"No, no, I'm alright. Everything's fine, just some thinking. Let's get back to the station. I'll brief everyone on what I found." I start to speed walk to the car, but Morgan stops me before I get in.

"Y/n, c'mon, it's me. You know I'm here for you, right? We all are." At this, I let out a loud scoff, which clearly bugs him, but I hop into the car anyway.

"Hey, woah, y/n what's going on? What's with you?" I can't believe the nerve of this bald-headed moron, but I indulge him anyway.

"You really want to know what's going on, or is this a way for you to absolve yourself from feeling guilty about treating me like shit?" I don't look at him, but I can feel his guilt emanating from the passenger seat as I drive back to the local PD.

"What, what are you talking about?" I can't help the obnoxious laugh that comes out of my throat.

"Really? Morgan, Garcia patched me into the call. I heard everything. NONE of you know anything about me. You sure as hell don't care about what I have going on. Just because JJ and Rossi called you out on your shit, it doesn't mean I want you guys to pretend to care."

The regret bubbles in my chest the second the words leave my mouth, but I don't find any reason to apologize for what I've been wanting to say for months.

"I know that you guys think I'm trying to replace Emily. But I didn't choose this unit. No matter how glorious you think it is. I was plucked by the director and Strauss. I was just as blindsided by the transfer as you all were. I had no choice, Derek."

It was the first time I've called him by his first name, and it was a shock to both of us that I chose to do so. We sat in silence the entire way back to the station, and the urgency to narrow down the suspect pool came back like a weight burrowing itself in my chest.

"Hotch, we just got back from the M.E and there was no sign of strangulation, no drugs, and no other marks except bruising on the wrists from rope or twine to bind her arms together. The C.O.D is the stabs to the heart. Otherwise, nothing out of order." I can see the prying looks from JJ and Rossi, but I ignore them and focus on the bubbling anxiety in my chest.

"Alright, let's focus on building the profile from what we have. Garcia, have you searched through the neighborhood security feeds for anyone suspicious?"

We all move around the table to listen to what Garcia has to say. "Alright, give me a second to work my magic. I've only seen their neighbors and friends around the neighborhood, and- Whoa. There's a white pickup truck seen on each of the victims' streets. There's only a partial license plate because of the glare, but all I can see is HES6. He's never gotten out of the car, and he has tinted windshields, but I can tell it's a man. He's smoking, and it looks like he threw the butts out of a crack in the window, and before you ask, no, the butts aren't there anymore, they were either blown away or crushed completely from other cars parking after. I will be back with hopefully more info."

My breath hitches, and I can't stop myself from hyperventilating because I KNOW that license plate. I need to get it out before I end up in a full-blown panic attack, so I blurt it out. "It- It's HES6073. It's a white lifted pickup truck." I can't say anything else before my throat closes up and I feel my tears clouding my vision. I have to go somewhere, anywhere away from the team's prying eyes.

I run to the bathroom before my legs stop working and I collapse against the bathroom walls. I need to stop, come on y/n. 5 things I can see--Okay, the tile, the stalls, the faucet, the soap, the trashcan. Okay, okay, breathe. Let me breathe.

"Hey, woah y/n what's wrong, what happened. Okay, let's calm down, let's breathe, okay. You're doing 5 to 1, right? Okay, did you do 5?" I can't do anything else but nod and hold onto her arms for dear life.

"Okay, let's do four. What can you feel?" I'm trying to feel, but my hands are tingling. I'm trying to breathe.

"The um, the tiles, it's cold. My pants are smooth, um. I-I, I can feel your shirt, it's scratchy. My palms, it-it's rough. My hair, it's uh, dry, and frizzy." I'm still trying to breathe, but my throat feels irritated I need to cough.

"Yeah, okay, that's good. You're doing so good. Okay, three things that you can hear." I close my eyes and lean back to try and focus.

"I can, I can hear the police talking outside. I um, I can hear your breathing. An-and I can hear Hotch and Morgan talking to Garcia outside. I can feel JJ running her hands up and down my back. Trying to regulate my breathing, I feel my pulse slow down.

"Almost there, keep breathing, okay? We're almost done. Two things you can smell, yeah?" I take a deep breath and close my eyes to try and focus on my smell.

"I can smell bleach from the tiles. And your Dior Hypnotic Poison Eau de Toilette perfume. Hah." I can feel myself calm down, letting myself laugh at my specificity.

JJ let out a small laugh too, amused at my response amid my panic attack. "Yeah, I knew you'd remember it. Okay, we're almost done now. What's one thing you can taste?"

I'm basically calm now, but I answer anyway to give both of us a piece of mind. "I can taste the blood from biting my lip. Actually kinda hurts now that I'm aware." I'm preparing for the inevitable question to come, but I feel better knowing it's JJ I'm telling and not the whole team.

"So.. You know what I'm about to ask, right?" I do, Jayje, I do.

"I know who's doing this and why. I just wanted to believe my instincts were wrong, but you know I rarely am." We both let out small chuckles, the sarcasm lifting the mood just a tad.

"Sorry, anyway, um. Did you ever read my file? I swear I'm not deflecting, this is important to how I know." I worked up the courage to look her in the eyes. To let her know I'm not trying to lie anymore.

"Yeah, I did. You were in the Navy for 4 years, straight out of high school at 17, and transferred to the Marine Corps for 2 years to help out with classified mission intel. Got out and worked for San Diego detectives for less than a year, and then you transferred to our unit."

I nod and bring my lips into a line before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Yeah. I uh. I know you know how the military treats women, right?" I paused to let her react and see where I'm going with this. Continuing when she gives a defeated look and a nod.

"Yeah, you know. It was my CO in my final year in the Navy. He was pissed that I was transferring to the Marine Corps and not renewing my contract for the Navy. I could tell he always liked me because he treated me differently, but not enough to raise eyebrows from anyone. To an outsider, it would look like a regular superior-subordinate relationship." I stop to take a deep breath before getting to the core of the story.

"I uh. I got called into his office on my last week before transferring. I knew he was upset about the transfer, but um. He was a lot more than upset. He told me he loved me, that I was his queen, and he would never let me go. I fought him the best I could, probably broke his nose and broke his jaw, but um. He didn't care. He was the type of person who got what he wanted when he wanted. You know?"

I knew she knew what I was saying. It hurt me to look at the pity on her face, so I looked at my hands instead.

"There's a reason I know it's him. When he um, did that. He." I need to breathe. Y/N. Breath, come on.

"Hey, y/n. It's okay, I'm here, you're safe, okay?" I nod, taking another deep breath before telling the rest of the story.

"He...He kissed my chest where my heart is. Ten times. Then he said he'd always have my heart. Jayje, I've seen his car before. It's the same one he had in the military. It was his prized possession." I work up the courage to look back at her, and the look of pity is gone. Instead, it's replaced with a look of guilt.

She takes my hand and pulls us both off the cold tile floor. We're about to leave the bathroom after she confirms again that I'm alright, but there's one more thing.

"Jay. There's one more thing. The quote from this morning? It's from one of my favorite books. I used to read it daily when I was in the military, and I bookmarked the pages with quotes I love." Any looks of pity are now replaced with a look of determination.

We walk out of the bathroom with her arm around my shoulder. There are looks of confusion from the team and some of the officers, but we ignore them as we walk into the meeting room and close the door.

I call Garcia, and JJ gives my arm one final squeeze before sitting down next to me, giving the team a reassuring look, which they translate to "we'll talk about it later."

"Hello?" I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the hostility Garcia's giving me, so I opt to hand the phone to JJ while I squeeze my hands together to ground myself.

"Garcia, I need you to look something up for me. I need you to locate Erik Johnson's last known whereabouts. I'm sure someone already told you to look for the license plate HES6073, but I know the GPS in the truck is ripped out." I can't deal with any more attitude because I literally dropped a fucking bomb of a story on JJ, and my voice probably portrays that because Garcia gives a straightforward response.

"He has no current address, no family or spouses. The only last known location is on a security feed parked outside a house uhhh. It's 182 Cheery Lane and...oh my god. Y/n is that, is that your-" I cut her off and hang up the phone before looking at JJ with a resigned face that just screams "fuck."

I look at JJ with a nod of reassurance because I know we need to let the team know what happened. I give her the go because we both know I can't retell the story another time.

"Before I tell you guys this. You all need to just listen, no talking, and this never leaves this room. Yes?" The team nods, and JJ gives my hand a squeeze one more time before speaking.

"The man y/n said was Erik Johnson was her Navy CO. He ended up assaulting her on her last week in the Navy before transferring to the Marine Corps. He was angry because she didn't renew her contract with the Navy. After all, he believed she was metaphorically leaving him. He's obsessed with her and believes that they're in love and that he's her soulmate. The ten stab marks represented uh." She looks at me for reassurance that she isn't oversharing before continuing.

"The ten stab marks represented the ten times he kissed y/n's chest because he believes that her heart is his. Spence, you were right. The quote did mean something to him. It was y/n's favorite book when she was in the military, and she bookmarked the pages with her favorite quotes." I take a deep breath from the fact that the truth is out there. That my past had finally come to haunt me again. I don't care about the looks of guilt and pity from the rest of my team.

There's a ring that breaks the tension in the room, and I pick up because no one else makes a move.

"Garcia, what is it?"

"So, um. You guys know the motel you were supposed to stay at tonight? The one 5 minutes from the station? Yeah um. The pickup truck was shown parking in front and then going to the staff parking lot. He hasn't gotten out of the car since 7, and it's currently 8:06 PM. I think he might be waiting for something."

Fuck. He's waiting for me.

"No, Garcia, he's waiting for someone. Me." I sigh, letting out all of my air in my lungs. Rage is now replacing any anxiety I have.

"We need to trap him. He's waiting for me to get to the motel and in his eyes. Get me back. I think we should go to the hotel right now. One of you comes and hides in my room, either close to the door or in the bathroom. I'll pretend to be asleep, hide my gun under my pillow, and wait. If I play into his fantasy, I can give myself enough time to subdue him." I look up at the team to confirm my plan. I know my plan is airtight. I know the possibilities that can happen. But I also know Erik Johnson. He's helplessly in love with the fantasy he created with me. He wants to believe that I love him back, and the only way to take him down is to lure him into a sense of safety.

Hotch is the first one to speak up. I knew he would because he feels guilty of pushing me to the brink of a panic attack. After all, I couldn't trust him enough to let him know. "Are you sure about this? Absolutely sure? We don't know what could happen if he finally gets his hands on.. When he finally sees you again."

I could tell he regretted his poor choice of words, and I gave him a nod to let him know it was okay.

"I know what could happen. I know Erik Johnson. He desperately wants to believe that I'll miss him. That I'll be happy to see him again. And if we do this. I want JJ or Rossi to be the one in the room with me."

I know the team wants to disagree, that Hotch wants to be the one in the room with a psychotic killer obsessed with one of his team members. But they also know they don't deserve to disagree. They don't have my trust that they'll have my back. I know it too.

"If you're sure. We need to do this now before he comes directly to the source of his obsession. Alright. Everyone, let's do this."

This ends here.

LMAOO ALRIGHT IM SO FUCKING TIRED IM GOING TO FINISH PART THREE TOMOROW. GOD I LOVE THE FACT THAT I ACTUALLY WROTE DOWN MY THOUGHTS. UGHHH SO GRATIFYING. anyway yall please please please give me some feedback. Anything will help. After I finish my part of the ideas, I'll need some ideas on how to continue it after so lmk who you want me to pursue a eh-hem...closer relationship with. So lmk yall Ill try to open up my requests and ask thingy but pls plspls give me some feedback.

[ot72018]

Odd One Out

BAU x BAU!Reader

WARNINGS : ANGST OMFG ANGST BC IM A FUCKING WHORE FOR ANGST, usual criminal minds violence, light SA, hotch morgan and spence being a total dick, POST EMILY FAKE DEATH, emotional hurt/comfort, female reader, mentions of doyle, mentions of readers past, military reader--kind of self indulgent of my past but wtv. also did i mention angst?

a.n : I literally dreamt about this for like 2-3 days, and I couldn't stop without actually writing it out. This will be my first official post on Tumblr. This post will not be as formatted or pretty as other experienced writers, so bear with me PLEASEEE. Anyway, I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds for the 19th time, and I need to write this down. Like RIGHT NEOWWW. This will be like either an extremely long oneshot or I'm just gonna put it in 2-3 parts. READ THE WARNINGS FIRST PLEASE AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ PLEASE.

Post edits - LMAOO I JUST MADE SO MANY EDITS BECAUSE I FUCKED UP.

Another post edit - here's the link to pt 2-pt3 LMK IF IT WORKS IDK WHAT I DID

Word Count - 2078

January 18th, 2011

"You're going to be working with the BAU either temporarily or long-term; we'll hash out the details of your contract when it comes to that point."

A headstrong woman, you've come to know as Erin Strauss, says to you as you two walk towards the bullpen. This was a sudden move from my San Diego team, granted I've only been there for 10 months, but they were reliable, comforting, and a welcoming change from the military.

"You've read the files and backstory of this team; however, I need to warn you that their loss was very recent--but you already know that, I just want you to be prepared for the environment you're working in-"

"Erin, I understand. I know the psychological toll it takes on someone when you lose a part of your family, and I'm prepared to help in any way I can." I just wish I had a choice.

We walked up the stairs leading to a closed door office, nameplate reading "Aaron Hotchner".

Knock Knock Knock

Strauss opens up the door anyway, ignoring any response that may come.

Sigh. "I guess SSA Hotchner isn't here yet, but I will introduce you to the rest of the team if-"

"Strauss. What do you need?" says an intimidating man with a clean, clearly pressed navy suit, I presume is SSA Hotchner. The inflection in his voice tells me he and Strauss aren't too fond of each other; rather, there's some animosity on his side.

"This is SSA y/l/n, she'll be joining the team from today onward. Here is her file with her background and experience. I'll leave you to it." I see a semblance of a smirk playing on her face as she walks out of his office.

"The rest of the team is in the briefing room, I'll introduce you to the team as we review the case." He hasn't made eye contact once and looked pained when Strauss introduced me. Shit. He wasn't notified about this. "Do you have your go-bag agent?"

"Always sir." Fuck Strauss, god damn it why didn't she let me know we'd both be blindsided by this transfer.

"Let's go then." He left no space for response besides starting to walk, although his stride means having to basically run alongside him. I almost collide with his back as he stops in front of the table where five people sit. "Team this is SSA y/n y/l/n, she'll be working with us from now on. Agent y/l/n this is SSA Morgan, Jareau, Rossi, Reid, and our Technical Analyst Garcia. Let's begin."

I can't do anything but nod briefly before sitting down since Agent Hotchner left no room for further introduction. I can feel the glares on me the entire time, but I don't focus on anything but learning about the case.

The technical analyst starts reviewing the case and puts 3 images on the screen above the table. "Alright my loves, this case takes us to Orlando, Florida. One victim, 34 year old male. Extreme overkill and signs of sexual assault."

A man whom Agent Hotchner called Morgan speaks up, "This is only one victim. Why are the local police calling us in?"

"Yes, it's because Orlando PD linked these recent cases with four more cases 2 months ago. 2 kills, both 1 month apart with the same victimology."

"So the unsub is killing two people, once a month, and started last year, around December." Agent Reid sets the timeline but not before Hotch interjects. "We'll talk more on the jet, we need to head in now before they take another month break."

We all grab our files and go-bags before heading to the jet. This will be a long case.

Time skip to the jet!

"Garcia, what do the other case files say?" Hotch patches Garcia through as we all look through the files.

"Each victim from each month was either 33-36 years old, all divorced for at least a year, and each in a long-term relationship with-" There's typing before Garcia says with a surprised voice. "With men? Oof, tough divorces, each was bled dry from the divorce, and it seems like all marriages were ended because of infidelity on the husband's side."

"Were any of the ex-wives suspects?"

"Y/l/n, don't you think I've ruled that out already? Each of the ex-wives moved away with the money they took and had no contact with their ex-husbands again." I can sense the hostility in Garcia's voice, but I show no signs of surprise or hurt. I can't say so for the rest of the team, as I see Agent Morgan look up from the files with barely contained shock at the way Garcia snapped back.

"Alright, we'll look more into the suspects and build more information on a profile at the station. Thank you, Garcia."

I'm looking through the M.E results, and I see something that catches my attention. "There's both avanafil and sildenafil in all the victim's systems." I look up when I get no response, and I take it as a sign to elaborate further. "They're both PDE5 inhibitors for males with erectile dysfunction. 5.6% of males in the U.S are prescribed them, but it ordinarily falls under the category of males over the age of 40. All our victims aren't at the age necessary for the use of PDE5 inhibitors, and it's extremely unlikely they got it under the table, considering avanafil is a newer and extremely controlled substance. There would be no chance a doctor would prescribe both avanafil AND sildenafil because of the risk of nitrates and doctors not wanting to lose their license." I finish my explanation and look around, expecting something, or anything really.

"Whoa, I think we got a new Reid on the team." The beautiful blonde named Agent Jareau says and cracks a smile. I can see the small smirk on Agent Morgan's face before popping a question himself. "Alright, so that means the unsub gave these drugs to each of the victims and then sexually assaulted them afterwards. Why would the unsub need to give them two stimulants if they didn't need them?"

"Each of the victims looks to be physically strong, fit, and, as we've established, in a long-term relationship with men. The blunt force trauma was probably used to subdue them before giving them the drugs." There's a thought that pops up in my head, but I can't say for certain it's right, so I keep my mouth shut. I probably looked like I wanted to say something, so Agent Rossi calls me out on it.

"Kid, what is it. You look like you're about to burst at the seams." He says with a little chuckle.

"Alright, well, I'm not completely sure, so just keep an open mind. But if the victims were homosexual, they wouldn't need to use drugs like viagra to get it up with men. But if it was a woman?" It seems everyone follows my train of thought because Agent Hotchner sits up straighter and texts someone whom I assume is Garcia. "Everyone rest and we'll start when we hit the ground."

Time skip to getting to the local PD!

"Officer Langston, I'm SSA Hotchner, this is SSA Jareau, Dr Reid, and SSA Rossi and Morgan. What leads do you have?"

I make a face at the fact that Hotch didn't mention me, but I don't take it personally. The officer seems confused when there's no mention of me and becomes immediately wary of my purpose. "Sorry, I'm SSA y/l/n, I'm with the team."

"Part of the team? Are you maybe lost, sweetheart? Cmo'n let's get you back to where you belong m'kay?" Officer Langston starts to push me back out the door before Agent Rossi interrupts him. "Hey, that's one of us."

"Oh uh, oh I'm sorry, I just didn't hear Agent Hotchner mention her, I assumed-"

"Well, you assumed wrong. I know you heard Agent y/l/n introduce herself. C'mon kid, let's go." There wasn't a grudge against Hotch before, but Officer Langston calling me ugh, sweetheart got to me. It's not like I worked my ass off to get here or anything, it's not like I'm not as qualified.

"Hey y/l/n, you know Hotch didn't mean any harm by that, right? You just got here today, and you know, we have to get used to it."

"I know, don't worry, I don't take it personally, I know you guys are going through something. I don't hold any grudges. Maybe towards Officer dumbass over there, but otherwise I'm fine. Trust me. Let's just get on the case." I don't look for his reaction as we walk towards the office we're set up in.

Time skip to heading to the unsub

We're all in separate SUVs as we head to the unsub's location. Although reluctantly, the team used my theory to find our suspect. Alyssa Jennings, recently divorced 7 months ago due to infidelity and a change of sexual preference on her ex-husband's part. The recent stressor was 4 months ago, weeks before the killing began, when she found out her ex had been in a relationship with her male best friend of a year. She's been stalking 2 victims each month and taking out her anger and sadness on each victim.

"Morgan, Reid, you two towards the side of the house, Rossi, JJ, go to the other side. Y/l/n you're with me, we're going through the front door." We skid to a stop in front of the victim's house, and we hear muted screams from the bedroom. I've already drawn my gun as Hotch and I start running towards the house.

We're creeping up the stairs quietly, and we can hear Alyssa yelling at the newest victim. "You left me. You left me for A MAN. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME THAT YOU COULDN'T LOVE ME ANYMORE? I CAN BE-"

"Alyssa. FBI, drop the knife. NOW." I can't help but think that intimidation won't work for Alyssa. And I was right as she stepped behind him and held the knife up to his neck. I ignore the look Hotch gives me as I holster my weapon and walk slowly towards her with my hands up.

"Alyssa, please put the weapon down. I understand how hurt you are. I know that you feel betrayed. This isn't your fault. It never was"

She wavers as I keep talking.

"What your husband did was horrible. You don't deserve that. But you know that these men aren't the ones who hurt you. I know you know that. They all deserved it, yes, but don't you want to go after the one you want the most? I know you miss your best friend, the love of your life, but he's also the one who made you feel like shit. We can talk okay, I know you need to let it out. Please, Alyssa, let's drop the knife."

This breaks her resolve because she drops her knife and falls into my chest. "I'm sorry, I-. I just needed to know. I can't live without him, ple-please I can't."

I look up at Hotch as he unties the victim and gives me a nod of approval. "Okay, Alyssa, I hear you. I need to put these cuffs on you, and we'll head to the car, okay? We can talk more, it's alright."

I can sense the eyes on me as I walk Alyssa to the car. I don't mind them, but I see Rossi looking at me with something resembling pride. I nod with thanks and continue towards the car.

Time skip to back on the jet!

We all settle into our respective seats and wind down for the night. It'll be around 21:00 by the time we get back. I settle down in the far end seats away from everyone with a cup of hot tea.

"Everyone, good job. Let's leave the paperwork for tomorrow. I want everyone to get some rest, okay?"

Reid walks by me to get some coffee, looking at me with an expression I can't make out. I smile at him, but I don't receive one back. He doesn't talk to me, but he mutters something under his breath on the way back to his seat.

"-no. She's not Emily. She's n-"

I know I'm not. I can't live up to her.

ALRIGHT YALL IM MAKING A PART TWO MAYBE A PART THREE. I'M PRETTY SURE NOT A LOT OF PEOPLE WERE GOING TO READ THIS BUT THIS IS SO SELF-INDULGENT THANK YALL. PLEASE LMK IF YOU LIKE IT PLEASE BE NICE THIS IS MY FIRST POST. PLEASE.

[ot72018]

y’all ever read a trope for a good fic but you physically cannot enjoy it because the way the author write you isn’t believable.🙁. like i’m about to read a fic about reader who cant swim and almost drowns and the character is saved by someone and fluff, comfort yk allat right? BUT I WAS LIT A COMPETITIVE SWIMMER AND A CERTIFIED LIFEGUARD😭😭😭😭😭. I simply cannot imagine myself not being able to swim BECAUSE I LITERALLY AM A SWIM INSTRUCTOR😭😭😭. LIKE PLEASSEEEEEEE. anyway y’all have fun reading😇🙏