|| Radio ||
Requested plot points? ☑️
Circa: early February 1944
Immediate previous fic: Favorite Escape
Summary: when your hodge podge radio won’t work, who should ya call? Probably the flight engineer
Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ but nothing very alarming really happens in this one, references to others are made, some potential slut shaming in the beginning if ya squint? perhaps some queer baiting but it’s the Buckies rolling around on the flooor, they’re one massive queer bait lbr, it’s not me. Also. My shit Crystal Radio making descriptions- don’t come for me I haven’t made one and I spent five hours falling down a rabbit hole as to how the guys made them in the camps and at the end of the day I said: screw it! And went with one of the Brit’s scenarios 🍻
Edited only by my tired little eyes, full warning and have mercy 💋
Also, just a note I feel compelled to make- this fic centers around women in the army, in a war, which they’re spending under dire conditions in a POW camp. Yes there is love here, there is also hierarchy and discipline and the enforcement of that does not make one character or another necessarily callous or less loving. They are their ranks first and foremost as all signed up for.
“They’re forging papers, you know.” Maureen broached the topic to Egan one day, late February and when her cheeks were still bruised from Ida’s book.
Bucky paused his tracing of a map, sooty finger trailing along a river with the same incomprehensible name as its twin running parallel, he didn’t know anything about papers or anyone making them and she knew that. “Who?”
“Good ones. Identification, passports.” She enumerated.
“Who?”
“The Poles. The ones with the-“
“-the liquor.” he finished for her, remembrance and condemnation heavy in his wry tone. “The ones you stayed out all night with.”
“Stayed long enough for them to get drunk enough to show me.”she replied, without heat, which was surprising.
“Some grand plan of yours, huh?” He bit back a laugh, it was a fine way to cover her ass for being insubordinate. It was a way he’d likely try if he was in her place.
“No.” she swore instead. “Just luck, I happened to see them. They got careless. Maybe an answer to all Jack’s prayers.”
“Yeah. Anything to give that rosary a break.”
“Yeah.”
“You asked them?”
“What for?”
Bucky regarded her with thinning patience but something kept him from snapping, the feeling of a riddle still to be solved. “For some papers.” he clarified, measured and intent, she knew how much easier that would make their plans for Ida.
Maureen shook her head, glancing down at her twisting hands, “I didn’t want to-“ her mouth twisted too, “-I wanted to ask a superior first.”
Bucky considered that for a moment, slightly touched at her newfound wisdom, “Why not ask Buck?”
She shook her head again, auburn hair curling under her chin just so, even here in the stalag she had some traces of the old charm. “He’s got too much to worry about for me to be bringing in hypotheticals.” she was so upset by something she would not even meet John’s eye and he felt a slice of remorse for how he hadn’t even noticed the ground down change in her since she got here, his drinking buddy and the soft fleshed rival of merry old English days was a gruff and battered and sullen woman; being a red blooded American male, he regretted that dismal change. “And I'm worried about what to bargain with. What can I promise? We haven’t got much and I don’t have— there’s not much anyway, but what we’ve got I didn’t wanna promise. Not without-“ she still hadn’t met his eye, he tracked hers; a furious roving of pale blue back and forth across the floorboards and it made Bucky itch.
“Who signs these papers?” Bucky asked, thinking the logistics through, knowing she’d perk up if he brought them up.
“Haven’t a clue. Maybe they haven’t figured that part out yet. I don’t know. I just know they’ve got papers.”
“Good ones.”
“Yeah.”
“We haven’t got much.” he agreed, clicking his teeth in thought, “What’d you give them for the liquor?”
“They just invited me.”
“Didn’t have to lend a hand or nothin’?” he balked and Maureen threw him a glare that seemed more hurt than rage, and chastened by a voice inside that sounded much like his mama’s, he amended with sheepish humor, “Hell, feel like lending a hand myself these days, if it’d get me a whisky.”
Her gnarled fist curled white in her lap, she managed hoarsely, “They just wanted to talk about home. To someone who hadn’t heard about it a million times before.”
“They got cigarettes?” he asked.
“As most common payment for their booze -they’ve got enough to insulate their shack three deep.”
“Cigarettes won’t cut it then.”
“I’ve been thinking.”-
“Yeah?”
“The radio. I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s worth the risk but, I know, it doesn’t matter, it’s happening. Gale’s going to keep trying. And if it works-“ she rubbed at her eyes, tired and unsure, “-that’s quite the bargaining chip.”
Bucky nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as his smile grew a touch broader, “News of the outside world.” he was half in agreement, “Buck asked for a week. Been four days.”
“He’s stumped.” Maureen retorted instantly. “And he’ll stay that way and he’ll go nuts and you’ll go die going over the fence and then he’ll have no reason left not to die too.”
Bucky whistled, low and chiding, “You’re full of rainbows today, Candy.”
“You know who he oughta ask.” she shook off the barb. “But he won’t. And I don’t want him risking it for this thing anymore than anyone else, but you all want it so bad, and they’ll shoot us for it if it works or not. I’m not asking her. But you would. Might as well get shot for it working, right? Isn't that what you said yesterday? You know who he should ask.”
Bucky’s keen eyes showed the moment it dawned on him, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth sagged and he ran a weathered hand over his face, “Awww shit, Candy.” came garbled behind his palm. “Ah shit.” he said again with conviction as he shoved the hand into his pocket, wretched acknowledgment of her point clear on his face.
“I didn’t want to suggest it, told Ida it’s a fucking dangerous thing and I’ll never forgive if— but you all—“
Bucky grounded aloud, “Nah, nah she’s -Lu would solve it.” he muttered, shushing her. “Demarco really pummeled you the other day, huh?” he added, and that got her to meet his eye, she looked spooked and a little incensed, “Saw him fuckin’ you up behind B compound but sheesh, s’like he hollowed you out worse than a jacolantern; yer shifty as hell.”
“He-“ Maureen still felt like blanching at the memory of Benny’s terribly correct opinions, his disappointed eyes and his fist full of her flight jacket asking her what in the living fuck was wrong with her besides a concussion, a sick childhood and an ever nauseating jealousy of Buck Cleven’s paternal time and effort, “-he had some admonitions. After…after the other night.”
Bucky hummed, shitty smirk taking up residence on his face, “How ‘bout that.”
“I’m gonna be better.” she muttered and Bucky felt for her, could almost taste the echo of his identical and hollow determination to climb the mountain of bad habits when weak from spuds and pneumonia. He told himself the same every morning and fell into bed condoning his failure every night, like a ritual.
“You’re gonna get us those papers.” he corrected, shoving off the wall to come near her, give her the full Major treatment and maybe a friendly hand, “And you can promise your drinkin’ buddies news from the radio.”
Maureen nodded in understanding, no joy or animation left in her green eyes. She used to enjoy a bit of subterfuge, now she only felt hollow misery at the thought that she'd dragged Lu into this, too. This risk she hated so much and yet no one cared. Lu would be glad to be dragged in, it’s true, she was itching at the chance to be useful and to make Gale proud, it’s how the girl was wired. It’s how most girls were wired, Maureen supposed, desperate to make Gale Cleven approve. Lu’s enthusiasm wouldn’t make the sight of her being made to kneel in the mud and have a bullet put in her head any easier, wouldn’t make Maureen feel any less responsible for it when her lifeless body thudded to the earth.
All that lovely goodness stamped out.
Over a radio.
Bucky’s hand felt too hard and too big on her shoulder. He had gone before the vision cleared, mud and wire and the freezing main square at Ravensbruck fading back to the musty bunk room. Maureen shook herself and stood up to make herself somehow appealing, reamniante some semblance of the cheerful rashness that had led her to the Polish combine in the first place: she found it hard to inspire. She’d like to count that a victory but she knew better, she wasn’t reformed she was just tired.
A washed face and a fake smile and the promise of news from outside would have to be enough to bank all their risks on, it would have to be.
“Crank,” she greeted the man in the hall, flashing him clean, water brushed teeth and her gentlest, freshly soot lined eyes, “I’ve been tasked by Major Egan with an errand, spare a minute to babysit me?”
__________________________________
Bucky finds Buck Cleven in his own bunkroom, Demarco outside on watch and that’s all Bucky needs to know to guess the radio is out and Buck’s working like a fiend yet again to make it work. Sure enough, he’s hunched over the table with it, mittened hands shaking from cold and exhaustion and a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the paltry sweater he wears.
Bucky walks in and Gale gives him a soft, acknowledging glance before continuing to his work. Bucky takes up his usual place behind Buck’s left shoulder to watch and Buck, being used to it, goes on.
“My little Kriegie Marconi, huh?” Bucky allows the nagging impulse he has felt for weeks while standing in this position to finally exert itself, and his forefinger lifts and swirls in the curling gold strands of hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, his friend almost bolts away but then seems to choose a prey’s tactic and just stills, goes very still and Bucky scritches the scalp beneath his grab in assurance he don’t meant anything by it. He doesn’t think he does, at least.
Gale, wary and with a voice close to mechanized it’s so stilted, inquires with ever-present politeness, “You alright Bucky?”
It’s better than that whole ‘major’ business; getting called Major as if that meant shit anymore. “Yeah, ‘course I am.” Bucky rakes his fingers through the hairs there at the nape of that dainty neck, scritches the scalp with all four of his main ones, and uncovers a white long scar sliding round once he lifts the hairs there. “Why wouldn’t I be? Gonna be a father soon.”
Buck does jerk then, away from his touch and wheeling his chair around to glare at Bucky; it’s an impressively executed little pirouette and John misses the feel of his warm neck and oil soft hair. “Jesus John.” he reprimands.
“We’re gonna get outta here Buck.” John swears, he’s so sure of it because he cannot in all his thinking and predicting ever imagine a scenario where they don’t, and he chooses to think it’s not delusion but a good omen. “Ida’s gonna have that baby and when it’s safe we’ll all meet up.”
Gale is looking at him like he’s his own father again, Bucky knows that look, it always makes him equal parts ashamed and desperate, “Jus’ like that.” Gale mocks in a husky gust.
It’s devastating, and it’s intended to be, and Bucky could bear that with better humor if he could still touch Gale and his hair. “Just like that.”
Gale hums and it’s a mean sorta vocalization that makes Bucky’s heart thud and his skin prickle hot, it’s the kinda noise you kiss off a person, he thinks, but it’s Buck and so he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It’s gonna get you killed.” Buck is saying instead and Bucky lets him, “I know you all think she’s cracked up and maybe she has but it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Kendeigh sometimes when she’s tellin’ ya shit that a five year old could accurately guess, -goddamn it.”
His voice rose to a strong rage by the end and Bucky takes a chair opposite him, sick of standing there like a dumb dog waiting for his scolding to be over. “So what.” Bucky challenges him, “We just wait around and Brady pops out a child and the krauts let us keep it and it’s our new mascot and we all sing zippidy doo da, huh? Huh, Buck?”
Gale’s hands fell away from his face with a slam to the table, a shocking degree of anger showing for a split second and it gave Bucky an odd degree of gratification. “I jus’ want you to find a plan with better odds.”
Bucky sniffed and leaned forward, went in for the kill and Gale was looking at him like he expected it, like it was his turn to play daddy to everyone here and Gale for once was so beaten down he wouldn’t just allow the changing of the guard, he was close to angry at its lateness. It made Bucky’s heart thud.
“I’ve been listening to Kendeigh.” Bucky refuted briefly, “And we’ve got a plan.” Gale gave him a tired look of encouragement to go on, “How long’s it been since you slept? Huh, well, we got a plan. Practically perfect, or it will be, just need the radio.”
“Ain’t giving this away.” Gale said, “Not for anythin’, even useless.”
Bucky patted the table top in easy assurance, if he could have reached Buck’s thigh, he’d have patted that instead, “No, no, don’t need to give it away, just need it to work. So,” he softened his voice and his eyes tightened, “I’m callin’ Lu in.”
Oddly, Gale does not fight it. Not aloud, at least. There’s an anguished look of hate on his face and Bucky mirrors it. It’s for this place and the fucking awful choices they have to choose from every goddamn day.
“You run this by Ida?” is all he asks.
Bucky pops his flaking lips audibly, “What, need us both gangin’ up on you to agree? She’ll sign off. Smith’s an officer. Gotta remember that sometimes, Buck.”
The way his Buck swallows hard and dry contradicts his words, “I do remember that.”
“Really?” Bucky’s mouth gives a soft smile of doubtful incredulity and Gale’s mimics it, mournful but a smirk all the same, “Feel like she should answer to ‘Gale’s Baby’ these days. Lieutenant Smith who?”
Gale scoffs, “Careful now.”
“No really, she’s an officer and she wants to be treated like one. It’ll do her good to have work. Her kinda work.”
“Could get her killed.”
“Layin’ in her bunk could do that.”
Gale grunts, its sounds like an agreement.
“So I say Lieutenant Smith gets put on radio detail. Like her goddamn job description suggests. Huh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Gale lets out a shaky agreement.
“Aaaaand,” Bucky draws it out as he rises again and saunters over to Buck who is ready for him and loose this time, “how bout I go back to bein’ the one you’re frettin’ ‘bout all the time. Got me almost jealous of the girl. How ‘bout I do. Huh?”
Gale’s scoff is fond as anything as he looks up at John with cheerful derision, “And you ‘bout to be a father? Make me an old man? Fuck no, ya looney.”
“Alright.” Bucky concedes with hands up in surrender before lurching forward and grasping Gale’s rickety chair back by its wobbly spokes and hefting it partially off the ground, beautiful and outraged prude of an occupant still seated in it, “Then I’ll play daddy and put you to bed, how ‘bout that.”
“John Egan for fucks sake-“ Gale’s fists pounded on the meat of his shoulders and his outraged protests wafted against Bucky’s neck and his jabbing knees collided with the meat of his thighs and Bucky hadn’t felt so close to him or so happy to be alive since England.
“Major sir, the hell is goin’ on?” Demarco’s tame inquiry from the safety of the doorway made them both lose their grapple and they collided together onto the floor, bunk bed barely missed by their heads and the hapless chair mixed up between their limbs.
Bucky grinned, hip sore from his fall and kidneys suffering from Buck’s trapped elbow there, “Puttin’ Goldilocks to bed.” he replied.
DeMarco processed that and the scene before him with grave sobriety before saluting lazily and turning to go, “Right on, sir.”
John did his best to rise up without further pinching Gale who was indeed trapped beside him and beneath him, chair legs wound between a lanky human leg in a puzzle that Bucky realized might take some caution to untangle without harm. Strangely, Buck wasn’t moving, he was just looking up at him like a cat would their clumsy master who has done somethin’ stupid which was a surprise to neither. It was so innocuous a look and so nostalgic, it winded Bucky with the realization he hadn’t seen it in ages, just as he hadn’t felt his boney ribs against his own and the feel of his elegant hands yanking him around in a fight. This miserable place really was stomping out the glow in the best people.
“Ya know Buck,” he ventured, clearing his throat for extra casualness, “I’ve missed you.” When Gale only kept looking up at him, perfect porcelain face with its unsettling scars and wary eyes without a lick of storm in them, John Egan grabbed his shovel and dug his own grave a little deeper, drug a finger down his cheek. “Missed all this.”
Bucky didn’t know what he meant by “this” but it felt safer and worse all at once, since he did miss Buck but he and Buck never used to hang out on floors with a chair as chaperone. Mercifully, Buck neither points that out nor moves away, acting very much like he needed to heaped on the floor with Bucky and a stray chair every bit as much as John did. Like it’s doing him good.
“And you couldn’t’ve jus’ said.” Gale murmurs with the softest eye roll of the century and Bucky feels like beaming and it must show in his face so strong and bright after a sunless winter that after a flash Gale’s cheeks flame from it and he averts his eyes.
“I dunno Buck, could I?” Egan asks one blushing cheek and Gale hasn’t got a good reply for that, so they just lay there on the floor.
“Go on now, get off me.” Gale doesn’t shove at him, he presses his hand to John’s forehead like he would a dog and John goes, obedient as one.
———————————————————————-
They found Lu with Murph and Benny and Brady, measuring out what seemed to be lot lines between Love Shack #9 and the next combine, boot scuffed perimeters already visible in the light snow and drawn in a decently tidy rectangle. There were guards loitering nearby, nosey as always with their cigarettes and their antsy dogs anytime someone did something out there besides piss or pace or stare at the fence.
“What’s all this?” Bucky inquired cheerfully, coming up to them with Gale, bundled and shivering behind him.
Benny looked up from tilling a furrow with his boot, right where Lu’s mittened finger pointed out. “It’s for the garden. S’posed to be spring before long.”
“A Chicago man oughta know better, Benny.” Egan snarked.
“Need us?”
Bucky sniffed, a casual set to his body that belied his quest, “Just the little one.”
Smith promptly looked startled, then eager. “All well Majors?”
“Need your advice on the color of my cufflinks with this suit.” Bucky extended his arm and beckoned her, “C’mon back in for a minute. One of you too, need a watch to go with the cufflinks.”
———————————————————————
With Benny on guard, Brady and Kendeigh having excavated the radio’s shell from the floorboard and table leg in which it resided, the Buckies stood over Smith’s small frame as she sat at the table and inspected the simplistic device with keen eyed appreciation for the construct.
“It’s really marvelous.” she assured Cleven, running her fingers over the carefully coiled wire and precarious pin.
Gale didn’t even crack a smile. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked instead.
She shook her head, a frown gathering. “Never made one-“ she cautioned.
“-but you get the idea.”
“Yes sir, I do.”
“So what’s wrong.”
Lu ran her fingers over the wire, again and again, the dusty metal not insulated, just bare copper, likely stripped from somewhere. It reminded her of early days as a cadet when they threw chicken wire mixed with hydraulic lines at herself and her fellow rookie engineers and told them to sort it, testing to see if they knew which was which. It had been so rudimentary she had wanted to laugh until she realized others were being flunked.
This was so basic she was stumped.
“Take your time, Lu.” Bucky spoke up after a burdened pause during which she could almost feel Major Cleven breathing down her neck.
“Candy, can I try with the headphone?” she asked at last, frustrated and out of her element, just a few months out of a plane and she had already lost her touch.
Maureen passed it over and Lu pressed it to her ear, not to discern what was quite obviously radio silence, but to imagine the whole process in reverse, track it down the cord all the way to the base, each possible breakdown of the conduction.
She fingered the ramshackle diode with burgeoning suspicion. “What’s your crystal?”
“That’s just…lead.” Cleven muttered.
“From?”
“Ground pencils.” Bucky supplied cheerfully.
Smith bit her lip, “We need sulfur added. Lead won’t conduct on its own.” She figured Cleven knew that, the grim and unmoving set of his mouth suggested so.
“Just- sulfur?” Maureen asked.
“If I had sulfur we could add it to the lead dust, ignite it and-“ Smith grinned at Kendeigh, knowing that she alone may have shared her enjoyment of a small conflagration from time to time, “burn it down and you’ve got something close enough to Galena. Just need a pinch of it should work.”
Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the mostly morose room. All except for the two girls grinning at each other over the hypothetical of a little chemistry experiment in a highly flammable wooden combine.
“We’ve got sandy soil.” Buck’s contemplative drawl spoke up, “Dunno if we could extract enough pure sulfur.”
Maureen stared back at Egan instead, “Other sectors have gotten portions of kits, chemistry kits, radio kits, they’ve been smuggled in with all sorts of stuff. Inside of a violin, oat bags. Nothing to fully build something. They might have sulfur. I could make inquiries and- well, Jack could pick it up next time the band goes over C compound to entertain the poor Aussie bastards.”
“How do you kno- nevermind, actually. Nevermind.” Bucky broke off, “Alright. Sure, why not. Ya sure that’s it?” he asked Lu once more.
She gave a helpless little shrug. “Gotta be. Or the wire’s dirty. Where’d it come from anyway?”
Gale gave Bucky a long suffering look as Bucky seemed to swell a couple inches and bounce back on his heels at the mention of his scrounging prowess. “The lamp.” he nodded above them all.
Jack Brady scoffed, short, clipped, betrayed, “That why it cuts out all the time? Strobed us so bad last night -thought the room was possessed.”
“Sacrifices Jack, sacrifices.”
———————————————————
Benny had hauled in enough water buckets to elicit some negative attention from the guards, and when the inspection came the inmates of the Love Shack insisted the drenched floors and table of the Majors’ barracks were due to sanitation post regurgitation. At night, with only one stolen torch light from Combine 15 to illuminate the endeavor, a basin of water beneath a smaller bowl in which lay their precious and recently procured ingredients, a science experiment began. The Majors and Ida gathered round, all looking as ghastly and spectral in the light of the flashlight as Brady’s fake ghost. It held the thrill of a bonfire night except for the stakes, which all in the room did their best not to dwell on.
“Zippo, Candy.” Lu gave the word and Maureen, with only the protection of Ida’s bent aviators to keep from a scorched cornea, flicked on her lighter and set the mixed powders ablaze.
It flamed up high and smelly, making Benny gag and mutter something about Meatball’s gas to a tittering Brady, and then died down to a yellow smoking ember.
“We should let it sit.” Lu surmised with a squeeze to Maureen’s only somewhat singed hand, her big dark eyes surveying the burnt bowl and their smoking experiment with glittery excitement at the possibility of success, “Let it cool, settle, maybe strain it. Can you get me a net? Oh Candy come now, get me a strainer?” she begged with a laugh as Maureen rolled her eyes at the idea of yet another trip to the Stalag Market for the most random items imaginable. If they hoped to not be suspicious, they’d need better lies or more money.
“How about cheesecloth?” Kendeigh tried not to grin indulgently- and failed- in the face of Lu and having recently been allowed to set something on fire
Lu kissed her cheek. “Cheesecloth would be perfect.”
In the end, cheesecloth did indeed prove perfect, and amongst the burnt dust of the combined minerals was a gritty little pinch full of the needed crystals. Or so Lu said, Gale agreed but the crease between his brows hadn’t lifted for two days; Bucky’s fingers had begun to twitch in antsy need to manually smooth them out. He imagined Maureen felt the same but she hadn’t said, uncharacteristically forbearant now she had some job to keep her sane. Even if it was playing fetch for Lu.
—————————————————————
“Well, this is it.” Gale muttered when the watch had been set once more, Murph and Hambone on the steps, Crank inside, Brady at the door, Benny at the window. Even Major Clark had joined them in the barracks for this final try and Lu’s cheeks were maroon from the attention even as her deft hands steadily pressed her concoction beneath its intended rod.
“Pass me the pliers, sir?” She asked and for a moment, the teacher became the apprentice and Gale fetched her the stalag forged tool, rudimentary like everything here yet the gripped and pulled and lifted same as the pliers back home. “You could check your look in this wire’s reflection.” She complimented Gale’s buffing of the copper wire.
He shrugged in turn. “Didn't wanna leave anythin’ to chance. That it?” he asked as her hands stalled and she surveyed her work.
Lu nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.”
Gale picked up the headphone from in front of him on the table like it was a gun he was about to bring to his head. “Here.” He extended it to her instead, “S’right, it was your job, you should be the first. Cmon.”
Despite her voiceless protest he pressed the headphones into her hands and Lu, never knowing how to disobey an officer, folded immediately.
For a good ten seconds everyone in the room held their breath as Smith pressed the headphone to her ear and gently wiggled the clothespin along the wire, searching and tuning, her face holding that old peaceful concentration they hadn’t seen since the last mission. She was at home with her mind tuned to another dimension. The pilots in the room knew that look, that was the look of someone at home with something that terrified them all the same, the gut swooping feeling of clearing the take off and sledding along the tops of the clouds. Wrong and strange and utterly incomparable to others, it was the closest to home one’s mind could be. Lu belonged somewhere on those electric currents and searching them out was like finding oneself again.
Then at last, Lu’s eyes sharpened out of their dreamy haze of concentration and she said, gentle as always, “It’s the BBC sir.”
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The Silent Witness - Oneshot Series
(2) How you Become an Agent
Chapter Information
Summary: With a sudden career change underway you find yourself enraveled in a case that's more than personal for the BAU.
Content Warnings: S6/7 Spoilers, Doyle Arc Spoilers, Canon Violence/Gore, Awkward!Reader & Spencer, Betraya/Lies.
Word Count: 9,504.
Story Masterlist - (1) - (2)
You were extremely glad the long day was coming to an end. The lab-techs were arriving to clean the morgue for the evening, and you were ready to happily retire to your apartment for the night, where you would remain on-call until the morning.
You quickly bustled around your small desk, your body on autopilot as you cleaned up the files and packed up your belongings.
You were pulled out of your reverie by the shrill ringing of your telephone. You began to irrationally panic, dropping the stack of files onto your chair as quickly as possible, not wanting to keep the caller waiting.
Once you finally had free hands and lifted the receiver you were met with a familiar voice you couldn’t help smiling at.
“Hi Y/N, it’s Agent Hotchner from the BAU.” You couldn’t help but smile at the vaguely familiar voice.
“Yes, to what do I owe the pleasure, agent?”
“I actually have a couple questions. I need a consult.”
“Yeah, that’s not a problem... fire away!”
“We have an agent who is in some trouble at the moment…” You hum down the receiver to indicate to Hotch you were listening.
“… she’s being transferred into WITSEC, but in order for that transition to raise no questions, she needs to ‘die’.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” You say, your tone taking an even and professional edge.
“She was seriously injured in an encounter with an UnSub, and sent to hospital, where she was then airlifted to another and stabilised. I can’t disclose much more, but I was wondering if a post-mortem report would be necessary?”
“Okay, well most hospitals conduct post-mortems on their patients if they die in their care. And these are supposed to be easily accessible to the friends and family of the deceased. So, I would say that if you’re trying to cover all bases it would be a necessary move.”
“How would I go about that?” You twirl your hair around your finger, deep in thought.
“If you email me over her patient file, I can sign off on a PM report for you? I’m obviously totally excluded from this case, and you would need her consent to share the files, but I’m totally covered legally for that type of thing.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Absolutely not. Not if it lifts a weight off your shoulders, plus I can do PM reports in my sleep.”
You hear Agent Hotchner chuckle through the phone at this.
“That would be greatly appreciated doctor.”
“Yeah, as I said just send me over…”
“-Actually, I had one last thing to ask.” He continues, piquing your interest.
“Okay-”
“We had an increase in budget this year that would allow us to hire an extra agent. I have been in contact with my higher-ups who are currently in the process of trying to bring forensic medical professionals into the bureau, and they are currently finishing up a state-of-the-art mortuary facility on the academy grounds.”
You pause, absorbing all the information agent Hotchner was relaying too you, trying to process what he meant by all of this, and you couldn’t help but feel the excitement swell in your heart as you got your hopes up.
“The brass was obviously aware of you, and how highly I spoke of you on our return, and they requested that I reach out and ask you personally if you would be willing to consider a position. Now, I’m aware that it’s a big ask and that it would require a trans-Atlantic mo-“
“-Absolutely, I would absolutely consider it.” You can’t hide the excitement in your voice as you cut the agent off.
“-That’s great, I’m currently in the process of trying to negotiate a forensic professional to our team, who would be essential in commencing the work of the forensic pathology department, before stepping back into a role primarily within the BAU; and they said yes, we are just working out some of the finer details.”
“Hotch, do you happen to remember what I said in the café that day?” You heard him laugh.
“Yes.”
“This means, a lot to me. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem at all, I think you would be perfectly suited here.”
You try to contain your joy as Agent Hotchner takes a slight pause.
“I have a meeting later, I will keep you updated, but be prepared; this position will open up fairly quickly. I will also forward you the information regarding our agent.”
“That’s great, I will get all of that sorted for you tomorrow. Hotch?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks… really, this is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.” His laugh emanates through the phone again as you smile widely.
“It’s no problem, doctor. Have a good night.”
“And you.”
As you place the phone back down in its cradle you can’t help but jump up and down as a sense of overwhelming joy overtakes you.
The rush of adrenaline allows you to tidy your desk in record time and soon you find yourself slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking out onto the crowded streets of London, striding to the nearest Tube Station a bright, smile on your face that was here to stay.
-
Hotch wasn’t lying when he said the position would open up quickly, within a month you were officially an American citizen, and a federal agent in training about to begin your first day…. Well, half-day.
Nothing would ever come close to describing the anxiousness you felt gazing up at the looming foyer of the FBI Academy in which the BAU was based.
Butterflies swam through your stomach as you proceeded up the steps and towards the main doors where an FBI crest was flaunted above the doors inscribed with ‘Fidelity, Integrity, Bravery.” The words somehow calmed you. These people were the best of the best, and so were you, just maybe not at hand-to-hand combat.
Hotch had quickly made you aware that the unit was in a transitional period due to both, a major investigation, and the aforementioned ‘death’ of an agent. This meant, he would not be able to greet you, and instead he would be sending Garcia, a familiar face.
And as you made your way through the sliding glass doors, she quickly bustled up to you engulfing you in her arms; a hug you couldn’t help but find comforting. You were in slightly over your head; a new country, a new job, and what you hoped would be a new group of friends.
Garcia practically dragged you towards a front desk to retrieve a visitor pass and then towards a set of elevators.
“I’m so glad you’re here you know?”
“I’m glad to be here.”
“The whole team loved you in London.”
You grin at this, quickly snapping back to attention as the elevator doors slide open onto the sixth floor. You had little time to process this however as Penelope quickly grabbed your hand and dragged you towards glass doors that were inscribed with the initials ‘BAU’. If you weren’t nervous before, you were now.
“I should let you know that we are in a state of eternal chaos right now. I’m pretty sure Hotch hasn’t even had the chance to tell the team you are coming yet.” Garcia pushes open the doors and leads you through into a large open area.
The main floor of the BAU was carpeted, and spacious L-shaped desks created a sort of bullpen. Each desk had a unique personality that you couldn’t help noting. A raised platform ran along the back of the room housing offices and to the far left, what looked like a conference room.
The space was surprisingly welcoming for an office, and you slowly scanned the room, unable to spot any familiar faces before you were being dragged towards a corridor.
“This is my bat-cave.” Garcia has a proud look on her face as she walks into a large computer room littered with monitors, and a large wall-high computer unit sat behind glass on the other wall.
“Wait- this is amazing! Did you program it all?” You whisper as you trail your finger across the trinket-covered desk, noting the operating system was like no other you had ever seen.
“I did indeed.” You grin as you turn to face her, prying your eyes away from the impressive computers.
“Okay, the team will be here in about 10 minutes, in the meantime I have a PowerPoint.”
“A PowerPoint?”
“Yes, it’s the best way to deliver information.” You laugh shyly, shrugging your shoulders as she fiddles with her computer for a second before dragging you across the ramp, and towards the aforementioned conference room, pointing out offices as she went.
“This is Hotch’s office, he never leaves it unless he’s forced to. This is Rossi’s office, He has expensive renaissance art, and Morgan’s office is back there, he’s hot.” You can’t help but laugh at their dynamic which had stuck out to you in London, but it clearly wasn’t a one-off occurrence.
“…and this, my friend, is the round table room.” You quickly get ushered into one of the comfortable desk chairs as the screen lights up, Garcia standing in front of it.
“This is gonna be less dramatic since you’ve met everyone already but here goes nothing I guess-“
The screen flashes with a title slide reading ‘The Behavioural Analysis Unit’ in bold lettering, the unit logo accompanying it.
“I like your font choice-“ You smile as Garcia thanks you and changes the slide.
“Ohhh yes! Meet the team. This is the best part.” You chuckle at this allowing her to continue.
“Okay, so we of course have Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner…” You try to hold back a laugh as a small photo pops up on the screen accompanying some facts.
“…he is our ‘boss man’ and he’s the dad of the team, but he’s also actually a dad; his son’s name is Jack, and I can’t really remember what age he is but he’s very sweet. He also doesn’t smile… or blink, like ever so don’t be scared that’s just him.” You find yourself wondering whether or not this PowerPoint had been run past Hotch or not.
“Okay, we have me. Fun fact, I’m fabulous. If you ever need a sneaky background check on anyone, I can do that in literally three seconds flat, and I’m also fabulous.”
“Then we have Derek -Chocolate Thunder- Morgan. I’m his baby girl, don’t steal him from me, thank you. The rest is self-explanatory… just, look at him!” You lean back in your seat rolling your eyes, but the sudden sound of a door opening grabs your attention, startling you.
“Garcia?” JJ makes her way into the room quickly spotting you sat on the chair. She laughs slightly as she notices the slideshow proudly displayed on the projector.
“Did you run this past Hotch?”
“No-“ JJ laughs, rolling her eyes as she turns to you, offering a warm smile.
“Dr. L/N, it’s great to have you here, I’ll take you to Hotch’s office. He left the contracts in there.”
-
“Who’s that?” Morgan points towards a shadowed figure sat opposite JJ in Hotch’s office.
The team had been busy monitoring Declan and trying to come up with a plan for when Doyle resurfaced that, they had failed to remember Hotch’s brief mention of a new agent before he left for his temporary assignment in Pakistan.
“JJ’s probably talking to Strauss.” Spencer shrugs, squinting one last time at the image distorted by the half-closed blinds.
“There were whispers of a new agent-“ Rossi says, rolling his eyes at the team’s speculation, fully aware he was only furthering their curiosity. But instead, he leads them towards the conference room where Garcia is preparing case files.
“Hotch wouldn’t hire a new agent, not right now anyway, he isn’t even here.” Spencer places his satchel across the back of the chair before slumping down into it.
“Yeah, with this whole Doyle thing, it wouldn’t make sense. Plus, it’s not like anybody would willingly walk into this chaos.”
The team begin to discuss their findings amongst themselves, taking notes.
-
“Alright Y/N, you don’t have to sign the contracts for your main job until Hotch returns. For now, you just need to sign the ones admitting you into the Academy, where you will complete the physical requirements. The academics have been waived, as you will be spending your free time with us.” You nod, quickly scrawling your signature down into all the open spaces on the contract and hand the form to JJ.
“Okay, Academy starts in three days, but for now you can come and meet the team.” JJ smiles at you patting you lightly on your shoulder.
“You’re gonna do great.” You feel your cheeks heat up.
“Do the team know I’m coming?” JJ stops at the door, turning to you.
“They don’t. We are currently tracking an international terrorist who killed one of our own, and it’s pretty much a waiting game until he resurfaces. They’ve been pretty preoccupied.” You nod, solemnly at JJ.
“Thanks for the falsified PM report by the way.” She chuckles as your eyes widen.
“You know?”
“Yeah, it was a joint decision between Hotch and I to put Agent Prentiss into WITSEC, this is the tail end of her case.” You gasp as you make the connection.
“I read about it, He was vengeful at Emily for killing his son, so he attempted to murder her.” JJ nods.
“But in front of the team, you know nothing okay? As far as they are aware Emily Prentiss was killed by Ian Doyle. That’s it.”
“Got it.” You allow JJ to lead you down the hallway towards the BAU roundtable room, where you can see the team sat talking amongst themselves.
“Guys-“ JJ speaks up as she walks through the door, you follow her through standing awkwardly as the teams eyes fall on you.
“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice pipes up as you give him a small smile and an awkward wave, which doesn’t falter the confusion across his features.
“Hotch never got around to telling you, but Y/N is going to be our newest team member. For the moment she’s in training. But she will become an invaluable asset to this team once Hotch returns and she is assigned her true position. She will work with us whilst running then new forensic pathology department in the Bureau.” You gaze over the team attempting to process JJ’s words.
“She’s not an agent?” Derek speaks up. You are too distracted however, by Spencer who is patting the empty seat beside him.
You settle in the seat as JJ begins explaining your situation.
“Y/N is technically in the academy, she’s completing the fitness and marksmanship regime, we will provide the academic training here. Once Hotch returns, she will then hopefully be an agent, and then he will arrange her paperwork for her official position.” Morgan furrows his brows, but nods at this.
“I was remediated in the academy also.” Spencer pipes up from beside you, catching your attention.
“For what?” You quietly question, your curiosity peaking.
“Pretty much anything relating to physical strength, or capabilities. If it wasn’t inherently textbook based, I didn’t do it.” You chuckle.
“I mean, I agreed to do all the physical training.” You smile down at your lap, as Morgan laughs.
“She’s smart and athletic, pretty boy you’ve got competition.” A blush rolls over Spencer’s cheeks as the rest of the team join in a chorus of laughter. You can’t help but feel the blush rising to your own cheeks also.
“Why did you move from London?” your gaze turns to Rossi, who offers you a small smile.
“I was just interested in a change, and I was lucky enough to be able to take this opportunity.” You smiled at the group, trying your best to keep your eyes on the people, and not on your lap where they defaulted to.
“I must say, it’s a bit strange that both times we’ve met it has been over an international terrorist.” Spencer’s voice cuts through the remaining chatter and laughter, his observation creating a new rise out of the team.
“Yeah, I guess.”
-
“Do you think it’s weird?” You practically whisper as Spencer weaves you through the bullpen, towards what you were to assume would be your new desk.
“What’s weird?” He furrows his brow as he rolls out the chair, beckoning you to sit.
The desk was empty, apart from a monitor, keyboard and mouse that provided you access to various FBI databases. You weren’t one for clutter and material possessions, but you couldn’t help but recognise that the empty desk struck fear in your heart, it felt like a metaphor for your new life in Quantico.
“Me being here.” Your voice comes out a bit sadder than anticipated, each syllable laced with insecurity that would easily be picked up by a profiler.
“No, it’s not weird. In fact, I think it’s a good thing.” You feel yourself relax slightly at Spencer’s reassurance.
Reid was a sweet guy, and you were glad you had been partnered with him to learn basic profiling skills; not that you would be expected to use them, as Spencer had said, but he thought they would be good to know.
Truth be told, you were pretty sure the team had been trying their best to fill time. With the group being rather disbanded, and cases being on hold Spencer had chosen teaching you as a valid time-passing opportunity.
Pulling you out of your thoughts Spencer stood at the desk opposite, his fingers trailing over the spines of the books he had stacked high, before selecting one.
“That’s your desk?” You snapped your head up towards him as he offered you a lopsided grin and a nod.
“Yeah.” You felt a blush roll over your face, that you quickly hid by gazing down at your lap, allowing Spencer to push his chair up next to yours.
“I have an idea, that’s more interesting than reading a book.” You look up at him in confusion.
“Apparently there’s this game, called two truths and a lie?” You simply nod your head, at what sounded like a question. He seemed unsure of his own idea as he quickly continued.
“Well, in criminal profiling one of the most useful skills is to know when someone is lying. It’s obviously not one-hundred-percent fool proof, but it can dictate your next move as regards their case. And I guess it could be useful in life?” You chuckle at this, nodding your head, trying to hide your anxiousness at the prospect of having to read someone’s behaviour in front of a professional.
“I’m -uh- I’m notoriously terrible at reading people.” You feel your cheeks heat up yet again in embarrassment. Spencer’s eyes connect with yours and you quickly divert your gaze away from him.
“It’s okay, we can make it easy. I know what my tell is so I will make it more obvious for you to begin with. Just study my behaviour as best as you can and let me know if you want me to say them again.” You nod, swallowing harshly.
“Okay, I was sixteen when I got my first PhD in mathematics.” Spencer pauses, as you slowly take him in, he seems totally normal, you nod.
“I graduated high school at twelve.” You watch him again, noticing absolutely no change in his behaviour.
“I was twenty-two when I joined the BAU.�� You furrow your brows, totally unsure of which was a lie, they all seemed plausible for a genius like Spencer.
“I-uhm-“ You turn your gaze to him panicking slightly as you realise, he’s looking for an answer.
“I- have no idea.” You whisper, crossing your legs up in the chair as Spencer nods.
“That’s okay, do you want to try again?” You can’t help but deflate at the idea of going through that again.
“O-okay.”
Spencer repeats the three statements again, his gaze remains fixed on you as if he’s reading your ultimate confusion.
Spencer immediately notes you perking up after the third statement.
“The first one is a lie, right?” You say, trying to hold back the grin on your face.
“How do you know?” Oh shit. You certainly couldn’t explain yourself, then he would know that you totally failed the exercise and used logic instead.
If he graduated high school at twelve, he couldn’t have had a PhD at sixteen, right? That whittles it down to a fifty-fifty chance it’s either one of them… maybe?
“Uhm, well the average PhD takes seven years to complete, five years for your masters, and then two for your dissertation. You’re pretty smart, but not super-human enough to only manage it in four years, considering you have to learn all course material and write an 80,000-word dissertation.”
You continue talking when Spencer fails to fill the silence, you failing to notice the look of shock on Spencer’s face.
“Well, I personally graduated medical school in four years, instead of five. So, I was twenty-one, and then did my two years of foundation training and it was extremely difficult to do extra-curricular research alongside full-time work, and placements. This was all despite the fact that I never found it difficult to remember the academics. I digress though, it would be virtually impossible to do a PhD in 4 years.”
Spencer swallows harshly as he chuckles.
“Yeah, I -uhm- well, you were right.” He’s still relatively speechless and you can’t help but begin to worry that you overwhelmed him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble, I just- I know it was supposed to be human behaviour, but I don’t- I couldn’t-“
“It’s okay Y/N, I just didn’t realise you were so impressive-“ Spencer’s voice has jumped an octave and he’s staring at you so intensely that you shrivel back into your chair.
“I- I mean, I’m not- I, -I just relate to you?” Spencer shifts in his chair, a squeak interrupting the silence, and causing you to jump.
“It’s o-okay, it’s nice to have-“
“Reid! L/N! Can you come into the roundtable room? We’re going to catch you up on Doyle.” JJ gestures for the pair of you to follow her, interrupting the awkward exchange between the pair of you, replacing it with a work environment that would mask you amongst others.
-
“We were in the hospital for about eight hours, that night, but she died on the table.” You hang your head slowly, nodding as Morgan’s voice wavers uncharacteristically. You had to try your best to keep the secret.
“We never got access to the post-mortem report from the hospital either, not even Garcia could find it.” Your head snaps up at this as you quickly come up with an excuse.
“Yeah, well you wouldn’t be allowed access to it without a next-of-kin’s consent. It’s likely that because her killer was still loose and was so high-profile, that they wouldn’t want to offer up any sensitive info. Her personnel file was erased right?”
“Yeah, it was.” Morgan confirms.
“Well, it’s just so they can’t get to people who are involved in her case as easily.” You place your hands on the desk in front of you as Spencer eyes you.
The rest of the team look pretty sad, Garcia is dabbing her eyes with a tissue, Spencer appears to be peeved off, but Morgan’s face is set in unadulterated frustration.
“Doyle knows us, he knows the BAU. If he wants blood, he will come for us.” You shrug slightly at this; the fact of the matter was they wouldn’t have access, even if it existed.
“I’m sorry Morgan.” You say, pursing your lips together offering him a tight smile.
“How about we just go back to-“ JJ leans forwards patting the centre of the table in an attempt to steer the conversation back on track.
“-yeah.” Reid jumped in, before continuing.
“We knew that after Emily’s death, Doyle would want to resurface to search for his son Declan who-
“Sorry to interrupt Reid but speaking of resurfacing-“ You can practically feel the panic emanating from the team as they all dash towards Garcia at the head of the table, leaving you behind.
You rock side to side in the swivel chair as the team all gather in the corner of the room talking over Garcia’s laptop screen.
“That’s him.”
“Can we be so sure? I mean, it’s only been a month.”
“Spencer, I- Y/N, can you come here?”
You stand making your way towards JJ who is shuffling through a folder.
“This is a photograph of Ian Doyle. Is this man from the CCTV him?” She pokes her finger towards the male in question on the laptop.
“I mean given how statistically unlikely it is for someone this remarkably similar to exist in an area being surveyed for Doyle’s presence, I would say yes that definitely is him. Especially so, considering he has no biological siblings.” JJ nods, agreeing with you.
The rest of the team straighten up, looking to each other as if to decide who gives the orders, all eyes eventually settling on Derek.
“Okay, well I think we should set up surveillance for Declan full time. He is our priority.” You nod in response, as JJ quickly grabs a pen, scrawling on the back of her case file.
“We can dispatch agents to his house to watch for suspicious activity. Spencer, Penelope, we need you to track all of Doyle’s aliases, and update us if any of them resurface, or lead you to an address. In the meantime, Morgan and I will stakeout his school, and see if he will lead us to his hideout from there. Y/N, focus on academy, it’s about to get really busy in here.” JJ Claps her hand, signalling her finish as the rest of the team hums in approval.
For once in your life the room felt alive with the determination of the team, banding together.
“Rossi is in his office reviewing cases, I’ll let him know of the break and to be on standby if we need him, and Spencer in the field.” Morgan quickly dashes past you and out the door.
After that the team quickly went their separate ways. Spencer followed Garcia into her office, and not long after Morgan resurfaced from Rossi’s office, JJ had him bustled into the elevator with little time to spare. That left you standing in the middle of the roundtable room confused, and with a day to kill before academy.
-
“Welcome to the ‘Basic Field Training’ portion of the FBI Academy. Here we will teach you Firearms, Survival Skills, Tactical and Emergency Vehicle Operations, and of course you will be completing Hogan’s Alley.”
You cross your arms, pulling against your waist, almost giving yourself a hug. You were enjoying the comfort of the FBI hoodie you had been provided with, the soft fabric seemingly dampening your anxiety. You were in a new situation, with new, unfamiliar people.
“Today, we will focus on running the single mile, and the three mile as a warm-up. We will then have you split into three groups. One team will run the obstacle course, The second will go to the shooting range, and the final group will do arrests.”
The coach seemed like a fairly nice man, he had assured you before the class that he was aware of your situation, and that Agent Hotchner had spoken very highly of you. He had also noted that you had been put into a small group of 5 trainees to assure you got plenty of attention, in case your training were to be cut short.
“Okay can the five of you line up on the track and stretch out a bit.” The group followed the SSA’s instructions, lining up at the start line.
You zoned out as you went down your body, naming each muscle in your head and stretching it out until you were satisfied that you wouldn’t injure yourself.
“Is everyone finished?”
The group let out a chorus of ‘yes sir’s, and he offered you an assuring nod.
“Good. Remember it’s not a race, you may start now. Pace yourselves and enjoy it.”
As he stepped off the track the group began moving at a pace, but you stuck towards the back of the group, saving your energy for the final few yards.
You managed to settle into the rhythm of your feet hitting against the pavement, tuning out the hum of activity coming from your other academy-mates. Your breathing was even, steady, and unwavering as you felt the rush of adrenaline overcome you that made you feel as if you could do almost anything.
When you looked up from the ground, the finish line was nearing you, and with about 150 yards left you picked up the pace, slowly making your way to the front of the group. Not in an attempt to beat them, but an attempt to prove that you belonged among these people who had to complete a fitness test to qualify, when you didn’t.
As you cross the finish line you can’t help but feel proud of yourself, you weren’t the most athletic person and a mile was an achievement, and at twelve minutes, and fifteen seconds for a mile at an easy pace you weren’t doing too bad.
“That was a good warm-up guys, now for the three mile. Again, I don’t want you to worry about this too much, because we will be completing it every day for the rest of the course, and you will get better. But as a benchmark, I would be expecting about 36-38 minutes for this. Off you go!”
And off you went again, this time you kept behind the remainder of the group, who had started off pretty quickly for what was going to be three circuits of the mile track.
As you ran you gathered your thoughts. With the Doyle case you had been practically abandoned. Spencer and Garcia were hauled up in her office, and from the glimpses of Rossi you barely saw, reviewing and consulting on cases seemed to be time-consuming work.
You had spent the remainder of yesterday reviewing some materials Spencer had dropped on your desk from the academy lectures. They were pretty self-explanatory, and anything you didn’t know was pretty simple to remember considering you would quickly jot it down, solidifying it in your mind.
By the time you had finished Spencer and Garcia had resurfaced to check on you. And even though you insisted that you were happy to stay and help them in any other ways, they had insisted you had gone home, much to your chagrin.
You had walked home to an empty, undecorated apartment. It felt pretty lonely, and you didn’t want to be there if you could avoid it. In a rush decision you had grabbed your laptop bag, and quickly walked down the street to a local diner. There you sat, scrolling through various medical journals, and hopeful articles regarding technological advancement in the forensic fields. It was at midnight that they sent you packing, in an attempt to close for the evening.
Cheers and screams pulled you back to reality as you crossed the finish line, barely acknowledging the fact you had completed your three miles.
“L/N, L/N! Stop, you did the three.” The instructor jogs over to you patting you on the shoulder, and that’s when you had the sense to turn, trying to spot the remainder of your team, who were only on the first quarter of their final mile.
“How- I’m done?”
“Yeah, you’re a speedy one. This programme will be a breeze for you, provided you can shoot.” He grins at you, and you smile back, breathing a sigh of relief. You were glad you weren’t the worst of the group.
“You’re a doctor, right?” You nod slowly, letting the SSA guide you towards the bleacher.
“Yeah, Dr. Y/N L/N. The medical kind.” He laughs at this, offering you his hand to shake.
“SSA. Jonathan Smith.” You happily take his hand, and shake it, casting your gaze to the rest of the runners who were half-way through their final mile.
“I’ve heard all about you, from Agent Hotchner of course. I was a bit sceptical when he told me you were bypassing a lot of the academy. Now that I’ve met you though, I can see why.” You grin, picking up your water bottle and taking a long gulp.
“I really want to be here, I’m just not sure I can shoot a gun.” You laugh, and he grins.
“Don’t worry, that’s why we’re here.”
Slowly the group assembles at the finish line, the few who had strayed behind catching up, and proving themselves significantly.
“Good job, our final runner finished on just over thirty-eight minutes, so you guys are spot on. Give yourselves a round of applause.” You can see all the others, grinning wide as they applaud themselves, and you can’t help it either. There was a massive sense of achievement in just completing the warm-up.
“Okay, there’s an uneven number so I will take one of you individually, and then we will have two other pairs, who will go with SSA. Alex and SSA. Jameson.” He gestures to two agents who have joined him at the front, offering you small waves at the respective mention of their names.
“L/N, you will be with me.” You make your way over to SSA Smith, as the rest of the four get sorted into their pairs, with their supervisory agent.
“I’m hoping that the individual time will be beneficial for you, and that you might learn quicker this way. Is that okay?” You nod. You were definitely grateful for Smith’s help, he had already proven to be really kind, and dedicated to your training.
“That’s great, thanks sir.”
“Oh, please just call me Jonathan.”
-
“Alright, up first we have firearms.” You grimace slightly which causes Jonathan to laugh.
“It’s not that bad, we just have some basic rules. Treat all firearms as if they are loaded, keep your finger off the trigger until you intend to press it, and never point a firearm at anyone unless you are justified.” You nod, settling into a serious mode.
“Okay, so here’s a holster, you’re going to put that on your belt.” You quickly follow his directions, placing the holster where it feels most comfortable to grab from.
“Is that comfortable? You’ve positioned it further forwards than most people.” You nod, motioning as if you were to reach from it as Jonathan hums in approval.
“Okay, if that’s good I’m going to give you your training weapon and ammunition.” You quickly accept his instruction as he shows you how to load and unload the Glock.
He quickly explains how to release the safety and shoot, and then he offers you the Glock.
“Take a few shots and see how it feels.” You guffaw at him slightly.
“Sir, I-I’ve never shot a gun in my life, I’m going to miss.”
“That’s okay, we call it training for a reason, I’ll stand behind you and help you hold it until you get used to it. I’m not expecting you to hit a target first time, you’re just getting used to it okay?” You nod, stepping up to the mark.
Jonathan, placed himself behind you, resting his hand on top of yours over the weapon to support it until you get used to the recoil.
“When you’re ready give me three shots, as close or as far apart as you wish.” You nod, adjusting your stance and then you pull the trigger.
The gunshot echoes throughout the large warehouse building and you pause, feeling the reverberation against your chest.
“You hit the target, which is great. Two more!” Your eyes scan the target, noticing he was right. To the left of the paper man’s shoulder sat a bullet hole.
In quick succession you took two more shots, more prepared for them this time, and each time you hit just outside of your target.
“That was great! Do you think you could hold it yourself?” You nod, your gaze remaining focused on the target.
You feel Jonathan step away and you prepare to focus, aligning your hand with your target, ensuring that you had foresight. And you took three more shots, this time hitting the target’s left shoulder.
“That’s great Y/N. Put the safety on and holster your weapon for me.” You quickly flip the safety, sliding the weapon into your holster and turn, unable to hold back the wide grin on your face.
“Good job Y/N, are you sure you haven’t done this before?” You shake your head quickly, still grinning like an idiot.
“-Y/N?” You both turn quickly at the sound of a voice interrupting you.
“Spencer?” You grin shyly up at the male towering over you. He was wearing goggles, and ear defenders similar to you.
“How are you? Is this academy training?” You nod at him.
“She’s never shot a gun before, and she still managed to hit the target.” Jonathan pipes up, clearly revelling in your victory. You feel your cheeks heat up.
A smile settles on Spencer’s face, as he studies the target, noticing the three hits, each getting more and more accurate.
“Good job, that’s amazing!” Spencer smiles, his gaze turning to the ground hiding a blush that rivalled your own.
“What are you doing down here, I thought you would be busy with Garcia?”
Spencer sighs, at your question, his grin dropping a bit.
“I like to come down to just blow off steam, after all that’s happened this year-“ Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape as you realise, he means Emily’s death. You really wished you would stop walking yourself into discussions involving her, especially considering you knew she was very much alive.
“O-oh well, I’ll let you get on with it.” You stutter quickly, trying to regain your composure.
“Y-yeah, you’ll be stopping by later, won’t you? I-I’ll see you then.” He waves and strides away in quick succession, heading straight for the door as you furrow your brows. You turn to see a grin on Jonathan’s face.
“That wasn’t Dr. Spencer Reid by any chance, was it?” You find yourself confused as you nod.
“Yeah, it was.” Jonathan’s eyes widen slightly at this.
“Isn’t he like, a genius?”
“Well, I mean, I don’t think intelligence can be accurately measured, which would mean that technically ‘genius’ doesn’t exist-“ You trail off as you realise you are rambling.
“-yeah, he’s a genius.”
-
You quickly press the button for the sixth floor, relaxing as the elevator begins to carry towards the BAU.
You were aware that you looked a mess, you were dressed in an FBI sweatsuit, and your hair was damp after your much-needed shower. Luckily for you The Obstacle Course had been your final challenge for the day and running a mile in mud whilst leaping and climbing various obstacles left you yearning the sensation of hot water against stiff muscles.
You felt as though you could sleep, but it was still only three o’ clock and you didn’t want to leave until at least six; it felt mean to go home when the rest of the team would still be stuck in the office.
The elevator dings, pulling you out of your thoughts. Quickly you slung your gym bag over your shoulder and made your way towards the double-glass doors that had seemed so intimidating yesterday.
Your nerves hadn’t exactly worn off, yet, but you certainly felt more relaxed. It was more the people that made you feel anxious than the actual job. You had so many team members, and you wanted to be friends with all of them, but you were perpetually awkward and even the interactions you had with Spencer ended in you both being obscenely flustered.
“Y/N, Hi!” Garcia perks up as you enter the BAU doors, clattering towards you on her heels to engulf you in a warm hug. Though you weren’t one for physical contact, it was weirdly exactly what you needed, and you felt yourself relax in her arms.
“Don’t strangle her Garcia.” You jump slightly at the second voice coming from behind you and you turn to see Agent Rossi, grinning over a cup of coffee. Garcia releases you and you turn to face him, giving him a quick wave.
“You had academy I assume?” You nod quickly, as he takes in your attire.
“U-uhm yes sir.”
He chuckles at your formalities.
“Rossi is fine.” You nod, walking towards the coffee machine and searching for a mug.
“I keep a spare one, you can use that.” You hear Spencer’s voice echo from your left, and you jump yet again.
“You’re a jumpy one doctor.” Garcia grins as you straighten. She taps you affectionately on your nose which makes you jump again, but this time you bang your head against an overhead cabinet.
You gasp on impact, clutching the back of your head as Garcia takes a step back apologising profusely.
Spencer on the other hand rushes towards you, placing his hand over the hand you were using to cradle your head, and another on your shoulder. He slowly walks backwards, guiding you towards the break room table and sits you down.
“Are you okay?” You chuckle lightly, trying to break the awkwardness.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just…. jumpy?” Spencer grins at this. He drops his hand, making his way towards a fridge-freezer.
“I-I’m so sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to, I-“ You take in the frantic woman who sits opposite you.
“Garcia, it’s fine… seriously. It’s just a bump.” Spencer promptly returns to your side and sits in the chair beside you. In his outstretched hand is an icepack wrapped in a kitchen towel, which you gratefully accept.
Garcia’s phone startles you out of your silent reverie, as she receives a notification. Quickly she bustles away, obviously going to take care of it.
-
“Okay, we have an address for Doyle, can you guys hear me, okay?!” Garcia talks loudly down her office phone as Rossi, Spencer, and yourself stand beside her, reading the screens over her shoulder.
Garcia reems off the address as you stare off into space, JJ’s voices quickly pulling you back to reality.
“Morgan and I are headed there now, I’ve called Hotch. Spencer, Rossi, I need you both to go to Declan’s house. I know he went home from school early, but considering how dangerous this takedown is, we want him in FBI custody in case he gets away and flees with the child.”
The phone quickly hangs up after that.
Garcia Rossi and Spencer get up, quickly making their way to the door. Spencer, however, pauses turning towards you as you cluelessly follow him.
“We’re probably going to be here all night; you can stay if you want? If not, go home and get some rest.” You watch as Spencer bounces on the balls of his feet, he quickly gestures for you to walk with him.
“I’m tired but I think I will stay, maybe I can be useful?” Spencer smiles, nodding at you.
“Tell you what, go into Hotch’s office, there’s a pull-out sofa in there. Sleep for a few hours and I can wake you if anything interesting happens?” He quickly jogs towards the elevator, meeting Rossi inside.
“I’ll call Garcia and tell her to let you into the office.” You quickly nod, furrowing your brows as the elevator door shuts.
You turn towards the clattering of heels to your right.
“Spencer texted me, he said you needed to sleep and to help you with the pull-out bed in Hotch’s office?” You smile, nodding at Garcia.
You weren’t too happy with the concept of sleeping whilst everyone else was out risking their lives. However, as soon as Spencer had mentioned the word sleep you had felt a deep desire to curl up in a corner somewhere and doze. The academy had taken a lot out of you, and you were feeling the consequences.
Garcia however, acted like people sleeping in Hotch’s office was a regular thing and she very happily grabbed a blanket and pillows from the cupboard, handing them to you as she unlocked Hotch’s office, making a beeline for the sofa.
“This thing is so handy you know? If anyone’s ever tired on long cases where they have some free time, but not enough to go home, there’s fights over it. Every office in here has one actually.” You stifle a yawn, watching as Penelope quickly unfolds the sofa out into a decent sized double bed.
“Okay, that should be all good. I’ll leave you too it, you can close those blinds or leave them open if you feel more comfortable, and the light switch is just over there.
“Thanks Garcia.” You yawn for real this time, placing the pillows down on the bed and smiling as she waves at you through the window, before disappearing back into her office.
You relish in the silence as you dawdle around the office still holding one pillow in your left arm, hugging it tightly to your chest.
You close the blinds and flick the lights off, sighing as the room settles into darkness. You absolutely needed a nap, and you were glad you had taken the opportunity. It was nearing eight o’clock and after the day being so busy you just needed a reset.
So, you took your blanket and curled up on the sofa bed, hugging your pillow tightly to your chest as you dazed off into a deep slumber.
-
You stir in your sleep as the door to Hotch’s office opens, allowing the bustle of the BAU bullpen to overtake what was the peace-and-quiet of Hotch’s office.
As you open your eyes, you feel the confusion setting in. In your dazed state you couldn’t quite recognise the room you were in.
“Y/N? It’s Spencer, we are having a meeting and you should probably join us.” You sit up on your elbows to see Spencer standing at the end of the room. Nodding you unravelled yourself from the blanket and stood, swaying on your feet slightly.
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Mhmm. Wait. You said a meeting, you were just at Declan’s house, is everything okay?” You pause slightly in the doorway as Spencer walks out of the office. He gestures for you to follow him.
“Declan is gone, but JJ and Morgan have managed to arrest Doyle, he’s being brought into custody here and we are hoping he will be able to give us information on Declan.” You groan, rubbing your eyes with your palms.
“Not the kid…” Spencer nods, silently agreeing with you. Declan had gone through enough in his life, he didn’t need a kidnapping on top of that; no kid did.
“Oh, also, Hotch is back-“ You nod slightly, trying not to stress too much at this concept.
As you approached the roundtable room you could hear the chatter amongst the BAU members, and when they came into view you couldn’t help but smile.
“Dr. L/N, it’s good to have you here, I’m so sorry about all of this.” You smile at Agent Hotchner, shaking your head.
“Don’t worry about it.” The rest of the team offer you kind smiles as you settle in your chairs, ready to begin the meeting.
“Okay, so where’s Morgan?”
“He refused to leave Doyle’s side, so they will arrive together” JJ offers Hotch a slight smile as he nods.
“Okay, in the meantime I would like to talk to you Y/N.” You quickly rise from your chair, following him out of the room, waiting for him to close the door behind you.
“I’m so sorry about all of this, I really am. I know it’s not ideal for you at all.” You quickly attempt to reassure him.
“It’s fine Hotch, really. I want to be here.” He nods, giving you a slight smile.
“I also wanted to let you know in advance, JJ and I have called Emily back, and she will be here any minute. Just prepare yourself, I don’t know how the rest of the team are going to react.”
The sound of a door opening pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn to see JJ.
“I just got a message; Derek is here with Doyle. Emily is five minutes away, Declan tried to call her.”
Hotch simply nods, guiding you back into the roundtable room, and sending you back to your seat.
You chatter a bit with the team trying to catch up on the case.
“So is Doyle responsible for Declan’s disappearance?” You furrow your brows, trying to wrap your head around all this chaos.
“It’s the most likely possibility, yes.” You nod at Spencer’s answer.
The truth of the matter was cases involving children had always hit you the hardest, no child deserved the situation Declan had grown up in. He was the son of an international terrorist, and Emily Prentiss had faked his death in order to give him a better life. Perhaps she was the only one who showed him a glimpse of what caring for a child was like?
Soon enough Derek had joined you, looking incredibly frustrated.
“Doyle’s in the interrogation room, I had a crack at him.” Derek’s face morphs into one of impatience.
“He didn’t do it Hotch, he’s insisting we release him to let him find his son.”
“So, we need to find out if he has any enemies, right?”
“Well Richard Geracey is a known enemy of Doyle; he’s been in the States for a couple weeks. I caught an image of him on a surveillance camera at Declan’s house.” Garcia pipes up, quickly displaying an image on the screen.
“He’s a suspect. Derek, go talk to him.” He stands.
As Derek disappears out of the door an idea hits you.
“Geracey couldn’t have pulled this off all on his own, I mean, Garcia saw two people destroying the security camera.” You keep your eyes glued to JJ as you speak, trying to tell whether or not you were being a hinderance.
“Well statistically the people most likely to be involved in-“
You had barely noticed that Hotch had left the room until he had returned with Derek by his side, cutting off Reid and telling everyone to sit.
“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team.” JJ quickly stands up as you begin to realise what’s happening.
You quickly glance around the room seeing curious looks on everyone’s faces. Uh oh, you didn’t want to be a part of this conversation. Teammates who think their colleague has been dead for 7 months, then find out she’s actually alive are bound to be mad about the whole thing.
“As you all know Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. Both the doctors were able to stabilise her-”
You began to panic slightly, you were in a room with profilers, they were bound to realise you were tense, or uncomfortable, right?
“-and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.” As Hotch reems off the information you were already fully aware of you study the team, noticing the look of realisation on their faces.
“Her identity was strictly need-to-known, 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 remained silent as they gazed up towards Hotch and JJ. Their faces were a mixture of confusion, and what appeared to be anger.
“She’s alive?” Garcia’s voice was meek, and it broke your heart to see the tears forming in her eyes.
Hotch stays quiet at this, averting his gaze.
“But we buried her?”
The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife and all you could do was sit there, fidgeting anxiously in your chair.
“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me.” You offer Hotch a small smile and a nod as his gaze lands on you.
“Any issues?! Yeah, I got issues!” The tone of Derek’s voice causes you to jump slightly, and you felt your cheeks heat up as Spencer’s eyes settled on you.
But they quickly turn to focus on the sound of footsteps entering the room. A dark-haired woman walks through the door. The woman you recognised as Emily Prentiss.
She was gorgeous, her striking hair contrasting against her skin. Her face was set in a solemn look as her eyes trailed over her former teammates.
But you are pulled out of your train of thought by Agent Hotchner, who bustles you up from your seat and walks you towards the door, closing it slightly behind him he offers you a slight smile.
“Y/N, you don’t have to mention your involvement, not if you don’t want to.” You nod at this.
“Are they going to be mad?”
“Probably, but it was a life-or-death situation and I need to stand by my decision.”
“Yes sir.”
“Listen, you’ve had a long day. How about you go back to my office and get some rest, we will be here awhile.” You shake your head quickly at this.
“No, no, sir I’m fine. I really want to stay and help.”
“We can wake you if we need you.” You give in to the idea of sleep, it was the early hours of the morning and you had been up at the crack of dawn the previous day.
“I- okay, fine. But -uhm- I was just wondering, have you looked into Declan’s mother? I mean I know Doyle is his father, but we have no idea who-“ You pause, watching as Hotch offers you a smile.
“We will certainly look into that Y/N, now get some rest.”
And for the second time that night, you curl up onto Hotch’s sofa bed, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow, but you didn’t sleep.
Your mind ran rampant with ideas, and conspiracies as to who could have taken Declan Doyle. You knew that Geracey had something to do with it, he was a known enemy of Doyle’s after some form of conflict in Belfast. But the team had no idea who Declan’s mother is, but it was likely there was some conflict between her and Doyle, considering she wasn’t with them anymore.
You felt so hopeless, you were lacking the means to gather information because Hotch had sent you to a bed at a time where sleep will not come. Out there somewhere was a little boy, being paraded around, likely as a second best to Doyle, since he was in federal custody. That child hadn’t asked to be involved in any of this, he was simply taken from school, from his home.
Gazing at your phone screen you realised half-an-hour had passed, and you were just about to get up out of the bed when there was a light tapping on your door; it was Penelope Garcia.
“Garcia?” You whisper as the silhouette wastes no time in entering the dark room, dragging the light in with her.
“I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep and that considering the rest of the team are still brainstorming in here I could come in for some one-on -one time? You seem like you are a good idea bouncer-offer.” You chuckle at this, moving upright on the bed.
“Yeah sure, absolutely.”
“Okay so first I’m going to catch you up. Basically, Declan’s nanny took him home from school after he contracted food poisoning, so whoever is responsible for his kidnapping tainted food, and got to him on campus.”
“We have established that Geracey is in some sort of conspiracy with a woman, who posed as agents for the next shift at surveying Declan, they killed the nanny, and the actual agents and then took the child.”
“A woman?”
“Yes, so we got thinking about women who have had relations to Doyle, and of course Hotch had mentioned you talking about his mother. So, Emily managed to give us a compiled list and now we are trying to break Doyle, but it doesn’t seem to be working. They have been in there for the past fifteen minutes.” You nod slightly, turning to the door which swung open suddenly.
“Y/N?” You recognised the voice as Spencer’s, watching as he stepped into the room, taking not of Garcia.
“She told you everything?” You nod as Spencer gives you a tight-lipped smile.
Garcia seems to get some form of signal from him because she quickly makes an excuse to leave, bustling past Spencer and towards her ‘bat cave’.
“I know this is -uhm- a lot to ask, but we were wondering if you would interview Doyle?”
-
Story Masterlist - (1) - (2)
Authors Note: Wow! I hope you guys are enjoying this? I made reader's background quite specific as it made it easier to weave in bonding between her and that characters. I also love having fun with how lucky she is for all of this to happen to her?!?! I mean it's not 100% realistic (but then again, no Spencer Reid fanfic is?) but either way, go get it girl! <3
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