𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 | 𝘼. 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙉𝙀𝙍

one

Who were you looking at? Who were you? A profiler? A kid with a knack for reading people? Or just a troubled loser with a lot to hide? Ah, too much to be thinking about on your first day in the BAU, and you decided not to go with the tie. It looked too funeral ready; besides you were distinctive anyway.

You wore a black shirt and trouser set, with Dr Martens, that were barely creased but never nagged your feet; a long coat and a dark, crumpled briefcase, yet what made you distinctive from looking completely like Wednesday Addams was your white blonde hair. Pure white, some would say whiter than snow, which fell in waves to your neck- not once did it touch your shoulders. Of course, you dyed it that way; no one could ever see the mouldy hay like colour that sat like a dead rodent on your head, no, it looked better like this anyway. You saw all this staring back at yourself in the mirror and knew with a team of profilers working beside you, there was nothing you could give away.

Salem. Where was that cat? You cooed for him to come inside after finding him on the balcony, but he was sure of his position looking over sleepy Quantico. From the balcony, even when dark, you could see the BAU building; its secrets and missions alike, it was there in front of you.

               Aaron Hotchner had requested you come in for 6am to have a brief tour and meeting with him. Aaron, you thought, what a stern sounding name, that probably won't reflect his personality though, you optimised. Quantico was quiet at this time; the smell of street food was just beginning to circulate, and you debated on stopping to get breakfast. A churro maybe? What the hell, it was your first day- you deserved it. Munching away on the cinnamon coated delight, you raised a hand for a cab, and one came rather quickly.

You sat in the back , laying down your briefcase and go-bag as you were ordered to bring. It felt good to say, 'FBI, BAU building,' slightly praying the driver knew where it was. Really, it wasn't hard to miss, but you never know. Music played softly on the radio, but your earphones drowned the world out as your own music flowed through them, preparing your mind; murder, serial killers- you had to be relaxed at some point during the day. He rolled towards the building and halted, waiting for his money and you creaked open the yellow door, not once looking away from the building.

[ 'What do you want to be when you're older, Duckie?' 'I want to be a cop Mommy, bang! Bang!' ]

The clock in the main entrance read 5.30am, and you stepped towards the lady seated there.
She smiled. 'Hello, what can I do for you?'

'Hi, I'm looking for the BAU unit, I have a meeting with Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner,' you said, successfully without stumbling over your words.

'Okay, he just walked through the door about 10 minutes ago, you'll find him on level forty-nine,' she sang, rather chirpy for half five in the morning; you thanked her and made your way to the elevator.

Two transparent doors opened with a nudge, and you saw the office was mainly dim with only a light in the end office and a tall man sat working at his desk. He had a permanent expression of disgust and quite honestly looked rather fed up with his entire life. This was absolutely the man you were looking for; but there was something beyond his expression that intrigued you, something about him that didn't seem all that stoic. Before him, sat outside in the main office was a rather lanky man, maybe even a boy- most likely around your age- reading...an encyclopaedia? You stepped towards him and placed your go-bag down.

'Hi,' you said, a little timid, yet this man nearly threw down his book and stood up.

'Hello! Dr Spencer Reid,' he extended his arm, and spoke hastily- you tried to keep up.

'Gene Beckett, but I'm mostly known as Beck,' you smiled and shook his hand. His grip was soft but jolly, 'I'm looking for Agent Hotchner?' you asked, tilting your head a little.

'Oh, he's up there. He practically lives here, just if you ever need him,' the genius smiled, nodding.

'Great- thanks!' you reciprocated his happiness and walked away with your bags. Knocking on the door, Hotchner looked up with some speed yet his expression did not change.

'Sir, I'm Gene Beckett- oh but, please just call me Beck. I'm the new member..?' you said, wondering if he was going to throw you out; he furrowed his jacket and rose from behind the desk.

'Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, but it's just Hotch,' he said with a fraction of a grin sneaking up on his face. Man, he would look good if he smiled. It took you a moment to realise you still had hold of his hand. Awkward.

'Have you got your credentials?' he broke the silence, but you still weren't back to earth.

'Oh, yes, sorry,' you rambled after a pause, 'Here,' you showed him, and a quick nod sufficed you.

'Good, well you'll be introduced to the team when they all arrive but for now, I'll talk you through protocol. Here at the BAU, we work as a team. No withholding information unless necessary to get a confession or whatever should apply at any given time. You should know that this job will consume large areas of your life and free time, therefore I am required to do psychological check-ups whenever I feel necessary. We see a lot of things here. I hope you understand,' he seemed to talk for forever within seconds, but you could recall every word.

'Yes sir, I won't let you down,' you assured him, but were you even sure yourself?

'Good. Now Agent Morgan is here, he'll take you down for your gun test, is that alright?' he flipped through some files.

'Absolutely,' you got up from your seat, making for the door.

'Oh, and Beck,' Hotch began, to which you replied, 'Yes, sir?'

'Take Reid with you, he's re-reading the encyclopaedia,' he stated, without looking up.

'Re-readin...' you trailed off, 'Yes, of course.'

               As well as yourself, Reid and Morgan stood talking to you in the elevator, getting to know you. Was Spencer flirting a little? Or just very socially awkward? A cocktail of both, and you liked it. Reaching sub-level 2, the three of you took a gun and ear-muffins, standing in the columns, ready to shoot the paper.

'Hey, Beck, watch this,' Spencer said as he flipped his gun in a circle and caught it, 'Good right?'

'Yeah but Reid,' Morgan spoke, making you whip around, 'Watch this,' and still facing your direction, fired a shot and when the paper was brought forward, it was straight through the heart. Clearly, he was impressing you, or so he thought.

'Okay,' you said, 'Watch this,' you said firm, keeping your eyes on Morgan when Spencer stood by the side of him. Ten shots rang out and you pulled the dummy forward, showing ten perfect holes in the chest. Reid's face was still, Morgan smirked, looking down.

'I underestimated you,' he said, making you grin, 'Welcome aboard.'