Sooo...If you actually wanted to get into the BAU like the real one...umm what ya gotta do is
Step one: Graduate from high school (4 years)
Step two: Get a bachelors in, Forensics, criminal justice, psychology, or any other related discipline (4 years)
Step three: Attend law enforcement academy (3-5 months)
Step 4: Garner experience in the field (SEVERAL years worth)
Step five: Engage in on going training (varies on time)
Step six: Optional: Attend the FBI academy (4 months)
Step seven: Optional: get an advanced degree (2-4 years) so masters or PH.D
Oh also the FBI BAU you have to have at least a bachelors degree before even applying to the FBI academy.
So taking that Spencer has 3 PH.D’s and 3 BA’s dude was in school from 14-24 when he got recruited from the FBI academy which he probs didn’t really have a lot of time in considering in season one he still couldn’t pass his gun re-qualifications, and Hotch said every 2 years he had to help him, so from 24 to when we see Reid at 28 in the first season, dude failed twice…but he spent 10 years, getting his degrees, and I just….
this came from me actually wondering what the qualifications were for the real FBI BAU….also those bitches be making 118,970 bucks a year, like okay shit.
But like…I just..my brain hurts just thinking about this much fucking school.
Há momentos na vida em que sentimos tanto a falta de alguém que o que mais queremos é tirar esta pessoa de nossos sonhos e abraçá-la. Sonhe com aquilo que você quiser. Seja o que você quer ser, porque você possui apenas uma vida e nela só se tem uma chance de fazer aquilo que se quer. Tenha bastante felicidade para fazê-la doce. Dificuldades para fazê-la forte. Tristeza para fazê-la humana. E esperança suficiente para fazê-la feliz. As pessoas mais felizes não têm as melhores coisas. Elas sabem fazer o melhor das oportunidades que aparecem em seus caminhos. A felicidade aparece para aqueles que choram. Para aqueles que se machucam. Para aqueles que buscam e tentam sempre. E para aqueles que reconhecem a importância das pessoas que passam por suas vidas. O futuro mais brilhante é baseado num passado intensamente vivido. Você só terá sucesso na vida quando perdoar os erros e as decepções do passado. A vida é curta, mas as emoções que podemos deixar duram uma eternidade. A vida não é de se brincar porque um belo dia se morre.
You’d met him while in the Navy. He and his team had caught a killer on your ship, you’d asked if they’d been hiring and when Gibbs nodded once you applied. You left the Navy and joined NCIS, learning Gibbs’ rules quickly and proving yourself on more than on occasion. Which was why you couldn’t understand why you were being called into the Director’s office. You’re allowed right in, which makes you even more anxious.
Your eyes fall on Gibbs first. He looks pissed, but then again nine times out of ten when he’s in this room he looks pissed.
“Director you wanted to see me?” You ask after shutting the door.
“Yes, I did.” Director Vance straightens his tie then looks over at you. “You know the serial killer case that your team has been working?” You nod, “We were just informed that the FBI is already working the case.”
“But it started on a Navy base and has stayed on Navy bases. They don’t have jurisdiction.” You tell him.
“That’s what we thought too. Their BAU has said differently.”
“So you want me to send them over everything I have?” You sigh, the case had gone pretty cold in the past few weeks so Gibbs had given you the task of staying on top of any new information that came in.
“Not exactly.” Director Vance says with a glance at the still silent and still glowering Gibbs.
“Okay, so what exactly?” You’re not understanding what he wants from you.
“You’re being sent to work with the FBI until this case is over.”
“Oh god. Not with Fornell.” You groan and both men chuckle.
“No, not with Fornell, you’re going to work directly with their Behavioral Analysis Unit, the BAU.”
“Awesome.” You deadpan, “When do I leave?”
“Wheels up in one hour.”
“Wheels up? Where am I going?”
“North Island Navel Air Station.”
“California?” Gibbs nods. “Aw hell.” You grumble.
For @milkandcookies528 who requested - “
Could you do one with morgan where he and the reader are on a hike together and she has a bad fall which causes her to twist her ankle and derek takes her home and takes care of her. Thanks.💕”
Derek and Y/N had been best friends as long as anyone could remember. Derek had been there for Y/N her entire life. When she fell off of her bike and broke her wrist, he was at the hospital. When her dad’s convoy was under attack and she didn’t know if he was alive or not, he was there for her. Y/N was there for him when his cousin, Cindi, had been abducted. She was there for him when Buford was molesting him. They loved each other wholeheartedly. They were best friends and soul mates.
When Y/N had transferred to Quantico to lead the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team it came as no shock to anyone that the first person to find out was Derek. The two moved in together and became a makeshift family with Clooney. Derek and Y/N, both abnormally into working out, loved running. With Derek being as competitive as Garcia in a who loves Chocolate Thunder more competition, Y/N hated running with him. After repeated nagging, pleading, and begging Y/N finally agreed to go on hike up the Chopawamsic trail in Prince William Forest National Park as a consolation.
When they reached the park it had just started to drizzle, attempting to ruin their plans and only “date” they had had in the past two weeks.
“Are you sure you want to go?” asked Y/N.
“Yes, I’m sure. You’re only trying to get out of going on the hike with me because you know you’re going to lose” teased Derek.
“You are going to regret every saying those words” replied Y/N before sprinting off in an attempt to reach the end of the hike before Derek.
The duo, competing with each other the entire way, had finally given up trying to beat the other as they both reached the top of the mountain in unison. They spent some time together at the apex of the cliff taking in the moment. The peacefulness that with no doubt would be gone once they got back to their home, that Derek had refurbished himself. As it started to rain harder, Y/N looked up at Derek, who was almost a foot taller than her, before smiling. Derek glanced down at Y/N, the most beautiful woman in his eyes, before asking, “what are you looking at?”.
“I’m just really happy right now” said Y/N before wrapping her arms around Derek.
Derek simply rolled his eyes before saying, “you know you’re really cute right?”.
“I love you, you dork” said Y/N before pressing her slightly chapped lips to Derek’s scruffy jaw to leave a chaste kiss.
“I love you too Y/N, now let’s go before the rain makes the trek back all muddy” said Derek as the two carefully attempted to make their way back to the car.
Derek and Y/N had easily made their way back until they reached the steep hill, which led to the end of the trail, that looked daunting to Derek and terrified Y/N. The hill was grassy and slick with a mixture of dew and mud. Halfway down the slope, Y/N slipped before rolling down the hill and landing at the start of the trail.
“Y/N” screamed out Derek before rapidly making his way to the bottom of the slope where Y/N sat clutching her ankle in pain.
Derek picked up Y/N effortlessly before getting her into the passenger side of his SUV before getting into the front seat and driving them back home. Throughout the car ride it took all of Y/N’s effort in order to keep Derek from taking her to the hospital. They compromised by deciding that if her ankle was worse the next day, she would go get it checked out. On the way back Derek stopped at a CVS and picked up every single painkiller he could get his hands on. He picked up Advil, Tylenol, Motrin, Bayer, Aleve, and even the generic brands.
After Y/N had changed out of her now muddy clothes, Derek force fed her a granola bar so that the pain medication wouldn’t be taken on an empty stomach. She eagerly took her medication hoping for some relief. While the medication worked its magic, Derek worked his by giving her a euphoric back massage as she laid in bed practically swaddled in blankets that Derek had insisted on wrapping her in.
As her breathing deepened while Y/N fell asleep, Derek vowed that he would one day marry the woman that risked her life to hike a trail with him. She was his cheerleader and the love of his life. She was the one person he knew he could always rely on. She was his best friend and his soul mate.
A/N this is my first Derek request so I hope I did our badass door kicking hero some justice. Finals are almost done so send in more requests! I would love it if you guys left me comments, I love reading them! I hope ya’ll enjoy!
When the plane touches down you’re instructed to meet an Agent named Morgan. He’s leaning against a black SUV, arms folded across an impressive chest.
“Agent Morgan?” You ask and he nods.
“How long have you been on the case?”
“About a month, we didn’t realize that there were more murders off base.”
“How many have there been on Navy bases?”
“This is six.” Your phone rings and glancing down at the screen you see the face of your boss looking unamused staring back at you. “Excuse me, it’s my boss.” You tell Morgan, as he’s asked you to call him.
“No problem. I should call Hotch too.” He says plucking his phone from the cup holder.
“You meet up with them yet?”
“No, Agent Morgan and I are on our way to the police station. Apparently that’s where they make their home base when they’re out of town. Want me to connect with the LA team? Let them know I’m here?”
“Any reason why?”
“No need. You’re part of the FBI team until this is over. No need to involve more NCIS.”
“Sounds good Boss. I’ll call later with an update.”
“Yup.” You’d actually gotten more out of him than you thought you would conversation wise. Morgan finishes up his call then explains how their team works.
There are seven of them. Only six out in the field but the last member, Garcia, is their tech goddess, Morgan’s words.
Their team leader is Hotch, a man who sounds like he’s no nonsense much like Gibbs. Except less of a functional mute.
Rossi is the oldest member of the team, having returned after retirement because he had a few cases he wanted to finish up. Some old ones that had haunted him.
Reid is a genius. In his mid-thirties he’s the youngest member of the squad but knows pretty much everything, and isn’t afraid to prove it. Morgan challenges you to stump him on a question but swears it’s not possible. You can tell he really admires the kid, no matter what he may say.
JJ is the newest to profiling, having started out as their press liaison she’s been with the team a long time just not always as a profiler. She also worked over in Afghanistan for a while, only to come back from the pentagon with a passion, and according to Morgan, great skill for profiling.
Prentiss rounds out the squad. She was an undercover Agent for a while, worked with Interpol, is back now and was much missed by her team.
“You’re easy to talk to.” Morgan says after a while, he seems surprised that he gave you so much information when you haven’t divulged really anything. But he’s not working with your team, you’re working with his.
“Thank you.” You give him a smile, “You seem like you’ve got a solid team.”
“We do. It’ll be nice to have your expertise on this one though. How did you join up with NCIS?”
“I was in the Navy. My best friend was murdered and Gibbs, my boss, promised he’d catch her killer and when he did the bastard worked on our ship. He’d been stalking her for a while and no one helped her so, when my tour was up I applied to work at NCIS and Gibbs remembered me from the case and agreed to take me on. Our team is smaller than yours, just four of us that are agents, me, Gibbs, Tony and McGee. We work closely with Abby our forensic analyst and Ducky and Palmer. Ducky’s the ME and Palmer is his assistant.”
“You’ve only got four field agents?”
“Yea, we all double up on jobs, Tim is really good with a computer, I do linguistics and Tony,” you pause for a second, “Tony’s a pain in the ass but he’s street smart. Gibbs is our fearless leader. Tony calls him a functional mute.” Morgan chuckles softly,
“Functional mute, that’s funny.”
“Please don’t tell him that.” You tell him with a grin, “I don’t want his head to swell any more than it already has.”
“As long as you don’t tell Reid what I said about him.”
“Deal.” You laugh as he pulls into the police station parking lot.
A/N: An anon request for one where the reader works with the BAU and during a case she is kidnapped. Instead of having her be a full-time member, I’m going to have Emily request her presence because of her expertise. They were friends when their mothers were both ambassadors. @coveofmemories@sexualemobitch
They were stumped.
Normally, the famed BAU had a theory from the get go - a jumping point - something to lead them in the right direction, but as they stared at the board, and the pictures of their first three victims, they couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “We have a 24-year-old African-American woman, a 54-year-old white man, and a 33-year-old Latino man found behind a wire fence, a white-picket fence, and a wrought iron fence respectively,” Morgan said, leaning back in his seat and staring intently at the pictures.
Spencer got up and looked at the board, willing any possible answer or theory to pop up in his mind, but nothing was working. “They’re left covered in a black blanket or tarp and a mask that is blue, white and black.”
“It’s all very meticulously planned,” JJ added. “But the only thing that is extremely consistent is the mask. It’s the same every time.”
In all his years in the field, Rossi was sure he’d seen it all, but he couldn’t figure this out for the life of him. “The fence obviously has something to do with it, but it’s never the same kind of fence, so obviously that isn’t as important as the mask.”
Hotch was sure he’d seen it all too - and then something like this came along that made him question everything. “The victims are all killed quickly with a thin implement to the heart from behind, so none of them ever see it coming, but they’re also kept long enough that people realize they’re missing. And during that time they’re fed well. It’s as if their death is a byproduct. It’s not the goal, something else is the goal.”
Emily sighed, sitting back in her chair and grimacing at the board. “The only consistent thing we have is the mask.” For a few moments, everyone sat in silence, trying to ponder who this unsub could be and their motives, but still nothing was coming to them. “Okay, considering the only consistent thing we have is the mask, Hotch, do you mind if I call in a friend of mine?”
“Sure,” he said, willing to let anyone in who might be able to give them a heads up. “Who is it?”
“My friend, Y/N Y/L/N,” she said, remembering back to when they first met. “Her mother was an ambassador like mine. Her mother was never around, even less so than mine, and we got to being friends. Unlike me though, she desperately wanted out of anything related to law enforcement or politics, so she went to school for costume design. She works on Broadway now. Since the mask is all we have, she might be able to tell us what it means.”
That actually seemed promising. “Please,” Hotch replied. “If she’s able to give us anything on this mask, it might help.”
After much convincing on Emily’s part, Y/N made her way to DC. Late that night, she made her way into the Bureau with a visitor’s tag and a hesitant smile. “You owe me,” she said, giving her old friend a hug. “You know of my distaste for all things law enforcement and politics related.”
“I do,” Emily said, pulling out a chair for her to sit in. “We really appreciate it. The mask and the manner of death are the only two things that are consistent, but our theory is that the mask is the point. The victim’s deaths are byproducts.”
Sitting down at the table, Y/N gathered the files on each of the three victims in front of her and began to scour for information. “This is a head-scratcher,” she said after about an hour of sitting in silence among the members of the BAU. “Color scheme-wise, I do have a possible theory, but I would need to see the bodies to confirm.”
“Can you let us in on your theory?” Spencer asked. “We’ve just been so at a loss for ideas, it would be nice to know what you were thinking.”
Y/N sat back in her chair, turning the pictures around to face the team. Each one showed a victim donning the mask and covered in a black material of some kind - that wasn’t consistent either. “The mask is blue, white and black in equal parts. Now although there is no mask I can think of that look exactly like this, it could be a representation.”
“Of what?” Emily asked, her eyebrow raised in confusion.
“The Phantom of the Opera,” she said. “One of the most popular stage plays in modern history. Although the white mask has been the most popularized, due to the stage play, a blue version was used in the film in 1943, and the mask was written as black in the novel by Gaston Leroux.”
“So we could be looking for someone who suffers from some kind of physical deformity?” JJ asked.
“Yes. You said that death seems quick, and they’re taken care of beforehand?” she asked, looking toward JJ and scratching the scar on her chin - it was probably psychosomatic because it hadn’t bothered her in years, but it was bothering her now. She nodded. “Then if the victims all have some kind of physical deformity of some kind, one that’s visible outside of someone’s clothes, it’s possible that your unsub believes he’s carrying out mercy killings - allowing the victims an escape from the pain that he endured.”
“Okay, Emily,” Hotch said. “You take Y/N to the morgue to examine the bodies. We know that our first victim suffered burns in a fire as a child, but the other two don’t have anything truly noticeable on their faces. Until then, Garcia, I need you to run our basic profile through the system to see if we can get some kind of a suspect list.”
Nearly an hour and a half later, Emily and Y/N returned from the morgue. “Both of your other victims have scars of some kind. Bradley House, your oldest victim, has burns on his right forearm, and your latest victim, Esteban Morales, has a scar on the side of his face starting underneath his hairline and extending under his chin,” Y/N said as she walked into Garcia’s office. “Can you find out how they got those scars?”
With a few clicks of her keys, she brought up information and the two male victims. “Bradley used to work as a chef. The scars are from a grease fire. And Esteban was in a horrible accident on his bike as a child. He nearly died, but the scar on the side of his face is all he’s got left from it.”
“Okay,” Y/N sighed, looking between Hotch and Emily as she crossed her hands over her chest. “Then my assumption is the best I can offer you. Your unsub suffered ridicule in his past for his looks. He’s isolated now because of it, so if he works at all it’s in a solitary or limited environment. And given that you’re victims were taken care of before they were killed and they were killed quickly, that leads me to believe that he believes he’s doing these victims a favor.”
Hotch made his way across the room and extended his hand in her direction. “Thank you so much for your help, Y/N,” he said. Everyone said their thank you and goodbyes, and she left the building with plans to go out to dinner with Emily later on. After traveling all that way, it seemed a shame not to.
As she left the building and made her way to her car, she scratched at her scar one more time. It had lessened since she left the BAU, but it was still bugging her. Before she had a chance to step into the car, she felt a pair of hands encircle her - one around her waist and the other around her mouth. The rag over her lips was the last thing she felt before her vision went black.
“Something is wrong,” Emily said, looking down at her phone. Although they now had a list of possible suspects, they couldn’t figure out how to narrow it down, so Hotch told everyone to call it a night.
“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked as he got his files together to take back to his desk.
Emily looked at her phone, quickly counting the messages. “I’ve sent Y/N 23 messages since she left not one of which has been returned. It’s not like her.”
Penelope looked around frantically. “Do you want me to ping her?” Quickly, Emily nodded and hoped she was just being paranoid.
Within seconds, Garcia had found her location, noting that it had been in the same place for hours - and it wasn’t the hotel she was supposed to be staying at. “Where is that location, Garcia?” JJ asked, walking up to her side.
“It’s in the industrial district. A lot of warehouses. Could that be our unsub? Could they have her? The victims all have a visible scar of some kind. Does Y/N have one? Sorry, I’m rambling,” she said.
Emily got distracted for a second, remembering when they were teenagers. “She got into a fist fight on my behalf. She has a small scar on her chin now because of it. If our unsub is devolving, the small scar, along with Y/N’s connect to the play could be enough for our unsub to want to make her a victim.”
“She’s a costume designer, but has she worked on Phantom of the Opera?” Rossi asked. “If she doesn’t have a connection to the actual play than our unsub would have to be devolving quickly.”
“Phantom of the Opera was the first play she worked on when she graduated,” Emily said. “She got an internship in college and they ended up hiring her.”
With a flick of his wrist, Hotch ushered everyone out and towards the cars. “He’s been keeping his victims for a few days before killing them. If this is him, we still have time, but we have to move.”
As Y/N opened her eyes, she was met with a very patched together image of the Phantom’s lair. There were candles everywhere, luscious material was draped around her, but it all looked like it could be taken down in an instant and brought somewhere else. Once her vision returned, she looked around the room, eventually falling on a small figure draped in black. “I assume you slept well,” the light voice said.
They weren’t looking for a man. They were looking for a woman.
Slowly, she turned around to meet Y/N’s gaze. “Yes, I did,” she said softly, trying her best to take in her surroundings. How was she supposed to get out of here? All of the victims had been stabbed from behind; she couldn’t turn her back to this woman. “Where am I?”
“With me,” she said softly. “And your pain will be over soon.” She stepped forward and brought her delicate hand to the side of Y/N’s face, resting on the faded scar that remained from her teenage fight. “You won’t have to suffer like I did.”
She wasn’t suffering; her scar was barely visible anymore. It itched from time to time, but that was it. Something in her gut told her not to protest, so instead, she asked her about herself. “Why did you suffer?” she asked hesitantly, not wanting to anger the woman who’d obviously had a severe break from reality. “What happened to you?”
Sadly, the woman craned her head back, and slowly moved the mask up the side of her face - revealing scars much like the Phantom himself. “My mother never wanted me,” she started, turning away from Y/N, leaving her time to scan for a weapon of some kind. “She didn’t care what I did, or where I was. One day, she was ironing, and she was drunk. The iron fell off the board and onto my face, leaving me with these burns.” She stared off into the distance, thinking of what to say next. “As I got older, she told me that I would never find anyone to love because I was hideous. My sisters were gorgeous, and she doted on them, but I got nothing, so I retreated into the only thing I loved - theater. When I stumbled on the Phantom, I saw in him a kindred spirit. It was then that I promised myself no one else would ever suffer like I have.”
“I’m not suffering,” Y/N said softly, not knowing what else to say. “My scar is very small, and I’m proud of it. I got it defending a friend. The other victims weren’t suffering either. They were loved.”
“No one can truly love you when you’re deformed,” she said sadly. Y/N’s heart broke for her, because she could hear the supposed truth in the woman’s words. “But enough about that, I’m sure you’re hungry.” Reaching over, she grabbed a scone and placed it in front of her.
The more she refused this woman, the more likely she was to kill her now. Y/N needed time to get a message to Emily.
It seemed like hours had gone by. She ate a scone. She drank some water. Y/N even tried to talk with the woman a little bit more, but she rarely took her eyes off her, so she had no way to signal Emily. She could only hope that Emily would realize she’d missed their dinner date and come looking for her.
All of a sudden, the doors behind the curtains flew open, ruffling the silky fabric. As if from nowhere, the still unnamed woman summoned a screwdriver and held it to Y/N’s back, exactly where her heart was. “FBI! Put down your weapon!” Emily screamed.
Y/N held her hands out, quietly begging the woman to spare her. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. “They don’t want to hurt you either.”
“Yes they do!” she screamed, the screwdriver now digging harder into her back. “No one understands!”
“I do!” Y/N yelled back. “I know how you feel. You feel like no one will ever love you. No one will notice you. That no one will ever understand what you’ve been trying to do. Save these people from pain, but I understand. I…I want to help you…” Tentatively, Y/N turned her head to face the woman, hoping she couldn’t see through her lie.
But the woman’s desperation for someone who understood overtook everything else. “You do?”
“Yes,” she said, even more confidently. “I do. But I can’t do that if you kill me.” Slowly, a tear fell from the woman’s eye as she lowered the screwdriver and dropped it on the floor. While she was facing Y/N, Hotch ran up behind her and got her hands behind her back.
“No!” she screamed, the tears now coming in waves. “No! Please!” Y/N clutched her hands to her face as she watched the woman get carted away by Morgan and Hotch. All she wanted was a friend. If someone, somewhere had been her friend, maybe she wouldn’t have become this.”
“Y/N!” Emily screamed, enveloping her as she crumbled to the ground. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. Physically, she was okay, but she never imagined she’d meet a real life phantom. “She just needed a friend.”
Summary // You’ve never really liked reading but someone is trying to change that.
A/N // I’ve never written something before themed around/based on criminal minds and it doesn’t help that I haven’t seen everything (Give me a break it’s 12 seasons with 23 episodes or smth) So i might feel a bit OOC
You were dyslexic, it wasn’t something
you were necessarily ashamed of yet nor were you proud of it for somewhat
obvious reasons and most people assume it for obvious reasons up until you tell
them about your achievements or they even dare to test you when it comes to
reading and you finish first with a better memory of what you’ve read than the
other person. Ever since it was discovered you worked as hard as you could and
did everything you could to be at the same level and eventually even got ahead
which is why a lot of people didn’t even think you have dyslexia or never
thought that you would have something alike it. You liked surprising people but
it was still annoying, all the questions if you were really sure and if you
didn’t just skip ahead a lot, you had gotten rather used to it though and
didn’t mind it too much anymore and were very glad you had put in your
dedicated work as now it didn’t really felt like you suffered from it, only
when you saw words which you weren’t used to reading or those who were very
It had gotten annoying from time to time
when you saw some pity looks which were either people who didn’t understand in
the slightest that it wasn’t something that necessarily could ruin your life
nor did they realize you were likely better than them when it came to reading
and you quite enjoyed their pity turning to surprise and turning to sourness
that they had lost something they were so convinced that they were good at.
You faced a few issues when it came to
explaining people that it wasn’t as dramatic as people think it is, far from
actually but people usually weren’t too well informed, funnily the only people
you didn’t have any of issues like that with were whenever you were having a
applying for a job, most employees were curious as to see what you could do but
weren’t immediately antagonizing or acted stupidly.
“Y/N?’’ You glanced up from your screen
and saw Spencer standing at your desk. Recently you had finished a case and the
second after it was finished you were being flooded in paperwork which was
something you almost despised more than killers. It was a pile growing even
bigger, it was from after your most recent case but also some from before it
and that was even worse. Luckily Spencer had offered to help as he didn’t mind
it too much and you gladly agreed.
Even though you had gotten good at
reading, although you didn’t think you really could be good at something so
general, you still hated it with every fibre of your being. You had always read
non-fiction as a way to see if you still had around the same pace and if it
went like it had been going all these years. Still, you only did that because
you didn’t want to fall behind or start to slack and you barely got through
“You’re ready to go, basically
everyone’s left already.’’ He said and you nodded. Almost everyone at the BAU
knew about your dyslexia, well that was overestimating the amount. The people
you had worked with before when you weren’t on this specific unit and just the
FBI knew about it and even though you agreed in the whole ‘knowing almost
everything about your team’ as you agreed it was better for teamwork you never
really mentioned it simply because it wasn’t relevant or noticeable.
“Yeah, of course just let me finish this
up, get my stuff and we can go.’’ You said with a smile and he nodded. You
turned your computer off, gathered the work, a book you had knd of started to
like and your keys. Tossing them all in your bag before slinging it around your
shoulder, and with that the two of you left for his apartment as it was a lot
“Why am I not surprised?’’ You said with
a slight chuckle as you walked inside, of course you didn’t precisely expected
it but you definitely did something that looked quite like this, filled with
endless books and quite a bit of mess, that surprised you a bit compared to
what you had expected.
“I.. I’m sorry it’s quite a mess.’’ You
shrugged in response, you didn’t exactly have the cleanest place either so you
couldn’t really blame him. Ever since he first came you realized you had been
quite protective of him which you were unsure as to why, it wasn’t necessarily
because of experience since even though you do have quite a few years as you
rose through the ranks surprisingly quickly, you just were and in returned he
alos seemed rather interested into you.
“Mines never been that clean either.
Well, I suppose I can’t really put it off now.’’ You said and sat down,
throwing your bag open and putting everything down on the table. You were
wondering how tall the stack truly was as it was, it seemed to be as high as
you were when sitting and you couldn’t say the coffee table was exactly high.
It became rather clear to you as you almost preferred killers, they usually got
“Here, I’ll do most of the eldest work
as it is more than the newer ones.’’ You thanked him when he said that and gave
you a cup of coffee and you curiously raised your eyebrow. “It’s only two
teaspoons, don’t worry.’’ You huffed and sipped it, you decided not to avoid it much longer as it wouldn’t get
better and the night wouldn’t get younger and so you started working.
“I’m done, I can’t do this any longer.’’
You said as you dramatically stood up, it was getting later and later and you
had just gotten really sick of it. You groaned in frustration. It was getting
especially annoying to read all the words and writing in proper sentences, you
had no clue how much hours the two of you had spent but what you did know is
that you were about to fall asleep any second which didn’t help when it came to
reading an endless amount of papers.
“Y/N it’s just ten more pages and then
you’re finished. Can I get you something?’’ You felt kind of guilty about your
outburst, it happened before twice when you had just started and you just
couldn’t focus on it and just stood up and didn’t work for around thirty
minutes to an hour in protest even though you realized it didn’t help you at
all. You shook your head vigoriously and pulled your phone out, unsure what to
do with it but it helped just by holding it and it being something different in
front of you than words and a pen.
“Maybe an aspirin?’’ You turned your
head in curiosity.
“Well.. I I’ve been noticing some signs
and even though it isn’t as relevant but well I’ve noticed you don’t seem to
like writing and sometimes even avoid writing notes, I’ve seen you get quite
anxious whenever you’ve been working for longer than thirty-three minutes and
start to slightly shake and taking in how long you’ve been avoiding this and
how more time passes you get a slower work rate I think you might have dyslexia
and because of that I think you might like one or even need one.’’ He finished
and you chuckled for a while before applauding, he was the first one to
discover it without having any knowledge beforehand but then again there was a
reason he was on the team.
“I have to admit that are some sharp
observing skills and you’re right, I think I was diagnosed when I was 5. I
think it might help to just power through the last stack, where’ve you got
“Medicine cabinet, should be rather
obvious it’s got a cross.’’ You nodded.
“Can I ask you something?’’ You had
finished the paperwork twenty minutes ago or something alike, you had powered
through it no matter how much you despised it and you had asked if you could
stay the night, you weren’t quite keen on driving when it was half past one at
midnight since you left the office later than just late.
“Of course, anything.’’
“Well, I was just curious if you like
reading or not? The obvious thing to say would be no because of the common
stereotype yet even though you tend to avoid reading and speaking from time to
time it doesn’t really seem to affect you as I’ve seen you read through some
more complicated articles quicker and understand it better than some of the
other people at the bureau. So I’m just.. Just wondering.’’ You chuckled at how
surprisingly embarrassing he got whenever he asked something that most people
would consider personal but thought that it was rather cute too so you decided
not to mention it.
“Well, I.. I despise it. Putting it
mildly, I’ve never liked reading that much but I did it because I didn’t want
to be behind on my level and it actually felt good getting better at reading
than a lot of other kids in my year. I mean I can get my way through
non-fiction and some things related to crime and psychology I quite like
reading from time to time but fiction is the worst.’’ You said with a chuckle
as you stared at his massive wall filled with books. It was quite clearly he thought
differently but he didn’t seem to antagonize you in any way after your reply.
He stood up abruptly and went over to
the massive bookshelves and stared at it for a few seconds before walking over
to one book and picking it. It’s cover had signs of it being very bright but
the colour seemed less bright than it originally was, there was an obvious
crack in the spine and the cover was lifting off of the book, it was funny to
see one so new yet so old because of the fact that they’re opposites and he offered
it to you.
“The Cartel, it’s about a drug war in
Mexico and I’ve noticed you’ve seem quite interested in how crime has been
working and going on there, it is fiction but it has a lot of realistic
elements. I’m not forcing you to read it but I really recommend it, it’s very
realistic and goes into quite a lot of detail and you’ve seem to taken an
interest in the cartels in Mexico.’’ You took the book from his hands and
scanned over the back of the book and even though you didn’t like the idea of
reading a book which was partially fiction, you kind of got a biased against
it, but it definitely seemed very interesting so you decided to probably give
the first chapter or two a shot to see how it would turn out and if it was
interesting you would at least try to finish it but no promises.
“Don’t mention it.
“Shhh.. Just the last page.’’ You hissed
in response as you shifted slightly in your chair because of discomfort that
had grown over the recent hours. It was a slow start when it came to the book
and you put off reading it every once in a while but eventually just sat
yourself down and read it because it was interesting enough and didn’t even
necessarily feel like fiction as it was realistic enough.
“I thought you didn’t like reading.’’
“It’s fine, not the best but still the
best fiction I’ve ever read although it’s quite mild fiction and rather
realistic. So both thank you for sparkling something that might be a coming
love for fiction but if you don’t shut up now I might hit you.’’
“This is the NCIS Agent that’s going to be working with us.” Morgan says then introduces you to JJ, Rossi and Reid.
“There are two more of you right? Prentiss and Hotch?” You ask the group in front of you.
“Yea. Good memory.” JJ compliments and you grin back over at her.
“Thank you, should I wait to give you the information until your whole team is here?”
“That would probably be best. They just went to grab food, we didn’t know you’d be here so soon so we didn’t get you anything.”
“Oh that’s fine. Gibbs doesn’t really do food so I’m used to only two meals a day. And, I travel prepared.” You give them a grin pulling two protein bars out of your bag.
“We’re usually the same way. We’ve kind of hit a dead end and the Navy doesn’t really want to play nicely.”
“Pretty soon they won’t have a choice.” You tell them pulling your binder out of your bag and placing it on the table.
“Good. Oh hey, they’re here.” Reid says nodding behind you. Your binder bumps the protein bars causing them to tumble to the ground. As you’re scooping them up the last two members of the team come into the room. The food bags crinkle as they’re passed out and when you stand and turn to greet the two your jaw drops open.
“Aaron?” You breathe. His eyes meet yours and the surprise is evident in them. “Oh my god!” You laugh throwing your arms around his neck and he wraps you in his arms pulling you tightly to him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m the NCIS liaison for the case.” You pull back slightly, just enough so you can see your childhood best friend’s face, “Holy shit.” You chuckle, he looks good.
“You’re out of the Navy?”
“Two years now.”
“Wow. And you’re living in the D.C. Area?”
“I am. Last I heard you were living in New York.”
“No, that was my brother.”
“Awe, little Seanny.” You laugh then suddenly the two of you realize how quiet it’s gotten in the room. You pull away from one another and shift awkwardly, to your surprised Aaron’s hand is still resting comfortably in the small of your back.
“We grew up together,” Aaron explains to his team, “Well, from about the age of five to nine we were best friends. Then kids started getting mean about it and so we drifted until high school.”
“I’m the one who introduced Aaron to Hayley.” You give his arm an affectionate squeeze and get a sad smile in return. “We’ve got time to catch up later, I need to brief you guys on what I’ve got.” You tell him opening the binder in front of you. He takes the seat to your right and passes you half of his sand which.
“You still like salami, ham and cheese with mayo right?”
“Yep.” You give him a grateful smile then start on your briefing. You fill them in on the four Navy men who’ve been killed, all with an ice pick. It was one of the things the killer did to mark his victims. The other was how he posed the bodies, flat on their backs, hands on their stomachs and a single deep red rose in their hands. When you caught him you’d have to thank this creep for ruining red roses for you. When you’re finished Aaron’s team takes over. They tell you about the victims they’ve got, everything is the same except for the gender. They’re all women.
“Okay so what is it about here that has made him want to stay?”
“What do you mean?” Prentiss asks.
“Well my first two victims were on the east coast. Norfolk and Mayport. Have all your victims been west coast?”
“No. We had one woman in Huntsville, Alabama.” Morgan says.
“Then they started out here.” JJ continues glancing up at the whiteboard. You follow her gaze then gather up the pictures you’ve got of the sailors and post them up too with names and dates. As you do a pattern emerges.