Do I really need to recommend that you read the first Sonata in G? Please do, other notes will be found at the end of the chapter.

Related Episode: 2.2 P911

Overture-a piece of orchestral music containing contrasting sections that is played at the beginning of an opera or oratorio, often containing the main musical themes of the work

It was so strange that an object smaller than my hand could impart such power, responsibility, and a sense of freedom, simply by existing. I didn't notice the breeze on my face, whipping through my long hair except when my vision was blocked by brown strands.

"Rachel?"

I had forgotten for a second that Dad was standing next to me. I looked up at him for a second, and then back down to the card I was holding. More than half of it was covered by text; a long string of numbers, my full name, birth date, the color of my eyes—blue—height and weight. I was an organ donor and no vision impairments. The second half of the card displayed my most recent picture, eyes wide and the beginning of a smile on my face.

I was now a proud owner of a driver's license. Hit the road, burn rubber, and eat my dust, baby.

And then Dad had to bring me back to reality. "Remember, there are still restrictions until you're eighteen and I have a few of my own rules. Absolutely no texting or talking on your phone while driving. You cannot have more than one other person under the age of eighteen in your car and I don't want you driving anyone but me and your mom until Christmas. The county curfew is eleven pm but for this year, I want you home by ten. You can have your music on, but if it becomes distracting, then just turn it off. I don't mind you driving on highways, but don't go on the interstate unless you're with your mom or me for awhile yet. Rachel, are you listening to me?"

I sighed. "Dad, you've been telling me this for months. Can't I have one moment to celebrate the fact that I can legally drive?" I complained.

I did my best puppy dog expression and Dad smiled. He gave me a big hug and squeezed before letting me go.

"Of course I'm happy for you. You've worked very hard this summer and you've been very mature about this so far. You aced your written and driving tests and I'm proud of you."

Dad doesn't say that he's proud very often. I got a little choked up and then looked at my license again to clear it up.

"And my picture isn't even that bad."

Dad laughed. The car keys were still in my hands, so he just gestured me to the car, indicating that I could drive us home. Maybe someone else would have been intimidated, learning to drive an SUV or taking it for the final driving exam, but I had been practicing all summer in it along with Mom's Suburban, so size was not an issue for me.

"Can we get some ice cream to take home?" I asked.

"You're the driver," Dad said, smiling at me again.

I had just pulled out of the parking lot when Dad's phone rang.

"Hotch? All right, how soon does she want to get started?" I stared ahead but I felt Dad glance at me and away quickly. "Call the others, I'll be there in a half hour to work on the preliminary profile before Katie gets here."

Dad hung up and spoke to me. "Pull over as soon as you can."

He didn't say anything else besides that, and sadly, he really didn't have to. Dad had a case and would probably hurry me home and then head to the Academy in Quantico where his team was based. I pulled into a restaurant's parking lot and put the car into park. Dad and I switched seats and I sulked.

"Rachel, I need to go straight to Quantico," Dad finally said, taking the exit to get on the highway. "It would take too long to take you home first."

I stared at him, wondering if I was understanding correctly.

"Luckily, you can now drive yourself home once we get there," Dad continued with a small smile for me.

I fought smiling for awhile because Dad was essentially leaving me to fend for myself, but it was also the fact that he was encouraging me to drive myself home for the first time ever. I guess they balance out.

"So, what's going on?" I asked.

Normally, I would get a text or a call from Dad whenever he got a case. He would tell me where he was going and a little bit about what he and the team thought they would be facing once they got there. But it wasn't often that Dad got called away while I was right with him, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask this time.

Dad was quiet for a long time, so I knew he was trying to figure out how much to tell me. It used to be he wouldn't tell me anything, but that led to me looking up his cases on my own. Now we have an agreement where I can ask and Dad would try to answer but he still reserved the right to keep me in the semi-dark.

"There is a little boy who we think is being held captive by a very bad man," Dad finally said. "One of our old team members in Maryland is asking for our help in finding him before he gets moved and we lose him."

I processed that for a minute and decided to push my luck. "What kind of bad man?"

Dad faces the worst kind of criminals that exist, so I knew when he said bad, it was really bad.

Dad focused on the road in front of him. I watched the mile markers count down for a mile and a half before he said, "He's a pedophile, Rachel."

I swallowed, trying not to shudder. Maybe other teenage girls out there know about the kinds of bad men out there, but none know it better than I do. However much I sometimes resent his especially strict rules, I know he has them for very good reasons.

"It's why I don't like you talking online in chatrooms and why I don't want you to have your own computer yet," Dad explained.

"What do chatrooms have to do with this case?" I asked.

"Katie Cole heads the Crimes Against Children unit, mostly working online looking for predators and victims," Dad explained. "We know about this boy because one of her agents found a new picture of him online getting passed around chatrooms."

"Oh," I said. It was all I could think to say. I wasn't one for chatting online to begin with so I had never had an issue with Dad's rules about it. I hadn't ever questioned it but now I knew why anyway.

Ten minutes later, we were pulling into the visitor parking spaces at the FBI Academy in Quantico.

"I need you to come in with me so I can give you my spare set of keys," Dad said, undoing his seatbelt. "I need to take these with me."

I had never stepped foot inside the building before. Dad strongly believes in the separation of work and home. Of his entire team, I've only met two members and that's only been a recent development compared to the last eight years.

Dad grabbed his duffel bag out of the trunk which I knew he kept full and available for days like this when he doesn't have time to go home and pack before leaving. One of the team members I knew was Dad's recruit, a genuine genius Spencer Reid. Dr. Spencer Reid with three doctorates and he's less than ten years older than me which really shows how smart he is. Dad's been bringing Reid around for years for chess games and meals and Reid was the one to explain the "go bag" to me.

I followed behind Dad as we walked through the front door and stopped at the desk manned by security guards in uniform.

"Agent Gideon," one guard greeted us, throwing a significant glance in my direction.

"Officer Hughes," Dad said, writing my name on a sign in sheet. "I need a visitor's pass for my daughter, Rachel. She needs my spare keys to drive herself home. She'll be coming out in about fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Right away," Hughes said, smiling at me warmly. Seconds later I had a laminated card clipped to my shirt.

"I wouldn't think I'd need a pass for a quick trip," I commented as we rode the elevator up.

"Every visitor needs a pass, Rachel, for security," Dad explained. "No exceptions."

"Okay."

As we exited the elevator, I realized that I was watching Dad transform into work mode. His face was different, much more closed off than I was used to. He was walking with more force and urgency. It was a little unsettling.

From Reid, I knew the main portion of the floor was called the bull pen where most of the agents had desks, up to twenty all interconnected into rows. There was a set of stairs that went up to a walkway where a series of offices were located like a second level. Along the walkway were several vertical windows, letting in the mid afternoon light. Again, from Reid, I knew that's where Dad had his office as well as their unit's leader, Aaron Hotchner who as the other member of the team that I've met before.

I saw Reid at his desk as we walked past and after getting over the shock of seeing me, Reid smiled and gave a small wave. I waved back but hurried to keep up with Dad as he strode up the stairs.

Dad's office wasn't much of a surprise. His desk was semi-cluttered with files and papers, though I spotted two framed photographs, one that must be my half-brother Stephen and the second was of me. Most of the room was dominated with bookshelves, and there was a comfy looking, two-seater couch with a coffee table. What was unexpected was the table directly opposite of Dad's desk, filled with framed pictures. Each picture was a portrait of someone I didn't recognize.

"Dad, who are those people?" There were men, women, boys, girls, all ages and races, at least fifty or sixty.

Dad looked up from his desk drawer, presumably looking for the spare set of keys. He saw me looking at the pictures and dropped his work mode for a moment.

"Those are the people from cases that we saved," Dad said. "I keep them here to remind myself why I do this job."

I hoped that the picture of another little boy would soon be added.

"All right, here they are." Dad came around from the desk and handed me the spare car keys. "Now, take the highway back home, but wait for the exit at Willow."

"Dad, I know the way home."

He hadn't returned to work mode yet, so Dad smiled, brought his hand to my neck and pulled me in close to kiss the top of my head. "I love you, Rae. Now go home."

"I love you, too, Dad. Catch the creep."

I turned to walk out and bumped right into Hotch on his way in.

"Jason, Katie is still an hour away—Rachel, what are you doing here?"

I held the keys at face level and gave them a gentle shake so they sounded like wind chimes. "I was along for the ride, but Dad had to get me the spare keys so I can drive myself home."

"Oh, you got your license today?"

I grinned. "Piece of cake."

"Congratulations," Hotch said with a smile before turning to Dad. "Jason, Morgan's on his way up, but we can get started."

"I'll get out of your way," I said and snuck around Hotch through the door.

"Drive safe, remember what I said—"

"Got it, Dad."

I hurried down the stairs and veered off to Reid's desk where he was gathering files into his battered leather messenger bag.

"Hey, Rachel. Were you with your dad when he got called in?"

"Yeah. And at least I was able to get my license before so I can drive myself home."

"You did? Congratulations. You know, twenty four percent of teenage drivers—"

"Reid," I interrupted. "We talked about this."

"Right. Sorry."

For the most part, I actually didn't mind when Reid would ramble about statistics. A lot of it is more interesting than other people think and I love when he can help me with my school work. But I didn't want to hear horror stories about car accidents, teenage drivers, and traffic patterns.

"Hey, pretty boy."

I looked up and saw probably the hottest man I've ever seen walking toward us. He was tall, dark-skinned, and muscled with a shaved head.

"And a pretty girl," he remarked, coming up to us. I blushed and looked down at my feet quickly before looking up again. Just because I was overwhelmed, I didn't want him to know that.

"Morgan, this is Gideon's daughter, Rachel," Reid introduced. "Rachel, this is Derek Morgan."

"Nice to meet you," I said quietly, reaching out to shake Morgan's offered hand.

"Very nice to meet you, sweetheart," Morgan answered. "I hear you're a talented little musician."

I blushed again and shrugged.

"Rachel!"

I looked up and saw Dad and Hotch standing on the elevated walkway. Dad was frowning—work mode was back.

"I'm going, I'm going," I called up. I turned back to Morgan and Reid. "Sorry, but I should probably go."

"Yeah," Reid agreed with a quick look up at Dad. "We should head up to the conference room."

"Next time I see you, I'll give you the tour," Morgan offered with a melting smile.

"Okay," I said shyly.

With one last wave from Reid, a wink from Morgan, a curt nod from Hotch and a final glare from Dad, I was left alone. I got a lot of looks walking on my own and riding the elevator down, but no one questioned me, probably because of the visitor's pass. At the front desk, I turned the pass over to Officer Hughes.

"You drive safe now, all right?"

"Yes, sir," I said smartly, giving a little salute and smiling.

I put in the CD I had of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, mindful of my speed, mirrors, and signaling. The rest of my first unaccompanied drive was uneventful. It was at the same time exhilarating and disappointing. I was utterly alone in the car, neither of my parents or my instructors next to me, giving commentary or criticism. But, really, as fun as it was and as thrilling as it was, I was too distracted to enjoy it fully.

There was a little boy at the mercy of a pedophile somewhere. Sometimes, I really hated how Dad's job took the fun out of everyday things. It wasn't Dad's fault and it certainly wasn't the little boy's. It just sucked for all of us.

I parked in the driveway at home and locked the car before walking inside. Mom was at work, but in a spirit of confidence had left a congratulatory note for me on the kitchen counter. I whipped out my cell phone and called my friend, Alicia, to tell her the good news.

"That's great!" she squealed. "This is so cool, you can drive us to the movies or the mall, school—"

"Alicia," I interrupted. "Before you start selling me like a taxi driver, remember I can only take one other teenager with me at a time."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Liz is getting her license next month so that's four of us."

"You have a point. Now, do you want to come for a ride?"

"God, I wish I could, but Mom's pulling the family activity day card. I'm stuck."

"All right. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Absolutely. We can go to the mall and you can drive us!"

I hung up with a sigh. I was resigned to an afternoon alone when I remembered someone else I could call. Michael picked up on the third ring.

"Have you joined the ranks of the road warriors?" he asked and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Of course I did. You managed so it's not like it's hard."

Michael and I have only been friends for a year. He's a loner, thought to be trouble with a capital T because he dresses like an emo punk with one of the worst attendance records of our grade to still be passing his classes. Rumors said he cut classes to smoke and do drugs. In reality, Michael was as clean as I was and cut classes in order to do homework for other classes. He worked after school in a car repair shop, earning money under the table so that he could move out of his dad's house once he turns eighteen.

"You wound me. And right now I'm looking at a little cruiser I was thinking of fixing up for you."

"What?"

I was Michael's only friend, he says because I don't judge him. None of my other friends understood it.

"Just kidding, the wreck I have in mind will take years of fixing and I was hoping to keep it for myself. Leonard's letting me borrow one of his project cars until then."

I shrugged even though Michael couldn't see it. "Any way, Dad's on a case and Mom's at work so I'm abandoned for the day. Are you working?"

"Not today. I maxed out my hours this week. Want me to come over?"

"I'll make dinner, you bring those DVD's."

"Deal. I'll be there in a half hour."

We never hung out at Michael's house because of his dad. Pat Garrett was a drunk and a creep according to Michael. Even if Michael thought he was on a job as an electrician, he never knew when his dad would come home, so he didn't ever chance it.

And we only hung out at my house when I was certain both my parents were gone for hours. Dad doesn't approve of Michael—just a little misunderstanding about a bomb-making website—and Mom isn't such a fan either. During the school year, this wasn't a problem and over the summer, we worked things out. Luckily, Michael was actually older than most kids in our year since he had taken two years of kindergarten so he already had his driver's license. Without it, we would have had issues.

I got out the panini grill I had gotten for my birthday. We had some crusty Italian bread and I grabbed the roast beef and cheddar cheese out of the fridge. Sweet potato fries went into the oven to start cooking. By the time Michael was pulling up, the sandwiches were grilled and the fries ready.

"Let's see it," Michael said, holding a hand out expectantly.

I handed over my license and got two Cokes out of the fridge.

"Oh crap, your picture is hideous." Lucky for Michael, he was smirking so I knew he was joking.

I smacked him on the shoulder and then handed him his plate and his drink before grabbing the license and putting it back in my pocket.

After some more joshing and pushing, we ended up on the couch watching the DVD's of Dragonball Z that Michael had brought. I was considered fairly geeky among my other friends, mostly due to Reid's influence in my life, but Michael was corrupting me more. In addition to the Star Trek, Star Wars, and Doctor Who that Reid had me hooked on, Michael added Marvel and DC graphic novels and anime.

Michael left about an hour before Mom was supposed to be home to play it safe. Mom came home tired after a long day but still gave me a big hug. The next day, I drove myself and Alicia to the mall to meet up with some of our other friends. A day after that, Dad came home from the case. They had found the boy and reunited him with his mother. Another picture was now in Dad's office of another life saved.

Other teenage girls worried about school, boys, acne, their weight. In addition to the usual worries, I got to worry about Dad chasing serial killers, rapists, and pedophiles. Even with all the bad stuff, I knew I was lucky. I have two loving parents and great friends of all kinds. Sure I probably knew more about psychopathic killers and disturbed predators than any one wanted me to know, but I also got to hear about ordinary people who were helped by my dad and his team of profilers.

My life, such as it is. And while I wished I could change certain parts of it—who wouldn't?—it was mine.

Notes:

Yes, I have returned! Thank you all for waiting (im)patiently for this sequel. I am pleased to report that I have nine chapters written out and I don't plan on writing any more than one or two more chapters for this movement of Sonata. Updates will be weekly, likely on Thursdays, or maybe Sundays if I am ever late.

Now, a word about content. We all know some bad stuff is coming up. I have tried to inject as much humor and levity into appropriate moments but I'm telling you all now, this movement does not end on a happy note. And then we all know that things don't exactly come up sunshine and roses after that. Well, we'll deal with that when we come to it. In the meantime, just be aware that there are some topics I will deliberately gloss over not because I necessarily want to, but because at sixteen, Rachel would be sheltered from some of them.

But in lighter news, I think there are some good moments coming up and I hope you all enjoy them. So, happy reading, and thanks for coming back for more!

Cantoris