Doctor Spencer Reid awoke shaking and drenched in a cold sweat. His sheets were twisted from tossing and turning. He wondered when the nightmares would stop. It had been 4 months since his false imprisonment and encounter with Kat Adams. He'd gone through mandatory counseling and was back at work. He visited with his mother regularly. His life had routine. Yet the dreams would not let him go. His phone buzzed on the bedside table. Reid plucked it up and glanced at the screen. A message from team leader Emily Prentice was displayed asking him to meet with her and section Chief Aaron Hotchner in the morning. Reid texted back that he would be there. A knot of anxiety formed in his stomach. Was there some problem with his performance He wondered? He thought he was covering up his nightmares, difficulty focusing and hyper vigilance pretty well.

Aurora Ashleen Carstairs played absently with a bangle bracelet as she sat in the coffee shop watching the sun come up. She brushed back her auburn hair and glanced around the shop, picking out the easy marks, The man so focused on the argument he was having with someone named Della that he didn't notice his wallet was half out of the back pocket of his tan brook's Brother's suit, The woman with the frizzy brown hair who set her alligator purse down on the chair next to her before becoming engrossed in the Washington Post, and the heavy set woman in a nurse's uniform who slouched over the bar, her head in her hands, her cell phone lying unattended on the counter by her menu.

"I could pluck any one of them clean and they wouldn't have a clue, Aurora reflected, they make it so damn easy! I should do it for fun, for old time's sake. Aurora knew that would only cause her more trouble. She was supposed to be beyond acting out and especially acting like a stereotype.

Aurora opened her over sized, lavender backpack and withdrew two items. She placed them on the table, beside her mocha latte. One was a drawing of a blonde haired girl with wide, blue eyes, a lighter shade than her own, staring fearfully out of a trailer window framed with bright red curtains. The second was an envelope, an address neatly typed on the front for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She withdrew the letter from SSA. Derek Morgan, unit chief for the auxiliary investigation Unit. Can't make a cute little acronym out of that one can you, Aurora mused. She let her gaze slide over Agent Morgan's note once again. People were so quick to pigeon hole. All blacks were gangsters, hanging on the corner in the hood, all Japanese were over achieving sushi lovers, All Russians had a fondness for Vodka and Tolstoy, and all Gypsies were thieves, cheats, con artists and pick pockets. It never occurred to anyone, especially white bread, government agencies that the stereotypes were the exception rather than the rule. That's why these outsiders need a tour guide, aurora reminded herself, someone needs to show them the truth verses the fiction and it might as well be you. Remember what Aunt Melinda use to tell you about your responsibility to use the past to make a better future for yourself.

Resignedly, Aurora packed up her things, shouldered her bag and picked up her Latte. She had some time before she had to enter the lion's den, she could light a candle for Eden Ann, let her know that someone was finally going to get her justice

Alexander Austin Gallagher sauntered through the bullpen; He stopped at the desk of a brunette woman with a pleasant, oval face.

"Excuse me sweetheart," he said, flashing her dimpled smile, "Could you tell me where to find SSA Derek Morgan?"

The woman rolled her dark eyes derisively and pointed to stairs leading to a catwalk.

"Thanks," he said, grinning at the woman again. She merely shrugged. Xander continued on, smiling to himself. He knew how he was seen, in his navy blue Gucci suit, a pale blue silk shirt peeking out from underneath and a scarlet tie completing the outfit. He wore shoes hand crafted in Italian leather. His blonde hair came down just below his ears and was neatly styled with just a touch of lightener added to give him the California care free look that matched the story he told about his life. No one had to know this ensemble was the last vestige of his former life. Xander climbed the stairs and strode to the door the woman pointed to, knocking smartly.

From inside, SA Derek Morgan glanced at his watch. Right on time, Morgan thought, chuckling to himself.

"Come in," the older man called.

Xander stepped in, flicking a glance at the stylishly dressed, bald, black man behind the desk.

"What happened to your hair, Tubbs?" Xander asked.

Morgan bristled inwardly but showed only a cool smile.

"I see the two years you spent inside didn't take the smart ass out of you." Morgan said.

He studied the young man. He was dressed like a fashion plate, wearing the suit he had worn at his last hearing. He'd been to the salon recently. Morgan wondered where he got the funds for that.

"I was kind of surprised you looked me up." Xander said, unphased by Morgan's attitude, "You need fashion tips? I could start with your hair, or lack thereof. I could get you a great deal on a product that would take years off you and give you a nice mane for the ladies to play with: Though some chicks dig the queue-ball look."

"My wife likes my look just fine."

"Wife, wow! Man!" Xander said in surprise.

"I have a kid too." Morgan turned a picture on his desk for his visitor to see." Morgan waited a beat, "You could have had that, if you took a different path, Maybe you still could. You're a young man."

"What makes you think I want to strangle myself with that?" Xander asked, showing the first chink in his glossy façade.

"Really. Oh, that's right, they were just meal tickets, those 14 women you married. They meant nothing. And the girls you ran before that, they were just your employees."

"Exactly." Xander said, a bit of unease creeping into his voice, "The world is my oyster. Besides, if I don't take care of me, who will?"

Morgan saw the flash of sadness in those grey green eyes. He knew he had him. Reaching across his desk, he flipped open a folder and read aloud.

"When you cleaned up Marcy Jones' mother awhile her nurse was watching DR. Phil, then gave the woman the boot, and started coming over unannounced when the new nurse got hired, to make sure the job was done right. When you showed up to Sarah Folly's kids ball games, when you spent hours with Carla Whitney's Autistic son, helping him with his homework, all that was looking out for number one? You know I couldn't understand why the prosecutor couldn't get any of these women to file charges against you. You cleaned out their savings. You used them for your own pleasure. You made a mockery of your vows when you married Angela Duncan and Alicia Putnam at the same time, and even had two kids with Alicia."

"I am paying support for my kids." Xander crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yes, You're behind but you are paying something. So that's what got me looking through the interviews with these women and that's when I found out that you cared, Maybe not about them but about what mattered to them. That's when I realized you were more than just the gigolo I picked up in Chicago on those pandering charges 16 years ago."

Xander shrugged, "I may have broken their hearts, but I gave those women the first real happiness many of them had known in a long time. Some of them had never experienced the pleasure I gave them in their lives. When I was running my girls, I never kept any of them on the street after they said they wanted out. Hell, that one girl Jenn! I even drove to a hospital so she could get clean. I'm not a monster."

"I know," Morgan said, "that's why I'm offering you the chance to be a part of something where you can do a lot more good than just stocking shelves at Kroger."

"Wait…wait….Hold the doors please!" The young woman's cries caught the attention of the elevator's sole occupant.

Spencer Reid hit the button to hold the elevator. He watched the petite, young woman with the mane of auburn hair that fell to her waist rush forward. Her cheeks were flushed from the effort of running with a large, lavender backpack on her shoulders. She was dressed in a Kelly green, thigh length skirt and a rose pink blouse topped with a long multi-colored scarf tied carelessly around her neck. The pink, 2 inch heel, ankle high boots she wore were completely unsuitable for the pace she was moving at, especially when combined with the weight on her slender shoulders. Reid wasn't surprised when she lost her balance as she boarded the elevator. Reid stepped forward on instinct, and caught her as she went down, but not before she lost her grip on the drink she was carrying.

Aurora flushed as she fell against the young man, spilling her hot drink on both of them.

"I'm sorry," she began, slipping free of his steadying hands She glanced up into his face and blinked in surprised recognition.

"Spencer Reid, of all the elevators in all the world I run in to you here."" Aurora said, feeling even worse about the collision.

"Do we know each other?" Reid asked.

"We met years ago when I came to live with Aunt Melinda." Aurora answered. "I was about ten years old at the time. You were very kind to me." Aurora said. She didn't add that she had also developed a serious crush on him in the three weeks during which he had stayed at Dreamer's end, the street name of the foster home owned by Literature professor Melinda LeClair while settling his mother into Bennington Sanitarium. Noticing his continued blank look, Aurora went on; Aunt Melinda brought me with her when she came to see your mom. How is Miss Diana by the way?"

Reid studied her face closely while listening to her voice. She had an indeterminate accent, something between the drawl of the Deep South, possibly Louisiana and the clipped, precise intonations of the Hispanic culture. Her face had an elfin quality, pale and delicate with a sprinkling of freckles and eyes a startling shade of violet blue. Immediately, Reid placed her.

"Aurora Ashleen Carstairs, your Aunt taught with my mom. When I had my mother…."Your parents had died in an accident."

Reid stopped himself. She probably didn't need to be reminded that her parents had died right in front of her. He certainly didn't want to talk about having his mother committed. She seemed to understand, offering him a warm smile.

"I never forgot how kind you were and how you didn't treat me like a victim." Aurora said, "And you're the only one that calls me Aurora Ashleen like my parents did. I've missed that. Everyone just calls me Aurora or Rorri."

Reid returned her smile. He started to reach out to hit the button for 6 then asked, "What floor are you going to?"

"6," Aurora told him, "I hope this person I'm meeting isn't a jerk. I think I'm going to be a few minutes late."

Reid smiled to himself.

"You'll be fine." Reid assured her, he added, "I haven't forgotten that Melinda is one of the few people from Mom's teaching days that have remained a true friend. Even now when she doesn't remember her half the time. She still shows up."

"That's Aunt Melinda, loyal to the end." Aurora responded fondly. The elevator chimed softly and the doors swished open, revealing glass doors, the FBI insignia emblazoned on them.

"How much of a tight ass is Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan?" Aurora began, "I mean is he going to be seriously pissed if I'm another couple minutes late? I really don't want to look like a klutz when I meet him. I have enough stereotypes to disprove."

Reid wondered what Aurora meant about stereotypes. But that thought was overshadowed by the mention of his friend and former team mate. So he decided to come back after all, Reid mused.

Aurora was staring fixedly at Reid and he brought his thoughts back to the moment.

"You'll be fine. He'll understand." Reid told her. He pointed down a side hall.

"The women's rest room is the Second door on the right, "Then when you come back go through these doors and up the stairs."

Aurora thanked him, casually flicking back her hair as she spoke then turned and rushed off, leaving Reid bemused. He squared his shoulders, preparing for a meeting of his own. Then decided he too could benefit from a quick trip to the wash room.

"I knew you'd make the right decision," Morgan said, standing and moving toward the door.

"I still don't understand, why me?" Xander asked, "I mean I get that it takes a con artist to know one and I have some hacking skill. But petty criminals are a dime a dozen."

"Don't remind me," Morgan answered, "I chose you because I wanted someone that would care about the victims."

Xander nodded. "Tubs needs Crocket." Xander grinned as he spoke.

"There are a few others on our team, and we'll be working alongside the Behavioral Analysis Unit." Morgan explained, He started to turn the knob on his office door then stopped, "Oh and Xander, around the rest of the team, you call me Morgan or agent Morgan, You do not call me Tubs."

"Whatever you say Tubs." Xander said in an unrepentant tone. Morgan rolled his eyes as he pushed open the door and led the way down to the bullpen, pointing to a desk, "That's yours," Morgan told him.

Xander flicked a glance at the non-descript desk and chair, a computer, desk tray, and mouse pad sitting atop the desk.

"Very homey," Xander said rolling his eyes.

"You won't be sitting there much if you do your job right." Morgan said.

"It is so good to see you back where you belong!" a woman's joyous voice rang out. Morgan broke into a wide grin at the sight of FBI technical analyst Penelope Garcia rushing toward him. She was clad in a flowing, burgundy skirt and a print blouse with 3 quarter length sleeves. The frames of her glasses had purple cats on them and she wore a single flower of the same color in her hair. She rushed to Morgan, enveloping him in a fierce hug which he returned.

"Baby Girl, it's so good to see you too." Morgan greeted her.

Xander's gaze was riveted on the new arrival.

"Hello, I love you!" he said, stepping forward, taking her hand and raising it to his lips.

With cat like quickness, Garcia yanked back her hand. She started to raise her palm as if to slap the man's face then stopped herself.

"Your first task is going to be to read the HR literature on sexual harassment in the work place, "Morgan told Xander. He gave the former hustler a hard look.

Xander feigned a contrite expression, "My apologies, I forgot myself, I was so dazzled by your radiance." Xander told the woman before him.

"Xander, this is technical analyst Penelope Garcia. Penelope, this is Xander Gallagher, He'll be working with us as part of the UIU. Team."

"You picked this…man for your team?" Garcia asked.

"I did, you'll hear all about it when we gather."

"Well," Garcia said; flustered by the unwanted attention combined with the news she would be dealing with this lothario. "Welcome to the auxiliary Investigation unit. I look forward to working with you MR. Gallagher, or is that agent?"

Garcia was surprised to see the blonde man's features harden at her words, his eyes, which had been dancing with merriment became hard as jade.

"My father was MR. Gallagher, I'm xander." Xander balled his hands into fists.

"Sorry," Garcia mumbled, starting to turn away. Morgan put a restraining hand on her arm.

"You did nothing wrong Baby Girl." He glared at Xander who decided it was time to acclimate himself to his desk. He turned away, colliding with a red haired young woman moving toward the stairs.

Sorry I'm late," Reid spoke breathlessly as he dropped into one of the visitor chairs in Emily Prentice's tastefully furnished office.

The tall, dark haired figure of Aaron Hotchner, (Hotch to his friends), stood by the window. He crossed the room to shake Reid's hand. Emily brought Reid a cup of coffee.

"Thank you for coming in early." Emily said.

"What's going on?" Reid asked. Deciding to sate his own curiosity he asked, "Is it True Morgan's back with the team?"

"Morgan's back," Hotch stated, "But he's not with the Behavioral Analysis unit."

At his shocked look, Emily added, "He's starting his own team. They will be working alongside of us in certain cases that are more…" Emily trailed off, searching for the word she wanted, "Complicated."

"Like MR. Scratch?" Reid asked.

"If that situation taught us anything it's that there is a need for a parallel investigatory unit to assist in certain situations so that incidents like Scratch or the Reaper don't get out of hand."

"They will also be following up on the aftermath that can accompany some cases that local law enforcement doesn't have the resources and the BAU doesn't have the time to pursue," Hotch explained.

"In both those cases, people were put in danger, lives were lost. The team was trying to stop a threat against them and continue to carry on as usual."" Prentice said.

"We stopped them in both those instances." Reid began. He stopped himself, remembering the cost. The months Hotch spent apart from his son, the death of his x-wife, The year the senior agent and his child spent in WITSEC. His memory also jumped to criminals like Tommy Yaits (the man Rossi visited every year on his birthday to get the name of a new victim.), John Curtis, aka the Replicator who had tormented the team by alternating between mimicking the cases they solved and stalking the team members, even as there was other work to do.

"It's interesting you brought up Morgan." Emily said. She reached into her desk and brought a file to Reid.

"I told Derek he could pick his own team," Hotch explained.

"So we're losing Garcia?" Reid guessed.

"He asked for Penelope and I approved that transfer and one other," Emily told him. "He said he wanted the best. He asked for 2 individuals and Hotch has already approved the transfers pending their acceptance."

Reid saw the direction the conversation was going.

"Why?" Reid asked, "I've been handling my work. I completed the counseling…."

Emily regarded Spencer with a kind gaze.

"You've done everything the bureau asked. You've performed your duties better than I thought. You would be able to manage with your situation with your mom combined with what you went through." Prentice told him. "That's why when Derek said he wanted you to be a part of his group; I didn't hesitate to give my approval.

"This is not a bad thing." Hotch added, "And the decision is still yours."

"But you really want me to take it." Reid pressed.

"We want you to consider it." Hotch said. "Whatever you decide, your choice will be respected. You should know, there will be less travel with this position."

"I thought you said we would be working alongside the BAU?" Reid Challenged.

"On many cases, yes," Prentice said, "But not all of them." This first one however, will be a joint effort."

Aurora entered the office of Special agent Derek Morgan, wishing she had another cup of some kind of caffeinated beverage to calm her nerves. The muscular, bald, black man sat, with feet planted on the desk, rubbing his forehead.

"Peppermint oil would help with the headache." Aurora volunteered, dropping into a visitors chair uninvited, and taking off her pack.

"The word on the streets is you're knowledgeable about herbal remedies. "Morgan stated, swinging his feet to the floor and straightening."I'm glad you made it Aurora, I wasn't sure, based on our prior correspondence, if you would show up."

"I had a small accident." Aurora stated, being deliberately evasive. She added, "I almost didn't come."

"We need your expertise and for this case, we need your unique cultural insight. Not just your book learning…" Morgan said.

"You need a Gypsy, that's what you're saying!" Aurora interrupted.

Morgan nodded. He picked up a file and read.

"Until you were ten years old you lived with your parents, they were aerialists with the Starlight Carnival and circus, a company composed mostly of Creole and Romani staff. Your parents were Romani. Karleen and Andre Carstairs both fell to their death during a practice…You ended up at Dreamers End, a foster care facility in Las Vegas Nevada. But you left there at age 15 and went back down south."

"I was emancipated." Aurora snapped. The fed seemed nonplussed. Aurora went on, "Look, I get it, you think because I was raised among Gypsies I have a criminal disposition which I don't. What no one gets is that life as a Romani isn't a Scher song. In fact, many Romani are hard working ordinary people who like everyone else who come here, are trying to make their way in this country and live the American dream. Not all Gypsies are tramps and thieves. Surely you get that!"

Morgan nodded in understanding. He studied the young woman; her eyes were an icy blue, her nostrils flared in anger. She was sitting ramrod straight, her hands clinched in her lap."I can't think of a better way to make sure Gypsies get a fair shake than having someone on our team to help us understand the cultural nuances of a society hostile to outsiders. We want to make sure we take down the right people."

"So you **are** interested in fact?" Aurora ventured.

Morgan nodded in ascent. "This is a very different team from anything the FBI has put together in the past. Only two of us are sworn agents, everyone else is a civilian like you. We have a briefing with the entire team in 20 minutes. I hope your presence here now means you are willing to join this team. You'll still be able to continue with your other work, in fact, I encourage you to maintain those contacts. They could be helpful for what you'll be doing."

Aurora considered a moment then shrugged.

"Just tell me you people don't have a caffeine ban in here.

"Absolutely not!" Morgan replied, "There would be a full scale mutiny if they ever did that. Let me give you a quick tour."

Aurora grinned and stood up, holding out her hand. "You've got yourself a Gypsy expert." Aurora said.

Morgan took the proffered hand. He returned her grin as her tiny hand was enveloped by his larger one.

Spencer Reid was adding his third sugar to a cup of coffee when he heard footsteps entering the kitchen. He turned to find Agent Jenifer Jarreau (JJ) entering the room.

"Hey Spence," The pretty blonde greeted him, "Emily moved up our briefing, so thought I'd take the chance to grab a cup of coffee and some quiet time. Michael was up all night with an ear ache."

"Reid didn't respond. He stepped back to allow JJ access to the coffee pot.

"Something wrong Spence?" JJ inquired, studying her friend closely.

"Morgan's back, did you know?" Reid said flatly.

"I heard," JJ responded, pouring herself a cup of coffee and stirring in cream and sugar, "I hear they're letting him pick his team."

"He asked for me." Reid persisted.

"I'm not surprised." JJ commented, "Morgan's always been closest to you and Penelope. It's only natural you'd be his first pick."

"I suppose, Reid said, taking a thoughtful sip of coffee. "It's just…."

"It's just you don't like change," JJ finished Reid's thought.

The young genius nodded. "In the BAU I always knew my roll. I understood how I could be of help. I don't understand why Morgan would feel I'd do better on this team than the BAU."

"I think it's just Derek wanting the people whose skills he knows would help him the most." JJ said, offering a reassuring smile."And you'll still be working with us a lot if what I hear is correct."

Reid returned JJ's smile. She was probably right. He heard agents Matt Simmons and Luke Elvez, moving toward the kitchen, debating the previous night's Red Skins game by the sound of it. Not quite in the mood to chat about all of this again, Reid eased out of the kitchen. He glanced at his watch and headed for the round table room to meet his new team.

Penelope Garcia took her accustomed place at the round table, remote at the ready. The first person to arrive was Xander Gallagher, he was carrying two mugs. He held one out to Garcia.

"I come baring an olive branch to make up for my earlier boldness." Xander greeted her.

"Is it also to make up for your rudeness?" Garcia inquired in an arch tone.

"My father is a touchy issue." Xander responded, "You couldn't have known that."

"Apology accepted," Garcia replied, taking the proffered mug. She took a sip, surprised to discover he had prepared one of the lattes she preferred.

"You strike me as a Latte lady; please tell me I'm right." Xander said, feeling oddly like he was fourteen and asking out the prettiest girl in school.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Garcia's tone was cool.

"I'm not going to win with you am I?" Xander asked, beginning to feel exasperated.

Before Garcia could frame a response, Spencer Reid slouched into the room; he glanced curiously between the pair before taking a seat at the far end of the table. Xander glided to the other end of the table and grabbed Reid's hand, pumping it hardily. Garcia noted only the faintest of grimaces on the young agent's face at the touch. He did seem to be less germ phobic since his imprisonment experience.

"I'm Xander Gallagher," Xander said.

"Spencer Reid." The profiler answered, "Nice to meet you. Are you new to the bureau, I don't think I've heard your name before."

"Lord no, I'm no cop!" Xander answered, his eyes widening and his expression becoming slightly horrified,

Reid gave him a puzzled look, wondering why he was in this meeting and wishing he'd back off. Xander didn't seem to understand personal space and his cologne was extremely cloying. The door opened and both men turned to see who was entering. A broad smile broke over Spencer Reid's face as Aurora Carstairs entered the room.

Aurora almost lost her grip on her second coffee of the day when she spotted the object of her girlish dreams seated at the round table next to a pretty boy type. Aurora found it interesting that Spencer Reid still made her heart skip a few beats when he smiled. There was an easy approachability to the man.

Garcia had noted the change in Reid's attitude. Where he had been displaying signs of nervous tension when he entered the room, the instant the red haired woman arrived, his posture changed completely. She also observed the woman's look of delighted surprise. Item number one on the to do list, find out what the story is between those two. Boy Wonder has clearly been holding out, Penelope decided.

"Is this where the uxillery Investigation Unit meeting is supposed to be?" Aurora asked, unable to quite believe she would actually be working with the man who had helped her find her voice again. A blonde woman who dressed like a Gypsy and whose demeanor reminded Aurora of Eden Annnodded, offering a friendly smile.

"You've come to the right place," the woman told her, "I'm Penelope Garcia, MR. GQ over there is Xander Gallagher and the Pretty boy grinning like a fool over there I think you know."

"We meet again Spencer," Aurora greeted him, breezing past Xander and sliding into the chair beside Spencer Reid who continued smiling, forgetting about the others in the room.

"You're an agent? How does Aunt Melinda feel about that?" Reid asked.

"You two are related?" Garcia inquired.

A flicker of sadness played on Aurora's pretty features for an instant at Garcia's question. She covered it with a light laugh.

"Melinda Laclaire, has been friends with my mother since their student days. The title aunt is honorary." Reid explained.

"Everyone calls her aunt," Aurora added.

Derek Morgan stood for a few minutes on the catwalk, watching his team enter the round table room, noting each of their moods. Garcia was excited and purposeful while, Xander, tried to be casually cool, he didn't entirely cover a hint of nerves. Reid seemed a little lost and cautious. Finally Aurora, brisk and ready for a battle. "They're certainly an unlikely group." Hotch stated, walking up along side of him.

"You have concerns Hotch?" Morgan inquired.

"About Reid and Garcia, not at all. They work well together and they both know how to take direction and are comfortable with you. Reid's bounced back exceptionally well and we both know Garcia works well with you."

"Gallagher and Aurora are wild cards. Both of them can handle themselves out in the field, they're street smart and have connections in that world, especially Aurora."

"Does she know anything about this first case?" Hotch inquired.

"I think it's best to brief her at the same time as the others."

"Emily will give you 20 minutes to explain their roll before the others join you for the full briefing." Hotch stated, "It's good to have you back."

Hotch clapped the other man on the shoulder and Derek Morgan descended the steps and strode to the round table room to brief his team.