A/N

I've been analysing myself and I've come to realise that the reason I like Blake is probably that I identify with her. Well, I'm very clearly geeky and uncomfortable around people, but I saw the first episode with her again this evening and it struck me that I could have done the exact same thing; crack a joke and end up sounding like a condescending bitch. So, cut her some slack. She's new, she's not very smooth, and she's replacing someone dearly loved. There will probably be a part 2 coming.

I know they're talking about me.

It's quite obvious from how they discreetly try to shut the curvy blonde up as soon as I enter the room. An unpleasant feeling grows in the pit of my stomach; I thought this time things would be different. They are no doubt discussing how badly I screwed up that high profile case all those years ago, and if I tell them it was Erin's fault I'll only come across as whiny and unwilling to take on responsibility. Childish. Either that, or they'll pity me; poor Alex was too young and too inexperienced to handle such a big case and we can't blame her for making mistakes. I've heard both. Neither is better than the other. I feel like I'm constantly getting trapped between a rock and a hard place.

I briefly ponder making a run for it, duck back to the bathroom and stay there for a few minutes. Perhaps grabbing a tissue and wipe at my eyes, as they are beginning to feel suspiciously watery. But before I can decide whether or not it's a good idea to run and hide, I make eye contact with Derek Morgan, and I'm out of a choice. I blink away the wetness in my eyes - it's not like I'm crying because people talk about me behind my back; Christ, I'm a grown woman, not some middle school girl desperate for the people at her new school to like her. And that wasn't tears per say. Dry air always bothers my eyes, no news flash there.

I walk up to them, in a deliberately slow pace to ensure that I won't have to actually hear what they're saying, and the woman with her back to me freezes. I catch the last thing she says before the other agents' body language shuts her up;

"…but is she nice?!"

Am I? I'm not particularly sociable and I prefer to process things internally rather than talking a lot. I don't laugh much and I don't like to touch people or being touched. I have little patience for small talk because it seems pointless to me. I'm not comfortable sharing my personal space or personal feelings. I'm not even very fond of pets or children. So no, I'm probably not thought to be a nice girl. But that doesn't mean I can't at least try. And so I make the decision to light up the tense situation with a joke.

"The origin of 'nice' is 12th century Middle English meaning foolish or stupid, I hope you're referring to the modern use of the adjective."

The last word just rolls off my lips when I realise that she looks… terrified. Wow, so much for relieving tension. I may have the linguistic skills but I've never been particularly good at reading social situations, and I clearly made things worse. The other agents exchange amused and slightly uncomfortable glances but the poor woman before me seems completely deflated. I wonder if I should apologise - I probably should, given the looks I'm receiving, but I'm not entirely sure for what - and instead I move on from the awkward moment as fast as I can, not missing a beat;

"You must be Penelope. I'm Alex Blake."

"Nice to meet you," she replies automatically, and I see how she winces when she hears herself saying the very word I just ruined for her. She begins to stutter and then Derek Morgan takes charge by introducing himself, taking my focus from Penelope Garcia. It's a gentlemanly gesture that I appreciate but could never mimic myself, not without planning ahead. Far ahead.

I know they all miss their friend, and I never expected it to be easy to be the new girl in such a tight-knit team… but I'm afraid I just ruined my chances to be accepted. Well. I am here for the job and not to make coffee break friends or after work drinking buddies, right? That's what I firmly tell myself anyway, but there's a sense of loss slamming me in the chest, and I'm surprised to realise how much I thought it would be different this time. This time, as opposed to my latest job, or my first job… or any job in between, to be brutally honest.

"Blake? You alright?"

I blink.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

The rest of the team begin to clear the room, and I glance at Penelope Garcia, offering a quick smile, but no apology or explanation. I don't need to explain to everyone within earshot that I'm socially awkward. They'll find that out eventually, no matter how hard I try to pretend I'm someone I'm not.

And to top it off, Erin - the person I least of all want to see right now - wants to speak with me. What she has to say sounds to me like she's only trying to justify her own actions, but what she did really hurt. She caused me so much damage that for some time, I wasn't sure if I even wanted to stay alive. She makes it sound like she apologises for misplacing a case file for two hours. That was my life she misplaced, and it took far longer than two hours to find it and get it back on track again. The stains will never fully go away.

And she says it was never her intent.

I see before my inner eye how I raise my hand and slap her hard across the face. The image is so vivid I can even see a tear smear her makeup in the corner of her right eye. I can see my handprint in shades of blush on her pale cheek. My hand twitches, as if wanting to carry out the action in reality. I bite my tongue hard.

"I've got a plane to catch, Erin."

It's not until I walk away that I realise that in some ways, I did the same thing to Garcia just now. It wasn't my intent… but it obviously hurt. I sigh. I'll have to talk to her one on one as soon as we get back.

And I'm afraid to. Because while people may call me Superwoman or the Cunning Linguist, I'm really just Alex who doesn't know how to speak with people, only to them.