A/N: Hello everyone! This story is a companion piece to Jake's Series. It isn't necessary to read it before you read this story, but I think the reader experience would be at its best if Series was read first. Let me know what you think of this idea, and if you catch on to what I'm aiming for

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

Jake's Companion #1

"Zinski's a joke, he'll never get anywhere," Jackson pauses to take a sip of his drink. "He's incompetent, needs to go back to wherever he came from."

I sigh and swirl my wine glass. I'm more of a beer girl but I felt awkward ordering one in a ritzy place like this.

"Yeah, how'd he get here in the first place?" Moore asks.

"Top Dog's nephew or something. A total cliché and waste of time, if you ask me."

Since I started at the State Department, I have been working with self-absorbed bureaucrats that have tunnel vision on their opinions, and theirs alone. The politics of my new job are suffocating. I tried to follow Morgan's advice and greeted my new position with as much optimism as I could muster but it fell flat after the first day.

I mean, I'm here, supposedly celebrating, but I am counting down the minutes till I can leave without being disrespectful. I want to be somewhere else, far away from people like Jackson and Moore.

"So JJ, how does it feel to close your first case with the major leaguers? It's great, right?"

I still don't understand where they get the term "case" when labeling what we work on. They aren't really cases; they're more like projects, top secret projects.

I offer Jackson a tight smile. "Sure is." Honestly I've felt more satisfaction, ten times over, closing actual cases at the BAU.

"Yeah, I bet it is. Nothing like working in some random unit at the Bureau, that's for sure. This is a lot more gratifying."

Oh yeah? And how would you know?

I down the rest of my Riesling and eye Nathan Jackson. Morgan would kick his ass in a heartbeat. I turn around, prepared to order another glass; goodness knows I'm going to need it with this crowd. A bartender in a dress shirt and bow tie is there in an instant.

"House Riesling, please?"

I sigh and tap my card on the granite bar top. Or is it marble? Hell, why am I at a place where a few glasses of wine are going to drain my bank account?

"Hey, Jennifer." Lindsay, an office aide, sides up to me. She nods across the circular bar. "There's a guy over there eyeing you," she giggles.

"What?" I look in the direction she indicated and do a double take. Hotch?

"You know him? Who's Hotch?"

Oh. I said that out loud.

"Oh uh…" I'm aware I haven't said anything intelligent yet but my brain is still catching up to me. I haven't seen him since I left, well over a month ago. He angles his drink, most likely a scotch, towards me and has a smirk on his face.

"He's my old boss," I finish for Lindsay.

"Oh," she says dismissively. Goodness! Even the aides are stuck up?

I don't care though, since I see Hotch moving around the bar towards me. I watch as he weaves in and out of the crowd, expertly holding his drink a little higher so as not to spill it.

"Here you go. Want to start a tab?"

I quickly glance backwards at the bartender and shake my head. "No, just put it on the card, please." He nods once and goes to run it. I look back to where Hotch is but don't see him. I'm confused, and I'll admit a little disappointed. Where did he go?

"JJ."

I turn around and see Hotch right in front of me. I can feel the big smile on my face.

"Hotch!" My toes strain against my shoes. I want to hug him because I'm so relieved someone I'm comfortable with is here, but I know it isn't Hotch-like to hug. He quickly looks me over as if he's checking that I'm okay. After all, we haven't seen each other in weeks, which is a major adjustment for me at least. We used to spend hours together day after day, reviewing real cases.

"What are you doing here?" He glances around at the people nearby, most of who are oblivious to us.

"Celebrating, we closed a…we finished…" I can't bring myself to say "case". Hotch is watching me expectantly, probably wondering how far my IQ dropped since leaving the BAU. "Uhm…"

His lips curl up and he raises his drink. "To a successful first month on the new job?"

I smile graciously and raise my wine glass to meet his tumbler. "Cheers." Our gaze lingers as we take our drinks and I think I see a bit of a twinkle in Hotch's eyes.

"So what are you doing at a place like this?" I ask him. I'm genuinely curious. I may not be a profiler, but I still know Hotch; this venue is not his style.

"A friend of mine invited me out." He turns and stands with his back to the bar and I mirror his actions. He leans sideways, as if we're co-conspirators. "He says I need to get out more often, in not so many words." He straightens back up and smirks before taking another sip of his drink.

"Well, I'd say he's right. Getting out is healthy.' I snort out a breath in irritation. "As long as it is with the right people," I say with an annoyed tone. My eyes grow big when I realized I wasn't quiet enough and I nervously cast a glance towards my coworkers. They've caught on that I'm talking to someone who I'm sure looks familiar to them. Especially familiar to Jackson, who played a part in recruiting me for my new position.

Hotch doesn't follow my gaze, he already knows we've been noticed.

"How are you?" he asks in defiance to the looks and the puffed up chests of my coworkers. Male egos really are ludicrous sometimes, especially if they belong to men of the State Department.

I smile lightly, not able to lie to him, but not able to voice the truth. I could never be dishonest with Hotch; he can read me as easily as anyone else on the team.

The team!

I quickly grasp Hotch's sleeve, feeling a surge of desperation. "How is the team? Are they doing okay?" He glances at my hand and I immediately remove it. His eyes dim so I try to lighten things up. "Everyone behaving?"

He shrugs and tilts his head. "For the most part I suppose," he jokingly answers.

I do a double take—did Hotch just wink at me? No, he couldn't have, that's not Hotch. He clears his throat and scans the group hovering nearby. He turns towards the bar, putting his back to them, and chuckles before finishing his drink. He looks at me with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

He's enjoying this! If anyone knows how to push buttons, it is Hotch. He knows how egotistic men like Moore and Jackson are. He probably deciphered their shameless pride from across the bar. I'm surprised he's acting this way, normally he wouldn't provoke anything.

"Good," I slowly say. I make sure the tone of my voice tells him I'm onto him. Hotch grins. It's small, but it is there. He turns around and outright looks at my new team. They are inching closer, like a pack of hungry dogs. "Oh, everyone," I say to the group, none of who are bothering to hide their inquisitive stares now, "this is Aaron Hotchner, my boss at the BAU."

I wince at my present tense use of the term "boss". Oops.

I smile guiltily as Hotch shakes the proffered hands. Jackson and Moore didn't bother; instead they fingered their State Department badges. Figures.

"JJ tells me you're celebrating?" he says, beginning the expected, meaningless small talk. I hate this part.

Hotch's statement is greeted with confused looks. He immediately catches on that something is off and looks to me.

"Uhm, at State I'm Jennifer, Hotch," I clarify. I blush a little. At my confession Hotch gazes at me with an unreadable expression. Maybe he's remembering that I only allow my friends to call me JJ.

"Yeah," Jackson says, interrupting the confused silence. For once the man used some tact. Sort of. "We just finished a major case." I pinch myself so I don't roll my eyes. They aren't cases! Jackson's answer diverted Hotch's attention from me, thank goodness. "Jennifer's first one."

Hotch takes his time before answering. "Jennifer's, maybe," he says. He gives me a smile. "But not JJ's." I look into his eyes and I know he just told me that he's still trying to get me back, just as he promised to.

I never noticed how much he communicated with his eyes before. Then I realize it is because he doesn't have his trademark, stoic mask in place.

Our moment is interrupted when Jackson begins to carry on about working with the DoD for the "case".

"They called me up and asked for assistance so I took Jennifer here and…"

I stop listening. That dog. He thinks he king of the pack. Hotch quickly meets my eyes with his. For my sake he's humoring Jackson who is embarrassing all of us.

"Like I said, it was pretty involved. The BAU working on anything big?" I know what Jackson's attempting to do, but I trust Hotch not to take the bait.

"You'd be surprised," he chuckles. Jackson opens his mouth for a rebuttal but Hotch doesn't leave any time for Jackson to say anything. "It was good meeting all of you, I must get back," Hotch says in his best diplomatic voice. He gives me one last encouraging smile and places a hand on my elbow. "I'll see you soon, JJ." He takes his leave and I'm left with my coworkers and their bloated egos.

I wonder what he means by "see you soon". It could be work related, but I'm not sure how it could be. I sigh. Hotch has always been good at being cryptic.

I watch him go, wishing I could tag along. I know I'm acting desperate, but I just want to have a good time tonight and not be immersed in a group of people I can't stand. Just before Hotch disappears into the crowd, he turns and raises his phone, shaking it a little in my direction. Immediately I understand his message and I grab my purse to take out my cell. I have a text.

Let's catch up without the dogs. Jake's Bar, 6:30 Tuesday?